#cat's 300 follower celebration

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 1: what's lost can be found

"She won't make a sound, alone in this fight with herself and the fears whispering if she stands she'll fall down. She wants to be found, the only way out is through everything she's running from wants to give up and lie down. So stand in the rain, stand your ground. Stand up when it's all crashing down. You stand through the pain, you won't drown. And one day, what's lost can be found."  -Stand in the Rain by Superchick

Regent Masterlist Part 2

The decayed ghost siren echoed through the abandoned streets of Amity Park's Witching Hours. Its residents were well acquainted with what that sound meant, fear and exasperation a potent (strange) mix to keep them tucked in their homes, their beds, as the Fentonworks building seemed to come alive.  

Of course, figuratively speaking. 

(Nothing was truly alive there anymore.)

Jasmine Fenton had just arrived back from the Infinite Realms, muscles pleasantly sore from training with Pandora and very much looking forward to hugging her little brother before he begun his nightly patrol. The siren caught her attention before she’d stepped fully out of her portal, dread filling her gut like a rock dropped into a lake. 

Oh no. 

Team Phantom were young, no one could ever argue that, with some scars to show for all their battles to protect Amity from those that would claim their haunt- but no one outside the team understood just how paranoid they’d become since Pariah Dark and Dark Dan

The contingencies had begun when Jazz started to remember bits and pieces of a timeline that Danny himself had erased using the reality gauntlet. He’d never told anyone of what had happened, with Freakshow’s plan to make himself ‘ringmaster of all reality’ and all, but Jazz had somehow recalled flashes of sheer panic at watching her little brother accidentally reveal himself as Phantom on live tv, in the Fentonworks kitchen on that little box set. The white rings of light that emerged from his core to switch from half-alive to half-dead and vice versa damned him. 

The elder fentons had gone on the offense immediately, Jack’s screech of ghost! Echoing in the house and they raced down to the lab to get whatever latest weapon they’d built to capture Phantom. 

It didn’t matter that their son was dead, that he had died, that their ‘greatest work’ was Danny’s grave. That Jasmine was…well, she wasn’t entirely human anymore, not when she turned on her heel to follow her progenitors down down down into the darkness, sword tightly grasped in hand as her teal eyes glowed a sickly green.  

She hadn’t hesitated then, to protect her little brother. One slash, two, three

Danny hadn’t known she killed their parents in that timeline. She would never tell him. 

She would never tell him how they hadn’t even noticed her presence, her ever loyal weapon Faithkeeper about to take their lives, how she hadn’t even needed to summon her armor. She would never tell him how they begged for their lives, not to protect their children, but to kill the ghostly menace. 

Danny never knew she’d dumped their corpses in the landfill.

(Right where they belonged.) 

WIth the rewrite of the timeline, reset to the same day of the ill-fated Humpty Dumpty concert, Jack and Maddy Fenton’s deaths were undone, but not the blood on Jasmine’s hands. 

With Danny’s defeat of Pariah Dark, came another revelation. 

Jasmine was still mostly alive. Somehow she’d survived her childhood, but Danny hadn’t. She’d looked away for five minutes, forgotten to lock the lab after their parents left and he’d died for it. 

With the weight of being schrodinger’s hero, could her little brother withstand becoming king of the infinite realms? 

Perhaps not while he was still learning, still gaining his own grip on his strange existence. In time, he would become a great king- one of mercy and benevolence, but he still had a long ways to go. 

Jasmine had borrowed ancient ghost law books from Ghostwriter and locked herself away for three days, cycling between crying for her and Danny, reading through the complicated laws of ye olden times, and writing down her findings- just in case another reality rewrite was due. 

Jasmine had accepted Regency on Danny’s behalf with a grace she didn’t know she possessed. 

It had been a small ceremony, with Danny and his friends present and Pandora, Jasmine’s mentor, acting as sentry as she accepted the Crown of Fire. She knew it was a long road till she could pass it down to its rightful owner, but Jasmine was prepared to shoulder the burden for her little brother. 

Pandora had simply laid one of her many hands on Jasmine’s shoulder with a solemn air, in understanding. There was work to be done before any of them could have peace. (Not even the afterlife was safe from paperwork.)

Her favorite journal contained the scraps of her hope and dreams bound in maroon leather, soft with age and imprinted with every emotion Jazz had unwittingly (and later knowingly) poured into every word. 

Its pages were a kaleidoscope of her life. 

Sure, it began with the soft tinge of curiosity-exasperation-fondness, some sentiment of better times before her progenitors began working on that damned portal, constructing the future grave of their son without the slightest clue. 

The emotions began turning a darker turn when the work turned into an obsession. Jazz had plunged into her schoolwork and part-time jobs to afford whatever was needed for the siblings to survive, fondness becoming slowly poisoned by anger. Anger for the portal. Anger for the food other kids had, that they didn’t have to work so hard for. Anger that she knew what starving felt like. 

Anger that she was so weak. 

Then the day of Danny’s death. 

The darkest part of her history, the last embers of her hopes and dreams, of the siblings escaping smothered. Danny’s death scream forever etched into her brain. 

(It should’ve been her.) 

She hated those pages of her journal, the emotions of grief-anger on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to rip them out. No more than she could destroy the confessions of protect-rage-grief, the confessions of the darker timeline she shouldn’t remember. 

On very last page was the contingency plan Jazz herself had created.

Code Graverobber.

That siren wasn’t any ordinary ghost siren, no, it was the one Tucker had programmed himself- it was the quickest way to alert every member of Team Phantom and Tucker had made sure that none of them could mistake it for a Fenton ghost alarm. No, Code Graverobber was in effect. 

Phantom had been captured by the elder Fentons. 

(Fate has a way of setting itself right.) (Death wants its due.) With a bleeding, sobbing and vivisected Danny cradled in her arms, Jazz left Amity Park behind for what she prayed to the Ancients was forever. The Fentons died that night, though the official records would claim they were killed in a explosion due to the highly unstable inventions they created, taking the lives of their children as well. No one really dug around in the wreckage of Fentonworks, not for the bodies of the family within, with the chance of another explosion happening should rubble be shifted the wrong way. 

Jack and Maddie Fenton died.. 

But Jasmine and Danny Nightingale lived on, in Gotham City.

The last of those three days she spent locked in her room, Jasmine wrote a letter to a future version of herself, tucked inside one of her favorite books now lost in the destruction of Fentonworks. To my future self, Forget me in your happiness.    Love, your past

A/N: BEHOLD!

Ahem. This is the original chapter 1 that I never finished or published. It's not my favorite or my best, but I unburied it for the 300 milestones. Thanks for reading!

[jayniks]

SEX NOTE SERIES

So, I decided to do this series to celebrate my 300 followers. You can ask me to add any idol + the situation, whether male or female. The final chapter will be sunoo, regardless of which idols come first.

🌊 ⏝⠀ ⚓️ ㅤ५‌ ۟ 𓂂 ꒰੭

SEX NOTE (l.hs)

After discovering the magic book, you tried to "test" it to see if it was true, you thought nothing would happen until you heard a chuckle behind you.

WC . 2.3k

PAIRING . Idol!heeseung x normal!reader

WARNINGS . ft. Jake Sim, if you saw the anime don't read this because it's not a faithful adaptation, sex (mdni), oral sex (both reciving), boobjob, boobsucking, playing with nipples, 3 rounds, sucking fingers, cum eating, dirty talk, spit play, foreplay, lmk if I missed anything else

Read here.

SEX NOTE (p.js)

after summoning heeseung, you wandered around your room looking for any ideas. Seeing your poster of your favorite band, you thought "why not invoke the guitarist?" and that's what you did, although the situation was quickly reversed when you saw how malicious he was.

WC . 2,3k

PAIRING . Rockstar!jay x fan!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (m receiving), tease, anal sex, mouth fucking, a little cuck!jake?, mentions of Jake's mom and Jake himself, magical appearance, chocking, a little filler just like in the original series, degradation, tying, unreal themes, a bit of noncon?, squirt, curses, let me know if I left something out.

Read here.

SEX NOTE (s.jy)

Your friend is jealous that, thanks to the book that HE gave you, you no longer pay attention to him, so he writes to you in that notebook in a fit of jealousy.

WC . 4,0k

PAIRING . childhoodfriend!jake x normal!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (f receiving), lots of kisses, assjob(idk if it's called that), manhandling, spanking, voyeurism, creampie.

Read here.

SEX NOTE (p.sh)

you carried that notebook everywhere, even to your doctor's office. you were in the middle of writing something when the doctor interrupted you, taking the notebook out of your hands.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . doctor!sunghoon x pacient!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), a little cnc if you think about it, teasing, fingering, masturbation (f receiving), creampie (the sword must have a sheath), let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jake.

SEX NOTE (y.jw)

you wanted to know if it would work to create a fictional character from your mind, but when it was time to think of the name your cat jumped into your lap and ruined everything.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . HEAR ME OUR FIRST, I'M NOT A FURRY, READ FIRST cat-to-human!jungwon x owner!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), weird situation (HEAR ME OUT), pussy eating, nip licking, sub!won, lots of whimpering from wonie, mentions of "mommy", let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after sunghoon.

SEX NOTE (l.jn)

after the situation with your cat, you wanted to test what would happen if you did the same with your mother's old magazine.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . 90sModel!jeno x normal!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), unreal situation, cum on face, spit kink, eye contact, slapping, p in v, no protection but cums outside (never do that), let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jungwon.

SEX NOTE (k.js)

you had been on a week-long streak without using the book, a streak that was broken when you went to buy a coffee for your friend (oh, remembering Jake...) and saw the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . bartender!jongseob x costumer!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), seob is a bit depressing, it's also a bit perv, facial, nipple licking (not the ones you think), sex on the table, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jeno.

SEX NOTE (y.jm)

you were liking the massage too much, why not improve it?

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . massager!karina x costumer!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), body caressing, dirty talk, rubbing, fingering, cum licking, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jeongseob.

SEX NOTE (n.rk)

you were tired of your bully and his temporary girlfriend making your life miserable, so why not take revenge on both of them and get something in the process?

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . bully!niki x student!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), niki is really mean, oral sex (m reciving), anal, fingering, some hickeys, infidelity, squirting, let me know if I missed something

Relase date: after karina.

SEX NOTE (k.sn)

you shouldn't have been greedy, you shouldn't have to carry that stupid book everywhere, now you lost it. and the worst part? it fell into the wrong hands, now you're fucked.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . nerd!obsessive!classmate!sunoo x oblivious!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), probably cnc, ropes to tie you, pussy eating, thigh job, creampie, cum eating, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after i posted all.

》 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 《

You were in your room procrastinating when your best friend, Jake Sim, came into your room throwing you a gift and then leaving as quickly as he arrived. You rolled your eyes at his action and then proceeded to open the gift. It was very badly wrapped and inside there was... a fucking notebook? You opened it to see what was inside. The cover said "sex note" but inside there were a few pages of rules and many more empty ones. The rules were:

• The human whose name is written in this note will appear to fuck you.

• This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

• If the way they fuck is written within 40 seconds of writing it, it will happend.

• If the scenario is not written/specified, the person will only appear to fuck you in missionary.

• Minors are totally prohibited, if you write the name of someone under 18 years and 6 months, you will die of a heart attack. The same applies to animals.

OK? weird...

[aceyalonso]

we're both winners, sweetheart - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader | READ PART 1 HERE

summary : Y/n and Lewis going through the typical struggles of marriage (or in other words, the struggle of keeping up the charade of being married)

warnings : THE ANNOUNCEMENT IN THE STORY IS FAKE!!! swearing, kinda angsty, drinking, nail-biting, talking about sex (nothing too detailed), discussions of raising a family, 11-year age gap (reader is 28 years old), smut, hair pulling, unintentional overstimulation, choking, unprotected sex (always use a condom guys!)

face claim - gracie abrams

word count : 18.6k

song : agora hills - doja cat

a/n : this isn't proofread and SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, I WAS DEALING WITH SO MUCH PERSONAL STUFF OMG (this was supposed to be fore my 300 followers celebration thing | i might make a separate series for lyka and lando…………………………

July 8, Monday, 7:09 AM

Toto Wolff sits behind his desk, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. Y/n and Lewis sit on the other side, both looking a bit sheepish and on edge. Toto looks at them, a moment of awkward silence hanging in the air before he finally speaks. "So," he begins, his voice cautious. "I have to say, this is... quite a situation you've gotten yourselves into."

Lewis clears his throat, his gaze meeting Toto's. "Yeah, we kind of... didn't see this coming," he admits, a hint of humor in his tone. "It was a very unexpected development, to say the least."

Y/n fidgets in her seat, her fingers massaging her forehead. She glances at Toto, his expression still unreadable. She tries to sound calm and rational, but her voice betrays her nervousness. "We weren't... fully sober when it happened," she offers lamely, as if it's an excuse.

Toto's eyebrow quirks at this revelation, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Not fully sober," he repeats, his tone heavy with incredulity. "You got married... not fully sober?"

Lewis grimaces slightly at the bluntness of his words but doesn't deny it. "That... that's correct," he affirms, his voice a bit strained. "We were both a bit... impaired when we tied the knot, let's put it that way."

Toto rubs his forehead, seeming to struggle with how to respond to this information. He gathers himself and looks at them again, his expression more somber now. "And what exactly were you doing that led to this... marriage?" he asks, his tone slightly stern.

Lewis and Y/n exchange a glance, both knowing the answer will likely not help their case. Lewis speaks up first, his voice a bit sheepish. "We, ah... we were at a club. A very lively club, if you understand."

Toto leans forward in his chair, expression now a mix of thoughtfulness and strategy. "Okay," he says, "this is clearly a situation that will need some serious damage control if it gets out. We'll need the PR team to make something, anything to spin this in a way that... minimizes the impact on your image, Lewis, and the teams' reputation."

Y/n coughs, breaking the silence in the room and drawing everyone's attention. She clears her throat, feeling a bit awkward under the weight of Toto and Lewis' gazes. "Um, forgive me," she apologizes, her voice a bit hoarse. "But what... what are you suggesting?"

Toto's eyes shift to her, his expression still calculating. "Well, we need to control the narrative," he explains. "We need to get ahead of any potential media storm and craft a story that… makes this look less like a drunken mistake and more like a… a romantic love story, perhaps."

Lewis can't help but scoff slightly at this, his mouth tugging into a wry smile. "A romantic love story, huh?" he muses, skepticism in his tone. "Do you really think anyone's going to believe that?"

Toto's gaze hardens at Lewis' flippant comment. "At this point, any narrative is better than the truth," he says, his voice firm. "We need to protect your image, Lewis, and the team's reputation. We need to control the damage, and that means spinning this in a way that… makes you both look as good as possible."

Y/n mutters under her breath as Toto and Lewis continue their discussion, unable to hide her growing concern. "My dad is going to kill me," she whispers, her voice a mixture of dread and resignation. She imagines her father's reaction to this news, the fury and disappointment in his eyes.

She finally speaks up, her mind turning to her own interests in this situation. "Wait," she interjects, cutting into Lewis and Toto's discussion. They both turn to her, surprised. "If we're going to go along with this… PR plan, I want something out of it too."

Toto and Lewis look at her, a bit taken aback by her unexpected request. Toto quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "And what is it you want, exactly?" he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and caution.

Y/n takes a deep breath, her mind racing as she formulates her request. "I want this to benefit me too," she says, her tone firm but tentative. "I don't just want to be a pawn in this charade. I want my own image to be protected, and… I want it to have a positive impact on my future, on my family's company."

Toto and Lewis exchange glances, both surprised but also understanding the logic in her request. Lewis turns to her with slight admiration, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's… very practical of you," he says, his voice carrying a hint of respect.

Y/n's response is matter-of-fact, and her expression is a mix of determination and practicality. "Business is business," she repeats, her tone resolute. "If we're going to play this game, we might as well use it to our advantage, right?"

Toto nods slightly, appreciating her mercenary approach. "You're not wrong," he concedes, a grudging respect in his voice. "If we can use this situation to our mutual benefit, then perhaps it won't be a total disaster."

Lewis looks at Y/n, a gleam of admiration in his eyes at her business-mindedness. "You've got guts," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I can respect that."

Y/n chuckles a bit at his comment, the humor beginning to shine through despite the seriousness of their situation. "Well," she says with a small laugh, "if you want to get technical, that is one reason we got married, isn't it?"

Toto glares at Y/n, his gaze is stern and reprimanding. Y/n's eyes widen in response, and she immediately feels a pang of regret, realizing she has spoken out of turn. She mutters a quick "Sorry, too soon," her voice a whisper as she shrinks down in her seat.

Toto sighs, his expression softening slightly. "Let's remain professional, please," he reminds her, his tone a bit weary. "We need you to be present at the next Grand Prix, okay? Because by then we'll have the PR statement announced. Lewis can send you the details."

Y/n nods, a bit chastened but also understanding. "Okay," she apologizes again, her voice sincere. "I'll check my schedule if I'm free on... whatever day that is."

Toto nods in acknowledgment, his expression is still weary but slightly less stern. He turns his attention back to Lewis and continues the discussion, the mood in the room now more serious and focused.

With the focus of the conversation now shifted to Lewis and Toto, Y/n pulls out her phone, sensing that she isn't needed in the immediate discussion. She scrolls through her phone, trying to distract herself from the ongoing conversation. Occasionally, she glances up, listening to bits and pieces of the talk, but mostly just biding her time.

Y/n scrolls through her Twitter feed, her eyes scanning over the various news and Tweets. Suddenly, something catches her eye, causing her to stand up from her seat and exclaim a surprised curse word.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Y/n exclaims, her voice laced with disbelief and shock. She stares down at her phone, the blood draining from her face as she processes whatever she has just seen.

Toto and Lewis' heads snap in her direction at the outburst. They look at her, startled and alarmed by her reaction. Toto's brow furrows in concern, and he asks, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Y/n holds out her phone to Toto, her face still etched with shock and disbelief. Toto takes the phone from her, his eyes widening as he looks at the screen. Lewis leans over to look as well, his expression turning serious as he reads whatever is on the screen.

Toto's jaw clenches as he looks at the image, his expression hard and guarded. He glances at Y/n, then back at the phone screen, seeming to be processing the implications of this photo.

Lewis shakes his head, his jaw clenching in annoyance. "That's just perfect," he mutters sarcastically. "As if we didn't have enough to deal with already."

Toto continues scrolling through the tweet and reading comments from fans and media alike. He pauses, seeing several comments speculating that the woman in the photo is actually Y/n. His expression darkens with concern as he reads these comments.

He glances at Y/n, then at Lewis, and sighs deeply. "This is really bad," he says, his voice a low grumble. "If people start connecting the dots… we're going to have a PR nightmare on our hands."

Y/n is silently freaking out, her mind racing with thoughts and worries. She gnaws anxiously on her nails, a nervous habit she has when feeling overwhelmed.

Toto notes her distress but focuses on the practicalities of the situation for the moment, exchanging a few more words with Lewis.

Toto and Lewis quietly discuss the next steps, trying to come up with a damage control plan. Toto occasionally glances at Y/n, noticing her anxious behavior, but doesn't interrupt his conversation with Lewis for the moment.

Y/n suddenly pipes up, interrupting Toto and Lewis' conversation. "Wait," she interjects, her tone a bit frenzied. "What if we lied? What if… what if we said we've been married for almost a year? Like, we got married during the winter break?"

Toto's expression softens slightly as he contemplates Y/n's idea. "It's a possibility," he muses, his voice measured. "Getting married during the off-season would make sense, given the hectic schedule of the drivers. It would be more logical that Lewis would take time off for a wedding rather than a drunken elopement."

Lewis nods, seeing the logic in Y/n's suggestion. "It could work," he agrees, his tone less skeptical than before. "It would at least make the whole situation seem less impulsive and foolish, and more like… a planned commitment."

Y/n continues to gnaw anxiously on her nails, her eyes flitting between Toto and Lewis as she waits for them to make a decision. The weight of the situation, the impending lie they are about to concoct, hangs heavily on her mind.

Toto notices her distress but is still wrapped up in the discussion with Lewis, he decides to address it once they have a plan. "Let's work out the details," he says, his tone business-like. "We need to make sure our story is ironclad, and our timelines line up."

He turns to Y/n, his expression stern but not unsympathetic. "And I suggest you stop chewing on your nails," he remarks matter-of-factly. "We'll need to present a united, calm front, and that doesn't include nervous fidgeting."

Though Y/n stops biting her nails as Toto advises, her anxiety doesn't diminish. She transfers her nervous energy to her palms, starting to scratch and pick nervously at the skin, leaving slight crescent-shaped marks.

Toto notices her new anxious habit but doesn't address it directly at the moment. He and Lewis continue their discussion, fine-tuning the details of the lie they are going to spin. The atmosphere in the room remains tense, but there seems to be a rough plan coming together.

As the meeting draws to a close, Toto excuses himself to take a call from the head of PR. He motions for Y/n and Lewis to wait, and they remain silent in Toto's office as he steps out to take the call.

When Toto returns, he appears even more tense than before. He bids both Y/n and Lewis a rushed farewell, as he needs to deal with the situation with the head of PR. The two of them are left standing in the office, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the day's events.

Lewis glances at Y/n, her face slightly pale and tired from the stress of the situation. He can tell that she's still anxious and tense, and he reaches out to gently squeeze her hand, offering a small gesture of comfort. "Hey," he says in a soft voice, "it's going to be okay. We're… we're going to get through this."

Y/n looks up at him, her eyes weary and full of worry. She tries to force a small smile, appreciating his attempt at reassurance. "I hope so," she replies, her voice a bit shaky. "I just… I hope we can pull this off. The lie…"

Lewis nods in understanding. "I know," he says, his tone sympathetic. "It's a lot to take on. But we don't have many options at this point. If we don't control the narrative, someone else will, and…" he trails off, the implication clear.

Y/n nods, knowing that he's right. "I get it," she mutters, her voice laced with resignation. "I just… I didn't sign up for all this, you know? All this… lying, and spinning stories, and… pretending."

Y/n lets out a humorless chuckle, her voice resigned. "You're telling me," she says sarcastically. "I didn't even sign up for this marriage, not while I was sober at least... and now I have to lie about it, pretend it was pre-planned, and… play the part of the dutiful wife."

She shakes her head, the absurdity of the situation weighing heavily on her shoulders. "It's just… surreal," she continues her tone a mix of disbelief and frustration. "A few days ago, I was a private person, living my life, and now I'm suddenly… a married woman, the center of a media shitstorm, and I'm expected to lie about it all like it's no big deal."

As they walk down the halls, Y/n is still somewhat zoned out, her mind preoccupied with the stresses and worries of the day. Lewis is right beside her, his hand occasionally on her lower back, providing silent moral support. They pass by other team members and staff, and more than a few curious glances and whispers follow them, aware of the situation unfolding but unwilling to speak openly.

They reach the parking lot, and Lewis turns to Y/n, his expression concerned. "Do you want me to drive you home?" he asks gently, his tone sincere. "You look exhausted."

Y/n nods, her fatigue clearly visible in her eyes and demeanor. "Yeah," she replies, her voice a weary whisper. "That would be great, thanks. I'm… I'm feeling pretty wiped out."

Lewis nods in understanding and leads her towards his car. The trip to her home is mostly silent, both of them too emotionally drained to talk much. Lewis occasionally glances at her, checking if she is okay. Y/n just gazes out the window, her thoughts far away.

He follows the directions given by Y/n to her apartment. The car ride is quiet, neither of them speaking much due to the weight of the situation on their minds. Once they arrive at her apartment, Lewis parks the car but doesn't immediately get out. Instead, he turns to her, his expression a mixture of worry and concern.

Lewis watches as Y/n unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. Before she can open the door, he turns to her and asks, "You're going to be okay, right? You'll be okay alone? I can stay with you if you want."

Y/n offers a weary smile, touched by Lewis's concern. "I… I'll be fine," she assures him, her voice soft but strained. "You don't need to stay. I just… need some time to process all this. Alone."

Lewis accepts her decision to be alone, though his expression remains worried. "Okay," he says softly, "Take care of yourself, alright? And… call me if you need anything. Anytime, okay?"

She nods slightly, appreciating his offer. "Thanks, I will," she replies. "I'll… I'll be fine. I just need a bit of space to clear my head."

Y/n exits the car, her movements slow and weary. The weight of the situation seems to hang heavily on her shoulders as she stands outside her apartment, looking up at the building.

Lewis watches her from the driver's seat, a mixture of concern and sadness on his face. He waits a moment to make sure she gets inside safely before driving off.

July 8, Monday, 10:37 AM

As Y/n begins to unlock her apartment door, she hears the familiar sound of her cat meowing on the other side. The sound is both a comfort and a further reminder of her responsibilities, and she feels a pang of fondness mixed with exhaustion.

After unlocking the door, she pushes it open and is immediately met with the soft sound of her cat rubbing against her legs, meowing for attention. Y/n bends down and scoops up the cat in her arms, holding it close to her chest, seeking comfort in its presence.

She holds her cat “Extra Virgin Olive Oil” (“Evoo” for short) close, the familiar warmth and weight of her furry companion a soothing presence. The ridiculousness of the name, a result of yet another drunken decision, momentarily brings a bittersweet smile to her lips.

Y/n walks into the apartment, closing the door behind her and making her way to the living room. She sits down on the couch, setting her bag on the floor before setting Evoo down on her lap and gently stroking his white fur. The soothing motion and rhythmic purring of the cat help to calm her tumultuous thoughts.

As Y/n sits on the couch, gently stroking her cat, she begins to speak to him in a soft, quiet voice. Although it’s not unusual for people to talk to their pets, there’s an undertone of vulnerability in her words, unloading her worries to a receptive but silent companion.

“Hi, baby,” she begins, her voice laced with exhaustion. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had.” She continues to idly pet the cat in her lap, the gentle motion seeming to soothe her as much as her cat. “I… I’ve gotten myself into a real mess, you know? Things are… complicated, to say the least.”

She leans her head back against the couch, her fingers continuing to absently run through the white cat’s fur. “I know you’re just a cat, and you probably don’t understand what I’m saying. But it helps, talking to you like this. It helps to get it all out, even if you can’t talk back.”

As Y/n continues to talk, the words flow out of her in a rushed confession. “And… that’s not even the craziest, Evoo,” she murmurs, shaking her head slightly. “I got married. Can you believe that?”

Her cat, as if responding to her words, looks up at her with its large eyes, seemingly bewildered by the revelation. It tilts its head as if asking “What?!”

Y/n lets out a soft, humorless chuckle at her cat’s reaction, continuing to stroke its fur. “Yeah, I know. It’s crazy, right?” she continues, her voice still heavy with exhaustion but holding a hint of irony. “I… I got married, and I don’t even remember most of it. Isn’t that just wild?”

She pushes aside her exhaustion and moves from the couch, placing Evoo gently on the nearby rug. She then remembers to change her cat’s water bowl, her actions automatic and routine. As she fills the bowl from the kitchen sink, she glances back at her cat, still resting on the rug.

“Don’t worry, bud,” she calls out, her voice slightly less weary, “He’s… he’s a good guy. I think.”

After refilling the water bowl, Y/n returns to the living room, her mind still swirling with the day’s events. She glances at Evoo, who is now lapping up the fresh water. For a moment, she wishes her life was as simple as a cat’s, where the most pressing concern was the next meal, not an unexpected marriage and a web of lies.

Y/n rubs his head one last time before straightening up. “Alright, buddy,” she says, her tone softer now that she’s attending to her cat’s needs. “I’m going to take a bath. Be a good boy while I’m gone, alright?”

She sits in the bathtub, the water warm and comforting, surrounding her tired body in a soothing embrace. An iPad is placed on a wooden bath tray near the edge of the tub, playing a movie that she’s only partially paying attention to.

In her hand, she holds a glass of lemon water, taking small sips every now and then as she there, letting the hot water work its relaxing magic.

The scent of lavender from a bath bomb fills the room, adding to the atmosphere of calm and tranquility. However, despite the peaceful setting, Y/n’s mind remains restless, the events of the day still weighing heavily on her thoughts. Despite trying to focus on the movie, she finds her mind wandering back to the marriage, the lie, the future.

As the stream from the bath billows around her, Y/n takes another small sip from her lemon water, her mind still spinning. The bath was intended to relax her, to wash away the tension of the day, but her thoughts stubbornly refused to let her rest. She tries to force herself to watch the movie, to focus on something other than her worries, but the events of the day keep flooding back.

The heat of the bath, combined with the subtle fragrance of the lavender, should be lulling her into a tranquil state, but her mind is too chaotic, too filled with worries and regrets. She takes another sip of her lemon water, the tangy taste reminding her of the sourness she feels inside, the unease that hasn't let her go since this whole mess began.

Y/n is wrapped in a towel, her wet hair sticking to her shoulders as she steps out of her bedroom and into the living/dining space. She's surprised to see Lyka walking in with a bright smile, a stark contrast to her own weary state.

Y/n, still wrapping the towel around herself, glances up at Lyka through wet strands of hair. "You seem unusually cheerful," she remarks, her tone slightly teasing as she reaches the kitchen and sets her glass down in the sink. Evoo brushes against her leg, seeking attention, and she gives the cat a gentle pat before turning back to Lyka. "What's up?"

Lyka's eyes sparkle with excitement and a hint of pride. "The best night ever," she echoes, her smile widening. "You won't believe it, Y/n. I hooked up with the DJ."

Y/n raises her brows in surprise and recognition. "Oh, Lando?" she asks, a hint of amusement in her tone. "I saw you dancing with him at the booth last night."

Lyka blinks in surprise when Y/n says Lando's name, her excitement now mixed with a touch of curiosity. "Yeah!- Wait, how do you know his name?" she asks, her expression a mix of surprise and intrigue.

Y/n settles onto a bar stool, opening the wrapper to a small piece of chocolate. She takes a small bite of the chocolate and continues talking to Lyka as she munches on the sweet treat. "I became friends with one of Lando's friends last night," she explains, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Her playful smile fades as the memory of her marriage hits her like a ton of bricks. She chokes mid-sentence, the taste of chocolate turning bitter in her mouth. "I... um..." she stutters, her mind racing to find a way to explain.

"I... I have something to tell you," she manages to continue, her voice a bit strained. She sets the chocolate bar down, her appetite suddenly gone. "And... it's kind of a big deal. Like, a really big deal."

Lyka's expression changes as she senses the seriousness in Y/n's tone. Her eyes widened slightly, and she leaned in, her face replaced by a look of concern. "What is it?" she asks, her voice low and worried.

Y/n takes a deep breath, bracing herself for the reaction that's about to follow. "I..." she starts, her voice faltering as she struggles to find the right words. "I... I got married."

There's a moment of stunned silence as Lyka processes Y/n's confession. Her eyes widen even further, and her hand grips the countertop, her knuckles turning white. "You... you what?" she manages to stutter out, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

"And... it may or may not have been a friend of Lando's...." Lyka's eyes widen even further when Y/n clarifies that the person she married is a friend of Lando. "Wait..." she starts, her mind spinning with the implications. "You married one of Lando's friends? Who..."

Y/n hesitates for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She swallows hard, preparing herself for the fallout. "Lewis," she finally manages to say. "I... I married Lewis."

As Lyka tries to remember if Lando mentioned anything Lewis, a flicker of recognition appears in her eyes. "Wait..." she says, her soft soft as she recalls the conversation with Lando. "Lando mentioned something about a party of celebrate one of his friends' win. Was that Lewis?"

Y/n doesn't trust herself to speak, so she just nods in affirmation. She can see the pieces falling into place in Lyka's mind, her friend digesting the information with a mix of surprise and confusion.

Lyka lifts her hands in a gesture of disbelief, her voice filled with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. "I swear, the universe has a weird sense of humor when it comes to you and alcohol," she says, shaking her head. "Seriously, the weirdest things happen to you when you're drunk. It's like you're attracting weirdness or something."

As Y/n gets up to change, she can't help but notice that Lyka is wearing a hoodie she doesn't recognize. She decides to bring it up later, as they have plenty to discuss when they regroup in the kitchen.

"Alright, let's change and meet here in five," Y/n suggests, her tone a bit lighter now. "We'll compare our crazy nights, and you can tell me about your new hoodie too," she adds with a smile.

Lyka flushes furiously as Y/n hints at the hoodie she's wearing, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. "Oh my god, shut up," she giggles, trying to hide her embarrassment. "It's just a hoodie, okay?"

Y/n grins knowingly as she responds, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, it's Lando's hoodie," she teases, emphasizing the name for effect. "And you're blushing like crazy."

Lyka buries her face in her hands, still blushing profusely. "Ugh, I swear, you're the worst," she groans, half-heartedly swatting at Y/n "Why do you have to point it out like that?"

Y/n laughs, enjoying the sight of her flustered friend. "Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing," she says, her voice filled with amusement. She moves towards her room, still smiling at Lyka's reaction. "You get changed, and I'll do the same. Meet you in the kitchen in five."

Y/n sits next to Lyka, a soft smile on her face. As they settle into their seats by the counter, Lyka begins recounting her night with Lando. Her cheeks are still a little flushed, betraying her excitement.

"So, about last night..." she says, her voice slightly giddy, "I had the best night ever with Lando."

Y/n takes a chip from the bowl on the counter, chewing on it as she listens to her friend's story. "Yeah?" she prompts. encouraging Lyka to continue. "Tell me more. What made it the best night ever?"

Lyka emphasizes her point, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "His hands were skilled," she repeats, her voice lowered to a whisper. "Seriously, Y/n, you have no idea. He was so fucking good."

"His touches, his moves, everything just... wow," Lyka continues, the memory clearly relived in her mind. She takes a sip of her water, her gaze distant for a moment before she focuses on Y/n. "I swear, it was like he knew exactly what to do, and how to do it."

Lyka's excitement reaches a whole new level as she starting bouncing in her seat. "Oh my god," she exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and excitement. "When he was-" She suddenly breaks off, her words catching in her throat.

She cuts off her own sentence, biting her lip as if holding back a secret. There's a mixture of delight and surprise on her face. "He... he was just-" she stammers, struggling to put the experience into words. "It was incredible," she finally manages, her voice full of awe.

Y/n listens intently, smiling at her friend's enthusiasm. She can tell that whatever Lando did, it clearly surpassed Lyka's expectations. "Incredible, huh?" she teases, raising a brow. "Sounds like Lando's got some serious skills there."

Lyka takes a moment to fan herself, the memory of her night with Lando still fresh in her mind. "Yeah... yeah I was," she says, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I was shaking like a leaf by the time it was done."

She looks down at her hands as if reliving the sensation. "It was tense," she adds, shaking her head in disbelief. "Like, seriously intense. I don't think I could have handled much more."

Lyka lets out a shaky breath, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief in her voice. "Yeah," she replies, her face still flushed. "He just... he just kept going, even when I thought I couldn't take anymore. It was... it was too much, but in the best way possible, you know?"

She takes another sip of her water, her body still feeling the after-effects of Lando's touches. "He knew exactly what he was doing," she adds, a hint of admiration in her voice. "I've never experienced anything like it before."

Y/n can't resist teasing a little more, a sly smile on her face. "Well," she says, raising a brow, "Maybe Lando was just making up for the disappointing performance your ex put on."

Lyka, still flushed and giggling, enthusiastically agrees with Y/n's assessment. "ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!" she exclaims, her voice loud and clear. "Lando was the complete opposite of my ex. He made up for that shitshow tenfold."

She takes a moment to catch her breath, her face still glowing. She can't help but gush about Lando's attributes, her voice filled with awed excitement. "I swear, he was HUGE," she says, her voice filled with excitement.

Y/n laughs, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. "Shh, shh, keep it down," she shushes her friend, laughing as she glances toward the wall shared with their neighbors. "The whole building doesn't need to know about Lando's... size."

Lyka, still caught up in the memory of her night with Lando, continues to rave about his skills and his 'size' ''I don't even know how to describe it," she gushes, her voice filled with admiration. "There's just... no comparison. Lando's in a league of his own."

She's so caught up in her praise that she practically glows. "I never knew it could be like that," she admits, her flushed cheeks a clear indication of her satisfaction. "He knows how to handle everything."

Lyka's voice softens as she reflects on the night, her face now taking on a more tender expression. "He was so gentle and caring afterward," she says, a hint of fondness in her tone. "It was like he knew exactly what I needed."

Y/n, curious about the tender side of Lando, asks how exactly he was caring after their night together. Lyka's expression softens even more as she continues. "He was really sweet," she explains. "He held me close, and told me how amazing I was. Kept asking if I was okay, and if I needed anything. Just really took care of me, you know?"

"Oh, and he left me a shit ton of hickeys too," Lyka mentions, causing Y/n to involuntarily spit out her drink in surprise. Y/n's eyes widen as Lyka casually mentions that detail. She was taking a sip of her drink at the same moment, causing her to almost choke on the liquid, spurting it out in surprise. "Hickeys?" she exclaims, her voice slightly strained. "Lando gave you hickeys?"

Lyka grins widely, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She shifts the collar of her shirt to reveal several small, purplish marks on her collarbone and neck. "Yeah," she says, her voice a bit smug. "He marked me up, good."

Lyka lets out a cheeky giggle, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah," she confirms, her voice slightly lower. "He left some on my thighs too, but Lando said those were for his eyes only."

Y/n can't help but stare at her friend in disbelief. Her mouth is still slightly agape, her eyes wide as she processes the information. "For his eyes only, huh?" she manages to say, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

She shakes her head, a little bemused by Lando's possessiveness. "Sounds like Lando wants to keep you all to himself," she teases, grinning. "No sharing allowed."

Lyka grins, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, absolutely," she confirms, giggling. "We made a deal. He wants to be my friend with benefits," she says, using air quotes, "And I just have to look pretty and make him feel good." She adds with a coy smile, paraphrasing Lando's words.

Lyka brightens up even more, her voice eager and excited. "Oh, and I'm going to his next race too!" she exclaims, bouncing a little in her seat. "I'll be in the McLaren garage, of course. Lando said he wants me there."

Y/n nods, a smile on her face. "I'll be there too, slightly against my will," she confirms, "But I'll be in the Mercedes garage." She glances at her friend, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "This is gonna be fun, watching the race from opposite ends of the garage."

"So... what about your night?" Lyka asks curiously, looking at Y/n with amusement through her eyelashes.

Y/n takes a moment, her mind flashing back to the events of her night. "My night…" she muses, her voice a little dreamy. "Well, it was… eventful, to say the least."

She lets out a soft chuckle, the memory of the night still fresh in her mind. "So, I was on the dance floor, just dancing, and Lewis came up behind me," she recalls, her voice laced with a hint of excitement.

Y/n glances at Lyka before continuing, her voice taking on a wry tone. "Yeah, it was around the time you went to dance with Lando," she says, clearly amused by the coincidence. "Lewis just appeared out of nowhere, tapped me on the shoulder, and we started dancing."

She smiles, her cheeks slightly flushed as she describes the night. "We were talking, flirting a bit," she says, her voice holding a hint of excitement. "He bought me drinks at the bar, and we just… connected, I guess."

Y/n lets out a light laugh, her cheeks flushing a little at the memory. "Yeah, so… eventually… we may have found a secluded spot and, you know, things got a bit heated," she explains, a coy smile playing on her lips. "And I may or may not have told him I'd marry him as a joke."

She shakes her head, still amused by the audacity of her own words. "I don't even know where it came from," she says. "Just a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? A little drunken banter."

Y/n continues, her voice filled with amusement. "Well, Lewis just chuckled when I said it," she recounts. "I mean, he knew I was just joking, right? But then he just… playfully agreed, you know? Like, he said something like, 'Sure, why not? Let's get hitched.' It was all just goofing around, really."

Y/n sees the look on Lyka's face and knows her friend is judging her, but it's in a friendly way. She laughs, shaking her head. "Hey, don't give me that look," she says, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. "It was just a joke, you know that, right?"

Lyka gives Y/n a sly smile, her voice filled with mock disbelief. "A joke that turned into an actual marriage," she repeats, her tone dripping with cheeky sarcasm. "Wow, I hope Lewis doesn't mind waking up to your morning breath every day."

Y/n playfully smacks Lyka's arm, laughing. "Hey, my morning breath isn't that bad," she protests, her voice light with feigned offense.

She then swats at Lyka again, her smile broadening. "And for the record, I would make an amazing wife," she boasts, her voice half-joking, half-serious.

Y/n straightens her shoulders, posing theatrically. "I'd be, like, the perfect trophy wife. I'd look good standing next to Lewis during his press conferences and podium interviews."

Lyka laughs out loud at Y/n's confident declaration. "Oh my god," she snickers, her voice filled with mirth. "You're actually picturing yourself as a trophy wife? Standing there, looking pretty while Lewis talks about racing strategy and tire compounds?"

Y/n grins, raising a brow at Lyka. "And what about you?" she asks a hint of challenge in her voice. "Can you see yourself doing the same for Lando? Standing there, looking gorgeous, while he talks about car setup and track conditions?"

Lyka nods with conviction, a sparkle in her eyes. "Absolutely, yes," she affirms. "I can totally picture myself looking all cute and pretty, with a whole wardrobe of amazing outfits courtesy of Lando's earnings. It's all about the perks, you know?"

She grins mischievously. "Besides, watching Lando on the track, all focused and intense, and then coming home to spoil me rotten? Sounds pretty damn good to me."

Y/n nods, her lips curving into a smile. "You know what, you have a point there," she admits, her voice laced with a touch of envy. "Getting to watch Lewis race, all focused and competitive, and then having him come home and… well, show me just how much he appreciates me… yeah, I could get used to that."

She quirks an eyebrow, glancing at the calendar. "Alright, when's the next race again?" she asks, her voice slightly impatient. "I need to check if I'm free that day, cause Toto- his team principal, I believe? said that I have to be there. Some PR bullshit."

Y/n pulls out her phone, quickly searching for the race schedule. "Lemme see," she murmurs, scrolling through her screen. "There we go. The next race is two weeks from now... Let's see… yep, I'm free that day."

She puts her phone away, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "All clear," she affirms. "I'll be there, cheering on Lewis every lap of the way."

Lyka smirks, her voice dripping with playfully sarcastic praise. "Oh, you're such a good wife," she teases. "Making sure you're always available to support your husband's racing career. That's true devotion right there."

Y/n laughs, returning the teasing with a sly grin. "And what about you?" she asks, raising a brow. "Ready to be Lando's arm candy, showing off all those designer outfits he'll buy you?"

Lyka nods vigorously, her face already picturing the fancy outfits she'd wear. "Oh, absolutely," she declares, her voice oozing with enthusiasm. "I'm so ready to be Lando's arm candy, strutting around in all the gorgeous designer outfits he'll spoil me with."

Lyka takes a moment to swallow her chip and then adds, "And hey, speaking of Lando's stuff, I actually need to return that hoodie he lent me. Gotta make sure he gets it back."

She grins mischievously. "Although, maybe I'll 'accidentally' keep it a day or two longer just to remind him of me."

Y/n tsks, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Oh, wow," she chuckles, her tone laced with feigned surprise. "That's such harlot behavior, keeping a guy's hoodie just to remind him of yourself."

Lyka looks at Y/n in exaggerated shock, her mouth dropping open in mock offense. "Harlot? Really?" she exclaims, her voice filled with laughter. "Out of all the words you could've chosen, you went with harlot! That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

Y/n shrugs, unable to keep a straight face. "What? It fits!" she replies, her voice laced with mirth. "You're deliberately keeping his hoodie longer just to keep his attention on you. If that isn’t harlot behavior, then I don't know what is."

Lyka rolls her eyes dramatically, a playful grin on her face. "Oh, please," she exclaims, batting her eyelashes dramatically. "It's not harlot behavior, it's strategic flirting. There's a difference."

Y/n chuckles, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay," she concedes, her voice still tinged with laughter. "You can call it whatever you want. Strategic flirting, friendly teasing, whatever floats your boat."

July 8, Monday, 4:51 PM

Y/n is in the middle of preparing dinner, peeling potatoes and chopping veggies, when her phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. She glances down at it curiously, setting down her knife for a moment.

After a few moments, Y/n finishes replying to Lewis' message, a small smile on her face. She sets down her phone, the conversation with Lewis momentarily distracting her from her cooking preparations.

Y/n continues chopping vegetables, her hands moving deftly as she's suddenly interrupted by the sound of Lyka's phone ringing. She stops for a moment, looking up as Lyka grabs her phone.

Lyka's face lights up with surprise as she answers the phone, hearing Lando's voice on the line. "Oh! Hey, Lando," she replies, her voice already cheerful.

Y/n can't help but smile at Lyka's reaction, hearing the change in her tone. She continues chopping vegetables as she listens to Lyka's side of the conversation.

Lyka's voice is filled with excitement as she responds to Lando's question. "Yes, I'll get the tickets for the flight myself," she confirms, her voice slightly giddy. "I'll be there by Friday, no problem."

Her face flushes with a rosy hue as Lando brings up the subject of his hoodie. She lets out a soft, nervous chuckle and replies, a hint of playful charm in her voice, "Ah, about the hoodie… Well, I was actually thinking I might hang onto it a little longer."

Y/n, unable to contain her amusement, lets out a soft giggle, drawing Lyka's attention. She glances at her friend, a sly smile on her face.

Lyka continues the conversation with Lando, her voice taking on a flirtatious tone as she playfully teases him. "You know, if you miss the hoodie that much, you'll just have to come and get it from me yourself…"

Y/n stops mid-preparation, her eyes widening as she eavesdrops on Lyka's conversation. She gapes at her friend for a brief moment, surprised by the boldness of her response.

She can't help but chuckle to herself, thinking, "Lyka's really turning on the charm. Lando's going to be all over her when he gets that hoodie back…"

Lyka continues the conversation, her voice dropping to a sultry tone. "It seems like you miss this hoodie more than you miss me, if you're that desperate to get your hoodie back, maybe we should meet up tomorrow…"

Lyka smiles widely as Lando agrees to meet up the next day. "Great, I'll send you my address in a moment," she replies, her voice a mix of anticipation. "I need to go now, though. But I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Y/n watches the exchange with a mixture of amusement and surprise. She can't help but shake her head in disbelief as Lyka ends the call, a cheeky smile on her face.

"Wow," Y/n says, her voice filled with admiration. "You really have Lando wrapped around your finger, don't you?"

Lyka grins, her cheeks still flushed with a hint of a blush. "What can I say? I have my ways of persuasion," she replies, a coy smirk on her face.

Y/n laughs at Lyka's response, amused by her friend's confidence. She continues preparing dinner, adding the ingredients to the pot and stirring it together in the pot, her mind temporarily preoccupied as she focuses on her cooking task. The kitchen emits a warm, savory aroma, the spices blending together to create a mouthwatering scent.

Y/n is suddenly interrupted by the sound of Lyka spitting out her tea, accompanied by an annoyed meow from Evoo. She looks up, slightly startled, setting down her spoon to look over at her friend.

"Whoa, what happened?" Y/n asks, looking at Lyka, who's wiping her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes move to the cat, who's also looking slightly grumpy from the unexpected spray.

Lyka, still catching her breath, quickly points at Y/n's phone, which is on the kitchen counter. "Check your Instagram," she says urgently, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Y/n grabs her phone from the kitchen counter, a look of curiosity on her face. She swipes through her notifications and opens Instagram, as per Lyka's instruction.

Y/n scans through her Instagram timeline and her heart skips a beat as she catches the first article. The statement from Mercedes about her marriage to Lewis is plastered right on her screen. She reads through it, disbelief and surprise etched across her face.

mercedesf1

liked by lewishamilton, george_russell, lyka.val and 563,447 others mercedesamgf1 Following the recent victory at Silverstone, unauthorized images of one of our drivers and his private life have been leaked. We respect our driver’s privacy and are addressing the situation with the seriousness it deserves. Here’s Toto’s reaction to the matter.

user44 HE'S WHAT? FOR HOW LONG?

lewishamiltonfan446427 who the fuck is y/n.... ↳ george.jpg i just searched her up, she used to be a model! she's still active on social media so it isn't that hard to find her account

mercluvr I'M SORRY???

nepobbylver ms rabbit has fainted.

y/nfan1 I'M GOING INSANE??????????????????????????

lewis.hamiltons.gf does this mean i have to change my username...?

y/nfan2 WHEN DID THEY MEET WHAT

y/nfan3 WHEN WHERE WHAT HOW WHEN HUH

rockstarlewis this is some 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 shit dude

wtfmerc so it WAS y/n

A mix of emotions floods through her as she continues reading. She feels a wave of shock, followed by a pang of confusion. Y/n grips her phone tighter, her eyes glued to the words on the screen.

Y/n looks up from her phone, her voice quivering with surprise and a hint of concern. "I didn't know they were releasing this statement today," she replies, her words tinged with a mixture of confusion and anxiety.

Her voice becomes more frantic, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. "It was just an idea I pitched! The whole 'married for 6 months' thing- it wasn't supposed to be taken seriously, not this soon at least!"

She paces around the kitchen, her heart pounding with worry and uncertainty. "I never thought they'd actually make a statement about it without speaking to me first," she mutters, her voice betraying her growing anxiety.

As Y/n continues to pace anxiously, biting on her nails, Lyka takes action. She stands up from the counter and gently grasps Y/n's shoulders, trying to anchor her in the moment.

"Hey, hey," Lyka says in a soothing tone. "Take a deep breath, okay? Panicking isn't going to help the situation."

Y/n nods, trying to steady her racing thoughts. She takes a few deep breaths, letting the air fill her lungs and gradually slowing down her frenzied heartbeat.

Y/n is snapped out of her anxious thoughts as her phone rings loudly in her hand, jolting her back to reality. She glances down at the screen, wondering who could be calling her at this moment.

Her eyes widen as she sees her father's name on the caller ID. She stares at the screen for a moment, her mind swirling with thoughts. Taking another deep breath, she swipes to answer the call.

"Hello?" she says, her voice slightly shaky as she brings the phone to her ear.

She listens intently as her father's voice comes through the other end of the line, waiting anxiously for whatever he has to say. Y/n's father's voice is stern but concerned. "Y/n," he begins, "Have you seen the statement released by Mercedes?"

Y/n holds the phone a little tightly, her heart rate increasing again. "Dad," she begins, "Yes, I just saw it on Instagram. But listen, it's not what it seems-"

Her father's voice cuts her off, filled with disbelief and disappointment. "Not what it seems? It says you've been married to Lewis for 6 months. Explain that."

Y/n hesitates for a moment, her mind racing to come up with a viable explanation. Feeling cornered, she decides to go along with the lie, knowing that the truth will lead to even more disappointment and shame from her father.

"Okay, okay," she says, her voice quivering slightly. "Yes, it's true we got married. But Dad, please understand, it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment thing. We wanted to keep it quiet, that's why we didn't tell anyone right away…"

Y/n listens to her father's scolding, her heart sinking further with each question. "I know, I know," she responds, her voice filled with guilt and remorse. "I should have told you sooner. But Dad, you have to understand, Lewis and I wanted to keep things private at first. The public attention can be overwhelming, and we wanted to enjoy our newlywed bliss in peace…"

Y/n feels a lump form in her throat as she hears the disappointment in her father's voice. This is a first for her—she's never had to lie to her father before, and the guilt starts to weigh heavily on her heart. Fresh tears well up in her eyes, but she tries to maintain her composure on the phone.

Lyka sees the tears in Y/n's eyes and immediately takes notice, her face filled with concern. She walks over to her friend and starts rubbing her back soothingly, a silent show of support and solidarity.

Y/n's father continues to press, his tone slightly more subdued now, "And when can we meet Lewis? Your mother deserves to meet him as soon as possible. We can't just be finding out about your husband on social media, for goodness sake!"

Y/n swallows hard, the weight of the lie becoming more palpable. She racks her brain for an answer, trying to come up with a believable timeframe. "Uh, well, we're actually not together right now... he's still... with his family...," she says, her voice still shaky. "Maybe… Maybe this week? Or when their summer break begins?"

Her father remains silent for a moment, mulling over the proposed timeline. "Very well," he finally responds, his voice still edged with disappointment. "We'll plan something for next week then. I expect a proper introduction and explanation. No more secrets, understood?"

Y/n nods, even though her father can't see her. "Yes, Dad, understood. No more secrets," she mutters, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and resignation.

After the call ends, Y/n closes her phone, a deep sigh escaping her lips. The weight of the lie and the disappointment from her father hang heavily on her shoulders. She feels like a guilty teenager all over again.

Lyka sees the distress etched on Y/n's face and quickly strides over to her, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting hug. "It's going to be okay," she whispers softly, trying to soothe her friend's troubled heart.

Y/n takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts and trying to rein in her emotions. She then looks over at Lyka, a newfound determination etched on her face. "I need to let Lewis know about the situation with my father," she says, her voice steadying slightly.

She swiftly opens her phone and navigates to Lewis' contact. She knows she needs to inform him about the recent turn of events. Her fingers grip the phone tighter as she starts typing a message to him.

Y/n closes her phone and sighs, her body still feeling the emotional toll from the conversation with her father. Seeing that Lyka has taken over the cooking, Y/n moves to a nearby chair and plops down, still mulling over the recent developments.

While sitting on the chair, she takes a moment to mentally process everything that has happened. Her mind is filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions - the lie, the need to maintain the facade, the guilt of deceiving her father, and the impending meeting with Lewis and her parents.

July 14th, 5:34 PM

The two sit in the car, the engine idling in the driveway of Y/n's childhood home. The atmosphere in the car is tense, and both of them are dreading the upcoming meeting with Y/n's parents.

She takes a deep breath, stealing a glance at Lewis before speaking up. "Okay, here's the plan," she begins, her voice a mixture of conviction and anxiety.

Y/n goes over the 'story' again, recapping the timeline of their 'relationship.' "We met during my vacation- your Christmas break of 2022, and became friends for about two months before you started courting me for three more months," she reminds Lewis. "We started dating after that, dated for five months, got engaged for around two months, and then got married in mid-January. Got it?"

Lewis nods, taking in the timeline and details of their fictional relationship. He's clearly trying to commit everything to memory, fully aware of the importance of maintaining a consistent story in front of Y/n's parents.

Y/n takes another deep breath, her hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Just remember, the key is to stay consistent and make it believable," she adds, her voice a tad shakier than before.

Lewis reaches out and takes Y/n's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We can do this," he says, his voice filled with determination and reassurance. "We just have to stick to the story and not let our nerves get the better of us."

Y/n nods, reassured by Lewis' words and the gentle squeeze of his hand. "You're right," she says, her voice steadier now. "Stick to the story, stay cool, and we'll get through this."

Lewis turns off the ignition, and the engine falls silent. Both of them unbuckle their seatbelts and get out of the car. Standing in the driveway, they take a moment to glance at each other, preparing themselves for the upcoming interaction.

Y/n's heart pounds in her chest as she and Lewis approach the front door. The familiar surroundings of her childhood home bring back a mixture of emotions—nostalgia, nervousness, and the weight of the lie they're about to perpetuate.

She reaches out and rings the doorbell, the sound echoing through the peaceful neighborhood. They wait for a few moments, the anticipation growing with each passing second.

The maid opens the door and greets Y/n and Lewis warmly. "Hello, welcome," she says with a friendly smile. "Your father is still in his study doing some paperwork and your mother is helping the chefs with the dishes. They should be finished soon."

Y/n thanks the maid and glances at Lewis, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. She leads him into the house, the familiar scent of her childhood home filling her nostrils.

She takes Lewis' hand and leads him into the living room. The spacious room is tastefully decorated with a mix of antique and modern furniture, a reflection of her family's taste and style. She guides him to a cozy sofa and motions for him to take a seat.

As they settle onto the sofa, the maid follows behind them and asks, "Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water, perhaps?"

Y/n turns to the maid and responds, her voice a bit tense. "I'll have cold water, please. Thank you."

She then turns to Lewis, trying to keep a semblance of normalcy despite her inner turmoil. "Would you like anything, Lewis? Water, coffee, tea…?"

Lewis looks at Y/n and then at the maid and replies, "I'll have tea, please. Thank you."

As the maid exits the living room Lewis sidles closer to Y/n on the sofa, draping an arm around her in a comforting gesture. He leans in and whispers something in her ear, his voice low and barely audible to anyone else.

In a quiet voice, Lewis whispers to Y/n, "Are there any cameras in the living room?" He asks the question, his gaze subtly glancing around for any visible signs of surveillance equipment.

Y/n is slightly taken aback by Lewis' arm around her, but she collects herself quickly. In a hushed tone, she whispers back, "Yes, there are cameras. They're hidden in various spots around the room, my father has access to the cameras from his study."

Lewis places a soft kiss on Y/n's temple and then pulls her closer, his voice a low murmur. "I know, I probably should have asked for your permission before doing that, but I thought it might help our act. For all we know, your father could be watching us on those cameras at this very moment."

Y/n can feel her heart rate increase a bit at Lewis' proximity and his reasoning behind the kiss. She glances at the hidden cameras, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. She nods subtly, understanding the necessity of keeping up the act.

The two of them maintain their close position on the couch, trying to appear as a married couple who are comfortable in each other's company. Y/n glances around discreetly, wondering how her father is handling the surveillance footage.

Just as they are about to continue their conversation, the maid re-enters the living room, carrying a tray with their drinks. She sets the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, placing a glass of cold water next to Y/n and a steaming cup of tea next to Lewis.

The maid arranges the drinks on the coffee table, the sound of the glass clinking against the tray cutting through the silence in the room. She then smiles politely at them before discretely exiting the living room again, leaving Y/n and Lewis alone with their beverages.

Y/n watches the maid exit, her heart rate slightly elevated. She picks up her glass and takes a small sip of water, her mind racing with a million thoughts. The sound of Lewis' tea cup being placed back on the coffee table breaks the silence, drawing her attention back to him.

As Y/n starts to bite her nail, Lewis reaches out and gently moves her hand away from her mouth, his gaze meeting hers with reassurance. "Hey," he whispers "It's going to be okay. I'm here with you, every step of the way. We'll get through this together, alright?"

The simple act of Lewis gently stopping her from biting her nail serves as a small anchor, bringing Y/n back from the edge of her nervousness. She glances at him, his steady presence offering a small sense of comfort. She nods subtly, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and anxiety.

Y/n's breathing remains somewhat labored, the anxiety still coursing through her. Lewis takes her hand in his and begins rubbing his thumb against hers, a soothing motion that seems to ease her nerves, if only a little.

As she gazes at their intertwined hands, her eyes move up to the rings and tattoos adorning Lewis' fingers. The sight of them adds another layer to their carefully crafted pretense, the evidence of her supposed marriage right there on display for anyone who looks closely enough.

Their moment is interrupted as Y/n's mother walks into the living room. Her mother's presence brings Y/n back to reality, and the nerves come rushing back. She straightens up immediately, letting go of Lewis' hand to brush off any dust on her shirt and pants.

Y/n's mother enters the living room, her eyes lighting up as she sees her daughter and Lewis sitting together on the sofa. A warm smile graces her lips as she approaches them. "Hello, you two," she greets them, her voice filled with genuine affection.

As Y/m/n approaches, Y/n rises from the sofa, her movement slightly jerky due to her nerves. She tries to force a smile, hoping to appear normal, but the tension in her body is palpable.

Lewis follows Y/n as she nods, his hand gently moving to rest on her back, a small comfort in the face of the inevitable confrontation with her father.

He extends his hand towards Y/n's mother, his demeanor is polite and friendly. "Hello, it's lovely to meet you in person," he says with a warm smile. Y/n watches the interaction, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

The introduction occurs, Lewis offering his hand in greeting and Y/n's mother shaking it warmly. Y/n stands nearby, the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears drowning out almost everything else.

As Lewis shakes her mother's hand and exchanges greetings, Y/n's heart pounds louder in her ears. Her eyes flicker between the two, the casual interaction between her mother and Lewis standing in stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions churning within her.

Y/n watches as Lewis engages in pleasantries with her mother, and the polite exchange is a far cry from the anxiety that grips Y/n's insides. The sound of their voices and the sight of their interaction blur into the background as Y/n struggles to keep herself together.

Y/m/n gestures towards the dining room, saying, "Follow me to the dining room, please. Your father will join us in about five minutes." With a nod, Y/n and Lewis follow silently behind her, the nerves tightening in Y/n's stomach.

Lewis takes Y/n's hand again, his touch providing a source of comfort in the midst of the mounting tension. With a subtle gesture, he begins rubbing his thumb against hers, offering a silent reassurance.

The gentle, soothing motion of Lewis rubbing her thumb helps to ground Y/n, and the simple action is a small balm against the anxiety that threatens to consume her. She glances at him, silently expressing her gratitude through her eyes.

They enter the dining room, and Lewis takes a seat next to Y/n, his presence a silent comfort. Y/n sits down across from her mother, leaving her father's chair vacant. The sight of the empty chair sends a jolt of anxiety through Y/n, her palms beginning to sweat.

Y/n sits across from her mother, her eyes darting to the empty chair that her father is bound to occupy shortly. The sight of the vacant seat is a ghost of the man who is about to confront the facade they've created. Y/n's palms begin to sweat, and the nervous energy builds rapidly within her.

The silence in the dining room is nearly deafening. Y/n's mother makes small talk, but Y/n's mind is elsewhere, consumed by the impending arrival of her father. She glances again at the empty chair, the seconds ticking by like hours as they wait for him to join them.

The wait seems endless, Y/n's mother's attempts at small talk falling on deaf ears as Y/n's mind races with thoughts. Every sound seems magnified, and every breath echoes. The empty chair looms over the table like a storm cloud, its absence speaking louder than any words could.

It seems almost too well-timed. Just as the silence is about to become unbearably awkward, the butlers enter the room, gracefully serving the meals that have been prepared. The aroma of the food fills the air, but Y/n's stomach is in knots, the thought of eating almost impossible.

As they express gratitude to the butlers, Y/n's father proceeds to place food on his plate, his hands moving deftly. Still in the midst of his task, he begins to ask questions, his voice laced with authority and curiosity.

Y/n's father continues to plate his food as he asks questions, his words almost nonchalant, but his tone hinting at hidden scrutiny. "So, Lewis, how did you and Y/n meet?"

Lewis responds calmly to Y/n's father's question, his tone matter-of-fact. "We met back in 2022, during Y/n's Christmas vacation," he says. "It was a coincidence, really. We just sorta bumped into each other and started talking."

Her father nods, seemingly taking in the information, still focused on loading food onto his plate. His next question comes with a hint of intensity, "And when did you decide to get married?"

Y/n's father's question about their marriage takes her slightly off-guard. As her mind races, she accidentally drops her spoon, the metallic clatter bouncing off the walls of the quiet dining room. Her heart sinks, the unexpected question leaving her feeling even more exposed.

Y/n apologizes for the dropped spoon, her voice a bit shaky. Lewis takes over, answering her father's question calmly. "We decided to get married after being engaged for two months," he explains. "We actually got married right before the off-season started. It was quite a whirlwind, to be honest."

Y/n's mother interjects, curious about the term 'off-season.' "What do you mean by off-season?" she asks, her tone casually curious.

Lewis responds to Y/n's mother's question, his tone casually informative. "The off-season is sort of like Christmas break," he says. "It's the time of year when school is out, and everything kind of slows down for a while."

Y/n's mother nods, absorbing the explanation, and then proceeds to take a bite of her food. She seems reasonably content with the answer, her focus shifting back to her meal.

Y/n's father, seemingly unsatisfied with the previous answers, resumes asking his questions. His gaze remains fixed on a spoonful of soup, but his voice drips with a sense of authoritative interrogation.

He continues to question Lewis, his eyes focused on his bowl of soup as his voice pierces the air. "So, you're an athlete, correct?" he asks, his tone suggesting he already knows the answer.

Lewis nods in confirmation, his demeanor still poised. "Yes, I am," he answers, his response firm.

Y/n's father persists with his questions, delving into practicalities. "How are you going to provide for Y/n when you're constantly traveling and training?" he probes, his tone skeptical.

Y/n's mother chimes in, gently nudging her husband and scolding him playfully. "Darling, you're acting as if Lewis is going to be your personal assistant," she admonishes, adding a little humor to the conversation.

Lewis chuckles lightly, finding a bit of humor in the situation. Y/n, on the other hand, lets out a somewhat awkward laugh, the tension still palpable beneath the facade of casual banter.

He responds to her father's question, his tone confident. "I have a well-established career, sir," he says. "I'm well-paid, and I can certainly provide for Y/n and any future family we might have."

As Lewis mentions potentially having a family, Y/n is caught off-guard and inadvertently causes herself to cough, the water going down the wrong pipe. She quickly composes herself while both their parents look at her in concern.

While Y/n recovers from her coughing fit, Lewis gently pats her back, a look of concern etched on his face. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Y/n responds nervously, her voice a bit shaky. "Yeah, I'm fine," she reassures, trying to brush off the incident, her eyes darting between Lewis, her parents, and the water in her glass.

Y/n's mother chimes in with a question, her tone light yet curious. "So, have you two thought about how big of a family you'd like to have?" she inquires, her eyes flitting between Lewis and Y/n.

Lewis expresses his thoughts on starting a family, his voice filled with warmth and optimism. "I'd really like a big family," he admits, "maybe 2-3 kids or more, and a few pets too. But ultimately, it'll be Y/n's call since she'll be the one carrying and giving birth to the children." He smiles affectionately at her, adding, "It's her decision, and I'll support whatever she chooses."

Y/n's gaze softens, her heart warmed by Lewis's words. Despite the awkward family setting, the way he looks at her, coupled with his last statement, touches her deeply. It's a small but significant gesture, emphasizing his support and understanding, something she didn't fully anticipate.

Y/n's father nods in approval, clearly satisfied with Lewis's response. "Good man," he remarks, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind Lewis's words. "Always considerate of your wife's feelings, as you should be."

As Y/n's father praises Lewis, a sigh of relief escapes her lips. The approval from her father seems to ease some of the tension, and she shoots Lewis a grateful glance, silently expressing her relief.

Y/n's mother chimes in with a question, her tone casual but slightly concerned. "Have you two thought about moving in together soon?" she asks. "I recall Y/n mentioning she's still staying with Lyka."

Y/n responds, her voice laced with a hint of anxiety, explaining the reasons behind their decision. "We haven't moved in together yet," she begins, "due to Lewis's job. With him traveling all over the world for most of the year, it would be quite lonely for me. I have some of my stuff at his place, but we agreed that I'll stay with him when he's home and stay at my apartment with Lyka when he's away."

The explanation seems to make sense to both Y/n's parents and her father nods in understanding. He seems to comprehend the challenges that come with Lewis's job, and the reasoning behind their living arrangement makes sense in their circumstances.

The dinner gradually comes to an end, and Y/n and Lewis bid farewell to her parents. There's a sense of relief in the air, mixed with a hint of lingering tension. As they part ways, Y/n's mother gives them both a warm smile, while her father offers a firm nod.

"Thanks," she says, smiling at his gesture, appreciating the small act of chivalry. She pulls out her phone from her bag before taking a seat in the car, the soft leather of the seats molding to her body.

As Lewis closes the car door, Y/n notices Lyka's name popping up on her phone's screen. She taps on the answer button, the phone pressed to her ear. "Hello?" she says, her voice slightly weary.

Lyka's voice comes through the line, sounding a mix of anxious and excited. "H-hi," she greets, her tone bordering on the guilty, like a child trying to conceal their mischief.

Y/n listens to Lyka's nervous greeting and responds, curiosity in her voice. "What's up?" she asks, setting the phone on speaker and placing it on the dash. Just as she does so, Lewis gets into the car, and they both focus on the now-speaker conversation.

Lyka's voice, sounding a bit unsure, asks, "Are you heading home now?" The question lingers in the air, suggesting that there may be something on Lyka's mind.

Y/n shoots Lewis a glance, their eyes meeting briefly as he maneuvers the car out of the gates. She's silent for a moment, contemplating Lyka's request and the implications of staying over at Lewis's place tonight.

Y/n turns her attention to Lewis, asking the question aloud, even though he had already overheard the conversation. She takes the phone off the dashboard, holding it in her hand as she speaks, her voice quieter than before. "Lyka's asking if I can stay over at your place tonight because Lando is a bit too drunk to go home."

Lewis responds, keeping his focus on the road, his voice calm and unwavering. "Sure," he says, seeming amenable to the idea. "You can stay over at my place tonight."

She relays the response to Lyka, conveying the okay from Lewis. "Okay," she says, her voice a bit lighter now. "I can stay at Lewis's place tonight."

Lyka's voice comes through the phone, brimming with gratitude and a hint of apology. "Thank you so much," she expresses, her tone sincere. "I'm really sorry for the sudden request. We just, uh…" Her voice trails off, leaving the rest unspoken.

Y/n chuckles, still on the phone with Lyka, and teases her gently. "Yeah, yeah, just make sure you take care of your 'boyfriend,'" she says, a hint of playfulness in her voice. "I'll be with Lewis."

Lyka's embarrassed screech comes through the phone, her voice full of flustered denial. "DUDE, SHUT UP!" she practically yells, her annoyance tinged with a hint of humor. "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!"

Y/n responds, a playful tone in her voice. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Lyka," she teases. "You can tell that to the flowers he's been sending you every day." Her tone takes on a mock serious note. "Anyways, I've gotta go now."

Lyka's frustrated scream comes through the line, her voice muffled as she probably covers her face with her hands. Y/n laughs, having heard this reaction countless times over the years, knowing it's a clear sign of Lyka's embarrassment. "Bye," Lyka manages to say, her voice still tinged with flusteredness before ending the call.

Y/n looks at her phone, opening the text messages app to find the flurry of texts Lyka sent just moments ago before the call. Her eyes scan over the screen, curious to see what kind of messages her flustered best friend sent, no doubt venting about what was happening.

Lewis breaks the brief silence that had settled in the car, starting with a casual, "So…" His tone is conversational, suggesting he has something to talk about. He keeps his focus on the road, but his voice is filled with curiosity and a hint of anticipation.

Y/n sighs, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and uncertainty. She closes her phone screen, resting it on her lap before responding. "Honestly, I'm not even sure," she admits, her tone reflecting a hint of frustration at her friends' complex relationship.

Y/n tries to explain the complicated nature of Lyka and Lando's relationship, her voice trying to convey the complexity of it all. "They're more than friends, but less than lovers," she clarifies, her tone thoughtful. "It's a bit confusing, really. They're stuck somewhere in between."

Lewis chuckles, reflecting on the implications of the "stuck in between" situation. He offers a playful observation. "Well, that could go one of two ways, right?" he muses. "Either it's really good, or really bad."

Y/n smirks, agreeing with Lewis's assessment. "Yeah, you're right," she concedes, her voice hinting at the complexities of Lyka and Lando's dynamics. "It's either going to work out amazingly or explode in their faces."

The car falls back into a moment of silence, the low hum of the engine filling the space. Lewis keeps driving, his focus on the road, his mind likely contemplating the complexities of relationships and the uncertainty of the future.

Y/n breaks the silence again, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "Uh…" she begins, her tone a bit uncertain, but there's a question lingering behind it.

Y/n's voice softens with gratitude as she addresses Lewis, her tone sincere. "Thanks," she says, her appreciation evident. "For, you know, not making a big deal about me staying over."

Y/n's voice takes on a more grateful tone, her appreciation clear. "And thank you for saving my ass at the dinner," she says, a hint of relief in her voice. "I really appreciate you having my back."

Lewis responds with a warm smile, his tone easy and hospitable. "It's no problem, sweetheart," he says. "You're always welcome at my place, even when I'm not around. I'll give you a key soon so you can come and go as you please."

Y/n turns her head swiftly, her gaze now locked on him. She repeats his term of endearment, "Sweetheart?" Her voice is tinged with a hint of surprise, her head slightly tilted to the side as she processes the familiarity of the word coming from his lips.

Lewis's eyes widen momentarily upon hearing her question, clearly surprised by the inquiry. He quickly recovers and responds, his tone questioning yet gentle, "Oh, is it okay if I call you that?" His voice carries a note of concern, clearly wanting to ensure he hasn't crossed any boundaries.

She lets out a soft laugh, the tension easing away. "Yeah, it's fine," she assures him, her tone tinged with a hint of amusement. "It's actually better that way. I won't be caught off guard when you call me that in public. It'll make our act more believable for the press."

Lewis nods, the concern in his eyes replaced by a hint of relief and a touch of playfulness. "That's true," he agrees, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It'll make it more convincing when we're around people. Plus, it's kind of nice…" His voice trails off, a slight implication behind his words.

A smile dances on Y/n’s lips, and she decides to tease him a bit. “Oh really? I feel like you have a big crush on me Sir Lewis,” she asks, feigning surprise, her tone lighthearted. Her eyes glimmer with playfulness, expecting him to respond with a playful banter.

His voice takes on a playfully challenging tone as he responds to Y/n’s teasing question. “And what if I do?” he says, his eyes briefly meeting hers before turning back to the road. “What would you do about it?” There’s a hint of a challenge in his tone but also a flicker of genuine curiosity, as if he’s eager to see how she would react if her teasing was based on truth.

Y/n responds with confidence, her eyes locked into his. “Oh, I have a few ideas,” she says, her tone dripping with a hint of mystery. Her voice drops lower, filled with playful tease, as if she’s already planning something.

Lewis raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued by Y/n’s response. He can’t help but wonder what kind of ideas she has in mind. “Oh yeah? And what ideas do you have in that pretty mind of yours, sweetheart?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips.

Her smile widens, her eyes glimmering mischievously. She remains coy, not revealing too much. “Oh, I can’t give away all my secrets,” she teases, her voice playful. “You’ll have to wait and find out.”

Lewis chuckles, enjoying the banter between them. "Fair enough," he responds, his tone playful. "I guess I'll just have to wait and see what you have up your sleeve, sweetheart."

Y/n smirks at the term of endearment, the name rolling off his tongue with a familiar ease. "Oh, you'll see," she teases back, her voice filled with confidence. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

Lewis brings the car into the parking lot of the condominium building, the wheels smoothly coming to a stop. He turns off the engine, the sound of the vehicle falling silent as he shifts his gaze over to Y/n sitting next to him.

"We're here," he announces, his tone casual. He unbuckles his seatbelt and glances over at Y/n. "Ready to head inside?"

Y/n nods, the teasing banter settling into a comfortable quiet. She unbuckles her own seatbelt and prepares to get out of the car. "Yeah, let's go."

Lewis opens the car door and steps out, stretching briefly before closing the door behind him. He then walks over to Y/n's side and opens the passenger door for her, offering his hand to help her out of the car.

She smiles appreciatively, taking his hand and stepping out of the car. "Thank you," she says, her voice tinged with gratefulness. She then follows him as they head towards the entrance of the condominium building.

As they walk into Lewis's penthouse, the faint sound of a low thumping becomes perceptible. Y/n glances around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. She looks over at Lewis, a quizzical expression on her face, silently asking if he hears it too.

Lewis catches Y/n's curious look and can't help but smile to himself, fully aware of what's about to occur. He says nothing for a moment, amused by the fact that she hasn't figured it out yet.

Out of nowhere, a chubby bulldog appears, sprinting toward Lewis with excitement. Its short, muscular legs carry it swiftly across the floor, its paws creating a thumping sound as they hit the ground. The bulldog clearly recognizes its owner and makes a beeline straight for him, tail wagging joyfully.

Lewis crouches down to meet Roscoe, his face breaking into a wide smile as the dog happily rolls onto his belly, begging for some attention. Lewis laughs and begins to scratch the dog's belly, his fingers rubbing the animal's belly fur affectionately.

"Hey, buddy," Lewis coos affectionately, his voice filled with warmth as he speaks to Roscoe. "Did you miss me?" The bulldog responds with a slobbery grin and continues to wiggle his short, stub tail on the floor in bliss.

Roscoe looks up at Lewis with big, soulful eyes, his tongue hanging out, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of his owner. He playfully licks Lewis's hand, expressing his happiness in the only way he knows how.

Roscoe, in the middle of his display of excitement towards Lewis, suddenly halts, his furry head tilting to the side as he notices Y/n's presence. His wide eyes focus on her, his gaze inquisitive and a little cautious, as if wondering who this new person in his home is.

Y/n stands there, a mix of surprise and uncertainty on her face, not quite knowing how to greet the curious bulldog. She looks over at Lewis, silently seeking some guidance on how to approach his pet.

He notices the change in Roscoe's behavior and the puzzled look on Y/n's face. He stands up and gestures for her to come closer, a reassuring smile on his face. "It's okay," he says, his tone comforting. "He's just curious. Come closer."

Y/n steps closer, her nerves palpable as she admits to Lewis that she isn't particularly fond of dogs. "Um, is this a good time to say I'm not really a dog person?" she mumbles, her voice tinged with slight unease.

Lewis chuckles, a mix of amusement and understanding in his eyes. He glances down at Roscoe, who is still sitting and watching Y/n intently. "Oh, really? Well, that might be a problem," he teases jokingly.

She cautiously moves closer and gives Roscoe a tentative pat on the head, her touch light and tentative. The bulldog responds by closing his eyes in the pleasure of the unexpected attention, his stumpy tail wagging once again as he basks in the affection.

Lewis watches the interaction and smiles, finding the scene amusing yet endearing. "See?" he says, his voice encouraging. "He likes you already."

He stands up, motioning for Y/n to follow him into the kitchen. "C'mon," he says, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I'll grab us some drinks."

Y/n follows Lewis into the kitchen, her face transforming into a surprised smile as she asks a question. "Why do we need drinks?" There's a hint of curiosity in her voice, as if she's secretly hoping for a particular reason.

Lewis uncorks the bottle, taking out two wine glasses from the overhead cabinet. As he pours the wine into the glasses, he glances over at Y/n, his eyes holding a playful twinkle. "Besides," he says, a sly smile on his lips, "we need to celebrate our marriage properly, don't we?"

He passes a wine glass to her, his fingertips lightly brushing against hers for a moment as he does so. The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly feels a tad heated as the implications of his words hang in the air between them.

Y/n takes the offered glass, her heart skipping a beat as their fingers touch briefly. The look in his eyes and the undercurrent of flirtation in his tone are hard to ignore. The words "we need to celebrate our marriage properly" echo in her head, causing a flutter of anticipation in her stomach.

Lewis pours himself a glass of wine, then pours another for Y/n as she settles into her seat. He moves around the counter, the wine glass in his hand, and takes a seat next to her. The silence is comfortable, but the air is charged with a simmering tension, the earlier flirtation not yet faded.

Y/n holds up her wine glass, lifting it slightly in his direction. "Cheers," she says, her voice carrying a note of excitement. The clinking sound of their glasses meeting fills the air, the act oddly intimate and charged with unspoken desires.

Their eyes meet over the rims of their glasses, the moment charged with a mix of tension and anticipation. Y/n takes a sip of her wine, the liquid smooth and cool as it touches her lips, but it's the man sitting next to her that leaves her feeling flushed and warm.

Time has passed, and the wine has taken its toll. Both Y/n and Lewis are visibly tipsy, their cheeks flushed and their inhibitions lowered. She finds herself in a slightly drunken state, her speech more slurry than Lewis's. They're exchanging stories, the wine loosening their tongues and making them more susceptible to sharing their secrets and embarrassing anecdotes.

Y/n continues her story, her voice a bit slurry from the wine but filled with amusement. "So, there I was, planning to go grocery shopping, right? But then Lyka calls and invites me out for drinks. And well, as you can imagine, one drink turns into several, and the next thing I know, it's been three hours. I completely forgot about the grocery shopping. Then, instead of coming home with actual groceries, I end up bringing home this stray white cat I found. And thus, my cat Extra Virgin Olive Oil was born."

Lewis can't help but chuckle lightly as he listens to Y/n's story, finding it both absurd and endearing. He leans his face against his palm, his elbow propped up on the counter, his eyes sparkling with tipsy amusement. He glances at her, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "You named your cat what?" he asks, his voice tinged with playful disbelief.

His laughter continues, the image of Y/n coming home with a cat instead of groceries amusing him more than it probably should in his current state of drunkenness. "You named your cat Extra Virgin Olive Oil because you forgot about grocery shopping and got drunk instead?" he asks, grinning widely, clearly finding the situation hilarious.

Y/n grins widely, nodding enthusiastically in affirmation. "Yep, that's right," she says, her voice filled with tipsy mirth. "Extra Virgin Olive Oil. And let me tell you, he's the most spoiled cat ever. All because I couldn't stick to my grocery shopping plans."

She feels a sudden brush of fur against her leg, her gaze dropping down. But before she can even react, Roscoe takes off like a shot, darting away with one of her high heels clenched in his mouth. Y/n's eyes widen, and a tipsy laugh escapes her lips.

Y/n jumps out of her seat, a tipsy grin on her face. "Roscoe!" she yells, giggling as she tries to catch the dog who's now prancing away with her high heel. Lewis watches the scene unfold, his laughter joining hers, finding the whole situation hilariously adorable.

Y/n's pursuit of Roscoe continues, her steps a bit unsteady from the alcohol. She tries to catch him, but her foot catches on the edge of the rug, her already tipsy balance getting the better of her. She trips over, her body stumbling forward, a yelp of surprise escaping her.

Lewis sees Y/n's fall, her carefree chase after the dog abruptly interrupted by her slip on the rug. He gets up from his seat, a slight worry crossing his face. But before he can make a move, Y/n raises an arm up from the floor, and yells out, "I'm okay!" Her voice is slightly slurred but there's a sense of pride in her tone, as if she's proud of her resilient demeanor despite her tipsy state.

As she stands up with a wide smile on her face, she doesn't realize the small cut on her elbow until Lewis points it out. Y/n glances down, noticing the slight trickle of blood on her arm. She touches the spot, a little surprised, but the alcohol has numbed the pain, giving her a false sense of invincibility. She giggles, looking at the cut with amused detachment.

Despite her stumble and the small cut on her elbow, Y/n's demeanor remains carefree, her eyes blinking in a slightly confused manner. The alcohol has dulled her senses, so pain feels distant and the reality of the fall hasn't quite registered in her mind yet. She looks up at Lewis, a slightly bewildered expression on her face as if she's not quite sure how she ended up on the floor in the first place.

Lewis lets out a small, playful exhale and saunters over to Y/n, gesturing for her to sit on the couch. "Alright, come on, sit down," he instructs, his voice laced with a hint of amused frustration. He guides her over to the couch, steadying her a bit as she clumsily flops down onto the cushions.

He turns away, giving her a warm smile, and says, "Okay, sit tight. I'll be right back. I'll get a bandage for that cut on your elbow." He strides out of the room, leaving Y/n slumped on the couch, a little drunk and a bit bewildered.

Y/n lounges on the couch in a slightly disheveled manner, her body stretched out like a starfish. She looks like a ragdoll, her limbs flung about in a completely comfortable yet chaotic way. The alcohol has made her feel relaxed and carefree, completely unbothered by the fact that she's lying haphazardly on the couch, waiting for Lewis to return with a bandage for her now-forgotten cut.

After 5 minutes, Lewis enters the room carrying a small first-aid kit. He looks over at Y/n, noticing that she's a bit more composed compared to a few moments ago. The alcohol's effect seems to have subsided a bit, perhaps due to the short break in time. He walks over to her, sitting down on the couch next to her, the first-aid Kit in his hand.

"Seems like you're getting a bit more sober now," he observes, his tone gentle as he opens the first-aid kit. He takes out an antiseptic wipe and a small adhesive bandage, preparing to clean and cover the cut on her elbow.

"Hold still for a moment," he says, his voice soft. He gently takes her arm and begins cleaning the wound with the antiseptic wipe. The cool touch of the solution stings a little, but he's careful not to cause her any unnecessary pain.

Y/n winces a bit as the antiseptic wipe touches the cut, a small "ow" escaping her lips. The alcohol has numbed her a bit, but the sting of the antiseptic still registers. She looks at her arm, watching as Lewis carefully cleans the cut, his touch light yet deliberate.

"It's alright," he soothes, his tone gentle. "I'm almost done." He continues to clean the cut, making sure it's free of any dirt or debris before gently placing the bandaid over the cut. His touch is light and careful, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her arm.

Once the bandaid is placed, he gently pats the area around the cut, securing it in place. He then releases her arm, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He looks up at her, a small, reassuring smile on his lips.

Y/n gazes at Lewis, her eyes studying his face intently. She takes in every detail - the curve of his lips, the flecks of gold in his eyes, the slight stubble on his chin. The alcohol still in her system has lowered her inhibitions, making her bolder and more observant. She continues to stare at him, not saying a word.

Lewis notices Y/n's unwavering gaze, her eyes taking in every feature of his face. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. Seeing her silent observation, he jokingly asks, "Got something on my face?" His voice is light, and his words are filled with humor.

Y/n shakes her head, continuing her silent observation, her gaze still fixated on his features. And then, in a surprising move, she leans forward, her lips brushing against his in a soft, slow kiss. The alcohol in her system lowers her inhibitions, making her actions more impulsive and carefree. The kiss is unexpected but filled with an undercurrent of desire and affection.

Lewis is taken aback for a moment, caught off guard by her unexpected kiss. But then, he relaxes into it, his eyes closing as he responds to her contact. His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his fingers lightly brushing through her hair. The kiss deepens, the alcohol in their systems making it heady and impulsive.

Y/n, emboldened by the alcohol and the heat of the moment, makes another bold move. Without breaking the kiss, she shifts her position, straddling his lap, a leg on either side of him. Her body presses against his, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer as she continues kissing him, her actions driven by a combination of intoxication and desire.

She suddenly pulls away from the kiss, the reality of her actions sinking in. Her blush spreads across her face, a mixture of embarrassment and desire filling her. She looks at him, her eyes wide, her breathing slightly ragged from the intensity of the kiss. The alcohol in her system has lowered her inhibitions, making her bolder and more impetuous, but she still feels a mix of shyness and confusion at her own behavior.

Lewis looks at Y/n, a hint of confusion and surprise in his eyes. He gently cups her face with his hand, his thumb tracing the contour of her cheek. He asks her softly, "Why did you stop?" His voice is a mix of curiosity and tenderness, his gaze holding hers as he waits for her response.

Despite the buzz of alcohol in her system, Y/n hesitates, her actions and her desires at war within her. The kiss had been spontaneous, driven by a heady mixture of alcohol and desire, but now she feels a sense of self-consciousness and insecurity. Her blush deepens under his touch, and she looks into his eyes, trying to find the words to explain her sudden break in their intimate moment.

"I…I don't know," she stutters out, her voice small and unsure. "It's just…I don't know…" Her gaze flickers away from his, unable to hold his intense, questioning stare. The alcohol and the heat of the moment have made her impulsive, but now she feels exposed, vulnerable in her straddling position, her guard faltering under his soft but insistent touch.

Lewis gives her a reassuring smile, his hand still cupping her face. Seeing her hesitant, he gently draws her back towards him, his other hand coming up to rest on her hip. He pulls her down, bringing her face closer to his, and kisses her again, his lips pressing against hers with a soft but determined pressure. The kiss is slow, tender, and deliberate, his tongue slipping out to caress her lower lip, seeking more.

With a swift movement, Lewis stands up, still not breaking the kiss, his hands holding onto Y/n's thighs to keep her stable. The shift in positioning causes her to tighten her arms around his neck, and their bodies press even closer together. Lewis's grip is firm but gentle, his strength evident as he holds her up with ease, the kiss continuing unhindered.

He walks with purpose towards the bedroom door, his strength and balance holding Y/n securely in his arms. In a move that seems completely effortless, he keeps one hand on her thigh, supporting her weight, while his other free hand reaches out, unlocks the door, and swings it open. He strides across the threshold, carrying her into the room, the kiss never once breaking.

Inside the bedroom, he kicks the door closed behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. The only sounds filling the room are the soft gasps and sighs exchanged between them as the kiss deepens, fueled by a heady mixture of desire and alcohol. Lewis shifts his grip slightly, his hand sliding from her thigh to her waist, holding her steadily as he guides her towards the bed.

Lewis gently sets Y/n down on her feet, helping her regain her balance. Then, with a soft yet firm pressure on her shoulders, he eases her backward until she sits on the edge of the bed. He stands in front of her, his body looming over hers in a way that is both dominant and protective. He looks down at her, his gaze darkened with desire, his breathing slightly heavy.

With a subtle but deliberate action, Lewis's hand moves up to Y/n's neck, his fingers wrapping around the delicate skin in a light but firm grip. He squeezes gently, not enough to cut off her air, but enough to assert a sense of control and possessiveness. The kiss that follows is quick, fierce, and possessive, his tongue invading her mouth in a dominant, needy manner.

Y/n whimpers into the kiss, the sound caught between a protest and a moan of pleasure. Lewis's dominant grip on her neck, the way he claims her mouth in a possessive kiss, fuels the fire within her. Her hands come up to cling to his shoulders, the mixture of pleasure and submission washing over her in waves.

Too caught up in the intensity of the moment, she grips the loops of Lewis's pants, her fingers hooking onto them as if anchoring herself. The action is both needy and desperate, a silent plea for more as she looks up at him, her eyes burning with desire and anticipation.

Lewis glances down at Y/n, noticing her fingers gripping his pant loops, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. Teasingly, he leans down, his face close to hers, and whispers, "So needy, aren't you?" His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, his words carrying a hint of possessive satisfaction.

She looks up at Lewis with wide, innocent, doe-like eyes, her expression a mixture of need and submission. She doesn't respond, her voice caught in her throat, but her grip on his pant loops tightens just a fraction, her body silently begging for more. The contrast between her innocent gaze and her needy actions is striking, and the heat in her eyes speaks volumes.

Lewis continues to look down at her, his eyes taking in her beautiful, vulnerable expression. He reaches out a hand, tracing the line of her neck with his fingers, but the touch light is barely there. He can hear her soft, ragged breaths, can feel her pulse quickening under his touch, and his own need, his own desire, increases exponentially.

He leans in, his lips moving to her ear, his breath against her skin as he whispers, "You're so gorgeous like this, so needy for me." He kisses her ear, his lips moving down to her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, hot kisses down the delicate curve of her neck.

Lewis continues to kiss along her neck, his mouth nipping and sucking gently at her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her sweetness. His hands slide down her body, caressing her sides, his touch both tender and possessive, his own need growing with every soft sound that escapes her lips.

He bites gently at her pulse point, a small, possessive act that makes her gasp and whine softly. His hands move to the hem of her shirt, his fingers tracing the line of exposed skin, his touch both gentle and firm. "I want you," he whispers against her skin, his voice rough and full of desire, "so badly."

His hands slide underneath her shirt, his palms pressing against her skin, feeling her warmth and softness against his touch. He feels her shiver at the contact, her body responding to his touch like a perfectly tuned instrument. He kisses her collarbone, his mouth moving down to the hollow of her throat, his lips trailing along her skin with increasing need.

His hands move higher, his fingers tracing the contour of her stomach, her ribcage, her breasts. He feels her arch into his touch, her body craving more contact, more of his touch, his caress, his attention. He can feel her need, her desire, the way her breath hitches at his touch, and it only fuels his own fire, his own burning need for her.

Lewis pushes her gently back onto the bed, his body hovering over her, his weight propped up on his forearms. He looks down at her, his eyes roaming over her face, her body, taking in the sight of her beneath him, soft and yielding, yet filled with an undeniable fire and desire.

His fingers move to the buttons of her shirt, his touch slow and deliberate as he unfastens them one by one, revealing her bare skin inch by inch, his lips following the path of his fingers, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her skin.

Y/n's breathing becomes ragged as Lewis' hands reach the last button, freeing her breasts from the confines of her shirt. She pushes the fabric off her shoulders, tossing it aside, her nipples hard and aching for his touch.

Lewis' hands cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her sensitive nipples. Y/n moans, her head falling back as she arches into his touch. Her hands roam over his body, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

She slides her hand inside, gripping his erection through his boxers. Lewis groans, his hips bucking into her hand. Y/n pulls him closer, their lips meeting in a rushed kiss as she fumbles with his boxers, freeing his hard cock.

She strokes him slowly, her thumb rubbing over the head, making him moan into her mouth. Lewi's hands leave her breasts, training down her sides to her waistband. He hooks his thumbs into her pants, pulling them down her legs, leaving her completely naked.

Y/n steps out of her pants, her body trembling with desire. Lewis' eyes roam over her, drinking in the sight of her before he pulls her back against him. He reaches around, unfastening his braided belt, letting it fall to the floor.

He pushes her onto the bed, following her down, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, his hand guiding his cock to her entrance. Y/n's breath hitches, her legs parting, welcoming him.

Lewis positions himself at her entrance, his eyes locked on hers, filled with lust and desire. He pushes inside her, slowly at first, allowing her body to adjust to his size. Y/n gasps, her nails digging into the sheets as he fills her completely.

Y/n bites her lip, her eyes widening as she feels the full extent of Lewis' size. "Fuck, you're huge," she hisses, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through her.

Lewis smirks, his hands gripping her hips as he begins to thrust, his rhythm slow and deliberate. "Like it sweetheart?" he growls, his voice deep and seductive.

Y/n nods, her eyes fluttering shut as she adjusts to his size. "Yeah, I... I love it," she admits, her voice breathy and needy.

Lewis grins, his hand sliding around Y/n's neck, applying gentle pressure. "Good," he murmurs, his thrusts growing faster and more forceful.

Y/n's eyes widen at the added sensation, her body arching off the bed as her arousal intensifies. "Lewis," she whispers, her nails digging into his back, "don't stop."

He doesn't, his thrusts becoming more aggressive, his hand tightening around her neck just enough to heighten her arousal. Y/n's moans grow louder, her body trembling in anticipation of her impending orgasm.

Y/n's voice is barely a whisper as she gasps, "I'm... I'm close, Lewis."

Lewis, however, is lost in the sensations, his focus solely on the feel of Y/n's tight, wet pussy wrapped around his cock. He continues to thrust, his hand still tightly around her neck, his body moving in perfect unison with hers.

Y/n's orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she cries out, her nails digging into Lewis' bicep. Her walls clench around his cock, milking him as he continues to thrust.

Lewis' thrusts grow more erratic, his grip on Y/n's neck tightening as he feels her orgasm grip his cock. Her shaking only serves to fuel his desire, his release drawing near.

He pulls out of her, Y/n's protest cut off by the loss of his cock. He positions himself at her entrance once more, his cock glistening with her juices. "On your knees, sweetheart," he commands, his voice thick with lust.

Y/n obeys, her body still trembling as she gets onto her hands and knees. Lewis lines up his cock with her wet pussy, thrusting back inside her, this time from behind.

His hand leaves her neck, instead gripping her hair, pulling her head back as he begins fuck her with renewed vigor. Y/n's moans fill the room, her body responding to her every thrust,

Lewis' thrusts become more rushed, his breathing heavy. "You're such a good girl, taking my big cock like that," he praises, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n's body shudders, her arousal building once more as she feels him fill her from behind. "Mmm, Lewis," she moans, her voice thick with lust.

Lewis' hand tightens in her hair, his thrusts growing more urgent. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for me one more time," he says, voice a mixture of command and desire.

Y/n's body responds to his words, her orgasm building once more. "I... I'm close," she gasps, her nails digging into the bedsheets.

Lewis feels his own release building, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Come for me," he demands, his cock pulsing inside her.

Y/n's body convulses, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. Lewis can no longer hold back, his cock pulsing as he releases his hot seed deep inside her. He collapses onto her back, his breathing heavy as he tries to regain his composure.

Her body shudders, her mind swimming in the aftermath of her orgasm. Lewis slowly pulls out of her, his cock leaving a trail of cum between her legs. He rolls off her, pulling her into his arms, their bodies entwined.

They lie there, their bodies intertwined in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Both are out of breath, their hearts still racing from the intensity of the experience. Lewis is holding Y/n close, her head resting on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. The room is quiet, the only sound being their ragged breathing, the sound gradually slowing and evening out as they regain their composure.

Y/n breaks the silence, her voice a bit hoarse but weary. She looks up at Lewis, her head still pillowed on his chest, and says, "That sobered me up real fast." Her words are a mixture of exhaustion and satiation, the aftermath of their passionate encounter leaving her both depleted and fulfilled.

Lewis gives a soft laugh, his fingers still tracing patterns on her back. He nods, agreeing with her words. "I guess that's one way to sober up," he replies, his voice still a little breathless. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch soft and affectionate.

Y/n jokes, a weary but playful smile on her face. "Well," she says, "that was like our very own little honeymoon night, wasn't it?" Her comment, although lighthearted, carries a hint of seriousness, a nod to the intense and passionate connection they had just shared.

Lewis chuckles softly, a smile on his lips. He gently pulls her closer, his arms tightening around her. "I guess you could say that," he responds, his voice warm and gentle. "We definitely made some memories tonight." He looks down at her, his gaze filled with tenderness and affection.

Y/n hisses as she adjusts her position, a slight wince on her face. Her body is likely still sensitive from their passionate encounter, and she moves gingerly, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Lewis notices her hiss and the wince on her face, his expression immediately becoming one of concern. He asks her gently, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His voice is laced with worry and concern, his fingers lightly coming up to caress her cheek.

Y/n shakes her head, her eyes meeting his. "No, I'm alright," she reassures him. "Just a little sore, I guess. But it was worth it," she adds with a sleepy smile.

Lewis continues to look at her, his eyes searching her face for any signs of discomfort. He asks again, his voice filled with concern, "Are you sure you're alright? Soreness is normal, but I don't want to hurt you." He gently tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch tender and caring.

Y/n nods, a small smile on her face, and jokingly says, "Well, I guess there's an easy fix for that. Just take me out on a shopping spree, and I'll feel like a million bucks again." Her tone is light and humorous, indicating that she's not entirely serious but also hinting at her desire for some pampering and shopping therapy.

Without hesitation, Lewis reaches for the nightstand near the bed and grabs his wallet. He opens it and pulls out a credit card, then hands it to Y/n with a smile. "There," he says, his voice lighthearted, "your ticket to feeling a million bucks. Go wild."

Y/n's eyes widened as she took his credit card. She playfully gasps, a mischievous smile on her face. "Are you serious? You're giving me carte blanche with this?" she says, holding the card up and examining it like it's a precious gem.

Lewis nods, a smirk on his face. "Dead serious," he confirms, leaning back against the headboard. "Go nuts. Buy whatever you want, and don't hold back. It's on me."

Y/n places the credit card on the nightstand, her smile playful. "Oh, it can definitely wait till tomorrow," she says. "I think we should both rest and recover from tonight's… activities." Her tone is teasing, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction.

Lewis chuckles, a knowing smile on his face. "I agree," he replies, his voice deep and gravelly. "We definitely need some rest after tonight. But tomorrow…tomorrow is all yours. Shopping sprees, pampering, the works. I can't have you sore for too long, can I?"

Y/n smirks at his words, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "You know, you might be starting to regret giving me that credit card already," she teases. "You're creating a little monster here."

Lewis laughs heartily. "Oh, I'm fully aware of the monster I'm creating," he replies, still sporting a smile. "But honestly, I find it kind of hot. The thought of you going on a shopping spree, spending my money without a care in the world… it's strangely alluring."

Y/n teases, a mischievous grin on her face. "Oh, don't worry, I plan on getting something for you too," she says. "After all, a good shopping spree isn't complete without a little gift for the guy who's footing the bill."

Lewis pulls her back towards him, drawing her close against his chest. He settles back against the pillows, his arm wrapping around her in a protective, comforting embrace. Y/n's head rests against his chest, her body tucked snugly against his, and he gently kisses the top of her head. "Sweet dreams," he whispers, his voice soft and affectionate.

yn.ln

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Do You Wanna Touch Me?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Pairing: Marcus Pike x Sex Worker Female Reader Words Count: 4,200 Summary: After getting his heart broken, Marcus Pike takes an assignment in Amsterdam. What started as an exploration of the red light district turns into choosing you, the most beautiful art he's ever seen. Warnings: sex work, erotic dancing, hand job, masturbation, fingering, oral (m receiving), reader wears makeup and a dress, marcus tries to escape his heartbreak, van gogh mentions, reader is college aged, dieter bravo exists in this universe

A/N: This was written for @baronessvonglitter's Fuck-tober birthday celebration. I was assigned Marcus Pike and "Do You Wanna Touch Me" by Joan Jett. Happy birthday Adriana!!! 💕

Here are the songs I refer to in the fic: “Do You Wanna Touch Me” by Joan Jett “Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter “Streets” by Doja Cat “God Is A Woman” by Ariana Grande “Cinema” by Harry Styles “The Night Me and Your Mama Met” by Childish Gambino Masterlist

---

Marcus doesn’t do things like this. He’s a good man, a good son, a good brother, a good friend, and most of all, a good agent. And yet, he still walks down the cobblestone street that’s bathed in red lights.

LIVE SEX SHOW  SEX TOYS SEX PALACE HIGH TIMES

What in the world is he doing here? Curiosity, loneliness, being so fucking horny he can’t focus on the case ahead. You’re a good man he tells himself as he ventures deeper into the crimson alleys, the shadow of shame following closely behind him.  

“Hey handsome. Today’s your lucky day.” A blonde man winks, handing him a gilded envelope. “You’re invited to Galerij.” 

Marcus blinks down at the golden envelope, looking up to find the blonde stranger already gone from his sight. He opens the envelope, revealing a simple invitation with gold embossed text. 

Galerij, Amsterdam’s hottest art pieces. €400

He’s a damn FBI agent, and yet he’s too intrigued and desperate for a distraction to say no. He should know better, his badge weighs heavily in his pocket. He plugs the address into his phone with a sigh and makes the quick walk to the address listed, silently atoning for his sins as he passes the Oude Kerk church. He doesn’t dare make eye contact with any of the police officers situated, they might sense his shame. 

“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice intones. He looks up at the plain brick row home that stands out amongst the surrounding buildings covered in neon lights with windows full of girls in different levels of undress. 

A small gold sign hangs above the unassuming black door. GALERIJ

He inhales deeply and pushes the door open. A bell jingles. Inside, an older looking woman with slicked-back blonde hair and a sharp black suit sits behind a desk. 

“Nederlands or English?” she asks, her tone clipped.

“English,” he answers, his throat tight. “Please.”

“Invitation?”

“Oh, uh, here,” he hands her the invitation. 

Without any more acknowledgment, she gestures to a black leather chair near an intricately carved golden door. “Please take a seat.”

A bit of trepidation blooms within him as he sits down, but when he looks around, he realizes that this isn’t some seedy back-alley brothel. It can’t be that bad if the walls are covered in mahogany and the floor is marble. 

The woman makes a quick phone call, speaking in a hushed voice. His palms grow sweaty. What the hell is he doing? This was supposed to be a quick exploration of something that’s always fascinated him… legal vices. Yet now, he's gripping the armrests as the same stern woman brings over a clipboard and card machine. 

“Cash or charge?” 

“Oh, cash?” he replies quickly, fumbling for his wallet. There’s no way he’s going to use a credit card around here, too many chances of his secret adventure getting revealed on a statement. 

“400 euros.” 

He opens his wallet and unfolds his money. 100, what are you doing? 200, what are you doing? 300, Marcus, seriously, what are you doing? 350, no seriously what are you doing? 400, damn, you’re really doing it. 

Stern woman takes the money and hands him a gold pin with a simple G etched onto it. She hits a small gold bell on her desk, a singular ring sharply echoes across the small room. 

He pins the pin to his chest, reminding him of all the times he used to pin the old Met Museum badge to his lapel when he was a young college student in New York. This is so much more different than that, he reminds himself. 

The golden door opens after a moment. 

A beautiful older woman in a dark burgundy skirt and matching jacket walks out with a smile lifting her dark red lips. 

“Welcome to Galerij. I am Maud, the curator.” she greets, offering her hand. “What would you like us to call you here?”

He rises and shakes her hand. 

Can’t do Marcus, can’t do Pike, can’t do Agent. He thinks of that one actor everyone tells him he looks like. “Uh–Bravo.” 

“Very well, Bravo,” she opens the door, moving aside allowing him to walk through. “Welcome to Galerij.”

He steps into a stark white room. The floor is shiny concrete, a singular white table with two white wishbone chairs sit in the middle of the room, a stark contrast to the entrance room on the other side of the wall. Not exactly what he was expecting. The agent in him can’t help but think this would be a perfect place to kill somebody. 

Maud motions for him to sit across from her. “Here you will make your decision on what piece you’d like. Gay or straight?”

He sits down, her question is a reminder as to why he’s really here. “Straight,” he answers, his nerves beginning to creep around him. 

She nods. “All of our pieces are tested, clean, and practice safe sex. Your piece will tell you what they will and won’t do once you make your choice. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“You will have twenty minutes, your time will start once you enter your gallery. A bell will ring every five minutes, your final bell will ring twice symbolizing your last five minutes. Do not be late. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Of course no photos or recordings. We ask you to not even have your phone out. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” 

“Are you ready?” she asks with a smile on her face.

“I am,” he answers. His heart is pounding. 

She nods and presses a button, a shrill buzz echoes through the room. A hidden door opens and a large muscle and tattoo clad man with buzzed black hair and a nose ring walks out carrying a red velvet-covered book. He hands it to Maud, before standing behind her like a silent guardian.

His heart races faster than he ever thought it could when she  opens the book and pushes it towards him. 

GALERIJ with the day's date is stamped on the thick page. 

His fingers tremble as he flips to the first page revealing a photo of an olive skinned and brown haired woman clad in dark blue lingerie with delicate yellow stars embroidered all over it lying on top of swirled silky blue sheets. She’s absolutely stunning.

“This is The Starry Night.”

He nods, turning the page. 

A pale skinned, petite woman with shockingly white blonde hair wears a light blue bra and lace panties while laying atop white flower petals. She’s just as beautiful as the first woman. 

“This is Almond Blossom.” 

He turns the page. 

A dark skinned, dark haired woman sits against a yellow wall wearing two sunflower blooms over her ample chest. Her smile is wide, just like her eyes lined with bright gold glitter. She’s gorgeous 

“This is Sunflowers.”

They all look like they just walked off the runway, all beautiful and alluring. He wonders what–or who–the next piece will be. He smiles to himself when he realizes they’re all named after Van Gogh. Of course he’d find himself in an art themed brothel… he just can’t escape work. 

“Before you see my fourth piece, please know she’s a little different. You cannot touch her, only watch. Don’t let that sway your decision, she is our most popular piece.” 

He braces himself as he turns the page. 

He loses his breath when he sees you. There you are, sitting cross-legged against the same color wall as Sunflowers. He can just see a glimpse of your nipples under your sheer indigo bra. Your green lined eyes leer at the camera. He thanks all the stars in Starry Night for his chance to even get a look at you. He’s lost in time at how your skin glows against the golden wall. 

“Wow,” he breathes out. 

“I believe you made your decision,” Maud says with a knowing smile. “This is Irises.” 

“Yes,” Marcus swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Irises please.”

She nods and closes the book. “Pieter, let Irises know.”

“Okay Bravo,” Maud says with a smile and stands. “Pieter will come and get you when Irises is ready. Please do enjoy my gallery.” 

“Thank you Maud,” he says, wiping his sweaty hands against the fabric of his jeans. 

The fading sound of Maud and Pieter’s steps and a door closing leaves him all alone in the sparse room.

He hopes he looks good enough for you. His dark blue jeans are presentable enough, his plain gray v neck is clean, he thanks himself for spritzing himself with a dash of cologne before leaving his hotel. He knows he paid the equivalent of close to $450 for you to like him, but he still wants to impress you. 

He checks his watch, five minutes have passed. He’s too afraid to bring his phone out, so he just stares forward, nervously tapping his foot.

This wasn’t his plan at all, he was just going to explore and sightsee, nothing more. No drugs, no sex, just curiosity. 

The door opens. Pieter appears. 

“Irises is ready,” he announces, his accent thick. “Follow me.”

He tentatively trails Pieter through the door walking down a hallway lined with doors. Ornate golden frames hang with Van Gogh pieces in each one. They reach the door with Irises hung next to it.

“Twenty minutes,” Pieter says flatly, opening the door. “Sit in the chair. Do not touch. You watch.”

Marcus nods, his heart slamming against his chest. His knees almost buckle as he steps inside the room. 

It’s dark, save for a single spotlight shining down on a small stage, a lone purple velvet high back chair sits waiting for him in the middle of it. His shaky legs take him up the three steps before he lowers into it, hands clenching the wide armrests, trying to control his breathing. 

He shouldn't be here–-he knows that. It’s too late for regrets now.

The click-clack of your heels echoes through the room when you step onto the stage. He’s too nervous to turn his head to see you. His body tenses, anticipation coiling all of his muscles tight. When you finally step in front of him, he has to remind himself to breathe.

You’re beautiful, the light catches on the sheer fabric of your dress. He can just make out the curves of your body, naked under light lavender chiffon. Your eyes are lined with deep purple eyeliner, ending into a cat eye at the corners. Your ruby red lips curl up into a knowing smile, almost as if you can see his desire for you. 

Four thousand miles away from home and he’s just found the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. His cock begins to thicken, the shame of his paid for voyeurism adventure dissolving from his mind. You’re finer than any masterpiece he’s ever had to investigate. 

“Hi Bravo,” you purr, your voice smooth and teasing, “Do you wanna touch me?” 

He nods and coughs nervously. “Y-yes. But, I can’t.”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across your lips. “Good boy.” 

His back tightens, a wave of heat flows down his spine and settles in his lap. For too long he’s disallowed himself from feeling this type of pleasure. Too busy, too sad, too heartbroken. What led him here feels like a blur. An exchange of glances, a subtle wink, an invitation. The black door, €400 out of his wallet, a white room, an open red velvet book, the long hallway, Irises. He allows himself to enjoy the experience just as you send him a wink.

You’re like his own little gallery show standing in front of him. A piece of art he doesn’t just want to see–but memorize.

—

You’ve only been doing this for a few months now. It really is the perfect side hustle to support yourself while finishing your art degree. You’ve been enamored with Van Gogh’s art since you were a child, a lifelong dream realized when you were accepted into the student exchange program at the University of Amsterdam. You made it possible, and now, working two nights a week in between coursework, you're making more than most of your friends earn in an entire week. Of course, only a select few know what you really mean when you say you work at a very exclusive gallery.

It’s a good job. Maud takes good care of you, vetting those who enter her establishment with her keen client recruiters on the streets. Pieter is always a buzz away, though you’ve never felt danger. Everyone needs an escape, some just agree to pay a premium for it. They call it the oldest profession for a reason. 

Bravo. He’s your last customer tonight, and they sure did save the best for last. You watched him approach on the security camera, a smile formed when you noticed how much he resembled your favorite actor, you had plans for him. His wide shoulders, broad body, thin beard, and perfect head of hair almost made you think it was him, if it wasn’t for his eyes flickering around the room nervously. There’s no way Dieter Bravo would be anxious in this type of situation. 

You press play on the stereo. A quick drumbeat starts, your steps keep tempo with it as you come back to stand in front of your client.

Turning around and bending over, your hips dance to the beat of the song as your hands roam along your curves, lifting your dress to give him a peek of your thighs and ass. A low groan rumbles behind you.

“Do you like what you see?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, moving your hands up and down your body.

“Y-yes,” he stammers, his nervous eyes wide and plush lips parted. 

Those same nervous eyes watch as you bunch the fabric of your dress up and take it off, tossing it aside. He eyes you, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes exploring all of you like you’re a painting hanging in a gallery. 

You cup your breasts, feeling the velvety warmth of your skin beneath your fingers as the purple of your nail polish brushes against your hardened nipples. Slowly you tilt your head down and let a trail of spit fall to one nipple. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, pinching and pulling the sensitive peaks of your nipples. “Mmph–mmhmm,” he groans, nervously shuffling in his seat. 

Bending forward and placing your hands on his knees gives him the perfect view of your breasts. A long sigh comes from him, his eyes planted on your tits. You like what you’re doing to him, you never start your dances off this close to a client, but you can’t resist him.

When your hands trail up to his thick thighs, the bulge of his pants makes your mouth water, tempting you to move towards it. Not yet.

Leaning closer, you nuzzle against the warmth of his neck. He smells delicious… like eucalyptus and maple syrup. His quickening breaths puff out against your hair. You taste his skin with your tongue, licking your way up to his ear.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask along with the song.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters. 

Pulling away, you wink before turning your back to him and delicately sit atop his lap. Sinking down against his broad chest, the heat radiating off him burns hot against your back. The song changes just as you feel the poke of his erection against your ass.

A poppy beat soundtracks your movements as you grind yourself against the heft of him, falling back, placing your head against his wide chest. Reaching back, your hands tangle in his soft hair, humming sweetly along to the sound, letting a few lyrics slip out of your mouth.

“I bet you we’d really have good bed chem”

Your client follows directions very well, staying perfectly still, gripping the armrests so hard the golden skin around his knuckles turn white. You rub yourself against the rough fabric of his jeans, getting off on the quiet whimpers he leaves in your ear. 

RING. The fifteen minute bell rings.

“And I bet it’s even better than in my head”

You rise off his lap and bend over clasping your hands around your ankles, giving him the perfect view of your ass and dripping core. The song fades out, a deeper, sultrier drumbeat begins. 

“Like you, like you, ooh, I found it hard to find someone like you” 

Your body gently sways along to the slow, sultry beat, and when you flip your head back to glance at him, he lets a low groan out. Placing your hands on the floor, you walk them out ahead of you before you’re on all fours, spreading your legs wide to show him even more of your glistening pussy. 

“Do you wanna touch me?” you ask, settling on your stomach, snaking a hand between your wide spread legs. 

“Y-yes,” he huffs. 

“I know you do Bravo,” you tilt your hips up hovering them above the ground, “let me show you how I like it.”

Your middle finger enters your soaked entrance as your thumb gently dusts light circles against your clit. Your hips move in beat to the heavy rhythm of the song. 

“Oh god,” he pants, when you stick another finger in, the chair creaking underneath his tensity. 

RING. The ten minute bell rings.

Choreography, that’s the business term for what you’re doing. It’s all timed out, you hear these songs at least ten times every work day. Though you never sit on your clients as close as you did with Bravo, you never taste their skin like you did with Bravo. He deserves more than the same memorized steps, something better than the repetition you offer all of the others. 

The song changes, signaling you to start your new routine, you ignore the cue, rolling onto your back, arching slightly, your eyes meet his. His hands remain clamped on to the armrests, fingers digging into the velvet. He’s trembling with restraint, beads of sweat glistening on his skin. His erection swells, the tight fabric of his pants tenting. 

“Do you wanna touch me Bravo?”

“I do,” he whines, the lines of his neck straining as his head thuds against the back of the chair. 

“Okay, okay baby,” you sit up, turning to crawl towards him. Your eyes don’t leave his. 

“And I can be all the things you told me not to be

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing”

Kneeling on your knees in front of him, you unlock one of his clutched hands, moving it to the soft skin of your breast. 

“N-no touching I thought,” he stammers, his hand laying flat against your skin.

“I make my own rules, it’s okay Bravo,” you allow, grabbing his other hand and placing it on you.

He groans when he cups your breasts in his hands. You watch the tendons of his strong hand tense and release as he cups your breasts and massages them in his hold. He’s mesmerized by his movements, like he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you. 

Your hand teases its way up his leg to the warmth of the apex of his thighs before gripping him, thick and hard underneath the constraints of his jeans. 

“Oh fuck,” he growls. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

His words of adoration fall out of his mouth, eyes still locked on your tits covered by his hands. 

You unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as the choir sings God is a woman. 

The song changes.

“You got, you got the cinema”

Your eyes light at the sight of his cock, standing tall and thick, precum leaking from the engorged tip. It’s just as beautiful and wide as the rest of your client. 

Bravo lets out a garbled groan when you wrap your hand around his length, slowly pumping him along to the song. Up, down, up, down, the sexy beat soundtracking your movements. 

RING. RING. The five minute bell rings. Your client doesn’t seem to heed the warning, only focusing on his thumbs swiping back and forth against the peaks of your nipples and your hand stroking the smooth silk of his cock.

“Touch me Bravo,” you rise, lifting a foot up on the armrest, keeping hold of his pulsing dick in your hand. “Give me two of your fingers.” 

His eyes gaze down to your dripping cunt, watching himself as his hand sweeps down your body before parting your folds. 

You got, you got the cinema

You got, you got the cinema

Your hips undulate to the tempo of the song as he sticks two of his long, thick fingers into your heat. 

“God damn,” he mutters incredulously, “you’re so wet.”

The song changes. 

A steady and slow funky guitar plays along with a soulful choir. It’s soft and romantic, exactly what you like to close down your shows with. You’ve never ended a show like this, your hand wrapped around your client’s wide cock, and your pussy clenching around two of his thick fingers. His thumb begins sweeping back and forth against your clit, he may have found himself at a brothel in Amsterdam, but your client has done this before. Perfect movements, perfect angle, you stare down in reverie at the focus he holds, watching himself touch you. His adoration of your body heats your core, lighting an orgasm just as beautiful as the song that plays. 

“Fuck baby,” you pant, “I’m gonna cum.”

He blinks up to you, brown eyes staring intensely into yours when you bite your lip and send a gush of wet against his fingers. Your legs turn shaky, as your clit pulses against his thumb that blesses your sensitive bub with just the right amount of pressure. Moving his hand from between your thighs, he holds it up, marveling at the sight of your juices shining against his skin. You send him a smile as your leg drops to the floor, the rest of your body following, kneeling in front of him. He still stares at his hand, watching the strings of your orgasm stretch across his widely spread fingers. 

“Smear it on your cock for me,” you say, planting both hands on his thighs. 

He groans and nods before rubbing the remnants of your orgasm on his shaft. He shouts an indistinguishable sound when you lick a line up to his tip, tasting yourself and the salty tang of his precum. Your lips envelop the fat tip of him, sucking and slobbering your way down the thick length of him. 

The song ends, the playlist repeats. The same quick drumbeat of the first song plays loudly. 

You suck him to the beat, flicking your tongue against his tip with each “YEAH!” of the song.

RING. RING. RING. The final bells ring, signaling that your client should have left by now.

Bravo locks up. Your mouth unclasps from his cock.

“It’s okay,” you assure, “we have a word for–”

A heavy knock lands against the door. 

“Driehoek (triangle) Pieter! I’m good in here, thanks!”

Three rapid knocks–softer now–signal Pieter’s departure.

“You guys really have it all fig–oh god,” he moans, when you take his cock back into your mouth.  

His strong legs shake against your body as your cheeks hollow, taking him into your mouth faster and harder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. Drool leaks out of the sides of your mouth, your eyes stare up at him blinking back tears as he reaches the back of your throat. You don’t know if he’s ever allowed himself this much freedom, it feels like you’ve unlocked something deep within him with the way he’s snarling and grunting “Irises” over and over.

“G-gonna–yeah–yeah–cum,” he gasps, hips stuttering and chair creaking as he spills into your accepting mouth. 

Bravo, client. Bravo.

—

He can’t believe he just did that. He just–he–he just– came in the mouth of a complete stranger–nay–a prostitute. You told him you’ve never done something like that with a client as you tossed him a towel… and the funny thing is he actually believes you. 

You shuffle back into the see through lilac dress as he zips his jeans back up. You really are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, even if your purple eyeliner is now streaked from the tears that sprung in your eyes from gagging on his cock. Wow, that did just happen. 

You leave a kiss against his cheek and open the door for him. Pieter escorts him out the back entrance with a knowing smile. 

He walks back to his hotel, a new man with a clearer mind. Marcus really doesn’t feel the shame he expected he would. He knows a fine piece of art, and you just might be the finest he’s ever seen. 

[aylacavebear]

Take Me Home Tonight

You kept to yourself; you had to, given what you were. It wasn’t that being a hunter meant you had to isolate yourself. It was that being a Touched, you had to keep yourself safe. There was a lot of lore about those who were “touched by the Gods,” and most of it wasn’t flattering. You’d been lucky, though, as you looked completely human. One problem: you were a lot like a cat, in too many ways, including purring. The other problem was that your blood somehow healed you.

Dean x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 10,730

Warnings: SMUT! MDNI, Angst, some Fluff, Plot - if you squint.

AN: So, this was only supposed to be a one-shot, but it will have a part 2. As soon as I have it finished, I'll post it for everyone. This is to celebrate having 300 followers. All of you are amazing. Thank you for loving my writings as much as I do. I don't write smut often, so please be gentle. I do love feedback, though. :) <3 Enjoy. This is based on the song - Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money.

----------------------------------------- The bar was dimly lit as you sat near the back, sipping your fifth whiskey. The hunt had been successful, but you hadn’t been able to save the young woman before the vampire had given you that evil smile and drained her before you could move. So, here you were, drinking away your guilt at not anticipating the vampire’s move.

After waiving down the waitress for a refill, you sighed and leaned back in your seat, having tuned out the sounds of the bar. The hunt had been playing on repeat in your thoughts since decapitating the vampire, trying to figure out if you could have changed anything to save her. You were always hard on yourself when you couldn’t save someone. 

You didn’t hear the bell over the door, or notice the two men who walked in and sat at the bar. No. Your focus was somewhere else entirely. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table, one hand around your glass, your gaze at the amber liquid inside.

“I hate vampires,” you whispered to yourself.

I should head back to Bobby’s.

You knew you needed some downtime, having been on the road for months, even with staying in motels along the way. A classic rock song pulled you from your thoughts, hearing the familiar tune now playing in the background. You noticed that there were a few more customers in the bar as you tapped your foot to the familiar beat.

Typically, you would stay in your head after the hunt you’d had, but with the alcohol coursing through your system, you wanted to unwind. You downed the last of your drink before heading over to the jukebox. The whiskey didn’t even burn anymore, but you loved the flavor. Humming to yourself, you looked over the songs available. Take Me Home Tonight it is.

A relaxed smile found your lips as you slipped the quarters in the slots and made your selection. You didn’t really pay attention to the other customers. The song wasn’t really for them. It was for you, and anyone bold enough to approach you. You were a loner, being what you were. But sometimes, you needed the comfort of someone’s arms, even if it was only for one night.

You turned so you were partially leaning against the jukebox, swaying lightly to the music as the song played. With your eyes closed, enjoying how the rhythm felt through your body, you quietly sang along with the words. 

His eyes had been on you only moments after he and his brother had entered the bar. Something about you pulled at him in a way he’d never felt with another woman. It was so bad that Sam had to order their drinks before smacking Dean on the shoulder.

“Dude. What the hell?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed in confusion and mild frustration, wondering what the hell had completely distracted him.

Dean took a deep breath, barely unable to look away from you. “Sorry, distracted.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Sam chuckled, taking a sip of the beer the bartender had just set down. “So, what’s captivated your attention so intently that I had to order our drinks?” 

Dean wasn’t the type to get swept away by a woman’s appearance. He was the confident one, suave, and all the charm in the world. But something about you, beyond your looks, had his complete attention. “Chick over at the jukebox,” Dean finally answered his brother, motioning with a nod in your direction.

Sam’s gaze went to where Dean had motioned, taking note of the woman swaying to the music: you. Your long hair was down, some over your shoulders, framing your face beautifully. The way your lips occasionally mouthed a few words of the song as it played. Sam shook his head, finding his brother’s appetite for women utterly amusing. He definitely knew how to pick them.

Before Sam could say anything, though, Dean had downed his whiskey and was walking toward you. Sam chuckled and shook his head again, picking up his beer to watch how things unfolded. Dean was typically the confident one, all charm and a cocky attitude to boot. Most women practically fell at his feet if he smirked just right. Something about you just felt different, and he hadn’t even spoken to you yet.

You smelled his scent before he even got close. The whiskey he’d just drank, the leather of a jacket he probably wore often, a hint of mint that made you wonder if it was toothpaste or gum, and a musk that was all him, intoxicating. Quietly singing along with the song, you opened your eyes, wanting to locate the source of that delectable scent. 

Now, you were used to men being interested in you; their looks ranged across the board, but never in your life had a man who looked like some Greek God ever noticed you. His green eyes were piercing as they blatantly roamed over your body as it swayed to the rhythm of the song you’d put on. The closer he got, the heavier your breathing became. “So, was that an invitation, or do you just like this song?” he asked, his voice like a seductive melody to your ears.

But your confidence didn’t waiver, a smirk playing at your lips. “Both,” you replied, leaning against the jukebox, looking up at the handsome stranger now standing less than a foot from you. You rested your hands on the jukebox, mainly to help keep them to yourself, itching to trace every inch of this man before you.

Dean licked his lips, sucking his bottom one between his teeth as his eyes roamed over your body, taking note of every curve before his eyes met yours again. You were gorgeous. But there was a mystery to you, a look in your eyes that had him wanting more than just to get his hands on you.

“Well, Sweetheart. We can have a few drinks or just get out of here. Up to you,” The words rolled off his tongue like silk, smooth and deep, shooting warmth directly to your core. 

You tilted your head a bit, looking up at him; that smirk that had been playing at your lips had finally claimed them. I must have done something right in a prior lifetime. The thought almost made you chuckle. You tried to keep your eyes on his, beautiful emerald-green orbs that were devouring you where you stood, but when he licked his lips again, the movement pulled your attention. The moment your lips parted, letting out a breath, Dean made his move. He’d been reading people most of his life, and it was clear you wanted him as badly as he wanted you. He had to taste you, and god, did you taste good. Your lips were soft, inviting, and moved against his in a way he wasn’t used to. You hooked your fingers in his belt loops and pulled his hips against yours, making him groan quietly into the kiss.

His lips were plump, succulent, and felt like pillows as they moved against your own. You teased his with your tongue, a quick movement, testing the waters, but you knew you’d be leaving with him. You felt his hands on your hips tighten when you teased his lips, causing you to smirk against his lips.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I think we should take this somewhere a little more private,” he whispered against your lips, his body pressed against yours, his need only growing when you didn’t get shy.

You chuckled, pulling only back far enough to look into his eyes. “My place or yours?” you asked, a mischievous smirk on your lips, but you let your hands roam across his chest. God, those muscles. It practically made you purr, and you knew you had to keep that in check, no matter what this man did to you. 

“Mine,” Dean told you in a low, almost commanding tone, making you chuckle a little. This is going to be fun.

“Alright,” you replied nonchalantly, but the smirk on your lips told Dean he was in for a world of surprises with you. And he was looking forward to it. He’d only come across a handful of women, if that, who were confident like you and didn’t get shy around him. “After you,” he gestured, even almost bowing his head a little as his other hand found the small of your back. 

From the bar, Sam laughed before turning away and focusing on his beer. He knew he should have gotten his own room but figured after a couple of hours, the two of you should be asleep. Then, he could sneak inside and get some much-needed shut-eye. For now, he’d hang out at the bar, nursing beer until then.

The motel where both of you were staying was only a couple of blocks away, so he walked you there. You hadn’t told him where you were staying, and now, you’d keep it that way once you saw where he was leading you. You didn’t even know his name and hadn’t given him yours. Dean’s hand was on your lower back most of the walk, drifting down occasionally to grab your ass, feeling the slight plumpness of it in his hand. 

He wanted to feel every inch of you, but he wasn’t going to rush this. No. You were different. He was going to take his time with you, savor every second, memorize every curve, and taste every piece of your flesh you’d let him. The thought of it alone made his cock twitch in the confines of his jeans.

Your anticipation was building with each step, each breath, and every heartbeat. He didn’t even fumble with the key to his door, like he’d done this numerous times before. You loved his confidence, but you were going to have him at your mercy soon. He gestured for you to enter before he followed you inside, closing the door behind him. The room looked similar to yours, only slightly larger, with two beds. You wondered briefly who he might be bunking with, although you knew it wasn’t a woman, being able to taste the scents with each breath you took. It also looked as though he and whoever else was with him weren’t staying long, as only two small duffle bags were in the room, unopened.

Dean came up behind you, one hand on your hip, the other gently moving your hair to expose your neck. He leaned down as his hand slid tantalizingly slow down your side, resting on your hip. “I’m Dean, so you know what name to yell when I make you come undone,” he whispered before placing those deliciously plump lips on your neck.

You groaned a little, leaning your head back as your hands rested over his. His lips left a trail of hot, slow kisses along your exposed skin. The man knew what he was doing, and that only fueled the fire growing within you. For a bit, you let him tease you, but the moment his fingers went to slip under your shirt, you stopped him and turned in his arms. With a mischievous smirk, you looked up at him before biting your bottom lip, taking a step back, and taking all of him in. Even in the dim lighting of the motel room, he looked intimidating, or at least would have to someone who was normal. You slipped off your shoes with your feet before moving closer to him, standing on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his. Before he could put his arms around you, you began slipping off his flannel, effectively stopping him. Hearing his annoyed groan made you smirk against his lips.

He tried to discard the flannel quickly, but you had begun kissing down his jawline and then along his neck, sending shivers down his body. “I’m Y/N, so you know what name to moan when I make you come undone,” you whispered seductively before nibbling on his earlobe, pulling a guttural growl from him.

When you spoke, his cock twitched in his pants again, and he wasn’t sure how much patience he’d have at this rate. You did things to his body he wasn’t used to, and he wanted more, needed more. Just as you stood flat on your feet again, he managed to get his flannel off, pulling an amused chuckle out of you. Although, you weren’t going to give him a moment to catch his breath, slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt.

Your hands moved slowly over every muscle, every curve, as his hands balled into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself from throwing you down on the bed. God, your touch was intense, both soft but calculated. He leaned down, catching your lips in a quick kiss, his tongue darting out to tease you. Your eyes never left his, which only fueled the fire within both of you further.

Dean loved how you had leaned into the kiss, and had leaned closer when he pulled away. He smirked before cupping your face with both his hands and kissing you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as your hands sent shivers and heat through his body as they explored his chest and sides. Your body instinctively pressed closer to his, needing to feel so much more of him.

The sounds of the outside world faded as you slowly lifted his shirt without breaking the kiss until he had no choice but to move and remove it. That teasing smirk found your lips again before you bit your bottom one, taking in his muscular form. God, he could probably hold me up like I weighed nothing at all. The thought sent warmth through you, and a small groan slipped past your lips. But you also knew that whatever he did for a living is what had sculpted him into the man that stood before you.

When you saw his tattoo, you paused for only half a second, wondering if he was a hunter. That could be bad in the long run, but you quickly pushed the worry aside. Tonight wasn’t about worrying about that. You’d be gone before he woke, and all he had was your first name. Plus, you had enough alcohol in your system that you didn’t really care at the moment. You’d never see him after this, right?

“My turn,” he smirked, his tone low, husky, almost commanding.

You just gave him that teasing smirk, and before he could even reach for your shirt, your lips were on his chest, leaving a trail of fire along his skin. Dean bit his bottom lip as his hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. He wasn’t used to not being able to control himself, and you were pushing him far past any level of restraint he was used to with a woman. Dean would have been lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

He sucked in a breath, feeling your hands tease his skin again in a feather-light dance along his sides as his hands quickly found yours, stopping them in their tracks. “Careful, Sweetheart. I’m ticklish.” he breathed out. Even if you hadn’t tickled him, you’d touched him in a way he wasn’t used to. There was a tenderness in your touch that made his breath hitch in his chest, and it scared the shit out of him.

“I’ll remember that,” you replied softly, leaning closer to leave a trail of eclectic kisses along his chest. 

It took everything in Dean to ignore the strain in his jeans or how your lips felt on his skin. Then there was your hands as they traced every muscle, every curve of his exposed body. All of it was making it nearly impossible to think straight. God and the way your hot breath sent goosebumps down his body was enough to drive him almost mad.

Dean finally managed to slip his hands under your shirt, your skin smooth under his calloused hands, and he felt you moan against his chest. It brought that pleased smirk to his lips when he felt your fingernails press against the middle of his back. Slowly, he slipped your shirt up, causing you to move your hands off of him, giving him the moment he needed to catch his breath as he slipped your shirt off.

You made a mental note of where it landed, even in your passion-induced state. The way his eyes raked over your exposed torso made your breath ragged. It was almost as if you could feel his gaze literally devouring you as you looked into his eyes. 

“Beautiful…” he breathed out before capturing your lips in another searing kiss, which you reciprocated as your fingers fiddled with his belt. Luckily, it was a simple leather belt that was easy to get undone.

His hands found your hips, but only briefly before one of his hands made quick work of the button just as you had gotten his belt loose. It was almost a race to see who could be faster, and so far, you were winning. You didn’t even break the kiss as you popped the button on his jeans open, cupping his already hard cock through the denim as your other hand found his zipper.

You smirked into the kiss as he groaned, his hips moving into your touch, needing far more than you were giving him. All he could do was pull you flush against him as you moaned quietly. Just as you felt his hands attempt to tighten on your sides, you slipped down as you slid his jeans to his ankles, looking up at him as you knelt at his feet through your lashes.

Dean let out a ragged breath, wondering just how much longer he’d be able to take his time with you. You had him on the verge of picking you up and pinning you against the wall, an almost desperate need to be buried deep inside you. When that teasing smirk found your lips again, he bit his lower lip as he made quick work of his boots, then kicked off his jeans.

You reached for his boxers, but he was quicker, grabbing both your hands and pinning them behind your back. Then, as he smirked against your lips, he slipped both your wrists into one of his hands, giving him a free hand to tease you with. He chuckled, seeing the glare in your eyes. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it, but he needed you to stop touching him so he could taste you the way he wanted to.

Now that he had you, his lips moved from yours, along your jawline and down your neck as your head tilted back, giving him more access. Electricity ran along your nerves everywhere his lips ventured while his hand slid inside the front of your jeans, causing you to inhale deeply out of surprise and how good it felt. Dean moaned against your pulse point, feeling just how wet you were while his fingers slid along your folds before he removed them from your jeans.

“So wet already, Sweetheart?” he whispered in a low, teasing tone before he sucked your juices from his fingers. “Delicious.”

Your plans sort of flew out the window the moment he had your hands pinned, but the way he teased your body was worth it. Electricity shot through all your nerves with every touch of his hands. His movements weren’t rushed, like he was memorizing every curve of your body, even if your jeans were getting in the way. 

With a ragged breath, his lips made their way along your collarbone before dipping even lower, teasing the area just above your breasts. The quiet moans that left your lips were like music to his ears. The way he held you arched your back toward him, making it almost impossible to move, but it was delectable instead of confining. 

As his hand cupped your breast, his mouth found your nipple, pulling the most sinful sounds from you, and it was nearly impossible to be quiet. The way his tongue moved over and around your nipple, finding the most sensitive spots, then teasing them as he sucked harder. Your breathing became heavy, your body now craving his touch, needing to feel his skin on yours, but you needed to feel him tense under your touch, not the other way around, no matter how good it felt.

You took a deep breath the moment his mouth left your nipple, now getting hard due to the dampness from his mouth and the slight chill in his motel room. In one swift, quick motion before his lips could claim yours again, you turned, causing him to release your wrists. Before he could even get his hands on you again, you slipped behind him, making him turn.

The tension in the room was palpable. Electricity crackled in the air between the two of you. A teasing smirk toyed with your lips as you looked into his eyes. Those wonderful emerald eyes you would always remember. Placing your hand on his chest, you gently pushed against his chest, and he complied. Dean’s mind was racing at how your confidence and need to be in control never completely waivered, even when he had you at his mercy. The way you’d gotten out of his grip would have made him question you in an entirely different way if circumstances were different and he didn’t need to feel your body under his.

As his legs bumped into the edge of one of the beds, he sat down, not even caring if it was his or Sam’s, but his eyes never left yours. He let you lay him back, your movements slow, teasingly slow, as you ran your hands over his chest, leaving almost featherlight kisses in their wake. Your fingers teased the waistband of his boxers, his head snapping up to watch you as he propped himself up on his elbows, somewhat amused. 

It wasn’t often a woman took control with the confidence you showed. He wanted to watch you, but your hand brushed over the bulge in his boxers. His head fell back as a low, almost growl bubbled up from his chest. The warmth of your hand made his cock twitch, slightly painfully in the confines of his boxers.

The way his muscles flexed under your touch quickened your breath, but you were going to take your time, memorize every curve, every muscle, every sound he made. Feeling the size of him, even through the fabric, made you lick your lips, slowly slipping his boxers down, leaving him naked before you. For a moment, you just stood there, staring down at him with your lips parted. He looked up at you when you hadn’t returned to touching him, that cocky smirk on his lips again, making you want to kiss it off of him.

“Like what you see, Sweetheart,” his honeyed words with his cocky attitude made your body quiver with need. The man was gorgeous, and he knew it. So, you just smirked before slipping your jeans off, wearing nothing underneath, now naked as well. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you sassed teasingly, seeing the hunger intensify in his eyes as his cock twitched.

Before he could say a word, you knelt between his legs. The way your hand felt soft around his shaft had him clenching the blankets of the bed. He still had most of his control at the moment, though, keeping himself from just taking over and pinning you to the mattress so he could taste every inch of you. However, he couldn’t stop the moan that came out when he felt your warm breath on the head of his cock.

The sound that came from him went straight to your core, your walls clenching around nothing. You wondered how much of him you’d be able to take in your mouth, but you were up for the challenge, having figured out how not to gag. For a moment, you let your warm breath fan over the tip of his cock before placing soft, slow kisses along his shaft, holding the base firmly but gently with your hand. His entire body was tense as the pleasure coursed through every part of him at your ministrations. Your lips were soft, your grip firm but gentle, and your confidence in what you were doing was nearly too much for him to keep from taking over. The moment you took him into your mouth, though, his hand went to your hair, gripping it with practiced ease.

You hummed, sending a shiver down his body as he twitched in your mouth, indicating you were both enjoying every moment. Slowly, you began moving your mouth on him, up, then down, sucking him like a straw in a milkshake and letting your tongue conform to his shape, sliding along his shaft. Dean did his best to keep himself from getting lost in the feeling, but the skill of your mouth was fogging his mind. His grip in your hair tightened, and when your lips reached the tip, he encouraged you to move faster by pressing a little against your head. The way he tasted on your tongue had your body on fire, needing to feel him inside you, but you were enjoying him being at your mercy.

“Y/N…” he moaned quietly, and you could hear the plea in his undertone, almost begging for you to speed up.

You smirked internally, focusing on his body, his moans, his hand in your hair, and his cock in your mouth. Since his request had been so nice, you did speed up, teasing the tip with a couple motions before sliding back down, almost to the base. His hips instinctively thrust gently upward, pressing the tip of his cock down your throat. You didn’t gag but stopped your movements, then hummed again.

Dean had no choice, he had to pull your mouth off of him, or he was going to cum right then and there. He was breathing heavily as he sat up, still holding onto your hair. When he saw a smirk on your lips, though, he almost growled, looking down at you between his legs. No woman had gotten him that close, that fast before.

“My turn,” he told you with a look that said you were in for more than you had prepared yourself for. He still hadn’t let go of your hair, and you wondered just how much you could push him before he pinned you and fucked you into the mattress.

“What? Too much?” you asked, feigned coyness lacing your words. You knew exactly what you’d done and how close you had him.

He just groaned, his gaze nothing but lust as he gently lifted you closer to his face. “Sweetheart, don’t make me cuff you to the bed,” he warned in a low, seductive tone, but you had a feeling he’d actually do it. That only made your legs quiver slightly as another wave of heat washed through you.

Dean truly debated cuffing you to the bed. Your boldness and feigned coyness reminding him not to underestimate you. A devilish smirk found his lips as his grip loosened in your hair. “My turn,” he told you again, and you didn’t miss the glint of excitement in his eyes as he gently helped you stand with him.

His cock pressed against your lower abdomen, and you wanted so badly to purr at the feeling and the thoughts that played through your mind. God, I can’t. He’ll ask too many questions. So, you focused on his eyes, taking in the lust and desire in his expression. Your hands reached out to touch his chest, but he quickly stopped you, grabbing your wrists before they could make contact with his skin. 

So, you gave him a pout, hoping it’d work and he’d let you continue enjoying his body. “I will cuff you,” he warned in a low growl. Damnit! “But, how is that fair?” you asked, still pouting.

In one swift motion, Dean had you on the bed on your back, making you squeal in surprise. However, as you giggled and attempted to sit up, he had already found his jeans and the cuffs in his back pocket. Your eyes went wide when he climbed on top of you, only able to pay attention to how he felt over you as he cuffed your wrists to the headboard.

With a smirk, his eyes never left yours. God, you looked delicious under him, and he was going to take his time. “I warned you, Sweetheart,” he whispered before letting his fingers move slowly down your arms, feeling the softness of your skin.

You glared at him, tugging against the cuffs as you looked up at them. You heard him chuckle, a deep sound rumbling from his chest at your predicament. When your eyes met his again, he’d moved off of you, licking his lips and debating where he wanted to start first. In all honesty, you hadn’t exactly given him another option. If he hadn’t cuffed you, he wouldn’t be able to take his time, and he desperately wanted to hear and see you come completely undone, by him.

Dean hadn’t decided yet if he’d uncuff you. Seeing the glare in your eyes only fueled the fire you’d lit within him back at the bar. He leaned down, only a sliver of space between your lips, that pleased smirk on his face again. You could feel his warm breath mixing with yours as your heart rate picked up again. Most of the men you’d been with couldn’t please you, not the way you needed.

He didn’t kiss you, no. Instead, his hands began slowly exploring your curves as his lips trailed along your jaw, then slowly down your neck. You held back your moans at his touch. It felt like your skin was on fire. “Tease,” you mumbled grumpily, but it was only to annoy him, make him touch you where you needed him to.

All he did was chuckle darkly against your pulse point, sucking softly at first, then harder as one of his hands slid up your side, cupping your breast. You bit your bottom lip, trying not to move into his touch. Part of you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing to you, but when his fingers tweaked your nipple just the right way, a moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s what I thought,” he stated, his tone low, gruff, and almost smug.

You took a deep inhale of breath when you felt his lips leaving a hot trail over your collarbone, along your throat, and then down your chest as you tried not to squirm beneath him. For a brief moment, you wondered how many women he had been with, as he clearly knew what he was doing to get the sounds he was after. Or, perhaps, he was just more perceptive than most men. Either way, you lost your train of thought when his mouth latched onto your nipple, teasing it just right with his tongue.

There was no keeping the moan from coming out, and you felt him smirk against your skin as your back arched, needing more. Dean took one breast in each hand, kneading them while his fingers teased the nipple his mouth wasn’t enjoying. God, you felt amazing under him, and the sounds you made had his cock throbbing with need. All he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside you, but not before he tasted your sweetness. You struggled against the cuffs restraining you, wanting to dig your nails into his skin, feel the strength of his muscles under your touch. It was infuriating and intoxicating, all at the same time being unable to touch him as he touched and teased you in ways no man had before. When he felt he’d tasted your nipple enough, he moved to the other one, getting lost in the sounds you tried not to make.

That coil began tightening, your walls clenching around nothing. You needed more. God, you needed more. You tried rubbing your thighs together, since he was straddling you, holding you in place beneath him, but it wasn’t enough. 

Dean chuckled, feeling your movements, then released your nipple with a pop while his fingers teased both your nipples, making you gasp. Just the right amount of pressure in all the right places. He was observant; hunting had taught him that, and right now, he was reading you like an open book. He knew what you wanted, needed. However, he was enjoying the feel of you, the taste of you, and the sounds he could pull from you. When he finally began sliding his hands down your sides, you attempted to steady your breathing, his lips leaving searing kisses along your skin. Whenever he found one of your spots, he gave it more attention, sucking hickeys into your skin. He wanted you to remember tonight for days to come, longer if possible.

He didn’t go straight to where you wanted him. Instead, he trailed kisses to just above your mound, then slowly down your thigh, lifting your leg so that your foot was over his shoulder. The little whimpers that left your lips the further down your leg he got only made his cock twitch more. The sounds you made were like a sweet melody, and he could listen to it for hours.

It was like he had known how close he had gotten you, just from teasing your nipples, choosing to keep you needy. You were seriously considering using your retractable claws to get out of the cuffs but knew better; no matter how badly you needed to fuck him, you couldn’t do that. As your breathing was slowly evening out, he was already making his way up your other leg, keeping the first over his shoulder. Dean left kisses along your inner thigh, sucking in places that made you squirm again. He found it interesting that you hadn’t had a spot near your ankle, like most women did, but it didn’t deter him. He’d just find others, and that was precisely what he was doing. Carefully, he nestled himself between your legs but chose to slide his right arm over your thigh, effectively pinning your lower half. You looked down at him, those emerald orbs filled with lust as they devoured you, and goosebumps danced down your body. For a moment, neither of you moved, the moment frozen as your lips parted at the sight. He was intoxicating, but there was something more there, and it scared you. So you quickly pushed that feeling away as his head dipped down, trailing his tongue over your slick folds. 

Instinctively, your hips tried to move into the sensation, needing more, but he held you firmly in place. He hummed in pleasure. You tasted divine. Dean could have stayed there for hours, just tasting you. Something about you was different, in the most delicious ways. The moment his tongue found your clit, your mind no longer worked. A jolt of pleasure shot through your body as your walls clenched around nothing.

“Dean...” you moaned out quietly, almost pleading for more.

His other hand left featherlight touches along your inner thigh, moving slowly toward where you needed him. Your body shifted and moved against his hold, but you were unable to make him go any faster than he wanted to. Dean felt like he was in heaven as he sucked your clit between his lips, slowly teasing the bundle of nerves with his tongue, noting what made you try to move, what made you try to keep quiet, and what made your body tremble under his hold. His fingers found your entrance, slipping two inside. You couldn’t stop the low growl of pleasure that rumbled up from deep in your chest. God, please don’t let him notice, you mentally prayed, knowing it was far more animalistic than you had wanted it to come out.

In any other circumstance, Dean would have questioned you, but the sound made his cock not only twitch but throb as precum dripped from the tip. The sound had sent a rush through his body, which he wasn’t prepared for, and he thought he might come right then and there. That coil had quickly tightened within your abdomen; your muscles tensed as your walls squeezed his fingers. The heat that pulsed through your body had you almost panting. Dean reached his other hand up, his fingers tweaking your nipple as he moved his fingers in and out of you, making sure to tease that spot deep inside with every thrust. He sucked your clit a little harder, finding just the right spot with his tongue.

You’d never screamed any man’s name before, but at that moment, when your orgasm pulsed through your body in waves, Dean’s name reverberated off the walls of his motel room. Hell, you swore that you saw stars when it hit you, but you didn’t have time to think as he continued, helping you ride out every second of the pleasure. What neither of you expected was the moment you almost completely came down, you began building towards another one.

It surprised him. Most women he had to coax more out of. If Dean had been thinking clearly, he probably could have formulated questions, but you were delicious. He sped up his movements with his tongue as he thrust his fingers faster, harder, teasing the sensitive spot inside you. You were nothing more than a panting, moaning mess when he didn’t stop, pulling against the cuffs that kept your upper half in place while his arm kept your lower half in place.

No man had ever played your body like he was. You typically had to take care of yourself after you would sneak out and back to your motel room. Dean didn’t give you much time to think about that as your second orgasm crashed through you. He chuckled when you couldn’t make a single coherent word as he rode you through the pleasure. You were groaning with need as your body tried to move when he slowly pulled his fingers from your fluttering walls and his mouth from your clit. He sucked his fingers clean, not letting his mind wander to things it shouldn’t. Dean used the corner of the bedding to wipe your juices from his chin and mouth before climbing on top of you, caging you in.

All you could do was meet his eyes, your hips moving seductively against his, needing him to fuck you. “I’m going to uncuff you. Behave yourself,” he told you with a look that sent a tantalizing shiver down your body.

You watched him retrieve the keys, then climb over you again, his gaze never leaving yours, even as he unlocked the cuffs. Slowly, you pulled yours down, letting them rest on his shoulders, almost purring at his muscular frame. Dear God, don’t let me purr. He had the cuffs and keys on the nightstand in seconds before his lips were on yours again, needy, desperate, but also almost intimate.

Every time your hips moved against his, rubbing his cock along your wet folds and clit, he groaned, his hips instinctively moving with you. He reached between your bodies, lining himself up with your entrance, never breaking the kiss. Dean had planned to go slowly, give you time to adjust to his size, but you were having none of that.

You wrapped your legs around the backs of his thighs, bucked your hips, and pulled him into you, making the both of you moan with how good it felt. Dean bit down on your shoulder when you rolled your hips, pushing him even deeper into the warmth of your fluttering walls.

“If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to fuck you,” you whispered before nibbling on his earlobe, pulling another groan from him as he snapped his hips hard.

Dean shifted so that he was more on his knees, your legs around his waist, and now, his hands found your hips. The smirk on your lips had him committing the moment to memory. “I’ll fuck you, but it’ll be the way I want to,” he told you in that same commanding tone.

With that, he slowly withdrew till only the head of his cock was inside you, pausing for a brief moment as the pout began forming on your lips. Then, he slammed into you, making your back arch off the bed. Dean’s smirk turned devilish as he did it again, watching your face contort from an almost pout to sheer pleasure.

The way he held your hips kept you from moving with him, and it was driving you insane. His slow withdrawal was an utter tease. Then the way he slammed back into you and hit that spot inside while also hitting your clit was keeping you close without pushing you further. It was delightfully infuriating and had you attempting to squirm for more.

However, the moment he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, you used the moment to roll the two of you so you were on top. If the action hadn’t sent a thrill through his body, he would have questioned it. Were your walls not fluttering around his cock as it twitched inside you, he would have questioned you.

“I said if you didn’t fuck me, I was going to fuck you,” you told him, grabbing the headboard as you ground against him, rolling your hips.

Dean’s head went back into the pillow while his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. Then, when you began moving, rolling your hips like you were, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. However, he also knew you were close and bucked his hips, keeping in sync with your movements.

You leaned down, getting a better angle, but the moment you did, his mouth found your nipple, latching on as the most sinful sounds left your lips. He moved your hips, grinding you against him as your walls gripped his cock just before your orgasm crashed through your body. When you didn’t stop moving, riding out the waves of pleasure and screaming his name, your name left his lips as he came, buried deep inside you.

Your hands slipped from the headboard, resting on the pillows beside his head, your hair a mess, your breathing ragged, but all Dean could do was smile a little. You were beautiful. His hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against his chest while you both enjoyed the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

Neither of you moved for a while, enjoying the comfort of each other’s arms. Not even after his cock had softened and slipped out of you. Being hunters, neither of you got close to people. For you, though, you had another reason. Slowly, you moved so that you were lying beside him, not quite ready to leave.

Dean, though, got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Heen returned with a warm, damp washcloth. You watched him with curiosity as he cleaned you and then himself before he tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom, landing it in the sink. Then, he climbed back into the bed and pulled you close.

So, you let yourself enjoy him and the comfort you felt in his arms. He had treated you like no other man had, like you were more than just a means to his end. Dean just wasn’t ready to let you go, but at the same time, knew he had to. For him, he’d pretend, even if just for the night, that you were his and that he wouldn’t leave before you woke in the morning. 

You listened to his breathing and his heartbeat while pretending to fall asleep yourself. With you in his arms, he'd completely forgotten to text Sam, but right now, he couldn't care less.

He didn't want to think about how perfectly you fit against him or how holding you close eased the tension in his muscles. It wasn't long before he slipped off to sleep, and that was your cue.

Carefully, you slipped out of his bed, making sure not to disturb him. With silent footsteps, you gathered your clothes, dressed, and then snuck out of his motel room. 

You didn't see the man across the street watching you as you walked a few doors down to your own room. Moving quickly, you packed the few things you had out, then went back outside and to your car.

After tossing your bag into the backseat, you drove away. Sam made a mental note of the license plate number, then headed into his and Dean's shared room. 

Sam deadpanned, seeing his brother passed out in his bed and Dean's clothes tossed haphazardly around the room. With a frustrated sigh, he wrote down the plate number before hitting the sack in the unused bed.

—---------------

As the sun rose, casting away the shadows of the night, you were singing along to a random song on a random station. Maybe I should have called Bobby first. It'd been a few months since you'd seen the man who had cared for you after you had lost your parents.

Just a few more hours. The thought made you smile, and you always told yourself you would make a better effort to stop by and see him. And, every time, you ended up getting caught up in hunting. At least you remembered to call him, often.

When you pulled into his driveway, you let out a relieved sigh, killing the engine. Then, you grabbed your bag and headed to the door but never got the chance to knock.

“You had better not have even thought about knocking,” Bobby scolded you.

You looked down, about to apologize, when he laughed and pulled you into a hug. As you wrapped your arms around him, laughing with him. “I missed you too, old man,” you replied teasingly.

“Now come inside and get something to eat. I know you didn't sleep last night either,” he told you as the two of you went inside.

For the next several hours, the two of you talked, catching up on the things both of you had been up to. You made the both of you some lunch, eating together in the living room. It was the purr of a beautiful engine that pulled your attention to the window in the living room.

“You expecting company?” you asked Bobby as you tried to make out what kind of car it was. For a moment, Bobby wasn't sure what you were talking about, but then remembered how good your hearing was. “No, but sometimes people drop in an say hi, like you,” he chuckled.

—---------------------------

When Dean woke, the other side of the bed was empty. He found it slightly amusing since he was typically the one to do the leaving. The part that scared him was that he found himself missing you. He let the events of the night replay in his mind as a sigh slipped past his lips.

“You planning on sleeping the day away?” Sam asked from the table, having been up for over an hour already.

Dean sat up with a slight groan. His muscles hurt in all the right ways, and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Man, she was something else. Sam kept his eyes on his laptop as Dean got out of bed, that smile still on his lips as he attempted to find his clothes from the night before and got dressed.

As Dean sat down across from Sam, a cup of coffee in his hands, Sam finally looked up at him, chuckling slightly at his bedhead. “Aren’t you normally the one to leave before the chick wakes up?” Sam teased him.

“Normally,” Dean chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “She was something else, though,” he added with a sigh.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “I got her plate number after she left last night.”

Dean’s head snapped up, “She left that soon?” “Yeah. I watched her from across the street a couple hours after you left the bar with her. I never got a text from you, but figured that a couple hours was plenty of time,” Sam replied nonchalantly.

“Shit. Sorry about that,” Dean apologized sheepishly, taking a sip of his coffee. That was when the other thing Sam had said finally sunk in as a smirk toyed with his lips. “Did you run her plate number?” He asked quizzically.

Sam chuckled with amusement, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah. I did that when I got up. Why?” He was going to have some fun with this one, having quickly figured out that his brother was far more into you than he typically was with any woman he’d had a one-night stand with.

Dean gave his brother an instant bitch face, not having had enough coffee for Sam’s antics. “And?” His annoyed tone only fueled his brother's amusement further.

“And, I’m pretty sure she’s a hunter, given the information I found online. She’s got at least four aliases, and has helped out on a lot of cases. Her names are on tons of police reports across the country,” Sam explained as he focused on his laptop screen again, clicking around. “Oh, and her actual name is Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Wait, I’ve heard that before,” Dean stated quickly, now attempting to wrack his brain as to where he’d heard your name before. It was on the tip of his tongue and driving him crazy that it wouldn’t come to him.

It was Sam’s turn to raise an eyebrow as he looked over at his brother. “If she’s a hunter, it would make sense you heard her name before.” Dean’s brow furrowed. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I know that name, Y/L/N. I just can’t remember where I heard it.”

Sam chuckled, “Finish your coffee. Then we’ll pack up, get some breakfast, and finish the drive to Bobbys.”

Dean’s thoughts were on your last name, trying desperately to remember where he’d heard it. It was like this while he finished his coffee, packed up his things, had breakfast with his brother at the diner, and then while he drove. He only half heard anything Sam said as the day progressed, and he never once turned on any music. 

His mind had gone over past cases, other hunters he had spoken with, even the things written in his dad’s journal, but nothing was coming to mind. “You gonna spend the whole drive thinking about her?” Sam chuckled from the passenger seat. You were probably the only woman that had ever gotten to Dean like this.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening some while Sam tried to stifle his amusement. “I’m telling you, I’ve heard that last name before.” 

“Is that all it is?” Sam teased him, earning him another bitch face. “It was that good, huh?” he chuckled before deciding to shut up before he pushed his brother too far. Sam loved picking on his brother, but he knew when to drop a topic.

When Dean pulled into Bobby’s driveway, he was a little surprised to see another vehicle parked in his spot. Sam, on the other hand, sat forward a little, instantly recognizing the car. She knows Bobby? He glanced over at Dean, who only looked annoyed that his spot was taken up by some stranger. That’s when he realized that Dean didn’t know the car belonged to you and was going to enjoy the surprise on his face.

“Bobby’s got company,” Dean grumbled, killing the engine.

“He helps a lot of hunters,” Sam shrugged as he got out of the Impala.

They headed up the steps and Dean knocked on the door, being respectful, even if Bobby was like an adopted father to the two of them. 

—---------------------------

The moment the door opened and he saw you, he was speechless. Sam was doing his best not to bust out in laughter at not only Dean’s shock and surprise, but also yours. You thought you’d never see him again after you’d snuck out of his motel room, and he thought the same. 

“Who is it, Y/N?” Bobby hollered from the living room, pulling you and Dean from your thoughts.

“Not sure. Looks like a couple of hooligans,” you replied with a smirk as Dean gave you his bitch face, not amused.

Bobby had a feeling he knew who it was, but went to the door anyway, just to make sure. Seeing who it was, Bobby chuckled at what you had called him, shaking his head. “It’s just the Winchesters. Let 'em in, Y/N.” 

You opened the door the rest of the way before heading into the living room, not entirely sure how to react. This was the first time you’d run into a one-night stand after the fact. After returning to your seat, you grabbed your beer and finished it off, just as the three of them entered the living room.

“Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. She’s practically my daughter, so behave yourselves, or I’ll let her kick your ass for being disrespectful,” Bobby stated sternly, and Dean froze as his eyes met yours.

Shit, I’m a deadman, Dean thought to himself as the realization finally hit him as to where he had heard your last name before, but it had been years ago. It wasn’t helping that you were acting as though the two of you hadn’t had the most amazing sex of his life the night before. He watched as you stood, extending your hand to each of them.

“Nice to meet the two of you. Bobby’s mentioned you two idjits a few times,” you told them both teasingly and playfully.

God, the mouth on her. Those lips… Dean shook his head before shaking your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. That was when Bobby’s hand came up and smacked the back of his head. “Owe! What was that for?!” Dean grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. You just chuckled before sitting down, noticing that Sam had done the same. 

“If she doesn’t kick your ass, I might,” Bobby warned him. “She doesn’t need you leadin’ her on.” And with that, he sat back behind his desk, sipping his whiskey and keeping an eye on Dean and where his eyes wandered.

Dean gave you a questioning glare but chose to sit down and not look directly at you after that one. Sam had a hard time not laughing at the entire situation. It was clear you hadn’t said a word to Bobby about your night before or that you at least knew Dean’s name. He wasn’t about to be the one to say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was be the one to spill the beans. Plus, this was far more amusing.

You played it cool, pretending as though last night hadn’t been the most amazing night of your life. Hell, you had to after what Bobby said. It wasn’t like you needed your practical father knowing you had one-night stands from time to time. Then there was what he said about Dean, and it made you wonder if he was like other typical hunters, leaving behind a trail of women from every case he took. 

For the next several hours, they caught up on each other’s lives. You mostly listened. At least now you remembered where you had heard Dean’s name before. Thanks to the alcohol and the way he had made your body feel, you hadn’t even thought twice about it the night before. When you went to go cook something for dinner, Dean glanced over, but only slightly, watching the gentle sway of your hips.

Bobby wasn’t stupid. He’d practically raised you. He just wasn’t going to pry into things that were none of his business. You were an adult, after all. However, he wasn’t about to let anything happen in his house with his daughter, well, adopted daughter, technically. Bobby leaned back in his chair, sipping his whiskey, watching Dean. The old man didn’t miss much.

“Go help Y/N with dinner,” Bobby told Dean, his tone stern. “And keep your hands to yourself.”

Dean didn’t say a word but quickly got up and joined you, leaning against the counter. At first, he wasn’t sure what to even help with, so he focused on doing the few dishes that were in the sink. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you set things up on the counter and stove. Neither of you spoke for a while, the tension in the kitchen building as each silent second passed.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Dean whispered, not wanting Bobby to hear.

“When?” you whispered, focusing on cooking instead of looking over at him. You weren’t sure if he meant the night before or when he and his brother showed up at Bobby’s.

“Last night? Today? Pick one,” he grumbled quietly.

You glanced over at him, then back at the food. “Would it have mattered?”

He knew you had a point. It wasn’t like the two of you were anything to each other, but he couldn’t shake the way you’d make him feel when he had held you afterward. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it. “No,” he sighed. “Guess not.” And with that, he began setting the table.

You felt a pang in your chest but reminded yourself that it had only been a one-night stand, no matter how it had felt being in his arms afterward. So, you focused on finishing dinner, keeping up that mask to hide the things you didn’t want to deal with. Being a Touched was lonely and for a little bit, Dean had made all those feelings go away. You just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that now.

Bobby knew something was up, but he wouldn’t broach the topic, not in front of the brothers. He silently watched you, Dean, and Sam while interacting with the conversation over dinner. The boys were planning on heading out in the morning for another case. You were going to hang around for a few days, which he appreciated, even if he couldn’t always say it. 

After dinner, when you went to do the dishes, Bobby stopped you and then told the brothers to take care of the cleanup. So, you went to shower, pushing your thoughts aside. Pajamas were a pair of sweats and a slightly baggy, comfy shirt. You took a moment to listen to what was being said before standing in the entryway of the living room.

“I’m heading to bed. It was nice to meet the two of you. Be safe out there,” you told the brothers before giving Bobby a hug.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Y/N,” Sam replied, but Dean said nothing, terrified of the emotions you evoked in him.

You kept that hunter's mask up as you went to your room. It was just a one-night stand. Get it together already, you mentally berated yourself as you stared at the ceiling from your bed. Even though you hadn’t slept since the night before last, you didn’t want to sleep, almost afraid you’d dream of him. 

Over the course of the day, you had learned that you and Dean had a lot in common but had kept your mouth shut. Luckily, Bobby hadn’t said anything either. “God, this is stupid,” you mumbled as you finally got yourself comfortable under the covers for the night. Your mind wasn’t quite ready to drop the topic of Dean, and it took you another hour before you could fall asleep.

Morning came, like it always did, and you just looked at the light trying to penetrate the drawn curtains. You didn’t get out of bed, though. Your dreams were still playing on repeat in your head. All of them of Dean. Hunting with him and his brother. Being with him. The part that scared the hell out of you was that in the dreams, it all felt so… right, like it was meant to be, just like how it had felt when he held you close that night.

It was hearing the Impala’s engine that made you finally get out of bed and go to your window. Gingerly, you reached out and moved the curtains so you could see. Dean was behind the wheel, and Sam was saying something to Bobby. However, when you looked back at Dean, he was looking up at you. There was something in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat while at the same time, took your breath away.

I’m glad I got to feel that with someone, even if it was only for one night, and I’ll never see you again.

—--------------------------

Dean couldn’t get you out of his head. You’d acted like it was only sex that night, but something kept nagging at his chest. It was both driving him insane and scaring the hell out of him. He had only half interacted with Bobby and Sam the night before after you’d gone to bed. You were a puzzle to him, a mystery, and no matter how badly he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he wanted to figure you out and learn everything he could about you.

God, what’s wrong with me? It was the one main thought that kept circling his mind as he had tried to find sleep on Bobby’s couch while staring at the ceiling. His gaze kept drifting to the hallway that led to where your room was. He wanted to ask you about so many things, but he was both terrified of the emotions you brought out in him and of Bobby kicking his ass for having already touched you.

When you hadn’t come out of your room that morning, he felt his heart sink. He wanted to see you, even if you didn’t feel a thing for him. He knew he felt something for you. Sam tried a few times to engage him in conversation, but Dean’s focus was on his coffee, and thoughts of you. 

Now, sitting behind the wheel of his Baby, he dared to look up at Bobby’s house, not sure which window was yours. He tried to just focus on the purr of the engine, but the moment he saw you at your window, he couldn’t look away. The way the sun hit you just right, dancing off your features through the window. Your hair still messy from sleep. To him, you looked like an angel for a moment, and the look in your eyes caught him off guard. There was something there. Something that made his heart skip a beat and butterflies dance in his gut.

“Earth to Dean,” Sam’s voice pulled his gaze for a brief moment before he looked back at your window, but you were gone. “Are we going or just sitting here?”

“We’re going,” Dean grumbled, and with that, he drove away, trying not to wonder if he’d ever see you again, or that pull in his chest to go back, to you.

—---------------------------------

You hadn’t even bothered changing out of your pajamas when you joined Bobby in the living room after getting some coffee. There was no hiding that you were dealing with something, and he could instantly see it, letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned back in his seat. Bobby had done a lot of research on Touched, especially those from Bastet. “You found it, didn’t you,” he asked with both sincerity and concern.

Without looking up from your cup, you answered him. “Yeah,” you whispered, as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, mainly because Dean hadn’t seemed to feel it, the pull you did, or the pain of walking away. You didn’t want to admit that he was your soulmate, and now, you were a little worried about possibly being pregnant.

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[dhampling]

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k

THIS IS IT! THE UNICORN FIC! ALSO COINCIDENTALLY A 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION PIECE! THANK YOU!!! based on THIS ask, where a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn. this has plagued my brain. this is all i know now. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. wc: 2.8k c/w: descriptions of mutilation. fluff. reader WAS a unicorn. yippee.

A bed of burning coals. Belly on a smooth stone slab. 

Low candlelight as Cazador works, each measured smite into the milky flesh of Astarion’s back feels akin to a dull goring; blood a balm of cooling as it spills. 

A mouldering steak.

With each biting shovel of the gouging blade he knows this is a horribly permanent form of disfigurement. 

The pale face in the very periphery of his waning vision, flickering often to look at some tome of reference before conferring with Dufay in frequent sharp whispers. 

He wipes the skin to clear his canvas after each twist of his tool. A searing rag. He can feel the fluff, the grit, as it settles deep into the exposed sticky blazing valleys between his shoulder blades. He feels the birth of rancid infection. The prickle of each and every prick along his tendons that the debris sets alight. 

He knows little else in this moment. 

He knows his limbs are useless in tight leather binds, but that this isn’t a case of reprimand as a flaying or a visit to the kennels may be. He’s been good this month. He hasn’t pushed his luck, nor toed the line. He hasn’t even seen Godey in a four tenday. 

He knows that the gods can’t hear him down here, wherever here is. He was mercifully sedated at one point, but now all that remained were the paralytic properties of whatever was in the chalice presented oh-so-mightily to him at dinner. That his foetid, mortified carcass won’t allow him to howl, or whine, or scream. 

He thinks that he had a similar tool to this when he was young.

He remembers the cool blunt edge in the kitchens and running the tip of his small thumb along it. Feeling it in his pocket, warmed by the heat of his still-breathing body. Sitting in the forest just the other side of the fence with a small wicker basket of apples beside him. Woven blanket underneath linen tunic, woollen overcoat despite the early Kythorn sun; juices running down his little chin as he looked up at the birds singing through the canopy of trees. 

He then remembers his mother’s beckon call, leaving the cores to rot on the peaty floor; seeing the yellowing flesh dotted with twigs and brown leaves, glistening still.

-

“Are you coming?” He whispers sharply, head peering around the yawning mouth of your tent. 

You stretch and roll your wrists, freeing your eyes of sleep with a soft rub.

“Hm?”

Astarion clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. You look at him in a daze. 

He bristles in the post-gloaming purple dusk, your amber candlelight bringing his face warmth as his eyes scan your face. Behind him you can see a tapestry of stars starting to form in the sky. 

His head shakes a little. Claps once. Incredulous.

Oh.

“Overslept.” You mumble. He sighs.

“Gods.’

Pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

‘You have five minutes before I pull you out of this foetid little pit, whatever state you’re in.”

He turns on his heel.

“Is that a threat?” You shout after him.

His head ducks quickly back in.

“A promise. Just so we’re clear.”

A nap in the thulsun heat. A day of rest. Astarion ‘knock, knock’-ing on your tent flap as you read and slinking in like a cat, perching precariously on the chair you use to throw your unwashed armour onto after battle. Several quips about the smell. You threw a pillow at him. Hard. He repostured and continued on breezily.

He’d ‘gotten wind’ of a gathering happening on the beach twenty minutes from camp. Scavengers finishing up at the Nautiloid wreckage throwing some debauched farewell to the Ravaged Beach before some bastardised mercenary force comes in to begin clean up. All the good stuff now gone, but plenty of wine; and, obviously, an opportunity for ‘a little bit of fun’.

He’d blinked at you coquettishly, leaning on the back of the chair, daring you to ask just how he’d gotten wind of such an event. 

It’s rare you’ve bounced off another with such ease since your change. You’re too intelligent for his seduction techniques - the ones you hear him rehearsing quietly to himself from his tent each evening - to work the simple way he intends. That doesn’t mean the pale elf has had no effect on you, however.

You take comfort in knowing exactly how you’ll find him every time you look, and he’ll always be ever so pleased to hear that you have been looking. 

A wink. A flash of those porcelain white fangs. 

An invite to your bedroll for the most sordid of midnight snacks. 

Chatter between friends, an ever-present whiff of flirtation; the quirk of a moonlit lip and the pleasure of mutual relief in the dead of night. 

You fumble around the darkened tent in underwear searching for your discarded camp clothes as his fire-lit silhouette lingers outside.

-

Astarion thinks about the apples from time to time.

Tough, yet yielding. Biting. Sweet flesh bursting in season, ripe and white. Scraps of red skin stuck between hungry teeth. Seeds in their hard little hollows, stalks with small dry leaves. The way the juice ran so freely down his chin in the light of the sun and dampened the back of his hand as he’d wiped it away.

His full wicker basket empty by afternoon. 

Highsun courtyard feasts. He remembers the animals; his mother joking with beaming eyes and a wine-dipped cheer about his ‘druidic potential’ as she held him close, hand on his head, the other on his chest, he stood against her legs as she wittered. Time spent watching for an opportunity to slip through the gate and sit in silence with the birds.

Cazador trenches into his back deeper this time. What Astarion assumes must be blood spatters into his hair with the force of flying blue jay shit, and he’d know. 

He remembers the first time he saw the unicorns in the forest, how bewildered he felt. Startling white in such vivid contrast to the surrounding browns and greens. 

They weren’t skittish like the deer were, nor could they have been ‘lost property’ like the horses who often roamed by. The kobolds were mean to him on more than one occasion and the boars who passed were simple creatures. 

As a decisive yank is made and the gouging tool changes direction, fully embedded in the flesh it tears, he thinks about the smallest one. 

-

Despite being fraught with innuendo and obvious peacocking, Astarion’s company is a reassuring distraction from your current tadpole predicament. A parody of traditional pursuit wrapped in genuine affection. He knows he doesn’t have to bring the bravado, because you’ll play along regardless. 

And this eventide, alongside the fallen Nautiloid; he glows.

Skin soaked in the deep gloaming ambers and yellows of the campfire. Laugh of treacle, like a dozing highsun; a dawn chant on Lathander’s day - he tips his head back in a cotton lull and the quiet threat of his smile brimming through his sharp incisors devastates you. 

You watch on from the open mouth of a scavenger tent astride a pile of pillows and blankets, surrounded in distant light and pilfered goods. A warm breeze carries the firesmoke and to your side is a newfound silver chalice full to the brim with heady Arabellan Dry. 

He looks every part the favourite of the gods. 

Sways gently in his seat. Imbibes generously. Lifts his arms wide in gesticulation with oft-rotating conversational partners and tells stories in hushed tones with the most salacious quirk threatening his brow.

Occasionally throughout your jaunt, you’ll wonder if he should be holding your mind like this. 

Then his eyes meet yours.

Gods.

It feels like they all watch as he moves to you. Adonis in the flesh; effusive as his fingers circle the rim of his glass and he sinks to crossed legs beside you. Face by face. 

“I am so fucking bored.” He mutters. Smiles widely at a passing new acquaintance before sighing a grumble.

“Which one was ‘bored’ again?” You peer mockingly into the crowds, searching with a hand resting atop your tired brow. 

He elbows you. Hard.

“You sound remarkably sour, pet.”

“I’m not sour. I’ve had a beautiful evening” You sip. A gentle breeze rolls over you. 

Astarion lolls his head back a little.

“Beautiful wasn’t really the plan though, was it?”

You turn to him. Narrow your eyes just the smallest bit.  

Astarion tilts back and looks to the sky. He opens his mouth as if to speak. Closes it just as fast.

“What?”

You picture him falling in love with every single one he’d spoken to on the beach this evening; lifting locks of hair around nimbly twirling fingers and pulling another warm body closer. Tilting his head downwards, eyes remaining forward; struggling for words in covetous gasps. Seduction. 

A small laugh. Gods.

“Beautiful. Fucking a stranger in a beach cove isn’t necessarily what I’d call beautiful, dearest.”

“That was your plan?”

“Wasn’t it yours?”

You stop for a good moment. Astarion clicks his tongue in thought. Blinks with the urgency of dripping treacle.

-

Gods. The memory alone would be enough to bring a smile to his face, and he remembers it so very vividly. 

The apples. A baby unicorn. 

One late Elient afternoon, the first time any of them had approached. His fingers stickied with juice. It didn’t appear to be cautious by any discernible means, refusing the peel he’d hesitantly offered far out on the flat of his palm.

Little thing. Just about his size, he thinks; and he was always small. 

He remembers sniffing with a cold and haphazardly wiping his sticky fingers on the front of his coat. Reaching out so it could smell him.

Chewing open-mouthed, eyes closed, smoothing his face with the back of his hand.

They’d fall about together on feeble legs, his flailing arms and gentle nudges. Days on days spent venturing into the forest where it’d be waiting for him in the same clearing as always.

He remembers easing into the apple flesh with the tool edge and gently wiggling it into the crisp white to ensure a deep enough pit. Skimming imperfect rounds of the skin. Bouncing the resulting red spiral between his thumb and forefinger. 

Cazador reaches for the dagger. A hundred-thousand molten pins.

-

The moon overhead. Unwavering in clarity. It almost feels like you’re on the precipice of a different world. 

“You’re weird, you know.’ Astarion breaks his silence. The revellers continue to drink, to dance and talk clumsily around you.

Your eyes meet his. He wavers on the edge of certainty, but the performative lowering of his lids shows you he isn’t too sure. There’s a front to the nonchalance. 

‘What are you?”

“Hm?”

“Fun. I said there’d be fun. You aren’t partaking.’ He takes a sip and swills it around his mouth whilst collecting his thoughts. The dossier. Racking through pages in his brain.

‘I can’t be completely sure, but I’ve met a lot of humans in my life. Seduced them. Given and taken like a market teller.’

His hands move as he speaks, a considered pattern of gesticulation. 

‘And you simply… you’re above it all. You don’t even smell human. What are you?”

There it is. If you weren’t inebriated you’d be tempted to laugh him off. 

Tonight, however; your bones are thoroughly wine-sodden. 

Your companion has a twinkle in his eye. A beach of prospective lovers and he has collapsed at your side in respite. If he persecutes you as they would then you’ll die with his face the last thing you see. It doesn’t feel like a bad compromise.

“Not human.” You confirm, looking at your fingernails with a pert nod.

He laughs in a slight of vindication. 

“Try me.” 

“Sylvan.”

You can’t be sure if it’s from embarrassment or underlying fear that your head falls into your sweaty hands. Astarion’s snide streak plays at the fray of your mind.

“What? Half wood-elf or something?” 

He sips. 

“Unicorn.” You lift your fingers and flutter them around the sides of your head meekly. 

Splutters. 

“Explains why there are none roaming the actual woods anymore, I suppose.”

He’s taken it surprisingly well, all things considered. You aren’t sure what you’d expected. A minute of silence. The lazy roll of waves along the shore.

“What do I smell like?”

Maybe he’s wary of the driftwood stake near your hand. 

“Apples. People don’t smell like apples. Usually sweat. Or perfume.’ He runs his tongue over his teeth and sniffs. 

‘Not apples. I should’ve -”

Apples. A softness in the way he says it, you note. Favoured fruit in the allotments running the edge of the forests.

‘I’ve not had an apple in so long.”

He finishes with a wistful smile, topping off the wine in hand and refilling it with a swift glug. 

“Do you miss them?” 

“Apples? I-’

The cogs turn slowly - he wets his bottom lip and looks to the sky once more. His brow furrows as you watch him think.  

‘I used to sit in the forest, just around the back of the garden wall. I was about- I’d have been about up to here?’ He lifts his arm to just above where his sitting head rests.

‘I was tiny. All day long. Peeling the skin, gnawing away. Ironic.”

Pauses as if in remembrance of something. Grimaces.

You smile fondly and reach for his arm. You’re willing to entertain the line of dialogue. It distracts from the situation and he seems open to indulging in it.

“Funny.”

He scoffs and taps your hand softly before taking it in his. Cool fingers lock around yours. 

“How so?” 

“Gods, a long time ago now - there was a boy I met who did the same thing. Fascinated by them. Would sit and peel them with a little tool. Strange thing.”

You take a sip as you imitate the focus of the young thing, pretending to work tunnels into the cooling air with your near-empty chalice.

Astarion whips his head to face yours.

“Two hundred years ago?” 

“Why?’

He’s watching you as if you’re holding something very fragile in your faux-gouging fingers.

‘I suppose so? Round about then. Bit longer, maybe two hundred and th-”

“Me. It was me.”

Your eyes meet.

It’s the kind of moment you’ve read about in your downtime, the way the clock stops. Everything feels silent. The sea stops rolling soft on the shore, the voices around you are naught above a whisper; the glass in the hand not clutching yours set firmly on the sand as he shuffles to face you head on.

Apples. 

You watch his eyes soften wholly. Not a single ounce of guard; no sense of hesitation. Two glimmering rubies in the moonlight.

“His eyes weren’t red.” You smile.

It takes a moment for him to react. He’s studying your face reverently, with newfound interest; mapping each of the lines and blemishes with a hand hovering over your cheek. 

And then he laughs. The most beautiful sound in all the realms, melodic. 

“They weren’t.’

He points to the scarred fang marks above his sagging collar.

‘I was also alive at that point.’

Astarion takes a few comfortable minutes to look at you as he strokes over your hand with his thumb. You’ve spent enough of the past few weeks looking over him to know him almost by heart but you’ll indulge with the context of the revelation before you. 

“Look at us now, then.” 

Your voice cracks. You didn’t realise the sheer size of the lump in your throat.

“I -’

He presses his free hand to your cheek as he did when you were both young. Soft. Jowls ablaze at his wine-sticky touch. 

The sincerity in his gaze is brutal. If you weren’t so deeply enamoured you might just vomit.

‘The longest night of my life, I thought of you. The apples. How -’

Astarion takes a moment to survey you. You obviously look nothing like you did back then, aside from the brightest eyes he’s ever seen in all two hundred and thirty nine years of life and the same softness in how they revere him. 

‘How you never came back. I waited.’

It’s then that you crumble. 

‘How happy I knew I’d be when you did return.”

It’s cataclysmic, the way he talks. The last person who was kind to you and he thought you’d left him by choice this whole time. Remembering you in his darkest moments. All you’ve both suffered and here you are, on this rancid beach in the middle of nowhere; your hand safe in his.

“It wasn’t by choice. Never.”

The look on his face suggests he’s toying with the idea of playing the fair maiden, but he sees the way you crack and almost takes to tears himself.

“Well. You’re here now, and we have a lot of lost time to make up for. It helps that I was already fond of you, of course.”

He brushes the hair from your face and plants a deep kiss on your forehead as you bring your arms around his waist, hesitantly.

It’s a start. 

One you’d never have seen coming when waking aboard the crashed nautiloid in front of you; but glorious nonetheless.

[ducktoonsfanart]

Thanks for following me - Jubilee 5th Anniversary on Tumblr - Donald Duck and his friends and family - Quack Pack, Darkwing Duck, Ze Carioca Comics and The Legend of The Three Caballeros - Quack Pack AU and Duckverse - My Version

Since I haven't drawn anything for almost a month, after a long time I'm back again, but I have to say again that I won't be able to draw so much for the next month due to my obligations. So nothing from requests and Art Trade until I have more free time. Sorry.

But I certainly made a special drawing to thank you for everything you have done for me in this Duck community of ours, that is, the community of fans of Donald Duck, comics, cartoons and video games. And not only on Tumblr, but also on Deviantart, Instagram, Discord, Telegram, Twitter (X) and other networks. And so I have already passed the 5th year and everything has changed since then. Unfortunately, I had a lot of difficulties and I drew very badly at the time, but over time I met many friends who changed my life quite a few times. Now it's time to say thank you, if nothing else than my drawings that I love to draw since I've been on this social network. Yes, this art sideblog was opened three years ago, but it is a continuation of my main blog and you can see it here: https://ducklooney.tumblr.com/

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to do drawings especially for my friends, as well as for the birthday jubilees of Fethry Duck and Jose Carioca who celebrated their birthdays on August 2 and August 24, respectively, because for my own reasons I didn't have time to do it, which doesn't mean I won't in the future. Certainly if nothing else, I drew my favorite characters from the Duckverse (Donald Duck universe) combining Duck comics, Duck Avenger, Darkwing Duck, Ducktales, Quack Pack, Three Caballeros and Ze Carioca comics, in my own way in my own style. Yes, I drew them wearing modern clothes and outfits as I would imagine in my Quack Pack version, that is, in the Quack Pack AU. And since, as usual, not all the characters that I intended to leave have remained, I will leave them for a special drawing that will follow this one.

Certainly, there are Donald Duck, Jose Ze Carioca, Panchito Pistoles, Daisy Duck, Rosinha Maria Vaz, Drake Mallard, Morgana Macawber, Uno Ducklair (One), Fethry Duck, Gladstone Gander, Gus Goose, Della Duck, Queen Reginella, Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck, April, May and June Duck, Gosalyn Mallard, Phooey Duck, Zico and Zeca Carioca, Dugan Duck, Shamrock Gander, Bolivar the Dog (Donald's pet dog) and Dinkie or Trixie the Cat (Daisy's pet cat) and they are all together together. The children are teenagers, except for Shamrock and Dugan who are pre-teens and the rest are adults. Mostly the kids are holding a banner that says thank you to all of you who follow me and like to look at my drawings and like and reblog. For those who cannot see, it is written like this: "Thanks for following you 1000 followers for following my main blog and thanks for following you 100 followers on my art blog as well as thanks for watching 300 followers on Deviantart and 200 followers on Instagram!"

Yes, I also have an Instagram blog which you can view here: https://www.instagram.com/duckhistoria/

And Deviantart here: https://www.deviantart.com/ducklooneyhistoria

Discord: DuckLooneyHistoria

Telegram: https://t.me/ducktoonshistoria7

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/DuckHistoria/

VK: https://vk.com/id835221803

I definitely thank everyone for this and without your support I wouldn't be doing this, although I do it as a hobby anyway since I really like drawing my favorite characters. I'll just say that I made a mistake with the markers and mislabeled Gosalyn's hand holding Dewey's baseball shirt, my mistake and if anyone asks who is between Louie and Dewey, it's Reginella from Topolino comics (Italian comics) queen of a planet that goes different from Earth and Donald accidentally met her at the bottom of the sea and ended up in her world and fell in love with her. However Scrooge doesn't want to finance his travels so he is forced to break up with her which saddened me so I drew Reginella in front of Donald and Donald is holding her and don't worry Daisy isn't mad at him, given the past. I hope to draw her and other Duck characters in the future. I hope you like this drawing and my thank you note.

Once again happy belated birthdays to Fethry Duck and Jose Carioca as well as a happy start to The Three Caballeros Month and thank you all for giving me new hope. And happy 90th birthday to Donald Duck! And don't worry, I won't disappoint you in the future. I hope you like these characters and you like this drawing and feel free to like and reblog this, but please don't copy my ideas and my versions of these characters without mentioning me and without my permission. Thank you!

If you like something I've drawn so far and your favorite impressions feel free to comment and reblog with your comments and impressions. Yes, I take harsher criticism, just without insults. All in all thank you for following me and keep following me!

[foxwithadarkside]

Master List?

I have no idea what i'm doing.

Summer of Bad Batch art

200 Followers Celebration Bonus Prompt: Bonus Alternate Prompt: "Can you braid my hair?" 300 Followers Celebration Bonus Prompt: Bonus Alternate Prompt: Light in the Darkness Week 1 Main Prompt: Water Gun Fight | Alt. Prompt: “It’s not what you think.” Week 2 Main Prompt: Injured Week 3 Main Prompt: “It’s just a scratch.” | Alt. Prompt: “Forget I asked.” Week 4 Main Prompt: Cadets Week 5 Main Prompt: “You’re a bad liar.” | Alt. Prompt: “Need a hand?” Week 6 Main Prompt: Battle Scars | Alt. Prompt: “Get out of my room!” Week 7 Alt. Prompt: Getting a Haircut Week 8 Main Prompt: Swimming Lessons | Alt. Prompt: Lula Week of 9 Main Prompt: “Hold still.” Week 10 Main Prompt: Hugs Week 11 Main Prompt: “I didn’t think I would get this far.” Billions of thanks @summer-of-bad-batch (a.k.a @kybercrystals94) for the organization! It was super fun!

The Badlantis Batch (Atlantis x The Bad Batch crossover)

is under #the badlantis batch tag

Hallmarks of Crosshair the black cat

Hunter Wrecker Tech Echo

[yarrystyleeza]

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

Well, as the title suggests, I am turning 22 on January 30th (yes I can't believe it either), and it's a very very special number to me, I was obsessed with it since I was a kid—because of Taylor Swift's 22 of course (you have no idea how happy my inner child is now!).

However, I thought I should celebrate this very important event with you by hosting my second sleepover! (honestly I was planning to make this a double sleepover if I hit 300 followers before my birthday, but since I didn't, I really had to host a sleepover)

As usual, my sleepover will host games, questions, asks, and definitely, requests!!! <3

The sleepover will be a week long, from January 30th till February 6th, where you can submit asks and requests!

Note on prohibited things that I won't be doing or answering:

No nsfw/dirty asks, writing requests or questions, it's uncomfortable for me sometimes, and this is an all-ages-friendly celebration. No further elaboration, please respect this. <3

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬:

Here's a list of the games we can play:

Kiss/Marry/Kill: you give me three characters and I will sort each one in one of these categories! (make it hard for me)

Would you rather: you give me two things/characters and I get to choose one that suits me better! (for example: night owl or early bird?)

Make an assumption: you literally make an assumption about me and I either prove it or deny it!

Never have I ever: you ask me about things I did or didn't do!

Exchanged Ships: basically, you give me a character that you find as my significant other, and I will give you a character in exchange and why I think it's the perfect character for you!

Random Q&A: you can ask me about anything, whether it's my favorite food or even what fabrics do I prefer to wear, ask whatever you want!

Girly Talks: just talk to me about any girly topic you want and we'll establish a good conversation! Let's talk about books or authors, favorite poetry pieces, maybe movies we loved in our childhood, or even your favorite outfits back when you were a 10 year old! Literally anything!

Rate My Music Taste: give me a song/artist and I will rate it from 1 (absolute flop) to 10 (total banger)! — (this is absolutely done just for fun).

I Wanna Write You A Song: start with a phrase and we will make a totally original song together in the reblogs!

Doodles: give me something simple to draw!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬:

As for writing requests, I will be taking fluff/angst/violence (blood and gore—due to the nature of the characters I write for) x female!reader requests only. But of course you can request the prompt you desire. <3

As for the characters, here's a list of the fictional men that I would be writing for:

Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Foggy Nelson

Tristan Thorn

Michael Kinsella

Henry (from Eat Locals)

Daryl Dixon

(might consider writing for other Charlie Cox/Norman Reedus characters. example: Ian Hamilton, Owen Sleater, Scud, Murphy MacManus, etc.)

You can ask for prompt included in this list or ones you come up with yourself:

intimate moments / gestures that make me feel love / romantic rainy day prompts / gentle things that make me fall harder in love / fluffy comforting/sick dialogue prompts / lighthearted first kiss prompts / sparring prompts / forced proximity prompts / date prompts masterpost /

Note that I will be tagging the fic requests with #yuna's 22 birthday sleepover so they're easy to find, but they will be sorted in my main masterlist as regular requests! <3

tagging my moots to spread the word sorry for being a little too annoying hehe (and I tried to tag as much as possible but my memory is messing around with me I'm sorry if I forgot anyone): @v4leoftears @remonemo @fizanotfeeza @bunmurdock @bellaxgiornata @kal-0n @1988-fiend @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @floral-charlie-cat @farfromstrange @babygirlmurdock @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @c-mrdck @xxeycisxx @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mindidjarin @little-miss-dilf-lover @shiorimakibawrites @tongueofcat @marytheweefrenchie @chvoswxtch @devilsmurdock @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @acharliecoxedfan @folkloreandfall @murdocklorian @munsonownsmyass @abbyhaslongshorts @murc0ck @lazyxsquirrel @theradioactivespidergwen @xxdrixx @saintmurd0ck @softasawhisper @she-likesorchids @peterman-spideyparker @mattmurdocksstarlight @amberlynnmurdock @courtforshort15 @saltedlays @importantnightwerewolf @lene-loki

That's basically everything I have for my birthday sleepover, feel free to submit requests and games! Thank you for coming to my sleepover tonight! <3

[moonspirit]

Moon, hello-hello 💚🌿

Hope you're doing well, and sending you some (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～❄️❄️ for the Christmas mood~

So, about the Christmas mood... What are your thoughts on Ambassadors Christmas "party" (in quotes because I don't think they would do as "party-party", you know, but I have no idea how to make it otherwise...) ?

What do you think they would gift each other, how would they spend their time? Knowing this chaotic team, some hilarious stuff would totally happen :D

Anyway, I hope you'll have fun with this, and have wonderful *timezone*, Moon (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з🌖 ⁠)

Hello Anna chan :3 Thank you so much for asking me this because HAHAA I had a complete laughter fit thinking of how fucking WRONG the Ambassador's first Christmas is going to go xD

For starters I'm just going to assume the Paradis boys are new to the concept of Christmas and that they celebrated something different back in Paradis during the winter. So, Santa Claus? Never heard of him but omg, seems like a great guy! How do we sign up for presents?!!!!

(Pieck tells them they have to become members of the Elven Association first and sends them on a wild-goose chase around town to find the Elven Lord for the sole benefit of her entertainment)

Reiner meanwhile, makes the mistake of taking up the role of Local Santa Claus for the kids in the neighbourhoods, and honestly? fair? The dude is LORGE and can do a great HO HO HO. Giving him a pillow-belly and an itchy beard turns out to be the best idea the local government has ever come up with in its 300 year history of failure.

However... it is a mistake. Dude is LORGE, remember? His first delivery and he gets stuck in a chimney.

In the middle of the Christmas market, Annie, hoping to be left alone in undisturbed peace and a chance to try out the sweets in the stalls, accidentally ends up following a cat to an abandoned street where a group of very misunderstood angry kids lurk in conspiratorial conversation, and sensing a sort of sisterhood in her similarly arranged resting bitch face, they convince her into dressing up as Krampus.

Basically this thing, the opposite of Santa Claus. For funsies and to kidnap children.

They have high hopes that Anniepus will be able to terrorize the town on their behalf because Christmas is for the happy and weak.

Unfortunately... Anniepus ends up being a very small Krampus and nobody's frightened of her as she skulks around town searching to put children in her bucket. Not like she really cares tho. She just wants those goddamn sweets 🥲

Update (very late into the night): Reiner is still stuck in the chimney and his itchy beard is starting to give him a rash. Not that anyone can see tho, the chimney is dark!

Update (from somewhere very far away, on a snowy cliff overlooking a big chasm, great snowstorm blowing): three boys, dressed in worn out clothes, holding staffs, squint wistfully into the swirling wind. "Is that him? The Elven Lord's abode?"

(it's a bush)

Update (sometime later and somewhere else): Anniepus is stealing collecting cats from children and putting them in her bucket.

Update (even later into the night): Reiner's sleigh driver is getting tired of waiting for his Santa and incurring heavy parking fees.

Update (from the next continent): Three boys, scruffy and homeless, chase after an ostrich. "Elven Lord, please let us join your association!"

Update: Anniepus starts a cat cafe.

Update: The local government deploys a crane to get Reiner out of the chimney. It is a failure. The crane cannot lift Santa's booba.

Update: The boys are in the South pole. They come across penguins and believe they've arrived at the Elf Factory!

Update: Pieck gets bored of everything and opens a sexy santa-girl strip club <3

[thedevilrisen]

Welcome to my 300 follower celebration! This number to me is astounding and I am so, so, so grateful for each and everyone of you!

As usual I will be doing what I call a prompt celly which consists of my prompt poll and my prompt lists which you can find here! I will be taking requests from today to the end of October so you have 16 days!

The first prompt poll is here!

Here are the prompts for requesting!

Coffee Shop Prompts

"Do you come here often?" "I work here, so what can I get for you?"

"I will not drink whatever you just ordered for me. That would be considered torture under the Geneva Convention."

"Why would you come to a cat café if you're afraid of cats?"

"That is enough caffeine for one day, I'm cutting you off."

"You can't just connect your phone and change the music, just because you dislike my playlist."

"That is the worst way anyone has ever spelled my name."

"Yes, you can sit here, but I'm not a small talk kind of person, so don't try."

"I'm not getting paid enough for this." "You say that at the slightest inconvenience." "And I'm always right."

"So sorry I spilled your coffee, let me get you a new one."

"I've never seen so many people here." "Well, we have Wi-fi and we have air conditioning, the people love us right now."

Drunken Love Confessions

Concerned Angsty Questions

1.  “Should I call someone for you?”

2.  “Did you take anything?”

3.  “Do you want to tell me happened?”

4.  “When was the last time you ate anything?”

5.  “Can you walk?”

6.  “How do you think this will all end?”

7.  “Do you need an ambulance?”

8.  “Were you crying?”

9.  “Should someone help you get home?”

10.  “Do you know where you are?”

11.  “Can you tell me your name?”

12.  “Where do you want me to take you to?”

13.  “Do you need my help?”

14.  “How do you feel now?”

15.  “Can I do anything that would make it better?”

16.  “Do you want my jacket?”

17.  “Can you let me see your eyes?”

18.  “Should I stay a bit longer?”

19.  “Will you be alright?”

20.  “Do you have someone who can look after you?”

Sick/Comfort

“How did you end up like this?” 

Burning Up then Freezing Cold 

Caught in the Rain 

Herbal Remedy 

“Could you just hold me?” 

Spoon-Feeding 

“I’m still not used to being taken care of.” 

“Couldn’t you keep your cold to yourself.” 

Face Masks 

“You’re safe, it was just a dream.” 

“You’re burning up!” 

Role Reversal – Medic to Sickie 

“I wouldn’t even trust you to boil tea in your condition!” 

Falling asleep in the wrong place 

Guiding sickie back to bed 

“Is it me or is it really warm in here?” 

“I know you want to help but you’re only making things worse.” 

Delirious 

“I know ice cream is good for sore throats but that’s way too much!” 

Lost Voice/Strep Throat 

From better to worse 

“Our date can wait! You’re far more important.” 

“You need a tissue?” 

“Don’t you think you should stay home today?” 

Standing Vigil 

“You sure I’m sick? Because I feel fine.” 

Vacation Disaster 

“Well, it sounds to me like you need a little bit of TLC.” 

Late Night Dialogue

[average-kitty]

can i request a Wednesday addams x reader (female if possible) where R has a secret crush on Wednesday and they share the same friends at school but out of all the friend group Wednesday and R are the closest to one another

basically one day R cracks a joke one of those criticism jokes like for example “that’s her man and several others” (i stole that line from a celebrity 😭) something like that and it makes Wednesday laugh? Not full on laughing but more like a chuckle and everyone (everyone as in the friend group yoko enid xavior etc) including R and Wednesday herself just freezes in shock and reader is not only shocked that she somehow managed to make Wednesday laugh but she is also trying to compose herself because she thinks Wednesday’s laugh is so beautiful and that Wednesday looks so beautiful when smiling and she’s trying not to gay panic

Also could you make Wednesday and R the same height or maybe R very slightly shorter

also for readers personality could you make her girly and social and energetic not loud just energetic not as energetic and cheerful as enid tho

Of course! Love writing abt the grumpy ❤️

A/N: This one is pretty short but I think it grasps the idea pretty well, Enjoy!

Word Count: like 100-300?

———————————————————————

You and Wednesday sat at the lunch table you and many other friends shared, talking amongst each other and cracking jokes as usual, then Enid decides to try and poke fun at you- “Didn’t you used to have to catch your own food when you were little? Like a cat?” You didn’t really mind the idea that Enid was being a bit rude, it was strange but wasn’t unexpected. You chuckle softly before you leaned forward and spoke with a cocky smile “Don’t you still play with dog toys?” Everyone was silent for a moment as they stared at you with shock, before Enid crossed her arms and pouted 

“Touché…” 

You all laughed at her reaction as you glanced over at Wednesday who was sitting next to you, and caught something you thought you’d never see- Wednesday Smiling… It was a complete shock to you, you stared and just took in the sight for a moment or two- trying to take on every little detail before it faded. She had soft dimples and the way she shook her head at the fact you had one upped Enid made her heart a little warmer than its usual cold and unmoved state. Everyone seemed to see you staring and followed your eyes to the rare sight, Wednesday was still softly chuckling to herself as she finally noticed why everyone was so quiet- quickly tried to clear her throat and hide the fact that she had allowed something like that to slip.

“Did you- Did you just smile Wednesday?-“ you questioned in a hesitant voice as she shot you a small glare “of course not- your jokes aren’t even laughable nor make sense.” She snapped back, you just smile and roll your eyes, soft blush on your cheeks- you couldn’t believe you- you of all people, not even Enid- you were the one to make Wednesday laugh and smile. “Alright fine, you didn’t.” You give her a small nudge as she glances away,trying not to give you any sort of sign that you won. Everyone returned to their normal conversations and joking around, you joining back in-

Wednesday sitting a little bit closer to you, listening to your voice a little bit more intently.

[plussizefantasia]

300 Follower Celebration

Welcome all to Fantasia’s Galaxy Quest 300 Follower Celebration

For the next full week 6/1-6/8, I’ll be accepting requests about any of the following:

Saturn: A blurb about any of the pairings I’ve ever written! Just specify which pairing (if it’s from a one-shot let me know which one) and let me know what you want to see!

Jupiter: A snippet into any of the WIPs that I have listed at the bottom of this post.

Venus: Combine any of my prompts with any of the characters I write for from my updated character list! 

Mars: Jukebox blurb, send my any song and any pairing and I’ll write a little blurb.

Pluto: get to know a little more about me (ask me anything and I’ll answer to the best of my abilities. 

Thank you all so much for 300 (give or take) followers! I never thought that people would be interested in my stories so to have a little group of people who do mean the world to me! Because I’m doing the celebration this week I’ll be pausing uploading some of the series work but I will continue with the last part of Bucky x Black! cat reader and the last two parts of the Fluttering Hearts series with Kili!

My Current WIPs

 Lights Out: Tony Stark x daughter! Reader: when y/n gets into a fight it’s up to her dad to discipline her but it's hard when he’s just so damn proud.

Man Glitter: Lumberjack! Steve Rogers x reader: You bring Steve his lunch because he left it at home. When you show up at the mill you're caught off guard by just how sexy your man really is. 

It’s More than Fuel: Thorin Oakenshield x Cook!reader: What’s a girl to do when the food she’s making for her king keeps getting sent back untouched? Confront him of course. 

Baby Ford: Eliot Spencer x Ford!reader: when Nate’s baby sister rolls into town she throws the whole team off their game, and Eliot hates it.

It’s All Fake: Bucky x reader: Movie/date night is usually a good time, but you can’t enjoy it when the spicy scenes are way easy to pick apart, Bucky wants to show you that some of this stuff can be done.

I’ll Cry if I want to: Anthony Bridgerton x reader: a continuation of Don’t Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Part 6 of Bucky x BlackCat!reader

Parts 4 and 5 of the Fluttering Hearts series: Kili x Reader

[hellaversepolls]

so...obviously the poll voting on this isn't done yet, but like I think the final results are going to stay pretty consistent so I'm just going to go ahead.

This blog got 200 followers! woo! (yes i recognize that numbers don't matter on Tumblr, but I still think its cool). To celebrate, I'm going to let you guys vote on a poll to re-do. I looked over every poll I've done for this blog...all +300 of them...what am i doing with my life?

anyways, I picked the ones with the least amount of votes, took out the ones that wouldn't make sense (example: april fools polls, smash or pass with a twist, polls with answered questions, etc.) and have 10 polls to vote for.

and for anyone who wants to know how I got these polls:

Top Polls with the least amount of votes:

Do you think the surviving egg boi is actually Frank? (1st poll, 12 votes, included)

Do you sinners have the ability to change their hair however/whenever they want? (7th poll, 13 votes, included)

Best Alastor Fan Song? (45th poll, 17 votes, not included bc it was an april fools poll)

If Lucifer had a computer, would he play "Placid Plastic Duck Simulator"? (2nd poll, 19 votes, included)

Do you think Keekee needs to eat? (67th poll, 20 votes, included)

Alastor (Smash or Pass with a Twist) (75th poll, 20 votes, not included bc it was smash or pass)

Valentino (Smash or Pass with a Twist) (76th poll, 20 votes, not included bc it was smash or pass)

Niffty (Smash or Pass with a Twist) (77th poll, 20 votes, not included bc it was a smash or pass)

what do you guys think Alastor's hair color was when he was alive? (6th poll, 23 votes, included)

Do you think sinners still get periods in hell? (56th poll, 23 votes, included)

Where do Egg Boiz go when they die? (40th poll, 24 votes, included)

Do you think D.H.O.R.K.S. will ever be relevant again? (66th poll, 24 votes, not included bc already answered)

Given how big of a meme it is, do you think Weird Cat!Alastor will find its way into the show? (28th poll, 25 votes, included)

What kind of eggs are the Egg Bois? (21st poll, 26 votes, included)

Where does Cherri Bomb get her bombs? (46th poll, 26 votes, included)

[amongemeraldclouds]

may recap

Readers’ Favorites

✿ Down Bad | Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 762 words

✿ Make Me | 18+ MDNI | Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 2k words

✿ Fresh Out The Slammer | Lorenzo x f!Reader | 860 words

Personal Favorites

I write what I love to read so I generally love all my fics, but if I really had to choose and exclude readers' faves, it would be:

✿ The Alchemy Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader | 1.5k words

It had been a while since I wrote for Enzo so I’m glad I did this and fresh out the slammer. This was one of the pieces where the words just flowed effortlessly and I was giggling half the time. LOVED working on this. And ofc it involved a black cat.

✿ How Theodore Nott looks at you when pt 2 Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 632 words

I loved receiving a fluff request! This was so fun to write bc I’m obsessed with dialogue and this is really the month I fell in love with Theo ♡.

✿ TTPD Fics & Masterlist

Not a fic, but I loved creating little TTPD inspired moodboards for the boys. Obsessed with the aesthetics and blending as much of my faves: TTPD, Taylor Swift, and the Slytherin boys. Yessss.

Other Published Works

✿ How Lorenzo Berkshire looks at you when Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader | 425 words

✿ How Theodore Nott looks at you when Theodore Nott x f!Reader | 300 words

✿ Consequences 18+ MDNI | Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader x Theodore Nott | 2.4k words

Highlights

✿ Milestone: reached 10k likes and 500 reblogs. This is so wild considering I just celebrated 5k likes last month! Hihi so grateful 🥹

✿ Reached 400+ followers.

✿ Published eight written content in May.

✿ It’s my third month posting.

✿ This was a great month for TTPD fics and I have more related WIPs so stay tuned.

Happy June to us all! I have a feeling we will be celebrating together soon 🤭

Navigation: april recap | masterlist

[aylacavebear]

Speaking Through Songs

A/N: This was originally a one-shot, but then it became a little more. This mini-series is to celebrate reaching 300 followers. You are all amazing. <3

You kept to yourself; you had to, given what you were. It wasn’t that being a hunter meant you had to isolate yourself. It was that being a Touched, you had to keep yourself safe. There was a lot of lore about those who were “touched by the Gods,” and most of it wasn’t flattering. You’d been lucky, though, as you looked completely human. One problem: you were a lot like a cat, in too many ways, including purring. The other problem was that your blood somehow healed you. Little did you know that Fate had different plans.

Dean Winchester x OC Female Reader/You

Warnings: Each chapter will have their own. Typical stuff. Show level violence, SMUT, Fluff, Angst, Dean being Dean, Depression.

-----------------------------------------

Take Me Home Tonight - SMUT! MDNI Can't Fight This Feeling Hard to Say I'm Sorry

----------------------------------------- Touched Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @ladysparkles78

Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007

@hobby27 @megs-gadom @cheekygirl2309 @mxtansy