#this isn't a revelation by any means

[stochastiz]

so we all know:

venus ♀ = woman mars ♂ = man

and there are lots of (both 'official' and unofficial) trans and nonbinary/ambiguous options out there:

⚧, ⚥, ⚨ , ☿, and many many others that don't have unicode representations

but i just came across an agender symbol that i really like:

null/empty set ∅ = agender

∅, called a null or empty set, is a mathematical symbol that denotes a set that contains no elements (∅ = { })

i do not contain the values of the gender binary

[kindleaf]

bad art day so now i'm just thinking about sol and how hard he panicked when he realized he wasn't going to be able to make the lacrosse stick move in the stairwell because he thrives on being able to be useful. even though calder was there and able to take care of it for them, everyone he cares about was looking at him, depending on him, expecting something of him, and he failed. whatever though i guess.

[imperial-nuisance-rudje]

The more I'm writing this Esugen/WoL fic the more I'm realizing that literally the only reason Baavgai has not thrown Esugen over his shoulder and carried him off is because he doesn't want to kick the Oronir beehive by doing so when they're supposed to be allies

Local awful man held in check purely by not wanting to fuck over his tribe

[tossawary]

The funniest "early family reunion" on the Death Star / crack canon divergence AU that I can think of right now is Darth Vader and C-3PO. Threepio gets separated from the others somehow and ends up running into Darth Vader in some random hallway, and it's just a real "What." moment for Darth Vader. (Threepio is screaming in terror and begging for his life, of course.)

Because, like, that's the droid that HE built for his mom. That's the droid that followed his wife around during the Clone Wars. What the fuck is Threepio doing HERE??? NOW??? Did Obi-Wan (Vader has still caught the Kenobi vibes on the station here, obviously) have Threepio for the past NINETEEN years? That asshole. That sounds SO annoying, too. Good. Obi-Wan deserves that.

Thankfully, this is not as catastrophic as Vader getting R2-D2, because Threepio has had a memory wipe and no one ever tells Threepio much of anything (he's got some information on the Rebellion but most of it is outdated, especially after the destruction of Alderaan). But Threepio has spent the past two days or so hanging out with Luke Skywalker, and also witnessed the destruction of the Lars farm, both of which as revelations may cause Vader to flip out in weird ways. (Artoo is STILL around too??? That traitor.) Possibly, this may be enough of a distraction to allow Obi-Wan to actually slip away and live, but maybe not.

The important thing is that Threepio is taken off the Death Star somehow, so he can become "Death Vader's gaudy gold-plated protocol droid who has anxiety and is annoying as hell but Vader takes him EVERYWHERE". Imperial soldiers from random troopers up to genuinely important Admirals occasionally have to deal with "droid-sitting" duty while Vader is out doing scary, evil Force of Nature stuff and they all hate it, because Threepio never shuts up, has a knack for wandering off (he's trying to pull a daring escape) and nearly getting himself torn to pieces (people have actually gotten hurt trying to follow him), and most people don't have the guts to just turn Darth fucking Vader's pet droid off for a little while. Vader COULD just reprogram him or put in a restraining bolt or take Threepio's legs off, but he can just pick Threepio up with the Force, so it's whatever to him. (There IS a tracker installed, but Threepio doesn't actually know where to run anyway.)

Threepio's official role is "translator" for Darth Vader, which Threepio has somehow taken to also mean "mediator". So, whenever an Imperial officer is getting threatened by Vader, there's a stuffy protocol droid behind him saying things like, "Oh my! I'd listen to him if I were you! What happened to the last fellow was rather unpleasant," and, "It's impossible to get good help these days, isn't it, Master Vader?" and it sucks. The only one who could really do anything to stop this is the Emperor and Darth Sidious couldn't care less about his apprentice's latest purse dog droid.

Unclear whether or not Vader at this point actually has any real fondness for this piece of his past / reminder or his lost loved ones, is just super lonely, secretly thinks Threepio's surprisingly deadly antics are funny, or is using Threepio as bait for R2-D2 (come get him, you little fucker) and the others. Might be a combination of all these things.

[maniculum]

Medieval Scorpions Effortpost

So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:

The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".

Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.

As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".

Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.

See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:

That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?

So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.

And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.

*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.

Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.

And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.

11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)

12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)

12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)

12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)

13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)

13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)

13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)

13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)

13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)

13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)

13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)

13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)

13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)

14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)

14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)

14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)

15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)

I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.

[miyukisu]

Better Bite the Bullet .ᐟ

❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc) ╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist

tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader

minors do not interact

You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.

A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.

But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.

"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"

He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."

Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.

"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."

Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.

"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.

You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"

Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.

"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"

Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.

"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."

Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.

"To what? Fucking?"

Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.

"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.

You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.

"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."

The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."

Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.

"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.

This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.

"Jeez..."

Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.

"I'll teach you then."

────────────

Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.

"Well... that's certainly... something..."

"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"

His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.

"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.

Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.

Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.

You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."

He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.

But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.

It was cute, he thought.

As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.

Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."

"What?"

"Can I use my mouth?"

All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"

"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.

Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."

He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.

Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.

But to hell with it.

"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.

The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.

You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.

"Don't be a tease."

"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.

"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."

Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.

But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.

That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.

After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.

Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.

Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.

Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.

"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."

Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.

As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.

"Oh fuck..."

His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.

Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.

"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.

He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"

But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.

Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.

"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Wow... I'm actually kinda proud of this one?

[hellisharchive]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

﹒﹒﹒perversions of the soul

➤ [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

➤ 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

➤ Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒﹒lucifer

He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒﹒﹒adam

This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

﹒﹒﹒valentino

Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒﹒﹒vox

Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒﹒﹒saint peter

That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.

[harmonysanreads]

I can't help but think of Yanderes who become so consumed by frustration and devastation when they realize that their abducted darlings will never return their love.

It's not like there wasn't a part of them that didn't anticipate this, but they thought they could tolerate it. That your presence being in a space they're aware of, unable to get tangled with outside influences anymore, would be enough for them. For a set duration, that strategy works as well.

They think the fact that you struggle less with every passing day is a good sign, you not attempting to leave your prison soothes them enough to daydream about the future they have with you in their head. They're thrilled the first time you don't flinch away from their advances, hope weaving images of the eternal bliss they crave.

But by the time your grasp on hope has bid you farewell, they start noticing just how much of you has eroded. You don't refuse their touches, you follow what they tell you to and you live as though you don't even think about the outside world anymore — such a revelation should render them breathless in ecstasy, if not for the harrowing realization of how lifeless it is.

They can get you to do anything for them, but neither your actions nor your words have any meaning in them. It's as though you operate on limited cognition, a doll in every sense. You don't return even a scrap of the love they hold for you and you never will because of what they have done to you.

And it destroys them, the guilt they suppressed for so long devours their thoughts. It's painful to look at you, at your dull eyes that remind them of what a monster they are. This isn't the you that enraptured them in such an intoxicating daze, this isn't the you that thrummed so vividly with life, you're devoid of what made you shine among countless faces — and it's all their fault.

However, they can't bring themselves to let you go either. Just the prospect of what the outside world would do to such a vulnerable you gives them just a miniscule more strength to continue this charade. So in this cycle of guilt and responsibility, hatred and love, joy and devastation ; you two will perish, if you must.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity Masterlist

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

series status: currently on hold (but not for long!!🙈)

“serendipity is the phenomenon of discovering something interesting or valuable by chance”

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18. and bellatrix isn't mattheo's mother in this fic (just fyi)

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

general warning(s): 18+ content, angst, fluff, some canon compliance, some canon divergence, typical wizarding world violence, war, torture, drugging, hospitals, familial problems, mean!harry, mean!ron....

** indicates smut warning

~∞~ chapter one

chapter summary: on the trainride to your sixth year, your friends give you a proposition that you can't refuse.

~∞~ chapter two

chapter summary: it's your first day back as a sixth year student. Classes are more intense and your first lesson with Mattheo ensues.

~∞~ chapter three

chapter summary: the first Hogsmeade trip of the year has a rather unpleasant ending.

~∞~ chapter four

chapter summary: after you end up confined to the Hospital Wing, you're surprised when Professor Dumbledore pays you a visit.

~∞~ chapter five

chapter summary: Mattheo has been avoiding you. You find and confront him after a frustrating week.

~∞~ chapter six **

chapter summary: the growing tension between you and Mattheo snaps. He reveals something about yourself that you has scarcely any prior knowledge of.

~∞~ chapter seven

chapter summary: joyful dinner parties and a switch in point of view. Two juxtaposing starts to the christmas holidays.

~∞~ chapter eight **

chapter summary: you're given plenty of revelations: all equally as daunting as the other.

~∞~ chapter nine

chapter summary: Ginny ambushes you in the library and Ron's birthday is off to a delirious start.

~∞~ chapter ten

chapter summary: in the aftermath of Ron's poisoning, Harry learns a thing or two about where your loyalties lie when he overhears your private conversation with the headmaster.

~∞~ chapter eleven

chapter summary: intent on avoiding him, you underestimate just how desperate Mattheo is to be around you.

~∞~ chapter twelve

chapter summary: new friendships are formed and you finally learn to control your abilities. Mattheo comes to a life altering realisation.

~∞~ chapter thirteen **

chapter summary: idk how to summarise this but i will say it's pure smut...enjoy

~∞~ chapter fourteen

chapter summary: friendships are rekindled and you save Draco from certain death in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, igniting your powers in the process.

~∞~ chapter fifteen

chapter summary: now fully recovered, Draco has a task to complete. The fate of the Wizarding World hangs in the precipice of his actions.

~∞~ chapter sixteen

chapter summary: after a startling and gutting discovery. secrets are revealed and alliances are questioned as Voldemort's tyranny begins to fester into the beginnings of another war.

*invisible string fits into the plot here!!*

~∞~ chapter seventeen

chapter summary: Dumbledore's funeral reveals new allies as you navigate a world without its protector.

~∞~ chapter eighteen

chapter summary: with his new role as a secret spy of the Order, Mattheo begins to grapple with the consequences of the horrors that occur at his father's hand.

series oneshots/headcannons:

~∞~ tulips & starlight – valentines day drabble

~∞~ serendipity hcs (mattheo) – a glimpse at his life pre sixth year

~∞~ invisible string – bonus scene from chapter 16 **

~∞~ snippets of navigating fifth year with fred weasley

series taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag, reblogs of the individual posts have an extended taglist)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

[fangsandfeels]

Playing Veilguard and making it everyone's problem

I am going to rant, and I will rant a lot, and there will be spoilers, so if you're not afraid of them and the game criticism, buckle up.

Elves and their gods

I am absolutely fucking livid about how Veilguard handles the Dalish and elves in general. The events of Trespasser made it clear that the elves started flocking over to Solas, including the elves working for the Inquisition:

After the events at the Winter Palace, elves left the Inquisition under mysterious circumstances, as did elven servants across Thedas. None could say where they went, but those who believed the Inquisitor's story about Fen'Harel wondered just how large the Dread Wolf's forces were... and what the ancient elven rebel had planned.

Solas had multiple spies working for him during Trespasser, and If I remember correctly, there was even a note, left by one of the elves - they were anticipating the great change and the return of the elven glory. Anyways, the established fact is that: elves learned that the stories about their gods were true and one of them now was going to restore the world as it used to be. At least, this is how they interpreted it (maybe, this is the version Solas didn't debunk) and so they started following him.

You might think, the Inquisitor and their allies are going to have a huge problem with breaking it to elves that their chosen leader isn't going to make things better and that their gods don't love them. Especially, if the Inquisitor is a human or anyone who isn't an elf. You'd imagine any attempts will end in failure because of course elves aren't going to listen to outsiders trying to explain their own culture and gods to them. You'd imagine that their trauma caused by centuries of oppression and discrimination will make it impossible for the Inquisitor and anyone else to make them see the truth.

You'd assume anyone who tries to find and stop Solas will be sabotaged every step of the way, feeling themselves horrible for having to clash with people desperate for a chance of a life without injustice - even if it means burning the rest of the world down.

You'd imagine that they will only change their mind if/when they see the harm done by Solas' actions and get to witness their gods true intentions by themselves - which would lead to a massive crisis of faith and schisms happening between elven tribes and groups.

You'd imagine will get all this incredible drama in the Veilguard, with elves initially resisting the group's attempts to stop Solas, then trying to pull themselves together after the revelation. You'd assume there will be zealous groups doubting Solas (because the Dreadwolf is a liar and a deceiver) and intending to use him to actually free the elven gods. You'd think this is how actually some of them get out.

But, NOPE. Not only Solas ends up working alone, with none of his followers throwing themselves at Rook and the party to buy him time, but also all elves now hate Solas because...Varric said so?

You meet a group of Veil Jumpers (elves devoted to exploring their ancient culture and history, learning more about their gods and reclaiming their heritage) and their leader instantly calls Solas an asshole. Based on WHAT?

I get it, Varric had met them before and told them that Solas was Fen'Harel...

(needless to say if you expect players to find and read other media in order to make sense of the events in the game, you are doing something wrong)

...but why were they so fucking calm about it, instantly eating up the "yep, he's bad" version? Even if the Dread Wolf is vilified in the Dalish mythology, wouldn't they be curious about what that means? Wouldn't they have gotten tempted or excited by the implication that other gods exist too? They weren't told the full story - why the fuck did they instantly accept the "Solas is an asshole" narrative? Especially when Solas comes with a promise of a world for the elves like it was meant to be?

WHY?

The Veilguard has no response for that. I guess, Dalish never cared about their history and traditions, and city elves were dandy about Alienages and oppression, so they easily believed some randos over a literal god promising a new, better world.

I don't even play Dalish, but I love their plotline and arcs - and I was bracing myself for some downright painful choices and conflicts during the next Dragon Age. But it felt like the writers couldn't be bothered with developing such a nuanced narrative, so they just waved it all down with "Nah, elves are chill now and they never really cared about their gods in the first place".

[itsclydebitches]

Just finished Good Omens 2 and I'm honestly boggling at the Aziraphale hate because yes, his decision led to the angsty cliffhanger, but it makes SO much sense for his character. Not just in a "Religious brainwashing and sunk-cost fallacy" kinda way but also a "Aziraphale has no reason to believe this isn't the perfect solution" way. That scene among the nebula is crucial because it establishes that Crowley loved being an angel—reveled in his ability to create and allow his creations to grow kinda like plants—and the only problem was that someone else was calling the shots, someone who wouldn't listen to his criticism. Aziraphale has also spent 6,000+ years watching Crowley do good, all the while forced to deny the fact that he's "nice" lest embracing his original nature get him into trouble with hell. Now, Metatron comes along with an offer that fixes everything in one fell swoop. Crowley can be an angel again, be nice without censure, his ideas and criticisms will hold weight because he'll be answering to Aziraphale, and they'll be together.

It strikes me that Aziraphale isn't there when Crowley sees Gabriel's trial, ergo he likewise doesn't see the (non)acknowledgement that there's an institutional problem up in Heaven. There just happen to have been two archangels who called it quits. Same when Gabriel blurts that phrase out to Crowley. Aziraphale has always been more blind to the ways in which Heaven is "toxic" (for very understandable reasons) and this season he's continually sheltered from new evidence of its structural problems. The plot just preaches to the choir: Crowley. He likewise wouldn't see the conflict Gabriel and Beelzebub have caused as evidence of an underlying problem because that's a problem he and Crowley will no longer share. Why would they be worried about Heaven still being unable to accept partnerships between angels and demons when Crowley will no longer be a demon? And that's something he presumably wants based on Aziraphale's memories of him and the ongoing admission that he's lonely.

The way I see it, they got what they thought they wanted at the start of Season 2. Heaven and Hell are keeping an eye on them, but functionally they're left alone. Crowley can spend all the time he wants with Aziraphale and nothing comes of that except that they're both continually named traitors and the higher-ups grumble about it. If Gabriel had never shown up, things should have been perfect based on Crowley's "Let's just run away and have each other's company" standards. Better, even, considering that they get to be together on their beloved Earth, rather than being bored out in Alpha Centauri without any sushi, plants, books, or Bentleys. And yet... Crowley doesn't strike me as particularly happy. Because, you know, based on that kiss he wants to be with Aziraphale, not just literally be with him, but the point of this post is that his "Let's run away and be an 'us'" falls totally flat when he doesn't explain that specific desire to Aziraphale; the desire to change what an 'us' means. From Aziraphale's perspective they're already an 'us.' That was the entire point of "our side" in Season 1 and now they can continue to be 'us' up in Heaven. Plus, Aziraphale likely sees this as a sacrifice on his part. He will give up his bookshop, his Earthly indulgences, take on the responsibilities of leadership (which I don't think he actually wants for a variety of reasons), and spend the rest of eternity in a place where he's felt so small because he thinks that's what Crowley wants. Crowley was happy as an angel. Crowley wanted them to be together without risk of permanent discorporation. They were able to achieve that after not-Armageddon and he still wasn't happy... so surely those two things together will do the trick. Crowley never actually articulates how he wants their relationship to change and the kiss comes much too late, when he's already rejected what Aziraphale must see as a perfect, selfless solution he's secured for them. Even if Crowley wasn't always moving too fast for him, an overture of romance isn't going to go well after that.

Is this crushing and angsty and devastating as a hiatus? Damn straight, my heart it breaking. But it's a good setup. More importantly, it makes perfect sense for their characters, particularly when they're still talking past one another. Aziraphale is someone who has always moved more slowly as a matter of course, as an angel he has remained immersed in the rhetoric of Heaven, his main avenue of breaking free of that (Crowley) has a huge communication problem (to say nothing of his own denial. He only made headway with the help of Nina and Maggie, seconds before Aziraphale shows up), and Metatron (in a no doubt incredibly manipulative manner) has just offered Aziraphale a job that presumably makes him happy AND Crowley happy AND allows him to maintain the moral this-is-how-the-universe-works perspective he's had since he was literally created. Of course he's going to say yes to all that!! And sure, there are problems in Heaven, Aziraphale isn't completely blind, but he can fix them now that he's in charge. How? Well... he'll figure that out later! Kinda like how he's been making plans on the fly this entire season. That seems logical from his perspective, right? It's not like he's gotten a crash-course in the concept of the master's tools never being able to dismantle the master's house...

[picaroroboto]

WRT the Garlemald portion of EW: I'm sure that for a lot of FFXIV's history players have been wondering what it would be like to reach Garlemald proper in-game, and daydreaming of epic battles, maybe a sense of "conquering the conquerers"

And it is so, so genius of EW to not give you that.

You don't get any glory or revenge in defeating the evil empire, they already self-destructed on their own. You can't really revel in it. If you're feeling particularly vindictive you might look at the rubble and silently think "Serves you right!" or "Good riddance to bad rubbish." but no matter how much you may have hated the Empire in the past it's hard not to pity what's left.

See, the thing about Garlemald is that in their prejudice and conquest they treated everyone who isn't them as subhuman. But in the end you are all human beings, and so are they. The Empire isn't a nameless, faceless evil, it's a war machine created by the beliefs of humans who saw other humans as inhuman. By helping the survivors you are not only doing the right thing, the human thing to do, you are also disproving their prejudice in the process by reminding them that you're all human. (I'm using the word "human" in abstract sense here, not to refer just to the Hyuran race of FFXIV, but all the races of sentient beings, all deserving of rights, respect, etc.)

I'm trying to shine a light on the significance of this part of the story because it seems like some people have conflicted feelings about helping citizens of a facist former empire, but it would be sheer Reading Comprehension Stat: None to assume that that means FFXIV is condoning their ideology. In fact, it would be antithetical to FFXIV's optimistic, pro-humanity, love-and-peace, a-better-world-is-possible -type philosophy if we instead left the survivors to starve.

[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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[corrodedbisexual]

@waning-croissant well... I had to.

"Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero," Eddie talks as he keeps walking, a step ahead of Steve. "I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that's what I've learned about myself this week."

Eddie's not even sure what he's saying anymore, he just knows that if he doesn't keep talking over the nightmarish ambience of this hellscape, he might actually go insane. Hearing his own voice, he can at least pretend like he's just narrating a game, and the rest is his overactive imagination. Not that he actually believes that, of course, it's just... irrationally comforting.

"Give yourself a break, man."

Steve reaches for him, but Eddie's body reacts on autopilot to an unexpected touch, practically slapping the boy's arm away. He's on a roll here, words still spilling right over the all-too-late pang of regret in his chest. It would have been nice to experience, that pat on the chest or squeeze on the shoulder, whatever Steve was going for, if it weren't for Eddie's perpetual skittishness.

"See? The only reason—"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"—I came in here was 'cause—"

"Eddie!"

Eddie's head snaps to Steve as he cuts off the rest of his semi-planned speech, which was suddenly inspired by the sight of Nancy Wheeler ahead of them. If he was the cowardly bard in the story, the least he could be useful for is cheer on the real hero of it. Give the courageous bat-biting paladin the motivation to keep fighting.

"Huh?"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth and listen?" Steve's brows are furrowed, but his tone isn't mean, and there's an amused smile playing on his lips. "You're almost worse than Dustin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie opens his mouth, lets his jaw hang for a second, and closes it again with a click of the teeth, as he processes the words he would have perceived as an insult, had he not been piecing together what the kid meant to Steve for the past several days. It was a bit of a revelation that their relationship ran far deeper than just some giant one-sided platonic crush on Dustin's part, like Eddie had mistakenly assumed throughout most of this year.

Steve takes a small step closer, the first one to invade Eddie's personal space for once, after Eddie's been doing it for the better part of their walk together. Unconsciously, like his body just decided that being tucked into Steve meant safety from the bloodthirsty bats, and the creepy vines, and that Vecna guy they could run into any minute.

"We all ran, all four of us. Just now, when we saw that giant swarm of bats in the distance, remember?" Steve speaks softly, waving his arm vaguely in the direction behind them. "Because sometimes, running and surviving is the only thing you can do."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He just focuses on looking at the boy's eyes, like a normal person, and trying not stare at his lips moving. But then, when he pauses, Steve's eyes flicker down, and... huh. Huh. Wait, what?

"Of course you've been running. You couldn't have fought Vecna when he took Chrissy. Or Carver's crazy mob, or the entire police force of Hawkins," Steve keeps talking intently, looking into Eddie's eyes again like his gaze never wavered south. "Any more than we could fight that whole swarm. Because we'd definitely be dead now if we tried, no matter how metal you think I am," he adds with a tiny smug smile that's entirely Eddie's fault. "So there's a difference between being a coward, and acting stupid and reckless."

Steve pats his shoulder twice, then turns and keeps walking, and Eddie moves to follow him like on a tether, before his flustered brain even catches up.

"H-hey, I never said you were metal! I said what you did with that bat was metal," he grumbles, thankful for the darkness concealing his undoubtedly flushed face.

"I beg to differ," Steve turns around to tease, grinning, and pointedly tugs on his own collar. "You're the resident metalhead, and I'm wearing your vest, that does make me at least a little bit metal."

Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Harrington. Eddie's not sure what possessed him to throw that thing at the boy. At the time, he only thought of how he wouldn't survive the whole ordeal of Steve's hairy tits on display for much longer, but him in Eddie's clothes? Even worse.

"Fine," Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets, catching up to Steve in three quick strides. "Only a little bit though." He sneaks a glance at the boy; Steve's not looking back, once again on guard, surveying their surroundings with his flashlight, but the pleased smile makes its way to his face regardless.

"Doesn't matter why you jumped after us, Munson, you're here now. And don't try to act all modest when you've just saved a guy's ass. Which, by the way..." Steve turns his head to Eddie again. "Nice job with that oar. Too bad you hate jocks, you'd have made a fine hitter on the school baseball team."

Eddie gasps and grips his own chest in mock offense, even as warmth spreads up his neck and pools in the tips of his ears, thankfully hidden beneath his hair.

"How dare you, with these vile insinuations."

"I'm just saying," Steve shakes his head, laughing. "You're pretty... bat-ass, too, Eddie." He glances over again with a shit-eating grin. "Get it? Bat-ass?"

"Oh no, Steve Harrington is actually a dork with terrible puns," Eddie mumbles to himself and sighs, rolling his eyes up to the dark sky.

"Shut the fuck up, my puns are amazing." Steve elbows him in the ribs and chuckles. "You know what, I'm starting to understand why Henderson was obsessed with getting us to hang out."

What is that supposed to mean?

"He... he was?" Eddie gapes.

Another earthquake saves him from the mortifying ordeal of re-assessing the whole Munson doctrine, for the hundredth time this week. And as they hurry along to catch up with the girls, and Steve's hand grips his bicep whenever he falls behind, Eddie wonders if maybe he should just set fire to the doctrine and let it turn to ash.

[cap-winter-barnes]

Baby Girl (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader)

The Texan air is thick and heavy this evening, the humidity bringing a frizz to your hair. Purple hues span the sky as the sun begins to set on another day of summer. A summer without Jake by your side. Your home brings you comfort somewhat, but not as much as Jake himself. You play with platinum band that sits on your left hand, twisting the metal around your finger as you gaze out across your front yard.

It has been three long months since you last saw your husband who had been shipped off to who knows where on a top secret mission with the Top Gun Academy. You were proud of Jake's aviator status and you loved to see him in his uniform. But the lonely days were the hardest, especially when there's nothing much to occupy your time other than read yet another book from your home library.

As the grandfather clock inside the house chimes eight o'clock, your gaze shifts to the long drive that leads to your cosy ranch-style home. Heaving yourself up out of your homemade hammock, you tiptoe over to your porch steps. Bare feet silent against the wooden decks. With an arm now wrapped around the archway and your head resting onto your hand, you await the arrival of your husband.

On time as ever after coming home, you hear the roar of the truck's engine as it appears over the horizon, dust billowing in its path. An instant smile appears on your face as you make out his face through the windscreen.

Jake doesn't waste a single second, the truck barely in park before he launches himself out of the truck and runs to you.

"Baby Girl!" His breathless words bring tears to your eyes as you take in his appearance. You barely have a second to check for any changes before he has you wrapped tightly in his arms, his lips pressed to your temple. "God I've missed you." Hands moving to cup your face, he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, noses brushing together as you both revel in the feeling of being in each other's arms again. "And how's my other baby girl?" With a roll of your eyes, you watch as your excited husband kneels to place a kiss on the bump that has been growing with the last eight months.

"He is perfect." When Jake makes eye contact with you, you remember why you fell in love with him in the first place. The smile on his face has your heart fluttering in your chest, the adoration you have for him blossoming through your veins. "Why you thi-"

"I know that she'll be a girl. I know." As if reacting to his voice, there's a swift kick to your stomach causing you to gasp followed by a chuckle. "See, Daddy's always right, isn't he sweetheart?" With another kiss to your stomach, Jake relishes in the feeling of finally coming home to start the family you've both dreamed of for so long.

Pushing himself to standing, your wrapped in Jake's arms again. You breath in his scent after missing it for so long. "Just so you know, if she's not a girl. Which she is. But if she's not, it means we'll have to try again." The smile spreading across his face is contagious as he holds you close, hands drifting from the sides of your stomach to your hips, running along your cheekbones and tangling in your hair as he takes every beautiful part of you in again as if for the first time.

With a nod, you silently agree with his statement, pulling him in for a kiss that would have anyone blushing. Your husband is finally home and you can't wait for every second as a little family, soon to be one of three.

[alicewritez]

Gossip - Aaron Hotchner

word count: 1329

summary: you’re a new recruit at the BAU and a firm favourite of Hotch, which has not gone unnoticed by the team. unbeknownst to the team, you and Aaron are in a relationship and are holding another secret; there’s more to what than meets the eye.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

authors note: implied age gap, mentions of student-teacher dynamic, brief mention of pregnancy at the end but nothing too descriptive. it’s just a bit of fun/fluff. feel free to send requests of any criminal minds character you’d like 🩷

You leave Aaron's office after he briefed you on your tasks for the day; still in the probationary period. You're a newly hired profiler and a very clear favourite of Aaron's. You were surprised to hear that everyone thinks of him as a bit of a grump - he's a soft, gentle and kind man underneath the hard and stern exterior.

As you leave his office, everyone turns to look at you and you're flooded with questions. Are you two secretly related? Why does he like you so much? What is going on between the pair of you?

But truthfully, you didn't know yourself, you were just as clueless as the rest of the team. Sure, you could definitely say you harboured a crush for the man, but he had made no attempt to reciprocate those feelings. Not that he really knew about yours anyway.

Derek gives you a gentle nudge, grinning widely as his eyes glisten with mischief and he surprised a laugh. "So, you and Hotch are close?"

You shrug as you sit down at your desk. "I don't know, I suppose so..". Morgan raises an eyebrow at your nonchalant response. "You don't know?"

Penelope chimes in as she weaves her way back through the desks to get to her office. "It's so obvious. You two are clearly close! You're also, like, half his age. How do you know each other?"

You set your files on your desk. "He was one of my teachers back at the FBI Academy."

Both Derek and Penelope's eyes widen at the revelation, not imagining it could have been something as simple as that. David chuckles from his office before moving to stand against the doorframe with his arms folded. "So you're the fresh-faced prodigy we've all been hearing about."

David's smile widens. He knows you're exactly the prodigy the FBI has been boasting about for months. "But it's true, isn't it? You got your Ph.D. at nineteen and you're the youngest person to join the BAU. You were also the youngest to graduate the FBI Academy."

You suck in a breath, "well, you've certainly done your research.. but I only graduated thanks to Hotch..". Derek leans forward, his smile growing wider. "'Hotch', huh? He really is a softie for you, isn't he?"

You furrow your brows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we've all noticed that he's much tamer around you." Penelope chimes in again, her voice full of excitement. "Yes! Much softer, too! I've never seen him smile so often until you joined."

"I think you're reading too much into this. He's probably just being nice because I'm new." You wave them off, making a start on the files piled in your desk.

Spencer, the youngest besides you, looks at you skeptically. Sometimes he could be too smart for his own good. "You're not just any new agent, though. You're a brilliant one. You're smart, talented, gifted, and young. And you're a favourite of our unit chief. Who also happens to be a grumpy, intense man who can be hard to impress. I agree with Derek and Penelope, there must be more to the story."

"Well there really isn't." You sigh as you start writing some notes up. Each member look slightly skeptical at your response, but decide to drop the subject for now, seeing how you wanted to just get on with your work. Once you were done with your notes and reports, you excuse yourself to Hotch’s office, knocking gently on the door.

A few seconds pass before you hear his voice call out. “Come in.”

You slowly step inside and close the door behind you, files in hand. Hotch looks up as he hears the door open and close, looking up at you with a small smile. “Finished with your reports already? Impressive, as always.”

“Yeah but,” you pause, “that’s not the reason I’m here.” Hotch raises an eyebrow as he sets down his pen, giving you his full attention. “Then what is it?”

“The team are figuring it out.” You fiddle with the corners of the files in your hand, while Hotch’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Figured it out? Figured what out?”

“Stop playing dumb Aaron… about us..”

Hotch pauses for a moment at your use of his first name, then a sigh escapes his lips before he rubs a hand over his forehead. “I suppose they’re all talking about it, then.”

“Talk of the office yeah.” You sit down, dropping the files onto his desk with a small thud. “I suppose they were bound to find out we were together sooner or later but, I didn’t think it would be this quick.”

Hotch chuckles softly, his eyes focusing on you. Seeing your worried expression, he stands and walks around the desk to stand in front of you. He takes your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “They’re just being nosey. They’ll get over it and move onto the next bit of gossip soon.”

You sigh, squeezing his hand. “I hope so.” He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, the gesture affectionate and soothing. He knows you don’t like being the constant topic of office gossip. “Hey, look at me.” He tilts your head up gently so that you’re looking directly into his eyes.

You look into his eyes, melting under his touch. He gazes into your eyes and over your face, his expression full of affection. He lifts a hand and tenderly strokes your cheek, his touch sending chills down your spine. “No matter what the others think or say, none of it matters. I chose you. I’ll always choose you.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you whisper, “I love you.”

He smiles at your soft admission, his heart swelling with love and affection. He pulls you closer, his arms encircling your waist. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You smile giddily, your arms wrapping around his torso. “You’re being very bold doing this in the office.”

He chuckles, his arms holding you close to him. Despite the risk of someone walking in on the two of you at any moment, he’s too lost in the moment to care. “Can you blame me? It’s my way of showing the others who you belong to.”

You smile softly up at him. “I think we should give them something else to gossip about.” He grins gown at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?”

You pull away from him, bringing your hands to rest on your stomach. “We tell them about this.” You and Aaron had found out weeks ago, but chose to keep it quiet for now, not wanting too many to be involved just yet. It was nice that just you and Aaron knew.

His smile widens at your words. He follows the movement of your hands, placing a gentle hand over yours on your stomach. “You think it’s time?”

“We can’t hide it forever.. however much we may want to.” You respond, deep down wanting to keep it to you and Aaron for a while longer, but also knowing the team deserved to know.

He nods, his eyes fixed on the spot where his hand is resting on your stomach. He can’t help but smile wider. “You’re right. But are you ready for all the questions and comments we’re going to get?”

“No, but.. it was all going to come out eventually..”

He nods in agreement, his hand gently caressing your stomach after pulling your hands away. “You’re right. You know, you’re the bravest and most brilliant person I know. Nothing can stop us.” He drops his head down and plants a tender kiss on your forehead, then on your cheek before finally capturing your lips in a loving kiss.

Little did either of you know, the team had all been listening in from outside his office door, hearing every word. But they wouldn’t say anything, they’d let you and Aaron go to them first.