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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

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La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)

You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.

“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.

You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.

Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”

Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.

“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.

You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.

Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.

Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.

After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”

“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.

“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”

You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.

“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.

Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”

You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.

“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”

“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”

He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.

The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”

Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”

Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”

As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.

“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”

You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.

“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”

You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”

As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.

***

The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.

“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”

She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.

“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”

You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.

On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.

It makes you feel ill.

Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.

Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.

As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.

“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”

“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”

Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”

You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.

The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.

“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”

The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.

“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”

Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.

The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.

Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.

“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.

Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”

She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.

Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.

Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.

“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”

The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.

How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.

“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”

You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.

You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.

Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.

Let me have my papa back.

***

A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.

Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”

You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.

“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”

You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.

“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”

You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”

He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”

The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”

“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”

“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”

Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”

He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”

Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?

“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”

“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.

“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”

Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.

“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”

Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.

“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.

“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.

“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”

She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”

More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.

“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”

Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.

“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”

You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.

“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”

You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.

“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”

Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.

“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”

Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.

“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”

She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”

Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.

When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.

“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”

She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.

“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”

She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.

“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”

***

The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.

“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”

You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”

“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”

As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.

“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”

Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”

You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”

“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”

The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.

Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.

“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.

You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”

He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”

You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”

Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.

You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”

He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”

The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”

The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.

“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”

Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.

Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.

You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.

“But?” You prod gently.

Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”

Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”

You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”

Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”

A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.

You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”

Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.

You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”

Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”

It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”

Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”

***

It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.

“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”

You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”

He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”

“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”

Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”

“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”

He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”

“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”

The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.

“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”

You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”

For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”

Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”

“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.

You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”

“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”

You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”

Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?

“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”

You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”

He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.

Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”

“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”

“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”

You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”

“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.

You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”

“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”

Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”

He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”

You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”

Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”

You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”

***

You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.

The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”

You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”

He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”

“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.

A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”

Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.

You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”

Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.

“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.

Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”

You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”

He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”

You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”

Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”

“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”

Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”

You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”

The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.

You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.

“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.

You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”

You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”

Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...

“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”

You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”

Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”

You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”

Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”

You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”

As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.

“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.

The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.

“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”

You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”

“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”

Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”

You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”

He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.

“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”

Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.

“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.

“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”

She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.

“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”

You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.

Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”

As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.

“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.

You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”

Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.

“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”

Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.

The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.

“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”

Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”

She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.

“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.

It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.

Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”

Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.

“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”

When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”

You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”

Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”

A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”

“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”

You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.

“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”

As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.

“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”

With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.

Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”

You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”

Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.

As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.

***

Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.

This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.

Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.

“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”

You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.

“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”

Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.

“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.

“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.

As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”

Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”

You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.

Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.

Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.

You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.

Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.

“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.

Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.

Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.

Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.

“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!

You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.

Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.

As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”

“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”

Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”

The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”

Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.

Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

***

The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.

You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”

He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”

There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”

Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”

“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.

“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”

“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”

A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”

You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”

Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”

“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”

Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.

Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”

You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”

Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”

“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.

“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.

You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.

“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”

Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”

You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”

A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”

Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.

Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.

“You!”

The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.

“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”

You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.

The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.

After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.

Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.

Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:

“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.

Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”

Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.

As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.

The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.

Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.

On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.

Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.

They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.

The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.

At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”

He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”

The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.

The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.

You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.

Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.

But most of all, it’s home.

As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.

“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”

Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.

Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.

The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.

“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”

You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.

Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.

You did it.

World Champion at last!

You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.

Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.

And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.

The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.

“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.

“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”

You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”

Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.

You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.

“To our champion! The Queen!”

The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.

“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”

Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.

All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.

“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”

Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.

For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.

This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.

“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”

You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.

As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.

It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.

And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.

Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”

“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”

Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”

You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”

The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”

“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”

“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”

You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.

“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”

“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.

The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”

Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”

Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.

“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.

“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”

“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.

You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”

“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”

“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”

“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”

He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.

“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”

Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”

With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”

You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”

Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”

“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”

He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”

Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.

“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.

You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”

He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”

You and Charles share an amused look.

“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”

Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.

“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”

And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.

“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”

You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”

With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.

“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.

“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”

You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.

“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”

With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.

By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.

“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”

Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.

“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”

Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”

You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.

“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

3K notes · View notes

seokjinsonlyone · 3 months ago

Text

even more niche boyfriend things i think bts would do

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

namjoon:

not a newborn baby but is a big proponent of the kangaroo care concept; like loves to cuddle you while he’s shirtless; him on his back you laid on top of him, skin touching skin at every possible contact point; it does it for him every time

sends you pictures of animals he finds wandering around when he’s out and about

takes soooo many pictures of you; don't get me wrong there's a fair share of couples photos like you're definitely taking selfies together whenever y'all go out but he takes twice as many off guard pictures of you as posed ones; definitely has a pic of you during golden hour forlornly looking out a window as his lockscreen

asks you to make him a playlist and listens to it whenever he misses you even if it's really disjointed and doesn't fit his mood simply bc you made it and he's always in the mood for you <333

learns to be more gentle around you so he becomes 5-7% less clumsy when you’re around

if you went to a party together i think there’d only be like one hour max where you’re separated from each other any more than that and y’all both start getting fidgety from missing each other bc if you’re in the same space you absolutely have to be together; when you do meet back up he tucks you up underneath his arm and kisses your temple and y’all are sickly cute for the rest of the night; like enough lovey dovey pda to make someone nauseous

always amazed at the amount of stuff you manage to bring out the house; like you'll come out after him and he sees you walking towards the car, arms stuffed to the brim with water bottles and lotions and umbrellas and whatever else you deemed necessary for the day's outings, so he has to rush to help you before you drop everything; eventually gets hip to the fact that you're a a girl and you're always gonna have bunch of things and starts pre-loading your belongings so you won't have to struggle

Oblivious Boyfriend™; as smart and emotionally intelligent and mindful as he is, he's not a mindreader; like he be so focused on his feelings for you, his passions, and his work that he lowkey don't know wtf going on outside of that; so if there's something going on around you or something wrong with you or you have a problem with him you're gonna have to spell it out lest he be none the wiser

doesn't like when you watch him work out because you're more of a distraction than anything but he does like going to you straight after working out; he gets a real kick out of the way you ogle him and feel up on his biceps while he's all pumped up

he really likes when you call him cute nicknames; joon, joonie, joonie boonie, namu like it lowkey make his heart soar; his personal favorite is joon bug you call him that and he would literally steal the moon if you asked

seokjin:

tests out all his new recipes on you; feeds you bites to taste along the way so you're not too hungry because he's a perfectionist and it takes him extra time for him to plate it; "the presentation is just as important as the taste!"

likes when you’re in the same room as him while he plays his games; not necessarily watching him but just your company is enough; switches between focusing on the game and engaging you in conversation so you won’t get bored; would actually love it if you did take an interest in whatever game he was playing; would take his time explaining the back story of each character and their strengths and weaknesses; would start a separate game so that you could play and have you sit between his legs while he helped you with the controls

has to kiss you at least 3 times before leaving the house; once when you wake up, once while you’re going through your morning routine, and once before you leave; more kisses may be shared but any less than three and he swears his whole day is thrown off

he’s going to pick at you; there’s just no way around it it’s in his nature; he won’t do it enough to make you actually annoyed but enough that you wanna smack him around a little; which… he likes things like that

has no problem singing and dancing whenever y'all are casually listening to music but if you actually wanted him to sing for you he'd get all shy, red in the ears and neck and would have to take a couple days to practice before following through

begs you to join him for tennis practice bc he wants you two to become the next venus and serena

y’all will do that one couples trend on tiktok where they paint each other and then reveal the pictures at the end and it’s not like yours is fantastic or anything but you can tell that you at least tried; meanwhile when you see seokjin’s painting you can’t tell if you’re looking at a distorted walrus or a possessed squirrel either way it is NOT you no matter how much he insists it looks like you

stays sending you thirst traps; like whenever he looks good whether it's bc he's all dolled up for some event or he's fresh out the shower with his hair slicked back or he just sees himself in a mirror and remembers he's worldwide handsome, his phone is out, he's putting a sultry look on his face, snapping a pic, and sending it straight to you

you binge watch animes together; no one will see or hear from either of y’all for like 5 days straight, complete radio silence; and when someone finally knocks on the door they see that y’all been camped out in the living room no phone in sight on season 6 of whatever anime y’all started last friday night

must feed you every time you meet up; like if he has not seen you eat something in the time you spend together he has not completed his boyfriend duties; even if he comes to your place he has to make sure you have at least eaten a snack; doesn't matter how much you weigh he absolutely can not have you wasting away on his watch

yoongi:

gently tucks your hair behind your ear

always offers you his arm to link when it’s cold out so y’all can share each other’s warmth; he absolutely will still be wearing slides with no socks tho and you fuss at him about it every time

lets you play in his hair; just sits there nonchalantly while you give him the most ridiculous hair styles; pig tails, corn rows, mohawks; as long as you don’t cut nothing he doesn’t care fr; takes a picture when you’re done with that big gummy smile on full display bc of how silly he looks

says he's not a big social media person but one of his favorite past times is sitting down with you scrolling down your fyp for hours; makes you send the funniest videos to him so he can watch later

you’re one of the few people that he gains energy from being around so he likes your presence even when you’re not particularly doing anything; like you just be sitting next to each other or like be hand in hand on a walk around the neighborhood not even saying anything but in his head he’s thinking about what a great time he’s having

if you're up late at night and start feeling peckish he'll make you some snacks even if he doesn't plan on eating; still scolds you about how eating late at night is bad as he's enabling you; ends up eating with you too

he doesn't like watching dramas with you; he'll claim it's bc of the plot but really he just doesn't like how you be kicking your feet and giggling at the male leads

not the best with verbal affirmations so whenever he does go out of his way to compliment you he ends up just as flustered as you are; “you look pretty today” and his cheeks are flushed more than yours

always preps you to bargain and gathers together all coupons before y’all go grocery shopping; “just bc i’m rich doesn’t mean i like to be ripped off”

he's always listening to you even when it seems like he's not; you could be rambling on about something and you think he's not paying attention so you stop midsentence and be like "are you even listening to what i'm saying?" and he looks up from whatever he was doing and then repeats back to you everything you said; has a great memory in general so he remembers everything you say and do even the small things that you forget about

hoseok:

sends ‘thinking of you’ texts just to let you know when you’re on his mind

if you start dancing to a song he gets all hyped up and he’s joining you immediately; hands on your hips moving you as he pleases; it’s a club wherever you and the music are

makes you one of his little beaded bracelets that says “ur my hope”

if you fell asleep in a position that looks uncomfortable he’d gently rearrange you until he got you in a more normal position; 100% the type to carry you bridal style to bed if you fell asleep for the night on the couch

the type to pop up at your crib with an insane amount of the most exquisite, top tier take out and you gotta try to figure out who he think eating all this; doesn't even try to fight the boujee allegations when you tease him for bringing out caviar and truffles

always takes pics of you when he thinks you look good; like you could be running late and you’re rushing trying to get out the door but hoseok is just gonna spend a good 30 seconds checking you out while you’re fussing at him and then be like wait a minute and starts posing you; has several organized folders of you because of this labeled by genre of your look; it’s easier that way so when he’s showing people pictures of you they won’t accidentally get a peek of something meant for his eyes only

loves the idea of you becoming his family so he really likes bringing you home; warms his heart to see you getting along with his parents and his sister; sets up a group chat with you him and his sister to help y'all talk more but lowkey gets pouty when y'all do get closer and be chatting and hanging out without him 💀

if you're not already together he'll facetime you in the morning; he won't have much to say at first other than a groggy good morning; but after he comes to terms with the fact that he has to be awake and takes a couple sips of his iced americano he's his usual ball of energy sunshiny self; will have you up doing morning stretches and light calisthenics at 6:30am

every couple weeks y'all go to the nail salon together and get mani-pedis; he leaves the acrylics and jewels and glitter to you but the overall color scheme and design aesthetic for your nails match; takes like 17 pictures of your hands together to show off

loves cuddling up to you on the couch so you can play in his hair; like each time his head is resting on your chest and your hand is running through his hair lightly scratching at his scalp he swears he’s reached nirvana

jimin:

will drag you out the house in the middle of winter to drive down to the beach and watch the sunset together; you’d be huddled up together you sat in between his legs leaning against him his arms draped around your neck pulling you into him; you’d stay there sitting in the sand even after the night settled in just talking until you were shivering and sniffling then he’d take you to a cafe to get some hot cocoa to warm up

randomly calls you in the middle of the night bc he misses your voice; smiles the entire he’s getting scolded for scaring you bc you thought something was wrong bc he called you at 2am

kisses your forehead, nose, and lips in that order every time you part ways

hates knowing there's other people staring at you so like if you're out together and wearing like a hoodie or something and he notices you're garnering attention he zips it all the way up and pulls your hood over your head and tightens the strings so no one can see you; in turn knows you hate the thought that other people even think of him so he pretends they don't even exist; like you can literally point somebody out and be like "omg aren't they so pretty" and he's gonna avert his eyes in the opposite direction won't even look and just be like "you're so pretty. there's only you"

number one advocate for a lazy morning; snuggles into you, his head on your chest trapping you in; looks up at you with a goofy smile and preens when you press a kiss to his forehead

squishes your cheeks in both his hands when you're being too cute for him to handle

like the true feminist he is, he supports your rights and wrongs!!; like you get into it with somebody and then tell him the story afterwards he's hyping you up the entire time telling you that you were right and what you should've done and what he would've done if he were you; he's just always gonna be on your side

riles you up just bc he likes the reactions you make when you’re irritated

it’s tea city when it comes to you two; like whatever you know he knows and whatever he knows you know; gossiping is actually one of your favorite bonding activities; he likes to play it up and drag it out whenever he finds something out; like he’s gonna text you and be like UR NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS!!!!! and you’ll be like WHAT and he’ll be like I HAVE TO TELL YOU IN PERSON OMG!!!! 😱 when it’s like noon knowing darn well he not getting off work until 10pm at the earliest 😭

likes to go with you when you have to “run errands” bc it’s usually just you doing girl things like getting coffee and then going to the store to buy snacks and skincare and he thinks it’s really adorable how you light up when you see small things in cute packages

taehyung:

has a series of like 12 hour logs in his phone recents list bc he stay falling asleep on facetime

makes it a point to hang out with your male friends just to assert dominance; doesn't matter if they have partners of their own or are completely uninterested in you he still wants to look them in their eye, shake their hand, and then put his arm around you to tie up any loose ends that may be dangling around

helps you pick the eyelashes out of your eye whenever one gets stuck

asks you to come over with the sole purpose of convincing you to take a nap with him; will straight up lie on the phone and tell you he wanna hang out and do this and that and then when you get over there he like let’s nap first; your cuddles just gon do it for him every time

uses kisses as bargaining chips; like if you need him to do something like idk take out the trash he's only gonna do it if you give him 3 kisses so you give him one as a down payment and the other 2 after he completes the task; (he was always gonna do what you asked but kisses make everything better)

likes to keep his hands free when he's out and about so he's always adding extra stuff to your purse; because he's always in your bag, he knows its exact content; you'll be frantically searching for your lip gloss and he'll ask what you're looking for and when you tell him he'll pull it out of some random side pocket he moved it to so he could make room for his stuff

will randomly wake up out of his sleep and call you just bc you crossed his mind; takes like 30 seconds to respond to anything you say bc he only half awake; the call lasts for like three minutes before he hangs up to go back to sleep

as a big fan of roleplay at least once in your relationship he's gonna make y'all get all dressed up and go to a bar separately and act like strangers and he's gonna pretend to pick you up

if you sent him out to pick up period products last minute he’s the type that ask if you wanted lemon or lime flavor bc one package is yellow and the other is green 😭; alternatively would ask what’s your coochie size when he noticed the numbers on it

he’s not gonna let you win at any game you play; doesn’t matter how much you whine and pout he likes winning too much; god forbid you’re actually good at something he’s gonna try his very hardest and will even practice so that he eventually beats you; will give you all the prizes tho

jungkook:

if he gets bored while you’re asleep he’s gonna start messing with you; his favorite go to games are flicking your bottom lip until you tuck it in or start to gain consciousness and stacking cheerios on your forehead; his personal best is 9 of em

hooks his chin over your shoulder to be nosy when you’re watching something on your phone that catches his attention

he understands that you’re not as nocturnal as he is but sometimes when you stay over at his place and he feels restless he can’t help but crave your attention; will wake you up at 4am gently with kisses so you can try some of the food he made; you’ll be half asleep with him kneeling in front of you feeding you some spicy noodles; he’ll patiently wait for you to finish chewing before he asks you if it’s good; makes you take at least one more bite before kissing your forehead and letting you go back to sleep; tucks himself up next to you about an hour later after he finishes cleaning up after himself

you make funny tiktoks together; they never leave the drafts of course except for when he finds it particularly hilarious and sends it in the group chat

threatens to beat up anyone who upsets you; like you tell him a story about someone who was upsetting you at work and his first response is "bring them to me. i'll take care of it"; and lord don't let someone get carried away at a club or something like if a guy starts hitting on you and won't take no for an answer before you can even tell them off he's already at the scene one shove away from being breaking news on every media outlet in the world

gets pouty when you have a night out without him but he understands the need for balance so doesn’t put up too much of a fight; his only stipulation is that if you can’t make it home on your own or your friends can’t drop you off that you always always call him; the thought of you getting into some randos car late at night when you’re not even mentally there all the way sends chills up his spine; he can’t sleep unless he knows you’re at home safe and sound anyway

doesn't consciously have a preference for how you dress like he thinks you look good in whatever but you in a dress or a skirt itches a particular part of his id that would have carl jung doing backflips; like whenever you pop out in a dress or a skirt he's coming up to you and giving you a kiss on the lips while his arms wrap around your waist and 10-30 seconds later they're dropping down and his hands are toying with the ends of your garment and grazing your thighs underneath it; it just does it for him every time

you're his safe place <333; he goes through periods where you're the only person he wants to see; he will scare you half to death like you'll get off work and go home and you hear all this noise and whole time it's him in your kitchen making sandwiches for lunch; will make up for scaring you by tucking your face into his neck while his arms are wrapped tightly around you so he can breathe you in and then cupping your face and giving you kisses; you're his baby

you have matching hyperfixations; like one of you will get into something and won’t shut up about it and then being the supportive partner you are whenever you’re on social media you send the posts you stumble across to them; but then the algorithm picks up on it and the content keeps popping so often that you actually start being entertained by it too; then y’all won’t shut up about it and have inside jokes and no one ever knows what y’all are talking about bc it’s so deep down into the referential millennial dadaism

gets offended if you’re walking side by side and not touching in some way; like if you start walking ahead of him or something he’s gonna clear his throat very pointedly and when you look at him like ???? he’s gonna look at you like you’re stupid and pull you into him where you belong

a/n: as promised she is back 🫡 thank you to everyone who encouraged me to repost 💕 pls continue to be kind my mental state is probably worse than it was before LOL

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 3 months ago

Text

⭐ Republished ⭐

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

𝟿.𝟼𝙺 𝚃𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝

3.8k

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 ��𝓝𝓘

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚟𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

📖 Rafe is your boyfriend… You just don’t know it yet.

⚠️ warnings contain spoliers ⚠️

swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral, violence, threats, blackmail, fighting, blood, gore, mentions of sextortion, Rafe sneaks into the reader’s room, panty stealing, panty sniffing, takes pictures of the reader’s private images, cum tasting, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, twist dark reader, mutual obsession, rough oral, gagging, kissing, reader doesn’t ask rafe if he wants to go further than oral but he does and she starts anyway, messy sex, squirting, praise, drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use

✨ “Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched. ✨

Rafe’s POV:

“So, class. What does its structure contribute to the poem “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night?” The professor drones on, sliding her reading glasses down her nose as she looks out onto the lecture hall. I shrink in my seat slightly, along with the other boys, doing my best to avoid her gaze.

Required reading, my ass. Did she honestly expect us to read this shit on a Thursday night? Barely drug my ass outta bed for class. Thank fuckin’ god. I relax in my seat as one of the front-row nerds saves the basic population who doesn’t give a fuck.

“Repetition. The poet used it to stress his key theme for his readers.”

I nod, scribbling a little line of nothingness on my paper, keeping up with the facade. That shit went in one ear and out the next. “Hey, Cameron.” My frat brother elbows me on the side. “You good for the kegs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. What else can daddy get you?” I sneer as I roll my eyes at Billy, who laughs and scoffs. “I get paid back first, plus 10%. Get me a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle; I ain’t drinkin’ Coors, and I ain’t pickin’ that shit up either.”

“Thanks, daddy,” he responds in a breathy voice, snatching the wad of cash off my hands. “We need ten kegs between the Deltas and Phi Mu… You good for that-”

“Fuck you, ‘Am I good for that’?” I cut him short through a breathy laugh. “You’re holdin’ the cash in your hands, bitch. Stop askin’. Add an extra 5% for questionin’ me-”

“Rafe.” My stomach sinks as my professor’s eyes zero in on mine. “Am I interrupting something?” The old bird cocks an eyebrow, her annoyance visible, matching my own.

“No,” I answer simply, crossing my arms across my chest and relaxing at my desk.

“Splendid. I assume you know the answer then. Correct?” She challenges me, trying to catch me off guard. A smirk pulls on her lips as she does just that. Cunt.

“I agree.”

“The key insight about death in the poem is, ‘I agree’?” She belittles. I stare at her blankly, blinking a few times to let her know she’s wasting her time. She’s not gettin’ shit out of me. I’ve got an A in this class, bitch. What’re you gonna do about it?

She chuckles weakly, shaking her head at my resistance. “Am I wrong, ma’am? I have a bit of conversational anxiety… If you’d like to repeat the question, I’d love to try again,” I ask through a shit-eating smirk, letting my sarcasm drip all the way through, irritating her even more.

“Anyone else?” She invites in a shrill voice as she dismisses me, looking around the room to find another. Some of my frat brothers snicker in the back, making the professor’s features even more rigid. “Miss. Y/n?” Her demeanor changes instantly, shaking off my defiance, moving on to another one of her perfect pets.

Who’s that?

Holy shit. I swallow hard, feeling my mouth dry up as I see her. She twiddles her fluffy pink pen, acknowledging the teacher with a smile. Y/n? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. How have I never seen her before? I watch as a football player shuffles down the row of the lecture hall. My question, answered in a moment as his broad shoulders cut off my line of sight. No. I stretch back, cranking my neck to get her in my sights again.

“The key insight’s that death should be fought against, even though it is inevitable.” Her beautiful voice fills the lecture hall like a song. The teacher smiles at her again, praising y/n for her correct answer. Y/n grins and nods, averting her eyes as she catches the room’s focus. Her cheeks blush the prettiest shade of pink, matching her glossy lips.

Those lips… I lick my own, thinking about the way they would look wrapped around my cock, drool running down her chin as she deepthroats my dick. I’d grip that little ponytail like a handlebar, using her mouth like a toy. I chuckle at myself, still surprised that my mind went there almost instantly, but I know myself too well. I am who I am.

Y/n looks so goddamn innocent… Not for long. She’s a slut for praise. I can tell. I can work with that.

My eyes work lower, following the curve of her cleavage in her low-cut shirt. Fuck, I can’t wait to get her on top; watch ‘em bounce in my face. I’m gonna cum all over her perfect rack. Tiddie fuck her while she cries for daddy’s dick. Smear that shit- “Earth to Rafe?” I grit my teeth as I’m torn from my fantasy. “Buddy, you good?” Billy chuckles, his voice taunting as he follows my focus to her. “Mmm… Y/n,” he sighs blissfully. “So fuckin’ hot, bro. She’s a Phi Mu girl.”

“No shit?”

“Mhmm… Transferred from LSU. Smart, funny, sexy… But she’s mine, buddy. Aight? Been layin’ down groundwork all semester.” He elbows me playfully, chuckling to himself, actually believing his own words.

“All semester, and you haven’t made a move?” I spit, eyes rolling in his direction. This whole conversation is laughable. Has he been sitting on this all semester? Really? She was mine the second I looked at her, buddy. You’re done.

“Long game,” he defends himself.

“Long game?” I scoff. “Doesn’t sound like you got any game at all...”

“Hey. Fuck off… I know she wants me. Her bedroom faces mine and she doesn’t even close the curtains when she changes anymore; she texts me all the time. See?” He gloats as he thumbs through his phone. I don’t even bother myself with the semantics. Why the fuck does that shit matter? What’s he gettin’ at? “I’m gonna help ‘em after class. They have some car wash fundraiser downtown.”

Is that so? “I like the sound of that,” I smile, feeling my cock growing stiff in my jeans at the thought of seeing her in next to nothing, wet and soapy no less.

“You can’t just take her from me, Rafe,” Billy mutters in annoyance. A laugh rumbles in my chest as I take in his empty words. “I’m not fuckin’ around. She’s mine.”

My head turns slowly in his direction as he bends in mine. I mean, the guy’s big, but I’m bigger. He can fight, but he’s not willing to see that shit through. Billy’s got that moral compass that urges him to stop where I couldn’t care less. And he knows it.

He balls his hands up in fists at his desk, jaw tightening as he does his best to intimidate me one last time. My boy’s a bitch.

“Mine.”

I study her movements as she glides through the halls. Her hair bounces with each step brushing along her backpack, half-hiding her perfect ass. Her bum shakes a little as she walks, just a tease for me. Y/n slight skirt grazes just a few inches below her ass, leaving her bare legs on display.

I wonder what they’d look like over my shoulder… Spread wide on my bed as I devoured her perfect pussy. Damn. I bet she makes some pretty sounds. I can’t wait to hear that, to see her face, as she squirts all over my mouth and cock.

Where are you going, pretty girl?

She hooks a left, heading toward the coffee shop. I continue to follow my girl, watching as she strolls inside. Y/n walks toward the line, stalling next to the case of pastries, eyeing the bottom. Do it for daddy, baby. C’mon. There you go… She drops down, surveying the options. That goddamn ass… Does she know I’m watching? She’s gotta know. The paisley material tugs higher on her thighs, a peek of her round ass poking out the bottom.

She stands up again, taking another step, moving with the traffic flow. Y/n reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone. She smiles as she looks at the screen. Billy Hargrove 💕. I feel my heart pick up pace, my breathing quickening; rage boils inside me.

I gave him an order. This shit’s not up to him. I roll the tension out of my neck, fingers twisting into fists of my own. Where’s the fucking loyalty? She bites her bottom lip and smiles at the message, making me physically ill.

I’ve got distracted by her… Say somethin’ to make her forget about that.

“Uh, hey,” I rasp. Y/n continues to type up a little message. “Y/n?” I reach out, resting my hand on her arm.

“Oh, hi… Umm, Rafe?” She says my name, making everything stand still. I look down at the beautiful eyes and soft, pouty lips, the corners of which curl into a sweet smile.

“Uh, yeah,” I answer, trying to level my tone. “We’re in class together.”

“Yeah… She’s kind of a bitch. Right?” Y/n asks weakly as her eyes soften on mine, showing me pity like my feelings might have been hurt by that little exchange between the professor and me.

“Yeah, she sucks,” I laugh lightly, tossing my head down in fake shame. “The boys and I got a little rowdy last night. I didn’t read that shit. Did you? I mean, obviously-”

“On my way to class,” she giggles as she looks around playfully for our professor.

My mouth falls into an open smile. “Naughty girl. Coast is clear, by the way,” I rasp through a little laugh.

“Good,” Y/n sighs as she tucks some hair behind her ear.

“You’re really smart.” I praise, watching her cheeks blushing again, this time closer than before, making my heart bang in my chest.

“Thank you. Oh, umm, you’re a Delta. Right?” She asks, solidifying her answer as she eyes the embroidery on my polo.

“I am. And you’re Phi Mu?” Y/n grins as she nods in reply. “I’m headed over to your car wash after this.”

“Awesome. Yeah, Lyndsey was worried that the University might question where the money came from if we made anything off selling beer tonight.”

“A cover-up?” I smile down at her as I stuff my hands in my jeans.

“Mhmm,” she breathes. “The party’s gonna be huge. Do you think we’ll get busted?”

I chuckle at the sweet nativity of her question. “‘Course we will. Over 500 students in one place… But it’s a block party. Right? So they won’t be able to pinpoint anybody. Not usin’ the frat’s money directly. Cash. The boys are gonna pay me back as they sell cups. Untraceable.”

“Aww. That’s so nice of you,” she smiles. Her demeanor hasn’t faltered since we’ve spoken. She doesn’t seem to care about the material shit; my Breitling watch, the gold rings on my fingers. Her face didn’t light up when I dropped the fact that I would buy beer for the masses. She just said it was nice… Fuck, she’s perfect.

“I try… But, if we get busted, I’ll blame it on some beautiful Phi girl I know.”

She gasps playfully, smacking me in the chest. “You wouldn’t!” Everything tenses in my body as I fight back my arousal, covering the growing excitement in my slacks with my notebook.

Y/n looks over my shoulder, catching the girl’s eyes behind me as she tells us to move forward. “Sorry,” Y/n sighs apologetically, clearing the open space between us and the register. Y/n steps up to the counter, ordering a latte and a muffin before reaching into her purse.

“Oh, shit. No. Sorry! Let me,” I breathe as I hurry to her side. “I’ll pay for whatever she’s havin’ and a coffee for me: one cream, one sugar. Thank you.”

“Wow. Thank you, Rafe. You didn’t need to do that,” she coos.

“No problem, y/n.”

Gifts… That’s what my girl likes.

Well, shit. She’s gonna need a grand gesture. I can sneak into her room tonight. Check the essentials: dress size, music taste; the little things she enjoys.

I’ll take a look at her nightstand. How could I not? Gotta know what she uses to please herself so I know what I’m working with and what it takes to get her there. I want to know her better than she knows herself.

I follow along, trying to keep my eyes on her face, but I can’t help but roam her body. I’ve never seen anything like it, never seen anything so perfect for me. I never wanted anything so bad.

The barista walks over, setting down my coffee. I suck my teeth, regretting my choice, knowing if I got the same shit as her, I could have stayed. But I shouldn’t. “I’ll come by. Yeah? Don’t kill me… I gotta big ass truck, and she’s dirty as shit.”

“No worries,” she smiles sweetly. “I’ll see you there, Rafe. Oh, and thanks for the coffee again.” She reaches out, resting her hand on my arm.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I test a pet name, watching her smile widen. Just gorgeous.

I step away, walking towards the door. Looking over my shoulder as Y/n pulls out her phone, that same smile for Billy setting on her perfect lips.

He’s fucking dead.

I pull up toward the parking lot, falling into the line of cars; a caravan of dicks with their windows already rolled down. Fuckin’ dogs. I lean out as well, surveying the scene looking for her. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I watch the gaggle of girls prancing around in their bikinis, excitement building as I frantically look for her.

My heart skips as I see her sporting the most clothes, donning yet the sluttiest outfit of them all. She’s an absolute fuckin’ tease in her cut-off jean shorts and white t-shirt, soaked with water. The material clings to her curves, teasing me with her little triangle top, gathered slightly, barely covering her tits.

She leans over and reaches into the bucket, pulling out a sponge before ringing out the soap. A guy rolls down the window of his Mercedes, bending his neck to watch as she washes the side. I can already tell where this is goin’. He smirks, watching her ass as she leans down, cleaning the rear fender. “Aww, sweetheart,” he soughs, “Uhh…You missed a spot.” Y/n smiles sweetly, lowering to where she was before, making me huff out an aggravated breath.

Her friend walks over with a hose, spraying down the suds that y/n left behind. Tori Clarence, a late-night Delta regular. She says something that makes Y/n laugh. Y/n claps back, teasing her sister through a wicked smile. Tori lifts the gun, spraying y/n with a stream of water, hitting her directly on her tits.

Y/n gasps as her shirt turns from milky white to practically see-through, the chilly water running down her perfect body, making her nipple hard. She panics to get warm, reaching for the bottom of her shirt. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. She pulls it over her body: soft skin, perfect boobs, and wet hair. Little lines of water cascade down her bare skin, rounding her curves catching on the denim of her shorts. Her eyes fall down her body, eyeing her damp state.

“Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched.

I start to fist my cock as she leans over the trunk, her body perfectly positioned like I’m taking her from the back. Goddamn. I’d snake my rough hand up her soft skin, following the curve of her arched spine, drifting into her hair. I’d pull it back, feeling her pussy clench around my big dick. I’d spank her, cracking her tight little ass with the palm of my hand, leaving her red and bruised. Just one of the many ways I’d mark my girl. “Fuck, Y/n,” I moan her name as heat radiates through my body.

She walks along the side of the next car, letting me see her little triangle top: light blue, thin material, the blush of nipples visible. I roll my hand over my tip, whimpering at the sensation, imagining myself hitting the back of her throat as tears pool in her pretty, innocent eyes. Y/n looking up at daddy, mascara running down her cheeks as she throats me like the slut I know she can be. I’d hold her head in my hands, using her mouth to stroke my cock. My perfect little toy…

Fuck. I got a Fleshlight with her name on it. I’m gonna use those pictures when I get home… Gotta get myself ready for tonight. She has no clue what she’s in for. What I wouldn’t give to have my cock in her hand instead of my own. I’d make her jerk me off as she pleaded for my dick deep in that pretty tight cunt. I bet she’s so goddam wet. So, so fuckin’ tight.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna give you his dick. Don’t worry,” I mumble, feeling my breathing start to increase with my pleasure. I thrust into my hand, fucking up into my fist as I watch her undo the loosened side strings of her bikini, tightening it again.

I eye the sign, catching the time. 11-4 PM. Yes… They’ll be here all afternoon. Just need to make a pit stop. Grab a pair of panties. Whatever I can get. I need to taste her. Stuff ‘em in my mouth as I study my prize. My hips stutter as I feel myself about to bust, imagining just how sweet she’ll taste. I work myself quicker, taking hold of my steering wheel as I rut into my hand.

‘Rafe. Rafe. Rafe.’ I can hear it now. See my little whore creamin’ on my cock as I give it to her over and over again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby girl. Where do you want it?”

‘Deep in my pussy… Please, baby’. She’ll whimper and beg, pleading to get stuffed full. I’m gonna brush my fingers over her swollen clit, making her gush all over my cock and thighs, wetting everything around us until I’m pumping her full of my cum.

I’ll watch it drip out of her puffy pink hole, fucking it right back in, cleaning the rest off with my tongue before spitting it in her mouth.

My perfect cumslut.

I need it drippin’ out of her for days. Watchin’ my little angel walk into class, knowing just how good I dicked her down. I’ll watch her from my seat as she cleans the little cum tear off her inner thigh, slipping it between her lips as her eyes flick to mine, sucking it clean.

No one will have her again. “She was made for me.” The thought alone has my hand faltering; jaw falling slack. My stomach sinks, eyes doubling as she looks in my direction, matching my gaze. “Fuckkk…” My eyes roll back in my skull, toes curling, head thrown to the headrest as I cum harder than I ever have. Shit. I don’t even care if she saw. If she’s any girl of mine, she’d want to see it anyway.

My dirty little whore.

I look down at my jizz covered hand and lap. Goddamnit. I clear the gap between my car and the next before ripping off my shirt and wiping away my mess. I flip my hat on, snagging my protein shaker bottle from the passenger’s seat floor as I try to disguise the real reason I’m covered head to toe in sweat. I do my best to control my breathing, still running high from my climax, hit with the post-nut clarity that she may have seen it all.

She looks happy to see me… Real happy. Y/n smiles, making my heart race again as I meet her gorgeous eyes. She greets me happily, trotting up to my truck. “How are you doin’, sweetheart?”

She dunks her hand into the soapy bucket, grabbing a sponge. “Livin’ the dream,” y/n smiles, moving closer than expected. I take in her perfume, already so familiar to me, the smell of it revving me right up again.

“Sorry. I’m a sweaty mess,” I sigh. Her gaze falls down my body, studying me with a bashful smile.

“Just got done with a workout?” She asks.

“Mhmm…” I smile and nod in reply. “Pay now? Pay later?” I invite as I snag my wallet.

“Now,” she sings. “Donation based, so whatever you’re willing to give.” I thumb through my wallet, plucking out $200.

“Rafe…” She breathes, taking it off my hands. “Are you sure? This is a little much.” Y/n looks down at the cash in her hands before meeting my eyes again.

“Positive,” I assure.

“Well, that is very nice, Rafe Cameron,” she coos. Y/n uses my last name, making my stomach drop. She wouldn’t have known my last name unless she did some digging. I didn’t give it to her; I never said anything in class before today. She must have looked me up on Instagram or Snapchat… Maybe she asked one of her sisters about me.

I fight off a wide smile as she gets started on the car. She takes her time, putting in a little more effort than the cars before. She walks to the front of the cab, leaning over, breast jiggling as she swirls and circles the sponge on the hood. She rises a little higher on her tippy toes, unable to reach the rest.

“Here you go, babe.” Her friend sets down a ladder for Y/n. She bends over once more, the angle alone making my cock rock hard again as I imagine us fucking raw. Tonight… I’ll bend her over on the bathroom counter, just like she is now, the bass of the party on the street not even loud enough to cover her cries and my moans. I’ll pound into her as the slaps of our skin fill the bathroom. Her eyes shift to mine, catching my stare. She doesn’t drop focus, keeping her eyes on me as she continues to scrub. A smirk spreads on her lips, mirroring my own.

Baby girl…

Y/n steps down from the ladder before walking to her friend, grabbing the hose off her hands; taking her job instead. She sprays down the truck, cleaning off the suds. The light breeze catches the flow of water, sending little beads of it flying, catching on her perfect skin. My mouth waters as I imagine licking the glaze of it off her skin. Fuck… I don’t think I can take this.

“Alright, Mr. Cameron. You’re all set,” she smiles as she eyes her work. I bite my lip and nod.

“Thank you, princess. See you tonight.”

I pull forward, watching her from my wing mirror as she greets the next car. Her excitement fades as she welcomes the next. Good fuckin’ girl.

Next stop, Phi Mu.

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 2

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post

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#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron #rafe #outer banks #obx #rafe x reader smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x fem!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #frat rafe #frat!rafe #frat bro rafe #college rafe cameron #rafe cameron one shot #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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cupidsdolll · 5 months ago

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The Feeling Came Late

Prologue

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem!sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter .5/? (wc: 1.5k)

masterlist

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Fond memories ignored, thrown away in a second as if they meant nothing to him. Like the years of laughter were all just a dream, but they’re not. They were real and it drove him crazy. Harry only stared at the wall, face red and tears streaming down his face angrily. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. He was angry, angry at the world, at himself because that was his best friend and at her.

He was just a boy, a kid when it happened. Happy in his “prime years” of high school, he was thriving academically and socially. He was on top of his class work and one of the top students in all of his classes, alongside his childhood friend. They stayed friendly whenever they competed against each other, giving their congratulations when the other won in anything. Harry enjoyed the thrill of trying to be the first one to turn in his assignment though, he enjoyed the friendly banter they shared afterwards and during. It became their normal, he looked forward to it.

Then it happened, and he was left broken. A shell of the smart and extroverted boy he once was. He can remember every detail of that day, he had just come home from hanging out with his childhood best friend – they had just gotten done studying and finishing the last episode of the season of their favorite TV show – when his mom walked alongside with him. The ride back home from her house to his was silent, filled with a sense of sadness and Harry couldn’t understand why she wasn’t happy. His mom was happy when she dropped him off at school that morning. She sat him down in their living room and said that this was important, and told him. She kept apologizing and trying to reassure him that everything was being done, tried, efforts were being done. They were going to fix this, help him.

Of course, Harry’s just a kid who’s already dealing with all the new emotions of puberty and teenage feelings, so he screamed at her. Yelled something along the lines of “No, you’re lying and I hate you” but that’s still up for debate, he doesn’t think of this day often. He’d stormed away from her crying figure, her apologies are no good to him, won’t make everything better. He cried, screamed and threw things. He destroyed his room, tearing down pictures and throwing trophies, his vision was blurred from all of the tears in his eyes. He hated himself, it wasn’t his fault though. Nothing he could’ve done would have changed what happened, he couldn’t have stopped it. He knows that deep down, but he has to put the blame on someone, and it only makes sense that it has to be him.

When he calmed down some, he’d taken all of his pictures off the wall, he couldn’t look at all of the times he was happy. It only reminded him of the feeling in his chest, and he stashed them all away in a box to be kept in his closet. Out of sight, out of mind he hopes will be the cause, but he kept two pictures. He couldn’t bear to have them forgotten, even if they were going to be locked away still. They were special, the people in the picture were special. They’ll always be special, so he cried some more as he placed them in his nightstand drawer. He spent the majority of the night crying, the tears seemed never ending and he hated it. He ignored his mom calling him for dinner and his sister who knocked on his door to check on him. She only sighed and reminded him that she loves him and will be there for him if he needs anything before she left him alone and headed back to her own room.

Over time, he changed. It wasn’t gradual though, it was very noticeable. He stopped trying to compete with her, stopped trying to be the first anything. He stopped raising his hand, stopped putting efforts into presentations and powerpoints, stopped caring. He started getting into weed, he refused to try any of the harder stuff – not like his friends would give him any, they still had somewhat good morals and he also tried drinking. (A good thing about having older friends is the easy access to these types of things.) He stopped wearing soft and colorful clothes and started wearing darker clothes, jeans with rips in them and short sleeved shirts tight enough to showcase his growing muscles. He worked out more, wasn’t the lanky little boy she used to know anymore, his language expanded, started using more curse words and his tone grew disinterested and mean.

He knew she watched him from a distance with sad eyes, he knew she tried to help him. He listened from his doorway as his mom talked to her, saying any excuse she can think of to not worry the little girl.

‘Harry’s just not feeling very good, dear.’ ‘Harry’s just tired, he’s had a long day.’ ‘You know teenage boys can be difficult dear, he’ll come around soon,’ and other excuses were told to his friend when she came to check on him. He couldn’t exactly make out what the girl was saying in response to his mom, she’s always been such a soft speaker, and it upsets him more. He just wants to be left alone and she cares so much for him that she just want to help in any way, and he doesn’t want to be rude and tell her to fuck off so he has his mom deal with it. She’s the emotional support thinker, not him.

After a couple of minutes he hears the door shut so he closes his bedroom door and sits back on his bed, the two pictures laid out on his bed as a reminder of the love for his two closest friends, but also as a reminder of the pain he feels and the tears shed over something that wasn't his fault, the blame he put on himself. He sighs sadly as he looks at them once more before he gathers them and sets them in his nightstand drawer. He tries not to look at those pictures too often, he hates how they make him feel. Any time he looks at his best friend’s photo, it fills him with overwhelming sadness, bitter and hurtful. It fills his chest and makes him feel like he’s drowning in sadness, there’s sometimes a hint of anger but that’s never at him. It’s always directed towards himself, not his friend. He could never be mad at him, he was the closest guy friend he’s had and will ever have, he won’t have another one. When he looks at hers, it used to be happiness, love and adoration but it’s turned into anger and jealousy. Her name will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth, his lips will always turn into a frown at the fleetest thought of her.

He hates her, hates how smart she is, how she’s always somehow better at everything than him even when he spent hours working on something. He loathes how she just always knows what to say. He hates how she never fell off or even wobbled off the hill she was on no matter what was going on in her life. He dislikes how much he wishes he could be like that. He abhors how much even though he wants nothing to do with her right now that he still longs to be those little kids playing together and studying and gossiping. He especially hates how deep down he hopes that she’ll wait for him or beg for him to let her in, how he actually wants her to fight for their friendship. He loathes how much he misses her.

Instead of acting on those terrible ideas in his head on rekindling their friendship, he focuses on his popularity. High school ends and during the summer he experiments with his look, becomes a ladies’ man and immerses himself in that. He enjoys sex, the feeling of it all. The intimacy of something shared between two people, the feverish kisses and the sounds of his partners enjoying themselves. It’s a very good distraction from the one person who doesn’t seem to leave his mind. His reputation as a ladies’ man and a very skilled person grows, he becomes popular not only with the ladies in school but also with the fellow jocks of the school. He dabbled a little bit in the sports aspect of his education, he also tried out for the soccer team at his school. He’s always loved the sport, even as a little boy, something about the running and kicking balls amused him. He was also a pretty fast learner which helped his case a lot, but he still passed. He dabbled in a lot of different sports, not wanting to tie himself down to just one thing which applied to multiple different areas in the boy’s life. He tried anything to rid himself of one of the two names that haunts him no matter what.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles masterlist #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #— 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒

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starryhyuck · 2 months ago

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can’t get you out of my mind. (m) — PREVIEW

pairing: alpha!jaehyun x afab!omega!reader

words: 16.2k+

summary: the ceremony to choose your alpha mate has arrived.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: outdated gender roles/stereotypes, some women hating women dynamics (that resolves in the end), mentions of war, mentions of loss during childbirth, disapproval of in-laws, possessive!jaehyun, pregnancy, breeding kink, tiny bit of face riding, bigdick!jaehyun, squirting, knotting, nonstop fucking between jaehyun and reader, public sex, mating

release date: october 24, 2024

this fic is already released for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

“You silly omegas.”

You jump nearly three feet in the air, gasping and holding your hand to your chest. You swivel around to see Jaehyun standing behind you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in amusement.

“A-Alpha Jeong,” you stutter, bowing your head. “I apologize, I wasn’t aware-“

“You omegas are always starving yourselves in front of us. When are you going to realize alphas are never settled when our omegas aren’t taken care of?” He questions, stepping beside you and taking out the leftover steak in the fridge.

You keep your eyes planted to the ground as he moves around you, heating up the meal on the stove.

“Alpha Jeong, you don’t have to-“

“Just call me Jaehyun,” he interrupts gruffly. “Alpha Jeong this, Alpha Kim that- all the rules get so tedious.”

You flush in embarrassment. “We shouldn’t be alone together without an elder present.”

“Another rule,” he sighs, using two fingers to lift your chin up. You meet his gaze head on. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You swallow, blinking slowly at him. Being this close to an alpha while unmated is against all commands of the elders and betrays every ounce of your omega training, but you nod and say, “Okay.”

“Besides, the elders sleep like they’re dead anyways,” he says with familiarity, which makes you realize that Jaehyun’s grown up around all the elders who have accompanied you to the ceremony because he’s next in line to become head alpha. He steps back from you and resumes cooking at the stove. “So,” he starts, humming. “The Handbook for Dressmaking is a riveting thriller, isn’t it?” He asks you with a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“Oh,” you mumble, wringing your hands nervously. “Yes, I believe it was the top book for the omegas in our district.”

He chuckles. “What’s your actual favorite book? Be honest.” He takes out a cutting board and slowly starts peeling the skin of one of the apples on the counter.

“Um- t-that is my favorite book, Alpha-“ you stop and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Jaehyun.”

“You omegas,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Always lying, trying to say what you think is the right thing. I don’t want to hear the dictation from your mother’s handbook. I want to hear your real opinion.”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. You’ve never told another being about straying away from the traditional omega values. Jaehyun looks at you with an impatient expression, however, and you can’t bring yourself to lie to the next head alpha.

“History retellings about the war are my favorite,” you confess in a gentle voice. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “They provide me with a picture of what we needed to do to succeed as the dominant species.”

It’s not ladylike in the slightest to assimilate oneself to such acts of violence, and you’re certain this would be the final nail in the coffin to ward Jaehyun far from you. Instead, he smiles.

“That’s a new one,” he laughs. “And the children? As many as the moon grants you?”

It’s no secret that after the war, many omegas don’t find it as easy to give birth as they used to. The lingering chemicals and difficult winters led to harsher environments for omegas to successfully carry a pup to term. Nowadays, omegas who strive for more than four children sign their own death sentence. Regardless of the staggering data, the elders teach all omegas that they must give birth to as many pups as the moon will grant them.

“Two,” you whisper, shifting your stare from him and towards the wall. “Just two would satisfy me.”

He hums again, but makes no effort to scold you for your admission. You expect the son of the head alpha to be more strict on the nation’s laws surrounding omega submission, but Jaehyun breaks out of the mold you initially assumed of him.

He slides a warm plate on the counter, filled with the delicious food you resisted eating hours ago.

“Eat well, omega. I thank you for your honesty.”

When he exits the kitchen, your mind reels over the thought that not all alphas are as bad as you believed them to be.

want to read the rest of this fic now? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

#nct smut #nct x reader #jaehyun #jaehyun smut

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year ago

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misc. daily life photos again .. for the every once in a while that I collect enough over a few months to actually make a photo set out of them lol

#Not sure how to caption every photo because you can unfortunately no longer caption photos so that text appears #under them when you view them. you can only add photo descriptions (which is more about literally describing #the image for people who can't see it or etc.). I wish they had the ability to have both captions and descriptions as both are useful for #different functions but it seems they took captions away entirely so. I guess I'll have to just number every picture and then talk about th #em in the tags or soemthing?? SO.. starting from top left to right --#image 1: blackberries BUT also if you look close.. there's a tiny little bug on them lol #image 2: little water droplets on the back of a leaf that looked cool.. love anything with tiny water orbs #image 3&4: a spiky fuzzy sort of caterpillar outside on a yardwork glove.. small friend #image 5: THIS is such a bad slogan!!! what a lie!!! I personally would LOVE to have a sandwich party! in fact I would rather attend a #sandwich party than a pizza party because it would be fun to sample a wide variety of sandwich platters with all different meats and chee #& breads & ingredients & etc. !! now I just wish I could go to a cool sandwich sampling party w a full buffet of various mini sandwiches :#image 6: a chicken sandwich I made myself at home. with swiss cheese >:3 #image 7&8 : HHRGH it's a CAT and also bubble tea!!! AND is pastel teal! but alas.. it was like $20 and I didnt want to pay that but now #looking back on the photos slightly regret it lol. I think it's more because it's a brand name since the cat is some popular cat like hello #kitty or something. I didn't really notice that until later lol. I was just thinking 'OMG A CAT!'. I love all cats. brand or no brand lol #image 9: my single once a year trip to the drink place that has really nice garlic noodles. this time with beef? which was good too. And #the typical drink order of pina colada smoothie (i think it's coconut pineapple and strawberry?). plain matcha bubble tea (favorite and all #I ever get from anywhere). and a strawberry smoothie thing. I also usually get a coffee bubble tea but the place is like 50% of the time ou #of coffee for some reason so. hggh.. Which I know is like everyday food for some people but. I get food from places SO rarely that it's al #ays an event to take a picture about lol. Just cooking at home 99% of the time makes those trips for fancy food more special I guess #Id rather save the money/dont have much in the 1st place .& also am still a freak who hates using apps/dislikes shit like ubereats or etc.#I would literall NEVER get food delivered to my house under any circumstance unless I was dying alone inside on hospital bed rest with no #support system and no transportation and having food delivered to me was my last possible option. otherwise. if I want something so bad #I can just leave the house to physically pick it up myself without involving a middle man to the process and paying more. .. ANYWAY ghjgjh #image 10: BOY in BOX.. playing a new boardgame and he sits inside! rip to my big beautiful son. I miss him.#UpWords is a fun game though. It's similar to scrabble except you can stack the letters? interesting #Okay. that's all the pictures! Also for the record I do think it's a good thing to have image descriptions! I wasn't complaining in the sen #e that I wish they would get rid of them and bring captions back. more just I would like to have both preferrably. I liked being able to #caption things on the occasional post like this where the layout is better suited towards it.#photo diary

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bimbosandbubbles · 3 months ago

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Yandere Jotaro Kujo

The slowburn yandere

Starring Jotaro Kujo and chubby reader

Warnings-obsession,yandere,possessive behavior,somno,dacryphilia,stand usage,mentions of nsfw themes but nun too crazy.

Thinking about yandere marine biologist Jotaro who becomes obsessed with his chubby assistant. The assistant who the company forced him to have because although he's amazing at what he does—he's terrible at interacting with others without being standoffish. So thats why you show up in his office on a irritating Monday morning. Chubby body stuffed in a formal two piece consisting of a knee length skirt and vest on top of a sickeningly colored dress shirt. You seem to only be 5 or 6 years younger than him.

Jotato immediately finds your presence to be a disturbance to his calculated peace. You haven't even began to introduce yourself before he instructs you not to talk him and to stay out of his way. You shiny lip gloss lips frown at that and your face drops the excitable expression. For weeks you obeyed Jotaro—only doing things he tells you to do,steering clear of him,not disturbing him. And your coworkers notice how you follow him around like some sad kicked puppy who's desperate to make your boss proud of its constant effort. They feel for you and tell you he's not friendly with anyone,only coldly and barely cordial. However you're eager just to get a few words out of him.

But talkative,determined you can't hold it in one day. You have to talk to him cause you just might lose your mind! So,when you're bringing him some photos of dolphins,setting them gently on his wooden desk. You loiter by his desk,waiting for an opportunity to strike—an action Jotaro doesn't mind or notice because he simply doesn't address it. You watch as his sea green eyes illuminate at the pictures and you can tell they make him happy even if there's not a hint of a smile on his face. And then you finally speak,"Are dolphins your favorite animal?" Your voice slightly cracks because of the dry nervousness you feel in your throat. And you already feel like you've missed your chance to amuse him.

You're left waiting there for what seems like forever before he just wordlessly nods. Progress! Is all you can think. At least he's somewhat answering. So with that you pat yourself on the back and gleefully trop away from his office with a,"Okay sir,I'll leave you to it now!" Leaving Jotaro with this thoughts. Thoughts of who you are because he thought he had you all figured out from the very first day. He thought of you as too pushy—too loud,annoying like girls he went to college and high school with. Especially because he saw how shocked you were by his appearance—seemingly entranced with his handsomeness. But when he told you to keep your distance from him— you did. Not only that but you do your work with precise excellence. Today was different though,today you bothered to talk to him. Even despite the fact he didn't give you the most elaborate answer you happily accepted what he gave you. He liked that you never attempted to push him—you respect him. And maybe he should pay that same respect back.

Two whole months pass by after that extremely brief interaction and Jotaro seems to be very slowly warming up to you. Now he allows you to stay in office and catch up on some work and today you were doing exactly that. You were completing some files on the computer and the two of you are a safe distance away from another,due to the fact the man chose to sit a good 10 inches away from you. But despite that he still smells how sweet you smell,like a ripe peach aching to be picked . A peach his mother would make into a wondrous dessert after he won a game of baseball in elementary—a reward for his effort. He can't help but slightly inhale the scent,the pure nostalgia of it setting in. And for one good second he stops and stares at you from the corner of his eye. Your pudgy cheeks are puffed out in frustration,meaty fingers are gently placed on the wooden desk,your eyes are determined yet still hold that gentleness in them,and your lips that are always coated in some shiny substance is slightly open in pure concentration.

Beautiful,so effortlessly beautiful. He unknowingly becomes so entranced an old friend manifests from beside him. Star platinum in all his glory floats towards you and he peers at you with curiosity and affection. He can't seem to help himself so he gently almost ghost like caresses your chubby face—light squeezes and soft pinches being barely felt. Jotaro pulls his white hat down in shame,the shame of not keeping a hold on his emotions. He's not a teenager who can't control his stand anymore. He calls Star back and reluctantly the stand stops touching you. Frazzled, the man says he has important business to take care of and snappily kicks you out of his office. He sighs deeply and looks at his hands that Star— no he felt your skin with. He could feel every pore,every textured mark,the plushness that allowed his stands fingers to barely dig into it. It felt...nice,so nice that he wonders if he let Star touch you further how far he'd go. Jotaro then realizes that he's actually so fond of you.

Ever since he lost control of Star Platinum Jotaro begins to long to be closer to you. Tasks that he could do easily,he now asks for your help,things that require one person suddenly becomes a two person issue. Jotaro talks to you more even if it's very vague or brief,he just wants to hear your chatter. An action he used to find irritating about you but now he loves it. Jotaro's even eaten your cooking and he enjoys that as well,so much so that he has up it there along with his beloved mother's cooking. But he doesn't only get closer to you through interactions—he starts touching you more. When you're getting something he uses his tall frame to reach for it himself—bumping his crotch against your ass. That plump ass that he knows his riddled with cellulite—those cute little dimples he wants to dip his fingers in as he ruts into your plush cheeks.

He loves when he does that,loves when you gasp and look at him with those innocent eyes. He can tell you think of his actions as pure accident,never suspecting your stoic boss to get off on something like that. And because of that he simply gets more and perverted,a part of him becomes disgusted with his seemingly uncontrollable lustful urges. But when he looks at you,the woman who simply likes him despite his reluctance to fully open up,he can't help but be so fond of you. That's why he finds himself nursing his aching cock in the wake of many late nights in his office. He always sends you off early with a cold tone despite the fact that he wants you to stay and touch him instead with those soft hands. Hands that are pure,that have never been exposed to things he's seen and done. Hands that could most likely struggle with wrapping themselves around the girth his cock has. Jotaro concludes you'd look cute like that.

Jotaro will carry on with this behavior for a full year. He carries on asking you to eat lunch with him despite the fact he hardly talks and when he does it's when you ask him a question—even that's hard to get out of him because he'd much rather hear you ramble on and on about something that has you so enthralled. He carries on by touching and letting you touch him as well. He hates unnecessary touch but when you walk up to him to prattle about whatever he shivers when he feels your pudgy hands wrap around his muscled arm. He carries on staring at pictures of you that you post on any platform and there's one particular one that has him in frame with a grouchy expression and you're grinning ear to ear in that photo,looking at him with happiness in your eyes. He wonders if you if can really make you happy? He wonders if he can make you a happy wife? His wondering reaches a end though because at last you and him finally go on a work trip together. And it just so happens to be a trip to a small Caribbean island for the research on a certain fish species.

This work trip is what set off his obsessive urges—unlocking a beast that's been shackled for years of his life. Seeing you in a two piece bathing suit could really do things to a man,after all. He recalls you saying a week prior before the trip on how you're a tad insecure on showing your tummy openly like that,and yet there you were standing there in a star patterned bathing suit; waiting for Jotaro to say anything about the way you look. He doesn't because his mind and body can't handle how good you look. He wants to fuck you like really really fuck you. Wants to see you spoiled and ruined for him. He's fucked before but only for alleviation,however seeing you like that makes him desire you wholeheartedly.

The whole trip Jotaro keeps on saying he wants to go swimming just so he can keep seeing you in your cute little bating suits that he's fighting the urge to rip off. And the whole time you keep on being so sickeningly sweet to him he almost can't take it. He wants to see your kind features twisted in pain and pleasure. He yearns to make you feel like that,yearns to have you bent over on his cock and taking it until he's done with you. He feels so gross for wanting to fuck you roughly but he can't help it. He knows you'd be such a good girl for him because it'd make him happy.

Not only his sexual need for you increases for you though. His obsession does too. The whole time at the trip he sees how people admire you for your outside and inner appearance. It pisses him off because he knows he doesn't only have that side of you. He wants it for himself completely. And he can't understand why. He understands his sexual urges towards you but his emotional ones don't make sense to him. He's never had the urge to be married or have kids or any of that other sappy shit. But with you, he craves that so deeply. He wants to make you a cute housewife with him who still helps him with work at home. He could work from home if he wanted and he plans to once he makes his direct move on you.

Even with normal suburban dreams like a happy wife and happy life Jotaro knows he could never give you a normal marriage because of how he feels about you. He's slowly getting to the point where he wants to be with you all the time just so he can hear you chatter. He wants to be the only person in your life and the only that matters because that's how you are for him. He knows that's wrong though,knows he can't just hide you from everybody. He so badly desires it though.

He's very aware that what he feels is wrong but he doesn't care enough to stop it. And the reason for that is because you make Jotaro so happy. He doesn't show it but trust you sincerely do. In front of you he's always quiet,surprisingly patient,and oddly needy. In his heart when you're away from him too long he feels so deeply bothered;an itch that can't be scratched until it hits a certain sweet spot. He just wants to get be by you all the time,just to soak in the same space as you.

Once the trip is over,Jotaro begins his plan on how he'll solely become your only company. He moves so incredibly slow because as he's gotten older he's grown to understand to be less hasty. There's two reasons for that,one,he wants you to view you the same way and have your too cute personality,two,he wants you to view him the same way he does you.

Low and slow is the way he plays this obsessive love game. He starts off with informing you about how your "friends" at the office insult your chipper attitude,the way you dress,even your beautiful body. This is not a lie or made up tactic for you to run into his arms,it's actually the truth. Before he grew to feel such a way for you,they'd make comments on how you tried to suck up to Jotaro and throw yourself at him. Of course,he told them to shut the fuck up even before he started falling for you. But now that he can't afford to have his precious girl hurt,he decides to pay back those harsh words with a little bit of physical force.

The moment he tells you he almost regrets it. Almost,is the keyword. Your eyes bubble with tears and you immediately grip onto the snug sleeve of his expensive dress shirt. "Oh,Jotaro...why don't they like me? Am I that bad?" He triumphs in the feeling of having you in his arms,going to HIM and only him for sweet comfort that only HE could ever provide you. If it was anyone else he'd complain about you fucking up his shirt with your tears,but no,oh nooo,he loves that he now has pieces of you imbedded in his clothing. You cried in his arms for an hour,not even meaning to,but that hour could've been decades and he wouldn't have mind. Does Jotaro like seeing you cry? Depends,if it's him making you cry on his cock. Any other cause,no.

Even though he doesn't enjoy it because he's not the cause,his dick gets a little hard seeing your sobbing and vulnerable body. He feels bad for his body reacting to you in such sad state,but oh my god,you're just so irrestibale. That night he carefully takes of his dress shirt and brings it to his face,smelling,no,inhaling the salty and wet material that also is slightly mixed with your sweet smelling perfume. He nurses his cock in his hand,bucking up into the o shaped hand,instead of stoking up and down. Why? Because he's imagining taking you just like that.

He envisions you slotted perfectly on his muscular thighs,whining about how good and big his cock feels,how nicely he fills you up. He's gripping onto your creamy skin that he knows will soften like butter in grasp. He imagines feeling all the texture your body as to offer him;the rolls that adorn your tummy and a little bit of your back,the stretch marks on your wide waist that wiggle all the way to your hips,and that cellulite you have on your ass and thighs—God he just wants to perfectly place the pads of his fingers into those dimples as he thrusts up into you. He imagines you at your rawest,a part of your being that no one else will see but him. He wants to swallow you whole and force you down to the deep abyss of his never ending appetite for you.

Phase two of catching you in his snare is,quality time to the point where he gradually is the only person you'll ever see during the week. It starts off with him asking if you'd like to go to the aquarium with him after work. Then he asks for a late lunch with you the following day. Then he always begins to call you,his faithful assistant,to do very mundane tasks he didn't bother to ask for prior. Pick up his laundry,bring his paperwork to his house etc. The paperwork task is the biggest one because that's how he ropes you into staying overly late at HIS house. His house is so calm,modern and almost empty of anything relatively personal. The quiet nature of his home and himself,have you chattering,cuddled into him on the couch,talking about God knows what all the way to nightfall.

Obviously,kindhearted you,feels so bad about intruding on him like this,especially when you both have work tomorrow. He assures you only by saying,"My guest room is right across my room,go ahead and knock out for the night." You protest but you're shut up by Jotaro rolling his eyes and muttering about good grief,why do you have to make things so complicated? That night starts an evening routine for Jotaro now. Almost ever day since he's been able go weasel his way into making you stay over,he's began to divulge into his urges a little more.

Once you're sound asleep in the bed,body covered with usually loose fittings pajamas that almost leave nothing to the man's imagination. Jotaro will summon Star Platinum to touch your unconscious form. He prefers Star touches you because he's a lot of more gentler than the stand user could ever be while seeing you like that. The stand always lifts your shirt up to reveal your braless chest,to palm and pinch the naturally weighed down breasts. The ghost like presence is ever so precise—pinching,pulling the harden buds of your nipples. Jotaro's jaw is slack as he feels whatever Star platinum is feeling. You're so soft—so moldable. God,every time he finds you vulnerable like that it takes everything in him to not fuck you just like that. Have you spread,wide—so wide your thighs almost hang of the sides of the twin sized mattress.

He'd hump you through your cute sleep shorts,the silly ones with fishies riddled all over the cool cotton material. He envisions the tingling friction,drooling at the lewd thought of the fabric pulling so hard on your clothed mound that he could see your fat pussy lips.

Jotaro doesn't do this though,he respects you too much and knows this is wrong. He doesn’t want to do anything to that you don’t want. He wants you organically,normally—despite his abnormal and unhealthy feelings he festers deep in his heart. Even letting Star touch you bothers him because he knows he’s violating you but he tells himself that it will always be the last time. It never is.

Despite his dark urges in the night,the mornings are blissfully domestic. Breakfast in the morning,made by him or you,depending on which one of you wakes up first. The two of you will eat and talk,not really though,you’ll do most of the talking while Jotaro listens intently. The man practically hangs on every single word you say even if it’s random chit chat. Anyone else he’d tell to shut the fuck up or to fuck off—you being different though. It’s like sweet sugar is being poured his ear canal,that’s how much he’s grown to enjoy your voice.

The best part of the morning is you getting ready at his house. You’ve literally had to bring clothes to his from how often he has you staying overnight. Why is this the best part in Jotaro’s opinion? Well,it feels him the happiness of what he craves most with you,domesticity. He wants to marry you,he wants to live with you—he wants to be with you. It’s carnal yet sweet at the same time. He’s never dreamed he’d conform into the sweet marital bliss so many elders talk about,yet he’s here offering to zip up your skirts for you,placing your shoes on your feet with such a gentleness a person would’ve forgotten he’s a fully built 6’5 man,complimenting the simple,meticulous,or bare face look you chose to rock today.

Months of this causes Jotaro to snap though. He can’t take this playing house fantasy anymore. It no longer satisfies his hunger and want for you. It was a snowy day,Christmas was beginning its slowly chilling approach,Jotaro recalls you and him being the only in that day. He doesn’t know why he finally gave in now to his urges but God he’s glad he did. He asked you with his has hat off,his messy black locks tossed to every direction and yet still complimented his undeniably handsome features. He blushed as he did so,a very cute and odd look for him.

“Would you let me—“it’s an awkward pause,but not one that kills the tension,only heightening it instead,”take care of you?” His wording is off and he already knows he could’ve been more direct. But your pretty eyes and soft self were so intimidating he just got flustered. It doesn’t matter though because you seemingly picked up on what he meant.

“Like be your girlfriend?” No,his everything. But he’ll settle for that at this moment. After all this just moved him many steps forward to completing his plan. He’s so happy when you say yes,he wants to pull you in for a kiss but he doesn’t. What he does do is pull you into a warm embrace,muttering a good grief into the office.

He could wait for the other stuff he’s been longing to do,after all he’s waited this long to make you his,what’s waiting a little longer?

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED THANK YOU!

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plorpl · 1 year ago

Text

More info (and insane screenshots) from the House MD DS game for those who want to know.

Way, way too much info under the break!!

The game took me about 5 hours to play total, including pauses for screenshots and cackling laughter. There are 5 cases, and each one has: the main case, a clinic patient, and a small subplot about Cuddy that strings through all 5 cases and concludes at the end of the game. It's extremely linear. To solve the case, you do activities when you are prompted, each having its own types of mini games. Activities include: examining the patient, ddx-ing, running tests, running labs, questioning the patient/friends/family, and searching houses/other areas for clues. All of these mini games suck. The best one is when House has to have an epiphany so you play brick breaker with his brain:

WHEN YOU DDX THEY USE THE MOUSE BITES PHOTO

You'll notice here that the visuals are a little uncanny valley. The likenesses are... not good.

The worst offender is 13, who always looks just a little bit off.

One of my favorite parts of the game is that you get graded on your performance and if you do bad, Cuddy doms you.

And when you do good, Wilson kind of negs you?? Feels like the people who made this game were obsessed with him (same). The contrast in these two screenshots really gets me.

More insane top screen screenshots without context:

Honestly, some of my favorites need both screens to really be appreciated:

I do not recommend playing it, really. These are the best parts, and the game itself is slow and can be frustrating. There is also... a lot of problematic nonsense. Worse than the show. Not going to try to make excuses here.

That being said, it's surreal. House is like a bad stand up comic for most of the game, and so much is out of character - House visits the patient FIRST THING every case, the whole team misses very obvious deductive leaps, there's no gay sex, etc, etc, etc. But at the same time, the people who made the game clearly had a love for the show. It follows the typical structure of an episode faithfully and has some detailed, satisfying visuals in it. Everyone's clothes change each episode, even in their little bottom of the screen sprites. This Wilson makes me happy with his show-accurate mug and hand gesture:

And there are some nice interiors/exteriors of the hospital and better rendered pictures that make me smile:

It made me and my friends laugh a lot. And it also makes me a little sad. I spent a lot of my childhood playing shitty licensed games like this (remember the madagascar one???), but they are mostly a thing of the past. I know they were cash-grab trash, but it's odd that there's this genre of game that doesn't really get made any more. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm glad this game exists.

Anyway, here's an upsetting House and Wilson for the road:

#house md #hate crimes md #ds game #house md ds

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drewsephrry · 7 months ago

Text

guilty as sin?

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Words: 11.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, alcohol and drug consumption, cuss words, violence (punches mostly), cheating

Inspired by: Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift (and most of the songs from The Tortured Poets Department)

loml

party at top's 2nite

be ready by 8

Seen 5:53 pm

You

okay

i love you

Delivered 5:54 pm

You and Y/Bf/N have been together for three years now, but it feels a lot different than how it started.

At first he was really sweet, thoughtful and caring. He brought you flowers for most if not all of your dates. You loved him so much and trusted him with your whole life.

Although everyone around you seemed to have a very different opinion than you.

All the wine moms in their Sunday best would be clutching their pearls, sighing, whispering “What a mess!” whenever you would walk in the Country Club. They would shake their heads saying "God, help her" when you would tell them he's your man.

God save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for you.

You had a lot of arguments with your parents about him and if he was taking care of you. Most of the arguments ending with you screaming “But daddy I love him.”

But lately, he was more distant.

When you went out or he was over at your house, where you spent most of your time together, he would sit on his phone. And you had gotten bored, feeling the need to cry when he left without kissing you or saying ‘I love you’ back.

But you couldn't just throw everything you had built away to the wolves or onto the ocean rocks.

You were in the middle of picking out an outfit for the party, when you heard the notification sound on your phone. You picked it up, expecting your boyfriend had replied but what you saw made you smile wider.

rafey

heard this today and thought of homecoming lol

*The Downtown Lights by The Blue Nile*

Seen 6:17 pm

Rafe had sent you the song that you had danced with him back in the homecoming dance that you hadn't heard in a while. You smiled at the memory and sent him a picture you had in your favorites folder, of you two in front of your staircase. Toothy grins and his tie matching the maroon color of your dress.

You

how could i forget?

*image attached*

Seen 6:18 pm

You and Rafe had been friends for many years, mostly because you and Sarah were best friends since you were both 5. That meant that you both spent a lot of time in each other's houses, going on vacations with your families and having family dinners almost each week.

You couldn't help but take a liking to the older Cameron, because he was always kind and sincere to you, despite what everyone else was saying. He was always there for you when you needed him.

When your homecoming date canceled on you at the last minute, Rafe stepped in without a second thought. Even if he was two years older than you and your friend group. Or when you first got your heart broken, he had gone out to buy you ice cream and stayed with you while you were watching ‘The Notebook’ with Sarah.

“He built her the house, Rafey!”

Or when you were in the Bahamas with the Camerons and your family and your period decided to ruin your vacation, Rafe was the one who went out and got you everything you needed.

“Can you unlock the door for me sweetheart? I got you the stuff.”

And afterwards stayed with you to ensure you were okay and did impressions of his family to make you laugh.

Or last year, when you and your friends had all decided to go to Florida. Everyone was high and they all reeked of weed. While you downed a bottle of wine and had accidentally locked yourself in the bathroom crying, wearing a short black skirt with the lacy details. Rafe was the only one who tried to help you out and when he finally got the door unlocked, he held you and tried to get you to quiet down.

“Shh, I know princess. You'll be alright”.

You were really ashamed to admit that Rafe had crossed your mind once or twice while dating your current boyfriend.

And you were mostly ashamed that he had invaded your mind in your more private moments with Y/Bf/N.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?” Y/Bf/N’s head, between your legs, his chin glistening with your wetness, his fingers inside you searching for that sweet spot that made you see stars. The sweet spot only you had found.

But the way he whispered the nickname that you had only ever heard from Rafe, made you close your eyes and imagine it was him fingering you.

“Ye-yeah, babe. Can you go faster?” You whispered, your eyes still shut and your hips grinding on Y/Bf/N's face. He smirked and dove right back in.

Your mind was still on Rafe though, imagining his long fingers touching that sweet spongy spot, his mouth sucking your clit, while his other hand would grab one of your tits, playing with the nipple.

“Mine.” Rafe whispered, pressing a kiss on your upper thigh while his fingers worked wonders inside you.

And that brought you closer and closer to your release. Moaning loudly, thankful that your parents had gone out.

“Baby, you squirted.” Y/Bf/N whispered, making you open your eyes and staring at him, sighing.

Was it a crime?

rafey

will you go to top's party tn?

Seen 6:21 pm

You

yes

wbu?

Seen 6:23 pm

rafey

see you there princess

Seen 6:24 pm

You giggled and continued roaming your closet to find a dress. You needed to take your mind off of Rafe, quickly and effectively. But all you could actually do is play Taylor Swift loudly on your speaker and get ready for the party.

At 8, your phone rang and you saw your boyfriend's contact.

“Hey, I'm putting on my shoes right now. Do you want to come upstairs?” You put your phone on speaker, while tying your heels.

“I'm leaving my house now. I'll be there in five. Just wait outside for me, okay?” You could hear him, buckling his seatbelt.

“That's alright. I'll see you in a bit. I love you and drive safely!” You smiled, finishing with your right foot.

“Yeah, bye.” He said, hanging up. You sighed, trying not to cry to avoid messing up your makeup.

Why was this so hard? You could do it with a broken heart.

After five minutes, you went outside and he had just parked, looking up from his phone when he heard your front door close. You got in and leaned over the console to give him a kiss on the lips, which he accepted.

“Hi baby. You smell good.” He said, starting the car.

“Thank you. It's the perfume your mom bought me for my birthday. I've put it on before.” You replied, buckling your seatbelt, sighing once again.

When you reached Topper's house, he helped you out of the car and walked with you inside the house, searching for your friend group. You found them in the kitchen, mixing up drinks and talking shit about a pogue that crashed Kelce's car.

All of the boys started hollering when you and your boyfriend, holding hands, entered the kitchen, greeting him with high fives. Topper gave you a side hug and thanked you for coming, to which you just smiled and replied that you wouldn't miss it. You felt Y/Bf/N pulling away from you to talk more with the other boys while you just stood in the middle of the kitchen, playing with the hem of your dress.

“Hey! There's my favorite girl!” A familiar voice was heard and you looked up to find Rafe approaching you. Holding a beer bottle, dressed in a light blue polo that showed every muscle of his.

Crashing into him made you feel like he's a paradox, making you question everything, even your own sanity and morality.

“Hi Rafey!” You smiled and he hugged you tightly when he was finally close. His scent engulfed you in a daydream, as you hugged him back.

“Fuck, are you wearing that perfume your ‘mother-in-law’ got you? Smells really good, sweetheart.” He said, grinning like the devil.

You nodded, surprised and looked around to search for Y/Bf/N, who was now gone.

“Want a drink?” Rafe asked, making you nod once more. “Your usual?” His grin wider as he approached the cooler pulling out a watermelon flavored Whiteclaw. You thanked him when he handed it to you and you grimaced when a shirtless guy with sunglasses entered the kitchen and started yelling.

“Let's go outside. It's quieter. Come on” He said, pulling your free hand to follow him. You looked around once more for Y/Bf/N but nodded to Rafe and let him pull you outside. His tan, veiny hand, way bigger than yours making your mind travel at what his long fingers could do.

Are you bad or mad or wise?

You shook your head from the dirty thoughts fogging up your brain and flushing your cheeks.

“He is there playing beer pong with the guys. Don't worry.” He exclaimed, walking outside and sitting down on a chair, pulling you to sit beside him.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!” He asked, sipping his beer. “Why haven't you been to Tannyhill lately? Did you and my sister fight or something?” He continued asking, chuckling with the last question thinking that was impossible.

“I've been good. Just really busy. I was literally there last week.” You replied, taking a sip of your Whiteclaw, the drink refreshening you. You looked to the table, where your boyfriend stood with his friends as they yelled at someone to throw the ball. You rolled your eyes and looked back at the cerulean ones, you couldn't stop thinking about.

Thinking about how he would stare at you while he would lower his mouth where you would need him the most, leaving love bites all over your breasts, your tummy and thighs. Then he would come back and messily kiss you, as he would enter you, swallowing your moans.

“Y/N, did I lose you?” He chuckled, snapping his fingers in front of you as you removed yourself from your trance. You felt your skin heating up, as you looked down and played with the hem of your dress once more.

Without ever touching his skin, how could you be guilty as sin?

“I'm sorry. Just in my head these days.” You apologized.

“Why? What's up? Is something bothering you with mr. Boring guy over there?” He asked, nodding his head towards the guys.

“What? He's not boring. If somebody's boring me, I think it's me.” You said quoting one of your favorite poets.

“Dylan Thomas? Really?” you looked at him, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“Ho-Since when do you know Dylan Thomas?” you asked, never taken Rafe as a guy who reads poetry.

“Do you not remember? Last year? In Florida?” He asked, chuckling, also furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I called you a little alcoholic and you said that ‘an alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do’. I asked you where you got that from and you said Dylan Thomas. So afterwards, I found some of his work and I was really enamored. I guess. I-It's lame.” He tried to explain, getting embarrassed and shaking his head.

“It's not.” You whispered, grabbing his hand, smiling. “It's really cool actually.” He shook his head grinning at you.

“So?” After a minute of silent stares, he asked.

“So what?” You asked back. “What's up with you and Y/Bf/N?” He asked again. You sighed, knowing you cannot lie to Rafe but also knowing that you cannot tell him the complete truth, which is you have been falling for him.

“I-we are…No. I can't and I won't lie to you, things have been…I don't know how to explain it. He's just been a little distant lately. And…I don't know if I should even be telling you this.” You tried to explain, chuckling.

“Come on, I've known you since what? Since you were 5?” You nodded. “I don't mind listening to you talking about this or anything. You should know by now that you can always come to me. Always, Y/N.”

“I know. Just feels kinda weird talking to the wrong Cameron.” You took another sip of your drink.

“Do you want me to wear a wig or some shit?” He said getting up, pointing towards the house like he was going to get an actual wig. Maybe he would, if you said yes. You pulled his hand to pull him back down and laughed at him.

“Don't! I just have never talked to you about stuff like that before.” You said, looking back at the beer pong table, noticing that your boyfriend was suddenly gone. You shrugged it off, thinking he went to get a drink.

“You don't have to. But if you ever want someone to talk to, you know where you can find me, sweetheart.” There it was again. You felt like melting on the spot.

“I know and thank you Rafey. I really appreciate it. I just feel-” “There you are! I looked everywhere for you!” Y/Bf/N slurred. You looked up and planted a small smile for him.

“Was here all along.” You said lowly to which Rafe snorted. “Got something to say Rafe?” Y/Bf/N scoffed and sucked his teeth.

Rafe and Y/Bf/N were never big fans of each other. They were forced to hang out because of the rest of their friend group and mostly, because of you even though you didn't want either one of them to feel uncomfortable being around the other.

“Let's just go. I need another drink.” You got up, grabbing Y/Bf/N's hand, before anything could start between the two. Rafe tightened his jaw and rolled his eyes looking away.

“I'll see you around, Rafe.” You greeted him, smiling sadly at him. He nodded, understanding and got up to join the rest of the boys.

The following weekend, Sarah had invited you over for a pool day. You were laying on the daybed, looking at your phone screen, waiting for a notification or a call to go off. You had texted your boyfriend, hours ago, to go to a party later the same day and he hadn't given a single sign of life.

“Y/N, turn it off. It's going to bother you for the rest of the day if you don't.” Sarah stated, coming out of the big mansion holding drinks in each hand. She handed you one, sitting down on the other daybed beside you.

“I'm sorry. You're right. I…it's just that things are weird between us. He's been ghosting me a lot lately and he's really distant. We barely hang out and when we do he's mostly on his phone or playing video games with the guys.” You confessed, sighing. Feeling like a weight has been lifted, finally getting the chance to talk about this with your best friend.

“Have you talked to him about it?” She asked, swirling her straw around her drink.

“No. Whenever I try talking to him about it, something happens. But there's more. Can I confess something to you?” You worriedly ask.

“Dude, did you murder someone?” Sarah jokingly asks, raising her eyebrows. “No! Sar!”

“Not yet!” She adds and you chuckle, shaking your head and then put your drink down.

“I need you to promise me to not say a word about this Sar. It's so embarrassing and wrong on so many levels.” You expressed taking hold of her hands.

“Y/N, you're scaring me. Of course, I promise.” She said, extending her pinky as well, intertwining with yours.

“Okay, so these last few days, maybe even weeks, I have had some thoughts. I have been thinking about someone else while I'm with Y/Bf/N. I-There's this guy that I think I have feelings for but I really shouldn't. I mean, it's wrong. It's so unfair towards Y/Bf/N. Fuck, I'm such a bad girlfriend.” You rambled, holding your head in your hands.

“Okay. Stop. You're not. You're the best girlfriend anyone could have. Y/Bf/N has never treated you properly and I know what I'm going to say is going to hurt, but he's not the one for you. Especially after treating you like this. And having these thoughts doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad girlfriend. I mean there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only actions talk.” Sarah reassured you, pulling your hands away from your face and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“Okay, now that we got that off your mind. Who is it?” Sarah asked excitedly. You raised your eyebrows, opening your mouth to reply but you couldn't form any words.

“I…it's-”

“Hello, ladies!” Topper appeared just in time, Kelce and Rafe following.

Sarah got up to greet the boys and you stood up, walking towards the older Cameron first.

“Hey Rafey!” You greeted, wrapping your arms around his waist. His large biceps curled around your shoulders, bringing you in a tight embrace.

“Hi sweetheart! You okay?” He whispered and you pulled away from his chest, nodding with a small smile. Then you hugged Topper and Kelce, making small talk with both.

“Hey, wanna help me in the kitchen?” Rafe suggested.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, walking inside the house, Rafe following you towards the kitchen. You sat on the counter and saw Rafe grabbing three bottles of beer from the fridge, leaving them on the counter beside you.

“What's up?” He asked, coming to stand between your legs, his two arms caging you. You felt your breath hitching, your whole body warming up and your swimsuit getting damp at the sight of his tan chest and abs.

“What do you mean?” You asked, clearing your throat.

“You don't seem okay. And I'm kind of worried.” He confessed.

“I'm good. Yeah. Thanks for asking.” You looked down at your thighs. “You sure? You can always talk to me. If you want.” He rambled, as you smiled once more and nodded before looking into his eyes, filled with concern and wondering if he had ever thought of you as something more than his sister's best friend.

“Yeah, I know. And thank you, truly. I just am in a weird situation with Y/Bf/N. He hasn't answered any of my texts today and we have barely hung out lately.” You confessed, pouting. Rafe's blood was boiling, seeing how Y/Bf/N had upset you so much.

“I'm sorry sweetheart, it sucks that he treats you like this. You deserve better, you know?” He admitted, reminding you of what his sister told you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asked, only then making you realize how close you are to each other. His chain dangling from his neck, his abs and biceps flexing with each small movement and the black swim shorts clinging on his thighs that you'd want to ride.

“Honestly,” you sighed, “I have no idea. I need some time to think about everything.” You exclaimed, Rafe nodded giving you a compassionate smile.

“Come here.” He pointed to himself as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, making you wrap your own around his waist.

“I don't like seeing you sad. Especially because of him.” He added, making you chuckle in his chest.

“And you know what they say. Though lovers be lost, love shall not.” He exclaimed, adding another Dylan Thomas quote, this one happening to be one of your favorites too.

You pulled away from his chest and smiled wider, your eyes flickering between his blue ones and his plump lips. He licked his lips out of instinct and leaned in slightly.

“Yo, where are those beers bro?” Kelce entered the kitchen, making you and Rafe immediately pull away. You got off the counter grabbing two of the beers and walked towards Kelce, handing him one, before going outside to give Top his own.

“Fucking cockblock.” Rafe whispered, under his breath.

Some hours later, you were reading a book on the daybed, while the boys and Sarah were playing volleyball in the pool. They all got out and spread out to sit on the other daybeds by the pool to dry.

“You can join me, if you'd like.” You suggested to Rafe seeing he didn't have anywhere to lay down, pulling your sunglasses on your head.

“Do you mind?” He asked, approaching the daybed. “No, not at all!” You exclaimed, shaking your head and making space for him. He laid down, his skin touching you and cooling you down from the North Carolina heat.

In the span of a few minutes, quiet snores were heard as his chest went up and down with each breath he took. You couldn't help but sit and admire him and you reached with your hand to scratch his head.

The feeling of your hand in his hair, awakening him.

“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." You apologized profusely. Rafe smiled and laid his head on your chest, wrapping one of his arms around your waist falling back to sleep while you continued the scratching, pulling a strand or two on the back of his head making him sigh in pleasure.

Thinking about how you would pull his hair while he ate you out or when you would make out and he would lower his lips to leave sweet kisses on your neck.

Suddenly you felt consumed by your fatal fantasies, despite knowing they're make-believe but they feel like binding promises with him that needed to stop filling your thoughts.

Looking at his eyelashes fluttering, his cheeks now red from being in the sun for the whole day and the freckles that adorned his shoulders started making you think about who else could satisfy him, if not you?

Who else could hold him like you? Who's gonna know him like you do?

Hours later, after taking a shower and doing your hair and makeup, you were in Sarah's bedroom trying to decide what to wear for the party.

“I still have that green dress you wore to Kiara's birthday last year, you could wear that.” Sarah suggested from her ensuite bathroom, as she applied mascara. You sighed, still roaming her closet for a cute dress. Suddenly, a knock was heard.

“Come in!” Sarah yelled from the bathroom, the door opening revealing a dripping wet Rafe with just a towel around his hips.

“Hey, do you have any idea where my shaving cream is?” Rafe asked, looking around the room for his sister, his eyes landing on you searching around the closet wearing an old shirt of his and shorts that didn't leave much to his imagination.

“Oh, sorry Y/N needed it.” Sarah said, pulling you out of your trance. “What? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry for that!” You apologized, walking to the bathroom to grab it.

“It's no problem.” He thanked you as you handed it to him. “In how long do you reckon you'll be ready?” He asked both of you, since he was the designated driver for the night, staring at you chewing on his gum.

“If Y/N ends up finding an outfit, I think in about 20. Maybe 30.” Sarah replied, coming out of the bathroom.

“You'd look good in anything, Y/L/N.” He winked, walking out of the room, shutting the door. You were left standing with your mouth open.

“Did you find something?” Sarah asked, putting deodorant on.

“I'm gonna do the green again.” You smiled, clearing your throat and walking towards the closet to grab it.

Rafe drove you and Sarah to the house where the party was held. Sarah grabbed your hand and dragged you inside, before you got the chance to thank him.

You reached the kitchen and got drinks, before finding the rest of your friend group. You couldn't help but look around, searching for him.

Your eyes finally reached the ocean blue eyes and you smiled, as he took a sip from his drink nodding slightly at you. You shook your head smiling, feeling your phone vibrating in your bag. You pulled it out and your boyfriend's name popped up.

“Oh, shit.” You whispered. Sarah saw your shocked expression and looked down at your hands holding your phone.

“You're not picking that up. He fucking ghosted you for a whole day!” She exclaimed, taking it from your grasp and throwing it in her own bag. “Let's go dance! Get your mind off him.” She suggested, grabbing your hands and running to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room. The rest of the girls joined you, as well as some tourons who seemed to take a liking to all of you.

Rafe was staring at you, as a guy put his arms around you. You seemed uncomfortable, grimacing and pushing him away as gently as you could. Sarah even tried pulling you closer to her, shaking her head at him. But he was stronger, pulling you even closer than before. He started grinding his hips on your behind and you seemed disgusted and wanted to get out there. Rafe walked through the crowd, pushing some people to get to you faster.

“What's up man?” He asked, putting his arms on this guy’s shoulder pulling him from you.

“Yo, I'm kinda busy dude.” The touron replied, slurring mostly, grabbing your waist to pull you closer again.

“You're not. She's with me.” Rafe was irritated that he couldn't take no for an answer. This time he pushed the guy away from you.

“Yeah, right. Dude go find some other girl to fuck.” The guy exclaimed, coming closer again before Rafe stopped him by grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “What the fuck dude?”

“You're going to leave her alone and you're going to get the fuck out of here.” Rafe's jaw tightened.

“You cannot tell me what to do.”

Rafe scoffed and looked at you.

“Can you hold my beer, sweetheart? Thanks.” He asked, handing you his bottle. Before you could look up from the bottle in your hand, a loud smack was heard and people hollered.

You looked up and the guy is on the ground, his nose bleeding and Rafe keeps throwing punches at him. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped, as Sarah pulled you towards her.

“Rafe! Stop!” You yelled, pulling away from Sarah. Rafe, at the sound of your voice, stopped the punches. He got up, spitting on the guy, before walking away.

You looked around, at the crowd of people staring at you expectantly. You opened your mouth to say something but you just sighed and walked to the direction, Rafe had gone.

You were reaching the staircase, when you felt something or rather someone, pulling on your hand. You turned around and Y/Bf/N was there.

“Why the fuck are you ignoring my calls?” He demanded, tightening his grip around your wrist.

“Not right now Y/Bf/N.” You tried to escape his grip but he was stronger than you.

“What the fuck do you mean not right now? You fucking ghosted me!” He exclaimed, pulling you towards him.

“Now you know what that feels like.” You replied, finally escaping his pull on you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Get the fuck back here!” He yelled, but it was no use. You were already up the stairs, searching for Rafe. You entered two bedrooms until you reached the third to find him sitting on the bed holding his head in his hands.

“Rafey?” You whispered, entering the room and closing the door.

“I'm okay, Y/N. Go back downstairs.” He advised, raising his head to look at you. His hair was messed up, probably from his fingers dragging through it.

“How is your hand?” You asked, approaching him and taking a seat beside him. Softly, you grabbed his hand to examine it. His knuckles were bruised and bloody.

You got up and walked in the ensuite, searching for a first aid kit or anything that could help you clean up his hand. You found some gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You sat back beside him and pulled his hand in your lap as you carefully cleaned his knuckles, grimacing whenever he hissed from the pain and lastly you wrapped his hand in gauze.

“All better now.” You exclaimed, sighing.

“Thanks.” He whispered. “I'm sorry that you had to witness all of that.” He apologized, looking at his now bandaged hand.

“I should be thanking you. That guy was…I-I really appreciate you helping me. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't step up.” You reassured him, grabbing his hand once again. He looked up and stared into your eyes, as you got lost in his gaze.

“My sister is probably searching for you.” He reminded you as he pulled his hand out of your grasp, making you frown slightly.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” You said, playing with the hem of your dress. “Y/Bf/N is here too.” You whispered.

“Wait, really?” You nodded as Rafe sighed.

“Do you want to talk to him?” He asked and you sighed, shaking your head.

“No, not right now. I don't know.” You replied confused. “He had the fucking audacity to grab me and yell at me ‘cause I didn't answer his call a few minutes ago while he hasn't even replied to one of my texts.” You rambled, rolling your eyes.

“He grabbed you?” Rafe asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern and his jaw tightened.

“Okay, easy tiger. I can handle him.” You chuckled and he did the same. “He'll shit his pants.” He joked and you snorted.

“Yeah, right. Who's afraid of little old me?” You asked, rolling your eyes before turning to look at him again, catching him staring back at you. This time, you were closer than before. His lips mere inches away from yours. Your eyes flickered up and down his face.

“Y/N-” “Can I kiss you?” You blurted out. His eyes looked deeply into yours.

“You're drunk. I-We can't.” He explained. “I never finished my drink.” You said quickly. You felt like your heart was going to explode, your breaths were deep and quick.

“Sweetheart-” Before he could finish his sentence, your lips were on his. You pulled away for a split second, before he put his hands on your face pulling you back into him. Your tongues fighting for dominance inside your mouth, as one of your hands traveled down his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder and into his hair pulling strands. He groaned into the kiss as he pulled you to straddle his lap, your dress bunching up over your hips, your lacy black underwear appearing, as you messily made out with him. His hands pulled your hips to grind on him, as he groaned.

After a few minutes, you pulled away, seeing his lips glistening with your lip gloss, his hair messy and his cheeks flushed. You felt a poke on your inner thigh and you giggled, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Sorry for that.” He apologized, chuckling breathlessly. “I just feel so high school every time I look at you.” You giggled and nodded. “The feeling's mutual.”

“I can't believe that this actually happened. Holy shit.” He cursed, falling backwards on the bed, pulling you with him giggling.

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” You whispered, as your lips brushed his jawline. “With you?” You whispered, as you bit the lobe of his ear.

“Y/N…” He shuddered. “I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you or anything. I know that things are messy with Y/Bf/N, but I can't handle being a rebound or something for you to make up your mind about him. Cause I'm down bad for you.” You sat up, listening to him.

“Rafe, I can't stop thinking about you. That's mostly the reason I want to break things off with Y/Bf/N.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, his hands finding home on the curves of your hips.

“My relationship with Y/Bf/N was good at first, but I couldn't help myself but compare him to you at almost everything. Eventually my mind would just fog up and the only thing that was clear was you.” You confessed.

“Since wh-” His phone started ringing, interrupting him. He groaned as he pulled it from his pocket and answered it, after seeing it was his sister.

“She's with me. She's okay. Yeah. Bye.” He hung up quickly. “Y/Bf/N is searching for you. You should head downstairs.” He exclaimed, tightening his jaw once more.

“I don't w-” “We'll talk about this some other time, okay?” He said and you had no other choice but nod your head. You got off of him and walked towards the door, after pulling your dress back down and fixing your lipgloss on the vanity mirror.

“I'll see you around Rafey.” You greeted, as you reached for the door handle.

When you walked downstairs, you found Sarah in the kitchen with Kiara.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked immediately when she saw you approaching, wrapping her arms around you.

“Yeah, I'm alright. I just wanted to check on Rafe.” You nodded in assurance. “Hey, where's Y/Bf/N?” You asked, looking around the kitchen.

“I think he's with Topper.” Kiara replied, pointing towards the living room. You nodded, thanking her and walked there, Sarah and Kiara following not far behind.

You looked around for a few seconds, before your eyes fell on him sitting on the couch, with a blonde touron under his arm talking to Kelce while Topper was making out with a girl on the other side of the couch. Your eyes filled with tears and your jaw tightened.

Even though you were doing far worse things upstairs with Rafe, seeing this was killing you. You cleared your throat and approached them and when Y/Bf/N saw you, he removed his arm from around the touron and got up to greet you.

“Where were you? I was so worried, baby.” He said while you put on one of your fakest smiles and nodded. “I-I was in the bathroom upstairs. I felt kinda sick.” You lied, still smiling.

“Oh no. Let me order an Uber for you.” He said, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“I-What?” You were furious but also really confused. “I'm feeling fine now and I want to stay but would you really just get me a fucking taxi to go home?” You asked, scoffing.

“Don't.” He said in a warning tone, raising his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the girls.

“Let's get the fuck out of here.” Sarah advised, sending Y/Bf/N a death glare.

Sarah wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you outside towards Kiara's Jeep.

“He's a fucking douchebag. I, seriously, cannot understand what you saw in him!” Kiara exclaimed, as she put the key in the ignition. Sarah smacked her arm from the passenger seat, while you played with the hem of your dress.

“Yeah, neither do I.” You agreed.

The next morning, you woke up from your phone ringing. You groaned as you picked it up before checking on the contact name.

“Hello?” Your voice was still groggy from sleep.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, baby. I was just wondering if you'd be up for brunch at the Country Club.” Y/Bf/N suggested and you groaned once again before nodding your head even though he couldn't see you.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed.

“Great, I'll pick you up in an hour. See you then.” He replied, smiling.

“Okay, bye.” You said, hanging up the call before he got the chance to say anything else. You looked over at the alarm clock on your bedside table, seeing as it was 9am. You got up and went into your ensuite to Take a warm shower. When you came out, your phone pinged signifying a new notification.

loml

love you

Seen 9:12 am

You just stared at the text, before leaving Sarah a voice message about what's happening. Then began getting ready, putting on one of your favorite sundresses and a pair of sandals.

When you reached the Country Club, you noticed that he was fidgeting and squirming in his seat.

“Are you okay?” You asked, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah baby. What do you wanna eat?” He said, picking up the menu, as the waitress approached.

“I'll have the blueberry pancakes.” You ordered smiling.

“I'll…um…I'll have the eggs benedict.” He said, as the waitress thanked and took the menus before she walked away. His eyes captivated on her walk back to the counter, making you roll your eyes.

“I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have reacted that way.” He apologized. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, I could've handled it better. But Y/N, I feel you slipping away and I cannot lose you. I love you so so much. You're the love of my life.”

“And I know this might sound crazy but I told Lucy I'd kill myself if you ever left. That's how much I've fallen for you” He said, chuckling, recalling a conversation he had with his sister. Gazing at you starry-eyed and you wondered if anything he was saying was true.

Your mind was trying to decide what to do. If you brought up Rafe, he would storm out, creating chaos. And if you broke things off now, he would make a huge scene, embarrassing you and tarnishing your family's name and reputation. Taking everything into consideration, you remembered what your mother always told you growing up. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Last night was…eventful. I am not going to lie to you but I was hurt that you hadn't replied to me for a whole day, I was hurt that I found you with that touron. And after seeing how you've been behaving and-and treating me these last few weeks, I did not think we could recover from it. I thought we were done.” You confessed.

“I love you Y/N. You are the love of my life and I'll love for the rest of it. I'm so sorry I've ever made you feel like this. I truly am. But I am here, from now on. And I-I will change. For you.” He rambled, grabbing your hand from across the table. You smiled and nodded, letting him pull you for a kiss.

During the week, Y/Bf/N, truthfully had been a changed man. He was calling you every day to see what's up, hung out with you a lot more and even slept a few days at yours.

On Wednesday, you would be staying at Sarah's, as planned, but she had taken Wheezie on a shopping spree in the main land.

sarbear

the fucking ferry broke

might be extra late

go at mine

rafe is there

Seen 5:34pm

Your body covered with shivers, by Sarah mentioning her brother. You hadn't gotten the chance to see him after the party the previous week. You were really caught up with hanging out with Y/Bf/N, that you didn't get the chance to talk to him about what went down between you two. Even though your mind kept going back to the night of the party and the way he kissed you and touched your body.

You

hang in there

did you end up buying anything?

Seen 5:37 pm

sarbear

haul l8r

love you

sorry

Seen 5:40 pm

You

stfu

love you too

Seen 5:41 pm

After putting down your phone, you started making your bag for tonight before driving to Tannyhill. You rang the bell of the large mansion, a shirtless, tan adonis opening the door.

“Y/N? Sarah's not here.” He said, looking around the house.

“That's how you greet me? Come on, Cameron!” You smirked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, where are my manners?” He asked, sarcastically.

“Sar said I could wait for her here.” You continued. “If that's okay?”

“Of course, yeah. Come in.” He opened the door further for you to enter. He walked to the kitchen, where he had left the fridge door open.

“I came downstairs to grab a bite. Do you want anything? Something to drink?” He suggested closing the fridge door.

“Water's just fine.” You smiled, reaching for the cabinet with the cups, pulling the purple one you've been using since you were 9, when you and Sarah went to Ikea with her parents and got matching ones. You have the other one in your home, for whenever Sarah comes over.

You filled it up and brought it to your lips taking a sip, as Rafe was searching through the pantry for snacks. He came out holding a few bags of candy and a bag of chips. You laughed at the sight and he looked at you confused.

“What? I'm hungry. You know, Rose says I'm still growing.” He muttered in a serious tone, making you cackle.

“I'm playing GTA with the boys upstairs. Wanna join?” He asked, making you notice the headset around his neck. He was already heading towards the staircase, after he grabbed your bag, where you followed like a lost puppy.

You entered his room after him, that was dark with the curtains closed, red colored LED lights lighting it up. The room was cold due to the air-conditioning, so cold that when you went in you started shivering, trying to cover up yourself with your hands. Rafe dropped your bag on his bed and noticed your shivering figure, immediately turning the A/C off, opening the windows.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Come on.” He said, sitting down with his back on the side of his bed, his ankles crossing. You followed him and sat down beside him, grabbing one of the bags of candy when you heard him chuckle.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“Nothing. I really wanted those Sour Patch Kids.” He replied, pointing at the bag of candy.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Take it.” You shoved it in his hand. He shook his head and put his headset back on.

“Kelce, you still there?” He asked, as he pressed some buttons on the Playstation controller and you could see a tiny person walk around on the screen.

“Can I play too?” You whispered and Rafe chuckled.

“Yo, Kelce!” He called. “Is Top joining?” He asked.

“Okay, you got about 10 minutes.” He spoke, handing you the controller, removing his headset. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Can I punch someone? Or, or can I drive?” You asked excitedly and he nodded, showing you what buttons you have to press to steal someone's car and drive it. On your first try, you crashed on a building and started running.

“Okay, let's try again. Triangle to enter. There you go.” He encouraged you, while you threw a grandma out of her car and started driving.

“I'm doing it Rafey!” You exclaimed. “I know, I see that. Come on, press R2.” He advised, smiling at you.

“I did it!” You screamed, jumping on him when you parked the car. “That was so cool!” You whispered in the crook of his neck, as you hugged him. His hands traveled around your back, holding you close to him. When you pulled away, you stared at his blue eyes.

“S-sorry.” You apologized, getting off of his lap and removing your arms from around him.

“That's alright.” He whispered, putting the headset back on and grabbing the controller from your hand.

“Hey Kelce, you there?” He called, as you started biting your lip, chipping the nail polish off of one of your fingers, feeling embarrassed.

“You okay?” He asked, still looking at the screen. “Y/N?” He whispered and you looked at him, thinking that he spoke to one of the boys.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't want to make things awkward between us. Again.” You confessed and he nodded.

“You didn't. And I meant to talk to you about last weekend.” He admitted. “I do not regret what happened between us. And I know you probably did and I don't want to hear it. It's going to make things just worse for me. I'm already-” “Rafey.” You interrupted him. He turned to look at you, pausing the game. When you looked at his flushed from the heat cheeks and ocean blue eyes, you could not resist and every ounce of logic flew out the window. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips with his, your tongue entering his mouth as your hands traveled in his hair and chest.

“Y/N-” He pulled away “Touch me, please.” You whispered, begging him as you pulled him back on your lips. His hands faltered, as he brushed them on your back, pulling you on his lap. You both messily made out with each other, as Rafe's hands grazed your breasts and your ass, before hearing Kelce yell from the headset. You pulled away with your eyes wide.

“I have turned off the mic.” He admitted and you nodded, noticing your lipgloss, now transferred on his plump lips bringing you back to the last time you did this with him.

“You have to know I did not.” You confessed, your hand scratching the back of his head.

“Did what?” He asked, confused as Kelce continued talking on the headset.

“I did not regret it. I've wanted you for such a long time. Thought about you for such a long time. And I do want this, all of this…but-” “You're with Y/Bf/N.” He finished your sentence for you and you sighed.

“I tried to finish things off with him‐” “You love him, Y/N, I shouldn't get in the middle of this.” He said, trying to pull you off of him.

“No, no. I don't. I lo-love you.” You confessed, Rafe's eyes widened. “I do. I love you. You don't have to say anything and it may seem like I'm just saying it but I do mean it. I've loved you for such a long time.”

“Do you really mean it?” He whispered and you nodded, before Rafe crashed his lips back on yours.

“I'm so glad you said that.” He started. “Because I do too. I love you, Y/N. For, fuck, 8 years?” He scoffed and you smiled. He crashed his lips on yours again, before taking hold of the back of your thighs and swiftly lifted you in his arms before he laid you down on his bed. He removed his headset, throwing it beside the controller and then hovered over you, starting to kiss you messily once more.

His kisses started traveling down your body, slowly and gently. Your neck, your breasts, your tummy, your upper thighs.

You felt like your body was on fire, as his hands traveled on your torso, over your tank top.

“Can I?” He asked and you nodded, helping him remove it.

“Someone's eager.” He teased with a smirk on his mouth. “Very.” You answered, pulling him back to kiss him and then pushed his hand lower on your body where you needed him the most.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked and you nodded. “I need words, sweetheart.” That's all it took for you to make up your mind.

“Yes, Rafey. I want you. Your fingers, your mouth, anything.” You confessed and Rafe nodded before removing your shorts and panties in one move.

“Fuck.” He whispered. “You're gorgeous.”

Feeling more exposed than ever, you felt the need to close your legs, but he held them open.

“Don't be shy with me.” You nodded and you let him do his work on you. His fingers in delicate moves, traced your thighs and your pussy lips, before pulling them apart. You moaned, feeling his hot breath on you. He smirked, before he dove in with his mouth, licking and sucking your clit and shoving a finger in your hole. His finger entering and easily touching your sweet spot.

“Rafey!” You whimpered. He continued as he stared at your Y/E/C eyes. Moans were spilling out of your mouth as he added another finger, continuing his previous motions.

“Mine.” He whispered, kissing a spot on your upper thigh. You felt your body warming up, you were panting as he made you feel so good.

“Rafe, I-” “Go on, baby.” He encouraged, as in the span of a few seconds you felt the coil inside you snapping, cumming all over his face.

“Fuck.” You whispered, his face covered in your juices. He pulled his fingers out of you and pulled them in your mouth, making you moan once more.

“Than-” “Don't. It was my pleasure.” He exclaimed, coming over and kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself.

“Do you want me to help you?” You suggested, taking a glance at his cock, now hard and begging to get out of the confined space. “You don't have to.” He quickly brushed you off, shaking his head. He got off of you and into his ensuite to grab a towel so he could clean you up.

“Thanks.” You whispered, when he returned to bed. “You can take a shower, if you want.” He suggested, giving you yet another kiss.

“Y/N? Rafe?” Sarah's voice was heard.

“Shit.” You cursed, noticing you were still naked on Rafe's bed. He grabbed your articles of clothing and handed them quickly to you, as you did your fastest to put them on. Just in time, Sarah opened the door, finding you dressed sitting on Rafe's bed and he had fallen on the floor to grab his controller and headset, whilst also trying to cover his erection.

“I am so sorry. This day has been so chaotic. Come on, Wheezie wants to show you her new clothes!” She said, entering further into the room. You got up from your place on the bed, grabbing your bag.

“See you later, Rafe.” You greeted as Sarah pulled you out of the room, he winked at you and you chuckled before closing the door.

You and Sarah were watching 'The Breakfast Club’ in her bed, when Sarah fell asleep on your shoulder, drooling on your sleep shirt. Your phone pinged, from the night table beside you and you grabbed it smiling.

rafey

you asleep?

Seen 11:39 pm

You

not yet

your sister is tho

Seen 11:41 pm

rafey

fuck

i wanted to see you

finish what we started

Seen 11:43 pm

You bit your lip and smirked at his suggestion

You

i wish

btw i am going to talk to Y/Bf/N

break up w him

i don't want to lie to either of you

i want to be with you

if you want as well

i mean

we do not have to rush things

but it's up to you

Seen 11:47 pm

The dots on your screen disappeared, coming back minutes later

rafey

i wanna be w you

i love you Y/N

Seen 11:53 pm

You

i love you

good night

Seen 11:55 pm

“Can you grab me my water bottle?” Sarah said groggily and you smiled, handing her the bottle beside you. She took a few sips, before wrapping her arms around your torso and falling back asleep.

Saturday came around and it was a special one as you had planned a movie night with your best friends in Tannyhill.

Y/Bf/N had begun being distant again. You had called him many times since your last encounter with Rafe, to meet up and talk. But he never answered.

When all of your friends arrived, everyone sat around the living room as you helped Sarah carry the snacks and drinks from the kitchen. When you came out, you saw that there was one spot left besides John B, probably kept for Sarah. You looked around and saw Rafe smirking and nodding in his direction. You followed and stood in front of him.

“We can share.” He whispered, smirking. “If you'd like.” You nodded, seeing him make space on the loveseat. Before you could sit down, he pulled most of your weight to sit on his lap.

“Rafe!” You warned, whispering, pointing with your eyes to all of your friends.

“Don't worry, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear, before he pulled a blanket over your legs. You made yourself comfortable on his lap, as his hands traveled low from your waist on your thighs, where your breath hitched.

“You're gonna have to be quiet. Can you do that princess?” He whispered in your ear and you nodded.

His fingers stroked your thighs, as you bit your lip trying to contain any sound from coming out.

“Y/N, what do you think we should watch?” Sarah asked, still looking on her phone searching for a movie, John B kissing the side of her head.

“I don't mind.” You whimpered, as Rafe brushed his fingers over your clothed private parts. “I'm okay with everything.”

His hand passed the elastic of your shorts and your panties, cupping your pussy. You shuddered and bit your lips once again, when you felt one of his fingers opening you up.

“You're soaking wet and I have barely touched you.”

“Rafe, it's already hard as it is to stifle my sighs and moans. Don't start with the dirty talk.”

The assault in you continued happening, Rafe pressing a few kisses on the side of your neck too before bringing you to an orgasm. You bit your hand, as you released.

“You okay Y/N/N?” Kiara asked, from the couch. You looked at her and nodded.

“Yeah, I just think I'm having cramps or something. I'll go grab a painkiller.” You said, raising yourself from Rafe's lap, making him adjust in his seat and running to the closest bathroom to clean up and throw some water on your face to cool down. Thankful that no one suspected anything.

It was Thursday when you were talking on the phone Rafe, about your birthday party that was on Saturday when your doorbell rang.

“Hold on, someone's at the door.” You said, walking from the kitchen to the front door, seeing that it's Kiara.

“It's Kie. I'll talk to you later.” You assured him.

“Okay, I love you.” He left a relieved sigh and you smiled, even if he couldn't see you.

“I love you too. Bye.” You hung up, before opening the door. “Hey, Kie. What's up?” You smiled kindly at her, but the look on her face made you wipe it off right away.

“I need to talk to you.” She exclaimed and you opened the door further so she could get in.

“You're scaring me, what's going on?” You asked her, as she sat down on a stool in front of the kitchen island.

“I was going to J’s and when I was going through the Cut, I saw Y/Bf/N's car parked outside of Barry's.” She explained, you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Barry? The guy who sells weed?” You scoffed.

“Yeah. Well he doesn't sell just weed, you know that right?” She explains but you feel lost. “Coke, Y/N.”

“What?” You were confused. Y/Bf/N has never done anything other than weed.

“He wouldn't-” “ I saw him walking out holding a baggie of a white substance.”

Your face dropped. You couldn't believe your ears.

“What the actual fuck?” You whispered.

“Have you talked with him? I figured he didn't tell you about that.” Kie explained.

“I haven't since last week, no. I have called him multiple times but he has completely ignored me. It's like I don't even exist. And especially after our last talk, all his empty promises about changing. Fuck.” You rambled, Kiara nodding, holding your hand. This conversation making you consider if he was high at the Country Club when he was apologizing or the party where he grabbed you.

“You told him about this Saturday?” She asked and you nodded. “Yeah, last week. I don't know if he still remembers though.”

“Try calling him again and if he doesn't answer, don't bother anymore. We all knew he was an asshole, but treating you like this? And on top of it all, he does drugs? This guy is dangerous, Y/N.”

“Thank you for coming all the way here to tell me Kie, I really appreciate it. And I know. I…I'm kind of trying to break things off. I deserve better.” You whispered the last part, making Kie smile and squeeze your upper arm before she got up and left. You immediately grabbed your phone calling Y/Bf/N three times, with no luck of him answering.

You

you better have a good explanation as to why you don't answer my calls or texts for more than a fucking week

i really need to talk to you

it's important

Sent 12:28 pm

On Saturday morning, you had started prepping the house, cleaning up even if it will get absolutely destroyed later and putting up the decorations Sarah bought from Party City. Your phone pinged, signifying a notification and you pulled it from the back pocket of your shorts.

rafey

good morning

happy birthday sweetheart

i love you

do you want me to come over and help?

Seen 10:23 am

You smiled at his texts, quickly replying before Sarah sees you slacking off. And also because she doesn't know about you and Rafe yet.

You

thank you so much rafey

i love you too

no it's okay

your sister is here to help

gtg

Seen 10:26 am

In the evening, you and Sarah had started getting ready. She had helped you with your hair and you were now doing your makeup when your phone rang.

“Oh, it's my brother. Want me to pick it up?” Sarah asked, as you applied your eyeliner.

“No, just leave it.” You answered before she handed it to you.

“Y/N, I'm not stupid. I've seen you and him all these years. How close you always have been.” She confessed. “And I know that something is going on with you two. And I am happy for you two. Truly.”

“You're not upset?” You asked cautiously, putting down the eyeliner and your phone.

“I am more upset that you didn't tell me anything. Of course I am happy for you two. My brother may be an idiot and sometimes a total asshole, but he never has been to you. I just want what's best for you. For either one of you.” You got up and hugged her tightly, as you thanked her profusely.

“I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want, Sar.” You whispered.

“At least now you don't have to sneak into his room while I'm sleeping.” She joked and you looked at her with widened eyes.

“You knew?” You asked and she nodded.

“I was fucking awake dude. And you didn't do a good job at being quiet.” She continued. “In or out of my bedroom.”

“Sar!” You warned.

“Just make sure that I don't get a niece or nephew anytime soon.” She smirked and you grabbed a pillow from your bed and threw it on her. “Shut up!” You screamed, chuckling.

After an hour of getting ready and pre-gaming with Sarah, the guests started coming. Soon the house was filled with Kooks and Pogues, even some tourons.

You in a short purple sequined dress searched around the house for the one person who you were hoping had already arrived. People stopped you to wish you and give you presents and others invited you for drinks but you refused continuing your search for Rafe.

When you entered the kitchen to grab a drink, you saw many familiar faces approaching you.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Kelce yelled, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around while you giggled.

“Happy birthday!” Topper approached, after Kelce put you down, to hug you.

“Thank you guys!” You spoke with a wide smile on your face as you looked around the kitchen.

“He's on his way! Sarah asked him to pick up more ice.” Topper pulled you closer and talked into your ear.

“W-who?” You asked, still going on with the act.

“We know, Y/N.” He smirked. “We are really happy for you two. Rafe has always had a crush on you. He was non stop talking or making everything about you. It was fucking time you two got together.”

You chuckled and nodded at Topper.

“Thank you, Top.” You whispered, making Topper wink at you. “Anytime.”

“Hello there, my birthday girl!” You felt strong arms wrapping around your waist, like they always did and his chin on your shoulder. You looked on your side and smiled.

“Hey!” You whispered and he leaned in for a kiss which you accepted. You hummed as he tried to deepen it, but you pulled away.

“I brought ice.” He pulled away to show you the bags of ice and you chuckled, pointing where to put them.

“And I brought you this.” He showed you a small black bag in his other hand. “I know you said that I shouldn't get you anything but I couldn't help myself.” You smiled and pecked his lips once more.

“You really didn't have to. But thank you.” You thanked him as he grabbed one of your hands in his.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet? So you can open it?” He asked and you nodded, pulling him with you towards the staircase. You got upstairs and unlocked your bedroom door, getting inside with your lover. When you closed the door, Rafe pinned you against it smirking.

“Don't get any ideas, Cameron!” You warned and Rafe groaned, before leaning in kissing your lips and then your jawline and neck. You pushed him backwards before things could escalate further and pulled him to sit on the bed beside you.

“It's not a big deal. I just hope you like it.” He handed the black bag to you and you smiled, opening it eagerly. You pulled out a black velvet box and an envelope. You opened the box, revealing a beautiful chain with Rafe's initial in diamonds.

“Rafe!” You whimpered, your eyes gathering tears.

“No crying on your birthday, sweetheart!” He warned, quick to wipe a tear that fell down. “You'll ruin your makeup.” He added, making you nod and try to stop the tears.

“I love it!” You said, genuinely.

You then opened the envelope and smiled at the scrawny handwriting.

Y/N,

Happy Birthday my love. I hope that it's a good one. It's the first of so many we have spent together that I get to call you ‘mine’, in some way. I hope you love the necklace. It's a reminder that I really know you, I don't own you (Yes, I did listen to Taylor Swift). I love you. Forever and Always.

-your Rafey

“Rafe! This is so cute! How can I not cry?” You wondered, hugging him tightly. He rubbed your back to try and calm you down.

“Can you help me put it on?” You asked, pulling away from him as he nodded, grabbing the box and removing the necklace carefully. You moved your hair on one side, as he put it on you and did the clasp in the back. You held the letter on your fingers, before leaning in and kissing him once more.

“It's the best gift anyone has gotten me.” Rafe smiled and got up.

“I'm glad. But now there are so many people down there waiting to celebrate with you and even though I feel honored to be up here, we should get downstairs.” He continued. “And because that dress is really distracting and I won't be able to resist if we stay any longer.” You chuckled and got off your bed, walked out of your room with him and locked the door.

Downstairs the party was going in full swing. Some people were dancing in the living room, others playing beer pong in the dining room and others were just drinking and mingling with everyone.

You were dancing with Rafe in the middle of the living room, all eyes on you two. Your fingers entwined and cheeks pink in the twinkling lights. There in your glittering prime as the lights refracted sequin stars off your silhouette.

“I'm gonna go get a drink. Want anything?” Rafe whispered in your ear and you shook your head.

“No, I'm fine. Thanks.” You replied, shaking your hips from side to side, Rafe squeezing your hip. “I'll be right back.” He pressed a kiss on your temple, before unwrapping his arms from around you and walking towards the kitchen.

On his way back, his sister stopped him, pointing at you.

“She's having the time of her life" She smiled. “Don't fucking ruin it.” Sarah warned before she noticed the one person none of you wanted there, entering the house.

“Shit's about to go down.” She nodded her head towards Y/Bf/N walking in the house with Barry and a girl under his arm. Rafe's eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

“I'll take care of it.” Rafe exclaimed. “Just get Y/N. Keep her away.” Sarah nodded, already walking in your direction.

“Sar!” You yelled over the music, the drinks making you a little tipsy.

“Hey, Y/N/N. Are you having fun?” Sarah asked, smiling at you.

“So much!” You started. “Where's Rafey? Have you seen him?” You asked excitedly, searching around for him. Sarah pulled you closer and hugged you tightly in her chest, trying to make you avoid any sighting of Y/Bf/N.

“I love you so much!” Sarah exclaimed and you smiled wider, looking up at her. “I love you too, Sarbear. You okay?” You asked, worry filling you.

“Yeah, just fi-” “There's a fight going on outside!” A touron yelled, grabbing everyone's attention, including yours.

“What?” You pulled away from Sarah, shocked.

“It's probably drunk tourons fighting. It's no biggie.” Sarah shrugged and you examined her face carefully.

“What? Oh” You realized. “It's Rafe, isn't it?”

“Y/N/N-” “Don't fucking lie to me, Sar.” You warned and she nodded slowly, before you took off running outside on your porch, as well as you could with your high heels. You pushed people to pass and find him. You needed to find him. You caught a glimpse of the back of his head, before you pushed some others ending up locking eyes with Y/Bf/N.

“There she fucking is!” He yelled, making everyone that had surrounded the two guys, look at you. Rafe turned around and came close to you.

“Go inside, sweetheart.” He advised and you shook your head when his hands touched your shoulders. Sarah came up running behind you, pulling you away.

“No, I'm not going anywhere. This is stupid.” You admitted, stepping up in front of Y/Bf/N. Rafe was close behind you, in case something happened.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him in disgust.

“Come on, baby. It's your birthday, I couldn't miss it.”

His eyes were bloodshot, white powder still on the bottom of his nose. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Like you ever cared.” You started. “You came here to what? Win me back? Tell me that you'll change?”

“Y/N, baby, I love you so much. I'm sorry.”

“You don't get to come here and tell me you feel bad. You have said that I'm the love of your life about a fucking million times and you didn't mean it once! You only wanted to show me off in public, whilst all you did was slide into inboxes and slip through bars. You have fucking hurt me time and time again. And like the fool I am, I fucking believed you.” You rambled, everyone looking at you as Rafe yelled at them to leave.

“Y/N, you don't mean any of that. You love me too. Come on now. Fucking behave.” He exclaimed, approaching you.

“I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning of yours.” You scoffed.

“Was any of it true? Did none of our time together mean anything to you? Are you that heartless? Or did you really think I'm that stupid and I'd let you treat me like shit so you could get your dick wet?” You asked, pushing him.

“Stop it.” He whispered, his jaw clenching.

“Here, everyone! The smallest man who ever lived!” You yelled, making a show for everyone.

“Y/N, I said stop it! Fucking bitch.” He scoffed.

“And you know what? You never measured up in any measurе of a man.” You chuckled, as people around you hollered and laughed.

Y/Bf/N furrowed his eyebrows in anger, launching towards you. Right before your eyes, he was suddenly on the ground, with Rafe on top of him pushing him on the grass.

“Still pussy-whipped Cameron? She's too high up her ass to even notice you.” Y/Bf/N said, while struggling to get up with Rafe's weight holding him down. Rafe turned him around and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“I'll give you about 5 seconds to get the fuck away from here. You'll never bother Y/N again. And if I see you around, I won't hesitate to fucking rip you apart.” He spat on his face, before getting off of him. Y/Bf/N got up and raised his middle finger towards you, before walking away.

“Good riddance asshole!” You yelled.

Rafe sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulder pulling you into a hug.

“Go back inside folks! The party's back on!” Sarah shouted, making everyone run inside the house.

“You okay?” Rafe whispered in your ear, after ensuring no one could bother you two. You nodded.

“Thanks to you.” You confessed. “If you hadn't been here…I don't even want to think about what he could have done.” Your body shook and Rafe hugged you tighter.

“You're okay.” He kissed the temple of your head. “I'm right here. Always will be.”

You turned your head, grabbing his head and pulling him closer to you, attaching your lips to his.

“Now, let's go celebrate me!” You smiled, walking towards your house, making Rafe chuckle.

Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer

A/N: i have been working on this since ttpd came out. i tried my best to add as many taylor references and if you're not a fan of her music, i'm sorry lol. hope you liked this, it's finally yours!!! also huge thank you to @rafeandonlyrafe for proofreading and helping me with her support and love!!!!!

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