#Of course he's on raya

[visenyaism]

Why do you hate Cregan?

i just think his vibe is just atrocious and annoying plus he’s 23 but can i get y’all to agree with me if i say it’s because he was going to die for rhaenyra and yet usurped baela targaryen and then caused his own bloody succession crisis with his ten children by three wives due to his own commitment to keeping women out of power. team black’s strongest soldier is running up 8x team greens numbers why

[merriclo]

playing dnd and mY FAVORITE NPC FUCKING DIED and his daughter doesn’t know yet and she’s only 9. his last words were him telling Robyn (my character) to tell his daughter he’s sorry and that he loves her and asking him to take care of his kid for him bc his little sister and her would get along well. and he knows that they would because he died protecting his sister i am going to start profusely sobbing

[formulamar]

puppy love (but it’s cats!) part 1

max verstappen x vet!yn

fc: girls from pinterest

summary: as a Monaco native, Yn has had her fair share of encounters with F1 drivers. and as a vet, she has even fostered close relationships with some of the driver's pets. what happens when she is introduced to a single Max Verstappen who has two adorable cats?

vetyn

liked by albon_pets and 2,568 others

vetyn we had the cutest visitor today! 🐱💗

210 comments

ynbestfriend: hard at work or hardly working 🧐

vetyn: you’re just jealous i’m not crunching numbers all day 🙄

ynsfriend: can’t decide who’s cuter!

albon_pets: Dr. Yn we thought WE were the CUTEST?

vetyn: i promise YOU ARE! also some of my finest patients 🐾

albono23: now i can’t help but wonder which sibling commented this 😭😭😭

rumorhasitf1

liked by lion33, maxiellvr and 4,672 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 RUMOR HAS IT 🚨

Nearly 7 months after his dramatic split with his ex-girlfriend, it appears like Max is on the hunt for love 👀. Sources confirm the World Champion has recently joined the popular celebrity dating app Raya and he has been spotted out on a few dates. Is it possible we might see a new face in the RB garage soon?

531 comments

maxiellvr: lowkey i feel like he's going to end up dating who we least expect

30three: like Kendall Jenner or something 😭

rbgirl: no because when i saw that TikTok with his Raya profile I actually jumped!!!!

dutch1: sooooooooo who's gonna help a girl out and let Max know i'm free any day of the week!

vermax: no fr I wish he would do a Jeremy Fragrence type thing so I could apply to be his girlfriend 😒

verstappen4life: NOT THE JEREMY FRAGRANCE LMAODHJ

maxisfast: I never thought this day would come...@/maxverstappen1 OF COURSE I'LL MARRY YOU

frmlamax: yeah so, actually, he was on those dates with me sos xx

jimandsas1: hey, girly! so I know we don't know each other but...

maxstap1: dates. DATES. we all see that s at the end of DATE right? oh those lucky girls...

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vetyn’s story

translation: “new client”

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vetyn

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 2,954 others

vetyn: joyeux anniversaire à moi 🥳 (happy anniversary to me)

it's been 6 AMAZING years of having my dream job. feeling very grateful today. can't wait to keep learning, growing and meeting adorable friends 💘

245 comments

lilymhe: LETS GOOOO YN! WE'RE ALL SUPER PROUD! (but mostly me duh)

vetyn: thank you! you're my fav! (don't tell alex pls)

alex_albon: Oh ok. Cool. We pick favorites now.

char16: now WHAT is going on in the albono house 😭

ynbestfriend: ily girl. can't wait to celebrate you this weekend 😝

liked by vetyn

alexandrasaintmleux: Félicitations, belle ❤️‍🔥

vetyn: merci belle 🥰

albon_pets: Thanks for everything, doc 🤓

liked by vetyn

ynfriend: so proud!

roscoelovescoco: All's My Love's Dr. YN

vetyn: Awwww thank you Roscoe, I miss ya!

russ63: NOW WHY AM I JUST FINDING OUT YN IS ROSCOE'S VET TOO????

ham1lton: omg yes. I believe he was the og f1-related client and then it was the albon pets

ynsister: love you. almost reunited 🇪🇸

liked by vetyn

rumorhasitf1

liked by maxlov3r and 5,728 others

rumorhasitf1: Looks like Max Verstappen had a wild night out celebrating his 6th win of the season in Barcelona 👀

1,034 comments

rbgirl: THAT SHOULD BE ME HOLDING YOUR HAND THAT SHOULD BE ME MAKING YOU LAUGH THAT SHOULD BE ME THIS IS SO SAD THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEEE THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE

maxstap1: you're so quick with it LMFAO

maxlovescats: WOAH I JUST WOKE UP?????

butfirstmax: honestly i'm so happy for him go live your life king

maxisfast: is this like his frat boy era

hamstappen: I swear if they're back together and I threw that party for nothing

hamstappen: just kidding hehe

rbgirl: HELPPPPPPPPPP

vermax: rb pr team prob freaking out as we speak

30three: and Max is sleeping soundly

sluttycatdad: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

maxielno1: okay now... doesn't that kinda look like....

justaninchident: that's what I was thinking too

username: wait who

maxielno1: his ex

maxverstappen1

liked by redbullracing, vetyn and 1,309,672 others

maxverstappen1: Barcelona, that was fun! Let's do it again?

23,672 comments

redbullracing: 🦁

rbgirl: oh trust we saw it was fun

maxisfast: 😭

maxielno1: SIMPLY LOVELY 🥰

f1fan: LETS GO CHAMP 🙌

vetyn: mega! 💙💙

maxverstappen1: 😘💙

albono33: YN?

rbgirl: idk who this is but what is happenig here....

30three: so proud of you! 🧡

verstappen4life: yes! let’s do this everytime!

vermax: great job!!!! glad you had fun 😉

martingarrix: Mate how was the club?

maxverstappen1: Pretty good 😂

f1fan: 🔥🔥🔥

somedutchguy: LEGEND

twitter

vetyn's story

to be continued..

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩

a/n: y’all probably caught on already but this is set during the 2024 season anddddd i just wanted to do one part but tumblr is super annoying with the image limit 🙁 but lmk if you’re interested in a pt. 2! have a great day/night 🫶💐

[kyleoreillylover]

Love Potions

Jey Uso x Fem!Black!Reader x Sami Zayn (established relationship)

Summary: You swear it’s a superpower. There’s no other explanation. It’s like Jey was blessed with the divine ability to flip a switch in your brain and Sami’s at the same time. Doesn’t matter if you’re exhausted, fresh off a flight, half-asleep, or fresh out the gym dripping sweat — if Jey wants you and Sami, he’s getting you and Sami. Period. And the worst part? He knows it. Oh, that man knows exactly what he’s doing. OR You swear Jey has you and Sami under a love potion.

tagged: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbones450 @steakwithasideofmashngravy @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @hope4more  @partypoison00 @fearlesschimera

warnings: mentions of smut!! but no actual smut written

word count: 1,235

You swear it’s a superpower. There’s no other explanation. It’s like Jey was blessed with the divine ability to flip a switch in your brain and Sami’s at the same time. Doesn’t matter if you’re exhausted, fresh off a flight, half-asleep, or fresh out the gym dripping sweat — if Jey wants you and Sami, he’s getting you and Sami. Period.

And the worst part? He knows it. Oh, that man knows exactly what he’s doing.

He doesn’t even have to say much. Sometimes, it’s just a look — that look. The one where his eyes dip low and slow, scanning over you like he’s picking apart every inch, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek like he’s already thinking nasty things. His gaze lingers, hot like a brand, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of every part of yourself. Your heart skips, your breath catches, and no matter how tired you are, it’s like your whole body goes on high alert.

And when he speaks? It’s over.

“C’mon, baby,” he’ll say, low and rough, his voice like gravel smoothed over honey. His hand grazes your back, his fingers slow and deliberate, just barely touching you. His eyes stay on yours, half-lidded but sharp as ever. “Don’t run from me now.”

Run from him? Like you could?

You try to act like it doesn’t work on you. You really do. You’ll roll your eyes, huff, and mutter something about how "we are too tired for this, Jey." But then he’ll smirk — that smirk — slow and sharp like he’s daring you to keep lying.

"Too tired, huh?" His eyes flick to your lips. "Bet I could change your mind."

And just like that, you’re gone.

It’s the way he invades your space, close but never too close, until you feel the heat of him before you even see him. He doesn’t have to touch you at first, just be there, and you’re already rethinking every excuse you had to stay tired.

You remember one time in the hotel lobby. He didn’t even do anything at first. Just sat across from you and Sami, legs spread wide, leaning back like a king on his throne. His chain was swinging on his chest, fresh off a shower, skin still warm and glowing.

And all he did was look at you both. No words. Just that steady, hungry stare that had your thighs pressing together under the table. You swore you weren’t even gonna give him the satisfaction — you were tired, your feet hurt, and Sami was already scrolling on his phone, dead to the world.

But Jey? He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and called out softly, "Baby girl..." His voice was a slow drag, like he had all the time in the world. "You tryna ignore me, huh?"

You glanced up — mistake. His eyes locked with yours, and you knew you were done for.

And, of course, Sami had to notice.

"Don’t look at him," Sami muttered, not even looking up from his phone. His brows furrowed like he was focusing hard, but his face was pink, jaw clenching. "Don’t give him that satisfaction, Y/N. We’re tired, remember? Tired."

"I know," you whispered, eyes still locked with Jey’s. "I know."

But it was too late. You felt it in your chest, that warm, heavy buzz that only Jey could spark. Your pulse kicked up, and suddenly, every inch of you felt too aware.

Jey tilted his head, watching you closely, like he could see every thought running through your mind. He leaned in, resting his chin on his fist, and his eyes flicked to Sami next.

"You tired too, Zayn?" he asked, his grin slow and slick. He licked his lips, staring at Sami like he had plans. Big, nasty plans. "Don’t look tired to me."

Sami exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face like he was fighting for his life.

"Jey," Sami warned, his voice already cracking.

"You know you want it, lo'u alofa," Jey shot back, his eyes flashing with mischief. "Stop frontin’."

And that was all it took. Sami let out the loudest, most frustrated groan, tossing his phone on the table. "I hate you, habibi," Sami muttered, but he was already looking at you like, “We’re really doin’ this, huh?”

"Yup," Jey said, smug as ever, standing up slow and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of abs and those damn v-lines. He caught you looking. Of course, he did. "Y’all know the room number. Get up."

And you did. Of course, you did.

THE WORST PART?

He does it anywhere.

Locker room?

Jey waits until it’s just the three of you, then he’ll sit you on his lap like you’re just “chilling.” Except his hand will start tracing slow circles on your hip, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers things he has no business whispering when y’all have a match in 20 minutes. And it’s never just once. Nah, Jey makes sure you feel every word until you’re warm all over, legs squeezing together. He always chuckles like he’s so proud of himself.

Parking lot?

Sami’s getting bags from the trunk, and you’re standing there minding your business. Then Jey comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His hands slide down your sides, fingers teasing, his breath warm on your neck. “Look at you, baby girl,” he mutters, voice so low it’s barely a sound. “Look too damn good today.” You freeze, breath hitching, and he doesn’t stop. Just tilts his head to kiss your neck. “Might have to keep you in this car for a bit.”

Hotel room? Don’t even get him started.

Jey’s the type to grab you by the wrist, pull you into the bathroom mirror, and stare at you both like it’s a damn movie. His hands on your waist, lips grazing your ear, his voice sharp and low.

“Look at you, baby. Look how good you look with me.”

And it’s over.

You’re leaning into him, heart racing, and by the time Sami walks in, he’s rolling his eyes, tossing his bag down like, “You two are disgusting.”

But it’s not like Sami leaves. Nope, he watches for a second too long, cheeks pink, and you know he’s about to join you both.

AND THE THING IS...

Sami and you aren’t innocent either.

You’ve both gotten better at spotting Jey’s antics, even calling him out.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sami will say, holding up a hand like a referee calling a foul. “We just got to catering, Jey. Food first.”

You’ll chime in too, pointing a warning finger at him. “Yeah, no funny business, Uso. I’m hungry.”

But Jey? Jey will look at you both, dead in the eyes, and say something so obscene that Sami drops his fork, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep from choking on laughter.

“Don’t play with me, baby,” Jey says, tongue in his cheek, eyes flicking between you and Sami. “We can eat later.”

Sami’s face goes red. “This man is a menace.”

You’re covering your face, shoulders shaking from holding in your laughter. “You’re so nasty,” you say, still giggling like it’s not true.

And Jey? Jey’s just smiling, head tilted, eyes locked on you and Sami like he’s already planning his next move.

“You love it, though.”

And he’s right. You do.

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

I know your probably not going to see this since you have so many asks but I’m going to try anyway

Could you do relationship headcanons with the Elden ring girls?

(Whatever ones is up to you since I want to see which ones you will pick)

Oh ye of little Faith Anon!

Also, I decided to go the angst route for Marika and Melina so fair warning for that.

Now, since you gave me free rein to choose… My Wish Is My Command!

Malenia was not much of a talker.

She liked her alone time.

That said, she did like listening to others talk on occasion.

She especially liked listening to people talking about normal, everyday life.

It was a guilty pleasure of hers.

To hear about the simple things.

Hugging those they care for close.

Kissing the ones they love.

All the things she rarely ever felt.

But then, one day, she met you.

It was a complete accident, something that, if she had stepped on a different piece of the cobble path, never would’ve happened.

While she was walking the path, her head in the clouds, she caught her still flesh and bone foot on a broken piece of stone.

She, of course, was able to return herself to being upright near instantly.

Though… not without accidentally smacking you in the nose with her prosthetic.

Her unalloyed golden metal prosthetic.

Needless to say, you were bleeding.

Badly.

And Malenia, for all her grace and strength on the battlefield, was absolutely horrible when it came to people.

So, Malenia being the expert in Diplomacy she is, grabbed you by the back of your collar, and dragged you off without a word, nose still absolutely pouring blood.

And that is how you got here.

Sitting on a chair in THE Malenia’s room, pieces of cotton stuck up your nose as the red headed woman paced the room, not saying a single word.

This was an absolutely surreal experience.

An actual Demi-God, someone who could cut down an army with ease, had just accidentally wacked you in the face, dragged you into her room, and was pacing the floor like she had just committed some grand, unforgivable crime.

It was just a bloody nose, not even broken.

She looked like she was about to collapse from stress.

You were pretty sure she was about to wear a hole into the ground with how fast she was pacing.

“U-uh Lady Malenia?” you tentatively asked.

The red head went rigid and turned to you in a manner more akin to an automaton from the Academy Of Raya Lucaria than a humanoid creature.

“I am Malenia, Blade Of Miquella.” Malenia declared without room for response or retort, leaving the room in complete and utter silence as you looked directly into the helm she wore.

It was now that a knock on the door rang through the room, and a wave of relief ran through both parties.

“Malenia! I heard you dragged someone into your room! Did you get a Consort and not tell your favorite sibling!?” a joyous and booming voice cried through the door.

“Consort? Me?” you muttered in confusion.

“Miquella is my favorite sibling.” Malenia stated bluntly, seemingly causing a physical impact to the person on the other side.

“Then your biggest Sibling!” the voice declared joyously.

“Radahn is my biggest sibling.” Malenia stated in the same tone of voice, causing direct harm to the speaker.

“I am going to smite you with lightning.” the voice declared in an oddly happy voice despite the very real threat.

“You can try, Godwyn. I will simply cut the lightning.” Malenia declared.

The door was promptly thrown open and the giant blonde man in the doorway shouted.

“YOU CAN’T CUT LIGHTNING!!!”

“Has anyone tried it before?” Malenia asked.

“No-” Godwyn began before getting cut off.

“Then I shall be the first, and I shall succeed.” Maleina declared in her eternally even tone of voice.

Godwyn moved to advise against this ill fated endeavor but then, he noticed the guest in the room.

He looked at you for a few moments, perplexed, before walking over to Malenia and dragging her out of the room by her ear.

A few moments later, a young Blonde poked his head into the room.

“Excuse me, but have you seen my sister Malenia?” the blonde asked.

“Uhm… you just missed her. Lord Godwyn dragged her off somewhere.” you responded.

“Hmm… I see. Thank you.” the blonde muttered before walking off.

Then, you heard the stomping of running feet and the blonde shot into the room, shouting.

“WHO IN THE ERDTREE ARE YOU!?”

This was how you met the children of Queen Marika The Eternal.

The Demi-Gods that are feared and respected by all.

Malenia, The Blade Of Miquella, a woman of impossible strength, grace, and to you, beauty. She was also pathetically inept when it came to social interaction.

Godwyn The Golden, a man of immense power and lauded as one of the greatest diplomats in history. He had a habit of saying terrifying things with a happy voice and a smile.

Miquella The Unalloyed, a being of unparalleled intelligence and magical power. He tended to have his head stuck in the clouds.

It was such an odd thing to see.

Especially considering your new job that you received as an apology for Maleina accidentally striking you.

You were now the official “Cultural Examiner”.

Also known as, the person who Malenia pays to hear talk about the day to day life of those who lived normal lives.

If there is one thing Marika needs in her life, it is a singular fixed point, an unmoving and unbreaking rock in a rough sea.

That was all she asked you to be, and the only thing she would ever request of you.

To be someone to lean on when she needed it.

She wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for you.

She wasn’t supposed to spend her nights thinking about you.

She wasn’t supposed to start to see you as more than an advisor.

But, she did.

And for years, she suffered for it.

She said she would only ever ask one thing of you, and that is an oath she intended to keep.

No matter how much she wished to ask you what you thought of her as only you had ever truly seen.

A person.

No matter how much she wished to ask you who if anyone you liked.

She occasionally caught herself thinking of you telling her that she was the one you liked.

She wanted to ask you if she was a fool for acting like a young love sick maiden in her private moments.

She knew she was.

But… she still liked to have her dreams.

Even if the nightmares were far more numerous.

Still, even if you felt the same feelings for her… could she even reciprocate them?

The blood on her hands… Her chains to the Golden Order… Her own innumerable sins… she couldn’t force that on you.

And yet… the want to simply sit with you and mumble and grumble about whatever minor inconveniences came to mind overpowered her again and again and again.

She knew she needed to stop on the off chance you reciprocate her feelings since she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from saying yes.

But she couldn’t.

And that was the only thing related to you she didn’t know how to feel about.

Melina The Kindling Maiden

Melina was born to burn.

She knew that from the moment she could comprehend the world.

Her existence was to find a Tarnished without a maiden, serve that role, and then when they reached the mountaintops, use herself as the match to burn the Erdtree.

Not once had this ever bothered her.

But now, as she stood on the edge of the forge with you, her Tarnished, on the ground behind her…

She wished she had a little bit more time with you.

To watch the person who charmed her with their strange antics and many eccentricities.

To eat Prawn with you and Boggart.

To sit by a grace and wait out the rain.

To spend the night under the stars.

To simply spend the day as the two of you always did.

But… Now that was but a sweet dream.

There was only one thing to do before she burned.

She knew better than to turn and face you.

But, that did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes.

“Torrent, please, I beg of thee. Watch over My Tarnished as best you can.”

“Beloved Ranni, you know all someone would have to do to ruin that oh so perfect persona you have cultivated is to knock your books out from under you.” You told the witch with a cheshire grin.

“I have no idea what you mean, I have no mask to wea- FATHERS BALLSACK!!!” Ranni squealed as a single book was removed from the stack, sending her tumbling right into your arms.

“There she is! Ranni, the one whose mouth your mother had to wash out with soap more than anyone can ever hope to count.” you told the doll-like woman with a teasing grin as you twirled around with her.

“Wh- You son of a-” Ranni began to say, preparing to go on a tirade before stopping.

That was exactly what you wanted out of her.

For her to prove your point.

Instead-

“Ack! Cold! Cold!” you began to cry as Ranni wrapped her arms around you.

Ranni was never the type to be above pettily pranking someone.

Especially not you.

After all, if you were to be her Consort you had to know what you were getting into.

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Pairing: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Swearing, oral sex

1.07

You giggle as Raya reminisces about the time she and another handmaid walked in on a newly married lord and lady from a visiting house having sex in the gardens of Winterfell. You were more surprised that everything was working while being outside in the freezing snow . It was only of interest to the ladies because of how handsome the Lord was, but the scandal quickly became old news.

If that had taken place in the gardens of the keep, it would still be spoken about daily years later.

As you whispered to each other in hushed tones while Raya finished braiding your hair, the sound of shifting armour from across the room caught your ear.

“Is something wrong, princess?”

“No…no, no, of course not. I just hadn’t realised the Kingsguard was changing so early.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised that Ser Criston was on the other side of the door. You had yet to speak to him since returning to keep the night before. What you did… you didn’t regret it but were afraid he would. Your stomach is in knots, but you smile politely at the rest of her story, knowing you’ll need to speak with him shortly.

A few moments of silence pass before Raya finishes. Clearing your throat nervously, you stand up and start to smooth out your dress when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come.”

The door opens and Criston enters the room, his facial expression completely neutral. He bows his head, “Ser Gwayne, princess.”

Your lips part when the knight steps to the side, letting your husband walk into the room. You lock eyes with Criston’s, and it’s like looking into pools of darkness; a brief flash of irritation appears on his face as he leaves to resume his post outside. Raya excuses herself and pretends to fluff up pillows, but you know she’s listening in.

“I’m glad I caught you before you went dragon riding,” Gwayne says. “I was wondering if you’d join me for a walk in the gardens?”

A lump forms in your throat as you force a smile, “Yes, of course.”

Clicking your tongue, Storm grumbles, jumps down off the chair, and comes behind you. You clap behind his ear before moving towards the door.

Gwayne looks surprised. “You’re bringing the pup?”

“Direwolf,” you correct. “But yes, it’s not good for a wolf to be cooped up inside all day.”

“Much similar to a dragon then.”

—

You try not to sigh or roll your eyes while sitting down next to the shaded fountain in the garden, even though Gwayne was walking with his wife, a princess; it didn’t stop him from eye-fucking with other ladies at court.

It was embarrassing.

“I suppose the young princess won’t want to travel back home without her wolf,” Gwayne says, looking at Storm, who was now lying beneath a tree.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why the sudden invite to join you?”

The redhead shakes his head, chuckling. “I do admire how frank you are, princess. I simply wished to speak with you and thought, why not outside?”

“Oh.”

You skim your finger over the water, watching the colourful fish swimming. Stubbornness was a trait of a Targaryen, but you refuse to speak first when the other person is treating you like a fool. Gwayne had invited you to the gardens to put on a show.

After a few moments of silence, Gwayne clears his throat and, almost in a whisper, asks, “Did you think any more of what I suggested? Taking a lo—”

“Stop,” you hiss, glancing around to make sure nobody else was nearby, aside from your sword shield, who was standing with his back towards the fountain. “I know you weren’t a man marked with jealousy, but you mustn’t say that out loud. Saying such things in public is how rumours are spread.”

Taken aback, Gwayne looks genuinely remorseful. “Sorry, I wasn’t—“ he sighs. “I have been feeling the pressure from both my father and sister; every other day they are asking when I will be a father. It’s exhausting. I missed my family while I lived in OldTown but now it’s clear I took privacy for granted.”

Squeezing his hand, “You’ll learn to drown the noise out.”

“But did you think about it?”

“I have… I haven’t reached a decision yet.”

You felt bad for lying, but Gwayne was a Hightower, and it was still unclear how trustworthy he was even though it was his idea.

“There was something else I wanted to ask you,” he licks at his lips. “I know you have plans of returning to Winterfell, but the queen has informed me they are having a feast for Prince Daeron’s name-day, and all of House Hightower will be attending, and without you by my side, I will be bombarded with questions. It’s selfish, I know.”

Daeron wasn’t much older than Jacaerys, and you didn’t doubt how elaborate your brother's name-day would be to compensate for the attention the king would give his grandson soon after. You didn’t think it was possible for a handsome lord to be so unhappy at court, but now his usual mask of calmness was slipping.

“We will stay and go north afterwards.”

“Thank you.”

—

It doesn’t take the knight king to approach you in the gardens after Gwayne leaves.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you try to control your breathing. It was hard trying to focus on anything else with the memory of Criston's lips pressing against your own fresh in your mind.

His hands gripping tightly onto your thighs as he presses your back against the tree…

“Princess.”

“Ser Criston,” you swallow thickly. “Did you overhear?”

He nods. In a low voice he says, “I meant what I said, princess; my sword and shield are yours.”

“Nobody could ever know,” you whisper to yourself more than him. “Whatever we have, it will forever be hidden in the shadows of the castle.”

“I know.”

“You’ll need to watch another man claim a babe that you fathered.”

“Having the smallest parts of you will be enough,” he says softly.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes gloss over. You wanted to be a good wife and mother and do your duty, and because of the knight, it would be possible. You just hoped after having the smallest parts of Criston, you don’t become greedy and want more.

You throw your head back as Criston’s warm tongue laps between your sensitive folds; you feel a rush of pleasure coursing through your body and tightening in your stomach. Clutching at the soft linens, you bite down on your bottom lip, careful not to make a loud noise. Your hips begin to buck upward involuntarily, meeting his skilled tongue.

Just as your orgasm approaches, a sudden, sharp knock on the door pulls you apart from each other. Someone attempts to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Thank the gods Criston locked it.

“It’s Raya, princess.”

“Just a moment!”

“I’m just making sure you are feeling well since you haven’t been breaking fast at your usual times.” Raya wasn’t one to spontaneously appear; she never breaks from her routine unless asked to, which leads you to believe something else is going on. The knocking continues, more urgently this time. “Her grace is quite persistent that she sees for herself that you are feeling well.”

Alicent.

Panic flickers across Criston’s face, mirroring your own. He stares up at you and silently mouths, “What do we do?”

You share a look, both knowing the consequences of getting caught. Your heart races. Rushing to your feet, you sway slightly, getting a head rush from the sudden movement. You lift the frilly bed skirt and hold it up so Criston can crawl underneath it. Thankfully he wasn’t undressed yet, which meant he had no clothes discarded across the room. The knight had been using a door that was hidden by furniture to come in and out of your room, but there was no time.

Clearing your throat, you fix your nightgown and put on a robe and go to unlock the door. “Your grace, forgive me for taking so long—”

Alicent walks straight into your chambers, her eyes immediately landing on your unmade bed. Raya mouths sorry then leaves. You silently debated whether you should close the door or not with Alicent’s sworn shield and another knight from the king's guard posted outside the room.

“Are you ill, stepdaughter?” She asks in a sickly sweet tone.

“No, your grace, I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Alicent scrunches her nose up. “The king did mention that Meera was still sharing a room with you most nights. What does your husband think about that?”

“As Ser Gwayne doesn’t visit my chambers during the night, I imagine he cares very little about it.”

“Hmm,” she gives you a sarcastic smile. “I will admit I was hoping you were having symptoms of morning sickness.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m just sleep deprived.”

“Yes, perhaps a bath might help you not look so stressed. As the king’s daughter, it is important that you look presentable during such a celebrated occasion.”

You bite down on your tongue; her bitterness towards you was blatantly obvious. Part of you did pity Alicent since Daeron’s name day was on the morrow and your father didn’t seem interested. “Of course, your grace.”

As soon as she leaves, you close the door and wait a few beats before locking it.

While chewing on your lower lip, you go back towards your bed; before you reach it, Criston sneaks up behind you and plants a kiss on your cheek.

Your mind goes into overdrive with the fear of not being able to do your duty. As if he can tell what you’re thinking. Criston places his hand over his stomach. “It’s only been three weeks; give it time.”

“I know,” your noses brush together as you turn to face him. “Unfortunately, I think it’s best that you go. She could come back.”

Criston nods and backs away from you slowly; the feeling of his hand holding yours still lingers long after he’s let go. Minutes later you are left standing alone in your chambers processing how close you just were to being caught.

—

Holding his head in his hands, Criston inhales and exhales deeply. In the privacy of his own room, he sits completely nude, trying to cool down, but his efforts are in vain since sweat still trickles down his brow. His body was coated in sweat by the time he returned to the White Sword Tower.

The Targaryen princess's beauty could be to blame, but whatever the reason, Criston was completely infatuated with her.

Even now, after almost being caught by the queen, he still felt a yearning for her. It was sickening; Criston was so ashamed of breaking his vows. The moment he heard Alicent’s voice, he began to tremble like a scared child, but one glance at the princess's teary eyes and the knight knew he needed to hold himself together. So he tried his best not to seem so fazed while being terrified on the inside.

If anyone discovers their secret, the knight's head would be taken, and he would bring disgrace to his family’s name… yet, he knew he’d risk again and again for the princess.

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 4) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer @bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

Lille was going to be tough on Thursday, but Trent's mind wasn't on tactics. His thumb hovered over his Raya profile - all those matches, all those posh girls with their perfect smiles and calculated moves.

Delete.

Some girl from Chelsea had been messaging him about drinks. Block.

That Instagram model who kept sending eye emojis. Block.

His phone buzzed.

April: Getting checked today.

April: Better not keep me waiting too long.

His stomach did that flip thing again.

April: And I hope you followed my command last night.

April: Would hate to start our arrangement with a punishment.

Christ. She was already getting in his head and they hadn't even started yet.

Trent: Got my appointment at 2

Trent: And yes, I behaved

April: Good boy.

Those two words shouldn't affect him like that. But here he was, grinning at his phone like some simp.

"Someone's in a good mood."

Mo dropped his lunch tray next to him, Virgil sliding in across the table. The canteen was busy, everyone loading up before afternoon training.

"Just having a good day innit?"

"Nah." Virgil pointed his fork at Trent. "This is different. You've been weird lately - all quiet. Now you're sitting here grinning at your phone like it's Christmas."

"Maybe I'm just happy?"

"The old Trent's back then?" Mo's smile was proper infectious. "No more moping about?"

Was he back though? Felt different this time. With April... it was like she wanted him to be more himself. Even if that self liked things a bit... different.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Been thinking about what I'm going to do to you.

April: Once you're cleared of course.

Fucking hell. In the middle of lunch?

"Earth to Trent!" Mo was waving his hand. "You're gone mate."

"Just..." he shrugged, trying to hide his grin. "Feel better, you know? Like I can be myself again."

"Good." Virgil nodded. "Was getting tired of that posh act anyway. Didn't suit you."

Mo clapped him on the back, nearly sending him face-first into his pasta. "Whatever it is, I'm happy for you bruv. Just don't go getting distracted before Lille yeah?"

Another buzz.

April: First lesson when you're cleared - teaching you how to kneel properly.

April: Been thinking about those footballer legs of yours...

Distracted? Him?

Too late for that, wasn't it?

"You sure you're alright?" Virgil was giving him that look. "Looking flushed."

"Never better," Trent grinned. And for once, he actually meant it.

Lunch with Mo and Virgil felt normal again - like before all this image reinvention nonsense started. Before Sophie and her posh friends and trying to be someone he wasn't.

Back on the training pitch, they were running shooting drills, but Trent's mind kept drifting to last night - to leather outfits and spiced vanilla and promises that made his head spin. Tyler's text didn't help his concentration either.

Tyler: Just seen the raw shots from April

Tyler: These are INSANE bruv

Tyler: Proper art these

Tyler: Even Virgil's gonna be jealous

"Trent!" Slot's voice cut through his thoughts. "That cross was nowhere near Darwin. Focus!"

The afternoon session dragged on, his mind a mess of tactical instructions and April's text messages. By the time they hit the showers, he was ready to bolt.

"Oi Trent!" Dom called over the noise of the changing room. Robbo was telling some mad story about his kid's hamster while everyone rinsed Darwin's new haircut. "Few of us heading to that new spot in town. You in?"

"Can't, got plans."

"Plans?" Dom's eyebrows shot up. "You feeling alright mate?"

"Just busy innit."

In his car, he pulled up Google, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Female dominatrix. BDSM basics.

He should probably know what he was getting into, right? But just seeing those words made his face heat up.

He closed the browser.

The private clinic was one of those discrete places footballers used when they needed things handled quietly. He pulled his hood up, slipped his sunglasses on despite the grey sky threatening snow.

The waiting room was dead quiet - just him and some girl staring at her phone like it held the secrets of the universe. The paperwork they handed him felt like an interrogation:

Last sexual encounter? 5 weeks ago. Sophie. Just head though - does that even count? Better write it down just in case.

Number of partners in last 6 months? Sophie mostly. Plus that one night with some random during their "break"...so 2?

Previous STI tests? Team physical, but... yeah, him and Sophie weren't exactly careful those last few times. When she'd show up at his place at 2am talking about "missing him"...

Speaking of Sophie - better block her now. She always came sniffing around when she was bored, wanting to "talk things through." Couldn't have her messing up whatever this thing with April might be.

His thumb hovered over Sophie's profile. All those couple photos, playing perfect power couple for the cameras. Delete. Block.

What even was this thing with April? She still had his photo contract to finish - at least one more shoot. Then this... arrangement. But would they be properly dating? Did dominatrixes even do relationships?

The thought of her with other guys made his jaw clench. Having them kneel for her, call her Madam, letting her mark them up like she'd done to him...

"Mr. Alexander-Arnold?"

The nurse's voice yanked him back. She handed him a plastic cup once they arrived at his examination room. "Just need a sample. Then change into the gown - opens at the back."

Fucking hell. These paper gowns were proper violation. Might as well be naked.

His phone lit up as he struggled with the paper gown ties.

April: Can't wait to ruin you properly.

His hands weren't exactly steady as he typed back.

Trent: Just you though yeah?

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

April: Jealous already?

April: Don't worry pretty boy.

April: You'll be more than enough to handle.

Something in his chest loosened. Before he could reply, there was a knock.

"Ready Mr. Alexander-Arnold?"

His phone buzzed one last time.

April: Besides...

April: When I’m done with you, you won't want anyone else.

Thank god for paper gowns hiding what that message did to him.

The doctor was middle-aged with kind eyes that probably seen everything. She went through her questions quick while Trent tried not to die of embarrassment.

"Sexually active?"

"Yeah."

"Multiple partners?"

"Not recently."

"Any symptoms?"

"No."

"Using protection?"

"Usually." His face burned thinking about April's no-condom rule.

Blood drawn, swabs taken, more questions that had him squirming in that paper gown. The doctor didn't even blink when he mentioned getting tested for a new partner.

"Results in 48 hours," she said, already typing in her computer. "We'll send them directly to your phone. Any questions?"

About a million, but none he wanted to ask a doctor old enough to be his mother.

His phone buzzed as he changed back into his clothes.

April: All done with my tests.

April: Been a while since I've had someone new to train.

He nearly dropped his phone.

Trent: Train?

Trent: Like a dog?

April: More like a pet project 😈

April: But if you're into puppy play...

What the actual fuck was puppy play?

No, don't Google that. Some things you can't unsee.

April: Just teasing.

April: Though you would look good in a collar.

His brain short-circuited completely.

The drive home was a blur of overthinking. What had he gotten himself into? This was fucking crazy - him, Trent Alexander-Arnold, about to let some photographer he barely knew take complete control of him. Do things to him he'd only seen in dodgy porn videos late at night when he couldn't sleep.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? He did know her, in a way that felt deeper than knowing someone's favorite color or what they did on weekends. She saw right through him from that first night at the bar. Saw past the footballer façade, past the scouse wonderkid image, right to the part of him that wanted... this.

His phone lit up at a red light.

April: Having second thoughts?

April: We can always keep things professional.

April: Though that would be such a waste...

Trent: No second thoughts.

Trent: Just nervous I guess.

April: Good.

April: A little fear makes things interesting.

April: But remember...

April: I'll never do anything you don't want.

April: You just might not know you want it yet.

Christ.

By the time he got home, his head was spinning with possibilities. Things he'd never even considered before. Never allowed himself to think about.

April: Sweet dreams pretty boy.

April: 48 hours.

April: Then the real fun begins.

He fell into bed still fully dressed, mind racing with what exactly April had planned for him.

His phone buzzed one last time.

April: And remember...

April: No touching.

April: I'll know if you do.

It was going to be a very long 48 hours.

The results hit his phone during morning training. All clear. He couldn't send them to April fast enough.

Her results came through minutes later - a screenshot showing her own clean bill of health. His eyes caught on her details at the top of the form:

GOODPLENTY, APRIL TANISHA-MARLEY

DOB: 14/11/1997

Scorpio. Of course she was a fucking Scorpio. That explained... well, everything really. Most freaky sign in the zodiac, according to that astrology stuff his sister-in-law was always on about.

April: Dinner tonight? Need to chat.

April: I'm in Manchester seeing a friend but I'll be around after.

His stomach twisted. What friend in Manchester?

Trent: Yeah sounds good.

Was this it then? Would tonight be when they... His mind wandered to leather outfits and commands and that room on the third floor.

Training couldn't end fast enough. He was walking out with Ibou and Virgil, both of them cracking up at a video of Virgil's youngest "terrorizing" their German Shepherd, when a whistle cut through the air.

All three men stopped dead.

There she was, leaning against a red Ferrari like some Sons of Anarchy fantasy come to life. Leather motorcycle jacket, skin-tight pants that should've been illegal, and Doc Martens. Her curls were going mental in the January wind.

"Is that you, T?" Ibou's voice was shaking with barely contained laughter as he pointed at April.

"Yeah." He couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

Virgil smiled - actually smiled. "I like her."

Coming from his captain, that was massive. Virgil hadn't rated any girl Trent had been seeing lately.

"Come on you scouse! We're gonna be late!" April called out, smacking her gum like she owned the place.

"Oh I like her a lot," Virgil nodded. "This why you've been smiling lately?"

Well yeah, that... and other things.

"Uh..."

"Look at him, he cannot talk!" Ibou laughed, nudging Virgil's shoulder. "Let's say hi to her."

Before Trent could stop them, they were practically sprinting over to April. He watched, frozen, as she shook their hands with that easy confidence of hers, somehow making his teammates look like excited puppies.

By the time he made his way over, they were chatting like old mates. He cleared his throat, but Virgil and Ibou's dopey grins told him the whole team would know about this by tonight. Their group chat was probably already blowing up.

April shot him a look that made his stomach drop.

Oh fuck.

Was he in trouble?

"Bout time," she said, voice carrying that edge he was starting to recognize. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah."

"Good. What about Almost Famous?"

"Sounds good." His eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. The fuck was wrong with him?

"I could use a milkshake too actually," April said, turning back to Virgil and Ibou. "Nice meeting you guys. Thank you for making me feel so welcomed."

"Of course, April," Virgil said, smile genuine. "You should stop by for a match."

"Oh well–"

"You should come watch us kick Lille's ass!" Ibou practically bounced.

Trent shot him a 'what the hell' look, but April just flashed that devil's grin of hers.

"I would love to, but I have to check my schedule."

Ibou actually cheered - proper full-volume celebration - before they headed off to their cars, leaving Trent and April alone.

"I like your teammates, they're sweet."

"Listen, you don't have to–"

"You want to drive it?" She interrupted, dangling the Ferrari keys. His hand reached out automatically because fuck yeah, who wouldn't want to drive that?

She pulled them back. "You haven't been touching yourself, have you?"

"No."

Her eyebrows raised. "No...?"

"Ma'am... madam," he spluttered.

"Ma'am works too, you know." She chuckled. "Good boy. You get your reward."

The keys dropped into his palm, and Trent had never felt happier.

Though something told him this was just the start of April's rewards... and her punishments.

His Range Rover could stay in the Anfield parking lot - he'd grab it later. Right now, all he could think about was the Ferrari's engine purring to life under his hands.

"She likes to be handled firmly," April said as he pulled out onto the main road. Her hand found his thigh as he hit the accelerator, testing what this thing could do.

The engine growled as he shifted gears, probably breaking about six traffic laws. But with April's hand on his thigh and that much power under him? Worth it.

"You like it?" she asked, watching his face as he revved the engine.

"Yeah–" His answer dissolved into something embarrassingly close to a squeak as her hand squeezed his inner thigh, coming dangerously close to touching his hardening dick.

"It's the power, huh? Does things to you. Endorphins. Adrenaline." Her voice had gone low and dangerous. "Makes you feel alive."

He focused on the road, desperately trying to ignore how the rest of him was feeling. The Ferrari responded to every touch like it was made for him, but April's hand on his thigh was making it hard to keep it together.

"Have you ever gotten head while driving?"

Jesus motherfucking Christ.

"No ma'am." His voice came out steadier than he felt.

"Interesting." She removed her hand and he could finally breathe again. "Something to think about."

The rest of the drive was torture - April alternating between casual chat about football and comments that made his brain short-circuit. By the time they pulled into Almost Famous, he wasn't sure if he was hungry for food or... something else.

The hostess led them to a corner booth, April sliding in, her leather jacket came off, revealing a crop top that had his mouth going dry.

"So," she said once they were settled. "Ground rules."

He nearly choked on his water. "Here?"

"Where better?" That devil's smile again. "Nobody's paying attention to us. We can talk freely."

She wasn't wrong. The place was busy, music playing, everyone focused on their own conversations.

"First rule - honesty. Always. If something's too much, you tell me. If you want something, you ask for it."

He nodded, trying to look like they were having a normal dinner conversation.

"Second - you follow my commands without question. In and out of the bedroom."

His face felt hot. "Like the no touching thing?"

"Exactly. Good boy for following that, by the way." The praise shouldn't have affected him like it did. "Third - you're mine. Exclusively. No other girls, no hookups, nothing without my permission."

Something in his chest tightened. "What about you?"

"Jealous again?" She smirked. "Don't worry pretty boy. I won’t have other toys to play with."

Christ.

"Questions?"

About a million, but their waitress chose that moment to appear. April ordered for both of them - some fancy burger for him that wasn't even on the menu, two cookies and cream milkshakes, and sweet potato fries that she said they'd share.

Once the waitress left, April leaned forward. "You're thinking too hard. I can see it on your face."

"Just... what are we? Like, outside of all this?"

"We're whatever we want to be. The dom/sub thing? That's just one part."

"You'll be coming to my matches?"

"If you want me there." She tilted her head. "Though I might make you earn it."

His imagination went wild with possibilities.

"Focus," she smirked. "Food first. Then maybe... if you're good... we can find out what that Ferrari can really do."

The look she gave him promised all sorts of trouble.

And fuck him if he wasn't ready for all of it.

Their food arrived - his burger looking like something that should be in a museum, milkshakes piled high with whipped cream, and her sweet potato fries arranged in a basket. She pushed the fries between them, a clear invitation to share.

"So like," he started, trying to sound casual, "what more should we do? Outside of... you know."

April's eyes lit up with amusement. "You really want the girlfriend experience, don't you?”

He took a long sip of his milkshake instead of answering.

"You have to answer me." Her voice carried that edge again.

"Just feels weird, doesn't it? Doing all this freaky stuff behind closed doors but nothing outside of it. Doesn't feel right."

April rolled her eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck. "I usually don't date my toys. More of the have fun then go our separate ways type of girl."

"What if I'm a real good boy?" He reached for her hand, giving her his best pleading look - the one that usually got him out of extra training. "I'll do anything you want, ma'am."

"Oh... look at you acting like a sub."

"Is it working?"

She pulled her hand away, but he caught the hint of a smile. "You made my heart soften a little, I'll give you that. But I still need convincing."

"I can be proper convincing." He ate one of the fries.

"Eat your burger before it gets cold."

The burger was actually delicious - whatever she'd ordered for him was perfect. They fell into easy conversation between bites, talking about everything and nothing.

"So what friend were you seeing in Manchester?" He tried to sound casual.

"Jealous again?" She took a fry from the basket. "Old uni mate. She's a photographer too."

"Just a friend?"

"Getting possessive already?" But her eyes softened slightly. "Yes, just a friend. Though..." that devilish smile returned, "she did teach me a few interesting techniques back in the day."

His brain short-circuited again.

"You're too easy to wind up," she laughed. "But seriously - this thing between us? It only works with trust. Complete trust."

"I trust you."

"Do you?"

"I know a lot to trust you on." He met her eyes. "Know you see me. The real me, not just..." he gestured vaguely at himself.

"TAA, Liverpool's golden boy?" She reached over, wiped some sauce from the corner of his mouth. The gesture felt strangely intimate. "Yeah, I see you. That's what makes this interesting."

"So..."

"So maybe," she sighed dramatically, "we can do normal stuff too. But don't think that means I'll go soft on you."

His whole body felt warm. "Wouldn't want that."

"No?" She leaned forward, voice dropping low. "What do you want then?"

Everything. Anything. Whatever she was willing to give him.

"Want to be yours." The words came out before he could stop them. "Properly yours."

Something flashed in her eyes - something that made his heart race. "Careful what you wish for, pretty boy. Once I properly claim something... I don't let go easily."

"Good."

They finished their food in charged silence, both aware of the shift that had just happened. This wasn't just about sex anymore. This was... something else entirely.

"Should get you back to your car," she said finally, but her eyes promised more. "Early training tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah but..." He hesitated. "When will I see you again?"

"Miss me already?" She stood up, sliding her leather jacket back on. "Thursday night, after the match. My place. Pack a bag - you're staying over."

His stomach did about sixteen flips.

"And Trent?"

"Yeah?"

"Wear something... accessible."

Christ.

As they walked back to the Ferrari, her hand found the small of his back. A casual touch that somehow felt more possessive than anything they'd done before.

He was so fucked.

And he couldn't wait.

The bench at Anfield was freezing, but Trent barely felt it. Ibou kept nudging him every time he checked his phone, teasing him about his "hot date" later. The rest of the lads had been giving him knowing looks all day - seems like the Ferrari incident had made its way through the group chat faster than Mo on a counter-attack.

When Mandi got sent off for that mental tackle on Darwin in the 23rd minute, the whole stadium erupted. Mo's goal in the 34th minute was pure poetry, the kind of finish that reminded everyone why he was still the king. The way he sent their keeper the wrong way before kicking it in the bottom corner? Magic.

Harvey's goal in the 67th was just showing off really, leaving three Lille players for dead before curling it in. Kid was having the season of his life, and Trent couldn't help but grin watching him celebrate with the Kop. Reminded him of himself at that age - all raw talent and pure joy.

Slot finally called him over in the 80th minute, just as the "We are Liverpool" chants started rolling through the stadium. "Quick touches, control the game," was all he said before sending Trent on.

Fifteen minutes of football had never gone by so fast. Every touch, every pass felt automatic - his mind already somewhere else, in a flat in East London with a girl who'd scrambled his brain.

He was out of the stadium like his ass was on fire, barely stopping to high five the kids by the tunnel. A few of the lads tried calling him back for post-match analysis, but he was gone before they could finish saying his name.

His bag was already packed - had been since morning if he was honest - but he triple-checked everything anyway. Clothes for tomorrow, training kit, toiletries. Felt weird packing an overnight bag for… whatever this was going to be.

Train was quicker than driving, even if it meant going full 'mandem' with the Moncler puffer, boots, and balaclava. The platform at Lime Street was packed with match-day crowds heading home, but not one person recognized him. Amazing what a bit of roadman fashion could do.

April kept sending him pictures that had his face burning behind the balaclava. Each one more suggestive than the last - close-ups of leather straps, silk ties, things that made his imagination run wild.

April: Hope you're ready for tonight. April: Been shopping. April: Got some new toys to try out.

Christ.

He tried to focus on anything else - the landscape flying past the window, the couple arguing about pizza toppings across the aisle, the kid playing some game with the volume too high. But his mind kept wandering to what was waiting for him in London.

April: Almost here? April: Getting impatient… April: Don't make me start without you.

The tube to her place felt endless. Had to change twice, studying the map like some tourist. East London looked different at night - all neon lights and people heading to bars, different vibe than Liverpool. More edge to it, like everyone was playing a part in some urban drama.

Her building looked the same though, all exposed brick and industrial lighting. The converted warehouse vibe felt fitting somehow - like April herself, a mix of rough edges and expensive taste.

The doorman - different one from last time, younger with a knowing smile - held the door open without asking for ID. Guess he was expected. Trent yanked off his balaclava in the lift, trying to sort his hair out in the reflection. The concrete floors echoed his footsteps as he walked down that familiar hallway.

His knuckles had barely touched her door when it swung open.

There she was, holding that cat like some Bond villain. Pussy Galore gave him what felt like a judgmental meow, like she remembered him from last time and wasn't impressed.

"Look who finally made it," April smirked, looking him up and down like she was deciding where to start. Her curls were wilder than usual, like she'd been running her hands through them. "Ready to earn your reward?"

Something in her tone made his stomach flip. Whatever was about to happen in this flat - whatever she had planned for him - there was no going back after tonight.

The flat looked the same as last time - art everywhere, books stacked on surfaces, that vintage record player spinning something low and jazzy. But now there were… additions on the dining table. Things that made his throat go dry - leather cuffs in different sizes, silk ties in black and red, something that looked expensive and slightly terrifying that he couldn't quite identify.

"Sit," she nodded toward the sofa.

He sat. She settled next to him, and he finally properly looked at her outfit. No leather dominatrix gear tonight - instead, she wore this soft-looking robe with lace details at the sleeves and hem. Proper feminine. Different. The silk looked expensive, catching the light when she moved.

"Cute, isn't it?" she caught his stare. "Not my usual thing, but I thought something to ease you in."

"I-I love it."

She chuckled at his stammering. Pussy Galore chose that moment to insert herself between them, tail wrapping around her body as she fixed Trent with those unsettling yellow eyes. Like she was judging his worthiness or something.

"I've emailed you something," April said casually, reaching out to scratch behind Pussy's ears.

"What?"

"Well, it's from my lawyer." She gestured to his phone like this was completely normal. "Have a look."

Sure enough, there it was in his inbox. A legal document titled "Arrangement Agreement and Terms" with real letterhead and everything. Mad how official it looked.

His eyes scanned the contents, face getting hotter with each section. Under "Dominant's Preferences" was a list that made his imagination run wild:

Bondage (rope, silk, leather)

Impact play

Marking/biting

Sensory deprivation

Temperature play

Edging/Orgasm control

Discipline/punishment

Creampies/Breeding

Under "Submissive's Interests" were things he'd mentioned, plus some he'd only hinted at:

Choking

Being marked

Light bondage

Following commands

Praise/reward

Being controlled

Light pain play

Breeding

Edging/Orgasm Control

Voyeurism

Light cock and ball torture (CBT)

Light degradation

There was a whole section about their mutual kinks and boundaries, with a note about only exploring new territory after explicit discussion and consent. Everything was laid out in legal language, like some mad corporate merger.

Then came their promises to each other. Hers as a dom - to always respect limits, provide aftercare, maintain open communication, ensure safe play, check in regularly about comfort levels. His as a sub - to be honest about his needs, follow her rules, use their agreed safe word if needed, communicate any discomfort or concerns immediately.

But it was the appendix titled "The Girlfriend Experience" that almost made him laugh out loud. Trust April to turn dating into a proper contract.

TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT:

Match attendance: Maximum 10 per season (choose wisely)

Holidays: 2 annual trips (Alexander-Arnold responsible for all expenses including accommodation, flights, meals, and excursions)

Social engagements: 6 meetings/hangouts with friends (recent Virgil/Ibou encounter not included)

PDA: Only with mutual consent and within established boundaries

Family/loved ones meetings: 2 maximum (if required/requested)

Public appearances: Subject to prior discussion and approval

Social media: No obligation to appear in or acknowledge posts

Media coverage: No comment on relationship status if asked

Duration: One year from signing, unless terminated early due to:

Loss of interest from either party

Infidelity

Breach of contract terms

Violation of established boundaries

Mutual agreement to end arrangement

Additional notes:

All activities to remain private and confidential

Both parties retain right to terminate at any time

Regular review of terms/boundaries every 3 months

Modification of terms requires mutual written agreement

Professional relationship takes precedence over personal

"Well?" April's voice cut through his reading. "Questions?"

The overachiever in him wanted to read every clause. The footballer in him wanted to know how she'd calculated exactly 10 matches for the entire season, did this include international breaks? But mostly, he just wanted to know…

"Did you really get a lawyer to draw this up?"

"Of course." She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Everything I do is professional."

"Even this?" He gestured between them.

"Especially this." Her voice dropped lower. "I take very good care of my toys, Trent. But I also make sure everyone knows exactly what they're getting into."

After reading through every clause twice, Trent clicked the signature box and signed his name. His phone made that little whoosh sound of an email sending, like he'd just signed for a transfer instead of a sexual arrangement.

April's phone pinged. She clapped her hands together, face lighting up. Then something shifted in her expression - her whole demeanor changing in an instant.

"Great." Her voice dropped into that tone that made his stomach flip. "Now we can get started. Strip to your boxers."

His hands moved before his brain could catch up, tugging off his clothes until he stood there in just his Calvin Kleins, feeling more exposed than he did in just a towel in the locker room.

"Kneel." She demonstrated the position with fluid grace - back straight, hands resting palms down on thighs, head bowed slightly. "Like this. Shoulders back, chin down."

He copied her, surprised by how natural it felt. Like his body had been waiting for these instructions all along.

"Perfect," she murmured, and something in his chest warmed at the praise. "We need a safe word," she continued, circling him slowly. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor. "Something you'll remember even when you're… distracted."

"Anfield?"

She laughed - a real laugh, not her dom voice. "Of course that's what you'd pick. Proper footballer through and through." Her fingers brushed his shoulder, feather-light. "Anfield it is. Use it anytime you need to stop or slow down. No questions asked, no judgment."

His knees were starting to ache against the hardwood floor, but something about the position, about following her commands… it settled something in him he hadn't known needed settling. Like finally exhaling after holding his breath too long.

"Come to the bedroom."

He started to stand.

"Did I tell you to walk?"

His stomach flipped. "No ma'am."

"Good. Crawl."

He followed her down the hallway on hands and knees, feeling slightly mental but also… right? Weird how good it felt, taking orders from someone nearly a foot shorter than him. Like his body knew something his brain was still figuring out.

Maybe this was what he'd been looking for all along - someone to take the weight of control off his shoulders, even if just for a little while.

Her bedroom was a bit different too - candles everywhere, giving everything a soft glow. The sheets were changed - black silk instead of the white cotton from New Year's. Some of those toys from the dining room table had made their way here, arranged neatly on her dresser.

"Stop there," she commanded when he reached the foot of the bed. "Kneel up, hands behind your back."

His body responded automatically. Mental how quickly he was learning.

"Good boy." Her fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face up to meet her eyes. "You're a natural at this."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Already so polite." She circled him slowly, fingertips trailing across his shoulders. "Sure you've never done this before?"

"Never."

"Mmm." She stopped behind him, so close he could smell that spiced vanilla. "Tell me how it feels."

"Different," he managed. "But good. Really good."

"Using your words like a good boy." Her hand found the nape of his neck, gripping just tight enough to make him gasp. "But I think you can do better than that."

"Makes me feel… free?" The words tumbled out. "Like I don't have to be in control all the time."

"There it is." She released his neck, moving back into his line of sight. "That's what I saw in you that first night. All that pressure, all that control… sometimes you just need to let it go, don't you?"

He nodded, throat tight.

"Words, pretty boy."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." She smiled - that dangerous smile that had his heart racing. "Now… let's see just how well you follow instructions."

April moved to the dresser, picking up one of the silk ties. "Close your eyes."

The silk was cool against his skin as she wrapped it around his eyes, tying it with practiced ease.

"Can't have you thinking too much," she murmured. "You footballers are always in your heads."

Without sight, everything felt heightened - the brush of her fingers, the sound of her movements, that spiced vanilla scent growing stronger as she leaned close.

"What's your safe word?"

"Anfield, ma'am."

"Good boy." Her voice came from behind him now. "Hands out in front."

Something soft - another silk tie - wrapped around his wrists. Not tight enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who was in control.

"How does that feel?"

"Good." His voice sounded different to his own ears. Rougher.

"Tell me properly."

"Good, ma'am."

"Better." Her hand found his neck again, sending shivers down his spine.

The next hour was a blur of sensations - silk against skin, April's voice guiding him through positions, praising him when he followed perfectly, correcting him when he didn't. Nothing too intense, nothing that pushed too far, but enough to leave him breathless.

"You're a natural submissive," she said later, removing the blindfold. "Like you were made for this."

Maybe he was. Maybe all those years of being in control, of carrying everyone's expectations… maybe this was what he'd needed all along.

April placed the silk ties back on her dresser with that same precision she brought to everything. Each movement deliberate, calculated.

"Want to continue?" Her voice had that edge again, the one that made his skin tingle.

"Yes ma'am."

"On the bed then." Not a request - a command.

He moved his body to the center of her bed, those black silk sheets cool against his heated skin. His heart was hammering now, watching as she shed that lace robe to reveal her naked body. She was way more beautiful than what he'd imagined - soft toffee-colored skin, heavy breasts that will fit perfectly in his hands, stomach taut, and wide hips leading to a bare vagina. Her clitoris peeked out between her labia lips and he was in awe at how wet she already was.

The mattress dipped as she crawled toward him with that predatory grace of hers. When she straddled him, the world narrowed to just this - April above him, curls wild, eyes dangerous.

April’s nails dragged lightly over his chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Trent’s breath hitched, the anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. She sat back on his thighs, her hips pressing down just enough to remind him of her authority.

"You like what you see, Trent?" Her voice was low, teasing, a challenge in every syllable.

"Yes, ma’am." His response came without hesitation, his voice husky with need.

"Good." Her lips curled into a smirk, the kind that made his pulse race.

April leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as her fingers traced the waistband of his boxers. She didn’t rush. Instead, she took her time, savoring his reactions — the way his body tensed, the way his hands clenched into the sheets, the way his eyes stayed locked on hers.

"You’ll learn something tonight," she murmured, her lips hovering near his ear. "Every touch, every sound, every movement — it's mine to give. Understood?"

"Yes, ma’am."

She kissed him then, soft at first, before her teeth nipped at his bottom lip. The sharpness made him gasp, and she took advantage, deepening the kiss, her tongue slithering inside his mouth. Her hands explored his chest, her nails scraping lightly, eliciting a low groan from him.

Her lips left his mouth, trailing down his jawline to the sensitive spot just below his ear. He shivered, her name tumbling from his lips in a whisper.

She pulled back, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Good boy," she murmured, her approval making his chest swell.

April’s hands moved lower, her fingers teasing his nipples. She shifted her hips, her bare skin brushing against him, a tantalizing preview of what was to come.

"You’re doing so well for me," she said, her voice soft but firm. "But we’re just getting started."

Trent swallowed hard, his entire focus on the woman before him. The world outside faded away. There was only April, and her deliberate, intoxicating control.

Her nails danced down his abdomen, and Trent’s breath came in shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her and the maddeningly slow path she was taking. She paused at the waistband of his boxers again, her fingers slipping just beneath the fabric.

"You’re trembling," she observed, her lips quirking into that dangerous smirk.

"You’re making it hard not to," he admitted, his voice rough with restrained need.

"Good." She tugged at his boxers, but not enough to pull them down. Instead, she let them snap back into place, her laugh low and sultry when he groaned in frustration.

"Do you want these off, Trent?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said, almost a plea.

She arched a brow, sitting back slightly, her hands still resting on his hips. "You’ll need to ask properly."

"Please," he said, meeting her gaze. "Please take them off."

The corner of her mouth twitched in satisfaction. "That’s better."

Finally, she slid the fabric down, exposing him inch by excruciating inch. Her eyes never left his face, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed it — anticipation, nervousness, pure want.

When the boxers were gone, she took her time, running her fingers along his thighs and deliberately avoiding where he wanted her touch most. His hips jerked involuntarily, and she pressed them back down with firm hands.

"Patience," she chided, her voice smooth as silk.

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his stomach, just below his navel. Then another, lower this time. Her lips were soft, teasing, a contrast to the sharpness of her nails grazing his skin. Trent’s fingers twisted in the sheets, every nerve in his body lighting up under her touch.

"April," he breathed, his voice strained.

"Shh," she murmured against his skin. "I’m enjoying myself."

Her kisses trailed further, her breath warm against him, but she stopped just shy of where he ached for her. Her tongue flicked out, tracing lazy patterns along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh instead.

"Do you like this?" she asked, her voice a mix of sweet and sinful.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his voice a rough whisper.

She hummed in satisfaction, her nails scraping lightly along his hipbones. "You’re doing so well for me, Trent," she murmured, her words washing over him like a reward.

April’s control was absolute, her teasing calculated, and Trent was helpless against the storm she was creating. Every touch, every kiss was a well thought move, driving him further toward the edge while keeping him firmly in her grasp.

Her lips and tongue worked him into a frenzy that felt almost otherworldly. Every time he thought she would give him the relief he so desperately craved, she pulled back, her chuckle low and devastating. Her hands roamed over his thighs, her nails scraping lightly against sensitive skin, grounding him in the moment even as he floated further away from reason.

When her lips finally wrapped around him to take him fully, Trent’s head fell back, his own lips parting in a silent gasp of gratitude. But his reverie was short-lived. His gaze flicked forward, and that’s when he saw it.

The mirror.

He hadn’t noticed it before, perfectly placed in front of the bed like it had been waiting for this moment. From his vantage point, the reflection offered a full, unfiltered view of April — bent over him, her curls wild, her body a vision of soft, supple curves. And below, her bare pussy glistening with her arousal, catching the dim light like a beacon. Her clitoris was engorged and directly in his view. It was pretty – just like the rest of her and he wanted a taste so badly.

"Ma’am…" he whimpered, his voice breaking.

She didn’t stop. If anything, his reaction seemed to spur her on. Her hands gripped his testicles, firm but careful, the pressure igniting something primal within him.

"You like seeing how my pussy looks, Trent?" she asked, her voice sultry, tinged with just the right amount of mockery to make his face burn.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his breath hitching. "You’re so beautiful."

"I know I am," she replied, her confidence rolling over him like a tidal wave. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, her gaze locking him in place. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said, the words tumbling out of him without hesitation.

"Do you want to be buried deep inside of me?"

"Y-yes, ma’am."

"What about cumming, Trent?" Her tone was almost sweet now, like she was asking about his favorite dessert. "Are you going to cum inside me?"

Holy. Hell. On. Earth.

His throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fought to find his voice. "Y-yes, ma’am," he stammered, his whole body trembling under her touch.

April’s smirk deepened, her satisfaction evident. "Good," she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "Because I plan to take everything you’ve got. Every. Single. Drop."

She moved away from him, leaving him to catch his breath — or so he thought. The cool air brushing over his heated skin was the briefest of reprieves before she swung a leg over him, straddling his waist.

Trent barely had time to react before she reached down, gripping him at the base with practiced ease. His dick throbbed in her hand, her touch enough to make his hips jerk instinctively. She lined herself up, teasing him with her warmth, and then she sank down, taking him inch by inch.

He let out a guttural groan, the sensation of her tight, wet heat engulfing him nearly overwhelming. She was so snug, so perfect, that for a moment, he wondered if this was some kind of divine punishment for sins he hadn’t even committed yet.

April didn’t wait for him to adjust. She started to move, her hips rolling with deliberate precision, the bed creaking beneath them in time with her thrusts. Trent’s hands hovered uselessly at his sides. Usually, he’d hold a woman’s waist, guide her movements, but with April, he hesitated. She was in charge, and he wasn’t about to ruin this. Not now.

Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through him, his body trembling with the effort to keep himself in check. He was already so pent-up from her rules, from not touching himself for a week, that every second felt like torture and bliss all rolled into one.

"Open your eyes," April commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of his pleasure.

He obeyed immediately, lifting his gaze to meet hers. She looked devastating — wild curls framing her flushed face, lips parted as she rode him with unrelenting purpose.

"You feel so good, you know that?" she asked, her voice low and almost tender.

He nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

"Use your fucking words," she said, slowing her movements to an infuriating crawl.

"Thank you, ma’am," he breathed. "You feel good too."

"I do?"

"Yes, ma’am."

Her smirk widened, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Then let me know how good this pussy feels."

He stumbled over his words at first, but the more he spoke, the easier it got. He listed everything — how tight she was, how warm, how wet. How he’d dreamed about this moment, and now that it was happening, it was better than he’d ever imagined. How badly he wanted to cum inside her.

April’s movements grew erratic, her nails digging into his chest as she ground against him with reckless abandon. Trent was right there on the edge, the familiar coil in his stomach tightening with every thrust.

"Look at that," she teased, her voice breathy. "You’re gonna cum?"

"Yes, ma’am," he choked out, his body twitching beneath her.

"Hold it," she said sharply, her hips still rolling. "I’m not done with you yet."

Fucking hell.

"Please, ma’am," he begged, his voice raw. It had been too long, and he was still new to this. How could she expect him to hold back when she was doing everything in her power to drive him insane?

And then it happened. His body betrayed him, the coil snapping as he spilled into her with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

April slowed to a stop, her expression shifting as she looked down at him. The pleasure that had softened her features just moments ago was replaced with a look of utter disdain.

"I told you not to cum," she said, her tone icy.

"I’m sorry, ma’am," Trent whispered, letting out a shaky exhale as he felt some of his cum leak out of her pussy to trail down his length. "I’m so sorry."

Her face hardened, her voice cutting through his apology. "No more apologies, Trent," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she added, "Now, you get to have your first punishment."

Training felt different with April's marks hidden under his kit. Every movement reminded him of last night - how she'd punished him for cumming without permission in round one ("Bad boys need to learn control," she'd purred before denying him release in round two), the way she'd marked him as hers with teeth and nails. His "homework assignment" was still ringing in his ears: practice edging, get better at control, earn his next reward.

His skin was a map of their night - bite marks scattered across his chest, scratches down his back from when he'd finally earned his release, bruises from her grip when he'd tried to rush things. Each mark a reminder of how she'd taken him apart piece by piece, only putting him back together when he'd properly begged for it.

He kept checking his phone between drills. Nothing from April yet. Was she disappointed? Had his lack of control put her off?

Tyler's texts were going mental though:

Tyler: Bruv these photos are INSANE Tyler: Timeline's gone crazy Tyler: Look at these quotes 😭

The thirst tweets were something else: "Trent Alexander-Arnold looking like a SNACK" "Whoever suggested this shoot deserves a raise" "Those EYES though 👀"

When Slot called time on training, every muscle in Trent's body was aching - and not just from football. April hadn't exactly been gentle after he'd disobeyed her first command about waiting for permission.

The changing room was rowdy as usual, everyone taking the piss about his photos. He tried stripping off carefully, but winced as the fabric caught on the deeper scratches - the ones she'd left when he'd earned his third release after what felt like hours of teasing.

"Yo what the FUCK?" Ibou's voice carried across the room. "Your back brother!"

Too late to hide the evidence - bite marks, nail tracks, proper artwork of them. Some still angry red, others already turning purple.

"Shit bruv," Darwin whistled. "She's wild!"

"Proper freaky one you've got there!"

"Lucky bastard!"

"Trent's finally found someone to put him in his place!" Robbo called out, cackling.

"Nah but for real," Curtis grinned, "she must be something special. Man's got a proper glow about him."

"More like proper marks about him," Joe added, making everyone howl.

"Oi," Trent cut in, something protective flaring up. "Show some respect yeah?"

"Aww, look at him defending his girl's honor," Robbo teased. "She got you proper whipped already?"

You have no idea, Trent thought, but said nothing.

"Please tell me she's coming to the PSV match," Ibou said. "Need to see the woman who's turned our Trent into a lovesick puppy."

"I'm not–"

"Mate," Mo cut in with that knowing smile of his, "you've been checking your phone every two minutes waiting for her text."

More laughter, more jokes of exaggerated cat noises and pretending to scratch each other. Even Virgil was grinning, which was rare enough to make Trent's face heat up more.

In the shower, hot water stinging his marked skin, Trent couldn't help grinning. Let them joke. They had no idea what April was really like - how she could switch from dominatrix to soft girl in seconds, how she'd held him after everything, whispering praise until he fell asleep.

His phone buzzed as he was getting dressed.

April: Been practicing your edging? April: Good boys get rewards… April: Bad boys get denied again.

Fucking hell.

.................tbd

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

All Falls Down - Chapter 5

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

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Josh stared down at his phone. He blinked a couple of times before going to look at her location to find that she had stopped sharing it with him. “What the fuck.” He muttered before trying to call her again and grunting in frustration when his call went unanswered. 

He went to instagram and pulled up Kiyana’s instagram, instantly getting irritated at what he saw.

Who the fuck is that? He asked himself, staring down at the picture of his wife pouring a shot into some strange ass man's mouth. And by the smug look on Samara’s face he knew she posted it because she knew he would see it. He took a closer look at the background and immediately knew where she was at. 

He went to grab his car keys off of the hook by the garage door but did a double take as something on the console table caught his eye. He picked up her wedding ring and like a zombie, walked back into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to his mom. 

She wanted him to find it. she wanted him to know that she was out tonight without her wedding ring. She wanted him to hurt  and she had succeeded. 

After Samara had hung up on Josh, she had taken Kiyana’s phone and put it in her own purse. Key didn’t need her night ruined from Josh calling her all night. 

Kiyana had just stumbled back over to the section after dancing with Malik again and plopped herself down on the couch next to Joe. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely on as fuck. “You have fun?” Joe asked, his deep voice right by her ear making her shiver. She nodded her head.  He had been trying to test the waters all night. Rubbing on her exposed thighs, placing his hand on her lower back as they walked over to the bar and waited to be served. Joe did not give a single fuck that Kiyana was married to Josh, never did. 

Kiyana was supposed to be his. He was going to ask her out during their lunch period way back in 10th grade but that dumb fuck of an English teacher gave him detention. You could only imagine the anger that coursed through Joe’s veins once he found out that Josh had beaten him to the punch. The same Josh who never showed one ounce of interest in Kiyana.  So now that Josh had fucked up, Joe wasn’t wasting anymore time. 

“Yeah, my feet are killing me though.” She whined, staring down at her feet that were encased in a pair of 6-inch heels that Samara basically forced her to wear. 

“I bet they do.” He chuckled, placing one of his hands on her thigh, he scooted closer to her and leaned in to whisper “Your husband know you out here in this tiny ass dress?” as he slid his hand up her thigh until it reached the hem and gave it a little tug. 

“Nope, and I honestly don’t give a fuck if he did .” She whispered back, giggling when Joe raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you know he cheated on me?” She scoffed, leaning forward to grab one of the blue shots from the table, downing it before reaching for another. 

“What?” Joe gasped mockingly, covering his mouth with his hand. “Forreal? That’s wild baby girl.” Kiyana rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. 

“Yup.” She scowled. “With some bitch y’all work with.” 

“I’ve always said he wasn’t too bright. I mean who would cheat on you?” He asked, rubbing on her thigh. “The way you held him down for twenty-three years and that's how he repays you.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “It’s fucked up.” He finished and she nodded her head. 

“It is fucked up.”  She sighed and looked down at her left hand, frowning at the absence of her wedding ring. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them and plastering a smile on her face. “I didn’t come here to think or talk about Josh. I came here to have fun, and that’s what I'm going to do.” She said before standing up from the couch, grabbing Joe’s hand and pulling him towards the dance floor. 

They danced to about two and a half songs before Kiyana told him that she wanted another drink. So he nodded and followed behind her to the bar. 

This was the perfect opportunity for him. He stood behind her, caging her in between his body and the bar. He waited until the person next to them got their drink and walked away to strike.

“You ever think about what we did on graduation night?” Joe whispered to her. Kiyana inhaled a deep breath and met his eyes in the mirror in front of them.  She would be lying if she said she didn’t. She had thought about it plenty of times. Joe smirked then placed a kiss on her neck. “Mmhmm.” He hummed. “You remember, don't you. Sweetest pussy I ever put my mouth on” He whispered, sliding his hands from her waist to the top of her thighs. 

“Joe.” She moaned as he trailed his fingers under her dress. He arched his eyebrow at her when he felt that she had on no panties. 

“I got you.” He mumbled, placing kisses up and down her neck. “Let me take care of you.”  She let out another moan as he slipped his middle finger inside of her. “Shit, you soaked baby girl.” 

Her hand shot up to grab his wrist when he added another finger. Their eyes met in the mirror and Joe smirked at the blissed out look on her face. “Fuck i’m boutta cum.” She moaned, closing her eyes. Joe started placing kisses on her neck again, pumping his fingers into her faster. 

“Go ‘head baby, cum on my fingers.” His thumb now flickering over her clit. Kiyana bit hip lip to stifle her moans as she came, her nails leaving indents on his wrist. 

“Fuck” She muttered as she met his eyes in the mirror again. She watched as he pulled his hand out from under her dress and brought it to his mouth. Her jaw went slack as he put his finger in his mouth and closed his eyes like he was savoring the taste.

Mmhm, just like I remember.” He cupped her jaw and turned her head to face him, capturing her lips with his in a slow kiss. 

“What the fuck.” She whispered once the broke apart. Joe chuckled before placing another kiss on her lips then flagged down the bartender which she was grateful for, because she really needed that drink now.

okay Joe i see you 👀

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

[lulablogss]

co-parent bakugou .2

katsuki bakugou x nb reader (previous part)

(cw: smut, angst, kids, arguing, verbal abuse)

when bakugou comes back from his morning walk he goes into the kitchen to see raya over the stove cooking breakfast. “hey babe, goodmorning,” she turned to face him, “i'm sorry about last night; i was just upset.”

he nods and goes to their bedroom and gets undressed. raya, not being satisfied with his reaction, pauses breakfast and follows him up. she sneaks up behind him and runs her hand down his bare back. “i said i was sorry babe, you have to forgive me.” he turns around to face her.

“you know my dad doesn't like it when we argue.” he hated that. he hated it when she used her dads position as leverage. with rayas’ dad being the mayor and all; she’d grown to be a spoiled brat. sure he had the skill to be a pro-hero but maybe not the funds. his parents weren't exactly the richest in the world. so of course his wife offered to let her dad take care of it. just like that- pro-hero dynamite had his own agency.

he swallowed hard, some spit along with his pride and sighed, “yea, ‘m sorry bout last night. i wasn't in the best head space." raya smiled, and played with the waistband of his boxers. “it's okay lovebug, now just lay back and let me take care of you.” he stood there quietly and watched her. watching as she knelt down, pulling down his boxers as she did. taking his semi-hard dick into her hands then licking the tip while working her hand up and down his full length. she kind of falters at noticing he isn't getting hard as quickly as he usually does. “did you jerk off already today or something?” he lies and shakes his head yes as she stands up. “or maybe you just can't get hard for me anymore.” she says jokingly, and katsuki forces a laugh. unsure of what was causing the problem.

__

by the time you get up it's nearly 1pm, woken up by your antsy little toddler who you let sleep in your room for night. you get up then go do your morning routine. (accompanied by your curious toddler of course) when you finish both of your morning routines you go towards the kitchen to make your cereals of choice. you go up to your room to grab your phone and see a text from bakugou. “When can i see my kid again” you sigh and reply telling him he can come over today. he likes the message and lets you know that his wife will be tagging along as well. great.

they get to your house around 3pm. you welcome them in and take them to the living area. bakugou mentions he brought something over for hana and went back to the car. leaving you and raya alone. you sit there kind of quietly while hana is wearing headphones watching her tablet. raya observes the girl, “hm.. are you even sure its his? she looks a little.. slow,” she says nonchalantly. you stare in disbelief at her, shocked she’d even say that straight to your face. “excuse me?”

“its a cute baby of course, kats’ genes really tried their best but..” she pauses “i can just imagine how pretty our baby girl is gonna be- you know with that being said, i'd really appreciate it if you kind of backed off. he needs to be an attentive father to our baby, not yours. i don't need to be worried about some desperate baby momma.’’ you scoff, you had enough of this wench disrespecting you and your child in your own home. without thinking you end up over your coffee table landing a smack across her face. she yelps in pain and hold her face like it was the most precious thing ever. “what you are not about to do is come up in my house and disrespect me and my daughter. you can get the fuck out.”

she immediately ran outside to katsuki, leaving you alone with a dumbstruck hana. you ignored the little girl's curious expression and just simply ran your hands through your hair. it wasn't too long after before you heard daunting footsteps headed your way. “what the fuck did you do? yer gonna let me bring my wife up in here just to disrespect ‘er? why the fuck of all people are you calling her a tramp ‘nd sayin she got sloppy seconds? of all people. i'm trying real hard to be in my daughter's life but yer being a real bitch about it.” without letting you say anything he drops a gift bag and leaves. leaving you once again, and leaving you speechless.

__

later that night you drop your daughter off with her grandparents and go see your old friend, eijirou kirishima. you two usually caught up at least once a month. drink a little, laugh a little, indulge a little. he's been such a great friend, so supporting and always there for you. even occasionally watching hana for you. but today you two are all alone, and both a little too drunk for either of your liking. it starts off with friendly peckish little neck kisses, short playful pecks on the lips. nothing you two haven't explored before.

but tonight something was different. you expressed to him how stressful things were today with what happened with katsukis wife. he told you he’d make you feel better and you just kind of brushed it off. but now it's hard to brush it off when he's knuckles deep inside of you, working his fingers deeper and deeper inside. you just throw your head back against his plush couch letting the pleasure take you away. “eijirou.. please,” you whine. he shoots you a toothy grin with half hooded eyes. “please what? you can use your words, i know you can.” you whine more while he works his fingers into your special spot. once you finish he pulls out grinning; leaving you blissed out with arousal apparent by his print visible.

he gets you a ride home, both too intoxicated to drive anywhere. he opens the door for you then hugs and kisses you goodnight. you get home and go to sleep.

when you wake up the next morning your head is pounding and your phone is blowing up. the most alarming test came from your mother

: “How could you be so stupid?”

: “Letting the press see you getting so personal with someone”

: “Theres photos of you and that Kirishima boy going around of you kissing”

you dont get why it was such a big deal. you didn't even care, with your parents being famous pro-heroes everything you've done since birth has been documented. it's tiring and after your daughter's birth you stopped caring. Doing whatever you wanted regardless of the paparazzi, but them following you over to kirishima's house was ridiculous. The second text you read was from bakugou;

: “Out of all of my friends you go for him?”

: “You didnt feel the need to tell me about this?”

: “Really ??? Eijirou? Has he been around Hana?”

you got kind of upset at his messages more than you did your mom. what did it matter to him, he doesnt get to control who you talked to. he’s not your boyfriend nor your dad. you leave him on read and you scroll through your twitter feed. filled with photos of you and kirishima kissing. “PRO-HERO MIYU and YUIKA SUZUKI CHILD CAUGHT MAKING OUT WITH PRO-HERO RED RIOT” you sigh and almost turn your phone off but see another set of messages from bakugou, was he jealous?

[sgiandubh]

Me pareció extraño que ellos (sí, ellos, por supuesto) no simplemente optaran por duplicar su apuesta por Barbie Fitness. Para bien o para mal, ya estaba algo establecido. ¿Qué crees que les llevó a cambiar de rumbo?

Dear Bizarre Anon,

Como siempre, primero la traducción y luego - mi respuesta.

' I thought it was bizarre that they (yes, of course, 'they') didn't just choose to double down on Fitness Barbie. For what it's worth, that was already a fixture. What do you think made them change their mind?'

I have many conflicting thoughts and yes, even feelings about all this, Anon, at the moment. I think it was a botched plan from the very start. Must have picked her from Raya, she was cheaply available (a quick buck for a quick side job, for her) and he did not vet her at all.

Why not double down on the other woman? Too loud, too orange, too brash are things that immediately come to mind. I think she sealed her fate with that Scottish week-end, when she had to share her son's vomit with the entire world. And overexpose a child, in the process. Probably also some things we might never be privy to - so, no use to look for answers in the Room of Nothing.

My answer to your second question will be very short: Park Anon. Panic. The problem was that this pap walk was picked up by People, a media outlet read by many in Hollywood, including agents, directors, producers, etc. A Big Problem, indeed.

For the moment, he turned off tags. I don't think you will see that girl ever again, Anon - and I do think this is a sure sign.

My questions are perhaps simpler:

How many IG followers will he lose in the foreseeable future?

How will this impact OL's broadcast ratings for Seasons 7-B and 8?

How will this impact Sassenach Spirits' sales short and middle-term?

How will this impact his business relationship with Southern Glaziers and the like?

How will this impact MPC's subscription trends and financials?

How will this impact his CSR relationship with NGOs, such as WWF, Blood Cancer UK, etc?

How will this impact a personal brand that can now be legitimately described as unreliable and borderline schizophrenic? And I mean it in a very logical way, as the impossible reconciliation between manwhoring and philanthropy.

From my watchpoint, I couldn't care less about any other rationale. These are the real questions he will have to face soon enough. All the rest is bullshit and sentiment. And we are now forced to talk business, not sentiment. For as far as sentiments are concerned, my answer will never change: they will find a way, even if in the process they might hurt each other. True love is never easy.

[teatalkblog]

Of course J deleted his Raya account after the media exposed him and basically made him look like a cheater, he was just updating his profile 2 days ago. He is absolutely obsessed with his image and the way people see him. And it’s easy for celebrities to get back on that app. It’s not like for the rest of us.

One dumb move after another.

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 6 ~ The Supernatural Wars.

Pairing: English Dean Winchester X English Reader

Blurb: When the residents of this Earth found out that they were but a draft in God's numerous stories, they decided to make noise in hopes that their creator would return. Nothing can be louder than the begs of the powerless, the cackles of the ruthless, or the unending destruction left in the wake of the most merciless wars any universe can ever see—here the bloodshed never ends. So, tell me how can two young soulmates, then, find love's shade of red under all this crimson gore?

Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Language, gore, voilence, major and minor character deaths, thoughts of suicide (not graphic), substance abuse (alcohol and cigarettes), mentions of wars (I mean, it's in the name).

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 6: Out Of Control.

It was nothing like you'd ever witnessed. People roamed in broad daylight, milling about teeming lands of grass, laughing and chatting. The land hugged a castle in the center and then was surrounded by more trees equidistantly from all sides in a circle.

The castle was nothing like yours. While you had been given a towering apartment building that only looked like a castle, this palace was an actual freaking castle. All that was left to make it royal were actual ponies and rainbows and princesses.

Well, you supposed you were sorta a princess now that this place was also technically yours . . .

'Aren't people scared of being zapped by lightning?' you asked premierly. It was only you, and every one on Dean's team in one of the BMWs while the other Leader was in his Baby with the whole of your team. "Bonding" as Sebastian liked to call it; you just thought that he was having way too much fun with the rearranging of people - it was too much power.

'The place is warded,' Raya said. 'And for what wards can't keep out, magic does. Angels don't see anything but a clearing right here.'

'Magic?' you frowned.

'We have in-palace witches, of course,' Dakota said with a smug grin. He was supposed to be the charming fellow.

From what you'd learned till now from this lot was that no one except Sebastian stayed with Dean majority of the time. There wasn't a "team" per se, just various team-ups based on which hunter was free when; for instance, Raya, Reed, and Dakota hadn't been hunting when they were offered this almost month-long "case".

Another uncomprehending discovery on your part was that taking care of Dean was no one's full-time job here. Not even Sebastian's. Everyone was free to do whatever they pleased so long as they finished their hunting quota and didn't disobey Dean if he ever issued an order. It was mostly democratic here, many suggestions were heard before Dean picked one.

Hell, even Dean had a hunting quota. Apparently, he didn't spend much time in one place. Always moving from one place to another, and he was popular for taking the toughest cases and wars. Even when the pager was quiet, he would venture out for the smaller cases alone and finish off nests in the dead of the night - not returning to his palace for months sometimes.

'That's . . . ?' Wrong. But you couldn't say it.

You were prosecuted for giving away a land that was a liability to humans and Dean was trustworthy after using witches on the land that he lived on? How was that fair?

None of Dean's team were unfaithful, was how.

'Cool, right?' Reed said, stoicly - you didn't know if he was being sarcastic. He was a taciturn, grumpy man who was dating the insolent Raya. They had two children out of wedlock in the Hunter's Programme.

'It is cool,' Sebastian said. 'We believe in believing that even monsters are tired of these never-ending wars like we are. I mean, don't you like imagining a world where there were peace?'

'Peace is a myth,' Raya said. 'Do you really think all our problems will go away without the wars?'

'No, but we would have simpler problems,' countered Sebastian. 'Like, what should I eat today? Or should I ask the girl out? I shouldn't be thinking about my will as soon as my first paycheck comes in.'

'If we don't have wars,' you indulged, 'wouldn't we all be jobless?'

'Maybe,' Sebastian said. 'But we would have lives.'

You couldn't imagine that. Your whole life, you'd worked to be a Leader of the wartime. As a hunter, a world without monsters was purposeless to you. You would have no reason to exist anymore - it will all be empty, a complex nothingness.

Your mother disapproved of these notions as well. She had encouraged Seth to chase a monster that would lessen the problems of humanity, but wouldn't eradicate them. She believed in playing smart. Just like she approved of B/F because B/F had selected a strategic monster.

The couple had awed everyone for their large achievements, and they had saved about a million lives, only not the world.

This was also the reason why Dean peeved her. Because he saved the world by murdering Amara. While those words won't ever see the light of the day, you could clearly see her mouth twitch at the corner upon Dean's name.

It was an expectation you had to make true too; you had five years for it, based on the loose timeline your mother had given you.

'We are here,' Reed said, as the car pulled to a stop in front of the proud castle, amongst the abundantly stretching greenery. The double doors were set apart from the driveways by a graceful staircase.

Raya and Reed were holding hands as they hurried out of the car and sprinted up the staircase as if the car was on fire - you assumed they were just that happy to see their children. The staircase was already occupied with people coming out of cars before and after yours, and some others who were going to and fro between the castle and the grounds. Dakota took his sweet time unloading his bags and then headed for the group of girls chatting across, on the staircase.

Your people were collecting at the tail end of your car, with their bags, huddled, waiting for your instructions. Sebastian was waiting for you to get off so that he could park. Your three cars had followed Dean's Impala to get spots in the garage just around the corner.

'I know what you're thinking,' Sebastian said. He could guess that any person would be nervous or intimidated.

You sighed. 'If they'd given the New Law before we traveled cross-continent, they would have saved our time.'

He snorted. Okay, he didn't know you were thinking that, but then he should've known you'd think little beyond work. 'Right. Well, we can only focus on what time we do have now.'

'True. But they also wasted resources,' you frowned.

Sebastian was about to politely ask you to suck up when it struck him - your definition of resources.

It wasn't money or weapons, all the Leaders were inherently filthy rich. You were talking about people as resources. As he tried, he found the thread of your trauma and pain laid under layers of weathered masks.

'That's always a tragedy,' Sebastian said soberly. He took your shoulder and squeezed making you almost jump out of your seat. You blinked yourself to a glare.

'That's right,' you said, brushing off his hand, not so subtly; Sebastian realized his mistake.

You left Sebastian to mull you over while you retrieved your bags.

You already knew the rooms and the ways to reach them, courtesy of the blueprints Sebastian lent to you. You would make good use of them since there weren't maids to tend to people exactly like they had done at your place.

You set your jaw before you could bring yourself to knock next to the nameplate. Sebastian's cheerful face peeked out and then his half-naked body greeted you as he let the door open. You tried not to gasp at the inappropriateness.

'Come on in,' said the towel-clad man.

You checked the hallway to see if you could drag someone else in. When you found no scapegoat, you opted to leave the door open when you took three measured steps inside.

'What's up?' he asked, in front of the mirror, drying his hair with a smaller towel. The rest of his body was still dewy after his apparent shower.

You averted your eyes to the full-length windows that oversaw the balconies. 'I-I-I didn't see any Offices on the blueprints.'

'Oh,' he threw his hair towel on the bed that was already cluttered with various objects. Your mind was already trying to decide how you would clean the place if the room were yours; the hand towel would go in a hamper for one.

'I'll take you in five,' he said, walking to the bathroom to hopefully dress up. 'Make yourself at home,' he said over his shoulder before shutting the door.

Your gaze swept over the room - it didn't make sense that a Governor would own this. You contemplated taking his words to heart and cleaning the area. Your dignity immediately vetoed the idea. You settled for closing the door and waiting outside.

'Have you ever seen a shirtless man?'

Your wide eyes met his curious ones. 'Excuse me?'

Sebastian shrugged. 'Beside me.'

Could you have him arrested too?

'I will not be answering that,' you huffed.

'You kinda just did,' he said.

'Do you have no manners?' you were exasperated.

His lips curled, 'Table? Sure I do. Social? Iffy.'

You rounded on him, squaring your stance. Your heels allowed you to reach a little above his chin, but he still had to look down at you.

He pressed his lips to not chortle.

'Listen, Mr Slay,' you said with the edge of a threat, 'I don't know how you operate with Mr Winchester, but you will treat me with the utmost respect from here on forth - is that clear?'

Sebastian wanted to add, "Or what?" but he decided that he'd played with you enough that day. If he was going to annoy you, he might as well let you grow a gradual immunity to him. Matter of fact, that was how he got Dean to like him.

'Yes, ma'am.'

It took him another minute before he could get you to the trailhead at the edge of the forest behind the castle.

'You go straight for five minutes and go left for another ten minutes. Yours is the one on the border.'

'You've made Offices in the jungle?' you asked, feeling horrified.

'Sets the tone,' he said casually. 'I'm going to go eat. If you see a monster, you've gone too far.'

You were too prideful to ask for better guidance, so you watched him jog away while you unslung your bow.

You didn't think you were lost, you knew the way back, you just didn't know the road forward. You'd been walking for twenty minutes and to no avail, there wasn't a single house in sight. You didn't reach the first person until ten more minutes of mindless excavating, it was around the time you'd been considering giving up and heading back anyway.

'Hey,' you said, trying not to be too expressive of your relief. 'Hi, I'm with the castle. Could you tell me where the Offices—?'

The woman in front of you curled back her lips in a growl-cum-hiss, her monster teeth descending over her make-believe ones, her eyes synthesizing into snake-like slits that were feral from going hungry for days.

You slid to your knees when she charged and you easily stabbed her with your arrow into her heart, the silver twisting with your wrist. You got out from under her to be jumped on by someone from behind. The forest floor smacked into your cheek and you grunted, but your hand had found your dagger and it was already inserted backward into her body, you twisted it to let the second, partnering Vetala crumble atop you. You crawled out from under her, dusting your dagger off from her caved-in chest cavity.

You sensed the presence before the hand encased your shoulder. You whipped about with your weapon raised, and it clanged against another sliver-iron blade before it could decapitate . . . Dean.

His eyes looked beyond you and on the two dead bodies. He seemed impressed; Vetalas were superior in strength, and agility, and had a great venomous bite - if you didn't act fast, you would never act at all. Besides silver, you learned that ravenous hunger was also a weakness for them, as it was for most monsters in this warring world.

'You're a good fighter,' he said.

'You don't have to sound so surprised,' you gritted, adding more weight to your evenly curved knife to prove your point. It didn't budge Dean's strength but he raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement.

'Duck,' he calmly said. And you released all energy from your feet to fall even before you'd fully processed his words. You heard the shriek above your head as Dean used his silver sword to impale the newcomer. You were more focused on Dean's feet though, there was another set behind him, in an attacking stance, gaining on him.

Your legs swept out Dean's from under him. He lost his balance and fell backward right onto the monster, knocking the male to the ground. You used your momentum to somersault diagonally over Dean's frame, your faces aligning a foot apart for a second before you were straightening and plunging the dagger down so that the rousing Vetala would never wake again.

'Was that completely necessary?' Dean groused as he sat up.

'No; just as your surprise wasn't,' you said, feeling smug. Your expression fell when you heard more unseen hisses follow.

'How big can a Vetalas nest be?' you asked.

'With our economy and luck?' Dean scoffed; shouting: 'Run!'

He was on your tail, his sword flashing dangerously. You kept an arrow nocked in your bow even if you planned to use your daggers primarily - since if you shot a Vetala, they'd need the weapon twisted into their hearts to fully die anyway.

Dean was shouting instructions from behind you until you reached a rope ladder. You started climbing at a run. Dean forewent the rope and was clawing his way up the bark, somehow faster than you were.

By the time you reached the top, Dean was kneeling with his sword raised, his eyes trained under you. You scrambled to get your legs on the platform that was made over the branch of this tree. Dean's sword swished inches below you and got stuck into the Vetala's heart that had chased you up. Dean let it go with a twist and it fell atop its partner who screamed in grief and horror. You cut down the rope ladder so none of them tried to climb up again.

With delay, you noticed the railing; it was a watchtower that Dean had shooed you onto.

'Help me dismantle this thing,' Dean ordered, already striking blows on the screws that held your platform up with a pocketknife.

'We lost them!' you exclaimed in alarm.

'We compromised our position,' he said, nodding towards the trees beyond the enormous trunk of the one you were on. 'If we leave this place, they'll track us back to our treehouses.'

You couldn't argue with that logic no matter how much you'd've liked to. Even now, the Vetalas were clamoring under your position for a drop of blood and the flesh of your meat.

'I,' you swallowed with difficulty. 'I don't know how to swing away.'

'I know,' Dean said, untying a knot around the trunk. 'I remember.'

It took you a moment to stare at his profile to understand that that was the exact reason he'd left a rope ladder for you to climb up with; no one else from his side knew about your climbing problem yet. You pulled yourself to your feet and started working on the other ropes.

'How long were you watching me walk off the wrong path?' you asked, unable to keep disdain from your voice.

He shot you a "get-real" look. 'I wasn't. I saw you from my window, and then I saw the monster. I brought you here instead of the offices so we wouldn't lead them in.'

'How did you know it was a monster?' you demanded next.

He gave you a wan look. 'No human walks on the ground unless it's enchanted, Y/N.'

He said it so obviously that you felt like facepalming. If you see a monster, you've gone too far.

Monsters are usually kept away from human civilizations unless they've gone feral. Or unless you walked into their territory. You were so used to owning the lands that you didn't realize that all the humans would be on the trees here. If you'd run back, you would've easily exposed all the treehouses to the Vetalas, so Dean had given you a lucky break by saving you.

'Thanks,' you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. Dean either didn't hear you or he ignored you; either way, you were grateful.

'Do you trust me?' he asked when all the ropes and screws were undone. He held up a hand for you to latch onto, his other hand grasping onto the single last rope that still kept you uplifted on the teetering platform. You had your own hands clutching the bark of the tree as if that would keep you from falling the thirty feet. Heights never made you nauseous until they resembled death.

Between death and Dean, you would gladly choose the latter; 'No. But I don't have a choice.'

His lips curved into an almost snarl, he shook his head. 'You're unbelievable,' he said, guiding your hand around his waist so that you were holding him from behind.

'Thanks,' you said pettily. You didn't see Dean's eyes roll.

'Hold tight,' he said, checking your grip.

You had to stifle your yelp of terror when he let go of the rope and the construction under you unravelled. But you were already flying. Dean's hands changed branches, and your eyes squished shut, holding onto him like a vice. Wind rippled your pony in short bursts and every rise and fall made your stomach swoop with fretful adrenaline.

'Alright, get off,' Dean tapped your hands, panting from exertion. You opened one of your eyes like a cartoon character and glanced around him to check that it was indeed safe to let go. You then pushed away from him like he was made of hot coals.

He turned with a sigh and a hand through his hair. He laid a critical eye on you while he caught his breath. He wouldn't be winded normally, but with the added weight, he'd felt the strain in his arms and the roughness on his palms.

'How do you not know how to climb trees?' he demanded.

You frowned, 'You didn't care before.'

'I didn't know you were a Leader then,' he pointed out.

Your lips curved further down. 'I'm a quick study, Mr—'

'That wasn't my question,' he cut you off, stubbornly waiting for the correct answer.

You exhaled sharply, your eyes veering over his shoulder. '. . . We didn't think it was important.'

'We?'

'My mom,' you sighed. 'In her defense, we didn't think I was going to ever be deployed.'

'You were next in line after Gordon,' he reasonably said. 'You were the most significant candidate. Even Seth knows how to climb trees.'

You crossed your arms. 'That's different. He's a Firstborn.'

'And you were first-in-line. It would be acceptable if you didn't know how to make ground-level construction, or even underground, for that matter. But you were an heir to Europe - you should know about treehouses!'

Ground-level houses were a feature of Asia and underground was a strong suit for America. Treehouses were a proud European quality. So on and so forth. While all the Firstborns were compulsorily made to learn all forms of living, the first-in-lines were given the education of the Continents which they may or may not rule one day.

Your parents just found that a waste of time and energy, especially on you. They were gamblers of sorts, risk-takers for a better word - and they took the risk of never educating you about treehouses, letting your skills instead be used on the battlefield just because there was a large chance you'd never leave America and instead serve as a hopefully valuable hunter to your brother for the rest of your life.

'I'll learn it,' you assured Dean with a taut jaw.

'That's not the point,' he said, exasperated with you. 'You almost got yourself killed.'

You winced at the accusation. 'I understand that I threatened the sanctity of the Offices. I'll refrain from entering until I learn—'

'You're not listening to me,' he said, an octave higher as if you weren't physically hearing. 'You almost died.'

'I know. That's bad rep, I get it.'

'No!' he threw his hands up in frustration. 'It's like talking to a wall,' he turned away, telling no one. Your fuse sparked as it often did around Dean.

'Excuse me?'

He met your steely gaze. 'Is anger the only way I can get you to speak human?'

'If you mean irrationally, then you're on the right path,' you said, your hand on your dagger that you barely resisted the urge to pull on him.

'Do you ever listen to yourself?' he got in your face despite noticing your hand on the offensive.

It was with a magnanimous effort that you kept your mouth shut. You felt like your head would explode with the veins throbbing in it.

He was your superior. No matter how much you hated it, that was the truth now. And you couldn't talk to a superior the way you would talk to everyone else . . . 

'Sorry,' you bit, lowering your eyes. It was a blow to your ego.

He took a literal step back in surprise. A wave of disturbance disrupted his fury. It was exactly what you should've said, but it was exactly what you wouldn't.

His brows creased. 'I'll . . . Let me drop you back at the compound.'

'As you wish, Mr Winchester,' you obliged.

He hid it from you, but his face fell. You had been his last interaction that didn't treat him like he was always right; you weren't supposed to treat him so formally, like he was so separate from you, so far removed. He felt like an alien again. His loneliness hit him square in the chest again, like the last person who could've understood him, failed.

It's your fault. Must be; he pushed you too far. He shouldn't expect anyone to get it, anyway.

No one needed you.

You were under the impression that the whole day, you would work with the people and then, at night you could practice on trees.

So far, Dean had left the palace for a high-profile case, in unspoken words, leaving the palace in your hands. But no one seemed to need you.

For example when there was a problem with the supplies; someone called Sebastian, even though you were standing right across the room. A supply run was organized and no one asked you on it.

All the major meetings were happening at the Offices. All of them were impromptu. By the time the news could reach you at the palace, they would already be done with it, and be gone on their separate ways for different cases.

Everyone kept going and coming back like waves of the ocean, chatting among themselves happily. Since your team's rooms were on a shared floor with some of the hunters, they'd been included in the hunts. But there was no place for another Leader.

You considered taking a case of your own, but as luck would have it, Dean banned you from cases without a treehouse skill. Something which you contemplated storming over to him about - but that would only make him angrier with you, you'd decided. He was your superior, and he could do what he wanted with you.

You tried to sway some of the crowd in your favor by going to a weekly bonfire. Not only did people refuse to talk to you properly, but they also talked behind your back, literally, and you heard several of them spreading ill-meaning rumors about you. You didn't bother showing up to make friends or save face again.

As a last resort, you dedicated all your hours at the camp to the safer side of the forest where children aging from five to fifteen would learn the skills to be hunters. Technically, they didn't have a category for you either, or any equipment to teach you. So, you picked a tall tree you liked, requested for nets from Salem, the instructor, and started learning on your own - experience was a better teacher than any human, anyways.

Benny's gifted gloves were stashed in the drawers of your room, so you were operating with the torn and abused training gloves from the basket they had at the entry of this little training center. They were abysmal: they stunk your hands and would occasionally slip on the rope—but you didn't want any reminders from the night Lay died.

You'd refused a harness from a concerned Salem and told her that a net shall suffice you. You would not be treated like a child.

If you wanted to be respected, you needed to earn it.

This was the line you would repeat every time you fell into the net with a force that would punch the air out of your lungs. The net was so hard that it also started leaving a small patchwork of bruises across your skin. It would have been good fodder for children to laugh at, had you gone in front of them - but you weren't leaving the training center without climbing a significant fucking portion of the tree.

'Lady L/N?' Salem called up to you. You were one-fourth of the way up on the tree.

'Yes?' you called back. Your body was hot and burning from the exercise that day. Your head was slightly faint from falling and from being forced to climb in a horizontal manner all day. Your fingers seemed to be developing ulcers. And the worst of all was the sweltering sweat that seemed to ooze from every available pore of your skin.

'We're closing!'

The students were sent home around seven but Salem tended to wait back until eleven. For the first time that evening, you looked up and saw the night sky.

You remembered having lunch at four, with the other children of the centre. You also remember how you took a plate, flustered with all the points and whispers in your direction, and ducked into Salem's cabin to have a quick quiet scarf down before you headed back to your training post - the tallest tree in their program.

You dared to look down now - it made your heart drop to your stomach when you actually saw the height difference. You swallowed, focusing on the mini Salem Rodriguez on the ground.

'Hand me the keys,' you said, like every day. You would be locking up.

She nodded. You tightened the hold of the rope around your right hand and prepared to let go with the other. She stepped back and made a motion to throw the object high into the air (at least seven feet, attributed to how tall the tree was).

A moment later, the keys came sailing across the air and you pushed off the bark on the swinging rope to catch it mid-air. You had to slide down a few paces and swing more to the right before you could reach it with a hand in the air.

You were so happy that you simply caught it that you forgot you were hurtling back towards the tree. Your right side slammed hard into the thick wood, your knuckles scraping harshly against it to make you lose your grip. And you fell.

Face-first, this time. The net hit your left side and you moaned in pain.

Salem wanted to rush forward like she did with all her other students - they would wear a harness and rarely fall on nets which hurt - but she knew how you would scold.

You took a minute before you shakily pulled yourself up, groaning. Some sweat got into your eye so you had to blink harder.

Salem gasped, 'You're bleeding!' She couldn't control her mother-hen instincts now; she walked, gracefully on one of the thin tightropes, balancing herself flawlessly.

You glanced down, but couldn't find a wound - then again, your eyes weren't focused. Your free aching hand reached your forehead brushed away the sweaty hair, but came away with blood. Your temperature was so warm from the exhausting day that you didn't feel a difference between the two.

Oh. A head wound, you frowned.

'I'm fine,' you protested as Salem crouched over you. She examined you despite it.

'It's not deep,' she breathed out. 'But you're bleeding a lot. I think I have a first-aid in the office.'

'Please,' you exclaimed. 'I don't need your help.'

She seemed to disagree. You silenced her by raising your hand.

'Shut the place,' you handed her the key back.

What a wasteful night, you thought. With much more effort and much less elegance, you walked out of the net.

You were brisk as you fled the center and practically ran across the safely marked trail back to the palace. You burst out of the trees and took the backdoor into the palace.

You were anxious to get to your room without any encounters - you didn't need anyone to know that you were injured even without going to any hunts. None of them would get hurt tree-climbing.

In your haste, you crashed into a large wall-like body. You cried out when it affected your right side this time. You stepped away holding your right hip.

When your eyes shifted from the chest your face bumped into, your eyes found the boisterous Sebastian.

'Sorry,' he laughed in amusement, but it died out soon. In the dark, it wasn't apparent, but when his eyes raked over your body, he stiffened.

'I wasn't looking,' you said, your own way of apology. You dropped your hands to the sides to not appear weak.

You made to rush past him when his hand caught yours. You hissed in pain when it tugged on your throbbing left side. He dropped it immediately.

'What's wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing,' you emphasized. 'If you could please keep this to yourself . . . .'

He raised his hands in surrender.

'Should I send Selina to—?'

'No!' you half-yelled. 'I can take care of myself!' You almost ran after that. Away from these meaningless concerns, away from this annoying and senseless small talk.

The hot water beating your body felt so much better. The whole time, you were fighting tears of frustration. Fighting, and succeeding.

This was just a minor setback, right?

Of course. Even if you had your own palace, you would have to learn treehousing and tree-climbing at some point.

People would need me there, your irritation barked back.

You hadn't done a single productive work in two weeks since you arrived here. Nothing noteworthy except the tree lessons.

You tried to console yourself by considering how well you were doing with the hammocks - the first lesson in treehousing. If you could sleep in a hammock all night without falling - it would be a success.

That happened once a week, at the center. The one time you'd gone, you'd managed your four hours without meeting the net they'd set under the trees. Of course, the real challenge would be to sleep much longer in there, like all the children were supposed to - but you were an adult, sleep was foreign to you anyway.

After that one night, just to make yourself feel a bit better, and to practice, you'd been constructing a hammock in your bedroom every night and sleeping in it in spite of having a perfectly well-constructed, largest-sized bed they could find.

You ruffled for something comfortable in your walk-in closet. You wouldn't admit this to anyone - and no one needed to find it out either - but you liked sleeping in shorts and a loose top.

The only advantage of less workload right now was that you didn't fall asleep atop a pile of books or papers, and certainly not in your work clothes. Now, you actually had time to change and time to choose where you wanted to fall asleep.

You picked the satin shorts and the buttoned shirt that was two sizes too large on you - it was your brother's, and when it got too small on him, you stole it. It was old enough that the print had been stripped after multiple washes. It was the only piece you owned of his; it comforted you on dismaying nights as such.

You also treated your wound and downed a painkiller along with a granola bar from your nightstand to avoid acid reflux from the medicine.

You were trying to decide whether you would read a political book or a monster book in bed when there was a knock on the door.

You froze first, in surprise. Then, you were annoyed.

Sighing, you headed for the door and hid yourself behind it, only letting your face pop out.

It was Sebastian.

'Are you decent?' he asked.

'I'm in my night dress,' you gritted out.

'So decent,' he pushed your door in, forcing you to open it wide.

You huffed, 'How dare—?'

'I see you bandaged it,' he pointed to your head. 'Good.' He suddenly shone his pocket torch in your eyes, 'Doesn't seem like a concussion.'

You batted his hand away, 'Mr Slay—!'

'Did you eat?' he cut you off again. 'You must've taken an Ibuprofen.'

'What does that have to do with your invasion of my privacy?' your voice was razored, and your eyes were daggered.

'I'm hungry,' he said innocently.

It threw off your anger. Just like Dean, Sebastian was another person who dared to play with your anger. At least you could scold Sebastian for it.

'I'm very close to filing a complaint that will blotch your reputation darkly, Mr Slay,' you warned.

He pressed his lips. To you, it seemed in fear. But he was actually suppressing his smirk because he thought it was funny.

'Maybe I phrased it wrong,' he said. 'Would you like to have dinner?'

You blinked in bewilderment.

Of all the things, you did not expect a dinner invitation.

'The kitchens are closed,' you pointed out. 'The cooks have gone to bed.'

The last dinnertime was ten o'clock. It was eleven-thirty now. You usually missed dinners these days because you would stay out till midnight to practice. In the mornings you would be ravenous with your breakfast - going in during the first slot at six while most hunters couldn't be bothered to be drug off their beds until ten.

There, Esmeralda, the Head Chef, and the only person native to this palace you could somewhat tolerate besides Salem, would whip you up something special before you made your way to the center again as the first student around eight - again, most kids wouldn't show up until ten.

'Aw, I think you'll like our new cook,' he said, with a grin that made you suspicious.

You debated the consequences of your actions before your curiosity won you over in Sebastian's favor.

He only gave you enough time to put your fluffy slippers on before he was chatting your ear off all the way down. You barely heard a word because you were fuming at him for not letting you change, and throw some make-up on. He said the food would get cold and that that would hurt the chef's feelings—something you didn't want to risk.

Inside the large, cavernous space of the kitchen, a single station was making the sound of pots and pans. One half of the room was dedicated to five hundred stations for cooks to either help the Head Chef cook food or to help themselves - after all, the palace consisted of about a thousand people.

Not all the stations were always used, with one-third of them leaving for hunts almost daily. But it was very useful in the days of balls and such.

The other half of the room was long tables of the mess which was only full to its capacity in peak hours. Other times, it was groups of people scattered about, laughing and chattering at the only time of the day when none of them had to worry.

Now, the room was empty. Emptier than the mornings. You never came to kitchen except in the slots because you didn't know how to cook - so, you'd never seen it like this before.

There were about five or six groups of people sitting wide apart, having cooked for themselves. Their disheveled appearance indicated that they'd returned from hunts. You envied them for that.

Sebastian led you away from the mess and towards the only working station on the other end. As you drew closer, you wanted to run away that much farther because you recognized the face.

'Hey,' Sebastian greeted. You wanted to clap a hand over his mouth because you still hadn't decided whether you should run or not.

A point that ran moot when the "chef" spared a glance from his skillful work.

Was there something this man couldn't do?

Dean's eyes locked on yours, and he stilled for a second.

'Hey,' he said, suddenly wary. 'What's she doing here?' he didn't look away from you.

You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. His eyes danced down your figure and you became extremely conscious of your clothing choice.

To make matters worse, 'Cute shorts,' he smirked tiny.

Sebastian chuckled. 'You don't mind feeding another mouth, do you?'

Dean shrugged. 'So long as she tells me what happened there,' he gestured to his own forehead.

Another deep blush took root in your face. You were trying to remember a time more embarrassing than this. Both the boys were looking in your direction for an answer.

'I fell,' you said, your voice so low that the sizzle of the pan ate it.

'What?' Sebastian said.

You frowned scathingly. 'I fell during tree-climbing, okay?' you ground out, bracing yourself for depreciating laughter.

. . . None came.

'Too bad,' Sebastian said, leaning against a counter. 'So, we were on this pagen God case,' he started, and launched into a detailed narration of his recent-most case with Dean, with animated hand gestures and all.

It happened so fast that you needed a second to process it - he switched topics so quickly as if it didn't matter to him. How could this not matter to him - this was fuel against you - this made you non-perfect to be a Leader . . .

Dean only paid one ear to him, adding a comment or two to tell you the real version instead of Sebastain's exaggerated one.

You didn't know what to do with yourself. You weren't comfortable enough to lean against a counter, so you settled for standing stiffly still, with your hands by your side, as if in attention, about to start a march.

Dean added food to three plates when he was done and gave one to Sebastian, allowing him to take a breath. He gave you the other plate and walked away without a word.

'C'mon,' Sebastian enthusiastically said. 'And then,' he resumed, somehow still with some energy, 'Dean, the hero, saved the child by swinging over the inferno and grabbing the child by one hand. He threw the kid in the water and then swung back only to kick the monster in the chest and poof!' he made waves of fire with his free hand to indicate the incineration of the Feral.

'I'm not a hero,' Dean interjected, grabbing the first seat on the first table of the mess he first came across.

You didn't say a word. Once again, you were envious. Hunting sounded like such a blast and a good vent. It made you scowl harder at the food as you took your seat against Dean's.

Sebastian hovered for a second. 'Anyways, bye.'

Panic seized you, and you snapped your head up in alarm. Dean seemed to have the same reaction: 'Where are you going?'

'Oh, I promised I'd drink with the B2,' he winked. 'You know, Boa and Baz,' he explained when he saw the uncomprehending look on your face. 'Thanks for dinner, boss,' he saluted mischievously. And he walked away with his plate.

You never thought you would be upset with Sebastian leaving.

Now you were alone with Dean. He seemed just as upset as you. So he focused on his food, grumbling some curse words for his right-hand man.

You decided that if you shoved food in your mouth, it wouldn't have a place for your foot to go in.

First bite in, and you almost moaned. Your decorum held up, but you were flabbergasted by how delicious the meal proved to be. While you disliked the cook deeply, his culinary skills were extraordinary.

You tore off a few more bites of your scrumptious burger, wishing you could have good meals like this every day.

You loved Esmeralda, but she was an excellent European cook, and Dean's taste seemed to be more American. It reminded you of your homeland . . .

'Is it good?' his voice startled you for no reason. There was a thread of insecurity in his eye as if your response would matter.

You gulped your mouthful and nodded slowly. 'Yours is the second-most tasty burger I've ever had.'

He seemed equally offended, amused, and curious. 'Who's the first?'

You hesitated but he had so kindly cooked for you. Surely, you could repay in answers. Even if they were very personal.

'My father,' you admitted.

He looked surprised.

You offered a friendly smile, 'He cooked once for me. Well, if we're keeping count, he's cooked fourteen times for me.'

Dean tried hard to keep his poker face. If he knew that he could get you talking with food, he'd have done it a long time ago.

You seemed pensive. 'They were my rewards. For doing well in my training.' You mused then, 'Clearly a hard man to please.' You chuckled sadly then. 'I wonder what I did to get this,' you lifted your plate to show him with a self-criticizing smile as if that was supposed to be a joke.

His heart took a hit.

'I can cook for you as many times as you want,' he blurted out before he could think about it.

It confounded you. Your eyebrows raised, 'That's not necessary, Mr Winchester. I'm sure you have better things to do.'

Your walls had gone up again.

He couldn't stop himself, 'Can't you just take it when someone's being nice to you?'

'You don't have to do me a favor,' you repeated, getting more defensive.

He realized that the moment was lost. It made him sad and frustrated. And the most annoying part was that he seemed to care. For an inexplicable reason, he couldn't help but feel like he needed to care about you. And it was very vexing that you wouldn't let him - that you made it so hard for him.

'Fine,' he mumbled hotly.

With the atmosphere ruined, you both ate in silence.

He was getting up after he practically inhaled his food when another group passed by.

'Hey, D-dawg!' one of the men uttered.

'Hey, Sonny,' Dean grinned.

'Some of us are heading to the waterhole to kill some wraiths and have some dives. One day job. You in?'

'Hell yeah,' Dean said. 'Meet me out in twenty.'

They all approved in murmurs and exited lazily, laughing and cheering. Dean also felt excited, his previous tiredness disappearing.

His quota for the week was done, but he wouldn't say no to some extra adrenaline. Plus, it had been ages since he got time to swim at the nearby lake. It would be a good way to wind down after the Leviathan fiasco which was just calming across his continent.

It struck Dean that it would be a simple hunt. Despite his earlier anger, he turned to extend that invitation.

Only to find you had slipped away.

He saw you at one of the sinks, putting your plate in the dishwasher and then scuttling out of the kitchens without another look in his direction.

He sighed. If you wanted to be difficult about this, he couldn't help you. Slightly miffed, he cleared his own utensils and went to grab his hunting duffel.

You didn't see Dean for another month.

Mostly because you changed your schedule a little, allowing you to avoid the castle outside of the five hours where you needed to sleep for four and do the shower stuff for the other one. You were putting in extra hours at the training center because you were pissed about being benched on hunts. You'd even requested Esmerelda to store some food in the fridge for you at night which you could heat up in the mornings before anyone came to the kitchen - running a microwave was as far as your culinary genius went.

You were now proud to say that you could climb the trees - slowly, but without a freaking rope. You could construct a treehouse alone even if it took you a little more time than the natives to make and find the raw materials on your own. You could swing amazingly, lifting your own body weight gracefully; it was the best part so far.

Today was the first day at your Office after Salem had officially cleared you.

You adored your treehouse.

It had two windows for cross-breeze, and a desk with a chair that had excellent lumbar support. You had your own coffee maker. And even a little material to make your own hammock if you decide to sleep over. There was a short balcony with a railing that faced other treehouses in the area; you could see the Offices slowly filling with people who yelled platitudes to each other.

As the first one there, from four in the morning, you saw it all unfold in front of you, observing more than interacting. You also kept your door open as a sign of welcome . . . even though no one took you up on that.

Until noon, that is.

A lean, muscular figure trotted in.

'Hey! You're working!' Sebastian said as if cheering.

You shot him a dirty look.

'Hi, Lady Y/N,' Selina said, pleasantly, and much more formally. She subtly nudged Sebastian to behave.

As if Sebastian would ever change.

'Ms Doll,' you acknowledged, 'Mr Slay.'

'How have you been?' Selina asked softly.

'Good,' you smiled, meaning it for the first time. 'Did you climb up?'

She seemed to blush at that. 'Mr Slay was kind enough to offer a ride.'

'Ah,' you nodded. Selina or Sal or Lay hadn't needed to learn the tree-related stuff, and Boa and Baz knew how - they'd taken classes with Seth before joining your team. Most warriors knew how, yet as there had been a large possibility (according to your mother), that you would only be a wife to someone and not a Leader yourself, she had told you to learn it (when) if it was required.

You had stopped telling her that even if you were never a Leader, your chances of becoming a wife were slim to none. You had seen enough marriages to know how that shit ended.

'How can I help you two?'

'Well, I've been looking for you,' Sebastian said. 'Do you know we're hosting a fundraiser?'

That sent a jolt through you.

'Excuse me?'

'Tomorrow night, actually,' Selina gently said. 'You've been so busy at the center that we weren't sure you knew.'

So that was why you shouldn't avoid the people you don't like; it comes to bite you back in the ass.

'Well,' you paused, trying to swallow that pill. 'Thank you,' you said, mannered even if you felt like a deer caught in the flashlight of the hunter who would murder it.

'I don't think you feel good anymore,' Sebastian said. Selina nudged him again.

It nettled you enough to compose yourself. 'I will be there.'

'With whom?' he asked back.

Selina hurried to add, 'The theme is a masquerade. Everyone's with a date.'

'A theme?' You'd never had a theme before!

'Hunters like fun,' Sebastian shrugged. 'It was my idea,' he added, probably just to annoy you.

You scowled furiously at him.

Dressing was not the problem. The date thing was.

As if grasping for straws, 'What about Boa and Baz?' They were celibates. They'd sworn off dating and marriage and in general everything like that because of their magnanimous commitment to their Continents. It ran in their family.

'They're coming together,' Selina said. 'You can go with anyone platonic as well.'

'Would you like to go with me?' you asked, earnestly and relieved.

She turned tomato red. 'I, um, I—'

'She's going with me,' Sebastian said to her. 'As a date,' he had no qualms about declaring it.

Of freaking course.

It was all you could do to not let your face fall.

'I see.'

'I'm sorry,' she comforted.

'Please don't be,' you quickly stopped her. 'I'm happy for you,' you meant that, with like five percent of your heart. The other ninety-five was judging her choice.

She seemed to know your heart, but she gave you a tentative smile.

'Anyways,' Sebastian said. 'Dean hopes you'll show.'

You couldn't figure out if he was lying or not.

'We'll leave you to your first day. We hope it's good,' Selina said. You were grateful for her.

They turned to leave, Sebastian guiding your Chief Medic off to the grounds.

You sullenly twirled your dagger in your hands. You didn't want a date, but you didn't want to be the only person who showed up without one either.

Then again, you loathed the whole notion and concept of needing another person to do anything.

Oh, how Sebastian found new ways to torment you.

That same evening, you noticed the lights flicker on in the treehouse right in front of you. The closest one to you, and the farthest from everyone else's. In fact, even yours was a bit ways away from the others'.

People walked from one treehouse to another on ropes. There was a single rope to walk on, and two to hold at the midwaist level while you did. Only a few treehouses had planks to cross with. Most people swung away if they could. All child's play for natives here, of course.

You didn't know who the treehouse belonged to until a tall man walked out to light his lamp; you hadn't even known he'd been in there the whole day in the first place—he must be stealthy despite his large frame. You gazed at him, slightly distracted, impressed by his broad shoulders and bowlegs that went on for days, a lean waist, and a muscular build.

It wasn't until the soft glow of the fire that lit up his face that you realized you knew the man.

As if sensing your eyes, he looked up to catch your stare.

You couldn't look away fast enough. You pretended to get busy with the files on your table - you'd been given a stack from the treasury to distribute income amongst the hunters. You were on the eightieth file. The ones done neatly stacked by your feet. You would ask Boa to pick them up the next day.

When you sneaked a glance up, he had disappeared inside. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been holding.

Don't be a coward, your mind yelled at you. You had to talk to Dean anyway to tell him you were ready for hunts.

Grabbing a fortifying breath, you marched across the tightrope - or well, you trembled on your feet like a toddler walking for the first time, with a death grip on the side ropes. You were very happy when you reached the solid ground of his balcony.

You knocked on his door rhythmically.

When it swung in, he paused, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

'Y/N,' he said, a shiver ran down your spine, seemingly affected by his deep baritone.

Maybe there's a nip in the air, you attributed it to the climate.

Anyhow, it should be annoying that he would call you by your name. Formalities are necessary in colleagues.

As if demonstrating, 'Mr Winchester. Hello.'

'Hi?' he asked, more than said.

'I would like to discuss my joining on the hunts.'

'With me?' he quirked a brow, stepping in.

'Yes,' you told his turned back. You wished he would talk face-to-face. 'Who else?'

Sebastian, Dean thought.

'Right,' he didn't put up a fight though. 'How good do you fight?' he asked, retaking a seat in his chair.

'Well,' you said. 'My record is a nest.'

Dean opened his mouth but changed his words last minute. 'Are you gonna come in?'

You were reluctant. 'You didn't invite me in,' but at least you stepped inside.

Dean sighed. This woman.

'I don't care, okay? You can walk in any time you want.'

'If that's what you want,' you folded your hands in front of you.

He hated that posture of yours. He moved on.

'How big a nest are we talking?' he asked.

'Thirty in vampires, or seven Wendigos,' you smirked. 'Give or take.'

Dean liked those numbers. 'A night?' he confirmed.

You shrugged, but he could feel the smugness radiating off of you. 'Solo,' you added.

He nodded, sold. 'Alright. You can start when we have a hunt for you in the foreseeable future,' he told you. 'Or you can join a group that's going.'

'Oh,' you said, shoulders drooping. 'I thought, uh, I could start after the fundraiser?'

'Look, you and I - we only get cases no one else can take. If it gets too much for me, I'll let you have one, okay?' Dean said. 'For now, I'm good, so maybe you can entertain the idea of joining others.'

That diminished your hopes further. Dean took extra cases with people because he finished his own with bonus time; he was that good.

As for the other people: after that bonfire, you knew you weren't welcome.

He was essentially saying that you would never be hunting.

Figures, your heart panged; they never have needed you - only because you can climb now, doesn't mean that they'll start needing you. They must have far better people who can replace you here.

'Thanks,' you said with a tightness.

You looked beautiful.

A crimson satin gown that hugged your figure exactly, it had a sweetheart neckline so it perched at the end of your shoulder blades delicately. It touched your skin till your knees, curving to your body curves and slanting smoothly towards the floor. After your knees, it flared out backward like a train and grazed the ground from there. It was frilled, giving the gown a passionate look. It had white gloves that came up to your elbows.

Your hair was done up in curls, a few left out, purposely messy, that framed your face like curtains. And the make-up made you look like a doll.

These people didn't fail to make you feel like one too—like you were breakable and replaceable.

Patriarchy, one; you, zero. These were the same Governors who had wanted your advice back at your castle - in your jurisdiction.

With Dean's strong presence, many conversations had turned to compliment you and never returned to what actually mattered.

What was even more degrading was that they started to woo you. It was different to bring it up during the Debutant Ball; it's a devious occasion where everyone can unofficially court you. But this is a fundraiser, and you are not up for fucking auction - if only someone could tell these horny, lonely bastards.

You flounced out to the balcony with your third drink in your hand. May Lay forgive you from the Heavens above - but you were getting slammed if this is how everyone was going to treat you for the rest of your Leadership.

Your hopes to be alone and have a pity party were squashed when you saw Dean on the balcony, doing what you were going to.

Before you could turn around and hide in another corner, he noticed you.

'Y/N, hey.'

You silently cursed the Universe.

Your smile was strained as you walked towards him.

'Mr Winchester,' you said.

'Having fun?' he asked, dully.

You were about to lie through your teeth when you noticed that his attention was already elsewhere. He was looking at the moon, eyes lost, and expression contorted with . . . grief.

'. . . Are you?'

He snorted, sipping from his flute. 'Yeah. I'm the life of the freaking party.'

He was; everyone wanted two cents of his time. You wished you could be in his lieu. What was his problem? He had everything.

'What's wrong?' you pried.

He took a deep breath. 'I can't stand it.'

'What?'

'The fanfare,' he frowned. 'Doesn't feel like much time has gone by since Jess—' he couldn't finish the thought, so he finished his drink.

Okay . . . you were wrong - he didn't have everything. You had to remind yourself that people cared about more than their work.

You had just the one response but saying "sorry" had gotten you nowhere last time.

'Handling grief is the only thing that practice can't perfect,' you said.

He gave you a strange look for that.

'You sound experienced.'

'Aren't we all?' you gave him the ghost of a smile.

'You're doing a really bad job of comforting me,' he claimed. 'If that's at all what you're doing.'

'It gets easier, if not perfect,' you shrugged.

'So give it time?' he scoffed. 'That's your big brilliant advice?'

'No,' you said. 'Forgive yourself, it'll get easier.'

'What does that mean?' he stood straighter.

'Everyone doesn't move on for a different reason,' you said. 'You have survivor's guilt.'

'You don't know anything about me,' his jaw clenched.

'You're a survivor,' you informed him, 'like me.'

A buzzer cut his answer short. He fished out a pager, already distracted from you.

'I need to go,' he murmured seriously.

He rushed away before you could ask him if you could help.

You hadn't even finished your drink when you sensed a presence behind your back.

'Everything okay?' you asked, turning, expecting Dean.

But it was the French Governor: Neel Simone. He was a hateful fellow who had taken an apparent fascination with making your life hell.

'Lovely night, yes, Lady?' he said or sneered.

'I've had my fill,' you said, gesturing to the gorgeous scenery from the balcony. 'I'll let you have yours.'

He blocked your side-step. You shot him a glance of caution.

'Cut the shy girl crap,' he definitely sneered this time.

Your brows shot up.

'This is all your fault,' he accused. He stumbled a few steps towards you which was when the stench hit you, making you cringe immediately.

'You're drunk.'

'Well, I was supposed to be the Leader,' he snarled. 'But then you come along! Older by a fucking month!' he spat at your feet.

A piece of information floated to you.

'You're a Secondborn.' One of his ancestors was once a Leader, you recalled. His older sister had passed away when she was young.

Complicated and stupid rules dictated that only a Firstborn man could replace your Leadership. You were a Temp only till that time when a Firstborn man turned mature. Even a Firstborn woman won't take your place because what was the point of replacing a woman with another when they could wait out for a man on the horizon?

Unless of course, any woman, Firstborn, or Secondborn, or just off the street - whoever she was, if she married a Firstborn man already in the ruling, then no one could replace her.

A Secondborn won't ever replace you now because it was too overwhelming to shift between Leaders, man or a woman. The only way another Secondborn would replace you was if you were fired, or if you died.

You grew wary as you got the feeling as to why Mr Simone was here.

'They send a wussy like you from America - this was my only chance!' he yelled drunkenly, advancing on you.

Your weapons are in your purse, sitting next to your date's, Esmeralda's, purse, along with the damn masquerade masks. (Yes, you asked your sweet, sassy, widowed cook to go with you platonically.)

He had over three inches on you. With your heels, you covered that difference and then some. His inhibitions were lowered which would make throwing him off the balcony easy if you placed a kick right.

But then, like an arrow it struck you, Not my jurisdiction.

'Walk away while you can, Mr Simone,' you requested, as sternly as you could. He may not be able to kill you, but people will believe him over you, no questions asked.

'You're threatening me!?' he grabbed you by the shoulders. His bad breath hit you full force and you tried to step back, but he had an ironclad hold on you. You were extremely uncomfortable with proximity to this man.

'A weakling like you - how dare you - how dare they!?'

You were surprised his cries weren't drawing out any people; the ballroom was adjacent to this balcony. Then again, the music and chatter were booming from the inside, and the translucent glass was vibrating in celebration the last you'd seen it.

'I'll show them I'm worthy,' he bared his teeth. 'I'll show them I belong instead of you! You can't even lift a fucking finger against me!'

To your shock, he didn't attack you the "traditional" way. You realized with a shudder of horror that he was talking about assaulting you as another way to prove his manliness. His lips zoomed towards yours like a smelly insect you'd never want in your mouth.

You did what any woman would to a freaking rodent - you smacked him - across his cheek, making his skin ripple there.

His hands on you loosened.

'You bitch!' came his cry; to you, it sounded afar. Your ears were buzzing with anger - all you felt was disgust.

You didn't let him come any closer after that. Your kick landed on his family jewels, and he let loose a shuddering screech, falling to his knees.

You grabbed him by his hair and dragged the man forward to the edge, raising him to his knees by his joke-worthy strands, twisting them painfully.

'This is why I'm the boss, bitch!'

'I'll have your job!' he gritted out.

You were afraid of that. You smashed his head on the cement railing, breaking his nose. You gritted your teeth when his blood stained your glove.

'Say that again,' you dared him. 'In fact, go ahead. Tell them you got beaten up by a girl,' you teased. 'The one you're supposedly good enough to replace.'

His bloodshot eyes watched you with hatred.

'Here's what you're going to do,' you said. 'You're going to go in and pretend this never happened. Make a weakling's excuse for your nose.'

'I'll file a complaint,' he said with a watery smile, trying to assert his dominance even when he was on his bony knees.

You snorted in amusement - men never learn, do they?

'Go ahead,' you encouraged again. 'Then, I'll have no qualms about killing you like your most tormenting nightmare. And I won't make it easy either - I'll haunt you to the ends of the earth until you are begging me to take your pathetic excuse of a life!'

His eyes widened in realization.

'You attack me, I attack you,' you explained to his alcohol-addled brain. 'Even-Steven. You have my job . . . Well, nothing's stopping me then, is it?'

Suddenly, he started laughing.

It made you nervous.

You heard a sound when you realized that the music had halted. There were whispers behind you.

A terrifying prickle on the back of your neck gave you a clue.

Your hand released his head. As if in slow motion, you whirled about.

Officials were staring in your direction with disapproval, all their lips set in frowns. Dean, in lead of them, had donned his mask back on, but he had a grim look in his eyes, his jaw clenched in an anger you'd never seen on him before. He must realize what a huge mistake he'd made vouching for you to Mr Singer and Mr Turner now - and he must loathe you for breaking his unsaid trust.

Your previous threat was null and void to Simone because you'd just been found on the scene of crime literally red-handed. Now, whatever way the man twisted the story, they would believe him - because what proof did you have?

Your stomach seemed to fall out of your body, in fact, it felt like you were free-falling yourself. Tears started to corral in your e/cs.

You were doomed.

Your hands came to hold you up, crossing in front of your chest. This time, you wouldn't stop yourself from crying, even if you would go do it alone.

Because you'd just cost yourself your career.

If only you'd run instead of . . . .

'Excuse me,' your voice wobbled.

For the first time in years, you were crying openly—without covering your face. Tears were streaming down steadily, and you could only pay so much attention to know where you were going. You were also vaguely aware of people parting to make way. You heard your name being called, but it chased you away faster.

You thought of going to your room, but your heart had other ideas. Your legs carried you away towards the forest.

To the training centre: The Treexcel School.

You saw the lights on at Salem's treehouse, so you ducked out of that path. Heading, instead, for your tree. You didn't know what you would do there - it wasn't like this contraption of a dress would allow you to climb anything.

But you found yourself curling up at the base of the tall grace of nature. Sitting on the ground felt nice - natural. None of that swaying in the air, holding on for your dear life.

You missed underground activities.

After tonight, I might get deported. There, problem solved.

Your parents won't even accept you back in America after the stunt you pulled and Europe won't want to see your face now . . .

It was as if a dam snapped in you. The weeks of suppressed toils and troubles came a-knocking, knocking your heart down. Loss and grief ravaged you - all that journey, all that wasted time and hopes, all those lives . . . And it's all on you.

Despite having lost people along the way, you couldn't help but fear your mother's looming disappointment the most still. It was as if someone was squeezing your breath out as if your lungs were articles of washed laundry someone was twisting.

You hid your cries in your knees when your legs came up to your chest - helping you keep yourself together because it felt like you were falling apart.

And you let it happen because it may be the last time you're allowed to feel it.

A/N: What an ass, that French dude 😑. Btw, how do you think Dean will react 👀?

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @emma1998sblog

[kyleoreillylover]

Can you please go back to writing for Carmelo🥺🥺 we need it!

Stand on Business

Carmelo Hayes x Fem!Black!Reader

Summary: You think you have no stand in your friends life now that he betrayed Trick and has turned heel, but Carmelo makes it very clear what you mean to him, and stand on business when it comes to you.

tagged: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @empressdede @judgementdaysunshine @beeposts

a/n: I got you boo <3 not my best work but I hope ya'll like this!!

warnings: cursing, wrestling related violence, a bit of angst, a lil spicy towards the end. Carmelo is 😩

"Fuck!"

Carmelo heard your screams of anger as you came to the back from the ring, your eyes red and tears streaming down your face. He and Trick, who were in conversation, watching the TV, hurried over to you, concern etched on both men's faces as you limped down the hallway.

"Yo, chill out, chill out." Trick went to you first, much to Carmelo's dismay, and went to steady you, but you shrugged him off, your frustration boiling over.

"I can't chill out, Trick! Did you see what happened out there?" you snapped, wiping angrily at your tears. "I had that match won, I had it, and then Tatum interfered and screwed me over!"

You kicked a nearby trash can, sending it clattering across the floor with your good leg, but forgot that your other leg was injured from the match. You winced in pain as the movement aggravated your already sore muscles.

Carmelo rushed to your side, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Easy, easy now," he said, his voice calm but firm. You let him guide you back to a nearby bench, where you reluctantly sat down, still seething with anger and frustration.

The night had gone to a complete shit show in your eyes. You lost your title to Lyra, Trick and Carmelo lost the dusty cup finals to Bron and Corbin, and now your leg was fucking throbbing with pain.

Trick slightly pushed past Carmelo to get a closer look at your injured leg. "Damn, that looks bad," he remarked, a sympathetic expression on his face, not seeing Carmelo side eye him as he touched your injured leg. You winced again as Trick's touch sent a jolt of pain through your body.

"Yeah, no shit," you muttered, gritting your teeth against the pain. "I'm sorry you guys lost your matches too. Tonight just… sucked."

Carmelo sighed, crouching down in front of you. "Ay, we good. You gon' get that title back, and Trick…" He turned to Trick with a nod, acknowledging their shared disappointment in the night's events.

"We mighta lost, but you gon' whoop Ilja and win the NXT title tonight, aight?" Carmelo's reassurance brought a small glimmer of hope to your eyes, despite the pain and frustration still coursing through your veins.

"Yeah, you're right," you said, taking a deep breath and trying to push past the negativity. "I'll get my rematch and take back what's mine. And Trick, you better believe I'll be cheering you on tonight. Ilja won't know what hit him."

Trick grinned, a glint of determination in his eyes. "You know how it is. I just wish you were there to cheer me on in person, but I understand you need to take care of that leg." He patted your shoulder before bringing you into a quick hug. "But don't worry, I'll make you proud."

Carmelo's eye twitched as he watched Trick's display of affection towards you, but he quickly composed himself, offering a supportive nod. Trick was acting like a lovesick puppy with you, and it was embarrassing. "That's right, Trick. We got your back no matter what," he said, his tone firm and resolute.

You felt a surge of gratitude towards your friends, despite the disappointment of the night's events. They were always there for you, through the wins and the losses, the highs and the lows. And tonight was no different.

"Thanks, guys," you said, managing a small smile despite the pain throbbing through your leg.

You went to speak again, but the speaker crackled to life, interrupting your conversation. It was the sound of the ring announcer's voice, calling Trick's name as his match was about to begin in 15 minutes.

Trick shot you a determined look before standing up and clapping Carmelo on the back. "You gon' be out there to cheer me on though, right? I need my brother to support me."

Carmelo nodded, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said, his tone filled with confidence. He turned to you, his eyes filled with concern and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "Want me to take you to medical and then walk you back to the bus? I ain't want you getting hurt any worse than you already are."

You gave Carmelo a appreciative smile, butterflies forming in your stomach as he grabbed your arm to help you stand up. "Yeah, that would be great, thanks," you replied, leaning on him for support as you gingerly put weight on your injured leg.

As Carmelo helped you to your feet, you leaned on him for support, grateful for his steadying presence. Trick gave you a thumbs-up before heading off to prepare for his match, leaving you and Carmelo alone in the hallway.

A couple minutes later, your leg was wrapped in a cast, and you were leaning on Melo as he walked you back to the bus.

Carmelo was acting… different, to say the least after his match with Trick. He seemed more protective than usual, and there was a tension in the air that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

As you limped down the hallway with his arm around you, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the match, or maybe it was something else entirely.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt too tonight?" You blurted out before you could finish your question, Carmelo cut you off with a small chuckle. "Nah, I'm good, just a little sore from the match. But you, on the other hand…" He glanced down at your injured leg, his expression softening with concern.

"I'm fine, Melo. Seriously." Despite your words, you leaned on Carmelo more heavily, your injured leg protesting with each step. He tightened his grip around you, softly tracing his thumb along your arm, making your skin tingle with awareness. You couldn't help but notice the warmth of his touch, the way his presence seemed to envelop you in a sense of safety and comfort.

As you reached the bus, Carmelo helped you settle into a seat, making sure you were comfortable before taking a seat beside you. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the bustling arena fading into the background.

"Thanks for walking me back," you said, breaking the silence. "I appreciate it. Don't think I could have walked here without your help."

Carmelo shrugged nonchalantly, a small smile playing on his lips. "No problem. Just looking out for my friend, you know?"

Friend. The word echoed in your mind, sending a pang of disappointment through you. You had always harbored deeper feelings for Carmelo, feelings you had never dared to voice out loud. But now, as you sat beside him, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was a chance for something more.

Before you could dwell on the thought any further, Carmelo leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a hushed tone. "Listen, I know tonight didn't go the way we wanted it to, but I want you promise me something." He paused, his dark eyes locking onto yours, a mixture of determination and something else flickering in their depths.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you met Carmelo's gaze, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the air between you suddenly charged with an unspoken tension.

Carmelo's expression softened, a hint of vulnerability and darkness flickering on his features. "Promise me you'll never leave me, no matter what I do, no matter what happens."

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion and unspoken longing. You searched his eyes, seeing a rawness that mirrored your own hidden desires. Without hesitation, you reached out and took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

"I promise," You whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I'll never leave you, Carmelo. No matter what."

A sense of relief washed over Carmelo's face, his features relaxing as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He squeezed your hand tightly, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. He leaned in closer to you, and you held your breath as he brushed the hair out of your face, his touch gentle and tender. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the intensity of his gaze.

But before anything more could happen, the loudspeaker crackled to life once again, announcing Trick's match was about to start. Carmelo reluctantly pulled away, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he stood up.

"I gotta go support Trick," he said, his voice slightly strained. "But just promise me that you'll always remember what I said, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through your chest at Carmelo's words. "I won't forget," you promised, watching as he made his way towards the exit of the bus. As he disappeared from view, you couldn't help but feel a surge of hope mingled with uncertainty swirling inside you.

And then that hope turned into anger as you watched him pummel Trick's knee with a chair, beating his best friend to the ground before storming off, leaving Trick writhing in pain.

Shock and betrayal coursed through you as you struggled to comprehend what you had just witnessed. Your mind reeled with conflicting emotions, torn between loyalty to your friend and the undeniable bond you shared with Carmelo.

You watched on the TV as Carmelo sat on the chair he used to pummel Trick, a look of smug satisfaction on his face as Trick writhed in pain.

"I'm the guy, Trick! I'm him! I'm the one for her, not you!" " He shouted, his voice filled with anger and bitterness. He licked his lips at the mention of you, standing up, a fierce determination burning in his eyes.

You felt a shiver run through you as he winked at the camera, no doubt in your mind that it was directed at you. An angel face with a devilish grin, Carmelo smirked at the camera, his gaze piercing through the screen and sending a chill down your spine.

You honestly didn't know what to do. Should you confront Carmelo about what you saw? Should you stand by Trick's side despite the betrayal? The weight of your decisions hung heavy on your shoulders as you watched the chaos unfold on the screen.

Realization suddenly dawned on you as you realized that Carmelo's actions weren't just about Trick or his vendetta against him. They were about you. You were caught in the middle of a rivalry you never asked to be a part of, torn between two friends who both claimed to care about you.

But as you watched Carmelo's cold, calculating demeanor on the screen, you couldn't help but wonder if you truly knew him at all. Was he the loyal friend you thought he was, or was there a darker side to him that you had never seen before?

You snapped out of your stupid as you saw Melo leave the ring, and went to get up, but realized the cast on your leg made it difficult to move. And you didn't have crutches, Carmelo told the docs that he would help you with whatever you needed. Anger flared within you as you realized Carmelo had purposefully withheld the means for you to leave the bus, trapping you there to witness his betrayal unfold on the screen.

You tried to get up anyways, wincing when you put weight on your injured leg. The pain shot through you like a lightning bolt, and you plopped back down onto the seat with a frustrated sigh. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to make sense of everything that had happened.

"Why, Melo?" you whispered to yourself, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "Why would you do this?"

But deep down, you already knew the answer. Carmelo's actions spoke volumes, revealing a side of him that you had never seen before.

And as much as it hurt to admit it, you couldn't deny the truth staring you in the face: that you understood where Carmelo was coming from; you could sense the underlying currents of jealousy and possessiveness that had driven him to betray Trick and hurt you in the process. But that didn't make it any easier to accept.

Exactly 10 minutes later, your door handle was being jerked open, but you found yourself unable to look Carmelo in the eye as he entered the bus.

His footsteps were heavy, weighted with guilt and regret — not for hurting Trick, but for possibly hurting you — as he made his way over to you. You could feel his presence looming over you, but you refused to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor.

"Don't be shy now, baby." Carmelo's voice was soft despite the arrogance laced within it.

He sighed as you refused to acknowledge him, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, I know what you saw out there… and I know it probably doesn't make any sense right now. But can you at least look at me?"

"No, get the fuck out of my face, Carmelo," You spat out, finally mustering the strength to meet his gaze. The anger in your eyes burned brightly, mirroring the fire within your chest. "You betrayed Trick, you betrayed me. I don't want to hear your excuses."

"I didn't betray you, I betrayed him!" Carmelo interrupted, his tone defensive. "So you're just gonna turn your back on me too?" he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness.

You shook your head, your frustration bubbling over. "You think this is about Trick? It's about you, Carmelo! You hurt him, and you hurt me by doing it. I don't even know if you're gonna attack me next either. You've changed, and I don't know who you are anymore."

Carmelo's eyes burned a whole through you at your words. "You really think I would hurt you? That I would betray you?" he questioned, a mixture of anger and hurt flashing across his face.

"Uh, yeah, considering you just attacked Trick and left him writhing in pain," you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Here, let me make its easier for you."

You propped your leg on the nearby seat, displaying the cast and the pain etched on your face. "I'm injured, vulnerable, and you use that to trap me here and force me to witness your little display in the ring. Real classy, Carmelo."

"You think I planned for you to get hurt so you could witness that? You think I'm that cruel?" Carmelo's voice softened, genuine concern replacing the defensive tone. He took a step closer, but you held up your hand, signaling for him to stay back.

"Don't act like you care about me now. Whatever we had, it's gone," you declared, your voice firm. "You need to leave, Carmelo. I can't be around someone who would do what you did."

Carmelo scoffed at your words, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "Oh, you gon' act like I never cared about you? After everything we've been through?" he retorted, his frustration boiling over. "You think I did this just for kicks? You mean more to me than you know."

Your heart sped up as he moved closer to you, his eyes boring into yours so intently the it almost felt suffocating. "Stop looking at me like that, Carmelo."

"Like what?" Carmelo's voice was barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in closer. You could feel the tension crackling between you, a magnetic pull drawing you closer despite your better judgment.

"Like you don't hate my guts," you replied, your voice shaky but defiant. "You can't just switch gears and expect everything to go back to normal after what you did out there. You attacked Trick, and now you're standing here acting like it's no big deal."

"Because it's not a big deal, not when it comes to him. He was never the one for you, and I needed to make you see that," Carmelo confessed, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "I care about you, more than I should, and seeing you with him… it drove me insane. And I had to do something about it. The only thing I regret is hurting you in the process."

You let out a bitter laugh, disbelief coloring your expression. "You… like me?"

Carmelo smirked at your incredulous reaction. "Yeah, I do. More than I should, and more than I ever intended to admit."

His gaze softened, and he took a step towards you, the tension between you two reaching a breaking point. You couldn't deny the conflicting emotions swirling inside you, a mix of anger, betrayal, and a spark of something else that you didn't want to acknowledge. "And I know you like me too, deep down." His face was mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching for any sign of reciprocation.

Your mind raced as you grappled with the revelation. Despite the anger and betrayal, there was an undeniable attraction between you and Carmelo. The air crackled with tension, and you could feel the pull, drawing you closer to him. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you felt a magnetic force urging you to bridge the gap.

But the images of Trick writhing in pain on the TV screen flashed in your mind, grounding you in the harsh reality of the situation. You couldn't ignore the hurt he had caused, the trust shattered in a single, calculated act.

"No, Carmelo," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't… I can't just forget what you did. It's not that simple."

Carmelo's expression shifted from desperation to resignation. He sighed, stepping back and running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know you need some time, and I get that. But don't think I'm giving up on you, on us. I'll give you all the time you need, but don't think for a second that I don't care about you."

You remained silent, processing the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded in such a short span. Carmelo turned to leave, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the situation. As he reached the door, he paused, casting a final glance in your direction.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words hanging in the air between you. "I never wanted to hurt you. But I'm too selfish to let you go. Just remember that, baby."

The door closed behind him, leaving you alone in the bus with a mix of conflicting emotions. The images of Trick's pain and Carmelo's betrayal played on a loop in your mind. The pain in your leg seemed to pale in comparison to the ache in your heart.

But the fact you still wanted Carmelo made you question your own feelings and judgments. Why do you still find yourself drawn to him despite the hurt he caused? Was there a part of you that couldn't fully let go of the connection you shared?

Only time would be able to tell.

--------------------------------------------

Over the next few days, you ignored Carmelo's calls and messages, determined to give yourself the space and time needed to process the whirlwind of emotions. The tour continued, each day bringing new challenges and distractions, yet the weight of the recent events lingered in the back of your mind.

Trick, too, had been distant since the incident. The camaraderie that once defined your group seemed to have shattered, leaving an awkward tension hanging in the air. It pained you to see the friendships unravel, all because of a tangled web of emotions and betrayal.

You told all of this to Lash and Jakara, your fellow wrestlers and best friends, the next week at NXT, and you knew they would be honest with you.

"I just… Carmelo's been calling and texting me, and I don't know what to do," you admitted, looking at Lash and Jakarta with a mix of confusion and vulnerability. "I can't shake off what he did, but at the same time, there's this part of me that wants to understand."

Lash and Jakara exchanged glances before Jakara spoke up. "Look, I'ma be real. You ignoring him cause you understand where hes coming from and you mad at yourself for not being able to fully push him away, right?"

You sighed, nodding in acknowledgment. "Yeah, it's like I know he messed up, but there's this weird pull. I can't explain it."

Lash leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern. "Y/N, sometimes we're drawn to people who are bad for us. It's like a magnetic force that's hard to resist. You just gotta either fuck his brains out and see how you feel after or cut him out completely. There's no in-between when it comes to guys like that."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Lash's straightforward advice. "I don't think that'll work, but thanks for the advice, Lash."

"Oh come on, we see the way ya'll eye fuck each other." Lash teased, earning a playful shove from Jakara. "But seriously, Y/N, you gotta figure out what you want. If Carmelo's worth the risk, then go for it. But if he's just gonna bring you more pain, then it might be best to cut ties and move on."

You nodded, grateful for your friends' honesty and support. "Thanks, guys. I'll think about it. But for now, I just need some time to clear my head."

Lash and Jakara nodded in understanding, offering you comforting smiles before you left, bumping into a rock solid figure as you exited the locker room.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" You went to apologize before realizing it was Carmelo standing in front of you. His eyes searched yours, a mix of hope and apprehension in his gaze.

"You look good." He commented, and your own eyes looked him up and down, taking in the way his leather jacket made him look so fucking hot, and his dark eyes held a certain intensity that you found both captivating and unsettling. Guess this is what Lash meant when she said you both eye fuck each other.

You took a step back, creating a physical distance between you and Carmelo. "We need to talk," he said, his voice low and earnest.

"I don't think there's much left to say, Carmelo," you replied, crossing your arms defensively. The memories of his betrayal and Trick's pain were still fresh in your mind, making it difficult to fully trust him.

"You said you needed some time. I gave you that time." Carmelo spoke, his words carrying a mixture of frustration and vulnerability.

"Yeah, a few days don't magically erase what happened," you retorted, feeling a surge of anger bubbling up. "You can't just expect everything to go back to normal after what you did."

"You think I'ma hurt you?" Carmelo studied your expression, the intensity in his eyes never wavering before realization kicked in. "You think that cause I betrayed Trick, I'ma betray you too?"

You didn't respond immediately, unsure of how to put your conflicting emotions into words. Carmelo's expression softened, and he took a step closer, a desperate plea in his eyes.

"I would never hurt you. Anybody but you." He knew you had trust issues, that you had been hurt before, and that's why you were hesitant to fully let him back in. But he was willing to fight for you, to prove that he was worth the risk.

You sighed, feeling torn between the lingering hurt and the undeniable attraction you still felt towards Carmelo. "I want to believe you, but I can't."

Carmelos' gaze darkened even more at your words, determination burning in his eyes. "Then I'ma show you that you wrong. That you tryna pretend like you don't still care about me, but I know you do." He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know you feel it too, that spark between us that never truly went away."

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of apprehension and longing swirling inside you. "Melo…"

But Carmelo's hand interjected, gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours, internally smiling. You called him Melo again.

"After tonight, if you still ain't sure about us, I'll respect that. But I promise you, that you won't be able to ignore what we have." His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed himself against you, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

For a moment, you were frozen, caught between the pull of desire and the fear of getting hurt again. But then, you felt it—the undeniable chemistry between you and Carmelo, the magnetic force that seemed to draw you closer together.

Then Carmelo pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips as he took a step back, leaving you breathless and wanting more. "Think about it, baby," he said, his voice low and husky. "I'll be waiting."

With that, Carmelo turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions. You watched him go, feeling torn between the familiar comfort of what you had with Trick and the electrifying attraction you felt towards Carmelo.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you and Carmelo. Would you be able to move past the hurt and betrayal, or would you continue to be drawn to him like a moth to a flame?

You tried to find your answer in Carmelo as you watched him make his way to the ring, a chorus of boos following him as he stepping into the ring, sitting down into the same chair he used to attack Trick. The crowd expressed their disapproval with loud jeers and boos.

As Carmelo sat in the ring, a smirk playing on his lips, he glanced up at the screen, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. You could feel the intensity of his gaze even from across the arena, a silent promise lingering between you.

"The villain is the villain in the story if the hero is telling the story." Carmelo smirked into the camera, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "But what if the hero ain't telling the whole story? What if there's more to it than meets the eye?"

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of boos. But as you watched him sit there, a smirk playing on his lips, you couldn't help but wonder if there was truth to his words.

Maybe Carmelo wasn't the villain you had made him out to be. Maybe there was more to his story, more to his actions than you could ever understand. You thought you could never understand someone that would betray his best friend, but as you watched Carmelo in the ring, a flicker of doubt crept into your mind.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a side to Carmelo that you had never seen before. And maybe, just maybe, you were willing to give him a chance to prove himself.

He continued to gloat and smirk, eyes a flame with confidence and defiance as he addressed the crowd, his words carrying a weight of truth that sent a chill down your spine. He looked so sexy like that, leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes smoldering with intensity as he addressed the crowd. Despite the overwhelming boos and jeers from the audience, Carmelo remained unfazed, his confidence unwavering as he spoke his truth. It was like he was talking to you directly, his words piercing through the noise of the crowd and reaching straight into your heart.

"Trick, you were always my hype man. But Y/N, you were my heart. Trick, you were not on my level. But Y/N, you were always my equal." Carmelo's words echoed in your mind, resonating with a truth that you couldn't deny. Despite everything that had happened, despite the hurt and the betrayal, there was still a connection between you and Carmelo that ran deeper than words could express.

The audience started to boo even louder, making Carmelo laugh sexily, a deep chuckle escaping his lips. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he addressed the crowd with a smug grin.

"You think Trick is gonna come out and whoop me! I whooped him once, I'll do it again. but Y/N, you know better than anyone that he was never the one for you. He was just holding you back from what you truly deserve." Carmelo's eyes locked onto the camera, his words a direct challenge to both Trick and, seemingly, to you.

The crowd's reaction intensified, the boos and jeers reaching a deafening level. Carmelo seemed to revel in the chaos, his confidence unwavering as he continued to speak his truth.

"Y/N, you deserve someone who's on your level, someone who can match your intensity, someone who can give you everything you need. And deep down, you know I'm the one who can do that for you." Carmelo's voice dropped to a seductive tone, his eyes burning with a fiery passion that sent a shiver down your spine.

You licked your lips nervously, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you. Carmelo's words struck a chord deep within you, stirring up feelings and desires that you had tried so hard to suppress. Despite the hurt and betrayal, there was a part of you that couldn't deny the truth in Carmelo's words.

You saw your phone buzzing, and Trick's contact popped on the screen, but you declined the call. You knew what you needed to do.

And when Carmelo came back from his promo, all confidence and swagger, you made your decision.

You approached him, grabbed him by his jacket, and kissed him passionately, the electricity between you igniting into a fiery passion that neither of you could deny. Carmelo responded eagerly, his hands finding their way to your waist as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

The world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment, the heat of Carmelo's touch searing through you like a wildfire.

Despite the chaos and uncertainty surrounding you, there was a sense of clarity in this moment, a knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be. He might be the villain of the story, but he was your villain, and you were ready to embrace whatever the future held for you and Carmelo.

You moaned into Melo's mouth as he bit your lip, the kiss growing more passionate by the second. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. It was like a wildfire had been ignited between you, consuming everything in its path.

"I.. told… you." Carmelo mumbled against your lips, trying to get a sentence out, but it was hard with you kissing him so passionately. You pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you smirked at him.

"Told me what?" you teased, enjoying the way his breath hitched as you trailed kisses along his jawline.

Carmelo's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed at you, his hands gripping your waist possessively. "That I'm the one for you, baby. Always have been." With that, he crashed his lips back against yours, the kiss igniting a firestorm of passion between you.

You giggled against his lips, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through you as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

"Then prove it to me," you challenged between kisses, your voice breathless with desire.

Carmelo's lips curled into a wicked smirk as he pulled away slightly, his dark eyes burning with a fierce determination. "Oh, I intend to," he replied, his voice husky with desire.

With that, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the nearest private room, his lips trailing hot kisses along your neck as he whispered promises of passion and pleasure.

Let's just say... he definitely proved himself to you that night, leaving no doubts in your mind about his feelings or intentions.

[acknowledge-reigns]

A Gorgeous Necklace | Solo Sikoa x Black!Fem OC (SMUT) 18+!!!

Description: Solo's girlfriend is completely captivated by his newest tattoo.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Hand kink, Choking, Dom/sub dynamic, spanking, petnames (baby, babygirl.), sex, dirty talk, the usual filth.

TW// Very brief mention of some type of injury and loss of a parent.

SMUT

MDNI!!! 18+!!!!!!!

Face claim is Kat Graham.

You can find my masterlist here.

Raya found herself in an unexpected and passionate relationship with Solo Sikoa, a professional wrestler with a captivating presence when she had honestly least expected anything of the sort.

Their encounter initially took place in the emergency room where Raya works as a nurse, Solo's brothers and cousin had dragged in him after a match gone wrong to be checked out for any injuries. Even being 30 years old, he was the baby of the group and his older brothers Jimmy and Jey, as well as his cousin Roman who might as well be his older brother too, are all relatively protective of him much to his dismay.

Raya, with her caring nature, tended to Solo's injuries, and their connection sparked instantly.

As they spent time flirting playfully, Raya couldn't help but be drawn to Solo's magnetic energy and charming smile. She couldn't help but note how soft spoken and gentle he is in person.

Raya had grown up watching wrestling as she had brothers and was raised by a single dad who were all big fans. Her dad had passed away a couple of years ago and from time to time when she'd missed him she'd turn it on.

That's why she recognized the four intimidatingly attractive men sitting there in the hospital room. The bloodline. She remained cool, calm and professional though and hadn't let any of them know that she recognized them.

Eventually, after some lighthearted banter, Solo mustered the courage to ask for Raya's number. Their texts soon turned into late-night conversations filled with laughter, shared dreams, and a growing sense of intimacy. Then he when he was back in town he asked her out.

Over the course of a year, Raya and Solo's relationship blossomed into a loving and deeply passionate connection. Raya still works in the ER. Solo is doing big things in his wrestling career. The two of them had moved in together, though between his wild travel schedule and her schedule as a nurse the two felt like they were almost never home. That's why this weekend they were spending together was so very special.

Solo had recently, just a couple of weeks ago, gotten an addition to the gorgeous tribal art that covered his arms with intricate patterns, it now included a striking design on his hand. Raya, who had always admired Solo's hands anyway, was captivated by the addition, finding the tattoos to be alluring and seductive. Her mind went straight to the gutter everytime she saw it.

As they were lying in bed together, just naked cuddling essentially, Raya gently traced her fingers along Solo's newly tattooed hand, She marveled at the intricate details, her eyes filled with adoration. A mischievous smile played on her lips as she whispered into Solo's ear, "You know, your hands would make a gorgeous necklace."

Solo's eyes lit up with desire, understanding the playful suggestion hidden within Raya's words. He leaned in closer, his voice low and husky, "Oh yeah, babygirl?"

Raya smirked, her heart racing with excitement at the thought. She nodded, biting her lip seductively.

"I'ma need you to use your words, baby." Solo said in a commanding, Dominant tone.

Raya's breath hitched at the command in Solo's voice. She could feel her body responding to his dominance, her desire intensifying with every word. She looked deep into Solo's eyes, her voice barely a whisper, "Yes, Daddy. I want your hands around my throat."

Solo's gaze darkened, a mix of desire and possessiveness burning in his eyes.

"Remember our Safeword?" Solo asked her.

"Spike" Raya said with a smile, being a play of course on his finisher, the Samoan Spike.

"Good girl" Solo responded as he gently ran his fingers through Raya's hair, his touch sending shivers down her spine. With a firm grip, he guided her head back, exposing her vulnerable neck.

Raya's heart pounded in her chest as she met his gaze with pure lusting coursing through her body.

Solo's grip tightened slightly, his fingers exerting a delicious pressure against the delicate skin of Raya's neck. A surge of pleasure shot through her body as she felt the power dynamic shift, her submission fueling her desire. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of being completely under his command, his strong gorgeous hands wrapped around her throat.

As the intensity grew, Solo's grip remained firm but controlled. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "This what you wanted, baby?"

"Mhmm" Raya hummed in absolute bliss as he loosened his grip and turned her around. Raya's body quivered with anticipation. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he positioned her to face away from him. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath becoming shallow with every passing second.

"Face down, ass up." Solo demands with a slap to her ass.

At the commanding tone in Solo's voice and the sharp sting of the slap, Raya felt surge of arousal course through her veins as she felt a mix of pleasure and anticipation. She quickly complied, assuming the desired position.

Her body lay face down, her round and enticing ass raised high in the air, waiting to be claimed. The warmth radiating from her skin fueled her desire, making her yearn for his touch, his control.

Solo approached her slowly, his steps deliberate and purposeful. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the room, intensifying the anticipation that hung heavily in the air. Raya's senses were on high alert, every nerve in her body humming with the need for his dominant touch.

Solo's beautifully tattooed hand trailed along her exposed flesh, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and possessive grips. Each stroke sent sparks of pleasure coursing through Raya's body.

Solo's hands travelled lower, he runs finger through her wetness.

A satisfied smirk curved Solo's lips as he pulls away his glistening fingers. "Damn, you wet, girl. Maybe I should've gotten this ink sooner." He teased with a chuckle before sucking her juices clean off of his finger.

A gasp escaped her lips as he was suddenly inside her. Pounding her from behind.

Solo's powerful thrusts sent waves of pleasure rippling through Raya's body, causing her to arch her back and instinctively press her hips back into his igniting a fire deep within her, building a crescendo of desire that threatened to consume her completely.

Raya's breath became ragged as Solo's rhythm quickened, his movements reflecting a primal and passionate hunger for her. With each deep and forceful thrust, they became lost in a dance of raw desire, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The room filled with the intoxicating sounds of their pleasure, the symphony of their moans and gasps mingling with the rhythm of their bodies. Raya's hands gripped the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure that Solo evoked within her.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the moment, their connection deepening with each passionate thrust. Their bodies moved together, perfectly attuned to each other's desires. Raya's senses were heightened, every sensation magnified as she chased the ecstasy that awaited her.

As the intensity built, Solo's hand reached around to find Raya's swollen and sensitive clit. His touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. The combination of his deep penetration and his skilled touch rubbing her clit pushed her closer to the edge.

Raya's moans grew louder, echoing through the room, as she felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening within her. The exquisite tension built, her body trembling with anticipation of the impending release.

Finally, with a shared gasp of ecstasy, Raya and Solo tumbled over the edge together. Waves of pleasure crashed through Raya's body as she experienced a mind-shattering orgasm, her body convulsing with the intensity of her release. Solo continued to thrust, prolonging their shared pleasure until he too succumbed to the overwhelming bliss.

In the aftermath of their passion, Raya and Solo remained locked in each other's embrace, their bodies intertwined and their hearts filled with a deep sense of connection. They had explored the depths of their desires, basking in the intimacy that only their shared pleasure could bring.

"Yeah.. I should've gotten that tattoo sooner." Solo smirked breathlessly.

[superluver]

hellooooo there i just discovered your blog! I see that requests are open and i’d like to request vacation with gojo and reader and megumi and tsumiki 🫶🫶🫶

Summertime Giggles

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

wc:1315 | cw: FEM!Reader, cursing, Kid Megumi is kinda ooc, boobies, pre!established relationship, fluff, crackfic kinda

Description: Gojo being an ass while you four are at the beach.

Characters: Megumi Fushiguro, Tsumiki Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo

I am so so so so so so so sorry anonny, I've been stalling on your request forgive me forgive me. 🙏 well, here it is. Tell me if this isn't what you were looking for and you can request me again 😋😋😋

“Satoru, where is the sunscreen?”

You're rustling through the woven beach bag, passing through an excessive amount of sunglasses, a beach towel, a hat, chips?!

“Huh? It’s in the bag.” He answers confidently, whistling with his tinted glasses on as he leaned in the chair, legs out, arms behind his head, relaxing in the shade brought by the large umbrella.

In your hand is a spray sunscreen, but the lotion is nowhere to be found.

“You didn't put it in here.”

He gawks at you, feigning innocence with a hurt expression. “Of course I did, baby!” He pouts in his seat, Megumi glancing at him as you find a spray. The boy’s arm is out as you spray it. Nlt caring if sunscreen gets in his mouth, he rats out, “When you told him he never got off the couch.”

“Hey now, that’s not true,”

You kept a gentle smile on your face, continuing to spray the boy down before slipping on his floaties and spraying down Tsumiki.

“Right Tsumiki? I got up, right?”

Tsumiki sheepishly smiles, you spraying her legs with that scary smile. “Well.. I don’t really remember..”

Everyone in this household knows that when Tsumiki 'doesn't remember,’ that’s her way of saying she does and Satoru, in fact, did not listen.

You finish on Tsumiki, spraying her face and ears quickly before turning to Satoru. The can is in your hands, smile stiff.

“Satoru, your turn.” You tell him in a sickly sweet tone. He shudders, eyes wide as he robotically makes his way towards you.

He sits in front of you, bare back facing you as you spray him auddenly.

He yelps, infinity off and hold liauid hittinf him under the warm raya of the sun. “S’ coLD!”

You say nothing, smiling as you spray his stomach. His abs flex before he finally gets up, standing asay form you. His hand out(from a distance). “Just hand it here.”

Your head tilts, a clueless expression on ylur face. “But I’m almost done?” You tell him, almost confused.

His eyes dilate at your face. ‘So cute’

Your deer like eyes reeling him back in, not even realizing your shaking up the can. His glasses long gone, left on his seat. “Hold your breath.” You say quickly, and his eyes go wide.

“What—?” He says, only to be cut off by the intense sprays of sunscreen into his face. He coughs loudly, waving his hands around as you continue your assault, spraying him until he can is near empty.

He stands up and back away frkm you, still coughing.

“You’re not a child, come back here.” You command him. He ignores you, looking out into the ocean. Megumi watches the way his eyss light up a little more than usual, an idea blasting through his head. Faster than infinite void.

Tsumiki sees him too, watching him turn back to you, whi kept the smile on your face until you met his own mischievous expression.

“Sweetcheeks,” he draws out that silly pet name, taking a hard step towards you. The sand is unmoving. His infinity was on, reduring you defenseless while he had what you would call, a damn suit of armor.

You shuffle back, throwing the can at his head. It thunks on his infinity, bouncing off and rolling away.

“Go away!” You shouted, eyes wide with fear. A playful shadow looms over his face, only his piercing eyes visible. His hands are up in the air, twitching ad you continue shuffling back in the sand until your back hits his seat. With no where to run, you squeak, hands covering your head as he lunges at you, infinity off as he takes you in his arms. (He’s holding you like a sack of potatoes).

“NO!” You scream, slapping his back.

You’re like a feather on his shoulder, your hits are like waves of wind.

He laughs while running into the water. Along the way you find yourself laughing as well between your shouts, he’s waist deep while you’re not wet yet, feet tickling the water before he counts down. Your laugher finally stops.

“Three…”

Your eyes wide, grip even harder on him. Your position is adjusted; your legs wrap around his waist, arms locked on his neck, face full of panic.

From the shore, Tsumiki is laughing, waving at yhe two of you. Hell, even Megumi, the stone cold freak as Satoru refers him, is giggling to himself.

“Two…”

“SATORU! Satoru! Satoru..”

Your voice going from a shout to a sweet call, arms loosening around his neck, your hands make their way to his shoulders, giving him a snug squeeze. “Toru, the love of my life. Future husband, future father to my kids,”

You trail ln, and his dxpression is smug. Eyebrows raised, lips lressed in a tight smile.

“Keep going…”

“You are the best thing thats ever—”

“Too basic,” he says just as fast, dropping you into the water. You didn’t even realize it was so deep, the water reaching just below your breasts.

Your coughing, trying to get up, but Satoru keeps lushing you back down.

“What the— what gives?!” You try to shout, moving the now wet hair from your face, voice hoarse from previous shouting and salt water stuck in your throat.

He gets really clise to your face, body submerged hnder the crystal blue water. His voice soft in whisper, he tells you, “Well, unless you want to get charged with public indecency, I suggest you get that,” his eyes glance down, “fixed.”

“What?” You mutter, looking down at yourself. You hugged Satoru a little too quickly. His head leans back, laughter bubbling from the back of his throat.

“HAHA!” He laughs, one of his large hands on your back, pressing your breasts onto his chest, the other covering his eyes.

When the laughter subsides, his hand fiddling behind your neck, fingers brushing you every now and then as he retightens the Bikini top, still giggling every now and then.

“Alright babe, it’s fixed.”

You look up at him, his big fat head is covering the sun, but he just looks so graceful. His smile is bright, and big. His eyes are uncovered, gleaming a bright blue. They’re crinkled as they stare down at you, smiling so bright that it hurts.

“Ah, what a gentleman—for once..” you mutter under your breath, your hands on his shoulders, pressing him down. He leans, and you get on your tippy toes in the water, placing a kiss on his cheek.

He was expecting one on the lips, cheek kisses are good though. They make him feel fuzzy.

Flabbergasted, he stands looking at you, watching you as you trudge away in the water back to the kids. Megumi is laughing with Tsumiki, and this might be the only time, Satoru thinks, the only time you guys would see him act as a kid.

He watches as you pick Megumi up, whispering something in his ear while Tsumiki stands close, watching as you tell her something slightly different than what you told the younger boy. The three of you lived in a different world from the girl who couldn't see curses. She had no idea of their existence, and it would stay that way.

Megumi on your hip, he watches as you wave at him. You looked as though you were telling him you come over, so he begins his trudge over to the three of you.

He watched you mutter something to Tsumiki, and she giggles, covering her mouth. Before Satoru shouts at them to figure out what was happening, the Sun disappears. A large wave of water looms over him, and he can only stand and watch in terror as it comes crashing down on him.

“Uh oh.” He mumbles, before getting pummeled by large waves of water.

The last thing he recalls hearing is the laughter escaping your mouths.

As long as you guys were happy, he guesses.

[uceyliyahh]

PRETTY LITTLE FEARS

Summary: "Don't just sugar coat, or say it all if you want" After dealing with a harsh breakup with her ex-boyfriend during their trip together, Soraya decided to own her hair salon business with the help of her father of course until one night that all changed.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Soraya

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi

PLF CAST

- Soraya Williams aka; Rara, Riri, Raya - loyal - owns her hair salon business - observant - sassy attitude - Xavier's ex-girlfriend -Her father owns runs a business -single

- Joshua Samuel Fatu aka; Jey, Josh - In the bloodline wrestling business -single - open minded -loyal -toxic -freaky -tall -right hand man

-Leati Joseph "Joe" Anoa'i aka; Joe, Roman - Leader of the bloodline wrestling business -married - seven kids -wants to take control of Soraya's father wrestling business -manipulator -toxic

- Xavier Hankins -Soraya's ex-boyfriend -toxic -works with his father in the drug business -gaslighter -wants to kill Jey for taking away something that he wants and that want is Soraya

-Jade Cargill aka; Jade -Soraya's best friend - married

- Trinity Fatu aka; Trin - in the bloodline wrestling business - married -Jey's sister in law

-Jonathan Solofa Fatu aka; Jimmy, Jon -in the bloodline wrestling business -married -Jey's Twin -second right hand man

A/n: everyone else will be themselves in this story, I only own the OC nothing else so let's get into it.