#Rogue x Reader x Gambit

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Summary: You, Remy and Anna realise that three isnt' always a crowd. Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut.

Remy and Anna sat at the kitchen table, the familiar shuffle of cards the only sound breaking the quiet. Remy’s hands moved with practiced ease, flipping the deck in a game of solitaire, but his mind wasn’t on the cards. Not really.

His eyes kept drifting toward you, standing at the kitchen counter, completely absorbed in making yourself a sandwich. You weren’t doing anything special—just spreading jam on bread—but something about the way you moved, the way you hummed softly to yourself, had him distracted. His gaze lingered on your fingers, watching as you absently wiped a bit of jam off the knife with your thumb, then brought it to your lips, licking it clean without a second thought.

Remy’s throat tightened, and he quickly looked back down at his cards, trying to focus, but the image of you licking that jam from the knife stuck in his mind. He shuffled the deck again, his movements a little too fast, a little too jerky. He swallowed hard, willing himself to get a grip.

Across the table, Anna-Marie watched him with a slow, knowing smile. She’d been watching him closely for the past few minutes, catching the way his eyes kept drifting to you, the way his jaw tightened every time you did something as simple as lick the knife or brush your hair back from your face. She knew exactly what was going on in his head. After all, she had the same thoughts.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, her smirk widening as she watched Remy struggle to keep his cool. “Ya know, swamp rat,” she drawled quietly, “ya keep starin’ like that, and you’re gonna burn a hole through the table.”

Remy’s head snapped up, a guilty look flashing across his face. He quickly tried to hide it, but it was too late. Anna had caught him red-handed. “Ain’t starin’ at nothin’, chère,” he muttered, his accent thick, but there was no mistaking the tension in his voice.

“Uh-huh.” Anna’s smirk was full of mischief, her eyes flicking between you and Remy. She could read him like a book—always had been able to. “Right. So that little show with the jam didn’t catch your attention just now?”

It had been six months since that night in the common room—the night that had turned everything upside down.

The small common room was alive with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of mugs as the three of you sat together, trying to unwind after the mission. The room itself was dimly lit, its worn furniture and mismatched décor giving it a sense of familiarity, of comfort. But tonight, there was an undercurrent of tension that neither Anna nor Remy could ignore. It had been there for a while now, lurking beneath the surface, but tonight, it felt like it was teetering on the edge of something neither of them could control.

Anna sat on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, glancing over at you as you gingerly pressed an ice pack to the side of your face. A large bruise had darkened your skin where you’d been hit during the mission. You had insisted you were fine, brushing off the concern with a half-hearted smile and a wave of your hand, but Anna could see the pain in your eyes, the way your jaw tightened every time you shifted the ice pack.

What she couldn’t ignore, though—what had been gnawing at her for hours now—was Remy’s reaction. She had seen it the moment you had been hit, the moment you fell, the flash of pure, unfiltered fury in his eyes. It had been quick, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment, but Anna had caught it. She always noticed those things about him.

The moment the blast hit you, everything changed.

You had been moving across one of the high walkways, your focus sharp, your attention split between the chaotic battle below and the shifting shadows above. But you hadn’t seen the energy blast coming, not until it slammed into you with brutal force, knocking you off your feet and sending you hurtling over the edge.

Time seemed to slow as the world tilted, your body spinning in midair, the metal walkway disappearing beneath you. You could hear the shouts of your teammates, but they were distant, muffled, as the ground rushed up to meet you. The impact when you hit was jarring, the breath ripped from your lungs as you landed hard on your side. Pain radiated through your body, sharp and unforgiving, but you forced yourself to move, forced yourself to breathe.

Somewhere above, Remy had seen everything.

Anna would later describe the look on his face—the way his usually calm, cocky expression had twisted into something unrecognizable, something terrifying.

Remy moved like a man possessed, his usual smooth, calculated style of fighting replaced by a wild, reckless fury. His bo staff, which he normally wielded with an almost playful ease, became an extension of his rage, striking out with a force that seemed to reverberate through the entire battlefield. The usual grace with which he fought was gone, replaced by raw, unrestrained aggression.

His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles stood out against the sharp line of his face, his eyes dark and stormy, filled with a rage that Anna had never seen in him before. Every step he took was purposeful, his movements sharp and brutal, as if he was trying to physically tear his way through the enemies in front of him to get to you.

Anna had never seen him like this. Remy was always calm in a fight—always in control. He moved like a dancer, weaving in and out of danger with a smirk on his lips and a sharp quip on his tongue. But not tonight. Tonight, there were no quips, no smirks. Just fury. Just fear.

He wasn’t fighting to win anymore. He was fighting to get to you.

The man who had fired the blast was still standing on the walkway above, reloading his weapon, unaware of the storm that was coming for him. Remy’s eyes locked onto him, and for a moment, everything else faded. The enemies between him and his target were irrelevant, mere obstacles in his way, and he tore through them all with a kind of reckless abandon that made even Anna hesitate.

It wasn’t until you rejoined the group after Remy had taken out the man that had hurt you—bruised, battered, but still standing—that Remy’s shoulders finally sagged with relief. He hadn’t heard you approach, too lost in the chaos of the fight, but when he saw you, his entire body seemed to deflate, the tension draining from him in an instant.

You were hurt—he could see that much—but you were alive.

You gave him a tired smile, your lips quirking up at the edges despite the pain radiating through your body. “I’m fine,” you said, your voice rough but steady. “Just got knocked around a bit.”

But Remy didn’t smile back. He didn’t say a word. His eyes lingered on you, taking in the bruise forming on your face, the way you were favoring one leg, and though his face remained impassive, Anna could see the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way his jaw tightened as if he was physically holding himself back from reaching out to you.  He had been uncharacteristically quiet on the jet home, his jokes and easy charm replaced with something darker, something more volatile. His eyes had followed you with an intensity that was hard to miss, his body stiffening every time you winced or shifted in your seat. Like he needed to stop you from hurting, to fix you.

There had been a time when the tension between you and Remy was something entirely different—something light, easy. A game, almost. The two of you would banter like it was second nature, your witty exchanges filling the room with laughter and playful sparks. It was a kind of verbal tug-of-war, where neither of you wanted to win too quickly because the back-and-forth was half the fun. And Anna had loved those days.

She would sit back, arms folded, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched the two of you go at it, tossing jabs and flirtations like they were as essential as breathing. Remy’s voice would always be the first to cut through the air—smooth and cocky, with that lazy Cajun drawl that made everything he said sound like a tease.

“Y’know, chérie, y’ keep lookin’ at me like that, I’m gonna start thinkin’ y’ got a crush,” he’d say, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You’d snort, but your smirk would betray you. “I’m just trying to figure out if your hair defies gravity or logic.”

He’d lean in a little closer, his grin widening. “Both, ma belle. But y’ don’t seem t’ mind gettin’ close enough t’ figure it out.”

And you’d fire back with something just as quick, just as sharp, refusing to let him have the upper hand for too long. “I’m just making sure you don’t set off a static charge and fry the circuits.”

Anna had always loved watching the two of you play off each other like that. The way your eyes would spark with amusement, and the way Remy’s grin would soften into something almost genuine when you shot back a particularly clever retort. It was a dance, one that neither of you seemed in a hurry to end. The teasing felt like a language all its own, where the quick-witted quips and flirtations were as natural as breathing.

Anna had noticed all the little things, too—the way Remy’s eyes lingered on you for just a second too long when you weren’t looking, the way he would lean in just a bit too close when he was teasing you. She saw how his shoulders would relax when you entered a room, as though your presence alone was enough to ease the tension from his body, if only for a moment.

But now, the easy banter between the two of you had faltered. The playful teasing that used to fill the air between you was gone, replaced with awkward, stilted pauses. Remy had been different ever since the mission—quieter, more distant. Like he didn’t know how to be around you anymore, not after what he’d seen, not after the way his heart had nearly stopped when you hit the ground.

Because in that moment she realised; seeing you fall, he had found something that scared the hell out of him: this wasn’t a game between you anymore.

He cared—more than he had ever let himself admit. And now, the weight of that realization hung between the two of you, thick and suffocating.

Anna could see it in the way Remy’s entire body seemed tense tonight, restless, like a man trapped in a corner with no way out. He was holding himself back, struggling to find his footing in this new, unfamiliar territory. The easy confidence, the cocky charm that usually dripped from his every word, was gone, replaced by something more tentative, more uncertain.

It wasn’t just the awkward pauses between you that were different. It was the way he looked at you now—like he wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. He kept his distance, his usual easy charm replaced with a kind of restless energy, like he was constantly fighting with himself. He didn’t know how to go back to the way things were, not after realizing just how much you meant to him.

Clearly Anna had seen this coming for a while now, long before Remy had. She had watched the way his teasing had taken on a softer edge, the way his flirtations had started to feel less like a game and more like something real. But Remy? He had been blind to it, or perhaps just in denial. Until tonight—until the moment he saw you fall.

Now, he was struggling to reconcile the playful, easy banter you used to share with the deeper feelings that had surfaced. And you—you were trying to act like everything was still the same, but Anna could see the way your shoulders tensed when he was near, the way you averted your eyes when his gaze lingered on you for too long.

The tension between the two of you had changed. It wasn’t light anymore. It wasn’t playful. It was heavy, suffocating, the kind of tension that made the room feel smaller, more claustrophobic.

Anna knew what was happening, even if neither of you wanted to admit it. You were both standing on the edge of something—something that had been building for longer than either of you had realized. And now, you were both too scared to take that final step, too scared to slip and fall into whatever came next.

The silence between you and Remy wasn’t comfortable anymore. It was stretched too thin, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. It was no longer filled with playful banter or easy flirtations, but with the weight of everything left unsaid—feelings neither of you knew how to acknowledge, let alone express.

You had both been waiting for whatever it was between you to disappear, praying that it would. But it hadn’t. It had only grown heavier, more palpable, hanging in the air like a storm cloud, ready to break.

Anna could feel it. How could she not? She had always been perceptive, especially when it came to Remy. She could read him like an open book, see past the smooth charm and cocky smiles to the man underneath, the one who wasn’t as sure of himself as he pretended to be.

But tonight, everything felt different. Worse.

You were sitting in the armchair opposite, your legs stretched out in front of you, clearly exhausted but trying to keep up with the conversation. Anna watched as you shifted the ice pack to a new spot on your bruised ribs, wincing slightly. And again, there it was—that flicker of something in Remy’s eyes. He was sitting next to Anna, his body stiffening, his hands curling into fists on his lap as though he were fighting the instinct to do something. To reach out. To help you.

Normally, Remy was the epitome of calm, always quick with a joke or a flirtatious comment to lighten the mood. But tonight, he was different. There was a heaviness to him, a weight that he couldn’t seem to shake. His gaze kept flicking between you and the floor, like he couldn’t bear to look at either of you for too long. And Anna had noticed the way he’d been avoiding her eyes all evening, like he was afraid of what she might see there.

But she already knew. She’d known for a while now.

Yet it wasn’t anger that weighed heavily in her chest—it wasn’t betrayal. No, it was something far more complicated than that. Because as Anna sat there, watching the way Remy’s entire body seemed to tense every time you shifted in your seat, she realized something that surprised even her: she wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t even surprised.

She had seen it coming.

But what surprised Anna even more was that she had seen something similar in you.

You were good at hiding it—better than Remy, at least. But Anna had noticed the way you had started to pull back, the way your usual quick-witted responses to Remy’s flirtations had slowed, replaced by awkward silences or forced smiles. She had seen the way your eyes would flicker with something unspoken when Remy got too close, something you were clearly trying to suppress.

But now... now it was different. Because she was watching two people she cared about trying—fighting—to bury feelings that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. She knew that you and Remy were both hoping those feelings would disappear, praying that they would fade with time. Because whatever this was, it wasn’t supposed to happen. Not when she and Remy were together. It hurt to see Remy like this—not because of jealousy or betrayal, but because she knew exactly how he felt. She had been struggling too, but she had been doing it for far longer than Remy had. The difference was, she was better at hiding it.

She had to be.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of forced conversation and strained silences, you stood up from the armchair, stretching with a wince that made Anna’s heart clench. You smiled at them, tired but still warm, that same smile that had always managed to break through the tension, even on the worst days.

"Think I’m gonna call it a night," you said, your voice rough around the edges. "See you guys tomorrow."

Anna nodded, offering you a small, genuine smile. "Get some rest," she said softly, her voice gentle, maybe too gentle. "You need it."

Remy, on the other hand, barely said a word. He just gave you a curt nod, his jaw tight as he watched you, his eyes flickering with something Anna knew he was desperately trying to hide. There was a storm in those eyes, a hurricane of emotions he couldn’t control, and it was tearing him apart.

It was only when the door clicked shut behind you that Anna noticed the way Remy’s shoulders sagged, just a fraction, the tension in his body easing ever so slightly now that you were no longer in the room. But the storm hadn’t passed—it was still there, lingering in the air between them, thick and heavy like the humidity before a thunderstorm. Anna knew that if she didn’t address it now, it would only grow stronger, consuming them both in its wake.

She watched him in silence for a moment, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face, the way his hands flexed at his sides, like he was trying to rid himself of the energy that had been building up all night. He looked like a man on the edge, like he was barely holding himself together, and Anna’s heart ached for him. She knew him better than anyone—knew that he wasn’t used to feeling this out of control. Remy LeBeau was a master of keeping his emotions in check, of hiding behind that charming smirk and easy confidence. But not tonight. Not when it came to you.

Anna sighed softly, the sound filling the quiet room. Her heart ached, but not in the way she had feared it might. She had been bracing herself for this conversation for a while now—had been watching the cracks form in Remy’s carefully constructed facade. But no matter how much she tried to prepare herself, it was still a strange thing to feel the truth settle between them like this.

"Remy," she said softly, drawing his gaze to her. Her voice was calm, but there was a firmness to it, a quiet strength. "I’ve seen the way you look at her."

Remy’s eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth to respond, to deny it, to explain, but the words failed him. He let out a heavy breath instead, one hand running through his tousled hair as he tried to find anything to say that wouldn’t make this worse. But there was no denying it. Not anymore.

"It ain’t like dat, Anna," he started, his voice low, that familiar Cajun drawl seeping into his words as he struggled to explain. "I didn’t mean for it t’ happen. Swear on everythin’, I tried t’ bury it. Tried t’ keep it locked up real tight, y’know? Hope it went away. But…"

"But it never did," Anna finished for him, her voice soft and understanding. "I know, Remy. I’ve seen it."

She had noticed it for months. The subtle shifts in his behavior around you, so small that no one else would have picked up on them. But Anna? She knew Remy better than anyone. She knew how to read the tiniest changes in him, how to catch the brief flickers of emotion that crossed his face when he thought no one was watching.

"You ain’t gotta hide it from me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "I’ve seen the way your whole face lights up when she laughs. The way you lean in, just a little closer than you would with anyone else."

Remy winced, his guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. He had thought he could hide it, had thought he could keep his feelings locked away deep enough that no one—especially Anna—would ever notice. But he had underestimated her. He always did.

"Anna, I—" He stopped, his voice faltering, and he shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I—Merde, I don’t know what t’ say. I love you, chérie. You gotta know dat." His accent thickened, his voice rough with emotion. "But when it comes t’ her… I… I can’t help it. I tried. I really tried."

Anna’s heart clenched at Remy’s words, but not in the way she had expected. There was no anger, no jealousy gnawing at her insides. Instead, she felt something else—something quieter, more complicated. A strange sense of relief washed over her, like the weight she had been carrying for so long was finally starting to lift. She had known this moment was coming—had felt it creeping up on her for months now. But even so, sitting here, facing the truth she had been so afraid to admit, there was a peace in it.

For so long, she had been bracing herself for this conversation, for the day Remy would finally crack under the pressure of his feelings for you. She had seen the way he looked at you, the way his cocky charm faltered whenever you were near. But now that the moment was here, now that Remy had all but confessed without saying the words aloud, Anna didn’t feel the anger she thought she would. Instead, she just felt tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of holding back her own feelings, afraid of what they might mean.

"I know ya love me, Remy," she said softly, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm, grounding herself in the warmth of his presence. She needed that connection, if only for a moment, to steady herself against the storm of emotions swirling inside her. "And I love you too. I always will." Her voice trembled slightly, but she steadied herself with a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm, even as her heart pounded in her chest. What she was about to say next wasn’t easy, but it was the truth. "But this thing you’re feelin’ for her… it ain’t somethin’ you can control. And I don’t blame you for it."

Remy’s brow furrowed in confusion, his dark eyes searching her face as though trying to make sense of her calm. She could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers flexed like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. "How can y’ be so calm ‘bout this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. "How can y’ just—"

Anna swallowed hard, feeling the familiar flutter of fear in her chest. She had been prepared for this moment, but the words still felt heavy on her tongue. This was the part she had been dreading, the part that made her hesitate. She wasn’t afraid of what she felt—she had known for a long time now that her feelings for you were real, even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it. What scared her was Remy’s reaction. What if this changed everything between them? What if he looked at her differently after this? What if—

But she couldn’t keep it inside any longer. The truth was already out there, hovering between them, and if she didn’t say it now, she might never have the courage to say it at all.

"Because I feel it too," Anna interrupted, her voice quiet but firm, the words finally spilling out after months of silence.

Remy stared at her, shock clear in his wide eyes. His entire body seemed to go still, like he was frozen in place, unable to process what he had just heard. "You—What?”

Anna smiled, a little sad, but mostly relieved. It was like a dam had broken in her chest, the flood of feelings she had been holding back for so long finally rushing free. "I’ve been feelin’ it too, Remy," she admitted, her voice soft, almost fragile. "For her. For a long time now."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for so long that now, finally said aloud, they felt surreal. Anna watched as Remy blinked, his mind clearly racing, his eyes searching hers like he was waiting for her to take it back, to say that she didn’t mean it. But she didn’t. This was the truth—the messy, complicated truth that she had been avoiding for too long.

She could see the disbelief on his face, the way his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to find something to say, but no words came. She had never seen him like this before—so utterly lost for words. Remy LeBeau, who always had a quick retort or a charming smile, was completely speechless.

Anna’s own heart was racing, the silence between them growing heavier with every passing second. She had expected this moment to feel freeing, but it didn’t—not entirely. There was still a knot of anxiety twisting in her chest, still the fear of what might come next. She had no idea how Remy would react, and that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

"How long?" Remy finally asked, his voice rough, almost strained, like he was forcing the words out against his will.

Anna hesitated. She had known this question was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to answer. "I’m not sure," she said slowly, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. "It kinda crept up on me, I guess. I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. I didn’t want to feel that way about her." She paused, her throat tightening as she forced herself to be honest. "Not when you and I are together."

Remy’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little as her words sunk in. "Anna..."

But she shook her head, stopping him before he could say anything else. "I’ve been scared, Remy," she admitted, her voice small, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to. "Scared of what it meant. Scared of what it would do to us if I told you." She looked up at him, her eyes filled with the weight of everything she had been holding back. "I didn’t want to lose you."

Remy’s eyes softened, and for the first time that night, Anna saw the flicker of understanding in them. He reached out, his hand covering hers where it rested in her lap, his touch warm and comforting. "Y’ ain’t gonna lose me, Anna," he said quietly, his voice low and steady. "Not over this."

Anna let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding in her chest as the tension she had been carrying for months finally began to ease. She had been so afraid of this moment—afraid that telling Remy the truth would break something between them, something that couldn’t be fixed. But now, looking into his eyes, she realized that maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been as fragile as she thought. Anna watched Remy closely, her heart pounding in her chest as the weight of their shared confession settled between them. The silence that hung in the air wasn’t as heavy as before, but it still carried a kind of tension that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. She had said the words now—had admitted to the feelings she had been hiding for so long—and there was no taking them back. But strangely, she didn’t want to. This was the truth, messy and complicated as it was, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like she was drowning underneath it.

Remy was still staring at her, his eyes searching her face like he was trying to piece together what had just happened, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that had swept through both of them. His hand was still resting on hers, grounding her, but she could feel the tension in his touch, the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly.

"Anna," he started, his voice low, uncertain. "I—"

But she shook her head, stopping him before he could say anything else. There was more she needed to say—more she needed him to understand before they could even begin to figure out where they went from here.

"It’s not just about the way I feel," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was a quiet strength in it, a resolve that had settled deep in her bones. "It’s about her. About who she is."

Remy frowned slightly, confusion flickering across his face, but he didn’t interrupt. He was listening, waiting for her to explain.

Anna took a deep breath, her gaze drifting toward the door you had walked through just minutes before. "She’s just..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to describe what she felt, what you meant to her. "She’s like this light, Remy. You’ve felt it, too—I know you have. It’s like she walks into a room, and everything feels different. Brighter. Lighter."

Remy’s brow furrowed deeper, but his eyes softened as he listened, his hand tightening just slightly on hers. He didn’t say anything, but Anna could see the understanding in his eyes, the way he was already beginning to nod, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I don’t know how to explain it," she continued, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "It’s not just that she’s kind, or funny, or smart. It’s more than that. There’s this energy about her, this... this warmth that just pulls you in. Even when you don’t want to be pulled in. Even when you’re trying so hard to keep your distance."

Anna let out a shaky breath, her eyes closing for a moment as she tried to steady herself. "I tried, Remy. I tried so hard not to feel this way. I didn’t want to fall for her. I didn’t mean to fall for her. But she’s just... she’s so easy to love. And that’s what makes it so hard."

She opened her eyes again, looking at Remy as if she could somehow make him understand what she was struggling to put into words. "You know what I mean, don’t you?" she asked quietly, almost pleading. "You’ve felt it, too. The way she just... she makes everything feel better, even when everything’s falling apart."

Remy’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t deny it. How could he? Anna could see it all over his face, the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes flickered with something unspoken. He had felt it, too. That pull. That warmth. He had been feeling it for months, just like she had.

"Yeah," Remy finally whispered, his voice rough, strained with the weight of everything he was holding back. "Yeah, I know."

Anna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her body relaxing just a little as the tension between them began to ease. There was no point in pretending anymore, no point in hiding what they both knew to be true.

"She’s like this energy you can’t explain," Anna continued, her voice soft, almost reverent as she spoke. "It’s like the more time you spend with her, the harder it gets to stay away. Like you don’t even realize it’s happening until it’s too late, until you’re already in too deep."

Her gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers twisting together in her lap as she tried to put the rest of her thoughts into words. "It’s not just about being attracted to her, or wanting her in that way. It’s deeper than that. It’s like she sees people, really sees them. And when she looks at you..." Anna’s voice faltered for a moment, her throat tightening with emotion. "When she looks at you, it’s like she’s looking right into your soul, like she sees all of the broken, messy parts of you, and somehow, she still wants to be there. She still cares."

Remy was silent, but Anna could feel the way his grip on her hand tightened, the way his body seemed to relax just a little, like her words were sinking into him, touching something deep inside that he had been trying so hard to ignore.

"And that’s why it’s so easy to fall in love with her," Anna whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the truth she had been carrying for so long. "Because she makes you feel like maybe you aren’t so broken after all. Like maybe, just maybe, you’re worth loving." It had started slowly—so slowly that Anna hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. You had always been there, a constant presence in her life, one that she had come to rely on, to trust. You were her best friend, the one she could talk to about anything, the one who could make her laugh when everything else seemed too heavy. She had always loved you, but it had been the kind of love that she could easily explain away, the kind that came with years of friendship.

But then something had shifted.

She couldn’t say exactly when it started—maybe it was the way your smile seemed to light up her world in a way that only Remy could, or the way her heart fluttered when your hand brushed against hers, even just in passing. Even through her gloves she could still feel the warmth, the electricity. Maybe it was the way she caught herself staring at you when you weren’t looking, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t quite name. Whatever it was, it had crept up on her slowly, like a shadow she hadn’t noticed until it was already wrapped around her heart.

At first, she tried to ignore it. Tried to convince herself that it was nothing, that she was just imagining things. After all, she loved Remy. She loved him. And Remy loved her. What they had was real, solid, something she had fought so hard to protect. But the more time she spent with you, the harder it became to deny that something had changed.

It wasn’t just friendship anymore—not for her.

She found herself thinking about you in moments of quiet, her mind drifting to the way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled when you were excited about something. She replayed conversations in her head, her heart skipping a beat at the thought of your voice, your smile. And then there were the dreams—dreams where it was your hand she reached for, your lips she kissed. She would wake up, her heart pounding, guilt twisting in her stomach like a knife.

How could she feel this way about you when she already loved Remy?

She had tried to push it down, tried to bury it deep inside, telling herself that it was just a phase, that it would pass. But it didn’t pass. If anything, it grew stronger, more insistent, until it was all she could think about when she was around you. And it wasn’t just attraction—it was deeper than that. She cared about you in a way that she hadn’t allowed herself to admit before. She wanted you to be happy, wanted to protect you, to be the one you turned to when you needed someone. It was love. And once she realized that, there was no going back.

But how could she navigate these feelings for you when she still loved Remy? That was the part that tore at her, that kept her up at night, her mind a tangled mess of emotions. She loved them both. She loved you both.

There had been moments—fleeting, but real—when she had caught Remy watching you, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable. At first, she had been confused, a knot of jealousy twisting in her chest. But then, as the days passed, she began to recognize that look. It was the same way she had been looking at you. And slowly, the jealousy had faded, replaced by something she hadn’t expected: understanding.

Remy was feeling it too.

But she hadn’t known how to bring it up. How could she? How could she tell him that she was falling in love with their best friend, that she was struggling to reconcile those feelings with her love for him? She had been so afraid of ruining everything, of losing him, of losing you. So she had kept it inside, pretending that everything was fine, even as her heart ached with the weight of it all.

And now, standing here, with Remy looking at her like he had just seen a ghost, she realized that she wasn’t alone in this. He had been struggling too, trying to hide his feelings for you, just like she had. And it wasn’t until this moment, with the truth finally hanging between them, that she realized how much she needed this. How much she needed him to understand.

Remy blinked, his mind racing as he tried to process everything Anna had just said. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. It felt like the world had tilted on its axis, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if this was all real.

Remy’s head was spinning, his emotions swirling in a chaotic storm that refused to settle. He dragged a hand through his messy hair, feeling like he was trying to force puzzle pieces into place that simply wouldn’t fit. "Merde…" he muttered under his breath, his accent thick with frustration. But despite the confusion, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a dry, almost disbelieving laugh escaping him. “Dis… dis is a mess.”

He had meant to sound bitter, to let the words carry the frustration of the situation, but even he could hear the warmth in his voice. There was no denying the absurdity of it all—how life had a way of sneaking up on him, turning everything he thought he knew upside down. But Remy had always lived in the gray areas, in the spaces between right and wrong, between love and heartbreak. He had survived in the mess before. Only this time, the mess was different. This time, it involved the two people who meant the most to him.

Remy loved Anna. God, did he love her. He loved her in a way that went beyond words, beyond anything he’d ever known. It wasn’t a love built on fleeting passion or infatuation, although there had been plenty of that in the beginning. No, this was a love that had roots—deep and unshakable, like an old oak tree that had weathered every storm fate had thrown their way. It was the kind of love that had been forged in battle, tested by time, and strengthened by the scars they both carried. It was a love that had grown slowly, steadily, until it became as natural as breathing.

He loved her laugh—the way it lit up a room, the way it chased away the shadows that always seemed to cling to him. When Anna laughed, it was like the world wasn’t such a bad place after all. He loved her stubbornness, that fiery spirit that refused to back down, even when the odds were stacked against her. She was relentless when she believed in something, and she had always believed in him, even when he hadn’t deserved it.

Anna had seen him at his worst—at his lowest—and yet, she had been there, steady and unwavering, her loyalty a constant he had never quite understood but had always been grateful for. She was his partner, his equal in every way. She knew him better than anyone—knew all his faults, all his demons—and still, she had chosen to stand beside him.

Remy loved her in a way that felt natural, like something that had always existed between them, waiting to be discovered. It was a love that had carried them through the highs and the lows, through the heartbreaks and the healing, through every test life had thrown at them. They had built something solid together, something that had weathered every storm, and he knew without a doubt that he could trust that love to carry them through whatever came next.

But love, as Remy had come to understand over the years, wasn’t always simple. It wasn’t always enough to keep things neat and tidy. Sometimes it was messy, complicated in ways that didn’t make sense, in ways that tore at you from the inside out.

There was no doubt in his mind that he loved Anna with every fiber of his being. But then… there was you. And that was when things got complicated.

He had tried to ignore it at first—the way his pulse quickened when you were near, the way his eyes seemed to drift toward you without him even realizing it, the way his heart beat just a little faster whenever you smiled at him. He had told himself it was nothing. Just a fleeting attraction, something that would pass if he ignored it long enough. He had been through enough to know that feelings like this could be dangerous, that they had a way of sneaking up on you and making you forget what really mattered. So he had pushed it down, buried it deep in the part of himself he never let anyone see.

But it hadn’t passed.

It had only grown stronger, more insistent, until it was all he could think about. Until the sound of your laugh was like a song stuck in his head, until the way you looked at him made him feel like he was the only person in the room. He had tried to fight it, tried so damn hard to keep it buried, to remind himself that he loved Anna, that he had no right to feel this way about you. But the more he tried to push it down, the more it rose to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.

And that terrified him.

Because Remy wasn’t a stranger to desire. He had felt it before—strong, overwhelming, like a fire that threatened to consume him. But this was different. This wasn’t just desire. It wasn’t just physical attraction. It was something deeper, something he didn’t quite understand, and that was what scared him the most. The way you made him feel wasn’t something he could control, wasn’t something he could just turn off. It was like you had slipped past all of his defenses without him even realizing it, and now, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He loved Anna. He knew that. He needed that to be enough. But every time he looked at you, something inside him shifted, something he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just about wanting you, though that was part of it. It was about the way you made him feel—alive, seen, understood in a way he hadn’t expected. You had this light about you, this energy that drew him in, that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something more out there for him, something he hadn’t even known he was looking for.

And that was the real problem. Because it wasn’t just that he was attracted to you. It was that he was starting to fall for you, and that was something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

"Merde," he whispered again, running his hand through his hair as if the simple gesture could somehow untangle the mess inside his head. He glanced up at Anna, who was watching him carefully, her eyes full of a quiet understanding that made his chest ache. She always knew when something was wrong, always knew when he was struggling, even when he didn’t say a word.

Anna wasn’t angry. Somehow, that made it worse. If she had been angry—if she had yelled or thrown something or stormed out—maybe he could have handled that. Maybe he could have dealt with the anger, could have taken the blame and let her hate him for it. But she wasn’t angry. She was calm, too calm, and it made his heart pound in his chest.

"Dis ain’t fair," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. "Not to you. Not to us."

Anna’s expression softened, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. "No," she agreed quietly, her voice gentle. "It ain’t fair. But it’s the truth."

Remy closed his eyes for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in. This was the truth, messy and complicated as it was. He had feelings for you—feelings he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he wanted to. And Anna… Anna had feelings for you, too. It was a truth they couldn’t run from anymore, no matter how much it hurt.

"I didn’t want this," Remy whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn’t want to feel this way."

"I know," Anna said softly, squeezing his hand. "Neither did I."

But there was no escaping it now. The feelings were out in the open, and there was no putting them back. Remy didn’t know what came next, didn’t know how they were supposed to move forward from here. But one thing was clear—things would never be the same again.

Still, as he looked at Anna, her calm acceptance, her unwavering strength, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could figure this out. Together.

"You love her, don’t you?" Anna asked quietly, her voice soft but steady.

Remy hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He had never said it aloud, never let himself fully admit it. But now, there was no point in denying it.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth. "I think I do."

Anna’s eyes flickered with a mixture of sadness and something deeper—understanding, maybe, or a kind of resigned hope that made Remy’s chest tighten. She nodded softly, as if she’d already played out this conversation in her mind more times than she cared to admit.

“Me too,” she whispered. Two small words, but they carried the weight of everything both of them had been too afraid to face. Remy felt a wave of emotions crash over him—relief, confusion, fear. He’d been so damn scared of this moment, scared of losing her, scared of breaking what they had built. But instead of anger or hurt, Anna had met him with understanding. And somehow, that made it even harder to bear. Since then, they’d been hiding their feelings from you. It wasn’t easy, not with the way the three of you were always together—fighting side by side, laughing, sharing late-night conversations that stretched into the early morning. You were the glue that held them together, and neither of them wanted to risk losing that. But hiding how they felt was starting to wear on them.

Anna had noticed the change in Remy almost immediately. He’d always been protective of you in the field, but now it was something more. He hovered closer than he used to, always positioning himself between you and danger, always the first to pull you out of harm’s way. His hand would linger on your arm a second too long, his voice softer when he whispered, “Stay close, cher.” And outside of missions? He was more flirtatious than ever, but there was something different about it now. The playful edge was still there, but there was a heat behind his words that hadn’t been there before, a weight that made Anna’s chest tighten when she saw the way you smiled back at him.

Remy had noticed Anna’s changes, too. She was loosening up around you in ways she hadn’t before. She wasn’t the type to let people in easily, but with you, it was different. She lingered when the two of you cooked together, standing so close that her shoulder brushed yours, her gloved fingers grazing your arm as you handed her a knife or a spoon. When you sparred, she wasn’t as hard on you as she used to be, her movements slower, more deliberate, as if she didn’t want to hurt you but didn’t want to stop touching you either. There was a softness to her that Remy had rarely seen, and it drove him crazy because he knew exactly what it meant.

They were both caught in the same trap—wanting you, but not daring to tell you

But tonight, sitting at the kitchen table, watching you make yourself a sandwich, Anna couldn’t help but poke at Remy, just like she always did when the tension between the three of you got too thick to ignore.

Remy shifted in his seat, heat creeping up the back of his neck as he tried to focus on the cards spread out in front of him. “I ain’t payin’ attention to nothin’,” he mumbled, his voice tight, his accent slipping through more than usual. He kept his eyes glued to the deck, hoping the cards would save him from the conversation.

Anna chuckled softly, clearly amused. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, dropping her voice low enough so only he could hear. “Sure, sugar. Whatever you say.” There was a teasing lilt in her voice, but her gaze was sharp, knowing. “But I see the way ya look at her, Remy. Ain’t no use pretendin’.”

Remy’s grip tightened on the cards, his pulse thudding in his ears. He didn’t respond right away, but Anna could see the way his jaw clenched, the way his shoulders tensed under her teasing.

“You notice a lot, chère,” he muttered, finally looking up at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. He sounded defensive, but there was no real heat in his words. He knew she wasn’t wrong. She never was.

Anna shrugged, her smirk widening. “I notice when you stop flirtin’ with me and start focusin’ on someone else.” She tilted her head toward you, her eyes softening. “Ain’t like I’m blind to it.”

Remy’s gaze flicked toward you again, watching as you stood on your toes to get a plate down from the cupboard, completely oblivious to the conversation happening behind you. His chest tightened, the familiar ache settling in once again. He’d always been good at keeping his feelings locked down, but when it came to you, he was losing that control more and more each day.

“I ain’t the only one,” he said quietly, his voice low, his eyes still on you. He didn’t need to say more. Anna knew exactly what he meant.

Anna’s smirk faded, replaced with something softer. She followed his gaze, watching you for a moment before replying. “Yeah. I guess not.” They both sat in silence for a moment, both of them watching you as you pulled open the fridge and pulling out several drinks, checking each one before putting them back.

Eventually, Anna broke the silence, her voice quieter than before. “She’s gonna figure it out eventually, ya know.”

Remy shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Anna raised an eyebrow at him. “Ya really think you can keep this up? Keep actin’ like you don’t care about her more than you should?”

Remy’s smile faded, his expression hardening. “What am I supposed to do, Anna? Tell her? Risk losin’ what we got?”

Anna sighed, her teasing demeanor slipping away. She reached out, her gloved hand gently covering his on the table. “We’re already in too deep, Remy. Ain’t no goin’ back.”

Remy’s eyes met hers, and in that moment, there was a shared understanding between them. They were both caught in the same tangled web of emotions, both too afraid to pull at the threads, knowing it could all unravel.

You sat down at the table with your sandwich, smiling at Remy and Anna as you settled into your seat. The kitchen was warm, the soft glow of the overhead light casting the three of you in a golden hue, but there was something different in the air—something you couldn’t quite place.

They had been acting strange lately—subtle, but noticeable enough if you were paying attention. And you were. You always had been.

You took a bite of your sandwich and tried to shake the feeling off, but as you chewed, your eyes flicked between the two of them, trying to make sense of the tension that seemed to hang in the space between them. They were laughing, sure, but there was something unspoken in their glances, a weight in their words that you couldn’t quite understand.

Anna leaned back in her chair, the smirk on her lips playful but somehow guarded, like she was holding something back. And Remy—well, Remy was being Remy, flashing that charming smile of his, but it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. His posture was relaxed, but you knew him well enough to see the way the muscles in his shoulders were just a little too tight, the way his grip on the deck of cards was a little too firm.

You took another bite of your sandwich, chewing slowly as you tried to push the thoughts away. But as you glanced up again, you caught the tail end of something between them—something silent but unmistakable. Remy’s eyes flicked to Anna, and she raised an eyebrow at him, her smirk deepening just a fraction. It was like they were having a conversation without words, something you weren’t privy to.

It made your stomach twist, but you weren’t sure why.

“Suit yourselves,” you said, forcing a grin as you set your sandwich down on the plate. You tried to sound casual, but you could hear the slight edge in your voice, the way you were trying just a little too hard to act like everything was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. Not anymore.

Remy’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his expression. You’d seen that look before—usually when he was thinking about something serious, something he didn’t want to say out loud just yet. His lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, chère, but I’m alright.”

Anna was watching him, her smirk falling into something softer, more thoughtful. She leaned back in her chair, her hands resting loosely on the table, and for a second, she looked like she wanted to say something. But then she just shook her head, her eyes flashing with that familiar playful glint. “Nah, sugar. I’m good.”

The tension between them was palpable, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were on the outside looking in, like you were missing something important. You’d never felt that way with them before. The three of you had always been in sync, always moving as one. But now, it felt like there was a wall between you, something invisible but impenetrable.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling uneasy.

What are they not telling me?

You glanced between them again, trying to read their expressions, trying to make sense of the strange energy between them. But if there was something going on, they weren’t giving it away. They were both too good at hiding things when they wanted to be.

“Everything okay with you two?” you asked, your voice light but probing, trying to mask the uncertainty creeping into your chest.

Anna’s smirk widened, and she raised an eyebrow at you, her tone teasing. “Why, you worried about us, sugar?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a nervous laugh behind it. “Just checking. You’ve both been acting weird.”

Remy chuckled, though it sounded a little forced. He shuffled the deck of cards in front of him, his fingers moving a little too quickly. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout, cher. We’re just fine.”

But you weren’t so sure. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break. You didn’t know what it was, but you could sense it—something was shifting between the three of you, something that had been building for a while now.

Maybe it had been there all along, and you were just now noticing it. Or maybe things had changed recently, in ways you couldn’t quite understand yet.

You took another bite of your sandwich, chewing slowly as you tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those shared glances, behind the playful teasing that felt like it was covering up something deeper.

Anna’s smirk softened as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at you. “You know you can ask us anything, yeah?”

Her words were casual, but there was something in her tone that made you pause. You looked at her, then at Remy, who had gone quiet again, his eyes fixed on the cards in front of him. There was something in the way she said it—like she was giving you permission to ask the question you weren’t even sure how to form yet.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, trying to force a smile to your lips. “Yeah. I know.”

But you didn’t ask. Not yet.

Because whatever was going on between them—between the three of you—you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer.

And maybe, just maybe, they weren’t ready to give it to you.

You sat down at the table, your sandwich in hand, doing your best to shake off the strange feeling that had settled over you like a heavy blanket. You’d been noticing it more and more lately—the way Remy and Anna seemed to have an unspoken connection, something that simmered just beneath the surface. You weren’t sure when it had started, but it had been growing, and the more you saw it, the harder it was to ignore.

The Danger Room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sounds of feet shuffling across the mat and the occasional grunt of exertion. The three of you had the space to yourselves, like you so often did when you trained together. But today, the air felt different—heavier, thicker, like every breath was weighted with something unspoken.

You and Remy circled each other, his eyes locked on yours, that familiar smirk playing at the corner of his lips. But there was something else there, too. Something darker, more intense. It wasn’t just about the sparring, not today. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and every time his body brushed against yours, it sent a spark straight down your spine.

Anna sat on one of the benches along the wall, her legs crossed, watching with a keen interest that made your skin prickle. She wasn’t just observing the fight; she was watching you, watching him. Her smirk mirrored Remy’s, a knowing, almost amused look in her eyes, like she could see everything that was simmering beneath the surface. Like she knew exactly what was happening inside your head.

And maybe she did.

You’d been caught in this strange push-and-pull with them for months, maybe longer. Best friends, yes—closer than anyone else in your life—but there was more than just friendship here. You couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up when Remy’s hand brushed yours, or the way Anna’s touch lingered just a second too long when she passed you something. There was a tension between the three of you, a magnetic pull that none of you seemed willing to acknowledge, but none of you could escape.

You’d tried to push it down, tried to ignore the way your body responded to theirs—the way you felt drawn to both of them in different but equally intense ways. But the more time you spent together, the harder it became to pretend that whatever was brewing between you wasn’t real.

Remy lunged at you, and you barely dodged his strike, his hand grazing your arm as you spun out of the way. His grin widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he squared up again. “You’re gettin’ slow, chère.”

You smirked, wiping the sweat from your brow. “You wish.”

He came at you again, faster this time, and you blocked his punch, your forearms colliding with a satisfying thud. The force of it sent you both stumbling, and for a split second, you were chest to chest, breath mingling as you steadied yourselves. Your hands were still locked together from the block, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his pulse quick under your grip.

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the air between you charged with something that had nothing to do with the fight. Your eyes met his, and the smirk faded. His mouth was only inches from yours, and you could feel his breath against your lips, hot and quick.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Anna shift in her seat, her gaze sharp, focused. She wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel her presence as strongly as you felt Remy’s body pressed against yours. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, and there was a subtle tension in her posture, like she was waiting for something.

You weren’t sure what that something was, but the intensity of her gaze only made the moment between you and Remy sharper, more dangerous.

He moved first, his fingers tightening around your wrist as he broke the stalemate, twisting his body to throw you off balance. You followed the motion, using the momentum to pivot and drive your shoulder into his chest, sending him stumbling back. He caught himself before he fell, but his grin was back, wider than before, his eyes gleaming with amusement—and something else.

“You’re playin’ dirty now,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

“Speak for yourself,” you shot back, breathless.

The sparring continued, but it wasn’t just about the training anymore. Every movement felt charged, every touch deliberate. When he grabbed your wrist, his fingers lingered, sliding against your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken. When you blocked his kick, your leg brushed against his thigh, and the contact sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the fight.

Anna was still watching, her eyes never leaving the two of you. You could feel her presence like a shadow, and it made you hyper-aware of every little thing. Every glance, every brush of skin, every breath you took. It was as if she was part of the tension, part of the pull that was keeping you and Remy locked in this dance.

And then, in a blur of motion, you saw your opening.

Remy went for a high kick, and you ducked low, sweeping your leg under his to knock him off balance. He stumbled, and before he could recover, you were on him, driving him back onto the mat with a hard, controlled thud. His back hit the ground, and you followed through, straddling him as you pinned his hands above his head.

Your breath was coming fast, your heart pounding in your chest as you leaned over him, your faces only inches apart. His eyes were wide, surprised for just a second, but then that familiar smirk crept back onto his lips, though this time there was something darker, something more heated behind it.

“Looks like I win,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath as you leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his. His hands tensed under yours, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to pull free, to grab you, to close the distance between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you was suffocating, your bodies pressed together in a way that felt far too intimate for a sparring match. His breath was hot against your lips, and you could feel the wild beat of his heart under your palm where you held him down.

You thought he might kiss you.

The thought struck you like lightning, your pulse skipping as you stared down at him. His eyes flicked to your lips, dark and full of intent, and for a second, the world around you disappeared. It was just you and him, the heat between you, the gravity pulling you closer, closer…

But then you remembered Anna. Sitting just a few feet away, her eyes on you, watching everything. You remembered the way her gaze had lingered on you both, the way her presence had always been there, part of this strange, unspoken thing between the three of you.

And the guilt hit you like a wave.

You pulled back, releasing Remy’s wrists as you quickly stood up, stepping away from him before you could let yourself fall any deeper into whatever this was.

He stayed on the mat for a moment, breathing hard, his eyes still locked on you. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—something like disappointment, or maybe frustration—but he didn’t say anything. He just sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair as he gave you a small, almost resigned smile.

“Guess y’ win,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart was still racing. “Guess I do.”

The tension still hung between you, thick and heavy, but now it felt different—more complicated, more dangerous. You could feel it pulling at you, dragging you toward him, toward Anna, toward something you didn’t know how to handle. Something you weren’t sure you could handle.

Because it wasn’t just about you and Remy. It was about all of you. This messy, confusing situation between the three of you that none of you were willing to name but all of you felt. The way your heart pulled in two directions—toward him, toward her—and the way it felt like every step you took closer to one of them only made things more complicated with the other.

You didn’t know how to move forward from here. How to navigate this constant push and pull between the three of you without breaking something in the process.

The days that followed that sparring match with Remy were a blur of tangled emotions and unspoken tension. You’d thought that pulling back in that moment—stepping away before things went too far—would ease some of the pressure building between you, but instead, it only seemed to magnify it. It was like that moment had opened a door that none of you could close, and now, every interaction felt charged with something simmering just beneath the surface.

The tension between you, Remy, and Anna didn’t just linger—it grew. Slowly, steadily, like a fire fed by the smallest of sparks, until it was impossible to ignore.

It started in the little things.

When you trained together, the touches became more frequent, more deliberate. Remy’s hand would linger a second too long on your waist when he helped you with your stance, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent heat flooding through you. Anna, too, was more physical than usual—her fingers brushing through your hair as she passed you in the kitchen, her arm casually draping over your shoulders when you sat beside her on the couch.

But it wasn’t just the touches. It was the way they looked at you. The way their eyes would linger just a little too long, filled with an intensity that made your skin prickle with awareness. You could feel it every time you caught Remy watching you out of the corner of your eye, his gaze dark and unreadable. Or when Anna’s eyes would lock with yours during a quiet moment, a slow, lazy smile tugging at her lips as if she knew exactly what was going through your mind.

The days continued like this, each one more charged than the last. It wasn’t just the physical touches or the lingering glances anymore—it was everything. The way their voices lowered when they spoke to you, the way they seemed to find excuses to be closer to you, the way your heart raced every time they so much as smiled your way.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t decide if you wanted them to stop or if you wanted to give in.

Because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? You wanted this—wanted them. Both of them. And you had for a long time now. But you didn’t know how to handle it, didn’t know what to do with all of these messy, complicated feelings that were pulling you in two different directions.

You cared about them both—more than you should. And that was the problem. Because every time you thought about what it would mean to cross that line, to give in to the tension that had been building between the three of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after.

Would it break everything? Would it make things too complicated, too messy, to go back to the way things were? Or was this inevitable—something that had been building for so long that none of you could stop it, even if you wanted to?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that the tension between you, Remy, and Anna was growing stronger with each passing day, like a storm gathering on the horizon. And sooner or later, something was going to have to give.

The night it finally happened, it wasn't planned. It never could have been.

The night was warm, the soft hum of music filling the room as you sat on the floor between Anna and Remy. The three of you had fallen into this familiar arrangement without much thought: you, cross-legged on the soft cushion, and them, sprawled comfortably on either side of you.

Remy’s legs were stretched out in front of him, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch one arm down by his knee, just close enough that he could touch you. Every so often, his fingers would graze the back of your neck, a touch so light it almost felt accidental, but you knew by now that nothing Remy did was by accident. You could feel his eyes on you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you sip from your glass.

On the other side, Anna sat with one leg tucked beneath her, the other resting lazily against your side. Her hand had found its way into your hair at some point, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the strands as she leaned back into the cushions. It was a small, intimate gesture, something she’d done a hundred times before, but tonight, it felt different. More deliberate. More charged.

The room was quiet, save for the soft clink of glasses and the low murmur of the music. You hadn’t spoken in a while, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was heavy, thick with something none of you had dared to address yet. Something that had been building for weeks, maybe longer. You could feel it in the way Remy’s fingers lingered just a fraction of a second too long, in the way Anna’s foot brushed against your thigh, her touch warm and steady.

You shifted slightly, your knee brushing against Anna’s leg, and you felt her fingers tighten in your hair for just a moment before she let out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She didn’t say anything, but you could feel her watching you, her gaze heavy, like she was waiting for you to break the silence.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The tension between the three of you had been simmering for so long that it felt like part of the air you breathed, something you had all grown used to but never acknowledged. Best friends, sure, but there had always been something more, something none of you had been willing to confront—until now.

It was Remy who finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough, like he’d been holding back for too long. “You alright do there, chère?” His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, something dark and teasing that made your pulse quicken.

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping as you met his gaze. The grin on his face was familiar, but his eyes were darker than usual, filled with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Anna’s fingers slid through your hair again, the movement slow and deliberate, her nails grazing your scalp in a way that made your breath hitch. “You sure about that?” she murmured, her voice soft, playful. “You seem a little tense.”

Your mouth felt dry, your body hyper-aware of the way you were caught between them, their touches light but impossible to ignore. You shifted again, trying to find some space, some distance, but it was useless. You were trapped—physically, emotionally, in every way that mattered.

Remy chuckled softly, his fingers brushing the back of your neck again, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the contact. He leaned forward slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “You know we can tell when you’re lyin’, right?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse racing as you sat there, sandwiched between them, caught in the web of tension that had been spinning tighter and tighter with every passing minute.

Anna’s hand stilled in your hair, her touch gentle but firm as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “You don’t have to pretend with us. Not anymore.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and suddenly the weight of the room felt unbearable. You could feel the heat from their bodies pressing into you from both sides, could feel the way their attention lingered on you, sharp and focused, like they were waiting for something. Waiting for you to make the first move.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t know how to.

Instead, you sat there, your heart racing, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts as you tried to process what was happening. The push and pull between the three of you, the desire that had been simmering under the surface for so long, was finally coming to a head, and you didn’t know if you were ready for it.

But then Anna’s hand moved again—this time sliding down from your hair to your shoulder, her fingers brushing the bare skin of your arm. You turned your head slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you met her gaze. Her eyes were dark, intense, filled with a hunger you hadn’t seen before, and the sight of it made something inside you snap.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like you were both testing the waters, unsure of how far this would go. But the moment your lips touched hers, the floodgates opened. Anna’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as her mouth moved against yours, soft and insistent. The taste of her was intoxicating—sweet with a hint of the wine she’d been drinking earlier—and it made your head spin.

You could feel Remy’s eyes on you, could feel the tension in the air thickening as he watched the two of you kiss. His presence was a weight on your skin, a heat that you couldn’t ignore, even as Anna’s lips claimed yours.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you turned to look at him. His eyes were dark, his lips parted slightly, and the look on his face sent a rush of heat straight through you. He didn’t wait for an invitation. His hand slid to your jaw, tilting your head toward him, and then his mouth was on yours, rougher than Anna’s, hungrier, like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

The kiss was searing, your body responding instinctively as you kissed him back, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as he pulled you closer. His lips were warm, demanding, and the way he kissed you—like he needed you—made your entire body tremble.

Anna’s hand was still on you, her fingers trailing down your arm, her touch grounding you even as your mind spun from the intensity of Remy’s kiss. When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “We been waitin’ for this, chère.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to put into words the storm of emotions swirling inside you. But then Anna’s lips were on your neck, soft and teasing, and Remy’s hand slid down your side, and suddenly words didn’t matter anymore.

The tension that had been building between the three of you for so long finally snapped, and as you melted into their touch, into their kisses, you realized that this—this—was what you had been waiting for all along.

The moment felt suspended, as if the world had drifted away and left only the three of you in its wake. Your heart was pounding in your chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that matched the rush of emotions flooding through you. The air in the room was thick, buzzing with an energy that had been building for so long it was almost tangible now, surrounding the three of you like an invisible force, pulling you closer.

Remy’s forehead was still resting against yours, his breath warm and unsteady as he held you, his fingers curled around your waist. Anna’s lips were at your neck, soft and teasing, her breath tickling your skin as her hand slid down your arm, her touch light but deliberate. You were caught between them, surrounded by their heat, their desire, and it felt like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, something you couldn’t turn away from.

Your mind was a whirlwind—overwhelmed, dazed, and yet, everything felt so right. It was like the pieces of some long-unsolved puzzle had finally fallen into place. The tension between you, Anna, and Remy wasn’t something that could be ignored anymore. It had been simmering for too long, and now that it was finally unraveling, there was no stopping it.

You could feel Anna’s lips smiling against your skin, her hand sliding up to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as she tugged you gently back, forcing you to turn toward her. Her eyes were dark, glinting with that familiar mischievousness, but there was something deeper there too—something raw and unguarded. She leaned in, her lips brushing yours again, softer this time, almost like she was savoring the moment.

“You okay there, sugar?” she whispered, her voice low, husky. Her fingers traced a line down the side of your face, her touch sending shivers through you.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your heart still racing in your chest. The look in her eyes was enough to make you dizzy, and the way she was touching you—light, teasing, but with a promise of something more—made it impossible to think clearly.

Remy’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, pulling your attention back to him. His hand moved up your side, his fingers brushing the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. His touch was warmer now, more possessive, and when you turned to look at him, the intensity in his eyes made your breath hitch.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. His hand slid to the back of your neck, mirroring Anna’s, and tilted your head toward him again. His lips found yours, rougher this time, more demanding as he kissed you like he couldn’t wait any longer. His mouth moved over yours, hungry and insistent, and the feel of him—his body so close, his lips so sure—made your whole body respond.

Anna’s hands didn’t stop moving, her fingers brushing over your shoulder, down your arm, back up your sides. Her lips found your ear, her breath hot against your skin as she murmured something you couldn’t quite catch, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. You were caught between them again, your body, your senses, overwhelmed by the way they were touching you, the way they seemed to know exactly how to push you to the edge.

And yet, it felt so natural. Like this was always supposed to happen.

Remy’s kiss left you breathless, and when he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling the back of your neck, his eyes locked with yours. There was a question there, unspoken but clear, and you knew what he was asking—what they were both asking.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was low, but there was an edge of softness there, an uncharacteristic vulnerability that made your heart clench. He brushed a thumb over your cheek, his gaze steady, waiting for your answer.

You swallowed hard, glancing between him and Anna, who was watching you with that same quiet intensity. They were both waiting for you to make the call, both poised on the edge but unwilling to push you unless you were ready. It was a moment of clarity amidst the haze of desire—a moment where you realized that this was real, this was happening, and you had the power to decide how far it would go.

But the truth was, you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to go back to pretending that the three of you could keep dancing around this without falling into it. You wanted this—wanted them—and you had for longer than you cared to admit.

You took a deep breath, your heart still racing, and nodded. “I’m sure.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Anna was kissing you again, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that sent a spark of heat straight through you. Her hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as her mouth moved over yours, urgent, insistent. You could feel the smile on her lips, the way her body pressed against yours, and it made your pulse race.

Remy’s hand stayed on your neck, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Good.”

And then his lips were on your skin—kissing a trail down the side of your neck, sending shivers through you with every touch. His hands moved over your body with a surety that made your head spin, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, your hips, like he had memorized every inch of you.

Anna pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark and full of heat as she ran her thumb over your bottom lip, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “You have no idea how long we’ve wanted this.”

Her words sent a shiver through you, and you couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your lips as Remy’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. His hand slid down your back, his fingers digging into your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips trailing lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

You were lost in them—caught between the two people you cared about more than anything, their touches, their kisses, their desire winding around you until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Their hands moved over your body like they had been waiting for this moment as long as you had, and every touch, every kiss, made your pulse race faster, made your skin burn hotter.

Anna’s lips found yours again, her kiss deeper this time, more insistent, and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands tangling in her hair as you kissed her back. Remy’s hand slid beneath your shirt, his touch warm and sure, and the feel of his fingers on your skin sent waves of heat coursing through you.

The way they touched you together—Anna’s soft, teasing caresses and Remy’s rough, possessive hands—was overwhelming in the best way. It was like your body couldn’t keep up with the sensations, with the way their hands moved over your skin, with the way their lips claimed you in turns, leaving you breathless, dizzy, and wanting more.

Anna’s kiss would leave you soft and pliant, her lips slow and sweet against yours, her hands stroking down your sides, only for Remy to pull you back into his arms, his kiss rougher, deeper, igniting a fire that Anna would soothe with her soft, teasing touch. They worked together in a way that felt natural, effortless, like they knew exactly how to push you to the edge and then pull you back, only to push you again, higher each time.

Anna’s hands slid beneath your shirt, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist, her touch light and gentle, while Remy’s hands followed, his fingers pressing into your skin, his touch firm, grounding you as Anna leaned in to kiss you again, her lips soft, her breath warm against your cheek. The contrast between their touches—the softness of Anna’s lips, the roughness of Remy’s hands—was almost too much, and it made your head spin, made your body ache with a need you’d never felt before.

They kissed you in turns, their hands exploring your body with a familiarity that made you feel both wanted and cherished, like they had been waiting for this moment as long as you had, like they had always known this was where it would end up. Their touches were slow but deliberate, teasing but firm, and every kiss, every caress, sent another wave of heat through you, another rush of desire that made your skin burn hotter, your breath come faster. Anna’s hands paused at the hem of your shirt, her fingers gripping the fabric lightly, just enough to anchor you in the moment. Her lips, which had been trailing a path down to your collarbone, stopped, hovering just above your skin as if waiting for something—waiting for you. The warmth of her breath ghosted over your chest, a soft, steady reminder of her presence, her touch, but she didn’t push any further. Not yet.

You could sense the question in her stillness, the way her fingers curled but didn’t tug, the way her body pressed close but didn’t assume. It was a silent request, a pause filled with meaning that went beyond the heat of the moment. Anna wasn’t asking with words, but you knew exactly what she wanted to know.

Behind you, Remy hadn’t moved either. His hand, which had been tracing slow, deliberate circles along your back, stilled as he caught onto the moment, sensing the same hesitation that Anna was offering you. He didn’t say anything—he rarely needed to. His presence was solid, grounding, as he waited alongside her, his breath steady but shallow, his body tensed under the weight of the unspoken question.

Did you want this?

Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you considered the weight of the moment. Everything had been leading to this point—the months of lingering touches, teasing glances, nights where the tension crackled between the three of you but remained unspoken. And now, here you were, standing on the precipice of something that could change everything.

Anna’s fingers tightened slightly, her lips brushing just the faintest touch against your collarbone as her eyes flicked up to meet yours. In her gaze, there was no doubt, no impatience—only that quiet, steady question.

Did you want them?

Your breath caught as you glanced between them. Remy’s eyes were dark, intense, his lips parted slightly as he watched you, waiting for your answer. His hand was still on your back, warm and steady, a silent reassurance that whatever you chose, they would follow your lead. His touch was gentle, but the desire in his gaze was undeniable, the heat between you impossible to ignore.

Anna was softer, her eyes searching yours, her lips hovering just above your skin, waiting for permission. Her hand was still gripping the fabric of your shirt, but she wasn’t pulling—just holding, just asking. Her mouth curved into the smallest of smiles, a quiet, knowing expression that told you she was ready, but only if you were too.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, and your mind raced with a thousand thoughts. This was all so new, so intense, and yet, in some way, it felt inevitable. A part of you had always known it would come to this—the three of you, together, caught in this web of desire and affection that had been growing for so long.

Did you want them?

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself, your mind swirling with the weight of the decision. But it wasn’t just about desire—there was more to this. It was about trust, about stepping into something unknown with two people you cared about more than anything. It was about giving yourself over to them, letting them in, deeper than they already were.

Your body was already answering the question for you. The way your skin burned under their touch, the way your heart raced, the way your breath hitched every time Anna’s lips brushed against you or Remy’s hand moved over your back—it was too much to deny.

And the truth was, you didn’t want to deny it.

You wanted them. You wanted this.

You exhaled slowly, nodding, your voice barely above a whisper as you answered the question they hadn’t asked aloud but had been waiting for all the same.

“Yes.”

The word barely left your lips before Anna’s fingers tightened on the bottom of your shirt, her hands slipping beneath the fabric with a deliberate, slow movement. She smiled up at you, her eyes filled with warmth and desire, and as she pulled the shirt up over your head, her lips found your skin again—this time just above your heart, soft and reverent.

Remy’s hand shifted on your back, his fingers pressing into your skin as he leaned in closer, his body warm and solid behind you. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, his breath hot and ragged as he kissed a slow path down to your shoulder, his other hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back slightly.

The touch of them both at once—Anna’s hands on your skin, Remy’s lips tracing the curve of your neck—was overwhelming in the best way. It was everything you had been holding back, everything they had been waiting for, finally unleashed in a slow, deliberate unwrapping of desire.

Anna’s hands roamed your sides, her fingertips gentle but firm, her lips following the trail of her touch as she kissed her way down your chest, leaving a line of fire in her wake. Her mouth was soft, teasing, and when she reached your stomach, she paused, her breath warm against your skin as she looked up at you, her eyes dark and full of promise.

Behind you, Remy’s hands moved with more urgency now, his lips pressing harder against your skin as he kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your neck in a way that made you gasp. His fingers slid around to your front, his touch rougher than Anna’s, more insistent, and the contrast between them made your head spin.

The air was thick with anticipation, charged with something electric that made your skin tingle, every nerve alive and buzzing. Your heart pounded in your chest, a wild rhythm that echoed through your entire body, matching the intense, almost unbearable heat that surrounded you. Remy and Anna were close—closer than they had ever been—and their presence felt like gravity, pulling you deeper into this moment, into them.

You felt Remy shift behind you, the sound of fabric rustling as he tugged his shirt over his head, and for a brief second, the cool air of the room touched your skin. But then it was gone, replaced by the heat of his bare chest pressing against your back. The warmth of his skin was immediate, searing, and you could feel every inch of him—the solid planes of his body, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, the way his skin felt against yours, hot and smooth.

The heat between you was almost overwhelming, like a fire that had been stoked for too long and was now blazing, out of control. His body pressed more firmly into yours, his chest molding to your back, and the sensation was intoxicating—intimate in a way that made your pulse quicken, your breath hitch in your throat. Every inch of him felt like it was branding you, his warmth sinking into your skin, into your bones, until you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the strength in his grip, the way his fingers curled into your sides, holding you tight. His breath was hot against your ear, ragged and uneven, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, even though the heat between you both was rising by the second.

He leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck, the barest touch, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight through you. His mouth was warm, his breath hot, and the contrast between the softness of his lips and the solid heat of his chest against your back made you tremble. Every kiss, every touch, felt like it was fanning the flames inside you, pushing you closer to the edge.

Anna was in front of you, her eyes dark and full of fire as she watched you, her lips curved into a knowing smile. Her fingers traced the line of your jaw, light and teasing, and she leaned in, her breath warm against your lips as she whispered, “You feel that, don’t you?” Her voice was low, sultry, and the way she said it made your breath catch, your body aching for more.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your entire body trembling with the heat and the closeness of them both. Remy’s hands were still on you, his fingers sliding up your sides, his touch firm and deliberate, while Anna’s lips brushed yours again, soft and teasing.

They were everywhere—surrounding you, touching you, kissing you—and you felt like you were on fire, burning from the inside out. The way they moved together, the way they touched you, it was like they had been waiting for this moment as long as you had, like they knew exactly how to bring you to the edge without sending you over.

Remy’s body pressed harder against yours, his chest warm and firm, and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and fast, matching the wild rhythm of your own. His lips found your shoulder, kissing a slow, deliberate path up to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly, and the feel of him—his body, his heat, his desire—wrapped around you like a cocoon, making it impossible to think of anything but them.

Anna’s lips found yours again, her kiss deeper this time, more insistent, and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands tangling in her hair as you kissed her back. Her body pressed into yours, her hands sliding over your skin, and the sensation of being caught between them—between the heat of Remy’s chest and the softness of Anna’s kiss—was almost too much to bear.

"Like what y’ see?" Remy's voice rumbled from behind you, his breath hot against the back of your neck. You shivered, unable to stifle a gasp as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the contours of your hips, your waist, before settling on your breasts, thumbing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

Anna moved closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "Take it off. Show us all of you." Her command sent a thrill down your spine, and you obeyed without hesitation, unclasping your bra and letting it fall away. Your bare skin felt exposed, vulnerable under their combined gaze, but there was no fear, only an intoxicating rush of desire.

Remy's hands never left you, his touch firm and possessive as he kneaded your breasts, his thumbs flicking your nipples to hard peaks. You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as he edged his way around to the front of you, his eyes locked on yours, dark and intense. He leaned in, his mouth closing over one nipple, sucking and teasing it until you were breathless.

"Fuck," he growled, lifting his head to look at you. Anna’s collar gleamed in the dim light, the silver catching the faint glow of the room. The sight of it—a stark reminder of what it meant—sent a shiver down your spine. That collar, with its sleek design, was the only thing keeping her abilities at bay, allowing her to touch you fully, without the fear of her power slipping through. Without it, every touch would be infused with the overwhelming force of her gift, something neither of you could control. But now, with it in place, her hands could move freely over your skin, unburdened by the weight of her abilities.

She was staring at you, her eyes dark and intent, a small, knowing smile curving her lips as her fingertips continued to trace slow, lazy patterns across your collarbone, down your arms, lingering at the places where your pulse beat the hardest. Her touch was soft but deliberate, teasing, almost testing the boundaries of what this collar had given her—given both of you.

You could feel the heat of her skin, the way her fingers pressed into you, the sensation so real, so vivid, that it made you tremble. It was like you were truly feeling her for the first time. Her smile deepened, almost as though she could sense the way your body responded to her touch, the way your breath hitched, the way your skin flushed under her fingertips.

"Finally," she whispered, her voice low, husky with satisfaction. "No barriers."

Her words sent a jolt of something dark and thrilling through you, and you couldn't help but shiver beneath her touch. There was something intoxicating about the way she said it—like she had been waiting for this moment, yearning for it, just as much as you had. The weight of her gaze, heavy and heated, was enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

But then your senses were pulled elsewhere.

Remy’s hand slipped lower, his fingers skimming over your stomach with a deliberate slowness that made your breath catch in your throat. His touch was warm, rougher than Anna’s, but just as certain, just as sure. He moved like he knew exactly where he was going, like he had memorized the map of your body and knew every curve, every dip, every place that would make you gasp.

And then he found it.

His fingers dipped just beneath the waistband of your pants, sliding lower, and your body reacted instantly, a soft gasp escaping your lips. The sound was louder this time, unrestrained, as his fingers slipped further, finding the wetness that had been building, slick and eager, waiting for him.

The sensation of his fingers against your most sensitive spot made you tremble, your breath staggering as the pleasure hit you in a slow, powerful wave. You barely managed to keep your eyes open, your body instinctively arching toward his touch, desperate for more.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, overwhelmed by the heat of his touch, the steady pressure of his fingers. The tension that had been building between the three of you was finally unraveling, and it was almost too much to bear. Your breath stuttered, catching in your throat, your pulse racing as your body responded to the intensity of his touch.

But when you opened your eyes again, you found Anna still watching you.

Her gaze was fixed on your face, dark and full of heat, and there was a smile playing on her lips—small, but full of meaning. She didn’t need to speak; the look in her eyes said everything. She could see the way you were reacting to Remy’s touch, could see the way your body was trembling, the way your breath hitched, and the sight seemed to please her.

Her smile deepened, a glint of something wicked flashing in her eyes as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek. “You like that, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice soft but teasing, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. She tilted your head slightly, forcing you to meet her gaze, and the intensity in her eyes made your pulse race faster.

The collar around her neck, still gleaming in the low light, was a constant reminder of what she was capable of—and what she was holding back. Without it, her power would overwhelm you, flood your senses, make it impossible to focus on anything but the raw force of her energy. But with it, she was free to touch you fully, to explore you without restraint, and the thought of it—of her finally being able to hold you like this—made your entire body burn with anticipation.

Anna’s hand slid lower, her fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt, teasing the skin just beneath, as Remy’s fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration. His touch was steady, sending ripples of pleasure through you with every movement, and it was getting harder to focus on anything but the heat pooling low in your stomach, the way your body was aching for more.

But Anna was relentless. She wanted your attention, and she wasn’t going to let you slip away just yet.

“Look at me,” she whispered, her voice a soft command, her fingers tightening slightly on your chin. Her eyes were dark, filled with something deep and primal, and the way she was looking at you made your breath catch. “I want to see you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the weight of her gaze, the way her eyes tracked every movement, every gasp, every tremor that ran through your body in response to Remy’s touch. She was watching you so closely, so intently, and it made the moment feel even more intimate, more charged. She wanted to witness everything—every flutter of your eyelids, every soft, breathless sound that escaped your lips.

Remy’s fingers dipped lower, pressing against you in a way that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, your body arching toward his hand, but Anna’s fingers tightened on your chin, her soft voice pulling you back.

“Don’t look away,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “I want to see everything.”

Her voice was like a soft caress, threading through the haze of sensation that had overtaken your body, and you couldn’t bring yourself to deny her. There was something about Anna’s calm control, her soft but unwavering command, that made you feel completely pliant, entirely hers in this moment. Even as your body trembled, overwhelmed by the combined heat of their touches, your eyes fluttered open at her request, drawn back to her like a moth to flame.

When your gaze met hers, the intensity in her eyes made your breath falter. Her smile had shifted—no longer the soft, teasing curve of earlier, but something darker, something more possessive. It was like she was savoring every tremor that coursed through your body, every soft gasp that escaped your lips, knowing she was the one pulling you apart, piece by piece. She looked at you like she owned you, like she was watching her own creation unravel before her, and the heat that surged through your veins in response was staggering.

Your body was already buzzing, every nerve alive and singing, but the way Anna’s eyes bore into yours made your pulse race even faster. You could feel the weight of her attention, the way she was watching you so closely, so intently, cataloging every reaction, every shift in your expression. It was intoxicating—being held in her gaze like this, knowing she was relishing every second of your unraveling.

And then Remy’s voice cut through the thick air, low and rough with arousal. “She likes it,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was like a growl, deep and heavy, and it sent a shiver straight through you. You could feel the hunger in his tone, the way his desire was building, and it only made your own need spike even higher.

“But I think,” he continued, his fingers still moving in that slow, deliberate rhythm that was driving you wild, “she likes this even more.”

Before you could process his words, his fingers pulled away, leaving you empty, bereft, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips. The loss of his touch was immediate, a sharp contrast to the heat that had been building inside you, and for a moment, all you could feel was the aching need that hung heavy in the air. Your legs trembled, your breath caught, and your body instinctively arched toward him, desperate for the return of his touch.

But Remy wasn’t done. You felt his hands slide down your thighs, his fingers curling around the fabric of your panties before he slowly, deliberately, began to tug them down. The cool air hit your bare skin, making you shiver, but it did nothing to soothe the fire that was burning in your core. If anything, it only heightened the sensation, the contrast between the chill of the room and the heat of your body making you tremble with anticipation.

And then, before the coolness could settle, before you had a chance to adjust, the warmth of Remy’s mouth replaced his fingers, and everything inside you snapped taut. His tongue darted out, soft and warm, as he began to lap at your folds, and the sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that your knees threatened to buckle. Your breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping you as the pleasure surged through you in a powerful wave.

Remy’s mouth was relentless, his tongue moving with purpose, exploring every inch of you with a skill that made your mind go blank, your body react on instinct alone. The heat of his mouth, the wet, slick feel of his tongue as it circled and teased, sent shockwaves of pleasure straight through you, and you couldn’t stop the soft, desperate sounds that spilled from your lips. Your hands instinctively reached for something to hold, something to ground you, but all you could do was grip the sheets beneath you, your body trembling with the force of the sensations coursing through you.

Anna didn’t miss a beat, her fingers never stopping their slow, maddening rhythm over your clit, drawing out every ounce of pleasure that Remy was sending through you. Her other hand gripped your hip possessively, her nails digging into your skin just enough to remind you that she was there, that you were hers. The weight of her hand, the way her fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your hip, anchored you in the moment, kept you tethered even as your body threatened to spiral out of control.

Anna’s movements were quick, fluid, as she shifted around, positioning herself beside you. Her fingers still worked your clit with a steady, knowing pressure, but now her lips sought yours, and the moment they found you, everything else melted away.

Her kiss was deep, hungry, her tongue sliding into your mouth with a heat that matched Remy’s below. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweet and urgent, and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands tangling in her hair as you kissed her back with equal fervor. Her lips were soft, but her kiss was demanding, guiding you, taking from you, and you gave yourself over to her completely, lost in the overwhelming sensation of her mouth on yours, of Remy’s tongue between your legs.

The combined heat of them both—the way Remy’s mouth worked you below, the way Anna’s lips claimed yours—was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was too much, and yet not enough, and your body was caught in the middle, trembling, burning, aching for more. Every nerve was on fire, every inch of your skin alive with sensation, and you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

Anna’s hand tightened on your hip, her fingers digging into your skin, and the small bite of pain only added to the pleasure, grounding you in the moment. Her kiss grew deeper, more insistent, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating between you as Remy’s tongue continued its relentless assault on your body.

The pressure was building, coiling tighter and tighter inside you, and you could feel the edge approaching, the pleasure rising higher and higher with every flick of Remy’s tongue, every stroke of Anna’s fingers. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps, and it felt like you were teetering on the brink, so close to falling over but not quite there.

Anna pulled back from the kiss, her lips still hovering close to yours, her breath warm against your skin. She smiled, that same dark, possessive smile, and her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched you unravel beneath her and Remy’s combined touch.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” she whispered, her voice soft but full of command. “I can feel it.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, but your body answered for you, your back arching, your legs trembling as the tension inside you built to a breaking point. Anna’s fingers moved faster, her touch more insistent, and Remy’s tongue quickened its pace, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Let go, sugar” Anna murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as her hand squeezed your hip, her fingers still working your clit. “Let us take you there.”

And with her words, with the heat of Remy’s mouth and the command in Anna’s voice, you finally let go.

The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that stole your breath, your body shuddering violently as the pleasure tore through you. Your hips bucked, your hands clutching at the couch as you rode the intense wave of sensation, your mind blank, your body consumed by the heat and the pleasure and the overwhelming feeling of being completely and utterly theirs.

They didn’t stop. Remy’s tongue continued to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure, while Anna’s fingers kept their steady rhythm, pushing you higher, driving you deeper into the sensation, until you thought you might come apart completely.

Anna’s hand slid up your body, her fingers brushing over your flushed skin, soothing, grounding you as she leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. Remy pulled back, his breath warm against your thigh as he rested his head against your leg, his hand stroking your skin in slow, gentle circles. “Ready?” Anna whispers in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. The closeness of her voice sends shivers down your spine, a familiar heat blooming in your chest. “Remy and I have been talking for a long time about what we want to do to you.”

Her words linger in the air, thick with anticipation, and your pulse quickens. There’s something in her voice—something dark, something possessive—that makes your mouth go dry and your knees weak. You can only nod, unable to form words in the haze of tension and excitement that surrounds you. Every part of your body feels alive, buzzing with the pressure of everything that’s about to happen.

Anna’s hand trails down your body, her fingertips barely grazing your skin as they follow the curve of your waist, then dip lower, skimming over the top of your thigh. The lightness of her touch is maddening, teasing, making your skin prickle with need. Your heart races, each beat syncing with the slow, deliberate movements of her hand. You try to breathe, try to steady yourself, but the anticipation is too much, winding tighter and tighter inside you with every second that passes.

Remy’s presence is a constant warmth by your legs, his strong hands returning to your hips. His thumbs brush over the sensitive skin just above the line of your underwear, creating a contrast between the soft touch and the intensity of the moment. Slowly, deliberately, he begins to pull them down, the fabric catching on your thighs before finally slipping away, leaving you even more exposed. Every inch of skin that’s revealed feels like it’s burning with anticipation, your breaths coming out in shallow, uneven gasps.

You can feel both of them now—Anna’s fingers still ghosting over your skin, and Remy’s hands, steady and certain, as they guide your underwear down, leaving you bare before them. There’s no turning back now. You’re completely at their mercy, every inch of your body aching for what’s to come.

Anna’s hand moves again, sliding back up, her fingers brushing against the inside of your thigh. Her touch is light, teasing, edging closer to your center but never quite touching where you want her most. It’s a deliberate game, and she’s playing it well. You can’t help but squirm beneath her hand, your body arching toward her, desperate for more. But she doesn’t give in—not yet. She’s savoring this, taking her time, watching you unravel.

Her dark eyes lock onto yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she bites down on her lower lip, clearly enjoying the way you tremble under her touch. The tension is almost unbearable, the need inside you building with every teasing stroke of her fingers.

And then, without warning, she grabs your hand, pulling you up, bringing you to your feet with a swift, fluid motion. The world tilts for a moment, and suddenly you’re standing in front of her, bare and vulnerable, the intensity of the moment crashing over you like a wave.

Remy moves silently to the couch, his eyes never leaving you, his presence a constant, grounding force. He leans back, watching, waiting, his gaze dark with desire. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart stutter—a mix of hunger and patience, like he’s content to watch for now, but he’s ready to pounce at any moment.

Anna’s hand tightens around yours, guiding you closer to her. You do as she asks, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for her. The roles feel reversed now—moments ago, it was you who was being undressed, teased, but now you’re the one peeling the fabric away from her skin, your hands roaming over her curves with a new kind of hunger.

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra, and with practiced ease, you unfasten it, letting the fabric slide away from her body. Her skin is warm, soft, and as the bra falls away, you can’t help but admire the way her chest rises and falls with each shaky breath. The flush on her skin mirrors the heat coursing through your own body, and the sight of her like this—exposed, trembling, just as affected as you—makes your pulse race even faster.

Without a word, you sink to your knees in front of her, your hands sliding up the outside of her thighs as you move. Your mouth finds her breast, capturing her nipple between your lips as you suck gently, your tongue teasing the sensitive skin. The soft gasp that escapes her lips is like music, her body jerking slightly at the sensation before she steadies herself, one hand coming up to thread through your hair.

Her fingers tighten in your hair as you continue to kiss and nip at her breast, your tongue circling her nipple before you gently bite down, just enough to make her gasp again. Her breath is shaky, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to keep control, but you can feel her surrendering to the pleasure, her body arching toward you, her grip in your hair tightening.

“Th-this was meant to be for y-you,” she stutters, her voice breathless, shaky, as if she’s trying to remind you that she and Remy had planned to take you apart, not the other way around. But even as she speaks, her body betrays her, her hips shifting toward you, her breath coming out in short, ragged gasps as you continue to work her over with your mouth.

You pull away just enough to look up at her, your hand sliding down her stomach, tracing the waistband of her panties. “This is what I want,” you say simply, your voice soft but firm, your eyes locked on hers as you press a kiss just below her bellybutton. The softness of your voice contrasts with the intensity of the moment, but it’s true. Right now, this is what you want—her, trembling under your touch, gasping your name as you take control, as you give her back all the pleasure she had been so intent on giving you.

Anna moans softly as your lips move lower, her hips jerking slightly as you press another kiss just above the line of her panties. The sound of her pleasure, the way her breath catches in her throat, only spurs you on, makes the heat inside you burn even hotter.

Her hands are still in your hair, her grip tightening as you hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties, slowly, deliberately, pulling them down her hips. The fabric slides down her thighs, catching on her skin before finally pooling at her feet, leaving her completely bare before you. The sight of her like this—exposed, vulnerable, just as needy as you—makes your breath catch.

You press another kiss to her stomach, then lower, your lips brushing the sensitive skin between her thighs, tasting the heat of her arousal. Anna’s moan is louder this time, her body trembling as you begin to explore her with your mouth, your tongue tracing the soft, delicate folds of her skin.

“God,” she gasps, her voice shaky, breathless, as her hips press forward, seeking more of your touch. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready for this.”

But you were. You had been waiting for this, for her, for the chance to turn the tables, to give her everything she had been so eager to give you. And as you felt her body respond to your touch, as her breath hitched and her moans grew louder, you knew that this was exactly what she needed, even if she hadn’t known it herself.

Behind you, you could feel Remy’s gaze still on you, his presence a constant reminder of the heat and tension building between the three of you. But for now, your focus was entirely on Anna—on the way her body trembled under your touch, on the gasps and moans that spilled from her lips, on the way her hips moved in time with your tongue, desperate for more.

And as you knelt before her, your mouth working her over, your hands gripping her hips to steady her trembling body, you knew that this moment—this—was the culmination of everything you had all wanted for so long. The tension, the desire, the need—it was all coming to a head, and you were right at the center of it, guiding her toward the release she so desperately craved.

Anna’s moans grew louder, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she neared the edge, her hands gripping your hair tightly as her body tensed. You could feel her trembling beneath you, could feel the way her thighs quivered as the pleasure built higher and higher.

And when she finally came apart, her orgasm crashing over her in a wave of pleasure, her body shuddering violently beneath your touch, you were there to catch her, to hold her, to guide her through every second of it.

You didn’t stop, didn’t let up, not until every last tremor had passed through her body, not until she was completely spent, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps as she slumped against you, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release.

As Anna clung to you, her body trembling, her fingers still tangled in your hair, you could feel the heat of her breath against your skin, each exhale deep and heavy. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the aftershocks of her release making her body shudder in your arms. And in that moment, everything else faded away. It was just you and her, the weight of her pleasure still thick in the air, and the realization hit you with a kind of quiet certainty.

You heard Remy behind you, his voice a low murmur in French. The sound was like velvet, smooth and rich, wrapping around you in the dim light of the room. You couldn’t make out the exact words, but the tone was unmistakable: dark, possessive, filled with the same hunger that had been building since the moment this all began. His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the air between you all shifting once again, the tension rising to the surface like waves crashing against the shore.

Before you could even turn to look at him, Remy appeared beside you, his movements fluid and confident, like he was stepping into a role he had been waiting to play. His hand slid into Anna’s hair, his fingers curling around the back of her head with a kind of gentle authority that made your breath catch. There was something primal in the way he held her, something that made the air between you all feel thick and charged.

Without a word, he tilted her head back, lowering his face until his lips hovered just above hers. You could feel the heat radiating off them, could practically taste the anticipation in the air as you watched. And then, with a deliberate slowness, Remy closed the distance, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was as intense as it was tender. His lips moved against hers with a kind of practiced ease, his tongue parting her lips, slipping inside to taste her with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from them—the way Anna melted into his touch, the way her body relaxed against his, still trembling from the release you had given her. The sight of them together, the way they moved in perfect sync, was intoxicating, pulling you in even deeper into the web of desire that had ensnared you all. It wasn’t just about touch anymore; it was about trust, about giving in to something bigger than yourselves, something raw and unspoken.

Slowly, you stood up, your legs still a bit shaky, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you’d felt in Anna’s release. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling the slickness of her arousal still on your lips, but before you could fully clear the evidence of what had just transpired, Remy’s eyes caught you.

He pulled back from Anna for just a moment, his gaze flickering to you, dark and heavy with intent. His lips were still glistening from their kiss, his breath ragged, voice thick with arousal as he spoke. “Nah uh,” he mumbled, his accent rough and low, the command in his voice unmistakable.

Before you could respond, before you could even think, Remy was on you. His hands moved with a kind of urgency as he cupped your face, his calloused fingers pressing into your skin just enough to ground you in the moment. Without hesitation, he brought his mouth to yours, his lips crashing into you with a force that took your breath away. His kiss was nothing like Anna’s—it was harder, more demanding, filled with a different kind of hunger, one that made your body burn with need all over again.

The taste of Anna was still on your lips, and Remy seemed to savor it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you with a possessiveness that sent a wave of heat straight through your core. He kissed you like he needed you, like he couldn’t get enough, and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands instinctively reaching for him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

His kiss was consuming, his lips moving against yours in a rhythm that made your knees weak. You could feel the raw power behind every movement, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his tongue explored every inch of your mouth, tasting, claiming. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way, like he was pulling you into him, making you a part of the heat and desire that pulsed between the three of you.

And through it all, you were keenly aware of Anna, still so close, still watching. Her breath was heavy, her eyes dark with lust as she observed the way you and Remy moved together. The dynamic shifted again, the lines between who was leading and who was following blurring with every touch, every kiss. It was fluid, seamless, the three of you moving together like you had been doing this for years, like you had been waiting for this exact moment to unfold.

Remy’s hands roamed down your body, his touch firm and insistent as he explored every inch of skin he could reach. His fingers brushed over the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips, and you could feel the strength in his grip, the way his hands seemed to fit perfectly against your body. Every touch, every kiss, every breath was like fuel to the fire that was burning between you all, the tension that had been building for so long finally reaching its peak.

When Remy finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, you could feel the heat radiating off him, could hear the low, ragged sounds of his breath mixing with yours. His lips were still close, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your mouth, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the air between you all thick with anticipation, with the promise of what was to come.

"Good girl," Remy whispered, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, tracing the outline of where his mouth had just been. The words sent a shiver down your spine, the praise making your skin tingle with a fresh wave of desire.

Anna’s hand slid up your back, her touch gentle but firm as she pulled you closer to her once again. Her lips found your ear, her breath hot as she whispered, “He’s right, you know. You taste so damn good.”

Remy’s grip is firm but steady as he leads you back to the couch, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you with a quiet authority that leaves your body humming in anticipation. Every step feels deliberate, each moment stretching out, thick with tension and desire.

When you reach the couch, he positions you carefully, pressing your back to his broad chest as he bends you over the arm. The smooth fabric of the couch brushes against your skin, cool in contrast to the heat radiating from your body. Your breath quickens, and you can feel the way your heart pounds in your chest, each beat syncing with the growing anticipation of what’s to come.

Behind you, Remy’s body is a wall of warmth, his presence overwhelming, grounding. His hands run up and down your back, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the feel of your skin beneath his palms. The sensation is soothing, but every touch sends a ripple of electricity through you, making your body buzz with need. You can feel him—all of him—pressing against you, his length hard and insistent, sliding between your wet folds as he teases you, not quite entering, but close enough to make your breath catch.

Your hips instinctively push back toward him, seeking more, your body aching for him to finally fill the space that’s been building inside you. But Remy is in no rush. His hands continue their slow exploration of your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before coming to rest on your hips. His touch is possessive, confident, holding you in place as he presses his cock against your entrance, teasing you with just the tip.

Your heart races. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your body trembling as you wait for him to give you what you need. The room feels hot, the air between the three of you thick with desire, every breath you take filled with the scent of sex and heat and skin. You know, without a doubt, that this is only the beginning. The three of you are tangled together now, your bodies and desires intertwined in a way that feels both inevitable and electric. And there’s no telling where this night will take you, how far you’ll go, how much more you’ll give.

But one thing is certain: you are ready. Ready for whatever they want, whatever they need. Ready to surrender yourself to this moment, to lose yourself in the heat, the intensity, the connection that pulses between you all. You’ve given to them already, but now you’re ready to give more—everything—to let them take you to the edge and beyond, to feel every ounce of pleasure they can draw from your body.

And then, finally, it happens.

The stretch is immediate, sudden, and oh-so-intense as Remy pushes his cock into you, filling you in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. You gasp, your fingers gripping the couch for support as your body adjusts to the sensation. His length fills you completely, stretching you in a way that toes the line between pleasure and pain, but it’s the kind of pain that makes your body burn with more need, more desire. The kind of pain that makes your toes curl and your back arch, your body begging for more.

For a moment, Remy pauses, his hands tightening on your hips as he gives you time to adjust. His breath is hot against your neck, his chest pressed against your back, and for a second, the world feels like it’s standing still. All you can feel is the weight of him inside you, the way he stretches you so perfectly, the way your body clenches around him, trying to accommodate the fullness.

You breathe deeply, your body trembling, but when you nod, silently giving him permission to continue, Remy doesn’t hesitate. He pulls out almost completely, leaving you achingly empty for just a moment before thrusting back in, filling you all over again with a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your entire body shudder. The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once—and a low moan slips from your lips as he sets a rhythm, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

Remy’s grip on your hips is like iron, his fingers digging into your skin as he drives into you, his movements growing more intense, more urgent with every passing second. You can feel the power in his thrusts, the way his body moves against yours, every inch of him claiming you, owning you in a way that makes your pulse race and your body tremble. It’s raw, primal, and you can’t help but push back against him, meeting his rhythm, your body begging for more.

And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, Anna’s hand appears, sliding between your legs, her fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. She knows exactly what you need, exactly where to touch, and the moment her fingers start circling your swollen nub, your body jolts with a fresh wave of pleasure.

The combination of sensations is almost too much to process—Remy’s cock thrusting deep inside you, filling you completely, and Anna’s fingers working your clit in perfect time with his movements. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure building so fast, so intensely, that you can barely catch your breath. Every nerve in your body is alive, every inch of your skin tingling as you’re caught between the two of them, your body theirs to control, to pleasure, to take.

Anna’s fingers move faster, stroking your clit in tight circles, each touch sending a bolt of heat straight through you. Your breath comes in shallow gasps, your body shaking with the force of the pleasure that’s building inside you. You can feel the edge approaching, feel the orgasm coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, and you know it won’t be long before you completely unravel.

Remy’s pace quickens, his thrusts growing harder, deeper, more insistent as he feels your body responding, your walls clenching around him, pulling him in deeper. His breath is ragged, his hands gripping your hips even tighter, and you can hear the low, guttural sounds he makes, the same need that’s gripping you reflected in every movement of his body.

The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling, muscles tightening in anticipation of the release that's about to hit you like a storm. It’s too much—far too much—and yet you crave every second of it, your body begging for more even as it spirals out of control.

With one final stroke of Anna’s fingers, circling your clit with expert precision, and one last, deep, punishing thrust from Remy, your body is finally pushed over the edge. The orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, consuming every part of you, leaving no room for thought or breath—just pure, unfiltered pleasure. It tears through you in relentless waves, your whole body shaking uncontrollably as the intensity of it blindsides you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air.

A strangled cry escapes your lips, raw and desperate, as your fingers dig into the couch beneath you, seeking something—anything—to ground yourself as the pleasure rips you apart. Your body clenches around Remy, pulling him in deeper, locking him inside you as your muscles spasm, every nerve alight with sensation. You ride the wave, letting it take you, your mind blank, lost in the overwhelming ecstasy that surges through every inch of your body.

But they don’t stop.

Remy’s thrusts continue, his cock still driving into you with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from your body. Each movement feels like it’s too much, like your body is going to shatter under the pressure, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. Every thrust, every stroke of Anna’s fingers on your clit, feels like it’s keeping you suspended in that perfect, dizzying space between pleasure and pain, between surrender and bliss.

Anna’s fingers don’t falter, their rhythm perfectly in sync with Remy’s, coaxing more moans from your throat, more tremors from your shaking body. It feels like you’re coming apart at the seams, like your body is unraveling, piece by piece, under their touch. The pleasure is too intense, too all-consuming, but you don’t care. You want to stay in this moment forever, trapped in the heat, the intensity, the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly theirs.

Your breath comes in ragged, shallow gasps, your body trembling violently with every aftershock as the pleasure continues to roll through you. It feels endless, like you're caught in a loop of sensation that won’t let you go, and you can’t help but surrender to it, to them. You’re theirs—completely theirs—and you never want it to end.

And then, in the midst of your own release, you feel Remy start to lose control.

You can feel the way his rhythm falters, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. His breath comes in rough, uneven pants behind you, each exhale hot against your skin as he drives into you with one final, forceful thrust. His forehead presses against your back, his body trembling as he reaches his own climax. You can feel the way his fingers tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising, pulling you back into him as he shudders against you, filling you completely.

The sound of his release is a low, guttural groan, vibrating through his chest and into your skin, and the sensation of him coming undone inside you sends another ripple of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body. You can feel the way his body tenses, the way every muscle in him seems to lock up as he rides out his own orgasm, his breath ragged, his hands gripping you with a possessiveness that makes your heart race all over again.

For a brief moment, the world feels like it’s spinning, the intensity of everything crashing into you at once—the feel of him inside you, the weight of his body pressing you down, the way your muscles still quiver from the aftershocks of your release. It’s almost too much.

But then, just as you start to catch your breath, you feel Anna’s hand, gentle but firm, sliding up the side of your face. She’s still there, still watching, still a part of this moment. Her fingers curl under your chin, tilting your head up gently, and before you can even process the movement, her lips are on yours.

The kiss is deep, consuming, her mouth moving against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away all over again. Her fingers hold your face in place, her thumb brushing over your cheek as she claims your mouth with a kind of possessive tenderness that makes your head spin. The taste of her is sweet and intoxicating, her tongue slipping between your lips, exploring, tasting, as if she’s trying to pull every last bit of sensation from you.

You lean into her, your body still trembling, still sensitive, but you can’t help but respond to the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in her hair as you kiss her back with just as much fervor. Her mouth is soft but demanding, her tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your body hum with a fresh wave of desire, even though you’re already spent, your muscles aching from the intensity of it all.

You realize, in this moment of trembling stillness, that whatever is unfolding between the three of you is only just beginning. It’s a revelation that strikes you like a gentle wave, slowly but surely filling all the empty spaces inside you with a quiet, undeniable certainty. This connection, this intensity, this *thing* that has drawn the three of you together—it’s more than just physical. It’s more than the heat of the moment, more than the pleasure that has left your body humming and spent. It’s something deeper, something unspoken but powerful, and it’s pulling you all into its orbit, entwining your lives in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

The kiss you share with Anna feels like another kind of release—different from the one that had just rocked your body moments ago, but just as profound. It’s not about pleasure now, not about the raw physicality that had consumed you all. This kiss is softer, more intimate, a quiet tether that grounds you, pulling you back from the dizzying heights of your climax and gently easing you into something more tender. Yet, at the same time, it’s feeding the connection between the three of you, binding you together in a way that feels almost sacred.

You can still feel Remy behind you, his presence a comforting weight, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm on your skin. He’s still there, still with you, even though your focus in this moment has shifted entirely to Anna. You feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the subtle press of his body against yours, a reminder of his role in this strange and beautiful dance you’ve entered together.

But right now, it’s Anna who holds your attention. Her lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. Her kiss is soft, almost reverent, her fingers cradling your face with a gentle care that contrasts with the intensity of everything that’s just happened. It’s as though she’s trying to tell you something with this kiss, something she can’t quite put into words—something that speaks of trust, of vulnerability, of a shared understanding that goes far beyond the physical.

When she finally pulls back, her lips still hovering just above yours, you’re left breathless. Your body is still trembling, your mind spinning from the aftershocks of pleasure and the weight of this new, unspoken realization. Her breath mingles with your own, the space between you charged with something electric, something alive. You can feel it thrumming in the air, in the way your bodies are still so close, the heat of the moment lingering in the spaces between your skin.

Anna’s eyes meet yours, and it’s like the world narrows down to just the two of you in that instant. Her gaze is dark, intense, filled with something you can’t quite name, but it makes your heart race all over again. There’s a softness in her eyes, a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen before, and it makes the moment feel even more intimate. There’s a promise in her gaze, one that speaks of more than just the physical connection you’ve shared. It speaks of something deeper, something that’s only just beginning to take shape between the three of you.

You don’t need words to understand what she’s telling you with that look. It’s a quiet understanding, a shared recognition that this—this—isn’t just a fleeting moment. It’s the start of something new, something that will change the dynamic between you all in ways none of you can fully predict. There’s a weight to it, but it’s not heavy. It’s exciting, full of possibility, full of the unknown.

Remy’s hands are still on your hips, steady, grounding, and you can feel the way his fingers tighten slightly, as if reminding you that he’s still here, still part of this. You tilt your head just enough to glance back at him, and when your eyes meet, you see the same understanding reflected in his gaze. There’s no hesitation there, no uncertainty. If anything, there’s a quiet confidence in the way he looks at you, like he’s known all along that this was where the three of you were headed, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

The air between the three of you feels different now, thicker with meaning, with shared understanding. The heat of the moment is still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it’s been joined by something else. Something that feels stronger, more enduring.

Anna leans in again, pressing her forehead to yours, her breath still mingling with yours in the small space between you. “I promise you this isn’t just for tonight,” she whispers, her voice soft but filled with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a statement, a truth that you can feel settling deep in your bones. And you know, without a doubt, that she’s right.

You nod, the movement small but enough to convey that you understand, that you feel it too. Your body is still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure, still sensitive, still aware of every touch, every breath, but there’s a new kind of energy pulsing through you now. One that’s not just about what you’ve already shared, but about what’s yet to come.

Remy shifts behind you, his hands sliding up your sides in a slow, deliberate motion that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is gentle now, more exploratory, as if he’s savoring the moment, taking in the weight of this new dynamic. You feel his lips brush the back of your neck, a soft, lingering kiss that makes your skin tingle. It’s not demanding, not insistent—it’s a promise, just like Anna’s kiss, just like the look in both their eyes.

The three of you are tangled together now, in more ways than just the physical, and you can feel the weight of that connection settling around you like a blanket, warm and comforting. There’s no rush, no urgency to move forward. Only the quiet understanding that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

And as you stand there, surrounded by their warmth, their presence, you realize that you’re not just ready—you’re eager for whatever the future holds. Because this—this—isn’t just the end of one night. It’s the beginning of something new, something deeper, something that will continue to grow and evolve between the three of you.

It’s only the beginning, and already, it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted.

[comicexpertt]

It looks so majestic. I love it.

[unluckiestmember]

can I request headcanons of x-men 97 team x reader who is an absolute sweatheart and is just the cutest thing to exist.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Sweetheart! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Jean Gray, Jubilee, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Morph, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Rogue and Logan/Wolverine.

Warning: Mild Cursing, but overall SFW.

A/N: Can I please get someone to remind me to actually post when I'm supposed to? Anyone? XD

Cable

“Time to get to work, keep up!… You want me to carry you? Heh, say less.”

Oh Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. He tries his best to be as tough and straight to business like his old man. Always a man to try and change the future and fight for the people with a straight face. But as soon as you’re around him, your sunshine energy radiates onto him. You make the freedom fighter have a need to impress you on the field when he’s not showering you in love outside of missions.

What really drew you to him was just how careful you were with his body. How you complimented his eye and stroked his robotic arm with so much care. It has made him really adore the end of the days where particular expeditions took a lot of energy out of you two, resulting in cuddles and sweet nothings. He never understood the whole concept of loving someone like his dad loved his mom, but after meeting you, he finally understood what they had was sacred. What you two had was sacred. Nathan has lost a lot in his life, but he’ll be damned if he loses you.

Cyclops

“Are you alright?! You’re not hurt, are you? I’m not overexaggerating- I’m worrying the right amount!”

Scott can be a pain in the neck during missions. He’s always one to bark out orders and keep a level head on missions as the leader of the X-Men. And if there’s one order that’s always on the top of his list, it’s making sure you are safe. He’s by all means not an overprotective or possessive lover, but he makes it a daily part of his life to always check on his beloved. Whenever you are just being yourself, you can find him staring at you, taking in your cute energy and reciprocating it with his own cute antics like kissing your cheek or giving you gifts when you least expect it.

Are the team a bit jealous of you having Scott’s favoritism? A bit. But hey, they’d rather someone like you have the best of Scott than the worst. Even if that also includes his defensive nature of you along with his jealous antics. He means well. You know it, sometimes you just have to remind him. Whether it be with a simple talk or a passionate kiss. Face it, you keep the leader of the X-Men grounded.

Gambit

“Ah, just the person I was looking for. Is it just me or are you getting more breathtaking every day, mon cher?"

When it comes to you, Remy is bound to flirt twenty four seven just to see that nice shade of pink color on your cute little cheeks. And if he cant succeed in that, he’s bound to have you smitten with his physical hold of your waist or his sincere compliments. He’s quite a charmer, anyone knows that, but with you, he adds another flare to himself; A sweet lover.

Gambit will always make it abundantly clear that you are the cutest person he’s ever met and how he can wager the perfect future with you by his side. Expect this man to shower you with surprise trips away from the mansion, a fresh breakfast almost everyday and a little card show if you are ever upset, because if there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s you being upset. You are the only one that can make Gambit so emotional because he just loves you so so much. And if you ever forget, he doesn’t mind reminding his raison de vivre.”

Jean Gray

“I wish you could see what was in my mind… Maybe then you’d realize how much you mean to me, my love.”

When it comes to Jean, you’ve basically hit the jackpot on one of the most open and loving girlfriends you could ever ask for. You aren’t just a sweetheart, you are her sweetheart. She always touches you like a porcelain doll, staring into your eyes with so much affection of her own and giggling whenever you hug or hold her, prompting her to hold you or hug you back just as tightly. On missions, she is in the zone, but as soon as they are over, she’s heading straight to you to check if you are injured. And if you’re not? Expect this woman to shower you in so many compliments and love that you might just drown from the cuteness.

Jean isn’t just your protector, but also your best friend, always free to try anything you want to try and do what you want to do.Dare she say, you might be the love of her life. Screw being lovers, she wants to be a married couple. But as much as that gets her excited, she’ll take her time for you, because she knows whether it takes her whole life or a single day, she doesn’t mind waiting for the fateful day.

Jubilee

“That was awesome! Did you see me out there- Did you?! Let me let you in on a secret; That last one was for you~!”

Because of how young she is and her lack of a love life, Jubilee is still pretty new to the whole dating and falling in love thing. But when she met you, she knew she was bound to fall in love with someone so positive and full of life. An embodiment of a firework if she said so herself. She always drags you around town with her to hangout at arcades or spend time in the mall grabbing lunch and doing cute couple things.

She cares about you enough to ask other X-Men members advice on how to treat you or show you how much you mean to her. It honestly impresses and shocks the team how this troublemaker tries her best to make you feel like the luckiest person in the world dating her. If she’s not showing her love for you through domestic activities, then look outside your window at night. You are bound to find Jubilee sending you love with her fireworks bound to make you giggle and smile. Which is always delightful because when you are filled with so much happiness, so is she.

Magneto

“What we have is stronger than any magnetic pull I’m capable of. It’s terrifying. But also magnificent.”

If you ever wanted to be treated like royalty, Magneto is the man for you. Erik treats you like you are a precious flower that could be destroyed by the mutant hating world around you. Because of this, he is so careful with you, yet not overbearing. If you want to hang out outside or simply hang out with him, he doesn’t mind as long as no one looks at you the wrong way or touches you with ill intent. Because if they do?… Let’s just say Magneto can do a lot with his powers.

When he’s not making sure you’re safe, he is awestruck at your innocence and your positive outlook on life. At first, he actually found your vision of the world to be immature, untrue and above all stupid. But the more he’s spent time with you, you’ve seem to have melted his cold heart a bit. Does he still think humanity is the scum of the Earth and nothing can change? Yes. But with you by his side, showing him what love, understanding and acceptance can be, maybe, just maybe, he can see where you’re coming from.

Morph

“Why the long face, babe? I can do a mean Magneto impression that’s sure to make you smile… Haha! There’s my love!”

Around people, Morph treats you almost like one of the guys, in a figurative sense. They don't treat you any differently from the rest of his friends and family within the team. But behind closed doors or when you two are alone, all bets are off. They are melting at your sweet nature and so quick to try to make you laugh, smile or get physical with them. Man, do they love when you get physical with him- They adore it!

But what they really loves is how caring and protecting of them you are. They've told you about their past, their run in with Mister Sinister and their time away from the team. And no matter how many nightmares or moments of body dysmorphia he experiences, they love how you are always there to pick up their loose pieces and put them back together with your gentle touch and gentler words. Because of this, they're always there to return the favor and comfort you as well when you are at your lowest. You are their best friend sorry Logan and their beloved and they wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nightcrawler

“Liebe meines Lebens. You never cease to take my breath away.”

Kurt is a pretty romantic person, especially when it comes to you. He showers you endlessly in love, rubbing his nose against yours, showering your face in kisses and becoming putty when you hold him, even if it’s just by his arm! He cherishes moments where the both of you hang out, especially by gardens where he makes cute flower crowns with you. Though just any moments with you are the highlight of his day. On missions, you two synergize perfectly well with the blue mutant complimenting you on your moves and takedowns of foes.

Kurt is an expert at physical touch for a love language, but he’s just as amazing with his words, especially with the nicknames he’s given you. He’ll make sure everyone knows that you are his Schatz, Herz, bessere Hälfte, and of course, Liebe meines Lebens. To you, he’s a lot like a little puppy; Full of energy and always waiting for your attention and affection given to him. The team thinks you two are cute even if they find it a bit annoying that Nightcrawler is always teleporting you two all over the place. It’s not too bad though since the sound of your mixing laughter is enough to make everyone’s hearts soar happily.

Rouge

“Hey, Sugar! I missed you so much today! Now come here, I at least want a hug!”

Rogue is super careful of you. You are just too precious to her and she doesn’t want to hurt or break you with her powers. So she makes sure you both have ways of showing one another how much you love each other, especially herself. Outside of soft hugs, she tries her best to give you a hand covered kiss. Though she can be super cheesy and exchange indirect kisses with rocks, feed you while chuckling at how adorably you stare at her like she hung the stars above. She’ll even have you both set up for dinner plans and fly you around in the sky if you ever want to destress from work as a X-Man.

You both have a cute relationship, even if there are moments where Rogue wonders if she deserves you or if she will ever be enough for you due to her destructive powers and the possibility she will never be able to touch you. These revelations have led to emotional nights, but the promise you make to touch her and make her the happiest woman in the world always makes Rogue realize that she is beyond lucky to have you. You make her want to find a way to touch you no matter what. And mark her words, she will.

Wolverine

“Woah, little pup. I was just gone for a few hours, you act like I went to war or something! Aw, screw it, come here.”

Logan has fallen in love with many men and women during his years of living. But damn has he never met anyone quite like you! When he met you, he thought your whole sweetheart shtick was fake, no offense. He thought it was some trick used to get people to lower their guards around you so you can get the upper hand on them. But when he found out you really were the sweet soul everyone hyped you up to be, he slowly but surely fell for you. He fell for how you spoke to him with such understanding and patience. The way you touched him was with the utmost care when you took care of him and helped him clean blood from your adventures with him that got out of hand.

Logan fights for many people, but for you he will kill anyone that hurts you or makes you cry. Your smile lights up his whole life, your laugh pushes him to be stronger to preserve it and your touch makes him feel alive in a world that always knocks him down. If it’s not the X-Men, Wolverine usually fights for himself and only himself. But now that he has you to lose, he fights for the both of you and a future where you both can live a peaceful life you’re both proud of.

If you got any requests for X-Men '97, Blue Eye Samurai, and or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush (Part.1)

Your admiration for your crush causes you to trip, highlighting the awkward yet endearing dynamics between you two.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue & Erik Lehnsherr

Logan (Wolverine)

The day had started like any other at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You were heading down the long hallway leading to the training rooms, trying to focus on the list of tasks Professor Xavier had assigned for the day. But as you turned the corner, there he was—Logan, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, muscles tense under his usual rugged leather jacket. His eyes, always intense and piercing, followed your every move as you approached.

Your heart skipped a beat, and though you tried to stay composed, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him a little longer than you should have. His dark hair was tousled just right, and his rough, rugged features seemed impossibly handsome in the dim light of the hallway. You’d always tried to play it cool around Logan, but the truth was you found him irresistible—his gruff attitude, the way he carried himself with quiet authority, and that raw intensity that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

You caught yourself staring too long and quickly looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. But it was too late. In your distracted state, you missed a small crack in the tile beneath your feet and tripped, stumbling forward with a small yelp.

Before you could hit the floor, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Your breath hitched as you realized Logan had caught you, his grip firm and secure. You looked up, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you met his smirking gaze.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” Logan asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

You could feel the heat rise to your face, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

His smirk widened as he released you, letting his hand linger on your waist just a second longer than necessary. “Seems like you were payin’ attention to somethin’, just not where you were goin’.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I wasn’t—” you started to protest but stopped yourself. There was no point in denying it. Logan had caught you staring, and there was no way to take it back now.

Logan chuckled low in his throat, his eyes darkening as they flicked over your face. “S’okay, darlin’. I don’t mind the attention.” He winked at you, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Just be careful next time, or I might not be around to catch ya.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the flustered smile threatening to break free. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly, your voice betraying the nervous excitement coursing through you.

Logan gave you one last smirk before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the hallway, your heart racing and your mind spinning. You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he held you like that for more than just a moment.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The evening sun bathed the mansion’s garden in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows across the grass. You were walking toward the small patio where the team had gathered after a long day, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Most of those thoughts, however, were focused on one man—Remy LeBeau, the smooth-talking, devilishly handsome Cajun who had been stealing glances your way for weeks now.

You’d always prided yourself on keeping your emotions in check, but something about Remy made that impossible. His effortless charm, the way his deep, accented voice could make even the most mundane conversation feel like a flirtation, and those smoldering red-on-black eyes that seemed to see right through you—it was all too much.

As you approached the patio, your eyes immediately sought him out, and there he was, sitting casually on the edge of a chair, flipping a playing card between his fingers with practiced ease. He was talking to Rogue, but his gaze flicked up to meet yours the moment you stepped into view. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

You quickly looked away, trying to steady your breathing. You knew he’d caught you staring, and you cursed yourself for being so obvious. Determined to play it cool, you focused on the path ahead, but your thoughts were still filled with Remy—his charming smile, the way he seemed to light up any room he walked into, and the way your stomach fluttered every time he was near.

Your focus wavered for just a second, and suddenly, your foot caught on the edge of a stone step. You stumbled forward with a gasp, arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of strong hands caught you, steadying you.

“Careful, chérie,” Remy’s voice drawled softly in your ear. “Wouldn’t want ya to hurt yourself.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you looked up at him, his face far too close for comfort. He was grinning down at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he helped you straighten up.

“I—uh, thanks,” you stammered, your heart racing.

Remy chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he released you. “No need to thank me, mon amour. But I gotta say, I like that you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in your throat. You could see the playful glint in his eyes, and it was impossible to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that.

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a wink.

“No need to be shy, chérie. I know a good look when I see one.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

Your pulse quickened at the heat in his gaze, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything clever to say. His hand lingered on your arm, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he touched you more than just casually.

Before you could respond, Remy stepped back, his trademark grin still in place. “You gonna join us, or you just gonna stand there starin’ at me all night?”

With one last smirk, he turned and walked back to the group, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, and wondering just how long you could keep hiding your feelings for him.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The atmosphere in the mansion was lively today, with the team bustling about, preparing for their next mission. You were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, flipping through a book while trying to calm your racing thoughts. But it wasn’t the mission that had your heart pounding. It was Kurt—Kurt Wagner, the sweet, charming man who had been occupying your thoughts more and more lately.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to him in a way that surprised even you. His kind heart, his gentle nature, and that infectious laugh of his—it was impossible not to fall for him. But more than that, you loved the way Kurt treated you. He was always respectful, always kind, but there was an underlying tension between you two, a connection you hadn’t yet acknowledged.

You sighed, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind kept drifting to the memory of Kurt’s smile, the way his bright yellow eyes seemed to light up whenever he saw you. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the soft *bamf* of Kurt teleporting into the room until he was suddenly standing right in front of you.

“Guten Tag!” Kurt greeted cheerfully, flashing you that warm, heart-melting smile of his.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you looked up, startled. “Oh! Hey, Kurt,” you said, quickly closing the book and hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you’d been daydreaming about him.

Kurt tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You looked deep in thought, meine freundin. I hope I did not disturb you.”

You shook your head quickly, offering him a smile. “No, not at all. I was just… thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Thinking about anything—or anyone—in particular?”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Just… stuff.”

Kurt chuckled softly, his tail flicking back and forth as he moved closer. “Well, I hope it was pleasant thoughts,” he said, his voice gentle and full of warmth.

You looked up at him, and for a moment, your heart fluttered at the way his eyes seemed to glow with kindness. He always had that effect on you, making you feel comfortable and at ease, even when you were a bundle of nerves around him.

But as you tried to stand up, your foot caught on the edge of the chair, and you stumbled forward, nearly falling face-first into Kurt’s chest. His arms were around you in an instant, steadying you before you could hit the ground.

“Vorsicht!” he exclaimed, his hands warm and firm on your waist. “I’ve got you.”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you looked up at him, your heart pounding from both the near-fall and the sudden proximity. His yellow eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His hands lingered on your waist a little longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same magnetic pull that you were.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to pull yourself together. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Kurt smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing your waist as he held you. “It’s quite alright. But you must be careful, meine freundin, or I might have to catch you more often.”

You laughed nervously, your heart racing. “I’ll try to avoid any more near-falls.”

But instead of pulling away, Kurt’s gaze softened, his fingers still resting against your waist. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind if you needed catching every now and then.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and for a brief moment, you felt as though the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, inches apart, with something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Before you could say anything, Kurt cleared his throat, breaking the moment as he slowly released his hold on you. “I suppose we should both watch where we’re going, ja?”

You nodded, still trying to shake off the lingering warmth from his touch. “Yeah… yeah, we should.”

Kurt smiled at you one last time before teleporting away in a cloud of smoke, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind spinning, wondering if you’d ever be brave enough to admit how you felt.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The X-Mansion was always a whirlwind of activity, and today was no different. You were making your way through the training center, trying to stay focused on the drills the team had been practicing, but it was impossible to ignore the tall, composed figure of Scott Summers—your team leader, and the one person who seemed to occupy your thoughts more often than not.

Scott was always so serious, so focused on his responsibilities as leader, that it sometimes made it difficult to get a read on how he felt about anything outside of missions. But over the past few weeks, there had been moments—fleeting glances, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—that made you wonder if there was something more beneath that stoic exterior.

You were lost in thought, your mind running through every interaction you’d had with Scott, when you spotted him across the training floor, arms crossed and eyes hidden behind those ever-present ruby quartz glasses. He was watching the team closely, but the moment your eyes landed on him, he looked up, locking onto you with a gaze that felt more intense than it had any right to be.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly averted your gaze, focusing on anything but the way Scott’s attention made your pulse race. But in your distraction, you misjudged the distance between you and a training obstacle and promptly tripped over a piece of equipment, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

You didn’t even have time to hit the ground before Scott was at your side, catching you with surprising swiftness. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up before you could completely lose your balance.

“Careful,” he said in that calm, authoritative voice of his. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks as you realized just how close you were to him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

Scott’s grip on your arm was firm but gentle, and for a moment, you felt the tension between you, the unspoken attraction that you’d both been trying to ignore. He held you just a little longer than necessary, his gaze focused on you even though his eyes were hidden behind his visor.

“You should be more careful,” Scott said, his voice softening ever so slightly. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Your breath caught at the concern in his voice, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his words. “I’ll try to be,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scott gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile before finally letting go, stepping back and giving you the space you needed to collect yourself. But as he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you—that maybe, just maybe, Scott Summers felt the same way you did.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

The sky outside the mansion was a brilliant blue, the kind of day that seemed to radiate peace and beauty—much like the woman who controlled the weather. Ororo Munroe, with her regal posture and serene presence, had always been someone you admired, not just for her powers but for the way she carried herself with such grace and strength.

Over time, though, admiration had turned into something deeper. You found yourself drawn to her warmth, her wisdom, and the quiet moments you shared together. But you were always too afraid to say anything, afraid that admitting your feelings would somehow disturb the delicate balance between you.

Today was no different. You were walking through the mansion grounds, heading toward the greenhouse where Ororo often spent her time. The sun was warm on your skin, and as you approached, you spotted her among the flowers, her silver hair catching the light like a halo.

For a moment, you just watched her, captivated by the way she seemed to blend so effortlessly with nature, her beauty almost ethereal. You were so lost in the sight of her that you didn’t even notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. Your toe caught on a rock, and you stumbled forward with an awkward flail of your arms.

Ororo looked up just in time to see you trip, and before you could recover, she was at your side, her hand catching your arm with a gentle but steady grip.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing, like a summer breeze.

You quickly straightened up, trying to laugh off your clumsiness. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Ororo smiled, her hand lingering on your arm as she looked at you with those calm, knowing eyes. “It seems you were lost in thought,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing warmth.

You swallowed hard, your heart fluttering at the way her gaze seemed to see right through you. “I guess I was,” you admitted, unable to look away from her.

Ororo’s smile widened slightly as she finally released your arm, stepping back but still close enough that you could feel the warmth of her presence. “Be careful,” she said, her tone playful yet kind. “I would hate for you to fall again.”

You nodded, your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but there was something in Ororo’s eyes that made you wonder if she knew exactly what—or rather, who—you had been thinking about.

Jean Grey

The mansion was quiet, most of the team off on various missions or training exercises. You found yourself in the library, trying to focus on the book in front of you, but your mind kept wandering to Jean Grey—the powerful telepath who had slowly become the center of your thoughts.

Jean had always been kind to you, her warmth and compassion making her easy to talk to. But as time passed, you began to realize that your feelings for her went far beyond friendship. You admired her strength, her beauty, and the quiet confidence she carried, but you were too afraid to say anything, unsure if she felt the same way.

Today, however, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. You had seen her earlier in the day, her red hair shining in the sunlight, and the image of her smile had been stuck in your mind ever since. You were so distracted by thoughts of Jean that you didn’t even notice her entering the library until she was standing right in front of you.

“Hey,” Jean said, her voice soft as she smiled at you.

You quickly looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you met her gaze. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you come in.”

Jean’s smile widened as she sat down beside you, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. “I noticed. You looked pretty deep in thought.”

You laughed nervously, trying to hide your flustered state. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

Jean tilted her head, her gaze soft but curious. “Anything—or anyone—on your mind?”

Your cheeks flushed at her words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your position in the chair. “Just… stuff,” you mumbled, not daring to look at her.

But before you could compose yourself, your foot slipped off the edge of the chair, and you stumbled forward, nearly colliding with the small table in front of you. Jean’s reflexes were quick, and she caught your arm, steadying you before you could fall completely.

“Careful!” she exclaimed, her laughter light and melodic. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—wasn’t paying attention.”

Jean chuckled softly, her hand still resting on your arm as she met your gaze with a knowing smile. “You seem a little distracted today. Anything I can help with?”

Your heart raced at the warmth in her voice, and for a moment, you wondered if she could sense what you were feeling. But you quickly shook your head, trying to brush it off. “No, I’m just… clumsy.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “Well, I don’t mind catching you. Just try not to fall too often.”

Her words were playful, but there was a softness in her gaze that made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she knew exactly what was going on in your mind—even if you weren’t ready to admit it yet.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

It was supposed to be a normal day at the X-Mansion, but with Rogue around, things rarely felt ordinary. You were in the common area, trying to go over mission reports, but your attention kept drifting to Anna Marie. She was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, her gloved hands idly turning the pages as she hummed a familiar tune.

You’d always admired Rogue—from her strength to the way she handled the burden of her powers. But somewhere along the line, admiration had grown into something more. You found yourself drawn to her in ways that made your heart race and your stomach flip. Her quick wit, her beauty, that Southern charm—it was impossible not to be captivated.

But she was untouchable, literally. Rogue couldn’t get close to people, and as much as you felt something between you, the invisible wall her powers created was hard to ignore.

You sighed, trying to focus back on your reports, but Rogue shifted slightly, causing your gaze to drift to her again. Her hair cascaded down her back, the white streaks so striking against the dark brown. You caught yourself staring, and as if on cue, she looked up and met your eyes.

You quickly glanced away, your heart pounding. But the damage was done—your distraction caused you to knock your cup of coffee off the table, and in your attempt to catch it, you lost your balance and nearly toppled out of your chair.

Rogue was at your side in an instant, catching your arm before you could hit the floor. Her grip was firm but careful, gloved hands ensuring no skin-to-skin contact. She smiled, a playful glint in her green eyes.

“Careful, sugar,” she drawled, her Southern accent making your heart skip a beat. “You alright?”

You nodded, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “Yeah, just… clumsy today, I guess.”

Rogue chuckled, her thumb brushing over your arm lightly, sending shivers down your spine despite the barrier of fabric between you. “Looks like you got somethin’ on your mind.”

You tried to laugh it off, though the warmth in her voice and the way she was looking at you made your pulse quicken. “I’m just a little distracted, that’s all.”

Rogue’s smile widened, and she leaned in just a fraction closer. “If you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ important, I could help take your mind off it.”

Her words were teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in her gaze—something that made you wonder if she felt the same electric tension that you did. But before you could say anything, Rogue pulled back, releasing your arm and stepping away with that trademark smirk of hers.

“Just be careful next time, alright?” she said, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual before she sauntered back to the couch.

As you sat back down, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if Rogue was just as affected by the moments you shared as you were—even if there was always that invisible barrier between you.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

Being around Erik Lehnsherr was always a challenge. The man was powerful, charismatic, and brilliant—a force of nature who commanded respect with every word he spoke. You admired his strength and conviction, even if you didn’t always agree with his methods. But admiration had turned into something else, something you weren’t quite ready to admit.

You found yourself in his presence more often than you intended, drawn to the magnetic pull of his personality. Today was no different. You were in the briefing room, preparing for a strategy session, but instead of focusing on the task at hand, your eyes kept drifting to Erik.

He stood by the window, his silver hair catching the light as he gazed out over the grounds, his expression unreadable. You’d seen him in action countless times, watched him lead with precision and power, but there was something about the quiet moments—when he wasn’t Magneto, but simply Erik—that captivated you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize he had turned to look at you until it was too late. Caught off guard, you fumbled with the papers in your hand, dropping them all over the floor.

Erik’s lips quirked into a slight smirk as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the scattered papers floated off the ground, neatly arranging themselves back into your grasp. He didn’t say a word, but the amused glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

Erik crossed his arms over his chest, watching you with that same intense gaze. “You seem… distracted,” he observed, his voice smooth and commanding as always.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “I was just… thinking.”

“About something important, I hope,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. “Or perhaps… someone?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and for a moment, you wondered if he could sense the turmoil inside you. But you quickly shook your head, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about the mission.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence commanding the space between you. “Be careful where your mind wanders, my dear. Distraction can be dangerous.”

There was a subtle edge to his words, as if he knew more than he was letting on. As he turned and walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Erik had sensed the truth—that you were just as drawn to him as he was to power.

[damn-this-pool]

💙💛Had fun drawing more Nightcrawler💛💙

Sometimes you just have to make your own content when there’s not much of your fav around

[panbotter]

Who in the x-men?

[vixemi]

A/N: love this man but also love me some 🎶 angst 🎶

———————————————————————————

You had always known Gambit and Rogue shared a complicated history, but you never imagined it would lead to this. It started innocently enough – a lingering glance here, a playful smile there – but soon, it became impossible to ignore the growing tension between them.

One evening, as you walked into the common area of the X-Mansion, you found Gambit and Rogue deep in conversation, their laughter filling the room. But as you approached, their smiles faltered, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you had just interrupted something.

"Hey, what's going on?" you asked, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling gnawing at your gut.

Gambit glanced at Rogue before turning to you with a nonchalant shrug. "Just catching up, chère," he replied, his tone casual as ever.

But you could see the tension in Rogue's posture, the way her eyes darted away from yours. Something wasn't right, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being kept in the dark.

As the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered between you and Gambit. Every time you caught him stealing glances at Rogue or sharing inside jokes with her, it felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

Finally, unable to contain your frustration any longer, you confronted Gambit one evening in the training room. "What's going on between you and Rogue?" you demanded, your voice trembling with anger and hurt.

Gambit's expression hardened, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of defiance and guilt. "It's nothing, chère," he insisted, but his words only fueled your anger.

"Nothing?" you scoffed, feeling the tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. "Don't lie to me, Remy. I see the way you look at her, the way you flirt with her. Do you think I'm blind?"

Gambit's jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "It ain't like that, okay? Rogue and me, we got history, but that don't mean nothin'."

But his words fell on deaf ears as the anger inside you boiled over. "I can't do this anymore," you cried, the pain of betrayal cutting deep. "I can't compete with your past, with her."

And with that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the training room, leaving Gambit standing alone, grappling with the consequences of his actions and the realization that he had pushed you too far.

———————————————————————————

For days, the tension between you and Gambit hung thick in the air, neither of you willing to address the elephant in the room. Every interaction was strained, every word carefully measured, until it felt like you were walking on eggshells around each other.

But despite the distance that had grown between you, Gambit couldn't shake the feeling of regret that gnawed at his insides. He knew he had to make things right, to prove to you that you were the one he truly cared about.

So one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the X-Mansion grew quiet, Gambit sought you out, determination burning in his eyes. He found you sitting alone in the garden, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your face as you stared off into the distance.

"Chère," he began, his voice gentle yet filled with sincerity. "I messed up, and I'm sorry. I should've been more mindful of your feelings, of what this – what we – mean to each other."

You turned to face him, your expression guarded yet hopeful. "And what about Rogue?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gambit sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. "Rogue and me, we got history, but it's just that – history. You're the one I want, the one I care about. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, to earn back your trust."

For a moment, the air between you was heavy with uncertainty, the weight of the past and the pain you both carried threatening to tear you apart. But then, slowly, you reached out to take his hand in yours, the warmth of his touch melting away the walls you had built around your heart.

"I want to believe you, Remy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to show me, not just tell me."

And with that, Gambit pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he vowed to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that his heart belonged to you and you alone. And as you melted into his embrace, the weight of the past began to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope for the future.

[pixiesndberries]

HOW DO I GET YOU ALONE?

— Logan Howlett ❞

𖦰 :: summary — remembering her first love after a long time of running away from it.

→ Logan Howlett, Fem!Reader, Jean Grey, Rogue, Kitty Pryde, and more.

♫ :: Alone - Heart (Bad Animals, 1987) — It Must've Been Love - Roxette (It Must've Been Love, 1990)

𖦰 .. warnings — angst; mentions of intimate moment together (18+ themes), strong words, lmk if I forgot something.

> I haven't double checked this, might contain grammatical errors and typos.

𖦰 author's note — LMK IF YOU WANT LOGAN'S POV GUYS 🙏 I kinda felt shitty and I wanted a heart clenching angst, I don't want them to be happy and all of that love story. Probably my longest work ever and I'll have my break for like a day or two (more like 2 years) anyways HAVE FUN POOKIES!

WORD COUNT — 3, 666k words

"Hey, take care of the kids and yourself too." the man mutters underneath his breath as he places his 'best dad in the world' coffee mug in the sink, quickly grabbing himself a napkin to wipe the left residue on his lips — it took her a quick moment to respond since her attention is too focused on putting her children's school lunch in their very own lunch boxes, "yeah, yeah you too." she nods as she wipes her hand in her colourful apron, giving him a glare.

"did you have everything? car keys? the lunch I made you?" she says with a worried yet hurried tone making sure her husband got everything in his hands before leaving the house — "yes, ma'am." he chuckles with a nod, before she could even say something back he walked up to her wrapping his arms around her, planting a kiss on her temples.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

he nodded and left pulls away, calling the kids to have their goodbyes before their father left for work — she turns around and sighs while wiping the bead of sweat forming in her forehead, she then closes the lunchboxes and place it inside the lunch bags.

for the last nine years, this is her daily routine — to be a responsible wife and mother towards her husband and children, to be her children's first teacher and to be her husband's helping hand.

just like her dream, to be wife to somebody.

to a certain someone.

"Mommy!" james yells from his room making her drop what she was doing in panic that something might've happen to her first born son, she rushed upstairs 'till his room just to see him being completely fine — "Mommy, we need to bring old photos of our parents to school for our family tree." he says slightly feeling scared that he might've freaked his mom out for yelling too loud and exaggerated.

she sighs closing her eyes, but then looks at the kid, again trying to be calm as possible not wanting to scold the child because the school bus is going to arrive in ten minutes and he just had the balls to tell her that right now. "Okay, give me a quick moment. Wait downstairs and watch Peter and Julien for me, is that okay?" she says calmly.

"okay, mommy." james nodded as he carries his backpack with him, she created a space so he could get out of his bedroom door — when she heard his foot steps coming from the stairs she closed his bedroom door and made her way to the attic wherein the old and useless stuff was placed.

she pulled the ladder string making the ladder fall on it's own, she then secured it making sure it's stable enough to step on. As soon as it was stable enough she climbed, her head peeking through the attic.

she then spend her last minutes searching for some old boxes with photos, she already obtained her husband's old photos, mainly the one from his school yearbook photos — on the other hand, she couldn't manage to look for hers. She didn't really had much of photos before except for some that are nowhere to be found, she didn't go to school either which means she does have yearbook photos to share.

she already wanted to give up and just hand out the photos that she had in her hands right now, but her eyes landed on this brown wooden box with her brain processing where it could be from, it looks familiar at the same time it doesn't.

she then crouched to grab the box, it was small and almost fragile considering how old it maybe is. She shook the box making sure it has something inside and it did sound like there are things inside but it feels like it's packed with so much things inside.

she already forgot about the ticking of the clock and how close the school bus might be already. She flick the button open, bringing her hand to open the lid.

letters

photographs

and a locket.

it made her stop breathing for a moment, it's like her soul jumped out of her body for a quick mini second as the realization of what this was — she blinked while her fingers lingered into the rough almost fragile papers that contains letters and the photos wherein the colors are slowly fading.

she exhales and attempted to push back the letters and photos all at once in the small box, she's rushing making it unable to push it all at once except if placed neatly, out of frustration she dropped the box making it scattered all around the floor with the other ones flying somewhere in the room — she sighs closing her eyes, only to see a photo of them lying in the floor with a letter behind it.

the poorly written words even brought those memories back too good yet it stings painfully than being tortured by an electrocuting machine — no, she wasn't supposed to sit here and see this all of these things that are supposed to be gone ever since she left that damn roof. She already left what she was many years ago and she's not planning to remember nor come back because she's already contended of what she have right now, this was her dream right?

she felt a bead of tear slowly runs down her cold cheeks as she stare at the photo with her hand holding into it, wanting to just tear it apart or maybe burn it until it's all nothing but ashes that she's soon going to throw away in the lake nearby her house.

hair was short, smile was wide, she's wearing his leather jacket, his hands wrapped around her waist and her lips was attached into his cheeks — the piece of paper crumbled into her hand as she lets out an exhausted sigh and her eyes' blinking trying to avoid wasting tears again.

the same face she had as they were talking that night, the night that absolutely ruined her.

before this whole him meeting jean thing, everything was way too different compared to what situation they're in after him meeting jean — they're almost entwined and it feels like they're the only one who understands each other wether it's about missions or just in general.

birds of a feather or two peas in a pod, that's what professor x calls them, they're almost inseparable — but as times goes by it's more than just friendship.

at some point the tension started being way too compacted that it's almost hard to resist the fact that he couldn't help but to look at her lips everytime she speaks or maybe she couldn't help but to look when he's just there standing topless while fixing something — everything was irresistible.

"I don't know, he just keeps coming at me or something." she shrugs with their bodies next to each other as stares at her drink, the tension was tight and somehow warm — and the fact that Logan is questioning about this random dude who came up to her basically checking her out, it's not helping.

he doesn't want to sound possessive.

she's not his.

she doesn't want to avoid the guy either.

it's not like he's going to get jealous.

he didn't mutter any response but the moment she looked at him, she can hear the mutters inside his head — she knows that she agreed to not read his mind but she couldn't help, her head got ears and it's hearing too well.

"I'm not going with him, not worth my time. Rather, I know someone's better at wasting my time." she mutters underneath her breath quickly looking back at her whiskey as he looks back — he clicked his tongue putting the glass down in the counter, she then looks back making their eyes locked at each other.

it was deep, it was something, what do you call that? mind fucking?

she's sure it's not her telepathy thing that is wanting to pull him into a kiss right now and let him do the things that he wanted to do to her, and Logan is also sure that's it's not only him who's been feeling this close and those gazes and touches didn't have any meaning.

"fuck." she mutters underneath her breath as she holds into the bathroom's towel rail for balance as Logan's teeth leaves marks on her neck — she can't help but to wince and moan lightly as he squeezes her glutes, feeling the tight pressure.

"Logan, it's going to be visible." she sighs as he pulls away with her free hand resting on the back of his head.

"can't find the problem."

fuck, literally.

she pulls him in a passionate kiss, feeling almost like high or euphoric just by this. It was an overwhelming gut rush that she couldn't explain, she can taste the bitterness of the liquor he just had mixing with hers and it's getting her almost feral — "fuck me, Logan." she groans in his ears, like that her request is what he fulfils.

it would be a lie if both of them say everything happened once or twice, it was more than that — they didn't shared just themselves, their body, a kiss but an intimacy that she knew she wouldn't have with anyone else except for Logan.

it wouldn't be the same if it's not Logan.

every night, as they lay together in bed with Logan next to her sleeping his ass off — she couldn't help but to think, what they really are.

sometimes she would just be there and imagine their future together, kids, a nice house, and them being together — a small house down town just perfectly enough for their family, she even promised herself that if they're going to have their first son, it's name is going to be James Howlett Jr.

she's never really been a vocal type of person since from the start, she prefers quiet over anything else in this world — she never once brought the words, "what are we?" or maybe ask him if they're more than just sharing naked bodies at one bed or crashing lips together as the world falls apart around them.

but then she just spends her whole night pondering when's the right time going to be to just ask him if,

if he feels more than just sexual tension or whatever was this.

like, it couldn't be so casual that he'd hug her from behind or be a worrywart everytime she's out of sight during missions — and most of all, friends don't say I love you during sex, right?

she'd always remember when a fortune teller told her that 'you wouldn't know when the universe is going to turn against you' she never believed it not until she came home from a mission along with kitty — as she walk in the halls, she could already hear the familiar voice; his voice.

and jean's voice?

when she was only few steps away from the room where all the noises of the room is coming from, she was fighting with herself wether to just stay and listen or just walk by the room so maybe he'll notice that she's there or maybe just mind her own business, they're just friends right?

she can hear Logan's chuckle as she teases him over something.

she couldn't help but to feel this weird ache in her stomach, she couldn't explain the feeling but it was slowly going up her chest until it reaches her throat — her chest rises she closed her eyes trying to take deep breaths and thinking to just walk away.

she opens her eyes and exhales heavily, almost audible — she walked pass by the room purposely making her steps audible, she didn't even know why she did that.

she walked quickly back to her room and closed the door behind her, then leaning her back into the door with a heavy sigh — why did I do that?

why do I feel like this?

why,

why,

and why's.

that's all she could think of all night, they're just friends right?

the kiss

the way he holds her hand

no, she pushed herself to calm down — Logan can be friends with anyone, what she witnessed is just a friendly conversation so where's the reason to be paranoid?

and they aren't even together.

each night she wasted her time pondering what to do because they are slowly drifting away from each other — as time passes Logan and Jean's relationship are getting tighter, closer, it's like they're sewn together and she's just there.

letting things be,

letting everything go it's way like nothing happened between them.

"are you seriously going to stand there and just watch them?" rogue scoffs while holding a cup of coffee, scooting herself next to her friend who seems to be swimming in her own thoughts — her mind was blank while leaning into the balcony as the stars shines bright, she's well aware of the company that rogue and kitty offered her.

"didn't know you're a masochist now." kitty teased making rogue let out a low chuckle as she sips her coffee — no reaction from her, she just breaths heavily.

the atmosphere was quiet for a moment, only the sound of crickets was audible but she broke it after seconds — "I don't know, if he wanted me in the first place it wouldn't be like this."

"I mean like, the real thing."

rogue and kitty exchanged glances feeling bad for their friend, rogue looked at her for a moment then let's out a heavy sigh.

"you should talk to him, you know, to have a closure of what you two did isn't just games."

"I wish it was that easy." she says looking back at rogue, "I've made numerous attempts but when it's the actual thing and he's there, it's so hard to speak."

rogue and kitty couldn't find the perfect words to help her put her hopes up, they haven't been in her place — she's not asking for it either, she's doing okay and she appreciated the time her friends are putting on her to help her with this.

"if you wouldn't try, you wouldn't know right?" kitty spoke

she understood both of her friends suggestion to what to do, it's easy when you think about it but when you're actually there the aching feeling that slowly crawls up to her throat was getting her,

but she couldn't just sit there and wait because at some point he'll probably never try because he's focused on someone else.

cinnamon girl, is that what she is right now?

he's addicted on something and couldn't bring himself to care about her, anymore?

she wouldn't say that he completely shut her off his life, sometimes when they would run against each other, they would exchange glances but never would say a thing — sometimes during dinner the whole team would talk, then Logan would agree to her words — after missions Logan would check up the other people and she's one of them, but then she'll just smile and nod.

he's there, but not completely there.

she hated how casual it is for him to just walk pass by her, stand next to her like nothing happened, talk to jean as if she wasn't there.

this wasn't them numerous days ago, she's longing for it and it hurts so bad.

she just wanted to run away from it, but with him and jean being in the same roof as hers — it's so hard to find an excuse.

during dinner, she was so quiet as she was eating this whatever food it was — she couldn't even think straight, all of the people that surrounds her are laughing and she's just there drowning herself in a pool filled thoughts.

"right, (y/n)?" rogue chuckles nudging her arms which made her quickly looked around the people in the table, almost feeling like she just woke up in from daydream which made everyone around the table confused and exchange glances.

"yeah, yeah." she nodded awkwardly chuckling looking back at her food, kitty and rogue exchanging looks as if they already know the reason behind her behavior right now.

to fill the awkward atmosphere gambit created a joke making the whole table laugh again as if nothing happened, there she was so low in her food.

she glared around the people making sure their attention wasn't on hers because honestly it was that embarrassing, but then her eyes landed on Logan who quickly looked back.

no shit.

she glared back at her food and continue to finish it off so she could finally leave the table and rest.

on the other hand, Logan looked confused yet seem to already be puzzling the reasons why her behaviors like that right now.

later that night after the dinner, rogue and kitty said their goodnights to her and made their way to their rooms — while she was walking in the hall she was still lost of what's happening around her, she couldn't help but to think, think, and think.

out of nowhere she had this urge to stop walking, and yeah right.

Logan was in the hall too,making his way somewhere she doesn't know.

Logan also stopped his tracks and looked at her, both of their faces blank.

What do I do?

Should I?

she's fighting with herself inside, wether to approach him and talk about it or just once let it go.

her chest was rising heavily, it's visible and the tension right now is almost compacted as if there's no air.

"Logan."

"(y/n)."

both of their names slipped from each's lips on the same time — is he aware?

"can we talk? please." she exhales feeling the aching torns building up her throat once again, almost choking her — Logan nodded, she gave the somewhere private look and he shrugged agreeing with her.

You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight. — You don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight.

they are in the balcony, with the cold wind feeding the almost dry atmosphere — she can't really explain what she felt but it's almost like she's trapped in a box and she's slowly exploding, it's an overwhelming feeling having him here.

she doesn't know how to start and he's just standing there waiting for her to say the words he needed to hear, she gulps and looked at him with her eyes reflecting the bright colors of the stars and moon.

"it's, about us." she finally spoke, her voice almost cracking through the words — she's fighting the urge not to cry right now, her chest just feels so heavy.

she can see in her eyes how Logan reacted when the word us slips from her lips, he knows that what she's talking about and if she's in the right state she would've plucked her mind to get under his to read whatever he's thinking right now.

he didn't respond, "Logan, what am I to you? Are you really going to shut me off like I was someone who you didn't know." she says with her fist tightening into a ball and her voice raising a little — frustration and pain.

"Logan, are you really going to act like this forever, like I wasn't here?" she says with a firm tone.

"are you really going to forget about what we had?"

"those kisses, sweet nothings, touch, and whatever the fuck it is!"

"(y/n)."

"don't fucking call me now, Logan, I am so fucking hurt." she says pointing at his chest out of frustration, she felt like exploding right now.

beads of tears was already slipping in her cheeks, her chest rising continuously.

he was dumbfounded, not being able to find the right words to defend himself — because it was true, it all happened and he couldn't just pretend that it didn't happened.

"tell me, those fucking things that we had is nothing to you!"

"that's not true."

"then why!" she sobs trying her best to keep her voice down, "Logan, why?"

"I don't know."

"what do you mean you don't know?" she sobs again feeling so frustrated, "Logan, I'm sure those things are easy to forget shit."

"if it's just fucking, flirting, comforting to you. Logan to me it's the real fucking thing, what do you call that again? Love?"

she never once wanted to admit that she's in love, she hated love, they both hated love and all this time they both believed that what they did is just nothing, something they can easily forget — sorry for breaking it to him, she fooled herself for thinking it's love.

"I never learned to care until I met you."

"I never learned to love until I met you." she says almost choking from her own spit as tears continuously pouring.

again, Logan couldn't bring himself to speak — it's not like he doesn't care to what's happening right now, he just didn't know this is what she felt all this time. He thought she felt the way he does, all of this are nonsense.

"I thought it was all nothing." he says back, "I thought you and I agreed that we're doing that no strings attached."

"but you said I love you, and I'm sorry clinged to that but I hoped." she quickly responded, "my mouth hasn't shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may like me the way that I do was stuck in my brain, which hasn't stopped thinking about you since." she says with her voice cracking mid sentence.

"I didn't mean to make you feel that way, but you know we both agreed right? that we don't have something."

"and that was my mistake, but you couldn't just say you love me like it was nothing."

she still remembers it perfect in her head, she can still hear how he said it during sex, while they're just together, kissing her forehead and mumbles I love you before mission — it was all nothing?

"I just wished you could've told me before you," she pauses wiping her tears, in fact she couldn't even bring herself to say her name.

"you could've told me that before meeting Jean, because I felt like I'm some kind of toy that you got sicked of playing."

it was nothing but quiet for a few seconds but Logan cutted the silence as he attempted to explain for himself.

"I was the first person Jean got closed with and during that time you were nowhere to be found, maybe you're there but so far."

"I thought you didn't want me anymore."

she did, she did spaced away from him thinking he doesn't her anymore — it's her mistake for not talking this out ever since she felt jealous.

"but that's not a reason to completely shut me off, you could've ended whatever we are doing in a good way so I wouldn't hope anymore that you would still be knocking at my door, to talk to me." she added

they're are both standing at their own points.

she already felt tired at this moment and just wanted to cry her eyes out in her room and Logan was completely lost right now, conflicted between Her and Jean.

she already know that he wouldn't at least try to explain that he once loved her like she did, she's so dumb for even thinking about it.

"then I'm sorry, if that's what you wanted to hear."

why is he making it sound like she's demanding for an apology? she doesn't want to see him anymore, she's so miserable right now.

she sighs, she doesn't even know what to say now everything is messing up with her head, she already said what she have to say to him and it made her chest lighter now — but there's still an open wound in her heart right now.

"I love her, but I appreciated you."

and when she heard those words it felt like the world came crashing to her and continuously slaps her on the face, Logan then turned back, having himself looking back at her before walking way.

as much as she wanted to stop him, she thought it's for the best to let him be — it already happened, it's clear that he didn't want her from the start.

So this is it?

That's it?

Should I be happy that he appreciated me?

Logan could still here muffles and cries that night, he was in his bed trying to shake off the feeling — this weird feeling, he knew that he should be sorry but in the first place he thought both of them doesn't believe in love, he clinged into that.

He'd be lying if he didn't admit he didn't mean to say those words, those sweet nothings, and those love gestures — he was conflicted between the forming feelings for her and the fact that she once admitted that she doesn't believe in love.

so he stopped himself and found Jean, Jean wasn't so scared of showing her love and the slow burning start of their romance — if he knew that they're both in love from the start maybe he wouldn't be here in this bed right now remembering the words she have said.

he was a jerk and he knows that, but he it'll make things tougher if he admitted that he also felt something for her — it would be useless now that him and jean had this thing now, it'll hurt her more.

Last minute regret, he's going to carry this forever.

"I have to find my myself professor, I think this is just not for me." she mutters underneath her breath while looking at the man in front of her, Professor Charles Xavier.

she professor was dumbfounded for her sudden departure with the reason of she felt like what she's doing wasn't really for her — as much as professor x wanted to disagree because of her helpful abilities that put the team together, it's almost like him and her are alike, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

there's this energy that tells him that she is in agony, a sense of lost, as if she was in grief — he didn't bother to read her mind, it feels too wrong especially when she look like this.

"if that what makes you happy, I am delighted to fully support your decision, I just wanted you to know that the door is open when you wanted to come back, (y/n)." the professor said with a grin on his face, which somehow sent her a sense of comfort.

"I am holding into that." she smiles, but she remembered something before going.

"please don't tell them, the only people who are aware are rogue and kitty, please?"

"as you wish."

and that she traveled where she can, wherever her feet brings her finding the peace that she wanted — she wanted to leave who she was, wanting her old self dead and forgotten.

as much as it hurts her, she wanted to space away not wanting to drown herself once again — maybe she really love him that much that she reached this point.

Logan was her first love, and she knows it's going to take a long time forgetting that face.

she changed everything about her from head to toes, cut and dyed her hair, attempted to find a new style which she successfully did and to forget everything in the past leaving them where they belong.

she found herself in Switzerland, wherein she built a flower shop and when she's not busy she'll be a part time teacher in preschool — with that being said, that's the same place she met her husband.

he always buys flowers in her shop for his mother who was sick, there he learned his interest towards her — Long story short, they got married and shared three children; James, Julien, and Peter.

and ever since she met her husband she forgot about Logan, not even thinking's where he is, how is he doing, if he is still actually alive — she never once think of him, even the school and her friends.

"Mommy! The school bus is here!" when she heard a familiar voice coming from down the attic she quickly stuffed the box and what it contains somewhere that wouldn't be found by any of the people inside this house except her, she wiped her tears and took a deep breath.

"I'm done, hold on." she says before grabbing a random photograph with Logan and tearing it apart quickly making her way down the attic, handing it to James as fast as possible.

"kids!" she calls out as she walk fast guiding the kids out of the house with the big yellow bus waiting outside.

:: additional note — LMK IF YOU WANTED THIS BUT LOGAN'S POV CUZ LIKE I FELT I DID LOGAN DIRTY WITH THIS ONE 🙏 THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC SO FAR 😭 I'M TIRED BYE.

ᯓ★ pixiesndberries 2024 ! i don't allow my work to be share in any platforms without my permission — REBLOGS, LIKES, AND FOLLOW ARE APPRECIATED !

[demigoddessqueens]

Helloo! Do you think you can do how the x-men team members would do with meeting someone with a similar mutation as them? If so that’d be awesome, thank you!

Sure thing!

Masterlist 12

a/n - I’ll do the X97 crew for this one

Cyclops

Beneath the tough exterior is a big softie who is empathetic and relieved that you know what it’s like to have the same experiences he does, often worrying about whether or not you’re safe

Rogue

She longs, aches for that touch and connection from you but where she can’t touch, you still try to make the most of an effort even if it’s a gloved hand holding on

Gambit

You make the one and only Gambit proud that you both have the same power. Maybe pulling pranks on each other or sending energy love letters to each other throughout the mansion

Jubilee

The bubbly personality reaches a new high once she sees your “fireworks” as well, even trying them out with the other to see how many color combos you can come up with

Nightcrawler

His abilities/skills was something he was hesitant to be proud of because of how they might have seemed to other people. But since meeting you, he’s glad to not feel so alone in his element

Ororo/Storm

Anytime the team sees twin storms occurring, they know it’s you both flying around together, even making a bad rainy day beautiful

Morph

You having the same abilities has been used countless times to play pranks on each other so many times Morph is one scare away from a heart attack

Jean

The telekinesis connection brings you two closer together, passing on mental “love notes” to each other throughout the day

Magneto

In his cold pit of loneliness, he never thought there would be another individual who would be just like him yet here you are sculpting precious art with your gifts even if you strike fear into the hearts of those

[remylebeaugambitt]

To My Friends, The Name's Remy LeBeau. To My Enemies, It's Gambit! You Can Go Ahead And Forget That First Name Right About Now.

[emptymasks]

Another set of stickers and badges are done! Got a little carried away again, but here's some X-Men. I'm thrilled to see the X-Men films fandom coming back to life because of Deadpool and Wolverine, especially all the love for lil baby X-Men 2000 Logan. I really want to watch X-Men '97 now since I keep seeing so many clips and edits of it. I know these aren't all of the X-Men, there's too many to draw them all, but here's some poolverine, cherik, the love-triangle-that-could-have-been-solved-with-polyamory, some '97 babies and the comic wives.

Characters available: Angel / Waren Worthington III, Beast / Hank Mccoy, Lucas Bishop, Cable / Nathan Summers, Cyclops / Scott Summers, Deadpool / Wade Wilson, Destiny / Irene Adler, Gambit / Remy LeBeau, Goblin Queen / Madelyne Pryor, Iceman / Bobby Drake, Jubilee / Jubilation Lee, Magneto / Max Eisenhardt / Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, Morph, Mystique / Raven Darkhölme, Nightcrawler / Kurt Wagner, Phoenix / Jean Grey, Professor X / Charles Xavier, Rogue / Anne Marie, Storm / Ororo Munroe, Wolverine / Logan Howlett.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Individual pixel art chibi drawings of 34 characters from the X-Men comics, films and cartoons that are available as chibi stickers drawn with a pixel brush. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

[eternalsams]

The Other Woman ➺ R.LeBeau 'Gambit'

pairing: '97!Gambit x fem mutant!reader

warning/content: angst, jealousy, oblivious Gambit, best friends to lovers?, love confession, Remy talks french, Gambit is said taller than reader, no description of reader's powers, I swear I love Rogue with all my heart

summary: you're so in love with Gambit it hurts, but it hurts more seeing him run after a girl who can't decide if she wants him or not

word count: 2.1k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration. This is my first time writing for Gambit, or for the x-men in general, I'm doing my best writing their characters.

main masterlist

Giggles were heard in the corridors of the school and you sighed. A Cajun accented voice reached your ears and a sad smile stretched your lips. You flipped the pages of the paper you were reading and heard your two friends walk into the kitchen. Remy noticed you first and walked up to you before kissing the top of your head. "Good morning, ma jolie." You smiled up at him and waved at Rogue with a smile. You didn't know what he had said to her but you could see she was still trying to hold in her laughter. "What's so funny?" You asked before sipping your coffee, looking between your two friends. "You wouldn't get it." Rogue chuckled before pouring herself a cup of coffee. You noticed Remy biting a smile and looking down at his feet before he went to grab the cream for Rogue's coffee.

You brushed it off with a shake of your head and finished your drink before leaving the empty cup in the sink. You smiled at Remy on your way out and swallowed the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your throat. Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you joined your room to change and your heart was beating fast and hard against your chest. You loved Gambit with your whole being, feeling like you could die, kill, for him. But for a few months already, you noticed his attention was caught by the pretty red head with deadly touch. You'd be lying if you said you didn't understand the attraction he held for her. She was beautiful, smart, funny and so strong. You knew that if she could take off those gloves and take Remy's hands in hers, they'd be going on real dates and in a few years you'd be standing next to him at the altar, watching him marry the beauty.

You then joined the danger room, ready for your training with Logan and Morph, the two of them being the best adversaries you could ask for. You opened the door, finding Logan and Morph already fighting. You smiled and decided to leave your feelings for Remy out of the room and focus on the training. Morph noticed you and waved you over, earning them a blow from a chuckling Logan who took advantage of their distraction. You jumped into the fight and used your powers on them, trying your best to dodge the different attacks from the two mutants. You managed to push Logan on the floor, and struggled to maintain the wild force still as you fought with Morph, the mutant taking your own appearance and using your powers against yours.

You didn't know how long you spent in the room but you managed to forget about Remy and Rogue for a moment, having fun with your friends. That until you slipped out of the room and fell face to face with Gambit, smiling widely at you. But no Rogue in sight this time. "Ma jolie! I didn't know you were on the schedule this morning." He said before looking over your shoulder and noticing both Logan and Morph behind you. He slightly frowned but his smile never faltered. "Come on, guys. Don't you think it's a little bit unfair against the lady here?" He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You forced a smile and saw Morph grimace while Logan only walked past the both of you. "Don't worry, Gumbo. She can defend herself pretty well." And with that, he disappeared in the hallways, leaving the three friends alone. Gambit laughed at the nickname and looked down at you, his red irises piercing your more natural looking ones. "Who are you training with today?" You asked, waiting for Rogue's name to fall out of Remy's lips. "I'm alone this morning. Wanna practice my aim without being distracted." He smirked before stepping around you and opening the door. No Rogue? You exchanged a look with Morph who only shrugged before waving you off and leaving to go take a shower.

"Do you mind if I join you in a bit?" You asked, wanting to get a little bit of alone time with him. You missed your best friend. Gambit's lips stretched with a grin and his eyes squinted with joy. "I'd love to, ma jolie." Oh, how you loved when he called you that. He once told you it meant darling, but you got curious and searched it up. For years, Remy was calling you my lovely and you had no idea. Your cheeks flushed with a deep red color and you never mentioned it to him, only appreciating the term of endearment he got used to call you with.

You smiled at Gambit and left him train alone for a bit, doing your best to not rush into the danger room before Rogue could ever have the chance. About an hour later, you joined Remy into the room where he was catching his breath, multiples sentinels defeated on the holographic floor. "Ready for round two?" You asked, planting your hands on your hips and watching him straighten up. You nervously swallowed as he looked down at you, his tall frame dominating your smaller one. His uneven breaths were making it hard for you to focus on something else than his parted lips. But you managed to pull your gaze away, instead looking deep into his dark eyes. Those same eyes that cost him his family and a normal life, as normal as a mutant could ask for. Those same eyes you found yourself falling for every time they looked in your direction. You were about to say something when you heard the door open behind you. "There you are, sugar!" Rogue's southern accent rang through the room. Your smile faltered as Remy's widened, walking past you to join the red head. You turned to the duo and hid your grimace the best you could. "You don't mind if I tag along, do you?" She asked you with a charming smile. And how could you say no when Remy was looking at you the way he was right now? His eyes were practically begging you to accept.

"I don't mind, the more the merrier." You smiled at them and cracked your knuckles before stretching your muscles, getting ready for training. The surroundings changed and now showed a deep forest with tall trees all around you. You could smell the fresh grass, still wet from a rainy night. You looked up and saw some birds flying among the branches. "So, sugar. What did you choose to train on?" Rogue asked Gambit as you all looked around, in search of the enemy. "He should show up any time now." Gambit said as he charged his staff with his kinetic energy before he slammed it to the ground to reach a tree branch where he perched. A man's voice echoed in the forest and Gambit smiled as he looked in the direction of the voice. "There he is." He announced before a flash of red and purple passed in front of you.

You watched Rogue's eyes widen and Gambit jumped down from his perch to land right between you and Rogue. "Team work, ladies." Gambit called before running to Magneto, sending the attack. You followed right after him, using your powers to dodge what the older mutant was sending in your direction and helped Gambit reach a higher point to attack the enemy. Rogue took a bit longer before joining you and you noticed she was holding back when punching. You didn't really know why but guessed she didn't want to harm any of you by accident.

After almost an hour of training, you finally noticed a weakness and you could finish it off if only the three of you attacked at the same time. You shared a look with Remy who nodded, getting your idea. You sent a look to Rogue who also nodded and when both you and Gambit jumped on Magneto, Rogue missed her attack and the two of you were sent back, colliding harshly on the ground. Remy wrapped his arms around your body as you rolled on the ground, protecting you. When you finally stopped, the illusion around you faded and you caught your breath, wincing slightly as your whole body hurt. Gambit got off of you and helped you get up as Rogue ran to you. "Are you okay?" You sighed at her question and turned to her, frowning in anger. "What was that? You could've gotten us seriously hurt!" You exclaimed and you could see she felt guilty for what happened but Remy's hand on your shoulder surprised you. "Come on, it was an accident, ma jolie." His smooth tone and cute nickname for you didn't soothe you, quite the contrary. "We could've had him! If only you followed the movement. What next? You're gonna do the same on an actual mission? Leave us hanging and hurt? Or worse, dead?" You pushed Remy's hand off your shoulder and stepped towards Rogue who stuttered. Gambit called your name but you only saw red, not hearing his voice. You pushed Rogue who stumbled back and Gambit's body slid between the two of you. "That's enough!" He pushed you off her. You snapped back to reality and looked up at him, surprised.

You silently pleaded for him not to choose her but he didn't back off. You sighed and left the danger room, furious and heartbroken. You took the stairs to the first floor and locked yourself in your room, stripping out of your suit and grabbed regular clothes before screaming out your frustration and pain. The anger had your powers make some mess in your room but you couldn't care less. Three knocks at your door pulled you out of your thoughts and you were about to open when you heard his voice. "Ma jolie? Can we talk please?" You sighed and leaned on the door, silent tears running down your face. "I know you're listening, darling. Please open the door." You did as he asked, unable to refuse him anything. Once he noticed your crying eyes, he felt his heart clench. "Oh, ma jolie..." He sighed, stepping into your room and closing the door behind him. Once it was done, he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly as you cried against him. "What's wrong, ma jolie? You never reacted like this before, you scared me."

"I can't deal with her anymore, I just can't..." You whispered, still snuggled into Remy's arms, scared he might disappeared to meet her once again. "Who, Rogue?" He frowned, not knowing what the problem was between the two of you. Things got a little heated in the danger room today but before that, everything was fine. "She's always there, I can't have a single moment with you anymore. I feel like I'm losing you." You confessed, some of the weight on your heart lifting up. "Oh, darling. You're not losing me, I can promise you that. She's not replacing you, ever. She's got another place in my heart than you." And that's what scared you the most, she had the best, the biggest place in his heart. The place you forever wanted. "Why are you so scared of her taking your place?" He then asked, pulling back from your embrace and looking down into your eyes.

"Because I love you." You murmured, looking deep into his demon-like eyes. As tempting as the devil himself. He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "What did you just say?" His arms slipped from your waist, only his fingers now ghosted over your body. "I love you, Remy. I've been falling in love with you for years and it hurts. You have no idea how much it hurts to see you chase after her when she can't pull herself to pick you. I picked you. I always did and will always do." You hiccupped a sob and shrugged your shoulders in defeat. "It's alright if you don't reciprocate my feelings, I can live with that, I have been for years now. But don't keep me around when you're courting her, my heart can't handle it." You added with a sad smile, leaving Remy speechless. You loved him? You have for years? "I... Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked and you frowned, feeling like the answer was pretty obvious. "You're my best friend, Remy. I couldn't ruin that."

"But I loved you." He sighed, vulnerability deeply anchored in his eyes as your heart clenched at his words.

[comicexpertt]

"Don't turn your back on me"

Love is selfish, most of the time.

[unluckiestmember]

Hey so I LOVED your X-Men x sweetheart reader and I was wondering if you could do a similar head cannon of X-Men x kind reader but their reaction to you being good with kids. I just feel like they would have various opinions or feeling if they saw you interacting with a child.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Compassionate! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Jean Gray, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Rogue, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver, Morph, Logan/Wolverine and Jubilee.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: So how did you guys feel about Deadpool and Wolverine?

Cable

“Well would you look at that! Seems someone knows how to get along with the kiddies… Oh don’t mind me, keep playing.”

Cable isn’t used to hanging out with children or being around them due to his workload, but he does enjoy the presence of kids that look up to him. He hasn’t really thought about wanting kids because of his fear that the disaster of a future he’s from would be too harsh for a child to be raised, let alone he is scared that something will happen to them.

However, when he sees you being so compassionate with children, it makes him reconsider a little bit! The sight of you and the kids at the local shelter on his base laughing and playing together makes his heart sour. Whenever he finds himself down in the dumps and needs a good boost or reminder of what he’s fighting for, he will just watch you and the children happily running around and realize why he’s the famous freedom fighter the young ones and yourself admire.

Cyclops

“Huh, you’re a natural at this! Makes me wonder how things would be when you become a parent of your own kid.”

When he sees you taking care of children on and off missions, Scott can’t help but stand and watch you with the biggest smile tugged on his lips. The sight of you all happily living your lives without a care in the world makes him remember the civilians he is fighting for. And more importantly, it makes him think of giving the family thing another shot!

Can you blame him? The way you are with children makes him daydream a perfect life away from the mansion raising a family together and properly being there for your child. Though there is hesitance to it all due to the result of Nathan and his last relationship, if you assure him, then he will definitely try to be a father again. Because with you by his side, can he really fail again?

Jean Gray

“Aww! Are you playing nice? Mind if I join in? I’m sure they would love to see my powers in action.”

Jean has thought of having a family with you when everything is settled down. So before she can have this ideal world of raising a kid with the love of her life, she can get a peek into a potential future in the brief moments of you caring for children, mutant or human. Whenever she sees you taking care of a child, usually during a mission, she will assist you in any way and naturally take up a mother role she’s used to having around the mansion.

The team can always find you two trying to make sad or distraught children on missions turn their frowns upside down with some powers or just speaking to them and making sure they are heard. You and Jean are definitely the go to for young ones, and if you both around children confirms anything, it’s that you two would be great parents someday.

Gambit

“Look at you all go! Mind if Gambit takes a stab at this, mon amour? I’m sure I can win their hearts. I won yours, didn’t I?”

Gambit is used to dealing with the younger folk of the world because of his time around them back home. So when he’s around children, he can easily adapt to them by playing some mindlessly fun games, pulling off tricks with his cards or telling some jokes. That’s not surprising though. What’s really surprising is him finding out you’re a pro when it comes to little kiddies!

When he found out you were a natural, he was beyond impressed by you and even let his mind wonder on a more intimate possible future down the line for the both of you. Around children, he’ll have you both as a package deal with you as the caring caretaker and him as the funny guy who will not hesitate to flirt and send signals your way in front of the kids. With how much he’s flirted with you, the kids always mistake you two for a married couple! A married couple… That doesn’t sound half bad.

Rogue

“You got these kids all excited, running and screaming like a bunch of baby banshees! You’re a natural, babe!”

Rogue wasn’t a big kid person on missions. She simply gets the job done and if there are children that need assistance she leaves it to someone who can be more intimate without fearing they’ll hurt them. She stayed this way until you showed off innocently how well you were with younger civilians.

At first when the mission called for dealing with kids, Rogue watched you from the sideline in silent awe of your tender love and care for children that were distraught or needed a distraction. Yet with time, simply watching you gave her the courage to join in and actually help out by giving out free rides on her back or showing off her immense strength. Together you two are a happy fun couple kids love to be around as much as Rogue just loves being around you. Now whenever there’s a mission with the young ones, she’s more than excited to tag along with you and live in the moment.

Nightcrawler

“May I cut in? I can play a mean game of tag!… Really?! Then round up the kiddies because I’m it!”

Because of Genosha, Nightcralwer is just as good with children as you are! He enjoys his time with the little ones around town or during stakeouts because of how accepting they are of him and how much their laughter fills his heart with joy. Now mix your own laughter in because of your handling with them and the blue devil was sure he was getting a slice of heaven.

The both of you are so well together and with others that the team delegates you both to taking care of the children on missions and making sure they’re okay. Around you both, the kids can expect a bunch of games to be played and a lot of memories to be made. Whenever a mission calls for babysitting, Nightcrawler knows exactly who to call on to assist him in having a little bit of fun on the job!

Magneto

“The future of mutants is bright if you’re around to bring such laughter and happiness.”

Though Erik has children of his own, he’s pretty subpar for a caretaker let alone a babysitter of mutant children. He tries his best of course, but the lack of fatherhood he was allowed made him a bit rough around the edges. Luckily he can depend on you to pick up where he lacks and he thanks you deeply for that.

Everytime he takes a moment to look at you with kids just minding your own business and being giddy without a care in the world, it makes him wonder if he’d be open to trying to raise a family once again. He knows with age and with the weight on his shoulders, it may be harder for him. But if you’re by his side, he wouldn’t mind giving it another try and stepping up to the plate to be a better father than he ever was for Wanda and Pietro.

Morph

“Hey, if the kids want to see a few tricks, send them my way, alright? I can throw them for a loop and think there’s two yous running around!”

Morph is decent with children, but they mainly leave that kind of work to you. When it comes to the more emotional attachment, they need a bit of work on that, but if you’re talking tricks and jokes? Then they are the right person to work with on missions dealing with kids!

They use your connection with children to playfully throw you for a loop by shapeshifting into someone and tricking you a lot just to get some laughter in the air. Most of the time he succeeds but there have been a few times where both of you just team up in some funny interactions that are bound to leave the children happy in your presence. Honestly, Morph wouldn’t care so much, but since you’re around? They don’t know- You just bring out that side of them! And they kind of love it!

Wolverine

“Of course you’d be good with the children, what did I expect?… Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping watch. Have fun.”

Children and Logan don’t mix that well. He just finds it annoying to babysit when he already does that with the teenagers at the mansion. Add that with some crying, whining and begging and he becomes pretty livid. Which is why he doesn’t like missions that deal with kids. That is, unless you’re there to help him out.

He finds your handling of children to not only be a big help for him but also a nice change of pace. It’s adorable seeing how kids easily gravitate towards you and how you let them do whatever they want. Whenever they have you pinned down in a game or surrounded, Logan can’t help but laugh at the cute little ambush before he breaks everything up. He doesn’t like kids and he still can’t stand them. But you make them more bearable, so there’s always that!

Jubilee

“Hey, babe! Send the kids over here- I’m gonna do a mad fireworks show for them!”

Jubilee is, surprisingly enough, really good with kids! She’s a lot like a cool aunt to your nurturing parent bit! She thinks it’s cute that you’re good with children and even compliments you around them when she’s not busy with other kids on a mission. The firecracker can rely on you to assist her or even stop her from making whacky moves that could get some children hurt out of pure excitement.

It’s not hard for everyone to know you two are a couple because of how much she calls you by pet names or makes fireworks that send signals to you if not make some look like you. It’s awfully sweet of her and it makes you comment that not only is she a great girlfriend, but she’d also make a great mom. Though, it’s highly recommended to hold that because if Jubilee hears you speak of motherhood, she’ll cringe at the thought. She likes kids, don’t get her wrong! But she could never be a mom!

If you got any requests for X-Men '97 or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[cuntiel]

This is what I imagined happened to people with metal butt plugs in the xmen universe when Erik uses his powers

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Cherry Lips.

Summary: You spend one night with world famous musician Remy Lebeau and everything changes.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Choking, Spanking, Swearing, Smut. 18+

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes, and there it fucking is. The most useless sentence in the history of humankind. Right up there with, “We’ll call you right back.”

You glance over at him—his pale blue eyes darting everywhere except toward you as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tiny, cramped café. The table between you feels like a mile-wide chasm, and yet, somehow, not far enough. You raise an eyebrow, half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Oh, I know it’s not me,” you say, letting your voice drip with a sarcasm you don’t bother to mask. “It’s Hannah McCoy down the road, isn’t it?”

Six years.

Six whole fucking years boiled down to cheap coffee and a line. One goddamn sentence.

He shifts again, more uncomfortable than before, his hand fidgeting with the napkin as if it’ll give him some kind of answer he’s too much of a coward to say out loud. You can see it—he’s stalling. Trying to find a way to make himself look less like the asshole that he is.

“It wasn’t meant to happen,” he says finally, his voice weak, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. “She was just... there. And she gets me, you know?” His words are lame, hollow, and all the more infuriating because he actually thinks they’re enough.

You laugh—a short, humorless sound that feels more like a release of pent-up rage than anything else. “Oh, she gets you?” you echo, your voice rising a little. “What am I, a fucking puzzle you couldn’t solve?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he stares at the table, his fingers still twisting that stupid napkin into knots. “We’re just... not compatible,” he mutters, as if that explains everything. As if that suddenly makes it all okay.

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “You mean I’m not compatible with your bullshit,” you snap. “Just admit it—you’ve been trying to fuck her for months. Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

He doesn’t answer, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. Anger burns hot and fast in your veins, but underneath it, there’s something else—a deep, bitter ache. Six years. You gave him six years of your life, and now you're sitting in this shitty café as he offers nothing but weak excuses and even weaker apologies.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to meet your eyes for a fleeting second. “Those tickets to the concert tonight... keep them. Go with Nat or someone. She’d probably love it.”

You almost laugh again, but this time it’s too absurd to even entertain. “Oh, I’m going,” you say, voice sharp as a knife. “Whether you’re there or not. I paid good money for those tickets, so don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”

You take a sip of the coffee just to do something with your hands, but it’s as bitter as you feel, and you pull a face. Of course. Even the fucking coffee is shit.

He nods, like this conversation is some kind of negotiation that’s finally being settled. Like you’re both just two rational people agreeing to part ways, when in reality, he’s ripping apart everything you’ve built together. There’s nothing left to say, except—

“I’ll organize a trailer to come get my stuff tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face saying everything: Yeah, you fucking better. You don’t want to see him again, don’t want to hear his voice or catch even a glimpse of his blond hair in the doorway. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. And good riddance.

Pushing back your chair, you stand up and toss a few bills onto the table, more than enough to cover your coffee. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and then lean down just slightly, enough so he can feel the gravity of your words.

“And by the way,” you say, your voice low and cold, “the coffee here tastes like shit.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk out of the café, your footsteps steady and sure, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Tonight, you’ll go to the concert—Remy LeBeau live at the old warehouse downtown. The tickets you bought months ago, back when you thought you’d be going together, back when you didn’t know your relationship was already on its slow, agonizing descent.

But now, it’s just you. And you’ll go. And you’ll scream the lyrics if you have to. Because you paid for those tickets with your own damn money, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him ruin the one thing you’ve been looking forward to for months.

The door to the café swings shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel something close to freedom. <><><><><> "So he really just did that, huh?" Nat says, almost incredulous, as she runs a straightener through her fiery red hair. Each strand falls smoothly over her shoulder, contrasting sharply with the black band tee she’s wearing. Meanwhile, you sit on the edge of the bed, focused on pulling your black fishnet stockings over your legs, the faint snap of the fabric a sharp punctuation to the conversation.

You nod, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. "Yep. Pulled the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit too."

You stand up, reaching for the pair of black booty shorts lying on the bed next to you. The cool fabric slides easily over the stockings as you adjust them, making sure they sit just right. You catch Nat’s eyes in the mirror as she pauses, mid-straighten.

"Hannah McCoy," she says, her tone flat, almost clinical, as if she’s diagnosing an obvious problem. "She’s the blue-haired girl on your corner, right? Goes to college in town?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "That would be her," you reply, grabbing your eyeliner and starting your makeup routine. Your reflection looks back at you, the same you, but tonight’s different. Tonight, you want to look like someone who’s ready to burn the world down. Or at least, burn away the memory of your ex.

Nat’s phone buzzes on the dresser. She picks it up, scrolling through her feed with a frown before tossing the phone toward you.

"Take a look at this," she says, her voice laced with a kind of cautious sympathy. "Looks like she’s going to be there tonight with ‘someone special.’" Her finger hovers over the image, zooming in on a guy’s hand. "Whose tattoo does that look like?"

Your stomach twists as you glance down at the screen. The photo shows Hannah McCoy, grinning ear to ear, her lips pressed against a man’s hand. But it’s not just any hand. It’s one you’ve held countless times. One you’ve traced with your fingers. And that tattoo, the one in familiar looping script? You had paid for that tattoo on your second anniversary.

Your ex’s tattoo.

You feel a surge of anger rise in your chest. “Oh, the universe fucking hates me, I swear,” you mutter, tossing the phone back toward Nat. “The audacity of knowing I’m going to be there and still taking the woman you left me for is... ballsy.”

Nat shrugs, but there’s a glint of anger in her eyes on your behalf. "I’m more impressed he managed to get tickets this late. I thought they were all sold out."

"Obviously planning this one for months then," you comment, rolling your eyes as you start blending your eyeshadow. Months. Months of fake smiles, distant conversations, and a growing gap you both refused to talk about. It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the breakup—you’d felt the relationship fizzling out for a while now. The spark had died sometime last year. Maybe even earlier than that, if you were honest with yourself.

But this? This was an entirely different kind of hurt. The fact that he had the nerve to not only break up with you but to bring the woman he cheated with to a concert he knew you were going to be at? It felt like a slap in the face. Like he wanted to gloat, to show off what he’d traded you for.

It wasn’t the breakup that stung. It was the sheer gall of how he was doing it.

"Does he think I’m just going to sit there and pretend they don’t exist?" you mutter, applying a deep red lipstick with more force than necessary. "Like, what, I’m supposed to be okay watching them together? He’s really trying to rub this in my face."

Nat finishes her hair and turns to face you, her expression softening. She walks over, picking up a bottle of perfume from the nightstand. With a gentle hand, she sprays a light mist over you, the scent filling the room as she leans in, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror grins mischievously.

"Well, you scrub up damn fine," she says with a wink. "And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, because that always works out perfectly," you reply, but a small smile tugs at your lips. You’re not looking for a rebound tonight. You’re not even looking to get over him, because deep down, you already are. What you’re looking for is to reclaim something for yourself.

You glance over at the concert tickets sitting on your dresser, the cheap paper so full of promise just a few weeks ago. Remy LeBeau, live in town, the rock concert you’d been excited about for months, back when you thought you’d be going with your ex.

But now? Now it’s just you and Nat. And maybe that’s exactly what you need.

"Fuck him," you say, standing taller and adjusting your shirt as you finish the last swipe of mascara. "Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about me. And damn it, I’m going to have a good time."

Nat grins, stepping back and giving you an approving once-over. "That’s the spirit. Let’s make tonight one to remember."

And as you grab your jacket and head for the door, you know one thing for sure: whatever happens tonight, you’re walking in there on your own terms. <><><><><><><> Crowded.

That was probably the only word that could remotely describe the scene in front of you. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of leather, fishnet, black band tees, combat boots, and patches sewn onto worn-out denim jackets. The crowd seemed endless, bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy bass thumping through the massive speakers. It was as if the entire city had poured into this venue, all drawn to the electric energy of the night. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke from someone sneaking a smoke break in the corner.

The venue itself was a cavernous, industrial space—an old warehouse repurposed into a music hall. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and metal railings lined the second-floor balcony where people leaned over, drinks in hand, watching the stage below. The walls were painted in dark, muted colors, and the dim lighting only served to heighten the sense of anticipation. Neon signs flickered above the bar, casting a ghostly glow across the crowd, while the stage at the far end of the room was bathed in deep reds and purples, waiting for the main act to start.

Nat held your hand tightly as she wove her way through the throng of people, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. You followed closely behind her, trying to keep pace, though your eyes kept darting over the crowd, searching, whether you wanted them to or not. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were scanning for that familiar flash of blue hair—her hair.

You hated that you were doing it. Hated that even here, in the middle of what was supposed to be your night, you were still thinking about them. About him and her. And of course, Nat knew. She always knew. She didn’t even have to say anything; she just gave your hand an extra squeeze, her silent way of telling you she understood.

She always understands, you think. Nat knows you better than you know yourself most days.

Finally reaching the bar, Nat let go of your hand and flagged down the bartender. The music was loud- Someone’s voice already blaring through the speakers as the opening band wrapped up their final song—but even over the noise, you could hear Nat’s shout. "Two shots of tequila!" she ordered, not bothering to ask if you wanted one. She knew you did.

You leaned against the bar, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at you since you walked in. It was stupid to let him—and her—invade your mind like this. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken anymore. The relationship had been dead for months, and you knew it. But here, tonight, knowing they were somewhere in the crowd at the same concert you’d been looking forward to for weeks? It felt like a sick cosmic joke.

The thought made your stomach twist. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose and forget about him. About them. But all you could think about was the fact that they might be here, just a few feet away, holding hands like you used to, maybe even in the same spot you and he had planned to stand.

"Here," Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts as she handed you a shot. "To assholes who don’t deserve your energy," she said, raising her glass.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "To assholes," you repeated, clinking your glass against hers before throwing the shot back. The tequila burned its way down your throat, but it was exactly what you needed. A little fire to match the one brewing in your chest.

The music shifted as the opening band finished their set, and the energy in the room changed. The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation. You turned toward the stage, watching as the roadies scurried around, setting up for Remy LeBeau. You could feel the excitement building, the air practically vibrating with it.

And then, the lights flashed once, twice, and a single spotlight hit the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers and screams as Remy himself stepped out, swaggering to the microphone with a confidence that could only belong to a rockstar. His presence was magnetic—dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his voice... oh, his voice.

Deep. Gritty. Raw.

It thundered through the venue, shaking the very walls as he belted out the opening lines of his first song. The crowd surged forward, bodies pressed even closer together, arms raised, hands reaching for the stage. The bass pounded in your chest, the drums a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. You could feel the music in your bones, vibrating through your skin, drowning out every other thought.

Nat handed you another drink, this time a beer, and you took it gratefully, letting the cold liquid wash away the heat from the shot. You both stood there at the bar, watching the stage, the music wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you forgot about him. You forgot about her. It was just you, Nat, and the music.

"God, he’s so fucking good live," Nat shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she sipped her drink.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. Yeah, he was good. Really good. And for the first time tonight, you felt yourself relax, even if only a little.

But still, there was that nagging thought in the back of your mind. You glanced around the venue again, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t that you were upset about the breakup itself. You’d moved past that. What pissed you off was that he had the nerve to bring her here. To the concert you were supposed to go to. It felt like a deliberate move, like he wanted you to see them together, to rub it in your face.

Nat caught you looking around and rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she said, nudging you with her elbow. "They don’t matter. You matter. And tonight is about having fun, okay?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. She was always right.

"Okay," you said, offering her a small smile. "I’m done. I swear."

"Good," she replied with a grin, taking another swig of her drink. "Because tonight, we’re here to get drunk, scream along to some killer music, and remind you exactly who the fuck you are."

As Remy’s voice echoed through the venue, the music engulfing both of you, you decided that maybe—just maybe—you could let yourself enjoy this. You were here for you. For Nat. For the music. Not for him. Not for her. It was halfway through the fourth song, the chorus echoing through the packed venue, when you saw it. That unmistakable flash of blue hair cutting through the crowd like a knife. Your heart, which had been pounding with the rhythm of the music, suddenly felt like it had missed a beat.

And there he was—right behind her, laughing, his flushed cheeks glowing under the stage lights. His arm was casually draped around her shoulder, the same way it used to rest around yours, and the sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The tequila and beer you’d been enjoying just minutes earlier suddenly felt too heavy, like a stone sinking in your gut.

You and Nat had been singing along, swaying to the music, your voices blending with the hundreds of others around you. It had been a good moment. No, it had been a great moment. You were finally letting go, letting the music take you somewhere far away from him, from them. But now, that bubble had popped, and the reality of seeing them together, in your space, shattered the fragile sense of peace you’d been clinging to.

They were making their way toward you, pushing through the mass of bodies with casual arrogance. You could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw you—his steps faltering just for a moment before he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She paused too, her gaze finally landing on you, and for a brief second, you could see the hesitation in her face. But then they kept moving, like they had every right to be in your orbit.

You raised your drink to your lips, taking a large, deliberate sip, trying to calm the surge of anger rising in your chest. It hadn’t even been a full day. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from you in that dingy café and called it quits. And now here he was, parading her around like some kind of victory lap.

The audacity, the fucking audacity of it all, made your blood boil. You weren’t heartbroken—no, that wasn’t it. You’d been ready for the end. What you weren’t ready for was this. Him, swinging her around like a prize, like he hadn’t just destroyed six years of history and walked away like it was nothing.

Nat saw it too—the way your grip tightened on your glass, the way your jaw clenched as they got closer. She didn’t say anything, but you caught the look she shot you out of the corner of your eye. She knew that glint in your eyes, knew what it meant. It was the same look you got right before you were about to do something reckless. Or, more accurately, something that was probably going to get you both kicked out of the venue.

"You okay?" Nat asked, her voice low, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

Before you could respond, they were standing right in front of you. Him and her. The blue-haired girl who had been a shadow in the background of your life for months, and now was front and center, arm-in-arm with your ex.

"Hey," he said, because of course he would. His voice was casual, like he wasn’t standing there with the woman he’d emotionally cheated on you with, like he hadn’t just blown up your entire relationship less than a day ago. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. Didn’t think I’d see you here? The nerve of him acting like this was some kind of chance meeting, like he hadn’t known exactly where you’d be tonight. The tickets had been your idea in the first place. He knew. He fucking knew.

Nat shifted beside you, her hand subtly brushing against your arm like a warning, but you were already too far gone. That anger, that bitterness, it was bubbling up faster than you could control it, and there was no way in hell you were going to let this slide.

"Really?" you replied, your voice sweet with an edge of venom. "Didn’t think you’d see me here? At the concert I bought tickets for? The one we were supposed to go to together?"

He had the decency to at least look uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, just stood there, her blue hair framing her face, her expression unreadable. You weren’t even mad at her, not really. This was his mess.

"Look, I didn’t want it to be weird—" he started, but you were already done.

Without saying a word, you lifted your drink, the cold condensation dripping down your fingers, and poured it over his head. The liquid splashed over his blond hair, soaking into his shirt, and for a split second, the entire world seemed to go silent. His mouth dropped open in shock, and the people around you gasped, some even laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Nat’s eyes went wide, but you could see the admiration behind her surprise. She knew this was coming, and honestly? So did you.

"Oops," you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Guess I didn’t see you there."

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You grabbed Nat’s hand and spun on your heel, pulling her away from the bar, away from them, and into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the two of you practically sprinted toward the back of the venue, weaving your way through the sea of people.

By the time you stopped, both of you were breathless, and Nat was laughing so hard she had to lean against a nearby wall to catch her breath. "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was... that was fucking epic."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension in your chest finally releasing as you leaned against her, the two of you a giggling mess. It felt good. It felt really good. For the first time all night, you felt like you had control over something. You weren’t just reacting. You were choosing how this night was going to go. And if that meant getting a little messy, so be it.

As your laughter finally started to die down, you glanced back toward the stage, still riding the high of the moment. And that’s when you saw him—Remy. He was looking straight at you from the stage, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, like he’d seen the whole thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

For a second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you—his grin, your flushed cheeks, and the thrum of the music vibrating in the air around you. There was something in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken again, but not in anger this time. No, this was different.

Nat nudged you with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her face. "Looks like someone’s got an admirer," she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your own face was impossible to hide. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all. The concert had ended, but the adrenaline from the night still buzzed through your veins like an electric current. You and Nat were stumbling out of the packed venue, laughing uncontrollably, replaying the entire night’s events in your heads. The music still echoed in your ears, and your bodies still thrummed with the energy of the crowd, the lights, and that moment when you’d dumped your drink over your ex’s head. It had been perfect—like something out of a movie—and you couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer audacity of it all.

"Did you see his face?" Nat cackled, leaning against you as you both pushed through the departing crowd. "Like, I don’t think he’s ever been so shocked in his life. You actually—" she paused, wiping a tear from her eye, "—you fucking drowned him!"

You were still giggling, the satisfaction blooming in your chest. "I mean, he deserved it. Who brings the girl they cheated with to the same concert as their ex? I did him a favor, honestly." Nat was about to respond when you both noticed the man pushing his way through the sea of people toward you. He was hard to miss: a burly, balding guy in a black shirt, wearing a lanyard and an earpiece, the telltale signs of venue security. The sight of him was enough to send a jolt of panic through your body, and you instinctively grabbed Nat’s arm.

You exchanged a look—both of you wide-eyed with matching oh shit expressions. There was no way this wasn’t about what had just happened at the bar. Shit, shit, shit.

"Uh, what do we do?" you whispered under your breath, trying to calculate your chances of slipping away unnoticed. But it was too late. The security guard had already spotted you.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, clearly annoyed but not quite angry. He exhaled sharply and jerked his head toward the back of the venue. "Come with me," he said, his voice gruff, leaving no room for argument.

You and Nat exchanged another glance, this time your heart sinking. Oh, great. Here we go. You opened your mouth to protest, trying to play it cool. "Uh, yeah, I don’t really go anywhere with strange men. Learned that one a long time ago."

The security guard rolled his eyes so hard you worried they might get stuck. "Mr. LeBeau wants to see you," he said, his voice low but firm, like he had better things to do than argue with you.

That stopped you cold. "What?" you said, blinking, any thoughts of running or playing dumb immediately evaporating. Your brain tried to catch up with the words, but they didn’t make sense. "Mr. LeBeau" as in... Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau who had been up on stage not twenty minutes ago, singing his heart out, making the entire venue lose their minds?

Nat’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, clearly as stunned as you were. "Like, Remy Remy? The guy we just watched? Wants to see... us?"

The security guard gave a curt nod, clearly unimpressed by your confusion. "Yeah. He saw what you did at the bar." He smirked a little, like he couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. "Said it was the highlight of his night."

Your heart was pounding now, but for an entirely different reason. You could still picture Remy’s face from earlier, that moment after you’d drenched your ex. He’d been singing, but he’d seen you—grinning down from the stage with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he was in on the joke. And now he wanted to see you. You.

Nat was already tugging at your arm. "Holy shit, we have to go," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Are you kidding me? The man himself wants to meet you!"

Your mind was spinning, a dizzy mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of fever dream. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting in a café getting dumped by your ex, and now... now you were about to meet a rockstar. The rockstar.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Okay," you said, your voice shaky but determined. There was no way you were going to pass this up. Not after everything that had happened tonight. "Okay, let’s go."

The security guard turned on his heel and led the way, weaving through the last remnants of the crowd as you and Nat followed closely behind. You could feel your heart racing, your palms slightly sweaty as you tried to process what was about to happen.

"Remy LeBeau," Nat whispered, half to herself, half to you, as you walked. "Dude, what the hell is even happening right now?"

"I have no idea," you muttered, glancing down at your outfit, suddenly feeling both excited and self-conscious. The adrenaline from earlier was still humming through your veins, but now it had turned into something else. Nerves. Anticipation.

The security guard stopped at a door near the back of the venue, nodding to another guard who waved you through without hesitation. You stepped inside, and the noise of the venue faded behind you, replaced by the quieter, more intimate hum of the backstage area. The walls were lined with posters and equipment cases, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat lingering in the air.

And then, there he was.

Remy LeBeau.

He stood near the back of the room, leaning casually against a table as if he hadn’t just performed in front of hundreds of people. His dark hair was still damp with sweat, and he had a half-smile on his lips, that same mischievous look in his eyes that you’d noticed from the stage. He was just as magnetic up close as he had been from afar, his presence filling the room without even trying.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Th’ girl who made my night." His eyes flicked over to Nat, acknowledging her but clearly focused on you. "An’ her partner in crime, I assume?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Uh, yeah, that was... me," you said, trying to play it cool but knowing full well you were probably failing miserably.

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the table, walking toward you with an easy confidence. "I got’ta say," he continued, "I’ve seen a’lo’ of crazy shit in my time, but tha’..." He shook his head, grinning. "Tha’ was somethin’ special."

Nat nudged you, her eyes wide with excitement, and you could feel your face flush with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little breathless. "It felt pretty damn good."

Remy raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Y’re a firecracker, aren’ y’?" He glanced between you and Nat, then back at you. "I like tha’."

For a moment, you just stood there, not entirely sure what to say. This was surreal. You were standing in front of Remy LeBeau, who had not only witnessed your dramatic confrontation with your ex but had actually enjoyed it. And now he was talking to you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

Nat, as usual, broke the silence first. "So, uh, what now?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Remy tilted his head, still watching you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I wa’ thinkin’," he said slowly, "y’ two seem like the kin’a girls who know how t’ have a good time. And I’m not quite ready for the night t’ end." He flashed a grin. "What do y’ say we grab a drink? My treat."

Your heart skipped a beat. This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable. You glanced at Nat, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then back at Remy.

"Yeah," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "We’d love that." The night had a dreamlike quality to it, a hazy mix of laughter, music still buzzing in your ears, and the steady pulse of alcohol warming your veins. You and Nat found yourselves sitting with the band long after most of the crowd had cleared out, the afterglow of the concert still lingering in the air. Empty bottles were strewn across the table, and the conversation was flowing easily, Nat animatedly explaining something to the drummer and bassist, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing out laughter from everyone around her.

But even amidst the easy banter, the shared stories, and the laughter, you could feel it—him. Remy’s eyes on you. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, like a heat that lingered on your skin. You were talking to the guitarist about some band you’d both seen live a few years ago, your conversation relaxed and casual, but every so often, you’d glance up, and there he’d be. Watching you.

Remy LeBeau.

There was something about him that pulled people in, a quiet magnetism that didn’t demand attention so much as command it. He wasn’t the type to shout or make a spectacle of himself, but when his eyes locked on you, it was as if everything else in the room faded away. He didn’t need to do anything more than smirk, that small, knowing curve of his lips, and it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just because he was a rockstar—though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was something deeper. Something in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it.

And now, he was watching you, that same smirk playing on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. You tried to focus on what the guitarist was saying, but it was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, the flutter in your stomach every time you caught Remy’s gaze.

It wasn’t long before Remy made his way over to you, slipping into the seat beside you with a kind of effortless grace. The guitarist gave him a nod and, sensing the shift in energy, excused himself to grab another drink, leaving you alone with Remy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still buzzing with energy, Nat’s laughter ringing out from across the table as she leaned into the drummer, her legs now casually draped over his thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles along her calves. You smiled at the sight of her, happy that she was enjoying herself. But when you turned back to Remy, your breath caught in your throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering hints of sweat from the concert.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you.

"Y’ having a good nigh’?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushed against your skin.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. "Yeah. Better than I expected, honestly."

"Tha’ so?" He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Didn’ think y’d end up backstage with a bunch of rockstars, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, definitely didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d spend the night drowning in cheap drinks and bad memories. Maybe even getting arrested for assault after the bar incident," You glanced briefly at Nat, still lost in her own world, then back at him. "But this... this is way better."

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, his smirk giving way to something a little more genuine. "Good. Y’ deserve better th’ bad memories and shit ex-boyfrien’s."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the tequila or the way his voice wrapped around the words like a promise, but suddenly, the room felt smaller, the space between you and him charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. "So, you always invite girls backstage who pour drinks on their exes?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Remy chuckled, leaning back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "No’ always. But y’... well, y’ caught my attention."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of boldness rise within you. "Oh yeah? What was it? The drink? The fishnets?"

He grinned, his eyes darkening slightly as he tilted his head. "Maybe it was the way y’ didn’ let him get th’ last word. Or maybe it’s th’ way you carry y’self, like y’ve got fire in y’." His voice lowered, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I like that."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. You could feel the tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you like a thread waiting to snap.

You glanced down at your drink, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his leg was brushing against yours under the table. The room was still full of people, but it felt like the two of you were in a bubble, separate from everything else. Your pulse quickened, and when you looked back up at him, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt it too.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretches out endlessly, where you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you know something is. You could feel the question lingering in the air—unspoken, but loud enough to drown out everything else.

And then, as if the decision had already been made, Remy leaned in just slightly, his voice low and rough. "Y’ wanna get out of here?"

It wasn’t a question so much as an invitation, one that hung between you like a challenge. Your heart was pounding now, your palms slightly sweaty as you held his gaze. You knew what he was asking, knew exactly where this was going. And despite the chaos of the night, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had started with seeing your ex, there was no hesitation in your mind.

You wanted this.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Remy’s smirk deepened, and without another word, he stood up, offering you his hand. You glanced over at Nat, who was still wrapped up with the drummer, her legs now fully draped across his lap, lost in her own world. She caught your eye for a brief moment and gave you a knowing grin, mouthing, Go.

You took Remy’s hand, letting him guide you through the backstage corridors, the noise of the room fading behind you as you walked. The air felt cooler as you moved away from the crowd, but the heat between the two of you only intensified with each step.

By the time you reached the door to his dressing room, your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of your chest. Every step you took down the corridor had been charged with anticipation, your pulse quickening with each second, each unspoken word between you and Remy. You could still feel the lingering heat of the room you'd just left, still hear the faint hum of voices and music filtering through the walls, but it all felt so distant now—like the world outside had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of heightened energy and unspoken desire.

Remy opened the door with an easy grace, his hand lingering on the handle as he gestured for you to step inside. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a lamp in the corner casting warm, golden light over the space. There was no harshness, no coldness—it felt intimate, like a place where secrets could be shared and moments could stretch into forever. The air in the room was cooler than the heat of the venue, but it was thick with something else, something palpable between you, something that had been building all night.

As you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the moment settling over you, a bittersweet mix of nerves and excitement surging through your veins. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint sounds of the distant music were muted, leaving only a soft hum in the background. It felt like a cocoon, a space where the outside world no longer existed, where the chaos and noise of the night couldn’t reach you.

You turned to face him, and that fragile tension—so carefully held in check since the moment you had caught him watching you from the stage—finally snapped. The charged atmosphere between you suddenly ignited, and in the span of a breath, Remy closed the distance between you. His movements were deliberate but urgent, a man who had been waiting for this as much as you had. His hands, strong and sure, slid around your waist, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

Then, his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, as if both of you were feeling out the boundaries of this moment. But it didn’t stay soft for long. The urgency that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise, like a flame fanned by a gust of wind. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pulled him closer, needing him closer. His breath hitched as your fingers slid through the strands, and you could feel the way his body responded to your touch, the way his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

And just like that, everything else fell away.

The music, the crowd, the chaos of the night—it all melted into the background, like a distant memory that no longer mattered. All that existed was the heat between your bodies, the taste of him on your lips, the way his hands roamed over your back, exploring, wanting. Each kiss, each touch, sent sparks of electricity shooting through you, lighting up every nerve, every inch of your skin. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, like the night had been building to this moment all along.

You weren’t thinking about your ex anymore. He had been nothing more than a brief, bitter distraction, a fleeting shadow that had been erased by the intensity of what was happening now. You weren’t thinking about the way his arm had been slung around her shoulders, or the way they had laughed as if you didn’t exist. That whole mess, that entire chapter of your life, felt miles away—insignificant in the face of what you were feeling now.

All you could focus on was Remy—the way his hands moved over your skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts between kisses. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care. You had never felt so alive, so seen, as you did in that moment, with him.

There was something intoxicating about the way he touched you, like he was both savoring every second and barely able to contain himself. His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours sending another jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat, and when his lips found yours again, it was like the world tilted on its axis, spinning faster, pulling you deeper into the gravity of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch, to bend around you, making every second feel heavy with possibility. You could feel the weight of his desire in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, closer—like he couldn’t get enough. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this moment to end.

Your back hit the wall gently, and before you knew it, his body was pressed against yours, his hands framing your face as he kissed you with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell in time with your own ragged breaths. It was all-consuming, the kind of connection that made everything else fade into oblivion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt free—untethered from the weight of your past, from the pain of your ex, from the expectations you had placed on yourself. With Remy, it was different. It was easy. It was exactly what you hadn’t realized you needed.

And as his hands slid lower, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering something low and full of promise, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment, to him. “Fuck,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with lust, dripping with raw desire. His accent was heavier now, his words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, one meant only for you. “Y’re so fucking beautiful.”

The room around you seemed to fade, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls, isolating the two of you in this moment. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, but before you could even muster a response, Remy’s hands were on your thighs.

Strong, calloused hands slid up your legs, pushing them apart with deliberate ease, his touch firm but gentle, like he was savoring every second. Time seemed to slow as he sank to his knees before you, his body lowering gracefully, and the sight of him—Remy LeBeau, on his knees for you—made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips parted slightly, and you sucked in a breath. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world he wanted at this moment.

You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your shorts, teasing the fabric aside as he slipped beneath the hem, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your body responding instantly to his proximity, to the heat of his breath against your skin.

"Remy," you breathed, your voice barely audible, strained and shaky, trembling with need. Your eyes locked onto his, and the way he looked up at you—kneeling before you like a worshipper at an altar—made your knees weak.

He grinned, that familiar, wicked curve of his lips that drove you wild, and without breaking eye contact, his fingers dipped further, tracing soft circles along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation running hot through your veins, every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch.

With one swift motion, his fingers slid beneath your shorts and into your underwear, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation. His touch was confident, practiced, knowing. He pressed his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you cry out. Your hips jerked involuntarily toward him, your body desperate for more, for everything he was giving you.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating against your skin. The sound of it sent another wave of heat coursing through you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in torturously slow strokes, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You could feel the tension building inside you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

Your body was trembling, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You were right on the edge, teetering there, your thighs trembling against his hands, your entire body aching with the need to come. You could feel it building, that sweet, aching pressure deep in your core, and you moaned, your voice a broken plea.

But just when you were about to tip over into bliss, Remy’s fingers withdrew, leaving you gasping, your body trembling, your mind reeling from the sudden loss of contact. You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, your body still throbbing with need, and you stared down at him, your chest heaving.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desperation, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Don’t stop." You could barely form the words, your body crying out for more, for him.

Remy’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes dark with amusement and promise as he slowly stood, his body towering over you now, casting a long shadow in the dim light. His fingers, still slick with you, brushed against your lip for the briefest moment before he wiped them on his jeans, never once breaking eye contact. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, something that made your pulse quicken all over again, your body aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise, each word sending shivers down your spine. He reached down, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment, the touch strangely tender considering the hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers slid down your jaw, tracing the line of your neck, lingering there as if feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved lower, over your collarbone, down the curve of your chest, before settling at the hem of your shirt. He tugged at it gently, his eyes flicking to yours, silently asking for permission. Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, your body already aching for more of him, already craving the feel of his skin against yours.

In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, casting it aside without a second thought. You were bare before him now, and the way his eyes roamed over your body, dark and intense, made your skin flush with heat. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel his breath, warm and heavy against your skin.

His hands, large and sure, moved to your waist, pulling you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was deep and demanding. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue sliding between your lips, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers as he held you close.

The kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate, as your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction sent another wave of desire crashing through you, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Remy broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m gonn’ make y’ scream my name tonight." His voice was a low growl, full of promise, and the sound of it made your core tighten with anticipation.

You were already lost to him, already craving everything he had promised. Your body trembled with the need to feel him inside you, to have him everywhere all at once. You could barely think, barely breathe, as he guided you backward toward the couch, his hands never leaving your body, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When your legs hit the edge of the couch, you sank down onto it, your body trembling with anticipation. Remy stood over you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his chest broad, his muscles taut, every inch of him exuding raw, masculine power.

He lowered himself onto the couch, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding your skin once more. The weight of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours, sent another wave of desire crashing through you. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you arched into his touch, your body aching for more, for everything he had to give. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, with a possessive intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. There was something about the way Remy touched you—like he was memorizing you, staking his claim with every brush of his fingers. His palms slid up your sides, tracing the lines of your body, before cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow at first, teasing, until they hardened into tight peaks beneath his touch. The sensation pulled a low moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily as you pressed yourself against him, craving more.

His mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent, his tongue moving against yours in a dance that was equal parts dominance and submission. It was a battle for control, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to win. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Every kiss, every touch, was like gasoline poured on an already roaring fire, and you were both more than willing to let it burn.

"Y; taste so good," Remy murmured against your lips, his voice rough and gravelly, thick with desire. His breath was hot as it ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words made your pulse quicken, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Before you could respond, his hand began its descent, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, and then dipping beneath it, his touch featherlight but full of promise. The anticipation made your thighs clench, your body aching for him to touch you where you needed him most.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively lifting toward him. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core as his fingers began to move, stroking you with expert precision. He found your clit almost immediately, circling it with his thumb in slow, deliberate movements that made your breath hitch and your body tremble.

"Remy," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling as he touched you. His fingers pressed deeper, probing, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and your body responded instantly, arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He watched you as he worked, his eyes dark and filled with lust, taking in every reaction, every gasp, every moan. There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at you, like he was savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath him. His thumb moved faster now, circling your clit with a pressure that was both perfect and overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Please…" you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting closer, your entire body taut with anticipation, teetering on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to tip over, Remy pulled back, his fingers slipping away, leaving you gasping, your body aching with need. Your eyes flew open, wide and desperate, and you looked up at him, your chest heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Beg f’r it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, commanding edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and for a moment, your pride flared up, making you hesitate. But the need was too strong, too overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of you.

"Please, Remy," you whispered, your voice trembling, your body trembling. "Please, make me come."

There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Tha’ my girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, and then his mouth was on you.

He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he removed your shorts, leaving you fully exposed to him. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth descended on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a speed and precision that made you cry out. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands as you held on for dear life, your body trembling beneath the onslaught of sensation.

Remy devoured you like a man starved, his tongue working you with an intensity that bordered on desperate. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue, driving you absolutely wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, your body moving on its own as you chased the pleasure, the tension inside you building higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely coherent, your body trembling uncontrollably as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too intense, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. You were desperate for release, your thighs shaking, your nerves singing with pleasure as his tongue moved faster, pushing you right to the brink.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. "I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let up. His tongue continued its relentless assault, flicking over your clit with a speed and precision that left you gasping for breath. He was merciless, pushing you closer and closer until finally, with a shuddering gasp, you came. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under, your body convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you in uncontrollable, shuddering waves.

You cried out, your vision blurring as the intensity of it overwhelmed you, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But Remy didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, softer now but still persistent, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were left gasping, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were barely aware of your surroundings as you came down from the high, your body still trembling, your thighs slick with sweat and the aftermath of your release. Remy’s hands slid up your legs, soothing now, his touch gentle as he kissed his way up your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

When he finally reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, unhurried way that sent a new wave of heat through your body. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just happened, and it made your already racing heart pound even harder.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down at you. "I’m not done with y’ yet," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes sent another jolt of anticipation through you. You knew he meant every word, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you realized you didn’t want him to stop.

Not tonight. Not ever. He held your gaze, eyes dark and unyielding, the weight of his presence suffocating in the most delicious way. His body was close, too close, the heat rolling off him in waves that made your skin prickle with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me what y’ wan’."

The command hung in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart thundered in your chest, the words you desperately wanted to say caught in your throat. But his gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, demanding your confession. You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you finally gave in to the desire burning inside you.

"I want…" you hesitated, the flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but the raw need in his eyes pushed you forward. "I want you to spank me," you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to be my Daddy."

A slow, predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, sending a thrill of anticipation through you. He moved closer, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the soft cushions of the couch. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel thick and heavy.

"Tha’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with unmistakable pride. The praise wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your skin tingle. "Y’re going to be such a good girl fo’ Daddy, aren’ y’?"

Your throat was tight, but you nodded, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, Daddy." His smile widened, a dark, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes as his hands slid slowly down your body, fingertips grazing your skin with deliberate intent. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation through you, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body as though you were his to command—and you were.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice low, authoritative, and laced with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You stood up, the cool air brushing against your skin, making you feel exposed in the most thrilling way. But there was no hesitation in your movements. You held his gaze, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips as you obeyed, the desire in his eyes only fueling the heat pooling deep in your stomach. The intensity of his stare, the hunger he didn’t bother to hide, made your body hum with anticipation.

"You ready for Daddy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your core tighten with need.

You nodded, your breath coming in short bursts as you braced yourself, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you. The tension coiled in your muscles, every nerve on high alert as you waited for the first strike.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. The sting of it spread across your ass, sharp and hot, and you gasped, your body jerking forward from the force. But there was no time to adjust, no time to catch your breath—his hand was already coming down again, harder this time.

The rhythm he set was punishing, each slap harder than the last, the sharp pain blending beautifully into the growing pleasure. Your skin burned where his hand struck, the heat blooming in waves that spread through your entire body. You moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, pushing back toward him, craving more.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice soothing but firm, like he was rewarding your submission even as his hand came down again. "Taking it so well for Daddy."

The praise made your chest tighten with something heady and warm, your core throbbing with need. You could feel the wetness between your thighs growing, the ache there intensifying with each slap. The mix of pain and pleasure, of his control and your willingness to submit, was intoxicating. Your mind was spinning, lost in the haze of sensation as your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, your skin tingling with every strike, the heat radiating from your ass as his hand continued its relentless assault. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. The pain was delicious, sharp and biting, but it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

Remy’s hand finally stilled, resting against your heated skin, his fingers brushing over the marks he’d left. The gentleness of his touch after the punishment made your breath hitch, sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel your body trembling, teetering on the edge of something raw and powerful.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.

Your legs were shaking as you obeyed, turning to face him on the couch. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from the spanking as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He looked down at you like you were his possession, something precious and fragile but also something he could break if he wanted to.

"Daddy’s proud of y’" he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. The words sent a ripple of warmth through you, making your skin flush with pride. But then his expression shifted, darkening with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. "But Daddy needs to hear y’ beg."

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you looked up at him, your mind spinning with the mixture of fear and anticipation. The weight of his command hung heavy in the air, and you knew there was no escaping it. You wanted to beg. Needed to.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, make me come."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped closer, looming over you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your throat. His grip was firm but gentle as his fingers curled around your neck, his thumb brushing over the rapid pulse at your throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with approval. The words he spoke made your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that left you feeling both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You were his, completely in this moment, but knowing that you still held the reins—that he was listening, that he would stop if you asked—made your body tingle with anticipation. His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough for your breath to hitch, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you. Every nerve in your body was alight, your skin buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop. You double tap if you need me to stop," he said softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through you. The reassurance grounded you, a reminder that despite the intensity, this was still your choice. The control you had over the situation only made your submission all the more intoxicating. You wanted this, craved it, and he knew it.

The sensation of his hand around your throat was overwhelming, the pressure making your pulse race beneath his fingers. It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—it was the power in his touch, the way it made you feel utterly exposed and completely his. Your body responded instantly, a flood of heat pooling between your legs as his thumb brushed over your pulse. The world felt smaller, quieter, like nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the way his hand made you submit so completely.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper that made your stomach tighten with desire. "I wan’ta see those pretty eyes on me when you beg, baby."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling at the raw hunger in his voice. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the air as you struggled to catch your breath. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, and your eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

"Look a’ me," he growled, his voice low and demanding, and the way he said it made your heart lurch in your chest.

Your gaze locked with his, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel heavy, like it was pressing down on you. His eyes were dark, filled with fierce possession, and the look he gave you made your entire body hum with need. Your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to hold his gaze. It was almost too much, the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he wanted to consume you whole.

The pressure of his hand around your throat made your head spin, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire swirling inside you. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as your body throbbed with anticipation. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as you focused entirely on the feeling of his hand on your throat, on the way your body responded to his touch.

"Beg," he growled, his voice thick with authority, the single word sending a wave of heat crashing through you. "Beg Daddy to make y’ come."

You whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to find the words. The need inside you was overwhelming, consuming, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. "Please," you gasped, your voice shaking as his grip tightened just a little more. "Please, Daddy… I need you. Please make me come."

The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate, unmistakable. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the frantic beating of your heart beneath his fingers as he loosened his grip just enough for you to breathe again. His mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched the way you trembled beneath him.

"Oh you beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and approval. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body reacting to his words as much as his touch. His hand moved from your throat, trailing down your body, his fingers brushing over every inch of bare skin with deliberate slowness, like he was savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

He sank to his knees between your legs, and the anticipation made your breath catch in your throat. You barely had time to process the shift before his mouth was on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that made your body jerk in response. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers curling into the dark strands as you held on, desperate for more.

The way his tongue moved—deliberate, intense, relentless—was driving you wild. Each flick, each stroke, sent you spiraling higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to hold yourself together. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking as he worked you with expert precision, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "I’m gonna—"

But he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its assault, his tongue flicking over your clit with unrelenting speed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, with a final flick of his tongue, you came undone. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping for air, your body convulsing as the pleasure tore through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice soothing, grounding you as you came down from the high. "Take it, baby. Take everything Daddy gives you."

Each word was like a balm, softening the sharp edges of your pleasure, grounding you as the intensity began to fade. But your body was still trembling, still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you could feel the heat between your legs still pulsing with need.

Your heart was still racing, your body trembling from the echo of the last orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes told you this wasn’t over. Far from it. The kiss he gave you was searing, possessive, but it was also a promise—one that left you breathless and aching for more. His hands still roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every sensitive spot, every place that made you tremble. You could feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his touch lingered with purpose, pushing you closer to an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face—but you wanted to, needed to.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something almost predatory. His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze flicking between your eyes as if searching for a sign. A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, unwavering confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

"Y’ can take more," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I know y’ can. Y’re such a good girl, and I’m not done with y’ yet."

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat in your stomach flaring to life again as your body responded to his command. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your chin tightened, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "Tell me y’ can take it for Daddy."

"I can," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I can take it for you, Daddy."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more before sliding down your throat, lingering there for a moment as if to remind you of the control he held over your body. The pressure was light, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to remind you how easy it would be for him to take you further than you’d ever gone before.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a ripple of heat through your body. "Now get on your knees."

His command was simple, but the weight of it was overwhelming. Your legs were still shaky, your body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but you obeyed, sliding off the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. The feeling of the cool floor beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off your skin, grounding you even as your mind spun with anticipation.

Remy towered over you, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with dark desire, and the way he watched you—like a predator watching its prey—made your heart race even faster. You felt small beneath him, vulnerable, but it only fueled the aching need inside you. You wanted to please him, to give him everything he asked for.

"D’y know what I want, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

Your mouth felt dry, your voice barely a whisper as you answered. "No, Daddy. Tell me."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I wan’t see how far I can push y’," he said, his tone dark and full of promise. "I want to see y’ break for me, but y’re going to ask for it. Y’re going to beg me to take y’ there."

The words hit you like a wave, the meaning behind them settling deep in your core. He wasn’t just going to push you—he was going to make you want it, make you beg for it. The thought made your stomach twist with anticipation, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as you knelt before him, waiting for his next move.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Open y’ mouth," he ordered, his voice soft, but the command in it was unmistakable.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability of the position you were in, the way he was looking down at you as though he owned you, made your entire body burn with need. You wanted him to take you further, wanted him to push your limits in ways you’d never imagined.

He slid two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he watched you intently. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and you closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently as you gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he watched you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

Your body responded instantly to the praise, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you as you sucked harder on his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. His eyes darkened, and you could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he was reveling in the control he had over you.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath as your lips parted with a soft, wet sound. His thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the moisture before he tilted your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Y’re going to beg for this," he said, his voice low and commanding. "’nd y’re not going to stop until I’m ready to give it to y’."

The heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body trembling with need as his words sank in. You wanted to beg, wanted to give him everything he asked for, but your voice felt trapped in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please… I need you."

His smile widened, dark and predatory, as he stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, and the way he looked down at you made your heart race even faster.

"I know y’ do," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with authority. "But y’’re going to have to work for it, baby. Show me how much y’ want it."

With that, he unzipped his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling with anticipation as he freed himself, his cock hard and thick, the sight of it making your mouth water.

He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the way your breath quickened, the way your body responded to the sight of him. Then, without warning, he gripped the back of your neck again, guiding you toward him.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your lips parted instantly, your body moving on instinct as he guided his cock into your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, and you moaned around him, your body trembling with need as you took him deeper.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he watched you. "Take it all for Daddy."

You did your best to obey, your throat constricting as he pushed deeper, the sensation making your eyes water. But you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to please him, to show him how much you could take.

His grip on your neck tightened as he began to move, thrusting slowly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of the moment, the way he was using you, made your body burn with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

"Look at y’," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the degradation. You could feel your pussy throbbing, the need for release consuming you as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs as you tried to take him deeper, the pleasure and pain blending together in a way that made your head spin. You could feel your body trembling, your vision blurring with the intensity of it all, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"Beg for it," he growled again, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg Daddy to let you come."

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice shaking as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please let me come. I need it."

His eyes darkened, his expression filled with satisfaction as he watched you. "Y’ll come when I say y’ can," he growled, his voice thick with authority. "And not a second before."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your body trembling with the need to obey. You didn’t know how much more you could take, but you trusted him to push you to your limit—to give you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know what that was yet.

"Now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as his grip tightened on your neck. "Let’s see how far I can take y’." Remy’s presence loomed over you, dark and intoxicating, his eyes gleaming with something primal, something that made your heart race and your body ache with need. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he held over you. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every second of your submission, sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, cher," he murmured, his deep Cajun drawl thick and dripping with honey, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You think you’re ready for more, but you gon’ have to beg me real sweet. I wanna hear how much you need it."

His accent wrapped around you like a sultry summer night, the smooth cadence of his voice making the air around you feel heavy and thick. The sound of his words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the way his voice dripped with authority, with promise.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Remy, I need more."

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of your neck, lingering over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers.

"More?" he repeated, his accent lingering on the word, making it sound almost like a tease. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "I don’t know if you can handle more, cher. But you gon’ prove it to me, non?"

You nodded quickly, eager, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you fought to hold his gaze. Your body was trembling, every nerve alight with anticipation, with the need to be pushed further, to see just how far he could take you.

Remy tilted his head, his smirk widening as he studied you, his thumb pressing a little harder against your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. "Y’ gon’ beg me. Beg me proper. Tell Daddy exactly what y’ need."

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his words coiled around you like a snake. The way his accent made every word sound like a command, left you desperate, aching for whatever he was willing to give.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please push me. I need it. I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, satisfaction flashing across his face as he released your throat and let his hand trail down your body. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as they traced the curve of your hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Bon," he murmured, his voice low and full of approval. "That’s my good girl. Y’ wanna be pushed till y’ can’t take no more, hmm? Y’ wanna see how far Daddy can take y’?"

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved lower, teasingly slow, inching toward the heat between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as you waited for his touch, for him to take control again.

"You gon’ ask for everythin’, cher. Every. Damn. Thing," he growled, his voice thick with his Cajun drawl, each word dripping with dominance. "An’ you ain’t stoppin’ till Daddy says so."

His fingers finally brushed over your clit, and you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden contact. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. You needed more, craved more, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, your body shaking as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements. "Please… more."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, his accent thick as honey as he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You want more? You gon’ have to work for it. Show me how bad you need it."

He began to circle your clit with maddening slowness, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to give you relief. The frustration built inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up toward his hand, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"No, no, cher," he drawled, his voice a low purr. "You don’t get to move till I say so. You gon’ take what I give you, and you gon’ be a good girl while you do it."

The dominance in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every sensation, made your head spin. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, but he wasn’t letting you have anything more than a taste. Your body was desperate for release, but you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you without making you beg for it.

"Please," you gasped, your voice breaking as you struggled to keep still beneath him. "Please, Remy, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—just, please, I need more."

He chuckled again, a dark, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. "That’s better. But I don’t think y’ beggin’ hard enough, non? I wanna hear y’ cry for me. I wanna hear that desperation."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble, but still, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed him to take you over the edge, to push you further than you’d ever been before.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to his wrist, but he didn’t let up, didn’t give you an inch of control. You were his, completely, and the knowledge of that made you tremble with need.

"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please make me come. I need it. I need you."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "Ah, there she is," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he began to thrust with a relentless, punishing rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building so quickly that it left you gasping for air, your body arching up against him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But even as your body trembled, even as the pleasure threatened to consume you, he didn’t let you have it. He kept you right on the edge, his movements precise, controlled, designed to keep you teetering on the brink without ever falling over.

"Y’ feel that?" he growled, his voice low and rough, his accent thick with desire. "Y’ right there, but you don’t get to come till I say so. Y’ gon’ take everythin’ I give y’, an’ y’ gon’ thank me for it."

Your body was shaking, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you fought to hold on, to stay in control, but it was impossible. The sensation of his fingers inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice—it was all too much.

"Please," you cried, your voice breaking as you begged him for release. "Please, Daddy, please let me come. I can’t take it anymore."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grin widening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then come for me, cher," he growled, his accent thick and commanding. "Come for Daddy."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped, the orgasm crashing over you with such force that it left you gasping for air. Your body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of your release. "Good girl, bébé. Y’ take what Daddy gives you."

Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as you rode out the orgasm, your mind spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You barely registered Remy’s thumb brushing over your swollen lips, or the way his grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as you came down from the high.

But even as your body began to relax, even as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, you knew that Remy wasn’t done. Not yet.

Remy's eyes burned with a heat that almost made you shy away, but the pull between you two was undeniable. His Cajun accent was thick, dripping with lust as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. You knew you were walking on the edge now, and he was about to push you over.

"Ah, cher," he drawled, his voice thick like molasses, rich and smooth, "y’ been beggin' so sweet, but now you gon’ really see what it means to be mine." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you close until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. "Y’ ready for Daddy to fuck you like you need?"

Your answer came in the form of a ragged breath, your body pulsing with anticipation. Every nerve in your body was alive with the need for him, for the way he controlled you, the way he made you feel like no one else ever could. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it from you.

"I asked y’ a question, cher," he murmured, his lips brushing just against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with a kiss he hadn’t yet given. "Tell me what you want."

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body trembled under his touch. "Please, Daddy… I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as a feral smile tugged at his lips. "Bon," he growled. "That’s what I like to hear."

Without another word, his hands were on you, strong and commanding. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you breathless. Before you could process it, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the dresser with a confidence that only made the ache between your legs worse.

"Y’ feel that, cher?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, his accent wrapping around you like a caress. "You feel how hard I am for y’?" He ground his hips against you, and you could feel the thick length of him pressing against your core. The sensation made you gasp, your body arching into him as your need for him grew unbearable.

"Remy," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I can’t wait anymore."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pressed your back against the wall. "Oh, cher, you ain’t gotta wait no more. Daddy’s gon’ give you exactly what you been beggin’ for."

His hands were rough but reverent as they trailed up your thighs, spreading you open as he pinned you against the dresser with his body, completely at his mercy.

"You so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Been wantin’ this, haven’t ya? Wantin’ Daddy to take care of y’?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick folds. "Please, I need you."

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "I got y’, cher. I’m gon’ take care of y’ real good."

With that, he gripped himself, pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat, the wetness. The anticipation, the need, was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

"Look at y’," he murmured, his voice low and full of pride as he lined himself up with you, his cock teasing your soaked entrance. "Y’ ready for Daddy, bébé?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Remy… I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching you in ways that made your head spin. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, designed to push you to your absolute limit.

"Ah, cher," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Y’feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’ were made for this, weren’t ya? Made to take Daddy’s cock."

You could barely form words, the pleasure too intense, too all-consuming as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with a force that had you gasping for breath.

"Remy," you moaned, your head falling back against the wall as your body arched into him, your legs tightening around his waist. "Oh god…"

"That’s it, bébé," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sound of his voice, the way his accent dripped with authority, with ownership, only fueled the fire burning inside you. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body, bringing you closer to a release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. "Please, I’m so close…"

"Not yet, cher," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his pace, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall. "Y’ don’t come till I say. You gon’ wait for Daddy, you hear me?"

You whimpered, your body trembling with the need for release, but you nodded, knowing that you were his to control, to use as he saw fit.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m gon’ make y’ scream."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, his pace rough and relentless, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sensation was almost too much, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely, and it was driving you wild.

"Remy," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shake, the pressure inside you building to a breaking point. "I can’t… I need to come…"

"Y’ gon’ come for me, cher?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he pounded into you with a force that had you seeing stars. "Y’ gon’ come on Daddy’s cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled violently, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer. "Please… I’m gonna come…"

"Then come for me, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with command. "Come for Daddy."

With a final, shattering thrust, your body exploded, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your body convulsing against him as he held you steady, his hips never stopping as he fucked you through the orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

"That’s it, cher," he murmured, his voice full of pride as he watched you fall apart in his arms. "You did so good for Daddy."

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, Remy didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace relentless, and you could feel the tension building again inside you, another orgasm already creeping up on you. You didn’t think it was possible to come again so soon, but with Remy, anything was possible.

"One more, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with lust as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Give me one more."

Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drove you toward another release, his cock filling you completely with every powerful thrust. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the pleasure so intense that it left you gasping for air.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body began to shake again. "I can’t…"

"Yes, y’ can, cher," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Y’ gon’ give Daddy one more. Come for me again, bébé."

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped for a second time, the orgasm tearing through you with even more intensity than the first. You cried out, your body convulsing violently as the pleasure consumed you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Remy let out a low, rumbling growl as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you with a warmth that left you trembling. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm, his grip on you tight and possessive.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing, the both of you still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Remy’s hands were gentle now, soothing as they ran over your skin, grounding you as you came down from the high.

"Y’ did so good, cher," he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride as he kissed your temple. "Daddy’s so proud of y’."

You smiled weakly, your body completely spent but utterly satisfied. You were his, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Y’ mine now," he whispered, his Cajun drawl thick with satisfaction. "All mine." <><><><> Remy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smirk as you slowly dressed. His jeans were already on, though still unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. The room was dimly lit, but he could see the faint redness around your neck, the way your makeup had smudged slightly under your eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the torn fishnet stockings you were rolling up, defeated, before tossing them into the wastebasket.

"So, is this what you do?" you asked, a teasing edge to your voice as you glanced at him. "Find girls who amuse you and fuck them into submission?" You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Remy’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Only the ones I like," he replied smoothly, his Cajun accent thick and lazy. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "What about y’, cher? Is this how you normally spend your nights? Pour drinks on your ex and fuck like a rockstar?"

You shrugged, pulling on your shirt and noticing a button missing. With a sigh, you muttered, "Haven't fucked like a rockstar in a while." You tugged at the shirt, frowning at the missing button, and whispered to yourself, "Fuck it."

Without a word, Remy reached over to the floor, grabbed his own shirt, and handed it to you. "Here," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "They're all used to seein’ me shirtless anyway."

You glanced up at him, a little surprised, but took the shirt, slipping it on. His scent lingered on the fabric, and it felt oddly comforting. As you adjusted the shirt, your eyes trailed over the scratches on his back, the marks you’d left in the heat of the moment. "Sorry about those," you said, your voice softening slightly.

Remy shrugged it off, his smile easy. "Don’t worry ‘bout it. Battle scars, cher. Comes with the territory."

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with the remnants of your shared passion, but something more serious lingered beneath the surface. You glanced at him, chewing on your bottom lip before speaking again. "It’s funny… me and my ex—we were always trying to match each other’s crazy. But we never really did." You paused, pulling his shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the confession. "We tried, you know? But it was like… we were on different wavelengths. My crazy was too much for him, and his was never enough for me. We just didn’t fit."

Remy’s expression shifted, the playful smirk fading into something deeper, more thoughtful. He leaned back against the dresser, arms still crossed, but his eyes were locked on yours. "Mmm, I get that," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher. Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Exactly. It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it."

Remy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he’d heard that story a hundred times before. "Yeah, well," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, "I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way."

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, the lazy smirk returned to his lips, but there was something different behind it. Something more serious. More real. "That is… until tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel the air between you shift, thickening with something unspoken but undeniable. You didn’t say anything at first, the weight of his gaze holding you in place as the realization of what he was saying sank in.

"Until tonight?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure if you were asking a question or just echoing his words.

Remy’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you again. His hand found your waist, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Yeah, cher," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tonight, I think I found someone who can keep up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the quiet intensity in his voice. There was a challenge hidden in his tone, a promise that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. You could feel the fire between you two still smoldering, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze again.

You turned to face him fully, your body brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You sure about that, Remy?" you asked, your voice soft but steady. "You think I can match your crazy?"

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I think you might just be the one to burn me alive."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a challenge, with desire, with something neither of you could quite name but both of you could feel. You didn’t need to say anything more—there was no need for words now. The look in his eyes, the way his body pressed against yours, told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d met someone who was ready to dive into the storm with you, no matter how wild it got. Remy shrugged casually, his eyes still glinting with that lazy, mischievous smile as he leaned back against the dresser. "I’m in town for a few more nights," he said, his voice easy, like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "Then I gotta head off to Europe for a tour."

Your brow furrowed, unsure where he was going with this. Before you could ask, he glanced at you through half-lidded eyes, a hint of something more serious behind the playful exterior. "Y’ should come with me."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as if you hadn’t heard him right. "Wait, what?" you asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Remy chuckled, that low, rich sound that seemed to rumble from somewhere deep within him. "Yeah, cher, I’m serious. I like y’. A lot." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, "And I think it’s somethin’ I wanna explore."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure how to respond. Your heart skipped a beat, and a million thoughts raced through your mind all at once. Was he really asking you to come with him? To leave everything behind for a whirlwind adventure across Europe? The idea was insane—completely reckless. You barely knew him beyond the fire and intensity of the past few hours. This was Remy LeBeau, the enigmatic Cajun heartthrob who probably had more women than he could count falling at his feet. And yet, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you now, that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. You’d heard stories like this before. Men like Remy didn’t just meet girls at bars and whisk them off on romantic tours across Europe. Was this just another game to him? Another notch on his belt?

As if sensing your hesitation, Remy crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. He scribbled something quickly before handing both over to you. "Here," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "Give me y’r number, cher. Ain’t no pressure, but I’d like to see y’ again. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think about comin’ along after all."

You took the pen, still processing his offer, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the paper. A light, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "What, you got one of these little scraps of paper for every woman at every port?" you quipped, the words coming out more as a joke than an accusation, though you couldn’t help the tiny hint of curiosity behind it.

For the briefest moment, Remy froze. His usual easy smile faltered, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. You watched as the playful mask he usually wore slipped ever so slightly, revealing something more vulnerable beneath it. Then, after a beat, he shook his head slowly, his expression serious now.

"Nah, cher," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its casual tone. "I ain’t got a woman in every port. I ain’t like that." He paused, his gaze holding yours, searching your face as if trying to make sure you understood. "Yeah, I fuck ‘em. Sure. But I don’t let it get further than that. I don’t… ask for numbers. I don’t ask them to come with me. Never done that before. Y’re different."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he spoke, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a glimpse of something real—something raw in his eyes. He wasn’t playing a part right now. He wasn’t the charming, reckless, devil-may-care musician. He was just Remy, standing there in front of you, telling you the truth.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself studying him carefully, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another well-rehearsed line. But there wasn’t. His eyes were steady, his expression open in a way you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t lying. You could tell.

For a few long seconds, you just stood there, staring at him, the pen still in your hand, the paper resting against your palm. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

"I don’t know," you finally whispered, your voice hesitant. "I don’t usually do this either…" You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. What were you even saying? That you didn’t hook up with guys like him? That you didn’t let yourself get swept up in the moment? Because here you were, standing in his shirt, your legs still shaking from everything that had just happened, and your mind was spinning with the possibility of something more.

Remy took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, careful. "Y’ don’t have to decide right now, cher," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Take your time. But know this… I wasn’t playin’ tonight. I meant every word. Y’ got me thinkin’ ‘bout things I ain’t never thought ‘bout before."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. This was more than just a fling to him, more than just a momentary distraction. He was offering you something real, something uncertain and wild, but real all the same.

You glanced down at the pen in your hand, then back up at him. His eyes were still on you, watching carefully, waiting. Slowly, you uncapped the pen and scribbled your number down on the scrap of paper he’d handed you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you handed it back to him. "Here’s my number." You took a deep breath, glancing at Remy as you pulled his shirt tighter around you, the scent of him still lingering on the fabric. It was tempting—God, it was tempting—but you knew better. You shook your head softly, feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. "But I can’t do Europe, Remy," you said, your voice steady but quiet. "I can’t just up and travel with you. I have a life outside of all this." You laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness you felt inside. "Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up on TMZ or something."

Remy’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was a softness in his eyes now, something understanding. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. "Yeah, I get it, cher," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I know the lifestyle—paparazzi, the chaos—it ain’t for everyone." He paused, watching you carefully. "But that’s kinda why I think it’d work with y’."

You blinked, surprised by his response. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Y’ ain’t lookin’ for fame or attention. Y’ just… get me. Most people wanna be around me for the wrong reasons. But you? You’re different. That’s why I’m askin’." He stepped a little closer, his fingers lingering at your waist. "But if you’re not lookin' for all that, we can keep it casual. Just see where it goes, you know? No pressure."

You swallowed hard, feeling the pull of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was insane—completely reckless—but there was something about him that made you want to take that risk. Still, you nodded, keeping yourself grounded. "Yeah… casual," you agreed, offering him a small smile. "We’ll see where it goes."

Remy’s smile widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. "I’ll call you, cher. Ain’t no rush."

With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from your waist as he led you out of the room and toward the exit. The night air was cooler than you expected, and the city was still buzzing with life outside the venue. Remy walked you to the street, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back before he gave you one last lingering glance. "Take care, bébé," he said softly, before turning and disappearing back inside.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of his words and the possibilities they held. But before you could get too lost in thought, Nat appeared, practically jogging up to meet you.

Nat’s eyes widened the moment she saw you wearing Remy’s shirt, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s… it’s a long story," you muttered, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt self-consciously.

Nat raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh-huh. And that shirt? Did you steal it right off his back or…?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "He gave it to me, okay? My shirt was missing a button." You paused, glancing away for a moment before deciding to tell her the rest. "Remy asked for my number."

Nat’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Wait, what? He asked for your number?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, biting your lip. "And… he asked me to go with him on tour. In Europe."

Nat stared at you in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Remy LeBeau asked you to go on tour with him in Europe?" She shook her head, laughing in astonishment. "What the hell are our lives right now?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. Just last night, you were at a bar with your best friend, trying to forget about your ex and blow off some steam. Now, you were standing outside a venue, wearing a rockstar’s shirt, having just turned down an invitation to travel across Europe with him. It was surreal.

"I know, right?" you said, shaking your head as the two of you started walking toward the subway. "I don’t even know what to think anymore."

And with that, you descended into the subway, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Remy, of Europe, of everything that might come next.