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becsabillion4 · 6 months ago

Text

false god (we still worship)

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary: Carmen has a bad shift, but you’re more than willing to turn his night around and show him exactly how good he is.

word count: 3,362

tags: SMUT, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, creampie, semi-public sex, window sex, lingerie, praise kink, vulnerable Carmy, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and yet again NOT an advert for safe sex. with that said, it’s fucking hot ;) and thank you to the wonderful person who submitted the prompt that inspired this, based around Carmy having a tough day and reader taking care of him (even though I’ve failed at tumblr and can’t find the original message). enjoy!!

thesydkid

Yo. Awful shift. Glad you weren’t here to see it.

whochefsouschef

fuckkk what happened?

thesydkid

Newbies think they know better than Tina because they went to CIA. You can imagine how Carmy took that.

whochefsouschef

was it kyle? he’s been like that since he started.

thesydkid

Yeah

Classic

whochefsouschef

syd?

I know that’s not all. kyle doesn’t warrant a text warning

thesydkid

Carm got food sent back.

whochefsouschef

shit.

thanks for the heads up

thesydkid

Good luck, cya tomorrow.

—------------------------------

It’s late, the kind of late where even the drunks winding through the streets have stopped their singing, the kind where it’s already too late to go to bed and get an ounce of good sleep. It’s the kind of late where you would have known it was a bad night even if Sydney hadn’t texted you first, because you know how hard Carmy cleans when he’s upset, and exactly how long that takes.

You sit up in bed abruptly, pushing your hair out of your face and considering your options. You have maybe ten minutes if Sydney texted you as soon as Carmy left, ten minutes to decide how you want to handle this kind of bad day. You feel a surge of frustration that you weren’t on shift tonight. As the Front of House Manager, you could have soothed the moronic, greedy, power-tripping customer who wanted to pull one over on the best chef in Chicago by sending back his perfect food-

Actually, maybe it was for the best you weren’t on shift tonight, or you might no longer have a job.

You smile when you think about how Richie will have handled it though. His courteous, collected energy even as he probably said something like, “Oh, you’d like to send this back? Wow, I’ve never heard a, uh - what do you call ‘em - oh, complaint before. Are you sure you know what this dish is?”

The smile fades when you think about Carmy’s reaction. You push yourself out of bed, decided by the image of his frustration, the anger he uses to hide his sadness. There’s been a few particularly bad shifts since you and Carmy moved in together - and Richie labelled himself as “matchmaker to the stars” for hiring you - and you know that if left to his own devices, Carmy will happily stay up all night stewing.

But you’re here now, and you’re determined not to let him. So you set your plan in motion.

By the time you hear his keys clink in the lock, you’re settled by the sofa, bare skin slightly chilled by the evening air coming in from the cracked window. You glance up as Carmy walks in, catch his eye, and he stops dead, hand still on the lock.

Bluer-than-blue eyes flicker across the scene you’re presenting for him - your best lingerie, your patient kneel, steady eyes - and he straightens from his tired stoop.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes still tracing how the lace drapes across your skin in the low light.

“Hi,” you smile. ��Join me?”

Without looking away from you, Carmy shuts the door, drops his stuff in a careless pile. “Syd texted?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to surprise you.”

Carmy’s eyes drift away from you for a second, glancing around the room, like he does when he’s thinking something through. You can almost hear his brain clicking through the gears. Turning the kitchen off, turning something else on.

“It was bad, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuckin’ shitty.”

“It’s over.” You raise a hand to him, tilt your head towards the sofa. “Get over here and let me do filthy things to you to make up for it.”

He laughs at that, toes off his shoes and takes the few steps to the sofa. He doesn’t sink into the cushions like you expected though, but kneels in front of you. You reach out, run a hand over the side of his face, feel the days-old stubble rasping under your touch. Bringing your other hand up, you cup his face, thumbs tracing over the bags under his eyes like you can smooth them out with that simple touch. You can feel his exhaustion in the way he leans forward into the feeling, and it breaks something in you.

When you kiss him, you intend for it to be careful and slow. Bring him out of his shell, remind him that things outside The Bear exist. But the moment your mouths press together, the moment you nip the edge of his bottom lip, the drained and defeated Carmy is gone.

He surges forward, almost sending you tipping over backwards, arms wrapping around your waist. One hand slides to your lower back, stretching to cover as much of your skin as he can possibly grasp. Pulling you forward, Carmy bows his head to suck a bruise into your throat and you know for damn sure it’ll be visible tomorrow. A glaring mark, a “fuck you” to the rest of the world painted on your skin.

Your hands are far from idle either, and as one pulls at his T-shirt, rucking it up to explore the muscles beneath, you run a finger from the other over the arch of his ear. Carmy shudders in a broad, full-body motion and his hips stutter, jerk forward into you. You both moan at the contact and you want to chase it, feel him pressed between your thighs, but clearly Carmy has other ideas.

He reaches under your arms and pulls you up to stand with him, letting his hands continue their journey down your sides to reach your waist. All you have time to do is gasp as he hoists you off your feet, and he’s already walking towards your floor-length window as you desperately try to wrap your legs around his waist. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe, the hand not holding you up pushing deep into your hair and curling strands around his fingers so he can pull your head back, press more kisses to the hollow of your throat.

For a dizzying moment, you can see the lights of Chicago upside down, but you manage to pull your head up just before your back hits the cold glass. You hiss at the chill against your bared skin and Carmy runs a hot palm around to your back in apology even as his tongue continues its insistent sweeps against your own.

You barely register the soft clink of his belt, the push and rustle of fabric between you until his cock is pressed close, the only thing keeping it from filling you your own stupid lacy underwear.

With a frustrated groan, Carmy gently lowers you until your feet sink into the carpet, but he still gives you no room to move, pressing you into the misted-up glass as if he can’t tear his body from yours.

“Carmy,” you pant, unsure what you’re asking, but you know he understands when he grabs your upper arm, spins you around to face the view. The glass is warmer now, but still cold enough that the press of your barely-concealed nipples to its surface makes you moan as you hear Carmy kneel, feel him sliding your panties down your legs.

He doesn’t even let them reach your ankles before he’s up again, kissing his way along your spine as he goes, and finally, finally, the head of his cock nestles in where it needs to be.

Its hot and heavy presence has you pushing your hips back, wanting to feel the glorious slide of him, lose yourself in the moment he splits you, and all you can see, eyes half-slitted in pleasure, are the glittering lights of the city below. You live pretty high up and the lights are low enough that none of the busy pedestrians below should see, but all it would really take is a glance up and an observant eye. To see your breasts pressed against the glass, Carmy’s possessive hands gripping your hips as he finally drives into you. Even from this distance, you imagine the pleasure on your own face and your walls flutter around Carmy until he growls, pulls your hands from where they were flat against the window into a bind behind you.

There is nothing kind and gentle about this moment, no give in Carmy’s body as he fucks into you, and you revel in it. Let him take his pain and translate it into pleasure through your body. Let him take and take and take until he has nothing left to give, and let the world see him doing it. Let them see what’s his.

These thoughts alone have you teetering, desperate for a few more strokes, but the surprise of Carmy reaching around to draw lazy circles over your clit as he snarls, “Fucking look at you, look how good you take me,” has you seizing up instantly. You can faintly hear your own surprised cry through the buzzing in your ears, and Carmy’s gasps as he feels you pulsate around him, but you only fully come back to yourself when you press your forehead against the blessedly cool glass.

The strength of your orgasm is enough that your legs are visibly shaking now, and without a word, Carmy bends to scoop up your lower half and pulls you in, cradling you across his front. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm your breathing as you push your face into his chest, but before you can even begin to get your head straight, you feel soft sheets on your back as he lowers you to the bed.

He sinks down beside you, and all his desperation from a moment ago is gone as his body finally relaxes. He’s still hard and straining towards you, but the light has dimmed in his eyes, so when you reach for him, it’s to run a hand across his cheek, to bring his eyes to yours. When you move towards him, it’s to curl your legs with his, to press your forehead against his and settle his breathing with your own.

People think Carmy is so used to taking shit that it doesn’t hurt him anymore, but you know. You know how each word drives so deep that he doesn’t know how to take good anymore, how he invites the anger and the aggression of a kitchen into his soul because the alternative is realising that all the shit he’s been through is too awful, too devastating to reconcile. To keep feeling it, so he has no time to wonder what his life would be without it.

You see the weakness and the fear and the vulnerability, and you know how he absorbs the feeling and translates it into his work, how he uses it to fuel him, how he turns the criticism and the insults and the hatred into being better, being perfect, doing a good job.

“You are so wonderful, Carmy,” you murmur, and when he tries to look away, you hold his head still. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. Shit, not really anything.” You’re silent, and he sighs as he caves under the pressure of your gaze. “Back when I was in New York, you remember that chef I told you about?”

You nod, because you know you can’t say anything remotely okay about that particular chef.

“He had this thing, about pasta. Thought he was some kind of expert because he spent, like, three months with Massimo Bottura. We had to boil water from cold every time, for every single batch of pasta we served, and there was this exact amount of salt we had to add. It wasn’t like a teaspoon, it was seven point three grams for every hundred of pasta. And he could fucking tell if you were off, he barely had to taste it. One time I saw him smell somebody’s pasta and tell them they were off by point two.” Carmy’s voice is shaking, and you move your thumb along his cheekbone slowly, calmly, giving him something to root himself to. Remind him he’s not there.

“And I was thinking about it while I was cooking the bucatini, and it’s like he was in the room again, saying the same shit he always did. Watching over my shoulder as I added the salt, and it made me so mad,” Carmy mutters, breaths coming in pants now. “And I didn’t even think, I just added like way too much salt. Enough to fuckin’ ruin it, ‘cos I just wanted to see him choke on it. And then I sent it out.”

You don’t take your eyes from his face as you curl one hand down to straighten the fingers of his, to stop the nails he’s digging deep into his palm from cutting into his skin.

“And of course it got sent back, and Richie apologised and comped their bill, and they didn’t care. But, like, I just sabotaged my own restaurant. My own reputation, becuase I can’t stop fuckin’ thinking about salting pasta,” Carmy finishes in a rush, and he finally meets your eyes.

“Carmy, you’re working in a kitchen every day. It’s no surprise you remember other kitchens you’ve been in, and the kind of behaviour you’ve had to endure. But it’s not that kitchen anymore. This is your kitchen we’re talking about, your space. When you look over your shoulder, he’s not there anymore. Syd is, and she’s got your back. We’re not some pristine, sterile team with no heart. Richie’s there.” You feel a surge of emotion so strong for the brilliant, vulnerable man in front of you that you push your face into his shoulder, hard enough that he has to steady himself from falling back onto the bed. His other hand comes up to card loosely through your hair, and you suppress a soft noise of comfort to finish with, “I’m there.”

“I know, baby,” he responds, pulling you closer until you’re practically curled into his lap. “And I think it’ll get easier, it’s already easier. I just don’t think I’ll ever entirely stop sabotaging myself. I’m not like the food I make, I’m not composed and-and, perfect. I’m not, uh, not always good at stuff.”

“Okay, but you’re good plenty of the time,” you whisper, looking up at him. You smile as he glances down, catches your eye. “I could go on for days about the stuff you’re good at.”

“Oh yeah?” Carmy murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, down and round the edge of your face to the shell of your ear. You shiver instinctively, press into the feeling.

“You’re good at that. Good at getting me out of control,” and your voice is already shaking.

“You’re not out of control, babe. I’ve got you. You’re mine,” Carmy is muttering inbetween kisses as he rolls you onto your back, pins your arms to your sides with his legs and begins to fully slide off your lingerie, slowly, carefully. His hands are, as always, steady. You remember all the times you’ve watched him roll a cigarette, piece together edible art as flames lick at his chef’s whites, and you can’t remember a time you’ve seen them shake.

From the eye of the storm he’s creating in you, you watch as he slides down the bed, skimming his lips across your trembling thighs until he sits back, and moves his hands to your knees.

You can almost feel the pleasure it gives him as, at the lightest touch from him, you part your legs, let him see what he does to you. What he has done. When he growls, you realise he can see remnants of your earlier escapade against the window at your entrance, his come marking you.

When Carmy dips his finger inside you, your hips jerk towards him, but he holds them down with one hand. His finger delves deep for a moment, and then leaves you suddenly, but before you can protest, he brings his hand to your face, offers you the digit. You’re entranced by the silent command in his eyes, and with no hesitation, you open your mouth and let Carmy’s come-covered finger slide inside, press deep towards the back of your throat. When you swallow, the bitterness makes you moan, envision being on your knees for Carmy, his fingers twined so deep into your hair it hurts, feeling his white-hot heat at the back of your throat.

It breaks whatever tension was stretched taut between you, and Carmy wraps his arms around your legs, pulls your body towards him and lowers his face between your thighs. For a moment, he teases you, nibbling at the juncture where your leg curves into your hip, skimming his teeth across the bone, but you know he’s secretly just as impatient as you are, and when he takes his first tender lick across your clit, he moans even louder than you do.

Giving head is an art for Carmy, and feels like a privilege to you. You’ve seen him enjoy food in the kitchen, give somebody that blown-away glance that they’ve worked their whole lives to see, but he never takes more than one bite.

But this, with you, as you watch him devour you whole...It’s the only meal you’ve ever watched him finish.

Tongue swirling delicately across your center, breaking for hungry kisses to your thighs as his hands grasp at any inch of you he can reach, you can’t help the words that spill from you, “yes, yes, Carmy, you’re so good, you make me feel so good, my good boy, please-“, but you can’t continue as he slides two fingers deep inside your aching pussy, so deep you don’t ever want him to move.

At this point in the erotic novels you read during your lunch break (which, if Fak were to find them, would spell the end of your career), the heroine says something about how it feels like hours pass with her lover between her legs. But this is real life, and all Carmy has to do is mutter, “Finish for me baby, finish for me,” for you to come embarrassingly quickly.

You’re practically incoherent on the comedown, and all you can summon the strength to do is pull him into you, press kisses to his forehead and mumble over and over how fucking amazing he makes you feel.

“If you lose everything else, Carmy, if you ever think there isn’t a thing in this world you’re any good at, just know that you are a god at giving head,” you pant eventually, and when he pushes his face into your neck, you can feel his smile there.

For a moment more, you just enjoy the press of his body against yours, revel in the sweat and slick between you. It dawns on you slowly just how slick it feels, and you gasp as you realise-

“Carmy, did you-?”

Carmy laughs into your skin, tracing one hand across your chest idly until you shiver. “Yeah. You, uh, you were moaning and telling me how good I was and…it was hot.”

You laugh with him breathlessly, still kind of in awe at how well you fit after all this time, how at home you feel with him. “Well, I hope that made your bad day a little better.”

Carmy is silent for a second before he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do for me,” and you can see the shine of his eyes in the glitter of the city lights filtering through your window. “There can never be a bad day if I end it right here, in this bed, in your arms.”

You would reply, but he’s kissing you into silence before you can, and you wonder for a moment if any words will ever need to be said between you and Carmy again, or whether you can communicate all the fear, all the anger, all the love, just with kisses and touch and his lips against yours. But eventually, as you slip into sleep with his body twined around yours, you decide that tongues were made for more than just talking.

#becsabillion #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #Carmen berzatto x ofc #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmy the bear #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #the bear fandom

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jobean12-blog · 1 month ago

Note

Up for a little game?🤭🤭

How would you meet:

Mob!Bucky, Vampire!Bucky and/or Barista/Baker!Bucky

And how would they ask you out. Or would you ask them out?

Bloody Kisses

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: Bucky finally makes you his.

Author's Note: SYDNEY! I've had Vampire!Bucky on my mind with all these new pics of him looking so yummy and then you sent this and I was like eeeeeeee here's my sign! So this is how you would meet and he would definitely be the one making all the moves. Vampire AU is an absolute favorite of mine so I can never get enough of it! Thanks so much for thinking of me and sending this little thot in! Hope you've had a lovely weekend and you enjoy this! HUGS!🥰❤️🥰Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!

Warnings: Bucky is irresistible in every way and he wants you. Mentions of blood, tension, some softness.

You’re mid conversation when you sense the change. It’s as if the stale air has been sucked away and replaced with something more tangible, something seductive.

Natasha’s eyes are focused on whatever is beyond your shoulder, toward the entrance of the hall.

Everyone around you seems to be looking in the same direction, so you place your drink down and turn.

A man stands just inside the arched doorway, his black jacket draped over his shoulders, the garment fitted perfectly and accentuating their broad width. His long fingers splay against the lush fabric, a gold ring glinting under the light of chandeliers, and his covetous blue eyes focused on you.

“Do you know him?” Natasha asks.

“No,” you breathe out, nearly swaying on your feet. “But I’m going to make sure I get to know him.”

An inexplicable awareness races across your skin coupled with a heat only he can set ablaze. He approaches and your pulse quickens, the urge to run into his arms something you need to fight against.

He wears all black, from his tight-fitted turtleneck down to his shined shoes and his strong jaw is shadowed with dark hair but his skin, it glows, smooth and soft.

When he walks toward you, he moves with such a sensual purpose that you notice the other women around you swooning.

But he makes no sign that he notices. His eyes stay trained on you, hungry and determined.

Without removing his gaze from yours, he takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips, turning it over and kissing the inside of your wrist, savoring the rapid pulse of your blood.

His lips linger there, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment before they open and he smiles, turning your hand over to kiss your palm and then finally, each of your fingertips.

“You taste divine,” he whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat at the forwardness of his words.

You barely hear Natasha’s gasp, this man’s very existence consuming your every thought and somehow you know it’s the same for him. He’s oblivious to anything but you.

He speaks his name, hushed and soft along the shell of your ear, before he pulls you away from the crowd.

“Walk with me?” he asks as he leads you toward the glass doors at the back of the room.

You nod and fall into step beside him, taking his offered elbow.

The fragrance of the night hits you the moment you step outside, the lush gardens on the estate in full bloom and the full moon bright and silvery in the dark sky.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” you muse as you look up.

“Mm,” he hums, and you bring your eyes back down, feeling the weight of his stare.

It’s hard to look away and you easily fall deeper into an intimacy that you can’t seem to recover from.

“And yet you shine brighter than any,” he murmurs, tucking you closer and brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

You tremble in his arms, the feeling heady and addictive.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” you ask as you walk deeper into the gardens.

“And yet it’s as if I know your heartbeat better than any melody that has touched my ears.”

You would swoon if you didn’t have the strength of his arms around you, but some part of your head still remains clear enough to say, “that didn’t answer my question.”

He just smiles and plucks a white flower from the nearby plant as you pass it and holds it under your nose.

“It smells amazing,” you whisper.

“Queen of the night,” he explains. “It only blooms under the cover of darkness and often wilts with the rising sun.”

Your mouth dips into a frown as you look down at the beautiful flower. “So, we can never see it bloom in the sun?”

He takes the stem from your hand and tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“No,” he says, tucking two fingers under your chin and bringing your gaze to his. “But the night offers so much to be in love with and yet, never asks for anything but our company.”

You let his words sink in and a small smile teases your lips.

His fingers trace their outline, his touch delicate but completely consuming.

Your lips part with a gasp and you feel his body tense against yours, his gaze wandering over your face and down the delicate column of your neck.

His fingertips fall, slowly tracing the outline of your throat and his thumb presses against your wildly beating pulse.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lifting his dark lashes to look you in the eyes.

“No,” you whisper and press yourself closer.

He releases you and pulls you further down the path, bathing you in the shadowed recesses of the overgrowth of plants.

Your back hits the stone wall, the feel of the cool leaves brushing along your skin.

His features look stronger here in the shadows, hard, thrown into sharp relief under the obscured glow of the moon. His cheekbones resemble carved stone, his eyes dark, his lips lush and exaggerated.

He gives you no time to hesitate, gripping your neck, his palm cool and steady while his thumb presses to the hollow of your throat.

It’s possessive and sends a silent thrill up your spine.

A smart girl would push him away. Pretend she’d rather be somewhere else and run for the safety of the light, the safety of the crowded party. r

Instead, you lift your chin and meet the slight dip of his head, your noses brushing and your breath catching.

“I don’t usually meet men like this,” you say. “I hardly kiss on the first date.”

You swallow and close your eyes, opening them again to find him smiling down at you.

“I know,” he says, unbothered. Undeterred.

He licks his lips before he kisses you, innocent and soft. You moan into the kiss, swallowing his mumbled whispers of praise.

Your skin tingles and a heat builds inside your chest, pushing down into your belly where it pools low, down between your legs. You want him so badly you feel restless and urgent, a need you can’t explain clawing in your throat.

You dig your hands into his hair, holding him to you, barely letting him move a breath away.

But it’s all a ruse. He pulls free of your grip easily, the power he holds undeniable, and looks at you with a passion burning in his eyes.

“I have waited a lifetime for you,” he murmurs against your mouth, trailing his lips along your jaw.

Your head falls back against the wall, exposing the soft skin that flutters violently over the flow of your blood.

He kisses softly under your ear, once, twice, and then slides his mouth lower, sucking on your skin until you’re arching into him. The first pierce of his fangs is nothing but euphoria and when he begins to gently suck you cry out his name.

The sip is barely enough to satisfy him and with a great effort he pulls away, lips stained red and blue eyes anchoring yours.

“And all the lifetimes we’ll share will never be enough.”

His words make little sense to you now, your entire existence being slowly devoured by his every touch.

When his large hands grip your hips and he drags you into him again, you go willingly, the sharp sting at your throat setting you ablaze.

This time he doesn’t hold back, drinking you in until your pulse slows, and your eyes begin to dim. You fall limp in his arms, and he gently releases you, trailing a delicate finger along your cheek before he cuts into his wrist and holds it above your parted lips.

“Drink,” he whispers.

You’re weak at first but with his gentle coaxing you suck harder, your strength returning as the taste of his blood moves through you. Revives you.

A feeling like you’ve never experienced before fills all your senses, throbbing in your lips and fingers, in your very skin. And when you meet his eyes once again it’s with new sight, his long fingers reaching up to trace your cheek.

“You,” he whispers, brushing his bloody lips along yours, “are mine for eternity.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #vampire!bucky #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan #vampire au

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chiffxna · 1 month ago

Text

A Love Too Dark (07)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 07: Control Over Her

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, blackmail, forced kissing, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, non-consensual creampie, breeding, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

PREV : Chapter 06

NEXT : Chapter 08

Chapter Summary:

The Marquis finally coerced her to return to the casino. However, what would happen when a VIP requested her service privately?

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Yn’s eyes flickered open, and for a fleeting second, peace washed over her. She could almost forget. Almost. But reality crashed in swiftly, the weight of it smothering the brief tranquility. The Marquis lay behind her, his arm draped across her like a chain.

Her heart sank.

The air felt thick, oppressive, as though his mere presence poisoned every breath she took. She shifted slowly, careful not to stir him. Her body, stiff with discomfort, recoiled from the memory of the night before. Silently, she slipped from the bed.

Standing, she fought the urge to shudder.

She wandered to the window. Parting the curtains just a fraction, she gazed out at the morning sky. It was beautiful. Pale streaks of pink and orange bled into the horizon. But her heart, heavy with turmoil, barely registered the view.

A glance back at the bed. He was still asleep. Her resentment flared like a slow-burning fire. She despised him – his power over her, his manipulation, his arrogance. He had taken everything. Her freedom. Her choices.

But she couldn't show it. Not yet. Any slip, any sign of defiance, and it would spell disaster. Not just for her, but for her family. The consequences were too great, the stakes too high. So, she swallowed her anger.

With a deep breath, she got ready for the day. Quietly, she gathered her things. Slipping out of the room, Yn left the Marquis behind. She knew better than to wake him. For now, she had to bide her time and wait for the right moment to make her move. Today was not that day. He was dangerous, too cunning to make a mistake around. She couldn't afford to let her guard down.

First, she went to check on Sydney. She found her younger sister still wrapped in her blanket, a soft smile on her face, caught in a happy dream. Yn lingered for a moment. That innocent smile – it was the one thing in her life that gave her hope. She quietly closed the door and moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The scent of eggs and toast filled the small apartment, and soon enough, Sydney emerged from her room, eyes bleary but filled with that sweet, childlike innocence Yn was so desperate to protect.

“Good morning, sissy!” Sydney chirped, rubbing her eyes as she padded into the kitchen, her face lighting up at the smell of food.

“Morning, sweetie,” Yn replied, forcing a smile.

As she set the plates on the table, she hesitated. What about the Marquis? Part of her wanted to leave him out, to send a silent message that she wouldn’t be controlled, that she still had some semblance of power in her own home. But the fear crept back in. The consequences of such defiance? They were too high.

With a deep sigh, Yn set a third plate for him. Her stomach twisted in knots as she did so. Sydney cocked her head to the side and asked innocently, “Is the prince still with us?”

The title her sister used cutting through her like a blade. Prince? The very word dripped with irony. There was nothing princely about him – at least not in the way a child would think. But how could she explain that to Sydney? She couldn’t shatter her illusions, not yet.

Yn mustered a weak smile, choosing her words carefully. “Yes, Syd. He’s our guest.”

Sydney beamed, seemingly satisfied with that answer, and returned to her breakfast, blissfully unaware of the storm that churned beneath the surface. Yn, however, couldn’t shake the unease. It sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and unmoving. She kept her movements steady, trying to appear calm, though every second felt like the tension in the room was growing, thickening the air around her.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the Marquis finally emerged from the bedroom.

The room seemed to shrink as his presence filled it. Yn's heart kicked against her ribs. He moved with a lazy confidence, the kind that only came from someone who knew they held all the power. Carelessly unbuttoned at the collar, his white shirt revealed a glimpse of his chest. Black pants hung perfectly on his tall frame, and though his hair was slightly tousled, it was clear he had paid just enough attention to his appearance.

Dominance. That was the only word to describe it. His mere presence dominated the space, like gravity itself had shifted in his direction.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with the ease of someone who had slept well. He slid into a chair, his gaze landing briefly on Yn before settling on Sydney.

“Good morning, prince!” Sydney greeted with a radiant grin, utterly oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

“Morning,” Yn murmured, barely above a whisper, her voice tight in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

In her usual way, Sydney broke the silence with her innocent questions, her curiosity bubbling over. “Did you have a nice sleep?”

The Marquis chuckled softly. He looked at Sydney with an almost amused glint in his eye. “Yes, little mademoiselle. Your sister was very welcoming and hospitable.”

His tone dripped with layers of meaning that only Yn could detect.

She stiffened. It took everything in her to keep her face blank and her hands from trembling as she reached for a glass of water. She knew exactly what he was doing – asserting his power in front of Sydney, weaving his control into even the most innocent of moments.

But Sydney didn’t notice. She giggled and her eyes shone with pride. “Sissy is the best! She always makes sure everything’s perfect.”

“Indeed,” the Marquis said smoothly, his gaze sliding back to Yn, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “She takes great care of me.”

Yn swallowed hard; her throat dry. She wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something, tell him to leave and never come back. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The walls were closing in, and Sydney’s bright face kept her anchored. It kept her from breaking.

Once he swallowed a spoonful of his breakfast, the Marquis continued, his voice smooth and calculated. “But it saddens me to see you two live like this. If you want, you and your sister are welcome to stay at my mansion anytime you like.”

Yn’s stomach twisted at his words. She knew exactly what he was doing. An invitation wrapped in the guise of kindness, but the truth lay beneath it: control. Her gaze shot to him, sharp and full of warning. Her glare was meant to send a message, to make him understand that bringing Sydney into his world was out of the question.

But the Marquis merely smiled, his eyes locking onto hers with a dangerous glint. A challenge. He saw her resistance, and it only seemed to amuse him.

The rest of breakfast dragged on. Yn kept her responses short, barely offering more than a nod or a non-committal hum. She needed to keep her distance, both physically and emotionally. The last thing she could afford was to be drawn into his web, no matter how alluring his offers sounded.

But Sydney, completely unaware of the tension swirling between the adults, hung on the Marquis’s every word. Her wide, innocent eyes sparkled as he told stories of grand halls, gardens that stretched for acres, and rooms filled with treasures. Yn could see the excitement building in her sister, making her stomach churn even more.

She clenched her fists under the table, fighting the frustration and helplessness bubbling inside. How could she protect Sydney from the Marquis’s influence without revealing too much? If she spoke out, if she showed even a hint of defiance, he could retaliate. And she couldn’t risk that. Not when they were so deeply entwined in his game.

So, she smiled. She pretended. Just like she always did.

As breakfast ended, the Marquis dabbed his mouth with a napkin, his movements slow and deliberate. He leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving Yn. “Thank you for the breakfast.”

Yn nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak. She kept her eyes down, focusing on clearing the plates.

The atmosphere in the small apartment shifted abruptly as a series of muffled knocks echoed through the narrow hallway. The sound was soft, almost hesitant, yet it carried a weight that set Yn’s nerves on edge. It was the kind of knock that didn’t belong on a quiet morning like this.

The Marquis’s brow arched as his attention flicked toward the door. A flicker of something – curiosity or annoyance – passed over his face before he muttered in his low, accented voice, “It must be him.”

Something in the way he said it, the ease with which the words fell, made Yn’s skin crawl. He rose smoothly from his chair, his movements fluid, his clothing draping elegantly over his tall frame.

Yn’s eyes followed him, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t like this. Not one bit. Who was it? What did they want?

She instinctively moved closer to Sydney, placing a protective hand on her sister’s shoulder. Sydney, oblivious, was still humming softly to herself, engrossed in her teddy bear.

The Marquis reached the door and turned the handle. Standing on the other side was Chidi, the Marquis’s loyal bodyguard. His expression, as always, was unreadable. Stoic. The man was built like a fortress, solid and imposing, yet his movements were precise and controlled. Even now, his posture spoke volumes – ready, alert, as though prepared for whatever threat might come his way.

The Marquis exchanged hushed words with Chidi in rapid French. Yn strained to catch even a sliver of their conversation, her ears almost aching with the effort to understand. But the language barrier left her feeling helpless. What were they discussing?

As the conversation between the two men came to an end, the Marquis turned his gaze back toward Yn and Sydney. His eyes lingered on Yn a moment too long. It made her skin crawl.

“I’m afraid I must take my leave,” he said.

Before Yn could fully comprehend what was happening, the Marquis closed the distance between them in just a few strides. His sudden approach caught her off guard, and for a moment, she stood frozen, her body stiff with uncertainty. She didn’t know what to expect. But the look in his eyes told her it wouldn’t be good.

And it wasn’t.

In one swift, shocking move, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, but it caught her off guard. It wasn’t affection – it was possession. Pure and simple. A calculated display of dominance that sent an icy chill down her spine.

Yn’s entire body tensed, her hands trembling at her sides. It was over as quickly as it had begun, but the stain of it lingered on her lips, filling her with revulsion.

As he pulled away, his eyes locked onto hers, a satisfied smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

“Don’t forget about tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with a menace that made her skin crawl.

Yn’s heart stuttered in her chest as his words sank in. Tonight. She knew exactly what he meant. The reminder slammed into her like a blow. The casino. The bunny-girl costume.

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. His departure left a vacuum, an uncomfortable emptiness that filled the room, thick and suffocating. The air felt heavier. Everything did.

Yn stood there; still, her mind racing to catch up with the flood of emotions that had overwhelmed her. Fear. Anger. Helplessness. And beneath it all, a burning desire to break free. But how? She couldn’t see a way out. Not yet. Not with the Marquis holding all the cards. Not with her mother and Sydney to protect.

Unaware of the tension swirling around her, Sydney looked up at Yn with wide, innocent eyes. “Is the prince coming back, sissy?”

Yn forced a weak smile, which felt more like a grimace beneath the surface. “I’m not sure, sweetie. But for now, let’s... go back to normal, okay?”

Normal. The word tasted bitter on her tongue. What was normal anymore? Their lives had been upended, twisted into something unrecognizable since the Marquis had forced his way into it. But for Sydney’s sake, she had to pretend. Keep the darkness at bay just a little longer.

She took Sydney to the park that afternoon. They laughed and played, and for brief moments, Yn lost herself in Sydney’s joy. Her little sister’s laughter was like a balm, easing the raw fear gnawing at her insides. But even then, the weight of what awaited her that evening hung over her like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over every smile, every carefree moment.

As the sun dipped lower, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Yn’s heart began to race. She had to return to the casino. The Marquis’s demand weighed heavy on her, pulling her back into that world she had fought so hard to escape. But there was no running from it now – not with her mother’s safety on the line.

Back at the apartment, Yn prepared dinner, her hands moving mechanically. She couldn’t let Sydney see her anxiety, couldn’t let her little sister feel the weight of the impending night. Sydney, so innocent, didn’t deserve any of this.

Once dinner was done, Yn excused herself and stepped into the bedroom to make a call. Yn called Barbara again, asking her to care for Sydney for the night. Barbara was surprised since it had been a while since she needed this kind of help. When she asked Yn what she would do that evening, Yn said she had some personal business to attend to.

Once Sydney was settled in with Barbara, Yn finally left the apartment. The evening air was cool and refreshing as she made her way towards the casino. As she approached the imposing building, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

As Yn entered the staff lounge room, every staff member was dumbstruck to see her. The news of her supposed resignation had spread like wildfire, and her reappearance was met with astonishment and curiosity. Her close friends at work – Emily, Emma, Amelia, and Sophia – rushed to her side, each eager to know what was happening.

Eyes wide with surprise, Emily was the first to speak, “Yn, we thought you had quit! What are you doing here?”

Yn smiled, trying to maintain her composure. She didn't want to reveal too much, so she replied vaguely, “I had some matters to attend to, but I'll be back for a while.”

Emma couldn't hold back her curiosity. “But why did you quit all of a sudden?”

Yn took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding, “I... I had my reasons, but things have changed. I guess I'm not ready to leave just yet.”

Amelia, ever the empathetic one, touched Yn's arm gently, “Are you okay, Yn? Did something happen?”

“It's nothing, really. Just some personal matters to sort out.”

With a knowing glint in her eyes, Sophia tilted her head. “Hmm. Well, you know we've got your back, right? Whatever it is, we're here for you.”

Yn felt a surge of gratitude towards her friends. “Thank you, Sophia. I appreciate it.”

“But you didn't have to come back, though.”

They all turned their gazes to Sabrina, approaching them with her arms crossed over her chest. Her nose was in the air, and she looked at Yn with a condescending stare, as if she were a pest in her way. “We were doing fine here. You should stay on your word about quitting.”

Yn frowned at her sudden display of hostility towards her. Emily was the one who spoke up, “Oh, shut up, Sabrina. You were hoping the Marquis would turn to you after she left?”

Sabrina's face flushed with anger. “Don't be ridiculous, Emily. I think it's strange that Yn suddenly decides to come back after causing such a big scene here.”

Yn's eyes blinked in puzzlement. “A big scene? What?”

Amelia shook her head. “It's nothing, Yn.”

Sophia intervened, trying to smooth things over. “Yeah, don't pay any attention to Sabrina. She's just jealous that you got the Marquis' attention.”

Yn frowned, still not fully understanding what had transpired in her absence. Suddenly feeling guilty that her departure had caused such a stir, she said, “I didn't mean to cause any trouble.”

Emily reassured her, “It's not your fault, Yn. Sabrina is just being petty.”

Sabrina scoffed. “I'm not being petty! I don't like people who make a big fuss and then change their minds. It's annoying.”

Emily looked at Sabrina pointedly. “Yn is entitled to change her mind if she wants to. It's her life and her decision.”

Yn took a deep breath, trying to stay composed. She didn't want to argue with Sabrina, mainly when her mind was preoccupied with the Marquis and her predicament.

“Look, I didn't mean to cause any trouble,” Yn said firmly but calmly. “I have reasons for returning, and I hope you can respect that.”

Sabrina huffed, clearly unsatisfied with Yn's response, but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked away, muttering under her breath.

The tension eased as Sabrina left, and Emily immediately spoke to her, “Don't mind her, Yn. She's just worried that now you're back, the Marquis will only look at you and not her.”

Sophia said, “Yeah, she was trying hard to get his attention when you were gone.”

Emma apprised Yn, “That first night when we all found out about your resignation, most of us had left after finishing our shift, but Sabrina stayed back, and I saw her try to enter the Marquis' office in her bunny costume. But the bodyguards then yanked her out of the room. It was amusing!”

Yn couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the image of Sabrina's failed attempt to get the Marquis's attention.

“Well, I guess she's determined,” Yn said, trying to lighten the mood.

Amelia grinned, “Determined or desperate, which one?”

Emily commented, “Desperate.”

Yn shook her head, still finding it hard to believe that her absence had caused such a stir. “I never imagined my resignation would cause so much drama.”

Emily reassuringly touched Yn's shoulder, “Don't worry about it. We're just glad to have you back.”

“Thanks,” Yn said sincerely, feeling a warmth in her heart. She was grateful for her friends' support and understanding.

“Come on, get ready, girl,” said Emily as she pulled Yn towards the latter's previous makeup table, “No one took your desk after you resigned.”

As Yn sat down at her old makeup table, a wave of mixed emotions washed over her. Returning to this space felt strange, surrounded by the soft buzz of chatter and the clatter of heels on the tile. On the one hand, she was grateful for her friends’ warmth and support, as if they were a small lifeline in this oppressive environment. But on the other hand, the weight of the Marquis’s control pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting. She was back here not by choice but because she had been coerced. She had no way out.

Her fingers moved automatically, picking up the makeup brush and dipping it into powder. She began the process of transforming, painting on the familiar bunny-girl persona like armor. Layer after layer, she covered her natural face with the mask of someone who smiled, laughed, flirted – played the part perfectly. Her friends helped her, zipping up the tight costume, adjusting the fit, and joking lightly to ease the tension.

But none of them could ease what lay in her heart.

Once the makeup was done, Yn stood before the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her. She looked polished and perfect – precisely how she was expected to look. Yet, beneath it all, she felt hollow.

Emily grinned as she handed Yn a black mask. “Don’t forget this.”

Yn took the mask, its meaning heavier than the simple piece of fabric it was. She tied it around her face, covering her nose and mouth, the final touch of her disguise.

As the soft fabric settled, Yn felt a slight sense of relief. At least with the mask, there was a barrier between her and the invasive eyes that would soon be watching her. But the mask couldn’t protect her from the real danger – the Marquis.

“Let’s go,” Emily said, pulling Yn out of her thoughts and toward the door.

The women left the changing room, their heels clicking against the floor as they made their way into the buzzing, neon-lit heart of the casino. The sound of slot machines, the low murmur of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, but Yn barely registered it. She felt as though she were walking through a fog.

Yn took her place behind the roulette table. The game was already in full swing, and she immediately slipped into her role, spinning the wheel and calling out the results in a practised professional tone.

As Yn presided over the roulette table, her hands moved deftly, spinning the wheel with practised ease. Each spin of the wheel, each call of the winning number, was mechanical. Her mind was somewhere else—locked in a place where the weight of the Marquis's threats loomed large. But she couldn’t let it show. Not here. Not now. She had to stay focused, had to maintain the illusion that everything was under control.

Then, something caught her attention. A man approached, well-dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. His blue eyes were warm, and his dark hair was styled into the kind of cut that spoke of money and power. His smile was genuine and eager, and he touched her shoulder lightly as he approached.

“Yn!” he exclaimed, his voice smooth and confident. “I thought you were done with this place!”

Yn looked up, recognizing him immediately. Mr. Gabriel – a VIP client she had serviced in the private rooms before – one who had always been generous with his tips and polite with his conversation. Unlike many others who frequented the casino, Mr. Gabriel had never crossed a line.

“Mr. Gabriel,” she replied, her smile automatic, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So nice to see you again. I had my reasons for leaving, but... circumstances changed.”

He nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I’m glad you’re back. I’ve had a few sessions with the other bunny-girls, but... their hands aren’t as skilled as yours.”

Though modest, Yn smiled, her fingers guiding the roulette wheel expertly. A faint blush crept to her cheeks, but she kept her voice humble. “I appreciate the compliment, Mr. Gabriel, but that’s quite an overstatement. The girls here are all very talented.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice in an almost conspiratorial way. “No, no. That’s where you’re wrong. You’re different. You don’t do it for the same reasons as the others.”

His words caught her off guard, and for the first time that night, Yn felt a genuine warmth. “Thank you, sir.”

Mr. Gabriel glanced at the roulette table, realizing he had interrupted her work. His expression shifted to something more apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away. I know you’re busy. But, once you're done here, I was hoping you'd join me in the private VIP room... as usual.”

Yn’s eyes blinked. Spending the night with Mr. Gabriel in the VIP room would mean avoiding the Marquis, at least for a while. The thought of not having to face the darkness lurking in the corners of the casino, of spending time with someone respectful, made her feel lighter, even if only temporarily.

The decision was easy.

“Of course,” she replied, her smile widening. “I can meet you after I finish this round.”

Mr. Gabriel grinned, clearly pleased. “Great. I’ll be waiting.”

With a nod, Mr. Gabriel walked away from the roulette table, leaving Yn with a strange relief. She had always found comfort in his presence, knowing he was one of the few clients who treated her with respect. Unlike the more predatory men who haunted the casino's corridors, Mr. Gabriel was safe. Kind. His company meant she could avoid the Marquis for the evening – an escape, however temporary.

As soon as her shift ended, Yn made her way toward the private VIP room, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. The deeper she ventured into the private section, the louder the sounds became – soft jazz music floating through the air, the murmur of voices, and the faint clink of expensive glasses being filled. The unmistakable smell of cigars, rich and sharp, curled through the hallway.

Yn reached the door and took a deep breath before she entered. As expected, Mr. Gabriel was already inside, seated comfortably in one of the plush chairs. He smiled warmly when he saw her, a lit cigarette hanging between his lips. The smell of burnt tobacco hit her immediately, and her nose wrinkled instinctively, though she quickly masked it with a polite smile.

Mr. Gabriel noticed. His eyes crinkled in an apologetic smile, and he raised one hand slightly.

“Ah, sorry for the smoke,” he said, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and extinguishing it in the nearby ashtray. “I forgot you’re not a fan of cigarettes.”

Yn shook her head, waving it off. “It’s fine, sir. Really.”

She appreciated his thoughtfulness. In her world, that kind of consideration was rare. Most men with his wealth and power didn’t bother with the comfort of others, especially not with the girls who worked here.

Mr. Gabriel’s eyes lingered on her face, unblinking, and for a moment, Yn wondered if she had said something wrong. The sudden silence between them felt thick, almost heavy.

“Yn, if it’s not okay, then it’s not okay,” he said, his voice taking on a quiet seriousness. His gaze remained on her as he settled back into the couch. “If it’s a no, it’s a no. You can be honest when you need to.”

The words hit her with a gentle force, unexpected yet comforting. In a world where her voice was often silenced or ignored, where her boundaries were blurred, his words carried a kind of weight she hadn’t experienced before. She wasn’t just a girl playing a role in front of him – she was a person. And he saw that.

“Thank you,” Yn whispered, her voice softer than intended. She looked away briefly, trying to gather herself, before meeting his eyes again.

Mr Gabriel’s smile returned, his entire demeanour softening at her response. “You’re welcome. In this line of work, you’re expected to please your clients, to ensure they’re satisfied. But your safety – your comfort – should always come first. If something’s wrong, if you ever feel unsafe... say no. Scream it if you have to.”

His words were a balm to the gnawing fear living in her chest for so long. The fear of the Marquis. The fear of what each night could bring. And even though Mr. Gabriel’s kindness couldn’t erase the danger she was still facing, it gave her a slight sense of hope. A reminder that not everyone in this world is cruel.

Yn nodded; her heart full but her voice steady. “I will. Thank you.”

“The smell will linger for a while, sorry about that,” Mr. Gabriel said as he shrugged off his blazer and loosened his necktie. “Now, if you don’t mind, the usual, sweetheart.”

Yn returned his smile, her movements calm and practised. She walked behind the couch where Mr. Gabriel had settled, his white button-up shirt still ideally in place. He seemed to melt into the plush cushions as she positioned herself behind him, her hands gently resting on his shoulders.

With practised ease, Yn began to massage him, her nimble fingers working over the knots of tension in his muscles. Her touch was a careful balance of firmness and gentleness, something she had perfected over time. The soft strains of jazz music filled the room, blending with the low hum of conversation from the far-off casino floor, creating a calm and intimate atmosphere.

Mr. Gabriel sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as he savoured the soothing sensation of her massage. “Hmm, like I said, no other bunny-girl here can massage like you. You’ve got the perfect balance of gentleness and firmness.”

Yn smiled softly at his words, though she focused on her work. “Thank you, sir. I’ve had plenty of practice. Used to massage my mom all the time.”

Mr. Gabriel let out another satisfied hum but soon grew quiet. Yn noticed the change immediately. Though still under her touch, his body felt heavier with the weight of whatever was on his mind.

“Now that you mention it,” he began, his tone laced with frustration, “it stresses me out whenever I think about my daughter.”

Yn’s hands kept moving, but she listened carefully, as always, when he opened up about his personal life. She had come to learn that, beneath Mr. Gabriel’s polished exterior, there was a man weighed down by the complexities of his world.

“She’s become so spoiled,” he continued, shaking his head slightly. “She’s in high school now, and just two hours ago, she called me. She said she was ‘stressed’ and needed money to go on a vacation to South Korea. A five-star hotel, no less. And then she hung up before I could even respond. I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Yn's heart went out to him as she massaged his tense shoulders. “That sounds tough, sir. Kids can be quite demanding.”

Mr. Gabriel nodded, his eyes still closed, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t mind helping her. My wife and I always spoiled our little princess. But it’s her attitude now that bothers me. She doesn’t seem to appreciate anything. It’s like I’m just a wallet for her to travel and post pictures on social media. That’s what kids care about these days, right?”

Yn's hands moved lower, working carefully on the tight muscles in his upper back. Her touch was gentle yet firm, as if she could soothe his physical tension and some of the emotional weight he carried.

“Maybe she needs to learn responsibility,” Yn suggested softly. “It��s a hard phase, but one day she’ll understand the value of things. She’ll realize she has to work for what she wants, to be independent.”

Mr. Gabriel let out a deep, weary sigh. “I hope so, Yn. I do. I don’t want her to grow up thinking life’s all about getting what you want handed to you.”

His hand moved to his pocket as he spoke, pulling out a well-worn wallet. He opened it slowly, revealing a photo tucked inside – a picture of his wife. His eyes lingered on the image for a long time.

“Maybe we were at fault for letting her be this way for so long,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “But it’s been hard... raising her alone. If my wife were still here, she would’ve known what to do. She was the one with all the wisdom, all the patience.”

Yn glanced at the photo from behind him. She had seen it before during one of their sessions, the warm smile of Mr. Gabriel’s wife staring back from the small square of paper. She already knew the story – how her passing had sent him spiralling into stress, how it had left him trying to balance a high-pressure job and a daughter who didn’t seem to understand the loss they had both endured.

Yn couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Mr. Gabriel. Losing a loved one was painful enough, but raising a child alone in the wake of that loss? Even harder. She continued to massage his back, her fingers moving in smooth, rhythmic motions, wanting to offer him whatever comfort she could.

“I’m sure she’d be proud of you,” Yn said softly, her voice gentle, trying to encourage him.

Mr. Gabriel smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “I hope so. I like to think she’d understand how hard I’ve tried.”

Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills, placing them on the cushion beside him. Yn blinked, her hands pausing momentarily as she stared at the crisp bills in surprise.

Before she could say anything, Mr. Gabriel glanced back at her with a small, knowing smile. “That’s your tip, sweetheart. You haven’t finished yet, so don’t stop, but I wanted to ensure you had it. As I’ve told you, you’re different from the other girls here. You’re... sincere. It’s rare.”

Yn’s fingers stilled again briefly, a wave of emotion catching her off guard. She hadn’t expected his words to affect her as much as they did. It wasn’t just the money but how he saw her. Really saw her. Beyond the bunny-girl costume, beyond the role she played at the casino. He saw her sincerity, something she had always tried to hold onto, even in a place where people were often reduced to objects, roles, or masks.

Her heart swelled with gratitude, and she let out a soft, appreciative laugh. “Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say. Your generosity, your kindness – it means a lot to me.”

He nodded; his expression still touched with a quiet sadness. “You deserve it. And thank you... for listening.”

Yn resumed the massage, her hands steady, but her mind wandered. She was moved by Mr. Gabriel’s honesty and willingness to be vulnerable with her. It wasn’t often that her clients opened up like this. Most of them preferred illusion and fantasy. But with Mr. Gabriel, there was a realness that stood out. In rare, intimate moments like these, Yn realized how much she respected the trust he placed in her.

Suddenly, Mr. Gabriel's tone shifted. “Anyway, I hope you don't mind me asking, but... is it true this casino has a new owner?”

Yn’s stomach tightened at the question. The memories of the Marquis de Gramont surfaced like an unwelcome tide, and the chill of his presence seemed to wrap around her even now. But she kept her composure, forcing a calm nod in response.

“Yes, sir. There's been a recent change,” she confirmed, her voice steady despite the unease creeping into her chest.

Mr. Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he leaned back slightly, looking both intrigued and concerned. “Is it true... that the new owner is the Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont?”

Yn hesitated. Should she lie? Deflect? She wasn’t sure how much Mr. Gabriel knew about the Marquis, but the truth sat heavy on her tongue. She nodded again. “Yes, it’s him.”

A long, deep sigh escaped Mr. Gabriel. Not one of frustration but one filled with an almost weary caution. He muttered under his breath, “Damn. What does he want here?”

“Do you... know him, sir?” Yn asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. It wasn’t often she asked clients personal questions, but something about this conversation felt different – dangerous.

Mr. Gabriel’s expression darkened further. “I’ve heard of him. He’s... a ghost. Whispers of his name float in certain circles. Rumors, mostly. About his dealings in the underworld. People say he’s tied to things no one wants to talk about.”

Yn’s heart skipped a beat. “What kind of things?”

He shook his head. “No one knows for sure. But it’s bad. Very bad. How he became a Marquis is anyone’s guess. He appeared out of nowhere with money, power, and a title that didn’t make sense. Some say he bought it. Others... say worse.”

Mr. Gabriel’s voice grew darker, more deliberate. “But I’ve heard something else. Something that’s been making waves in the underground. There’s been a... shift. A big one. A high-ranking figure in the criminal world – one of the untouchables – was murdered. By a rogue. And everything started to fall apart. The whole network... it’s crumbling.”

Yn stayed silent, her fingers moving over his shoulders, but slower now. Her mind was miles away, focused on what he was saying. She tried to process it all, but it felt like she was hearing about a world that shouldn’t exist, a world hiding just beneath the surface of her own.

Mr. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, his tone cautious. “These criminals – they’ll hunt that rogue down. Every last one of them. But here’s the thing, sweetheart... they can’t do it recklessly. If they start acting out in the open, it’ll expose their entire network to the world. They’re everywhere, but they survive by staying in the shadows. That’s their rule.”

“Are they the mafia?” Yn asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing, but it was the only thing that made sense. The mafia was the only organized crime she’d ever known that worked this way – silent but everywhere.

“Not exactly,” Mr. Gabriel replied, shaking his head slowly. “They’re similar, sure. But what I’m talking about is bigger. More organized. Much more discreet. From what I’ve gathered, they have reached every country. They even have... safe havens.”

“Safe havens?” Yn repeated, her brow furrowing.

He nodded. “There’s a hotel in New York, a lavish place. It’s a sanctuary for hitmen, assassins, and other... members of this underworld. But even that hotel has rules. Strict ones. And if those rules are broken...”

Yn’s hands stilled utterly. Her mind raced, trying to piece everything together. This wasn’t just about the Marquis anymore. It was about something much bigger – something she didn’t fully understand, but she could feel its weight pressing down on her.

Mr. Gabriel's voice dropped even lower, as if sharing a secret meant only for her ears. “Anyway, these people... they want to find the rogue who killed their leader. They want him dead. There's a massive bounty on his head, no doubt. But the higher-ups – they don’t want chaos. So, instead of an all-out hunt, they’ve appointed someone. A judge, jury, and executioner all in one. They call this person the autem imperator.”

Yn’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. She had no idea who or what this autem imperator was, but it sounded like something far beyond her control. And somehow, she could feel it pulling her closer to the man who loomed over her life like a shadow.

Mr. Gabriel continued, his tone grim. “It’s rare. This position. Only appointed when things are desperate. But from what I’ve heard... they’ve chosen someone who rose through the ranks fast. Cruel. Ruthless. But respected. Someone with deep connections, influence, and... a personal army of assassins.”

Yn inhaled sharply, the pieces clicking into place. It couldn’t be. It had to be. Her mind whirled, racing toward the inevitable conclusion.

“And this man,” Mr. Gabriel added, watching her carefully, “is rumoured to have ties to foreign royalty. A Marquis, perhaps.”

A cold dread washed over her. Of course. It was him. It had always been him. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont – her employer, the man who seemed to slip into every corner of her life, and the one who had made it clear in his subtle, chilling way that she was under his watch.

But she couldn’t believe it. Not fully. There was a part of her that desperately clung to the hope that it was just a wild rumour, some twisted exaggeration passed through hushed voices. Because if it were true – if the Marquis was a powerful figure in the underworld – then she was fucked. She and her family were fucked.

BAM!

The deafening sound of the door crashing against the wall jolted her out of her thoughts. Yn’s heart lurched into her throat as she and Mr. Gabriel whipped their heads toward the entrance. The door, which had been sealed shut just moments before, was now thrown wide open.

The Marquis stormed in, fury radiating from him like heat off a flame. His tall, commanding figure filled the space, cutting through the room with an air that demanded instant obedience. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was something feral in his expression. His eyes burned with an unsettling combination of rage and cold calculation, and they were locked onto her and Mr. Gabriel.

Behind him, Chidi, his ever-present bodyguard, entered in his usual silent, shadow-like manner. The contrast between the Marquis's explosive energy and Chidi’s controlled, disciplined presence was stark, but both carried an unmistakable sense of danger.

Yn’s breath hitched. The air in the room felt thick and suffocating, and her pulse quickened as the Marquis approached. She had never seen him like this before – so visibly angry. It was terrifying.

Mr. Gabriel stiffened, his earlier calm slipping just a fraction, though his face remained composed. He could feel it, too. This was no ordinary visit.

The Marquis halted just a few feet from them, his presence dominating the room like a storm about to break. Slowly, his arms lifted, resting his knuckles on his hips in a stance that exuded arrogance and control. His eyes were dark, assessing.

“How cute,” he said, his voice cold and mocking, the words dripping with disdain. His gaze flicked from Mr. Gabriel to Yn, like he was toying with them, waiting to see how they’d respond.

Yn’s hands trembled slightly as she withdrew them from Mr. Gabriel’s shoulders. Swallowing her nerves, she tried to keep her voice steady. “Sir... is there anything I can help you with?”

The Marquis’s eyes locked onto hers. His stare was like a blade, sharp and unyielding, filled with a ferocity that sent a cold chill down her spine. His expression had no warmth, only fury simmering beneath the surface – possessive, dangerous, and terrifying.

But then, as suddenly as the rage had flared, the Marquis’s lips twisted into a thin, mocking smile. He leaned in just slightly, his voice curling through the room like smoke, thick with his French accent. “Mon cherie, you have no idea how much you could help me.”

Mr. Gabriel had gone still, his expression carefully composed, but Yn could tell the moment something clicked in his mind. He knew. He finally understood who this man was.

“Marquis,” Mr. Gabriel began, his voice steady, though his eyes remained sharp, measuring. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir…”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” the Marquis interrupted smoothly, his gaze never leaving Yn. His tone was polite, but the dismissal was apparent.

Mr. Gabriel stiffened, but said nothing further.

Yn’s pulse raced. The Marquis tilted his head, still smiling that cold, predatory smile.

“I must admit,” he said, his voice dark and low, “I find your... dedication to your work fascinating. I didn’t think you would stoop so low.”

Yn’s throat tightened. This wasn’t just anger. It was something more profound – something personal. She wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or control, but she could feel the weight of his possessiveness suffocating her.

Yn swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump in her throat as she gathered her courage to speak. “Sir, please. Mr. Gabriel only requested a simple massage. I’ve known him for a while. He’s always been respectful, nothing more.”

The Marquis's expression tightened, his lips curling into a faint, dismissive smile. Clearly, he had heard her words, but they carried no weight with him. He refused to accept her explanation.

Slowly, he began to move toward her, each step deliberate and heavy with authority.

“Perhaps I’ve been too lenient,” he said, his voice low, almost a purr. His eyes glinted as they bore into hers, the words falling from his lips with an unnerving calm. “I’ve had a business that required my attention. Important matters that couldn’t wait. So, I missed the chance to tell you one important thing before you work.”

Yn’s pulse quickened; her breath shallow as he closed the distance between them. She lowered her gaze to the floor, terrified that meeting his eyes would somehow provoke him further. She could feel the weight of his presence pressing down on her, suffocating.

He continued, his voice taking on an authoritative edge, “I’ve decided on a new... rule. Just for you, ma lapine.”

By the time he reached her, the heat of his body radiated against her skin, and she could feel him standing close – too close. She stared down at the floor, her heart hammering in her chest, not daring to look up.

Then, without warning, his hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing into her side as he pulled her against him possessively. The touch sent a jolt through her, and she gasped softly, the air leaving her lungs in a panicked rush. She stood frozen, the fear and tension twisting inside her like a knot, and all of this unfolded right in front of Mr. Gabriel’s eyes.

“From now on,” the Marquis said, calm and commanding, “you are permanently unavailable to anyone else.”

His hand tightened slightly on her waist, his grip firm but not painful. Just enough to remind her that he controlled her in more ways than one. “If anyone asks for you, you will refuse. No exceptions.”

Yn’s breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t just talking about work. This was a claim, a mark of ownership he placed on her in front of a man she had considered a client, a confidant. She wanted to shrink away, to disappear into the floor, but the Marquis held her in place.

“If anyone questions you,” he continued, his tone dark and final, “tell them my name. If they persist... ask one of my men to handle it. They’ll bring the problem directly to me.”

Her head spun, her body trembling slightly under his touch, but she managed a slight nod, her voice failing her.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gabriel stood frozen, watching the scene unfold, and the blood seemed to drain from his face. Realization hit him like a wall of bricks. The bunny-girl he adored platonically was not just another casino employee. No. She was the Marquis’s sweetheart. The apple of his eye. And now, Mr. Gabriel realized just how grave a mistake it had been to bring her here. But since when? How long had this invisible thread tied her to the Marquis?

The Marquis’s smile was thin, an empty gesture that didn’t reach his cold, calculating eyes. He seemed almost amused by Yn’s compliance, but there was no warmth in his satisfaction – only control. His gaze shifted from her to Mr. Gabriel, who stood stiffly, jaw tight, face struggling to remain neutral.

“I believe we haven’t been formally introduced,” the Marquis began, his voice smooth yet dripping with something far more sinister. His smile remained, but it was a mask. “Your name?”

Gabriel swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a vice. Slowly, he extended a shaky hand. “It’s Gabriel, sir. A pleasure to meet you.”

The Marquis glanced at the outstretched hand but made no move to take it. Instead, he chuckled softly, the sound dark and mocking. “Is that all? I’m not a fool, Gabriel. We all have a last name. What’s your full name?”

Yn’s heart sank, horror creeping over her. She knew what this meant. If the Marquis learned Gabriel’s full name, if he connected him to any threat or offense – even one unintentional – then Gabriel’s life could be at risk. She could see it in the Marquis’s eyes. He was hunting now, ready to sink his teeth into anything that smelled like a challenge.

Mr. Gabriel hesitated, the fear evident in his eyes. “It’s Gabriel... Accetta.”

The Marquis’s eyes gleamed with something dark, and his lips curled into a mocking smile. “Why do you sound so uncertain, Gabriel? Are you thinking of a different surname? Or perhaps... a fake one?”

Gabriel’s face paled even further. “No, sir. That’s... my name.”

The Marquis stepped forward, closing the space between them. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. “You see, I tend to remember names. They mean something, don’t they? They tell a story.”

Yn watched in horror as the Marquis’s eyes bore into Gabriel, dissecting him with every glance. She could feel the shift in the air – the cold, creeping fear that sank more profoundly with every word the Marquis spoke.

Sensing the danger but too deep to back away now, Gabriel forced a weak smile. “I’m just a businessman. Nothing more.”

The Marquis’s smile widened, but it was all teeth now. “Businessman. Yes, I can tell you are. You got a wife?”

Mr. Gabriel's eyes widened, a mixture of fear and confusion flashing across his face as the Marquis’s question caught him off guard. “Yes, sir. But she passed away... a year ago.”

“Ah,” the Marquis nodded slowly, his expression almost thoughtful. “I see. So perhaps you came here tonight seeking... distraction? A little comfort, maybe? I do hope you’re not confusing my sweet darling with something like that.”

Gabriel’s face paled further, and he shook his head quickly, his voice rushed and insistent. “No, sir. I never saw her that way. I’m still very much loyal to my late wife. I refuse to... to be with anyone else.”

The Marquis tilted his head slightly, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips as if Gabriel’s response amused him. “How noble. Loyalty, even in death. I must say, I admire that.”

Gabriel forced a weak smile, unsure if the Marquis’s words were a compliment or another trap.

The Marquis’s smirk grew as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving Gabriel. “I like you, Gabriel Accetta. You have... principles. Please, take a seat. I’ll have another bunny-girl attend to you for that ‘massage.’”

Gabriel’s eyes widened further, and he shook his head, his words spilling out in a rush. “No, thank you, sir. I really must be going. It’s getting late, and I—”

“Nonsense,” the Marquis interrupted, his tone growing firmer, more commanding. “It’s still early. Sit. I have a surprise in mind for you.”

The tension in the air was thick as Gabriel stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do, before he reluctantly lowered himself back into the chair.

Yn’s heart raced as the Marquis finally withdrew his hand from her waist, the brief relief she felt vanishing almost immediately when he clasped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers in a possessive grip. His touch was cold and calculated, and she could feel the weight of his control in how he led her toward the door. Chidi, his silent shadow, followed close behind.

As they stepped out of the private VIP room, the atmosphere shifted. The eyes of her fellow bunny-girls were already on her, their gazes sharp and knowing, as if they had seen something – or sensed something – before the Marquis had barged in. Yn felt her cheeks flush under their scrutiny, the weight of their stares almost as heavy as the grip of the Marquis’s hand.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle from the Marquis pierced the air. Yn followed his gaze. Sabrina.

The moment the Marquis whistled, Sabrina’s head turned in his direction, her eyes lighting up with elation and surprise. Without hesitation, she rushed over to him, her steps quick and eager, a flirtatious smile already playing on her lips.

“Yes, sir?” she purred, her voice dripping with playful seduction.

Yn watched, her stomach twisting with an unfamiliar feeling as the Marquis leaned close to Sabrina’s ear, whispering something only she could hear. Sabrina’s eyes widened, her expression shifting from astonishment to something almost like awe, though Yn couldn’t hear the words. But the Marquis’s grip on her hand tightened slightly.

Sabrina giggled softly, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she listened. She once glanced at the door to the private room. Once the Marquis leaned away, she nodded in response.

Sabrina’s eyes flicked briefly to where Yn’s hand was clasped tightly in the Marquis’s. Nevertheless, she purred, “Understood, sir.”

Without another glance at Yn, Sabrina turned and glided past them, heading straight into the private VIP room where Mr. Gabriel sat, likely too stunned to move. The door clicked softly behind her, but not before Yn caught the low, sultry words she offered as she stepped inside. “Good evening, sir. Lean back and settle down. I’ll show you a night of pleasure.”

Yn’s heart twisted. She glanced back at the door, worry bubbling up inside her. Mr. Gabriel didn’t deserve whatever was about to happen.

Before she could dwell on it further, the Marquis’s hand tightened around hers, tugging her forward with an unspoken command. She stumbled slightly but quickly regained her footing as he led her down the hallway without a word, his grip firm and unyielding. Her concern for Gabriel lingered, but the sheer force of the Marquis’s presence demanded all her attention.

The path to his office was a blur of lights and hushed voices, but Yn barely registered any of it. Her thoughts spun in a chaotic whirl as the reality of her situation pressed in from all sides.

Finally, they reached the large oak doors that led to his private space. The Marquis didn’t slow his pace. He pushed open the door and guided her inside.

The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, echoing in the room's silence. Yn’s heart raced as she stood in the centre of the opulent space, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the dark wood and leather furnishings. The air felt heavier here, thick with power and unspoken rules.

The Marquis released her hand, but even without his touch, the weight of his authority lingered between them. He moved purposefully, crossing to the large desk that dominated the room, his back to her as he adjusted something on the surface – papers, perhaps, or some file.

Yn stood frozen, unsure whether to move or speak. The tension was unbearable, her nerves on edge as the silence stretched.

Without turning, the Marquis spoke, his voice calm, but laced with the same possessive edge she had felt all night. “You’re concerned for Mr. Gabriel, I imagine.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Of course he had noticed.

“I...” Yn’s voice faltered. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “He didn’t mean any harm.”

The Marquis finally turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist. He leaned casually against the desk, his expression unreadable. “He made a mistake by asking you to service him privately.”

“He didn’t know,” Yn responded, her voice trembling slightly, but a spark of indignation stirred inside her. She couldn’t let this go. “You can’t blame him for that.”

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, watching her closely, but Yn pressed on. She could feel the frustration bubbling up – frustration that had been building ever since he’d forced her back into this life. The life she thought she’d left behind.

“You wanted me back here,” she continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “You made me come back, to work as a bunny-girl. Assisting these men – personally attending to them – it’s part of my job. You know that.”

Her pulse quickened, heart pounding as she let the words spill out, each one a small rebellion against the suffocating control he held over her. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted this. But you – you – forced me to return.”

The Marquis’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something. Amusement? Annoyance? Whatever it was, it crossed his face. Still, he remained eerily calm. He straightened from the desk, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, voice smooth but with an edge, making the hairs on the back of Yn’s neck stand on end.

The Marquis’s gaze never wavered. Once he stood close, his hand lifted, fingers gently encircling her neck. Yn’s breath hitched, a jolt of alarm running through her. But he didn’t squeeze. He held her there, as if asserting control over her very existence, over every breath she took.

“But now you know. You’re the only bunny-girl who is off-limits to everyone else,” he stated.

Yn blinked, confusion washing over her features. She whispered, “Why? Why do you want me here? Please tell me the truth.”

The Marquis’s eyes darkened, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. Yn became painfully aware of how close he was, the scant inches between their bodies. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the charged air. The tension was suffocating, a heavy blanket that pressed down on her, making her heart pound in her chest.

“This,” he said, his tone smooth yet unyielding, “is the safest place for you.”

Her eyes widened. “Safe? From what?”

The Marquis remained silent, his expression inscrutable, though the grip on her neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind her who was in control. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like a dark cloud that swallowed every word before it could be spoken. The room felt colder, and Yn’s skin prickled as she tried to read the unreadable look in his eyes.

Then, without warning, he spoke. “Open your mouth.”

Yn froze, her mind spinning. The command caught her off-guard, and she hesitated, fear bubbling. She could feel the tremor in her own hands, and for a brief moment, she thought of pushing him away, of running. But where would she go? What’s the point?

Slowly, reluctantly, she parted her lips, a small act of submission. The Marquis’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he closed the distance, slightly tilting her head to the side. His lips pressed against hers, firm, and then he kissed her, his tongue slipping past her lips, demanding, dominating. She gasped, a soft, muffled sound swallowed by his mouth as he deepened the kiss, his free hand moving to cradle the back of her head, trapping her there.

Her thoughts blurred, a chaotic storm of emotions she couldn’t understand. Panic, defiance, confusion, all mingling together as his tongue explored her mouth, tasting, claiming. Her hands moved to his chest, but whether to push him away or steady herself, even she wasn’t sure. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, a stark contrast to the frantic pace of her own.

Finally, he pulled back, just enough to let her breathe but not enough to create distance. His breath was warm against her lips, and she could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, the faint curl of his lips. “As long as you’re here, no one else will ever hurt you.”

Yn’s chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her lips tingling from the force of the kiss.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered, but the words felt weak, fragile. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to be here.”

The Marquis tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into his eyes. “No, you are the one not getting it.”

He released her neck, his fingers trailing down her collarbone, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Yn swallowed, trying to steady herself. His hand slipped away, only to return, fingers curling around hers. He said nothing as he turned, guiding her across the room toward his desk, which dominated his office, dark wood polished to a gleam under the dim lights.

“I’ll make you understand,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made her heart sink. There was no room for argument in his tone, no softness that suggested he might relent. As they reached the desk, he pulled her towards it.

“Now,” he continued, his eyes locking onto hers, the command in them unmistakable, “get under the table.”

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meazalykov · 3 months ago

Text

so so kind

lea schuller (platonic) x lena oberdorf (romantic) x reader

summary: your jealousy blinded you from the support you had all along

warnings: jealousy, injury

the weight of the match against wolfsburg hangs heavy on your shoulders as you step onto the pitch, the red and green spreaded across the crowd gives you motivation.

normally, the energy from the german stands fuels you, pushes you to play harder, faster.

but today, the noise fades into a distant hum, overshadowed by the anxiety gnawing at the edges of your mind.

you’ve played for bayern munich frauen for a while now. it's been four years since you left arsenal as an eighteen year old, hoping to find something new outside of your childhood club.

every time you wore a bayern kit, you felt right at home.

but today feels different—unsettling.

lena, your girlfriend, isn’t on the field with you. her mcl and acl injuries wil her on the sidelines for nearly the entire season, and the absence of her steady presence beside you has left a void.

ever since she transferred from wolfsburg to be closer to you, her girlfriend of three years, you were excited to have her as a teammate. a little too excited.

when she got injured during the national break before the olympics, your heart broke for her. she is the last person to deserve that robbery.

but still, it’s more than just missing her support; it’s the knowledge that she’s out there somewhere, watching, unable to join you, unable to share the intensity of the game and having to watch instead.

lena likes watching games, but she hates watching when she knows that she should be out there. you feel the same for her.

as you take your position in midfield, your eyes involuntarily search for lena on the bench. she’s sitting there, her leg propped up, her gaze fixed on the pitch with a look of hope. hoping that bayern will win– you don’t think that you’ll get used to that look, considering that lena was your rival for years.

your heart aches seeing her like this, sidelined when you know how badly she wants to be out there.

but before you can dwell on it, you catch sight of lea standing nearby, sitting beside your taller girlfriend and laughing at something lena said.

lea didn’t start this match, so she sat comfortably on the bench planning to watch the first half before being subbed on in the second.

lea’s always there, isn’t she? always so close to lena, so touchy and affectionate in a way that feels foreign to you.

it’s not that you don’t trust lena—you do, more than anything. but the friendship between lena and lea has always made you uncomfortable, even though you know it’s irrational and stupid of you to feel.

a few weeks ago, it was a casual evening at giulia’s after a long day of training. everyone was relaxed, laughing, and enjoying the moment.

but as you stood by the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink as sydney begged for you to try a pastry that she made, you couldn’t help but notice lena and lea across the room. they were sitting close together on the couch, lena’s arm draped casually over lea’s shoulders as they talked, their heads bent close in conversation.

they were smiling, laughing at some private joke, completely at ease in each other’s company. lea smiled brightly as lena suddenly bursted out in laughter at something.

the sight of them like that, so comfortable and familiar with each other, sent a very sharp ache through your chest. you felt a knot form in your stomach, a mix of jealousy and insecurity tightening around your heart. suddeny, sydney’s pastry wasn’t important or on your mind.

you knew it was irrational—lea was lena’s best friend, nothing more—but that didn’t stop the doubts from creeping in, from making you question your place in lena’s life.

you tried to shake it off, and tried to focus on sydney again, but the image of them together wouldn’t leave your mind. it felt like a dark cloud had settled over you, dulling the joy of the sunny evening.

you forced a smile when sydney turned around from the oven and handed you the brownie in a pink napkin, pretending everything was fine, but you could feel your mood slipping, the heaviness settling in your chest as you chewed on the chocolate dessert.

too busy staring at your girlfriend and her best friend, you didn’t notice some of your closest teammates, georgia and sam, coming to sit next to you on the kitchen island.

georgia and sam had always been perceptive when it came to your feelings. they followed your gaze to lena and lea, then looked back at you, their eyes softening with understanding.

“y/n,” sam said quietly, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “you okay?”

you nodded quickly, not trusting your voice to stay steady.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you replied, but even you could hear the unconvincing tone in your voice.

“come on, we can see something’s bothering you. what’s up?” georgia raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. she gently nudged your shoulder.

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it from them.

“it’s just–” you couldn’t say, but instead nodded toward lena and lea.

sam expressed an “ohh” facial expression, while georgia nodded her head.

“i know they’re just friends, but sometimes i can’t help but feel… i don’t know– jealous? i don’t know.”

georgia and sam followed your gaze again, watching lena and lea for a moment before turning back to you.

“i get it,” sam kerr said softly. “but you have nothing to worry about. lena’s crazy about you, everyone who knows her can see that. and lea? she’s known lena since they played at essen. they’re close, sure, but they don’t have feelings for eachother– if i knew or suspected that i would tell you. you’re the one lena’s in love with.”

sam’s words were comforting, but the ache in your chest didn’t fully ease. “i know that,” you whispered, more to yourself than to georgia and sam.

“it’s just hard sometimes, seeing them so affectionate like that.”

“trust me, y/n. lena’s yours, and she wouldn’t trade what you two have for anything. see– she's looking at you right now.” georgia says.

you look over at lena and she smiles at you, waving and happy seeing you in conversation with georgia and sam– she doesn’t know what you’re talking about though. all you do is give a light smile before lena turned away to talk to tuva, who sits by lea and lena.

“thanks, georgia and sam. you guys don’t understand how much i needed to hear that” you nodded, giving a light smile at them as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“anytime,” sam replied with a smile, then nudged you playfully.

“i would suggest talking to them about it.” georgia adds on.

“i can’t– lena’s gonna think i am a jealous insecure freak and will leave me. i can push it down, don’t worry.” you ramble.

“don’t. that's how resentment starts. don’t be mad at me, but i think that is happening now.” georgia said with concern.

at this point, sam gave a sympathetic smile before walking away– being called by klara in another room to check out something.

“you think so?” you ask.

“yes, you need to talk to them as soon as you can. now come on, let’s get back to the fun. no more people watching.”

you managed a small smile, letting her words sink in as you tried to push the insecurities aside. it worked, temporarily.

back to the pitch– the whistle blows, signaling the start of the match, and you push everything else aside, focusing on the game. you will not let their moment affect yours here. if your mistakes from that cost you a loss for bayern, you’d risk your starting spot next game.

for a while, you’re lost in the rhythm of the game, your focus sharp, your movements precise. you channel all your energy into the match, letting the intensity of the game distract you from everything else. the ball at your feet, the opposition pressing, the cheers from the bayern crowd—it’s all that matters in this moment.

you dribble around a few defenders in green before shooting the ball. you put your hands up when the ball reaches the back of the net– goal!

everyone gathered around you for a hug. you smiles in joy before jogging back to your spot.

lena smiles at you and puts her hands up in her heart. you stop jogging, now walking, and put your hands up into a heart as well. a camera captures you putting up an “L” with one hand and your other hand making an “O”.. fans will obsess over this later.

after halftime, you’re on the pitch when lea comes on. you didn’t show any emotion, hoping that lea makes an impact like she usually does on the pitch. you’ll give her that– she is a damn good striker.

after wolfsburg conceded a corner kick, you stood by the back post.

the ball is kicked by giulia and you unplant your feet– thinking of going for a header.

the ball soaring through the air toward you. you leap up, determined to make the play, but lynn from wolfsburg shoves you mid-air.

it’s a hard, intentional shove, and you’re caught off balance.

time seems to slow as you lose control, your body twisting awkwardly in the air. you crash into the goalpost with a sickening thud, pain exploding in your head, the metal reverberating as you flop onto the ground.

the world goes blurry, and the sounds around you fade into a muffled haze. you’re vaguely aware of hitting the ground, of voices shouting around you, but everything is distant, as if you’re underwater or in a cave far from society.

nobody noticed at first, since the ball was kicked into the goal by lea. she didn’t care to celebrate when she noticed your injury.

you were barely moving, which freaked her out internally.

a voice cuts through the fog in your head—lea’s voice. she’s there, crouched beside you, her hands on your shoulder, her face pale– just like yours– but with worry.

“stay with me, y/n. stay awake,” she’s saying in german, her voice shaking slightly.

you try to focus on her, but it’s hard, everything spinning and out of focus. you catch a glimpse of her wide, panicked eyes, her grip on your hand tight, almost desperate, as if she can keep you tethered to consciousness by sheer will.

the weak hand of yours touches lea, signaling that you have no energy to talk. that knock fron lynn took all of the wind out of you. it was rough, the yellow from the referee proved that.

you’re dimly aware of the medics rushing over, of being lifted onto a stretcher, but all you can think about is how lea is holding your hand, refusing to let go until she’s forced to step back. her concern, her fear, is palpable, and it cuts through the haze of pain and confusion.

it’s a stark contrast to the distance you’ve been trying to maintain, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, you’ve misjudged her and her intentions with your girlfriend all along.

later, when the dizziness has faded and you’re back in the locker room with an ice pack on your head, guilt gnaws at your gut.

lea didn’t have to help you—she could have stayed on the sidelines since you wanted distance from her, but she didn’t. she was there for you, just like she’s always there for lena. and that’s when it hits you: lea has never hated you. she wasn’t trying to steal lena away from you. you’ve been so blinded by your own insecurity that you couldn’t see it. you’ve let your fears create a wedge between you and lea, and it’s been unfair to both her and lena.

you know what you have to do. so, after the match, you ask lea to your house. she would probably be there anyways, since it you and lena’s shared home in the bavarian countryside.

luckily, lena had a doctor’s appointment at bayern– so she had to stay behind and encouraged you to go home since you’re tired from the match.

it’s awkward at first with lea, the two of you sitting across from each other in the cozy living room, the tension thick in the air.

you internally freak out when you realize that you’ve never had a real conversation with her before, not like this. now, the words feel heavy on your tongue.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. the silence in the room feels heavy, almost suffocating. you’re sitting across from lea, her eyes steady and patient, waiting for you to speak.

this conversation is long overdue, but it’s hard to find the right words. finally, you break the silence.

“lea, i– i need to be honest with you about something,” you begin, your voice wavering slightly.

“i’ve been carrying these thoughts around for a while, and i think it’s time i finally tell you– or rather ask you.”

lea’s expression is gentle, her gaze encouraging. “you can tell, or ask me anything, y/n.”

“do you like lena?” you ask, your eyebrow knitted together as lea’s face fills with confusion.

“as my best friend, yes, anything more– i don’t.” lea answers, not trying to show that she is nervous about the upcoming conversation.

“it’s about… about how i’ve been feeling lately. about you and lena. i know it sounds silly, and i’m trying to work through it, but—” you pause, struggling to find the right words.

“seeing you two together, so close, affectionate and so comfortable, it stirs up this weird knot inside me. i keep thinking, what if one day, lena decides she doesn’t need me anymore? what if she doesn’t love me anymore? what if she… decides she’d rather be with you?”

lea’s eyes widen slightly, and she opens her mouth to speak, but you hold up a hand to stop her. you need to get this out, to lay everything bare.

“i know it’s irrational,” you continue, your voice cracking. “i know you’re her best friend and that there’s nothing more between you two. but every time i see you two together, laughing and being so affectionate, it feels like a reminder that i might not be enough. it’s like there’s this part of me that’s afraid lena might see something in you that she doesn’t see in me. and that thought… it terrifies me. i don’t want to be fooled, if there are feelings between the both of you– just tell me and i’ll get out of the way.”

you look down at your hands, unable to meet lea’s gaze. the vulnerability of your confession makes you feel exposed, raw.

“i’ve been pushing you away because of these feelings, and i know it’s not fair to you. i thought that if i kept my distance, i wouldn’t have to deal with these insecurities. but the truth is, i’ve let it affect my relationship with lena, and with you– and it’s not right.”

lea’s silence stretches on for a moment, and you’re not sure what she’s thinking. when she finally speaks, her voice is soft but firm.

“y/n, i had no idea you felt this way. i’m really sorry if i’ve contributed to those feelings. but i want you to know that lena and i have known each other for years, and yes, we’re close, but that’s all it is—a close friendship. our friendship doesn’t change the fact that lena loves you. she’s never looked at me in that way, and she’s never given me any indication that she wants anything more than what we have as friends.”

you glance up, meeting her gaze. there’s sincerity in her eyes, and it’s a comfort. “but you’re right,” lea continues.

“i’ve seen how much lena loves you. it’s obvious to everyone around us. i care about lena deeply, and because of that, i care about you too. i’ve always wanted us to get along, but i didn’t know how to close the distance between us.”

“i’ve been so caught up in my own fears that i didn’t see things clearly. i’m sorry for the way i’ve treated you.” you swallow hard, trying to process her words.

lea reaches out, placing a comforting arm over your shoulder. “i’m glad that you found a point to start talking about your feelings now. i want us to be friends, y/n, and i want to support you and lena, not be a source of conflict.”

your heart warms as you listen to her. “thank you, lea. it means a lot to hear that from you.”

lea smiles, a warm and understanding smile. “there is no problem, i promise. we both care about lena, and that’s something we have in common. we can use that as a way to become close.”

you nod, feeling a sense of relief and clarity that you haven’t felt in a long time. “yeah, i’d like that. thank you for being so understanding.”

“anytime,” lea says with a reassuring nod. “now, there is just one thing—”

your heart sunk, afraid of what lea might say.

“you have to talk to lena now about this.” lea says, firmly.

“i will.” you swallow.

when lea leaves your home, you feel lighter.

just a couple of minutes later, lena comes through the door. relieved seeing you resting on the couch.

you and lena are curled up on the couch in your shared apartment, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp. darker from when lea was there. the day has been long, and the tension between you has only recently begun to ease after your conversation with lea.

"are you okay? I saw that hit you took from lynn earlier, is there anything you need?" lena asks, rubbing your head.

she hated that she could only stand and watch as the medics surrounded you earlier. she was glad that you had lea, sydney, pernille, and georgia watching over you.

lena’s presence beside you feels comforting, then it feels the same as it did before your conversation with the blonde german. what if lena doesn’t react so kindly?

your girlfriend isn’t mean, so you take a deep breath, preparing to share your feelings with her.

"I am okay--- but lena,” you start, your voice quiet but steady.

“i need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.”

lena looks at you, her expression soft and attentive as she plays with the hair in your ponytail. “what’s on your mind, love?”

you hesitate for a moment, then continue, “it’s about you and lea. i talked to her earlier and for a while i’ve been struggling with how close you two are. it’s not that i don’t trust you or anything—it’s just— i’ve felt this knot of jealousy and insecurity whenever i see you two together. i know it’s irrational because you;ve been friends with her since even before we knew each other, but seeing you so close with her, it makes me wonder if there’s something i’m missing.”

lena’s eyes widen with concern, and she reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face that fell out of your ponytail.

“y/n,” she says softly, her voice full of warmth. “you’ve been feeling this way? i had no idea.”

you nod, trying to hold back tears.

“i’ve been pushing myself to stay calm and rational, but it’s been hard. i guess i just needed to hear it from you. i need to know how you really feel about lea and why you two are so close.”

lena pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace.

“lea and i have been friends for a long time, longer than you and i have been together. she’s like a sister to me. we’ve shared so many experiences, and that bond is deep and meaningful, its not going anywhere. but that doesn’t change how much i love you.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body against yours.

“i understand that, but sometimes it feels like i’m competing with that bond. it makes me question if there’s a place for me in your life where i’m not overshadowed by your bond with her.”

lena kisses the top of your head, cheek, and nose– her touch tender and reassuring.

“you’re not competing with anyone, y/n. my friendship with lea is important, it doesn’t come close to what i have with you. my love for you is different—it’s deeper and more significant. our relationship is something i cherish and prioritize above all.”

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in. “i needed to hear that. thank you for being so understanding. it’s just hard sometimes, seeing how easily you connect with her. maybe i didn’t understand because i’ve never had a close bond with a friend like you do with lea”

lena pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, her gaze intense and filled with sincerity.

“i want you to know that my connection with lea is like that of family. it’s a bond that’s been built over years, and it’s special, but it’s not a reflection of how i feel about you. there’s no comparison. my love for you is above anything else– ever since i met you”

the taller girl takes your hair out of your ponytail gently– your hair falls down from the hair tie and she runs her fingers gently through your hair, her touch soothing.

“if you ever feel uncertain or insecure, please talk to me. i want us to be open with each other. and remember, you’re my priority. nothing and no one will ever change that.”

you nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “i will. i just needed to know where i stand with you.”

lena smiles, her eyes warm and loving. “well you aren’t standing now– but you’re sitting right here, with me. and that’s exactly where we belong.”

you lean in for a kiss, feeling the connection between you deepen. the reassurance and physical affection from lena makes you feel grounded and loved.

authors note: wrote this on vacay but had to fix a ton of it since it was originally on my phone LMAO

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#lena oberdorf #lea schüller #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #bayern munich #germany nt #meazalykov #woso imagine #woso soccer #womens football #lena oberdorf x reader #lena you're missed #lea schuller x reader

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allfearstofallto · 8 months ago

Text

I did it :)

Degrees of Lewdity LI Transformations - Headcanons

All Male LI x Fem! PC Reader

Ft: (Corrupt, pure) Sydney, Whitney, Kylar, Robin

TW: 18+ MDNI, deviancy, wolf tf, harpy tf, bull tf, knotting, unprotected sex, Dub-Con, cumming inside, breeding

Angel! Sydney who's pure as the day he was born. Strawberry blonde hair that seems to shimmer in the light, hazel eyes that only pass forgiving stares. Wings whiter than freshly fallen snow and a golden halo, reflecting an almost blinding light off his glasses. Sweet pure Sydney isn't just the talk of the temple, his unshaken virtue is the talk of the entire town. Though he'll humbly insist that he can't cast blessings, but people still beg him to pray for them which he'll do regardless, he's too kind not to.

Fallen! Sydney who's lost that light in his eyes, dark hair draped over his shoulder. The blinding light of his halo is now changed to an inky black over his head, until one day he comes back with a fresh set of horns sprouting from his forehead. White wings look like they're dipped in oil, their color slowly sinks and becomes dark. You wonder if he seems happier this way, his insatiable lust making him palm himself through his shorts while looking at you, grinding himself against his hand while wordlessly mumbling what he wants to do to you.

Wolfboy! Whitney who doesn't let anyone mention the ears or fluffy tail he sprouted. Who insists that he only likes going into the woods because it's an easy place to smoke without being bothered. His new assets means that his already firm grip as he pounds into you, is now met with the painful feeling of claws digging into your hips, sharp teeth at your neck, threatening to bite. When he cums inside your already trembling cunt, he bullies that big knot of his inside. The swell of it filling your abused pussy up, knocks the air from your lungs.

Harpy! Robin who always had such a lovely singing voice, but when he sprouts colorful wings and a feathered tail his voice seems to get brighter. He sings you to sleep while stroking your hair, hands gentle as he's careful of his abnormally long claws. His love making is more passionate now, a pretty voice singing out as the claws dig into the bedsheets below you, those wings of his flapping as he fills you with cum, then nuzzles against your chest. He sleeps with a defensive arm around you, making sure you're full of his seed, but more importantly safe.

Bullboy! Kylar who's desperate, begging for your touch. He needs to be milked, so badly it hurts and only you can do it for him. His cock, abnormally large, balls heavy and filled to the brim. You'll stroke his cock as he stands stiffly, moaning out loudly while praising you with words of love and admiration. He cums while practically convulsing from your hands, your fingers slick with his precum. His balls tense, bovine tail wagging as cum drips down your arms, a seemingly never ending stream leaving the twitching head.

#degrees of lewdity sydney #degrees of lewdity #degrees of Lewdity Headcanons #degrees of Lewdity kylar #degrees of Lewdity robin #degrees of Lewdity whitney #whitney the bully #syndey the faithful #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #smut #mdni

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springtyme · 2 months ago

Note

For your autumn challenge (I have a lot of ideas 🥲)

- Sydney getting cold in the fall bc the temperatures drop unusually quickly, so reader gives Sydney her sweater & Sydney gets flustered about it

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

Sydney Adamu x reader || Main masterlist || Sydney playlist

summary: On a cold October day in Chicago, you share a little of your warmth.

word count: 900

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕) 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

The last whisper of summer has slipped through the cracks like a fast fading memory, leaving behind a chill in the air that feels like it has arrived much too early. As a brisk wind sweeps through the streets of Chicago, Sydney pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders and quickens her pace toward the little café on the corner.

When she enters, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked pastries wraps around her like a comforting embrace, and she spots you already seated at a cozy table near the window. You look up to greet her, and the chill in her bones melts away at the sight of your smile.

“Hey, you!” you call out, waving her over. Your eyes sparkle with warmth, and as she approaches, she can’t help but grin back at you, though she is still shivering slightly from the sudden drop in temperature.

“Hi,” she says, sliding into the chair across from you. As she settles in, she rubs her arms to stave off the cold.

“This is for you,” you say, reaching for the hot cocoa you have ordered for her. “It just felt so fitting for the weather. ” You slide it over, and Syd feels how her lips curl into a smile.

“Thank you,” she says, taking a sip and sighing contentedly. “This is just what I need, I’m freezing, I really didn’t expect it to be so chilly today.” She wraps her hands around the mug, smiling like the beverage has magically warmed her entire body, but it is clear that the cold air has seeped into her bones.

“Here,” you say instinctively, shrugging off your oversized sweater that you are wearing over your hoodie. It is a soft, knit piece, the type of sweater that feels like a warm hug when you wear it, and you drape it across the table toward her. “Put this on.”

Sydney’s eyes widen in surprise, her ears and cheeks tickling with warmth that has less to do with the cocoa and more to do with your gesture. “ Are you sure..? Won’t you be cold.”

“I’m fine. You look like you could use it more than I do,” you insist, a playful smile dancing on your lips. Your eyes are sparkling as you give her a reassuring nod.

“Seriously?” she asks, hesitating as she glances at the cozy garment, then back at your encouraging smile.

“Seriously. I think I’ll look good on you too,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows as you prompt her to take it.

With a nervous giggle, she picks up the sweater and pulls it over her head, she can’t help but smile even wider as she folds her hands over the cuffs, letting the warmth envelop her. “God, this is so comfy! I’m stealing it,” she jokes.

You laugh. “Maybe you should. It looks better on you than on me,” you say, your demeanor shifting into something softer.

Sydney feels her heart race slightly at that, her cheeks heating up again—not just from the snugness of your sweater. She can’t find the words, instead just sipping her cocoa again and looking down, a shy smile painting her lips.

“Well, I definitely don’t think that is true…” she begins, her tone suddenly quiet. “But it’s really sweet of you to give me this.”

“I wouldn’t do it for just anyone,” you reply, moving your hand slightly closer to hers on the table. “Only people I really care about.”

Her heart flutters, and she meets your gaze, her vulnerability mirrored in your eyes. “I uh… I care about you too,” she whispers, feeling giddy and flustered all at once.

A short moment of comfortable silence falls between you, your eyes locked. It is a moment that feels both magical and nerve wracking. You smile at her, not your usual wide confident one, this one is more gentle and slightly bashful, almost shy, but it only takes a few seconds for you to find your family grin.

The silence breaks and the conversation shifts to laughter and shared stories, the chill of the world outside forgotten in the cozy bubble that forms around you two. The way you so easily offered your sweater, bone-deep warmth radiating through the wool that now envelops her, it feels deeper than just a simple gesture.

The café buzzes with life around you, but for Syd, it feels as if time stands still. The warmth of your sweater and your presence fills the space between you, and she feels something more than just the heat of your kind act; it is the warmth of budding affection and an exciting possibility—a sweet prelude to what is slowly blossoming between the two of you.

As the afternoon light begins to dim, painting the café in golden hues, Sydney catches glimpses of the world beyond the window, people bustling past, wrapped in their own narratives and lives. Yet, her attention is anchored solely on you. The way you laugh, how your eyes gleam in the warm light of the café as you talk, the way that you look at her… all of it envelops her like the sweater she now wears, each moment knit together with invisible threads of connection. And in this moment she can not help but wonder if your connection can be woven into something even more beautiful, that maybe you really have feelings like she has.

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everythingne · 5 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ wing damage ch 3 (mv1)

Australia ends up hotter than expected when Nadine finds herself in a mess of unwanted feelings left over from her fun night in Monaco. Max isn't too confused about how he feels, he just knows he shouldn't be feeling it.

halliwell!reader x max verstappen / fc : sophia la corte

warnings/notes: I UPDATED THE PAST CHAPTERS. PLEASE READ THOSE BEFORE THIS!! holy fuck i finally got this out? yippee!! pretty chill chapter compared to the last few. mentions of alcohol,weird flirting, overprotective max

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, charles.leclerc, and 450k more...

nadinehalliwell: bring ur eldest daughter to work day (australia edition)

user1: we love and support the halliwells in this house ‼️

user2: literally redbull royalty.

gerihalliwell: My good luck charm!! Looking beautiful.

⤷ nadinehalliwell: ily mama ♥️

monanotlisa: AAAAA SEXY!!! LOVE UUUU COME BACK TO MONACO SOON ♥️‼️‼️

⤷ nadinehalliwell: if u let me drive the porsche i’ll be back asap.

⤷ monanotlisa: ur such a whore for a porsche 911

⤷ nadinehalliwell: ITS A BABY PINK PORSCHE 911 GT3 WITH WHITE INTERIORS. EVERYONES A SLUT FOR IT.

allycameragirl: OMGGG 😭 BACK ON THE TRACK BABYYY ‼️‼️ SEE YOU IN AUSTINNN!!!

⤷ thenadinehorner: CANT WAIT MY LOVE ♥️♥️♥️

Australia is hot. Blazing hot. I've decided for the next several months to spend time with my mother and sisters, travelling the world and distancing myself from the hell that is home for a bit. Even with my roommates at home with me, my apartment in Monaco doesn't feel like a home.

Ally's not home half the time, too busy being a bit shot movie producer, and Mona's got a huge job lined up. We're never home together anyways. Even though we all love each other to bits, we're all living such different lives. Maybe we should just go our own ways again.

It was nice to live together even for a bit, though.

Dipping into the garage, I pass Checo and give him a fist bump before finding Max and whack his shoulder. GP laughs softly as I dramatically drape myself across Max's back, popping my head atop his as he huffs.

"How's it going, Mad Max?" I muse, "New racing strats?"

I can hear the grin in Max's voice as he says, "Nothing I'm telling you, paddock princess."

"Paddock princess? Excuse me, do I look like George Russell?" I huff, which gets a full body laugh from GP and a decent one from Max as I pry myself off his back and come to just sit next to him like a normal person.

"What's the occasion for the dress? Just the paddock fashion?" Max looks up and down the pink sundress I'm wearing and I perk up, happily blabbing on about how I'd bought the dress in Sydney a few days before the race and wanted something to wear to the race and the part tonight.

"What party?" Max asks, leaning over to fix a hair thats gotten stubbornly stuck to my earring.

"My mom is having a yacht party tonight for all the teams to celebrate the beginning of the season. She couldn't do it in Saudi or Bahrain because of how busy we all were." I look at the notes Max is focused on reading, even though they make little sense to me. GP excuses himself to speak with Hannah, leaving Max and I alone in the little outcove of the garage.

"Ah." Max sighs as a mechanic moves past, tossing a helmet to his colleague as they set up to do some sort of extraction training. Max catches my attention as he says, "and I take it I'm set to attend this?"

"Of course you are. My mom would be devastated without her 'eldest son' there, right?" I lean over to peck a kiss on his cheek as I stand up and brush off my dress as if it'll have anything on it, "gotta run off and find my mom, I'm helping her with media."

"Good luck." Max smiles to me and I can't help the grin that finds my lips as I whisper back the same words and rush down the garage hall to hide the blush that threatens to run up my chest to my face.

There's no fucking way I'm letting this get to me. No, no, no. What Max and I had done was a mistake, and that was how it would stay. Some drunken mistake I thought about a bottle or two deep on a friday night.

I did not love Max Verstappen, and that was that.

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, monanotlisa, and 850k others...

nadinehalliwell: my photographer @ maxverstappen <3

user1: cannot get over how much she actually looks like geri.

user2: MOTHERRRR

maxverstappen: stop drinking all the champagne the party hasnt started yet !!

⤷ nadinehalliwell: no <3

user3: i swear every story post of nadine recently has been her drinking

charlesleclerc: very pink today

gerihalliwell: so so pretty!!

user4: UGH SHES SO PRETTY LET ME BE HER.

By sundown the party was in full swing. The yacht massive, even by my mothers standards, but comfortable enough to fit everyone with room for plus ones and random additions to the roster. Leaving the bar I make my way to the little longue chair area on the top deck, waving happily to some of the drivers and such who mill about up there.

As I go to snag my spot between Max and Charles again, I'm intercepted by one of the newer Sky News reporters. I peeked over his shoulder from the conversation he had left, and saw some people just casually milling about. So I felt a bit better about this random guy coming up to me.

But, from the corner of my eye, I could see Max lean forward a bit more.

"Hello, sorry, I don't think we've met." He holds out a hand with a small grin as he looks me over, "I'm Luke."

"Luke, I'm Nadine, it's nice to meet you." I shook his hand, keeping my eyes firm on his face as he then chooses to keep his eyes firm on my mine. His eyes light up, as if he's realized exactly who he's talking to and it makes me want to scream. Of course.

"Geri's daughter, correct?" He grins and I nod, biting the inside of my cheek as I curl my hand a bit tighter around the fruity little margarita I got from the bar, "Wow, it's great to meet you. I'm sorry about everything that's been happening to you within the past few months, that must be rough.."

"It's been rough but I've got a good support system here, and I'm here with my family too, so they've been very helpful." I keep up the usual wall I keep up with any reporter. I know Luke notices, at the tick of his jaw, but he doesn't say anything else.

"That's good. I'm really glad to hear they're supportive." Luke smiles, "other than doing media for Red Bull, what do you do for work?"

"Just influencer stuff. I post fashion, beauty, and lifestyle content on social media, mostly Youtube, TikTok and Instagram. I also have a podcast on Spotify." I use my usual elevator pitch, "I pay for everything using the creator fund, sponsorships, and other means of ad revenue."

"The whole -- creator fund thing, thats fascinating to me." Luke starts to talk, continuing on and on. The more he talks, the more I begin to realize that this guy just wants to blab on and on about himself. I nod, keeping my interest as he talk about reporting and doing media, and then asking if I do it too.

"I've done some sort work for Sky News before. When Seb did the beehives I was one of the reporters over there with him, which was nice because he and Mark kinda raised me a bit and I hadn't seen him in a while." I smile and Luke nods, and before he even says anything I can tell he's about to try something stupid

"Well, someone as gorgeous as you would definetely be succesful in any field." Luke grins, taking a sip of what I think is an Old Fashioned in hand before his grin falls to a smirk, "and man in charge would be an idiot to not promote a face like yours."

I don't dignify him with any answer. Taking a long sip of my drink as my eyes are level with him. I can tell he's nervous at my lack of response, but before he can talk, Luke's eyes flicker to the side of my head. He squints before a firm, warm hand is pressed to the small of my back.

"Sorry to interrupt," Max smiles placidly, his hand sliding to grip onto my hip, his fingers warm against the skin of the cutout of my dress and sending a shiver down my spine, "but Miss Halliwell here has a certain seat she needs to snag again."

"No worries." Luke gives a stiff response, before turning away with a soft goodbye over his shoulder. Max turns me and tucks me back against his chest as he leans down to ask, "You alright?"

"Yeah. He was just a weirdo." I roll my eyes as he guides my back to my seat, securing me between him and Charles once more, and I happily fall back into conversation.

Not failing to notice the fact Max's hand never leaves my back.

"Max Emilian Verstappen, I swear to god." My voice rings across the quiet hotel room, nails clicking on my cracked phone screen as I type a reply to his comment. Charles laughs softly, his hand pausing midway through fixing my hair as he looks over at my hungover state in my bed. Thanks to him and Carlos, I managed to get back from the yacht party last night with all my belongings and my dignity.

"You're getting full named." He says to Max as if he isn't actively ignoring my complaints. I watch Max peek at my tiny lump in the blankets behind him in the mirror he stands in front of, the back of his hair still drying from the shower. We had to leave for the flight back home within an hour and I was still laying in a ball, still nauseous, still tired and aching.

"Because of the reporter?" He asks, turning his head to Charles who smiles at him with a shrug.

"What was so bad about him?" I ask, "You and Charles are all up in arms about it! I don't even know what he said that was so outlandish!"

"He looked like a damn predator." Max says and if I wasn't as nauseous as I was from blacking out last night (not my proudest moment) I would've chucked a pillow at his head, "and I can't control Charles."

Charles laughs, moving from the mirror to come sit at my side, letting me pop my head onto his lap as he absentmindedly toys with my hair, before he starts braiding it back for the flight home and I groan and cuddle into his touch. Charles was basically my new brother at this point, ever since I moved to Monaco last year.

"He flirted with her infront of everyone, I don't take back my attitude about this." Max turns around, walking over and kneeling in front of me. Brushing the side of my face to feel the heat from my red cheeks, "did you even drink water, Nadi?"

"It was kinda funny!" I protest, careful not to move too much as Charles' nails run along my scalp to collect little sections of my hair, "and I did drink water, and Gatorade. I had like... four big bottles of Gatorade."

"Drink more." Max sits now, long legs folding under himself as he sighs, "before your mom kills me for letting you go out with us."

"Oh hush, you're more of her kid now than I am." I grumble out a complaint before Charles taps my shoulder so I sit up and roll to the other side so he can braid it too. Before Max can reply, the door is knocked on and I close my eyes--pretending to be asleep is easier than being hungover.

"Geri, hey!" Max calls at the door and I groan, Geri suppressing a laugh into a soft huff through her nose. Sitting me up slowly, Charles used the comforter to hide my dress that I was still in, and I curled a bit deeper into its warmth and his touch.

I would literally do anything for Charles in this moment.

"Morning, morning," my mother gives Max a tight hug, the two more mother and son now that team owner and racer. As she comes into the room, she laughs at my burrito, leaning over to peck my forehead.

"Late night?" She asks and I grunt in response. My mother shrugs her bag off one shoulder and digs in it--handing me a water bottle and a thing of Advil.

"Yes, Mama. And I love you." I say as I take the items, popping two Advil and washing it down with the entire bottle of water.

“Mhm.” Geri laughs, taking the empty bottle and tossing it as she shoves the Advil back in her bag, “and you love liquor more.”

“Mama, they had soju.”

“My daughter’s an alcoholic.” Geri huffs as he stands and Max laughs. I made grabby hands at her much like I would when I was a kid and she was my lifeline.

“Oh, she’s very hungover.” another voice calls, before someone comes running into the room and tackles me to the bed.

“Daniel!” I complain, hitting him as I writhe under his weight, “get off!”

“Stop talking to that reporter, and I’ll get off.”

“What is it with him? I’ve been seeing stuff online.” Geri pops her bags down next to Max’s, watching as Max climbs on top of Daniel—effectively putting about three hundred pounds on my already nauseated self while Charles just laughs.

“Did you see that guy yesterday?” Daniel says, whacking Max’s head, and begrudgingly both of my pseudo brothers climb off of me. But Daniel is hungover as well, I can see it in his eyes, so I let him stay on the bed while we shove Max off. Giggling when the Dutch driver unceremoniously thumps to the floor.

“The reporter was flirting with me, apparently.” I shrug, leaning forward to lay my entire body weight on Charles who grunts in response.

“Apparently? He called you gorgeous!”

“Could be a compliment.” Geri smiles, looking over at Max to gage his reaction. He looks less than pleased.

"Alright, well, come on. We have to be at the airport in like... an hour or they won't let us take off until later." Max huffs, taking Daniel's hand to help him up and then Charles. The two of them grab most of the bags and before I know it we're at the airport, me using my Airpod Max's on their soundproof mode to keep my headache at bay. Luckily it doesn't take long for us to get on Max's jet, and my mother takes me to where the bed is so I can sleep.

The little bedroom has a door to close too, so my mom sets herself up on a chair to answer her emails and shuts the door so the boys can be louder without bothering me.

Which, leaves Max, Daniel, and Charles alone towards the front of the jet. Charles stretches out, sitting on a chair next to Max as Daniel sits across from Max.

"Nadine looked sick," Max sighs, running a hand through his hair as he takes a long sip of water, "and I know turbulence gets to her stomach, so I imagine it's worse now that we're in the air."

"I'm sure she's fine, Max. Geri's in there with her." Daniel hums, looking over at the door as if reminding himself of that.

"How do you even remember turbulence gets to her?" Charles yawns, taking a sip of his own water in turn with Max. Leaning back in his chair as he watches Max.

"I just... I dunno. I remember weird shit like that." Max shrugs, looking out the window as they dip through the clouds. He looks back at his two friends, who are sharing looks, and he raises his eyebrows, "what?"

"Why did that Luke guy piss you off so much? Nadine has dealt with her fair share of sleazy reporters." Charles finally bites the bullet and asks, making Daniel raise his eyebrows in shock over the question being asked, and Max sighs.

"Do you really wanna know why that Luke guy pissed me off?" Max murmurs against the rim of his water bottle and both Charles and Daniel nod.

"Because he was flirting with her." Max shrugs softly, capping his bottle and setting it down and he leans back and stretches his back. His hands run through his hair, tugging on it, and closing his eyes as he sighs.

Daniel picks up where Charles left off, "But he flirted with a lot of girls, and it didn't bother you, but the second he set his eyes on Nadine? Why did you get so pissed off?"

"I really don't know but..." Max's voice is almost dark, "Oh, god, it was like seeing red. And he was flirting with her so boldly, in front of everyone, like he owned Nadine and it pissed me off."

"And you still think you don't like her?" Charles groans, kicking Max under the table, "you're so dense."

"I can't like her, you guys know how it is. Geri would fucking kill me, that's her daughter." Max complains and when Charles and Daniel raise their eyebrows he groans and slumps back, "okay, alright, fine. Maybe."

"Maybe?!" Daniel exclaims, getting hushed by the other two. And as Charles carries on the teasing, Max can't do anything more than gnaw on the inside of his cheek and try to swallow his smile.

He's in love with you, and that is that.

taglist (thank you, and I know this taglist is old, so if you'd like to be removed you can send me a message or an ask!)

@itsponybeaches @awritingtree @1655clean @biitch-with-wifi @heesungthel0ml @newlifeforus @rosegasly @sideboobrry11 @formulaal @justalittlejess

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blindcurtains · 2 months ago

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Are you looking for a simple yet effective way to breathe new life into your living space? Look no further than drapes in Sydney! These versatile window treatments can make a huge difference in the ambience and functionality of your home. In this blog post, we’ll explore how drapes in Sydney can instantly transform your living space and why they’re worth considering for your next home upgrade.

Know More: https://blinds-shutters-sydney.blogspot.com/2024/09/how-drapes-can-transform-your-living.html

#drapes in Sydney

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woodywood101blog · 2 days ago

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Experimental: Delivery, Part 1

The following days were a whirlwind for Yazan and Randy, as they discovered this new phase of their relationship. They both know it will be a bit surprising to everyone back at the hospital when they return with both four babies and a newfound love for each other. At the same time, you can’t always stop what the heart (or dick) wants!

Yazan and Randy tried to enjoy as much as they could in these final weeks, including a trip to the beach. Yazan gave up on finding shirts that would fit, so he arrived at the beach wearing a large bra and board shorts. Randy said it might have been easier for him to shave his beard, to at least appear more feminine while in a public space, but Yazan didn’t have the energy to worry about shaving, especially as he had always maintained a beard for as long as he started growing facial hair. Randy didn’t bother arguing, so they went down south towards Royal National Park and wandered along a more secluded beach, knowing there wouldn’t be as many people around.

Yazan and Randy talked about all sorts of things, including names for the babies, Yazan’s massive breasts, preparing bottles of colostrum and eventually milk, buying the things needed for a nursery, and eventually birth.

“So, we definitely know your ass is malleable, but we still don’t know if it could sustain birthing all four babies.” Randy said.

“I know, I just… I’m scared.” Yazan sighed and looked away.

“Hey, Yaz, look at me.” Randy replied as he grabbed Yazan’s shoulder and moved towards him. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, we’ve got support from the researchers here, we’re all going to make sure you and the babies are safe. Alright?”

“Alright. I just -”

“Nope, you’re going to be okay!”

“Ugh, here you were bursting into tears weeks ago and now here I am like a blubbering mess.”

“You at least have hormones to explain away your blubber. I don’t!” Randy replied, and they both laughed.

***

At around 36 weeks, they both agreed that Yazan stays at the apartment and only leaves to go across to the lab as needed for the now daily scans. Yazan wasn’t too sure why it needed to move to daily ultrasounds, but it was Mike’s strong recommendation to do so. As far as Randy and Yazan were concerned, and going off the ultrasounds, the babies were all developing nice, healthy and strong. It gave Yazan time to slow down and appreciate the little moments, like the larger ripples of movement from the babies, as well as being able to work out who is positioned where within the belly. He also noticed his belly had dropped, meaning he could breathe fairly normally for the first time in months. It’s only a matter of time now, he thought.

(morph by @bigmpregnm)

It also meant he didn’t need to stress too much about clothing, so he had no hesitations in bringing out some of the shirts and clothes he gave up on long ago to just drape over the top of him. Randy saw Yazan one afternoon standing on the balcony of the apartment, looking out towards the city. Randy walked up from behind and moved his hands as far as he could to the front of the belly, swaying and kissing Yazan on the neck.

Yazan purred as he felt everything coming together nicely. “Isn’t this lovely?”

“What is?” Randy asked.

“Just… everything. The babies are almost here, I’ve got you to help me with the kids, we’re in this beautiful apartment here in Sydney for now, and then we can start a new life together back home.”

“A new life together?”

Yazan turned around and said, “Yeah, I was thinking today -”

“That’s never a good sign!”

“Shush you! I was thinking that I’d probably need an extra set of hands to help look after these four, and since you’ve already helped so much, I’d love it if you could move in with me? I’ve got a spare room if you -”

Randy leaned in and kissed Yazan on the lips. “I’d love that, Yaz. Yes, of course I’ll move in with you!”

Yazan grinned widely at Randy’s response. “I love you, Randy.”

Now it was Randy’s turn to grin widely. “I love you too, Yazan.” Randy turned towards the edge of the balcony and screamed out “I love you, Yazan!!” Yazan laughed and tried to cover Randy’s mouth as Randy mumbled “But I want the world to know, Yaz…” They laughed as they walked back inside the apartment and prepared for dinner.

***

Randy could sense that Yazan was getting more tired as the days went on, to the point where he recommended Yazan just stayed in bed to avoid putting his body under extreme pressure. Yazan, being the stubborn person he is, didn’t take too lightly to being told to do nothing, so had no hesitation in wandering around the apartment, lightly bobbing his belly. Of course, after a couple of minutes, he would feel puffed out and have no choice but to sit down.

“See, I told you! Go, you’re on bed rest now.”

“What?! You can’t order me to rest.”

“I can! Remember who signed your medical clearance?”

“Fine…” Yazan groaned loudly as he tried to stand up and slowly walk back towards bed. He took off his shirt and pants, and grabbed extra pillows to have behind his back as he sat up in bed on “bed rest”.

“Okay, babe, I’m going to go to the lab and grab an ultrasound and tubes so we can do the tests from home. You stay in bed, alright?”

“Yep, okay then. See you soon!”

Randy quickly shut the door and dialled Anna. “Hey, Anna! How’s it going?”

“Yeah, not too bad. Coincidentally, I’m just having a look at Yazan’s most recent blood results. They seem okay…”

“You don’t sound confident?”

“Are you on your way to the lab?"

“Yeah, I’ve put Yazan on bed rest, so I was thinking of borrowing a mobile ultrasound and doing the scan from the apartment.”

“Okay, we’ll talk more when you’re here.”

“Rightio, chat soon!”

Randy speed-walked towards the bus stop to get to the lab. Once there, he saw Anna out the front with Mike talking.

“Hey there, guys! Is everything alright?” He saw Anna and Mike look towards Randy with a serious look on their faces. “Guys? What’s wrong?”

“Let’s talk inside.” Mike said with a hint of worry.

As they got into Mike’s office, Mike immediately said, “Right, so the most recent blood results seem to show a spiked level of testosterone in Yazan’s system. We’re not too sure where it’s coming from, but we’re worried this is the beginning of Yazan’s body rejecting the pregnancy.”

Randy gulped as he processed the news. “Okay, so what do we do? Do we book him in for an emergency c-section? He’s on bed rest now as he’s too tired to move around the apartment.”

“Too tired? Anna, I think we need to see Yazan.”

“No, Yazan doesn’t want -”

Anna interjected, “I know Yazan doesn’t want Mike there,” and briefly mouthed sorry to Mike, “but we’re worried that if the body rejects the pregnancy without us being able to get labour underway, there’s a real chance the babies will die as the body pumps T-cells all over.” Randy looked down in worry. “We’re here to help you, Yazan and the babies, okay? So can we come over and have a look?”

“Okay… but I bet you Yazan will not be impressed!”

“I guess I’ll have to practise my best bedside manner then, right?”

***

After two hours in bed, Yazan already hated doing nothing. He never was the kind of person to sit around and wait, so he did what he thought would be vaguely useful: he decided to go and clean the apartment. He saw Randy picking up so much of the slack around the apartment because of his immobility, so he thought he’d do something nice and clean the place room by room. So, with a bit of effort, he slowly moved himself out of bed, slipped on a bra and some shorts and got to work.

He grabbed a broom from a cupboard and started sweeping around the main living room. He thought it was a fairly simple task to do, especially as he could lean on the broom and rest as needed. I’ll just start with the sweeping and go from there, Yazan thought.

After about 15 minutes of sweeping across the entire apartment, he started to feel a different kind of pressure building up in his back. He groaned as he rubbed his lower back to try and dissipate the pressure, but noticed it wasn’t disappearing.

“Hmm” he groaned. “Maybe I’ll go and sit down.” As he went to go and sit, he suddenly felt a searing pain spread across his back and abs. He gasped in shock at how intense the jabbing pain felt. “That’s insane! No, this can’t be it… No, no, no, no, no!”

He can’t be in labour now. He eventually sat down on the sofa and calmed down the babies as they kicked up a fuss. “Shh, it’s okay kids. Daddy’s here. Seems like you’ll be here sooner than expected, huh?”

About 20 seconds later, he felt what he could only describe as a water balloon bursting inside him, followed by a small trickle of liquid coming out of his ass. “Fuck!!! This can’t be happening now!!”

His waters have broken. These kids want out now!

He groaned as he tried to stand back up, but struggled with the pain across his hips and lower back. He could feel the babies push further down towards his ass, confirming that his manpussy really was going to be where the kids were coming out.

After two more intense contractions, Randy walked into the apartment. Anna and Mike stayed outside to wait for Randy to invite them in. Randy looked down in shock as he saw Yazan kneeling on the floor, rubbing his belly aggressively and sweating all over his body. He also saw a small puddle of liquid near his ass. Yazan looked up and smiled briefly at Randy before groaning in pain.

“Yaz, what the fuck are you doing? You’re meant to be in bed!”

“Argh, you know I can’t sit still! I just wanted to - ARGH!” Yazan screamed as he felt an intense contraction rip through his body.

“Babe, how long have you had these contractions?”

“I don’t know, but they’re getting stronger!” Yazan groaned.

“Anna! Mike! In here - now!”

“Wait, what…” Yazan turned and groaned as he saw Anna and Mike walk into the apartment and look down at the scene. Mike’s jaw dropped as he saw Yazan’s extremely bloated belly.

“I really should’ve brought him in for a planned c-section last week. Shit!” Mike said quietly to Anna.

“Well, he’s in labour now, so we need to help, Mike!” Anna replied sternly. Randy looked at Anna, slightly pleased that she’s standing her ground. Anna kneeled down to Yazan, “Hey Yazan, I’m Anna, one of the research assistants. We’re going to take you to RPA now. We’ll call one of our other assistants to prepare a private room. For now, just breathe, and once this contraction is done we’ll get you to stand up. Okay?”

Yazan nodded as he struggled to breathe through a new contraction. Randy looked incredibly concerned as he saw Yazan holding his breath.

“Yaz, you need to breathe through the contractions. Like this..” Randy tried to help Yazan slowly breathe as the contraction slowly died down.

“Ahh, that was a rough one, Randy!” Yazan lightly chuckled. Randy didn’t find it humorous as it looked like Yazan was about to pass out from the pain.

“Alright, we’re going to help you stand up now, Yazan, okay?” Anna put on her best doctor’s voice. Randy looked up and smiled at Anna as she took the lead. “Mike, can you help Randy lift Yazan?”

Mike quickly scrambled across to Yazan, as he and Randy helped bring Yazan to his feet. Yazan groaned loudly as he felt the babies dig further into his hips.

“This hurts so fucking badly, Mike. Fuck you!”

Randy mumbled to Mike as Yazan moaned, “What’s that phrase, you’re in the shitter?” Mike glared back at Randy, while Randy smirked back at him.

#mpreg #male pregnancy #mpreg morph #pregnant man #short story #experimental

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caramara3 · 20 days ago

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How Could You | Damian Priest

Warnings: it's just sad.

A/N: Sooo... this is actually a rework of an old Seth Rollins one-shot I had made years back, but I decided to revamp it into a Damian Priest one-shot. This has absolutely no tie-in to Just Friends whatsoever.

Word Count: 2.9k

Enjoy!

DING!

The elevator comes to a halt upon the arrival of yet another floor. A robotic, yet feminine voice comes over the loudspeaker:

“EIGHTH FLOOR.”

The metal doors slowly open to reveal a black and gray hallway with artwork of abstract watercolor paintings hanging on the walls. Standing towards the back of the car, leaning against the safety bar, you watch your best friend and maid of honor Sydney step off the elevator. Placing one hand in front of the elevator door so it wouldn’t close she scans the hallway, looking left and then to the right, all to make sure that there was no one around.

After a few minutes, she finally turned her gaze back into the elevator. A small, loving smile softly forms and she extends a hand.

“Coast is clear,” she whispers.

You nod and push off the safety bar, throwing the thick strap of your purse over your shoulder. You grab hold of your carry-on and step off the elevator.

Sydney places a hand on the swell of your back while the other pulls her suitcase. Your gaze falls to the floor as the two of you walk down the hall, focusing on the hotel’s unusual carpet pattern as she scans the placards on the wall looking for the right room. Every so often you could feel her eyes practically burning a hole through before quickly turning away to look back up at the placards.

She was worried. She had every right to be. Since leaving the arena over an hour ago you'd barely spoken a single word. Not to her, not to Rhea, no one. You were catatonic.

But who could blame you? After what you had just seen, anyone would react the exact same way if they were in your shoes.

As you continued down the hall, you could feel the consistent buzzing of your phone through the thin fabric of the hoodie. Slow at first, but quickly becoming more often with every unanswered second passing by.

It almost felt like with every step you took, the phone would go off.

Step.

Buzz.

Step.

Buzz.

Step, step.

Buzz, buzz.

Normally you would have answered by now. But instead, you chose to ignore whoever it was and kept going.

You finally reached the end of the hall and stopped in front of a door marked 827. Sydney pulls out a key card from the pocket of her jeans and slides it into the automated lock. A few buzzing sounds later, a green light flashes and a loud *click* signals the door had unlocked. She turns the handle, pushes the door open, and then moves to the side to usher you into the room, following close behind.

Placing your purse on the dresser, you look around at what would be your new home for the night. For the most part, the room looked like every other hotel room you’ve stayed in while on the road. Granted, this was probably the most luxurious of most of them, but still pretty standard.

There were two Queen beds each donning a fancy purple duvet with no less than eight of the fluffiest pillows you’d have ever seen in your life, a giant flat screen TV mounted above a black dresser, cashmere floor rugs draped across cherry hardwood floors, a cozy little reading area near the windows with a small leather loveseat, and a wet bar fully stocked with overpriced snacks and tiny bottles of alcohol.

The one thing that did make the room stand out was the incredible view. Floor-to-ceiling window panels centered on the main wall of the room leveled with the New York skyline, showcasing a near perfect image of the city. There was even a clear view of the Empire State Building in the background, lit up in red and blue lights as night blanketed the city.

You sit on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. Looking out at the city you couldn’t help to think about how different life was a few hours ago. You were engaged to the love of your life. You were in the final countdown before the big day, less than a week. You were at your rehearsal dinner downtown surrounded by your closest friends and family, all gathered to celebrate your upcoming nuptials.

But all of that seemed so long ago now.

How could this have happened? How could he do that to me?

But before you could think of an answer to your question, the sound of boots clacking across the hardwood floor brought you back to reality.

“Well,” Sydney says with a satisfied sigh, “this is nice. Really nice as a matter of fact, especially with it being super last minute.”

You brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them, never once looking away from the window. “It’s fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” she snorts, “Y/N, come on! Look at what we got. Gorgeous view, fancy sheets, free Wi-Fi, a fully stocked bar...”

You hear movement from behind and see a light flicker on through the window’s reflection. “Oh my-, Y/N you’ve gotta see this bathroom! It’s got a huge shower and…” she pauses, “Oh. My. God. The floors are heated. Y/N the floors are heated!!”

But you don’t move. You don’t spring up from the bed to revel in her excitement over heated floors or whatever other fancy details the room had to offer. Instead, you stay seated in silence, holding yourself as you gaze out into the city and its nightlife.

You observe the streetlights perched on the sidewalk creating an ominous glow on the pavement. The mixture of city cars and yellow taxis, halted by ongoing traffic as they struggle to reach their destination on time. The small groups of tourists stopping every few minutes for selfies with various buildings in the background, including this very hotel.

All the while your mind replays the events from earlier. A single tear manages to escape as your mind begins to torture you with a play-by-play of what happened. It all still felt like a dream to me, a sick twisted nightmare that no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t wake up from. Your brain searched and scanned through every single memory collected from the last three years.

You were desperate to find any little detail you missed, something that could explain just where everything went wrong. Something that could’ve prepared you for what would eventually happen.

But you found nothing.

No hints, no little clues.

No hidden messages or blaring warning signs.

Nothing that screamed out: “Y/N don’t be alarmed, but the night before you’re supposed to get married… you’re gonna find your fiancé with some random woman bent over a table.”

Boy that would’ve been a great fucking warning now, wouldn’t it?

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t felt the bed dip, nor did you flinch when you felt a set of arms pull you into an embrace, resting your head under Sydney’s chin. One hand settled at the swell of your back, tracing small circles with her finger, the other gently stroked your hair. Sydney had been your best friend ever since you were both in diapers, you knew just how much it pained her to see you like this; this deflated catatonic alien that had replaced her bubbly best friend. You knew she probably had a million questions for you, but rather than bombard you, she said nothing and just held you.

Throughout your nearly three decades of friendship, there was never a time in your life where you couldn’t rely on her to be there for you wherever you needed the most. And tonight was definitely one of those moments when you needed her.

The two of you stayed in this comfortable silence for seemed like forever, just staring out into the night as she held you.

“You feel like talking about it?” you hear her ask, her voice just above a whisper.

You say nothing.

“Ok, that’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it yet. We’ve got tomorrow to figure everything out, but tonight,” she pauses, leaping from the bed, “tonight we are getting shit faced.”

Once again you say nothing but watch as she makes her way over to the wet bar. You knew what Sydney was trying to do. First she would pump you with some top shelf liquor, order a bunch of room service, and then put on your favorite horror movies to get you in a relaxed and neutral state while she did damage control.

Unfortunately, Freddy Krueger and tequila weren't going to fix this problem. Not this time.

“Tell you what. Why don’t I call Rhea and see where she and Bianca are with the rest of your things, and then I’ll see if I can wrangle us up some food. How does that sound?”

You think it over for a moment before nodding in agreement.

A smile forms on Sydney’s face. “Awesome. What do you feel like? We could do chinese, pizza, maybe some Thai food? I could see if room service is still available…?”

You look over at her, her hazel eyes meeting yours. “Could we do a little bit of everything?”

A small laugh escapes Sydney’s mouth. “Hell yea we can! I’ll even get some ice cream from that bodega we passed down the street. Why don’t you change out of that dress, take a nice hot shower, and I’ll start getting everything ready.”

You give her a small smile and with one final hug from her she grabs her purse and heads out, leaving you alone. You slide off the bed and walk around the large room. You stop in front of one of the many conveniently placed touch screen panels on the wall. Scanning over it, you find an app called Night and tap it. Instantly, large panels begin descending over the large window panel, slightly darkening the room and hiding the skyline away for the night.

You move about the room making your way inside the en-suite bathroom. Once inside, you shut the door and lock it. Sydney was right, this was an incredible bathroom, like something straight out of Architectural Digest. Apart from the aforementioned heated floors, there were heated marble countertops, eucalyptus scented plush Egyptian cotton towels, two complimentary plush bathrobes with matching slippers, full-sized bottles of luxury brand skincare and body products, & a huge glass walk-in steam shower with two large overhead rainfall showerheads and shower wall panels on the front and side walls.

On the outside of the shower was another touch screen panel to control the shower. You look it over for a few moments, looking over your choices before choosing the one labeled “rainfall.” The overhead showerheads come alive and water begins to rain down, quickly filling the bathroom with steam.

Moving back to the sink you look at the wide selection of skincare products laid out when you felt your phone begin its incessant vibrating once again. But rather than ignore it like before, you pull your phone from your hoodie pocket and stare at the screen.

The first thing you see is your background. It was one of your favorite pictures of the two of you together, Halloween 2022. The two of you had dressed up as Frankenstein and The Bride of Frankenstien. You were looking at the camera but his eyes were focused solely on you, a smile stretched across his face as he did.

You unlock your screen and view the notifications: over a dozen missed calls. Dozens of voicemails. Way too many damn unread text messages.

With a sigh, you begin scrolling through the list of missed calls, seeing one name appear more often than others.

Damian.

Rhea.

Bianca.

Damian.

Kayden.

Finn.

Dominik.

Damian.

Bianca.

Finn.

Damian.

Rhea.

Damian.

The nerve he had to call you, the absolute nerve. What in the hell would make him think you wanted to hear anything that he had to say? Did he think that simple sorry was going to change everything? Or was he calling to explain that what you had seen wasn’t what you thought it was.

You toss your phone onto the counter in annoyance before walking back into the main room, not caring much where it landed. You free yourself of your hoodie, your dress, and the rest of your clothes. You grab two of the plush bath towels underneath the sink, placing one on the back of the toilet and place the other on a hook outside of the shower. You grab one of the bottles of complimentary body wash and open the shower door, the rush of steam engulfing you as you step inside.

You move to stand directly underneath the showerhead, letting the warm cascade over your body. The sound of water splashing against the tiles echoed off the walls but it wasn’t enough to drown out your own thoughts as your mind displayed every kiss, every touch, every ‘I love you’ ever said playing on an endless loop in your mind, attempting to pinpoint the moment where everything changed.

Meeting for the time wrestling on the indies. Meeting again after signing your WWE contract. The night he first asked you out, the night he first said I love you, the night you first made love. Meeting each other’s families.

You try to shake these thoughts from your mind, but it won’t work. No matter what else you attempt to think about, no matter what other happy memories you attempt to form in your head, nothing can keep them at bay. A few stray tears push their way out but you’re quick to wipe them away.

No, you thought. You are not going to do this Y/N. This isn’t happening right now. Stop it!

You reach to grab the bottle of body wash from the shelf inside the shower...

And that’s when you noticed it. The tan line on your finger, now completely visible on your left hand that only a few hours ago bore the beautiful oval cut diamond engagement ring.

The ring that he claimed to have been carrying around for months, hoping to find that right moment that never seemed to come.

Until the night of WrestleMania 37, just hours after you retained your title against Asuka and watched him compete in his first Mania alongside Bad Bunny. The two of you found yourselves back in your shared hotel room, bodies entangled with one another, holding you close against his chest when he would whisper in your ear the two words that would freeze time around you both:

Marry me.

He would reach over to the bedside table next to the bed and pull out a small black box. He would tell you just how much he loved you, how he has always loved you from the moment he met you, how he doesn't wish to spend another day on this earth without you. Then he would slip the dainty ring on your finger and ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Now that finger is bare. The ring was gone, given or rather thrown back at him after what had happened.

And just like that, it all came crumbling down. That false sense of reality you created since leaving the arena had finally collided with actual reality and had smacked you dead in the face.

Damian Priest, the love of your life, the man you were set to marry tomorrow, had been cheating on you.

And you had caught him tonight.

Your legs carried you backward until your back hit the wall of the shower. A wave of nausea swirls all around your empty stomach and your chest tightens like someone was stomping on it repeatedly. The first sob was quiet, nothing short of a small childlike whimper as the tears fell. But more and more as reality continued to sink in, they grew louder. The tears flowed more, so much so that I couldn’t tell what were tears and what was from the shower.

Three years of your life, all gone in a flash. Plans for the future, for children, traveling the world… all just illusions and fantasies that would never come true now.

Your body sank to the ground and before you knew it you were curled up into a ball, sobbing into your knees as the water turned from warm to cold.

But you didn’t care. Your head swam with half-formed regrets. Your heart felt as if your blood had turned into tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat.

There was nothing left to feel, nothing left to say, nothing left but the void that now engulfed you in the swirling blackness.

And it was all because of him.

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