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Gentle Care for Your Bags: Professional Bag Dry Cleaning
Indulge in the epitome of sophistication with our professional bag dry cleaning services, meticulously crafted to cater to your luxury leather and furniture care needs. We understand the unique value your bags hold, be it designer purses, exquisite leather briefcases, or cherished upholstery pieces. Our expert team employs gentle yet effective techniques, ensuring the preservation of your bag's integrity and elegance. Trust us to breathe new life into your accessories, rejuvenating them with a touch of finesse and care. Elevate your style with our premium dry cleaning, tailored exclusively for your discerning taste.
#luxury bag dry cleaning#handbag dry cleaning#leather bag dry cleaning#Bag Dry Cleaning#handbag dry cleaning near me#purse dry cleaning near me
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Top 5 Signs Your Luxury Bag Needs Expert Leather Repair
Preserve the Elegance of Your Luxury Investment
Yourluxury leather bag is more than just a fashion accessory; itâs a statement of style, sophistication, and often, a cherished investment. However, no matter how carefully you handle it, time and usage can affect its appearance and quality. Like any other premium item, luxury leather bags require special care and, sometimes, professional repair to maintain their original beauty. Whether youâre dealing with scratches, faded colours, or damaged straps, knowing when to take your luxury bag to an expert is crucial to preserving its value.
If youâre wondering, âIs there a service for leather bag repair near me?â, youâre in the right place. This blog outlines the top five signs that your luxury bag needs expert leather repair, along with tips on finding the best leather bag repair & services in Delhi.
1. Visible Wear and Tear on the Leather Surface
The most common sign that your luxury bag needs professional attention is visible damage to its leather surface. High-quality leather, while durable, can still show signs of wear and tear over time, especially if the bag is frequently used. This may include:
Scuffs and Scratches: Leather is prone to scratches from brushing against rough surfaces or accidental damage from everyday activities.
Fading and Discoloration: Exposure to the elements, such as the sun, rain, and air pollution, can lead to uneven fading, giving your bag a worn-out look.
Peeling Leather: Poor-quality or untreated leather can begin to peel or flake, making your luxury bag look unsightly.
If you notice these signs, itâs time to search for leather bag repair & services in Delhi or your local area. Professional repair services at our leather care co use advanced leather care techniques, such as conditioning, colour restoration, and surface treatments, to restore your bagâs former luster. For fading and discoloration, color-matching solutions can revitalise your bagâs natural hue, making it look brand new again.
2. Damaged Handles and Straps
The handles and straps are among the most-used parts of your luxury bag, which makes them more susceptible to wear and damage. Over time, the stress of carrying heavy items can cause:
Fraying or Tearing: Constant pressure can cause the stitching to fray or tear, particularly in fabric-lined leather handles.
Worn-Out Leather: Leather handles can crack or become thinner over time, reducing the bag's sturdiness and making it uncomfortable to carry.
Handle Detachment: In severe cases, the straps or handles may completely detach from the body of the bag due to weakened stitching or broken hardware.
Ignoring these issues can lead to further damage and render your bag unusable. Thankfully, professional handbag restorations & repair services specialise in repairing and reinforcing worn-out handles and straps. Whether itâs restitching or replacing damaged sections, expert technicians can restore the structural integrity of your bag, ensuring it remains functional and stylish.
3. Loose or Broken Hardware
Luxury bags often come with high-end metallic hardware, including zippers, clasps, buckles, and chains. These elements are essential for both the functionality and aesthetic appeal of the bag. Over time, however, you may notice issues like:
Broken Zippers: Zippers that are stuck, misaligned, or broken can severely hinder your bagâs usability.
Tarnished Clasps and Buckles: Metal components can tarnish, rust, or corrode over time due to exposure to moisture and everyday use.
Missing or Loose Decorative Elements: Chains, studs, or any other metal embellishments on the bag can become loose, fall off, or break entirely.
Trying to fix these problems yourself can often lead to more damage. Instead, look for aluxury bag leather repair service has expertise in handling such intricate repairs. Professional technicians can replace or repair damaged hardware, polish and restore tarnished metal, and ensure that all decorative elements are reattached securely.
4. Cracked or Torn Lining
While most people focus on the exterior of their luxury bag, the interior lining is just as important. A damaged lining not only detracts from the overall appearance of the bag but can also compromise its functionality. Here are some common lining issues:
Tears and Rips: These often result from sharp objects or heavy use. Over time, the fabric inside the bag can rip or fray, making it difficult to keep your belongings organised.
Stains and Discoloration: Spilled makeup, ink stains, and accidental food or drink spills can quickly ruin the appearance of the bagâs interior.
Lining Detachment: In some cases, the lining may begin to pull away from the bagâs outer leather, reducing its structural integrity.
Expert repair services can address these issues by relining the bag or cleaning the interior to remove stains. For serious damage, replacing the lining altogether might be the best solution. When searching for the best handbag repair & dry cleaning services, make sure they offer comprehensive solutions for both the inside and outside of your bag.
5. Loss of Shape and Structure
One of the hallmarks of a luxury bag is its well-defined shape and structure. However, with regular use, especially if the bag is overloaded or improperly stored, the bag can begin to lose its shape. Here are some signs that your luxury bag is suffering from structural issues:
Sagging Base or Sides: If the base of your bag starts to sag or the sides become floppy, itâs a sign that the bag's leather and structure are weakening.
Bent or Warped Frame: Some luxury bags are designed with an internal frame to maintain their shape, but this can bend or warp due to rough handling or improper storage.
Misshapen Corners: Overloading the bag or constant use can cause the corners to lose their firmness and structure, making the bag look worn and untidy.
To restore your bagâs shape, professionals offering handbag restorations & repair use high-quality materials and techniques to reinforce the internal structure. By rebuilding the frame and treating the leather, they can bring your bag back to its original shape and sturdiness.
Where to Find Expert Leather Bag Repair Services in Delhi
Delhi, being a bustling city filled with fashion-conscious individuals, offers a range of services for luxury leather bag repair. However, not all services are created equal. The following are some things to think about when looking for leather bag repair and services in Delhi: 1. Reputation and Reviews: Look for repair shops with excellent customer reviews, especially from clients who have luxury bags.
2. Experience and Expertise: Ensure the repair service has experience working with high-end and branded bags, as these require special care.
3. Variety of Services: From colour restoration and leather conditioning to structural repairs and hardware replacement, the best repair businesses provide a wide range of services.
4. Certifications and Training: If possible, choose a repair service that has certified technicians who are trained to handle luxury materials and intricate repairs.
Some popular services in Delhi for luxury bag repair include The Leather Laundry, ShoeVival, and Colorwash. These services specialise in restoring luxury leather goods to their original splendour, ensuring that your bag remains a timeless accessory.
Conclusion
Your luxury leather bag is an investment that deserves to be cared for properly. By keeping an eye out for these five signsâwear and tear, damaged handles, broken hardware, torn lining, and loss of shapeâyou can address issues early and prevent further damage. Whether youâre searching for leather repair near me or want to find the best leather bag repair & services in Delhi, choose a professional service that can restore your bagâs elegance and value. With the right care, your luxury leather bag will continue to turn heads for years to come.
#luxury leather bag#bags cleaning#leather conditioning#leather bag repair near me#best leather bag repair & services in Delhi#top five signs that your luxury bag needs expert leather repair#leather bag repair & services in Delhi#luxury bag leather repair service#best handbag repair & dry cleaning services#handbag restorations & repair#luxury leather bag repair#leather bag repair and services in Delhi#luxury bag repair#Luxury bag repair near me
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How to Clean a Prada Nylon Bag: Expert Tips for Keeping Your Luxury Bag Spotless
Explore our detailed guide on cleaning Prada nylon bags at Weekend Maids. Learn the best techniques and products to use for maintaining the pristine condition of your luxury nylon bag. Whether you're dealing with everyday dirt or more stubborn stains, our step-by-step advice ensures your Prada bag stays looking its best. Read Our Blog:- https://weekendmaids.net/blog/how-to-clean-prada-nylon-bag/
#cleaning nylon bag#Prada bag maintenance#luxury bag care#cleaning Prada nylon#handbag cleaning tips#nylon bag care#carpet cleaning#house cleaning services#cleaning services#cleaningservices#cleaning#professional carpet cleaning#best house cleaning san diego#house cleaning#dry cleaners#fresno housekeeping services
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Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look
Table of Contents:
Treat your skin like royalty
Take ample care of your natural hair
Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape
Choose your accessories wisely
Embrace feature-enhancing makeup
Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple
Regarding your signature scent(s)
Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously
Treat your skin like royalty:
Use high-quality skincare twice a day
Wear sunscreen every day
Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what
Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin
Change your pillowcases weekly
Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water
Prioritize sleep
Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks
Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed
Take ample care of your natural hair:
Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up
Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month
Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair
Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair
Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower
Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry
Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do
Use non-elastic or silk hair ties
Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)
Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products
Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:
Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)
Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences
Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits
Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)
Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day
Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack
Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions
Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants
When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit
If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look
Choose your accessories wisely:
Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with
Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette
Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette
For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together
Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:
Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer
Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone
Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)
Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush
Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids
Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color
Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:
Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails
Opt for a square or almond nail shape
Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art
Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily
Regarding your signature scent(s):
Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash
Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones
Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion
Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)
Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes
Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:
Floss every day (after each meal if possible)
Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day
Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover
Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF
Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms
Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)
Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub
Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower
Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)
#fashion advice#elegant fashion#styling tips#style tips#style advice#beauty tips#skincare tips#haircare tips#femme fatale#dark feminine energy#dark femininity#high value woman#it girl#the feminine urge#female excellence#dream girl#queen energy#female power#femme fetale aesthetic#glam aesthetic#glow up tips#feminine energy#hygiene tips#girl things#girl talk#elegance#classy life#stylingtips#femmefatalevibe#polished look
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you could write a one shot where the reader (who is part of the bau) always acquits or does what Spencer says, letting him talk for hours and Do you also write down facts that you find interesting? I think that's a very nice thing. (also if there is some smut afterwards I don't complain somehow).
p.s. I love your stories<3
Pretty as a vine, sweet as a grapeđ
(Hi! Iâm sorry I know I donât usually add comments onto my fics anymore but I just needed to say that I loved writing this. This concept was so fun to write and Iâm quite happy with how it came out.)
âHow is everything you say somehow so profound but yet so socially inept?â You chuckle, shaking your head through your laughter as you look up at him. Spencer laughs along with you sarcastically, an unamused fake grin painted on his face. He takes a step closer to you, lifting the umbrella over your head, protecting you from the unforgiving Quantico rain. Spencer leads you forward, guiding you with his hand on your lower back as he rubs his palm against your damp jacket. âBack to my place?â You speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes. âWeâll get sick if weâre out in the rain too long Spence.â Accepting your offer he links his arm around yours and you begin to walk down the street together. âSickness is not directly caused by rain, but being outside in rainy conditions could increase your exposure to airborne viruses that might be present.â Spencer explains in his trademark, matter of fact tone. Giggling, as you fiddle with your keys, searching for the right one to unlock your apartment door. He sneaks them out of your hand, inspecting the lock on your door and the keys in hand, picks out the correct key and unlocks the door with a timid smile. âClean towels in the bathroom if you want to dry yourself off.â You recommend him the blue one, itâs new and fluffy and completely unused, knowing heâs more likely to feel comfortable with the knowledge that itâs new. You want him to feel nothing less than comfortable. Spencer nods his head and makes his way to the bathroom. At the loss of his presence you reach into your bag, pulling out your notebook and pen. Scribbling down some nonsense as a scrappy, badly written diary entry as quickly as you can. Your journals were the one thing that held every detail of your life, not even your social media pages held that much information on you. You dot your iâs and cross your tâs, swiftly closing the book and burrowing it inside your handbag again.
A few days pass and youâre not feeling up to scratch. With the pharmacy not filling your prescription, mixed with the depths of your unrelenting depressing youâre struggling to keep your head above water. The files of paperwork stack up higher than they should on your desk, coffee rings stain the wood on your desk as it wobbles under your writing. Each case seemed to be more emotionally demanding than the last. But there was Spencer. He stumbles over to you, clumsy and un-spatially aware as ever, placing a bag of baked goods in front of you. The smell of cinnamon hits you immediately and you melt into the back of your chair, your lips pin up into a beaming smile. The monster in your head silencing just for a moment under the soft, dulcet act of Reid. âYouâve- youâve seemed down. I didnât want to pry incase you didnât want to share, but sugar stimulates feel-good endorphins associated with reward. So, cinnamon buns!â He announced, his voice airy and angelic as he scratches the back of his head with his left hand; his right fiddling with the buttons on the stomach of his cardigan. He neednât say anything more, the smile on your face and your back finally resting against the chair, regaining posture, says all the gratitude he needs. Spencer simply taps the bag on your desk with a grin and returns to his desk. Not only did he leave you with a sugary treat, he left with you with more of off the top of his head statistics that you couldnât get enough of. Each one of them showing he cares, he thinks of you. He puts thought into everything he says, whether or not his words land with the people he speaks to is irrelevant. He shows he cares in his own unique way and you simply cannot get enough of it, you find your journal once more, leaving todays page decorated with his facts about sugar. Reaching into the bag from the local bakery, you take out your bun, wrapping the base with the napkin. With your first bite, you grin. Even if it didnât âstimulate your endorphinsâ it still tasted like heaven.
Friday night rolled around eventually, this week had felt never-ending. Slotted next to Spencer on the jet, you reach out and poke his side, demanding his attention. He jerks back with a giggle, you always forget he never grew out of being ticklish. You smirk and tease, âOh right⌠ticklish. I forget youâre a little baby.â His cheek gain a new pink blush that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. âYou canât grow out of your nerve endings in your skin sending electrical signals to the somatosensory cortex. Plus- most adults are t-ticklish.â He stutters over his words, almost as if they are too shy to be spoken. His hands rise to protect himself as your fingers threaten to poke him again, he chuckles in anticipation. âWhatever you say genius, deny it all you want. Itâs still adorable.â Your voice soft and teasing as you smirk at him again. âMovie night tomorrow?â You suggest, your hands moving back to your lap as he begins to re-adjust himself and relax. Spencer nods, âCan we watch Star Wars?â He asks, sounding like an excited puppy. You roll your eyes playfully and smile, âFine. As long as its Revenge of the Sith.â Spence chuckles, shaking his head and rises from his seat, heading to the jet bathroom. As is your new routine, your diary finds its way to the table in front of you. Scrambling to write todayâs entry before Spencer returns, you try to remember his every word as you write. As you hear the door unlock you practically throw the book behind you and sit in front of it. Praying that the man with the 187 IQ doesnât notice, should be fine, right?
Settling the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, you get the TV set up ready for Spencerâs arrival. Everything is perfect, youâd bought his favourite popcorn, salted obviously. Youâd also brewed a pot of the tea youâd made him last time, it was just English Breakfast tea but heâd sworn it was mind-blowing. The door is knocked, three times, Spencerâs lucky number. âItâs open!â You bellow your voice and put your feet up onto the sofa. Spence walks in, lifting your legs and placing them down on his lap when he settles next to you. He places his bag down on the floor beside him, but something bashes against it. Reaching down to find the offending item, you find its your journal. âHey, y/n. I think you left this book on the floor. Where does it live so I can put it back in its rightful home?â He questions, you feel the blood drain out of your face, you pale immediately. âNo- its okay! Just gimmie.â You respond, but he notices your shaking hands reaching out to snatch it. Spencer pulls away, opening the first page. âWhat are these huh?â He teases uncharacteristically. âYou writing little love letters?â He jokes, before looking down at the pages and blushing when he reads his own name. He reads at an alarming speed at the best of times, but when heâs transfixed on text, he can read even faster.
âYouâre- youâre writing about me? I said every word here.â Spencerâs eyes widen, the hazel irises expanding as he turns the pages rapidly and skims the text. âOh you just had to write that. Didnât you?â He chuckles, reading your interactions from yesterday on the jet. âI. I just find you interesting Spencer. I know everyone teases you and interrupts you when you speak, I know they donât appreciate you enough. They take your words for granted, even when theyâre so profound.â Your pale face begins to blush, it was enough that Spencer had read your private diary, but having to admit your feelings that youâve been trying to repress and ignore, it was seemingly impossible. âI want to remember the things you say because theyâre important, and every time you say something personal to me, I want to treasure it. Bottle it and keep it forever, you know?â
Spencer, for once, is at a loss for words. His cheeks burning under the heat of his blush, he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. His brain searching for anything to say, its like heâs frantically looking through the filing cabinet of words in his head and still coming up empty. With no vocabulary on his tongue, he leans forward and crashes his lips into yours. Theyâre soft and ample, featherlight against your own. No concerns of the lip gloss smearing and decorating his lips. Pulling away with a confused expression, âSpencer?â Your one word question is all you can say as you run your fingers through his hair. Your nails scratching against the back of his head softly and he leans into your touch wanting more. âI canât help myself. Iâll stop if you want, if you didnât want that I apologise profusely and I take full responsibility of my actions and Iâll do anything to make it up to youâŚâ He gets in his own head about the moment just gone. âNo, I definitely wanted that. Definitely.â You smile cheekily, rubbing your thumb against his heated cheeks. Spencer leans in once more, gasping into your mouth trying to dig deeper and deeper into your soul. âYou have no idea how much Iâve wanted this. I just donât- I donât know how to get here. You know?â He explains, his hands find the small of your back and pull you closer to him. Your index finger reaches up, shh-ing against his lips. Silencing him to keep him from rambling for the first time ever. You scramble up onto his lap, leaning over him playfully. âYouâre perfect Spencer Reid. Without even knowing it youâve taken care of me for years. Let me take care of you.â
You roll your hips slowly underneath him, smirking as he fiddles with the back of your bra strap. Even with an IQ of 187 he canât figure out how to unbuckle a bra. You smirk and let out a giggle and he blushes, âSo needy already?â You tease, your voice hoarse and desperate. He grips onto your hips as if heâs deprived, pushing into your lips, kissing you like a man starved. Spencerâs breath is shaky and weak, you take his chin into your thumb and forefinger, lifting it up, deepening the kiss. âI want you.â He speaks shakily, âI know. I want you too.â You say, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands. Rutting your hips against his bulge again, he convulses underneath you. He gasps and rushes his hand over his mouth and you know whatâs happened. Not wanting to embarrassed him, you slide off of him. Slotting yourself next to him on the couch, trying to figure out the social expectation is when your crush finishes in his boxers before youâve even touched him. You settle on pulling him into a cuddle, rubbing your palm up and down his back, feeling his boney spine through his skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and full of adoration, looking like pools of honey. âI need a few minutes, and maybe some of your magic tea.â He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the self depreciating humour he responds to the situation with. âOf course pretty boy.â You press your lips on the top of his forehead softly, breathing in his shampoo and cologne. He smells like coconut and sweetness. You jokingly reach out for your journal. âToday Spencer ended up cumming in his boxers.â You giggle together, your bodies rising and falling with each breath and your legs intertwined. The next hour could take a lifetime to arrive and youâd be a-okay with that.
#mine#spencer reid one shots#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid smut#spencer x reader#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer x y/n#spencer x you#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid x fem!readr#smut#fluff#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#spencer reid criminal minds#request
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Ways to Add Luxury to Your Life
1. Stop saying âyou canât afford itâ
2. Walk through or stop for a drink at a luxurious hotel
3. Create your own luxurious evening routine
4. Create your own luxurious morning routine
5. Schedule in something fancy
6. Wear your favorite handbag and shoes
7. Find your signature scent
8. Do your hair and make up
9. Shop your wardrobe
10. Choose your top 3 must do things everything
11. Cook from scratch
12. Drink champagne
13. Buy silk linens for your bed
14. Celebrate your wins
15. Personalized stationary
16. Visit museums and art galleries
17. Shop at farmers markets
18. Eat organic and fresh foods
19. Go on hikes
20. Play uplifting music
21. Plant a vegetable garden
22. Use lavender pouches in your drawers
23. Exercise daily
24. Only drink quality tea and coffee
25. Wear pretty/silk lingerie and cute lounge wear
26. Have a creative hobby
27. Visit the spa and get facials regularly
28. Buy fresh flowers
29. Use quality skincare and makeup
30. Take hot baths
31. Buy essential oils
32. Treat yourself
33. Add lemon to your water
34. Go to a high end gym or Lounge
35. Read a book before bed
36. Stop saving your nice things for later. Use them now
37. Use an exfoliator for your body
38. Stretching and yoga
39. Go to an artisan cafe for fresh croissants
40. Make your own dressings for your foods
41. Clean your house and your car
42. Take a detox shot in the morning
43. Treat yourself to a professional blow dry
44. Nails always done
45. Bake fresh cookies
46. Watch a classic and elegant film like Breakfast at Tiffanyâs
47. Have a full feminine luxurious shower routine
48. Clean your makeup brushes and arrange them like a beauty counter for the next time you use them
49. Learn about art and wines
50. Decorate your home like a 5 star hotel
51. Use a pillow spray
52. Host a dinner party
53. If possible, hire a chef or cleaner to help you
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It's Only Forever
It has been an absolute joy to write this big bang fic over the last few months, and I'm SO excited to finally get to share it with the world! I could not have done it without my amazing beta @penny00dreadful, always going above and beyond the call of duty to cheer me on, and help make this story the best it could be. Thanks as well to @hitlikehammers, and of course my official unofficial cheerleader @pearynice!
Featuring art in this chapter also by @penny00dreadful!
[Penny Art Link] and @/SissayeRys [Art Post Link]
R: Mature | WC: 4427 | | Ch 1/8 | Read on AO3
Chapter 1: As The World Falls Down
Steve was running late getting home.
Literally running, because his last ever basketball practice had gone long with everyone wanting to say goodbye to the departing seniors, and he was supposed to be home an hour ago to babysit his little brother.
Not that anyone asked if he wanted to watch the stupid nerd, Itâd just come to be expected of him. He'd run into a bit of a dry spell lately as far as dating went, and grown tired of playing third wheel to Tommy and Carol, but after one too many Friday and Saturday nights spent at home, his Mom and Gary seemed to have decided he was now at their disposal every weekend to watch Dustin while they went out for their fancy dinner parties.Â
Which he wasnât bitter about, or anything.Â
Itâd been overcast all afternoon, the smell in the air all but promising rain, and just as he was cutting through the last backyard with his own house coming into view, the sky opened up, soaking through him to the bone in seconds.
âYouâre late.â His mother said, scowling from the top of the porch steps with her arms crossed over her chest. âWhy didnât you answer my calls?â
âSorry,â Steve grumbled. Heâd forgotten to plug in his phone last night and its battery had died by fourth period. âItâs not my fault. Practiceââ
âWell donât stand out there in the rain, youâll drip all over my nice clean floors.â She cut off his explanation, turning on her heel and striding into the house.
It was a little late for that. Water was already running from his sopping shorts down his legs, but Steve still rushed along behind her, kicking his mud-coated sneakers off by the door to try and minimize the damage.
âIâm very disappointed in you, Steven. Your stepfather and I go out very rarelyââ
Lie.
Steve rolled his eyes at her back as she turned to grab her handbag off the foyer table.Â
ââAnd you know I only expect you to babysit when it wonât interfere with your own plans.â
âLike you care about my plans,â Steve mumbled under his breath.
âWhat was that?â
âNothing.â
She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose as she adjusted the purse resting on her shoulder. âGo take a shower and check on your brother. He's in his room. Gary left some cash on the kitchen table so you boys can order a pizza for dinner. We should be back around midnight.â
Steve nodded curtly and turned to head up the stairs, but paused, looking back over his shoulder when she called to him again.Â
âOh, and Steven?â
He managed to hold in his sigh, but only just.Â
âYes, mother?â
âDonât indulge him too much about that fantasy game, whatever itâs called. Heâll never live up to his potential with his head stuck in the clouds like that.â
No problem there.��
Steve had no interest in Dustinâs Dungeons and Dorks game anyway.
Again, he simply nodded, and this time watched her leave, waiting until the front door closed behind her before taking the steps up to his room.Â
As much as he loathed babysitting, it was infinitely better than being dragged along as a show and tell object, like heâd been in the past. A pretty trophy to prove that divorce or not, she was still the perfect mother. Look, I raised the co-captain of the swim team! The captain of the basketball team! Heâs sure to get into an elite university one day, just you wait and see!
And sure, it was a lot, but she just wanted what was best for him, right? Even if it was a little⌠suffocating at times.
But, in the end Steve hadnât done thatâhad he? Nope! Here he was, set to graduate high school in just a few short weeks, and had gotten exactly zero acceptance letters.
A âgap yearâ, they called it. He was taking a gap year to discover himself, to travel. That was the lie his mom and Gary would tell their friends when asked which Ivy League school their eldest son would be attending in the fall.
It was kinder than the truth, that his GPA and test scores were no match for the candidates he was up against, no after how hard heâd studied, that he hadnât caught the eye of even one athletics recruiter.Â
He was good, but he wasnât the bestâin anything.Â
He couldnât even attend the local community college with Tommy and Carol to fill his time. The deadline to apply had come and gone, with his mom and step-dad staunchly refusing to let him submit the paperwork. No son of theirs would lower himself to attending the public school equivalent of higher education.Â
It left Steve in a rough spot. His chances at getting into what his parents considered a good school wouldnât be any better in a year's time, and amidst his failure he felt like heâd been written off, his mom and Gary now focusing all their efforts on their youngest son, the one who still had the chance at a proper future.
As much as it pained Steve to admit, he actually liked the kid, loved him even, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous about the fact that Dustin still had time. He had his whole adolescence ahead of him, while Steve felt stuck, and more than a little lost.Â
It was the one shred of truth in his momâs gap year nonsense. Steve did want to discover himselfâyearned for it. Eighteen years on this earth and he didnât have the first clue who he was, or who he wanted to be. Heâd been too busy trying to live up to othersâ expectations.
Once upstairs Steve showered quickly, threw on a fresh pair of sweatpants and his favorite yellow sweater, and crossed the hall to Dustinâs room.Â
âSteve!â The kidâs face lit up the second he came through the door. âHey, do you remember that campaign I was telling you about?â
Steve raised his head to the ceiling, praying for patience.
Here we fucking go already.
Dustin barreled ahead, undeterred by his lack of response. âYou know, the one with the goblins and the Goblin King who comes to this plane and steals children away? Well, technically he only comes when someone wishes for it. So I guess itâs not exactly stealing but thatâs part of the trick, right? AndââÂ
âYeah, yeah, I vaguely remember that I guess.â Steve finally jumped in waving a hand, knowing if he didnât Dustin would keep going on-and-on until the polar ice caps melted, and the sea level rose to the point that their house was underwater.
The kid grinned broadly. âIâve been working hard on it every night this week, and I think itâs finally ready to play! What do you think?!â
âYou wantâmeâto play your nerd game?âÂ
Dustinâs smile faltered around the edges. âYeah, I mean, I know it would be better to play with more people, but I thoughtââ
âYou think more players would make this appealing to me somehow?â Steve asked, incredulous. He crossed his arms, only to drop them back down to his sides immediately, shuddering with the realization that he was doing a perfect imitation of his mother.
âBut, when I told you about it before you said it was cool!â
Steve sighed. He probably had said that, but in his defense he hadnât actually been listening.Â
Time for a new tactic then.Â
âDustin, you know how our parents feel about this stuff.â
âWhy do you always take their side?!â The younger boy shouted.
âI-I donât!â Steve sputtered. âThey just want whatâs best for you, andââ
Dustin scoffed. âThatâs bullshit!â
âBuddy, come onââ
âNo! You just want them to ruin my life like they did yours!"
Steve wasnât sure heâd ever seen red so fast. He balled his hands into fists, fuming, and turned to leave without another word.
âWait! I didnât mean it!â Dustin called after him. âIâm sorry, Steve. Donât go, stay and play with me⌠please?â
âI wish your stupid game was real. I wish the goblins would come and take you away!â Steve hissed through gritted teeth before slamming the door behind him.Â
Was it childish? Yes. But at least in his effort to have the last word, heâd gotten the creaturesâ name right.Â
He was pretty sure.
Steve ran down the stairs, stomping his feet on every step along the way in another juvenile display of anger that he hoped Dustin could hear.Â
Itching for somethingâanything to distract himself from the words Dustin had thrown in his face, he slid some shoes on and took the trash out to the curb for morning pick up, the rain having slowed while he was in the shower. It did nothing to slow the spiraling of his thoughts.
Was his life really ruined?Â
Had he made a mistake in following his motherâs direction?
Or was it his own fault for not working harder, not being good enough?Â
Was it too late to try for something different?
Steve puttered around the kitchen for a while, killing a little more time before finally calling to order their pizza, and when he felt like heâd cooled down enough to not throttle his kid brother, went back upstairs to check on him.Â
âAlright, the pizza should be here in thirty, and If you want, I guess we can play untilââ Steve began as he opened the bedroom door, but cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing that Dustin wasnât sitting where heâd left him.Â
âDustin?â He called out, stepping further into the room. The kid had to be in there somewhere.
A thump over by the bed caught his attention, and Steve turned to see a sizable lump wriggling under the comforter. âGotcha, you little shit.â He whispered, tiptoeing over as quietly as possible before flinging the covers off to reveal⌠nothing.
How had the shrimp pulled off that trick?
Steve scrambled around to the other side of the bed, convinced heâd find the boy crouched beside it on the floor, or even hiding under it, but he was nowhere to be found.Â
âOkay,â Steve chuckled nervously. The hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention, and his upper lip was starting to sweat. âI give up, you can come out now!â
A sudden and heart-stoppingly loud crack of thunder made him jump, startled, and a flash of lightning seconds later, followed by the room falling into darkness around him as the power went out, was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.
âShit.âÂ
Steve ran over to the light switch on the wall, flicking it up and down to no avail. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears, panic threatening to overtake him, but not quite loud enough to drown out the distant sound of giggles somewhere in the shadows.Â
âThis isnât funny, Dustin!â He shouted in the vague direction of the sound.
A muffled bang, and a crash on the opposite side of the room had him swinging his head around again. How was the kid making it sound like he was everywhere, and also nowhere at once?!
âArenât you getting a little old for hide and seek?!âÂ
Steve lunged for the old bay window that took up almost the entirety of one wall of Dustinâs room, intent on throwing the drapes open to let in some moonlight, but before he could reach it the window burst open, letting in a rush of cool wind, sending the curtains billowing and the shadows dancing around him.Â
From one moment to the next Steve blinked, and where before there was nothing but the damp window ledge, now stood a boy the likes of which heâd never seen before.Â
A riot of dark, unruly curls fell around a pale, pretty face. His deep brown eyes were lined in charcoal, with a silver shimmer painted artfully above, accentuating their already otherworldly beauty. He wore a top of leather armor, like something straight out of medieval times, or one of Dustinâs fantasy novels, and skin tight pants that looked buttery soft, hugging the contours of his hips, calves, and thighs, as if they were painted on, drawing special attention to a certain rather prominent attribute that had Steve looking quickly away, his cheeks positively flaming. Slung over it all was a long cloak that glittered in the dim light. The color so dark blue that it was almost black, with a high fluted collar.
Steve swallowed hard, feeling suddenly lightheaded, like he was about to pass out.
âW-who are you?â He asked.
âYou know who I am.â A deep, husky voice emanated from the stunning figureâs throat. âAfter all, you are the one who called for me.âÂ
âThe Goblin King?â Steve's mouth fell open, his own voice full of doubt and disbelief.
Not only for the fact that none of it was supposed to be real. It was just a stupid game, wasnât it? But shocked too because goblins were meant to be small, grotesque, monstrous creatures, as far as he knew, and none of those were words heâd use to describe the walking wet dream whoâd just broken in through his little brotherâs window.Â
The Goblin Kingâs plush lips spread into a wide grin.Â
âNot what you were expecting?â
Steve mentally shook himself. He had to focus, Dustin was missing for fuckâs sake. âWhat did you do to my little brother?â
âExactly what you asked me to do. I took him away.â
âB-but I didn't mean it!â
The boy gave a gallic shrug. âWhatâs said is said, sweetheart.â
Though he knew it was only meant to be condescending, a thrill ran up Steveâs spine involuntarily at the pet name. He pushed the feeling aside, shouting, âBring him back!â
The Goblin King pursed his lips, unimpressed.
Steve cleared his throat. âUm, please?â
âGo back to your life, Steve. Hang out with your friends, play the good son again. Forget about your brother.â
âI canât!â
âSure you can! Look, Iâve even brought you a parting gift.â The Goblin King raised his hand, which Steve was sure had been empty before, and held up with the tips of his fingers a perfectly clear flawless sphere, a little larger than a billiard ball.
âWhat is it?â
âA crystal.â As The Goblin King spoke he began to weave the ball through his fingers, rolling it back and forth along the surface of his hand in a way that appeared to defy gravity, and Steve fought hard not to be mesmerized by the display.Â
âIf you look into it just right, itâll show you whatever you want, your wildest dreams even. But something like this?â The man paused, raising an eyebrow as he stilled the crystal and held it out like an offering. âI wouldn't give this to just anyoneâsay, a pathetic boy who happily spends his nights with his whiny little brother. Give him up, and you can have it.â
âNo,â Steve ground out, well aware that he was being baited. And he refused to fall for it.Â
âYou donât want to do this, trust me.â The King shook his head. âYouâre no match for me and my goblins.âÂ
âHeâs my brother, I have to get him back!â
âVery well.â The Goblin King tossed the crystal skyward where it vanished into thin air, and jumped down from his perch on the window sill, tilting his head as he studied Steve's face.Â
Steve held himself carefully still, caught between wanting to shrink away from the other boy, and a strange desire to lean in close to him.Â
âYou want your brother back?â The Goblin King began, turning to point out the still open window behind him and the view beyondâno longer the night sky and the backyard Steve had known for most of his life, but something entirely different, a stretch of valley, mostly dead and barren, and just beyond thatâŚ
âHeâs there. At the center of the Labyrinth, in my castle beyond the Goblin City.â
Steve blinked rapidly, taking a few steps closer to the window. Heâd never seen anything like the intricate maze before. It was massive, made up of various levels of high walls, and hedges, and who knew what else. And set right in the center of it all was a tall stone castle.Â
âStill want to look for him?â The King asked.
Steve chewed on his bottom lip. âIt doesnât look that hard.âÂ
The enchanting boy began to pace a slow circle around him, and when Steve turned his head to follow the movement, he realized with a start that they were no longer standing in Dustinâs bedroom. The window was goneâthe house was gone. He was in that place, standing on the dry dusty grounds that surrounded the Labyrinth, about half a mile from its perimeter.Â
âHarder than you think.â The Goblin King gestured down at Steveâs wrist, pointing at the watch he wore there. The hands on it spun wildly as he watched, then all at once came to rest at the top, where an extra hour had appeared on its face. âAnd time is short. You have 13 hours, one for every year of your little brotherâs life, to solve the Labyrinth before he becomes one of us, stuck in the goblin city forever.â
âForever?!â Steve gasped, raising his eyes to find only empty air.Â
The Goblin King had vanished without a trace, and Steve had no choice but to start walking, the sound of his watch ticking its countdown making each step feel more urgent than the last.
As he had done so many times before, Eddie sat back on his throne, legs draped across the arm of it, sulking over the monotonous reality of his existence.Â
The Goblin King.
It should have been a dream gig.Â
There were parts he found enjoyable, of course, but all-in-all it was lonelier and far more boring than he could have ever imagined. He quickly grew tired of what little entertainment was provided by the plethora of creatures he was now responsible for ruling, and it didnât take long before heâd explored every nook and cranny of the Labyrinthâhis Labyrinth nowâto the point where he knew it backwards and forwards, and could find his way to any place within its walls with his eyes closed, with or without magic.
Chrissyâs appearance had been a welcome surprise. Another stolen child left to rot in the Goblin Cityâone more in a long list of things his predecessor had neglected to mention before he fucked off to god knows whereâshe had been living among the citizens as one of them for years, unbeknownst to Eddie. Until the day sheâd shown up on the castle steps asking to speak with The King about some neighborly grievance or another. He no longer recalled the reason for her outrage but he did remember being impressed by her.
They became fast friends, the only two humans living amongst the wild creatures of the realm. Well, former humans was probably a more accurate descriptor. Surely Eddie was something else now, considering he hadnât been able to do magic before he became whatever he currently was, and neither he nor Chrissy seemed to be aging at a normal rate. His humanity, or lack thereof, wasnât something he usually liked to think about too much.
It was wonderful for a while, finally having a real friend by his side, someone he could be himself with, not feeling the need to put on the act of King with her like he did with the goblins or the rest of his subjects, but eventually even Chrissyâs companionship wasnât enough to fill the gaping void in his chest.
So here he was, sprawled on his throne, swirling a few of his crystal balls around in his hand as he stared into them, looking for something he couldnât put words to, while watching the other world go by, when something caught his eyeâa pretty face with a body and voice to match. He was playing basketball, of all things, and Eddie had never understood the draw of sports before, but he could certainly see the appeal of this particular boy in those sinfully tight little shorts.Â
It became a habit after a while, to look in on him every now and then⌠for research purposes. Â
Steve, the name Eddie came to know the other boy by through listening in, was a baffling specimen. As nice as he was to look atâand he was very, very, nice to look at indeedâhe was also a bit of an entitled asshole, at his worst around his friends and in school, through classes and sports alike. He became a slightly different version of that guy at home when faced with his parents, and yet another when he spent time with his little brother, who he seemed to hate one minute and love the next as though he couldn't decide one way or the other.Â
Then there was the Steve he was when he was by himself.Â
Alone in his room with no one around to observeâthat he knew of, anywayâSteve was quiet, contemplative. At times Eddie thought he might even be lonely? Which just seemed like a wild concept considering the boy was, more often than not, surrounded by friends and family.Â
It pissed Eddie off a little, to be honest.
Here Steve was with the world laid out at his feet. A nice house, a brother who looked up to him, parents who were there, maybe bordering on overbearing sometimes but was that really such a bad thing? Born with a silver fucking spoon in his mouth, and he still wasnât happy. He didnât seem to appreciate any of it.
But no matter how much the other boy annoyed him, Eddie couldnât seem to stop watching, wanting to know moreâsee moreâlook his fill, and unravel the puzzle that was Steve Harrington.
Then one day, it happened.
The thing Eddie had been equal parts looking forward toâif only to break up the tedium and escape his own realm for a whileâand dreading since the beginning of his tenure as the Goblin King.Â
Someone made a wish.
And he was duty bound to see the deal through. He was pretty sure he had wiggle room, but the basics were clear: steal the child, explain the terms, and if the guardian chose to play the game and fight for their childâs return, then play the game he must.
Eddie stood in the middle of his closet, discarded clothes thrown haphazardly around him, and knew he was running out of time. The goblins were anxious to get to work and do their part.
âWhat are you even doing in there?â Chrissy shouted from the other room.Â
Sheâd been out there waiting for him, judging him, while he swiped on a bit of eye makeup, teasing his hair a bit for good measure, and changed his outfit at least three times, looking for just the right ensemble to help him pull this off. He sighed, looking down at himselfâleggings and leathers, It would have to do.Â
Eddie poked his head out into the bedchamber. âUh, getting dressed? What does it look like!âÂ
Chrissy was lounging on top of his bed, her head propped up while she read over a small stack of scrolls. There were hundreds of them lying around the castle, tucked into desk drawers, shoved in corners, collecting dust on bookshelves, and Chrissy had taken it upon herself to read as many of them as she could to figure out how things worked around here so they could make the most of it. It was slow going, admittedly, Goblin being her second language and all, but she was getting there, and had already uncovered many tricks that were about to seriously come in handy.Â
She shot him a sharp look, eyebrows raised.
He grumbled wordlessly, quickly ducking back into the closet to lace up his boots and throw his favorite cloak on for good measure, before finally stepping out.
âTook you long enough,â she said, throwing the roll of parchment she was reading aside.Â
âCanât rush perfection, darling. I have to make sure it all sends the right message.â
âWhy, because itâs your first time going back?â
âThat, yes. But alsoââ Eddie looked down, nervously tying, and untying, and retying the fasteners at his neck until his cloak hung just so. âI canât believe it, but Itâs him, Chris.â
âWho?â
âSteve.â
âOh,â she squeaked in surprise. âThe guy youâre always creeping on while you fondle your balls, or whatever?â
Eddie rolled his eyes. âI am not creeping, I am observing. How else am I supposed to keep up with the times when I'm stuck here?â
âSure, Jan.â
âIâm going to assume thatâs one of those references I don't understand because I've been here since the dawn of time.â
âThe eighties were hardly the dawn of time, Eddie.â
âSome days it feels like it,â he groaned, flopping himself down on the pillowy-soft mattress next to her. âHow do you know so much about pop culture anyway?â
It was a genuine question, one he'd asked many times before with no luck. Sheâd been in the Labyrinth much longer than he had, and yet somehow still had a better grasp of the modern outside world.Â
âYou have your ways of keeping up with the times, and I have mine.â She gave his shoulder a hard shove. âNow, get up and get a move on. You have a job to do, Your Majesty.â
âYou donât have to patronize me,â he huffed.
âAnd you donât have to wear those ridiculous collars, but here we are.â
Eddie jumped back up to his feet, slapping a hand to his chest in mock horror. âYou wound me! The clothes are the best thing about this job! Theyâre cool!â
âYeah,â she snorted. âTo nerds.âÂ
âYouâre just jealous.â
âOf what? Your extensive collection of feather boas?â
She was stalling.Â
They both were.
Eddie snapped his mouth shut abruptly without another retort, swallowing hard as he backed his way to the door, wishing he could take her with him for moral support.
But Chrissy was right. He had to go, and he had to go now before he lost his nerve.Â
âI-I guess this is it. Iâll be back soon with the child,â he said quietly.
She nodded, offering him an encouraging smile as he slipped out. âAnd Iâll be right here to make sure no one scares him too badly.â
Chapter 2: Into the Labyrinth
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Miracles don't exist | 37: Heartbroken and vengeful
Genre(s):Â Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s):Â Harry Potter Pairing(s):Â Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary:Â Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his followerâs sons. Warning(s):Â Nothing really [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]
You crawl on your hands and feet out of the lake, spluttering and coughing up some of the nasty lake water. You wipe your face in an effort to get rid of the lake bits while you find your footing.Â
You cast a drying spell on your clothes as the Golden Trio pulls clean clothes out of Hermione's beaded handbag and discuss the visions Harry saw and what their next step is.Â
Suddenly, the trio turns to you and you halt like a deer caught in headlights. Your eyes flicker from Harry to Hermione to Ron and back. "Sorry?"
"The next Horcrux is in Hogwarts."
You shake your head. "Snape's headmaster now. There is no way you can just waltz right in. And my cover is blown so I'm not much help either with sneaking you in."
Harry turns to Ron as he tugs down his shirt. "Uhm... well, we'll go to Hogsmeade, to Honeydukes. Take the secret passage in the cellar."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? The Dark Lord knows you're destroying Horcruxes. He knows which ones you've already managed to get rid of. Don't you think he has sent a horde of Death Eaters to police the streets?"
A chill runs down your spine as your head twitches to the side. Pain flashes through your neck and you bite down a groan, your hand shoots up to massage the sore spot. Hermione frowns as she watches you intently but chooses to stay silent.
By the looks of it, the trio has decided to go to Hogsmeade. You sigh. "I'll... I'll go to Sirius, alert the Order that you're on your way to Hogwarts."
Hermione jumps forward and engulfs you in a hug. You give her a small smile as you don't know if they survive this. With one last nod to the boys, you turn around and disapparate.Â
You stumble into the foyer of Grimmault Place, finding your footing as you catch yourself against the stair railing.
"Sirius?", you call out, pocketing your wand.
There's some noise coming from upstairs and when you look up, you see Sirius hanging over the railing. Once he recognises that it is you, he races down the stairs and halts just before you. His eyes rake over your face with a sorrowful look. He lays a hand on your cheek before engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug.
"Never EVER let me think you've died! You gave all of us quite the scare." He cups your face with tears in his eyes.
You sniff with a watery smile on your face. "Sorry, I'll try not to be dragged down the Malfoy cellar the next time."Â
The long-haired man before you gives you a look as he drags you into the kitchen. "First of all, you need a good meal. You look as thin as a sheet. Secondly, you gave me quite the scare young lady when Theodore ended up on my doorstep. Alone."
Casting your eyes down guiltily, you tug at the hem of one of your sleeves. "I've... I've heard he's out on a mission for the Order. In Europe."
Sirius' face softens. He takes your hands in his, making you look at him. "What you did was brave. I know how my cousin is and I wouldn't put it past her to murder him if he were there. To hurt you."
You do your best not to cry. You've cried way too much lately and you want to save your tears for when you really need it.Â
"How's Teddy?" Your voice sounds small.
"He... he believed You-Know-Who killed you. Begged Shacklebolt for a mission. To keep his mind busy, he said. But everybody knew he was heartbroken and vengeful."
Chewing slowly on your bottom lip, your eyes downcast. Does Teddy really think you are dead? The thought makes you sad. And sick. You lick your lips and take a step away from Sirius. "I need him to know I'm alive."
But Sirius shakes his head. "Shaklebolt has given us a strict no-contact order with Theodore. The Order is crumbling down anyways."
"So Shacklebolt sent Teddy on a suicide mission? You mean to tell me that my husband is out there somewhere and we can't contact him? Fuck that! Harry, Hermione, and Ron are on their way towards Hogwarts and they need every help they can get!"
You grab your wand and conjure your Patronus. "Find Teddy and tell him I'm safe and to come home", you say to the Hippogriff. The slivery creature bows its head before spreading its wings and flying away.
Sirius looks at you with his mouth agape. You raise your brows at him, a silent dare for him to question your actions.Â
"We have to collect what is left of the Order and send them to Hogwarts", you pocket your wand and run a hand over your hair, "The war ends today."
You stand next to Sirius as the Order makes its dramatic entrance into the Great Hall. Snape brandishes his wand but the students all dive away once McGonagall stands in front of Harry. She is the first to attack.
But the weird thing... Snape doesn't attack. He only casts defensive spells and lets the spells bounce off to the two Death Eaters behind him, rendering them unconscious.Â
A cheer echos through the Great Hall as Snape flees out of a window. But the cheerful mood is soon dampened by screams from every corner of the Great Hall.
"I know that many of you will want to fight", comes the whispering voice of the Dark Lord, and your head twitches involuntarily. "Some of you may even think that to fight is wise. But this is folly."
You make eye contact with Sirius to make sure you're not the only one who's hearing this.
"Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour."
A student from Slytherin steps forward and points at Harry. Of course, it's Pansy. "What are you waiting for? Someone grab him!"
You pull your wand out of your coat and point it at the girl. "Shut your bitch ass mouth, Parkinson."
Professor McGonagall looks quite shocked at your foul mouth, and so does Pansy. Gaping like a fish on dry land.Â
With a deep huff, you march toward the professor. "If I may, Professor. A fight is coming and I don't think it's fair to have to fight one's parents. And it's not safe for the younger ones. Wouldn't it be wise to let the Slytherins and junior years take shelter in the dungeons?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes travel over the student body and she nods. "You are right, Miss...", she trails off, unsure what to call you.
"Nott."
"Right. Mrs Nott is right. Mr Filch, if you would, I would like you to escort the Slytherin's and junior years to the Slytherin common room."
Mr Flitch reluctantly agrees and leads the students towards the dungeons.Â
You quickly grab Blaise's sleeve and stop him and Lorenzo. "Please stay stationed at the door. Keep the kids safe." Both boys nod and Blaise gives your shoulder a squeeze. Good luck it says silently.
"I presume you have a reason for returning, Potter", says McGonagall when Harry approaches the two of you. "What is it that you need?"
"Time, Professor. As much as you can get me."
The professor nods. "Do what you have to do. I'll secure the castle."
Harry gives you a look and you follow after him.Â
"Potter", McGonagall's words stop the two of you, "It's good to see you."
"Good to see you too, Professor. Hold the fort, Neville." And with that, he's off.Â
You pass by Sirius. "I'm going to help Harry. Promise me to keep yourself safe. Please keep an eye out for Teddy."
Sirius nods and gives you a tight hug. "Of course."
The castle is in chaos as students run from here to there. It's mostly last years helping the youngest children find their way to the dungeons and others readying for battle.
"Harry. Hermione and I have been thinking. It doesn't matter if we find a Horcrux."
"What do you mean?", asks Harry confused.
Hermione glances at you. "Unless we can destroy it."
"So, we were thinking..."
"Ron was thinking. It was Ron's idea. It's brilliant."
Oh, dear Salazar... you don't have time for this lovey-dovey stuff. And by the looks of it, neither does Harry.
"You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with a basilisk fang, right? Me and Hermione know where we might find one."
An imaginary light bulb goes off above Harry. "Okay. Okay, but take this. That way you can find us when you get back." Harry presses some parchment in their hands before giving your arm a slight nudge, motioning you to hurry up the stairs after him.
"Where are you going?", you ask, rushing after him.
"Ravenclaw common room. We have to start somewhere! For the search for the diadem"
"So, the lost diadem of Ravenclaw is the next Horcrux? If I were the Dark Lord I would hide it somewhere in the castle where lost things are. You know, the lost diadem, it's in the name." You raise one eyebrow as you also wave a hand around, stating the obvious.
Harry gives you a surprised look. You cock your head to the side. Hasn't he really not thought about it?
"Okay. So... The Room of Requirement it is."
While climbing to the seventh floor, a sharp pain shoots through your head and you brace yourself against a wall. "They've done it", you whisper, looking at Harry. Harry shares the same look. He felt it too. "We have to hurry."
A loud explosion is heard in the distance before Death Eaters start flying around. You dodge a spell before sending it on to a passing-by smoke cloud. It hits Bullseye and the Death Eater lays petrified on the ground.
Finally, you and Harry reach the empty wall that houses the Room of Requirement. It's early quiet inside. Even the broken record has stopped playing.
"You take left, I take right. When we find something, we call out."
Harry nods in agreement and splits up from you. Your eyes scan frantically around. Between the stacks of old furniture and useless nicknacks, there is no sign of the diadem. But there is a faint high-pitched ringing. Somewhere in the distance.Â
You follow after the sound and when whispers prickle the back of your neck, you know you're close. Harry also seemed to pick up the ringing, as both of you end up at the same table.
Harry removes some ropes from the top of a wooden box. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he reaches out and slowly flips open the lid.
"Merlin's saggy balls, we found it", you whisper in amazement.
The blue jewel in the middle shines brightly. Almost too brightly for how dim the room is. Harry touches it, admiringly.
"Well, well. What brings you here, Potter?"
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Mr Crown P2
Media - Morbius Character - Lucien Crown Couple - Lucien Milo X OC Reader - (OC) Anastasia Morton (Assistant) Rating - Sexy Af Word Count - 2106
The day passed slowly for Lucien, waking up and having his medication doing a few small tasks here and there, his excitement for the gala building gradually as the hours ticked by. He spent the afternoon in a flurry of prep for the event, his mind occasionally wandering to thoughts of Anastasia and wondering what she would look like all dolled up for the event.
He made sure to freshen up and dress in his most expensive black suit and red silk shirt, eagerly awaiting her arrival at seven.
As he had his second to last medicine for the evening, he tried a few times to get his tie right but it just wouldn't work, in the end, his butler did it even if he didn't do it quite right either,Â
Lucien looked in the mirror, assessing his appearance. The suit hung off his now slender frame, emphasizing his weakened state. He took a deep breath, feeling a pang of frustration at having to rely on a cane, but he knew he had no other choice. He turned to the butler standing behind him, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Is this the best you can do with my tie?"
"My apologies Mr Crown," The man nodded,Â
He let out a heavy sigh. "No matter. It'll have to suffice for now. Where is she anyway? She should have arrived by now."
"In the garage waiting, sir."
Lucien raised an eyebrow. His curiosity piqued, and he gave one last glance at himself in the mirror before making his way to the garage and towards where Anastasia was waiting. He hobbled down using his cane to make his way down to the garage filled with his many luxury cars, and he stopped short at the sight, the black Bentley sat freshly cleaned and polished practically sparkling, and in front of it stood Anastasia,
She wore strap red designer heels, her hair up Glamour's curls, her make-up impeccable, silver necklace of roses around her neck with a matching bracelet, a silver and rose handbag over her shoulder and her dress⌠Her gown was a floor length off shoulder silk dress with a high slit that looked as if it had been made to measure to accentuate every single Inch of her a matching red to his own shirt,
"I am acceptable Mr crown?"
Lucien's mouth went dry as he laid eyes on her. The sight of her in the stunning red dress, coupled with her flawless makeup and hair, left him speechless. He stood there for a moment, taking in her appearance, his gaze roaming over her curves and the way the dress seemed to hug her body in all the right places. "Acceptable? No, no, my dear." He paused, his voice slightly hoarse, his eyes unable to look away from her. "You are downright sensational." He took a few steps closer, his cane clicking against the floor, his eyes drinking in her figure. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to run his hands over the silky fabric, to feel her body beneath it. But restraint won out, and instead, he stopped just a few feet away from her, his gaze locked on her face and then roaming down until he was shamelessly admiring her body. His tone held a hint of approval and desire as he spoke again. "You look like a dream, Anastasia."
"Thank you," she smiled, "As strong as always but extra handsome today," she complimented him, "Come here" She immediately took his tie off and fixed it herself,
Lucien chuckled softly as she fixed his tie, Her proximity to him brought her scent to his nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her rose perfume and the closeness of her body. As she adjusted his tie, he couldn't help but appreciate her attentiveness. "Always making me presentable, are you? I'd be lost without you to fix my tie."
"I think without me, you'd have invested far more in clip ones," she chuckled,Â
He chuckled in response, knowing damn well her words were true. He knew he was hopeless with ties. "You're probably right. I'd be spending a fortune on clip ones."
"Shall we?" She asked glancing at the Bentley's back door,
"Of course. Lead the way, my dear."
She opened the back door and helped him inside before climbing in herself and shutting the door behind them, she nodded to the driver who started the Bentley and began to drive as soon as they were outside Lucienâs garages the driver rolled up the partition,Â
Lucien settled into the back seat, as the partition went up, shutting them off from the driver, a strange sense of intimacy enveloped them in the back seat. The world outside was forgotten as they were alone together in the luxury of the Bentley, the hum of the engine surrounding them. He glanced over at her, taking in her beauty once again. He couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity in comparison to her elegance. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a sigh escaping his lips.
she noticed his hand and gave his hair a slight adjustment making his thinning from his sickness less noticeable,Â
Lucien's breath caught in his throat as she adjusted his hair, a flutter of vulnerability running through him as she touched him so gently. It served as a stark reminder of his illness, the reason for his weakened state. He looked into her eyes, his expression carrying a mixture of gratitude and insecurity. He was grateful for her presence, her support, but at the same time, he felt ashamed of his weakness and how she must see him, he didnât want her to see him like that, like this.
She coughed breaking the silence moving from his eyes, "so, which side did you want me on?"
Lucien blinked, snapping out of his thoughts at her question. He considered it for a moment, his gaze roaming over her figure, his mind warring with itself. A part of him wanted to have her seated next to him so he could be closer to her, feel her warmth beside him. But at the same time, he was hesitant, thinking of how it would look, him with a stunning young woman on his arm while he looked weak and ill. After a moment, he let out a soft sigh. "Next to me."
She rolled her eyes a little playfully "Yes Lucien, however it's not a very good look for press or fellow business people to see us climb out the car a debate what arm I need to hold. I don't want to cause you any more trouble," she said glancing to his cane, "So whatever makes it easier,"
Lucien chuckled softly at her playful eye roll. She had a point. He didn't want to seem even weaker than he already appeared. He sighed, his hand involuntarily gripping the cane tighter. "You're right, as always. It would look quite strange to see us debating over what arm you should hold." He grumbled slightly, a hint of irritation in his voice at the idea of his illness being on display. But then he looked at her, her beauty offering some consolation. âMy right, hand without my cane.âÂ
âPerfect,â she agreed,
"Youâll sit next to me?"
"My seat is next to yours at the gala I'll be next to you."
Lucien nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. It was a suitable compromise he supposed. The thought of having her by his side the whole evening offered him some comfort. "Good. I want you nearby. I'm certain you'll be the most gorgeous one there, anyway⌠Thank you, for coming with me."
"not a problem, a gala is a gala, a business can be done anytime, the most important thing is looking after you," she smiled briefly resting her hand on his,
A soft, almost imperceptible shiver ran through Lucien's body as she rested her hand on his. It was such a gentle, yet powerful gesture. He appreciated her concern for him, and her desire to take care of him. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse, his hand subconsciously turning to intertwine his fingers with hers. "But you also mustn't neglect your well-being. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight as well."
"I'll do my best, try not to be so... Business."
Lucien chuckled at her comment, amused at her suggestion. "Me? Not be so business? That's a rather tall order, my dear." He gave her hand a slight squeeze, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "But I'll try to remember how to socialize without discussing stocks and investment portfolios. You have my word." He chuckled again, the sound weak but genuine.
She chuckled as she glanced out the blacked-out windows seeing they were almost there lining up for the drop off as all galas are, about ten minutes before they'd be greeted by guests and press so it was final checks,
Lucien fussed over his appearance, ensuring his tie was straight and his hair was presentable. He adjusted his suit, trying to hide his weakness, the way his once muscular frame had diminished.Â
Anastasia noticed his fussing as she always did, she did feel a bit of pity knowing how much he hated how his illness made him appear to people, she wanted to cheer him up, and help him go to this gala feeling confident and happy. And she had a wicked little idea.Â
He turned to her, but then his gaze caught hers as she smiled at him in a rather wicked way. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "And what might you be smiling at so mischievously, Miss Morton?"
She softly took his hand again, leaning a little closer to him.
Lucien looked down at her hand wrapping around his, her touch gentle. He felt a mixture of comfort and vulnerability at the intimate contact. He laced his fingers with hers, his grip slightly weak but firm nonetheless. He looked into her eyes, a soft, vulnerable expression on his face. "You have a devilish glint in your gaze, my dear. I feel like you're up to no good."
She didn't answer she just shrugged and simply closed the gap and let her lips meet his,Â
Lucien's breath hitched as she closed the gap between them and their lips met. The moment her lips touched his, a surge of desire and need coursed through him. He responded to the kiss immediately, his hand on hers trembling slightly as he leaned into the kiss, deepening it.Â
She kissed back resting her hand on his jaw and bringing him closer as the kiss became heavier,
He broke the kiss momentarily, his breathing ragged and heavy, his forehead resting against hers. "Anastasia..." he murmured her name, his voice thick with need. But he quickly returned to her lips letting his tongue slip into her mouth which she happily encouraged,Â
She moved his hand intertwined with hers and let him touch her silk dress running up her waist and pressing his hand onto the top of her dress his hand cupping her breast through the silk,Â
Lucien's breath caught in his throat as she guided his hand, He pressed his hand against the silk, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin beneath, the contrast between the smoothness of the material and the contour of her body fueling his desire further. "Anastasia..." he murmured her name, his voice a little rougher than before, He let out a soft moan, his hand on her dress shifting slightly, pulling her closer to him. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the taste of her lips on his, the feel of her body against him, and the fire that burned deep within his core.
Lucien was lost in the kiss, his mind and body consumed by her. He had to fight back the primal urge to pull her onto his lap and have her right then and there. Instead, he let his hands explore her body, keeping the one she guided on her breast fondling and squeezing her as they kissed, the other running up her through the slit in her dress slipping under the dress to touch the warm skin of her thighs.
They kissed rather heavily in the back seat for what felt like hours, touching each other through their clothes and moaning against each otherâs lips,Â
Finally she pulled away and gave his forehead a kiss, "Have fun tonight Lucien. And if you need my help, you ask for it." she reminds him just as the door opened and she climbed out into the galas red carpet,
He took a moment to regain his mind before he shook himself straight grabbing his cane and climbing out too,Â
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Rule 2: Everything purely is transactional.
Summary: There were five rules to being a sugar babyâor so youâd heard.
If an opportunity falls into your lap, you take it.
Everything is purely transactional.
Donât let the lines blur between your sugar daddy and your personal or professional life.
Never meet anyone in his inner circleâno close friends, no family.
Unless itâs in writing, underlined, signed by two lawyers, and you get a new Hermes handbag afterward, donât fuck your sugar daddy.
So why was it so damn hard to keep these rules in place when it came to your CEO Remy LeBeau?
The week before, your phone had buzzed with a message that seemed to appear out of nowhere, as Remy often did in your lifeâquick, precise, and always leaving you slightly off-balance.
Get dressed. Someone will be there to pick you up soon.
It was a Saturday morning, and you were not in any state to be getting dressed. The remnants of last nightâs tequila shots with Anna still clung to youâa dull headache throbbing in your temples, your mouth dry as sandpaper. You groaned, squinting at the screen, trying to make sense of the text.
Before you could overthink it, there was a second buzz.
Wear something comfortable.
Comfortable? You glanced over at the clock. It wasnât even noon yet. You hadnât planned on leaving your bed for at least another few hours. But there was something about the way Remy ordered things so effortlessly. He never askedâhe just told you what was going to happen. And somehow, you always found yourself following.
With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed and threw on the first clean pair of jeans you could find, along with a loose sweater. You quickly pulled your hair into a messy bun, barely glancing in the mirror before grabbing your sunglasses to shield your still-pounding head from the daylight.
Twenty minutes later, a sleek black car was parked in front of your building. The driver didnât say a word as you slid into the backseat, and you didnât ask where you were going. You figured youâd find out soon enough.
The ride was smooth, almost too smooth considering the state of your stomach after last night. You leaned your head against the cool window, watching as the city streets blurred by. Eventually, you realized you were heading toward Fifth AvenueâManhattanâs most exclusive shopping district.
The car pulled to a stop in front of a boutique that had no name on the door, just an elegant, understated logo etched into frosted glass windows. Before you could even step out, the door was opened for you, and a tall, striking woman with fiery red hair stood waiting on the sidewalk.
âNatasha,â she introduced herself, her voice cool but with a slight smile. She extended a hand, and you took it, feeling slightly disoriented by how quickly this day had taken a turn. âRemy sent me. Iâll be helping you get ready for your trip.â
âTrip?â you echoed, still trying to catch up.
She smiled knowingly, as if she could read the confusion all over your face. âThe Caribbean. Remy wants you to be prepared.â
The Caribbean. Right. Remy had mentioned something about a trip over coffee earlier that week, but you hadnât thought much of it at the time. Now it was all coming together. He hadnât just invited youâhe was taking care of everything. Even this.
Natasha led you inside the boutique, and the interior was nothing like the chaotic department stores you were used to. It was serene, with soft lighting and plush chairs, racks of clothing spaced far apart, each piece looking more exquisite than the last. The kind of place where they didnât display price tags because if you had to ask, you couldnât afford it.
You stood there, awkwardly shifting your weight, suddenly hyper-aware of your rumpled jeans and the lingering hangover. Natasha, however, moved with purpose and grace, unfazed by your discomfort. She gestured to a dressing area where a collection of clothes had already been laid outâbreezy linen dresses, designer swimwear, elegant sandals.
âRemy wants you to have everything you need,â Natasha explained, glancing over the selection. âWeâll start here and make sure youâre set for the entire trip. Heâs very particular about details.â
Of course, he was. This was Remy LeBeau we were talking about. He didnât do anything halfway.
You spent the next two hours trying on outfit after outfit while Natasha gave her approval or called for adjustments. At some point, you stopped feeling self-conscious about the extravagance of it all and started to enjoy it. The clothes were stunning, and the thought of wearing them on a tropical island, with Remy at your side, felt surreal.
By the time you left the boutique, arms full of shopping bags, your hangover was a distant memory. You felt like a different personâsomeone who belonged in Remyâs world, even if just for a little while.
Now, you were here.
Standing on the tarmac in front of a sleek, private jet, the reality of it all was finally sinking in. The trip was real. The clothes Natasha had selected were real. The fact that you were about to board a jet to the Caribbean with Remyâthat was very real.
A nervous excitement bubbled in your chest, and you awkwardly shifted your weight, reaching for your suitcase. But before you could grab the handle, a man in a crisp black suit appeared out of nowhere, lifting it effortlessly and carrying it toward the plane. Everything was handled, every detail covered.
You glanced over at Remy, who was standing a few feet away, watching you with that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It was that lookâthe one that made you feel like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it. He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, sending that same shiver down your spine that you still hadnât gotten used to.
âTheyâve got it covered,â he murmured, his voice low and smooth, guiding you toward the stairs leading up to the jet.
For a moment, you hesitated, glancing at the jet, then back at him. It wasnât the extravagance that was dauntingâit was the weight of the decision youâd made to be here, to be part of his world.
The moment youâd agreed to his proposition, it felt like the world had shifted beneath your feet. There wasnât exactly a manual on how to feel about becomingâwell, for lack of a better termâRemy LeBeauâs sugar baby. You had tried to avoid thinking of it in those terms, but the truth was, thatâs essentially what this was. It wasnât just about the money or the access to his wealth. It was about the power that came with being close to him, being in his orbit. It was intoxicating, yes, but it also made your stomach churn with uncertainty.
The nights leading up to this trip had been sleepless. Youâd run the decision over and over in your mind, wondering if you were making a mistake, if this would change you in ways you werenât prepared for. But then you thought about the freedom it would give youâfreedom from financial worry, freedom to experience things most people could only dream of.
And now, here you were, standing on the edge of that decision, about to step onto a private jet that would take you to a world you had never imagined.
Remyâs hand was still on your back, warm and reassuring. âYou ready?â he asked, his voice soft but steady, as if he could sense the turmoil in your mind.
You took a deep breath and nodded. âYeah,â you said, your voice a little shaky but firm enough. âIâm ready.â
He smiled, that slow, easy grin that always seemed to put you at ease, even when you didnât want it to. âGood,â he said, guiding you up the stairs. âLetâs go, chĂŠrie. Weâve got a plane to catch.â
As you ascended the steps, your heart raced in your chest, but it wasnât entirely from fear. There was an undeniable thrill in thisâbeing part of something bigger, something more. You werenât sure where this journey would take you, or how it would shape you, but for now, you were willing to find out. The moment you stepped out of the car, the crisp air of the tarmac hit you, but it wasnât the cold that made you shiver; it was the realization of just how far youâd come from your old life. There, waiting at the base of the private jetâs steps, stood two blonde women, dressed immaculately in tailored uniforms. Their smiles were wide, professional, and welcomingâthe kind of practiced politeness that comes from serving the ultra-wealthy. You knew they were stewardesses, though they looked more like models, with their sleek hair pulled back into perfect buns and their makeup flawless, even in the harsh morning light.
As you approached, Remyâs hand remained firmly on the small of your back, a gentle but constant reminder of his presence. You felt his warmth through the thin fabric of your blouse, and though his touch was light, it anchored you in this surreal moment.
âLadies,â Remy greeted them casually, his voice smooth and confident, as if this was just another day at the office. His eyes moved between the two women, giving them a brief nod before they flicked to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer. There was an unspoken exchange in his glance, something that made you feel both reassured and slightly on edge, as if he was silently reminding you that you belonged hereâat least for now.
The stewardesses returned his nod with polite deference, their eyes flicking to you for just a second, their smiles never faltering. They didnât seem surprised to see you. No judgment, no curiosityâjust professionalism. To them, you were simply another woman at Remy LeBeauâs side. Another woman in his orbit. The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably, but you forced yourself to smile and move forward, stepping ahead of him as you reached the stairs.
The jet loomed in front of you, sleek and polished, its engines already humming in quiet anticipation. You hesitated for just a moment at the foot of the stairs, a wave of uncertainty hitting you. This wasnât just a planeâit was a symbol. A symbol of the world you were stepping into, a world where nothing was ordinary, where everything, including you, was carefully curated to fit a certain image.
Remyâs hand pressed slightly against your back, urging you forward. âGo on, chĂŠrie,â he murmured, his voice low and intimate, just for you. âYouâll get used to it.â
Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced your legs to move, climbing the steps as gracefully as you could manage, knowing that his eyes were on you the entire time. The stewardesses followed behind, their quiet footsteps more like whispers on the metal stairs.
When you stepped inside, the cabin took your breath away. It was more opulent than you could have ever imaginedâsoft, cream-colored leather seats arranged in elegant clusters, polished wood accents, and ambient lighting that bathed the space in a warm, golden glow. Every inch of the interior screamed luxury, from the plush carpeting beneath your feet to the crystal glassware neatly arranged on the bar at the far end of the cabin.
Youâd never been anywhere so lavish, and for a moment, you felt completely out of place. Your fingers brushed the back of one of the seats as you passed, the buttery leather soft beneath your fingertips, grounding you in this strange new reality. You had to remind yourself to breathe, to act as though you belonged here, even if every fiber of your being screamed that you didnât.
One of the stewardesses gestured politely toward one of the seats, her smile still perfectly in place. âPlease, make yourself comfortable,â she said, her voice soft and melodic, as if sheâd done this a thousand times before.
You nodded, muttering a quiet âThank you,â as you slid into the seat. It was even more comfortable than it looked, the kind of seat designed to cradle you in luxury for hours on end. You sank into it, feeling the subtle hum of the jet beneath you, a reminder that you were no longer groundedânot just physically, but in every other sense of the word.
Across from you, Remy settled into his own seat, reclining effortlessly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. One of the stewardesses handed him his laptop, and he accepted it with a brief nod, his attention already shifting back to you. His dark eyes watched you closely, studying the way you were taking it all in, the way your fingers nervously played with the edge of the armrest.
There was a casualness to the way he sat, one leg crossed over the other, but beneath his relaxed demeanor was an unmistakable authority, a quiet, commanding presence that filled the space. He was in controlâof the jet, of the people around him, and of you. It was the kind of power that didnât need to be spoken aloud; it was just there, in the air between you.
âEverything alright?â he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. He could see right through your attempt to appear calm, to act as though this was all normal to you.
You swallowed, nodding quickly. âYeah, just⌠taking it all in.â
He smirked, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. âYouâll get used to it, chĂŠrie,â he repeated, his voice smooth and reassuring. âTrust me.â
Trust him. It was a dangerous proposition, but here you were, already in too deep to back out now. You forced yourself to relax, to sink further into the plush seat, trying to match his ease. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced, the way your stomach twisted with both excitement and uncertainty.
One of the stewardesses reappeared, sliding a glass of champagne onto the table in front of you. âWould you like anything else, miss?â she asked, her tone polite and deferential.
You glanced at the glass, the delicate bubbles rising to the surface in a slow, mesmerizing dance. You werenât sure champagne was the best idea, not with the way your nerves were already frayed, but you nodded anyway. âNo, this is fine. Thank you.â
She smiled and stepped away, leaving you alone with Remy once more. He hadnât taken his eyes off you, and the intensity of his gaze was almost too much. It was as if he could see right through you, peeling back every layer of pretense, every doubt, every fear.
You lifted the champagne glass, taking a small sip, the crisp, cool liquid tingling against your tongue. The bubbles fizzed in your throat, but it didnât do much to calm the churning in your stomach.
Remy leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours. âThis is just the beginning,â he said, a trace of amusement in his voice. âYouâre going to see things youâve only ever dreamed of, chĂŠrie. And when youâre with me, thereâs no limit to what you can have.â
His words hung in the air, heavy with promise and implication. You knew that this wasnât just about the luxurious trips or the expensive clothes. It was about the power that came with being at his side, about stepping into a world where the rules were differentâwhere everything had a price, but nothing was off-limits.
For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you were ready for this. If you could handle the weight of being in his world, of being part of something so much bigger than yourself. But then, as you looked into his eyes, you felt that familiar pullâan intoxicating mix of danger and allure that made it impossible to turn away.
Remyâs smirk deepened as he watched the thoughts flicker across your face. He knew exactly what you were thinking. He always did.
You tried to relax, but your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you stole a glance at the stewardesses preparing for take-off. The plane felt too quiet, and your nerves were starting to get the better of you. Remyâs voice broke the silence, slicing through the hum of the jet engines as they prepared for takeoff. âNervous flyer?â he asked, his tone light, but his eyes were sharp, as if he could see straight into your thoughts, peeling back the layers of everything you were trying to hide.
You shrugged, doing your best to play it off, though you knew your body language betrayed you. Your hand was gripping the armrest a little too tightly, and your stomach twisted with a mix of anxiety and something else you couldnât quite name. Part of you wanted to seem calm, to project the confidence you imagined someone in your position should have. But the truth was, you were anything but calm.
âJust a little bit,â you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. You turned your gaze out the window, watching the runway stretch endlessly ahead of you. The engines began to hum louder, vibrating through the floor and into your bones. You could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, heavier with each passing second.
Remy chuckled, a low, knowing sound that made your skin prickle with awareness. âYouâll get used to it,â he said, leaning back into his seat as if heâd done this a thousand times, which, of course, he had. He looked every bit the part of someone who owned the worldâor at least had enough money to make it feel that way. âThough I gotta say, itâs kinda cute seeinâ you a little rattled.â
You forced a small smile, trying to banish the nerves fluttering in your chest. âIâm sure Iâll be fine once weâre in the air,â you replied, though the words felt hollow. This wasnât just about flying. This was about everythingâthe trip, the arrangement, the life you were now stepping into without any clear sense of the way forward.
Remy smirked, as if he could hear the unspoken thoughts rattling around in your head. He reached into the black leather carry-on bag by his side, pulling out his sleek wallet. With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved a cardâsleek, black, and impossibly shiny. He slid it across the table toward you, the motion smooth, practiced, casual.
âThis is yours now,â he said, his voice gentle, but the weight of his words was anything but.
For a moment, you just stared at the card, your mind trying to catch up with what was happening. It was the black card. The kind youâd only ever heard whispers aboutâthe kind that was more myth than reality to most people. The kind that had no limits. The kind that opened doors to a world most people only glimpsed through the glossy pages of magazines or in movies.
And it had your name on it.
Your fingers trembled as you reached for it, slowly, cautiously, like it might evaporate the moment you touched it. The card felt heavier than you expected when you lifted it into your handâcool, smooth, and impossibly real. You ran your thumb over the embossed letters of your name, the weight of it settling in both your palm and your mind. This was the moment where everything became real. Not just words, not just agreements whispered over coffee or in the back of a car. This was tangible. This was now.
Remy watched you, his expression calm, amused, but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes. He enjoyed thisâwatching you process, watching the realization dawn on your face.
âAnything you need,â he said, his voice low, intimate, as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you. âAnything you want. Itâs all covered. No limits.â
You swallowed hard, the weight of the card sinking into your hand, into your chest. You could feel the gravity of what it represented. It wasnât just a piece of plasticâit was a key, a pass, a ticket to a life youâd never imagined. A life most people never even got close to. And now, somehow, you were holding it in your hand.
But it wasnât just about the money. The money, the luxury, the accessâit was all secondary, almost superficial. There was something deeper here, something that made your stomach clench with a mixture of excitement and dread. This card represented a shift, a crossing of some invisible threshold. You werenât just stepping into a world of wealthâyou were stepping into his world. And there were rules in this world. Expectations.
Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what youâd agreed to. You had said yes. You had agreed to this arrangement with Remy, knowing full well what it entailedâor at least, thinking you did. But now, with the card in your hand and the jet engines roaring beneath you, it felt more complicated. More layered. More real.
You glanced up at Remy, who was still watching you with that calm, almost predatory smile, like a lion observing its prey. He knew what this meant to you. He knew how overwhelming it all was, and yet he appeared completely at ease, as if this was just another day for him. And maybe it was.
âWhatâs the catch?â you asked, your voice quieter than you intended, barely audible over the hum of the engines. The question slipped out before you could stop it, but you needed to know. You needed to hear it from himâwhat exactly you were signing up for, what this exchange really meant.
Remyâs smile didnât falter. If anything, it deepened, becoming more knowing, more dangerous. âNo catch, chĂŠrie,â he said, his tone easy, like he was explaining something as simple as the weather. âYouâre with me now. Thatâs the deal. You keep me companyâon trips, at events. And in return, you get access to all of this.â He gestured around the luxurious cabin of the jet, as if to emphasize just how much was now within your grasp. âAll I ask is that you enjoy yourself.â
Enjoy yourself. It sounded so simple, so harmless. But you knew there was more to it than that. Remy wasnât the kind of man who gave without expecting something in return, even if it wasnât spelled out in clear terms. There were unspoken rules here, boundaries you werenât sure you fully understood yet.
You nodded slowly, still holding the card, still trying to wrap your mind around the enormity of what youâd agreed to. This wasnât just about the trips or the clothes or the money. This was about the relationship you were entering into with Remy. A relationship that wasnât just professional. It was personal. Intimate. And the weight of that realization settled heavily in your chest.
Remy leaned back in his chair, his smirk still in place as he watched you process it all. âYouâll get used to it,â he repeated, his voice soft but certain.
You wanted to believe him, wanted to convince yourself that this was something you could handle. That you could step into this role and keep your sense of self intact. But as you sat there, the black card heavy in your hand, you couldnât shake the feeling that this arrangement was more than just an exchange of company for luxury. There was something deeper happening here, something unspoken but understood.
And as the jet began to speed down the runway, lifting into the air, you realized that there was no turning back now. You were in thisâfor better or worse. You had made your choice.
The plane began to taxi down the runway, and as the engines roared louder, you felt the familiar lurch in your stomachâthe kind that always came before takeoff. But this time, it wasnât just the flight causing the unease. You gripped the black card Remy had given you a little tighter, as if holding onto it could somehow steady you, both physically and mentally. The sleek, cool surface pressed into your palm, a constant reminder of the reality you were stepping into.
Remy leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, his eyes still fixed on you with that ever-present smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked like he belonged here, as though the luxury of a private jet was as natural to him as breathing. âYouâll be fine, chĂŠrie,â he said softly, his voice cutting through the hum of the engines. There was a calmness to the way he spoke, as if he could sense your inner turmoil but found it almost amusing. âJust relax. Youâre in good hands.â
You forced a smile, nodding as the plane lifted off the ground, the soft pressure pushing you back into the plush leather seat. The Caribbean was your destination, but it felt like you were heading toward something much biggerâsomething unknown. This wasnât just a vacation. It was the beginning of a new chapter in your life, one you hadnât fully grasped the magnitude of until now.
As the plane leveled out, the initial rush of takeoff giving way to the smooth hum of cruising altitude, you found yourself growing restless. The quiet luxury of the cabinâthe soft leather, the polished wood, the ambient lightingâonly made it feel more surreal, like youâd stepped into another world. The kind of world where people like you didnât belong. Where everything was too perfect, too polished, too⌠unattainable. And yet, here you were.
The black card in your hand felt like a key to this strange new reality, but it also weighed you down, both literally and figuratively. You had agreed to this arrangement with Remy; youâd said yes to the trips, the events, the money. But now that it was all starting to unfold, the implications were sinking in more heavily than youâd anticipated.
You shifted in your seat, your leg bouncing with nervous energy. Glancing out the window didnât helpâthe endless blue sky stretching out in every direction only heightened the sense of isolation, the sense that you were far from the world you once knew. The tension in your chest built with each passing minute, until finally, you couldnât sit still any longer. You needed space, airâanything to clear your head.
Without thinking, you stood up, your movements abrupt in the quiet, controlled environment of the jet. Remy, who had been typing away on his laptop, immediately looked up, his dark eyes sharp and alert despite the casual way he sat. His fingers paused over the keys, his gaze locking onto you with that familiar intensity.
âEverything okay?â he asked, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of concern. He didnât sound alarmed, but there was a knowing edge to his words, like he could sense exactly what was going through your mind. Like he always could.
You nodded quickly, your hands brushing down the front of your clothes as if smoothing invisible wrinkles. âYeah,â you replied, offering a small smile that didnât quite reach your eyes. âJust got to go to the bathroom.â
His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if weighing whether he should press further. But then he nodded once, his attention drifting back to his laptop. âTake your time, chĂŠrie,â he said softly, his voice carrying an understanding that made your heart beat a little faster. There was something in the way he said itâsomething that made you feel seen, but also exposed.
You turned and made your way down the narrow aisle toward the back of the plane, your footsteps too loud in the otherwise silent cabin. The plush carpet beneath your shoes did nothing to muffle the sound of your own thoughts, which seemed to grow louder with each step. Every thud of your heart felt like an echo in the small space, bouncing off the polished wood and leather.
When you finally reached the bathroom, you closed the door behind you and let out a long, shaky breath. The small, mirrored space felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could at least try to collect yourself without Remyâs intense gaze on you. For a moment, you stood there, your back pressed against the door, your eyes closed as you tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions spiraling inside you.
When you opened your eyes, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Your face looked pale, your expression tense, and for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. The person staring back at you wasnât the same person who had stepped onto this plane. This was someone newâsomeone caught between two worlds, unsure of where they truly belonged.
What had you gotten yourself into?
The black card Remy had given you was still in your pocket, its edges pressing into your thigh, a cold weight that seemed to anchor you to this new reality. Slowly, you pulled it out, holding it between your fingers and staring down at the sleek, shiny surface. Your name was printed in bold, elegant letters, right below the exclusive logo. Seeing it there, in your hands, made everything feel more real. Too real.
This wasnât just a casual arrangement. This wasnât just a business trip. You were stepping into a world where money, power, and influence flowed freely, and you were at the center of itâat Remyâs side. The implications of that were both exhilarating and terrifying.
Could you really do this? Could you navigate this world, play this role, and still hold on to who you were? Or would it change you in ways you couldnât predict, couldnât control? The questions looped through your mind, over and over, until you felt dizzy from the weight of them.
And then there was Remy. Heâd been nothing but charming, confident, andâsurprisinglyâunderstanding. But you couldnât shake the feeling that there was more to his offer than he let on. Was this really just about companionship? Or was there something deeper, something unspoken, that he hadnât revealed yet? The unspoken expectations hung in the air between you, and you knew, eventually, youâd have to confront them.
You leaned against the counter, pressing your palms against the cool marble sink, hoping it would ground you. You stared down at the black card again. This was your life now, at least for as long as you chose it to be. Remy had made it clear that there were no strings attached, no obligations you hadnât agreed to. But still, there was that nagging feeling in the back of your mindâthat voice whispering about the strings you couldnât see yet.
Taking another deep breath, you put the card back in your pocket, straightened your posture, and looked at yourself in the mirror again. This was happeningâwhether you were fully ready or not. You had made a choice, and now you had to follow through.
You couldnât stay in the bathroom forever.
Gathering the last bits of your resolve, you opened the door and stepped back into the cabin. The quiet hum of the engines greeted you, a constant reminder of the distance growing between you and your old life. Remy was still seated at the table, his laptop open in front of him, though now his fingers were resting idly on the keyboard. He looked up when you re-entered, his gaze flickering with something unreadable before he offered you a small, knowing smile. âYou sure youâre okay?â Remy asked, his voice gentle but pointed, laced with just enough concern to let you know he wasnât buying your earlier nonchalance. He wasnât pushing, but the intensity of his gaze told you he wasnât blind to the fact that you were feeling overwhelmed. How could you not be?
You hesitated for a beat, meeting his eyes. There was something about the way he looked at youâlike he already knew what you were thinking, like he understood more than youâd given him credit for. It made you feel exposed, vulnerable, but also oddly reassured. Remy always seemed a step ahead, like he knew the game before anyone else had even learned the rules.
âYeah,â you said, your voice a little steadier this time. âJust⌠a lot to take in.â
He nodded, his gaze softening as he leaned back in his seat, the leather creaking slightly under his weight. His posture was relaxed, but there was an unspoken patience in the way he watched you, like he had all the time in the world for you to figure this out. âI know itâs a lot, chĂŠrie,â he said quietly, his Southern drawl wrapping around the words like silk, soothing and warm. âThis lifeâit can be overwhelming. But youâll get used to it. And if you ever need to slow down⌠just say the word.â
You gave him a small, appreciative smile, though a part of you wasnât sure if you entirely believed that. Could you really just slow down once youâd stepped into this world? Once youâd accepted the black card and everything that came with it? It felt like you were on a moving train, and stepping off wasnât an option anymore.
Remy watched you for a moment longer before his expression shifted back to its usual playful self, the tension in the air dissipating. âLuckily,â he said, his eyes glinting with amusement, âI know just the thing to take your mind off it all.â
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. âOh? Whatâs that?â
He grinned, that trademark mischievous smile that always seemed to carry a hint of danger. âWeâre headinâ to the Caribbean, chĂŠrie. Three days of sun, sand, and good company. Plus, youâll be meetinâ some of my associates. And one of their wives. Theyâre a good crowdâmaybe a little too high society for their own good, but theyâll treat you well.â
Your stomach fluttered with nerves at the thought of meeting his associates. High societyâhis world. You hadnât even fully wrapped your mind around being on this plane, much less stepping into that social circle. The idea of being scrutinized by people who probably judged others for the cut of their clothes or the pedigree of their last name made your palms sweat. What would they think of you? Would they see you as an outsider, a temporary fixture at Remyâs side?
Remy must have sensed your hesitation because he leaned forward slightly, his expression softening again. âDonât worry, chĂŠrie,â he said, his voice reassuring. âYouâll fit right in. Just be yourself. And if anyone gives you a hard time, wellâŚâ His grin widened, a little sharper now. âTheyâll have me to deal with.â
You couldnât help but smile at that, though the nerves still fluttered in your chest. Remy had a way of making you feel like you could handle anything, even when you werenât so sure yourself. There was a confidence in his words, in the way he carried himself, that was infectious. If nothing else, at least you werenât alone in this. Remy might be many thingsâpowerful, intimidating, larger than lifeâbut he wasnât leaving you to navigate this world on your own. And somehow, that made it a little easier to breathe.
âSo, the Caribbean, huh?â you said, trying to lighten the mood. âI hope you donât expect me to lounge around in some tiny bikini all day.â
Remyâs smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with that wicked sense of humor you were growing used to. âWell, now that you mention it, I wasnât gonna say anything, butâŚâ
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with an exaggerated sigh. âOf course. I shouldâve known. Maybe Iâll surprise you and show up in cargo shorts and a T-shirt. Who knows? Could be a new look.â
Remy chuckled, a low, rich sound that made the tension in your shoulders ease just a little more. âCargo shorts, huh? Now thatâs an image. Iâd pay to see that.â
You shot him a playful glare. âDonât tempt me. Iâm not above making you regret this whole situation.â
He shook his head, still smiling as he glanced out the window, the endless blue sky reflected in his eyes. âYou know, you keep makinâ me laugh like that, chĂŠrie, and Iâm gonna have to take you on more trips just for the entertainment.â
You laughed softly, feeling the knot of tension in your chest loosen just a bit more. For the first time since youâd stepped onto the plane, the weight of everything didnât feel quite so crushing. The banter, the easy back-and-forthâit was a welcome distraction from the enormity of the situation you were in. For a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.
âSeriously though,â you said after a beat, your tone softening, âwhatâs the deal with this trip? You mentioned your associates⌠What am I walking into?â
Remyâs smile faded slightly, though the glint of amusement never fully left his eyes. He leaned back in his chair again, crossing one leg over the other in that relaxed, effortless way he always did. âNothinâ too complicated. A little business, a little pleasure. Youâll meet some people, make a few connections. Itâll be good for you to get a feel for this world. But you donât have to worry about impressinâ anyone.â
You raised an eyebrow. âReally? Because it sounds like Iâm about to be thrown into a pool of sharks.â
Remyâs smirk returned, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. âMaybe. But youâre a lot tougher than you think, chĂŠrie. Youâll be just fine.â
You wanted to believe him, but the truth was, you werenât sure. This wasnât your world, not yet. But as you looked at himâat the calm confidence he exuded, the way he seemed so sure of everythingâyou felt a flicker of that same confidence growing inside you. Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could handle whatever came next.
Remyâs gaze softened as he studied you, his expression a mix of amusement and something more intimate. âBesides,â he added, his voice dropping lower, âyouâve got me. And I donât let anyone mess with whatâs mine.â
The words sent a shiver down your spine, not because of the possessiveness in them, but because of the way he said itâso casually, so matter-of-fact, like it was a foregone conclusion. Like you were already a part of his world, whether you realized it or not.
You swallowed, nodding slowly. âRight,â you murmured, though your mind was still racing with everything that came with that statement. What exactly did it mean to be âhisâ? Where did the boundaries fall? And how much of yourself were you willing to give to stay in this world, by his side?
But those were questions for another time. For now, you leaned back in your seat, feeling the soft hum of the engines beneath you, the steady rhythm of the flight lulling you into a momentary calm.
The Caribbean awaited. And whatever else came with it, you had no choice but to face it head-on, one step at a time.
And Remy's words echoed in your mind: Youâve got me.
After hours in the air, the sound of the jet engines humming quietly in the background, you finally felt the plane begin its descent. Your stomach fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nerves, the reality of what awaited you starting to sink in. You glanced out the window, catching glimpses of the turquoise water far below, sparkling under the sun. The Caribbean stretched out in every direction, a paradise of endless blue and white sand beaches.
Remy had been engrossed in his laptop most of the flight, occasionally glancing up to check on you, but for the most part, leaving you to your thoughts. Now, as the plane prepared to land, he closed the laptop with a soft *click* and leaned back in his seat, his eyes finding yours.
âYou ready, chĂŠrie?â he asked, his voice smooth and calm. There was a subtle gleam in his eye, like he knew exactly the effect this place would have on you.
You nodded, though the tension in your chest hadnât fully eased. âI think so.â
Remy smiled, a slow, knowing grin as he stood up, stretching slightly. âGood. Youâre gonna love this.â
The jet touched down smoothly, and before long, you were stepping out onto the tarmac. The sun was brighter than you expected, the heat of it kissing your skin immediately as you descended the steps. There was a light breeze, warm and fragrant with the scent of the ocean and tropical flowers. It felt like stepping into another worldâone far removed from the city, from your normal life.
A sleek golf cart waited just off the runway, its driver standing by with a polite smile. You barely had time to take in the sprawling landscape before Remyâs hand was on your lower back again, gently steering you toward the waiting vehicle. The dark-haired man from earlier had already whisked away your bags, and you couldnât help but marvel at how smoothly everything seemed to run in this world. No waiting, no hassleâjust ease.
The cart zipped along a narrow path lined with lush greenery, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves casting dappled shadows on the pristine path. The air smelled of salt and fresh vegetation, a mix that made you feel both alive and strangely at peace.
As you rounded a bend in the path, the island opened up before you.
The private island itself was like something out of a dream. A crescent-shaped bay stretched out in front of you, the sand impossibly white and soft, meeting crystal-clear water that shimmered in shades of blue and green. It was the kind of beach youâd only ever seen in magazines, the kind that felt almost too perfect to be real. The shoreline was dotted with private cabanas, their white curtains fluttering in the breeze. Beyond the beach, the island rose gently into low hills covered in vibrant, tropical vegetationâlush palms, hibiscus flowers, and thick greenery, all bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun.
Near the edge of the beach sat a sprawling villa, its whitewashed walls and terracotta roof blending seamlessly with the natural beauty around it. Wide windows and open terraces offered breathtaking views of the ocean, and you could see the glint of a large infinity pool reflecting the sky. It was luxurious but not ostentatiousâelegant in a way that spoke of quiet wealth, the kind that didnât need to shout to make its presence known.
You tried to take it all in, the sheer beauty of the place leaving you momentarily breathless. Youâd never seen anything like it, and the realization that this was where youâd be spending the next three daysâon this private island, in this paradiseâwas almost too much to process.
âThis is⌠incredible,â you murmured, almost to yourself.
Remy chuckled beside you, clearly pleased by your reaction. âI told you,â he said, his voice low and warm. âItâs somethinâ, ainât it?â
You nodded, still staring at the landscape in awe. âItâs like a dream.â
Remyâs hand brushed lightly against your back again, a subtle but possessive gesture. âGet used to it, chĂŠrie. This is just day one.â
The cart came to a stop in front of the villa, and you were greeted by a small team of staffâeach person dressed impeccably, their smiles polite but professional. You barely had time to wonder how many people it took to run a place like this before Remy was stepping out of the cart, offering you his hand to help you down.
As you stepped onto the stone path leading to the villa, the first thing that hit you was the cool, salty breeze rolling in from the ocean. It brushed against your skin, carrying with it the scent of the seaâcrisp, fresh, and tinged with the faintest hint of jasmine, which clung to the air like a delicate whisper. The sound of the waves crashing softly in the distance only added to the sense of serenity that seemed to surround the place. The staff, dressed in simple yet elegant uniforms, greeted you with soft voices, offering cold towels and drinksârefreshing, citrus-infused water served in crystal glasses that sparkled in the sunlight. Everything was calm, controlled, and impossibly perfect, like stepping into a dream.
Remy exchanged a few quiet words with the head of staff, something about tonightâs itinerary, before turning his full attention to you. His demeanor was relaxed, the tension of the flight now long gone from his shoulders. âWeâve got a couple of hours before dinner,â he said, his tone easy, casual. âI figured you might want to settle in, maybe take a walk around the beach. Clear your head before tonight.â
âTonight?â You glanced at him, curiosity flickering behind your eyes.
Remyâs smile turned a little more playful, that familiar glint of mischief returning. âThereâs a dinner with some of my associates. Youâll meet a few of them. Nothing too formal, but itâll be a good chance for you to get familiar with the crowd.â He paused, his gaze softening as he caught the slight shift in your expression. âI know itâs a lot to take in, and it might feel overwhelming, but rememberâyou donât have to be anyone but yourself. Just relax and enjoy the evening.â
You nodded, but a knot of anxiety was already twisting in your stomach at the thought of meeting his associatesâpeople who, no doubt, were used to a life of wealth and luxury, people who moved through this world with ease. Would they be able to tell you didnât belong? Would they see right through to the part of you that still felt like you were playing dress-up in someone elseâs life? The nerves, which youâd managed to keep at bay until now, began to buzz under your skin again.
Remy must have sensed your hesitation because he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours for a brief moment. His touch was warm, grounding, and when you looked up at him, his expression was softer, more reassuring than you expected. âYouâll do fine, chĂŠrie,â he said, his voice low, soothing. âYouâve got nothinâ to worry about. Iâve got your back.â
You offered him a small, grateful smile, though the anxiety still clung to you like a second skin. âThanks. Iâll⌠Iâll try to relax.â
His grin widened, a little more of that devil-may-care attitude slipping back into his expression. His fingertips grazed your wrist before he pulled away. âGood. Now go enjoy the view. Iâll meet you back here in a bit.â
With that, he turned and strode into the villa, leaving you standing on the stone path, the warmth of the sun kissing your skin and the rhythmic sound of the waves calling you toward the beach. You took a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs, trying to let go of the tension that had built up since the moment you stepped off the plane.
Slowly, you began to make your way toward the shore, your sandals crunching softly on the stone path that led down to the beach. When you reached the sand, you kicked off your shoes, letting the cool, soft grains slip between your toes. The sand was smooth, almost velvet-like, and it gave way easily under your steps as you wandered closer to the waterâs edge.
The beach stretched out in front of you, a long ribbon of pale, silken sand framed by lush, tropical greenery on one side and the endless expanse of the ocean on the other. The water shimmered under the late afternoon sun, a vibrant turquoise that seemed almost unreal in its clarity. Gentle waves lapped at the shore, their rhythm steady and soothing, as if the ocean itself was breathing in time with the world around it.
Further down the beach, palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze, their long fronds dancing in the wind, casting shadows that shifted and stretched as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon. The sky was a canvas of soft, melting colorsâpale pinks, delicate oranges, and golden hues that bled into one another like watercolors. It was the kind of sunset that seemed to pause time, the kind that invited you to just stop and be, if only for a few quiet moments.
You walked along the waterâs edge, the cool waves brushing against your ankles, and for the first time in what felt like days, your mind began to quiet. The weight of everythingâthe deal youâd made, the expectations, the uncertaintiesâseemed to lift, if only for a little while. The beauty of the island, the simplicity of the moment, was enough to make it all fade into the background. Here, with the ocean stretching out before you, vast and unending, the worries that had been circling in your mind seemed small, insignificant.
You stopped for a moment, letting the water swirl around your feet. The horizon stretched endlessly before you, the sun casting a glittering path across the surface of the ocean as it sank lower in the sky. The breeze tugged at your hair, soft and warm, carrying with it the scent of salt and something sweetâmaybe the jasmine youâd smelled earlier, or perhaps some tropical bloom hidden within the thickets of greenery behind you.
For a brief, fleeting moment, you let yourself imagine that this could be your lifeâthis peace, this beauty. That maybe, just maybe, you could belong here in this world of luxury, where everything seemed designed to soothe and delight the senses. But then, reality crept back in. This was your life for the next three days. After that, who knew?
You took another deep breath, letting the salty air fill your lungs, and turned your gaze back toward the villa. Its white stone walls gleamed in the fading light, framed by the vibrant green of the surrounding palms and tropical plants. It looked like something out of a postcardâperfect, serene, and utterly unattainable for most people. And yet, here you were, a part of it, if only for a little while.
The thought of tonightâs dinner still weighed on your mind, but for now, you decided to let it go. Remy had told you to relax, to enjoy the view, and for once, you were going to try to take his advice. As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in soft pastels of pink and orange, you continued to walk along the shoreline, the cool water lapping at your ankles. The rhythmic sound of the waves breaking against the sand and the gentle breeze brushing your skin were enough to momentarily soothe your mind. The beauty of the island was almost enough to distract you from the knot of anxiety still coiled in your chestâalmost. Each step felt like a reminder of the evening ahead, and the looming weight of it pressed down on you like a second shadow.
You heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the sand behind you, and you didnât need to turn around to know it was Remy. His presence was unmistakableâthere was a quiet confidence in the way he moved, always sure of himself, always in control. He walked up beside you, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his linen pants, his gaze sweeping across the horizon before settling on you.
âThought Iâd join you for a bit,â he said, his voice low and easy, carrying the same warmth as the setting sun. âNice out here, isnât it?â
âItâs beautiful,â you murmured, still staring out at the water. For a moment, you let yourself believe that this was just a vacationâjust a peaceful getaway with someone you trusted. The ocean stretched out endlessly before you, the sky above it a swirl of soft pinks, purples, and golds. It was the kind of beauty that made everything else feel small and distantâif only for a moment. But the reality of the evening ahead loomed large in the back of your mind, refusing to let you fully succumb to the calm.
Remy must've sensed your thoughts because he shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours as you continued to walk along the beach. The touch was brief, barely noticeable, but it was enough to remind you of his presence, his steady assurance. âI figured Iâd give you a little heads-up about tonight,â he said, his tone casual but focused. âSome of the people youâll be meetinââtheyâre⌠well, letâs just say theyâre not your everyday crowd.â
You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. âNot everyday crowd? You mean like you?â
He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. âSomething like that. But even by my standards, some of them are a bit⌠intense.â
You bit your lip, feeling the tension in your chest tighten a little more. âWho exactly will be there?â
Remyâs eyes flickered toward you, and for a moment, his expression became unreadable, as if calculating how much to share. Then, he let out a soft breath and began listing the names. âFirst up, Tony Stark of Stark Industries. You mightâve heard of him. His wife, Pepper, will be there too. Theyâre good people, sharp as hellâTonyâs a bit of a showman, but underneath it, heâs one of the best minds in the world.â
Your eyes widened slightly. Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? Youâd definitely heard of himâhis face was everywhere, from magazine covers to news articles. He was one of the most famous men in the world, a literal genius, and the billionaire behind some of the most advanced technology on the planet. The kind of man who changed the course of industries with a single decision.
âTony Stark,â you repeated, slightly breathless. âWow. Okay.â
Remy smirked at your reaction, clearly amused. âYeah, heâs a character. But heâs got a good heart. Pepperâwell, sheâs the one who keeps him grounded. Youâll like her.â
You nodded slowly, the weight of the evening pressing down on you a little heavier now. If Tony Stark was just the first name on the list, you could only imagine who else youâd be meeting. The realization hit you that tonight wasnât just any dinnerâit was a gathering of powerhouses, people who shaped the world in ways you could hardly fathom. And you were about to step into their world.
Remy continued, his voice a little more serious now. âNext up is Norman Osborn. He runs Oscorp. Youâve probably heard his name too.â
Your footsteps faltered slightly, and you turned to Remy with a look of surprise. âWaitâNorman Osborn? The same Norman Osborn who was prosecuted last year for⌠all that stuff?â
You didnât need to elaborate. The whole world had been watching as Norman Osborn faced charges for a laundry list of other things that made your stomach churn. It had been one of the biggest scandals of the year, and though Osborn had managed to slither out of it, the stench of it still lingered in the publicâs mind.
Remy nodded, his expression calm but guarded. âYeah, thatâs the one. But the charges were dropped.â
You pulled a face, the skepticism clear on your features. âDropped doesnât mean innocent,â you muttered, your tone laced with disbelief.
Remyâs lips twitched into a wry smile, and he let out a low chuckle. âYouâre not wrong, *chĂŠrie*. Trust me, I donât buy into his innocence either. But itâs business, not friendship. Normanâs got connections, and heâs powerful. Thatâs why heâs here.â
There was something in the way Remy said itâso matter-of-fact, so pragmaticâthat made you realize just how complicated this world really was. It wasnât just about wealth and luxury. It was about power, influence, and playing the game, even if it meant rubbing shoulders with people youâd rather avoid. The stakes were higher than youâd imagined.
You exhaled softly, trying to process it all. âI guess that makes sense. But still⌠he gives me the creeps.â
Remy nodded, his expression serious for a moment. âYou and me both. Donât worry, though. Iâll keep my eye on him tonight. Just stay close, and youâll be fine.â
You gave him a small, appreciative nod, though the thought of being in the same room as Norman Osborn still made your skin crawl. The idea that people like him could move freely in these circles, despite everything, was unsettling. But you were starting to learn that morality and power didnât always walk hand-in-hand in this world.
Remy cleared his throat, shifting the conversation back to a lighter tone. âLast on the guest list is Roberto Da Costa. You might not know the name, but he inherited AIM from his father. Heâs young, smart, and a bit of a wildcard. But heâs one of the most resourceful people Iâve ever met.â
You turned to Remy, curious. âAIM? As in Advanced Idea Mechanics? Like⌠the tech company?â
âThatâs the one,â Remy confirmed, his eyes glinting with amusement again. âRobertoâs got big plans for it. Heâs a good guy, though. Out of everyone tonight, Iâd say heâs the one youâll get along with best. Heâs not asâletâs say, complicated as the others.â
You chewed your lip, digesting all this information. Tony Stark, Norman Osborn, Roberto Da Costa⌠The people youâd be meeting tonight werenât just wealthyâthey were titans of industry, people who shaped the world you lived in with their decisions, their innovations, and their power. And youâyou were just trying to figure out where you fit into all of this. It felt like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, about to dive into something much bigger than yourself.
âSounds like an interesting crowd,â you said finally, your voice a little more stable now, though your nerves hadnât entirely settled.
Remy chuckled softly, his hand brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both reassuring and possessive. His touch lingered just long enough to remind you that, despite it all, you werenât alone in this. âThatâs one way to put it. Just rememberâyouâre with me. You donât need to impress anyone. Just be yourself, and let me handle the rest.â
You nodded, trying to let his words sink in. The sun had dipped lower now, casting a golden sheen across the water, and the sky had deepened into shades of fiery orange and violet. The world around you was breathtaking, a stark contrast to the complicated web of relationships and power games awaiting you tonight.
Remyâs presence beside you, steady and unshakable, was the only thing keeping you grounded as you prepared to step into a world you barely understood. But as you continued to walk along the beach, the cool water swirling around your ankles, you realized something: even if you didnât know exactly where you fit in yet, you werenât completely lost.
You nodded, though the thought of being in a room with such powerful people still made your stomach twist. âIâll try.â Remy smiled, his tone soft as he glanced at you. "Youâll be fine, chĂŠrie. These peopleâthey might have money and influence, but at the end of the day, theyâre just people. Theyâve got their own insecurities, their own messes. Youâll see.â
You exhaled slowly, trying to believe him, though the knot of anxiety still sat stubbornly in your chest. âI hope youâre right.â
He shot you a sideways glance, the corners of his lips curling into an amused smirk. âHope Iâm right? ChĂŠrie, Iâm always right.â
You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. âAlways right? Thatâs a dangerous level of confidence.â
His grin widened, and he gave a casual shrug. âWell, Iâm at least right about this. Youâll fit in just fine. Iâd bet on it.â
You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism clear. âBetting on me now? Is that how you reassure peopleâby turning it into a wager?â
He let out a low chuckle, the sound warm and rich against the backdrop of the ocean. âDepends. You want to make it interesting?â
You laughed, shaking your head. âIâm not betting on my ability to make it through a dinner with Tony Stark, Norman Osborn, and whoever else is on this guest list.â
Remy tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief. âSurvive? ChĂŠrie, youâll do more than survive. Youâll charm the hell outta them. Just donât outshine me too much.â
âOh, yeah, because thatâs my biggest concern,â you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. âOutshining you.â
âHey, itâs happened before,â he said, pretending to be wounded. âYouâve got that whole mysterious, âIâm too good for thisâ aura. Itâs dangerous, I tell ya.â
You smirked, crossing your arms. âMysterious, huh? Speaking of dangerous⌠didnât I read something about you punching someone at a dinner party a few years ago? You know, back when you were still married? Ringing any bells?â
Remyâs grin faltered for a split second, and he let out a low chuckle, clearly caught off guard. âAh, so youâve been doinâ your homework, huh?â
You shrugged, unable to resist pushing a little further. âI mean, itâs not every day your boss makes headlines by knocking someone out at a dinner party. That was the talk of the office for weeks.â
Remy rubbed the back of his neck, his expression hovering between amusement and mild embarrassment. âYeah, well⌠the guy had it cominâ. He said somethinâ âbout my wife at the time, and⌠letâs just say I didnât appreciate it.â
You grinned, crossing your arms a little tighter. âSo what youâre saying is I should be ready for a potential repeat performance tonight?â
He shot you a playful glare. âIâm tryinâ to behave these days, chĂŠrie. But if anyone gives you trouble tonight, Iâll handle itâpreferably without throwinâ punches this time.â
You laughed, shaking your head. âGood to know. Iâd rather not have another office scandal to deal with. And I definitely donât need any more tabloid headlines about my boss decking someone at a fancy party.â
Remy grinned, the easy banter helping to ease the tension between you. âDonât worry, Iâll try to keep my fists to myself. Besides, I donât wanna give you more paperwork to deal with.â
âWell, weâll see how long that lasts,â you teased, the playful tone lightening the mood as the two of you continued walking down the beach. The waves lapped gently at your feet, the cool water a soothing contrast to the warmth of the sand. The sky had begun to deepen into shades of fiery orange and pink, and for the first time, you felt the tightness in your chest starting to ease.
Remy glanced at you, his expression softening again. âLook, I know tonightâs a big deal, but youâve got nothinâ to worry about. These people might have their fancy titles and big companies, but theyâve all got their own messes. Theyâre not as intimidating as they seem.â
You nodded, though the weight of the evening still loomed in your mind. âIâll keep that in mind. But if you really want to reassure me, maybe donât punch anyone this time?â
He chuckled, his hand brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both reassuring and affectionate. âNo promises, chĂŠrie. But if I do, at least youâll know itâs for a good reason.â
You laughed again, shaking your head. âIâm holding you to that.â
Remyâs eyes sparkled with amusement as he smirked. âDeal. But when youâre the star of the night and everyoneâs talkinâ about how you stole the show, Iâll expect an apology for all this doubt youâve been throwinâ my way.â
You shot him a playful look. âDonât hold your breath.â
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting everything in a soft, golden glow, you let yourself relax a little more. Whatever happened tonight, at least you werenât going into it alone. And with Remyâpunches or no punchesâyou figured youâd survive just fine.
But you couldn't resist adding one last jab. âAnd if by some miracle you manage to keep your fists to yourself, maybe Iâll apologize.â
He grinned, his voice teasing. âIâll take that as a challenge.â <><><><>
The evening began as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the island in hues of deep gold and rose. The villa was transformed into a glowing beacon of luxury, lanterns lit along the pathways and soft music drifting from the open terrace. You could hear the faint clink of glasses and the low murmur of voices as the guests arrived, each one a significant figure in their own right, each one a player in a world of wealth and influence you had only glimpsed from the outside.
You stood next to Remy at the entrance of the villa, your nerves tightening as you watched the first guests step inside. He was dressed impeccably, his usual laid-back charm replaced with a sharper, more focused energy. He exuded confidence, his presence commanding without being overbearing. There was something about him tonightâsomething protective, possessiveâthat made you feel both grounded and slightly on edge.
His hand, warm and sure, rested lightly on your lower back. It was a subtle gesture, but it was constant, as if reminding youâand everyone elseâthat you were with him. That you were part of his world now.
The first to arrive were Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, their presence immediately commanding attention. Tony was just as you imaginedâsmooth, charismatic, and larger than life, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his signature smirk ever-present. Pepper, elegant and poised, was the perfect complement, her calm demeanor balancing Tonyâs quick wit.
Remy stepped forward smoothly, his hand guiding you with him as he greeted Tony with a firm handshake and an easy smile. âTony, Pepperâglad you could make it.â
Tony grinned, his eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to Remy. âWouldnât miss it, LeBeau. You know how much I love a good island getaway.â
Pepper smiled warmly, and her gaze lingered on you for a moment, her eyes kind but curious. âYou must be Remyâs guest," she said, extending her hand to you. "Iâm Pepper. Itâs so nice to meet you.â
You shook her hand, trying to keep your voice steady. âItâs nice to meet you too.â
Remyâs hand stayed at your back, a reassuring presence as he smoothly introduced you, âSheâs with me.â
Tony raised an eyebrow but smiled as he shook your hand. âWith Remy, huh? You must be something special then.â
You forced a small smile, unsure how to respond, but Pepperâs gentle nod helped ease some of the tension in your chest. She stepped in and smoothly changed the subject, asking about your experience on the island so far, and before long, the conversation flowed easily between all of you.
Remy, ever the charmer, kept drawing you into the dialogue when it veered toward business or topics you werenât familiar with. He made sure you were never left out, offering you an easy entry point into each discussion, his hand never leaving your back. It anchored you, kept you steady, even as you felt the weight of these powerful peopleâs attention shift toward you.
As more guests arrived, you found yourself in a whirlwind of introductions. Norman Osborn appeared next, his presence cold and calculated, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. Remyâs grip on you tightened slightly as he introduced you to the head of Oscorp, and you could feel the tension between them, an unspoken understanding that this was purely businessâno more, no less.
âNorman,â Remy said smoothly, his voice polite but distant.
Normanâs smile was thin as he extended his hand to you, his eyes sharp. âA pleasure,â he said in a voice that was far too practiced.
You shook his hand, but the unease you felt earlier only deepened. There was something about Osborn that made your skin crawl, something dark lurking beneath the surface of his polished exterior. Still, you forced a polite smile, reminding yourself that this was part of the game.
Remyâs hand stayed firmly on your back, guiding you through the brief conversation until you were able to move on, his presence always between you and Norman, as if he could sense your discomfort.
The night wore on, and as the villa filled with the soft sound of laughter and clinking glasses, Remy introduced you to Roberto Da Costa. He was younger than most of the other guests, his energy more vibrant, his smile more genuine. He greeted you with a warm handshake and an easy grin, and you found yourself relaxing slightly in his presence.
âRemyâs told me a lot about you,â Roberto said, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity. âIâm glad I finally get to put a face to the name.â
âGood things, I hope,â you replied, your smile more natural now.
âOnly the best,â Roberto said with a wink, then turned to Remy. âYouâve got good taste, LeBeau.â
Remy chuckled, his hand sliding from your back to rest briefly on your waist before pulling away. âI try,â he said, his tone light but with a hint of pride.
As the evening progressed, you noticed Remy becoming more comfortable with leaving you alone in the conversations. At first, it was subtleâheâd step away for a moment to speak with a member of the staff, or to grab a drink, but he was always quick to return, slipping back to your side with that same reassuring presence. It was clear he was making sure you were comfortable, making sure you werenât overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the evening.
But as you began to find your footing, as you warmed to people like Pepper and Roberto, he started giving you more space. Heâd introduce you to someone, make sure you were engaged in the conversation, and then step away to speak with Tony or Norman, leaving you to hold your own.
At first, it made you nervousâbeing left alone with people like Tony Stark or Roberto Da Costa. But you quickly realized that Remy had been preparing you for this the entire evening. Heâd made sure you could follow the conversations, made sure you were introduced in a way that gave you credibility in this world. And now, as you stood on your own, sipping a glass of champagne while discussing the latest tech innovations with Tony and Pepper, you realized you were doing just fine.
Still, Remy never strayed far. Even when he was across the room, speaking with Norman or one of the other guests, his gaze would flicker toward you, checking in, making sure you were okay. And when you caught his eye, heâd give you a small, reassuring smile, as if to say, Youâve got this.
And you did. Somehow, in the midst of all this wealth and power, you were holding your own.
As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing with Roberto about some ridiculous story Tony was telling, while Pepper smiled indulgently at her husbandâs antics. You felt something shift inside youâa sense of acceptance, of belonging, even if it was still new and fragile. The evening had taken on an unexpected rhythm as you found yourself in an easy flow of conversation with Tony Stark. Youâd drifted into a discussion about 80âs rock bandsâTony, as it turned out, had a deep appreciation for the classics, and his knowledge of obscure trivia was surprisingly vast.
"You canât bring up 80âs rock without mentioning Van Halen,â Tony said, his eyes gleaming with the kind of enthusiasm youâd expect from a man who had built entire empires. âI mean, Eruption? That solo was revolutionary.â
You grinned, shaking your head. âSure, Van Halenâs great, but you canât overlook Journey. Donât Stop Believinâ is still an anthem for a reason.â
Tony scoffed playfully, taking a sip of his drink. âOh, come on, Donât Stop Believinâ? Thatâs like the âfree spaceâ of rock songs. Everyone loves it, sure, but itâs safe. Thank-you Glee. Now, if youâre talking obscure 80âs rock, I raise you one: Blue Ăyster Cultâs Veteran of the Psychic Wars. That was a song that didnât get enough credit.â
You raised an eyebrow, impressed. âBlue Ăyster Cult? Psychic Wars? Now thatâs a deep cut. Youâre really pulling out the music nerd card here, Stark.â
He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself. âWhat can I say? I have range.â
The banter continued, flowing easily between you both, the kind of light, effortless conversation you hadnât expected going into the night. Tony had a way of making you feel like you were on his level, even when you knew the gulf between your worlds was massive. It was his charmâequal parts intellect and ego, but balanced just enough to make him likable.
You glanced across the room and caught Remyâs eyes on you, his expression a mix of pride and something moreâsomething warmer, softer. He raised his glass in a silent toast, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you. For the first time that night, the knot of anxiety that had gripped your chest seemed to loosen. You were here, in this world of wealth and influence, and somehow⌠you were making it.
The evening had gone better than youâd expected. Tonyâs banter had been easy, Robertoâs charm disarming, and Pepperâs warmth made you feel welcomed, even in their rarefied circle. You had navigated the conversations, the glances, the subtle power plays with more grace than you thought possible. And as the night wore on, you found yourself starting to enjoy itâif only a little.
Remy, who had been keeping a close eye on you all evening, eventually made his way back to your side. His hand found its familiar place on the small of your back, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as his voice dropped to that low, intimate murmur. âYouâre doinâ great, chĂŠrie,â he said, his tone filled with quiet approval. âTold you youâd fit right in.â
You smiled, feeling the warmth of his presence as it grounded you. âI guess you were right,â you whispered back, a playful glint in your eye. âBut donât let it go to your head.â
He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your back. âToo late for that, chĂŠrie.â
You rolled your eyes but couldnât help the smile that crept onto your face. Remy always knew how to make you feel at ease, even in situations that felt larger than life. But as much as you appreciated his steady presence, the weight of the evening was beginning to catch up with you. The constant energy, the conversations, the subtle power dynamicsâit was all a lot to take in.
As Remy turned to chat with Roberto about something, you felt the need to take a breather, to step away from the crowd and give yourself a moment to reset. You gently excused yourself, slipping away from the group and making your way toward the railing that overlooked the starlit beach below. The sound of the waves crashing softly in the distance was a welcome reprieve from the hum of conversation inside, and the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin.
You leaned on the railing, gazing out at the dark horizon where the ocean met the sky. The stars twinkled overhead, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, savoring the quiet. It felt good to breathe, to just be, away from the intensity of the evening.
But your peace didnât last long.
You hadnât even heard him approach. One moment, you were admiring the view, your mind drifting with the sound of the waves, and the next, Norman Osborn was standing too close beside you. His presence was abrupt, an unwelcome intrusion into your quiet moment, and far too close for comfort.
âYou seem to be settling in well,â Norman Osborn said, his voice dripping with casual charm, though there was something unsettling in the way his eyes lingered on you. They swept over you, deliberate and slow, as if he were evaluating every inch. âRemyâs got good taste.â
You forced a polite smile, though every instinct screamed at you to be cautious. There was an edge to this conversation, something unsaid yet heavy in the air. âItâs been an interesting evening, to say the least,â you replied, taking a small but deliberate step back, hoping to create some distance between you.
Normanâs smile didnât waver, but his eyes darkened slightly, the intensity behind them growing. âI imagine so,â he said, his voice smooth but now laced with something darker. âThis world can be overwhelmingâbut you seem to be handling it better than most.â
The compliment felt more like a test, as if he were probing for cracks in your composure. His gaze stayed on you, uncomfortably focused, and you instinctively took another step back. But Norman moved with you, closing the gap effortlessly, a predator playing with its prey.
His hand brushed against your waist, lingering for a moment too long. The touch was light, but it sent a chill down your spine, your discomfort sharpening into something more tangible.
You stiffened, your body tensing as you fixed him with a cold stare. âGet your hand off me before I break it off,â you said, your voice steady, a warning clear in every word.
Normanâs grin widened, as if he found your threat amusing. Instead of backing away, he leaned in closer, his presence looming over you. âFeisty,â he murmured, his voice low, his breath brushing against your cheek. He didnât move his hand.
Your eyes flicked back to him, narrowing as you gave him a tight, controlled smile. âIâm not going to ask nicely next time,â you said, your voice calm but deadly. The tension in the air thickened, and for a brief second, you wondered if he was going to push further.
But then, Norman raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, his grin still plastered on his face. âAlright, alright,â he said, his tone light, but the danger in his eyes was unmistakable. âNo need for dramatics.â
Before you could respond, Remy appeared at your side, his presence sudden yet reassuring. His hand immediately found its familiar spot on your waist, pulling you closer as he stepped into the space between you and Norman.
Remyâs eyes flicked between you and Norman, his expression cool but sharp. âEverything alright here?â he asked, his voice calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.
Normanâs grin widened just a little more as he turned to Remy. âQuite the charm she has,â he said smoothly, his gaze flicking back to you for a moment. âYouâve found yourself an interesting one, LeBeau.â
Remyâs grip on your waist tightened slightly, his posture relaxed but protective. âSheâs more than just charm,â Remy said, his voice light but with a hint of steel beneath it. âAnd she can handle herself just fine.â
Normanâs eyes gleamed with something unreadable as his smile thinned slightly. âOh, I donât doubt that,â he replied, his voice still smooth, though there was a flicker of annoyance behind his gaze. âIâm just⌠impressed.â
Remyâs lips curled into a smile that didnât quite reach his eyes. âIâm sure you are,â he said, his tone cool, but there was a clear warning in his words. âBut like I said, she can handle herself. So how about you keep your hands to yourself?â
Norman chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. âNo harm intended,â he said, lifting his hands again in that same mock-surrender pose. âJust a friendly chat.â
Remyâs gaze didnât leave Normanâs, the tension between them thick and palpable. âGood to hear,â Remy said, his voice soft but firm. âLetâs keep it that way.â
There was a brief, tense silence, but Norman didnât push it. With one last lingering look at you, he gave a slight nod. âWell, it was lovely chatting,â Norman said, his tone still polite but with an undercurrent of something darker. âIâm sure weâll speak again.â
He turned and slipped back into the crowd as easily as he had appeared, his presence leaving a cold, unsettling weight in the air.
You let out a breath you hadnât realized you were holding, your body still tense from the encounter. Remyâs hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing lightly against your side, a silent gesture of comfort.
âYou alright?â he asked, his voice softer now, the earlier tension in his tone fading.
As you and Remy made your way back into the party, the tension from your encounter with Norman still lingered, though it had begun to loosen its grip. Remyâs arm stayed wrapped securely around your waist, his presence grounding you as the hum of conversation and laughter swirled around the room once more.
âIâll admit,â you said with a small laugh, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort, âI didnât expect that from Osborn. Not exactly the highlight of my night.â
Remyâs lips twitched into a half-smile, though his eyes were still dark with the remnants of anger. âOsbornâs always thinkinâ he can push people around,â he muttered, his tone protective but tinged with frustration. âHeâs lucky you didnât take him up on that threat to break his hand.â
You smirked, glancing up at him. âI was tempted.â
Remy chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. âWouldâve been quite the scene, chĂŠrie,â he teased, his voice dropping to that familiar, playful drawl. âThough I mightâve had to step in just to make sure you didnât hurt him too bad.â
You raised an eyebrow, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow. âOh, I didnât need your help. I couldâve handled it.â
He grinned, his hand squeezing your waist a little tighter. âI know you could, ma belle. No doubt you can handle yourself just fine.â
You both shared a quiet laugh, the moment lightening the tension still hovering in the air. But there was something more in Remyâs eyesâsomething protective, something fierce. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower as he murmured in your ear, âYâknow, you donât need to worry about keepinâ an eye on me. Iâm not the one throwinâ punches around here.â
You rolled your eyes with a grin. âYeah, well, if you keep letting people like Norman get that close, I might have to start.â
Remyâs laughter was soft but genuine, the sound a balm to your frayed nerves. âChĂŠrie, you throwinâ punches in a room full of billionaires? Iâd pay good money to see that.â
You gave him a playful glare. âCareful what you wish for, LeBeau.â
He winked, his thumb brushing lightly against your side. âOh, Iâm not worried. I got a front-row seat to the best show in town.â
With a laugh, you leaned into him as he guided you back through the crowd, the tension of the evening fading further into the background with every step. Remyâs playful banter, his steady presenceâit was enough to remind you that no matter what the evening threw your way, youâd be just fine.
âCome on,â Remy said then, his tone lighter now, though the protective undercurrent never quite left. âLetâs get back tâ the party. I think Starkâs âbout to start tellinâ another one oâ his ridiculous stories, anâ trust meâyou donâ wanna miss it.â
You laughed softly, the tension easing slightly at the thought of Tonyâs antics. âLead the way.â
As you both made your way back toward the crowd, Remyâs hand found its familiar place at the small of your back again, a subtle but constant reminder that you werenât alone in this worldâat least, not tonight.
And as you re-entered the villa, the soft glow of the lanterns casting long shadows across the room, you couldnât help but feel a strange mix of vulnerability and strength. You were navigating a world far more complex than youâd realized, but with Remy by your side, you felt like you could handle whatever came next.
Even if that meant facing men like Norman Osborn. As the night began to quiet down and the hum of conversation faded from the villa, you found yourself walking beside Remy down a long, dimly lit corridor. The party had been winding down for a while now, the once-lively atmosphere slowly giving way to the soft, sleepy sounds of the ocean outside. Most guests had retired to their rooms or disappeared into private corners of the estate, leaving the two of you alone in the stillness of the night.
Remyâs hand rested lightly at the small of your back as he guided you through the villa, the same gentle but protective touch youâd grown accustomed to over the course of the evening. His presence was steady, grounding, but as you walked in silence, the buzz of the eveningâs events replayed in your mindâflickers of tension, of unease, of moments that had left you questioning more than just the people around you.
Normanâs lingering gaze. His hand brushing against your waist. The subtle power plays and veiled threats hidden behind charming smiles and polite words. The night had been a whirlwindâa delicate dance of navigating not only the social dynamics of the people around you but also your own emotions. You had been on edge for most of it, constantly aware of your surroundings, of the unspoken rules Remy had laid out for you. It had been exhausting.
And now, with Remy leading you toward the guest wing, a new set of thoughts began to crowd your mind.
You wondered, in the quiet of the hallway, what exactly was expected of you tonight. The nature of these circles was still new to you, filled with unspoken agreements, subtle cues, and expectations that werenât always clear. As Remy led you toward what you assumed was your room, the question lingered in the back of your mind, gnawing at you.
Would he expect you to stay with him?
The thought made your heart race, but not in the way you might have hoped. There was attraction between you, that much was undeniable, but this worldâthe world Remy lived inâwas full of layers you didnât fully understand yet. Would spending the night with him be seen as part of this game? Was there some underlying expectation that had been set without you even realizing it?
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye trying to read his expression, but Remy remained as unreadable as ever, his easy charm masking whatever deeper thoughts might be running through his mind. His hand was still gentle at your back, guiding but never pushing, and yet, the question lingered.
Would he expect more from you tonight?
The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, each step amplifying your uncertainty. You knew Remy wasnât like the othersânot like Norman or the countless other powerful men in the room who saw people as pawns in their games. But still, the unfamiliarity of this world made you question everything. There was always something underlined in these interactions, something that wasnât spoken but was always present.
Was there something expected of you that was never truly written?
Your thoughts spiraled, looping back on themselves as you weighed the possibilities. You didnât want to misread the situation. You didnât want to assume the worst. But the truth was, you were tiredâemotionally drained from the eveningâs tension and the constant need to be on guard. The idea of having to navigate yet another layer of expectation, of having to figure out what Remy wanted from you, felt overwhelming.
Finally, Remy stopped in front of a door, his hand slipping from your back as he reached for the handle.
âThis hereâs your room for the night, chère,â he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet of the hallway. He pushed the door open, revealing a beautifully furnished guest room, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm light over the space.
Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, your mind still racing with questions, your body tense with the anticipation of what might come next.
But then, Remy stepped back, his hand falling casually to his side, and he gave you that familiar, easy smile. âGet some rest,â he said, his voice low, his Cajun accent curling around the words like a gentle embrace. âItâs been a long night.â
For a moment, you blinked, the tension in your chest slowly unraveling as you realized what he was sayingâwhat he wasnât saying. He wasnât expecting anything. There was no hidden agenda here, no unspoken demand or assumption lingering in the air between you. He was simply showing you to your room. Nothing more.
You wanted to breathe out a sigh of relief, but instead, you let the weight of the moment settle in your chest, a quiet gratitude blooming there. Remy wasnât like the others. He didnât expect anything more than whatever this was between youâthis quiet understanding, this connection that was still finding its footing amidst the chaos of the world you were navigating together.
âThanks,â you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped into the room. The warmth of the space enveloped you, and for the first time tonight, you felt like you could truly relax.
Remy lingered in the doorway for a moment, his eyes soft but unreadable in the dim light. âIf yâ need anythinâ, yâ know where tâ find me,â he said, his voice still low, still carrying that familiar warmth that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
You nodded, offering him a small smile. âGoodnight, Remy.â
He gave you one last lookâsomething unspoken in his eyes, something that made your heart flutter just slightlyâbefore he nodded and turned to leave, closing the door behind him with a soft *click*.
For a moment, you stood there in the quiet of the room, the events of the night swirling in your mind. The tension, the uncertainty, the fearâall of it slowly began to fade into the background as you let out a long breath, your body finally relaxing.
You sat down on the edge of the bed, your mind still processing everything that had happened, but there was a quiet comfort in knowing that Remy hadnât expected anything more from you tonight. He hadnât pushed. He hadnât assumed. He had simply been there, guiding you through a world that, for all its dangers and complexities, felt a little less overwhelming with him by your side.
But even as you settled into the comfort of your room, a small part of you couldnât help but wonderâwhat was this, exactly? Whatever it was between you and Remy, it was slowly taking shape, but it was still undefined, still lingering somewhere between friendship and something more.
For tonight, though, you were grateful for the space heâd given youâgrateful that, in a world full of unspoken expectations, Remy had made it clear that he wasnât expecting anything at all.
You lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the sound of the ocean drifted through the window.
Tonight, you were safe. You were alone. And for now, that was enough. The next two days felt like a dreamâa blur of sunlit lunches on the terrace, dinners under the stars, and laughter that echoed through the villa long into the night. The tension from the first evening with Norman Osborn quickly began to feel like a distant memory, replaced by the easy camaraderie of a group of people who, despite their wealth and power, seemed genuinely interested in enjoying each otherâs company.
Pepper Potts had taken you under her wing almost immediately after that first night. Her calm, composed presence was a welcome counterbalance to the more chaotic personalities around youâTony's brash humor, Remy's playful charm, and the occasional tension that still lingered whenever Normanâs name was mentioned. On the second day, Pepper whisked you away for some much-needed girl time, leading you to a private room where a manicuristâflown in by Tony, of courseâwaited to pamper you both.
The quiet intimacy of it was a relief after the whirlwind of the previous night. The soft hum of conversation, the sound of the ocean in the distance, and the gentle touch of the manicuristâs hands offered a brief escape from the high-stakes, high-glamour world youâd been thrust into. And here, in this tranquil setting, with only Pepperâs warm, calming energy beside you, you finally felt the tension in your shoulders begin to ease.
As the manicurist shaped your nails, Pepper leaned back in her chair, her expression relaxed but observant, a glass of sparkling water in hand. She began to tell you stories about her lifeâabout the juggling act of managing Tony Starkâs empire and the strange, surreal world sheâd found herself navigating. But more than that, she told you about Remyâhis adventures, or rather, his misadventures.
"Remyâs always been a bit of a wildcard," she said with a knowing smile, her eyes flickering with amusement. âIâm sure youâve already figured that out.â She glanced at you, her eyes twinkling, and you couldnât help but laugh softly, nodding in agreement.
âIâve definitely noticed,â you replied, your voice light but fond.
Pepper chuckled, setting her glass down. âHe has this way of getting himself into trouble, whether he means to or not. Itâs just⌠in his nature, I suppose. Heâs got a heart of gold, but sometimes that Cajun charm of his can lead him into situations that spiral out of control.â
You laughed at that, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. âYeah, he does seem to have a knack for mischief.â
Pepperâs expression softened as she looked at you, her tone shifting slightly. âBut Remyâs loyalâfiercely loyal. Heâd do anything for the people he cares about. Thatâs something you can count on.â She paused, taking a breath, then added, âJust⌠keep an eye on him. Heâs got a temper, especially when it comes to people he cares about.â
You raised an eyebrow, surprised. âRemy? A temper?â
Pepper smiled knowingly, leaning in a little as though she were sharing a secret. âOh, donât let that laid-back attitude fool you. Heâs easygoing most of the time, but when someone crosses a line⌠especially when it involves someone he cares about? He can be quick to act. Sometimes too quick.â
Her words gave you pause, a flicker of memory flashing in your mindâRemyâs protective stance the other night when Norman had gotten too close, the way his hand tightened possessively around your waist, the dangerous glint in his eyes as he confronted Osborn. Youâd seen that shift in him, the way his easy charm could harden into something far more dangerous in an instant.
âI saw what happened with Norman,â Pepper continued, her voice softer now, more careful. âIt wasnât hard to miss, and I noticed how Remy reacted. He didnât throw a punch, but the way he looked at Norman⌠letâs just say Iâve seen that look before.â She gave you a small, understanding smile. âHe was ready to step in if you hadnât handled it.â
You exhaled slowly, a small knot in your stomach loosening. âI didnât realizeâŚâ
Pepper waved a hand dismissively. âYou handled it perfectly. But Remy? Heâs protective. And when he feels like someoneâs crossed a line with someone he cares about, he doesnât always think things through before acting.â She paused, her eyes searching yours for a moment. âItâs not a bad thing, just⌠something to be aware of. Especially in this world, where every action has consequences.â
You nodded, her words sinking in. âI guess I should be keeping an eye on him, thenânot the other way around.â
Pepper laughed, the sound light and warm. âExactly. Remy might think heâs the one looking out for you, but youâll probably end up saving him from himself more times than heâll admit.â
You shared a smile, the easy camaraderie between you both a comforting contrast to the intensity of the previous night. Pepperâs insight was invaluableâher calm, grounded wisdom something you hadnât realized you needed until now.
âIâve seen it before,â she continued, her tone gentler now. âTony⌠well, letâs just say Iâve had my fair share of moments where I had to step in before things escalated. Sometimes, keeping these men out of trouble is an art form.â
You laughed softly, feeling a sense of kinship with her. âI canât imagine what that must be likeâdealing with Tony and Remy.â
Pepper leaned back in her chair, a smile tugging at her lips. âIt has its moments, believe me. But⌠theyâre worth it. They make life interesting, to say the least.â
As the manicurist finished up, Pepper glanced back at you, her expression softening once more. âYouâre in good hands with Remy. But donât forgetâyouâre more than capable of handling yourself in this world. And if you ever need backupâŚâ She winked, her smile widening. âIâm always just a phone call away.â
Her words were reassuring, a reminder that you werenât alone in navigating this strange, glamorous, and often complicated world. With Pepperâs guidance, the path ahead felt a little less daunting, the challenges a little less overwhelming. It was easy to feel out of place here, surrounded by people who had spent their entire lives playing these intricate games of power and influence. But with Pepper by your side, the weight of it all seemed lighter.
As the two of you stood to leave, walking back toward where the others were gathered outside by the terrace, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, you felt a new sense of confidence. There would be more challenges ahead, more moments where youâd have to navigate the complexities of this world. But with Remy by your side, and with friends like Pepper offering their quiet support, you knew you could face whatever came next.
And maybe, just maybe, youâd be the one keeping Remy out of trouble after all. On the third day, the sun was high, casting long, golden rays over the beach as the waves rolled gently onto the shore. You and Roberto were lounging lazily on the sun chairs, feet buried in the warm sand, deep in a playful argument about the pronunciation of a bird you had spotted earlier that morning.
âIâm telling you, itâs ka-TAA-rah,â Roberto said, his tone full of mock seriousness as he reclined with a grin.
You laughed, shaking your head. âNo, no, no. Itâs ka-TAY-rah. Youâre just trying to sound smart, but Iâm not buying it.â
Roberto pressed a hand over his heart in exaggerated offense. âYou wound me! Iâm Brazilian, querida, I know my birds!â
Still giggling, you shot back, âBeing Brazilian doesnât mean you automatically know how to pronounce everything with wings.â
Unbeknownst to either of you, Remy had wandered down the path from the villa, stopping just a few feet away. He paused, watching from the shadow of a nearby palm tree, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he listened to your banter. He wasnât one to eavesdrop, but there was something about hearing the easy way you laughed and teased with Roberto that made him linger just a moment longer.
It had only been a few weeks since you and Remy had started spending time together, but in that short time, you had already managed to do what few people couldâget under his skin. Remy LeBeau was a man who prided himself on being difficult to pin down, on keeping his emotions at arm's length, especially in situations like this. Your arrangementâa casual, flirtatious dance that neither of you had fully definedâwas supposed to be just that: light, fun, without complications.
But somehow, you had slipped past his defenses.
It wasnât just your sharp wit, though that was certainly part of it. You had a way of keeping him on his toes, never letting him get too comfortable. You could meet his banter word for word, and you didnât let him get away with his usual charm without giving it right back to him. But it was more than that. It was the way you seemed to slide so effortlessly into his world. You didnât fawn over him like so many others did, nor did you treat him with the suspicion that often came with his reputation. Instead, you saw him for exactly who he wasâand somehow, you fit.
It unnerved him, how natural it felt. How seamless it was for you to be here, in his world, surrounded by people like Roberto and Tony, laughing as if you had always been part of their circle. And that ease, that effortless way you navigated this strange life of wealth, power, and danger, made it harder for Remy to keep his distance.
The arrangement the two of you hadâcasual, undefined, with no promisesâwas supposed to keep things simple. But he was beginning to realize that simplicity wasnât something you brought into his life. And the truth was, he didnât mind. He liked the way you challenged him, the way you could hold your own against him and anyone else who tried to put you on the spot. He liked that you made him laugh, even when he didnât expect to. Most of all, he liked that being around you felt⌠easy.
And that was dangerous.
He watched for another moment as you and Roberto continued your debate, your laughter mixing with the sound of the waves. His chest tightened slightly, a mix of warmth and something more complicated that he couldnât quite name. He wasnât in love with youânot yet, anywayâbut you had definitely gotten under his skin, and that was starting to feel like its own kind of vulnerability.
Remy took a breath, pushed aside the thoughts that were beginning to crowd his mind, and finally stepped forward, calling out to the two of you. âWell, well, look at yâall. Thick as thieves down here.â
You and Roberto turned at the sound of his voice. A bright smile spread across your face when you saw him, and something inside Remy softened at the sight.
âRemy!â you called, your voice teasing. âHelp us settle this. Roberto thinks he knows how to pronounce ka-TAY-rahâbut heâs completely wrong.â
Roberto groaned as Remy approached, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. âDonât drag him into this! Heâll just take your side because youâve charmed him out of his common sense.â
Remy chuckled, shaking his head as he stopped in front of you both, his hands resting casually in his pockets. âOh, is that whatâs happeninâ here? You think sheâs got me all turned around, Roberto?â
Roberto shot him a grin. âIâm just saying, sheâs got you down here in the sand, pretending to care about bird names. Sounds like someoneâs losing his grip.â
Remy smiled, but his attention drifted to you, his eyes lingering on your face for just a moment longer than he intended. The truth was, Roberto wasnât far off. He wasnât losing his grip, not exactly, but you certainly had a way of distracting him.
âIâm down here âcause I like the view,â Remy said, his voice smooth as ever, though there was a teasing edge. âBut I donât need to steal her away from you, Roberto. Sheâs already got enough sense to know when sheâs winninâ.â
You raised an eyebrow, smirking at Remy. âSo youâre saying Iâm right?â
He laughed as he took the sun lounge next to yours, stretching out comfortably, his body relaxed but his mind still working through the layers of what he was feeling. âMaybe,â he said, his tone playful. âBut Iâm not gonna admit it out loud.â
Roberto groaned again, dramatically throwing his head back. âSee? Youâve got him wrapped around your finger already.â
You leaned back in your chair, shaking your head with a smile. âI donât know about that.â
But Remy knew better. He could feel itâthe pull you had on him, the way you had already started to slip past the walls he usually kept firmly in place. Whether it was your wit, your laugh, or the way you seemed to fit so naturally into this world of his, it was clear that youâd gotten under his skin. And the arrangement between the two of you? It was starting to feel a little more complicated than he had planned.
As he settled in beside you, the sun warm on his skin and the sound of your laughter still ringing in his ears, Remy couldnât help but wonder just how deep this was going to goâand whether he was ready for whatever came next.
As the weekend came to a close and the villa began to empty, the golden light of the late afternoon softened the edges of the estate. Everyone had gathered one last time by the pool, exchanging farewells with the kind of easy familiarity shared by people who knew theyâd see each other again at another lavish event in some other exotic locale. The men traded handshakes, back slaps, and inside jokes, while Pepper Potts gave you a warm hug, her smile kind as ever.
âIâll text you the name of that spa I mentioned,â she said with a knowing grin. âYouâll need it after this weekend.â
You laughed, nodding in agreement. âIâll definitely take you up on that.â
As the group continued winding down, Roberto Di Costa, effortlessly charming as always, approached you with a sly grin. He extended his hand, shaking yours firmly, but there was that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.
âIf you ever get tired of Remy and his bossiness,â Roberto said, slipping a sleek business card into your hand with a wink, âyouâve got my number now. Feel free to jump ship to my company whenever youâre ready.â
You couldnât help but laugh, glancing down at the card. It was simple but elegant, a tangible reminder of the power dynamics always at play in this world. Even though Robertoâs offer was made in jest, there was something flattering about itâa small acknowledgment that you had, in some way, proven yourself among them.
âThanks, Roberto,â you replied, smirking. âIâll keep that in mindâespecially when Iâm forced back into the office tomorrow morning.â
Roberto clutched his chest in mock horror. âThe office? After a weekend like this? Thatâs cruel and unusual punishment.â
Before you could respond, you noticed Remy standing off to the side, arms crossed, his eyebrow raised in mock disapproval. His lips curved into a crooked grin as he watched the exchange, clearly enjoying the show.
âNow, now, Roberto,â Remy drawled, his Cajun accent thick with amusement. âWe got a no-poachinâ rule, mon ami. Ainât that right?â
Roberto chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. âCanât blame a man for trying, Remy. Just giving her some options, you know?â
Remyâs grin widened, but his eyes stayed on you, his expression softening just a touch. âChère, yâknow they all gonâ try tâ steal ya from me. Guess I better keep an eye on yâall.â
You rolled your eyes playfully, slipping Robertoâs card into your pocket. âIâll be sure to weigh all my options as I sit in that conference room tomorrow morning,â you teased.
Remy took a step closer, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of your back, the gesture casual but protective. âDonât yâ worry,â he said quietly, though the playful warmth in his voice remained. âAinât nobody gonâ take yâ from me.â
There was something more to his words than just banterâsomething unspoken but unmistakable. The lighthearted back-and-forth between him and Roberto was just thatâbanterâbut beneath it, there was an undercurrent of something deeper. What had started as a casual, undefined arrangement between you two was beginning to blur the lines, becoming something neither of you had quite expected.
You raised an eyebrow, shooting him a smirk. âYou sure about that, LeBeau?â
Remyâs smile didnât waver, his fingers brushing lightly against your back. âPretty sure, chère,â he replied, his voice low.
Roberto, sensing the shift in the air, grinned knowingly before stepping back. âAlright, alright,â he said, raising his hands again in exaggerated defeat. âRemy wins this round. But the offer stands!â He winked before turning to say his goodbyes to the others.
As Roberto walked away, you and Remy stood there for a moment, the rest of the group fading into the background. The weekend had been filled with laughter, banter, and the kind of camaraderie that came with being part of this strange, privileged world. But now, as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the villa began to empty, you couldnât help but feel that something between you and Remy had shifted.
You glanced up at him, catching a flicker of something more serious in his eyes before he quickly masked it with his usual easygoing charm. âLooks like Iâm stuck with you, huh?â you teased lightly.
Remy chuckled, his thumb tracing idle circles against your back. âCould be worse,â he said, his tone playful but layered with something elseâsomething more honest.
As the two of you made your way toward the exit, the rest of the groupâs chatter fading into the background, you couldnât help but wonder if the lines between your arrangement and something deeper had already begun to blur. Something told you that neither of you had the answer yetâbut whatever it was, it felt like it was heading toward a place neither of you could easily ignore. As the car pulled away from the villa, leaving the weekend behind, you found yourself smiling softly. Whatever was next, you had a feeling it would be as unpredictableâand as thrillingâas everything that had come before it. One of the waitresses had brought you a small blanket earlier in the evening, and now, tucked into your seat with your feet curled up beneath you, the warmth was a welcome comfort. The last few days had been a whirlwindâluxury, laughter, and the subtle tension of navigating a social landscape full of powerful personalities. You were tired, but it was the kind of exhaustion that came with satisfaction, the feeling of having held your own.
Remy was sitting next to you, leaning back in his seat with an easy confidence, watching you with a lazy, half-amused smile. The dim lighting in the cabin cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the playful glint in his eyes.
âYâknow,â he began, his voice low and smooth, laced with that familiar Cajun accent, âI saw how cozy yâ got with Roberto this weekend. Should I be worried?â
You glanced over at him, stifling a laugh as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself. âWorried?â you echoed, raising an eyebrow. âWorried about what, exactly?â
Remy smirked, his eyes narrowing playfully. âWell, chère,â he drawled, âRobertoâs got that smooth talk anâ allâanâ he did slip you his personal number. I thought I mightâve lost ya to A.I.M. by now.â His grin widened, the mischievous edge in his gaze impossible to ignore.
You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. âOh, please. Robertoâs charming, sure, but I think Iâll stick with you. For now.â You shot him a teasing look, knowing full well the effect your words would have. The banter between you flowed easily, like it always did. There was an undeniable rhythm to your conversations, a back-and-forth that felt effortless, natural. It was a game you both played, and you were good at it. But beneath the playful exchanges, there was always something elseâa deeper undercurrent that neither of you seemed ready to fully acknowledge.
As the flight continued, the low hum of the planeâs engines filled the cabin with a comforting rhythm. The exhaustion from the weekend began settling into your bones, and you let out a loud, unfiltered yawn, stretching slightly in your seat.
Remy chuckled softly beside you, a sound that was more affectionate than teasing this time. âChère,â he said, his voice carrying a warmth that cut through the usual banter. âYâ did good. Real good.â
The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard. It wasnât just about how youâd navigated the social dynamics or held your own in a world that wasnât quite yours. It was something deeperâan acknowledgment of how well youâd adapted, how youâd fit into this strange, extravagant life without losing yourself in the process.
You smiled, feeling a quiet sense of pride bloom in your chest. âThanks,â you murmured, your body sinking further into the plush leather seat as the tension from the weekend finally began to ease.
But Remy wasnât quite done. His grin returned, the mischievous glint back in his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Â âI thought for sure Roberto was gonâ convince yâ to jump ship with that sweet offer he made. What was it? Full access tâ his private jet? An office with a view?â
You laughed, shaking your head. âOffice with a view. And tempting as that was,â you replied, smirking, âI think Iâll stick with you. For now. Plus Iâd miss Yelena too much.â
âFor now, huh?â Remy repeated, raising an eyebrow. âGuess Iâm gonâ have tâ step up my game.â
The playful exchange left a comfortable silence between you, the kind that only comes after spending days together in close quarters. You leaned back, gazing out the window at the dark expanse beneath the plane, the ocean stretching endlessly below, glittering faintly in the distance. It felt peaceful, a stark contrast to the buzzing energy of the weekend you were leaving behind.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Remy shifting in his seat beside you. He rummaged through his bag, his movements casual but purposeful. You glanced over at him, curiosity piqued, and caught his eye just as he pulled something small from his bag.
He looked up at you, a soft, almost sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. âI wasnât gonna give this tâ ya âtil after the trip,â he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. âBut figured yâ might like it sooner.â
He slid a small velvet box across the tray table toward you, the deep, rich fabric catching the dim cabin light. A flicker of surprise passed through you as you stared down at it, your heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. This wasnât something you had anticipatedâRemy wasnât exactly the type to give gifts without a reason.
Your fingers brushed lightly over the soft surface of the box before you slowly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in delicate satin, was a pair of earringsâsmall, elegant, and undeniably stunning. The gemstones caught the light from the plane window, sparkling with an understated brilliance. They were simple, but the craftsmanship was exquisite. Even at a glance, you could tell they were expensiveâreally expensive.
Your breath caught for a moment, surprise flickering across your face as you looked up at Remy. âRemy⌠these are⌠Wow.â
He leaned back, his grin soft, almost shy. âFigured yâ deserved somethinâ nice after this weekend. Yâ handled everything real smooth. Thought these might suit ya.â
The soft hum of the planeâs engines created a steady rhythm, soothing yet distant, as you sat there, staring down at the small velvet box. Your breath hitched slightly, your mind racing. You werenât used to thisâto gifts like this. Youâd seen people like Pepper and Tony exchange lavish tokens of affection without a second thought, grand gestures that reflected their lifestyle. But this was different. This wasnât just another extravagant display of wealth. This was for you. And that made it feel heavier, more intimate.
Your fingers hovered over the delicate earrings inside the box, the cool metal brushing against your skin. They were stunningâelegant yet understated, the gemstones catching the dim cabin light in a way that felt almost magical. But it wasnât just their beauty that had you so off balance. It was the meaning behind them, the sincerity in the gesture that left you momentarily speechless.
You glanced up at Remy, your fingers still resting on the edge of the box, unsure of what to say. âRemy, Iââ you started, but the words seemed to get caught in your throat. There was a lump of emotion rising, unexpected and unfamiliar, and you werenât sure how to balance the weight of this gift with the easy, playful banter youâd been sharing just moments ago.
Remy leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes catching the flicker of uncertainty in yours. His expression softened, the usual teasing edge in his gaze tempered with something warmer. âDonâ make a big deal outta it, chère,â he said with a soft chuckle, though the tenderness in his voice was unmistakable. He wasnât brushing it off, but he also wasnât making you feel like this was something to be overwhelmed by. âThey just reminded me oâ you. Thought theyâd look good on ya.â
His words were simple, but the sincerity behind them cut through your initial shock. There wasnât any expectation lurking in his voice, no pressure for you to respond in kind. Just a thoughtful, quiet gesture. And somehow, that made it feel even more meaningful.
You blinked, feeling the tightness in your chest ease just a little. Your fingers gently grazed the earrings again, feeling the cool metal beneath your touch. They were beautifulâdelicate but strong, just like the way you imagined Remy might see you. That realization made your heart skip in a way you hadnât expected.
âIâthank you,â you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. âTheyâre⌠theyâre stunning.â
Remy flashed you one of his signature crooked smiles, leaning back in his seat with that relaxed, effortless confidence he always seemed to carry. âI know,â he said with a wink, the teasing tone slipping back into his voice. âBut donât go losinâ âem, alright? I ainât flyinâ back tâ Paris tâ get you another pair if yâ do.â
You laughed, the sound bubbling up naturally, easing the tension that had settled between you. You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but there was still that warmth blooming in your chest, a quiet sense of gratitude that you werenât quite sure how to put into words. He had a way of disarming you, of making everything feel lighter, even when the weight of the moment threatened to overwhelm.
As you carefully closed the box and set it down beside you, you caught Remy watching you. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, his gaze softer, more contemplative. It wasnât the playful, roguish look he often gave you when you traded barbs or flirtedâit was something deeper, more thoughtful. Like he was seeing past the surface, seeing you in a way that made your heart beat just a little faster.
For a brief moment, you wondered what exactly he was thinking, but before you could askâor even fully process the emotions swirling between youâhe cleared his throat, breaking the spell.
âYâdid good this weekend, chère,â he said again, his voice returning to that familiar, easy rhythm. âReal good. Kept up with the best oâ âem, didnât miss a beat. Bet yâ didnât even need me half the time.â
You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. âOh, trust me,â you said, leaning back into your seat, âI needed you. But I appreciate the vote of confidence.â
Remyâs grin softened, and there it was againâthat look. A mixture of admiration and something else, something lingering just beneath the surface. âWell,â he drawled, his voice quiet but steady, âI ainât goinâ anywhere. So if yâever need me, chère, yâknow where tâ find me.â
His words were light, almost casual, but there was an undeniable gravity to them. And as you sat there, the weight of the earrings still resting in your lap, you couldnât help but feel that this moment between youâthis exchange, this quiet connectionâwas the start of something more. Something neither of you had fully put into words yet, but something both of you could feel.
You glanced out the window, the vast ocean stretching beneath the plane, glimmering faintly in the fading light. The world below seemed so far away, and yet, for the first time in a long time, you felt grounded. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the weekend, or maybe it was the way Remyâs presence had a way of steadying you, of making you feel like you belonged here, in this strange world of luxury and power.
But whatever it was, you knew one thing for certain: Remy LeBeau had a way of getting under your skinâquietly, effortlesslyâand you werenât sure you wanted him to stop.
As the plane hummed steadily through the sky, you leaned back into your seat, your fingers brushing against the velvet box once more, and let yourself settle into the quiet understanding that passed between you and Remy. Whatever this wasâit was just beginning. And somehow, that thought didnât scare you. Not anymore. And then, just as quickly, Remy smirked and looked away, his fingers tapping idly on the armrest as he effortlessly shifted the conversation back to something lighter. He made a casual remark about the food at the villa, throwing in a sarcastic comment about the chefâs obsession with truffle oil, and just like that, the tension in the air dissolved. The easy banter between you two resumed, like slipping into a well-worn rhythm, comfortable and familiar.
But even as you laughed at his jokes, the small velvet box sitting next to you felt heavier than it should. Not because of the value of the earringsâthough they were undoubtedly expensiveâbut because of what they represented. This wasnât just a gift. It was a quiet, unspoken gesture that carried with it a deeper meaning, one that Remy hadnât put into words, but that you could feel in the subtle shifts of his tone, the look in his eyes when he handed it to you.
The earrings werenât just an accessory. They were a piece of him, a piece of his worldâthis strange, opulent world of power, wealth, and influence that, despite how foreign it still felt at times, he was slowly, deliberately inviting you into. It was as if, with this small act, he was reminding you that you werenât just a bystander to the whirlwind of luxury and intrigue that surrounded him. You belonged here, with him, in whatever undefined space the two of you were carving out together.
You glanced back out the window, the clouds drifting lazily below, their soft, white edges giving way to the endless blue of the ocean. The vastness of it all felt surreal, a stark contrast to the intimacy of the moment youâd just shared. The world outside stretched on, infinite and distant, but here, in this small, isolated pocket of the sky, something was changing between you and Remy.
You couldnât help but smile to yourself, though the weight of the past few days pressed softly against your mind. The weekend had been a whirlwind of social maneuvering, opulent parties, and the subtle dance of power dynamics that came with being in Remyâs orbit. And through it all, youâd somehow managed to hold your own. But now, as the adrenaline of the weekend faded and the quiet hum of the plane lulled you into a state of reflection, you realized just how significant the shift between you and Remy had been.
This wasnât just playful banter anymore. It wasnât just a flirtation or a casual arrangement. Whatever it was between you and Remyâit was growing, deepening in ways you hadnât fully anticipated. The way his hand had lingered at the small of your back, the quiet protectiveness in his tone when Roberto had tried to flirt with you, the thoughtful gift now resting beside youâeach moment, each gesture, had been building toward something more.
You didnât have all the answers yet. Hell, you werenât even sure you wanted all the answers just yet. But there was a quiet certainty settling in your chest, a sense of rightness in the way things were unfolding. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Remy glanced over at you again, catching your quiet smile. His lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes sparkling with that familiar playful glint, but there was something softer beneath it. âWhat yâ smilinâ about, chère?â he asked, his voice teasing but laced with curiosity.
You shrugged, leaning back into your seat and pulling the blanket a little tighter around yourself. âNothing,â you said, though the warmth spreading through your chest told you otherwise. âJust⌠thinking.â
ââBout what?â he pressed, his tone light, but there was genuine interest in his eyes.
You hesitated for a moment, your gaze flicking over to the small box beside you, the weight of it still present in your mind. âAbout how unpredictable this weekendâs been,â you said finally, your voice soft but steady. Remy leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms above his head with a lazy grin. âYâknow, chère,â he drawled, glancing at you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, âcome tomorrow morninâ, itâs back tâ the office. Back tâ reality.â
You groaned softly, sinking further into your seat as the thought of returning to the daily grind hit you. The luxury and ease of the weekend felt miles away now, and the idea of diving back into work felt like a sudden splash of cold water.
âUgh, donât remind me,â you muttered, rubbing your forehead as if to stave off the looming reality. âI was just starting to forget all about it.â
Remy chuckled, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of amusement and sympathy. âCanât live in paradise forever, chère. But hey,â he added with a wink, âat least y' got somethinâ nice tâ wear when yâ head back.â
You glanced down at the small velvet box resting beside you, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. âGuess thatâs true,â you replied, your voice softening. âCould be worse.â
Remyâs smirk widened, his tone light but his eyes thoughtful. âYeah, could be. But donât worryâparadiseâll be waitinâ for us again soon enough.â
#Remy Lebeau Masterlist#Remy Lebeau x Reader#Gambit x Reader#Gambit#XMen#Deadpool & Wolverine#Deadpool 3#Wolverine#Logan#James Howlett#Anna Marie#Rogue#Deadpool#Wade Wilson#ororo munroe#Storm#Scott Summers#cyclops#Professor Charles Xavier#Jean Grey#jubilee#Kitty Pride#Fanfiction#Marvel#Reader Insert#ao3 fanfic#ao3feed#ao3 writer#archive of our own#fanfic
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" Cooked Australian"
Oscar Piastri x trad goth!reader
Qatar left Oscar quite dead but at least a eery kind doctor is there to revive him
âHaaaaâ Oscar sighed, laying down on the couch in his driverâs room. Qatar was an absolute drain of a race and Landoâs pushing at the end surely didnât help his wellbeing. His Legs felt weak and wobbly as he hobbled back into the room. He fell onto the ground, air spinning. Leaving a voice message on some group was all he could muster, laying on the ground.
As little ducks started spinning in the air above him, the door opened after a short knock. He saw a person step in, clad in fully black clothes. Some kind of goth. White Makeup melting off her face as she got on her knees next to him.
âIâm Y/N, Oscar. Iâm a registered Doctor, I'll help you, okay? The team sent me. Iâll put you into an ice bath, for that I need to take off your clothes. Is that fine?â
Oscar nodded weakly. He really didnât care about being seen. All he could think of was relief.
He felt a cool towel being placed on his head and water gurgling into a plastic basin. Shortly after he felt his race suit being pulled off, then his fireproof. The cold air was almost uncomfortable on his steaming skin.
âIâll wipe you down first, okay? So that you wonât get flashed by the cold.â the voice said, her voice having a comforting melody to it. He flinched under the cold cloth passing over his skin, but it had turned into relief white soon.
âI need you to tense up now. That makes lifting you easier.â
Oscar did as asked, tensing his worn muscles as much as he could manage. The woman grabbed him before letting him sink into the water. Once again, big flinch.
The water bit at his skin as more sweat poured over his head, burning his sensitive skin. âClose your eyes please.âÂ
Cold water brushed over his head, he felt his hair being gone through and then a headband pushed it up. A soft towel cleaning his face again.Â
âHave a drink pleaseâÂ
The usual driver's straw hit his lips and he gingerly drank from it. The water tasted disgusting, probably riddled with things good for the body.
Oscar fully leaned back against the plastic tub, just sipping the water offered to him. Finally his conscience started returning to him as he felt the Lady -Y/N- being her name, take his pulse.
He stared up at her, the white and black make-up now fully smudged and half run off from all the water she had handled. The jet black hair had started sticking together and her black clothes equally wet.Â
âAre you feeling a bit better?â she asked him, worried in her eyes.Â
â...Yeahâ he weekly voiced, a smile crossing his face at her big panda eyes.
âhm?â she asked. âWhat's making you smile?â
âYour makeup. It's gone.â Oscar stated quickly.
She fumbled around in her handbag, getting out a beautiful classic looking mirror, eyeing her appearance. âI look like garbage. Not like youâre in better shape though.â She twisted the mirror for him to see his reflection.
Red face, swollen and exhausted. His hair was pushed up with a fluffy cat eared headband. The water made a splashing noise as she put a little duck in there before grabbing back her mirror and some wipes. Strong wipes and water splashes helped take off her makeup . An equally exhausted face appeared underneath the strong mask covering it.
âSo youâre not alone. Iâm just outside the room. Try not to drown please. I'll report to the team. They're worried about you, allright.â
Oscar splished around in the Water before finally feeling good enough to step out. He gently stepped out, falling back on his lounge chair. The stack of towels was already prepared as he started drying himself off, grabbing fresh clothes from his drawers. Being dressed again, he flopped back onto the chair, eyeing the room. The entire floor was covered in water and wet towels, his racesuit buried in a big stack of orange Frotte. Oscar returned to sipping his water, watching the rubber duck spin in circles as he saw the door open again.Â
Y/N gasped. âWho said you could walk yourself? Did you get hurt?!â
âNoâ was his simple factual statement.
Y/N looked around the room, grabbing a new bottle from the deep bottoms of her leather coat. âHere, drink this instead. Tastes better.â She pushed his special straw in the new bottle, handing it over. Oscar took a sip. It did taste better.
Y/N had brought a laundry basket in which she threw the towels and his sweaty clothes before pushing it out of the door.
She then lifted the storage bin that posed as his bath, letting the water down the drain. A last towel served as a mop to reduce the room's slipping hazard.
The woman looked quite proud of her work as she placed her hands on her hips, procuring her bag again and disappearing in his bathroom. A while later she re-emerged , dressed in a fresh change of equally black clothes and new , but simpler, makeup applied on her face.
âReady to show yourself to the Team Oscar?â
 He nodded. No point in dilly-dallying, heâd have to go outside either way.
supported by Y/Nâs Arm, he stepped outside. The bright lights being aggressive on his still bloodshot eyes.Â
The team was looking up with nervous expressions. Apparently, they were all quite worried.Â
âQuite a surpriseâ, Oscar thought. He was sure theyâd worry about Lando more, him being their Driver 1 but apparently, no. Zack Brown was quick to approach him, checking his appearance up and down with hawklike, watchful eyes. With his Hand patting Oscar's Shoulder, he pulled him into a warm, comfortable hug.
âYou did well Oscar.â
Oscar looked up at Zack, at Lando whose Face was trying to hide his own disappointment and at all the mechanics that had worked so hard the season. While this surely wasnât a win, nonetheless it was something many drivers had never reached in their entire life. A little droplet escaped his eyes, quickly hiding it behind his sleeve. One thing confused him however, where exactly did Y/N come from?
Zack answered as if he could read his thoughts. âGood that Y/N was already here, otherwise we would have had to drag you to the medical center but the cameras were like Hyenas today. They caught Lance and Alex at some very unfortunate angles.â
âWhy was Y/N here?â
âSheâs currently in training as Replacement for Dr. Ian Roberts. He feels like his body isnât that movable anymore so he wants to relocate towards research and Development for Driver Security. The FIA held open tests. We told you about them, don't you remember?â
Oscar tried his hardest to remember but that mention must have escaped him.
âOf course you dont. â siggghhh âAnyway, Y/N was the one that passed the tryouts so sheâs currently being trained by Dr. Roberts himself. While she doesnât have as much experience in the medical field as him, the knowledge required for this position is way too specialized anyway to be learned in a normal Hospital.â
Y/N nodded as if agreeing with the Statement, before adding:âTheoretically today was just my first look at the job. First thing I have to do besides learning about Drivers Injuries is getting used to the fast driving. Alan has been doing some rounds around Qatar with me. I don't know how you endure that at those speeds. I had a good vomit into a flower Basket the second he stopped the Medical Car.â She chuckled before tugging her Hair back. âThe fastest I've ever gone was 130kmh and my little Hyundai felt like it was exploding. â
âI could take you for a spin if youâd like. Maybe that will help you get used to it?â
Oscarâs breath hiked. Had he actually said that loudly? That was just an intrusive thought, how could he just- âWait some time, Cowboy. At least until youâre not looking like the walking dead anymore.â
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*ping*
Oscar had spent the last three days resting in his UK Apartment, just on standby after the drain that was Qatar. That is, until a Message by an unknown number appeared. He expected it to be another insane fan or some scam nigerian prince, willing to share his inheritance.
It was, however, neither of those.
Which offer had he made her again? Offer, OfferâŚOH JEEPERS A drive around a track.
> HII OSCAR
> This is Y/N - Logan gave me your number after I checked on him!
> I wanted-Â
*message deleted*
> i wanted to take you up on your offer!
*ping*
Snetterton? Oscar did some quick calculations. It was early morning, the drive would take around 3 hours. 2 if he were to speedâŚ
> Friends of Mine are at Snetterton today.Â
> would that work for you?
< Sure! Iâll see you at Snetterton!
Shit. That wasnât one of his smartest moments, not by a long shot. Oscar quickly jumped in his bath, getting ready. He picked some clothes that looked appropriate while getting the swoop in his hair in order. Rushing outside, he grabbed his bag with a race suit and helmet - he might need it at a Race Track?-, dumping it onto the car's passenger seat while sliding into the Driver's Seat. âGoogle, Route to Snetterton Race Track.âÂ
His McLaren Artuna had been fueled up to the brim, thankfully. Time to make a 3h track in 2 hours.Â
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
As he pulled into the Carpark, Oscar realized he had made a big mistake. This wasnât the privately booked tracks he was used to, it was open track day. With many gearheads that were sure to recognise him. What had he done?
 As Oscar pulled into a parking space (much better than Charles would have ever done!) his phone made a 'ping!' again.
Shortly after that message, with his sunglasses covering his face as he leaned against his car, he heard a horrible farty noise approach him.
> Weâve just arrived! Should we pick you up at your Car?
< Yes please, iâm at E5. The Papaya McLaren
> đ ofc
> keep your sunglasses on, if you have them
> My friends car isâŚembarrassing
âPlease don't be it. Please don't be it he prayed to himself. But Alas, his Luck has run out.
The car approaching him was a riced Golf V. Massive farty exhaust, fugly bodykit and an even more hideous paintjob covering the gullwing doors that were opening
Had he seen that correctly? Gullwing Doors.
He had, horrifyingly enough. He saw Y/N sitting in the Passenger Seat, her Hair teased up highly, Large Cat Eye Sunglasses hiding her expression. The white paint on her skin being lit up by the Cars ugly RGB Light-interieur. She had lifted her gloved hands to wave at him before lifting her long skirt to step out.Â
âIâm so glad we were able to find you! This is madness! So many people buzzing about"
Oscar looked around. Yeah, Madness. The McLaren Cap on his head, the McLaren car and the helmet he brought which had turned out to be his actual race helmet, would probably only strengthen this madness.
As he was about to disappear into his own mind, the horrible engine farts stopped and the driver stepped out. A young woman in Overalls, blond braid and equally large sunglasses.
She stretched her hand to shake. He took it.
âIâm Jessica, Y/Nâs friend. You donât have to hide your expression, we know how ugly this car is. Iâm a mechanic and sadly the one paid to build this monstrosity.â
Osar let out a sigh of relief. He knew how clear his thoughts were on his face, not knowing how long he would have to disguise the disgust.
âAlso, Y/N mentioned you being some kind of driver. I have no clue about Motorsports so donât worry, I won't rat you out or something. All I care about is testing this fartcannon because the owner actually wants to go on track with it.â
âHave you invited me to try it then?â
âNo, thatâs Jessicaâs Job. Sheâs insured if something were to go wrong. Iâm not stopping you though if you want.â
Oscar eyed the fartcannon and a sense of morbid curiosity overcame him. Something in him wanted to know what this thing drove like.
âGive me the keys!â
As Oscar settled into the Driverâs Seat, he took note of the car's shift pattern, pulling out. He considered putting on his helmet in case of this shitbox falling apart but being smashed to small chunks appeared more appealing than being found alive but injured in it.Â
He pushed the Sunglasses higher on his nose. Gotta do at least something.Â
As he shifted up the gears, eye focused on the whimpering boost gauge and body concentrated on the fighting street tires. The other normal street cars looked in awe as this fast fartcannon flew by them. BMWs, Mercs and even some Porsches couldn't stand against this expertly built Ricer.Â
That was until he heard some controlled throat noises behind him. A short Glance in the rear-view Mirror revealed that Y/N was struggling to keep her breakfast down. As stopping wasn't allowed, Oscar tried his hardest to slowly and calmly drive back to the parking area.Â
A group of people that had seen this mad car had appeared to catch a glimpse of it but they were quickly stopped by Oscar whoâd asked them where the toilets were.
While Jessica was away with Y/N, Oscar hid in the car to not be discovered. As the two women returned Y/N just eyed the Car with massive disgust.
âIâm not getting in there again.â She stated clearly, trying to fix her rustled clothes.
At that moment, as if heaven sent, Jessica looked at her phone as a call came in. The owner wanted his car back, she would have to go home. YN would have to take a train home instead.
âI could drive you, '' Oscar offered. âItâll be dark later. I wouldn't want you traveling alone in the darkâ
YN appeared to consider her choices before finally coming to a conclusion.Â
âIâd appreciate you driving me. But first, we gotta finish a lap. A singular lap at least. I have to get used to this.â
Jessica bid her farewells, disappearing in the fartcannon, wondering how Y/N even got a position in Motorsport while getting Car Sick.
Oscar helped her into the Artura, settling into his own seat.
âI'll take it slow for the first lapâ
Oscar did as promised, one slowish round of Snetterton with People curiously eying the car. This mostly being the fact that it was working, which most Artura didn't.
Then came a fast Lap. Y/N grabbed the doors tightly, Fear imminent though her painted face but success. No throwing up.
Wasn't that a start?
The young driver pulled his car back into the car park, curiously glancing at his passenger again. YN was looking a bit unsettled but much better than before, not that he could tell from her face color though. As he turned the engine off, Y/N leaned back, sighing loudly.Â
âI really didnât consider that I might get sick at high speeds when I applied for this job.âÂ
âHave you ever driven a car fast before, Y/N?â was Oscar's first proper question. âOn a track or even a street?â
She appeared to actually think of an equally proper answer before turning to respond. âNot really.My little Hyundai gets to 130 kmh if i push it but that's above the speed limit. And on a Racetrack? On my own? Never."
Oscar unbuckled his seatbelt, swinging his legs out and opening the passenger door instead.Â
âYou drive.â Y/N looked at him in Confusion, still getting into the driver's seat though.Â
âWhy should I drive this car?â she simply asked.
âWhy? Because this is a track. Being a passenger is one thing but driving yourself another. Maybe this will help you be less car sick.âÂ
Y/N sat there in Oscar's Sitting position, not daring to touch anything on this car. âI can't drive this! Itâs way too expensive! What if I bin it?â
âMcLarenâs just gonna have to get me another then.â
âI donât know how to drive an automatic!â
âAny idiot can drive an automatic.â
Y/N let out a sound of defeat before adjusting her seat according to Oscars Instructions, searching for the Key in the Ignition.Â
âHow do I turn this on?â
âYou donât need your left leg. Right foot on the break, the start buttons right next to the wheelâ
She did as told and the engine came alive with a loud hum.
âHow do I put it in gear?â
âThe D for dumbass button in the center console. Boy am I glad I reversed into this parking spot. Oh be careful, you have combined like 600hp more than your Hyundai so better be AHHHHâ
The car shot forward as Y/N had engaged the gas pedal way too much, more akin to pushing a little three cylinder car than a V6 Hybrid.Â
âNow pleaseâ, Oscar continued, clutching whatever he could to stay alive, âP l e a s e be careful with the brakes. These will be much stronger than the old ass ones on your car. I donât particularly possess the desire to die in Snettertonâ
Y/N directed the Car onto the Track, curious eyes watching why this expensive car is so unstable. Oscar himself was less worried about the car itself and more about his own survival as Y/N had discovered the Joy of Speed. Colin McRae would have been proud of her as she started racing around at what was flat out speed to her, intimating Sunday Drivers by letting the engine howl up behind them or slowing down just to speed up and overtake.
As she finally pulled into the parking lot again, putting the Car into âParkâ as instructed, he found himself feeling as tired as he did after Qatar. Was this how his parents felt when driving along with him back when he got his license?
âOscar, the Cluster is rattling?â
âOh yeah, itâs been like that the entire time, you were just distracted. These Arturas are notorious for breaking down. I was lowkey hoping youâd bin it so that I would get something more reliable.â
âI think McLaren would have sued me for killing their Car.â
"Nonsense. You saved me from becoming a cooked Australien back in Qatar. If they would have sued you, I'd have announced my move to Red Bull or something.â
âOscar, it says ⌠The display overheated?â
âI didnât even know a Display could overheat. Maybe iâll get my reliable pink Toyota Vitz nowâ
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The next day Zack Brown found himself quite unhappy as he discovered a copy of âThe Sunâ laid on his desk. The cover displayed his youngest Driver Oscar Piastri standing at the side of the road, next to him the new F1 Medic Y/N in her Darkest Sunday's Best and in the middle, a smoking, Papaya coloured McLaren Artura. Or to be even more specific, a burning one. As emphasized by the Fire Trucks closeby.
He angrily slammed down his cup of coffee before reading the title aloud. âMcLaren Star Oscar Piastri caught having a Car BBQ along with a Clown doubling as Funeral Directorâ
As he took his breaths, deep breaths at that, he came to a single conclusion: While this situation was not great, at least he neither was the FIA and had to deal with Cooked Drivers in Qatar or the entire Aston Martin Social Media Team.
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â・â§ËĘ Reuniting with Michael Afton
Hihi ᥣđŠ I wanted to try something different with a long story with Michael I was inspired by a Battington analogue horror video, bruuuuhhh they are good!!! but anyways this story is inspired by that. No one tell them pweaseeeeee ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛ăŁË -・ęąŕžŕ˝˛ŕ§§ This can be seen as platonic or romantic, so I hope you enjoy ପ(ŕšâ˘á´â˘ŕš)ଠâĄ
đ ŕŁŞË Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ
â§âËâŠĺ˝Ą Tw: Panic Attack, Use of Pills, Murder, and other unsettling stuff...
âŽâË Now Playing: Too Sweet by, Hozier Ë đđËâ・â
You sit at a booth fiddling with napkins as you absentmindedly tuned out screaming children and beeping of arcade machines going off in another room, a hand on your cheek as you waited for the man who had invited you here.
Ten minutes having gone by as you smack your lips leaning against the back of the booth eyeing the stage closed red velvet curtains with a wooden sign posted in front with, âWeâll Be Back Soon!â written in ink.Â
You squint as children would come by the curtains that was guarded by yellow tape with words of, âDO NOT CROSSâ bolded for even the blind to see, Children would continue their way to new games or to families excitedly pointing to the stage wishing to see the animatronics.
Crossing your legs, you swallow as you suck in a breath holding it as you notice each child that stopped right in front of the lines in curiosity and continue walking once their attention was gained by flashing lights or food. Your foot starts to bounce as you tap your nail against the table, ticking noises of a grandfather clock in your head in tune of your tapping the swinging of the dial going in sync with every bounce of your foot.Â
Cold sweat runs down your neck feeling the knot in your stomach start to form as your heart begins to race, you were panicking having not been in this hell hole for ten years. Not ever since your accident, you still beat yourself up since that day, never having the grace to forgive yourself for what you did.
âDamnit Michael, where are youâ you whisper to yourself as you shifted your legs over the other getting restless, if you stayed here any longer you mightâve run out those doors in a blind panic. You reach into your handbag in desperation as you push your contents out of the way to find what you are looking for, hands shaking as your items fall from your bag, but you were too focused on retrieving the item that you were looking for to care.Â
You start to sweat as you fear the worst finally a shaky gasp falls from your lips as you grab the prescribed pill bottle. You fiddle with the top as you finally got the contents open, you shake the open bottle lightly into your shaken hand as you pop the pill into your mouth, you struggle a little as you swallow the dry pill. Closing the bottle, you place a hand on your beating heart, as you swallow practicing breathing exercises as you felt as start to feel better after taking the pill, feeling the stability, and convincing yourself that its contents were working. though you could breathe right from taking your pills youâve found yourself having counted on them a bit too much. But you never questioned too far as you were distracted by the results they gave.
Finally coming to your senses, you shakily sigh as you start cleaning up the items dropped shoving them into your bag, along with your pill bottle. Allowing yourself to lean your head back continuing your wait for Michael.
You start to grumble in annoyance, if Michael didnât show up in the next minute you were leav-
â(y/n)?â you shoot up at the man in front of you, he was in a black hoodie and baggy jeans. He had a mask over his mouth and his hands in his pocket, âh-hey Michaelâ you shake out a greeting.
Michael took a seat in front of you as he awkwardly looked around, he placed his backpack to the side of him as he finally rests.Â
âMichael, itâs alright weâre safe hereâ you assure him also to help yourself as you lean forward to see his face a bit clearly, his flesh was purple. He didnât smell the nicest, but it was better than the first time you saw him,Â
ây-yea, I knowâ his voice was rough and strained as he shakes his head, as if shaking off his anxiety. You decide to get him back on track as you get him to focus as to why he brought you here, âso, why did you ask to see me?â you squint as you kept close to him leaning over the table to try and keep your conversation as private as possible.
âY-yea, uhm- look I know I have no right to ask for your time s-so thank you for meeting me.â You stare a Michael flabbergasted,
You knew him since you two were preschoolers, having lived next door to each other since his family first moved to Washington County, Utah. You knew his brother, and little sister, and the incident. After that you and your family moved away, having lived close to the Pizzeria and after your own misfortune, your family couldnât take it any longer leaving your family home to Ohio where your grandmother lived.Â
But coming back you realized you had no reason to, but nightmares and memories flooding back to you forced you to come back,Â
You wondered; did he want you back?
Coming to your hometown you didnât expect to see Michael as you would have thought that his family would have taken the same route as your family did and moved away. However, when you found Michael walking on the sidewalk with groceries you look at the man in slight horror at how much heâs changed, mainly physically, and mentally.
Michael was a rowdy boy growing up constantly fighting for his parentsâ attention by doing outlandish stunts. After his mom disappeared leaving him with his absent father, he got worst, hanging out with the wrong crowd, pulling pranks, and finally teasing his brother when his baby sister went missing.Â
Again, you knew Michael since you both were in preschool; Michael was the new to the neighborhood moving from England, you were fascinated by his accent as a child and because that youâd invite him to play with you.Â
You watch him change as you both grew up together, as tragedy after tragedy befalls him, now here you both are, finding each other once again, he was now a broken shell. Literally and figuratively, he caught you up on what happened to him when you asked that day you ran into him. He explained in bits and pieces slowly looking over his shoulder, you remember looking mortified at what you learned Michael seemed to catch on as he looks away.
âIâm doing this for a reason, (y/n), this is all for them, to save them.â Since then, Michael invited you for a meal, you were sure it wasnât for catch up, but you came anyways. The curiosity killing you,Â
However, another reason tempted you to come as Michael stated that he knew what happened to you brother. With that he left, telling you if you wanted to know more to come to the Pizzeria,
And here you were, Michael in front of you nervously fiddling with his jackets string. âMichael, you said you knew something about my brotherâ you look to him still fiddling with the string attached to his hoodie. âPlease, whatever you know, please tell me. I donât care about what happened in the past, I just want to know what happened to him.â The desperation in your voice got Michael to finally look at you, and the desperation in your eyes got him talking.Â
Taking a breath, he reaches into his backpack to pull out a rolled up rectangular sheet of grid paper. It was laminated, as to protect the contents showing on the paper as Michael slips the rubber band from holding the paper as he rolls it out on the table as you realize that what you were looking were blueprints.Â
However, your mind was having trouble wrapping around at what these blueprints were for, but soon your heart spiked as you gasp realizing now of what you were looking at.Â
âWhere the hell did you get these?â your voice was quiet, but your hatred was visible as disgust crawled its way up your throat or maybe that was fear. Fear of the answer that Michael would give you and the fear of accepting the monstrosity in front of you.
Michael sighs as he predicted this reaction from you, âI found them in this underground basement of Circus Baby Entertainment and Rental, it was made for private parties where people could rent out animatronics for parties.
I worked as a night guard repairing the animatronics before they go out in the day for parties, one night I found those prints in an office, connecting the dots it doesnât take a genius to know what these animatronics were really built for.â He looks to your paled face hands covering your mouth as your world shifted under you, Michael then continues as he leans over his hand above the prints, you flinch as you catch his purple bandaged up hand in your field of vision however his finger lands on the bottom left-hand corner of the print.Â
You follow his finger as your body shakes at the bolded tiny letters on the bottom left side corner of the blueprints showing its properties.Â
âAfton Robotics, LLCâ your breathing stops as you finally look to Michaels ashamed face, he looked so guilty as if he created these monsters. âMy father, he created the animatronics to trap kids inside, for a reason I donât know-â he retracts his hand to fold it under himself,Â
âWhen I found this out I started connecting the murders of those kids-â âThey were lured by a rabbit.â Michael nods as he continues, âSpring Bonnie, it was my father's first creation from his first restaurant built with Mr. Emily.âÂ
âW-wait, but Spring Bonnie was shut down after the accident, Freddyâs Pizzeria was in a totally different location than Fred bears Family.â You try and reason as Michael nods again, âI thought that too, however, my dad knew the locations he built inside and out. He had blueprints and cameras littered all over Circus Baby Rentalâs basementâ Michael scoffs in vexation as his knuckles whitened from how hard he gripped his fist.
âI wouldnât be surprised if he took Spring Bonnie from that location and lured those children into the backrooms.â It made sense, as Afton had access to his animatronics, but whyâŚ
âMichael what you are implying is that your dadâŚmurdered all those kids, murdered my brotherâŚâ Michaelâs brows furrowed as stabs his index into the blueprints, âthis is proof, (y/n), that old man always had something going on. Always disappearing into his office, grinning like a crazed lunatic whenever he came home at random hours of the night.â Michaelâs teeth clenched as you continue to stare at the blueprints. As they started to reveal something that was trapped in your brain for the longest time,Â
âThe smell, of the animatronicsâ Michael lifts a brow as he looks to you unsure of what you were getting at.Â
âAfter the accident, and after my brotherâs disappearance⌠i-it was a day before my family and I left for Ohio, I wanted to visit it one last time before the Freddyâs Pizzeria closed for good to conduct investigations.â You quickly connect pieces as if they would float away from you, placing a hand on your forehead you continue, âthose things, they smelledâŚrotten, like a decayed animal was stuffed in there.â Tears start to collect in your eyes as they start to fall, finally Michael caught on and gave a sympathetic look.Â
âWas he in there Michael? Was my brother in there and I left him?â your voice cracked at the revelation you made; your breath hitched as silently cried in front of Michael as emotions washed over you.Â
Michael didnât know how to comfort you, deciding it was best to let you ride out the wave of sorrow. Looking away to give you peace in crying without anyone looking at you in fear of feeling embarrassed.Â
Soon your hiccups reduced to sniffles after a couple of minutes as you look up to Michael who had a napkin in his hand while looking away. you accept it as you mumble a âthank youâ as you blew your nose using another napkin to wipe your puffy eyes.Â
âThank you, Michaelâ you finally look to him as Michael turns to you with a nod and a hum accepting your gratitude, âSo, whereâs your dad now?â you ask after gathering yourself and continuing with your conversation.
âI donât know, after all that crap that went down he disappeared and I havenât seen him in years, I gotta call from Mr. Emily a few months back asking if I could help him out find some stuff-â he scratches his neck as he continues, âwhich brought to Circus Baby Rental, and I got scooped. After that I got in contact with him and told him everything, ever since then Iâve been trying to look for Father.â You hum as you fold your arms together much like Michael had his, âso when you find him, whatâs next?â Michael reaches into his bag to pull out an old looking cassette tape, Masking tape covered the front with the words. âFreddyâs Repairâsâ Michael exhales through his nose as he looks at the tape as if it held all the answers, maybe it did.
âI found this tape inside a Freddy head, since Circus Rental was close to Freddyâs company wise and repair wise, my father hada bunch of stuff from old locations. hiding any evidence in the basement where no one would find it.â Michael goes to put the tape back in his bag,Â
âAfter I found that video bits of clues haunted the tape telling me to find more to uncover what truly happened, As well as my fathersâ motives.â Michael glides his thumb across his other hands knuckles absentmindedly, âthose kids are haunting the tapes, begging to be released. But their sanity is so corrupt they donât know person from threat.â Michael gathers the blueprint as he sighs, âI need to help them, itâs the only thing that helps clear any sort of conscious. I wanted to tell you the things I learned to inform you of what happened to your brother so you can stop blaming yourself.â Michael slings his backpack behind his shoulder as he stands, it shocks you as you stand with him,
â(y/n), my father is a horrible ma- monster, when I find him, Iâm not even sure heâll be human. I want you to know that if anything happens to me, I wanna ask if you could visit my brother at his grave, could you tell him how sorry I am. And that is big brother is doing everything he can to set his friends free.â Michael looks back to you with a cracked smile, as he walks off.Â
âMichael! Wait!â you almost make a scene with parents, teenagers, and kids as you race after Michael who wasnât stopping. You were walking faster as you grab Michaelâs shoulder and spun him around once he got close to the entrance,
âYouâre not leaving me Michael, not again. You canât do this by yourself, so I wanna help. And Iâm not taking no for an answer, your father murdered my brother, youâre looking to find him and when you do I wanna be the one to throw the first punch.â Your determined frowned turned into a grin as you hold up your fist, you were serious, you wanted to avenge your brother, your motherâs heartache, and your mind from what that monster had taken from you.
Michael looks to you with an unreadable expression, as he exhales through his nose and looks away, âI canât protect you, those things arenât just animatronics, youâre gonna see some wild shi-â you stop him, âI can handle itâ you promised as you continue to stare at him.
Michael looks back to you this time with a dead serious expression he grips your shoulders as he looks into your eyes almost trying to find some hint of hesitation, âIf you get in trouble, Iâm not coming back to rescue you, I was given a mission to save these kids and bring my father to hell with myself included. My journey ends with him under my boot, do you understand?â Michael voice was low, and his accent present. His words didnât bother you as you huffed and nodded. âI wonât get in your way, Michael.âÂ
Michael still holds you firm your body trapped under his grip as he finally lets go, âfine, letâs go.â Michael reluctantly sighs as he shoves his hands into his pockets continuing his walk. You smile as you catch up to him walking side by side as you both enter the hell that was waiting for you both.
But your determination to save your brother is what calmed your nerves better than any pill could ever do, and Michael smiles as well as he watches you join him glad that he didnât have to do this alone.
đ ŕŁŞË Ö´ÖśÖ¸đ
Oml, I'm so sorry for how long this is... I hope you guys liked this story and don't mind the length omggg Ëââ§ę°á â ŕťęą â§âË
Love, âËŕż Karrots đđËâ
#fnaf x reader#fnaf#fnaf: Sister Location#micheal afton#micheal afton x reader#Fnaf 1#fnaf 4#x reader#fnaf 4 x reader#fnaf 1 x reader#fnaf: Sister Location x reader
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How to be beauty with brains (like Amal Clooney) always looking extremely polished, put together, well educated and being successful and eloquent?
Maintain proper hygiene
Stay consistent with your beauty routines: Skincare, haircare, nailcare, and makeup
Find clothes in high-quality fabrics that fit you well (or are tailored to your shape) that are fairly timeless/contemporary classics that can be easily styled together
Keep your clothes clean, steamed/dry cleaned, and lint-free
Choose your accessories wisely and invest in a classic, high-quality handbag or two, a few pairs of shoes, a selection of jewelry, sunglasses, and cold-weather accessories (if applicable)
Dress appropriate for the occasion and the season
Minimal to no logos
Invest in a quality haircut
Make time to read and/or study every day
Practice active listening, ask thoughtful follow-up questions, and learn to share from a place of assertion & authenticity vs. a desire for validation and social approval
Maintain good posture and learn the art of direct eye contact
Take your time: slow down your speech, mannerisms, and reaction time to your emotions or high-pressure situations
Believe in yourself and adopt a growth mindset
#personal branding#personal style#cult of personality#elegant fashion#elegance#classy life#femmefatalevibe#q/a
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Miguel x reader
(18 PLUS!)
(nsfw murder and blood)
You were on your way home from work, nearing your apartment you heard a strange noise.
You looked around in confusion before you turned the corner into the alleyway near your apartment.
You stared forward in shock, dropping your hand bag as your blood ran cold.
In front of you stood your husband holding a bloody knife in his head with your co-worker dead on the ground below him.
"M-Miguel?" You whispered in utter fear as he looked up at you.
"Oh, sweetheart. You weren't meant to see any of this." He said as you slowly started backing away.
Every step you took back, Miguel took one forward, stepping over the body.
"Easy now, darling. Don't run away, okay? If you run away do you know what will happen? You'll look guilty, sweetheart. The police will find this body and know you had something to do with it." He whispered as he finally stood in front of you and put his bloody hand on your cheek.
Your eyes were wide like a deer in the head lights as you stared into his eyes.
"You don't want to go to jail, do you honey?" Miguel whispered as you shook your head a little.
"Exactly, baby. So, I need you to go up to our apartment, wash yourself off and wait for me, okay? You think you can do that for me?" He asked as you continued to stare into his eyes.
"I know you're scared, love. You don't have to worry about anything, all you need to do is listen to me, alright?" He continued as you nodded again.
"Good girl, I'll see you in the apartment. Don't forget your handbag, sweetheart." He said as you quickly grabbed your bag and ran towards your apartment.
You got up to your level and ran into the apartment, slamming the door closed before you started stripping off your clothes.
Your shaking hands barely being able to get your uniform undone.
You got into the shower and stood under the warm water, the blood on your cheek washing away as you just stared in front of you, your heart beating a mile a minute.
You lost track of time, just standing under the shower staring forward.
You heard the door of the bathroom open and you panicked, pressing yourself against the shower wall.
The shower curtain was pulled back and Miguel stood there, completely cleaned off of blood and in new clothes.
"Oh, sweetheart." He whispered as he began to take his clothes off.
Once he was naked he stepped into the shower with you and made the water a little warmer.
He grabbed a wash cloth and some soap and began to clean your body.
"Oh, darling. You couldn't even clean yourself off, could you? It's okay, I'm here to help." He whispered as he gently washed your skin with the wash cloth.
It was hard to believe that the man that was treating you so gently had just murdered a man.
After he finished he helped you out of the shower and began drying you off.
"Why?" You whispered as he softly wiped off your face of water.
"Let's talk about it soon, sweetheart. You need to get some new clothes on." He whispered in response as you nodded a little and let him lead you out of the bathroom.
He sat you down on your bed before he got some underwear for you and a nightgown.
After he helped you dress he sat beside you and took your hands.
"Can you look at me, Y/N?" He questioned as you slowly looked at him.
"I shouldn't have been so foolish, you were never meant to see any of that. I'm sorry I scared you." He whispered, gently caressing your hands.
"Why did you do it?" You muttered as he reached up and brushed some hair away from your face.
"He was getting too close to you, I knew what he wanted... I know you thought he was just nice but he was attracted to you and I couldn't let that get in the way." He replied as you looked at him with utter horror in your eyes.
"You murdered him because he was attracted to me?" You whispered with disbelief.
You stood up and slowly backed away.
"You can't just kill people, Miguel! What the fuck is wrong with you!?" You screamed as him as he got up and lunged at you, pinning you against the wall and clamping his hand over your mouth.
"Shh, don't be so loud." He growled as you looked at him in fear.
"You don't need to be afraid of me, baby. I'm just protecting you, but I need you to keep this a secret, sweetheart. Can you do that? Because if you don't we're both going to end up in prison, seperate prisons, love. You think you can live without me? Getting fucked and beaten by women?" He asked as you felt tears roll down your face.
He slowly took his hand away and wiped your tears from your face.
"Exactly, sweetheart. So, you need to be good and do as I say. That way you'll never be any danger, and I can have you right here with me forever. Can you do that for me, baby?" He asked, running his finger along your jawline.
"This isn't the first time you've done this... Is it?" You whispered as he sighed.
"No... It's not, I know you don't understand any of this, baby. I have to keep you safe and you have to stay by my side. So, please please be good and just trust me, okay?" He asked as he leaned in to kiss you softly.
You kissed him back and felt yourself starting to relax.
"No, this is all wrong..." You whispered as Miguel looked down at you.
"No one is ever going to hurt you, and I will never hurt you, baby. There's just some things I have to take care of sometimes. You promised you would love me no matter what, didn't you? Do you still love me?" He whispered as he leant in and began kissing your neck softly.
"Come on, baby. Tell me you still love me, I can't lose you." He whispered still kissing your neck.
"I still love you..." You whispered as he pulled away a little and smiled.
"Oh, sweetheart. I love you so much. You don't have to worry about anything anymore, okay? You don't need to go back to your job." He said, going back to kissing your neck.
"I'm going to take care of it all." He whispered as his hand slid under your nightgown and settled on your bare hip.
"I'm scared." You whispered as he looked at you.
"You don't need to be scared, baby. I'm right here and I'm going to protect you." He replied as you slowly leant forward and kissed him softly.
He smiled and pulled you towards the bed and got you to sit down.
"Let's make you forget all about those awful things, baby." He whispered, kneeling at the end of the bed in between yours legs.
"Can I help you feel better, baby?" He asked, resting his hand on your knee.
You looked down at you and nodded, not saying anything.
"That's a good girl." He whispered as he rolled your nightgown up and slowly took your underwear off.
His large hands went to you thighs and gently spread your legs before he leant for and slowly licked along the outside of your pussy.
He pushed his tounge in more and ran his tounge over your clit making you gasp and brace yourself on the bed behind you.
He started to suck on your clit while one of his hands came up and pushed one finger inside of you.
"M-Miguel." You moaned out in a whispered as he continued to pleasure you.
After he had opened you up enough he pulled away and climbed up onto the bed, straddling you and kissing you passionately.
He started pulling down his own pants while he kissed you.
"Do you want me, baby? Do you need me inside of you?" He whispered as he pulled his boxers down and waited for you to respond.
"Yes... Yes please I need you, make me forget." You whispered making him smile.
"There's my good girl."
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hiii,
could i please get a fic for melissa schemmenti with this promt from the list that you reblogged:
"I still can't believe you fell in love with me." "Yeah, me neither."
with reader being the one saying that to melissa.
please and thank you so much.
So I couldnât quite settle on one idea for this one, so it turned into a series of little ficlets (or are they drabbles?)Â Also, full disclosure, I do not speak Italian so apologies if the tiny phrase included feels out of place or is inaccurate (I used Google).
95% fluff (but with reference to drunk reader, so sorry if youâre not comfortable with that)
*
Youâre sitting on the worktop in Melissaâs kitchen, a cup of tea cradled in your hands. Itâs Saturday morning and with nowhere to be, and nowhere else you want to be, youâre being treated to the ever more familiar sight of the red head moving around her kitchen as she makes you both breakfast. She still sports marvellous bed hair, and wears nothing but a sleep shirt and her underwear. Itâs a glorious sight to behold.
Youâd offered to help, but didnât put up too much of a fight when Melissa settled you on the worktop, pressing a kiss to your lips and cup of tea into your hand. Her kitchen is her happy place. Everything is set up just the way she likes it and when she cooks itâs like a well-rehearsed dance. Itâs a joy to watch, and it warms your heart that she lets you.
âI still canât believe you fell in love with me,â you say, barely registering youâve said it out loud.
âYeah, me neither, kid,â she replies, not even looking away from the cooker. âI mean, the unicorn onesie was one thing, but thoseâŚâ she gestures at you with her spatula.Â
You look down at your pyjamas, grinning. You happened to like the rainbows, doughnuts and flying cats combo.Â
*
âI still canât believe you fell in love with me.â
You turn at the softly spoken words, finding Melissa looking at you with a smile tugging at her lips. âYeah, me neither,â you smirk. âWhat with the warm, welcome reception I got when we first met.â
âYou spilled coffee on me!â she shrieks. âWhat was I meant to do? Say thank you?â
You laugh, shifting to lay your head on her shoulder as you both watch Barb and Gerald dance slowly together. They were renewing their vows. It was a beautiful day dedicated to a beautiful couple. It was also the first formal event you had attended as Melissaâs girlfriend. âIf I remember right I paid for your dry cleaning and covered your lunch duty for a week.â
âYeah, you also asked Barb where my favourite coffee shop was and brought me coffee that whole week too,â she reminds you warmly.
âWhat can I say,â you smile, turning to press a kiss against her skin. âI aim to please. And I had to get into your good books somehow.âÂ
âHmmm, yeah, youâre just lucky youâre cute.â
You sit up, turning to look at her. âDid you think I was cute then?â
She raises an eyebrow. âWhen you were practically feeling me up under the guise of helping me get the stain off?â
At least you have the good grace to blush.
She smirks. âYeah, I did.â She slides an arm around your waist, letting you lean into her as she drops her voice and speaks softly into your ear. âI would ask what you thought of me but I think we both remember that little slip of the tongue.â
âI said the coffee was hot!â
A filthy chuckle falls from red painted lips. âYeah, keep telling yourself that, Hon.â
*
âI still canât believe you fell in love with me,â you slur as you lean into Melissa, who at this point is supporting most of your weight in your drunken state.
âYeah, me neither,â quips Melissa. âHold these,â she tells you, waiting for you to take hold of the heels you were too drunk to walk in before she opens your handbag and fishes out your keys. She was already beginning to regret her offer to pick you up after a girlsâ night out with your friends.
You smile at her adoringly as she unlocks the door and ushers you inside. With the door closed behind you she props you up against the wall as she relieves you once again of your shoes before setting to work on your coat.Â
She dodges your attempt at a kiss. âKitchen. Youâre eating something and getting a drink of water before you even think about going to bed.â
With her hands firmly on your hips, manoeuvring you in the right direction, you make it. âWhat would I do without you?â you ask as she folds you into a chair at your small kitchen table.Â
âBreak your ankle in those shoes and fall asleep in the gutter?â she offers as she pours you a glass of water and throws some bread in the toaster. Coming back to stand in front of you she presses the glass into your hand. âDrink.â
âYes, Maâam,â you reply, throwing in a poorly coordinated two finger salute that gains you a raised eyebrow.
Shaking her head, Melissa leaves you to drink your water as she butters your toast before bringing it over to the table. She sits in the spare seat, her expression softening as she takes in the adoring smile being aimed at her.Â
âI love you,â you tell her as you put down your now empty glass.Â
âI love you, too,â she replies without hesitation.
âEven like this?â
A soft smile spreads across her lips. âYes, il mio asinello, even like this.â
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