#he shows you what passion really is; you never knew something as simple as a heated look could be so thrilling—

[t1ny-untitled]

TILL X GN!READER

「 ✦ ‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

- in this au, Till is in love(?) with the reader!yn and sang a different song in Round 2 in where he thinks you like (the aliens don't know it was someone else's song). He feels unsure of his feelings for gn!reader until he sang the song. -

- Warning; Till might be ooc(out of character) so I apologize if it is. If anything, feel free to give me some tips or things to improve this or any of my future fics, thank you! -

「 ✦ ‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

날 스치는 그대의 옅은 그 목소리

(That faint voice of yours that grazed me.)

내 이름을 한 번만 더 불러주세요

(Please call my name one more time.)

얼어버린 노을 아래 멈춰 서 있지만

(I'm standing still under the frozen light, but)

그대 향해 한 걸음씩 걸어갈래요

(I will walk towards you, step by step)

Still with you

0:01 - 0:18

Still With You - Jungkook

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ✦ 」

[Reader] has always been the person that Till admired a lot. Watching them from afar with admiration. Through his journey of learning the guitar, they were his inspiration and motivation to continue on. For him, his education, and for them.

You were his childhood best friend he never wanted to let go. You were too kind to him. To people. To everyone. He likes that about you. He couldn't even believe that he met someone so caring like you. It felt so unbelievable.

He just wishes to at least hold your hand, wipe your delicate tears when you cry, let you sleep on his shoulder for as long as you can, and talk to you for countless hours.

It breaks his tiny heart whenever he sees you with someone. He had always tried to impress you. He wanted you to be proud of him. To notice him. To care about him. He had always dreamed about that.

And this is finally the time that he can impress you. And he won't mess it up. He can't mess it up.

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

Till was now against a guy—Acorn. A short brown haired boy who is just the same age as he is. He looked at the audience with confidence. He knew he was gonna win this round. With this song he prepared. For you.

Surely, the music started to play, giving a somewhat soft but electrifying memory with his guitar. He tried to do it as softly as possible but also enough to maybe impress you.

He struck a few tabs and some chords, bringing the microphone to his mouth as he sang, giving a slightly blocked sound to impress the audience as well

"날 스치는 그대의 옅은 그 목소리."

"내 이름을 한 번만 더 불러주세요"

"얼어버린 노을 아래 멈춰 서 있지만"

"그대 향해 한 걸음씩 걸어갈래요"

"Still with you"

He sang in a soft tone before striking a slightly louder and improvised melody. The boy looked at him, not even knowing where to start singing until he continued.

"어두운 방, 조명 하나 없이. 익숙해지면 안 되는데 그게 또 익숙해"

("Dark room, no lights. I shouldn't get used to it but I'm used to it again.")

He sang, looking at the ground for a brief moment to think about all the things he had with you before when the two of you were still kids.

"나지막이 들리는 이 에어컨 소리. 이거라도 없으면 나 정말 무너�� 것 같아. 함께 웃고, 함께 울고. 이 단순한 감정들이 내겐 전부였나 봐"

("This quiet sound of the air conditioner. I feel like I'd really fall apart without this. Laugh together, cry together. I guess these simple feelings were everything to me.")

A gentle smile creeped up to his face, looking up. He felt conflicted by his unknown feelings for you. And he wanted to be sure...

"언제쯤일까 다시 그댈 마주한다면? 눈을 보고 말할래요."

("When will I ever see you again? I want to look you in the eye and tell you")

"보고 싶었어요"

("I missed you")

Suddenly, he felt a switch in his heart turned on. A feeling of his heart racing as he continued on the lyrics with passion. He hasn't felt something like this until now... It felt so nice, even.

The brunette looked at him, slightly panicking as he looked at his score compared to the gray haired one. He looked back at the gray haired, seeing how he was smiling genuinely. His collar was green, showing his positivity. Or even, motivation..

He really hopes you like it...

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

"Till!"

A young child said, running towards the young boy—Till "Look what I made!" The young child said, showing him a little bouquet of flowers. You were smiling like a little kid, giving the bouquet to him. "It's for you!"

Till looked at the bouquet, feeling his cheeks burn beet red by the sudden gift. "W—why me?!" He exclaimed, looking up at you with surprise.

The young child looked at him, confused but also upset, thinking he doesn't like it "Why? Is it ugly?" You asked, looking a bit saddened as you looked down at your bouquet. He didn't like it when he saw you like that. He quickly patted your head, trying to calm you down "I—I'm just asking! I didn't say anything negative about that!" *He protested, hesitantly grabbing the bouquet and hiding it up to his chest "H—happy?!" He says, looking down at you and hoping you would be happy again

The little child looked up at him, and your face brightened. "Sing me a song" You stated, looking at him with a smile. You knew he couldn't say no... "A—ah... Hrgh..." Till grunted, feeling his face heat up and looked away, looking timid. "Fine...!" He said making you smile brightly and jumped up and down.

You sat on the floor beside him, looking at him as if waiting for him to sing. He couldn't concentrate properly on how focused you are to him but eventually, he started to sing.

"황홀했던 기억 속에"

("In the ecstatic memories")

"나 홀로 춤을 춰도 비가 내리잖아"

("Even if I dance alone, it rains")

"이 안개가 걷힐 때쯤 젖은 발로 달려갈게"

("By the time this fog clears, I'll run with wet feet")

"그때 날 안아줘"

("Hug me then")

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

He didn't even realize that he was zoning out and his opponent—Acorn was already singing while he was distracted. He felt angered to the point he slammed his guitar on the floor. He wanted it to be him he's impressing you. Not the flat haired guy.

It still made him mad despite him still winning over the brunette. Now he had just killed his alien guitar. Ahh... But all he wanted to know is if you liked it or not.

He goes back to where he was, trying to find you to see if you paid attention to his performance. He just hoped that you weren't sleeping that time since you are a heavy sleeper... But luckily, when he came back, you instantly greeted him with a soft smile and waved at him. The only thing that filled his mind is that you liked it based on your small interaction with him.

Till looks at you, his face burning and his lips curling into a nervous and awkward smile before waving back. Now he finally knows what his feelings for you are now.

He wants to stay still with you

‧₊˚ 🎸 ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

[zorosdimples]

reader who was married for a decade or two. it was a milquetoast relationship of convenience and safety. the most exciting—passionate—thing that happened between you two was the divorce, truthfully. perhaps you should be more mad about him cheating on you, but you can hardly bring yourself to feel anything; since when did you decide that you were going to go through life on autopilot?

you move into an apartment by yourself and live alone for what feels like the first time in forever. it’s okay, even though your life still feels empty. it isn’t until you meet your next door neighbor, a younger man, that things start to get interesting. you’d be lying if you said you don’t fix yourself up before taking the trash out, or wear your favorite “casual” outfit to the mailbox. maybe this little crush is pathetic. but it makes you feel alive for the first time in… you can’t even remember how long.

why, then, does it scare you when your neighbor—with his wide smile and sparkling eyes—shows interest in you? when he stops by after a sweaty workout, half naked, asking for a glass of water (his sink faucet is “broken”)? when he invites you over to his place to watch a movie that he has no interest in? or admits when he’s a little tipsy that he has a thing for more experienced partners?

maybe you’re in over your head. but there’s really only one way to find out…

[seungfl0wer]

Bangchan As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut 🩵

•He’s such a cute, giggly, bushy mess. He’s so giddy about everything.

•Finds everything you do just so damn cute.

•One of his favorite things is when you get to talking about something you love.

•The way you’re so excited about it just makes him smile while listing.

•The sparkle in your eyes just makes his heart do flips.

•Another thing he absolutely just melts at is you in his clothes.

•He finds it so cute and attractive just seeing you in his shirts/hoodies.

•The day he finds you all curled up in bed in his hoodie snuggling up to his pillow.

•Ugh man feels like his heart is on fire.

•He’s such a sweet Clingy man.

•Wants to always be touching you in some way.

•Is he slightly possessive or is he just doing loving boyfriend things?

•The answer is yes. Yes to both.

•He always has a hand on you. Either on your thigh, holding your hand, touching your arms. Anything.

•He’s very thoughtful.

•Remembers all the things you tell him.

•So when he’s traveling and sees your favorite animal, snack or favorite character in that one show you guys binge watched.

•He’s buying it for you.

•Speaking of buying things.

•Loves buying you both matching clothes.

•Finds it so adorable.

•He’s getting you both a whole wardrobe of couple outfits.

•Just loves showing you off.

•Talks non-stop about you.

•”y/n loves those!” “Omg those are y/ns faves!”

•“Y/n and I come here all the time” “y/n did this funny thing today”

•Plans out time for his schedule to make sure he has time to spend with you.

•Does in fact cry when he’s away from you for too long.

•He gets you to wear one of his hoodies for a while before leaving so he can snuggle it.

•Also cries into that.

•He’s just so head over heels for you it hurts being away for so long.

•When he does eventually come home.

•He’s all over you.

•You’re not leaving his sight for at least a week straight.

•He’s gonna be glued to you.

•Arms wrapped around you.

•Telling you how much he missed you. How much he wants to take you to the places he was.

•Giving you all the things he found for you.

•Also apologizing for leaving you for so long.

•Which you always playfully smack him telling him

•“I don’t mind, I knew when we started dating this would happen. At least at the end of everything you come back to me.”

•Your words always bringing tears to his eyes.

•Mans has a whole folder of songs he’s made for you.

•There’s some he’s shown you but a lot are special.

•For special occasions like birthdays/anniversaries.

•He also has a whole folder of pictures/videos of you.

•A lot. A LOT. Of unflattering ones.

•Has those saved in a special folder so you can’t delete them.

•He thinks they’re cute but you think they’d be perfect blackmail material.

•He really enjoys your input on things.

•Music, style, life. He really likes to hear what you have to say.

•Always checks up on you, just simple “did you eat today?” Or “Did you drink water?”

•Sends the sweetest good morning texts

•And you know something?

•The spark yall have never dies.

•The longer you date, the more he knows he’s gonna marry you.

•He falls more and more in love with you every day.

•Truly heart eyes for you constantly.

•Chan is really just the best, he’s so caring, compassionate and just.. the man you want forever with.

•And nothing would make you happier than to spend that forever with him.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•As loving as he is normally that transfers to love making.

•And that’s what it is.

•Love making.

•He’s so sensational, and passionate.

•You both definitely sit down and talk about what you both like.

•Chan always wants to make sure you’re comfortable.

•But god does he just lose control sometimes.

•His mind goes as he’s fucking you.

•He looks like a dog with his tongue basically hanging out.

•The noises he makes are so hot-

•This man’s vocal on a daily you think he’s not in bed?

•If he’s not making noises he’s talking.

•Big into talking.

•”Baby, you feel so good” “ah you’re taking me so good”

•”My love your milking my cock-“ “you’re so good for me baby”

•Ugh-

•Definitely loves interlocking hands.

•He can get a little rough sometimes.

•Spanking, Choking, hair pulling, probably has a daddy kink.

•I said what I said.

•We all know he does-

•He’s such a softy though.

•Soft dom for sure

•Always. Always makes sure you cum.

•You could have been an absolute brat.

•And yeah he’s gonna punish you but honestly.

•He’s gonna let you cum.

•Even if he says he won’t.

•He will.

•He always does.

•Also listen-

•This man’s going down on you often.

•So often.

•He just can’t get over how you sound.

•Can’t get over how you look when his tongue is lapping at your hole.

•Really just drives him crazy.

•So much aftercare. Ugh dude-

•Cleans you up, cuddles you, gets you a snack and a drink.

•”You did so well baby” “it’s ok baby I’m here I’m not going anywhere ever. I love you”

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[yandere-romanticaa]

⚘ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

m. - "forevermore" typically refers to something that lasts for an indefinite amount of time or for eternity. it implies a sense of permanence or lastingness.

You've ran away from your husband, the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia himself. However, have you truly escaped his grasp?

yandere! tartaglia x fem! reader.

The shimmering rays of bright morning sunlight made the living room come to life as you sat in a classic wooden chair, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. It burned your fingers ever so slightly but you could not be bothered to remove them from the cup.

The pain made you not focus on the massive bouquet of flowers which were placed on your pretty white table.

From the corner of your vision, you could see the card which clung onto the fresh bunch of blooms, the handwriting on it disgustingly elaborate but oh so familiar.

"Blood red roses." The card said.

"I always knew that you fancied roses, and I couldn't resist to get you these specific ones when I saw you looking at them."

Bastard. How he had managed to track you all the way to Mondstatd was beyond your comprehension, but in hindsight, you really should have known better. The Fatui could sneak in anywhere they damn well pleased, be it the hustle and bustle of the city of Mondstatd, to the dirty cracks of the Chasm.

It was only natural that the many agents which were stationed in the city would start to talk upon seeing the wife of a Lord Harbinger so far from home.

You concealed yourself at first, obviously. Most unfortunately, word started to spread like wildfire that you had fled in the dead of night, never to be seen by anyone. And, due to the fact that your husband did not possess a single shred of decency in his body, he proudly showed you off wherever he could.

Just the mere thought of the memory made you shudder.

Your good husband was - is - a wealthy man. He made sure to spoil you in the finest of silks known to man and the endless sea of jewelry which was sent your way, if it were to be sold, could feed an entire army.

Although, he was always particular about your arms. He didn't like seeing anything on them except for the, surprisingly, simple wedding ring he got you.

It was a promise, he had told you.

His eternal promise to you, until the end of time. He would love you, in sickness and in health, there was no force in the universe that could separate him from you.

In a way, he was keeping his promise. He made the trip from the homeland straight to the City of Freedom all on his own.

... He probably didn't even need to hear the reports from anyone of your whereabouts. Knowing him, he tracked you down all on his own, using nothing but his wit and sharp senses.

He was a terrifying man. A man you ought to stay away from, a man who had the blood of countless innocent people on his hand. And yet, those same hands would keep you warm during the cold winter, his soft and pale lips would pepper your body with gentle kisses, making you feel as if you were the most beautiful woman in the universe.

Archons, he'd whisper to himself, his breath hot on your neck, making you blush. He would just say whatever came to mind, completely lost in his blind passion.

I want no one else but you - You are my everything - I will make you mine -

Frankly, you did not know how to feel. In those private moments he was less a man and more a lovesick little fool. He could not keep his paws off you, even if he wanted to. As the evening would go on the kisses would evolve into something more, something primal, carnal even. Tongue and teeth would mesh together, leaving a thick string of saliva between him and you, to which he would always let out that darling boyish laugh of his.

You loathed the fact that in those moments, he truly was ethereal, no different than a star.

What made your skin crawl was the effect his touch had on your mind and body. He became something akin to a drug, even now as you felt the sweetness of freedom with your own two hands you still felt the urge to hold something tight at night because your husband had spoiled you rotten with his presence.

Finally, you turned to look at the flowers as the horrible realization dawned on you - you loved him. You loved that man and it was putrid.

You cannot go back. You would not go back to him.

Jumping off a building would be a smarter thing to do.

As you pondered on and on about your predicament, you failed to notice the lingering shadow in your hallway. Deep blue eyes monitored you like a hawk as he toyed with a switchblade he had in his pocket. What should he do with you? He was furious, naturally. You were the last person in the world he wanted discord with. You broke his heart a little when you left and the fact that you didn't even care about his feelings only added insult to injury.

Even so, he could not help but to feel overjoyed by the fact that you hadn't thrown out his gift. He was half expecting you to burn whatever he sent you to the ground, not to mournfully contemplate in deep thought like this.

That was how he knew you loved him. It was crooked and wrong, but he had you. He had you and you didn't even know it. He'd bring down the heavens themselves if it meant that you could feel a fraction of the love he held for you. His lips curled into a sly grin but his heart pounded like clockwork in his chest. This waiting game was so horrible.

But the hunter in him couldn't resist, cornering you like this was just in his nature.

Victory was so close, he could practically taste it. Soon enough, his wife would be in his arms, weeping and apologizing and he would soothe her, like a good husband ought to. Yes, that was how this scenario would play out.

He was too clever to let it happen any other way.

It would be just him and you, perhaps even with a bundle of joy if the Tsaritsa blessed him. Even so, with you here, he had everything he could ever dream of.

Him and you, against the world, standing by each other's side, forevermore.

💋 TAGLIST: @genshinarchives, @saturnalya @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @alatusprinz @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @lakxcpsta @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @goldenglow149

This fic was born out of my own pure passion and love for Tartaglia, apologies for the Cringe™ I put you all through.

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same as him, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 .

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: Armando was obsessed with everything about you. Yet, you never showed him the same energy back. Until one night.

-> theme: one sided love, smut.

-> format: drabble + story?

-> warning: hardcore smut, slight mention of dacryphillia, armando is a little rough and cocky asf, mature language, mention of guns, mention of alcohol, he does not understand the meaning of personal space, i think if he wants something he’ll go after it!

-> authors note: 2 updates back to backkk! thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy it! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

᯾ Ever since he first noticed you when meeting the team, it was love at first sight for him.

᯾ He would definitely show how much he’s obsessed with you in implicit ways, not fully going for you as that’s not his personality.

᯾ Would definitely prefer to do things that make you notice him, however, he could chase you if he wanted to.

᯾ He would definitely stare at you in the locker room or on the plane, on the way to whatever location you guys are needed.

᯾ His eyes would start at your legs before slowly glancing up to your lips.

᯾ You already know he’s a playboy just like his dad.

᯾ However, regardless of his obvious interest in you, the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

᯾ Nevertheless, he wouldn’t tease you too much on missions. Not loving you enough to the point where he wants his life to be compromised.

᯾ He always has his eye out for you. Need more ammo? he’s got you.

᯾ Need a cover? He’s got you on that too.

᯾ You couldn’t even hate him, skilled in his fighting he was an excellent addition to the team. The way he effortlessly handled any weapon that was given to him, effectively killing anyone in his path. Giving assistance to anyone within the team, you really couldn’t hate him.

᯾ He knew he was good at what he does too.

᯾ And sooner then later, you’d realise he’s good in bed too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄:

᯾ You hardly talked to him, always avoiding his path.

᯾ Celebratory drinks? On the other side of the table.

᯾ Group talks? You’re never next to him.

𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐎, until you guys saw each other at a club. Neon lights were flashing as people danced and drank excessively. There was you, with two friends, dancing within the crowd. You rolled your hips with the flow of the music, this being an escape from your fast-paced life of being a law enforcement agent.

That was until you saw him, surrounded by men looking like him. Armando’s tan skin and beard being the main thing that stood out. He wore a simple black shirt with tight, slim black jeans. There was a fresh slit in his left eyebrow while his gold cuban chain hung off his neck, slightly longer than shoulder length.

He looked back up, and smirked. Shaking it off, you went back further into the crowd and continued to dance with your friends.

“We’re going to switch it up now, introducing some dancehall! Ladies get ready to whine up yuhself! Men, get ready to catch that whine!!” The DJ shouted over the music before switching up the song.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 & 𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇 - 𝐉.𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢 & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊.

Cheers and woos erupted in the building, more people coming to the dance floor as ladies bent their legs and arched their backs, ready to whine their life away.

Your friends started whining and dancing, screaming the lyrics as their body began to move with the music as if they were in a trance.

You decided to do the same, letting loose, you began to put your hands on your knees. Whining along to the music by anyone who pressed up behind you. That was until you felt those hands.

Looking up , you noticed Armando holding your hips, a suggestive look on his face as he controlled every circle and buck of your whine. You hated to say it but he was really skilled.

He didn’t even say anything, just focused on you and the music. Slowly pushing your hair on the left side of your face, his hand creeped up to your neck while the other one was still rested on your hip. His touch igniting a flame of zeal within you, the air between the two becoming hot and heavy.

This was forbidden, two co workers were not supposed to have any sexual relations with each other. Yet, you both did not care. Too overcome with lust and desire.

“Volver a casa conmigo..” Armando whispered in your ear, causing a tingle to happen down there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌. Symphonies of groans and moans escaping the two lovers’ lips as they engaged in a heated kiss, fighting each other with their tongue, burning passion radiating off them. The white, satin sheets barely covered the male as he was focused on thrusting into the woman below. His cock pistoned in and out of the woman’s leaking pussy as her legs were up in the air, rocking backwards and forwards as she jolted up and down due to the roughness of her lover’s actions. Her wetness causing a thin coating on his dick.

“Te sientes tan bien amor..” Armando whispered, gently biting on the woman’s earlobe as she moaned in his ear, hypnotised by the feeling of his thick clock filling her up.

The male noticed and withdrew from her earlobe, still continuing the same pace as he held onto her hips but instead he could see the pleasure in her face. Tears of pleasure slowly slid down your face, to the point where you tried to push the male back, to no avail. “You got to take it mamí.”

“It feels too good.. i can’t.”

“Oh yes you can.” Armando grunted. Randomly flipping you over, your face was roughly met with the pillow. The man then started pounding with even more passion as you gasped and whined underneath him. “Just like that Armando..”

Your little comments turned him on more, feeling the reach of his peak coming. Your quiet nature before this now contradicting the lewd activity commencing now. And he loved it. He knew you would eventually come around. “Ah.. ¿Así que tu bonita boca puede hablar?”

Too dazed by the pleasure to understand the sarcasm dripping off his voice, you just nodded. Your hand slowly crawling down to your clit as you rubbed it in desperation. The overstimulation forcing your orgasm to come crashing down before you could even warn him. “Oh my god!”

This caused Armando to absolutely lose it. Your own impulsive decision to coming back to bite you caused him to begin chasing after his own orgasm. Still thrusting while you tried coming down from your own, before pulling out and releasing his seed onto your stomach.

“estás loco.”

“Estoy loco por no amarte antes.”

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[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Volver a casa conmigo” : Come home with me.

“Te sientes tan bien.” You feel so good.

“ ¿Así que tu bonita boca puede hablar?”: So your pretty mouth can speak?

“estás loco.” - You’re crazy.

“Estoy loco por no amarte antes.” - i’m crazy for not loving you sooner.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@milliumizoomi @thedarkworldofhananerea @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @loakswifesworld @sarcasticbitchsblog

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: You can read part two here.

Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.

It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.

You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.

"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.

"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.

"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.

While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.

"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.

As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.

"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.

You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.

Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.

"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.

"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.

"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.

"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.

"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."

"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.

"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.

He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.

Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.

Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.

"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.

"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.

"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.

"What? What are you—"

"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."

He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"

He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.

"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.

"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.

"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.

"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.

"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."

"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.

"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.

"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.

"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.

"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."

That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.

You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.

"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."

You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"

"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."

Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.

"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."

You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.

[feyascorner]

wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

[buckyownsmylife]

out of the woods (chris evans x famous!reader smut)

the one where Chris watches an interview of you on the Ellen show

Warnings: mention of small stature in comparison to Chris, smut thoughts, Ellen Degeneres trash talking/thinking, cursing, mention of prescription medicine, talk of age gap (reader is younger than Chris), jacking off, daddy kink

WC: 3k

A/N: this doesn't really have an ending, so if you all like it, I might make a series out of it - the idea is that you are also famous (for acting, singing, writing) and have been friends with Chris but there's always this underlying tension between the two of you. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: no, he's not married in this story nor do I intend to feature Alba in any part of it whatsoever.

Chris’ P.O.V.

I was scrolling through Twitter when I realized some fans were tagging me in a short video of Y/N on Ellen DeGeneres’ show. I knew she had gone there by herself, mostly to promote her new album, but also to give some publicity for our movie, so I was aware that she would probably talk about me at least a bit… Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked the link to check the video for myself.

She looked gorgeous as always, her hair down in that way I loved so much and her skin seemed to be as soft as ever under the mini dress she chose to wear, her legs stretching out and making her look taller than she actually was. I chuckled, remembering just how small she looked by my side.

I remembered one time when I lifted her up, bridal style, and spun her around the pub we had close to the set, after the Patriots had won a game. Despite not understanding the game, she tagged along and celebrated every time I got excited, like the cute person that she was. I got so transfixed by her giggles back then. They were the sweetest sound and the only thing I heard, despite the fact that we were in the middle of a very loud bunch of dudes. 

I found myself imagining again, as I had then, what it would be like to have her under me, trapped by my arms in bed, or better yet, against a wall, only my thighs securing her in place while I made her moan with my touch. How would she sound? Or, better yet, how would she feel?

Christ. 

Shaking my head, I tried to gather my thoughts so as to not let them stray too far in that direction, something I didn’t have much success in doing, despite the fact that I had been practicing that simple habit every single day since I met her. But it was proving to be a nightmare. She was just far too tempting.

Shaking my head once more, I focused on the video in front of me. My heartbeat had sped up as soon as it started, but I tried to tell myself it was because I was scared for her, since I knew how Ellen could get invasive sometimes.

“So, Y/N…” She started, eyeing my co-star. “You have just finished working on a movie with someone we’re very familiar with, isn’t it?”

Y/N giggled, nodding at the blonde woman. “I suppose so. We have just finished the promotion for it, maybe you guys have already seen it?” She asked the crowd, who went nuts at her. It was sweet to see this kind of feedback, I truly believed in our movie and the fact that I got to know her was just an added bonus.

“For those of you who don’t know what we’re talking about, it’s called ‘Be Here Now’ and it’s currently in a theater near you. Y/N stars alongside Chris Evans, who we love so dearly here, and they play brother and sister as they try to reconnect after their parents' passing.”

More applause at that. I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at her idea of love. Last time I was there, she made me pretty uncomfortable, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“So, how was the process for you? We know you’re familiar with the filming process, since you star in your own series ‘Evermore’, that sent you to stardom, along with your songs, but you had said before you’d never act outside of it, since your true passion relies on music. What changed your mind?” Ellen sat back as she said that, already comfortable with the fact that something good would come out of this interview, since Y/N had been pretty vocal about what made her decide to do the movie, even with me.

“Chris did, actually. Or, in fact, the fact that he was cast in it.” A chorus of “aws” echoed around the room and there was no way to know if they were real or prompted, but they were quickly interrupted by the host.

“So, you were a fan?” She instigated, as to what Y/N nodded again.

“Of course. Well, my mom more than me, but I was the one who introduced his work to her, so…” She poked her tongue out at the camera, to which my heart (and my cock) jumped in response. “Ever since I got into this, when I first had the idea for Evermore with James, I told him time and time again I would never act outside of this, because I had no intention whatsoever on becoming an actress. I have always been in this for the music. Well, the writing. I’m a writer, I like writing scripts and songs, I’ve fallen into this performer thing by accident. But I’ve always been adamant about the fact that if I ever had the opportunity to act alongside Chris, I’d take it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t think I’m good enough. It didn’t even matter if the script was terrible, which thankfully wasn’t the case, I just really admire him and his work and I would never live with myself if I turned this opportunity down.”

Even though I knew most of this, I couldn’t help but to gloat at the fact that this incredible woman actually admired me. She was so much better than me in so many things, even acting, and she still thought I was great enough to get her to participate in a movie. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a little crush, that’s right?” And there it was. The coup. Of course. That evil wench…

“That’s what you took out of everything I said? Jesus, Ellen, has anyone ever told you that you listen like a man?” Ouch. That one was perfect. Being the ambassador for females and lesbians everywhere, it couldn’t not hurt her, especially coming from someone as angelical, sweet and universally-loved as Y/N. I appreciated the quick second her smile faltered before it became plastered on her again.

“No, I haven’t heard that before… But tell me, have you met any of the other Marvel actors? I mean, granted, there are a lot of them now, but especially those who have worked closely with Chris?” Y/N shrugged at that.

“I have been friends with Elizabeth Olsen for a very long time, we’re very close, but other than that, no. I haven’t had the chance to properly meet, or rather, hang out with any of them.”

“Who’s first on your list?”

“Anthony Mackie,” Y/N promptly responded, getting a few laughs and claps from the audience.

“My, you had that answer ready” Ellen teased, to which Y/N simply shrugged again. 

“We talk through social media sometimes and I know for a fact he’s hilarious. I hope we get to meet sometime. I might just have to bug Chris about it.” She had already, in fact. I couldn’t wait to introduce them to each other and I was already planning my next party just to be able to make that happen.

“What about Sebastian?” Ellen asked, a glinter of something extremely suspicious in her eyes.

“Sebastian Stan? No, we haven’t met, but I’d love to get the chance to someday. He seems extremely sweet and I know he’s very talented and Chris loves him, so I think it’s a matter of time until it happens.”

“I heard somewhere you had a bit of a crush on him, right? Even if you don’t admit that you have one on Chris?” This fucking woman. I could fucking kill her right now. But, to my surprise, Y/N simply laughed.

“Truly, you have got to check your hearing sometime soon, because that is absolutely false.” 

“Really?” Ellen pushed, to which Y/N beamed even brighter at her.

“Positive.” A beat as the two women stared at each other down. “I think what you meant is that I have had a huge crush on his character, Bucky Barnes.” Y/N explained, laughing at the host. “I admit that only happened after I saw Sebastian’s portrayal of him, but my attraction to a fictional character can’t be really connected to him.”

Ellen nodded, obviously not paying attention to anything she was just saying. “Well, let’s figure out who do you actually feel attracted to, shall we? Let’s play fuck, marry or kill!”

The audience screamed and, to my surprise, Y/N didn’t even blink, a patient smile painting her lips as she calmly watched the interviewer. “So, Y/N, between Anthony, Sebastian and Chris, who would you rather fuck, marry or kill?”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling at the older woman. “I couldn’t possibly answer truthfully to this question, Ellen, mostly because I am not capable of feeling carnal attraction to people I have never met, but I can 100% assure you that I would marry Chris without blinking twice if there was a choice.” 

My heart skipped a beat at her words. The crowd went crazy, obviously satisfied with the answer.

“And you’re sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Ellen’s eyes glistened with mischief, as she stared at the younger woman.

“Ellen, I think the question here is… Are you sure *you don’t have a crush on him?” The laughs from the audience was the last thing to come from the video before it stopped, and I found myself echoing them in the silent living room. Oh my, how I missed this girl.

I tapped my fingers nervously on my jean-clad thigh, looking around the room. I had been staying in Boston with my family for the last few weeks, since the movie premiered and we had finished promotion, and I had found myself constantly calling her to share funny stories from my nephews or to hear about her day. I knew she wanted to meet my family, she had always said she admired the fact that we were so close, despite there being so many of us.

My mom obviously loved her, having been a fan of hers long before I even heard about her existence. So what if…? 

Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed call in the name of the woman I had been thinking about. The phone rang three times before she picked up, stopping me from giving up on this crazy idea.

“Hey, Chris! How are you? I missed talking to you, it’s so weird seeing you everyday for four months and then suddenly not at all anymore.” I know I was literally forty, but I literally melted at this girl’s words.

“Did you now? Is that because you wish we were married, so we could see each other everyday?” Her breath hitched as she realized I had seen the video and I could just imagine the cute little embarrassed expression she was probably sporting right now. I tried to ignore the fact that my words and tone of speaking had suddenly become way too similar to when I was flirting with a girl.

“Fuck, you saw the interview.” I had never heard Y/N curse before, so the fact that I suddenly had no control over my mouth could be explained by the unavailability of blood in my head, since it had all gone south.

“Come stay with me for a while,” I spilled suddenly. Silence was the only answer I got from the other side of the call and my heart sped up in a way that only happened when I was truly anxious. I was already cursing myself out for scaring the poor girl when she finally answered.

“Are you serious?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper. It was obvious how vulnerable she was feeling, and a sense of overprotectiveness overcame me. “Please don’t joke about this, Evans. This better not be a prank. ‘Cause I really do miss you a lot.”

Fuck indeed. There was no way something good would come out of this idea, but there was no way I would go back either.

“Of course I’m being serious. Come to Boston. You can stay with me, but I think my mom is going to steal you before you even settle in.” A large breath came from the other side.

“Okay. Okay! I’m going to pack my bags. Yay! I’m so excited!” She was clearly jumping up and down with the perspective of what was to come, and I couldn’t help the smile that painted my lips not only at her cuteness, but also due to my own excitement at her arrival. 

“Great! I’ll be waiting.” My heartbeat still hadn’t gotten back to a normal speed. “Text me the details of your arrival, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Chris, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” I knew what she meant. If someone caught sight of us together at the airport, or even the fact that she was here in Boston, all hell would break loose in the press.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it, baby girl. I’ll take care of it.” I froze, only then realizing what I had just called her. A few seconds ticked by while I silently freaked out, wondering how I could brush this over, when she intervened.

“Thanks, Chris. That was pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I just might forgo my prescription medicine while I’m over there, because you’ve been able to completely relax me with just two sentences.” She giggled and if I was at first leaning towards thinking she was sarcastically teasing me, just by the nature of her words, the tone of her voice made it clear that she actually meant what she had just said.

Once again, I was at a loss for words, especially because I couldn’t help but to allow myself to imagine that this was her, flirting with me a little bit. The blood I so desperately needed in my brain had once again left to pump another organ full of life. I was saved from having to answer, though, as Y/N quickly wrapped up the conversation.

“I’ll text you the details of my flight in a little bit. See you soon, angel.” She hung up before I could process the nickname she had given me. 

“Fucking hell,” I whispered, finally relenting and getting up from the couch to take a shower to rub one off.

I had found myself in this situation more times than usual after meeting Y/N. Normally, I’d only do it out of boredom, preferring to fuck someone whenever I’d get sexually frustrated. But the last few times I had taken girls from parties into my bedroom, I could only see her. Y/N. And I hated how disgusting I felt after it was done, the fact that I didn’t care about the girl I just fucked and the fact that I imagined my younger friend.

So now I resorted to this kind of activity. As the warm water started to hit my body, I allowed my right hand to travel the extent of my body until I found my hardened member. “Fuck,” I found myself whispering into the bathroom as I tugged on my cock. Images that I had spent a lot of time concocting in my head flashed in front of me, all of them starred by Y/N. 

I imagined her nude body here with me, under the falling water. How her breasts would heave with every breath she took. Would she be as filled with desire for me as I was for her? I imagined the path the warm droplets of water would run across her skin and how I wished I could lick its remnants. 

Maybe she’d fall to her knees before me, looking up from under her eyelashes with that coy expression that drove me crazy. Her lips would softly kiss the tip of my cock and she’d still be watching me, analyzing my reactions. I would do my best to restrain myself, allowing her to get accustomed to my member, but my hands would eventually find their way to her wet strands, creating a makeshift ponytail that would facilitate my vision of her work while I still managed to control myself and not use it to guide her.

She’d kiss the skin all around my cock, quick little kisses just to tease me before going further down to suck on my balls. I’d throw my head back, begging her to do what I needed, and she’d finally succumb, wrapping her lips around my tip before slowly sucking further down my dick. She’d be relentless, eventually being able to swallow my whole member down her throat, and I would look down again to see her looking up at me with a proud gaze in her eyes.

“Such a good girl,” I would whisper, just before I finally snapped, using my grip on her hair to pull her from my cock until just the tip remained tightly squeezed by her lips, until I pushed her all the way against me again. “Take this fucking cock like the little perfect girl you are for daddy.”

And she’d take it like a pro, a satisfied smile on her lips as I fucked her mouth, eventually breaching into her throat, making her gasp for air, tears in her eyes as her hands flew to my hips in an attempt to slow me down. But she wouldn’t really, opting for simply carving her nails on my flesh as she took every single rope of cum I’d deposit between her eager lips.

Fuck. I let the water wash away the sin I had just committed while sending up a prayer for better control when Y/N arrived. The last thing I needed was to be stuck in the bathroom, touching myself while she was at my house.

[luxxid]

"why do you love me?"

characters : ayato, albedo, al haitham, kazuha, tartaglia, tighnari, venti, scaramouche, heizou.

warnings: tooth rotting, cotton candy fluff, gn!reader, kissing, teasing, reader being a bit too curious.

☆ ayato who gently smiles, his eyes avert to your orbs, holding intense gaze withing the depths of your pupils. "well darling, your the only one who made me feel a certain way, your the only one who showered me with the riches of love and the true meanings of life." his soft curve still drawn onto his youthful face. his hand reaches out, a gesture of warmth and comfort. he holds your warm hands in his, and you feel the love and passion between the both of you. he leers and speaks once more, "i'm glad i found you." his words linger in the air as if they were a sweet melody, and you can feel the intensity of his emotion seep into the depths of your soul. he looks deeply into your eyes and you can feel the warmth of his love reaching out to you and protecting you in his arms. so this is what true love felt like.

☆ albedo who looked up from his notes, his face showed no trace of doubt on why you were asking this question, but his mind was in question. he set the feather dipped in ink down on a piece of paper. he looked up and met your gaze, a thousand questions in his eyes. he opened his mouth to ask but no sound came out, just a faint exhale. he glanced away, his brow furrowed in thought. "what can i say? your like a white rose in a bundle of red roses." he stated, he was unsure on what to say. he paused, his eyes searching for understanding. "it's like you stand out from others," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. he cleared his throat and shifted back to his notes, a silent understanding between the two of you. his heart was thumping. oh god he loved you so much.

☆ al haitham furrows his eyebrows in response to your question. confusion runs wildly in his green spheres. "your more bearable than kaveh and anyone i've met." he responded calmly before diverting his gaze into the book he held. you were taken aback by his response, not expecting that answer from him. he seemed to sense your surprise and managed a small smile before he looked away again. you found yourself smiling in response as you realized he wasn't as bad as you thought he was. his finger tracing on lines of the pages, ocassionaly shifting his concentrated gaze to you.

☆ kazuha who gently takes your hand in his, his other hand brushing a strand of your hair to the side, "it's simple dear, i love you more than others." he speaks out like the wind, his words loitering in the air, a crimson hue powdered your cheeks, he emitted a gentle chuckle in return to your bashful form. he really loved you. really. a soft kiss was pressed onto the crook of your neck while he squeezed your hand, transporting pure love to you. his voice resonated with sincerity, pouring out love as sincere as it was deep, letting you know that his love was something one of a kind, something that would never be replaced.

☆ ajax feels as if he had stopped breathing. why would you ask him such a question? "i love you because..." he muttered anxiously, unable to end his statement. a warm hand folded against his cold ones, a forced smile returned to his spry face. "i don't know how to explain it love. did i ever tell you that true love can't be explained unless you actually experience it? it's like that." he stammered, his heart racing faster than light. only you could make him feel like this, only you. he felt his heart flutter as the realization of what true love meant sunk in, and he knew that only with you could he truly feel this way.

☆ tighnari stops in his tracks. the forest ranger was surprised by the numerous amount of questions you had up your sleeve. he turns around to meet your hypnotizing orbs. "i don't think now is the time to be asking such foolish questions y/n." he states without concern. yet, something in his guts were pulling him to give you a proper reply. he sighs, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "you taught me how to use a spade correctly, that's one reason maybe. his mind wanders off to collect words to reply your oh-so-curious question. "i love how you keep me entertained during forest ranges, just like how you did now." you blink once, twice, thrice. he slowly turns away, a small smile playing on his lips. you watch as he slowly walks away, each step growing further away from you. you really loved him, so did he.

☆ venti smirks like a madman, his soft giggles were soothing to say the least. "i love it when you lend me mora to buy wine!" he obviated loudly, "venti you still owe me 400 mora from last week-" your words were cut off by the bard himself. "uh-uh we don't talk about that windblume." a large grin present on his face. archons, he was so childish. "but i also love it when you listen to my lyre" you sighed, shaking your head. "venti, you really need to be more responsible." he chuckled, taking a step closer. "but I'm so much more fun when I'm not!" he winked, his smile widening. mhm, he was never meant to change.

☆ scaramouche appears agitated with your question, his purple optics staring daggers into yours. "i only love you because your the only one i can handle-!" he blurted out, his face was covered in a pink palette. "i don't love you because i have to," he added, the intensity of his gaze increasing, "i love you because i want to." his tone softened as he finished his statement, the intensity of his gaze fading away. he meant it, of that you were sure. his expression was sincere, he wasn't just saying what he thought you wanted to hear. a small smile tugged across his lips, of course he wouldn't allow you to know his soft facade that only appears for you.

☆ heizou smirks menacingly, almost as if he was amused by your question. "you've been a bit too influenced by me, hm? he jived, his slender fingers petted a branch of your hair, "well.. i love you because you're the only one who can understand me, even when i don't understand myself. you challenge me, never letting me remain the same and you make me feel stagnate." he spoke like a breeze flowing abundantly. his breath washed over you. "and that's why I love you," he concluded, a determined glint in his eye. "oh and i also love you for this," he added before grabbing your face towards his before moulding his warm lips against yours. oh well, seems like he's got his way.

[romancefranaticstay]

┕━━☽【𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑】☾━━┙

Category: fluff, smut, harry potter AU

Gryffindor!Bangchan x Slytheric!Fem!Reader

Part 2 ---> here

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

As a Slytherin you mostly distant yourself from other kinds of students. You could say you were the female Slytherin. Wise, fast, competitive, full of passion, and maybe a tiny bit cruelity...

Just got to make sure, you keep your social status up.

It was another day. Another day to show your talents. Another day to look down to other and not feeling any guilt by their sad looks, pathetic.

Everyone knew you at the school, thats because you were a tiny bit of a mischief, but during the lecture's you behaved very well.

You also had like three close friends. Their name's were Lee Know, Haerin and Yoongi. How you three met? It is a very simpel story...

You met Yoongi first. When the hat said you were a Slytherin, you were welcomed with big cheers at your table. Immediatly you found a seat next to Yoongi. You two shared the same interests, the same mind you could say. He was your very first friend.

Haerin always seems very sweet but she was just like you, also a mischief. How you two met? Well, the rules are very simple, you cannot walk around when its time to sleep. There is a certain hour were the students put the lights off. One time she wanted to explore the building, we were all freshmans one's and you know how curious we were.

You also had the same idea to wander around. You two crossed eachothers path and became close in a short time. Even tho you almost got caught, but because the school is so big, there was just no way that they could find two little mischiefs on time.

Lee Know was last. How come you two met? You could say your personality is just like that from a cat, but you were a clever cat. Also, maybe you didn't know yet, but you could change your form into a cat, i have the feeling this says enough. Lee Know is a big lover for cats. One time you were just laying in the grass, rolling around. Suddenly you felt a pair of hands petting you.

You walked a bit further and changed back into your normal form. He was to stunned to speak, but also a little bit embarassed. You didn't mind the petting. You two got into a talk and he was asking how he could turn into a cat, ofcourse that is not possible for him. He was sad when he heard it could be only achieved by genetics, but you promised you were his personal cat. Thats how your friendship started.

And now, three years later, you three are still the closest friendgroup. All of you never talked towards others, just because it did not feel right. Also nobody really had a chance to talk to you all, because you mostly ignored them. It was also known your hate for Griffindors. So, they all stayed away, very handy to be honest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'What is today's lecture?' you asked Haerin.

'Charms.'

'Excellent, i want to learn some new technique's.'

'For your mischief-behavior?'

'That is right. By the way..' you whispered 'are we going to wander again in the hallways?'

'Ofcourse, its our tradition.'

'We never got caught, not even once. How good are we?'

'Actually you are right. We are just to good.'

'Yes we are.'

You two were gossiping a bit. Talking about all the dorms. Also new paths you could take to explore the school. The stairs were difficult to climb because you had to carry your books with you. Today you would learn some new techniques, hoping that it would finally be something interesting. You arrived at your classroom. There were already some students present. The two of you always sat next to each other so you could always chat.

The classroom was filled with students, you hated that. Especially if some teachers preferred certain students. But what you hated most was that there was one person in your class who disrupted everything. Okay, he just disrupted it for you. Bangchan, one of the best and sweetest boy. Of course he was a Gryffondor, there was no other way. You already knew who he was hanging out with. Honestly, he hung out with everyone, but he also had a group of friends. Lee Felix, he was Hufflepuff, that wasn't a surprise. He was a real sunshine. Danielle was also a hufflepuff and also Felix's girlfriend. You were surprised that he was also friends with Hyunjin, a Ravenclaw. He also tried to start a friendship with you, but of course that didn't work.

Why did he want to be friends with you? That was of course very simple. He was friends with everyone, literally everyone, even Slytherins to your surprise. But he just wasn't friends with your group of friends. Lee Know, Haeren, Yoongi and you also ignored your own students. So it was impossible for him. But what you also didn't know at all was that he had loved you since freshman year. Strange isn't it?

You two were the exact opposite. But sometimes that fits. You could tell that Bangchan was in love with you. You never noticed that because you weren't concerned with such things. Even in class, he would stare at you, always trying to be inconspicuous, but everyone noticed. He was also quite popular with the girls. That is of course not strange, he is very handsome and his smile was the most beautiful treasure.

He tried to chat with you for 3 years. He tried to approach you, but he was too scared. If he saw you with your group of friends, he would leave as quickly as possible. Lee Know and Yoongi never looked friendly, they gave others dirty looks. So Bangchan tried to find a moment when you were alone, but you always had someone with you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'We're leaving, so you know the rules. Don't touch our things.' Haerin said to Lee Know and Yoongi.

'If we find out that something has been moved, we will come and get you personally.' you said.

“So cute, threatening us like that. Don't create too many problems.' Yoongi mocked you.

"We're going to do that anyway, but okay, at least you tried to convince us."

You looked from left to right, just to make sure no one happened to be there.

"Okay, let's go."

You and Haerin sneaked through the hallways. You chatted quietly with each other. There was no one there, not even a teacher in sight, which was strange. The two of you found a room you had never noticed before. There were all kinds of spell books there. Lots of interesting books, to be honest. You took a lot of them, usually the ones you could do the most naughty with.

'We're back, and guess what we've brought with us!'

The boys both jumped straight from their beds and came to you.

"Wow, where did you guys get this?"

'Just taken from a room. We didn't even know it existed.'

'They look very old to me. But wow, powerful spells, perfect.”

"We have 8 more, so two books each, okay?"

You divided the books among yourself. This was a big win for you. Perfect, because you don't learn anything fun in class anyway.

"You guys really need to get back there."

'Okay, leave the difficult matters to us, we happen to be professionals.'

"Alright professionals, go to your rooms."

'Yes, actually, it's already 1am.' "Let's get going."

You dropped Haerin off at her room, unfortunately you two aren't roommates. The distance between your room and hers was quite large. How so? Because this year there were a lot of Ravenclaws, so they occupied a lot of the Slytherins' rooms. So unfortunately you have to go past the Gryffindors' rooms to get to your room.

You were walking quietly to your room. Of course you took some detours, just for fun. You actually wanted to go back to that room, with all those different books. Would you do it? Of course you do it. You turned into another hallway. You hopped around for a while until you saw the door of that mysterious room again. You quietly opened the room door and closed it behind you.

You looked at the different books and slid through the many bookcases. It was a spell paradise. Suddenly you heard the door creak. You saw someone sneak in. It looked like a good Gryffindor had a naughty side after all. You trailed behind the boy and tapped his shoulder.

'Hi there.'

He started and turned around. It was Bangchan.

'What do we have here? A Gryffindor. I never thought a Gryffindor would break the rules. Bangchan isn't it?'

He nodded, he had some books in his arms.

'What books do you have there? Can I see them?'

'O-ofcourse'

You picked up a book and started reading it. The spells in it were pretty boring, just spells to make plants grow faster.

"Not that interesting."

"Why are you here anyway, Princess Slytherin?"

'Discovered this room about an hour ago perhaps? A very interesting room.'

"Very private, don't you think?"

'Yes, that's possible. Do you come here often?'

"Yes, every night, I sneak around here."

"That's weird, we would have run into you anyway."

'What do you mean?'

"I always sneak around here with a friend."

'Really and truly? Maybe we take other paths?'

'That is possible.'

The two of you started talking a bit. He was actually very interesting. The conversations could last forever. But unfortunately you had to go to your own room when the clock struck two. You guys started meeting in that room every night. You tested spells, you talked about other secret rooms. You started growing closer and closer, but you didn't talk to each other during the day. It would be too suspicious.

The two of you walked together one night. Just having conversations, when you suddenly heard footsteps. At the end of the hallway was Snape. He didn't see you yet because he just turned around. Bangchan grabbed your hand and started dragging you. You heard the teacher shout something. The two of you ran to the dorms. Your room was way too far, so he brought you into his room. He closed the door softly. The room was very dark. The two of you heard footsteps. Bangchan dragged you into his bed. Luckily his blankets were very thick. You hid yourself under his covers, holding him tight. You heard doors opening. Suddenly, the door of Bangchan's room opened softly. You held onto his body even tighter.

The door closed again after a while. No one would suspect Bangchan of anything. But suddenly it dawned on you, Snap was checking all the rooms, so he would check yours too. You felt Bangchan's arm around your hip, you wanted to stay here forever, but you had to take action quickly. You jumped out of his bed and went to the window.

“What are you doing Y/N?”

“Shh.”

You turned yourself into a cat. You slipped out the window and looked from left to right. You saw the window of your room from far away. You started running quickly on the roof. You saw your window and gently pushed it. Luckily you never closed your window. Bangchan watched you push your window.

You quickly changed shape, and started walking quickly but quietly to your bed. You crawled under your covers just in time. Your door opened softly, you felt Snape's eyes on you. He moved closer to your bed and looked thoroughly at your face, just to make sure you were asleep. Luckily you were good at acting, otherwise you would have been caught. He closed the door softly again and you opened your eyes again. That was close.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day you were about to start eating dinner, when suddenly Snape spoke up.

'Last night, I saw two students wandering the halls. So we will take strict measures. The corridors will be checked several times, as will the rooms.'

Lee Know and Yoongi immediately looked at you and Haerin, but Haerin looked at them confused.

"I was in my room last night." she whispered.

Suddenly they both looked at you. You didn't notice. Bangchan was turned over and you both looked at each other with worried faces. Lee Know looked from you to Bangchan and then back from Bangchan to you. All three started to grin at each other. You looked ahead again. You saw your friends eyes looking at you. You also saw Snape looking at you, he found you very suspicious.

Supper started and it started to get loud again. Everyone talked to each other.

"Do you have something to tell us?" Yoongi asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

'Are you sure?' Lee Know asked.

'Yes, I am very, very sure. Just focus on the food.'

"As long as you focus on the food too, then Bangchan."

You became silent and turned to your friends.

"Can you shut up for once." you whispered.

'There was nothing, was there? I just said Bangchan.”

They all smirked. You kicked the leg from Lee Know.

'Oww! What are you kicking me for?'

You gave him a dirty look.

"Bangchan." Haerin coughed.

You looked up at the ceiling as your friends made fun of you again. "Bangchan."

"Bangchan."

"Bangchan."

"Bangchan." they coughed.

Bangchan heard his name all the time, so he looked your way. He saw you staring at the ceiling. Your friends were bullying you. He grins. After dinner your friends were still orbiting you.

"Bangchan." they all coughed.

'Are you perhaps ill? Because you guys cough all the time. Let me help.'

You hit Lee Know's back.

"Are you feeling any better?" you grinned.

'Ha-ha-ha-ha, so funny, so funny. Does BANGCHAN have the same sense of humor?'

'Shut up.'

'Are you shy now? Is it because I shout BANGCHAN all the time?'

You grabbed Lee Know's earlobe.

'Oww, oww, I'll stop. Let go off mine ear.'

'Will you stop?'

'I promise, I promise.'

'Good boy.' you smirked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Your friends like to pick on you, don't they?"

'Yes, it is very annoying, but yes. What can I do about it. They clearly weren't raised as well as I was.'

"We can't stay here so long this time."

'Yes, certainly not after today, that speech still gives me the creeps. Snape doesn't trust me, I get that.'

"I trust you."

"Yes, but you are you."

"You're you too, and it's definitely a compliment."

Your cheeks turned a little red, but you immediately cooled it down. After a while of talking and investigating, you left again. You guided Bangchan to his room.

'Sleep well.'

'Goodnight, princess.'

Before you left, you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. You didn't give him time to react as you sped away. You finally arrived at your room at 1am. You sat under the covers with your eyes closed. You waited for someone to check your room. Your door creaked a little, you knew someone was checking your room again. You waited until that person was gone. When your door closed again, you stood back up. You wanted to go back to Bangchan. You just wanted to be with him.

You opened your window, you turned yourself back into a cat because it was easier. You carefully stepped onto the roof and looked through every window. Just to see which one was Bangchan's. Finally you found his window. You tapped his window with your paw, no answer. You looked closer through his window, but he wasn't there. He was nowhere to be seen. You were a bit disappointed, but you went back to your room.

You crawled through your window. Suddenly you saw him standing in your room, Bangchan. You looked at him in surprise. He didn't see you, because you can turn into a black cat, and it was dark, so that was pretty normal. You walked over to him and changed back to your normal form. You tapped his shoulder again.

'Hi there.'

He turned around with a smile.

"Hello there, princess."

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Just visiting you."

'Just visit? Are you sure about that?'

'No...' He smiled at you with his beautiful dimples.

You put your pinky in one of his dimples.

'Beautiful.'

His cheeks turned red from this interaction. He placed his hands on your hips.

His face came closer to yours.

His eyes shone with the reflection of the moon. Your eyes wandered on his face. His face came closer to yours every second until your lips touched. The kiss was soft and tender. He turned you over so he could push you onto your bed.

His hands wandering on your body. Your lips reconnecting again.

"We have to be quiet, honey."

"We'll be quiet."

You started undressing each other until you were both naked. You looked at each other from head to toe. It didn't feel weird being naked around him. He gently laid you down on your own bed. His arms were muscular, his body was actually muscular. One of your hands squeezed his bicep. You both started giggling quietly. He gave you a quick kiss before positioning himself at your entrance. He first felt if you were wet enough. (Of course you were.) He slowly started pushing himself into you. It took some adjusting at first, but it didn't take long to get used to it. He grabbed one of your hands and pinned them against the mattress.

He pumped into you slowly. You tried not to moan. His hands felt soft. It was such a romantic interaction. Your hands went into his hair and you started to stroke it. His curls sometimes fell in front of his eyes, so you pulled it back. He started sucking on your neck, you had to bite your lips to keep from moaning. He adjusted his position at a moment and he found your sensitive place. He started hitting that spot.

Your legs were shaking at one point. You surrounded his hip with your legs. So you could push him closer to you. His kiss made you a little dizzy with pleasure. He started to be a little faster. You moved from back to front because of this event. At some point you felt your orgasm coming. You tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out. You couldn't do anything. Bangchan of course saw that you were very close. He caressed your cheeks and whispered sweet words in your ears. He started biting your earlobe playfully.

'Cum for me, little princess.'

You dropped yourself onto the bed in pleasure. He kept pushing himself into you until he came with a groan. You both layed next to each other on your bed. You had never done this before. Yes, you were still a virgin, but that's normal at Hogwarts. When did you have time to make love, when the teachers were constantly watching the students.

"Never done this before." you said suddenly, breaking the silence.

'Never?'

"You did?"

"Mean I had practiced."

"You mean with someone there?"

'No... just... with myself...'

'You shouldn't be ashamed of that. Everyone does that at some point.'

'You too?'

"Maybe did it once."

"What were you thinking while you... did that?"

'Just someone.'

"Who was that person?"

"You still don't know?'

You turned over so you were on your side. You looked directly into his eyes.

'Me?'

Your cheeks turned red and you looked away from him.

'Hey, you shouldn't be ashamed of that. In fact, I'm glad you thought about me.'

'Do you?'

'Yes.'

He moved closer to you, his arms embracing you. You felt his warmth. His body was sweaty. You grabbed your blanket and covered him and yourself with it. You nuzzled yourself into his neck. Your arms hung from his.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun shone through your window. You looked around and saw Bangchan still sleeping. You thought it was all just a dream.

'Wake up.' you whispered in his ear.

He looked around the room for a moment. His hair was all messed up. You kissed him on the cheek.

You walked around the school with Haerin. Gossiping about anything and everything.

"I heard Bangchan has a girlfriend."

You started to stutter a little.

'How so?'

“I heard he's sneaking around with her, a Slytherin. Do you know more about that?'

You cleared your throat.

'No.'

She grinned at you.

"Hmm, sure." she said under her breath.

Lee Know and Yoongi came towards you. Their faces said it all.

“Hi, Y/N. Slept well... last night.'

"Yes, probably."

'Slept well, didn't you?'

"Why are you all so weird."

"We're not weird at all, if anyone here is weird, it's you."

'Nice for you.'

"Let's change the subject, you know, I really like someone."

'Who?!'

"A raven claw."

“Eww.”

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

'That dramatic case?'

'Yes.'

"Have you tried talking to him yet?" Because staring at him from far away isn't really going to help.'

'I do not dare...'

'Just let me do it.'

Haerin tried to stop you but it was too late. You saw Hyunjin standing with Bangchan. You came towards him, Bangchan smiled at you.

“Hi, Hyunjin is it?”

'My friend there.' you pointed at Haerin who completely panicked.

'she wants to get to know you better.'

'She wants to get to know me better?'

'Yes. So yes or no, because you wouldn't keep a lady waiting, would you?'

'Is she free between 3pm and 4pm?'

'Probably.'

"Then send her to me." '

Thank you for your time.' you winked at Bangchan, who melted away.

'You are welcome, he wants to see you between 3 pm and 4 pm.'

Hyunjin waved at Haerin from a distance. She almost fainted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[wordsarelife]

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: theo and you get your happy ever after

warnings: i don’t think there are any! let me know if that’s not true :)

note: here it is!! finally the epilogue is here! i loved writing this series so much!! please let me know what you thought of this chapter and/or the story in general!

!!!make sure to keep your eyes on the extras that are coming tomorrow (and feel free to request drabbles/ fics on future or past situtations in the don’t blame me universe, or questions you still have!! i will be thrilled to answer them!!)!!!

word count: 3.9k

note: not really happy with the outcome of this chapter, but whatever..

previous chapter | masterlist |

"mommy?“ a voice called and your head snapped to the side. "can you give me one of those paper towels?“

you rolled your eyes smiling at his antics and nodded, before you threw one in his direction.

"mate, you know i love you, but please stop acting out your mommy kink on my girlfriend“ theo hit mattheo's shoulder.

"well, y/n is the closest thing i have to a mother right now" mattheo argued dramatically "she takes care of me when i'm sick, she cuts apple slices for me—"

"—we've been on tour for two months" theo shook his head "it's not like you're never gonna see your mum again, get a grip"

"it's alright" you smiled. "i don't mind"

mattheo nodded "see?"

“yeah, whatever” theo shook his head “just get ready, please? we start in ten”

after the concert a few months ago, cursed legacy had gotten their record deal. dave had been impressed by their show, he wanted them to play opener for the rest of the following tour leg.

as soon as the school holidays began you joined them, traveling around the country.

theo and you couldn’t be happier. everything was going great and you were ready to tackle life together.

since the concert, theo had not stopped writing songs and they were only a month away from releasing their second album, soft death.

he was always talking about how you were the muse behind most of the songs. and you had to admit that they had never had so many love songs played (or written) before.

during the tour they had made many new fans, their followers growing while were getting more and more attention. they were already playing a few songs from the new album constantly and about you was a fan favorite. your favorite was echoes of devotion, which theo had written for you. it was the second song they played every night.

“see you later” mattheo took a look to his phone, checking the time, before he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek and quickly walked away.

theo rolled his eyes before he turned to you and gave you a long and passionate kiss, before he too took off after mattheo to get on stage.

you collected your things, before you started walking. you already knew that it would be hard to feel normal again once you were home in a month and college would start. how could you ever live a normal life after being treated like royalty?

you took your stage pass and walked in the direction of the tents. you hadn’t seen the rest of the band in hours. the reasons were simple enough. draco and blaise had made it their personal chore to walk around the venues before every show, claiming something about a good luck charm they absolutely needed. they had asked you to accompany them on a few occasions, which you did but quickly regretted after they spent the entire time talking about their hook ups from the night before.

they had already adopted the rockstar life style.

quite the opposite of that was enzo. he spent hours in the back of the bus, or in his hotel room, talking to april on his phone. she had come to a few shows, but she couldn’t be there constantly because of work and so they had decided to face time or text in any given moment. you rarely saw the boy without his phone.

april had been scared that their relationship would not last. she had feared that enzo would quickly realize how limiting a relationship was when there were a few hundred girls basically licking the ground on which he walked.

you had told her that enzo wasn’t like that, but you could still understand why she was feeling that way and promised to keep your eye on him.

enzo had done nothing more than proof the both of you terribly wrong. most of the time he did not even look into the direction of other girls, let alone talk to them.

that the rest of the band was busy could’ve been to your and theo’s advantage, making it possible to enjoy time for only the two of you, if there hadn’t been matt, who made it his personal task to follow you around like a lost puppy.

you loved him, you really did. during the time the both of you had only grown closer, going back to the sibling like relationship you had once had, but at times you wished he was anywhere else.

especially that one time when theo and you were making out on the couch of the tour bus and mattheo came barging in and acted like he didn’t know that he had just interrupted something, before he planted himself in the middle of theo and you and started playing star wars on the tv.

"good evening!" enzo's voice roared through the microphone, after they had come out and played only angel. the crowd cheered. "the next song we're gonna play is about a very special someone. our front man's girl to be exact. he's a very smitten man, so naturally, this is a very emotional love song, feel free to hold up your flashlights.. here is echoes of devotion!"

the crowd cheered once again, while you clapped your hands, your cheeks as red as the curtain next to the stage. theo's voice was always what started the song, he looked just as cheesy as you did, even if enzo had made it a habit to say the same lines every night, you and theo were still flustered about his words.

my love, like orpheus, i'd come,

to tread through shadows, my body numb,

but truth be told, in my hearts embrace,

i fear i'd falter, lose the race.

the music only set in after that. a steady and slow beat that was always responsible for your shiver as it guarded his voice through the chorus.

for i'd turn back, just like him,

my gaze would brake, our future grim,

your fading form, in shadows deep,

my love, too strong, my soul to keep.

the song was balancing right between breaking the crowds heart and animating them to sing along. it was the perfect mix of love and heartache, often making your eyes swell with tears, when you saw theo react the same way.

the song had a special place in both of your hearts. for one part, it was comparing you and theo to your favorite myth, which theo had done knowingly. and second, it reminded you both of how hard love could be, how even loving people deeply could led to hurting them.

it was one of the first songs theo did not sing entirely on his own. the second verse was accompanied by background vocals of the rest of the boys, making it sound almost dreamy and ethereal.

like orpheus, with his lyre's song,

i'd sing to you, all night long,

but in that moment, with fate's cruel twist,

i'd choose your eyes, and lose what's missed.

the second chorus was a little different to the first one, deeper, as theo had said.

for i'd turn back just like him,

the current stronger than we swim,

i'd face the darkness, lose my way,

for one more look, i'd gladly pay

"i don't understand" theo's voice was only above a whisper, making sure no one could hear you both in the treehouse. it was far too late for both of you anyway.

"what?" you had asked, looking up from the ipod in your hand.

"orpheus, that's his name, right?" the boy brushed his hair back, revealing his forehead. he hadn't gotten a haircut in ages, exclaiming something about girls finding him more attractive that way. you had spontaneously laughed at that prediction, considering you were the only girl he talked to. but the boy was fourteen and suddenly very interested in appealing to the opposite gender.

"what about him don't you understand?" you had the same tone in your voice your mother did when she would explain something to you and your brother.

"well, why does he turn around?" theo shrugged his shoulders, as he turned, facing away from you, to continue to paint doodles on the wall of the tree house. "he could've saved her if he had been stronger, if he had loved her enough he could've made it"

"it's not about that, theo" you had mused "orpheus looked back because he loved her so much, because the only way he could've saved her was if he had loved her less. but he didn't"

"i don't know, pixie" you send him a look upon the name, which he obviously couldn't see, your annoyance bouncing off of the back of his head. "i would be able to save you" his simple statement made the air freeze between the two of you, hitting deeper than it had been meant.

"then you don't love me enough" your voice was only a faint sound, but loud enough to make theo stop in his tracks.

without him noticing the irony of the situation, he turned around to look at you, his blue eyes crashing into yours. the softness in them almost made you shudder, asking yourself if the way you were feeling about him was totally normal. you did not have much experience with boys, but theo was different anyway, he was not like them, he was yours, without any requirements.

"no, i think i do" he whispered back, realizing that the quick act of him turning around had come right after you had simply doubted his love. he knew in that moment that it would never take much for him to turn around for you.

maybe it was the quiet of the night, or teenage hormones mixing up in the air, you weren't really sure later, but theo leaned across the space between you, gently grasping your lips with his, connecting them in a featherlight kiss.

there was no sound in the little room. there were only theo and you. and only your lips were touching.

for you're the melody that guides my soul,

through tempests wild and rivers cold,

i'll brave the depths, defy the night,

to hold your hand in morning light.

so here i stand, before your eyes,

with trembling heart, and no disguise,

to say, my love, in honesty,

i'd turn for your like orpheus for eurydice.

later that night, after the concert was finished and the band was saying their goodbyes, ready to leave the stage, you were waiting for theo behind the stage.

blaise and draco came down first, each of them ruffled your hair, before they walked away to find snacks.

enzo winked at you, holding his hand up for a high-five, which you gladly accepted.

matt plastered both of your cheeks with kisses, laughing deeply as you tried to slap him away.

all of the boys (except for theo of course) had grown to be like your brothers, but enzo and matt stood out the most. enzo was like the little brother you never had, especially because of his relationship with april.

mattheo had been protective of you ever since leo had brought you with him the first time at the age of five. he had looked out for you ever since, often joining forces with leo, when he forbid you from doing something.

even if you sometimes acted annoyed at him, you knew deep down that you needed matt, just as much as you needed your organs to survive. he had been (unlike theo at certain times) a constant in your life, you had never quite managed to get rid of. matt had made it clear to you that he wouldn't leave you alone. both of you were everything that was left of leo for the other.

you could see it in the way matt acted, when he would text you the most random things or when he was lifting you off the ground after he had predicted you would miss the single stair in front of your feet.

and he could see it in your face, as you scrunched your nose when you found something disgusting or when your eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. or sometimes, in the rare moments when his heart ached the most, when you would laugh, and immediately stop, as you both realized how much it sounded like your brother.

it was impossible for either of you to forget leo, if you had still so much left of him.

the cologne was the first thing that entered your nose and just a second after, theo rumbled down the stairs, heavy footsteps echoing over the instruments that were already being played on stage.

he was wearing a white shirt, he had gotten it himself, your name written over his heart with a cursive lilac thread. his hair was messy and a little bit sweaty. you remembered the heat of the stage lights from the night of the concert months ago and your skin burned.

his jeans were dark and loose, you had joked that he needed to wear skinny jeans, because he was in a boyband. you had to search for a picture of harry styles, for him to believe that that used to be a thing.

his face lit up when his eyes fell on you. he pecked your lips, as he threw an arm across your shoulder. another kiss to your hair following.

"my dad messaged me" you said as you walked further behind the stage.

theo perked up at that "will he meet us for dinner?"

"yeah, yeah" you rolled your eyes, uninterested in talking about the boring information. you grinned, as you halted in your step, taking his hand in yours, as you almost jumped up and down from excitement. "we will probaly see a whole lot of him in the future"

theo raised his brows, confused what you were hinting at. your smile grew bigger as you could see the realization set in on his face.

"cadence?" he asked, not quite believing it.

you quickly nodded your head, your excitement resulting in a giggle, as he threw his arms around your body, pulling you close to his chest.

theo had applied to the college months ago. your father had just texted you to tell you that he was in. the mail was only being sent out the coming week and he wanted theo to know. that's also why your father had a lot of connections in the music world and was friends with dave fraser, the guy that had given the guys the record deal. he had worked at the college for the past twenty years, it was a big one, similiar to juilliard, but stationed in england.

while theo would go there, you had applied to many schools close to his (which included, but was not limited to oxford and camebridge). the acceptance letter for camebridge had come last week and the joy on theo's face had been incomparable.

"so it's happening" theo muttered in your ear "we'll both stay"

"i'm going nowhere" you assured, as you intertwined your hands, leading theo back to the tour bus, that would start driving to it's next destination in only a few hours.

"me neither, for now we have seen enough of the world to last us for a few years to come"

"are you joining in?" matt asked when the two of you entered the bus. the rest of the boys were sitting around the table, matt sorting poker chips and enzo's phone was propped up in the middle of the table, april's laughing face on it's screen.

"hey guys!" april smiled.

"hey stranger" you giggled.

"mate, could you please grab the cookies y/n's mum send her?"

"hey, those are for me" you protested.

matt shrugged "well the bus was only for us and i'm still sharing it with you"

you sighed, before you gave theo the okay to get them.

"only two more weeks and you're coming home" april was close to screaming of excitement "it's so boring without you guys. i even began missing blaise"

"hey!" blaise protested, as he grabbed the phone and turned it in his direction, so april was able to see the offended expression on his face.

"yeah, sorry" april muttered "now turn me back"

actually, even if you enjoyed all the special treatment you were receiving on this tour, you couldn't wait to go back home. you couldn't wait for life to be a bit more normal again, even though you were sure that it wouldn't take long before the boys would have their own concerts.

you couldn't wait to watch them grow, but for now, you savored every moment, as long as they still belonged solemnly to you.

"who's gonna start?" mattheo threw the last of the chips down, looking between the rest of you for help.

"i thought you read the rules" draco exclaimed confused.

"well, no" mattheo shook his head "blaise was supposed to"

blaise shook his head repeatedly, claiming to not have been part of mattheo's scheme. the boys began fighting, pointing at each other accusingly.

theo and you exchanged a glance, before you suggested to play a few simple rounds of uno, which everyone agreed on and quickly quieted down.

now everything was finally right and if you could talk to her, you would like to tell your younger self that everything would be alright one day and that she didn't have to be as scared of the future.

a few weeks later, when you were back home, theo helped you pack your things up in your room.

the rest of the tour had gone by in a breeze, and even if all of them decided to concentrate on studying at their respective schools, the band still existed and even dave fraser promised that the career of cursed legacy was far from over. soft death had already been recorded and was coming out in two weeks.

"what's that?" theo asked as he fished a folded piece of paper out of your backpack.

"oh" you furrowed you brows. "i thought i had thrown that away" you shrugged.

"well, what's on it?"

"after i first listened to pixie dream girl, april made me write down my feelings and burn the papers. she was scared that i would do something i would regret" you send him a look.

"okay..but why do you have it if it got burned?" he pressed.

"because i wanted something to remind myself how i felt about all of this"

"am i allowed to read it?" theo asked expectingly "it probably won't be nice"

"i don't care" you shrugged "go on"

theo unfolded the paper, his breath hitching as he read the words you had written. he looked up in surprise and you smiled. "that's—" he mumbled, but couldn't find the right words, surprise and love making it hard to concentrate.

"not mean?" you helped.

theo grinned, before he folded the paper up again and put it in his pocket "i want to keep it"

you smiled and nodded.

and after all this, you stupid stupid boy, you had written that day, you are still the only one my heart wants to know.

you and theo kept your eyes on each other, not one of you daring to look away. you could see every version in him, every stage of his life was readable from his eyes. even that night was readable and you wondered if the was thinking about the same thing you were.

"what was that?" you had asked, your voice raised above the normal whisper.

"what?" theo muttered, feigning innocence. you would've almost believed you had imagined the kiss, but the lipgloss on theo's mouth was telling a different story.

"you kissed me"

"ugh, no?" theo shook his head, crossing his arms defensively.

"ugh, yes?" you outstretched your hand, pointing to his lips. "there, cherry lipgloss"

theo rubbed his mouth in a quick gesture, getting rid of the evidence "where?" he asked, fluttering his eyes.

"right there!" you insisted, fighting back a laugh at his attempt to play it cool.

theo smiled softly, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of fondness and mischief. "okay, fine. maybe i did."

your heart raced as you struggled to find the right words. "why?"

his expression softened, and he reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "because... i wanted to."

"okay" you nodded, your voice only above a whisper. "but friends don't—“

"i know" theo had interrupted you. "i'm sorry"

something had shifted between you that night in the tree house, or at least for theo it had. it was like you were the only girl that mattered, like you were the only one that mattered. something about that scared him immensely.

you waited for him to say something. to explain to you what it meant for you, for your friendship. but his eyes were as big as yours and his mind wandered twice as fast. "we are friends" he muttered finally, as if to remind himself.

you nodded, taking it as answer enough.

the years turned faster than the pages of a book, you grew older, stayed inside your rooms when it got dark outside and you and theo never spoke of the night in the treehouse again.

neither of you had known what to say so you rather said nothing.

theo's last words to you that night, replayed themselves over and over again in your mind for the years to follow, even if both of you continued being friends normally.

"i couldn't help it" he had muttered, right after both of you had climbed down the ladder and were ready to go your separate ways.

you smiled at his honesty, as you held back a giggle. you couldn't see his face in the dark, the candle in the lantern you had brought with you had burned down completely, but you had a feeling that he felt the same mix of awkwardness and simple happiness you did.

"will you do that again?" you asked, feeling brave now that he was unable to see your face in the darkness.

air escaped from his nostrils, as he stifled a laugh at your question. "i'm not sure" he said.

"okay"

the air between you was quiet and still and you turned around before you softly walked the path between both of your houses in the direction of the balcony you had climbed down a few hours ago.

the sound of his voice had you stop in your tracks.

"but if it some day comes over me, and maybe it will.." he paused, seemingly searching for the right words.

you listened to him attentively, as your heart fluttered at his implication. it was like you could almost see the colour of his eyes, even if he was standing a few meters across from you, his body standing out against the light of the lantern down the street.

he was standing, his body facing in your direction and simply knowing that he was looking at you made your tummy churn. was this what friendship was supposed to be? or was it something different? was this love? did love really feel like that or where you going crazy?

theo cleared his throat, as he raised his voice so you could hear him clearly over the distance between you "just... don't blame me"

taglist: @7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555 @sakanelli-afc @cobrakaisb @ellen3101 @simp-for-fantasy @the-sylver-dragon @ess-perspective @starsval

[badasgirl]

accidentally fell in love

bada lee x fem!reader

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── ──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

when you’re in love with your best friend who constantly goes on date after date, what do you do? what if that best friend also happens to be oblivious as can be?

genre: fluff, angst (my bad), suggestive, best friends to lovers

warnings: oblivious!bada x jealous!reader, bada calls reader her princess, some tension, suggestive with a makeout scene towards the end, no caps on purpose (booo ik terrible grammar).

author’s note: this was not proofread so please be easy on me. anyways, yayyy! i am finally back after a while 🤭 rewriting this made me cry so it took a while and the finale made me really emotional (i still am emotional LMAO) so i ended up pushing this back. thank you for being patient! i hope you all enjoy!

word count: ~3.2k

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒── ──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

you and bada lee have been best friends since one faithful day in middle school. it was a simple mistake really, you had forgotten a pencil for an exam and the teacher refused to give you one. you had to take the exam or else you could possibly fail the class. you had began to tear up and panic as the exam was about to begin and there was no pencil insight for you. luckily amidst your panic, the tall girl behind you tapped your shoulder and quickly snuck you a pencil to use. since that day, you vowed to be by her side and be her best friend forever.

and trust me, since that day you never left each other’s sides. you two were inseparable. you both were now in your final year of university and of course you shared an apartment together. bada majored in dance and you majored in art, specifically focusing in photography. naturally, a lot of the photos you took included bada, she was like your muse. if you ever needed to do a last minute project, she was always down to help. for bada, you too were like her muse for dance, but in a different way. whenever she had difficulties creating or finishing a choreography, she had to see you. she claimed that just by seeing you, you cleared her foggy mind and gave her so much inspiration. how could someone not fall for her? you did.

unfortunately for you, you were deeply in love with your best friend. in fact, she was your lesbian awakening in high school. you knew she liked anyone regardless of gender, however she never seemed to show interest in you at all. well, never directly.

recently, she was always going on dates with guys and coming back home complaining to you. today was one of those days. you were laying down on the couch in your pajama shorts and your (bada’s) t-shirt, watching something on your phone when bada entered the apartment with a loud sigh. she kicked off her shoes and threw her bag on the floor before taking her tall body and laying on top of you, basically smothering you.

“bada, what happened? also you’re crushing me” you said as you tried to push her off you slightly. the girl just snuggled into you more before loudly whining like a kicked puppy.

“princess, it was so terrible. he was sooo full of himself.” bada said tiredly. “he acted like he was doing me a favor by going on a date! i was the one doing him a favor if anything!” she complained passionately as she finally sat up a bit, just to give you enough room to sit up and hold the big human-sized puppy in your lap.

you patted her head softly as you said “bada, i have told you to stop going on every single date that someone asks you out on. especially this guy, seojun is a literal known asshole.”

the tall girl sighed knowing you were right. “i know, but i thought maybe it was just gossip you know? god, i wish these guys were like you y/n…so sweet and caring, never full of themselves. if they were like you, they’d be perfect. i’d immediately fall for them and make them mine.”

you blushed slightly but your heart broke at the same time. you slightly balled up your fists out of jealousy, but bada didn’t notice. you honestly hated hearing about your best friend’s dates. not only did they make you jealous, but bada always said if they were more like you she’d actually date them. “what does she even mean by that?” is something you’ve always wondered. if you’re so perfect for her, why won’t she date you?

you pushed your feelings aside as you smiled at bada and tapped her thigh signaling her to get up. “bada, you’ll find someone perfect for you, trust me. you just need to give it time and going on every date possible won’t help you.” you told her sincerely as you both got up from the couch.

bada nodded in agreement with you before pulling you in a hug. she rested her head atop yours before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “thank you y/n, you’re right. what would i do without you, my best friend.” she smiled at you before taking her bag from the floor and heading to her room to get ready for bed.

however, all you could do was just stand there in the middle of the living room. of course, you were friendzoned time and time again. you hated how bada could make you feel like you were only person she wanted or needed one second and then remind you of your place the next. you let a few tears fall down your face before quickly wiping them and going to your room to sulk over being stuck in the friendzone.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next day was definitely one of the shittiest days you’ve had in a while. to begin, you overslept and missed your first class because you were up all night thinking about bada and how much it hurt your heart to see her with shitty people and not you. then if that wasn’t enough, you spilled your energy drink all over your computer in the middle of your second class. fortunately for you, it wasn’t damaged. however, there was nothing to clean it with in the class and the closest bathroom had no paper towels to wipe it clean with. you were running out of time to make it to your last class, so you had to end up carrying a sticky computer in your bag halfway across campus so wouldn’t be late. then to top everything off, when you finally went to one of the dining halls after your last class, they ran out of the one meal you like there. you sat in defeat at one of the tables with arms on the table and your head resting on your arms.

bada currently had 20 minutes before her next practice started up, so she decided to head to the dining hall. she figured you’d also be there after a long day of classes, she knew your schedule like the back of her hand. bada spotted you at one of the tables with your head down, she immediately went over and patted your head softly.

your head lifted up slowly and your eyes met hers. “hey sleepyhead, why are you napping here?” bada asked grinning at you as she sat down next to you.

you sighed and fixed your hair. “i’m not napping, just drained” was all you could really say. you didn’t really feel like explaining the whole timeline of events that occurred. bada nodded her head in response before giggling to herself.

you looked at her with a confused face. “what’s so funny?” you asked her curiously.

“nothing really, it’s just i’m going on the blind date later after practice and i think the guy might be daehyun! you know the guy from your major.” bada explained while chuckling about thinking of going on a date with a fairly popular guy you know due to being in the same major and working together before.

this was your last straw. not only had you had a very terrible day, but now bada’s going on another date. you guess nothing you said last night mattered to her at all. you felt as if you don’t matter to her at all. you had began to accept being friendzoned, but now she’s completely ignoring what you tell her? what will happen when she starts actually dating someone, will she just ignore you all together?

tears brimmed your eyes as you quickly got up from the table and harshly grabbed your bag. you looked at her, your voice unsteady before saying “i don’t care, do what you want. have fun on your date bada, don’t bother complaining about it to me later because i’m not listening anymore.”

you walked off before bada could register what was even happening. she stood up once she finally realized what was going on and went to look for you, however you had walked far enough away for her to not see you anymore. she immediately pulled out her phone to text you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you made your way back to your shared apartment, crying your eyes out on the way home. “why are you so emotional? were you too hard on bada?” were the things you thought of on your walk back home. once you reached the complex, you quickly made it to your unit and went inside. all you could manage to do was take your shoes off before slowly walking over to your room, throwing your bag to the side, and flopping face first onto your bed. you curled up in a ball and cried your eyes out again. every insecurity you had about your friendship with bada came to the surface. even if she didn’t love you romantically, how could she just ignore your advice time after time if you’re her supposed best friend. how could she not realize the right choice has been in-front of her the whole time. she wanted every quality about you in the person she dated, so why not just date you? did she find you that repulsive?

you were wallowing in your thoughts for a while before you decided to check your phone. you felt it buzz as you walked home, but you were too focused on just making it home to check. your notifications revealed 4 missed calls and 10 texts in a row, all from bada. they all happened about 20 minutes ago.

my sea 🌊

——————————

y/n

are you okay???

did i upset you??

where did you go?

are you going home?

y/n princess please tell me you’re home safely, i’m worried.

i hope you’re alright, please don’t cry anymore.

i’m sorry i don’t know what i did, but that doesn’t matter i just need you to be okay

princess?

please let me know when you see this, let me know you’re safe.

you felt like crying even more after reading bada’s texts. maybe you were the one who fucked up. you didn’t want the girl to panic too much and actually call the police, so you mustered up all your energy to text her back.

you

———————

i’m home, i’m fine.

you shut off your phone and threw it to the side as you slowly let more tears fall and sleep over take you. the day was so draining, your body couldn’t help but want to give into sleeping.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the moment bada received your text, she immediately grabbed her stuff and ran out of practice. she ran over to the nearest convenience store to grab a bunch of all of your favorite snacks and drink: fruit jellies, potato chips, and strawberry milk. she had no idea as to why you suddenly became so upset, but the only thing on her mind was to make you feel better. once she purchased everything, bada rushed to your shared apartment quickly.

after you had barely fallen asleep for maybe 45 minutes, you heard a knock at your bedroom door and someone softly calling your name. you assumed it must be bada. you sighed deeply, rubbing your eyes awake. you honestly didn’t know how to react or what to do at this point.

“princess? you awake?” bada asked softly while gripping onto the plastic bag holding the things she got for you.

“go away bada, i’m fine” you mumbled at the door praying she could hear you.

that answer wasn’t good enough for bada. she may be oblivious to a lot of things, but she always knew when you didn’t feel okay. she slowly opened the door and looked at you balled up figure on your bed. the tall girl placed the bag of snacks on your desk and went to sit next to you on your bed. you huffed, sat up, and turned to face the taller girl.

“bada what don’t you understand about “go away” or “i’m fine”?” you asked the girl next to you tiredly. “i’m so tired just leave okay?” you pleaded.

“y/n i can tell you’re not fine, don’t lie to me now. we’re best friends.” bada said seriously looking you in your eyes.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes at her statement. bada tilted her head in confusion at your actions.

“what does that mean?” the oblivious girl asked.

“bada, if we’re seriously best friends…then why do you ignore and throw away every piece of advice i give you?” you started to get worked up, tears already brimming at your eyes again. “you act like you listen to what i say and you cherish it, but in reality you never do.” you said with your voice beginning to get shaky.

“y/n what-“

you cut off your best friend immediately. “don’t ask me what i mean because you know what i’m talking about. i tell you that going on a bunch of dates won’t help you find the one who deserves your love, you agree, say you appreciate me so much and wish you dated someone like me, and then turn around a few days later to go on dates.” you said as tears slowly began to fall down your face. you could barely think about what you were saying at the point, you were just speaking. bada sat there silently in shock listening to you explain everything.

“and bada you always do this. sure, it’s my fault that i accidentally fell in love with my best friend, so yeah seeing you go on all these failed dates and you saying you wish they were like me always make me jealous. but as your best friend it breaks my heart ten times more to see you just waste your time on these losers and just tossing me to the side.” you said as you were fully crying at this point. you were so deep in your emotions you didn’t even realize you just confessed your love to your best friend.

it took bada a while to understand what you had just said but once she did, she immediately started crying with you. you were very confused to see bada cry along with you. you were going to ask why she had began crying but she had said “you’re in love with me y/n?”

you were so shocked as you didn’t even realize what you had said until she said something, you gasped at the realization and looked up at bada, now you were afraid. even though you were upset with bada, you didn’t want to lose her all together.

“bada wait i-“

“no y/n, be honest with me…are you seriously in love with me?” bada asked looking into your eyes, grabbing your hands and holding them tightly in hers.

you looked down, unable to face her. “yes bada, i’ve been in love with you for years. you were even the reason why i realized i was a lesbian, since i’m telling you everything…” you laughed slightly out of embarrassment.

bada couldn’t help but to smile at your confession through her tears “y/n- no my princess, i should have just been honest with you and myself. i also fell in love with my best friend. i thought going on all these dates wishing they were you would maybe help. i never knew you could feel the same way, i was so oblivious. i am so so sorry i hurt you in the process, i never wanted to do that. you are the most important person to me. i love you so much princess.” bada confessed to you while still holding onto your hands. your head shot up at her confession and you looked at her in her eyes to make sure she was being serious. you could tell she was being serious so you couldn’t help but cry out of happiness.

bada pulled you into her and hugged you tightly. you wrapped your arms around her waist and cried into her chest. she let her tears fall freely as well as she held you in her arms as her own.

once you both calmed down, bada pulled away to look at your pretty face and admire the girl she loved so much. she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled at you. you smiled back at bada and giggled.

“does this mean…we’re girlfriends?” you questioned shyly.

bada chuckled at your shyness before nodding. “yes, yes you’re my girlfriend and i’m yours princess.”

you giggled and placed a quick peck to bada’s lips, still holding her close. bada blushed at the peck before bringing you back into her and kissing your lips softly. you both sat there letting that kiss make up for the lost time that you could’ve been together.

when bada pulled away from the kiss, you whined and looked up at the taller girl with puppy eyes. bada laughed at your actions before smirking down at you.

“why? does my princess want more?” your girlfriend teased you while rubbing her hands up and down your sides. you nodded quickly in response before stretching your neck back up to meet her lips.

bada deepened the kiss, biting your lips softly. your kisses got messier and filled with more and more passion. you were holding onto bada for dear life as she licked across your lips, signaling you that she wanted in. you let her have access so easily, her tongue easily dominated yours as you both continued to hold each other close and make out on your bed. the whimpers and moans you both let out were swallowed by the other within your kisses.

eventually after you both pulled away to catch your breaths, you spotted the plastic grocery bag on your desk.

“baby what’s that?” you questioned softly while pointing at the bag with your finger.

bada blushed at the pet name you gave her before answering you. “it’s all of your favorites princess! fruit jellies, strawberry milk, and potato chips. i bought them earlier to try to make you feel better.”

you smiled up at your girlfriend giggling at the sweet action. “you’re perfect, oblivious as hell, but perfect. i’m so lucky” you said sweetly while getting up to get the bag of snacks.

bada watched you get up as she shook her head in disagreement. “princess, i’m definitely the lucky one, you’re the best girlfriend i could have asked for. i should have really just dated you from the start…” bada trailed off as her face turned into a pout.

you returned to the bed with your snacks acquired and kissed the cute pout off of bada’s face. after that quick kiss, she was nothing but smiles.

“now hush you big puppy, let’s not focus on the lost time. let’s just focus on us now.” you stated as you snuggled into bada.

bada held you close as you snuggled into her. she knew you were right, there’s no use in dwelling on what already happened. all she wanted to do now was create new amazing memories with you.

bada looked at you while smiling and said “so a movie and snacks?”

you chuckled and smiled back at her “you read my mind baby.”

[dawndelion-winery]

How To Ask You Out

Scaramouche × GN! Reader

Scara would never doubt himself when it came to you. He might be uncertain about many things, but the burning passion he harboured for you was unquestionable. So much so that it had never really occurred to him that you did not necessarily feel his affection for you; surely, you must have caught on already?

It was difficult for him to accept that his habit of repressing his emotions had made all of his gestures and hints far too subtle for you to catch onto. How unfortunate it was, so many of his unspoken confessions fell unnoticed, like the leaves in autumn being shed one by one. He had tried numerous different ways, each method failing to hold your attention enough for you to notice it was more than a fleeting whim on his part.

Truly, how could you not feel the warmth in his hand when he reached for yours to lead you to something he wanted to show you? Could you not feel his excitement to share whatever it was he had stumbled upon in the way he tapped your shoulder or upper arm? There was no way you did not know how averse he was to physical contact with people, yet he touched you so easily, as if being close to you was as natural as breathing. Did that mean nothing to you? He adored how he could lay his head in your lap as you brushed his bangs out of his face with such a gentle caress he was certain you had to have felt the same way. In those moments, he bit his tongue, unable to form the words that would give him the clarity he sought. It was so simple, an easy fix, a straightforward solution to his dilemma, and yet the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

"I love you," he'd murmur every night once you'd fallen asleep. And perhaps that was the reason you could've sworn you dreamt of him confessing to you, sparking a spiral of thoughts about dating him. Slowly but surely, you developed feelings too.

However, your friend, as cold as he was, was equal parts dense, too busy wallowing in his pining to notice his affections were reciprocated. Each day, he ached for you, and had he not been cut loose of his puppet strings, he'd most certainly have handed the reins to you if only it would make you finally see the extent of his devotion that went beyond simple friendship.

Once more he found himself scowling as you introduced him as your dearest friend. He had to admit, there was some inkling of pride in being the dearest among your dear friends, but he'd always been inclined to greed, tempted to perpetually reach for more having been so accustomed to losing everything.

"Your hair's a mess," he commented, seemingly apathetically. You'd woken up late and hadn't had time to check yourself in any reflective surface as you threw on whatever was on top of your dresser and headed out. He thought it was cute, not that it seemed that way.

"I was in a rush," you huffed, averting your eyes as you mused a hand through your hair hoping it'd neaten somewhat.

"Here." How convenient his anemo vision was, for him to hover around you to get the perfect angles on your hair as he helped you tidy it. There was a gentle dexterity in his touch so unlike the gruffness in his words that you knew was far more reflective of who he was than the prickly persona he put up.

"Thanks," you said as your eyes met his. And for a second, you wondered what you could do if you'd had no fear. Would he catch you if you let yourself fall headfirst? You had no way of knowing, and yet the breeze around you blew your worries away. "You're act like you're my boyfriend sometimes."

He froze up at your words, some unknown expression dancing across his face. "Maybe I should be," he murmured. His azure eyes locked onto yours, voice as soft as his gentle caress, brushing a few stray strands out of your face. Except there wasn't anything on your face to brush away - nothing but his cool, slender fingers. His touch seemed to crackle with electricity, but you were certain it was nothing more than your imagination; his gentleness was more akin to the sweet spring gales that made the flowers dance to the songs of leaves.

"Yeah..." you responded, " maybe you should."

Scara's eyes lit up at your response, his excitement laced with wariness. There was an inkling of uncertainty as he scanned your face, as though anxiously seeking any subtle signs of deception.

"Maybe I will be, then," he said finally. And who would've thought? It seems asking you out was much easier than he'd gotten himself worked up over.

Taglist: @ryuryuryuyurboat @yinyinggie @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @haliyamori @irethepotato @boundedbyfate @favonius-captain @aqui-soba @tiredsleep @sadlonelybagel @mastering-procrastinating

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

PTD On Stage in LA | Day 3

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 972

❒ summary: In which Chaeri uses Tae's beauty to her benefit

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

She was never good with words. She preferred facts: solid, reliable, hard to misunderstand. Words, on the other hand, always seemed elusive, ungraspable, especially when she had to use them in English. The situation worsened drastically when she found herself in front of thousands of people, right after singing for two hours non-stop. What was so difficult about a simple 'thank you'? For her, it was a real mystery. In fact, she didn’t believe a speech was necessary to express the emotion she felt every time. Hearing her songs sung by so many voices, with different accents, but with the same passion she put into them… she was sure it was evident during her performances how much she appreciated and was grateful for everything.

But it should be considered that those who cause their own misfortune should weep for themselves. She knew that day would come. She had all those years of experience and a highly competent team to ignore the inevitability of that moment. She could have taken the time to prepare a few sentences in English, memorize the pronunciation, and say them on stage. Instead, look at that, she had done nothing and couldn’t even remember why

In just a few seconds, all the times she had literally fled the room when she saw the English coach enter came back to her. It was almost like a scene from a cartoon: he came in one door and she scurried out the other, as if her only purpose in life was to avoid that conversation.

She had to refrain from slapping her forehead for being so stupid and irresponsible. She was still on stage, under the gaze of thousands of people.

Tae had just finished his speech. His English was insecure, his pronunciation questionable, but at least he had said something.

That evening, he stood out among the other seven, entirely dressed in red with a mask on his face, he had fun dancing and singing in a costume inspired by the Squid Game series, which had conquered the world in record time. And the crowd was ecstatic. A true show genius, born to capture attention: that's who Kim Taehyung was.

A shiver ran down her sweaty back, a testament to the hours spent jumping and running, reproducing the choreographies she knew by heart for that performance. 

It was her turn to speak.

With an uncertain gesture, she brought the microphone to her lips. Embarrassed, with no idea what to say or how to formulate a coherent speech, she searched the most remote areas of her brain for a foothold, a memory, or anything that could help her find the right words.

Then, suddenly, the screams of the crowd became so loud that they overwhelmed even her chaotic thoughts. Behind her, on the huge screen, appeared Taehyung who had removed his mask. 

And, damn, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

At that moment, a fleeting memory from a few days before came back to her: she remembered Namjoon, visibly irritated, trying to watch an episode of Friends. The younger members of the group were making noise around him, forcing him to restart the same part of the episode several times because he couldn't hear the lines.

Yes, that line she had heard repeated at least five times was perfect, and luckily, it had stuck in her mind.

She turned towards Taehyung, just a few meters away from her. The blue lenses of his eyes shone under the reflection of the multicolored stage lights, accentuated by the glows of the armybombs not far from them.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

The crowd roared in approval, shouted for the interaction, clapped for the way the boy's cheeks turned red, almost as red as his costume, because of the unexpected compliment.

The rest of the members burst into laughter, teasing Taehyung, while she realized that the attention from her speech had successfully been diverted elsewhere.

What a perfect end, she would have shaken her own hand in congratulations.

Later, in the backstage

“Chaeri-yaaaaa, you made me blush like crazy out there. Did everyone notice?” said Tae, walking beside Chaeri, an arm around her shoulders and almost all his weight leaning on her, partly from the exhaustion of the evening, partly because he loved to tease her.

"Every single person here saw how red you got" Jimin replied with an amused smile before the girl could, taking the perfect opportunity to tease his group mate when he was usually the butt of the jokes.

"Aish" Tae sighed theatrically, faking a look of devastation "my reputation as a tough guy is ruined because of you, Chaeri-ya."

Chaeri raised an eyebrow. “When have you ever had a tough guy reputation?” she said with a playful tone

"Hey, you" a sarcastic, accusatory tone came from Namjoon as he approached the trio, who were dragging their feet, destroyed by now, along the floor, hoping to reach a place where they could sleep for hours. Many hours.

"Don't think I didn't realize you did it to avoid the speech you were supposed to prepare for tonight" Namjoon looked at her with a look that said it all, the look of someone who raised you and knows all your little tricks. 

"Oops?" she looked at him, softening her eyes and curling her lips a bit to look more innocent - which she wasn't - and more forgivable - her behavior was absolutely unforgivable -. 

"So you didn't think for real that I was so handsome to leave you speechless?" Tae had pulled away from her half hug to look her in the eyes, his tone high-pitched.

"If it makes you feel better, I really think you're the prettiest of us all" 

"Ha! Did you hear that, Hyung? I really am the prettiest"

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[arminsfavoritepookie]

ROCKSTAR EREN

( How Rockstar Eren would treat his Girl..)

More Rockstar Eren hcs

More rockstar headcanons pt3

Rockstar Eren was a puzzle to most. A brusque exterior hid a man of undeniable talent, whose passion for music was reflected in the rough callouses on his fingertips. His long locks, typically tied back in a tight bun, were just as iconic as his gravelly voice, a voice that had captured the hearts of thousands of fans around the world. Yet, despite all his success, the outside world viewed him as nothing more than a stoned, talented fuckboy.

  But you knew the truth. 

You had seen past the façade, the walls that he had erected around himself. You knew that beneath it all, he was a soft-hearted, loving man who craved your touch and presence. In fact, he loved nothing more than cuddling with you after shows, basking in the warmth and comfort that only you could provide.

It was a side of him that few ever saw.  And then there were the tattoos. A myriad of silly doodles that littered his body, all drawn by you with a simple pen. They were small and simple but permanent— each held a special meaning, a symbol of your relationship in the future.

Forever.

Rockstar Eren would never admit it openly, but backstage, before a performance, he craved the comfort and support of your touch, the reassuring kiss of your lips. 

Despite what many might believe, Eren Jaeger had no love for smoking. In fact, he despised the very thought of it, except when he was dealing with crippling anxiety before a performance and you weren’t on tour with him.

He kept a blunt tucked away behind his ear at all times, just in case. Whenever he felt those pangs of unease start to gnaw at him, he would sneak away backstage, quickly sparking up the joint, throwing his head back and inhaling deeply. The cool smoke worked wonders on his frayed nerves, quelling the surge of emotion that threatened to overcome him.

Rockstar Eren was particular about the pictures he kept in his wallet, but none held more importance to him than the Polaroid of you. Whenever he was backstage, prepping for a show, he would take the time to study your image, to remind himself of the reasons why he was there, and to rekindle the flame of passion within him.

With the picture propped up on the counter beside him, Eren would light the joint and breathe in deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs, savouring the sharp burn in his throat before slowly exhaling. He lived for these moments, when he was all alone with his thoughts, with only the sweet smell of marijuana and the warmth of your smile to guide him through the turbulent emotions within him.

In those rare and private moments, Eren found a peace he couldn't attain any other way. That feeling, that euphoria that filled him to the brim, that's what kept him going through every trial and tribulation, every moment of doubt and self-loathing. With each puff of smoke and each passing moment, Eren felt more grounded, more connected to the world around him. And he knew that you were the reason for that.

He was a force of nature, and you were his muse, his source of strength and inspiration.  So while the outside world may view him as nothing more than a guitarist and a bad boy musician, you knew the truth. You knew the man behind the persona, the soft-hearted, loving man who was so deeply in love with you. And as long as you were his, he would continue to rock the world with his music, one soulful song at a time.

Rockstar Eren might never confess to being possessive. To him, the word feels almost negative, something that suggests an inability to trust others or to be secure in a relationship. But when it comes down to it, he is nothing if not possessive in his affections.  It's not even about jealousy, really, although that is certainly part of it.

When Eren sees you speaking with another man, his whole demeanor changes. His eyebrows furrow slightly, and his mouth settles into a tight line. He tries to keep it together, but his whole body tenses up with irritation.  Most of the time, he tries to be patient.

He knows that it's not reasonable to expect you to only ever speak with him, and he doesn't want to come off as needy or clingy. But it's hard. He can feel his patience slipping away with every moment that passes.  On occasion, he'll let the conversation run its course. He'll wait it out, gritting his teeth all the while. But more often than not, he can't help himself.

He interrupts you mid-sentence, desperate to insert himself into the conversation. He kisses you deeply—before dragging you away and peppering you with desperate pecks on the cheek. Afterwards, after your neck is littered in marks from his tantrum, he'll feel a twinge of shame at how needy he can be. He doesn't want to be that guy who always needs attention and affection, who can't handle seeing you give someone else even a shred of your time.

But at the same time, he just can't help it. When he's with you, he wants to be the only thing on your mind, the only one you focus your attention on.  It's kind of cute, in its own way, the way he gets all pouty and fidgety when he feels threatened.

Rockstar Eren had just finished a mind-blowing performance and his veins were pulsating with adrenaline. Despite all the post-show excitement, his mind could only focus on one thing - teaching you how to play guitar.

You both were lounging on the luxurious hotel bed, surrounded by an array of instruments. Eren gazed at you intently, imagining how gorgeous you would look playing his guitar.  Without hesitation, Eren wrapped his strong arms around your body, placing your back flush against his broad chest.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your ear as he gently positioned your fingers on the strings of the guitar. As you began to play, your eyes darted back and forth between the fretboard and Eren's piercing gaze, biting your lip in concentration. 

"Am I doing it right, Ren?" you asked tentatively, hoping to please him with your performance. The rockstar's cheeks flushed with admiration, his heart fluttering at the sight of you struggling to play the chords correctly. "You're doing great, baby," he whispered, the endearing nickname sending shivers down your spine.

"Just keep playing like that."

Rockstar Eren can only be defined as a munch. He finds complete joy in the art of pleasing a woman, and what better way to do so than with the delicate and exquisite act of going down on you?

Eren is so infatuated with eating you out he cannot, and will not, stop until the juices are dribbling down his chin and his jaw is sore. The sound of your needy whimpers just turn him on even more—he’s withering and humping into the mattress like a mad man trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly.

The way he has to pry open your thighs just to keep you from running away from the incredible sensation he provides, brings out a side of him that is nothing less than primal. When you tug on his hair in ecstasy, Eren knows he has reached a new level of arousal that cannot be contained.

Even when you dig your fingernails into his scalp, Eren still remains devoted to fulfilling every want and need of your pussy beneath him. For him, there is nothing more rewarding than to taste, feel, and making you quiver with satisfaction.

You felt so overstimulated, your breaths coming out in gasps. "Please ren, I can't anymore," you pleaded with tears streaming down your face. But he didn't seem to hear you. He kissed your thigh before devouring your pussy again.

"Not done with you yet baby, just a little bit more."

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Chapter 5: If It's All In My Head, Tell Me Now. Tell Me I've Got It Wrong Somehow.

Prequel to The Last Great American Dynasty.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Swearing, 18+.

Summary: In the shadowy underworld of New Orleans, where power is currency and loyalty is a fragile thread, you find yourself entangled with Remy LeBeau, a charismatic and dangerous mob boss. What begins as a chance encounter soon evolves into a complex, intense relationship that neither of you saw coming.

Anna had been everything to Remy once. She wasn’t just his wife; she was the anchor that had kept him grounded in a world that seemed determined to pull him under. When they met, Remy had been younger, wilder—the charming thief with a devil-may-care attitude. But Anna had seen something in him that no one else had. She saw beyond the bravado, beyond the criminal lifestyle, and found the man underneath. She loved him for who he truly was, not who the world thought he was. And in return, Remy had given her his heart.

Their love had been intense, passionate, but also tender and steady. Anna had been his safe place, the one person who could calm the storm that always seemed to rage inside him. She had this way of making him feel like he was enough, like he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. With her, he could just be.

But then she was gone.

A drunk driver had taken her from him in an instant, and with her, she’d taken a piece of Remy’s soul. After her death, Remy had been lost, adrift in a sea of guilt and pain. He’d buried himself in his work, in his schemes, in his life, trying to forget. Trying to outrun the grief that clung to him like a shadow.

But he never really let her go. He never could.

That photo album was a testament to that. It was filled with pictures of their life together, from their first date to their wedding day. It held snapshots of the moments that had defined them, the quiet mornings spent in bed, the laughter shared over shared meals, the way she used to look at him like he was her whole world. Remy sat in the car, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. The rain falling outside blurred the world into a haze, but all he could focus on was the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. He knew he shouldn’t be here. Every part of his mind screamed at him to leave—turn the key, drive away, and forget about this. He’d done it before. Sent flowers, a note, maybe a gift wrapped in pretty paper. It was a playbook he knew well. It always worked. It kept things simple, kept people at arm’s length.

But with you, it wasn’t simple. It never had been.

He glanced down at the worn leather album in his lap, his hands trembling as they hovered over it. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. Showing you this—showing you her—wasn't just a risk, it was terrifying. Because you weren't like anyone else. You saw through the charm, through the slick words and the easy smiles.

You didn’t look at him the way others did—with fear, with caution, with that wary glint in their eyes, like they were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. You didn’t see the dangerous man who had built his life on lies and half-truths. You didn’t see the thief, the Cajun rogue with a past he tried to bury. You saw him. The real Remy. The one he didn’t show anyone.

And you hadn’t flinched.

Not once.

He could still remember the first time he realized you were different. It wasn’t anything grand, nothing that should’ve knocked him off balance the way it had. You had just looked at him—really looked at him—and it was like you saw all the cracks in his armor, all the pieces of him he kept hidden. And instead of pulling back, instead of retreating like most people did when they got too close, you had stayed. You had smiled, laughed, as if what you saw wasn’t something to be afraid of. You were sitting on that crate talking like you had known him your whole life.

That was the thing about you. You made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had. And that scared him more than any risk he’d ever taken.

Remy leaned back in the seat, the rain beating against the windshield like a relentless drum, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel as his mind replayed the moment over and over again. His heart gave a painful twist as he thought about how badly he had messed things up—how, in that split second, he had done what he always did. He’d used you. And now, as the realization settled in, it cut him deeper than any wound he’d ever taken in a fight.

That kiss—it haunted him.

At first, it had been instinct. The second he spotted the police closing in, his mind had gone into overdrive, calculating, strategizing, looking for an out. And then he’d turned to you, and everything changed. The plan was simple, something he’d done a hundred times before, a quick kiss to cover his tracks, to slip the drugs to you without a second thought. You were an opportunity. A convenient shield. And in that brief moment, that’s what he had reduced you to.

But now? Now he wished more than anything that he could take it back.

Because the kiss—the feel of your lips against his, the way your breath had hitched in surprise—had stirred something in him he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t supposed to matter. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. But it did. The second his lips touched yours, something inside him shifted, and for the briefest moment, all of the noise, all of the chaos around him had faded away, leaving only you.

And that’s when the guilt hit him like a punch to the gut.

He had kissed you, not because he wanted to, not because he couldn’t resist the pull he always felt when he was near you, but because he was thinking of himself. He was thinking of how to keep himself out of trouble, of how to use you to slip away unnoticed, just another move in a game he had been playing his whole life. And it made him sick.

Because you weren’t some pawn. You weren’t some piece on his chessboard, some convenient cover he could use and discard when it suited him. You were you. And you deserved more than that.

But in that moment, he hadn’t considered any of that. He hadn’t thought about how it would make you feel, how much it would hurt you when you realized what he had done. He had only seen you as someone who would always be there, someone who would cover for him, who would take the hit, even though he knew deep down it would cost you. And while he was thinking only of himself, of his escape, he had pushed you away.

He could still see the look in your eyes afterward—the confusion, the hurt, the betrayal.

And now, sitting here in the car, the album in his lap, the rain pouring down outside, he realized just how much he had lost in that moment. Because the truth was, that kiss had meant something. It had meant everything. And he had ruined it.

His mind flashed back to the warmth of your lips, the way your body had instinctively leaned into his, just for a second, before the reality of what he’d done had hit you. He had felt the connection between you, the spark he had always tried to ignore, to push away, because it scared him. Because you scared him. You made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling—things he didn’t know how to handle. And instead of facing that, instead of being honest with himself and with you, he had taken the easy way out. He had used you.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he could ever make it right.

His heart clenched painfully as he thought about the last time he had seen you. The hurt in your eyes when he had pulled away, when he had shut you out. The way you had looked at him, waiting for him to say something, to do something—anything—that would prove he wasn’t the man you feared he was becoming. But he hadn’t. He had let you walk away because it was easier than facing the truth. Easier than admitting that you had gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had.

And now, sitting here in the car, staring at the rain-soaked streets outside your small house, he realized that this might be his last chance. His last chance to fix what he had broken. His usual tricks, his charm, his smooth words—they wouldn’t work on you. They never had. You’d see right through them. You’d see right through him.

He glanced down at the album again, his fingers tracing the worn leather cover. Inside were pieces of his life he had never shared with anyone. Memories, photographs, moments that had shaped him into the man he was today. And maybe, just maybe, if he showed you this—if he let you see the things he kept hidden—it would be enough to show you that he cared. That you weren’t just another person in his life.

His heart pounded in his chest as he finally made the decision, his body moving on autopilot as he grabbed the album and forced himself out of the car. The rain hit him immediately, cold and relentless, but he barely felt it. His mind was too focused, too consumed with the thought of you—of what he needed to say, of what he needed to show you. As Remy stood in front of your door, his hand hovering over the wood, the mental anguish clawed at him. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to walk away before he made a fool of himself, before he bared parts of himself he wasn’t sure you wanted to see. But his heart—his heart wouldn’t let him leave. His heart was telling him that you were worth the risk. That you were worth the fear, the vulnerability, the potential for rejection.

His hand knocked, the sound barely audible over the rain, but loud enough to send a jolt of dread through him. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The rain was a dull roar in the background as he waited, his heart thundering in his chest, the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him like a physical thing.

Then, the door opened.

There you were, standing in the doorway, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. He must’ve looked like a mess—soaked through, clutching an old album like it was the only thing keeping him grounded—but you didn’t laugh. You didn’t scoff or turn away. You just looked at him, your gaze soft, confused, but not unkind.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly, your voice full of questions, but also something else—something that made his heart ache even more.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight, his mind racing. He had spent hours trying to figure out what to say, how to explain himself, but now that he was here, standing in front of you, every word seemed to crumble before it could leave his mouth. He forced himself to speak, his voice rough, thick with the weight of everything he hadn’t said. “I know I messed up,” he started, his accent thicker than usual, his words almost slurring together in his rush to get them out. “I know I pushed ya away when I shoulda le’ ya in. I know I made ya think I didn’ care.”

The words hung between you, heavy with regret. He looked down at the album in his hands, his fingers trembling as he held it out toward you. “But I do care. More than I know how t’ say.”

He hesitated, glancing between the album and your eyes, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might break. “This…” His voice faltered for a moment, the vulnerability in his chest squeezing tight. “This is me, chère. The real me. The parts I don’t show anyone. The parts I’ve been too scared to let anyone see.” He licked his lips, his throat feeling dry despite the rain soaking him to his skin. “This album, it’s… it’s everything I am. It’s the one thing that means more to me than anything.”

His breath shook as he held it out farther, urging you to take it. “I don’t know if it’s enough. But it’s all I got. An’ I need ya t’ see it.”

The silence between you stretched, heavy and full of unspoken words, unasked questions. Remy’s heart pounded in his chest, fear clawing at him, but he didn’t look away from your face, didn’t let himself retreat. Everything was riding on this moment. If you turned him away now, if you rejected him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to come back from it.

You stared at the album for what felt like an eternity, your eyes flicking between it and him. Searching his face for something—truth, maybe. Or sincerity. Or the kind of vulnerability he so rarely let anyone see. Whatever it was, you must’ve found it, because after what seemed like forever, you stepped aside, your voice soft but steady.

“Come in.”

And just like that, the tightness in his chest loosened, just a little. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was a chance. And for a man like Remy, who had spent his whole life running from the things that scared him, that was more than he deserved. But he was going to take it. He had to.

This was the moment. The one he had been too scared to face for so long. The moment where he had to stop hiding, stop running, and show you who he really was. The man behind the charm, the smooth words, the reputation. The man he wasn’t sure you’d still want once you saw all the cracks, all the broken pieces he kept hidden.

But you had opened the door. You had given him a chance. And for the first time in his life, Remy was choosing to fight for something real. For something that terrified him more than anything else ever had.

Because for the first time in a long time, he had something to fight for.  And that something was you. <><><><><><><><> Remy lingered between your two armchairs, the weight of the album in his hands grounding him as he took in your living room in silence. It was a space that shouldn’t have worked—the mismatched furniture, the clutter, the lived-in feel of it all—but somehow, it did. The green armchair with its weathered fabric and the burgundy one with its sagging cushions were like two old friends that didn’t quite belong together but had found a way to coexist. The soft blanket tossed over the back of one chair, the pillows strewn across the couch, even the uneven stack of magazines on the coffee table—it was messy, but it was home.

The room had a heartbeat, a warmth that made Remy feel both out of place and strangely drawn in. He wasn’t used to this kind of space. Everything in his world had a temporary feel to it, like he was always one step away from leaving. But here… here it felt like things were meant to stay. The mismatched furniture, the little signs of life scattered around the room, the warmth of the space—it all spoke of permanence, of a life that had roots. And that unsettled him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He glanced over at the coffee table, where a plate of microwaved food sat next to a half-empty glass of water. The remnants of your dinner. He could still smell the faint aroma of reheated pasta and tomato sauce, and it reminded him how human this moment was. There was no pretense here, no attempt to clean up or make things look perfect before he arrived. You hadn’t been expecting him, and you weren’t trying to impress him. And for some reason, that made him feel more exposed than anything else.

You muted the television and turned toward him, the soft glow of the screen casting a muted light across the room. Your expression was careful, guarded, like you weren’t quite sure why he was here, standing in the middle of your living room, soaked to the bone, clutching an old album like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“You can sit if you want,” you said, your voice gentle but cautious, like you were still trying to make sense of the situation.

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening around the album as his eyes flicked between you and the empty armchair. The invitation was simple, but it felt like so much more than that. Sitting down meant staying. It meant acknowledging that he was here for a reason, that he wasn’t just passing through. And that terrified him. But you were giving him a chance—one he didn’t deserve, but one he was desperate not to waste.

He nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and lowered himself into the burgundy armchair. The springs creaked under his weight, but it didn’t bother him. There was something comforting about the worn-out chair, something that made the room feel lived-in and real. He leaned back slightly, trying to settle the nervous energy buzzing through him, but it was hard to relax when everything inside him felt like it was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t control.

You pulled your feet up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged, watching him carefully. Your eyes followed his every move, not in a hostile way, but in a way that told him you were still trying to figure him out. You didn’t trust him fully—not after what he’d done. And he didn’t blame you. He didn’t trust himself most of the time.

His heart raced as he leaned forward and gently placed the worn leather album on the coffee table, the weight of it leaving his hands but not his heart. His fingers lingered on the edges of the cover, tracing the familiar creases in the leather, as if letting go of it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. It was, in a way. This album was more than just a collection of memories; it was a piece of him, a part of his life that he had never shown anyone.

“This…” He hesitated, his voice quieter now, thick with emotion that he wasn’t used to showing. “This is me, chère. The real me. The parts I don’t show nobody.”

The words felt heavy in the air between you, like they carried the weight of years of secrets, of a life built on half-truths and misdirection. He glanced up at you, his red-on-black eyes soft, full of uncertainty. He wasn’t sure how to explain it, how to tell you that this album wasn’t just a collection of old photographs or memories—it was the one thing in his life that grounded him. The one thing that hadn’t slipped through his fingers the way everything else always did.

He took a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to find the right words. “This album, it’s… it’s everythin’ I am. It’s the one thing that means more t’ me than anythin’ else. An’ I know I ain’t been good about lettin’ people in, about showin’ ‘em the real side of me, but…” He paused, his throat tightening as he looked down at the album again. “I need you t’ see it. I need you to know what’s in here.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken questions and the weight of everything he hadn’t said. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, wasn’t used to laying himself bare like this. His whole life, he had built walls—walls of charm, of wit, of bravado—to keep people from getting too close. But with you, those walls had crumbled, and he wasn’t sure how to protect himself anymore.

He could feel your eyes on him, studying him, searching for something. He didn’t know if you were ready to forgive him, or if you even wanted to. All he knew was that he had to try—because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running. He wasn’t hiding behind his usual tricks. He was sitting here, in your mismatched living room, offering you the one thing that meant more to him than anything else.

Your living room felt like the opposite of his life. Where you had things that didn’t quite fit together but still worked, his life had always been about carefully curated moments, about making sure everything stayed in place just long enough for him to slip away before anyone could see the cracks. But here, surrounded by mismatched furniture and the warmth of a space that you had made your own, he felt something unfamiliar—he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could belong.

You sat on the couch, your feet tucked up under you, watching him. Watching Remy. It was hard to put into words how you felt in that moment—tired, frustrated, and yet still, somehow, a little hopeful. You scanned his face, searching for some kind of clue, some indication of why the hell he was sitting in your living room at this hour, soaked through, clutching that old, weathered album like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His red-on-black eyes flicked nervously between you and the album, and you could see his fingers tightening around it, like he wasn’t sure he could let it go.

You let out a small sigh, the weight of the day—and the weeks, months even—pressing down on you.

“I have nothing more to give you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t trying to hurt him, but the exhaustion in your words was undeniable. “You showed me today that whatever you do—it’s always more important than the people around you.”

Your tone wasn’t sharp, but it was raw, honest. You weren’t yelling. You didn’t have it in you to yell anymore. God, you were just tired. Tired of feeling like you were constantly fighting an uphill battle with him. Tired of giving and giving and getting nothing in return except half-truths and evasions. You watched him, carefully weighing your words.

He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor, his jaw tightening as he absorbed what you were saying. You could see the guilt in his posture, the way his shoulders slumped slightly, as though the weight of his mistakes was finally crashing down on him.

“I…” You paused, biting your lip, trying to find the strength to keep going. “I give a shit about you. Believe it or not. All I wanted—all I’ve ever wanted—was for you to show me that this isn’t just in my head. That whatever the hell this is between us isn’t just me overanalyzing things, isn’t just me holding on to something that doesn’t exist.”

You were laying it all out now, the hurt, the confusion, the feeling of being strung along, unsure if you were the one imagining things, unsure if you were reading too much into stolen glances, lingering touches, and moments that felt like they meant something, only for him to pull away.

“It’s not,” Remy interrupted softly. His voice was rough, thick with emotion, and when you looked up, you saw that his gaze had shifted back to you. There was something raw in his eyes, something that made your heart clench in your chest.

He took a breath, his hands still trembling slightly as he kept his grip on the album, like it was anchoring him to this moment. “From the first day I met ya… you did somethin’ t’ me, chère. I don’t know how t’ explain it.” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his movements restless, as though he couldn’t stay still under the weight of what he was about to say. “Ya saw me. Not what everyone else sees. Not th’ smooth talker, not the guy everyone’s scared of, not the guy who always knows how t’ get outta trouble. You saw me. An’ that scared the hell outta me.”

His voice softened, his accent thickening as he spoke, the vulnerability in his tone cutting through the usual bravado he wore like a second skin. “I ain’t used t’ that. I ain’t used t’ someone actually givin’ a damn about me. Not the real me. I’ve spent my whole life runnin’, keepin’ people at arm’s length ‘cause it’s easier that way. It’s safer. But you…” He shook his head, his eyes locking onto yours. “Ya made it impossible to run.”

You sat there, staring at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The room felt suddenly too small, too quiet, the weight of his words hanging heavy between you.

“I’m here because I can’t let ya walk away without tryin’ t’ make this right,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt ya. But I can’t jus’ le’ ya think that all of this—” he gestured between the two of you, “—that all of this don’t mean nothin’. ‘Cause it does. It means more t’ me than I know how t’ say. An’ I’m done runnin’ from it.”

He stood up and stepped forward, closing the distance between you, holding out the album. You glanced down at it, your brow furrowing in confusion. Why was he giving this to you? What could possibly be in that old, worn book that would make any of this make sense?

“In here…” His voice faltered for a moment, and he swallowed hard. You could see the struggle on his face, the way he was fighting with himself to get the words out. “In here is Anna.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t heard that name before. You looked up at him, searching his face for answers, but he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“She was my wife,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “She died in a car accident. Drunk driver hit her. I didn’t even get t’ say goodbye.”

The room seemed to go still, the air thick with the weight of his confession. You felt the tightness in your chest, the ache of hearing something so deeply personal, something that clearly haunted him.

You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing against the leather cover of the album as you took it from his hands. “Remy…” you began softly, your voice gentle, unsure. You didn’t want him to feel like he had to do this, like he had to bare himself completely just to prove something to you. “You don’t have to—”

He cut you off, his voice firm but raw. “I do. I ain’t never shown anyone what’s in there, chère. Not a soul. ‘Cause it’s the one thing in my life that’s mine, the one thing I’ve been too scared t’ share with anyone.” His eyes were intense as they finally met yours fully, the vulnerability in his gaze almost too much to bear. “But ya need t’ know. You need t’ know how much I care about ya. An’ I don’t know how else t’ show ya that unless I show ya this.”

You held the album in your lap, your fingers tracing the worn edges of the leather, your heart racing as you looked back up at him. This wasn’t just about him telling you something painful from his past. This was about trust. About Remy giving you something that no one else had—a part of himself that he had kept locked away because it was too painful, too personal, too real.

“I’ve been scared, chère,” he admitted, his voice low and full of regret. “Scared t’ let ya in. Scared t’ let anyone in. ‘Cause I don’t know what happens when I let someone get close. I don’t know how to stop pushin’ them away. But I can’t keep doin’ that with ya. I can’t keep hurtin’ ya like that.”

He knelt down in front of you, his eyes level with yours, his expression open, raw. “I’m showin’ ya this ‘cause ya need t’ understand that ya ain’t imaginin’ things. This thing between us? It’s real. An’ I’m done pretendin’ like it ain’t.”

You looked down at the album in your hands, feeling the weight of it, not just physically, but emotionally. It was a piece of his life, a part of him that he had never shared with anyone. And he was giving it to you. Trusting you with it. Trusting you with her.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the edge of the album’s cover, feeling the worn, soft leather beneath your fingertips. The weight of it in your lap was more than just physical—it carried the weight of Remy’s past, of his pain, of everything he’d been too afraid to share until now. You glanced over at him, sitting next to you on the couch, his body tense, his eyes trained on the album like it held both his salvation and his undoing. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching ever so slightly, betraying the calm he was trying so hard to maintain.

He hadn’t said a word since you took the album from him, and you hadn’t pushed. Something about the silence felt sacred, like this moment needed to breathe on its own.

With a deep breath, you opened the cover.

The first thing you saw was a photograph, carefully placed but slightly faded with age. A woman smiled up at you—young, vibrant, with vibrant red hair and eyes that seemed to sparkle even from the stillness of the picture. Her smile was warm, genuine, and there was something about her that made your chest tighten, like you could feel the love and life that radiated from her even through the years that separated her from this moment. You knew, without needing to ask, that this was Anna.

Remy’s Anna.

You turned the page slowly, afraid that moving too quickly would somehow break the fragile air between you and him. The next page held more photos—candid shots of a life you hadn’t known Remy had lived. Him and Anna, laughing together, holding hands, walking along a street in some city you didn’t recognize. They both looked so happy, so carefree. You couldn’t remember ever seeing Remy look that way—fully at ease, fully present, without the weight of the world constantly dragging him down.

As you flipped through the pages—each one revealing pieces of a life he’d kept hidden, snapshots of love and pain—you began to feel a knot forming in your chest. Picture after picture, you saw them together in moments you could tell had meant everything to him. Anna leaning into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Remy with his arm wrapped around her, his face soft and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. They looked like they belonged to each other in a way that was so natural, so effortless. You could see how much he had loved her. It was in every picture, in every smile, in the way he looked at her like she was his whole world.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, though he hadn’t moved. You didn’t need to look at him to know how hard this was for him—to sit here, to show you this, to open up the most painful part of his life and let you in. It wasn’t just about Anna. It wasn’t just about his past. It was about trust. It was about letting you see the part of him that had been broken, the part of him that he had buried so deep that no one else had ever found it.

And in doing that, in showing you this, he was giving you the only way he knew how to tell you that you mattered. That you weren’t imagining this—whatever this was between the two of you. That it was real. That you were real to him. This was his way of saying that he cared—deeply, maybe more deeply than he even knew how to articulate with words. This was his way of saying that he didn’t want to run anymore. That he was trying, even if he didn’t know how to do it perfectly.

You swallowed, your throat tight, and turned another page.

There was a photo of them at what looked like a wedding. Anna was in a simple white dress, her eyes glowing as she looked up at him, her smile wide and full of joy. Remy stood next to her, looking impossibly young and happy, his hand resting on her waist, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. There was a light in his eyes in that picture, a light that hadn’t fully returned since you’d known him.

Your heart ached for him—ached for the love he had lost, for the pain he had carried with him for so long. You could feel the enormity of it, the weight of a life that had been stolen from him in an instant. And yet, here he was. Here, with you, offering you this piece of himself that he had never let anyone else see.

The album wasn’t just a collection of memories—it was Remy’s heart, laid bare. It was everything he had been too scared to show you, too scared to say. And as you sat there, flipping through the pages, you realized that this was his way of telling you that he cared about you. That he trusted you. That he was willing to let you in in a way he hadn’t let anyone in since Anna.

Your fingers stilled on a page, and you let out a soft breath.

“Remy…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He didn’t say anything, but you felt the shift in the air between you. He was waiting. Waiting for you to understand what this meant. Waiting for you to see that this was the only way he knew how to show you how much he cared. That he wasn’t just showing you his past—he was showing you her. The person he had loved most in the world. And that meant something.

You looked over at him, and for the first time, you really saw him. Not just the man who had hurt you, who had pushed you away when you had tried to get close. Not just the charming, infuriating, complicated man who had made your heart race and your head ache in equal measure. But the man who had been broken by loss, who had spent years running from his pain, and who was now, finally, trying to stop running. Trying to let you in.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He met your gaze, his eyes intense but vulnerable, his expression open in a way it almost never was. “Ya don’t gotta say nothin’, chère,” he murmured.  “I’m showin’ ya this ‘cause I can’t let you think that this—us—that it don’t mean nothin’. ‘Cause it does. It means more t’ me than I know how t’ say.”

Your heart clenched, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t just telling you he cared—he was telling you that you mattered enough for him to open up the most painful part of his life. He was telling you that you weren’t just in his head. You were in his heart.

You looked down at the album in your lap, the photos of Anna smiling up at you, and you felt the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Slowly, carefully, you closed the album and placed it gently on the coffee table in front of you.

Then, you turned to Remy, your voice quiet but steady. “Thank you for showing me this. I know how much it means to you.”

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Ya needed t’ see it,” he said softly.

And in that moment, you knew. You knew that this was the closest Remy had come to saying I love you since Anna. And maybe he couldn’t say the words yet, maybe he wasn’t ready to put it all into neat little phrases, but this—this was enough. This was real. This was him, opening up and showing you that he wasn’t just running anymore.

You reached out and took his hand, your fingers lacing through his. He squeezed your hand gently, his touch warm and steady, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t fighting this battle alone anymore. Remy couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this exposed.

Sitting beside you on the couch, the album resting on the coffee table like a piece of his past he had never meant to share, he felt the weight of his whole life pressing down on him. His heart was beating so hard against his chest, he was sure you could hear it. He’d spent years perfecting the art of hiding—hiding behind charm, behind quick smiles, behind walls so thick and so high that no one ever got close. No one ever made it past that carefully constructed exterior.

But you had.

And now, with you sitting so close to him, the warmth of your body just inches away, the album open on your lap, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle. The pictures of Anna, his memories of her—the life he had lost—were all there, laid bare in front of you. He had never shown anyone this. Not a soul. Because letting people in had always been too dangerous. It had always meant giving up some piece of himself that he couldn’t afford to lose.

But with you… something was different. He wasn’t sure when it had started, wasn’t sure when you had begun to slip past his defenses, but now that you were here—now that he had let you see the most fragile, broken parts of himself—he couldn’t imagine going back to the way things had been. He couldn’t imagine pretending that this didn’t mean something. That you didn’t mean something.

So when you leaned toward him, when you closed the distance between you with that look in your eyes—soft, searching, like you were trying to figure out if this was real—his breath caught in his throat. His instinct, for just a split second, was to pull away. To protect himself. To run.

But he didn’t.

Because for the first time, he didn’t want to run.

Your lips touched his, soft and tentative at first, and he could feel the world tilt beneath him. It wasn’t like any kiss he’d had before—no heat of the moment, no rush to get to the next thing. This was different. This was slow, deliberate, like you were both testing the waters of something that had been building for so long, something that had been threatening to break through the surface and overwhelm you both.

And it did.

The kiss deepened, your lips pressing more firmly against his, and Remy felt everything inside him unravel. His hand moved almost without thinking, slipping from his lap to your waist, pulling you closer with a soft, barely-there tug. He felt your fingers slide into his hair, gentle but insistent, and the warmth of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. It was like you were grounding him, anchoring him to this moment, to you. His other hand came up to cradle your neck, his thumb brushing against your jaw as he kissed you deeper, slower, like he was afraid to let go.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t running. He wasn’t thinking about what came next, wasn’t thinking about the walls he had carefully constructed over the years. He wasn’t thinking about Anna, or the guilt that had lingered in the back of his mind for so long. He was just… here. With you.

And the feeling of it hit him like a freight train.

Because this wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything he hadn’t been able to say. Everything he had felt for you but had been too scared to admit. Every glance, every touch, every moment between the two of you that had been filled with tension, with unspoken words, with what ifs—it was all pouring into this one kiss. And for the first time, he allowed himself to feel it.

He allowed himself to feel you.

His lips moved slowly, almost reverently against yours, and he could feel the pull in his chest—the quiet, persistent ache he had been trying to ignore for so long. His hand slid to the small of your back, pressing you even closer, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his chest. It was calming, soothing, and for the first time in a long time, Remy felt like he could breathe.

When you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, your breath warm and shaky against his lips, he kept his eyes closed, savoring the closeness. He could still feel the ghost of your kiss lingering on his lips, and part of him didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to break the moment. Because this—this—was something he hadn’t let himself hope for.

But when he did open his eyes, and saw you looking at him—really looking at him, like you saw all of him—he felt his heart stutter in his chest. Your eyes were soft, full of something that made his throat tighten, and he realized then that this wasn’t just about him anymore. This was about you, too. About the way you had been standing there, waiting for him to let you in. Waiting for him to stop pushing you away. To stop running.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek, and Remy felt something inside him shift. It was subtle, quiet, but it was there. The fear that had always been lurking just beneath the surface—the fear of losing someone again, of letting someone in only to have them slip through his fingers—it wasn’t gone completely, but it was quieter. Softer. Because in this moment, sitting here with you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his skin, he realized that he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

When you kissed him again, it was softer this time, slower, like you were both taking your time. Like you were savoring the feel of each other. His hand slid up the curve of your back, resting just beneath your shoulder blade, keeping you close. He could feel your heartbeat, steady and sure, and it grounded him in a way he hadn’t expected. Everything about this moment felt real, and for the first time in years, he wasn’t terrified of that reality.

The kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync with his, and Remy felt the tension in his chest slowly begin to unwind. He wasn’t used to feeling this—this—whatever it was. This softness. This quiet, steady warmth that spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers. He wasn’t used to letting himself need someone like this. But with you, sitting here in the quiet of your mismatched living room, the world outside fading into the background, it felt right.

When the kiss broke again, this time slower, more languid, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, his breath coming in slow, steady exhales. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break the moment. Because in this moment, everything felt right. Everything felt like it was finally where it was supposed to be.

“I care about ya,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the words felt like they carried the weight of everything he hadn’t been able to say before. “More than I know how t’ say.”

And in that moment, as you looked at him, your eyes full of something soft, something real, Remy knew that this was it. This was the moment he had been running from for so long. The moment he had been too scared to let happen. The air between you and Remy seemed to thrum with an unspoken tension, a kind of magnetic pull that had been simmering just beneath the surface for so long it felt like it had always been there. It was in the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his hand rested on the small of your back, the way your breaths synced, slow and heavy, like you both knew something was about to shift but neither of you was quite ready to say it out loud.

You had kissed him. Properly kissed him. And in those moments, it felt like everything had changed. The weight of the album, of Anna, of Remy’s past, of his title as the King of New Orleans—it was still there, but it didn’t feel like a wall between you anymore. It felt like something you had both acknowledged, something you had both accepted, and now… now it was just you and him. No running. No hiding. Just two people who had been skirting around this moment for what felt like forever.

And now, the moment was here.

Remy’s hand slid from your back to your waist, his touch slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingertips. His eyes, those deep, red-on-black eyes that had always been so guarded, so full of mystery, were locked on yours, and for the first time, there was no hesitation in them. No fear. Just hunger. Hunger and something deeper—something raw and fragile and real.

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t need to. Because this—whatever this was—was something you both wanted. Needed, maybe. It felt like the natural progression of everything that had been building between you, every charged glance, every stolen touch, every moment where you had both been walking the line between friends and something more. And now, you were both ready to cross that line.

Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responded immediately, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slower, deeper than before. There was no rush, no frantic urgency, just the steady heat of two people who had been waiting for this for longer than they cared to admit. His lips were soft, but the kiss was firm, insistent, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into it.

You could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you even closer until there was hardly any space left between you. The couch felt too small, too cramped for the weight of the moment, for the way your bodies seemed to respond to each other, the way your heart was pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears.

When he pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still resting on your waist, his voice was low and thick with emotion. “You sure about this?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any hesitation.

But there wasn’t any.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and all you saw was the man in front of you—not the thief, not the charming rogue, not the man who had been running from his past for so long—but Remy. Just Remy. The man who had let you in, who had shown you the most vulnerable parts of himself, who had trusted you with his pain, with his heart. And that was enough. More than enough.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.”

That was all it took.

His hand slid from your waist to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin before his lips were on yours again, this time with more intensity, more urgency. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the shift in the air between you, the way the tension that had been simmering for so long now threatened to consume you both. His hand slipped to the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against the skin of your waist, and the feel of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. It was like every nerve in your body was suddenly alive, every inch of you hyperaware of him, of the way his body pressed against yours, of the heat that was building between you.

As your fingers slid up Remy’s chest, your palms pressed against the firm planes of his body, you felt the smooth, taut skin beneath his shirt, you could feel his muscles ripple under your touch, warm and alive in a way that made your own pulse quicken. His chest was solid, strong, the kind of strength that came from years of living on the edge—running, fighting, always moving. His muscles were defined but not overly so, more lean than bulky, the kind of body that told a story of someone who had always depended on both speed and agility, someone who had learned to survive in a world that constantly tried to take from him.

When he pulled back long enough to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside with an effortless grace, your breath caught at the sight of him. His body was sculpted, lean and powerful, his skin a canvas of sun-kissed bronze, with faint shadows cast by the low light of the room. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a narrow waist, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he moved, as he reached for you again, his hands already pulling you back into him with a kind of quiet desperation.

The bare skin of his chest pressed against you, and the warmth of his body was almost overwhelming, like being enveloped in a heat that both burned and soothed. Every inch of him felt alive, buzzing with energy, with the raw intensity of the moment. His breath hitched when your fingers traced the line of his collarbone, and you could feel the slight tremor in his body as if even the smallest touch was enough to undo him.

His hands were on your waist, firm but not rough, guiding you into his lap as you straddled him, as if every movement had its own rhythm, its own unspoken language. His touch was deliberate, slow, like he was savoring the feel of your body against his, like he was trying to memorize every curve, every sensation. His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, more desperate, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flexed beneath your hands, the way his breath came in short, sharp bursts as your lips met and parted, again and again.

His mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, then down to the curve of your neck, and the soft press of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, making your breath catch in your throat. You could feel the steady, deliberate pressure of his mouth as he kissed along the line of your neck, his hands sliding up your back, his fingers tracing patterns that left a trail of heat in their wake.

There was something intoxicating about the way he moved, the way his body felt beneath yours—a combination of strength and vulnerability, of someone who had always fought to keep his distance but now, in this moment, was letting you in, letting you see him, feel him. Every touch, every kiss felt like a revelation, like peeling back the layers of someone who had spent years hiding behind masks and walls, someone who had always kept everyone at arm’s length—until now.

And now, as his lips found yours again, as his hands roamed over your body with a slow, deliberate intensity, you could feel it—the weight of everything he wasn’t saying, the emotions he didn’t know how to express. But he didn’t need to say it. You could feel it in the way his body responded to yours, in the way his breath hitched when your fingers traced the curve of his spine, in the way his hands gripped your waist like he was afraid to let go.

Remy’s fingers, warm and sure, slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch sending sparks across your skin as he gently tugged upwards. There was no rush in his movements, no frantic need, just the slow, deliberate pull of fabric as he lifted your shirt over your head. You raised your arms, letting him undress you, and in that brief moment before the shirt joined his on the floor, you caught the look in his eyes.

He was watching you, really watching, like he was trying to imprint the image of you into his memory, to burn it into his mind. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed with heat and anticipation, the way your lips were slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. There was something reverent in the way he looked at you, something almost tender, as though this moment—you—were more precious than anything he had ever held before.

His breath hitched, just barely, and you could see the way his chest expanded as he took in a slow, deliberate breath, like he was trying to steady himself, to ground himself in the moment. His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something softer, something deeper, and it made your heart race even faster. You could feel the heat building between you, the air thick with the weight of everything neither of you had said but both of you understood.

For a few heartbeats, neither of you moved. His hands, now resting on your waist, gripped you with a kind of gentle possessiveness, like he wasn’t sure if this was real, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his breath, and it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you—your bodies, your breaths, your heartbeats, all in sync, all connected by this invisible thread that had been pulling you together for so long.

Then, in that low, gravelly voice that always seemed to send shivers down your spine, he asked, “Ya got a bedroom, chère?”

His tone was soft, almost hesitant, but there was an edge of heat to it, a quiet urgency that echoed in the space between you. His accent, that lazy Cajun drawl, wrapped around you, making your skin tingle, making your breath catch. And in that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about the physical. This was about more. This was about trust. About the walls that had come down between you, about the vulnerability you were both offering each other.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice, your heart pounding in your chest. Without breaking eye contact, your fingers slipped into his hand, guiding him as you stood, pulling him up from the couch. The air between you felt electric, charged, as his hand slid down to intertwine with yours, his grip firm and steady, but his thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles against the back of your hand. It was such a simple gesture, but it made your heart swell, made you realize how much care, how much tenderness, was wrapped up in this moment.

With a soft tug, you led him toward the bedroom, the weight of his presence behind you both grounding and intoxicating. Every step felt heavy with anticipation, every beat of your heart loud in your ears, each breath shallow and quick. You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, his eyes dark and hungry but patient, like he was letting you set the pace, like he was waiting for you to make the final call.

When you reached the bedroom, you pushed the door open, the soft creak of the hinges the only sound that broke the quiet tension between you. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, felt intimate, like it had been waiting for this moment. The bed, with its rumpled sheets, suddenly seemed like the center of the universe, a quiet invitation to let go, to give in.

Remy stepped in behind you, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, but he didn’t touch you just yet. Instead, he stood there, his breath warm against the back of your neck, his presence a steady, grounding force that made your pulse quicken. His hands hovered just above your hips, like he was waiting for permission, waiting for you to make the next move.

You turned to face him, your chest brushing against his as you looked up into his eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own, but there was something else there too—something softer, something that spoke of more than just desire. His fingers found your waist again, slow and deliberate, and he pulled you closer, the fabric of his jeans rough against your bare skin, the heat between you almost unbearable now.

His lips found yours once more, but this kiss was different from the others. It was softer, slower, filled with a kind of quiet reverence, like he was savoring the taste of you, like he was trying to commit every second to memory. His hands roamed your back, tracing lazy circles on your skin, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, waiting for you, giving you the space to lead.

You pulled him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, your body pressing against his as the kiss deepened, your tongues tangling in a slow, deliberate dance. You could feel the heat building between you again, the soft friction of skin on skin, the way his breath hitched when your hands slipped down to the waistband of his jeans, teasing the line of flesh just above.

“Remy…” you whispered against his lips, your voice barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make him groan softly, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body firm and solid against yours.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. His eyes searched yours, dark and full of something raw, something that made your chest ache with how much he was holding back.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, full of need but also… something more. Something that told you he was waiting for you, that he’d follow your lead, that this wasn’t just about what he wanted.

And in that moment, you knew what you wanted. You wanted him. All of him. Not just his body, not just the heat and the passion, but everything—the vulnerability, the trust, the connection that had been growing between you for so long.

You pulled him toward the bed, your steps slow, deliberate, your heart pounding as you whispered, “I want you, Remy.”

His eyes darkened at your words, a soft groan escaping his lips as he followed your lead, his hands never leaving your body as you both moved toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the edge, you sank down onto the mattress, pulling him with you, his body pressing down against yours, warm and solid and real.

He hovered over you for a moment, his gaze locked on yours, his breath shaky, his hands framing your face as if you were something fragile, something precious. And then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so soft, so full of emotion, that it made your heart ache.

This was it. This was the moment when everything else fell away—the past, the walls, the fears. It was just the two of you, together, in this moment. No running. No hiding. Just you and him, giving in to the connection that had always been there, waiting for you both to finally let it happen.

And as his body moved over yours, as your hands explored the expanse of his skin, as your breaths mingled and your heartbeats synced, you knew that this wasn’t just a physical act. This was the start of something deeper, something so much more. Remy’s body pressed down against yours, his weight grounding you in a way that made everything feel more real, more intense. His lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger, like he wasn’t just kissing you—he was claiming you, savoring every second of contact, every taste of your skin. But there was a tenderness in the way he touched you, a carefulness that made your heart ache with the realization of how much he was holding back, how much he was afraid to break this fragile moment.

His hands slid down your sides, his touch featherlight but firm, as if he was learning your body, mapping each curve, each dip, committing it all to memory. When his fingers brushed the waistband of your pants, he paused, his breath hitching, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. There was a tension in him, a restraint, as if he was waiting for a sign from you, waiting for you to tell him it was okay to keep going.

You tilted your head up and kissed him again, soft and slow, your hands tracing the muscles of his back, feeling the way they rippled beneath your touch. His skin was warm, almost hot, the heat between your bodies growing with every second, with every soft press of his lips against yours.

“Remy…” you whispered his name, and the sound of it seemed to break something in him. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him, his body hard and unyielding against yours. You could feel the tension in every inch of him, the way his muscles coiled with barely restrained need, but still, he waited, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely more than a breath. His accent, thick and languid, wrapped around you, making your skin tingle. “Tell me ya want me.”

The raw vulnerability in his words made your heart skip a beat. You could hear the hesitation, the unspoken fear that maybe this was too much, that maybe you’d change your mind, that maybe you didn’t want him as much as he wanted you. But you did. God, you did.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw. His eyes closed at the contact, a soft sound escaping from the back of his throat, like even the smallest touch from you was enough to undo him.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady, full of certainty. “I’ve always wanted you.”

The moment the words left your lips, something shifted in him. His eyes snapped open, dark and intense, and the look he gave you was full of so much heat, so much raw need, that it made your breath catch in your throat.

Without another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate, a release of all the tension that had been building between you for so long. His hands moved to your pants, fingers deft as he unbuttoned them, pulling them down your hips with a kind of quiet urgency that made your pulse race.

You kicked them off, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt the cool air of the room against your bare skin. Every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing with anticipation, with the weight of what was about to happen.

Remy pulled back just long enough to look at you, his eyes raking over your body with a gaze so intense, so full of desire, that it made your breath hitch. His hand came up, fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your breast, down the line of your stomach, his touch so gentle, so reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“You’re beautiful, chère,” he whispered, his voice rough, full of awe. “So damn beautiful…”

The words made your chest tighten with emotion, with the realization that this wasn’t just about lust for him. There was something deeper here, something raw and unspoken that neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, in every touch, every kiss, every breathless moment between you.

You reached for him, your hands slipping to the waistband of his jeans, your fingers fumbling slightly as you unbuttoned them, the anticipation making your hands tremble. Remy let out a low groan, his hands tightening on your hips as you pushed the fabric down, revealing more of him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms.

When his jeans finally hit the floor, and he stood before you, bare and vulnerable, it felt like the air between you shifted. The weight of the moment hit you both, the realization that there was no going back from this. This was it. This was the moment when everything would change.

And yet, when he lowered himself over you again, his body pressing against yours, his skin warm and slick and solid, it didn’t feel like a decision. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

His lips found yours, softer this time, slower, and you could feel the way his body trembled slightly against yours, the way his breath shuddered as he kissed you. His hands slid down your sides, fingers tracing the curve of your hips, before he finally found the last barrier of fabric between you. He hesitated for just a second, his eyes searching yours, asking for permission, waiting for you to give him the final signal.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he slowly peeled away the last of your clothing, leaving you bare beneath him. The cool air hit your skin, but the warmth of his body was enough to keep you grounded, to keep you tethered to the moment.

For a few heartbeats, the world seemed to hold its breath. Remy’s eyes roamed over your face, dark and intense, but filled with something deeper than just desire—something vulnerable, something that made your chest tighten because you could see it all, the unspoken emotions swirling behind those crimson-black irises. He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you, all of you, every layer you’d let him peel back, every scar, every secret.

His hands moved slowly, sliding back up your sides, his touch feather-light as though he was afraid to break the moment, like he was memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. His fingers traced a delicate path from your waist to your ribs, then higher, brushing along your collarbone, before settling just below your throat, where your pulse raced wildly beneath his fingertips. The rhythm of your heartbeat, fast and erratic, seemed to draw him closer, his breath warm and unsteady as he hovered just inches above you.

His forehead rested against yours, the intimacy of the gesture making your head spin. You could feel his breath, hot and shallow, mixing with your own, and the closeness of it all—the rawness of being this open, this exposed—made the moment feel more real, more significant, than anything you had ever experienced before.

His voice, when it came, was a low rasp, barely more than a whisper. “You’re sure?” There was a crack in it, a kind of quiet, desperate plea hiding beneath the words. It wasn’t just about asking for consent; it was about asking for reassurance, about making sure this was real, that you truly wanted him in the same way he wanted you. You could feel the weight of what he was really asking—his need for confirmation that he wasn’t alone in this, that you were with him, not just physically, but emotionally, in every way that mattered.

The tenderness in his question made your throat tighten. You could feel the vulnerability radiating off him, the way his body trembled ever so slightly, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he waited for your answer. It wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t just about the heat between you. This was about trust—about breaking down the walls you’d both kept up for so long, about letting each other in, completely, without reservation.

You reached up slowly, your hand shaking just a little as your fingers brushed against the rough stubble of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled as though he was trying to hold himself back, trying to give you space, to let you decide what came next. Your thumb brushed over his lips, soft and full, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a quiet, shuddering breath escaping him as he leaned into your touch.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your voice steady, unwavering, even though your heart was pounding in your chest. “I want this. I want you.”

The moment the words left your lips, something shifted in him. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath. His pupils dilated, darkening the crimson in his gaze, and his breath hitched, his chest rising sharply as if your words had punched the air out of him. The vulnerability in his expression melted into something deeper, something raw and urgent, but still laced with so much care, so much tenderness.

“Tha’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his voice rough, thick with emotion.

And then, his lips were on yours again—no more hesitation, no more holding back. The kiss was deep and consuming, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that spoke of all the unspoken things between you. His hands, which had been so careful, so tentative, now gripped your waist with a new sense of purpose, pulling you closer, aligning your bodies until there was no space left between you. The heat of his skin against yours was almost overwhelming, but in the best possible way, like being consumed by a fire that didn’t burn but instead made you feel alive.

His mouth left yours only briefly, trailing down your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each kiss sent a wave of heat rushing through you, making your body arch into his, seeking more contact, more of him. His hands moved over you, slow and deliberate, tracing the lines of your body with a kind of reverence that made your heart ache, made you feel like you were something precious, something sacred.

When his lips found yours again, he shifted, his body moving over yours with a slow, deliberate grace, his weight pressing down on you in a way that felt grounding, reassuring. His hands slipped to your hips, guiding you, holding you steady as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flexed and tightened as he held himself back, waiting for the final moment, the final signal.

As he finally entered you, the world seemed to stop for a moment, a breathless pause where nothing else mattered but the feeling of him, the connection between you. Your body tensed at first, not from discomfort but from the overwhelming rush of sensation that swept through you, making your breath hitch, your heart race. It was as though every nerve in your body had come alive all at once, heightened to the point of being almost unbearable, but in the best possible way.

The slow, deliberate way he moved, the care he took, made it feel so much more than just a physical act. There was an intimacy in it, a kind of quiet reverence that made your chest ache with emotion. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tightened and flexed as he held himself above you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath shaky, uneven. His hands were firm yet tender on your hips, holding you steady, guiding you into him as though he didn’t want to rush a single moment, as though he wanted to savor every second, every inch of you.

And as he filled you, slowly, completely, it was like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. Not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, in every way that had been building between you. A connection that went beyond touch, beyond words. It was something deeper, something that had been growing for so long, waiting for this moment to be fully realized.

Your breath caught in your throat as he moved, your body instinctively responding to his, meeting him, matching the slow rhythm he set. There was no urgency, no frantic pace. Just the steady, deliberate movement of your bodies, each thrust a gentle push and pull, like a dance you had always known the steps to but had never truly danced until now.

The way your bodies fit together felt effortless, natural, like you were made for each other. Each movement sent a ripple of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t just the physical sensation that made you gasp, that made your fingers tighten in his hair, your nails dig into his skin. It was the emotional weight of the moment, the way he looked at you—his eyes dark and filled with something so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten with everything you felt for him.

Every soft sound he made, every groan, every whispered breath of your name, sent a shiver down your spine, made your body tremble beneath his. You could feel the need in him, the way his body tensed, the way his breath hitched each time your hands roamed over his back, down his sides, pulling him closer, deeper. But more than that, you could feel the care, the tenderness in every touch, in the way his thumb brushed over your skin, the way he kissed you softly in between ragged breaths.

It was as though time had slowed, and each second stretched out, adding weight to every movement, every touch. The intensity of it all wrapped around you both like a cocoon, insulating you from the rest of the world. There was no past, no future—only this moment, only the feel of his body against yours, inside yours, the rhythm of your heartbeats syncing as you moved together, as you breathed together.

And it was more than just the pleasure, more than just the physical connection. It was the release of everything that had been building between you for so long—the tension, the longing, the unspoken words, the walls you had both kept up for so long. They were gone now, crumbled away in the quiet intensity of this moment, leaving nothing but the raw, honest truth of how you felt for each other.

You whispered his name, barely more than a breath, and the way he responded, the soft groan that escaped his lips, the way his body trembled against yours, made your heart swell with emotion. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, his movements becoming just a fraction more deliberate, more focused, and you could feel the way he was struggling to hold back, to keep himself in check, to make sure that this was perfect for you.

And it was. It was perfect in a way you hadn’t expected—perfect not because of the pleasure, though that was undeniable, but because of the connection. Because in this moment, it wasn’t just about the physical act. It was about trust, about letting each other in, about breaking down the walls and allowing yourselves to be vulnerable, to be seen, to be loved in a way that went beyond words.

Your hands slid up to his face, your fingers brushing over his jaw, his cheeks, as you pulled him down to kiss you, slow and sweet. His breath shuddered against your lips as he kissed you back, his body moving with yours in perfect harmony, the pace never quickening, never rushing. The slow, steady rhythm between you felt like a promise, like a vow that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment, that this was something real, something deeper than either of you had ever let yourselves acknowledge before.

And as you moved together, as your bodies found their perfect rhythm, you knew that this was the culmination of everything you’d been feeling for so long. It was the release of all the tension, all the unspoken desires, all the walls that had kept you apart. It was the quiet, profound acknowledgment that there was more between you than just desire, more than just physical attraction.

It was love.

Pure, unspoken, undeniable love.

And when you finally reached that peak together, when your body trembled beneath his and his breath hitched in his throat, it wasn’t just the physical release that overwhelmed you. It was the emotional release, the sense of finally letting go, of finally allowing yourself to feel everything, to be completely open, completely vulnerable, and knowing that he was there with you, feeling the same way.

He shuddered against you, his body tense, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts as he held you close, his forehead resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin in soft, reverent kisses. And in that moment, as you lay there together, your bodies still tangled, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal, you knew that everything had changed.

You knew that this was more than just a connection of bodies.

This was a connection of souls. <><<><><><><><><> As the night deepened and sleep began to pull you under, Remy's arms wrapped around you with a protective, almost possessive tenderness. His body molded perfectly against yours, fitting like a puzzle piece. His chest was pressed against your back, his heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm that lulled you further into the quiet peace of the moment. His breath, soft and slow, caressed the back of your neck, each exhale a reminder that he was still there, holding you, grounding you in the present.

You shifted slightly in his arms, a soft murmur escaping your lips as you nestled closer to him, your body instinctively seeking his warmth. His grip tightened just a little, his hand sliding over your hip to rest against your stomach, holding you close, as if he was afraid that if he let go, even for a second, you might slip away. His fingers spread out across your skin, firm but gentle, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles over your skin.

For a while, he just watched you. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the sheets and the faint sound of your breathing, now deep and even as you drifted into sleep. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a soft glow over your face, illuminating the peaceful expression you wore, the slight curve of your lips that made it seem like you were smiling in your dreams. And as he looked at you, something inside him tightened—a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name, but knew with certainty that he had never felt anything like this before.

There was a softness to the way you slept, a vulnerability that made his chest ache. You had let him in, trusted him in ways that no one else had. And in return, you had made yourself a part of him—woven yourself into the very fabric of his being without even realizing it. And that scared him in a way he hadn’t expected. Because for the first time in a long time, he had something—someone—to lose.

As he held you, his mind began to wander, thoughts creeping in despite the quiet peace of the moment. Remy had always been careful, always lived with the knowledge that his life came with risks. The shadows he walked in weren’t just metaphors—they were real, dangerous, and constant. His world was one of deception, of danger lurking around every corner, of enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to use the people he cared about to get to him. He knew how easily things could change, how quickly that darkness could spread and consume everything in its path.

And that was why, as he looked down at you, so peaceful, so safe in his arms, he made a silent vow to himself.

He would keep you safe. No matter what it took. No matter how hard it became. He would protect you from the world he lived in, from the dangers that followed him like shadows. You were too precious, too important. He couldn’t let you be pulled into that darkness, into the chaos that constantly threatened to swallow him whole. You deserved better than that. You deserved peace. And this place—this bed, these moments with you—would be your sanctuary.

He would make sure of it.

His hand tightened slightly on your stomach, as if reinforcing that silent promise. He would never let anything touch you. Not here. Not in the space you had created together. He couldn’t change who he was, couldn’t erase the past that haunted him, or the enemies that would always be out there, waiting for a moment of weakness. But he could draw a line. He could make sure that his world stayed separate from yours.

You could know of his life, of the things he did, the people he dealt with. He wouldn’t hide the truth from you. But you would never be a part of it. He would never let you get too close to the danger. There would always be a boundary, always that invisible wall between you and the darkness he carried with him. He had never been good at protecting himself—had always accepted the risks, the wounds, the scars that came with his life. But you? You were different. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being hurt, of his world touching you in any way.

The thought of it made his chest tighten, a sharp stab of fear that he hadn’t expected. He had never been afraid of much in his life, had always faced danger head-on, unflinching. But now, lying there with you in his arms, the stakes felt higher. The thought of you being pulled into his world, of you being hurt because of him, was the one thing that truly terrified him.

He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering for just a moment as he breathed you in, trying to ground himself in the warmth of your skin, in the sound of your steady breathing.

This place—here—would always be your sanctuary. He would make sure of that. No matter what happened, no matter what danger came knocking on his door, he would keep it away from you. You had given him something he hadn’t even realized he needed—peace, comfort, a place where he could just be without the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he would protect that with everything he had.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy. His life wasn’t one that allowed for simple happiness, for quiet moments like this. But for you—for what you had given him—he would fight to keep it. He would keep the darkness at bay, even if it meant keeping parts of himself hidden from you, even if it meant sacrificing the parts of him that longed to let you in fully.

Because in the end, keeping you safe was more important than anything else. It was the only thing that mattered.

With that silent promise heavy in his chest, Remy closed his eyes, his arms still wrapped securely around you. He allowed himself to breathe in the moment, to let the softness of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, anchor him. And as sleep began to pull him under, his grip on you never loosened, his body instinctively curling around yours as if to shield you, to protect you even in sleep.

This place, this bed, this night—it was yours. It was his. It was safe.

And he would make sure it stayed that way. <><><><>><><>< You awoke with a groan, the shrill sound of your phone’s ringtone dragging you from the warm cocoon of sleep. Without opening your eyes, your hand fumbled across the nightstand, searching blindly for the device. Finally, your fingers found it, and you slid your thumb across the screen to answer, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your head sinking back into the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to cling to the remnants of your dreams.

“You’re late,” came Abigail’s sharp voice, cutting through the grogginess like a knife. “I’m giving you twenty minutes to get here before I fire you myself.”

You winced, pulling the phone away from your ear long enough to squint at the screen. Your eyes widened when you saw the time—thirty minutes past the start of your shift. Shit.

“I—uh, sorry, I’ll be right there,” you stammered, your heart kicking into high gear as reality started to sink in.

“Good,” Abigail replied, her tone as icy as ever. “Because James is an idiot without you there managing him.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead, leaving you holding your phone to your ear with a growing sense of panic. You groaned again, louder this time, the sound muffled by your pillow as you flopped back down onto the mattress. Great. Just great.

But as your mind cleared and your heart stopped racing, you became aware of something else—someone else.

You turned your head slowly, the events of the night before flooding back into your consciousness as you gazed at the figure lying next to you. Remy. His bare chest rose and fell with the slow, steady rhythm of sleep, his arm slung lazily over his eyes, blocking out the morning light that filtered in through the curtains. The sheet had slipped down to his waist, leaving his torso exposed, the faint scars on his skin a quiet reminder of the life he lived beyond the sanctuary of this room.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you watched him, your heart swelling with a mixture of affection and wonder. He looked so peaceful, so different from the guarded man he usually was. The lines of worry and tension that normally creased his brow were gone, replaced by the calm serenity of sleep. And for a moment, you let yourself just look at him, drinking in the sight of him lying there beside you, so open, so vulnerable in a way you had never seen him before.

You didn’t want to wake him. God, you really didn’t want to wake him. Especially after last night—after that quiet, intense connection you had shared. You wanted to stay in this moment, to curl back into him and let the outside world disappear for just a little longer.

But you didn’t have a choice.

With a frustrated sigh, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, the cool air hitting your skin as you slipped out from under the covers. The bed shifted slightly beneath you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see if the movement had disturbed him. But Remy didn’t stir. His arm remained draped over his eyes, his breathing deep and even. You hesitated for just a second, your gaze lingering on the curve of his lips, the soft rise and fall of his chest.

As you leaned down to press a soft kiss to Remy's cheek, you felt him stir beneath you. His breath hitched slightly, and before you could pull away, his arm shifted, falling from his eyes to rest lazily across his chest. He blinked up at you, his eyes still heavy with sleep, a small, sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mm, mornin’, cher,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand reached for you, his fingers brushing lightly against your side, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let you go just yet. His touch was soft, warm, and for a moment, you were tempted to crawl back into bed with him, to let the rest of the world wait.

But then you remembered the phone call.

You let out a soft sigh, brushing your fingers lightly through his tangled hair as you whispered, “I’m late for work.”

Remy’s eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something warmer behind it, too—something softer, more tender. He shifted onto his elbow, leaning up slightly as his gaze roamed over your face, taking you in as if he was trying to memorize every detail before you slipped away from him again.

“Work, huh?” he teased, his voice still thick with sleep. “Was hopin’ I could convince ya t’ stay a little longer.”

You laughed softly, but the sound was tinged with regret. “Believe me, I’d love to, but Abigail’s already threatening to fire me.”

He winced slightly at that, a sympathetic smile crossing his face. His hand slipped from your side, trailing down your arm before resting on the bed beside him, his fingers brushing against the sheets where your body had been just moments ago. “Guess I can’t be the reason ya lose your job.”

You shook your head, smiling as you leaned in to kiss him again—this time, a little more firmly, savoring the feel of his lips against yours, the warmth of him, before you pulled away. “Not today, at least.”

As you stood up, reaching for your clothes scattered around the room, a thought crept into your mind, one that you couldn’t quite shake. You glanced back at him as you pulled your shirt over your head, your movements slowing as you watched him stretch out lazily on the bed, his bare chest rising and falling with each steady breath. His eyes were on you, dark and intense, full of something that made your heart skip a beat.

“Will I see you later?” you asked, trying to sound casual, even though the question carried more weight than you intended. It felt strange, waking up like this—so close, so connected—and not knowing when you’d see him again.

Remy’s smile faded slightly as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, his body still half-covered by the sheets. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, his expression softening, though there was something guarded in his eyes now—something distant.

“I don’t think so, cher,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Got some things I need to take care of today. Business.”

You tried to hide your disappointment, but he saw it, his gaze flickering over your face as if he could read every thought, every feeling. He sighed softly, reaching for your hand and pulling you gently toward him. You stepped closer, letting him tug you between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on your hips.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “Ya know I’d rather be here wit’ ya, right?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you looked down at him. His thumb brushed softly over your skin, a silent reassurance, but the distance in his eyes remained, like there was something unspoken between you—something he wasn’t letting you see.

“I get it,” you said softly, though the words felt heavier than you wanted them to. “You’ve got your life, I’ve got mine.”

Remy’s grip on your hips tightened slightly, just for a moment, as if he didn’t like the sound of those words. But then he let out a quiet breath, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he looked up at you.

“Don’t worry, cher,” he said. “I’ll find ya soon enough.”

You smiled, but there was still a lingering sense of uncertainty as you pulled away from him, stepping back to gather the rest of your things. You couldn’t help but feel like there was more to his words, more to the way he was pulling away from you. But you didn’t press him. Not now.

As you finished pulling on your shoes, you glanced back at Remy, still sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare chest catching the soft morning light that filtered through the curtains. He was watching you, his expression unreadable but his eyes warm, following your every move. You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave him alone in the quiet of your apartment, but work was calling, and you were already late.

“Hey,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “You can stay as long as you need to. Feel free to use the shower, grab something to eat.” You paused, offering him a small smile. “Just remember to pull the deadlock when you leave, okay?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned back slightly, resting his hands on the bed behind him as he looked up at you. “You're t’ good t’ me, cher.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but the way he was looking at you made your stomach flutter. “It’s no big deal. I trust you.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—something deeper, unspoken—but before you could dwell on it, he stood up, moving with that easy grace that always seemed to follow him. He reached down to where his jeans lay crumpled on the floor, fishing around in the pocket until he pulled out his phone.

“How abo’ I make it up to ya?” he said, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Lemme take ya out tonight. Just you and me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “Tonight?”

He nodded, already scrolling through his phone, his fingers moving deftly over the screen. “Yeah. After ya done wit’ work, I’ll text ya. We can meet somewhere. No distractions, no interruptions. Just us.”

You bit your lip, feeling a surge of excitement rise in your chest despite the lingering haze of your morning rush. The way he said it—just us—felt like a promise, something more than just a casual night out. It felt like he was offering you a piece of himself, something you hadn’t quite seen before. And despite everything, despite the uncertainty that sometimes clouded your connection, you wanted that. You wanted him.

“Okay,” you said, your smile growing as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Text me, and I’ll meet you.”

Remy’s grin widened, a rare, genuine smile that softened the edges of his normally guarded demeanor. “I’s a date, then.”

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, and leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot all about the ticking clock, about Abigail, about how late you were for work. All you could think about was him—the way he smelled, the way his body radiated heat, and the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room.

When he pulled back, his hand lingered on your arm for just a second longer before he let go, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I’ll see yalater, cher.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest as you turned toward the door. “Yeah. See you.”

As you stepped out of the room, you glanced back one last time, catching one more glimpse of him standing there, his phone still in hand, his gaze following you like a quiet promise. You didn’t want to leave, not really, but the thought of seeing him later—just the two of you—gave you something to look forward to, something to hold onto through the chaos of the day ahead.

“Don’t forget the deadlock,” you called over your shoulder with a teasing grin.

Remy chuckled softly, his voice warm and familiar as it trailed after you. “I got it, darlin’. Don’t worry.”

And with that, you slipped out the door, a smile still lingering on your lips as you headed down the hallway, already counting the hours until you could see him again.