#i just love that he networks so much he just has commentators numbers on hand to bug them

[ratatatastic]

Matthew really said first and foremost I’m a hockey junky and a hater

any reason he gives us to pull out the "im a hockey nut" clip is always a good one

[xomakara]

No Clue

SUMMARY |  You're in love with Jaehyun, your best friend, but he has no clue. You have suffered in silence as you have watched him date countless of girls left and right. Graduation is coming up, and you are running out of time to tell him how you feel. Will he finally see that it should have been you all along, or will he break your heart forever?

PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS |  college!student!Jaehyun, college!student!Reader, college au, friends to lovers trope, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (both male/female receiving/giving), praise kink, pet names

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, 18+

LENGTH |  11,927 words

TAGLIST | @yowmaman @yoursyuno @peqchypeqh @nctobsessedsstuff @thoughtfulqueenlady

@shiningnono @jaessunflower214 @tenleecth10 @beebxxu @niinjo

@carelessshootanonymous @peachytokki @100203shong @soheendo

NETWORKS | @k-vanity

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Its finally done and I have finally returned! I think this is my dirtiest and filthiest NSFW work yet for NCT 👀. Thanks to everyone that has shown the preview much love so please show the finished work just as much love. Don't forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

You sat in the coffee shop, tables away from your best friend as you watched him flirt with that pretty girl he met at the latest NCT frat party. It was another girl this week, but you still hoped. You hoped he would turn and look at you. You hoped that he would see that it should be you.

It was never you.

He laughed at something she said and you sipped your tea. The hot liquid scalded your throat but you barely registered the pain, your eyes on Jaehyun, your heart shattering every single time he smiled at her. He would never smile at you like that. He would never look at you with those soft brown eyes.

And yet you continued to sit in the corner, watching, hoping, praying for something you could never have.

You got up and walked past them, ignoring Jaehyun's questioning glance. Your head was down as you pushed open the door and stepped out into the hot summer air.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet. The heels you wore were a nuisance today, and you kicked them off halfway through the walk, your feet padding barefoot across the concrete. You could see a group of guys approaching and you sighed, picking up your pace. You didn’t want to have to talk to anyone.

The group stopped and turned towards you, calling out. You could hear their footsteps following and you bit back a curse.

“Y/N, seriously, are you listening to us?” One of the guys, Mark, said.

You slowed your pace and turned, plastering a smile on your face.

Mark stood before you, Taeyong, Johnny, and Haechan close behind. You knew them from high school. You had been friends, and you had always found them attractive. But nothing, nothing, compared to how you felt about Jaehyun.

Your eyes drifted to the ground.

“Who made our girl cry?” Taeyong asked, wrapping his arms around you. He could see through your fake smile.

You couldn't help but relax into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He rubbed your back gently.

The others came forward and touched you gently, Mark taking one of your hands, Johnny placing a hand on your head, and Haechan standing beside you and taking your other hand.

You didn’t want to cry anymore.

They held you for a while, silent. They had known for years about how you felt about Jaehyun. You couldn’t count the number of times you had called Taeyong, crying and begging him to come and hold you, the number of times Johnny had taken you for coffee or to the cinema, anything to get you out of your apartment and away from the sight of Jaehyun with someone else. Mark had sat up with you late at night, watching bad rom-coms and eating popcorn. Haechan had brought you a new book every single day since the start of university, and you knew that the reason you had done so well was because of him.

They helped you through your worst times. And here they were again.

You finally stepped back, looking up at them and wiping the last of the tears away.

“Another girl this time?” Haechan asked softly.

“The one Yuta introduced him to at the last frat party.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. "I've got all dolled up today thinking that something was different, that maybe today would be the day when he suddenly asked to meet me at the coffee shop alone. But I guess it was to introduce me to whatever her name was."

The boys stayed silent.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Johnny asked quietly.

You shook your head.

"He doesn't need to know. I'm okay." You sighed. "Besides, no matter how much I wear pretty clothes or put on makeup, or wear these stupid heels like always...he never looks my way. He never sees me. I must be ugly or something, I don't know."

"You are beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Haechan whispered.

"You guys are the best." You smiled and kissed their cheeks.

"Why don't we have a movie night? We can get pizza and snacks and just chill." Johnny smiled, linking his arm with yours.

"Drinks included?" You asked, your heart a little lighter than it had been a few moments ago.

"Of course." Mark laughed.

"And popcorn, lots of it." Taeyong grinned.

You walked with them back to your apartment, smiling and laughing at their jokes, letting yourself relax and forget about Jaehyun, at least for a little while.

Haechan opened your front door, grinning.

"Let's get wasted!" He whooped, making a beeline to the cabinet where you had stored all your drinks.

"Get some glasses." Mark laughed, following the younger boy.

You and Johnny made your way into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. Taeyong came back from the kitchen with plates and napkins, placing them on the table and sitting beside you.

Haechan and Mark carried all the drinks and snacks to the table and sat on the floor, sorting out the snacks.

You smiled, grateful for the four men in front of you. You would have gone mad without them.

The night was going well, you were sitting between Taeyong and Johnny on the couch, leaning on Johnny and giggling as the film continued. Haechan was curled up on the other side of the couch, half asleep. Mark had disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a huge bowl of popcorn and settling on the floor next to Haechan.

Your phone buzzed and you frowned, looking down and seeing Jaehyun's name. You groaned and threw the phone to the other side of the couch, turning your attention back to the film.

"Don't you want to see what he wants?" Taeyong asked softly.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and took another sip of your drink. "He can go fuck himself."

"He's texted you like a hundred times already." Haechan frowned, holding the phone out to you.

"So?"

"Y/N, just look. It could be important."

You groaned and snatched the phone from him, opening the messages and rolling your eyes.

Jae: Are you mad at me?

Jae: Seriously, you can't ignore me forever. Please reply. What the fuck did I do wrong? You are my best friend, talk to me.

Jae: This is not fucking funny. What is wrong with you?

"What's wrong with me?" You looked away from your phone, letting out a frustrated sigh as you passed your phone to Mark.

"You want me to reply?" Mark asked.

"Nope. Just turn off my phone. I don't care how many messages he leaves me." You got up, downing your drink. "I'm going to get more alcohol."

"You are going to regret this in the morning," Johnny called.

"At this point, I don't fucking care. I'm done with this. If he wants to date the whole world then that's up to him. Not my fault."

You stumbled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of vodka, poured a good amount into your cup, and made your way back to the guys. "I'll regret it later, but right now, I'm getting absolutely, fucking trashed."

The movie finished, and you had drunk more than enough alcohol to kill a horse.

You were lying on the couch, the others sitting around you.

"I don't want to be in love anymore. Why can't I stop?" You slurred, your eyes closed as you lay across the couch, your head on Johnny's lap and your feet in Haechan's.

"There will be someone else. Someone better." Johnny stroked your hair, smiling softly.

"I hope so. I really, fucking do." You sighed.

You were drunk, you were sad, and you cried a lot. But you were also tired.

And within minutes, you were asleep.

Jaehyun was worried. He had texted you and called you. His texts went unanswered, his calls went straight to voicemail, and everyone else who was with you wasn't answering his texts.

"What the fuck is going on with everyone tonight?" He muttered, throwing his phone onto his bed and falling onto the pillows.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why you wouldn't talk to him. He had seen you walk out of the cafe and had wondered why you hadn't waited for him, why you had left so quickly.

He had wanted to ask but had been distracted by the pretty girl who was sitting in front of him.

He couldn't deny that she was gorgeous and that he liked the way her dress clung to her figure.

But she wasn't you.

Jaehyun sighed and looked at his phone. The girl, Minah, had asked him out, and he had said yes.

She was the most recent in a long line of girls, all of whom had asked him out. He could barely remember their names. They were just something to occupy his time, something to fill the void in his chest when his mind drifted back to you. You, his beautiful best friend, who probably doesn't think of him as anything but a friend.

Jaehyun could imagine holding you, loving you, kissing you until your lips were red and swollen, only pulling away to pepper your skin in small, soft kisses that made you giggle. He wanted to be able to run his fingers through your hair and kiss the top of your head as he pulled you against him. He could see you wrapped up in his arms as the sun came up, your soft breaths against his skin, your fingertips gently dancing across his body.

He wanted to be with you, wanted you in his life, not these random, forgettable girls. But he didn't know how to tell you, and so he resigned himself to this half-life.

He grabbed his phone and called you again, but still, it rang and rang until finally the voicemail picked up. He didn’t bother leaving another message, knowing that you were deliberately not answering.

He knew that he should probably let you be, but the worry was building inside him. He was concerned. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

It was almost 2 am and you still hadn't replied to him.

Jaehyun stood up, his mind made up. He grabbed his keys, jacket, phone, and wallet, and made his way out of his apartment to head to yours.

He walked slowly, thinking about you, wondering what had happened that day. Had he done something wrong? Why had you left the coffee shop without him?

He reached your apartment, surprised that the lights were still on.

He knocked loudly, waiting impatiently for someone to answer the door.

After a moment, the door opened, and Mark stood in the doorway. "Hey, can't this wait? She's asleep."

"Is she okay?" Jaehyun tried to push past the shorter man, but Mark stopped him.

"Look, man, just go home. She doesn't want to talk to you." Mark sighed.

Jaehyun gave him a look. "Why the fuck not? I'm her best friend."

"Well, you have a fucking shitty way of showing it. Do you even know what you have put her through?" Johnny walked up behind Mark and glared at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun paused. "What are you talking about?"

"You are her best friend and you are so blind that you can't see what is right in front of your eyes." Johnny continued.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jaehyun furrowed his eyebrows.

"For fucks sake." Johnny sighed. "Go home, Jae. Leave her alone for now."

"Tell her I'll call her tomorrow. I'll be back to check on her." Jaehyun turned and walked away, his head full of confusion.

Mark and Johnny shared a look.

"This is getting out of hand," Mark muttered.

"It'll work out. Let's get back inside. She needs us."

They closed the door and walked back into the living room, the others glancing at them.

"Is he gone?" Haechan asked.

"Yeah, for now. But I don't know how much longer we can keep this up. If he doesn't realize how she feels soon, it will destroy her." Mark sighed.

Taeyong moved from his seat and sat on the floor next to Haechan. "How many girls has he been with now?" He asked.

"I've lost count. There was that girl at the party last week, the one with the green dress. He dated her for two days before he realized that she wasn't going to give him anything other than her time. Then there was that blonde girl, she was nice, and lasted a couple of weeks." Mark listed the girls that Jaehyun had brought around and introduced to you.

"How many of those girls did he fuck?" Haechan asked.

"Too many." Mark sighed.

"And she watches them all. She sits and listens to them talk about their dates and the things they've done, and she never says anything. She pretends to be happy for him, pretends that she is okay." Johnny looked over at your sleeping form.

"This needs to end." Haechan frowned. "Can't we just lock them in a room or something? Let them fuck it out or something? Surely it has to happen at some point."

"I'm with him." Taeyong looked at the rest of them.

"That...I guess that would work." Johnny nodded slowly.

"I could knock her out." Mark stood. "Give her something to drink, make it sweet or something... I could pick her up, put her somewhere..."

"No, Mark. No." Taeyong stopped him. "I'm pretty sure drugging her is illegal, even if you are doing it for a good cause. We don't need you getting arrested as well."

"Fine, fine." Mark threw his hands up and flopped down beside Haechan.

"Doesn't have to be drug-free," Haechan suggested.

"Again, Hae, not helping. We need Y/N and Jaehyun to be conscious if this is to go ahead." Johnny explained patiently.

"Yo, isn't the summer frat party coming up? We could lock them up in the laundry room since the door lock is broken?" Mark asked. “Like that shit won’t unlock from the inside.”

"Who knows what they could do then...no, wait. What if we kept them under a watch, like literally, all the time, until the frat party? At which point, we shove him in with her and she will have nowhere to escape to." Johnny sat up straight, eyes wide, an excited smile on his face.

"Okay. So far we have a plan to trap them at a frat party, and make sure they won't have any outside influences." Taeyong leaned back.

"Any other suggestions before we call this a success?" Johnny asked.

"Don't get caught," Haechan replied, grinning.

"Don't. Get. Caught." The others nodded.

Over the next few weeks, the boys slowly came up with a plan to trap you and Jaehyun together. It took a lot more thinking than anyone had believed it would, and twice they had had to start the plan over after realizing the flaws.

But the day was approaching fast, the day of the Frat Party. The annual summer frat party was known for one thing – anything and everything was up for grabs. There were no rules. People would sit in the quiet corners of rooms and kiss strangers, get blind drunk, dance the night away, or pass out on a soft surface. Anything goes.

It was the perfect place to begin the trap.

By the end of the week, everyone knew it would be the night you and Jaehyun got together. There were only a few more hurdles to jump, and the boys would finally let the cat out of the bag.

Your friendship group was also quite big, and your respective friendship groups always did make sure that you were as drunk or as happy or as horny as the other was, at least.

So this meant that you, as usual, and for the last few years, were at this frat party with them, on a weekend and dressed to impress.

And impressed you had, Jaehyun thought to himself, watching you flit in between friends with your drink. He knew that you were going to be here at this party, even if you were avoiding him for reasons unknown to him. He hoped to catch a chance to speak to you about this. He missed his best friend.

It took a lot longer than he thought to get an opportunity to corner you. And he saw that there was always one of the guys, usually either Haechan or Taeyong, with you. Almost like they knew he was looking to speak with you.

Johnny and Mark appeared at Jaehyun's side, slapping him on the back.

"Going to make a move tonight?" Johnny grinned. "Time to cash in and score."

"Cute, man. How old are you, 18?" Jaehyun raised a brow.

"Dude, it's the summer party where nothing is off-limits. Rules don't exist. Do whatever, whoever. Catch a big one." Johnny pointed in the general direction of all the college students around.

"You seem excited for some reason." Jaehyun narrowed his eyes.

"Why not be?" Mark asked with an easy smile, looking as if he didn't have a single worry in the world. "Look at all the hot ass around. It's not that big of a deal."

Jaehyun huffed before sipping his beer from the can. "Sure, maybe I'll land on someone." 

He sighed and looked for you across the sea of people. He saw you giggling with your friends, obviously slightly tipsy. His heart thudded loudly at the sight of you in an all-too-short silver skirt that barely covered the curve of your ass, a lace bodysuit that barely covered your ample breasts, and stiletto heels that showed off your long and lean legs beautifully. It took him a minute to pull his gaze back to Mark and Johnny, both of them with huge shit-eating grins.

Johnny and Mark noticed his wandering eyes looking at you, and they glanced at one another before giving each other a knowing nod. Mark raises an eyebrow as Johnny nearly spits out the beer he is drinking when he finally spots you in the crowd.

"Fuck, dude!" He exclaims and smacks Jaehyun's arm. "When did Y/N look this hot? I know we’re friends but damn. She outdid herself tonight."

Jaehyun gives Johnny a sideways glance at the fact that he had the audacity to be hitting on his best friend. He moves to get up and find you, a little annoyed that his friends are getting their eyes on you.

"Man, I bet she's looking for something in particular tonight, why not get first?" Mark whistles and gives Johnny a fist pump. 

Jaehyun hears this comment and gives him a strange look, then raises a brow in thought as to Mark's remark. He tries to shrug it off and heads off towards where you were last seen by him. Jaehyun fights his way through the throng of college students trying to dance but fails to see you again and assumes you have found another of your friends to hang around with.

"Did Jaehyun finally have the guts to approach her?" Taeyong asks Johnny from the corner of the house.

Mark let out a laugh. "Johnny made Jae think that he was interested in Y/N." He laughs harder. "Taeyong, your boy was about ready to fight Johnny."

"Hey, anything for him to make a move." He murmurs and he watches Jaehyun search the room for you.

As Johnny, Taeyong, and Mark snicker from their corner and watch the unfolding scene, Jaehyun turns, looking almost irritated as he attempts to catch up with his best friend. He makes a silent promise that the next guy who tries to hit on you is going down.

You are none the wiser to Jaehyun trying to search for you or the scheming your friends have done as you were chatting with Yuta, Jeno, and Jungwoo. The four of you are laughing as you chatter with drinks in hand and have fun.

"We're sure this will work, guys?" Haechan checks on Taeyong, Johnny, and Mark while drinking his third cup of beer. "There's only a handful of us left who can help and make sure Jaehyun or Y/N doesn't sneak out early."

"Oh this better fucking work or I swear to god, we will just use a megaphone and let everyone know they are in love with each other." Taeyong growls and rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Just make sure no one comes to the laundry room, alright guys?" Johnny finalizes and all the boys give a nod.

Suddenly, the house turns silent when the DJ  lowers the volume. Jaehyun is surprised he can hear his thoughts, but then the main host, or frat house leader, Doyoung announces. "Okay, party-goers, as you all are aware, the party rules for the night apply! Nothing is forbidden, let yourself be free and open, and no boundaries because what happens here, stays here! This means that you, your friends, and whatever partners you end up with can do as you like, go wherever you like, however many you like, but please make sure safety precautions are used! If you're sober, come and volunteer to drive your partners and friends safely home once it ends. Enjoy the party, and party till the sun rises!"

The house erupts in a sea of applause.

Most of the party attendees grab someone and immediately find a spot for themselves in some rooms or leave for the night to continue elsewhere.

You're flirting with an attractive boy you don't know. His arms are wrapped around your waist as you subtly flirt with him, giggling at whatever stupid thing is leaving his mouth.

Jaehyun is at the other side of the room drinking beer from a red solo cup, looking at you with a frown. He can't keep his eyes off of you, which pisses him off, as you won't even reply to his texts. And the whole not texting back doesn't make him as angry as this boy who is a bit too close to you. You're practically pressed against him, his hand on your waist, and you are whispering things he can't hear into his ear. He tries to shake his jealousy off but his eyes never leave you, and then the unknown boy turns and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter closed, and your fingers grip the boy's hair and jacket.

Jaehyun lets the cup drop out of his hand and makes his way over to you. He puts his hand in the boy's face and pushes him away.

"Dude, what's your problem?" The boy frowns and steps towards him, pushing him lightly.

"She's my fucking problem. Don't touch her. Fuck off. She isn't interested." Jaehyun growls. The boy rolls his eyes, looks over his shoulder at you, and storms off.

"Jae, what the fuck is your problem?" You glare at him, pulling him so your bodies are flush against each other. Jaehyun stares down at you, trying to control his erratic heartbeat.

"Him. Kissing you. That's my problem."

"What are you talking about? I was just talking with him. I didn't know he would kiss me." You sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

"Were you going to let him? Did you want him to?" Jaehyun growled. “You looked like you were enjoying it.”

"Does that matter? Would it even make a difference?" You said as you stepped in front of the laundry room and tilted your head back to him.

"You don't answer my calls anymore. You ignore my texts." Jaehyun murmured, walking close behind you.

"And why would that matter? You've got loads of pretty girls to entertain yourself with, Jaehyun." Your tone was mocking, and bitter, and Jaehyun noticed.

"Where is this coming from? Is that why you have been ignoring me lately?" He said, getting annoyed.

"So what if it is? It doesn't matter anymore, Jaehyun. It's obvious that your eyes are already set on your next prize." You walked into the laundry room, trying to find someplace quiet. 

To get away from him.

The room, unlike the rest of the house, had no loud music playing, no thumping bass, just the soft buzzing sound of the washer and dryer machines, and the party could no longer be heard through the walls. The music was almost like white noise now. You knew Jaehyun had followed you into the room, you could feel the warmth radiate off of him. His body heat so close behind you. He was about to speak when you both heard the door slammed shut, locking from the outside.

"You've gotta be shitting me." Jaehyun groaned, yanking at the door handle. 

You rushed to the door and twisted the lock, only to find it refused to budge. "They still didn't fix the damn door lock? Really?"

"Hey! Who is it? Open the fucking door." Jaehyun slammed his fist at the wooden frame, frowning as it did not budge an inch.

He pressed his forehead to the door and swore loudly.

"Jaehyun, it's no use. You could break your hands before it opens." You tugged on his sleeve. "We may as well wait it out." 

You sighed and went to go sit on the floor, your back against the machines. Jaehyun sank beside you on the floor, leaning his back against the machine and rubbing a hand down his face, mumbling profanities. You tuck your knees up, wrapping your arms around your legs. Jaehyun couldn't help but look down at you, his gaze drinking you in.

The lace bodysuit that hugged your breasts and accentuated all your curves, the short skirt that showed your naked legs. Your hair was out and around your shoulders. You had on makeup, not that you needed any, you always were breathtaking even in a hoodie and sweatpants. But the smokey makeup and red lipstick – that was new. And the stiletto heels on your feet only lengthened your toned legs further. You never did anything half-assed when it came to your appearance. Always dressed for the occasion, even if the occasion was a damn frat party where no rules applied.

He was enraptured by your beauty.

He always was.

Jaehyun struggled now more than before not to keep his thoughts innocent and out of the gutter. Especially now as you were sitting by his side so close, it took all the willpower inside him to not keep his dirty thoughts at bay and not throw himself at you and take advantage of the situation.

"Where’s your phone, Jae?" You murmured. “Mines dead. Forgot to charge it.”

Jaehyun patted down his pockets, looking for his cell phone, then remembered he had placed it in the back pocket of his pants. He scrambled to get it out of his pocket and opened his messages, only to see one new message from Johnny.

Johnny: Get a fucking move on, man. We are NOT letting you out until you two hook up.

So, that answered his unanswered question, and Jaehyun frowned, his eyebrows lowering, glaring daggers at the phone. He fidgeted as he typed the message back, telling Johnny and the boys to let you both the fuck out and sent it.

Johnny: No can do. Take this time to bond and grow as people and then finally FUCK like rabbits.

Before Jaehyun could type out an answer, you plucked his phone out of his hands and stared at the screen before letting out a soft laugh.

"I should have figured they were going to do this. So, we're stuck here for the time being." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I guess I can't avoid you after all."

"Are you going to tell me why you've been avoiding me? Did I do something?" Jaehyun sighed.

Your hands gripped your thighs, fingers pressing down hard, as you struggled not to throw your arms around his neck and pull his lips to yours. To show him exactly how you felt.

"It's complicated, Jae." You began, leaning your head against the washing machine behind you and staring at the wall. You were silent for a few moments, taking deep, slow breaths in and out as Jaehyun let you collect your thoughts and form the right words. "I...just. I can't pretend. I can't do it anymore. It's taking its toll on me and I can't hide it from you. Not when we've been best friends since childhood. Not when you know how to read my fucking moods."

Jaehyun cupped your jaw, making you look at him. "Are you okay? If something is wrong-"

"I'm not okay! Of course, I'm not fucking okay." You snapped, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "Not when I have to see girls hanging all over you, draping themselves over you, giggling every time you flirt, or when they kiss you. How do you think it is for me? To watch someone I...I...shit. Someone I care so much about, be with someone else? It's eating me alive inside, Jaehyun."

You didn't miss his wide-eyed reaction, his sharp intake of breath, or how he tried to read the expression on your face.

"What are you getting at, exactly?" Jaehyun asked, tilting his head.

"God, you are infuriating. Do I have to spell this out to you?" You roll your eyes and push yourself up to stand and begin pacing, the heels of your shoes clicking across the linoleum-tiled floor, and he watches you pace, agitated. Jaehyun grabs your hand and pulls you to him. Your stiletto heels are wobbling a bit and his other hand grips your hip to steady you. His gaze holds yours and doesn't waver and you notice there is a flicker in his dark, hooded eyes that sends a chill through your spine.

"Do you like me?" Jaehyun finally breathes, holding your gaze intently, searching for confirmation. He doesn't let go of you.

"What would you do if I said yes?" You are playing a dangerous game and you know it. The air between you crackles with tension and you swear you feel his pulse increase with the closeness of your body to his. Your lips are inches apart.

You have always wondered how his mouth would feel on yours and it drives you wild with thoughts.

A fire flickers and spreads through your veins when you look up at him and see the way his eyes darken with want when he gazes down at you. His breath is shallow and uneven. He swallows, thick and heavy and your eyes drop to his lips. Your tongue darts out to wet your own, and Jaehyun's mouth parts.

The tip of Jaehyun's tongue is faintly pink and you want nothing more than for him to lift his chin and press his lips to your parted pouted ones, but the courage you mustered seconds ago is suddenly gone and you try to step back from him. You're met with a wall of machines. You aren't sure if you were to try and push past him if you would have even made a single movement to escape. Your chest is still rising and falling at a rapid, uneven rate, and you realize that maybe there is an underlying truth about the house's saying: anything is a free game tonight.

"Do you like me, Y/N?" He asks again, his hands on either side of your body, trapping you between the washers and his arms. He leans towards you and cages you in, and his knee slips between yours.

You couldn't think clearly, not with the smell of Jaehyun invading your senses. His cologne was driving you insane. You grip his shirt between your fingers and lower yourself onto his knee. It feels good and you aren't sure whether it's because you haven't had sex in months or if it was his muscular leg that fits so perfectly between yours.

"Answer me, Y/N." His lips are next to your ear, voice low, breathing hot. It causes a whimper to spill from your mouth. The way Jaehyun's words made your insides feel...fuck. "Please, I need to know."

The please almost shattered any sense of will you might have possessed to hold yourself together. "I - I -"

"Yes?" Jaehyun leaned impossibly closer to you, so close you could taste his scent.

"Jaehyun," your tone is quiet and uncertain. You are frightened of the possibility of losing your lifelong friendship. Of losing Jaehyun. Of not having him. Not like that anyway. "I -"

Before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between the both of you, and you don't hesitate for a second. His hand sinks into the flesh of your hips, pulling you flush against him, your lips sealing perfectly. Your tongue reaches and touches his, licking softly into his mouth. His other hand grips your cheeks with his large fingers as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. It's hot and fiery and he explores every part of your mouth as he devours you in a passionate kiss. It leaves you breathless.

You have kissed many men in your life.

However, none could ever make your toes curl the same way he did. None of them had you begging for more, willing to give up the fight you had been so diligently putting up the past few weeks just to be with him. You cling to his chest, your nails digging into his white T-shirt as your teeth bite on his bottom lip softly.

He moans.

Your core clenches at the sound, and you can't deny the small rush of pride that runs down your spine.

Fuck, it turns you on.

You grab his shoulders for support, his hands roaming around your ass. He squeezes and you gasp, kissing his neck as you roll your hips over the firmness of his knee. The warmth between your legs pooling.

"Is this what you want? Is that it? Is this what's been bothering you the past few weeks?"

Your fingers curl tighter around his T-shirt, and you cling to him, not allowing yourself to step away and let him go. You are losing your breath as he presses you into the metal and it sends a wave of heat coursing through your body.

"Jaehyun," you whined in protest, arching and shivering in his hold.

"Do you like me?” He wanted you to beg. “No, do you love me?”

"Yes," you whimpered as you kissed the hollow of his neck and sucked the sensitive area of skin. Jaehyun's skin was soft and salty on your tongue. Your actions ignited Jaehyun. “I love you so much.”

"I fucking love you, too." He growled, pushing his knee between your legs harder and his other hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your head back. His teeth found the smooth column of your neck and bit softly.

The next moment, Jaehyun is pushing your body against the washer, kissing your neck and your fingers are dragging your nails up and down his biceps, and then he lifts you, throwing one arm underneath the bend in your knees. Your skirts are riding up on the back of your thighs. The next moment you are sitting up on top of the large washer with Jaehyun between your knees, your bare legs wrapped around his hips as his mouth ravages yours, drawing another lustful moan out of you.

You are convinced at that moment that you've found your perfect person.

Your bodies flush and chests heave in rhythm together. You break your lips from his and trail your kiss-bitten lips down his jaw and lick his neck, tugging at the hem of his T-shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin. His lips brush yours once again, his tongue flicking inside your parted mouth and eliciting another soft gasp from you.

You loved it and it sent warmth straight to your core.

Suddenly, as Jaehyun is ravishing you, the door to the laundry room swings open and you both find Johnny leaning against the door frame. Mark, Taeyong, and Haechan hovering in the doorway. Johnny smirks as Mark and Taeyong cover Haechans' young eyes, the youngest exclaiming that he’s seen worse before.

"You've got to be shitting me." Jaehyun voiced through his teeth and snarled at them, his brows furrowed, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, don't stop on our account, we're not even here. Just pretend we aren't, continue doing what you're doing." Johnny smirked, his hand reaching for his phone.

"God, I'm so embarrassed," You buried your head in Jaehyun's chest, trying to hide your flushed cheeks and lips, swollen from kissing.

Jaehyun ran a hand down his face and let out a frustrated breath. He turned to you, his hands framing your face. "Y/N, look at me."

You raised your gaze, his eyes darkened with lust. "Don't ever hide from me."

"But, Jae, they are -"

"Ignore them." He cut you off, his thumb brushing over your plump lips. You nodded, leaning forward and pressed your lips to his. He kisses you, his hands cupping your cheeks, his fingers caressing the soft skin and his touch left your whole body on fire.

You were sure that you had a dumb smile on your face, and the butterflies in your stomach were having a party of their own. You didn't even have a care in the world as he held you close to him.

"Yo, it's like they forgot we're here." Mark's voice brought you back to reality.

"Took you both long enough to finally make a move. We should have locked them in here a long time ago." Johnny chortled, still leaning on the doorframe, Haechan snickering. "Have a fun time."

"We'll leave the door open if ya'll wanna get out, but we can't promise you the house will be free of horny folks fucking each other," Taeyong adds before walking away with an amused smile. The boys follow behind.

You let out a small laugh as you watched your friends walk away. You cupped Jaehyun's cheek, looking into his eyes. "As much as I love laundry... I'd love to finish what we started at my place."

He lets out a small chuckle before lifting you once again and setting you back on your feet, his large hands rubbing up and down your bare legs. Grabbing his hand, you entwine your fingers as you pull him out of the laundry room and out of the house. Not stopping for anyone who tried to approach and greet the two of you, not interested in small talk, just wanting to get as quickly to your apartment to be with Jaehyun without interruption or unwanted attention.

Your apartment is about a ten-minute walk from the frat house but it felt like an eternity because of the handsome man next to you. Jaehyun couldn't seem to keep his hands off you the entire walk. Running his fingers up and down the smooth and warm skin of your arm, shoulder, or down the dip of your spine where the zipper of your bodysuit began, slowly running his fingers back up as he brushed a loose tendril of hair from your face. 

You trembled as his large, warm palm curled around your hip and pressed a palm flat to your stomach to keep your pace matched with his as the two of you rounded a corner and walked towards your place. He would drop kisses to your shoulder every so often, as your giggling and playful swatting only encouraged him further and only made him want you more.

"Stop, Jae," You whined softly, pressing your lips together as Jaehyun lowered himself close to your ear and bit down gently.

"Don't you enjoy this?" Jaehyun is burning for you. Every time your fingers make contact with him, he becomes a puddle in your hands. Your touch is hypnotizing, and he finds his desires overwhelming his logic.

"I love it," you moaned in frustration and arousal. "But can't you wait until we get to my place?"

"I'd rather fuck you right now," His dark hooded eyes had you frozen in your spot. "Up against the building."

"I'd love that..." You clung to his arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "But I want our first time together to be more than against the brick walls. Please?"

You have no idea how much power you have over him. You look at him with your big, bright eyes that glisten. Your cute nose and supple, glistening lips, the soft voice, and the small hand that grabs his hand to entwine your fingers and pull him with you, eager to get him to the front door of your apartment and to the bed where the two of you would not come out from for the rest of the night.

"Fuck, princess." He says before lifting you and throwing you over his shoulder, smirking at the high-pitched yelp you let out and running the rest of the block to get you to your apartment. You were giggling the entire way, slapping at his firm, muscular shoulder. "I still think the idea of fucking you outside, pressed up against the wall, and showing you how badly I want you is great, but you've left me no choice, princess. You asked, and I shall give."

You bite your lip to stifle the whine that escapes your throat when he says how badly he wants you, but a faint noise comes through regardless.

"So pretty, Princess," he coos as he keys in your door code. Once inside, he deposits you by your sofa. He is on you in an instant, kissing the breath from your lungs and filling you with his touch and his scent as his hands and his body blanket yours, caressing your back, making your blood simmer with need. You are holding on to him and grabbing at the collar of his white T-shirt to pull him closer to your needy, wanting, burning body. You kiss him back with hunger. A desperation and a relief to finally show him your affections and wants.

He groans into your mouth and gives you a little bite as his fingers curl on the back of your neck. He breaks the kiss and looks into your eyes. Your faces are inches apart, and he grasps your wrists. He has such large hands. It does things to you. Especially when it's cupping your neck or wrapped around the tops of your thighs. You whimper a bit when his hand tightens, holding you firmly as he places the other on your cheek. You can't think of anything besides Jaehyun as he crushes his mouth back against yours, his tongue exploring every inch, exploring and teasing. Your heart thumps at a steady pace, matching the pulsing throb between your legs.

"I want you, please." You whimper softly. "All of you."

Jaehyun palms himself. God, your begging was like honey to him, so thick and so sweet. You were going to drive him insane and he is going to enjoy every minute of it.

"Fuck Y/N, if that isn't the hottest thing," Jaehyun growls lowly, voice raspy, taking another taste of you, moaning quietly against your lips.

Your fingers grasp at the back of his neck, tugging gently at his hair. You are ravenous. Greedily searching Jaehyun out with your hands, trying to tug his shirt from the waist of his jeans. His fingers tangle with yours, halting your movements and giving you no room to argue or attempt to make an opening into his boxers. "Patience, love."

Love.

What? Did he call you 'love'?

"Yes, I did," He grinned, wide and white. It was as he was reading your mind. "Now shut up and let me give you the best night of your life, princess."

Fuck.

The nickname was doing things to your insides, making your core throb and clench with want. Your body thrums and tingles to the tips of your fingers, all the way down to your toes. His knee is back between your legs and you cannot control yourself as you rock back and forth against his thigh.

He huffed a breath, trying desperately to maintain any ounce of self-control that he still possessed. "If I held you up and had your arms and legs around my shoulders and fucked your tight little pussy, what do you think of that, princess? Or would you like it better if I pinned your arms behind you and bent you over your couch or spread you out on your bed and feast on your beautiful, plump pussy?"

"God Jae, you're going to kill me," You mewl and beg as Jaehyun's teeth glide against the tendons that connect your throat to your jawline. You tremble and whimper and grind against him, seeking more friction and the promise of relief and pleasure and the feeling of Jaehyun finally fucking you hard and long. 

He had always been your best friend, someone you would joke and goof around with in the daylight, and at night he was the one you fantasized about when your fingers ran between the apex of your legs and worked you until your sheets were drenched with your release, and your pussy was sensitive to the point of sensitivity and your mind clouded with erotic visions of him and only him.

"You're not wearing anything underneath that bodysuit are you, princess? Tell me," Jaehyun can't resist asking. His cock twitches painfully in his jeans at your deepening blush and the way you avoid his eye when you answer. He wants so badly to slip his fingers between the swell of your ass and rub your wet slit. God, he can picture it. You are dripping all over and so ready for him and his cock. He grunts into your hair, nuzzling it.

"You're not supposed...oh god, Jae...wear anything under a bodysuit." You let out in between pants as he managed to get your skirt off of your body and throw it somewhere in your living room.

Jaehyun sucks on the tender patch of skin near your jaw, the curve of your jaw meeting the flesh of your throat and drawing out a strained and breathy sound.

He lowers himself down on the floor, taking one of your legs and draping it over his shoulder. He spreads your thighs open as he pops open the buttons to the closure of your bodysuit, running the tip of his nose against the area. You breathe harder, shaky. He presses his teeth into the inside of your thigh as he watches you squirm under him.

You aren't wearing anything underneath.

It's a fucking sight.

"You weren't lying." He breathes against your thigh, looking up at you from his spot on the floor. It makes your body flush when you see his head between your legs. God, it's turning you on. He's not even done anything yet and your pussy is clenching and pulsating with want. "Fuck, princess. You're trying to kill me tonight, aren't you? Do you know how bad I want to taste you? Please tell me you're aching for me to taste you. I can't wait any longer. Tell me. I want to hear you beg, baby."

His eyes are filled with hunger, the desire to tease, torture, and claim as they stare right back into yours, dark and delicious. They leave you a gasping mess.

"Please, Jaehyun. I've been dying for you to touch me. I need it. I need you."

"There it is," Jaehyun growls, pressing his fingers harder into your thigh and spreading you open wider, his mouth latching onto your swollen folds, sucking and licking. He doesn't take his eyes off you as he swirls his tongue around your clit and then sucks it. He moans, relishing the way your body responds. Your fingers curl into his hair. He hums and chuckles, "You taste fucking amazing."

You whimper, throwing your head back as his tongue flicks up and down the length of your slit. Your chest rises and falls at a quickening pace, unable to control the sounds leaving your mouth.

"I knew it. I just fucking knew it," Jaehyun is talking against the lips of your cunt, his voice muffled as he eats you out like a starved man. "So sweet and responsive. God, you're fucking delicious, princess."

You are panting and grinding your hips down to meet his mouth, riding his tongue as he curls it inside you.

"God Jaehyun, keep going. Don't stop." Your voice is breathy and hoarse.

"As you wish, princess," Jaehyun says before diving back in, lapping up your juices.

The noises coming from you and him are obscene. The wet sound of his tongue thrusting inside you and your pussy clenching around his tongue has you trembling and shaking and crying out, begging for more.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Jaehyun rasped as he slipped a finger in, watching as your head tilted back, mouth opened wide and letting out a loud gasp. He was curling his finger and licking at your clit. The way his tongue flicked the sensitive bundle of nerves, had you shaking and begging. "Tell me you want more, Princess. Tell me how badly you want me to fill you up."

"Yes. Fuck yes," you whined as he pumped his finger and added a second one. He was scissoring them and stretching you out.

"Do you think I can fit another finger inside?"

You shook your head, "No, too much."

"Too much?" Jaehyun teased as his free hand came up and pinched at your nipples, still confined in the bodysuit. "I bet I can, baby. You're already so full with two fingers."

"I can't...take any more, Jaehyun." You whine as Jaehyun pumps his fingers faster, the pads of his fingers stroking and rubbing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "God, Jae. It's too much. Too good."

"You're not cumming yet, baby. We're not finished here." Jaehyun growled, adding a third finger and spreading you wide. His eyes locked on to yours as he lowered his head once more and latched his lips onto your clit, sucking and licking.

He has the power to unravel you, and you have never wanted him more.

"That's it. God, look at how well you're taking my fingers. Fucking perfect."

Jaehyun is fucking you with his fingers now. You can't stop the moans that spill from your lips.

"Fuck, I love hearing those pretty little noises you make. Such a good girl. So good."

"Jae, fuck. Jaehyun, I-I-"

"I want you to come on my tongue and fingers. Let go for me, princess."

Jaehyun's thumb pressed and rubbed against your clit, the pressure building. It was becoming too much. His tongue thrusting in and out of you, the wet slurping sounds he made, and the words he breathed against your sex as he lapped you up were pushing you over the edge.

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as his tongue flicked your sensitive nub.

"Fuck, baby, you're close. Let go."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," You cried out, and Jaehyun chuckled.

"That's right, princess. Come on my tongue, give it to me."

He was relentless and was pushing you further and further. The pleasure was intense, and you could no longer hold it in.

"Fuck, Jae. Please, please, please, I can't," You screamed.

"You can, and you will, princess." He says, voice deep and commanding.

And you did.

You’re sobbing and trembling as he works his fingers and tongue against your clit, and a rush of fluid spills out of you, covering his face and dripping down his chin. Your fingers are tugging his hair and the way his eyes meet yours and the smug grin he has on his face as he continues to lap at your juices and suck them dry, is almost enough to send you over the edge again.

Jaehyun is pulling back, wiping his mouth, and licking his fingers clean. "You came so beautifully for me, princess. Such a good girl."

"Shut up," You mumble, hiding your face behind your arm.

He chuckles and moves up, lifting the arm from your face and kissing your lips.

"It's just the two of us now, baby," He whispers against your mouth. "No need to be embarrassed. Just me and you."

"I don't think I can go again," You pout, looking up at him. "It's too much, Jaehyun."

"Not even a little bit, Y/N? Not even if I beg you? Plead with you?" He's pressing his lips against your neck and trailing wet kisses down your collarbone. "Please, princess."

"Jae," You moan softly as his fingers begin to tease and circle your nipple.

"Let me, baby. I promise I'll take care of you."

"Fine," You whisper, biting back a moan as he pushes the bodysuit up and off your body so that you are finally naked. "But you need to get naked too. It's not fair if I'm the only one."

Jaehyun's smile is soft and he leans down and pecks your lips before moving back and tugging his shirt over his head, revealing his muscular torso. He smirks and unbuckles his belt and slides his jeans and boxers down, tossing them behind him. He's standing there, fully naked, and you are sitting up on the couch and taking him in.

"Well, I guess now we're both naked." He's standing there, and he's stroking his cock and biting his lip.

You bite your lip, taking in his body. His thick, long, throbbing cock. Your eyes were wide as you whispered, "God, Jae. You're fucking huge."

"Don't worry, princess," He winks. "I'll take good care of you."

You roll your eyes, but you are blushing, and you are so turned on. You want to reach out and wrap your hands around his cock, stroking him and taking him in. Your pussy clenches and throbs. You are still sensitive from earlier, and his fingers are sliding up and down your slit, collecting your arousal, and you are whimpering.

"What do you say, princess? Wanna try and take all of me?" He's stroking himself, his dark eyes hooded and watching your face as you squirm. "Or would you rather have me lay you back and fuck you slowly?"

"Anything," You pant, desperate to have him, to feel him inside you. "God, anything."

Jaehyun smiles, and it's so fucking sexy. His eyes are hooded, and his tongue peeks out, swiping across his bottom lip, and it's like you are seeing him in a completely different light. He's no longer the guy who cracks jokes, the guy you laugh and giggle with, and the guy who always puts others before himself. He's no longer just Jaehyun.

He's a man. A beautiful, sexy, and handsome man. And he wants you.

Jaehyun picks you up and walks towards your bedroom, your arms and legs wrapped around him.

"Do you have condoms, baby?" He whispers.

"I didn't get any. I didn't think I was going to get laid tonight." You chuckle, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "But I am on birth control...so you have full permission to make a mess of me."

Jaehyun grins. "Are you sure, Y/N?"

"Yes." You breathe out. "God, yes."

He sets you down on the edge of the bed and takes a few steps back. He's watching you, his eyes never leaving yours. He's biting his lip, and he's still holding his cock in his hand.

"Come here," You whisper, reaching out.

Jaehyun walks closer and stands in front of you.

You lean forward, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock and taking him in. He's large and heavy on your tongue. You're so fucking turned on, and you can't help but moan around him. You've never sucked a dick this big, and you have a feeling it won't be the last time either.

"Fuck," Jaehyun hisses. "I knew your mouth would feel amazing, baby."

Your hands are holding his hips, and you pull back. You swirl your tongue around the tip, before sliding your mouth back down.

"Oh shit," Jaehyun groans, and his hands find their way into your hair.

You can't help the soft moan that escapes you. You want to be good for him. You want to show him how much you care about him, how much you care about his pleasure, his happiness, his satisfaction.

He's so big. It's almost too much, and the way he's fucking into your mouth, you know he's close. You can feel it. He's breathing hard, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"Baby, I'm gonna come." He pants.

You suck harder, and you are determined to have him come undone. You want to watch him come. You want to see the look on his face when he releases, the sound of his voice as he groans out your name. You want it all.

"I'm so close." He moans. "God, you're gonna make me come. Fuck, fuck."

His fingers grip tighter, and his hips buck forward.

"Y/N," Jaehyun choked. His release is warm and thick, and it tastes sweet. It's almost addictive, and you're swallowing everything he has to give you.

"That's it," He's whispering, stroking your hair. "Such a good girl."

You lick the tip of his cock, and his whole body shudders.

"Oh god, baby," He moans.

You are pulling back, licking your lips, and smiling.

Jaehyun's hand moves down and wraps around the base of his cock, pumping slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck, I need to be in you. Now." Jaehyun whispers, his voice deep and raspy.

You nod, and he is moving on top of you, pushing you further back on the bed. His hand is between your legs, and his fingers are dipping into your core. He's coating his fingers and palm in your juices, and he's dragging it up and down the length of his cock, hissing.

"God, baby, I'm dying to feel your pussy."

"Then stop talking and fuck me."

Jaehyun bites his bottom lip and presses his lips to yours, his tongue sliding past them, and tangling with yours. He moans, and you moan into his mouth. His cock is pressing against your entrance, and he's rubbing the tip back and forth, coating it with your arousal.

"Fuck," You cry out, and he's pushing the head of his cock in, stretching you out.

"You're so tight, baby." He breathes, and his forehead is pressed to yours, and his eyes are closed, and his jaw is clenched. You're whimpering and trembling, and you're digging your nails into his back, and it's making him grunt and groan. He's halfway in, and he's panting, and his breathing is ragged. "So fucking good, princess. God, your pussy feels like heaven."

"Please, Jae. Please," You whimper.

"You're so pretty when you beg, baby. You sound so desperate. So needy. So, fucking perfect." Jaehyun begins rocking his hips, his cock sliding further inside you. "I'm going to ruin you for everyone else, baby. I'm going to ruin this pretty pussy for anyone else. It's mine. I'm not going to share. I'm gonna take care of it."

"Jaehyun," You moan.

"I'm serious. This pussy is mine. Only mine." Jaehyun is completely sheathed inside you, and his words have your cunt clenching around his cock.

"Fuck," He hisses.

"God, Jae. You're so big. So deep." You moan.

"And you're taking it so well, princess." Jaehyun starts at a steady pace, thrusting in and out, and your nails are digging deeper into his skin. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

"Thank you," You whine, arching your back, and Jaehyun's hands move up and down your sides, his palms squeezing and caressing your tits.

"So, so, so pretty." Jaehyun's voice is thick with lust. He's fucking into you hard, and his thumb is circling your nipple. "I could stay like this forever, baby. With my cock buried deep inside your pussy. You're so fucking tight, and your cunt feels so good, baby. I could fuck you forever."

"Yes, Jaehyun. Oh, god."

"You're so wet, and so, so, so fucking perfect, princess. I could get addicted to your body, and the way your pussy squeezes around my cock."

You are moaning and whimpering, and the words Jaehyun is saying, they're driving you crazy. You don't want him to ever stop, and you are afraid that when this is over, things will change between the two of you.

"You feel so fucking amazing, princess." Jaehyun is moaning and breathing heavily. His face is buried into your neck, and his lips are pressed against your skin. His hands are cupping your breasts, and his hips are grinding down against yours. "Fuck, Y/N."

You are both panting and sweating. Your bodies are moving together in a rhythm that has you both moaning and panting, and your pussy is clenching tightly around his cock, and the wetness that's pooling around your entrance, dripping onto the sheets.

Jaehyun is grunting and hissing as he pounds into you. "I can't stop, baby."

"Me either," You whimper, and Jaehyun pulls away, and he's flipping you over. You’re now on all fours, and his fingers are digging into your ass cheeks.

"Fuck," He hisses.

"Jaehyun, please." You whine, and he's pushing his cock back inside you, and he's fucking you hard and fast, his pelvis slamming against your ass.

"So fucking tight." He's gripping your hips, and his fingers are digging into your flesh. "Take it, princess."

"Yes, oh, yes." You are crying out, and your head is thrown back, and the sounds of the slapping of skin, and the moans that are leaving both of your lips, are almost too much.

"Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl. I'd bet you want to cream all over my cock, don't you, baby?" Jaehyun is grunting, and his breathing is ragged, and you can tell that he's getting close.

"Jaehyun, fuck," You cry out.

"Yeah, I bet you do." Jaehyun is panting, and his thrusts are becoming more erratic. "You're going to cream all over my cock. I'm gonna make a mess out of your pretty little pussy."

You are whimpering and moaning, and the way he's pounding into you, his pelvis slapping against your ass, and the sounds he's making, have you ready to explode.

"Tell me, princess," He pants. "Tell me how much you love the way my cock feels. Tell me how much you love the way I fill you up, and stretch you out. Tell me how good I feel."

"Fuck, Jae," You cry out.

"I'm waiting, princess."

"Fuck, Jae. You feel so good. Your cock is so big, and it's stretching me out. It's making a mess of my pussy, and I can't help but cream all over your cock."

"Fuck, that's it, princess."

"Jaehyun, please. Fuck, don't stop."

"Never, princess."

You have never thought that this would ever happen, you and Jaehyun. You were happy being just friends, and the feelings you had for him were always pushed to the side. You didn't want to lose him as a friend, and so you suffered in silence, pining over him, and wanting him so badly.

But now, right now, in this moment, he is yours, and he is making love to you, and telling you that he has always wanted you and that he wants to be with you. And you are feeling so many emotions. You are so overwhelmed. It is a dream come true.

Jaehyun is panting, and his cock is twitching inside of you, and you are close to the edge. Your body is trembling, and your toes are curling, and your pussy is clenching tightly around his cock as he slides in and out of you.

"Fuck," You pant. "I'm close."

"Me too, princess." He is panting and grunting, and he's slamming into you, and the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoes through the room.

"Fuck," Jaehyun moans.

"Come on, baby," You whimper. "Fill me up, Jaehyun. Give me everything that you have."

"Yeah, I'm gonna fill your pretty little pussy up. I'm gonna fill it with my cum. You want that, princess?"

"Yes," You are gasping. "I want your cum, Jae. Please. Fill my pussy up."

"Yeah, I'm gonna paint those walls of your pussy with my cum. And then, I'm gonna pull out, and you're gonna be leaking with my cum."

"Fuck, Jaehyun."

"You're going to be a mess."

"Jae," You are whimpering.

"Your pussy is gonna be leaking with my cum. You're gonna smell like me, and everyone is gonna know you're mine."

"Yes, Jaehyun. I'm yours. I've always been yours."

"Oh, god, fuck. Y/N." Jaehyun groans and his hips continue to slam against yours. "You're so good, baby. So, so good."

"Fuck!" You are whimpering and your toes are curling, and it is the most intense orgasm you have ever had. Your whole body is shaking, and you are coming undone, and Jaehyun is fucking you through it, and his fingers are digging into your hips.

"Yeah, princess. Come all over my cock." Jaehyun is groaning and his voice is thick and deep. "You feel so fucking good."

Jaehyun's body is trembling, and his fingers are digging into your hips, and his cock is twitching. His breath is ragged, and his moans are loud and low. Jaehyun is spilling his release inside of you, his warm, sticky, seed filling up your core.

You are both panting, and the room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of your breathing, and the sounds of the sheets rustling as your bodies move together. You feel your arms losing their strength but Jaehyun's arm quickly wraps around your waist.

"I got you, princess." He breathes.

You are exhausted, and you want to close your eyes, and you can feel his hand gently rubbing your lower back.

"Hey, hey, don't fall asleep on me. Stay awake." Jaehyun chuckles.

"Jae, I'm so fucking tired."

"I know, princess, but we still have to clean you up, okay? Can you stand up for me?"

"Yes, Jaehyun," You whisper.

"Good girl," Jaehyun whispers. "Come on, I'm going to help you."

He is holding onto you, and he's guiding you towards the bathroom.

"I'll run a bath." Jaehyun is pulling away, and his fingers are brushing against your cheek.

"You don't have to do that, Jae. You can just take a shower. We can clean up together." You smile, and his fingers are tracing the shape of your jaw.

"Baby, I'm trying to be sweet. I want to take care of you." Jaehyun smiles and kisses the tip of your nose.

You can't help but blush. "I know, Jae. I just don't want you to think that you have to go above and beyond."

"Trust me, princess, I don't mind. Now, let's get in the tub."

You can feel the butterflies in your stomach, and the smile on your face, and you're pretty sure you're glowing.

The bath is warm, and the water is nice and soothing, and it's making you sleepy. You want to lean back and rest your head on Jaehyun's chest, but you know that if you do that, you're going to fall asleep.

"Hey, no sleeping." Jaehyun laughs. "You can sleep once I get you in bed, okay?"

"I can't promise anything." You chuckle.

"How about I wash your hair, and then we'll go to bed, hmm?"

"Fine," You laugh.

You have to admit, the feeling of Jaehyun's fingers massaging your scalp, and washing your hair, feels amazing. It makes you even more relaxed. Jaehyun is wrapping his arms around you, and he's kissing the back of your neck.

"How do you feel?" He asks, his lips brushing against your skin. “I didn’t hurt your or anything, did I?”

“You didn’t hurt me at all.” You shook your head. “I felt good. Really, really good.”

"You should feel really good. That was amazing."

You smile and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," You giggle.

"Baby, you have no idea."

"So, what does this mean for us?" You ask, fingers entwined with his.

"What do you want it to mean, princess?" Jaehyun asks in a deep voice.

"I want this to be real. I want you to be mine, Jae." You confess, your heart racing.

"Good, because that's exactly what I want, too. I've wanted it for a long time. I was just scared." Jaehyun says.

"Scared of what?" You ask.

"Scared that you'd say no," Jaehyun says.

"Why would I say no?"

"Because, Y/N, I'm not good for you. I'm not the guy who deserves you. I'm a mess, and I'm fucked up, and I'm not good enough for you." Jaehyun confesses.

"You're good enough for me, Jae." You assure him.

"Baby, no I'm not." Jaehyun shakes his head.

"Yes, you are." You tell him.

"Y/N, I've been in love with you for a while, and I've been terrified of telling you because I was afraid that you'd reject me. That's why I see other girls. It's to try and forget about how much I love you. But, it's impossible. You're the only girl I see." Jaehyun says.

"I guess we're both idiots, huh?" You laugh. "Here I was thinking that you only date other girls because you only saw me as a friend, and here you are, telling me that you've been in love with me the whole time."

"We really are idiots, huh?" Jaehyun chuckles.

“You know I love you right?” You turn your head and look at him.

Jaehyun looks down at you. "I love you, too."

You have never seen a more sincere smile, and the look in his eyes tells you that he means every word.

He loves you, and you love him.

And it feels like the most wonderful thing in the world.

"So, where do we go from here, Jae?" You ask.

"Well… I'd love to take you out on a date and we can start from there…" Jaehyun says, his hands gently rubbing your shoulders. "Granted that we already had mind-blowing sex, and we're taking a bath together, I think we're kind of past that stage."

You can't help but laugh.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Jaehyun." You kissed him.

Jaehyun cups your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and his lips are soft against yours. His tongue is slowly sliding into your mouth, and his teeth are gently biting down on your lower lip.

You moan into his mouth, and your hands are grabbing at his hair.

"Y/N," Jaehyun mumbles.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you can handle a second round?" Jaehyun asks, and his hand is sliding down your back.

"What do you mean?" You ask.

"I'm saying, baby, I want you. Again. Right now." Jaehyun grins.

"I don't think my legs can handle a second round, Jae." You laugh.

"That's okay, baby, we can just stay in the bath." Jaehyun chuckles, and he's lifting your hips and placing you on his lap, sliding into you. "I'll do all the work. How does that sound, princess?"

"You're insatiable, Jaehyun." You giggle, and you're cupping his face, kissing him and he's kissing you back.

"You have no idea, baby."

[bleach-your-panties]

ᰔℊℯ𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝓅ℴ𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃' with GIYUU TOMIOKA @ the mechanic shop.

for my 1500+ ᰔ𝒻ℴ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃𝓉. requested by @rheawolf.

ᰔfem reader. giyuu and reader are married. modern au.

ᰔcw: pwp, public sex, against the wall, exhibitionism?

ᰔdividers by lovely rhy @/hitobaby.

ᰔwc: 1.3k

#💗💗🍡°taglist: @enchantedforest-network @kakushino @punkgibsons @darkstarlight82 @bakugosbratx @chifuyuskoneko @honeybleed

Once again, you let a loud sigh escape between your lips, prompting Giyuu to look over at you.

"What is it?"

His sapphire blue eyes were like the ocean on a calm day as he gazed down at you.

The two of you were currently seated in some creaky, aluminum folding chairs while the mechanic tinkered underneath your family SUV.

"Giyuu, honey, we've been here for a while now. Are you sure that this guy knows what he's doing?"

At the mention, said man slid out from under your vehicle and swiped his forearm across his forehead, effectively smearing it with oil.

"So I think I've found the problem. You said you've had trouble with idling?"

The mechanic, whose nametag read "Hotaru" regarded both you and Giyuu with his eyebrows drawn together while crossing his veiny forearms across his chest.

You nodded,

"I was getting ready to go drop the kids off at school when I noticed that the engine would cut on, idle for a few moments, then shut off. I tried cleaning the valve, but the issue persisted."

Hotaru nodded, "I see. Well if that's the case, it could be a number of problems, then. I'm going to have to take another look."

Your eyes bulged,

"Huh?! Another look, but we've already been here for three hours?!"

Giyuu's eyes moved from you to the long-haired mechanic.

"Maybe we could come back tomorrow? It is getting a bit late." He reasoned, in a much calmer tone than yours.

"If you come back tomorrow, that'll put you at the end of the queue. I'm quite a busy man, you know."

"What!!? Why you-"

Before you could start going off on the man, Giyuu took hold of your hand into his and rubbed your knuckles gently to calm you down.

"It's fine, sweetheart. I texted Tsutako earlier to pick up the kids from school if we ended up running over time. It will be alright."

He moved his hand to your lower back and gently guided you back to the row of uncomfortable chairs.

----

"They could at least put a couch in here." You grouched. Giyuu chuckled softly.

"Needy thing, aren't you? We should be home soon; I doubt it'll take another three hours."

You whirled in your chair to face him, propping one leg up over the other.

"What if it does, though? I just might die."

He leaned forehead and brushed away a lock of your hair.

"Behave, yeah? We'll have the whole evening to ourselves since Tsutako has the kids."

The thought of a free night with your husband made something primal stir within your core. It also didn't help that he had on one of your favorite outfits right now.

Dark-washed jeans, simple black sneakers, a black t-shirt, and a blue and black plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows revealing his tattooed forearms.

You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and settled your left hand onto his thigh. Your silver wedding band caught the pale-yellow overhead light, making it gleam.

"Something wrong, lily?" Giyuu asked, shifting his eyes to where your hand rested on his pants.

Your eyes moved from him to the mechanic, who was tinkering with something under the car and mumbling to himself.

"I don't know if I can wait until we get home..."

Seductively, you lowered your eyes before blinking at him long and slow. Your fingers began to rub circles into his thigh, making a soft sigh escape from his slightly parted lips.

"Right here? Right now?"

Giyuu questioned, immediately picking up your implication.

You nodded. "Please, Gi? I promise I'll be good."

He froze for a moment, his own eyes trailing over to the mechanic now.

The man was completely occupied by his task, him making little comments to himself about what he should try next; plus, his entire upper body was underneath the car.

Giyuu then looked past the waiting area and into a small hallway where he assumed there might be an office and a bathroom.

"Come on."

He grabbed your hand and you started cheering inside your head.

Just behind the wall leading into the hallway there was a little corner with a vending machine and water fountain.

Giyuu pushed you up against the wall next to the vending machine and started kissing your neck. You wrapped your arms around his upper back and tangled your fingers in the ends of his dark ponytail.

His own hands rested on your shoulders before moving down over your breasts, stomach, and into your pants.

Skillful, calculated fingers jerked them down your hips along with your panties. The knuckle of his left index finger slid up between your folds and collected a trail of your slick.

"Damn, you're this wet already? You really wanted this, huh..."

He pulled back to look at your widened, lust-blown eyes and pouty lips.

"Want you, Gi..."

Who was he to make you wait any longer?

He tugged your pants and panties the rest of the way off your legs and circled his arms around your lower back.

"Jump."

You did as he commanded and he held you against the wall with one arm circled around your back, his body pressing you into the cold, painted-bricks.

He used his other hand to pull his own pants and boxers down to rest underneath his balls, freeing his cock.

Lifting you higher up the wall, Giyuu angled his cock up so you could sink down on it. Immediately, a loud whine left your throat.

"Shh, you want him to hear you? Hmm, maybe you do..."

He then hooked his arms underneath your thighs, holding you with the crease of your knees in the crease of his elbows and spreading you open before beginning to bounce you along his thick, hard cock..

"Ahh, Gi!"

"Crying already? We just started, baby."

Your back pressed further against the bricks, running from his dick and nails digging into his shoulders.

Giyuu's thrusts had you sliding up and down the wall with nowhere to run.

He pressed his entire body weight on you and started fucking at a quicker pace, one knee slightly bent forward and almost touching the wall as he gave you swift, deep strokes.

At this point, you'd nearly forgotten that you were in a public place where anyone could walk in and see you, but you couldn't be arsed to really care with Giyuu filling you up so well.

You tried to hold onto him as best you could, hands moving from his shoulders and grabbing hold of his messy black hair in an attempt to ground yourself.

"Are you close? Talk." He stared at you with those deep blue eyes and hit you with another hard, deep thrust before pushing his face into your neck to lick and kiss it.

"Yes, Gi, I'm-!"

He felt your body shudder and decided to finish you off by pushing you up even higher against the wall and dropping you down on his cock, making you cum and squirt your release all over him.

----

Giyuu and you exited the bathroom and met the mechanic, Hotaru, in the hallway as you were heading back to the waiting area.

"I managed to fix the problem, so you should be all set to go."

He handed the bill to Giyuu, who took out his wallet to pay.

"Wait -wait a minute, let me see that?"

You gently took the piece of paper from your husband's fingers and scanned your e/c eyes over it.

"What is this: $300, for an inconvenience fee?!"

You crumpled the bill up in your hand and shook it at the mechanic's face.

"Yes, an inconvenience fee. For making me listen to the two of you fuck while I fixed your shitty car."

----

a/n:*I apologize if giyuu's ooc, haven't seen him in a while :< but i ended up posting this on his birthday!:D

get it poppin! 💄event ©bleach-your-panties 2024. do NOT steal, copy, repost, alter, or upload my works onto other sites. comments appreciated. reblogs always welcome.

[tallaxia]

Writer James Wong and director David Nutter talking about X-files s01 e13 "Beyond the sea"

Cinefantastique #26 - 1995

“Dana, open yourself up to extreme possibilities only when they’re the truth.”

—Mulder

Beyond the Sea

Gillian Anderson and Scully come into their own in this first-rate script by Glen Morgan and James Wong. Scully’s personal and professional lives collide when, shortly after her father's death, she and Mulder interrogate a psychic death row convict named Boggs (Brad Dourif) who may hold the key to finding a serial killer and his latest victims. In a fascinating twist, Mulder for once is the skeptic, and Scully the unwilling believer, when Boggs claims he can locate the killer—his former partner—as well as give Scully some final words from her father. Director David Nutter drew scorching performances from Dourif. and a deeply moving one from Anderson, whose Scully tries mightily to repress both her grief and her belief, and his orchestration of the prison confrontations is masterful. The sholwhere the door closes behind Anderson, leaving Dourif centered perfectly in a narrow windowframe is quite unforgettable. The teaser is a study in how to communicate family tensions and emotions not spelled out in dialogue. Don Davis and Sheila Larkcn as William and Margaret Scully make an indelible impression.

“Beyond the Sea” originated from a number of sources, one of which, said James Wong, was “a book Glen had read which said that 75 percent of widows within three months have a vision of their husband, and 35 percent of mothers see their sons.” And comments from fans that Scully needed humanizing played their part. “Gillian needed a show to show off her talents,” Wong said. Added Morgan, "It was time to grow Scully’s character, because she was doing the same kind of thing too often.”

The character of Boggs grew out of Morgan’s desire to “do a psychic thing. And you start thinking, well, this guy’s got to have something at stake. Capital punishment was one thing I always wanted to write about.” The network executives were not high on the idea of a Scully/Boggs faceoff, and Chris Carter had to back the idea twice before the they gave the go-ahead. “They said it was too much like SILENCE OF THE LAMBS,” said Morgan, “so in order to not do Hannibal Lecter, this kind of cool intellectual, we had this manic high-strung cracker. I was directly trying not to write Hannibal Lecter.”

Noted director David Nutter, "Brad Dourif came in, and my job there was to create a setting where he could be what he really wanted to be. I would just tweak this and that, but basically I let him have the stage. In a sense, it was a static episode and it was important to let his performance be the moving element. I was also very happy with the work that Gillian and I did together. I thought she really proved herself to be quite a talented actress.”

Religious symbolism is a guiding clement in “Beyond the Sea.” The teaser opens on a Christmas tree angel and the statue of an angel also provides an important clue to locating the serial killer. Mulder's lack of faith in Boggs results in his being shot near a wooden “white cross” which Boggs had warned him about, a contrast to Scully’s evading death when she avoids a painting of a blue devil about which she had received a similar warning. “Scully has that Catholic background,” said Morgan. "I’m not a very organized religious person, but we got a lot of letters from people saying, ‘I need to see my religion portrayed positively.’ So you try to have somebody who was raised with that faith.”

The tattoos on Boggs’ hands which read “kiss” and “kill” are reminiscent of Robert Mitchum’s “love” and “hate” tattoos in NIGHT OF THE HUNTER, but Morgan said that although Mitchum was in the back of his mind, the words themselves came from a song by the band X. “There’s a lyric which says, ‘It’s kiss or kill.’ I was trying to think of something other than love or hate and I thought that was kind of neat.”

[iron-hearts-ablaze]

Ignis, Sanguis, Imperium

This is an invitation to join a Baldurs Gate 3 verse, spawned by ideas from myself, (my partner) and @galefcrce.

Ignis, Sanguis, Imperium. Fire, Blood, Control.

Lord Astarion stands on the precipice of triumph. Baldurs Gate belongs to him, his fingers stretch from the High Halls, to the dingiest alley. His grip like steel over the citizens. The heroes of Baldurs Gate - those who vanquished the Absolute - are no more. They are puppets... Spawn. They are puppets on his red strings, each turned to form his network in full. His commanders, his advisors, his eyes and ears... They belong to him...

All but a very select few led by a vexatious Tiefling - unable to be bitten when he had the chance. They must be destroyed, or turned...and if they must murder friends and foe to get to him.

So be it.

Will you obey your Master and bring the one you once called friend to his feet? To join your ranks? Will you fight against Astarion's grip and try to gain your own freedom? Can you convince him to stop this evil? Will you, Astarion, be victorious? Or doomed to follow the path once walked by Cazador? What does your soul say?

TL;DR This verse takes place when Ascended Astarion has chosen to turn the companions he travelled with into Spawn. Gale, Shadowheart, Halsin, Wyll and Lae'zel (and the dragon she commands) have all been turned. They knew him, trusted him... They were overpowered. Karlach returned to Faerûn after just over a year of tackling the Hells and Zariel's forge - her heart finally able to be controlled. Ready to be broken. Astarion welcomes her, thinking he finally has another Commander for his vastly growing army. She resists, able to control her hearts intensity and scolds any that try. She has to flee, her friends are not lost yet... She has other allies. She can find even more.

More details under the cut, but if you would like to join us, or have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask! The comments and my DMs are open, I also have a Discord upon request! The story is flexible, Origin characters are still themselves they just have another layer to consider. Tav and Durge's are more than welcome, and can choose to be Free or a Spawn so they can explore which side they want to be on.

Inspired by the Ascended Astarion Origin ending, where Astarion ponders killing his 'friends' so they cannot rise against him, I asked my partner a curious question. "What if he made them his Spawn instead? Began his army with powers he knows all too well?"

We spoke at great length about what he could do, how it could play out as a one-shot. Ideas I spoke to @galefcrce about, who also expanded it. Between us, 'Ignis, Sanguis, Imperium' was created.

Naturally this verse is very canon-divergent, just a very dark ending/expansion. It has been just over a year since the Absolute fell. Astarion's powers have grown so much since then, the corruption corroding his core. He has made Baldur's Gate his play thing, a city so vulnerable hardly resisted. But he needed the numbers to keep it within his net.

Gale was the first to turn. Oh so trusting...so loving. Astarion already had him to hand, it was oh so easy to drain him, turn him. Wait for him to return from his death. Do not be afraid, Gale, you are the start of a new reign - a new age. And you will not be alone for long...

It took time to gather the others. They wander, they settle away from the Gate. He invites them and waits so patiently. Some he may have to trick, but they show. They are welcomed, fed, watered, rested. They are at home here, for they shall never leave. He waits for them to be their most vulnerable. If they resist - and he is so sure they will - Gale is there with his helping hand. Of course he helps...he has no choice. No matter what those tears say.

He has his commanders, his powerful allies that all of the Gate look up to. Whom they trust. The citizens would follow them to the flames if they could - to Astarions embrace... The Gates are fallen. A thick, heavy fog blankets over the city to house Astarion's many children.

Oh his Spawn do push him. They fight back, they are so incredibly ungrateful...rude. Lessons are taught. They have to be. They need to learn how powerless they really are. He is no mere Vampire, he is the Vampire ASCENDED and they will know that. They will know how it is to be utterly powerless, and they will worship the ground he stands upon - appreciate the kindness he has shown them by not allowing them to die.

His eyes tell him of a sudden guest. His ears whisper stories of a known Tiefling. Karlach has returned home... Her trials in Avernus won as she overpowers those at Zariel's forge to fix her infernal engine. Fix it, they could not, but they have calmed it. She is in full control of her flames for the first time in over a decade. She can return to Faerûn at last. She is as light as air, but the fear is thick. As she travels her way closer to the City, she hears the anguish, the tales of how the Gates has fallen to the hands of a tyrant. Her home needs saving yet again.

She could not possibly imagine what she finds as she is, strangely enthusiastically, os welcomed at the bridge. The fog blocks out the sun, the streets eerily quiet. But her friends welcome her. She is elated to see them, embracing them all but they feel....cold. Their happiness seems false, strained. Were things truly that bad? All the same, she is invited to Lord Astarion's estate - a building she recognises as Cazadors just a year ago. It hasn't changed much, but he certainly has.

All seems well at first, albeit awkward. She eats her fill and takes comfort in the plush bed she has been given. She spends night after night feeling increasingly uneasy. What has happened to her beloved friends to treat her so nervously? As if trying to say something their mouths could not.

She is invited to the ballroom - a celebratory feast has been prepared to congratulate her on her return to the Gate. She feels reluctant but...these are her greatest friends. Astarion doesn't sound right, but it has been some time. Surely that's all it is.

She cannot move her body...Spells are thrown at her from every direction - from familiar hands. She is knocked prone and held in place against her will. Karlach fails to even scream as Astarion stands over her, ruby eyes glinting maliciously. Welcome home, he hisses, fangs bared.

Karlach breaks free just enough to try and slither back - enough for her panic and horror to alight her licking flames once again. Flared and ferocious. Despite being returned to her struck-down state, she is untouchable. Astarion has recoiled, furious. He tells her of his grand plan, that if she just played along she would have a home with them always. She is their beloved companion after all, they have been waiting for her for so long. They need her help bringing Tav/Durge home too, so they can all be together again. The Gate will never suffer again under his rule - all she has to do is let her turn him...

Maybe some time will help her come to her senses. An Arcana enriched cell deep underground should do the trick. Astarion has all the time in the world to let her whittle her hope down to nothing... If it weren't for one thing. He is not the only one in this House...

Shaking, terrified and regretful, Gale has dropped the key that only he has of Karlach's cage. He was trusted by Astarion - a trust that Gale may come to regret losing. Gale can no longer stand back and let this happen to anyone else. He was overpowered, but not entirely powerless. Karlach is guided out of Astarion's Estate with a new fight brewing on the horizon.

She must gather those Astarion has not yet claimed, Tav's, Durge's, powerful allies and free her friends. Imprison them if she can. But it is inevitable she would have to bring Astarion down...or force his hand to free them completely. Would she be able to do so when the time came? This was no devil, no Zariel...this was once her closest friend. Was he even in there still, like Gale and the others? Can he be saved from this too?

All the while, Astarion prunes himself in the mirror. Vexed, but not giving up on his prize just yet. Smiling, he welcomes the challenge. All the while his reflection seems to be screaming...sobbing. But he has already turned away, smothering what little care he had left as far down as it could be pushed.

He has a battle to prepare for...

[timmymyluv]

into it (trust issues)

into it

sugar daddy!timmy (timothee chalamet) x model!reader

So sorry this has taken so much longer than anticipated but she is here!! I didn’t think it would go in this direction but I loved how it turned out. 

Special thanks and love to @chal-latte and the rest of the taglist (to be added) whom have showed interest for this early on. Hope you guys like it! 

Please comment, reblog, share - lemme know what you guys think! 

Warnings: exhibitionism, dom/sub themes, oral (m/f receiving), fingering/masturbation, misunderstanding, sugaring (not sugarcoated but kinda??), protected sex (reader is on birth control)

Word Count: 7.3k

Again this is clearly sensitive, 18+ content so minors do not please interact with this. I beg of you, I demand of it actually. 

“I could give you the world. Ask for it, and it’s yours.”

You’ll never forget hearing those words come out of Timothee’s mouth, as both of you sat by the fancy downtown New York jazz bar under hazy, sultry lighting. In your body fight silk dress and bright red lipstick, you didn’t expect to meet anyone important, but yet you met- the Timothee Chalamet.

As a struggling model with few commercial gigs here and there, barely keeping you float and helping you pay rent in your shared model apartment with 7 other models.

You knew he was experienced with romance and sex, casual or serious relationships. A casanova of a sort who everyone would beg for even a glimpse of his attention.

Meanwhile, you were never one for casual hookups, after breaking up amicably with your ex in your smalltown before you moved to the Big Apple once you were scouted by an agency.

He was used to having girls (or even men) throw themselves at him, even for a one night stand or the chance for a relationship, but he found it so surprisingly refreshing that you didn’t seem one bit interested in that, or him at all.

Nonchalant and polite, you nodded along with a poker face as he introduced himself and you shook hands, siping on your martini paid for by another guy long gone from the club. As the night went by, you found lots of common ground in your conversation, giggling and cackling one moment before going deep into philosophical discourse the next.

He shared with you about his acting career, from the actors he’s had the pleasure to work with, sets to travel to, luxurious hotel experiences that his million-dollar salaries and offers on films promise him with. You almost itch with envy when he asks you about your modeling career, honestly sharing you’ve been reaching a dry period as the current trend in looks this season is not much favouring yours.

He shares a silent look of almost pity, but it’s like he can see through you. Seeing your potential, seeing you have that same drive, ambition that you are capable of so much more just like he is.

As the night ended, he asked for your number, and you exchanged as he put his on your phone. (rather second-hand, a former model friend gave it to you before a rich old billionaire bought her several brand new iPhones) Timothee offered you a ride home, offering nothing but a sweet peck on the cheek before he drove off after seeing you enter your front door.

…

It’s been nearly two weeks since you last saw him when he first texted you. Timothee tells you about being close friends with this casting director at Paris Fashion Week, and that the director would like to meet you.

You didn’t want to seem like a thirsty, social-climber gold digger - you didn’t entertain his advances because you saw him as a networking opportunity but he had this invisible pull to you that you couldn’t comprehend.

Sending your numerous thanks, you told him how grateful he was for that and what you could do to return the favour. Your meager salary and the runway pieces given to you last season in place for a proper salary would’ve probably seemed like trash to him, but he responds kindly. He wants to spend some time with you the next time he’s in New York City, and meet up for dinner.

…

The casting director he introduced you to opened up opportunities for you that you didn’t even know were there. Your agent was jumping for joy over the phone over you meeting that casting director.

“Are you serious? He’s the most well-connected casting director at the moment! He has booked you for so many shows and editorials next season - you are going to be the hottest new thing!” Your agent squeals, almost ringingly loud to your ear as you put your phone away from your ears and put it on speakerphone on the counter.

You don’t know what to gift him when you see him in a few weeks because, honest to god-you barely know the guy. Behind his prestigious acting roles and red carpet appearances, you’re just in the process of getting to know him.

He meets you at a rather upscale Italian restaurant not far off from the bar where you first met. You give him some random pastries you baked the night before, some cheesecake bites you took from an online recipe but tweaked slightly.

You expected to be embarrassed by your measly gift compared to the life-changing contact he just gave you.

“I’m just wondering- why did you recommend me to the modeling director? I’m not being ungrateful but - I’m just curious.” You ask as you take a bite of your spaghetti.

“He mentioned he was looking for some new faces and you were the first one I thought of, for no particular reason.” He casually shrugs, before getting into his own meal.

Nodding along, the both of you continue the night with your lively conversation, from how the shows you were in, the people you met to how wrapping up post-production was going for the movie he just finished filming.

The live band switches their slow, contemporary jazz to a more sensual tango tune, and just as you were going to sneak in to pay the bill while he wasn’t paying attention, he asked for a dance.

“Care for a dance?” He reaches his hand out to you suavely, confidently like he had rehearsed this a million times before. Of course he has.

You don’t find it in yourself to refuse. For the first time since you’ve met him, a part of you is not as guarded, almost more open and trusting.

There’s no need to worry whether he would be found by the paparazzi with some “new girl” and that you’d become one of his excursions for the week, only to be thrown away before he moves on to another. Celebrities are seen when they want to be seen, like he tells you with a raised brow. Besides, most of the people in the room are far into retirement, barely the usual teenage fangirls who would swoon at the sight of him.

As he twirls you around for the final song for the night, he provides you a proposition you would be stupid to say no to.

“I was wondering if- you would want to be my sugar baby? I’m not usually one to do these things, but- I just have this urge to look out for you, support you in every desire and whim you have.”

As you turn to face him, you look at him with a puzzled look, too shocked to respond.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend you or make you think I was pitying you-”

“Oh no no, I definitely didn’t get that impression. I was just wondering- why me?” You ask.

“I don’t know- I just want you to experience all that life has to offer. We haven’t known each other for long, but - if you are up to it, I would give you anything you want. I would give you the world, the moon even,  if you asked for it. ”

He’s up front about how he is currently not looking for anything committed. I mean why would he? He was a top Hollywood heartthrob who would have anyone throwing themselves to even have a piece of his time, satisfied with one night stands and hookups because he would be flying red eye to red eye with his jet set lifestyle.

You both draft a written document on the terms of your arrangement - an annual allowance, full access to his industry networks, the amount of time you spend with him whenever you don’t have work, but the last and final term - no falling in love/ romantic entanglements.

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea to both of you as you nod along at his suggestion and sign your name in red ink underneath. But you always know how this ends.

…

He takes you to a luxury department store that very next morning, driven by his driver on a limo, and closes the store for a few hours so you have the attention of every salesperson to your beck and call.

You are having your own Pretty Woman movie moment, your romantic film of your dreams coming true. You feel the heat rise up in your cheeks as you brush your fingers against the fine fabric on the velvet coat hangers, and try your best to ignore the confused yet almost jealous and annoyed facial expressions from the salespersons waiting for you to try things on.

Timothee let you explore for the first while, smiling fondly as you explored through the luxury department store with awe and wonder. You were drawn to a particular Yves Saint Laurent jacket and some Balenciaga jeans, as you hesitantly looked at him to try it on and he excitedly shoved you to the change room.

As you scrutinized yourself in front of the mirror with the charcoal leather jacket and Versace pumps, he comes in with a gleeful grin, with some items he wanted you to try on.

“Sir, there can only be one person in the change room-” The attendant tries to murmur but she’s ignored as Timothee sneaks into the spacious change room and sits down as he watches you examine the suggestions of clothes he wanted you to try.

“I think these colours would look really good on you, Y/N. Would you want to try them on?” He asks almost sultrily, looking back and forth and already picturing them on you.

Who are you to refuse - he clearly has an eye for fashion and he seemed to understand your style and taste already in the duration of your certain arrangement.

The red Givenchy body fitting dress looked stunning on your figure, hugging your curves perfectly with ruched satin intricately weaved on top of leather. When you emerge from behind the curtains, he looks up with dark, hooded eyes and a pleased smirk.

“Stunning as always, Y/N.”

“You say that for everything I’ve tried on.”

You pull him by his grey tie, snickering as you pull him into an all-consuming kiss that turns into an uninterrupted makeout session, not caring for the world about the salesladies who would hear every word, but could not say anything because he did pay for the entire hour to yourselves, no?

He playfully toys with the belt loops of your jeans as he opens his mouth and your tongue slides in to entangle with his. Your newly manicured hands are all over his chest, gently massaging as you moved down to his neck and hear a muffled moan against your ear.

Timothee’s palms brush from your shoulders to your back and stopping briefly over your breasts, fondling with them until he is satisfied with a symphony of your aroused shrieks you fail to hinder in time.

Kissing down his cream, silk dress shirt, fondling with the buttons until you get to his crepe dress pants and tug his boxers down as well in one strike. Rather than embarrassed on this public display of lust, he looks down at you with a confident, smug smirk, browsing his fingers through your silky hair with pride.

First pumping slowly from the tip, drunk off his frustrated and impatient groans, before quickening your pace before your tongue first makes contact and a feral grunt erupts from the bottom of his throat.

Bobbing, choking, slightly gagging and gulping his shaft down your throat, you expertly maneuver his desires from the flush on his cheeks, closed shut eyes and the moans he is emitting as he grips tightly against your scalp until his knuckles turned white.

“You’re too good at this-” He gasps at a particular throb of the back of your throat against his length, your fingers massaging his balls and lightly tickling the top of his dick until he splutters expletives and releases into the velvet of your mouth.

Swallowing eagerly like it was the last thing on earth you could consume, the only liquid that could nourish you, you stared back with fawned innocence as you release him from your warm cavern and slowly stand up, proudly wearing the bruises on your knees like a medal.

As you lean forward to zip up back his pants and pull up his boxes, he tugs you at the collar for a gentler, more delicate kiss, smiling as your teeth slightly clash at how clumsily he is kissing you back, still in a hazy daze from the mind blowing blow job you just gave him and the taste of his sweet release on you.

Leaving hand in hand with your smeared lipstick all over his face and your hands in his with a cheeky grin, he spoiled you to no limit and you left with a minimum of $100,000 spent that afternoon alone - from clothing to limited edition jewelry with only a few hundred pieces in existence.

…

Dinner that night was at a hotel restaurant in an upscale, but trendy part of town where you’d expect to see more urban, cosmopolitan yuppies like you.

The reflection of the new diamond Cartier necklace glimmers against the metal display across from you, as you proudly showed off your neck like a proud swan as he admired how you looked in the piece he chose for you and held your hand close to him as he kissed your knuckles gently.

“You always choose the best pieces for me, Tim. I cannot thank you enough.” You earnestly thank him but he hushes you lightheartedly, his index finger against your plush lips.

“There is no need to thank me, angel. To see you happy and dressed like the goddess you are, that is more than enough for me.” He tilts your chin towards him with a gentle pinch of his fingers, deeply looking into your eyes with a sincere expression.

You peck him briefly on the cheek across the table before your waiters arrive with the food you ordered for the night. Chatting casually about how his memorization of his new script has been going, the casting sessions you’ve been to recently, modeling executives you’ve met and the new book he’s read throughout the night.

To an unknowing outsider, the both of you clearly resemble a long-term committed loving, monogamous relationship, deeply in love. Even the restaurant’s manager mistakenly calls you his wife or the waiters assume you’re his girlfriend when Timothee introduces you to them as he’s a regular at this place. You hide the flush of your cheeks and nod along awkwardly.

…

He orders takeout dessert to be delivered to his apartment later that night, twirling the red wine in his wine glass, watching you bite into one of the matcha macarons from the fancy box he ordered just for you, because he knew it was your favourite.

The twinkle in his eyes was clear as the stars in the sky, even from his top floor Manhattan loft. Some of his curls loosely dangling over his eyes, his eyes dazy with sleep and slightly high off the few puffs he took from the joint you rolled him, and sleepy from the long day you spent on the go together.  

Littering gentle pecks and faint tongue licks all over your face, pressing his palm into your cheekbones as his mouth ghosts over your jaw, brushing over your forehead - just him, his scent, his touch, all over you and leaving his prints in his wake.

Deep in thought, it is soon before he recognizes the daze you’re in as you’re not as receptive to his touches as usual.

“Something on your mind?” He hoarsely whispers against the curve of our neck, blue and purple splotches starting to form.

“Would you consider having sex with me? Or is that not in our agreed terms-” He sits up in alarm with wide eyes and you guiltily grasp for him, fearing you’ve lost him for good.

“Consider? I never wanted to give the impression that our arrangement was for sexual intercourse only. You could have never touched me again and I would still want your company.” He speaks so openly, so candidly and you feel ashamed by how guarded you are.

“Timmy, I sucked you off in a department store dressing room, and you’ve eaten me out more than I can remember. Of course I am down for sex.” Feeling like you’ve misunderstood his intentions, tears starting to form and sting in your eyes.

Reaching forward to wipe away your tears, he hushes you and presses his forehead against yours with his eyes tightly shut.

“I never asked for you to become some high class prostitute or courtesan only for my sexual pleasures, doll. I truly want to indulge in your soul, your intelligence, your beauty, your kindness, your charm - everything.”

“I do not want you to feel pressured to have to reciprocate anything I do for you with your body, you are worth much more than that. Just your time with me is valuable enough that no money can return.”

Still refusing to look into his eyes and nodding along absently as you try to wipe away your tears, he brings you back to him, pressing his lips against yours with a firm resolve before backing away.

“Yet if that is what you want, I will not refuse it. I want to make love to you, not just fuck you and dispose of you the next day. Again, ask for anything and it is yours. I will not refuse you anything. Name a date, and you shall have it.”

Selecting a movie from his vast DVD collection, you both refuse to speak further on this conversation. Laying your head against his arm, tightly embracing his bicep against your nose and fight against the sleepiness washing over you. This is all pretend, you can pretend he is yours and you are his fully, wholly. When no strings attached you to each other than the ghost of what could have been.

..

You are away from him for a few weeks when a string of modeling gigs, booked campaigns, magazine covers and runway invitations pull you away from him.

After quick brunch with a number of high profile casting agents and fashion investors who are pleasantly impressed with you, you are ushered away by your manager and your casting agent to a studio just south of Pasadena for a Marc Jacobs perfume campaign.

Your hair plastered up with gel and powdered white and pink a la Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola, and a plain yet delicate beige full length gown that molded to your shape like a Renaissance marble sculpture. Makeup on your face was bare sans bright pink blush on the apples of your cheeks, foundation that made you look ghastly more than alive, and clear lipgloss on your lips.

Submerged in a murky, stained bathtub filled with water, you sat down and the dress became transparent against your figure, sparing nothing to the eyes. Your nipples peaked through the v-shaped neckline that was held together only by strings of gold chains and strips of white chiffon, as you transfigured into various poses that the photographer approvingly took with harsh flashes against your cornea.

Minutes turned into hours as the shoot continued into the late afternoon and nearly the evening, the lukewarm water turning cold against your skin, submerged and formed goosebumps on your forearm and thighs that you were sure would make you wake up with a cold the next morning. Heck, you could already feel the headache starting to crawl into your skull.

As you stepped out and left a soaked trail behind you, the assistants rushed to envelope you with a cotton bathrobe and a pile of other towels were thrown your way to dry you clean. Scanning and preapproving the photos with the photographer with an absent grin, you thank everyone on set for their work and rush to the bathroom for a shower before you rush home, order takeout and knock out for the night.

Browsing your phone aimlessly, you are pleasantly surprised when your bank app notifies you about a recent deposit of $35,000, from Timothee with a simple note saying “ Get whatever you want darling. Still looking for a new place? Found some listings you might like.”

You are astonished at how nonchalant he was about sending you money that most people would not even see in their entire lifetime. This probably was just pennies and dimes compared to his annual income nowadays, with all these films coming in and offers flying by the minute.

Sending one of the outtakes from the photoshoot just from your neck down to him, your breasts fully in display as the transparent dress you were wearing was sodden, the dips of your hips deliciously accentuated and your waist cinched, a mischievous simper on your face appeared before you ran off to the shower before you could even get more sick.

The emphatic pings of your phone’s message notifications against the constant gush of the shower water over your head made your belly rumble with victory and unappeased desire. You could only imagine what dirty, unhinged things he would be saying to you over text, what he promised you for the next time you would see each other and how you were in for it good when it came to punishments.

“Like it?!  I fucking love it, angel. I would devour you right now if I was there.”

“Oh, you little minx. What happened to the shy doll I first met at the bar?”

Your head was in the clouds guessing on what he sent you as you washed your hair and soaped your body under the running water. Feeling the heat of your body, you hovered down just above your sex. Tickling slowly around your inner thighs, pretending it was his longer fingers instead.

One hand pushing your lower lips apart as one fondled your breasts and pinched your pink, puffy nipples, you suppressed a high pitched moan in fear a lingering crew member would overhear you and ruin your reputation before your modeling career even took off.

Scissoring your index and middle finger into your warm chasm as your thumb traced lightly over your clit, you lost track of time as you indulged in the feeling that washed over your body. Like a tightly knotted string curled up tightly before being yanked violently, you see stars against a canopy of the night sky as you sweetly release, his name murmured repeatedly under your breath like a prayer.

Leaving the studio just before midnight strikes, in the brand new Louis Vuitton top he got you with some thrifted trousers and custom made sneakers he designed with you in mind, the poor interns left behind to clean up the intricate set design for the photoshoot of the campaign did not find anything odd about how upbeat and energized you looked after a grueling, all day shoot.

As you got into the private Mercedes Benz driven by one of his hired drivers that waited for you by the parking lot, your thumb hovered over sending ‘i touched myself at the thought of you, daddy.”  

…

The final box delivered at your newly moved two-bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village reaches your doorstep, and you thank the kind delivery man in your apartment complex.

Beside the box of plain Corelle dishes, a circular ivory hued gift box with a giant satin bow on top caught your eye. Tugging the card underneath, you see his name “Timothee” written elegantly with a fountain pen, as you hold it against your chest before shaking your head with an iridescent smile on how sweet and thoughtful he always is.

Three dozens of preserved pink roses were neatly arranged inside, with a lengthy original poem he wrote alongside excerpts from both your and his favourite literature writers and poets.

“To my muse, yn. Xx

XIV

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

'I love her for her smile—her look—her way

Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—

For these things in themselves, Beloved, may

Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning”

Pressing kisses of the laced envelope until lipstick marks stains were burned into them, you cherished this gift, his sweet, honeyed words and the paradise he had crafted and welcomed you into. If only he could give you his heart.

…

After countless of meetings with your agents and your managers, your team have expanded and hired more assistants under your wing as your schedules became more complicated and hectic.

Strolling across the small, hidden park, you are both enjoying the warm, glimmering sun coming out and kissing your skin and hitting two birds with one stone as you get your daily steps in. As your brown leather boots brush against the soil underneath the grass, you can’t help but think of him.

It’s been several months since the beginning of your arrangement, and with how much your career is thriving at the moment, you can’t believe you’ve barely had the time to process what you had with him.

You were to see him again in a few days, counting the seconds, the hours until you could feel his skin under yours again. The warmth of his body as he whispered empty promises down the column of your throat and you for a moment wish to wholeheartedly believe it.

Were you being too forward? Perhaps your appeal on why he picked you of all people was because he was used to figures throwing themselves at his whim, leaving broken hearts to never be seen again after a sinful night.

So when you carelessly offered yourself, your body to him that fateful day, you shattered whatever perception of speciality that you figuratively formed in his mind. You scolded yourself mentally as you continued your walk, ignoring the tears that streamed down your face before you picked up the hidden cigarette from your pocket for a few puffs.

…

You are waiting for him in his loft, having finished arranging accounts and investments with his financial advisor whom he recommended you work with to further grow your independent bank account and finances.

Timothee surprises you as he locks his arms around your neck, peppering kisses on the apples of your cheeks. You smile at the scent of the perfume you had chosen for him the last time you went shopping together - a piece of you he carried with him even when he was away.

“I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“How could I have not? It’s not the same when you’re not here.”

He reciprocates your smile as he looks at you fondly, massaging your head with his fingers through your locks, as if he was feeling if you were real, and physically present. You cradle his hands against your face, closing your eyes to wallow and drown into that sensation.

Sinking into the couch,e he leaves a burn with every kiss he trails down your body, gently slipping every piece of your clothing one by one, without a care for the world.

…

Several months continue of this daydream of an arrangement, and you fear things are too good to be true. You two are basically in a romantic relationship that have done everything and anything, except it is not monogamous, heavily dependent on financial transactions and could end any minute you lose his favour and to his whims.

The first night you give yourself to him, you want nothing to do with the intricate indications of what making love hinted to you. You did not want to intertwine your soul further with his ,even though you were already his but to no guarantee was he fully and entirely only yours.

You lied through your teeth that you only wanted dirty, violent and ruthless, hard sex - just brutal, raw fucking. In your all-red lace lingerie that barely hid anything to imagination other than his leather jacket you stole from his closet, your red lips hid the feelings you wanted to set free.

He repeatedly tried to talk you out of this, that he was not going to judge you for any of your preferences and you could change your mind anytime, that he could stop and go gentle or never touch you sexually again. You refused. You refused to let him see you like that when this is not what a committed relationship entailed. This was purely a financial transaction between a sugar baby and her financial provider.

Scratching down his back as he leaves fingerprint bruises down your thighs, torse, around your neck, you think this is the closest thing you can get to his touch on yours, numbing you from the growing sensation of unrequited, unbridled care, affection and love you developed for him.

Whips, sex toys, vibrators, bondage, shibari- whatever experimental sexual thing that’s harsh, yanking at your skin and has no hint of lovemaking to it, you’re game. As long it’ll keep him close to you, physically but not emotionally or mentally or spiritually. That’s too close. You get too close and you’ll lose him- never to see him again. It’s not even about the money anymore, you wouldn’t give a shit if he stopped wiring you an annual allowance and could just spend the rest of your life with him forever.

Every time you think he wouldn’t see you crying at night even after the aftercare he would generously give you, he too looked at you longingly, but he didn’t want to cross the line. If he keeps crossing the line and pushing the boundary further and further like he already has, the lines between the truth and the lies just keep blurring.

He wants you. Not just for your body, nor your intelligence or your beauty. He’s afraid. He’s never been so open with someone like this. Or at least since- well, a painful memory he would never want to mention again.

Timothee has always been so guarded, flocking to casual hookups, making out with random girls he meets one night, not knowing their names or seeing their faces in the night light before he runs away. Like he always has.

It horrifies him, scares him intensely. When he watches you sleep beside him on his bedside, it terrifies him how you have his heart in your hands, and can crush it anytime, but he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Wouldn’t that just be leading him on like how others have done to him?

It continues like this for weeks, barely a month - but the temperature has gotten too hot, the glass has cracked. Enough is enough.

“Why aren't you talking to me anymore? “ He asks you impatiently, tired of the messages of his you keep ignoring, or how you don’t look at his face whenever he’s around.

“What do you mean, I'm talking to you right now?! Nothing is wrong, Timothee. Here you are making such a big deal about everything!” Your voice wavers as you turn around to face him, hiding the tears hovering to pour out any moment.  

His head in his hands, pulling at the roots in his hair as he keeps trying to interrogate you but there’s no way to get through.

‘Why have you been so guarded with me recently? Heck, you’ve never been an open book from the start but you barely even share a glimpse of yourself with me anymore!” He shouts, he doesn't want to raise his voice but you’re not getting the point when the wall you put between the two of you only gets thicker and higher.

“I thought this was just an arrangement, Tim! I never thought you’d even think of romantically seeing me like that, or be in a committed relationship when we never talked about it!”  

Your breath heaved as you felt that you’ve unleashed something you’ve held back for so long. It was now or never. This could either open you up to a genuine communication with him, or close the doors in your face forever.

He stares at you in disbelief, in shame for himself, for not having treated you right. Timothee rushes towards you and puts his mouth against yours, his palms cradling your face as if he would lick your wounds to heal.

He releases you from the kiss like he swam up for air. “I’m so sorry you felt that way. Yes, we started our arrangement primarily as you as my sugar baby, but the feelings I developed for you were real.”

“You loved me?” The tears flow down your cheeks as you tuck your head around his neck, wanting to feel him against you as the emotions consume you completely.

“Loved and I still do. I always will. I was afraid of getting hurt, that making a commitment will make me lose you. I’ve never had the best luck when it came to relationships, so I felt that keeping myself at a certain distance would allow me to be in your life, but that I wouldn’t risk losing you.”  

Oh, how you felt so foolish! You wailed in despair as you smacked his chest, pushing him away as you cried but wanting him closer to you, too close, yet not close enough.

“You fucking idiot, I thought you only wanted to throw your money at me for my time and my body! I never wanted you to make love to me and rather just fuck me heartlessly because I was afraid it would give me an illusion that you loved me like I love you.” You spit your words out like you’ve been fed venom, a wound not fully healed and needed time to breathe.

Timothee lunges at you again until he is hovering over your body on the bed, his hands firmly locking your wrists above your head. He murmurs apologies as he peppers light pecks on your nose, down your neck and down your sternum.

“I’m so sorry - I’m ashamed I never had the chance to tell you the truth until now. The entire truth-”

“The girls I saw you with from a week before you flew home?” You had to ask, you couldn’t resist. You bit your tongue from when the photos were released from photographers during the events before he came home to you.

It stung like you were stabbed right in the stomach with a sharp knife and it twisted within you. The air clocked out your lungs and your vision blurred as you assured yourself that this was totally expected from your arrangement.

It was not monogamous, there was nothing romantic nor committed about your agreement. Heck, why wouldn’t he? He was at the peak of his career with girls throwing themselves at him every second, so why would he refuse if they could give him what you couldn’t?

So when the pictures of his tongue down some random girls throat backstage at the Coachella tents a few days ago even if it was before he came home to your bed, it only reminded you of how fickle the moments you had with him.

“I was drunk and I was high - I promised it didn’t mean a thing. My manager and my publicist team demanded I be pictured with these girls, for the image they want of me as some playboy, casanova heartbreaker.” He groans in frustration, apologetic he had to do anything against his will.

A part of you wanted to trust him fully, wholly but you couldn’t. You knew how this wretched industry worked, especially in the dark trails of Los Angeles. It was not fully the city of angels, or how it wanted to be.

Appearances were everything. It was only expected of him to play the game by its tricks if he wanted to survive and come out on top of the food chain. It would only amp up his appeal, his marketability if he appeared desired, still single and uncommitted but attractive and wanted to those wannabe influencers and models you didn’t know their names of.

“I- I don’t fully trust you, but I want you to give us a chance. If you’re willing to fight for it.” You demand, setting your ground as you push him above you so you can stare at him directly and clearly.

“I want this more than anything. You have my word. It won’t be perfect, but I am willing to put everything on the line for you. I don’t expect you to forgive me so easily, but please - at least one chance.” His eyes water as he looks at you sincerely, moving to your side and places his arms around your shoulders.

You reach forward slightly for a gentle peck on his lips, circling your arms around your waist. Sighing vows of pleasure and acceptance as he prays apologies down your skin. The straps of your flimsy crop top fall down your shoulders, as you feel his fingers and the warmness of his tongue brush against your delicate skin.

Wanton cries of pleasure come out from your mouth, your fingers tangled into the locks of his hair, pulling at his scalp as he pulls up your top from above your head. Leaving marks down the column of your throat and chest before he reaches for one of your nipples, circling and pinching with one hand while the other is sucked on with an eager hunger that cannot be satisfied.

He goes back and forth before he is trailing down your stomach with the same ferociousness and desire. You reach forward to raise his shirt from his torso and fumble for his belt clumsily.

Pulling your skirt and your panties in a single attempt, he nudges you back against the mattress, the silver necklaces on his neck hovering over you. You pull him in by his necklaces to kiss him ardently, breathlessly like if you stopped kissing him, you’d stop living and breathing entirely.

Timothee’s hands linger above your hips, before he tenderly grips your thighs, looking up for permission to part them and continue before you assert him with a panicked nod.

He dives in without restraint, fingers toying with your clit teasingly before you whine in thwarting before he thrusts into your hole mercilessly. He plunges in according to the symphony of your moans and cries, a particular groan coming from his throat when he finds a spot you like and puts his tongue right in, adding to your gratification.

Adding more fingers as his tongue wildly eats you up like candy, like the last meal he will have, your thighs wobble around sloppily and discombobulatingly as you build up towards reaching your peak.  

“Ah-ah, yes, right there , Timmy! So good, so- ah!” His enticing, alluring eyes look up at you almost menacingly, like you’re prey he can’t wait to tear apart. He adds another finger as his tongue swipes in deeper and messily, slurping your juices as your orgasm comes crashing in.

Seeing stars as a string is pulled from within you, the light and darkness of your perception incomprehensible as one as you lose sensation for a moment. As you return back to your senses, you only see unruly curls and hazel eyes looking at you like he’s known you forever.

As you regain your hazy thoughts to pump his shaft as he cries in revelry, eyes rolling backwards as you press him closer to you. He moves up to flutter over you, gaping on top of you with laborious breaths as he wordlessly asks for your consent one more time.

Hoarsily you hiss a hushed ‘yes’ with whatever voice you got in you left from your cries in euphoria, and he thrusts into you haltingly, unhurriedly- so unlike the times you usually make him fuck you until you can’t walk.

Tangling your hands with his, he worships you as your hips brush and he penetrates into you without restraint, but so softly, so delicately like you would break like glass any minute. Bit by bit, before he is fully inside, groans as he sucks into the skin below your jaw and messily kisses you on the lips, fresh with your essence giving him a glow.

You cry like you have seen heaven above, whining, and screeching over the love of his that he has desperately wanted you to feel, but you’ve denied for so long. He adores you like you’re an altar, a saint on a pedestal that he wants to sacrifice himself for.

“I love you, fuck - i love you, so much. Mon amour-”

As you feel him release his warm seed inside you, he rubs repeatedly against your clit and sensitive hole before you come one more time, like two souls intertwined and intertwined into one. Like you were him, and he was you.

…

The rest of the night is a fuzzy blur, tainted by too many glasses of wine where you end up tangled in his bed sheets. The tender touches across your torso and around your neck are more gentle than you’ve ever imagined.

You give yourself to him three times that night, just as ravenous and hungry as the first time. You had previously chatted about your boundaries, your off-limits, but what you were willing to indulge and try with him in his bedroom.

As the sun rose, you opened your eyes to him propped on his elbow, looking down at you longingly with nothing but affection and fondness in his eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“We still have lots to talk about, doofus.” You tease him, pointing your tongue at him as you sit up with your comforter around your waist, but he pushes you back down.

“That and we will. Let’s give this one more try, and start how it should’ve been. “ He truthfully promises with no mischief or lies on his face.

You hesitate for a moment, not knowing what to say as your mouth opens trying to figure out what to say next.

“Give it some time. I know this is a lot to think about, but I really want us to work. I want this to last.”

“You promise?” You sound so hopeful, like an innocent child so optimistic before the real demons of the world came haunting her down.

“Yes, I promise. If you think I won’t spoil you with everything I got either, you’re dead wrong.”

Oh, Tim. The very Timothee you grew to love and adore.  You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You can’t say I wanted you just for your money or that I’m a gold-digger then. You can’t get rid of me that easily!” You jest, trailing your fingers lightly over his chest, until he reaches forward just underneath his bed. 

“Now why don’t you try on this new lingerie set I got for you? I’m sure you’d look delicious with it on?!” He offers with a teasing smirk, eyes darkened with lust and want already as he holds the package in his hands.

You shake your head with a light chuckle. Oh you were in for it now.

[glowingbadger]

Can I get some SFW and nsfw modern day Kaeya and Diluc stuff? Ty ty!

Damn I hadn't even thought about ModernAU Genshin before lol should be interesting- lesgoooo~

Side note- Genshin refuses to make actual sense of any of the ages of its characters, so I'm going with, like... mid-20's, semi-recently out of college for these two.

Kaeya, Diluc x GN Reader - ModernAU! headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Kaeya:

- He's in law school, and has a real knack for discovering hilarious and exploitable legal loopholes. It's also a field that suits him for a number of reasons- it makes use of his infectious natural charm, and keeps him entertained with the 'stories' you happen upon working with people's legal and personal problems. He's also the best dressed in any of his classes, and in any given courtroom. Those who know luxury clothing when they see it can't help incredulously wondering how he affords his wardrobe while still technically a student.

- Kaeya is such a shitposter. He habitually 'likes' any and everything you post on any and all social media platforms- but he'll also comment "mmm who's that sexy thing" beneath the most innocuous images of you. He sends you dumb memes at concerning hours of the night- frequently while intoxicated, and especially when you've had a stressful day.

- As a partner, Kaeya is surprisingly loyal. His friends (and yours) will joke about him being a total slut, how you must have to keep him on such a short leash. He doesn't take offense to this though, and in a way, he gets a kick out of being perceived this way. But in truth, since he's been with you, he's never once considered anyone else. When you're alone together, there's a warmth in his gaze and a gentleness to his touch that no one else has ever seen.

- Everywhere Kaeya goes, he seems to "know a guy." He's always got an in- and an elaborate story of how he met this person and why they're, frankly, worryingly open to doing him favors. It's rare that a date with Kaeya goes by without you being offered free drinks, free desserts, a better seat at a restaurant or theatre, etc. Generally, when pressed, he'll wave a hand and say, "Babe come on, you know me- I just love making friends." Though you've heard whispers that some of his "friends" are just people who can't afford to be on his bad side.

Diluc:

- Was on track to become a police officer for some time, but it took barely a month from completing his training for him to become entirely disillusioned with the entire system. He quit (bluntly and forcefully, I might add) and now works as a P.I. His quietly thoughtful and serious nature puts clients at ease while allowing him to examine each case efficiently and effectively. I also figure we'd still carry over the "bartending at night" angle from the games- it's a great way to network and gain intel while undercover.

- His phone is basically a device for work, the news, and sometimes for contacting you, and absolutely nothing else. He hates the constant noise of social media, and refuses to jump on trends when things move too fast to get meaningfully invested in anything. Still, while he tries to angle his screen so you won't see it, he has set a picture of you as his wallpaper.

- Diluc loves the quiet, domestic side of your relationship. He treasures things like cooking together, cuddling on the couch with a movie, or even working on chores and projects together. He comes from money (though he doesn't talk about it much), so the more down to earth life that he's made with you is precious to him, and he appreciates all of the little moments that reaffirm your bond. That said, he does have an excellent memory for things like birthdays, anniversaries and such, and he is not shy about spending some cash on such occasions.

- Your friends all think he's super hot (and they're right), but are also a bit intimidated by him. Once, you tried showing them a sweet message he sent you drowning in heart emojis and they insisted that couldn't be him. Now there's a running joke in your friend group about your secret side-guy who leaves you nice voicemails when you've had a bad day and has flowers sent to your work- since they're convinced someone as serious and put-together as Diluc couldn't be your incredibly affectionate boyfriend.

NSFW 18+ v

Kaeya:

- Kaeya loves showing you off, especially in an outfit he bought just for you. It seriously turns him on to watch you over a nice dinner out wearing something a bit risque that he selected for you, noting the appreciative glances in your direction from others nearby, and knowing that you're his. The way his line of sight wanders your body all night makes it exceedingly clear that he can't wait to tear that lovely outfit off of you when he has you alone.

- Definitely the adventurous and experimental sort when it comes to kink, and he especially enjoys a bit of exhibitionism or semi-public fooling around. During a similar date night, with you looking so positively delicious across the table, he'll watch with a wolfish smirk as you squirm from the vibrations of a toy he pushed inside of you earlier that evening. He reclines in his seat and levels his gaze on you, saying, "My, darling, are you feeling alright? You look a bit flushed..." as his hand fiddles with the toy's remote. Then, once he gets you home or- even better -to a hotel, he'll press you against the window as he fucks you into panting, mindless bliss. Sometimes he doesn't even want to wait that long, and he'll find somewhere to park his car and fuck you in his back seat

- Kaeya has sending dick pics and lewd selfies down to an art. Seriously, his pictures are beautiful- of course helped by the fact that his body is gorgeous as well. Naturally, he loves to receive erotic images of you as well, and will save each and every one of them for "later use." If you're into it, he'll gladly send you a video of himself stroking his cock just for you, while describing every filthy thing he imagines doing to you in explicit detail.

Diluc:

- Generally speaking, Diluc wants to wine and dine you before the spicy business. He's a romantic at heart, and he wants you to know that he adores every part of you- and your body just happens to be one item on that list. He's not as obvious with his desires as some, but lingering gazes across the dinner table, or a hand at the small of your back trailing around your waist, all make his intentions clear. There's no doubt your lovely evening together will end with his strong body pressing you against his matress, his lips at your throat and your thighs clinging around his hips.

- He's generally fairly private about his sex life- not shy, per say, but insistent that your mutual pleasure is something for only the two of you. He's also not likely to sext or send lewd photos unless you really, really want them (and he's kind of adorably awkward about it at first even if he does try for you)- but if you tease him by sending him something naughty, his mind short circuits. His face burns crimson and he stops whatever he was doing and just stares at your beautiful body on the screen, as though he can already feel you in his hands.

- Diluc is a busy man, so there's likely to be stretches when the time and energy for sex simply isn't there. But once he's wrapped up a case and he finally has some time to breathe, you can bet he'll lift you into his arms and carry you to the bedroom the first chance he gets. You might even start to suspect that it's a way for him to vent his work stress when his thick cock pounds into you so nice and steady and deep- but you're certainly not about to complain, especially when you've been without him for so long.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[lumosinlove]

Vaincre

~

It’s here!! Thank you all for the support of this universe, it truly means so very much to me. Every time I get a comment, or get to read the fan fiction you all write, see the art you create...it just fills me with so much joy. I’m so excited to share the Sweater Weather sequel with you, Vaincre! Go Lions!

cw: brief mention of past injury and past abuse

~

part i: July

I’ve been holding my breath

I’ve been counting to ten

~

The media wasn’t kind. There were network shows and blogs. Magazines and papers and podcasts. Not to mention Twitter.

Remus had heard his name on all of them, even if he wasn’t listening. It was part of Alice’s job to make sure he knew what was being said about him. It was his job to tune most of it out. Some outrage. Some elation. Some confusion.

This is my question, one podcast asked. I mean, I’m happy for Black. Lupin, too. I’m happy for the hockey world to have this happen, it’s about time, I mean, tune it, come on, and all that.

I’m confused about the, you know, ‘let’s put the PT on the roster.’ I’ve seen college clips, like, those have been released, we know that he got injured, we know all that. He’s fast, we know that, too. But a lot of guys are fast.

Just…what a move by Coach Weasley. A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Remus had always loved to run. It cleared his head. It had been one of the forms of exercise he had been able to do first once his shoulder had healed, before weights or any sort of strength training. His therapists had recommended it. Endorphins, they had said.

But Remus liked it because it was the closest he had been able to get to gliding on the ice, even when he still couldn’t stand to even look at a rink.

A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Remus was used to not knowing. He was beginning to think he thrived on it. Would he play hockey again? Would he ever find love? Would Sirius want him?

Was this really happening?

He didn’t think of dreams as coming so late, but, then again, why should dreams be put on any sort of time schedule?

Now, he banged out the screen door and onto the rickety, well-loved porch of the lake house that had been passed down through his family for years. His mother and her brothers split it up in the summer, overlapping for a week or so, and there were always little gifts left behind for each family at the trade-off. A bottle of the best maple syrup, or some of the local honey. They were small, but Remus smiled when he saw what his uncle and aunt and cousins had left for him and Sirius after his parents and Julian had given them the month of July with the house to themselves. A little flower arrangement with two hockey sticks, carved out of wood, sticking up in the middle.

Sirius had plucked one from the dirt, twirled it over in his fingers, and smiled.

“Your family will never stop surprising me.”

Green Lake was deep, prime for fishing, and gorgeous. The smell of the water, of the soil and sweet summer air was as good as home to Remus. He breathed it in now as he bent to lace up his sneakers. He could smell the fire pit that they had lit last night, one that he and Julian had roasted thousands of marshmallows over.

“I showed Jules how to roast the perfect marshmallow here,” Remus had said that first July night, leaning back against Sirius’ chest.

Sirius had blew out his burnt-black one. “Like this?”

Remus had scoffed. “No, you heathen.”

Sirius looked good here, surrounded by the woods and rusty cabin, wearing the old fleeces that never seemed to leave this place for when the sun had yet to warm the chilly mornings. Some mornings, they’d make their coffee, tangle their socked feet together on the small couch until the sun began to get high and they’d strip it all off in favor of swimsuits and sunscreen. Other mornings, Remus would rise, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’ sleeping face, and take to the dirt road that ran around the lake.

Sirius, just off of the hard won playoffs, needed to rest. Remus needed to train.

A good move? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

They would leave in two days for Pascal’s Cup Day celebration, and then to meet Remus’ parents, his little brother Julian, and Regulus back in Gryffindor for Sirius’ Cup Day. And August training. Remus stretched his hands to his toes and closed his eyes. A strange type of adrenaline filled him whenever he thought about practicing with the team, about the fitness tests that would come first. He’d have to prove himself again and again. He wanted to. But part of him wondered what would happen if he couldn’t.

The screen door squeaked open and shut again, and Remus jumped, looking up to find Sirius, still sleep rumpled, standing there in running shorts.

Remus laughed, reaching up to trace a pillow crease in his cheek. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in while you can.”

Sirius let out a grumbly sort of yawn and gathered his hair, long from the summer and just brushing his chin now, back into a small half-up bun.

“I can’t believe you do this before coffee.”

“Too acidic. Gives you running stitches.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius sighed, and threw his arm around Remus’ shoulders as they walked up the steep driveway to the road.

Remus kissed his wrist. “I’ll miss being here with you.”

Sirius smiled. He was tan from the summer, hair dark as ever and his skin sun-kissed.

Remus leaned into his shoulder. “I mean look at you. I like seeing you this relaxed.”

Sirius bit his lip as the rounded a bend, waving at Mrs. Barrow, who was tending to her garden.

“I don’t think I knew I could be this relaxed,” Sirius admitted. “It was always train, train, train, you didn’t get a Cup, try harder.”

Remus was familiar with the notes that appeared in Sirius’ voice now from years of Sirius’ small slips in conversation, even when, to Remus, Sirius had only been they youngest captain in the league, cold and reserved from even more years of his father’s abusive, relentless attitude towards hockey and Sirius’ skills. Even when Remus had only been the team’s physical therapist, closeted, crushing on Sirius, and surprised by the cracks Sirius showed when he had gotten his ankle smashed by Severus Snape, Captain of the Slytherin Snakes—the Gryffindor Lions greatest rivalry. Pain, it had seemed, and fear of never stepping on the ice again, had given Remus his first glimpses into a different Sirius beneath it all, a boy who was filled with much more than just a need to win, but for whom the want of winning only made him love his sport, and his team, more.

“And now that you have a Cup?” Remus asked. “How’re you feeling?”

They came to the road and Sirius balanced on one foot, stretching his thigh. “Now that I have you,” he said. “I’m feeling just fine.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, the Stanley Cup Champion part has nothing to do with it.”

Sirius laughed, but took Remus’ face between his palms. “If I didn’t have you, and I had only a Cup, all I would be doing right now is thinking about another Cup.”

Remus put a hand on his chest, fingers finding the number twelve pendant that rested there.

“Now, there’s more,” Sirius said simply, and leaned down for a tender kiss. “Like your mother’s peach pie.”

Remus punched him in the arm as Sirius laughed loudly.

“You’ll have to beat me if you want a slice of that!” Remus called as he took off.

Sirius made a wounded noise, but sprinted after him until they were side by side again.

~

“I don’t think I can leave this beach,” Leo mumbled into the lounging cabana they were spread out beneath, and Logan looked down at him from where he was reading—trying to read—one of the books Finn had given him. He didn’t know how many books Finn had tried to get him to read over the years, but he knew he never made it through more than a few pages without looking up, getting distracted, or having to go back.

“Non?” Logan asked.

Leo shook his head. “The sun. The sea. I’m in heaven.”

“What about hockey?”

“Brr.”

Logan laughed and settled back into the pillows, setting the book aside and rolling towards Leo to feel his sun-warmed back and leaned down to kiss his temple. A private beach definitely had its perks—and so did three hockey salaries.

“We’ll just stay here, then.”

They’d had a good summer. Leo’s Cup Day, Finn’s, his own, all in their hometowns and accompanied by large parades and fanfare. Logan had finally gotten to take Leo home to his sisters and parents for the first time. It had been nice to see Finn around his family again, too, after what felt like eons of avoiding him in that small gap between being at Harvard and then them both making it to the NHL, and to the Lions.

Leo’s sleepy smile up at him melted Logan like ice in the sun.

“Okay, good,” Leo said, then his eyes went behind Logan. “There’s the ghost-on-toast with our drinks.”

Logan snorted and looked up to see Finn—and Finn’s tiny blue swim shorts that he insisted weren’t see-through—walking towards them through the sand from the resort bar with a tray of drinks in his hands.

“Hey, lover-nuts,” Finn said as he set the tray down in the shade. “Got us some snacks, too. That bar tender loves me.”

“You are so pale,” Leo laughed. “I love you, though, please put more sunscreen on.”

“Keep your sandy feet off my towel,” Logan nudged Finn’s foot with his own as he reached for his drink. Finn just smiled and nodded at the book.

“How is it?” Finn asked.

Logan just looked at him.

He laughed and ran a hand through Logan’s salty, damp hair. “I know. I’ll read it to you later. I just thought you might want something for the beach!”

Logan held up his cocktail. “I have something for the beach.”

They settled back under their cabana, the thin, white linen curtains fluttering around them in the three o’clock breeze. Maybe Logan, as he closed his eyes between Leo and Finn, Leo’s hand still on his thigh, Finn’s arm pillowing the back of his neck, never wanted to leave this beach, either.

“Back to Gryffindor tomorrow,” Logan said.

“Group chat says most guys’ll be back this week,” Finn said, squinting at his phone over his sunglasses. “We gotta be back for Dumo’s, and then Cap’s Cup Day. That’ll be nice, man.”

“I like that they’re bringing it to Gryffindor Pride,” Leo said, rolling onto his back. “Should have thought of that. Or, I guess…” Leo trailed off and Logan frowned. They couldn’t do that. Not yet, at least. Leo caught Logan’s expression and rested a reassuring hand on his thigh. “I’m glad we get to go, even if its for them on the surface. That’s real thoughtful of them, you know?”

Logan nodded. It was thoughtful. When Remus and Sirius had brought it up to them, he’d found himself getting a little choked up.

“We want you guys to be able to experience that, too,” Remus had said. “If you want. No matter what you decide to do public-wise in the future.”

Finn clicked his phone off and chucked it to the side. “Hey, don’t take me off island time yet. We’ll order to the room, eat on the deck, hike up and stargaze…”

Finn rattled off the perfect list, tilting towards Logan until their lips met.

“And then we’ll go win another Cup.”

Leo and Logan punched him at the same time.

~

Thomas sat in the shade with Kasey as they watched Alex try to take on Natalie and Noelle at pool basketball.

“I really think they’re going to accidentally drown him,” Thomas said thoughtfully.

“He probably thinks that, too, and is just too competitive to stop,” Kasey replied.

Thomas laughed, and held out his beer to cheers.

“This is a nice house the O’Haras have, man,” he looked at the sparkling ocean beyond the steps and fence, and at the pool with the grill and lounge chairs. They’d only come up for the weekend, between training and visiting their own families, and before returning to Gryffindor for the season.

“Tell me about it.”

“Cheating!” Alex spluttered from the pool as Natalie put all of her weight on him to dunk him under the water. Alex pointed very seriously to the foot marker on the side tile. “We agreed from that to Thomas’ chair, I was too far away!”

“Too bad!” Noelle shouted as she made another basket.

Thomas didn’t think it was the alcohol that made him feel a little fuzzy at the edges as he looked over her in her swimsuit. She was all curves of tanned muscle, softened the summer around her stomach and arms. Thomas was a goner. But she seemed pretty gone, too, so he guessed it was all right.

“This moment’s always rough,” Kasey said softly from beside him, and when Thomas looked at him questioningly, he gestured vaguely with his beer. “The end of July. One more month, but not really. Alex’ll go back for training, you know? It’s like a trick. I always think, I get three months with these two. But it’s more like two and the first week of August.”

Thomas nodded. “I know. Noelle, too. Her training camp starts on the eight. I’m just…”

Kasey sighed in sympathy.

“At least you have Nat, you know?” Thomas said. “Not that I’m saying you have it easier, I just…”

Kasey shook his head. “I know. Believe me, I’m thankful for that every day. But…when you miss someone, you miss someone.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”

Last season hadn’t been too bad. His relationship with Noelle had been new. They only really knew FaceTime dates, and squeezed in weekend flights that sometimes left them more exhausted than sated. They had been taking it slow. Thomas had been kissed by Noelle—a lot. Enough to make him dizzy with it. Only, then she’d met him at the airport in Quebec, they’d spent a month with her family in France…

And Thomas wasn’t sure he knew how to do just FaceTime anymore. There was a new yearning, knotted just below his heart. He knew what her skin felt like under his hands now, knew what she looked like right when she waked up, even her skincare routine before bed. It would feel like being away from the ice for too long, the knot pulling tight. He thought this year was going to be harder. Maybe he knew it, but if he did, he was pretending it might be easy still.

“T,” Noelle called, floating on her back, dark hair fanned out in the water. “C’mere!”

Thomas smiled, setting his drink down. He would come, whenever she called. Wherever.

~

Cole Reyes didn’t know if Adele Dumais staring at him the way she was was a good thing, or a bad thing. He was nervous enough without the seemingly disapproval of Pascal Dumais'—the Pascal Dumais of the Gryffindor Lions, oldest player in the league—teenage daughter.

“Don’t you talk?” Marc, one of his sons, asked.

Cole blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Yeah.”

Adele waved her brother off. “They’re always super nervous at first. Remember Sirius?”

Marc scoffed. “I was a baby.”

Cole let out a breath. Now they were casually talking about Sirius Black, who had lived in the very room Cole had been sleeping in for a week now when he was a rookie, too. It was the same with Logan Tremblay. He felt like he needed to keep the room pristine, like he was living in some Hockey Hall of Fame museum that he had not earned the right to be in yet.

“You’re still a baby,” Adele shot back.

“Kids,” came Celeste, Pascal’s wife’s voice from where she was setting the table. “Come on now.”

“Sorry, maman,” Marc said softly.

“Sorry,” Adele sighed more reluctantly.

“Go help your father with the grill, you two,” she said. “Everyone will be arriving soon.”

Katie, Celeste and Pascal’s youngest daughter, perked up from where she was sitting beside Cole, drawing. Not Pascal, Dumo—Cole kept having to remind himself that he could call Pascal by his nickname now, that it was all official, that he was a Gryffindor Lion, too. Katie hadn’t left his side since he arrived a week ago to billet with the Dumais, and he still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Even the Cup?” she asked.

Celeste laughed. “Oui, ma cherie. Cole? Would you mind going to get the flowers for the table? They’re on the kitchen counter, just inside.”

“Oh, sure, Mrs. Dumais,” Cole nodded, glad for something to do. The thought of the Cup arriving gave him the chills. He’d have to be careful not to touch it. He was scared to even look at it, to be honest. His mom would be laughing at him right about now. He wanted to call her afterwards, tell her everything.

“Call me Celeste, I told you, please,” Celeste smiled. She was lovely, with her dark hair twisted and clipped up and a summer dress as green as her eyes, silky against her olive skin.

Cole flushed, but smiled. “Celeste.”

Cole made his way through the sliding door from the back yard and through the dining room. The kitchen was one of the biggest rooms in the house—and it was a big house. Beautiful copper pans hung shining above the island, along with some herbs that Celeste grew and dried herself. It looked like something out of a magazine to Cole, and it was nice, but it wouldn’t beat his mom’s kitchen in the small apartment they shared in Boston. The small space would fill up to the brim with the smell of spices, or cobbler. The thought sent a pang right to his heart. He missed home, that was for sure. After being away for so long, for so many hockey camps, he’d hoped he would be more used to it by now.

The flowers were right where Celeste had said they would be, and he was reaching for one when the back door that led to the garage dinged open. Cole froze, sure that he was about to run into captain Sirius Black completely unprepared, when a girl stepped through instead. She was dressed in denim shorts and a white tank top, had dark brown skin, and a Gryffindor College hat over her hair, which was plaited back into many small braids.

She smiled when she saw him. No sign of surprised, or of the nervousness Cole felt when he met basically anyone.

“You must be Cole,” she said.

Cole nodded. The girl was gorgeous. Cole was a mess of nerves already. He didn’t need the stare of the teenage daughter of one of his idols, but he especially could not handle a beautiful girl right now.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “No, yeah, um. Yes.”

The girl strode forward, setting her bag down on the counter, along with a water bottle decorated in stickers. He caught a few Lions ones. She offered her hand, which was slender and had two golden rings on it. “I’m Layla. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Cole took it, trying to place her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I babysit for the Dumais family,” she said in explanation, then waved her hand. “Well, this year, at least. I’m actually—we’re going to be working together.”

Cole blinked. “You mean the Lions?”

She nodded. “I’m in the middle of my undergrad for physical therapy. Dumo’s amazing and he got me an internship under the new PT. You know. I’ll probably get you stick tape or something,” she laughed. “Congrats, by the way.”

Cole tilted his head and she raised an eyebrow.

“On making it to the NHL?”

“Oh,” Cole laughed. “Oh, I, yeah, thanks. You, too—or…yeah.”

Cole was going to stay in his room in the basement and never come out.

“I gotta—Mrs. Du—Celeste wants these flowers outside,” he said, picking the vases up.

“Sure thing,” Layla smiled.

“Layla,” came a shriek, and a moment later Katie Dumais came sprinting into the kitchen and wrapped herself around Layla’s legs and smiled at Cole. “This is my new hockey player.”

Cole couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t have a lot of experience with kids, but Katie sure was cute.

“Yours?” Layla gasped as she smiled at Cole. “He’s all yours, is he?”

Katie nodded. “Like Tremzy and Sirius. His name is Cole, like when Santa Clause doesn’t like you.”

Again, with the casual mentions of Logan Tremblay and Sirius Black.

“Oh, of course,” Layla laughed. “Well, I’m sure Santa Clause has never not liked you, babes. Let’s go let your mom know I’m here, okay? Your new hockey player can come with us, too.”

“He’s yours, too!” Katie insisted. “You’re here all the time, so he’s yours, too, don’t worry.”

“Oh, good,” Layla said. “I was worried.”

When Katie looked at Cole expectedly, Cole managed, “I guess everyone does need a hockey player?”

“Exactly!” Katie squealed, and Cole could only follow them outside, heart pounding.

~

It was good to be back in Gryffindor. Remus and Sirius had dropped their bags in Sirius’ entryway, said hello to Regulus, showered, and then hopped right back in the car to get to Pascal’s house.

“You two look disgustingly happy,” Regulus said, leaning forward from the back seat.

“We are,” Sirius grinned at him in the review mirror. “I am also happy,” he stroked the leather steering wheel of his Range Rover. “To be back with this baby.”

While Sirius’ hair had grown longer, Regulus had shaved his short. The curls were barely curls at all anymore, but Remus was happy to see that his seemingly ever-present dark circles had receded some.

“Why, thank you, Regulus, you look happy, too,” Remus snorted. “When do you leave for NYU’s orientation?”

“August 23rd,” he said. “Been texting with my housemates, too. They seem cool.”

“Maybe one of you will pull a Finn and fall in love with each other,” Sirius said.

“Twice,” Remus laughed, and Regulus did, too.

“I think I’ve had enough romance drama to last me a life time, thanks,” Regulus smiled. “But, yeah. I’m just…I’m focused on friends right now, I think. Normal, non-hockey creatures like you two. But that’s not to say if something came up…or I guess someone. Who knows.”

Sirius’ smile was softer this time. “Focus on whatever you want, Reg. You deserve it.”

Regulus just grumbled something about hockey gods, and then they were pulling up to the Dumais’. There were silver and white balloons lining the driveway and the fence to the backyard where, as Remus slammed his door, he could already hear laughter. A zing of excitement shot through him.

“I missed this team,” he sighed as Sirius took his hand.

Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple. “Your team.”

“Our team.”

“Jesus Christ,” Regulus said, and gave them a shove forward.

Thomas gave a loud woop when he spotted them coming out to the backyard. Regulus immediately made a B-line towards Leo and the Cubs.

“Yes! The Captain!” Thomas said and pulled Sirius into a hug. “Missed you, man.”

“You, too, T,” Sirius said. “Ready to tear it up?”

“You know it.”

Remus smiled as Thomas hugged him next. “I forgot you two train together before pre-season.”

“You two?” Thomas raised an eyebrow, the small gold hoops in his ears glinting in the sun. Remus noticed he’d shaved three stripes into one side of his head. They were a little wobbly. Maybe Noelle had done it. “You’re not coming with us?”

“You know how this one is about his routines,” Remus said, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Wouldn’t want to mess anything up.”

“Please,” Sirius said. “I want you there more than I want a second—”

Remus and Thomas punched him at the same time.

“I know you weren’t just about to say that,” said an accented voice from behind Remus, and they turned to see Pascal standing there. He looked as he always did, smile lines around his eyes, gray streaks at his temples. He wore a white t-shirt and had Katie on his hip. She was definitely getting too big to be carried around like that, but Remus couldn’t see a time when Pascal would ever refuse her. He’d probably carry Adele around like that, too, if she’d let him.

“Dumo,” Sirius smiled, and took the two beers he was holding out, handing one to Remus. He kissed Katie’s forehead. “Good summer?”

“The best,” Pascal laughed, and nodded towards the edge of the yard. “Especially with the promise of seeing that thing again.”

Remus followed his gaze, and his breath caught, just as he knew it would. The Cup stood there, its guards near by with drinks and plates of food in their hands. It sat proudly on a table, surrounded by white tulips—no doubt Celeste’s doing.

“I’m excited to see you two bring it to the parade,” Pascal said. “That will be a wonderful day for everyone.”

Remus glanced at where Logan, Leo, and Finn were standing with Kasey Winter, Gryffindor’s goalie, and his partners Natalie, with her long blonde hair, and Finn’s brother Alex, who played for Tampa Bay.

Sirius’ smile lit up his face. “It will be.”

Remus peered around him. “Is that our rookie?”

Sirius scoffed. “A rookie can’t call a fellow rookie rookie, rookie.”

Remus blinked. “What did you just say?”

“That’s Cole!” Katie said. “I love him.” Then she turned and shouted his name again. He looked up from where he was standing quietly beside Jackson Nadeau, another player, and Remus suppressed a smile at the way his eyes widened when he saw Sirius.

“Oh, here we go,” Sirius mumbled.

“Oh, hush,” Remus said, and sounded far too much like his mother to himself. “You’re going to be throwing hands for him the second someone gets close, and you know it.”

“I don’t know how to tell rookies I’m just a person!” Sirius whispered as Cole began to make his way over. “They act all…”

“Star struck?” Thomas offered.

Sirius just glowered at him.

Cole Reyes did not look as young as he was. Even at 19, he was jacked, and tall, with light brown skin, green eyes, and a stripe shaved into one of his eyebrows. His hair was shaved at the sides, but longer on the top and in tight curls.

Remus glanced somewhat self-consciously down at himself. He could only put on more muscle healthily so fast. He thought he’d been doing well, but looking at Cole…

“Hello,” Cole said hesitantly and Pascal set Katie down and clapped Cole on the shoulder.

“Reyes, meet Sirius. Sirius, meet the boy who is a much better billet than you ever were.”

Sirius snorted, and Cole laughed—nervously.

“Hi, Cole,” Sirius said, and held out his hand. “I know we spoke briefly over the summer, but it’s nice to officially meet you.”

“You, too,” Cole said, smile slight. “Thanks for the call. My mom freaked out. I mean—well, me too, but my mom…” Cole stuttered out, wincing.

“Loves me?” Sirius laughed. “I get that a lot.”

“He’s so humble,” Remus shook his head jokingly. “Hi Cole, I’m Remus. Welcome to the team.”

“You too…?” Cole said hesitantly. “Well, the roster, I guess.”

“Cole,” Katie said, taking his large hand in her small one. “Come meet Tremzy. He’s my best friend.”

Sirius feigned a pout. “What about me?”

Katie smiled sheepishly, throwing herself at Sirius’ legs, “You, too!”

“Always one-uped by Tremblay,” Thomas laughed, shaking his head. “How’s it feel, Cap?”

“Wonderful,” Sirius said dryly and then looked down at Katie, petting her head. “Go on, go show Cole your best friend.”

They watched her lead Cole through the crowd for a moment before Sirius huffed.

“See?” Sirius whispered to Remus. “It’s like he’s scared of me.”

“I’ve never heard you use the phrase spoke briefly in my life. Who are you, Alice?”

“I was trying to be professional!”

Remus laughed. “Why?”

Sirius just rolled his eyes and dragged him over to stack their plates with food.

The party went well into the evening, the sky pink and blue in the setting sun. There were lanterns floating in the pool where Evgeni and Jackson were playing chicken with a delighted Marc and Louis, or sometimes one of Coach Arthur Weasley’s boys, on their shoulders. Logan was sitting with Cole and Finn, cradling a sleepy Katie against his chest, Leo and Regulus laughing with Kasey and Alex.

Remus found Sirius again standing alone in front of the Cup. His hair was falling into his face, the curls gentled by the evening breeze and the Cup’s silver surface reflecting the silver of Sirius’ eyes. Remus went to stand beside him, and neither of them spoke for a moment.

“I’m nervous,” Remus broke the silence.

Sirius nodded. “I know, mon loup.”

Remus sighed, resting his head against Sirius’ arm. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Sirius switched his drink to his other hand so he could run his fingers through Remus’ hair. “This is…big.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Remus whispered. It felt dangerous, to say the words aloud. “It’s everything that I lost. Last time.”

Remus could still feel Fenrir Greyback rip at his shoulder, even if it was years ago now, while they were still at college. Being in the NHL meant that Remus would have to play against him again whenever they met Vegas.

Sirius turned towards him, hand on his cheek.

“You will have this,” he said earnestly, and then smile, reaching into his shirt for his necklace, the one Remus had gifted him last Christmas. He brought it to his lips. “Loops.”

Remus smiled at the now familiar sight, touching the pendant when Sirius’ let it drop.

“You know,” Remus said. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted, too.”

Sirius’ smile was one of Remus’ favorites, and he tucked him against his side. Remus followed his gaze to find him looking at Cole again.

“I’m not happy with the way it happened,” Sirius said softly, and Remus knew he was thinking of the pictures that someone had leaked of them kissing. The pictures that had upturned their entire lives. “But I’m glad I get to hold you like this in front of new faces. I wasn’t thinking about trades—I try not to—but getting Reyes, if things had been different, would have meant we were back to square one at parties like these.”

Remus nodded, taking a drink. “And he seemed okay with it. With us.”

“I was thinking we should invite him to train with us. With me, you, and T. Maybe Dumo would join, too. I know he usually goes with Sergei, but Sergei might be with Kuns and Nado, even though they usually like it just them. The Cubs—”

“Okay, Captain, okay,” Remus laughed.

Sirius pressed a hand over his eyes, laughing. “I just don’t like it when they’re nervous around me. Like Leo was. It’s so much better now that we’re friends.”

“You’ll get there with him,” Remus said. “Yeah, invite him to train with us. The more the merrier.”

Secretly, Remus wanted to see how Cole trained. He couldn’t shake the analytical side of him, the physical therapist side. Cole was built for such a young age.

“If I didn’t know better,” Sirius said softly, mouth close to Remus’ ear. “I’d say you were checking him out.”

Remus spluttered. “I’m not! I want to know his routine!”

Sirius cracked up. “This is your superstition, isn’t it? Cracking other player’s codes.”

Remus just shrugged, smiling into his cup.

“Have you cracked my code?” Sirius asked in the low voice he used that made Remus not want to be surrounded by people.

Remus looked up at him. “Maybe. It certainly has nothing to do with a piece of toast at five o’clock.”

“My pre-game toast is very important to me.”

Remus leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “No, you just like honey and cinnamon.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to talk to Reyes now.”

“Catch him if he passes out.”

Sirius just glowered over his shoulder as he stalked across the grass. Remus looked around at the back yard, at the team, together again. His team.

[vinnieswife]

Hey could you please do a Vinnie imagine where y/n is was in a toxic relationships before vinnie so she has trust issues. They get into a fight and she ends up crying and vinnie reassures her that he would never do anything to hurt her.

Trust issues

Vinnie Hacker x reader

Angst, fluff at the end Vinnie being a cute baby

Words:

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships

Your past relationships had gone well, everything was happy, healthy relationships as everyone would see, but, in your last relationship, everything was different, when you saw it you thought it was a somewhat strange but normal behavior, but from the outside everything looked Extreme and disconcerting, when both of you went out you had to always be by his side, you had to give him the passwords of all your social networks and you could not publish things without his permission, he reviewed all your conversations with any man, whether friend or family member.

Every time you were going out, you had to send your location in real time and send photos of you and your friends, you thought that he only cared about you, until one day he cheated on you, and how he had led you to believe that without him you were not nothing you fell into his horrible arms again.

So you kept forgiving him over and over and over again until you got tired and finished with him, based on screams, tears and a thousand notices from your friends, you got it, you managed to end the relationship.

After all this you took a break from relationships and men in general, until Kouvr introduced you to Vinnie, you both met at one of the parties at the Hype House, you started talking realizing the amount of things that you had in common, you both exchanged numbers and started talking day and night, making long video calls whenever there was time, meeting at the skate park or just watching movies in his room, when suddenly Vinnie confessed his feelings for you, which you corresponded (who didn't? really)

You both started dating 3/4 months ago, with which you made it public, to your surprise people were already shipping you and they accepted you quickly.

Vinnie had taught you everything that a healthy relationship entailed, and he was surprised when you wanted to give him the passwords of your social networks, refusing to accept them assuring you that it was completely fine since you should have privacy

I also taught you that you shouldn't tell him where you were all the time, or ask if you could post x random photos or videos. "Sweetheart you don't need to ask me that things, you control that, it's your decision not mine"

I assure you a thousand and one times that any item of clothing would fit you perfectly, and that you should not ask her permission to go out with your friends, “why do you ask me that? Im not your father, you can hang out with your friends everytime you want love ”or to meet friends since he had full confidence in you. Everything was fine, and it made you feel safe with yourself, reminding you every day how Precious you were, how much he loves you, leaving soft kisses anywhere on your body whenever he has the opportunity, taking an interest in your tastes, hugging you when you are afraid , teaching you everything your ex deprived you of, making it an everyday act.

One afternoon Vinnie went to a party at his old house, the Sway gaming, everything was fine with that, you decided to stay home since you didn't feel like going to a party surrounded by people you don't know or just don't You wanted to get out of the comfort of your bed.

"See you later, I'll text you as soon as I get there, okay?" "Mhm" Vinnie placed a kiss on your forehead stroking your cheek in the process. "I love you" "I love you more" he replied making your heart jump with joy, finally being able to feel that happiness in you.

15 minutes later your phone buzz, you caught it by flipping it over, seeing Vinnie's message on the wallpaper.

"I'm here, I'll see you in 2 hours, I love you <3"

To which you replied with a "okay, see you later, I love you <3"

You lay back on the bed, refocusing your attention on the series you were watching, some time later you fell asleep for the tranquility and comfort, you woke up with a call from Maddy, you and she had become very good friends since Jordan and Vinnie were like brothers.

~ on the call ~

"Hey Y/n"

"Hey Maddy! Is everything okay?" You Asked

"Have you not seen it yet?" She asked

"What? See what Maddy? "

"Just enter the TikTok room"

"Give me a minute"

~ End of call ~

You quickly opened your Instagram, typing the TikTok room user in the search engine, in which you saw a photo of Faith (no hate on her, just her name) being so-so close to Vinnie, too close, he was talking to Jordan while that Faith was clinging to his arm, you trusted Vinnie, of course, why wouldn't he do something like that to you, right? All your insecurities began to surface, and if just going to the party was an excuse? just to fool you? No, impossible, Vinnie wouldn't do that.

You waited for two more hours, eating your head, turning it over and over to try to make sense of it, you started to pen- Knock knock on the door.

You went down quickly and opened the door to find a smiling Vinnie.

"Hello beautiful" he leaned down to kiss you, but you moved away causing him to kiss your cheek.

"Y/n, is everything okay?"

"I don't know, ask Faith"

"What are you talking about?" He asked in clear confusion and with a frown.

You took your mobile from your pocket showing him the TikTok room publication with a description of:

#Vinniehacker with his new girlfriend? What happened to Y/n, have they broken up? Or maybe Vinnie is cheating on her?

He looked at the photo in amazement.

"Y/n is not what it seems, I promise you, it is not so bad"

"As it is not so much apart, Vinnie I am your girlfriend and I would never think of approaching one of your friends like that, besides Faith? Seriously? Of all the girls at the party, did you have to get close to Faith? The girl who hates me and who humiliates me every time she can or comments horrible things in my videos? That Faith? "

"Y/n, she is just a friend, nothing will ever happen between her and me, why you don't understand it?”

“Be-because I am afraid that you will do the same as him" you said with a shaking voice, tears running down your cheeks, and little sobs escaping from your mouth "I am afraid that you will use me, that you make me believe that you love me and then make me damage, that's what scares me "

Vinnie quickly hugged you, pressing you against his chest, one of his hands traveled down to your lower back, pressing you,even more, if it’s possible, while the other hand went up to the back of your head stroking your hair, giving you gentle caresses.

"Hey, hey look at me." He took her chin in one hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Y/n, I want you to know that never. Can you hear me? I would never do something like that to you, you are literally the best thing that has ever happened to me,being with you is like living a little adventure every day, because you are the first person I want to see when I wake up and the last person I will see when I go to sleep, Y/n you make me feel like no one has ever done before, you make me feel good, and I want to do the same for you, yes, that guy filled you with insecurities and you know what? That I will not stop until I eliminate each and every one of them, because I love you Y/n, I love you with everything I have” With each new phrase that came out of his mouth, more tears fell down your cheeks, but these were of happiness and not of sadness and fear. You had finally found someone who loved you in the same way that you loved him and that is happiness.

Then he leaned down and kiss you properly, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate lovely kiss,one of his hands cupping your cheek and the other one on your waist,your hands traveled to the back of his neck,pulling him closer to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AAAAHHHH I hope you like it like that 🥰

I also want to notify that my orders are open, in case someone wants any special one💕

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[britishsass]

Fred Bonaparte's Family

Part 2 of my writing for @perish-lolz's worldbuilding challenge. This one has 0 basis outside of "Because I said so" but I still feel like it's important enough to talk about. I've already spoken on them before, so if you've seen that post, feel free to skip this one-- It's mostly just a repost for the sake of being clearer and including a quick picture of them.

Fred strikes me as a middle child, meaning that the Bonaparte family has to have at least 3 kids. Personally, I thought that 3 would be the best number for the kids, and since he's clearly pushed very hard, he has to be either the oldest boy or the only boy.

So let's talk about the family, and hand over a quick sketch of how they'd look in my opinion.

~

Father - Lucien Charles Bonaparte

To say that Lucien is strict is an understatement. He carries himself with the same pride as anyone would expect of a father from the Noble House of Bonaparte.

He's shorter than Fred, but doesn't see that as a problem. He's still the clear patriarch of the household. He reminds me of what little I know of Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy), or Gabriel Agreste (Miraculous Ladybug). He's the type to care far too much about "heirs" and bloodlines, and he isn't someone who cares for those he views as below their status. Lucien is the sort of fellow who would be great in management-- Not for the employees below him, but for those above him. He's willing to do anything for status, which is why he pushes his family so hard, trying to get the family to be perfect to the outside.

At the time when Fred is at Thorney Towers, he works as a rather high-up person in an office, probably vice president or the like. He's rarely around his kids, but when he is, he demands perfection from them-- Especially his only son.

Mother - Charlotte Marie Bonaparte

Charlotte is rarely actually present in her kids' lives, preferring to deal with her issues through mixing in with other elites. She's frequently at parties to network, dress up, and catch up on rumors. She's the first to hear if there's something going amiss with their family, and though she does want to make sure the others are living up to her husband's standards, she's more of the Mother Gothel (Tangled) type, where she slips in biting comments that her children don't recognize as backhanded until much later. Another character I could reference for her is Daisy (the Great Gatsby) as she's always ignoring the rumors about her husband and never really cared to tend to her children.

There's been a rumor that she cheated on her husband, but she never actually shows any reaction to such a suggestion. She's uptight, very calculated, but very good at acting.

Older Sister - Josephine Louise Bonaparte

Jo, as she's commonly called, is the closest thing to a mother in the house, since she tends to actually care for her little sister and brother. She still attends the parties her mother used to drag her to, now carrying herself the very same way her mother did, but when she was young, she was a piano player and an artist in her free time. She loved to paint the gardens outside of their house, and would frequently be up early to catch the sunrise.

Jo was a nice person, though she took after her father in appearance. She shares Fred's red eyes, but has cool-toned skin, and shares the dark blue hair that her father has. As such, she does appear rather severe at first glance, and she has a very stern look.

Her reaction to the trauma they faced is commonly referred to as the "Fawn" response. At any sign of conflict, she will immediately attempt to please those in charge, avoiding getting in trouble at all costs. As a person, she could be compared to characters such as Mikan (Danganronpa 2) as someone who will accept any treatment, no matter how horrible, just because she is unable to stand up for herself.

Middle Child - Frederick Bonaparte

Fred's the one I can go on for hours about, heh. I'll keep this part mostly short for that reason alone.

Fred, when he was young, tried to be a good little sister. Eventually, as he grew up, he realized that didn't fit him, and he kept trying to find out who he was until he figured out he was trans. Throughout his life, he kept trying to just figure it all out. Nothing really fit. He tried to be the sporting type his dad wanted, but discovered he wasn't really good at much of it (Though he did like fencing.) He tried board games instead, though it wasn't what was wanted of him, and found he had a talent for them. As well, he enjoyed playing trumpet in the school band, though he quit before graduation due to other priorities.

Fred bounced from interest to interest, trying to figure out how to live up to the expectations placed on him, but from the moment he came out as trans, he could tell that the pressure just got worse. He made sure to go to college (For calligraphy with a psych minor) at a place far from home to avoid his family, trying to run away. That's when he got a job at Thorney Towers, and we know the rest.

Fred has a severe case of middle child syndrome. In other words, he feels overshadowed by both of his siblings, and he's a people-pleaser in the hopes that maybe he'll get noticed.

Younger Daughter - Elisa Julie Bonaparte

Elisa is the youngest of the family, and it shows. She acted out much more, and got away with more because people were busy handling Fred and Jo. She can be very opinionated, but she tries to listen to people.

Elisa is the type you'd expect to be a journalist. Curious, always getting into places she shouldn't be, always borrowing things to investigate them closer. Though she's not what their parents wanted, she's happy to take the gifts they gave her and sell them to get what she wants instead.

Elisa has mostly pushed down her trauma and the memory of Fred with alcohol, trying to act like there's nothing amiss in the Bonaparte family, though she refuses to talk much about Shaky Claim or anything about her family. If she had a choice, she'd change her last name, but she hasn't yet found one that she wants to use. She's a little bit jealous of her siblings, but she does love them, and she's most likely to be able to get back in contact with Fred, though she would panic and likely drink too much beforehand.

~

Anyways. That's just my idea of what the family was like. They're all pretty messed up overall-- They didn't communicate, Fred's parents only really accepted that he was trans because his father wanted an "heir", and there was a whole bunch of neglect and emotional trauma thrown into the mix. The best way to describe them is a masquerade.

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

"I always just rode the waves,” Rebecca Ferguson says with a shrug. The comment hangs in the air, as if the Anglo-Swedish 37-year-old is only now processing that a combination of currents and tides has led her not just to an acting career but to the brink of big-screen stardom.

“I’ve never been ambitious,” she says. “I’ve always thought that that was a bad thing.” She’s seen others in the industry consumed by constant striving and asked herself why she hasn’t hungered for fame since childhood, slept in cars outside castings, barged into directors’ offices or thrown herself in the path of a producer. “But should I not be burning for this? Out meeting people and networking for the next job?” says Ferguson, who has chosen the sort of quiet, private life outside the big city that so many actors claim to crave. “My life just took another turn. But I’ve always thought: Am I where I should be?”

At the moment, on this late July day, Ferguson is slumped in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz sedan, crawling through rush-hour traffic on the M4 out of London. She is capping off a hectic week during a particularly busy period. Most immediately, she’s coming from a table read for Wool, the Apple TV+ adaptation of Hugh Howey’s bestselling postapocalyptic trilogy. Ferguson is both the star and, for the first time, an executive producer. “I’m sitting in all the different rooms, listening and learning like the students,” she says. She’s filming Mission: Impossible 7, her third tour of duty in the long-running series that first brought her widespread recognition. She’s also promoting the film Reminiscence, the sci-fi noir written and directed by Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy in which Ferguson stars opposite Hugh Jackman. And now she is starting a press push and festival prep for her role as Lady Jessica ahead of the much-delayed release of Dune (in theaters October 22), director Denis Villeneuve’s reimagining of Frank Herbert’s novel. “After this film, I think everyone will see what I see in her,” the filmmaker says. “She has a beautiful, regal, aristocratic presence, elegance. But that was not the main thing: The most important thing for me was that depth.”

After tracing a long, meandering path, Ferguson has landed in a rare and rarified position: ascendant in her late 30s (still an anomaly for women in the film industry) and sought after by some of the biggest names in the business. “When you meet Rebecca, you just see it. She’s very open, candid, collaborative, hardworking, funny—and not pretentious,” says Tom Cruise, who handpicked Ferguson to star opposite him in the Mission: Impossiblefilms, which are known for their demanding shoots. “She just rose to the occasion every single time.”

In February 2020, when the pandemic began, Ferguson left Venice, where she’d been shooting Mission: Impossible 7, and hunkered down with her husband, their 3-year-old daughter and Ferguson’s 14-year-old son from a previous relationship at their farm in Sweden. After four months, Ferguson returned to the M:I set and basically hasn’t stopped working since.

Dune has sat idle for far longer. By the time the movie premieres, more than two years will have passed since it wrapped. Ferguson recently asked to screen the film again: “I miss it,” she says. She ended up bringing along her Mission: Impossible co-star Simon Pegg. After the credits rolled, Pegg broke into a smile and wrapped her in a congratulatory bear hug. “That’s all I needed,” she says.

Despite being a sci-fi epic based on a novel from 1965, Dune feels “very timely,” Ferguson says, pointing to its handling of environmental issues, religious zealotry, colonialism and Indigenous rights. The plot of the film, which cost an estimated $165 million, centers on occupying powers battling for the right to exploit a people and their planet, named Arrakis, for melange (or spice)—the most valuable commodity in Herbert’s fictional universe, a substance that provides transcendental thought, extends life and enables instantaneous interstellar travel. “Spice,” Ferguson says, “is equally about the poppy and oil fields.”

Ferguson’s Lady Jessica is a member of the Bene Gesserit, a powerful secretive sisterhood with superhuman mental abilities. She defies her order by giving birth to a son, Paul (played by Timothée Chalamet), who may be a messianic figure. “She basically just f—s up the entire universe by having a son out of love,” says Ferguson. In her hands, Jessica is equal parts caring parent, protector and pedagogue. Among the skills she wields and teaches Paul is “the Voice”—a modulated tone that allows the speaker to control others.

The movie was shot in Norway, Hungary, Jordan and Abu Dhabi, whose desert landscape stood in for Arrakis. Filming there was particularly arduous, as temperatures exceeded 120 degrees Fahrenheit, limiting the shoot window to only an hour and a half each day at 5 a.m. and again at dusk. “We were running across the sand in our steel suits being chased by nonexistent but humongous worms,” Ferguson recalls, referring to the sand-beasts later rendered in CGI. “To be honest, it was one of the best moments ever. It was the most beautiful location I’ve ever seen.”

Back in London, Ferguson is approaching home. She leaves the following day for a small town on the coast of England, where she plans to spend her first vacation in two years and to do some surfing. “Let’s hope it’s good weather,” she says. “If not, I’ll surf in the rain.” Not that she’s the sort to paddle out into storm swells. “I think I’ve managed to stand on a board once in my entire life,” she says. “But it was quite a high. Complete surrender to the waves and total control all at once.”

Born Rebecca Louisa Ferguson Sundström to an English mother and Swedish father, Ferguson grew up bilingual in Stockholm. She immersed herself in dance from a young age, enjoying ballet, jazz, street funk and tango. Despite being shy and prone to blushing and breaking out when forced to speak publicly, Ferguson found she was at ease in front of the camera. She dabbled in modeling and then, at 15, attended a TV casting call at her mother’s urging. Ferguson ended up getting the lead role in Nya Tider (New Times), a soap opera that became wildly popular, splashing Ferguson’s face into Swedish homes five times a week.

When her role ended about two years later, Ferguson was adrift. She had no formal acting training to fall back on, no clear sense of how to steer a career and no major connections to the industry. She had a short run on another soap and appeared in a slasher flick and a couple of independent shorts, then…nothing. “I was famous in Sweden, but I didn’t really have an income anymore,” she says. “So I went and I worked in whatever job I could get.” That meant stints at a daycare center and as a nanny, in a jewelry shop and a shoe store, as well as teaching tango, cleaning hotel rooms and waitressing at a Korean restaurant. She eventually landed in a small coastal town named Simrishamn, where she lived with her then-partner and their toddler son, content to be a where-are-they-now celebrity.

When fame again came calling, Ferguson ran away. She was at the flea market when she recognized the acclaimed Swedish director Richard Hobert, and he saw her. As he shouted her name, Ferguson grabbed her son, who lost his shoes and sausage, and fled. “I panicked,” she says. “I don’t know why.” When Hobert eventually caught up to her, Ferguson tried to act nonchalant as he proceeded to tell her he’d admired her work and pitched her on the lead role in his next movie: “I’ve written this role, and I think I have written it for you. Do you want to read the script?”

Her work in Hobert’s A One-Way Trip to Antibes earned her a Rising Star nomination at the Stockholm International Film Festival. She quickly got an agent in Scandinavia, then one in Britain. On her first trip to take meetings in London, she read for the lead in The White Queen, the BBC adaptation of Philippa Gregory’s historical novels about the women behind the Wars of the Roses. Ferguson got the part, and her portrayal of Elizabeth Woodville, queen consort of England, earned her a Golden Globe nomination and the admiration of at least one Hollywood heavyweight.

Ferguson was in the Moroccan desert filming the Lifetime biblical miniseries The Red Tentwhen the assistant director whisked her off her camel. “We’re going to have to pause shooting,” he said as he asked her to dismount. “Tom Cruise wants to meet you for Mission: Impossible. We’re going to fly you off today.”

Cruise had seen Ferguson’s work in The White Queen and her audition tape and couldn’t believe she wasn’t already a major star. “What? Where has this woman been?” Cruise recalls exclaiming to his new Mission: Impossible director Christopher McQuarrie. “She’s incredibly skilled,” Cruise says, “very charismatic, very expressive. As you can tell, the camera loves her.” Ferguson landed a multi-picture deal to star opposite Cruise in the multibillion-dollar franchise. He and McQuarrie built out the role of Ilsa Faust for Ferguson, creating the anti-Bond girl, an equal to Cruise’s Ethan Hunt. “We could just see the impact she could have,” he says. “She’s a dancer. She has great control of her body, of her movements. She has the same ability to move through emotions effortlessly.”

Ferguson threw herself into the films and quickly found a shorthand with the cast and crew. “There was a dynamic that worked very well with all of us,” she says. “One of the things I absolutely love is doing all the stunts.” That physicality has given her a reputation as an action-minded actor. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve done 20 other films where I don’t kick ass,” Ferguson says. “Mission comes with such an enormous following. That was what made my career.”

Ferguson’s M: I movies bracket a number of films in which she played opposite marquee names: Florence Foster Jenkins, with Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant; The Girl on the Train, with Emily Blunt; The Greatest Showman, with Hugh Jackman and Michelle Williams; Life, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Reynolds; Men in Black: International, with Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson; The Snowman, with Michael Fassbender; Doctor Sleep, with Ewan McGregor. And now Dune, opposite Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Zendaya and Chalamet, whom she calls “one of the best actors, if not the best actor of his generation—of this time.” She was similarly impressed by Zendaya, who plays the native Fremen warrior Chani. “She’s quite raw and naughty and fun,” says Ferguson. “She has an enormous f— off attitude.”

When Ferguson first spoke to Villeneuve about appearing in the movie, “he started telling me about this woman who was a protector, and a mother, and a lover, and a concubine,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘I’m sorry. You want me to play a queen and a bodyguard? And you want me to kick ass and walk regally?’ I was like, ‘Denis, why would I want to do that? That’s the last thing I want to do.’ ”

After the call, Ferguson says, “I went downstairs to my hubby and said, Oh, my God, he’s amazing, but I’m not going to get the job. I just criticized the character.” Ferguson worried she was being cast as a stereotypical “strong female character,” where “it’s constantly, ‘She looks good, and she can kick.’ That is not what I want to portray.”

Ferguson hasn’t always been able to work with collaborators who’ve given her the space to question or opine. “I’ve been bashed down. I’ve been bullied,” she says, though she opts not to say by whom. That was never a concern with Villeneuve, who welcomed her critique. He and his co-writers had already decided from the start to make women the focus of their screenplay adaptation, and he promptly offered her the part.

“I want Lady Jessica to be at the center, the forefront. For me, she’s the architect of the story,” Villeneuve says. “I needed someone who will convey the mystery and the dark side of the film in a very elegant and profound way. Rebecca was everything I was hoping for. She’s so precise. She brought a beautiful, controlled vulnerability—it becomes very visceral on-screen.”

Ferguson vaguely recalls trying to watch the 1984 version of Dune, directed by David Lynch, in her youth, but she fell asleep. And she had never opened Herbert’s novel until being offered the part in the new adaptation. As she dug into the book, she says, she learned that her character was subservient and far more like a concubine, forced to eat alone in her bedroom, not spoken to and not allowed to speak. Ferguson ended up relying primarily on Villeneuve for her research and prep—his notes and comments, his references and the pages in the book he suggested she focus on. “I would feel ignorant not to have read Frank’s book at all,” Ferguson says, though she admits there are parts of the sprawling novel (which Villeneuve is splitting into two films) she’s only skimmed. “I have to finish it.” That will not happen on her upcoming vacation, however. “Absolutely not,” she says “I am surfing.”

By the way, if you saw, I am snaking on the ground, snaking around my room to get good Wi-Fi—it’s not some dance or yoga thing,” Ferguson says. “You have to do that in this old house.” It’s a week and a half after our first meeting, and Ferguson is at her new home, a more than 500-year-old property southwest of London that has, over the years, been home to numerous English Royals. It’s more spartan than stately now. “Empty except for a rock star,” she says, turning her phone’s camera to reveal a framed duotone poster of Mick Jagger that’s leaning against the wall. “We haven’t even started renovating.

Ferguson has returned from her holiday fortified and with renewed confidence, thanks in part to her success on the surfboard. “I went up nearly every time,” she says cheerfully, “but the waves weren’t very high.” She shrugs. “I was proud. I was up. I rode them, not the other way around.”

After years of going with the flow, Ferguson is eager to replicate that sense of control in her career. She values her role as an executive producer on Wool, she says, “because I am, for the first time, a part of it from the beginning.” She relishes weighing in on every aspect, from casting (the show recently added Tim Robbins) to cinematography to her character—which has not always been easy for her. “Why do I feel it’s difficult to speak up? I still battle with these things,” she says. Alluding to those times she was pushed around in the past, Ferguson says, “I was angry, but it was more me getting off at ‘How can I let that happen? Why am I letting myself react this way?’ And I take it with me to the next thing where I go, ‘OK, how do I stop that from happening?’ ”

She is learning that she can ride on top of waves without giving up her agency or maybe just let them break against her. “I want to feel I can go home and think, That was a hard day or that pissed me off—and that’s OK,” Ferguson says, with a nod and tight smile. “Because I still stood there as Rebecca. I didn’t shift.”

[comehomeducklings]

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

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“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

[the-art-of-animated-gifs]

Interview with my friend A.L. Crego

I have not met A.L. Crego.  I have not spoken with him on the phone, in fact I do not even know what he looks like.  But I can confidently call him my friend.  Three years ago when I started this blog he immediately disagreed with me in the comments about things I was writing and I loved it.  As a person putting ideas out there, you treasure things like that....because you know someone cares.  We have had many back and forth discussions over the years....if we had lived in Paris in 1911 we would be having arguments at La Rotonde (not to compare either of us to Picasso).

A.L. Crego is a motion artist who does a wide variety of things.  He has now become a very visible and active figure in the NFT Movement.  He recently completed a large and very successful project in which he animated the work of a number of well know street artists on the building themselves, something he has done for years.  His Tumblr page is a good place to start to see his work, which is largely surrealist in nature -- another Spanish artist following in the footsteps of other great Spanish surrealist artists.

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How long have you been creating gif art?

In a conscious and intentional way since 2014. Previously I haven't pay too much attention on one hand for its common use that was mostly ads and funny little videos, and on the other hand because it was a 'standard' format we accepted as something part of the web so I never stopped to analyze its potential. The key point for me was about 2010-2011 when the concept of 'Cinemagraph' was brought to life just giving it a name. It's format is .gif but its characteristics are different so I saw there the midpoint between photography and video, which gave born another format of art.

Art mutates when a new format appears. I was using and studying this format since then but it wasn't until 2014 that I decided to publish some of them.

What is your background?

In general terms, bachelor, 2 years of stone sculpting and two attempts of photography and audiovisual mediums. I say attempts because I gave up both of them as I was feeling that I was looking for something else more than studying all the previous history, style and isms, which is nice to understand where everything comes from and to be aware what are the key points on the history to use as reference, as a map. But in some way I felt limited as I was using digital tools since I had my first computer with 14 years, and I was being taught things I learnt by then. Even more in this times we are living where we are 21 century people, been taught by teachers from the 20 with 19 century methods.

A constant line that feeds my background is literature and music overall and later Street Art, next to more temporal interests as everything related with mythology, alchemy, history, psychology, neurology, biology, human condition in general... I don't have studies buy I'm a studying guy!

I always like to highlight that all these years that internet got strong and social networks appeared, I decided voluntary to be out of them. First reason was to keep my privacy safe in a growing world where it seemed that some "curtain" felt and everybody accepted that intimacy was now 'ex-timacy' and correct to show their private life, (this shocked me). Another reason was about the psychological effect that social networks were having on people I had around and everywhere in general. I started to notice patterns and "waves" about series, aesthetics, styles, and I was seeing clearly that if I go there, I will become permeable to all this "Amniotic Culture" I was trying to avoid.

This fact of being far (but study them closely) helped me a lot about researching and developing my own ideas and style, for the mere fact that I was using all this time and attention Social Networks require, on drinking from another sources. The B-side of this is that I was 'out of the radar' of mass people as this social networks are designed to live inside them. My idea of internet and spreading ideas is not in this way.

Where do you live and work?

In the north west of Spain, Galicia. Now due to Covid I travel less but before it, I was working and traveling many places as I only need a camera and a computer. This allows me move to work anywhere.

Do you think that animated gifs are a new art form?

I think so, despite the fact that the format existed since 1987. But as every new format of art it takes its time to be considered as art. The first photographs were not considered art until many years later. Same happened with film, same with CGI. Is nice to have in mind that gif format is the last strictly digital format of the three main ones on the web: picture, video and gif. Photography has about 200 years of history, video about 130, CGI about 60. Finally gif has 33, and used as art itself no more than 10-15. In the same way anybody takes a picture of anything does not convert it into art, is the same with gifs. One thing is the format, another is the 'art'. Everybody can take a picture, record a video or do a gif. The difference is on the how, the why, and from my point of view overall, the what.

Do you think that there is a difference between pure .gif files and the .mp4 files that people post on Instagram?

The first, big and obvious difference is the format. Is not the same a painting as a picture of a painting. Here happens the same. For example, if you treat a gif with Cinemagraph technique, you are converting in picture some parts of the image, so they still remain and with the texture and totally stillness of a picture. If you convert this gif into a mp4 this still parts, despite not having motion, will convert into a video texture (noise, subtle motion in pixels, etc) so the main characteristic, among the perfect loop, is lost. Another point is that you must play a video, a gif is always running. Waterfalls are always running and this characteristic is something that is inside our human nature, we react nice to "bucle" motions as waterfalls, fire, etc. We find pleasure on this. Of course if it's a video the perfect loop is lost and the visual mantra disappear. And another key point here is the soundtrack. In a video you can use sound to enhance or give another meaning to the piece that you can't with gifs. For me this is another characteristic that give meaning to gif. For me gif is silence, the sound is generated by the motion, the melody are the details and the beat the perfect loop. You can "hear" almost every gif.

The difference between a gif and a video is the same that between a waterfall and a hose (if this works).

What do you think are the characteristics of good gif art?

For me first and overall the perfect loop. Not using it is not using the only format that has this characteristics. Of course there can be gif art that is not perfect loop, but from my point of view and in my work is a must. It's a new way not only of creating but also of thinking. Imagine an still scene is easy, imagine an A-B point action is easy. For me the challenge is about thinking an idea that is perfect looped where all the elements interact and eventually come back to its initial point. Succeed doing this is where the perfect loop appears and you are not able to find where is the start point of the action. Like a visual mantra, that it's repetition leads you inside the piece. Gif art is nice to use the power of the hypnotic movements. Another point to have in mind for me is the flow of it, the frame rate I mean. Depending on the idea and the kind of animation this should vary; is not the same fps to achieve something with flow than if you want to achieve a more 'retro' old style. Another thing is about dithering and color palette. This second one is essential to understand as it affects the final file. When we work with photo and video we are using millions of colors but when rendered as gifs all the gradients, lights and even colors will change if there is a previous understood of this point.

As summary: If motion doesn't add, change of enhance the meaning of the piece, is expendable.

I'd would like to add that I'm not really supporter of this kind of gifs generated automatically that just move a still image itself. I understand that this 'technique' is used as a tool for certain motion (I use it) but not to move a whole image. I feel the same as if somebody hold a painting in front of me and moves it randomly. If the work was born still, it must remain still. A good example of 'inner motion', this means that the motion is implicit on the image despite not being in motion, are the photographs of Cartier Bresson for example. Giving motion to this pictures for example, will kill it because it will break the concept of 'perfect instant' .

'Instant' differs etymologically from 'moment' in the motion. So, still image (painting, photo, sculpture, etc) is an instant, videos are stories with a-b point, and gifs are moments, the mid point.

How would you describe your gif art?

I usually condense it as "Visual Mantras", as the technique and the aesthetic vary depending on the idea , but in all of them the perfect loop and the intention of hypnotizing is always present.

In another terms about aesthetics and themes I think ‘Industrial Nature’ can fit nice. I use a lot of industrial elements but I like to mix their mechanics with the biological natural ones.

How long have you been creating and selling NFTs?

I am selling NFTs since mid 2019, but it wasn't until October 2020 that I focused more on it and dug into the ecosystem to find new paths to focus my work.

Do you think that NFTs are a positive for gif artists?

For me, and the main reason I jumped into cryptoart and NFT, is that now I can certify my digital work as original. Even more to gif works as they were always understood as something banal and minor for the context of its born. Gif art was born prostituted, used mostly for ads and to claim our attention on the internet, next to the highest glamour of painting and traditional art, and 3d, photography and video these last decades. Even worst if we realize that gif format was the only visual format born by and for the internet.

NFTs are totally positive for gif artists because despite being a digital/online native format it never had its own ecosystem to live in. I feel that I was creating creatures for an ecosystem I was waiting to drop them there. Now with the blockchain, NFTs and cryptoart, I found the place where they can live, being watched by everybody and have the certify that is my work. Until some months ago my work was "free" on the web and I had no control over it at all. This was a huge problem I was suffering since my first month into gif art as people use it indiscriminately with no credit at all. It's ok, and I always defend that my work is to be seen, to be shared, but I was looking for the way to be able to have this link with my work without losing the option of being available for everybody. NFT totally changes this.

What do you think will happen in the future as NFTs get even more popular?

In general terms I think it will happen the same as when print got more popular. People will use it more, a lot of crazy and useless things will appear, tons more of different uses and useful purposes, (not only on art). This opens a new door a lot of people was waiting so the future is unpredictable but we can feel where things are going. NFT arrived to stay and the concept of decentralization is something that was always present on the internet since first days but born inside a centralized system. NFTs are being a way for people to understand the 'peer to peer' philosophy and this makes people think in different codes, so we can expect a lot of new horizons, in art, music, design...

What do you think of the environmental impact of NFTs?

This question can goes really deep but in general terms I think that is something that is being oversized due to the hype and the boiling point we are, and it's understandable because is not false that it has an environmental impact, as everything does. But on the other hand I have two main areas in mind. The first and the obvious from my point of view is that when something is new and developing is less efficient, in the way that it requires more effort to achieve the result. But at the same time, the more this technology is used the more is developed and all this issues are part of it. The first car was not electric.

The second point that usually reverberates in my mind and that it seems that 'hard critics' omit is that they are not having in mind that this NFTs we mint, give us a profit that can be used offline to do another things that can be useful to solve this problem, for example, investing part of this money on living on our own in a minimal and clean way (not working for huge multinational that their environmental impact is tons times more than NFTs and then being part of an ONG to feel clean) and on using part of this money on looking and researching new ways to mint and to keep this digital ecosystem more efficient and clean. Every development needs time.

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If you have found this content valuable considering getting me a cup of coffee

[vanderlustwords]

After You || II

(not my gif)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

24) You're my ex, but I think I still have feelings for you

Summary: For you, there were two important timelines in your life. There was before Steve and after Steve. Except it was complicated. Before, after, it doesn’t matter. It’s always been Steve for you.

Warning: more angst LMAO but i fix it.

Note: Thank you so much for the comments and reblogs, I always get super excited and happy to read them. Will be finishing up some requests :) 

PART I

Part II of II

Count: ~5.8k

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There's something off. 

In his bed, Steve lies on his back, blanket just under his chest as he rests his arms over it. 

He tries not to move too much because the rustling wakes Peggy, who has long fallen asleep after their bedroom activities. 

But sleep had long stopped coming easily to him. And when he lies there, feeling an unknown hole in his chest, he wants to groans loudly in frustration. 

And without a surprise, his mind wanders to you like it has for the past two years.

He never really knows what to think about when you come to his mind. He still remembers the night things ended.

"You're leaving me, aren't you?" You say as you stand in the kitchen with your back facing him.

It's silent for a moment before Steve speaks.

"It doesn't feel over between Peggy and me."

The sound of her name makes you grip the counter tightly. 

"Right, because she's your leading lady," he hears you mumble, and before he even has a chance to say anything to that, you speak again.

"Go then," you're still not looking at him. 

He starts to say your name, but you turn around, your eyes narrowing with anger as your arms are crossed. 

"Go!" You scream at him, but Steve hasn't budged from his spot, and you let out an empty chuckle. 

"How funny," you shake your head. "Here I was, convincing you I wouldn't leave. And now you've built this half-baked life with me before you're the one leaving."

Steve takes a step towards you, but you hold your hand out in front of you to stop him.

"Get out," you tell him, the anger leaving your eyes. "Good luck to you, Steve Rogers. I hope your movie has the happy ending you wanted."

You turn back around, clearly ending the conversation and no longer wanting to see his face.

And with clenched fists, Steve turns to leave. 

His reunion with Peggy had been passionate just as he imagined it would be. 

But things no longer felt like they clicked in place the same way they had in high school and university. 

A broken heart, time, and you had changed him.

And no matter how much he pestered Bucky, he would not tell Steve where you were. 

Steve found very quickly that you had left the city and changed your number. He couldn't find you anywhere on social media either.

If not knowing that Bucky still went to see you, Steve would think you didn't exist. 

As much as Steve searched, he was still unsure of what he would do if he did find you.

There was still a part of him that loved Peggy, that felt the joy of her coming back because she loved him. 

But there was a large part of him that felt the hole of your absence that even Peggy could not fill.

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"I'm so sorry I can't be your date tonight."

You chuckle as you transfer your phone to your other ear as you flitter around.

"It's really fine, Bucky. Showing up alone will hardly do anything except bruise my ego. Besides, it's not your fault you're caught at work yourself. Everything is okay, right?" You lean a little closer to your mirror to apply lipstick. 

Bucky groans through the phone, causing you to lightly laugh.

"Yeah, just last-minute deal coming through. I can probably pick you up after the event? You can crash at my place since you said your furniture hasn't arrived yet, right?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. How did my bed and couch become the last things to arrive? They should be the first!"

You hear Bucky's throatily chuckle and some noise in the background, and you know he has to go.

"I'll catch you later, doll," he bids you goodbye and hangs up. 

You sigh as you set your phone down on the counter and look in the mirror. 

You didn't think you'd ever come back to town, but you're only here for a couple months to work on a project on a merger for your company. It had been very last minute with the original person being poached by another company.

And as a celebration, they're hosting a charity event tonight. Bucky was going to be your date, but with work catching him last minute, you were left to defend yourself. 

You look out the window, frowning.

You had chosen an area where there were no memories of Steve. Nothing to pass by that would remind you of him.

And yet, the absent things to remind you of Steve is still a reminder of him. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Steve adjusts his tie. He looks around the extravagant decorations and room filled with men in business suits and women in their gowns. 

He doesn't say it, but he kind of hates when Peggy takes him to these kinds of events. He doesn't quite feel like he belongs, even if it's for a good cause. 

It doesn't help that Peggy has left him to his lonesome to network. 

He stands at the bar with a drink in hand as he surveys the area, but then the lights dim as they focus on the stage from across the room. 

Heels click against the wooden floor, and Steve's breath stops.

Denial is the first thing that Steve feels. 

Because it can't be. It's been two years, and this wouldn't be the first time Steve thought about you so much that he conjured a mirage. 

There's a sharp ache in his chest, and for a second, Steve wonders if the room is spinning.

You look different. 

Good, but different. 

You walk with an air of confidence you've always had, but your hair is no longer the same length. 

Two years does change a person, Steve bites his tongue. 

You're making a speech on stage about the merger, and Steve realizes you're the representative for the other company Peggy has been talking about merging with. 

Steve looks over to Peggy, who looks equally as shocked and locks eyes with him.

He shouldn't stare, Steve knows, but his eyes can't help but wander back to you. You don't seem to notice him as the speech ends with polite applause, and you walk down the steps to mingle with the crowd.

You're different, but in some ways, still the same. 

Like how you stand there in your heels, your right foot lightly crossing behind your left, an indication you're feeling tired in the heels. The way you run your fingers through your hair tells him you've long lost interest in the conversation. 

The night passes on, and Steve stays rooted at the bar. He doesn't know what he should do. 

A part of him itches to immediately run up to you, but another part is paralyzed with fear. 

And near the end of the night, it seems Steve doesn't have to decide anymore as you tiredly approach the bar a couple feet from him and order a glass of water. 

It happens so fast.

You're walking away, but someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble backward. His feet move before Steve can even think, and he grabs the back of your arms to steady you.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry--" You turn around, face immediately registering shock as you come face to face with those familiar piercing blue eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You must've done something terrible in your past life because you don't know how to else to explain the bad luck of running into Steve Rogers here, at a work event, of all places. 

You had thought you had seen him earlier when you first arrived, but when you looked again, he was gone, and you were convinced you were just seeing things.

Evidently, that was not the case. 

"What are you doing here?" You hiss quietly as you stand up straight, jerking yourself out of his hands. 

Steve purses his lips like he doesn't want to say the next words.

"Peggy works for the other company."

You scrunch your brows because you don't remember seeing Peggy's name on the list of people you'd be working wi--

But then it hits you.

Margaret Carter was the name on the document, and you want to curse right into the sky. 

"I see."

You don't have anything else to say, surprisingly. The shock is wearing out, and you feel your legs shaking. You're trying to not look at Steve. One glimpse was enough to burn his image right into your retinas. 

For the most part, Steve looks the same. His hair has grown out a little more, and he's clean-shaven tonight. But still, there's a boyish charm in his eyes along with the crinkles when he smiles. 

It's been two years, you remind yourself.

You're over him, you tell yourself. 

But the tight ache in your chest and trembling legs tell you otherwise. 

You turn to leave, not even breaking a stride when Steve calls your name. You slam your water back, leaving the empty glass at a random table as you pass by it. 

Steve is forced to stop himself when you approach different people to bid them goodnight. Even with Peggy offering her goodbyes and he should be by her side, it doesn't stop Steve from waiting for you. 

You finish, breaking off to leave again.

"Wait-" Steve grabs your arm outside. 

You immediately turn and yank your arm out of his grasp.

"What?" You cross your arms as you look at Steve. 

"I just..." Steve starts, but he's already panicking because he doesn't know what to say. 

It feels like a dream that you're in front of him. His heart is beating so harshly in his chest, and he's so nervous about letting you go again.

"You just what?" You tilt your head. "Want to talk and catch up? I have nothing to say to you, Steve."

Steve frowns. "You have nothing to say? You left without even saying anything."

You scoff at him. "And what? You expected me to say something to you?  Did you think you were going to get a long love letter detailing how you broke my heart and how being in the same city as you is too much for me to handle?"

Steve seemed to soften as you said that, which only served to piss you off even more.

While you were angry the night everything ended, you hadn't shown you were hurt.

A familiar car pulls up, and Bucky gets out of the driver seat, shocked at the scene before him.

"I'm sor--" Steve starts to say, but you hold your hand up to stop him.

"Save your apologies, Steve. I get it. After all, nobody likes someone who can't understand life happens."

The words ring in his ears like he's been boxed right in the head.

You turn around and head down the stairs to Bucky, who puts his coat around you. He looks at Steve, nodding in greeting, but doesn't move to do anything else. 

Bucky opens the passenger door for you, hand at the top of the door to make sure you don't hit your head as you get in.

Nodding goodbye to his friend, Bucky head around the car, getting in himself before driving off. 

And Steve is stuck watching the scene of you driving away from him.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

The entire ride back to Bucky's was silent, and you were thankful for it.

Bucky had always had the skill of telling when it was time to talk and when not to talk.

And this was definitely a time to not talk.

You were frazzled.

Even though two years have passed and you no longer cry about Steve Rogers, seeing him in person had taken you off guard.

By the time you had reached Bucky's place, changed, and did your nightly routine before jumping into bed next to Bucky, you felt like you were ready to talk.

Bucky closed his book and put it away before he leaned over onto his side as he rested on his elbow, glancing down at you.

"Well," Bucky licks his bottom lip, "tell me what's on your mind, doll."

You fidget under the blanket as you lie on your side facing Bucky, even if your view is mostly his chest.

"I saw Steve today," you start off, tapping your index finger against the mattress. "I was surprised."

Bucky hummed, not saying anything, so you had to continue on.

"I'm...scared," you admit with a sigh. 

"Why?"

"Because now I have to work with Peggy, and I'm scared I'll start to see Steve around more."

Bucky shifts, moving his legs around underneath the blankets. He takes off his reading glasses and puts it onto his nightstand. 

He sits up, and you follow. Bucky stares at you, almost like he's studying your face.

"So what if you see Steve around more?" He finally says. "Doll, it's been two years. I know. I know he broke your heart. But he doesn't deserve to steal more years from you."

You let Bucky's words fall over you like a warm blanket that reminds you you're not the same girl who fell head over heels for Steve like a fool. 

"You're right," you breathe. 

"That I am, now get some sleep," he smiles at you.

You yawn as Bucky pulls up the blanket a little more over your shoulder, and you feel your eyes drooping.

"Goodnight," you say softly.

Bucky's eyes soften as he looks down at your sleeping form.

"Sweet dreams."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Three weeks have passed. 

There's an agitation that has settled over Steve that won't seem to go away. Peggy has, of course, noticed, but she remains silent regarding it. 

Steve was trying his best to remain normal, but there was a distance to him. His mind was drifting, and he sometimes spent hours a day going on a run.

It felt like there was a sickness to him. He would visit Peggy at work more often, dropping off her lunch or to say hi. Anything that would give Steve a reason to see you. 

It was painful, Steve felt. There wasn't that anger that was there the night he first saw you. 

You walked by Steve, sometimes ignoring him or giving a slight nod of your head to acknowledge his existence. But it felt like you were indifferent to him.

Like he was nothing to you.

And that had hurt Steve more than he thought it would. 

But even if it caused him pain, he couldn't stop. The need to see you, to remind himself that you're here, was too strong. 

Steve knew, deep down, that this feeling was an answer to him. He knew it was because when he was in bed next to Peggy at night, that emptiness that once hollowed his chest was starting to feel filled by your presence. 

But there was a new heaviness that settled in his chest. 

The one that was filled with regret and longing for you.

And Steve didn't know what to do with that.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Don't look.

You laugh at something a director in another department says, tilting your head back slightly with your hand over your mouth. 

Don't look. 

You turn to Bucky and smile as he pours you more wine in your glass, and you grab some more food onto your plate to share with him.

Don't look. 

You stab a piece of food with your fork and put it into your mouth as you chew diligently. You're trying to ignore the eyes that keep wandering to you from the corner.

You hate these events. 

Company dinners where everyone goes to a late-night pub for drinks and food to get to know each other are the worst.

It's in a casual setting, and you can't really go anywhere.

It doesn't help that you're stuck in the same fucking table as Steve and Peggy.

You're lucky you had Bucky this time to accompany you. 

There's a weird tension that has settled around the table, but no one seems to notice it except you, Bucky, Steve, and Peggy. 

You've avoided looking at the couple, only talking to Peggy when it was absolutely necessary for work. 

"Ah," the director smiles with red cheeks from drinking too much. "Steve, my boy, it's been much too long since we've seen you come out."

You focus on your food and, occasionally, Bucky's face.

"Yeah," he laughs, "it's been a little crazy at work for the last while, but things are starting to settle in."

"Good, good," The director laugh. "Perhaps that means you can finally propose to Peggy here. I think she's waited long enough!"

The whole table tenses, but it's not like the director realizes. 

Peggy smiles contritely as she leans more into Steve while he awkwardly laughs. 

The director doesn't even notice the lack of answer from Steve as he turns his attention onto you.

"And you, little missy," he grins, "seems like you've got yourself a fine young man here!"

You smile awkwardly.

"We're not--" You start to say, but Bucky throws his arm around you and dramatically pulls you into him.

"You hear that, baby doll?" He wriggles his brows at you. "I'm a fine young man and all yours. How lucky."

You laugh at his ridiculousness as you pick up a pretzel and throw it at him. 

"Shut up, old-timer," you joke. 

"Old-timer?" Bucky exclaims, looking offended. "That hurts...that hurts deep."

You roll your eyes, but the director laughs before another person calls him and Peggy to their table to chit-chat. Sighing in relief, you look at Bucky again, who has a boyish grin on his face, and you roll your eyes.

"Troublemaker," you shake your head with a smile. "I'm going to head to the washroom, be right back."

Bucky nods as he lifts his arm from your shoulder, and you get up to go, eyes barely passing Steve as you leave. 

You take your time in the washroom, wash your hands slowly, and leisurely check yourself out in the mirror to ensure everything is still in place.

You feel that you've been here a respectable amount of time, and you're determined to go back to tell Bucky you want to leave.

Looking once more in the mirror, running your hand through your hair, you sigh as you exit the washroom. 

Just before you can walk further down the hallway, you feeling someone grab your wrist.

"Hey-" You start to say before you turn your head and see it's Steve who's pulling you the opposite direction back to the table.

"What are you doing?" You scowl as Steve reaches the back exit and opens the door and pulls you through it. 

Your back is immediately against the wall as Steve places one arm above your head and his other hand beside your arm.

His face is so close to yours that you can smell pinewood and honey. It immediately makes your stomach drop as you register the scent, and flashbacks of the past come to you. 

You swallow as you lock eyes with him. 

"What do you want?" You ask again in a low tone. 

"Are you dating him?"

Your brows furrow. "Dating who?"

"Bucky."

A chuckle of disbelief leaves your mouth before you can stop it as you turn your head to the side, rolling your eyes.

"Who I'm dating is none of your business," you turn your head back at him, face stone cold. 

"Between us, you don't think you dating my best friend is any of my business?" Steve huffs.

You huff back at him. 

"No," you contritely say, "I don't. Because Bucky is my best friend too. We all grew up together."

You lift your hands to push Steve off you, standing up straight as he stumbles a few steps back. "And there is no 'us.' You destroyed anything that could be 'us' the moment you went back to Peggy."

Silence falls over the two of you, and Steve not saying anything. The way he looks at you, like he can't let you out of his sight, both hurts and pisses you off. You let out a scoff in the back of your throat.

And it comes to you that maybe he may never get it.

"You are so selfish, Steve Rogers," you breathed. "I loved you."

Steve clenched his jaw as he heard the words. "I--"

"No, Steve. I loved you," you cut him off and emptily chuckled. "Since we were 15, I've been in love with you."

The words feel like they've hit Steve in the gut as he takes a step back. 

That long?

You've been in love with him all those years?

"But you never--"

"Said anything? What was I supposed to say? You were pining over Peggy, and then your dream came true when you started dating her shortly after," you looked away. 

"I was okay with that," you said softly before you turned back to him. "I would've been okay with wishing you happiness from the sidelines."

"Then why did you..." Steve's voice trails. 

"She left you," you told him simply. "She left you, and you thought your whole world ended. I wanted to show you that there was a life after Peggy. I loved you so much, I would've done anything for you."

Steve feels his throat closing up because everything from two years ago comes rushing back. 

The pain of Peggy leaving him.

The night you kissed him. 

The times you've slept together.

The night he asked you to be his, and your choked cry of happiness. 

The first fight and how you held his hand and reassured him you were there to stay. 

The night he left you. 

And Steve feels like such an idiot for not seeing it all along. 

"And then you left me," you swallowed. "I thought my world ended too. But it hasn't. And not that you have any right to know, I'm not dating Bucky."

There's a wave of relief that floods Steve as he visibly exhales, but you pretend you didn't see it. 

"It doesn't make a difference, though, Steve," you softly say. "Dating or not dating, just as you did, I've learned what life is like after you."

With nothing left to say, you turn and open the door, leaving Steve to stand alone. 

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

The answer becomes clearer as time passes. 

Steve tries to take his time coming to a decision because he's already hurt you so much, and he doesn't want to hurt Peggy more than he has to. 

But deep down, Steve knows his answer. The gaping hole in his chest at night has been different ever since he left you, and has been different since you came back. 

It's late at night when Steve returns back to his place with Peggy. He finds her sitting in the kitchen with the lights off, and Steve's breath hitches, knowing that she was waiting for him.

Steve's been trying his best to remain the same despite the turbulence within him.

"Peggy..."

"It's over, isn't it?" Despite the gravity of the words, Peggy says it softly. 

He looks at her back; the only light is the moon illuminating the room through the windows.

"Yeah," Steve replies softly, "it is."

Peggy stands, turning around, and it's the first time Steve has ever seen tears in her eyes.

His heart clenches. 

"I thought you loved me," Peggy clenches her jaw. 

"I did--I do," Steve exhales, "but I'm not in love with you anymore."

It's silent as Peggy takes in the words.

"What changed?"

"I think you know," Steve gives her a half-hearted smile.

Peggy shuts her eyes tightly, pursing her lips.

"I came back for you," she opens her eyes and looks at him. 

"I know," Steve's hands clench shut.  

"Then you know what I gave up for you," Peggy knows it's the wrong words, but she's desperate to make Steve stay.

Steve takes a deep breath because he's known Peggy a long time and what those words truly meant. Even if Steve sometimes feels like his relationship with Peggy is a constant reminder that she considered she had to give something up to be with him. 

"I thought I'd lost everything after losing you," Steve starts. "You were my leading lady, and I thought my movie had ended without a happy ending."

Peggy stays silent.

"But then someone showed me that there was a sequel," Steve gave her a sad smile. "I tried to put you back as my leading lady because it felt like things weren't over."

"How do you know if it really is?" Peggy asks.

The truth is that Peggy knows it's over, perhaps it was over the moment she had left him. She wasn't blind.

Though Peggy had come back, Steve was different. And while she didn't doubt he loved her, he had a wall up with her. Even as the two years passed, Peggy couldn't break through that wall. 

And Peggy knows it was because of you.

But she had still hung on.

Truth is, you never really know when it's truly over. But when Steve closes his eyes, he thinks of you.

Just you.

"I guess," Steve licks his bottom lip, "when I think about being with someone and fighting to make it work no matter what...you're not that person I see with anymore."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

It's getting worse as time passes. 

The company merge project has come to an end, and you feel relief. It's hard to believe a couple months have already passed. 

You thought you could live in this city again, but you think it might be best to move back.

Your phone vibrates on the table, and you stare down to see Steve's number again. Steve has been calling you repeatedly for weeks and weeks, apparently having grabbed your number from one of your coworkers. 

You had heard from fellow coworkers that he and Peggy broke up, though sometimes you wondered if it was true since Peggy showed up to work like nothing was wrong. 

But she had always been much stronger than you. 

You picked up the first time because you didn't recognize the number, but then you swiftly hung up.

Steve kept calling, but you would watch it ring. 

SNAP.

You look up to see Bucky, who snapped his fingers in front of your face.

"Sorry," you cough. "What were you saying?" 

Bucky purses his lips. 

Perhaps it's watching you stare at your phone, whether it's ringing or not, or maybe it's watching you talk about how you need to move. Whatever it is, Bucky has reached his limit. 

"Why?" He asks.

"Why what?" You tilt your head.

"If you're really over him, why do you need to move?" Bucky sounds frustrated, and you're taken aback. 

All this time, Bucky has always been gracious with you, comforted you, and patient.

But perhaps even he has a limit.

"You know why," you say slowly.

Bucky huffs, one hand on his hip while his other holds his forehead.

"No," he shakes his head, "I don't. I really don't. You keep talking about your life after Steve, but I don't see that. You're still all about him. Even moving on from him is about him."

"Bucky--"

"No," Bucky cuts you off. "It's been two years, and you're still running from him."

"What do you want me to do?" You snap at him.

"Be honest!"

"What do you want me to say? That I don't know how to face him without feeling like I'm losing him all over? That even though it's been two years, I still have to actively think about not thinking about him to make it through the day? And the only way I know how to move on is to be as far away as possible because I can't ever reach a point of indifference with him? Is that what you wanted to hear--"

Suddenly, Bucky's lips are on yours as he cups your jaw.

It lasts only a moment before he pulls back. Your eyes blink open, and Bucky's face is still close to yours.

"Be honest," he whispers, "Do you even want to move on, or did you hope that these were his lips?"

"Bucky..." You start to say as he pulls back further, dropping his hands. 

You don't even know what to say.

"Don't," he quirks his brow, "I only kissed you to make a point."

"Well, that's a dickhead move," you scoff. 

"I've actually been described as a fine young man, thank you very much," Bucky gives you a smirk before getting serious again. "But either way, the point still stands. You can't keep running. You need closure because it's not really over, isn't that right?"

You don't say anything. 

Bucky lifts his hand, ruffling your hair as you scrunch your face. He walks to the door, turning the knob before he turns back to you.

"I'm going to head out, but you know what you need to do, right? I'll only come to help you pack after you talk with Steve again."

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

Hours pass.

And you're a coward. 

What you should've done after Bucky left was call Steve immediately to say you wanted to talk, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that.

Now it was dark, and you were only driving yourself insane. 

"Fuck it," you huff to yourself as you grab your keys as you leave through your door. You go down the stairs quickly, your mind racing as you try to think about what you're going to say. The moment you leave your building, you see Steve sitting on the steps. 

His back was facing you, but the second he heard the door open, he turned around.

"Steve...?" You furrow your brows. 

He immediately stands up, looking flustered at seeing you suddenly.

"Hi," he says and then immediately cringes at himself. 

"How did you know where I lived?" You eye him.

"Bucky," Steve answers simply. 

"Of course," you huff. "How long have you been waiting out here?"

"Um," Steve shrugs, "four hours?"

Your eyes widen. That was just a little after Bucky left.

"Why didn't you ring the buzzer?" You ask.

"Well, since you're not picking up my calls...I didn't know if you would let me in," Steve sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

You sigh, knowing that was probably true. 

"I guess this is good timing," you say as you look at Steve, "I was coming to find you anyway."

The roads are quiet, the only sound coming from one of the streetlights flickering. It takes everything in you to say what you're about to say while facing Steve. 

And you hate that looking at him somehow makes saying it easier.

"I still love you," you breathe, feeling a strange weight being lifted off your chest as you admit it.

Steve feels his chest expand full of hope as his eyes light up.

"But I want to move on."

And Steve feels his stomach drop. 

He looks at you, and there's that tight feeling in his chest that screams at him that he's losing you. 

The rational part of him tells him that he should just let you go. You said you wanted to move on, and he should respect that. 

"No," is the word that comes out of his mouth instead. 

"What?" You say in response, surprised as you look at him, and it seems like he didn't expect that either. 

"No," Steve repeats again, blinking. "If you're still in love with me, I can't let you move on."

You're actually baffled by the words coming out Steve's mouth. 

"You selfish--"

"Yes, I am selfish," Steve cuts you off, "but I can't let you go."

"You hurt me, Steve. You're the one that left," you remind him angrily. 

"I know," Steve breathes. "It was the worst mistake I've ever made, and I know I can't undo it, but I still can't let you go."

"I don't care," you purse your lips, steeling yourself. 

But then Steve takes a step up closer to you, and you back up automatically. 

"Stop," you warn him as he keeps getting closer to you until your back hits the brick wall of your building. 

"You can scream at me all you want, call me names, and even hit me," Steve gets right up in your space, hands on either side of your head, and you flashback to the last time you were in this position. 

"I'm an asshole," Steve admits as he licks his bottom lip, "but I'm an asshole that's in love with you."

Steve swoops down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, fervent with passion and longing. 

Two years have passed, but you know his lips like no time has passed at all. 

His lips, the way his hand cups your jaw while his other is wrapped around you back, holding you close to him, and the warmth of his body pressed against you. 

It all feels like home.

His lips move against yours, kissing you hard and firm, trying to take you all in before air becomes an apparent need. 

He pulls back, both of you panting for air as he rests his forehead against yours. Steve strokes your jaw, intoxicated by you. 

He missed the way you felt in his arms, the way you smelled, everything about you.

The gaping hole in his chest feels like it's being filled by you, and Steve never wants to let you go.

"I don't know how to trust you," you quietly admit.

It's not going to be easy, he already knows. 

But for once, he knows he can fight for you.

"That's okay," he tells you softly. "It's my turn to convince you I'm here to stay."

The two of you stay locked in an embrace with Steve pressing soft kisses to your cheeks and eyelids.

"Even when you were gone," he presses another kiss, the words vibrating against your skin. "I couldn't figure out how to live my life after you, and now I know that there isn't. For me, there won't ever be a time in my life after you."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb as he gazes in your eyes.

"So, don't go trying to figure out how to move on after me. I won't ever let you get that chance again."

He presses his lips again against yours, and this time, pulling you off the wall as he leads you back into your apartment, kissing you as long as he can as the two you try to make it up the stairs.

And when you make it back in, falling backward on your bed as Steve climbs on top of you, you feel tears falling out of your eyes.

Steve looked alarmed, but when you let out a choked laughter, he smiles before he swoops down to capture your lips again.

And when the morning comes, and Steve is still there, you'll tell him.

You'll tell him that there's no after him for you too.