#ice arm anna

[azzifudd]

now we are going to need a blurb with paige surprising azzi with the olaf lego set!!!

to be loved is to be seen

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

390 words

Azzi looks up from her laptop as she hears a ruckus coming from outside the apartment. Sure enough, the door opens and in comes nearly half the team, arms laden with boxes and bags. 

Azzi watches in disbelief as they begin dumping their purchases on the couches, the tables, the kitchen counters, anywhere there is room. 

Paige finally enters last, arms full, boxes stacked until they’re almost blocking her face. 

“Did you guys buy out their whole stock?” Azzi asks, jokingly, lifting a few of the Lego sets out of Paige’s grasp. 

“Nah, we actually left some cool ones behind.” Paige says, completely serious. Azzi wouldn’t be surprised if she went back for more soon. 

Azzi rolls her eyes and begins to look through one of the bags that Paige has just put on the table. There are three light blue boxes inside, and when she spots the one on the bottom, she pauses. The word ‘Frozen’ borders the bottom of the box with ‘Anna and Elsa’s Magical Carousel’ on the front. 

Paige comes up behind her, tucking her chin over Azzi’s shoulder. 

“Saw that and thought of you.” Paige says, pressing a smacking kiss to the dimple in Azzi’s cheek. 

She’s known Paige for nearly a third of their lives, and loved her just as long. It doesn’t surprise her that Paige has done something like this because she has always spoiled Azzi. But it still sends a rush of warm giddiness through her as she looks at this little box of bricks with her favorite character front and center. 

Azzi puts the box down and turns in Paige’s arms. 

“You like it?” Paige’s smile is smug, but endearing. She knows she did good. 

Azzi reaches up, grips the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, and kisses her breathless.

“I love you.” Azzi whispers between their lips when they part. Her eyelids are hooded, pupils blown as her eyes flicker past Paige’s head into the apartment. 

Paige catches her meaning instantly and steps back minutely. 

“Everyone outta my apartment.” She addresses the others, who have been steadfastly ignoring their display for fear of being traumatized.

“You told us we could build in here.” Jana complains.

“I live here!” Ice protests.

“Well, we warned you.” Azzi tugs Paige toward her bedroom. 

They have the place to themselves within the next thirty seconds.

[bluejutdae]

Omfg little-girl-dad!changbin who tires on a tutu and can hardly pas it through his dad bod so you BOTH laugh it off but inside you are fcking dying and want to jump on him and give him more children?

Or little-boy-dad!changbin who teaches his son how buff fcking arms like his and a dad bod are superior to just simple toned body body/six-pack??

Just imagining super big dad!changbin caring for his children and fighting the urge to jump on him, to give him more children bc im olso pretty sure changbin olso loves a little manhandling...

-🫶

Are you in my brain? My walls?

No bc I’m not even that big on kids but dad!Changbin is so mouthwatering—

girl-dad!Changbin with a tutu and a pink bow in his hair, going to “me and Daddy” ballet classes just to hear his princess laugh at him, always buying her ice cream after class, so they can gossip and have some more time together.

girl-dad!Changbin insisting on dressing as Anna so his daughter can dress as Elsa, going together to the movies, buying two big buckets of pop corn cause he can never say no to his baby.

girl-dad!Changbin surprising you with the tutu one night your daughter is sleeping over at the grandparents’, pink tutu over black boxers, and you can hear his giggles even before he enters the room. After a (surprisingly good) pirouette and an exaggerated bow, he’s laughing so hard he has to hold on the wall. He’s so perfect, you love him immensely…

boy-dad!Changbin reading to his son every night, stories about kind princes and loyal knights, making voices and roaring for the dragons. Never hiding his high pitched giggles, teaching his son being a boy, and later a man, doesn’t mean you have to be tough and rude, but being someone reliable, trustworthy.

boy-dad!Changbin teaching him to play soccer, swimming, taekwondo, and infinite other sports, hiding his competitiveness, so his kid won’t think he has to win to be loved.

boy-dad!Changbin coming back home all excited because your son scored the most goals during soccer practice, a bit sweaty cause he run along the field all the time, cheering for your beautiful son. You can’t help but kiss him deeply because he’s the best dad ever…

[pshwrldd]

Sunghoon as your boyfriend<3

warnings: kissing, skinship (lmk if i missed anything!!) genre: fluff

Sunghoon is definitely the type to bring you out on simple dates like ice cream dates.

You and sunghoon were lining up at your favourite ice cream store you both always went too. “Let me guess you want cookies and cream?” Sunghoon said smiling at me as it got to our turn to order. “You guessed it right” you said smiling as sunghoon tell ur order to the counter. 

Sunghoon is definitely the type where if you were having period cramps, he would comfort you by peppering your face with kisses. 

Sunghoon walkes into the room and noticed your uncomfortable figure laying down on the bed. “Sweetheart..? Are you ok? Period cramps?” He askes in a soft and comforting tone before walking towards the bed, laying down beside you. When he sees you nod, he puts his arms around ur waist and caresse your back before peppering you face with kisees. “Hoon stopp” you say laughing and he smiles, “that was the smile that i was waiting for” 

Sunghoon is also definitely the type that loves to go to the park or small walks with you

It was a sunny day but windy day, making it not too warm, perfect to go on a walk. You guys were walking at the park near your apartment. The breeze swayed the trees back and forth. You were walking as sunghoon suddenly intewined your hand and smile at you,saying“Did i tell you how pretty you look today?” He ask as you burst out laughing. “Yes you did hoon, many times” you say in between your laughs. “Well let me say it again, you look absolutely beautiful today” he says as he bring ur hand to his lips and place a soft kiss on ur knuckles 

Annas love note: heyyyyy!!! Finally here with my first ficc!! I definitely gotta give all my love to @jaysng for supporting me and giving this idea too mee!! Its kinda short bc im still going through my examss!! But i hope you like itt!! Im not really the best writer

Taglist: @jaysng (open)

Reblog or like if u enjoyed it!

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Hey, remember how during Pride Month the writeblr community has posts circulating where queer authors are encouraged to promote their books with queer representation?

July is disability pride month, Disabled people are at risk of falling below the poverty line especially and i'd love to help those who are published get paid this month if i can, so...

Let's do the same thing but with Disability Pride Month!!!

Disabled Writers feel free to promote your stuff!

I'll start:

Hello, I'm Anna, I'm an Autistic and ADHD author! Here are my canonically disabled characters in books that will come out in like 50 years because I'm a slow writer:

(I noticed most of these are mental disabilities and disorders, probably because that's where most of my personal experience is, BUT i do have quite a few physical disabilities in there, and there's also quite a bit of intersectionality <333)

Prince Kaye (FSF series): Kaye has OCD! He's also mixed latino and bisexual <3 very sweet scrawny peacemaker prince born to a family of warlords <3

Captain Cassandra (FSF series): Cassandra is mute due to trading her voice and tail for human legs, and partially deaf due to an explosion on the seas during a battle. Due to losing her tail for human legs, she also experiences chronic pain in her feet (the original curse of every step feeling like walking on knives if you will). She's also plus sized, pansexual, and gets a pirate girlfriend

Erica (FSF series): Erica is an amputee pirate with a peg leg. She's also lesbian, polynesian, plus sized, and Cassandra's hopeless romantic pirate girlfriend.

Princess Hestia (FSF series): Hestia has an anxiety disorder! She's also plus sized, South Asian mixed (like her brother), and falls in love with a shy blonde bookworm trans boi named Elliot

Raven (FSF series): Raven is Autistic! He's a morally gray knight charged with being the personal bodyguard of a reckless princess. He's so Latino and bisexual <3

Princess Sapphire (FSF series): Sapphire has ADHD! She's the reckless adventure seeking and impulsive princess that Raven has to protect. She's also a redhead, and demisexual <3

Triveya (FSF series): Triveya is autistic and adhd! She's the resident wizard and magic expert in the cast of FSF, and is a little bit feral with a bubbly and nerdy personality

Kylee (TCIO series): Kylee is autistic and non speaking! She's a superhero with super speed and invisibility powers, and she's the youngest of the team while also being a mischievous and outgoing ball of sunshine

Bryson (TCIO series): Bryson is diabetic! I'm still developing his character so i haven't figured out which type he is yet (leaning towards type 2). He's the superhero team medic with healing powers (can't heal himself or emotional injuries with said powers), and he's also a black guy and the token straight of the team that's on thin ice

Chase (TCIO series): Chase has OCD, a bipolar mood disorder, and chronic depression and anxiety to go with it! He's the tech guy on the team of superheroes, and doesn't have any supernatural abilities, but he's really good with computers and tech. He's cynical and sarcastic (because of the ableism he's experienced in the past) but secretly does care, and he's also Romani American and Jewish!

Corie (Galaxy Des. series): Corie is a cyborg and has prosthetic limbs! She has a prosthetic eye, arm, and leg. The eye does come with a small interface and her arm does have a laser gun attachment. She built and repairs all of her robot parts herself, and is a highly feared and valuable assassin in the galactic underworld. She's also mixed brown and is AroAce!

NOVA (Galaxy Des. series): Nova is epileptic! She is an android who was scrapped due to malfunction, and became a smuggler who is good at her trade. Due to faulty wiring she's epileptic. She's a cynical and grumpy android who accidentally falls in love with a loveable human lesbian rogue. She's bisexual and has shiny chrome skin with cyan lighting in the cracks.

Pandora (Galaxy Des. series): Pandora is a part-time wheelchair user, autistic and adhd, and tourettic! He is a biologist that formerly did morally questionable work for the galactic government, and now does that same work in the criminal underworld and sells it to the highest bidder. She also uses he/she pronouns, is mixed brown, and pansexual!

Ethel (unnamed witchy wip): Ethel has one eye and PTSD! She's a witch in a world where magic has just been outlawed, and a witch hunting cult has been hired by the new king and queen to hunt down and eradicate witches. She's also AroAce and very underdeveloped because this is a backburner wip.

Thanks for reading! Links to my wips are in my pinned post! If you are a disabled writer and or have disabled characters, do share!

Happy Disability Pride Month!

[florihye]

୨୧ PEACH EYES .ᐟ

⟢ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⠀ you were the one i need . . .

遊玩 ⎯⎯ @okwonyo's celestial ballet event ���⠀ ◝⠀ words554, WARNINGS?! · kisses, idk % ty anna for proofreading!

the cold autumn air mingled with the gentle wind, nipping at sunghoon’s cloth-covered shoulders as he walked through the idyllic city, his path only being lit with whatever light the humble moon decided to shine upon him.

tonight, sunghoon was drained; he wanted nothing more but to go home and collapse into his baby’s loving arms, to stare into her umber pupils and never look away.

after what felt like an eternity, sunghoon arrived home. he wasted no time untying his shoelaces and opening the door, ready to be met with his girl at long last.

the sight awaiting him was chimerical: everything he could’ve hoped for, and more.

there she laid, resting atop the thin couch, periwinkle eyelids shut in delight bliss. your torso and thighs were loosely covered with the fabric of a large red hoodie that sunghoon recognized as his (you in sunghoon’s hoodies always made the lovesick boy lose his breath); somehow, even asleep, your beauty placed sunghoon into an illusive heaven of euphoria.

apart from you, sunghoon also noticed a small cake on the table, embellished with small frosting letters that read “welcome back, hoonie!” in a messy cursive style, confirming to sunghoon that you had made it yourself. he let out a low chuckle at the thought of you tactfully baking the cake just for him.

he dipped his milky white finger into the cake, smudging icing on his skin before licking the sugary creme right off, raising a pleased eyebrow at the saccharine taste.

it wasn’t long before sunghoon’s attention was back on you. he sat next to you on the sofa, calloused hands tangentially running all over your silky smooth cheekbones and through your sun-kissed locks; sunghoon smiled at the way you unconsciously leaned closer into his tender touch.

leisurely, you shifted your position, ending up with your head on his lap.

“hoon?” you mumbled sotto voce, drowsily gazing at sunghoon through your fluttering lashes. your eyes met sunghoon’s promising stare, alongside the slight smile that bloomed on his face like an early spring flower. “i missed you.”

“i missed you more.” sunghoon placed one of his hands around your waist and used the leverage to pull you up further into his arms, holding you tight while you hid your face within the nape of his neck. “‘m sorry i couldn’t be here any earlier.

you settled as close as you possibly could to the boy, smiling at the comfortable feel of his hands running over your thigh. “it’s ok, at least you’re here now.”

a small laugh graced your ears and you turned your head towards sunghoon, just to see his gleeful smile and shining eyes.

slowly and unconsciously, you brought your palm up to sunghoon’s cheek, pulling him close enough to lie your forehead atop his. the warmth of his skin made you delirious, almost. you couldn’t help but press your lips onto his, eyelids fluttering shut.

you basked in the feeling of your boyfriend’s lips; everything about him was blissful. leisurely and somewhat unsure, you pulled away from him for air, being greeted with his grinning face, making you giggle.

your head found its way back onto the boy’s chest as you sighed, content. with the moonlight and your boyfriend by your side, you were sure you could stay in this moment forever.

TAGLIST & NETWORK . . @sainns , @en-gelic , @thenastone , @xiaoderrrr , @belovedsthings , @cupidhoons , @antoncyng , @reverieki , @a-dream-bookmark ⎯⎯⎯⎯ back to THE LIBRARY!

[sillygoosealert]

🫡 I will send in a request for some Bi-Han angst. Let’s do one where reader and Bi Han are in an argument (as couples do) and reader says something that’s very true (like idk he’s too quick to anger) And this causes a reaction out of him. And of course, being a stinky sexy angry man, he ends up lashing out in anger. And OOP- ice shards come flying towards reader, (the cold never bothered me anyway) cutting her cheek and slashing her forearm, along with a few other scrapes. Bi Han realizes she’s actually fucking RIGHT and showers reader with love, praise, and begins helping with her wounds. (Fluffy? Apology sex maybe 🤔)

WAIT WAIT THINK THINK BRAIN BLAST THIS IS REALLY AMAZING

Enough Anna..I SAID ENOUGH o(≧口≦)o

Bi-Han angst to fluff to sex 🤯 afab

‘Do you even for once want to think about how I feel about this? Because if you took a second to even talk to me half of your problems wouldn’t exist.’

His back is turned from you as he washes the blood out of one of his uniforms

‘Why won’t you look at me, I want to talk to you but you make it so, so hard. Can you even look at me, can you handle looking at me?’

‘Wouldn’t you like that? For me to just look at you and change everything about me. This is who I am, and you can either acknowledge that or continue to live in ignorance.’

‘But this isn't who you are. You are making rash and unusual decisions. I'm worried you are going to do something you'll regret immensely. You're quick to rage and you know that.’

He whips around, ice coming from his arm going towards you

‘What would you know about being Grandmaster? I am helping my clan- my people. They are thriving and are respected because of me.’

You don't hear what he says as your arms go up to protect your face and stomach from the ice shards.

They slice through your skin with ease, going through your forearm and shoulder. One even skims your cheek

It was only after his speech that Bi-Han noticed what he had done, a rash, and unusual decision that he immediately regretted.

But he doesn't make a move to go toward you, he just stands there in shock

However, you move, you move away from him quite quickly

‘Come back here. I meant no harm in my actions.’

You do not come back. You run off to the nurses

When the sky turns dark and inflicts its symptoms of the night- drowsiness, and the need for another to be by your side as you rest; you are no where to be seen

He knows it would be better to find you himself

So he wonders around until he finds you, bandaged up and sitting on a bench

‘I have been looking for you’

You look in his direction

‘Why didn't you come back’

‘You know why’

‘Please come back’

He's frowning, more than usual

‘Please?’

‘Please’

You get up, slowly walking to him

‘What do you need me to do to get you to come back?’

‘I don't know Bi-Han, everything hurts and I'm injured. I don't know if I want to come back.’

‘I’ll carry you back if you would like’

‘You’ll carry me back?’

You sound amused but he looks serious

He picks you up bridal style and starts to walk back to his room

‘You can’t just change for a day and expect me to forgive you. I don't think you'll keep up with this.’

‘With what?’

‘Being nice to me.’

He doesn't say anything to that.

After he returns to his room, he sits you on the bed

‘You are dirty’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘How do I help you clean, with your bandages?’

‘I need to take them off first, then put on new ones after’

‘So it's fine if you clean your wounds in the bath?’

‘Yes’

‘Okay..’

He takes you to his bathroom, carefully undressing you

‘Ow-’

‘Did I hurt you, What did I do?’

‘My shirt, you took it off too fast. My shoulder isn't looking good, I can just take off my own clothes..’

He shakes his head, pulling you onto his lap

‘I will be more gentle. Where else do I need to be wary of?’

‘It's just my upper body, everything else is mostly fine’

After removing your clothes, he turns on the water

Keeping you on his lap, he strokes your hair with one hand, and the other is wrapped around your waist

‘Feel the water, is that temperature okay with you?’

‘That's fine’

He slips you in, holding onto your chest rather than your arms

‘I am regretful of my earlier treatment of you. Will you let me show you I am sorry?’

‘Depends, how do you plan on showing me you didn't mean to harm me?’

‘You will see’

After bathing you, he sits you on his bed

‘Where do I need to wrap you?’

‘Shoulder and arm, anything else is fine being left alone’

He's slow and cautious when treating you, knowing you are vulnerable

You sit there naked and shivering as a man, much gruff, holds you

‘Does that feel secure?’  

‘Yes, thank you’

‘I am..sorry’

‘I know’

He frowns, squeezing your cheeks with one of his hands

You return this act, cupping his face with one of your hands

When you think he's leaning in to kiss you, he just presses his forehead against yours

‘I want to make you feel good’

‘How do you plan to do that?’

He's in between your thighs, slowly laying down so his head is on your cunt

Oh

With a little kitten lick, he starts to work on your clit

His hands are gripping your thighs as you have a hold of his hair

Slipping in two fingers, he starts to pump them in and out of your warm pussy

One of his hands wonders onto your chest and plays with your nipple

Then he starts to thrust his tongue into your vagina, his fingers now playing with your clit

The pace is fast and hard, and he's grinding into the bed

His nose is stimulating you along with his fingers, its too much

You don't ask him to stop though, that doesn't even cross your mind

With another suck to your clit your hips stutter and you squirt into his mouth

He licks it up, even lapping at your pussy to try to get more

Sighing into the bed, he rides out your orgasm

When he doesn't stop though, your thighs clench around his head on instinct

Pulling away, he wipes his lips

‘Did you feel good?’

‘Yes Bi-Han, thank you’

‘Do you still hold what happened earlier against my character?’

‘I won't just forget what happened, but I don't hate you for it’

You run your fingers through his hair as he lays his head on your chest

‘Okay..’

‘I love you, I hope you know that’

‘Thank you..’

You kiss his head and you both doze off, what happened earlier doesn't matter right now

Nothing matters right now, it's okay

🎀

[avatar-anna]

Please Anna 😭 Write a part 2 of ice hockey harry and skater YN (possibly longer if you cank)

the part two to my hockey harry fic that only a couple people asked for. enjoy!

You knew you shouldn't have been jealous, you were the one who put all these strict rules in place about keeping the arrangement you had with Harry from being anything more than it was. Harry followed along of course, but it always felt like he was just amusing you, like he knew something you didn't.

But despite how good he made you feel, he still infuriated you. He was still the cocky asshole who considered himself the best athlete on campus. And you'd made such a big showing of being indifferent to him, of not being charmed by him that you couldn't see him as anything more than a good fuck. You wouldn't.

So why did seeing him flirt with someone else make your blood boil all of a sudden?

You'd seen Harry at parties before. Sometimes he would sneak you away to a bathroom with a lock on it or a room no one would enter, but in most cases you both minded your business, sometimes sharing snarky remarks if your paths crossed. Tonight was the same, though when your eye snagged on him and some girl that looked nothing like you, you gripped your plastic cup a little harder than usual.

You and Harry weren't dating each other, but you were also keenly aware of the fact that neither of you went out or hooked up with anyone else. You told yourself that it was to reduce the risk of STIs, but did Harry want to explore other options? Were you not giving him enough satisfaction? Why was he leaning in so close to her?

Then, almost as if he could sense you looking at him, Harry turned and met your gaze. His brow raised the slightest bit as if to say, Your move.

He was doing this on purpose. Harry was intentionally flirting with some random girl to get a reaction out of you, to see what exactly that reaction would be. He probably wanted you to storm over there and get between him and the girl, and...What? Claim him? Make sure everyone at this party knew Harry wasn't as available as people thought?

Well, you were not going to do that.

The smart thing to do would've been to just ignore him, to not play his little game at all. But intelligence and good sense seemed to fly out the window when Harry Styles was involved.

You didn't go over to Harry, though. You stalked off in search of more alcohol and your friends. The bass of some rap song pounded through the speakers as you pushed past people. You found yourself in the next room over, searching for a place to sit and people watch.

"Hey, Y/n!"

Turning, you saw someone approach, and your eyes lit up, but only because of the opportunity that was presented to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harry enter the room holding hands with that girl. Smiling to yourself, you looked up at the guy in front of you. "Hey, Evan. We have metaphysics together, right?"

Evan and Harry were virtually opposites. Similar on paper, but completely different otherwise. He played baseball, was the team captain, and was handsome, so so handsome. But he was sweet too. He didn't strut around or make crude remarks. Evan had a quiet, understated kind of confidence. He was the one you should've gotten all flustered around.

"Yeah. I saw you and I thought I'd say hi. I don't normally see you at parties."

You weren't the kind of person who flirting came naturally to, but you did your best. "Yeah, I came with my friends, but I'm glad I ran into you."

Evan's eyes glanced down to his arm when you placed your hand on it. Unable to help yourself, you glanced to your left. You fought the smile that crept on your face when you caught Harry shooting daggers at you. Before he noticed you noticing him, you turned back to the boy in front of you.

"Really?"

You nodded. "I mean, like you said, we have a class, we sit next to each other, but we've hardly said two words to each other."

His eyes squinted as he grinned, then bent down to whisper in your ear. "Or are you glad that someone as good-looking as me is here to make Styles over there jealous?"

Well, shit. "I'm sorry," you said, a blush forming on your cheeks. "He's just being an ass, and I thought I would—I don't even like him, but he's such an asshole—"

"You mentioned that," Evan said, but for some reason, he didn't seem to be mad at being used. "I don't really care what you think of the guy, but I'm always up for a bit of light teasing."

"Really? What's in it for you?" you asked. This was not the reaction you were expecting.

"Help with studying for the midterm? I'm not gonna lie, I'm totally lost in that class."

You thought about it for a moment. Harry really wasn't worth going to all this trouble for, right? With another glance out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harry completely ignoring whoever it was he'd been flirting with to piss you off, and that was satisfying to say the least.

"I...I don't like him like that," you said. You felt like you had to say it.

"No judgment here," Evan said, raising his hands in mock defense. "I just need to pass an exam. I'd technically be using you just as much if you think about it."

"Five minutes, ten tops, and I'll help you study for the test," you decided. "I don't like him, but I like the idea of ruffling his feathers."

Evan grinned. "Well then. Better make 'em count."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harry was fuming, you could tell. It shouldn't have brought you so much satisfaction, but it did. He just always got under your skin all the time with his teasing and heckling during practice, it was nice to be on the other side of it.

And you'd made a friend out of Evan. To everyone at the party, it looked like you and Evan were flirting heavily with his arm draped over your shoulder and the casual touches between the two of you, but you talked about your class mostly. And the sports you played, but mostly school. It turned out you were both kind of lost in class and were going to need to clock a lot of hours in the library if you were going to pass the upcoming midterm.

And Harry was there in your periphery, looming in the corner of the room you were in while you talked to Evan. You told yourself he was doing this to himself because if he'd just come over, he'd realize it was all a ruse.

When he finally did, you and Evan were sitting on a couch, your legs were across his lap while he told you about some tournament the baseball team had next weekend. "You should come," he said. "There's food and music, it's a big party, really. The baseball team knows how to have a good time. So if you ever find yourself out of that little ice rink of yours—"

"She has plans already. Thanks."

You tipped your head back to see Harry standing over you and Evan. His arms were crossed and there was an adorable little scowl on his face. You knew he was pissed, but it was cute because he was so jealous.

"I do?"

Harry just glowered down at you, and you stared right back, your arms crossed just like his were.

"I'm gonna—I think I see some friends over there."

Evan gently put your feet back on the ground and stood up. He clapped Harry on the back the way all guys did as they sized each other up, which you found both ridiculous and amusing. You quietly waved goodbye to your new friend, then looked back to Harry, brows raised the same way he'd done to you a little bit ago.

"Can I help you?"

Muttering under his breath, Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, dragging you off until he found an empty room, some office that was converted into a room with a pool table, a dart board, and a bunch of other games. Before you could say a word, his hands were on your hips and lifting you up onto the pool table. He put his hands in your hair, gripping the back of your head harshly as he pulled you to him for a searing kiss.

You almost didn't want to kiss him back, just out of spite, but there was just something about Harry that got to you. Even when you were training and he was teasing you from outside the rink and you were pretending you hated it, hated him, you felt like you had a magnet in your navel dragging you to him against your will. Harry drove you insane, and on principle, you should have hated him. He was cocky, arrogant, had an ego the size of Texas, and yet...

Your legs wrapped around his waist and drew him closer to you. His grip on your waist was hard, almost painful, but it felt good too, deliriously so.

"Harry—I want—Can we—"

"I don't really care about what you want," he seethed, un buttoning the cropped sweater you were wearing. "What the hell do you think you're doing out there, huh?"

You quickly put your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back a bit. "Me? You started it! And last time I checked, we weren't exclusive."

"Bullshit! We—" he stopped and stepped away, not meeting your gaze. Looking at him, you realized he was really hurt by this. Angry, for sure, but it felt like he was using it to mask something more.

"Harry, we—we agreed that this was just—"

"Just sex, I know. I know," Harry said, stepping back. "I shouldn't have flirted with that girl tonight. I was just hoping—I mean, I—I thought you would react differently, I guess. My mistake."

You were left speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You didn't know what to say, you thought you and Harry were on the same page.

As you continued to struggle for words, Harry stepped away from you even more. "I, um, I know what we agreed on at the start of all this, and I'm—I'm sorry, but I can't do it anymore."

"Harry—"

"No, it's my fault. You held up your end, I couldn't hold up mine. I'll leave you to get to know that guy. On the baseball team, right? I've met him a few times. He seem like a nice guy."

Harry left soon after that, his head bowed. You were still frozen, perhaps in shock, sweater still half unbuttoned.

You'd never seen Harry...like that before. Things were always playful between the two of you, and you were always purposely pushing each other's buttons. You thought that was what was happening tonight, but apparently you'd misread the whole situation.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You're staring."

You jolted in your seat at the dining hall, looking away from Harry and his friends and down at your barely-eaten sandwich. "I wasn't."

"You were," Kate said. "It's okay to be upset, you know."

You looked at your friend, trying to act confused but couldn't muster the energy. "How did you—"

"You think I didn't notice when you were in such high spirits out of seemingly nowhere? And then the moping since last week? Give me some credit," she said, a small grin on her face. "So, did you like him?"

Looking down at your sandwich, you said, "It wasn't like that, we were just—" You sighed. "It wasn't like that."

Kate snorted, which made you look up at her. She was looking at you amusingly, like she was in on a joke that you weren't. "What?" you asked.

"It's okay to have feelings for him."

"I don't," you insisted, but even to you it sounded like you were only trying to convince yourself.

"What happened between you two?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you said.

Standing up from the table, you took your lunch and walked over to the trash cans to throw out the sandwich. Kate followed, but didn't say anything. As you left the dining hall, you had to pass the table Harry and his friends. The grip on your backpack tightened, preparing yourself for the unavoidable interaction. You hadn't seen Harry since the party. He didn't come by the rink while you practiced anymore, and you never saw him when your training sessions overlapped. Sometimes you wondered if he went back to taking the bus, and in those moments, you missed him the most, if only because you didn't know if he was safe or not.

He was avoiding you, you could tell, but you didn't really know what to say to him if you were given the chance. He made it clear that he had feelings for you, and you...Well, you—

"Kate! Off to class?"

Zayn, Kate's boyfriend and Harry's teammate, smiled as she walked by. You half expected her to want the two of you to sit with him and Harry and their friends, but she didn't. Apparently because she knew you and Harry had had a falling out.

"Nope," Kate said. "Y/n and I are both done for the day, so we're gonna go shopping at the mall a couple towns over. Wanna join?"

Shooting your friend a look, you elbowed her and tried to tell her that was a terrible idea. Zayn didn't think so, though, and agreed. "H, you coming?"

"Uh..."

"Great. I think my car will fit all of us. Meet us within the next half hour?" Kate asked, dragging you away shortly after. When you were out of the dining hall, you smacked her arm.

"What the hell?"

"He likes you, Y/n. And you clearly feel something for him. What the hell is wrong with that?" she asked you, walking down the path that would lead to the dorms. "He's, you know, he's Harry, and he's a cocky bastard, but he's harmless. Kinda sweet in that goofy, lovable idiot kind of way."

"I know."

Kate pinned you with a look. "Did he do something? Did he say something that made you hate him, or—"

"Nothing. He didn't do anything. We just—We had an agreement, and he—"

"Aw, and you were so good he fell for you," she cooed, laughing when you frowned at her. "Do you like him?"

You frowned at her. "What?"

"Do you like him like that too?" she asked again, hands on her hips and everything.

"I—It doesn't matter. He probably hates me now anyway," you told her with a shake of her head.

Eyes lit up, she looped your arms through hers and began walking again. "We'll see about that."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Walking around a mall with Harry was not your idea of a good time.

Almost five minutes into the trip, Kate and Zayn disappeared with the rest of the group you came with, leaving you and Harry alone to walk awkwardly side by side. Neither of you said anything, just walked aimlessly past store after store. You were itching to say something, anything, to break the obvious tension between the two of you, but you couldn't come up with anything to say. You and Harry were never the types to have small talk, and now certainly didn't feel like the time to start.

So you snuck glances at him instead. You peeked at him, at the same baseball cap that he always wore, the same scuffed up pair of sneakers, the sleeves of his shirt that clung to his arm tightly, the spot just below his collar where his skin was a tiny bit paler because it didn't see as much sun. You took note of all the little things you took for granted when you had the luxury of seeing him all the time. You wondered if he was doing the same when you looked away.

"I...I'm sorry that Kate forced your hand," you finally managed to say. "I didn't know she was going to spring that on you and Zayn. I'm probably the last person you want to hang out with right now."

"It's fine," he said, still not looking over at you. You understood why, of course, but you found yourself really wanting him to look at you.

"And I'm—I'm sorry about that night at the party. You...You took me by surprise, that's all."

Harry chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You don't have to try and make me feel better about it, Y/n. I already told you it's fine. You're off the hook."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a family restroom. He protested as you locked the door, and for a moment there was some light pushing and slapping of hands between the two of you, but you finally managed to shush him and put your hand up so you could collect your thoughts.

"I—I don't want a nice guy."

"What?"

You paced the small bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest. "At the party, you said Evan was a nice guy, and he is, he's very sweet—"

"Y/n, I really don't care about what kind of guy Evan is—"

"Will you shut up?" you interrupted. Harry raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn't say anything. Your hands were shaking, but you took a deep breath and continued. "He's nice, but I don't want a nice guy. I want—I want...you."

Harry was quiet for a moment, leaning against the bathroom door. His head was bent, but when he lifted it, he had a small grin on his face. "Wow, that was some speech. You really know how to make a guy feel good."

"Yeah, well, you're no poet, either," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

"Um, no. Nuh-uh. That's not how this is gonna go," he said, stepping closer to you. "You are apologizing to me. That doesn't involve you insulting me. I am nice, by the way. So you'll have to apologize for that too."

"Oh please. We're both assholes," you muttered. You kicked at nothing on the tile floor, waiting for your nerves to settle. You'd never been all that good with words, which was why you loved skating. You could express yourself through each performance much easier than talking. "I'm confessing, not apologizing. There's a difference."

"Really?" he asked, stepping closer, settling his hand on your hip. Your breath hitched, and Harry's grin widened when he heard it. "Because I'm not taking you on a date until you apologize."

"A date? I didn't say anything about a—"

"You'll want to. Once I tell you all about it," he said, pulling you straight to his chest. Your hands itched to touch him, but you kept them at your side. You knew Harry pretty much had all the power, but a proud part of you was still hanging on, not giving in. "And you're definitely not getting into bed with me until we go on a date. I know you're practically aching for it. You're just too stubborn to do something about it."

"Excuse me? You—"

"You said you didn't want nice, baby. I can be that for you, and so much more." Harry leaned down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You just have to say yes."

"Fine. Yes, now will you—"

"No. Like you mean it."

Your brows furrowed even more, but Harry was in your space for the first time in a week. He was grinning and making your heart leap, and if you took two seconds to think about it, a date did sound nice. Going to his games in his jersey and him watching you perform, holding hands, study dates, kissing him whenever you felt like it.

"I...I hated seeing you with that girl. I was practically seeing red," you said, hooking a finger in the belt loop of his jeans.

"Yeah?"

"I want to sit on your lap at parties, I want to be your partner at beer pong, I want you to make sure I make it home safe at the end of the night and make sure I get my shoes off before going to sleep," you said, tilting your head up at him. "I want to wear your jersey at your games so that those girls who always come to your games know to back the fuck off. That good enough for you?"

Harry caressed the side of your face and brushed his thumb across your cheekbone. "I mean, that wasn't really an apology, but—"

"Oh shut up."

You leaned up and kissed him, pushing him backward until his back was against the door of the bathroom. Harry tried to put his hands on your waist, but you pinned them down, kissing him harder. You knew he definitely could've resisted, but he wasn't, he was letting you do your thing.

It had only been a week, but you'd missed him. You missed gripping your fingers in his hair and tasting his skin and watching him react to the faintest touches. And yes, you missed the in-between moments too. You didn't talk much to each other much, but you liked waking up next to him and hearing him mumble in his sleep. You liked how Harry spooned you right after sex and always had a fresh towel for you to shower with, and how he always gave you space on the bed when you asked for it. You liked how gentle he was with you when he went a little rougher than usual in bed and how even though you were always exchanging jabs and casual insults, he always had the gentlest voice when he cleaned you up and brought you back down from the cloud you were drifting away on. You liked how he randomly kissed the birthmark on your rib cage and how he pushed you harder than anyone else did when you were training. You liked how he understood how competitive you were, that he did because he was just as dedicated an athlete as you were.

You could have that again, and so much more, just like he said.

"This is my apology," you said, kissing him while undoing his belt buckle. "I'm gonna have bruises on my knee for days, and my throat is gonna be sore, but you're not gonna tease me about it because this is my grand apology, got it?"

"Well, I don't know if I couldn't help myself from one little joke."

"I will walk out this door and leave you hard and alone," you said, letting go of him.

Harry raised his hands up, surrendering. "Okay, okay, shutting up. I'll behave, I promise. I could get used to these kinds of apologies."

Grinning, you got back to unbuckling Harry's belt. You kissed him once on the lips before sinking to your knees, the cold tile biting your skin.

You could get used to these kinds of apologies too.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"God, Harry is so hot."

"I know. The things I would do if I had a moment alone with him."

"I heard he has a girlfriend now."

"So? He's not married. That's fair game to me as far as I'm concerned."

"Oh my God, Monique. You're terrible!"

"Mm. I just know what I want," the girl, Monique, shrugged, tying her hair back with a clip. "And I mean, he'll want it too. You'll see."

If fake flirting when you technically weren't together had driven you crazy, then listening to some girl you didn't know talk about your boyfriend like he was hers for the taking? Your blood was boiling.

You glared at the girl and her friend standing a couple feet in front of you, crossing your arms and tapping your foot rapidly. Harry was supposed to come out of the locker room any minute now, but now it felt like he was taking his sweet time while you listened to Monique and her friend talk about stealing your boyfriend. "Where the hell is he?" you muttered, pulling your phone out to text him.

A minute later, and the doors to the locker room opened, all the members of the school's hockey team flooding out. You strained your neck looking for Harry, not caring if that made you look desperate. The minute you saw him, you were going to make it clear to Monique that she would not be getting what she wanted this time.

He spotted you first, green eyes lighting up when he saw you waiting for him. He was dressed comfortably in a pair of sweats and a dark gray hoodie, his baseball cap fitted on his head like it always was. There was a flash of confusion when he saw your pissed off demeanor, but it was wiped away when he saw you rush over to him.

"Hey, good game, right? Did you see when I—mmph."

You kissed him, perhaps with more force than was probably necessary. Harry didn't seem to mind, though. He held your face with one hand and rested the other on your lower back. He tasted like mint, just like he always did after a game. Apparently brushing his teeth was just as important as showering once he got off the ice. His perspective confused you, but you didn't question it.

"While I love the enthusiasm for our win today," he mumbled, nipping your bottom lip. "It is out of the ordinary. You hardly ever know what's going on during my games."

"I'm learning," you said. Harry pinned you with a stare, like he was waiting for you to say more. Finally scoffing, you told him, "Fine. Those girls over there seem to think that you might have a wandering eye. I'm letting them know you don't."

"Me? Never," he agreed. Harry pulled back enough to kiss the tips of your fingers. His hair was still damp and extra curly around his face. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, but the rest of him was warm, solid as you wrapped your arms around him. "But since we're both suckers for showing each other off, should we go to the party tonight or just head back to your place? Or mine. I'm good with either."

"Mm...No party tonight," you said. "Dinner and back to my place. That girl was a little too smug for my liking."

Harry took your hand and walked to the parking with you. As you passed Monique and her friend, you looked over at them and gave Monique a pointed look over your shoulder. She shot you a dirty glare, which only made you smile. Harry, who was fully aware of everything taking place, pinched your side and kissed the top of your head.

"Careful there, love. People might think you actually like me," he said, and you didn't have to look at him to know his grin was smug.

"Good."

He slung his arm over your shoulders, his hand still laced with yours until he had to put his gear in the trunk. You wrinkled your nose when you caught a whiff of the smell and immediately went for the driver's seat so you could be as far away from it as possible.

"Oh now you don't want to be anywhere near me," Harry said, pulling you back to his chest by the waist.

"You're lucky I let your shit stink up my car. That should tell you everything you need to know about my feelings," you said, giggling as he peppered the back of your neck with sloppy kisses. "Come on, Harry, I'm hungry. Let's go."

Harry stayed exactly where he was. "It's not like your stuff smells any better. Sweaty, smelly gear is sweaty, smelly gear. It's all the same," he mumbled.

"I wash my gear regularly and keep disinfectants in my bag," you said. "I thought I told you to get some."

"I'll get on it. Kiss?"

You turned around and frowned at him. "Promise?"

"Are we really talking about this right now? What happened to being wildly jealous and kissing in front of my adoring fans?"

"Bite me."

"Gladly. But not in the parking lot, so let's get out of here, yeah?"

"You're the one pinning my ass to your crotch like a desperate fool—"

"Car. Now, please," Harry said. When you turned around to face him, his usual cocky grin was back on his face, dimples on display and eyes squinting with glee. Now that you could take the time and allow yourself, you realized you thought that smile was endearing. Too sure of himself it made you want to smack him, but endearing too.

"Menace," you muttered, but got behind the wheel anyway.

"I think that's what you like best about me," he called as he shut the trunk and came around to the passenger seat.

"Yeah," you sighed. "I think you might be right."

[thirtysomethingloser92]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moment the blast hit you, everything changed.

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

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

Somewhere above, Remy had seen everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But tonight, everything felt different. Worse.

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

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

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

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

She had seen it coming.

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

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

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

She had to be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then something had shifted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remy was feeling it too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it hadn’t passed.

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

And that terrified him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it didn’t feel normal. Not anymore.

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

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

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

You swallowed, suddenly feeling uneasy.

What are they not telling me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t ask. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe she did.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t move. Neither did he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought he might kiss you.

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

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

And the guilt hit you like a wave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It started in the little things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you want this?

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

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

Did you want them?

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

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

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

Did you want them?

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

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

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

You wanted them. You wanted this.

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then your senses were pulled elsewhere.

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

And then he found it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, finally, it happens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But they don’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[daisyblog]

Belong Together

Our Story Masterlist Summary: A cute TikTok using the song ‘Belong Together’ by Mark Ambor.

You and me belong together

YN mouths along to the words as she points to Harry before pointing to herself. They’re both standing in their lounge, Harry has a wide smile as he watches YN sing along to the song. 

Like cold iced tea and warmer weather

YN reaches out to hold Harry’s hands as she tries to get him to dance with her, but he knew it was going to end up on TikTok so he shook his head with a shy smile. 

Where we lay out late underneath the pines

And we still have fun when the sun won't shine

Harry holds onto YN’s waist as she wraps her arms around his neck, as she still sings dramatically to the new sound circling TikTok. 

You and me belong together all the time

But what made the fans scream with excitement was when Harry joined in on the singing and the clip ended with the couple sharing a sweet kiss…because they really did belong together! 

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994

[eringobragh420]

💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!OC / Finn Balor x f!OC 💜 Summary: Annabel is caught cheating on Finn with Damian. Now she must deal with the aftermath. 🛑 Warnings: Angst. mention of infidelity 💜 Word Count: 3.9k 💜 Notes: This is the continuation (part two) of Getting Caught. It'll be a multi-chapter story featuring an OC. ❤️ Thank you so much to @femdisa for reading through a portion and offering her valuable feedback. ❤️ MASTERLIST ❤️ 💜 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!

It wasn’t difficult convincing Finn to leave dinner early. He took one look at her face, the blood drained from her cheeks, her round, glassy eyes, the way she seemed to be unsteady on her own feet, and asked if she needed to go. She could only nod, clutching at her abdomen as her stomach rolled and sloshed, and Finn stood instantly. He apologized to their friends as he wrapped an arm around her and helped her toward the exit. Don’t look back, she told herself. Don’t do it. So of course she did, glancing subtly over her shoulder at the moment Damian returned to the table. He noticed who was missing and looked up, meeting her gaze. He couldn’t do much else without giving them away, so he simply nodded before collapsing into his chair and scrubbing his hands over his face. She felt that ice pick again, chipping away at what was left of her heart.

Finn helped her into the car, and she felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, maybe even the worst person in the world. It was a miserable sentiment, but she would never deny that it was exactly what she deserved. She could complain about Finn all day, everything he did or didn’t do, and none of it would justify sleeping with one of his closest friends, and however he chose to react when she told him what she’d done would be appropriate, and she would accept whatever the outcome might be.

“Annabel?” Finn asked, snapping her out of her reverie. She looked at him. “Do ya think it was somethin’ ya ate?”

She didn’t understand the question, so decided to ignore it. “Finn, we need to talk,” she all but vomited the words.

Her boyfriend glanced at her wearing a lopsided smile. His blue eyes flashed like lightning as the street lights passed. “Talk about what?” he asked, still smiling. So beautiful, so ignorant.

Annabel gulped. “Um … I don’t know—” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Better to just rip the bandaid off. “Finn—” Christ, it hurt just to say his name. How the hell was she going— “—I’ve been sleeping with Damian.”

Finn’s cobalt eyes were on the road when she confessed, and he looked back at her, so obviously ready—and clearly wanting—to laugh at her terrible joke. His attention went back to the road for a split second before he was focused on her again. He did this several times, handsome smile fading more and more until it disappeared completely. He shifted in his seat. “What did ya say?” he asked.

Her mouth became arid and her heart was pounding so hard it was like one long beat. “I’ve been sleeping with Damian,” she repeated, this time adding, “I’m so sorry.”

The vehicle came to a slow stop at a stop sign, a low squeak echoing off the neighborhood houses. Finn looked at her, and she swore she saw The Demon flash across his face. “You’ve been fuckin’ Damian?” he pressed.

Annabel didn’t care much for his choice of words, but she accepted that she deserved hearing them. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m—”

“For how long?” His voice was steadily rising. “When did it start?” She should have known he might want answers to these questions, but here she sat, utterly speechless. “What, suddenly ya don’t hear me?”

“A year,” she replied. “It’s been a year. Finn, I’m so—”

“Sorry, right, yeah, I heard ya,” he interrupted, and she sealed her lips. They were still stopped at the intersection, not another car in sight. “So what do ya want me to do, Anna?” he questioned. “I’m just supposed to forgive ya? Because ya told me the truth?” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “And why did ya tell me? It’s been goin’ on for a year and I had no fuckin’ idea, so ya could’a just kept right on fuckin’ each other.”

Annabel looked at Finn, the tears that had been building now cascading down her contoured cheeks. She sniffed. “Rhea caught us,” she muttered.

Finn nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. “So not because ya felt bad or ya regret it,” he sneered, “but because ya got caught.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping at the tears on her face and neck. Fuck, I’m even worse than I thought. “Yep,” she whispered, welcoming the numbness from earlier as it overwhelmed the self-loathing threatening to consume her.

A terrifying quiet gripped the inside of the SUV lasting only several moments, but feeling like years. Finn’s piercing eyes slowly slid to her, and she knew better than to meet his gaze, but it was instinct that made her look.

“When did she catch ya?” he growled.

More tears formed, quickly tumbling out of her eyes, and she didn’t bother trying to clear them away, knowing a flood was imminent. “At the restaurant,” she murmured.

Finn inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He sat still for a moment before his hand crept to the door handle where he pressed the unlock button. “Get out,” he ordered, surprisingly restrained.

She’d expected him to be furious and she’d expected their relationship would likely end, but she hadn’t considered that he’d just kick her out of the car. Of course you didn’t expect that—you’re a selfish bitch. She wanted to plead her case, beg for him to let her grab some things from their place, along with her own vehicle, but why did she deserve any of that after what she’d done? She looked at Finn, tears still falling, and he kept his eyes forward, both hands clutching the steering wheel white-knuckle tight. She nodded, grabbing her purse, and she climbed out of the SUV. As soon as she closed the door, Finn took off, tires squealing and smoking, and she watched him go, deep down wishing he would turn around, and even further down, knowing he wouldn’t. 

Annabel stood on the sidewalk next to the stop sign, watching Finn’s car until it made a turn and was out of sight. Numb body now on autopilot, she retrieved her phone from her purse and opened her contacts. As she scrolled through names and nicknames and businesses and bosses, she came to the slow realization that anyone who might have picked her up in this situation was a friend of Finn’s. All of her friends had been friends with Finn first. After suffering a devastating knee injury in her first and only WrestleMania match several years before, she was told she would never wrestle again. Upon hearing this news, Hunter, one of WWE’s executive producers, offered her a job behind the scenes, but on the NXT brand at the time. Since all of her friends had been on the main roster, she eventually lost contact with them. It was about that time she’d been hurrying backstage, immersed in an email on her phone, when she’d literally run into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life.

Shaking her head in a failed attempt at physically jostling the memories from her brain, she focused again on her contacts. Family would have been there in a heartbeat no matter how despicable a person she was, but they were 3,000 miles away. She scrolled several times past the one name she knew would help her because she worried this would be the one time he didn’t answer her call. After a brief moment of consideration and the shedding of more tears, she tapped his name with her thumb and slowly raised the phone to her ear.

Damian answered after only one ring. “Hey.” She blinked, taking a deep breath, and she cupped her free hand over her mouth as a sudden urge to cry out overpowered her. The memory of Damian’s confession came crashing through her already delicate mind and she thought she might pass out. “Bel?” Oh, god, don’t call me that. Not that. Not the nickname I love the most that only you have ever called me.

She collapsed against the metal post of the stop sign. “Damian,” she wept, removing her hand just enough so her speech wasn’t muffled, replacing it immediately after.

“Where are you?” he asked, and a second later she heard car keys jingle. “Are you at home?”

“No,” she replied, lifting her hand again. “I’m at a … stop sign …” She looked up at the street names and read them off. There was silence on the other end of the line.

“He left you by some stop sign?” Damian growled.

“Damian, please,” she sobbed.

“Alright, alright. I’m on my way. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Annabel was only able to nod before tapping the button to end the call. The true gravity of the situation threatened to crush her as she waited. She and Finn had been a special circumstance, Hunter had told them, reminiscing about his early relationship with Stephanie, so he’d agreed to look the other way as long as she and Finn’s relationship didn’t interfere in any way with work. And it never had. Until now—because surely Finn would tell someone about what she’d done. And if things weren’t complicated enough, she’d involved Damian Priest. Depending on how everything played out, they all three could end up fired. Thanks to her. 

“Well done, Annabel,” she sniffed, wiping away more tears. “Well done.”

Her feet were screaming by the time Damian arrived. The heels she’d begged Finn for had certainly been made with looks in mind and not comfort. She heard Damian’s sleek black sports car before she spotted the headlights, and her brain was briefly paralyzed by the memory of the time she’d ridden Damian’s dick while he sped down the highway at well past the legal limit, both of them giggling like children, moaning like pornstars. One of the most dangerous, exciting, and sexiest times of her life had happened in the very vehicle that was approaching her now. Why are you thinking about this right now? How does any of this matter right … now? 

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, rounding the front of his vehicle. He was still in the black slacks and black button down he’d worn to dinner, and she wondered if he’d left the restaurant to come and get her. What had he told their friends, if anything? What had Rhea told them? Had Finn already called or texted them to let them know he’d just found out his girlfriend was a slut? “Bel?” He reached out for her, and her body stiffened. She couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. Probably not ever again. He held his hands up, nodded, and opened the passenger door for her. She hobbled over, dreading the height of the curb she was going to have to descend before she was able to climb into the car. As she was about to take the plunge, Damian extended his hand to her, and she took a long, painful moment to consider her options. She could try it on her own and risk a sprained ankle or she could just hold on to the tall Puerto Rican’s hand for the few seconds it would take her to get inside his car.

She decided on taking his hand and regretted it almost immediately. I’d marry you tomorrow, she heard him say in her fracturing mind. I can’t breathe when we’re not together. Why had he confessed in the first place? Why the hell had he done it right after they’d been caught? And why the hell had she seen so many beautiful things when she’d looked at him? Swallowing bile, she all but tumbled into the passenger seat, Damian’s hand squeezing hers as if he could provide any sort of assistance, but she wasn’t allowing him any closer than he already was. She swept her much smaller fingers easily out of his grasp, and she glued her eyes to the floorboard until Damian finally closed the door. While he passed in front of the headlights, her fingers fumbled as she unstrapped the heels from her feet and then laid them neatly across her lap. A shaking nail scraped along the sparkling crystals as her mind played a reel of the day she and Finn had been shopping and she’d spotted the shoes. She’d be the first to admit she’d acted like a child—stamping her little feet and begging her boyfriend to buy them for her—but he’d relented with a smile, that beautiful Finn Bálor smile, handing the cashier a credit card before kissing Annabel on the cheek.

“Bel?” 

She jumped, clutching the heels. The car was moving, and she didn’t remember leaving the stop sign. Realizing someone had spoken her name, she found Damian in the driver’s seat, glancing between her and the road just as Finn had done after she’d told him her deepest, darkest secret, and sent their lives into an irreversible tailspin. “What?” she asked quietly.

“I asked where you wanted me to take you,” Damian replied, his voice like smoke on velvet, and had she just stubbed her toe, she’d have found comfort in it. 

“Oh.” Her eyes fell. “Um … the nearest hotel, I guess.”

“I’m not taking you to a hotel,” Damian said.

“Damian—”

“Forget it, Annabel. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Alone. That’s all she had to look forward to. She’d have to look for a new place to live—alone. She’d be traveling alone. She’d be staying in hotel rooms alone. She’d grow old alone. She’d die alone. And the legacy she would leave behind would be that of a cheater.

“Well,” she sighed, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Then I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Damian—”

“Please, Bel? You can have the bed, I’ll sleep in the living room.”

She couldn’t deny the appeal. No need to venture into public and try to act like her life wasn’t falling apart. But most of all, she wouldn’t be alone. This might be her last chance not to be alone, and she felt her eyes tingle like she was about to cry, but no tears came. Had she actually cried them all or was she desensitizing as a coping mechanism?

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The remainder of the ride to Damian’s place was silent. Annabel cradled the heels, all the while playing the night over in her mind. How did neither of them lock the door? They’d always been so careful. They took risks, of course, but there were always precautions including locking the fucking door.

Damian pulled into a space outside his apartment building. She took a deep breath and opened the passenger door, barely getting her feet out before Damian was there. He reached for the heels in her hands and she snatched them away, hugging them tightly to her body. For the moment, they were all she had of Finn. He’d bought many things for her, but they were all at the home they’d shared, and she wasn’t sure if she’d get any of it back. They’d been gifts, but did she really have any right to them now? Damian gazed at her for a moment, and she refused to meet his eyes, so he closed the car door, and she followed him inside on bare feet.

She’d been here before, and she remembered feeling comfortable and safe, despite the infidelity she’d been committing, but now, all she felt was dread and shame. She glanced at the life size Batman in the corner of the living room, feeling the natural urge to make fun of him for it like the first time she’d seen it, but she forced those urges into the very pit of her stomach with a hard swallow. She looked at the black sofa recliner near the wall where she would sleep—there was no way she was going to let Damian give up his bed for her—and she wondered if he even had spare blankets and pillows. It was a lovely apartment, expensive, decorated with superheroes because Damian Priest was nothing if not an overgrown child, but it was only one bedroom. She wasn’t even sure he had a different comforter set than the one she’d always seen on his bed. 

The two of them stood awkwardly in the living space, Annabel clutching her heels, Damian with his hands on his hips. She kept her eyes on the floor—that’s where they were the safest—as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They were still sore from having stood on an empty street corner with not but a stop sign to keep her company.

“So,” Damian started, clearing his throat, “you know where the bedroom and … everything is.”

“I’m just gonna sleep in the chair,” Annabel said, kneeling to place the heels on the gray hardwood floors beside the sofa as if they might shatter should she be careless with them. Like she’d been careless with her relationship with Finn, and it had so shattered as a result.

“Bel—”

“Damian,” she interrupted maybe a little more aggressively than she’d anticipated, but the man stopped speaking just the same. “It’s been a long fucking night. I don’t wanna sleep in your bed, I wanna sleep in the chair. Okay? Is that okay with you? And can you please stop calling me Bel?”

“Alright, okay,” Damian tossed over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. He returned a moment later with a blanket and pillow, setting them on the sofa. “And I got you these.” He held up one of his band t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. “I doubt the shorts will fit you, but—”

“Thanks.”

“If you need anything—”

“I know where your bedroom is,” she replied, and the implications alone almost made her retch.

Damian took an apprehensive step toward her, her body became rigid, and he backed up. He looked at her for a moment, which she could only tell out of her peripheral vision because she still forbade herself from linking her eyes with his, and then he turned and headed for his room, hands in his pockets, head down. Did he feel bad, she wondered? Was he filled with guilt? Regret, maybe? Or, considering his earlier revelation, was he happy they’d been caught? These thoughts led her to one final question, and she buried the inquiry deep within the wrinkles of her brain, hopefully never to be considered again.

After changing out of her dress and into the t-shirt Damian had provided—the shorts were too big and far too long for comfort—she hugged her knees to her chest and laid sideways on the recliner, head on the armrest. She had no expectations of falling asleep, but as soon as she permitted her eyes to close, she was not only sleeping, but dreaming. Nightmaring, rather. The Demon was chasing her through an empty neighborhood, the heels on her feet making it all but impossible to run efficiently. Damian was there, standing at the end of the street, and she sprinted in his direction, knowing that as soon as he saw The Demon, he’d take off running himself and stop him from ever reaching her. But he never moved. She screamed his name, but nothing came out. Damian extended his arms, and she was only feet from him, launching herself off the ground and into his arms. But The Demon had an arm around her waist and he wrenched her back, further from her destination, from where she was supposed to be. 

Annabel woke up as she tried screaming Damian’s name again, thankfully making no sound in reality either. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry, and her entire body thrummed, forcing her out of the recliner. She paced for several moments, trying to control her breathing, but her lungs were completely offline from the WiFi in her brain. Alone. She’d thought wrong about being able to handle being alone. Her feet moved, seemingly of their own free will, and she wrung her hands as she padded down the hallway to the bedroom door left ajar. For her. She pushed the door open slowly, just enough so she could see inside and inspect the scene before she decided to enter. Damian was asleep, sitting up against his pillows, TV remote on his bare chest, one arm bent behind his head, brawny bicep on full display, and was there ever going to come a day when she didn’t automatically check him out? For fuck’s sake, you are a slut. 

“Damian,” she whispered, nearly choking on his name. One hand clutched the door, the other the knob, as she wasn’t going to enter without his permission. “Damian,” she repeated a little louder. 

The man jumped, eyes opening to the size of saucers. “I’m up,” he rasped, clearing his throat as he sat up, the remote rolling off his chest. He was disoriented for a moment, taking a few breaths, and then he noticed her cowering at the door. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Are you okay?” he asked. He started toward her, stopped, and backed up before she was able to react negatively.

“I …” she trailed off. “Can I sleep in here tonight?” she forced out in a whisper. “I just—I didn’t want—”

“Shh,” Damian softly hushed her. “Just get in bed.” 

Annabel started around the bed to her side—you don’t have a side—when Damian grabbed his pillow.

“Wait,” she said. Damian turned to her, and her mouth clamped shut because suddenly she had no idea why she wanted him to wait.

“Do you want me to stay?” 

Annabel nodded, grateful he didn’t force her to say it, and she carefully slid into a bed she’d spent more time in than she would ever admit to. Damian repositioned his pillow before climbing under the covers.

“We can—” Damian started.

She made her way across the mattress slowly, offering Damian every opportunity to stop her—only half of her actually wanting him to stop her—but he remained still as she ducked under his arm so she could lay her head on his chest. She pressed her body to his, refraining from wrapping a leg around his so as not to give the wrong idea. The last thing she was interested in was any kind of sexual encounter. She simply needed human contact, to feel his warmth, his refined muscles, and when his arm promptly came around her waist, avoiding any of her spots, she realized she needed more than just contact—she needed to be held, to feel safe, to feel … not hated. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but she swore to continue her self-loathing tomorrow—she just wanted to have tonight.

“You good? Is this okay?” Damian asked. Annabel could hear the sleep coating his voice.

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding. “Thank you.”

Damian nodded and took a deep breath, Annabel’s head rising with his warm, bare chest, and her eyes were suddenly heavy. “For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” his scratchy voice broke the momentary silence. Annabel’s—whose middle was Lee—eyes widened, brows creasing. “And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful … Anna …” He trailed off, poetry recitation replaced by soft snoring. 

She suddenly had so many questions, but Damian’s snoring was to her like white noise was to other people. Add to that her body’s sheer exhaustion, and her just widened eyes blinked slowly before closing, her own gentle snoring joining Damian’s.

[letsgetrowdy43]

In a sea of people—

Quinn Hughes x reader

Request: Can we get Quinn’s gf gets hurt ( bruised cheek, bloody nose, or getting pushed while watching a Canuck’s game by a crazy fan from the opposing team) resulting in Canuck’s fan knowing who she is… trying to defend her and it results in a brawl. And Quinn gets super worried trying to get to you. (I changed it a little bit, sorry for that)

!! In this we are going to pretend Canucks in the future are Playoff contenders (consider this me manifesting) !!

Canucks fans were pretty mild when it came to rowdy crowds but the moment the boys began their playoff push it was as if a switch was flipped. This was the game that decided their fate if they stopped Buffalo from receiving a single point in regulation then they would clinch a wild-card position, making their first playoff appearance since the bubble.

Quinn's long-term girlfriend sat in the crowd alongside her best friend, Anna, opting out of a reserved box, wanting to get the full experience, a few rows away from the glass.

It had all been calm, the crowd on the edge of their seats as the boys on the ice fought for their lives, the score was 1-0 in favour of the Canucks, and the crowd was anxiously waiting. There were five minutes remaining in regulation, and you could see the Sabre's beginning to grow agitated, as well as the Canucks starting to grow restless at the thought that they could possibly be in the playoffs, as long at they just held down the fort for just five more minutes.

One of Buffalo's power forwards took a slap shot right at Demko, resulting in Quinn throwing his entire body in front of the net and taking the shot right in the ribs causing the entire crowd to hop up and cheer.

Y/n on the other hand stood up hand over her mouth, "Did he get up, I can't see him?" she said slightly panicked unable to see him over the giant of a man standing in front of her, blocking the view of her possibly injured boyfriend. Anna who sat next to her grinned at the panic in her best friend's voice, "he's fine Y/n, he's already up and they're doing a faceoff," she mused, nudging the relived girl in the ribs as everyone around them began to sit back in their seats.

A minute was left on the clock and Demmer was on shut-out watch, Y/n had practically bitten all of her nails off as she watched the timer count down to ten seconds, the Canucks still in possession of the puck, passing it back and forth between each other and they waited out the buzzer. Finally, the final buzzer sounded, meaning that the boys had done it, they were in the playoffs.

Y/n and Anna jumped to their feet, holding each other and jumping as they squealed. "Oh my god, you know what this means?" Anna asked as she grinned. "What?" "You get one of those wag jacket thingys," Y/n's jaw dropped as her friend grinned.

That's when all hell broke loose, the crowd was up and in a frenzy, celebrating and screaming as the team made a circle on the ice to give a thank-you speech to the fans. Y/n had been trying to listen as her boyfriend took the mic and skated to middle ice to give the end-of-season speech.

The people surrounding the girls were very much hammered and very much rowdy, the guy next to Anna rammed right into her and knocked the much smaller girls onto the ground. The man behind them started arguing with the guy who pushed them over, "Watch what you're doing!" he yelled out catching the guy's attention, and the two of them got into a verbal fight that soon turned a little physical.

The two girls laughed as they stood up off the ground, "that's gonna leave a bruise," Anna joked as she ran over the tender spot on her hip, "oh fuck, Y/n," she said pulling her friend up off the floor to examine the cut that spread across her cheek, and a little too close to her eye. "I caught the arm of the chair with my eye," she said teary-eyed as she tried to blink away the tears, laughing at how stupid they both must've looked.

Her friend tried to get out of the aisle to get the cut cleaned up but they were stuck surrounded by drunk fans either cheering or fighting in the crowd.

Quinn was in the midst of his speech when he saw an uproar in the section where Y/n had been sitting, his face breaking out into a look of confusion and concern as he turned to the bench full of officials to get the attention of the staff, trying to direct it to the mob-like crowd that was unfolding. The words of his practised speech stopped as he got distracted, looking for his girlfriend in the crowd, "Is someone not dealing with that?" he asked the bench into the mic to get his point across. He received a stern look as he looked back at the rest of the crowd, "anyways, thank you for an amazing season full of support, It's an honour to play for you guys, and we will continue that honour into the playoff, thank you!" he smiled as he and the others skated towards the bench.

His smile fell as he was pulled aside by one of the officials, "Do you realize what you just did there?" "Tried to create a safe environment," he feigned innocence with a shrug as he walked to the dressing room in search of his phone to call his girlfriend.

The two girls sat calmly in the midst of the commotion, laughing as they watched Quinn on the jumbotron, a worried look on his face during the remainder of his speech. Security showed up the second Quinn pointed out what was taking place. And within the next following minutes, Y/n's phone was ringing in her pocket, a smile on her face.

"Are you okay?" his voice filled with concern. "I'm ecstatic, you're going to the playoffs baby!" she mused as the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the sound of her voice. He laughed at the use of the nickname, "I just gotta shower and do media I'll be out in like twenty minutes, Sound good?" "All good, love you, bye," she grinned at her friend as she walked to the bathroom.

She cleaned up the gash across her cheek and then bid her friend goodbye as she waited for Quinn to get out of doing media.

He left the changing rooms with a big grin on his face, he had finally done it, and after years of trying to help the team get to the playoffs all of the hard work had finally paid off. He whisked her up into a hug when she was talking to another wife on the team, unsuspecting as she laughed at the surprise contact, "Sorry, I'm stealing her for a second," he said as he pulled her away to have her all to himself.

She laughed as he spun her around and kissed her quickly, PDA wasn't a normal thing for Quinn but the high from adrenaline had him loving all over her. His thumb ran over her cheek as he kissed her again and again, a hiss leaving her mouth as he brushed over the cut. Quinn pulled away with furrowed brows, finally seeing the gash across her face, "I thought you said you were fine?" he inspected her face. "I'm fine, I promise!"

"What happened?" he said taking her by the hand and pulling her through the crowd of people to find one of the on-duty medics. She rolled her eyes at his dramatic antics, "Someone pushed Anna into me and I fell into the arm of the chair, I'm not concussed, it's not that big of a deal!" He handed her over to the care of one of the team medics who patched her up nicely, disinfecting the cut and putting a bandage on it for safe measures.

"All better?" he grinned. "I was fine before," she shrugged as he placed a kiss on the side of her head, a fake scowl on her face. "I get worried when shit like that happens, just be happy I didn't figure out a way to jump the glass to save you," he grinned.

"Can we please stop talking about it," she stopped in her tracks to look at him with a pleading look. "Let's talk about playoffs," she grinned, "Or the celebration I'm gonna give you when we get home," she teased making his face go red, taking her by the hand and pulling her in the direction of the exit.

-

-

-

I hate this :) but it'll do

[bruisedboys]

aaaand for candy cane, how about the cold prompt from the first list with loml steve 🫶🫶 congrats again on 6k mal! u deserve every but and more ily

anna my angel thank u sm!! i love you lots mwah xx

prompt: sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

steve harrington x fem!reader

“You look cold.”

You pull your gaze from the horizon, where the sun’s just dipped below the long stretch of ocean ahead of you. Steve’s standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest and one hand cupping the opposite elbow. He’s frowning at you.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” you say, smiling up at him. He’s super tall. And super handsome. “I’m not cold.”

You kind of are. But you don’t want him to worry about you. He’d probably make the kids pack up just so he can take you somewhere warm, and they’re having the time of their lives playing volleyball on the beach right now. You’ve never heard Max laugh so much, and Dustin hasn’t complained about sand in his shoes once. You don’t want to ruin the fun just because you forgot to bring a sweater.

Steve hums in a disbelieving sort of way. You’ve got no escape as he sits down next to you on the log your perched on, stretches his legs out next to yours, and holds out his hands.

“Give me your hands?” He says, palms facing up.

Reluctantly, you put your hands on top of his. His skin is shockingly warm against your cold hands.

“Woah,” Steve says, eyebrows shooting up into his hair. He frowns at you as his thumbs push into the backs of your hands. “What are you, a snowman? You’re cold as ice, honey.”

Honey? You sit there dumbfounded for a moment. Meanwhile, Steve is sandwiching your hands between both of his in an attempt to warm you up, you suppose. It’s working, though you’re pretty sure it’s got nothing to do with his body heat, and everything to do with that fact that you have a schoolgirl crush on him and he’s really, really close right now.

“I’m fine,” you finally manage, a bit strained. It’s hard to think when he’s holding your hands in his, let alone talk.

Steve just frowns at you, disbelieving. “You should’ve said something sooner, babe,” he says. “Here, do you want my jacket?”

“No, Steve, that’s—“

But he’s already releasing you to shed his jacket, sliding it off his arms with ease to reveal a tight polo underneath. The material hugs his biceps, stretches across his lean chest. You’re so busy staring at his arms you forget to protest as he carefully places his jacket over your shoulders.

You’re instantly engulfed in a bubble of warmth. His jacket is a light material but it’s soft on the inside and much, much warmer than your thin t-shirt. Not to mention it smells so much like him it’s almost dizzying.

“There you go,” he’s saying, smoothing the material over your shoulders with his palms. His touching sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Is that any better?”

“I— yeah. Yeah, Steve, thank you,” you stammer. Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. The jacket is nice but his kindness alone is enough to warm you through. “Thanks.”

Steve smiles at you. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered state, or if he does, he doesn’t mention it.

“No problem,” Steve says, grinning boyishly. He rubs your shoulder one last time before drawing away. “Couldn’t let a pretty girl like you freeze to death.”

You spend the rest of your time at the beach hot as a flame.

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

Frozen: Winter Festival: A new short? | News

Guyyss we might possibly have brand new Frozen content on the horizon!! A new short could be coming out soon!

All credits go to @/girliesandghouls on Instagram. Today, leaks have come out for some Frozen Dolls on Amazon set for release on September 1st. These are the images released.

These dolls are titled "Mattel Frozen Fashion Dolls". These specific ones are the "Icy Ice Skating" Elsa and Anna. We also have Olaf with an ice cart, Frozen carriage and doll play set, and Frozen ball gown 2 pack.

The details for the dolls are:

This confirms that Frozen: Winter Festival is some kind of feature, most likely and possibly a short. But more on that in a bit.

The new looks:

They look good but I want to look deeper into what their outfits really look like. These dolls definitely give Olaf's Frozen Adventure vibes with the blues and the winter outfits:

For Anna, her hair seems to be fully done and not in any kind of style unlike Frozen 2 when she had braids at the back of her hair. He jacket has the same structure as her OFA one with the collar, sleeves, the waistline and the buttons. She has a black bodice with the familiar pointed down waistline. Her skirt is the gradient of dark blue. With a similar pattern to her Frozen blue skirt. It could be the same length as that. Her boots however are much shorter than the usual high boots we've seen on her previous looks. They even have a fluffy rim around it and laces too. The boots are a purple pink like her cape in Frozen but because it's a doll, it's probably more detailed in the actual short or feature. I absolutely love her look. I love her OFA look so I'm excited for this one too. Obviously it's going to be more detailed in the short because dolls simplify things.

For Elsa, her hairstyle seems to be the same as her Fifth Spirit look. Elsa's dress is giving me more of her dress under her Frozen 2 coat vibe with the lines, snowflake designs and sparkles and her leggings/ trousers. But I think the purple part of her dress is that sequin type look of that frozen 2 dress under her coat. Her dress has an asymmetrical shape to it being lifted from the front. Her previous longer dresses have a train at the back however this dress could be shorter with no train just to show her leggings and also for ice skating purposes, so the train doesn't get caught. Her dress has a blue to purple gradient to it at the skirt and the sleeves like her classical ice dresses as well as the familiar pointed down sleeve ends. Her ice sandals have been ditched for ice heels again which I love. Elsa's cape is roughly the same length as the back of Elsa's dress and has a white to purple gradient to it. The shape seems to be the same as her previous longer ice dresses being from the back or under arms. Her leggings are also purple. Overall I think I love this look. As I said for Anna it's going to be more detailed in the short because dolls simplify things. And I love how Elsa isn't in white because it's not her main iconic colour unlike blue. And purple as her accent colour makes sense as her cape is a bluish purple in her Fifth Spirit look.

To clarify, these looks are the "Icy Ice Skating" looks, not the ball gown ones. The ball gown looks have not yet been leaked yet.

These are the Frozen and Frozen 2 Mattel dolls for outfit comparison:

So yeah we can see that the previous Frozen Mattel dolls have simplified some of the details the actual looks have so it's gone these looks from Frozen: Winter Festival is simplified too.

So with these looks analysed briefly, I'm so excited for their ball gown looks. They haven't had a ball gown look since Frozen when Elsa had her coronation. So just imagine their full length dresses stunning again.

The new short?

So most likely this is from a new short in the works. Some of us probably weren't expecting anything new let alone a short before the big two part movies but some of us were hoping. And looks like it's true. It makes sense to have a short now because Frozen 3 isn't coming until 2026! Some of us were expecting they'd keep the 6 year gap and release it next year in 2025 but they have made the gap 7 years from Frozen 2. So it's great to have another short while we wait.

I believe this short could be out this year and be in front of Moana 2 in November. Mostly because that release date is Frozen's usual release month and Moana is highly anticipated so it's a good strategy to get people to see this short if theatrical. And also because if the short is set in winter, it makes sense to release it closer to Winter time. That's obviously just my guess. But to think that this short is set in winter means it'll give that Frozen and OFA vibe that is iconic to the franchise. I say that because I know Frozen 2 is controversial to the fandom for understandable reasons and with the autumn vibe the theme of change really screams out. So it's nice to be back in the winter element again with the sisters together.

And if some of you believe this is a leak of Frozen 3, I would completely deny that because I doubt we'd get a leak so soon, more than 2 years before it's release date. With all we know of Frozen 3 behind the scenes too, the leaks seem to be tightly sealed because the movies sound big and any details given could spoil it for us of course. Besides a Short around this time makes much more sense.

As for the runtime of this short, that's obviously not known but if we were to guess, it would be 20 - 30 minutes because if any shorter they would only have time for one look. Frozen Fever was 7 minutes and Olaf's Frozen Adventure was 22 minutes. OFA had one main look but Anna's look was slightly adapted for the search for the Olaf scene, consisting of a blue snow hat, her two iconic braids and blue mitten gloves similar to that of Frozen. So it's possible that this short is slightly longer than OFA to have a decent amount of time on both outfits.

When the ball gown dolls leak I'll analyse them too. So keep your eyes peeled.

[celebtf]

HANS AND THE MAGIC SNOW

In the kingdom of Arendelle, the winter chill had finally given way to the gentle warmth of spring. Anna and Kristoff's love blossomed alongside the blooming flowers, much to the envy of one man: Hans, the disgraced prince who once sought the throne through deception. Consumed by jealousy, Hans devised a plan to rid himself of Kristoff once and for all. He had heard whispers of an ice witch who hid in the forbidding mountains, known for her dark magic and powerful spells. Determined to win Anna's heart and take Kristoff's place, Hans set out on a journey to find her.

After days of treacherous travel, Hans stood before the ice witch's lair, an fortress of ice and snow. The witch, intrigued by Hans' ambition, agreed to help him—for a price. She handed him a vial filled with shimmering, enchanted snow. "Apply this snow to the face of the one you wish to become, and to your own," she instructed. "You will transform into them, and they will transform into you. But beware, for magic always comes with a cost."

With the vial clutched tightly in his hand, Hans returned to Arendelle under the cover of night. He waited for the perfect moment to put his plan into action. One evening, as Kristoff slept soundly beside Anna, Hans quietly entered their room. He sprinkled the magic snow onto Kristoff's face, watching as the transformation began. The snow glowed brightly as it touched Kristoff's skin, spreading like frost over his features. His skin tingled and then burned as the magic took hold, bones cracking and shifting under the pressure of the spell. His rugged jawline softened and narrowed, his cheekbones raised, and his nose became more refined. Kristoff's golden hair darkened to a chestnut brown, growing shorter and neater. His blue eyes flickered and shifted to a deep green. Kristoff's body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. His sturdy, muscular frame shrank, his broad shoulders narrowed, and his calloused hands softened. Even his voice altered, taking on Hans' smoother, more polished tone. His simple, practical clothes morphed into the fine, tailored attire of a Southern Isles prince.

Hans, trembling with anticipation, then applied the remaining snow to his own face. He felt a rush of cold spreading through his skin, as if his very essence was being reshaped. The sensation was overwhelming, like ice flowing through his veins. His own sharp features began to morph and broaden into Kristoff's. His chin and jawline squared off, his nose widened, and his cheekbones lowered. His red hair lightened to a sandy blonde, growing longer and wilder, matching Kristoff's unkempt look. Hans' body underwent a significant transformation. His lean build expanded into the muscular form of the ice harvester. He could feel his shoulders broadening, his arms thickening with muscle, and his hands becoming rough and strong. His height increased, giving him Kristoff's towering presence. His princely clothes transformed into Kristoff's simple, practical outfit, complete with fur-lined boots and gloves, fitting snugly over his new, muscular frame.In an instant,

Hans' appearance was now that of Kristoff, and Kristoff awoke to find himself in Hans' body. Dazed and horrified, Kristoff looked at his unfamiliar hands and felt his altered face, the mirror revealing Hans' face staring back at him. "+Anna, help!" he cried, but his voice—Hans' voice—only added to the confusion. Hans was quicker. He dragged Kristoff to the palace dungeons, claiming that the treacherous Hans had returned to exact his revenge.

Anna, heartbroken but trusting her beloved Kristoff, agreed to exile "Hans" to a remote island, far from Arendelle. As the real Kristoff was taken away, Hans—now in Kristoff's form—comforted Anna, whispering sweet lies and promises of a happy future together. With the real Kristoff gone and no one the wiser, Hans began his new life. He reveled in his newfound status, enjoying the love and admiration he had always craved. Anna, unaware of the truth, found solace in her new life with the man she believed to be Kristoff.

Far away, on a desolate island, the real Kristoff—trapped in Hans' body—struggled to survive, his heart heavy with despair and betrayal. No one would believe his story, and there seemed to be no escape from his lonely exile.And so, Hans, disguised as Kristoff, lived a life of comfort and affection, while the real Kristoff languished in isolation, the victim of a cruel and cunning plot. The tale served as a grim reminder that even in a land of magic and wonder.

If you like stories like this and many more, don't forget to follow my Patreon for Exclusive content and Stories.

[nepthys-merenset]

I got this idea for Dmitry and Lane's first kiss in my head, and basically couldn't rest until I got it out of my head. Sooo...here you go--my first fanfiction in literal years. Enjoy my delulu dreams!

Title: "A Search for Understanding"

Pairing: Lane x Dmitry [Heaven's Secret: Requiem]

Word Count: 1,595

Rating: T

Taglist: @rc-catalog

TW: Mild blood, mutual roughness.

“Sit.”

His keen blue eyes tracked her every movement as his voice, cold as ice, shattered the silence in the room. She closed the door gently, as if she could appease him by treating his office with care, and crossed the room, sinking into the chair in front of his desk. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, surveying her silently. Waiting.

Unconsciously, her eyes swept over the desk. Spartan in its cleanliness, it showed that Dmitry—the General, she corrected herself, she had no right to familiarity with him—truly was a military man through and through. Three manila file folders, a letter opener, and a lamp were the only items on its surface.

Her gaze lingered on the letter opener.

Just in case.

***** 

Dmitry had been a military man all his life, long before hellfire rained from the sky and the Horsemen of the Apocalypse walked the earth. The structure made sense to him—added order to his life. As the cataclysms worsened, military discipline and protocol went from rule of law to suggestion to mere relics of the past, but vestiges of the chain of command remained. He clung to the remnants, the last bits of his old life, even as his squad dwindled.

Some deserted, deciding to spend their remaining days with their families. Others were killed. Still more simply vanished, lost to the frozen wasteland.

The files of three such soldiers, their careers tersely summarized in manila folders, lay on his desk. One, he would unseal and finally label “killed in action” when he finished with Lane. Two others were still labeled “missing in action,” a hopeful gesture that he found increasingly inappropriate with every passing day.

He leveled his gaze at Lane. Things had made sense until that goddamn angel had pulled her from the Rift and forced him to save her life. No matter what new nightmare the apocalypse brought, no matter what thinly veiled resentment the immortals showed him on a daily basis, the chain of command between him and the human members of the squad made sense.

He was responsible for Anna, Greg, Lester, Nick, Noah, and the rest of the squad, and he trusted without question that they would obey him. That they respected him as a leader and wouldn’t turn on him.

But you—I can't trust you.

Lane unsettled him. Confused him. He found himself studying her often, trying to find meaning in her fleeting expressions and subtle glances. Sometimes, he could have sworn he saw a glint of red in her eyes, but he forced that thought down whenever it came to him. That was impossible, and besides—he couldn’t possibly be watching her closely enough to notice a thing like that.

Clearing his throat to attract her attention, he flicked the file on top of the pile open and roughly turned it in her direction. “Noah’s file. Years of immaculate service.”

A quick glance—brown, he noticed—before she looked down at the file. His gaze wandered to her lips, following their minute movements as she read.

Stop it.

“No issues worth documenting with any other squad members. And you claim he suddenly attacked you and Boris Romanov with a knife.”

More silence. She only frowned and shook her head slightly, as if to say, I already told you everything.

He cracked, slamming his open palm down over the file. “Explain yourself! What happened in that room?”

She looked at him fleetingly, before her gaze turned left, towards the letter opener—

My gun. She went for my gun the last time—

A quick rustle of fabric as she moved, and he exploded into motion, reaching for her.

*****  

One push.

One push, and she would have the letter opener and her freedom. She launched herself upwards, out of the chair and onto the desk. One knee landed on the desk, the other foot planted firmly on the floor as she grasped wildly for the letter opener.

Her hand closed over it and she brought it to his neck just as his hands closed, viselike, over her wrists. She froze, her hand trembling as the vein below the letter opener pulsed with life.

One push and the life of the man who had saved hers would end.

Indecision paralyzed her. She would be free, but she would be alone. Without the one man who had managed to read her like a book and given her a place in this new world, however begrudgingly.

The blade shook, drawing blood. Her eyes strayed downward.

Red, she noticed. Not like mine.

Unwilling to either continue or relax her grip, she raised her eyes, meeting his cold blue stare. His hands loosened on her wrists but didn’t fall. There would be bruises tomorrow. Of that much, she was sure.

“You could do it,” he murmured, barely moving his lips. His life was in her hands, just as the key to unlocking her past could be in his. “But where would you go from there?”

Anywhere. Or nowhere.

She couldn’t say why she dropped the letter opener, or if it was even a conscious decision. Maybe it was a decision spurred by her longing for connection. Maybe it was the ephemeral memory of the night he’d helped her with her work. Or maybe it was her lost humanity, locked deep below layers of confusion and apathy. But regardless of reason, the blade slipped from her fingers, clattering to the desk with a lingering sense of finality.

Something had changed between them.

They moved as one, both filled with longing—one to understand why she couldn’t take that final step towards freedom, the other to understand why she was the one thing that disrupted the painstakingly maintained order of his life.

He stood, locking his arms underneath her as she raised her other leg, kneeling on the desk. Kicking his chair aside, he turned, pushing her roughly against the window as they thought, unaware, in sync—

I need to understand you.

Her hands tightened around his neck, bringing more blood—red—to the surface. As his life flowed over her fingers, their eyes met—brown and blue. Keen, both searching, both beginning to find what they sought. Answers.

There was nowhere else to go. The room was filled with a sense of inevitability as their lips crashed together in a demanding kiss. She gasped, a tiny little noise, as warmth flowed through her. Her fingers, sticky with his blood, tingled as she locked her hands behind his neck and forgot herself in his embrace.

Is this what it was like before? Before the Rift?

She felt like she was closer to understanding what she had lost—what she may have experienced before those three years had vanished from her life. In his arms, she felt the closest to alive than she had since Cain had pulled her from the Rift. Like a person who actually mattered to someone.

He grunted, adjusting his grip as her back rubbed against the cool glass behind her and her legs wrapped around his waist. He bit her lip sharply. Blood trickled down her chin as she gasped again, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling once, twice. First experimentally, then with force. All the while, their searching lips moved against each other.

A deep, appreciative sound rumbled through the General as he turned again, thrusting her back onto the desk without care. Blood dripped onto the covers of his missing soldiers’ files, marring his perfectly kept records. He didn’t care. He needed to understand her, and he knew he was getting closer.

One arm swept out, clearing the desk, and the lamp flew to the side and shattered against the wall. Consciousness returned along with the crash, loud and abrupt.

With a groan that felt like acknowledgement of the madness that had gripped them, Dmitry pulled back. Lane fought for breath, touching the blood on her chin. Both stared at the broken lamp, its shards glinting reproachfully in the dying sunlight.

What have you done?

He was still the man whose orders she may have to defy one day, the man she may have to betray eventually, to unlock the mysteries of her past.

She was still the woman who may have caused the disappearance of two of his soldiers.

And he was still her superior officer, a man with no order in his life except for the chain of command. His only remaining oath as a soldier.

She hardly dared to move, but she still slid from the desk, and they stepped away from each other. Her hand over her mouth, his hand on his neck. Breathing hard, eyes cautiously trained on each other. Their connection was undeniable, unavoidable, but the distance seemed insurmountable.

He deliberately looked away from her and said flatly, “we’ll discuss this later.” In a vain attempt to convince her that he meant her squadmate’s disappearance, he gestured at Noah’s file, askew on the floor, before dismissing her. “Go back to the estate.” 

She didn’t believe him—she knew he wasn’t thinking about Noah right now—but she grasped at his words like a drowning woman would at a life preserver. She wasn’t ready to explore what had happened, either. But even as she agreed, doubt swirled in her mind. Was he her barrier, or her key?

“Yes, General.”

As she left the room, she glanced behind her. Dmitry dropped heavily into his chair, his head falling into his hands. Light reflected off of the bloody letter opener, still lying just out of his reach, and the door closed behind her.

They would have to continue searching for answers later.

[debrouiller]

DO interact:

173 year old ex-dmv workers, two time escapees of chemical ice jail, presumed insane ivy league professors known for disappearing, restaurant managers who declared war on an intergalactic dictatorship and WON, 20th century christian radio hosts who are “the hot ones,” big malevolent things, unkillable robots made to accost estranged ex-husbands, barts, annas, molotov cocktails brought to you by communism, space pirates, elders who lost an arm in the Justine Burbank system, space pirate lawyers, talking plants who didn’t disclose they were poisonous, cooks who didn’t disclose they were engineers who didn’t disclose they were criminals, zombified mallgoers, aliens interfering with human life for better reality tv, confused motel owners and their cousins, people who couldn’t see Ashley the asteroid, people who could see Ashley the asteroid, booth enthusiasts, pocket dimension dwelling wolves named after the members of a kpop group, redheaded self-fulfilling prophecies who are the river and the tiger and the fire, deadbeat dads with two moms, scientists befriended by fourth dimensional beings, time traveling coworkers who bit and then exploded john wilkes booth, collapsing waveforms that used to be arkansas residents, hogs named pansy, and finally, people who run a diner.