#she is everything to me did you know i love her so much

[girlgenius1111]

throw it all away part 2

part 2 of 2 :) [putellas!reader] just because she knows, now, doesn't mean the path to recovery is straightforward. alexia struggles to help you the way you need. you struggle to even want help. tw: this is a fic about r struggling with an ED. proceed with caution.

—

The protein shake glass sat empty in front of you when Alexia walked into the kitchen. Olga was in the chair next to you, rubbing your back slowly. There were tears running down your face, but your expression was stony. 

Alexia took the seat next to you without a second thought, pulling you into her side. “I’m proud of you.”

“I hate myself.” You murmured, almost against your will. “This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s ridiculous.” 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Alexia objected. “It’s okay. This happens, it’s normal, pequeña.” 

You looked at her strangely, pulling away from her embrace and your sister winced at her own words, scrambling to fix her mistake. “I just mean this is how you’re supposed to feel. In recovery, this is normal. It’s going to be hard, but you just have to push through and-”

“Ale,” Olga interrupted, shaking her head gently. 

Alexia looked back at you, falling silent as she did so. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, or maybe anger, and you were staring at the plate in front of you like it had personally harmed you. The blonde couldn’t take the look on your face, wanted more than anything to just say the right thing and have all the answers for you, and she started blabbering again before she could stop herself. 

“You did a really good job finishing your protein shake-”

At this, you rolled your eyes, and Alexia started talking faster. 

“-maybe we can get your favorite takeout for dinner? The pasta place you like, with the– ow, Olga.” 

Again, Alexia fell silent, rubbing her arm where her girlfriend had elbowed her. Olga was shooting her a look and your sister sighed, rubbing at her forehead with her hand. Obviously discussing food was a no go, she should know better than that. She thought hard, trying to think of anything that would make you feel better, get rid of the horribly sad frown on your face. 

“Maybe you can come to training tomorrow and watch! So you don’t miss out on too much, and-”

“Alexia, for the love of god, shut up.” You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air and rising from your chair. 

“Pequeña, I’m just trying to-” 

“You don’t want me to miss out on too much training, I got it. Football is the most important thing. I know that, Alexia. I know. I know I’m fucking my season right now, I know I’m fucking the team, so please just, for once, stop talking about fucking football.” 

Alexia couldn’t help the hurt that panged in her chest, or the pained look she was sure flashed across her face. You felt guilt split your chest open at the sight, but you pushed that away, trying to hold onto your anger, which was quickly fading. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You turned to walk out of the room, but Olga’s voice behind you made you freeze in your tracks. 

“Nena? Can you leave the door open a crack please?” 

You felt everything inside of you seize up at her words, shame and frustration and embarrassment and hurt welling up, until a few tears fell down your cheeks. God, you hated that they knew. They didn’t even know but they knew, and that was awful. Incomparably, singularly awful. 

“Why does she have to– oh.” Alexia said. She hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. She thought you just weren’t eating. This seemed… worse, somehow. When you turned around to look at her, you could tell she thought it was worse. 

“Yeah.” You agreed, turning back around and practically stomping out of the room. 

As soon as you were gone, Alexia turned to her girlfriend. “How did you know she was… doing that?” 

Olga exhaled heavily, leaning back in her chair. The two of you were going to give her a migraine, but she didn’t really blame you. Alexia on the other hand…

“I didn’t. I wasn’t sure, but I asked her to leave the door open just in case. Her reaction, though… she is.” 

“Oh.” Alexia mumbled, unconsciously reaching for her girlfriend’s hand. Olga pulled away with a shake of her head, sitting up straighter in her chair. 

“Ale, you have to relax. Talking her ear off isn’t helping right now, she’s already overwhelmed.” 

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I know you are, amor, but you have to think about how she’s feeling right now,” 

“But I don’t know how she’s feeling! I want to, but I don’t understand! I can’t understand. Keeping your body healthy is the most important thing in football, and I don’t understand why she’s done this, because I would never do this. How am I supposed to help if I don’t understand? I can’t, Olga. I can’t fix this.” 

Both women were speaking too loudly to hear your footsteps returning to the kitchen, though you paused just outside the doorway, catching the end of your sister’s sentence. 

I can't fix this. she'd said. 

I can’t understand. 

I would never do this. 

How am I supposed to help?

It sounded like she’d already given up on you. She’d decided she couldn’t understand, couldn’t help, and it was all your fault. For pushing away her attempts to help earlier, snapping at her when you knew she was just trying to make you feel better. You felt like a lost cause, but now she felt that way about you too. 

You took a deep breath, walking back into the kitchen before Olga could reply. You looked oddly pale and shaky, and though it was because you’d overheard your sister and misunderstood, Ale didn’t know that. She glanced over at you, doing a double take as her eyes widened. 

“Nena, did you…?” 

Next to the blonde, Olga suppressed a sigh. You blinked at her for a second, confused, before recoiling backwards, a scowl etched onto your face. “No. I left the door open like you told me to, and I didn’t do anything.” 

Alexia relaxed, just barely, clearly about to say something else that would be entirely wrong when Olga spoke first. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a little bit, pequeña? It’s been a long day, you must be exhausted and overwhelmed.” 

Your sister nodded her agreement, and you felt your heart sink even further if possible. Of course they didn’t want to deal with you anymore today. You didn’t say you’d rather be with them, because the loneliness would be almost too much to bear. You just nodded, eyes fixed on the hardwood floor under you as you turned and left the room once more.

—

Alexia felt slightly more prepared to talk to you when she knocked on your door a half hour later. She’d done some quick research, compiling another list in her head of what to say and what not to say. She’d tried to convince Olga to go up and check on you instead of her, because all the midfielder seemed to be able to do today was mess up, but Olga had insisted that it be Alexia. You needed your sister, and Alexia needed to make up for the absolute disaster she’d been earlier. 

All she got in response to her knock was a sharp huff. 

“Chiqui? Can I come in?” 

“I guess.” You called back. Alexia opened your door, slipping inside and finding you sprawled on your bed, staring hard at the ceiling. 

She hovered in the doorway uncertainly, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she settled on what she wanted to say. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling?” You snapped, glaring at her harshly. 

“Hey,” Alexia tried, though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to scold you for catching an attitude with her. She didn’t know what any of the rules were anymore. 

You shook your head with an annoyed huff. “What do you want, Ale? I thought I didn’t need to talk any more today.”  

And Olga had promised you that. Alexia was just hoping, perhaps naively, that you’d want to talk to her more. Instead, it seemed like you were barely holding yourself back from forcibly shoving your sister out of your room.

Any other time, any other situation, Alexia would have shouted at you to be respectful. Both of you knew that. It only made you feel worse that she felt that she had to tiptoe around you. She was treating you differently already and you hated that. 

Alexia studied you for a few moments, before walking over to your bed and taking a seat on the edge of it. She put her hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, and Alexia bit her lip.  You noticed she was wearing this absurd shirt you’d gotten her as a joke a few years ago, one that proclaimed her as the world’s best sister. Really, you’d given it to Ale to spite Alba after arguing with her, though you’d also gotten Alba one a few days later, just to make sure her feelings weren’t hurt. Alexia wearing it now could have been completely accidental, or it could have been some kind of weird confidence boost she was trying to give herself. Either way, you felt emotion try to claw out of the pit you’d shoved it into, but you pushed it down again. 

“I just want to help you.” The blonde said finally, her hands fiddling with a stray thread on your comforter. 

You scoffed, sitting up off your bed and turning to face your sister. “You don’t mean that.” 

Alexia’s head whipped up to look at you, an absolutely crestfallen look on her face. “Of course I do. Why would you say that?” 

“You don’t. You said so earlier, you don’t understand, you can’t understand, you’d never do this. How are you supposed to help? You can’t, so don’t pretend that you want to.” You were fully crying now, pacing around your room but absolutely refusing to make eye contact with Alexia. 

The midfielder’s heart sank as you threw her words back at her. She hadn’t known you’d overheard her, hadn’t realized how that had sounded. She’d been begging Olga to give her some guidance, not expressing that she’d given up on you, that she didn't really want to help you. 

“Oh, mi pequeña,” Alexia whispered, standing and pulling you into a hug. You didn’t hug her back, even as her arms wrapped tight around you, and she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s not what I meant, not at all. I’ve never been through this, nena, and it’s hard for me to understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you. I do, more than anything.” 

“You shouldn’t bother. It’s hopeless, I can’t do this.” You sobbed, finally hugging Alexia back, clinging on tightly to her shirt. 

“It’s not hopeless. It might feel like it is, but I am never going to give up on you, on trying to understand, on trying to help. Never, nena.” 

You pulled away for her, guilt once again replacing anger. Taking a few shuddering breaths, you tried to get your thoughts in order, or, you supposed, your feelings in order. You looked at your sister again, her arms at her sides as she looked at you helplessly. 

“You’re being too patient with me.” You whispered, sitting down heavily on the edge of your bed. 

Alexia took a seat next to you, feeling like maybe… maybe she did know what to say. “No. I don’t think I’m being patient enough.”

You shook your head, though still allowed your sister to grab your hand in hers. Whether it was for your comfort or for hers, you weren’t sure. Maybe both. “I’m not…I’m not sick. This problem, it’s all mental. I don’t deserve for everyone to be this kind and this patient. I chose this.”

There was a certain guilt that accompanied all of this. A real sickness, in your mind, wasn’t something that a person inflicted onto themselves. This was your fault. You had started it, you had continued it, and you’d let it get so bad that other people had to intervene. You didn’t deserve your sister’s patience. 

Alexia gripped your hand tighter. “You are sick. Your brain is sick. And while you get better, you deserve all the kindness and patience. You made choices that got you here, but you are sick, hermanita. Just a different type than you’re used to.” 

You looked at her tearfully, an almost pleading expression on your face. “I don’t know how to get better, Ale. I don’t know if I can.” 

Alexia understood, then, that you weren’t pushing her away because you didn’t want her help, necessarily. You just didn’t want to waste her time when the task ahead of you felt so entirely impossible. 

“I don’t know either. I don’t really know how to help you, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to do it. Whatever it takes, nena. You are my baby sister, and you are worth the effort. I’m not going to give up on you. Not ever.” 

For a moment, you looked at Alexia like you used to look at her. When you were tiny and she was your perfect, safe older sister. Your Ale, who let you sleep in her bed after bad dreams, who double knotted your shoelaces in the morning, and carried your backpack to class. Who taught you how to kick a football, and that you could be anything you wanted. You looked at Alexia like she’d hung the stars and the moon, like she could do anything. 

That look used to make her feel like she could do anything, your belief in her something she could always count on. Now, the determination in Alexia’s eyes made you feel like you could do anything, just for a moment. You needed more than a moment, though.

—

If it wasn’t bad enough that you couldn’t play, couldn’t train, couldn’t even spend time in the gym without close supervision, you were seeing the specialist psychologist that the club had brought in every single day. The first few sessions didn’t heed much. It seemed she was trying to create a rapport with you, getting to know you before she tried to get you to bare your soul to her. 

It was after your fourth session with your therapist, Lucia, that she began to press you to talk about the issue at hand. And it was after your fourth session that you found yourself speed walking out of Lucia’s office, not watching where you were going, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

You were desperately hoping not to run into any of your teammates, as the facts of what was going on had been kept strictly between the captains and the coaching staff. Your teammates, however, would have had to be blind to not realize something was going on. All they’d been told was that you were out of training and matches for the time being. 

Maybe some of them would have asked more questions if not for the terrifying shadow that your sister had become. She walked you to Lucia’s office every day, tried her best to be waiting outside when you were done. Any time you spent with the team, normally just coming out to the pitch to say hello, Alexia hovered behind you, shooting anyone a death glare if they so much as looked like they were going to ask you something deeper than “how are you?” 

You half wondered if your Mami had put her up to this, because the last time you’d seen Alexia this protective was when you were 6, and you’d been getting teased at school. A few words from Eli to Alexia had your sister walking you to your classroom one morning, and making verbal threats to half the boys in the room. Alexia had been scary then, even as a teenager, and her actions had been more than effective. 

This behavior might just be all Alexia, although you knew she’d told Eli and Alba what’s been going on. You didn’t want them to know, and Alexia had hesitantly agreed not to tell them. Later, though, Olga had pulled you aside and said that it would probably be helpful to both you and Alexia to have other opinions involved, and for Alexia not to carry the stress of this all on her own. She had a point, there, and you’d given Ale the go ahead to inform your Mami and Alba. She’d done so, but aside from phone calls from each of them, they’d been respecting your space. 

Everyone, really, had been respecting your space. Aside from a new meal plan from the team’s nutritionists that you’d been trying your best to follow, no one had been forcing you to talk. 

Until today. 

Lucia had pushed you for the first time, and you’d tried your best to be open with her. It went against every instinct you had, though, and you could barely stick to a narrative with Lucia. For half the conversation, you’d admitted that there was a problem. For the other half, you’d denied it, until you were sure you’d contradicted yourself several times. 

She’d let you go 10 minutes early, probably because you were in tears and had gone pretty much silent on her; she must have decided she’d pushed you enough for the day. It was in this state, tears falling freely down your face, that you exited her office. You turned the corner towards the changing room, intending to grab your bag from your locker and see if Olga would come pick you up early, instead plowing directly into Mapi. 

“Woah! Where’s the fire?” She joked, grabbing your arms to steady you. Her smile fell, though, when she saw that you were crying. “Pequeña? You okay?” 

It was clear for anyone to see that you weren’t okay, but Mapi wasn’t quite sure how willing you’d be to talk to her, so she decided to give you an out in case you wanted to go find your sister instead. Mapi wasn’t expecting the broken sob that you let out, or the way that you shook your head, so easily admitting that something was wrong after so long of pretending the opposite to be true. 

“Do you want me to go get Ale?” The defender asked softly. 

Again, you shook your head. How could you explain that you were crying because of your sister to your sister. “N-no. She’s busy.” 

“She wouldn’t mind, nena, you know that.” 

That was entirely the problem. She was being too patient, too perfect, it was almost overwhelming. There was too much pressure on you to be perfect, too. A perfect recovery didn’t exist, but you felt like it had to. For Ale, for Lucia, for the club and the team. It felt like you were hurtling towards some unknown end, the pressure building everyday. You weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

“She’s dealing with enough of this. It’s fine. I’m fine.” You spoke as if you were trying to convince yourself, but the wobbling of your voice gave you away. 

“Venga,” Mapi sighed, opening her arms for a hug. She half expected you to reject her, but was pleasantly surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped yourself tight around her. You were trembling, and she tightened her grip on you, wondering if she should ignore what you’d said and go get Alexia anyway. She didn’t want to betray your trust, though, and it seemed very obvious that you didn’t want to see your sister at the moment, so Mapi settled for some empty words she hoped were somewhat comforting.

“It’s all gonna be okay, pequeña. Whatever it is, you’re going to be okay.” 

“How do you know?” You mumbled, sniffling into the shoulder of her training top, half embarrassed and half too tired to even care.

Mapi rubbed your back slowly, thinking on her answer. She just… knew.

 “You don’t give up. You’re a determined person, and you can do anything you put your mind to. Whatever is going on isn’t any different. You’re strong enough for anything, nena.”

Pulling away, you wiped at your face, managing a weak smile for the defender. “Thanks María.” 

She smiled sadly back at you, as if she knew what she’d said hadn’t really helped. “Anything you need, I’m here, sí? We all are.” 

You nodded, thanking her again before you continued on your way to the locker room, hopefully where you’d be able to grab your stuff and get out of her before seeing anyone else. Especially Alexia. You got lost in your thoughts again rather quickly, barely able to focus when Olga answered her phone and told you to wait for her outside. You were too wrapped up in what Mapi had said. 

‘You’re a determined person.’ 

‘You’re strong enough.’

You didn’t feel strong. You didn’t even feel very determined. You felt weak, like it was only a matter of time before you cracked and let everyone down. And everyone would see just how weak you really were.

—

The house was too quiet when Alexia and Olga arrived home from dinner. No music playing, no mindless reality show on the TV. And you were nowhere to be seen. Alexia slid her shoes off, offering a hand out to steady Olga as the other woman removed her heels. 

“Something’s wrong.” Alexia murmured, looking up the stairs as if she could see through the walls into your room. She didn’t know what was wrong or what had happened, but she just knew something wasn’t okay. “I shouldn’t have left her.”

Olga shook her head, though, giving her girlfriend a sad smile. “You can’t always be with her, Ale. This is something she has to do herself sometimes.” 

The blonde frowned. “But what if…” 

“If she did, you tell her it’s okay. You tell her that relapsing is a part of getting better, and that you’re not upset with her.” Alexia nodded slowly, worrying her lip between her teeth. Olga grabbed her hand, squeezing once. “If she did, she probably just wants a hug, amor. She doesn’t want to hear that you feel guilt for leaving her to her own devices. She’s already going to feel like she broke your trust, and that would only make it worse.” 

For a second, Alexia just stared in wonder at her girlfriend. Because, of course, it all made sense when Olga explained it, but Alexia would never have considered things from that perspective. Before Olga even knew what was happening, Alexia was wrapping her in a tight hug, tucking the shorter woman’s head under her chin.

“Thank you. I would have messed this up so many times without you, and I’m so grateful that you’re here and you’re so willing to help.” 

Olga hugged her back with a matching ferocity, feeling a small smile grow on her face. Once, she’d expressed to Alexia that she felt the other woman wasn’t expressive enough. It was hard to know what the very tough captain was thinking, even harder to know what she was feeling. Since then, Alexia had made a concerted effort to speak her feelings aloud. It wouldn’t ever not make Olga smile to hear Alexia expressing her appreciation for her. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

“Maybe I don’t have to, but I want to. I don’t want you to ever doubt how perfect you are.” Alexia replied sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to Olga’s cheek. 

It wasn’t the perfect date night that either of them had imagined, but it was still them, and that was enough. 

—

You really hadn’t meant to ruin Ale and Olga’s evening. When they’d left, you thought it would be nice to have some time to yourself. And it would have been, if you hadn’t tried to push yourself to eat dessert on top of an entire dinner. You’d managed a few bites before you began to spiral, and it had all gone downhill from there. 

Even still, you were hoping your sister and her girlfriend would slip into the house, say a brief goodnight, and not bother themselves with you. You certainly weren’t going to tell them what happened. Not today. It was your every intention to deal with your shame and embarrassment yourself in your room, which likely entailed crying into your pillow until you fell asleep. 

Alexia ruined your plans, though, with her magical ability to sense when something wasn’t right. It allowed her to sniff out one of Pina’s pranks before it happened, allowed her to turn around and squirt Mapi with water just as the defender was about to do the same to her. It was a gut feeling, and it was even stronger when it involved you. 

It wasn’t really magical. It was a lot of little things she picked up on. The little smirk Pina got before she pulled a prank. Mapi’s quiet giggling as she tried to sneak up on Ale. Now, it was the lack of noise in the house. The abandoned bowl of ice cream on the kitchen table, the light and fan left on in the downstairs bathroom. Your sister had known you all her life, and she knew what she’d find when she opened your bedroom door. Just like when you were little, and you’d sit at the foot of your bed when you’d gotten in trouble. Tears streaming down your little face, you’d turn away from Ale when she’d come after you, but she just had to wrap her arms around you, and you’d break. 

You’d never been able to deny yourself the comfort of an Alexia hug. 

Ale knocked softly before entering, finding you with your chin resting on your knees, wiping roughly at the tears falling down your face. 

“Hey, chiqui.” She said softly. 

“Hi.” You said, clearing your throat when your voice cracked. “How was your night?” 

Alexia ruffled your hair, knowing exactly what you were attempting to do, and took a seat next to you. “It was nice, dinner was good. We had fun.” 

“That’s good.” 

Alexia wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “You can tell me if something happened.” 

“Nothing happened.” You said firmly, though you leaned further into your sister, like she could protect you from something you’d done yourself. Something you’d done to yourself.  

“Pequeña,” 

“Nothing happened, Ale. Nothing.” 

How could you tell her? How could you tell her that you’d failed, that you’d messed up, that you’d deviated from the plan? She was going to be upset, you knew it. She expected perfection. She always had. This would be no different. Alexia wanted you to have a perfect recovery. 

As you continued to pretend nothing was wrong, Alexia felt a flash of frustration run through her. You still weren’t very willing to talk to her. Was she doing something wrong? Was she not not being patient enough or kind enough? What more could she do for you? What would it take for her to be enough? 

She looked at you again, though, at the way your lower lip was wobbling, and the tears in your eyes that you refused to let fall. You were barely hanging on to your strength, and Alexia wasn’t sure why you were so resistant to being vulnerable with her, but she knew she couldn’t stop trying. 

“Let me in. Please, you’re hurting, I can tell. Just talk to me.” She tried. When you stayed silent, she reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I just want to help, nena. Let me help.”

You couldn’t take the pleading tone of your sister’s voice anymore, and the words streamed out of you before you could stop them. 

“I’m sorry. I– It was all just too much, I didn’t have a choice, I had to,” You choked out, eyes fixed firmly on the wall in front of you, even as your voice cracked and you started to cry. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ale.” 

“Nena, why are you sorry?” Alexia asked, pulling you into her. You sobbed, unrestrained, into her sweater for a few moments, leaning back to take a few gasping breaths as you tried to answer her. 

“I– I messed up,” you cried. “I broke your trust and–”

“No, cariño, don’t think of it like that.” Alexia interrupted, wiping a few tears off your cheek, though more replaced them quickly. 

“But it is like that! The minute you left I made myself–” You cut yourself off with a sharp shake of your head. 

“Tell me. Tell me what happened, and we can talk through it, yeah?” 

“You don’t want to hear.” 

“Yes I do. That’s why I asked. Walk me through what happened and we can make a plan for next time.” 

It was always about plans with your sister, but you weren’t in much of a state to argue with her.

“I– I ate dinner. And it was okay. It was better. I think it got too confident or I wasn’t thinking hard enough but I got myself some ice cream but I only had a few bites before I was thinking about all the calories in it and how I’d have to skip breakfast tomorrow to make up for it, and then I remembered I have breakfast plans with Alba and I would have to eat and so I knew I had to–... I went to–,” 

You couldn’t go on, crying too hard to get another word out. You covered your face with your hand, more than humiliated at your tears and what you were trying to tell your sister. It felt horribly private, and you didn't want to see the disgust and judgment on your sister’s face. You’d never given her this much detail before, and you were sure she didn’t want to hear this. 

If you’d just opened your eyes, though, you would have seen the opposite of what you were expecting. Alexia was near tears herself, simply from seeing the pain that you were in. You were normally so good at hiding it; even when Alexia knew something was wrong, she couldn’t truly see how much it affected you. Now, though, something in you had broken, and you were falling to pieces in front of her. 

She hadn’t seen you cry like this since you’d broken your ankle training with her a few years ago. All she’d been able to think to do while she waited for Eli to come pick you both up was pull you into her lap, though you were too big for it. 

And it was all she could think to do now, allowing you to tuck yourself into her and cry as hard as you needed to. She held you tightly, as if she could stabilize the world as it crumbled around you, her own tears falling freely now. 

“Alright, alright. It’s okay. It’s all okay, hermanita.” 

“It’s not.” You sobbed, bordering on hysterical now. “I le-let you down.” 

“No,” Alexia disagreed.  “No. You didn’t let me down. This is part of it, chiqui. Part of recovery is relapsing, and I will never ever be disappointed in you for that. I know this isn’t easy.”

You simply didn’t believe her. She had to be disappointed, so you had to keep trying to justify it. 

“I-I hate feeling like this.  I just needed to control something. I just needed to be in control.” 

“I get that. It must be really scary to give up control over what’s going in your body. Listening to the meal plans and eating what we tell you has to be so difficult.” 

And though it was what you’d wanted all week, to hear Alexia acknowledge how hard this was, it didn’t feel right. You were convinced she was just saying whatever she needed to to get you to stop crying, that she was disappointed, even if she wasn’t showing it. She shouldn’t have to push down her justified anger because you were a disaster, she should be mad at you. 

“No, Ale, stop.” You said, though you didn’t have the strength to push away from where your face was buried in the fabric of her sweater. “You’re disappointed, you want to yell. Just yell, please. It’ll make you feel better, and you won’t be mad at me anymore, so please. Just yell. I messed up. I deserve it.” 

Alexia was quiet for almost a full minute. It felt like a stab to the chest that you thought she had to yell in order to work through her feelings. That you were so convinced she was angry with you, disappointed in you. That you were willing to sit through a lecture because you felt so guilty for what you’d done. She hated it all; you weren’t to blame. You were doing your best. She could see that, everyone could see that, so why couldn’t you?

It was as if you thought of yourself as a bad person for having an eating disorder. As if every relapse, every action you’d taken in the haze of your illness, made you a bad person. Being sick didn’t make you bad, and your sister ached to make you see that. 

“Tell me something. After you make yourself throw up, what do you feel? What goes through your head?” 

The question felt like it came from nowhere, the confusion you felt putting a stop to your tears. Instead, you breathed deeply for a minute, thinking. Hearing her say it made your stomach drop. You didn’t like to name it in your head. It was just… something you did, and if it remained unnamed, it wouldn’t matter. 

But it did matter, and even though she was supposed to be mad, Alexia was rubbing your back like you mattered, and it was all so confusing that you just found yourself answering. 

“Awful. Ashamed and embarrassed and disgusted. Guilty. I hate myself after I do it. It feels like the world is ending because I have to start over, like all the progress I’ve made was for nothing.”

“Does it make you feel like a bad person?” 

At this, you jolted away from Alexia, staring at her with wide eyes. What was the right answer? What did she want to hear?

“I guess. I… I know I’m doing something wrong, something I shouldn’t be doing. I know I’m hurting my body and I know I’m hurting the team and my career. I’m doing something wrong and that makes me feel like I’m bad.” You admitted. Completely unsure where that confession had come from, you stared at your sister as you waited for her reply, as if you were shocked by your statement. She didn’t seem to be. 

“It is wrong because it is unhealthy. It is wrong because you are hurting yourself. But… doing something ‘wrong’ doesn’t make you bad. You aren’t a bad person for being sick, you aren’t a bad person for relapsing. You’re doing your best, nena. You are trying. And even if you weren’t, that wouldn’t make you bad.” 

You didn’t fully believe her, and Alexia could tell. This wasn’t something she could fix with a few words, though, and she knew that. Tomorrow, she’d make sure you talked to Lucia about this, but for now, she was content knowing that you weren’t crying anymore, and you looked significantly less distressed. 

“You’re really not mad? Or disappointed?” 

Alexia swallowed the lump in her throat at your question. “I’m really not. I’ve done my research, I’ve talked to your doctor, I knew to expect this, nena. It’s okay, it’s part of getting better. It can’t all be perfect, it won’t all be perfect. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to try, and I’ll be proud of you. I am proud of you.” 

You wondered how Alexia had gone from a disaster that could barely put a sentence together without saying the wrong thing to this; saying exactly what you needed to hear from her and more. Likely, it was a combination of Olga, the research you know she’d stayed up late doing, and sheer determination to help you the best she could. 

“I know this is hard in a lot of ways,” Alexia continued. “But you can talk to me. Always. Without worrying that I’ll be mad or upset. I promise you, pequeña, you can tell me anything. I’m here to help you.” 

“I just hate talking about this.” You admitted. “I don’t like being vulnerable.” 

“I know you don’t. You never have.” Alexia chuckled, thinking about how Eli used to have a jar set on the kitchen counter called the feeling’s jar. If you were upset about something, you were supposed to tell your Mami or your sisters about it, but that almost never happened. Instead, Eli gave you the option to write the feeling down and put it in the jar for someone to read later, when you weren’t in the room. It was the best any of them could do to understand what was going through your head, even as a child. “Would it make it better if I was vulnerable too? If I talk about something hard with you?” 

You laughed, thinking she was joking, but when you glanced at her, she was completely serious, earnestly staring at you. 

“Maybe.” You said suspiciously, highly doubtful that Alexia was about to tell you anything that really mattered to her. If you were stubborn about your feelings, it was because Ale was too. 

Alexia just nodded, almost solemnly, fixing her attention on the ceiling above you both before she began speaking. “This season… this season has been harder. It’s always been hard switching off from football and taking a break when I need to, but it’s like… I have all this stuff outside of football that deserves my attention too. And it’s even harder now.” 

“Other stuff… being Olga?”

Your sister nodded, blushing just slightly. “I need to spend less time doing extra training and watching film and obsessing over strategies.  I just… I can’t. I can’t do it. I have to train every day. I have to do the most that I can.” 

“Or what?”

“Or… I don’t know. I’d feel bad. I’d fail the team. But if I don’t find a better balance…” Alexia paused, taking a deep breath. You could have cried, again, from how much you appreciated her in that moment. Telling you things you knew she struggled to share, so you’d feel less alone. “Olga is always on me about self care, and I’m worried I’ll lose her if I don’t figure out how to take breaks and leave football behind when I come home, at least a little. And I really, really don’t want to lose her.” 

You thought hard, knowing that Alexia deserved the absolute best advice you could give her, even if she wasn’t explicitly asking for it. 

“I don’t think you’re going to lose her, Ale. But I think she deserves better than being second best to your job until you retire. It’s like you said, you need a balance. Sometimes, football is going to come first. That’s just part of the job. But you also have to make sure she comes first too, sometimes. Even if you have to do something that makes you uncomfortable, like miss an extra training session or not watch all the available film you can get your hands on.” 

By the time you stopped talking and looked at your sister, she looked almost stunned, as though she wasn’t expecting you to have anything very helpful to say. 

“When did you get good at giving relationship advice?” She asked. “The last time I asked you for advice like this you told me to spray paint I love you on Jenni’s car as an apology.” 

You laughed. “That was like… 10 years ago, Ale. I’ve grown up.” 

“You really have.” Your sister got a rather pensive look on her face, as if she was just seeing for the first time that you were no longer a little kid. In effort to avoid any further sappiness, you voiced the idea that had popped into your head a few minutes ago. 

“Didn’t Olga say she doesn’t have much work to do tomorrow? You should take her to lunch.” 

“We have training.” Alexia said automatically.

You rolled your eyes. “I know. Skip. It’s a gym session and film that you’ve probably already watched. Skip it and take your girlfriend out. No one will care.” 

It was clear that the idea made Alexia uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Her posture had become stiff and her hands were clenched almost as tightly as her jaw was. 

 But she thought about the last time she’d done something spontaneous for Olga, and the way the brunette's face had lit up. It had just been flowers picked up on the way home from training, but it had clearly meant a lot to her. Alexia wanted to see that look on Olga’s face again. Soon. 

“Okay.” She agreed hesitantly. “How do I skip? Is it like school? Should I lie and say I’m sick?” 

You laughed again, but Alexia joined in this time. “No, tonta. Just say you have a personal commitment. It’s not like anyone is going to ask questions.” 

“Mmm. Well, you’re coming with us.” 

You looked at her like she was stupid. “No I’m not. That would ruin the romantic date with your girlfriend.” 

Alexia frowned, trying to think of a way she could make you a part of this too. A way she could make you want to try because she was trying. “Fine, but I’m bringing you back lunch, okay?” 

Suddenly, you looked just as uncomfortable as your sister had, but you agreed nonetheless. You couldn’t not try if Alexia was trying. And you both knew that what you had to do was harder than what she had to do. It wasn’t really about that, though. It was about your sister understanding how difficult this process was, and telling you that you didn’t have to be perfect, just like she wasn’t. 

Recovery wasn’t perfect. Existing wasn’t perfect. It was about trying. It was about knowing there needed to be a change, and doing your best to make one. 

Trying your best didn’t have to be perfect, or without fault. Alexia almost threw herself into a panic attack the next day when she remembered she was missing a captains meeting, but Olga had calmed her down and Irene had promised to send her copious notes. 

The look on Olga’s face had made it all feel worth it when Alexia had asked her of the plan you’d come up with. 

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?” Alexia had asked casually, as her and Olga stood side by side at the stove, cooking dinner. 

“After training?” Olga had wondered, confused. 

“No. No training tomorrow, I’m taking the day off.” 

It was very worth it when Olga practically dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and launched herself at Alexia, wrapping the taller woman in a tight hug. It was so, so worth it when Olga whispered a soft I’m proud of you in Alexia’s ear. 

It wasn’t easy when you tried to eat lunch the next day. It wasn’t easy when you were done, and when you cried into your sister’s shoulder, when all you wanted to do was get rid of it. 

But it was worth it later, when Alexia told you how proud she was of you, and you knew she meant it. You believed her. The next day, when Lucia told you she thought you were making good progress. Every step forward wasn’t without some faltering, but you moved forward anyway.

You moved through recovery. Forwards and backwards. Mostly forwards. Returning to training, to matches, to doing what you loved. To feeling like yourself again. 

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect, but change was worth it. Getting better was worth it. 

—

didn't plan on finishing this and getting it out tonight but it was flowing really well and i... think... i'm... happy... with.... it??? anyway! thanks for reading <3

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

taglist:

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[eddiesxangel]

She Said Fuck Me Like I’m Famous (I Said Okay) | E.M

WC: 5.9k

Cw: fem!popstar!reader, modern au, fluff, smut, dirty talk, kinda Dom Eddie, oral (m & f), p in v, reader is on bc, creampies.

Summary: when you invite your online bestie over to spend the week with you for the first time, you don’t know what to expect when her over protective friends tag along

Meeting Robin was a happy accident that life sometimes throws at you. Even though she was a stranger on the other side of the country, she was one of the most genuine friends you could have ever asked for. It all started slowly. You had both been on the same Discord server because of your mutual love for an author, and things went from there. After almost three years of friendship, you finally decided to meet in person!

You guys organized everything. She was flying to California and staying with you in your two-bedroom apartment for a little over a week. You had so much planned for the both of you, especially over the weekend, because it just so happened you were also to perform at this year’s Coachella.

It was your first big performance at a festival like this. It would do wonders for your career and hopefully bring you new fans.

Robin was your biggest supporter. She was so excited to see you perform live for the first time, not to mention the VIP passes you had promised her. It was hard to seek out genuine friendships in the line of work that you do. Everyone wants something, so you didn’t disclose your real name and what you did until you could trust her entirely. Robin was one of those people who you couldn't help but love; her bubbly personality and heart of gold were something you latched onto.

You were not taken aback upon receiving a text from Robin informing you that her two extremely protective male friends were adamant about accompanying her to ensure her safety. She had previously mentioned them, and from what she shared, they come across as genuinely great guys. Their concern for their friend's well-being is commendable, and you appreciate their commitment to looking out for her.

She also told you that the guys would rather stay in a hotel with her, but if they felt comfortable, they didn’t mind if she stayed with you for the rest of the week. You weren’t offended. It was unbelievable that you invited someone you’d never met into your home. Still, she was one of your closest confidants, even though you’ve never seen one another in person, primarily through texting and FaceTime.

-

The day was finally here, and you let Robin know that your assistant would pick the three of them up at the airport because you were in rehearsals until 2:00 p.m.

“See, Rob, this is exactly why we came with you!” Steve pointed at the text message as she read it out loud.

“What do you mean?” Robin asked with a scowl.

“She is sending a random person to pick us up? We are about to be human trafficked for all we know!”

Robin rolled her eyes and hiked up her carry-on over her shoulder.

“Men… so dramatic.” She whispered under her breath.

The three wandered down the corridor until they saw a small woman about 5'1" with a bright smile holding a sign that read ‘ Birdie + 2.’

That was cute; you used her Discord name.

“Oh, yes. Here is the woman who’s going to kidnap us,” she jesters, and the two men can’t help but roll their eyes.

“Hi! Are you Kelsey?” Robin approached the woman who she towered over.

“Yes, Hi! If you want to come with me, the car is waiting. She’s so excited you’re finally here; it’s all she’s been talking about.”

Kelsey opened the door for the three friends to get in and made her way to the driver’s seat.

-

It’s been a long wait, but your rehearsal wrapped up right on schedule. You made sure because you didn’t want to waste any time. You’ve been so antsy all day, waiting to go home and meet your best friend for the first time. You were so nervous; what if she thought you were annoying? What if the paparazzi ruined her time here? On your way home, the what-ifs circled your mind, but you tried to shake that all away when you got the text from Kelsey that they made it safely and were on their way to the hotel to drop off their things. Then she would bring them over to your apartment.

The minutes tick by as you wait for them in your apartment. You double-check the fridge to make sure you have refreshments and snacks. They must be tired and hungry from the flight.

Your manicured fingernails tap the cold marble countertop in your kitchen as you nervously scroll your phone, trying to distract yourself until the condo buzzer startles you. You run over and answer the speaker, telling them to come on up.

You anxiously count the seconds as you wait for them to approach the door. When the elevator bell dings on your floor, 17 stories up, you open the door eagerly to see Kelsey get off first.

You’re bouncing on your toes as you half-heartedly skip through the hallway, cheering as you see the freckled-faced girl enter the corridor.

“Birdie!” You clap, jump, and run to her with a smile so big your cheeks burn.

Cheers and squeals fill the small space as you take one another in your arms. If the people surrounding you had known better, your embrace would have made it look like you were lovers.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

"I can't believe you're real." You step back to look at her in full. Finally, after all this time, you are united with your bestie. You tell one another everything. Robin confided in you about how she likes girls, and you said you were so scared that you're not good enough to be here. The imposter syndrome was extreme, but she put your mind at ease.

One of the men behind Robin had cleared their throat, reminding the both of you that they were also there.

“Oh my god, sorry.” Robin jumps.

“This is Steve, and this is Eddie.” Robin steps out of your way, and your gaze falls on the two handsome men standing behind her. Your heart flutters a bit, taking in both of them.

Steve and Eddie were complete opposites in their style. Steve had a preppy look, with a soft smile and gentle, kind eyes that reflected his warm personality. In contrast, Eddie's style was edgy and tough, but his eyes were surprisingly kind and strikingly beautiful, hinting at a depth beyond his tough exterior.

“Hi, I’m y/n, but you can call me Bunnie.” You stuck out your hand to introduce yourself.

“Damn, kinda disappointed you’re real; I had 50 bucks going that you were catfishing Rob this whole time,” Steve giggled as you shook his hand.

“Shut up,” Robin rolled her eyes.

“Me? A catfish? Never,” you giggled.

You moved to Eddie, and he stood there wide-eyed as he tried to speak, say hello, hi, or something, but he felt like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. There was no way you were real. There's no way you were this pretty in real life. There was no way Robin was friends with a celebrity.

Unsurprisingly, Eddie had no idea who you were when Robin told him and Steve she was coming out to see you. However, Steve’s reaction made it seem like you were a big deal, so he googled you and looked at your Instagram beforehand. Never in his life did he see someone so beautiful. The attraction was instant, but now, seeing you in person, there was no denying his inevitable crush on you.

Eddie finally managed to choke out a “hi.” His cheeks heated up as his voice cracked like he was 12 again.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you smile but quickly turn to Robin.

“Come,” you say, linking your arm with hers as you return to your condo.

“Thanks for letting us tag along with Birdie here,” Steve smiled.

After the initial excitement, you had all settled down. You were lounging on your balcony, eating and drinking to your heart's content.

“No problem, the more the merrier,” you smile.

Robin had told you about her friends back home; you also felt like you strangely knew them.

“What do you guys want to do first? Eddie, any suggestions?” You ask, singling him out.

Eddie hardly knew what to say. It was as if his brain had stopped functioning when you spoke to him. He wanted to woo and get to know you and hoped and prayed that you were as good of a person as Robin raved you to be.

“W-what?" He stuttered and looked at you wide-eyed. "Uh, I'm not sure. What do you have in mind?”

Without a beat, you rambled off the list of activities you had in mind, and Eddie listened so intently to everything; he would go anywhere as long as he was in your company.

“He, man, help me get some more drinks,” Steve said, nudging Eddie’s knee.

“No, please, you’re my guest. Allow me.” You got to stand, but Steve insists.

“Take advantage, let them dote on us.” Robin giggled.

“Dude, you’re really into her, aren’t you?” Steve smirked once the two men were back inside and out of earshot.

“How could I not be? Hello, she’s like the perfect woman,” Eddie half whispered.

Eddie took you in one more time through the sliding glass door. Not only was your style darker and edgy, but you’re witty and funny and don’t seem too vapid for a Hollywood star. He had a preconceived notion about Hollywood starlets; however, you seemed so down to earth, and you loved talking music with him; even if you are a pop star, you know your shit when it came to writing and playing guitar.

“You should ask her out this week and see what happens.”

“No, she’s not into me.”

“Maybe not yet? But how could she not be? You’re a catch. You gotta be yourself; you’re too in your head right now. Just think of her as an extension of Robin.”

“An extension of Robin?”

“They’re practically the same person; just don’t think about how hot she is.”

That’s easy for you to say.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“How?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re King Steve, Steve 'the hair' Harrington, and you know how to flirt with girls.”

“So do you.”

“Not girls like that!” He points towards you and Robin, oblivious to the conversation, gabbing away about who knows what.

“You’re telling me that a girl who looks like that isn’t going to be attracted to a guy who looks like you? “ he raised a brow.

“I don’t know?” Eddie shrugged.

“Nah, dude, you’re being too hard on yourself. Listen to me, be yourself, and see what happens.”

“Okay,” he sighed, bringing the drinks out for you and Robin.

As the night wore on, Eddie became more confident speaking to you and less intimidated after the talk with Steve in the kitchen. When the night ended, you were all disappointed to say goodbye but excited about what tomorrow would bring.

-

The past few days have been absolutely hectic. Rehearsals for the upcoming show have consumed your mornings, followed by afternoons filled with various outings. It's a whirlwind from sound check to meeting up with your guests at their hotel or wherever they are.

Eddie’s crush was starting to take over his mind. Every night before he went to sleep, he thought about you and watched videos of you. He even went so far as to put your name on YouTube and “cute moments” afterwards.

Nothing could stop Eddie from getting you off his mind. He was so excited when you gave him your number, even if he was too nervous to text you. His excitement doubled when you followed him on Instagram, and he spastically went through all his posts to make sure nothing was embarrassing.

Today, you went to the beach. A relaxing day was much needed after your hectic schedule of rehearsals and entertaining your guests over the past few days.

You arrive to see your new friends secured a great spot by the water's edge. Robin is lying under the umbrella while the boys wrestle in the water.

“Is Eddie single?” you ask after settling down with Robin on the sand.

“The most chronically single person I’ve ever met; dude hasn’t been in a relationship since he confessed his love for a cheerleader in high school, and I wouldn’t even count that as a girlfriend.”

You stop and ponder this newfound information as you watch him from afar. As you observe him splashing around, you see him in a new light. He is lean but has some muscle. His various tattoos and how he looks in a bathing suit is giving you butterflies.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask nervously.

“Nothing is wrong with him; he’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. The girls in our town aren’t into guys who look or act like Eddie. They’re all stuck up, snooty rich kids, you know? And Eddie has had it rough; he grew up on the poorer side of town and his parents. His uncle raised him, so everyone looked down at him.” Robin sighed, hating the way life had treated her friend.

“Trust me, I know about stuck-up assholes. I live in their capital.” You snort.

“So why are you asking about Ed? Any particular reason?” Robin peaks at you from under her sunglasses. ”

“He seems different from the guys in L. A” You twiddle with the strings on your bikini bottoms.

“Well, I know he has a big fat crush on you.”

“Really?” Your face lit up, giving away your motive for conversation.

“Seems like you do, too girl friend.” She nudged you, and you tried to hide your face under your beach towel.

“Ooooooooooo Bunnie has a crush on Eddie the Freak.” Robin teased.

“What did he do to earn that title?”

“There are many rumours; I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

Robins’s innuendo had you giggling so hard that you almost started crying.

You pulled Eddie’s attention when he heard your angelic laugh. Eddie stood distracted by watching you lay out with Robin, your tattoos on display, more than he had seen initially. Your teeny black-and-white bikini was a sight for soar eyes, being stuck with Steve all day and night. With the sudden distraction, Steve had the opportunity to body-slam Eddie into the ocean.

Eddie’s audible “oof” was heard, and before Eddie knew it, he was gasping for air. When he finally got his bearing straight, he saw you looking over, concerned at the two men, then gave a slight wave to ensure he was okay.

“Playtimes over, Harrington,” Eddie shoved Steve off of him.

“Oh, I think it’s just beginning for you, Munson.”

The two men exited the water looking too hot for their own good, like some personal Baywatch episode was coming at you in 3D.

“Like what you see?” Eddie smirked at you as they both approached the both of you.

“Absolutely.” You squint up at him, the sun catching your eyes.

Eddie plopped beside you and shook his head like a dog getting ocean water all over you.

You squeak at how cold the water is.

“Oh, sorry, Bunnie, let me get that for you.” He smirks.

He brushes the water from your face with his towel.

Oh, he knows what he is doing.

Your skin deceived you as the goosebumps arose when Eddie touched your face.

“You cold, Bunnie?” Eddie noticed and pulled you in with him as he wrapped his towel around the both of you. Your bare back pressing against his cold, damp chest wasn’t helping, but hell, you were not about to start complaining.

“Thanks”

Robin gives you a pointed look, then immediately grabs Steve’s hand to yank him up.

“Come, we are getting food.”

Steve leaves without protest, seeing what Robin sees- that you and Eddie should have some alone time.

“So a little Birdie told me you have a reputation back home.” You were leaning up against Eddie’s chest, basking in the sun.

“Oh, did she, now? And what might that be.”

“that you’re a little freaky,” you giggle.

“You sure you want to know about th-"

“Oh my god! It is you! Oh my god, I love you. Can I please get a picture with you?” A girl not much younger than yourself, clearly a fan of yours, looks down at you, and Eddie is cuddled up.

Without missing a beat, you get up and greet the fan.

“Can you take our picture?” She gives her phone to Eddie before he even agrees that he’s getting up to help.

You give him an apologetic look. This was not the kind of day he signed up for.

You pose with the fan and talk with her briefly before she asks, “ Is that your boyfriend?”

You look over your shoulder to see Eddie again sitting under the umbrella.

“No, no, he’s a friend,” you smile.

“Too bad, you guys would be a cute couple.”

You entertain her only a few more minutes before she leaves.

“Sorry about that.” You sit back down beside Eddie.

“That’s okay, I get it. You’re famous and all.” He smiles.

“I’m not that famous,” you sigh.

“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.”

“Well, maybe…” you shrug.

“You have strangers coming up to you complimenting your work; that’s sick as fuck if you ask me.”

“It's something I’ll never get used to.”

“Tell me more what it’s like?”

“What? Having a fan approach me?”

“Yea. I guess being a famous rockstar was all I ever dreamed of until a few years ago when I realized it wouldn’t be in the cards for me.

“What if it could be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a crazy idea.”

-

Pictures of you and a “Mystery guy” were planted all over the tabloids the following day. Of course, no one stopped to take a photo when it was just you and Robin or the four of you sitting on the beach.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into my crazy.” You apologized while you were all out to dinner. Eddie was sat directly beside you.

“I think I like crazy,” he smirked and gently touched your knee.

You tried to hide your bashful smile while playing with the stem of your martini glass.

Robin and Steve instantly locked in on the chemistry between you. They tried to look at one another subtly, but you caught it.

“What are you guys up to?” You ask.

“Nothing,” Robin laughs, but Steve isn’t shy about the topic.

“You guys are cute,” he smirks into the glass before sipping the golden bubbly liquid.

“Steve!” You squeak.

“I agree,” Robin concurred.

You wanted to agree with them, but you hardly knew Eddie, but you yearned to know everything about him. The more time you spend with this group, the more you don’t want them to leave. You can’t imagine how it will be once they go home next week. You would kill for them to spend more time with, especially Robin and your newfound crush, Eddie.

-

As the sun sets on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Coachella stage, you feel the nervous excitement building inside you. In just five minutes, it would be your turn to shine. Every move, every step, every beat was etched into your mind. You had rehearsed and memorized everything, from the choreography to the cues. The anticipation was palpable as you prepared to take the stage. Eddie Robin and Steve were set up in the VIP section, and you had an excellent sightline. You felt the cheers from the crowd pulsing through your veins as you stepped under the spotlight.

“She’s incredible!” Robin cheered.

“I had no idea she could sing like that!” Steve was in shock.

“What do you think, Eddie?” Robin turns, but her friend is nowhere in sight. “Ed? Hey, where is Eddie?”

Steve looks around, and he has no idea.

“Maybe he had to take a leak or something?”

Unbeknownst to them, you had a little surprise for your friends.

“How are we feeling tonight!?” You ask the crowd from centre stage.

The crowd roared in response.

“I said, “How are we feeling tonight? “ you ask again, and the crowd cheers as loud as possible.

“Very good, Coachella! I’m so grateful for you guys having me! this is a crucial moment in my career, a highlight, really.” You paced the stage.

“I’m so grateful for you guys to take time out of your day to come out and see me. It means more to me than you ever know! You guys make me feel like a rockstar!”

The crowd cheers again, even louder, and you can’t seem to break the smile off your face.

“Now, before we get this party started, I need you guys to give a warm welcome to a new friend of mine.” You look over to the side stage and wave a hand.

“Everyone, put your hands together for this rockstar! The best guitarist I’ve ever encountered! Give it up for Eddie Munson!” The crowd cheers as you ask them to, and you swear you hear Steve and Robin above all else.

Eddie cannot believe he is standing on stage in front of a crowd with thousands of people in California instead of 6 drunks in Hawkins, Indiana.

Eddie never imagined this opportunity would come to him, but here he was as if a magical being had granted him one wish in life.

When you looked at Eddie, a smile spread across your face, etched into his memory forever. Eddie looked so hot that you couldn’t help but rake your eyes up and down, taking him in. He wore his black ripped jeans, boots, and denim vest, showcasing his many tattoos.

The way you looked tonight was so beautiful. Eddie didn’t think he could make it through the three songs he’s rehearsed with you over the last two days.

Your music wasn’t Eddie’s usual genre. However, it wasn’t as bubblegum pop as he expected. He appreciated many rock elements and would be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.

“Okay, let’s rock!” And Eddie started the first riff of the second half of the setlist.

The crowd was electric, and Eddie’s heart felt like it would pound out of his chest, especially when it came to the guitar solo he absolutely nailed.

“Thank you, Coachella! Goodnight!” The roar of the crowd doesn't die down.

You grab Eddie by the hand and run off stage. As you make it to the stage, Eddie wraps you in a high so tight it takes your breath away.

“That was incredible! Unbelievable!” Eddie howled in excitement. “I can’t believe that just happened!”

“It’s incredible, isn’t it!” You smile.

“Yes! God, I could kiss you!”

“Who is stopping you?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline or perhaps it was the fact that Eddie would be leaving soon, but you wanted it so bad that you threw all caution to the wind.

“What?” Eddie’s eyes winded.

“Kiss me, rockstar. I know you want to.”

You pulled Eddie in by the guitar strap, and your lips connected. The moment his plump lips made contact with your deep cherry-cola-coloured ones, you knew this was something more than physical attraction. You haven’t felt a kiss like this in a very long time. The both of you pull away regretfully, but you are standing in the middle of backstage, and techs and roadies are running all over the place; you can’t just make out with Eddie here.

“Come home with me to my place tonight? You ask bravely.

Eddie quickly nods his head, at a loss for words.

“Okay,”

-

Nothing could top this moment for Eddie. It was you and him alone for the first time. He was in your bedroom, and the height he was feeling was too much to contain. Eddie pulled you in closer, his lips crashing into yours harder as his hands grabbed the silver material of your mini dress. He pushed you up against the wall, and you felt his tight hold on your body. His hard body pressed up against yours, and the only thing separating you was four layers of thin cloth dawning you and Eddie.

“Fuck you’re so hot.” You moan.

Eddie’s head spun at your confession. You thought he was hot. You, the girl who made all of his wildest dreams come true and then some.

“I want you,” you mumble into his lips.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice before his hand travelled up between the soft skin of your plush thighs.

The way your skin felt under his fingertips makes you shiver. Slowly, his callused tips found their way to the cloth of your soaked panties.

Eddie moaned into you as his kiss trailed down the side of your jaw to your neck, catching that sweet spot that makes your pussy weep.

Eddie’s fingers delicately stroke up and down your slit like he would break you, but you need more. You can’t help your hips rock back and forth into his touch.

Eddie didn’t think he would end up with a pop star grinding into his hand when he planned his trip to Cali with his friend, but he wasn’t complaining. He would be happy if this was the furthest the two of you got.

“More,” You plead, and your hand wiggles its way between the two of you to stroke his already hardening cock.

Eddie buckles his hips into your hand unwillingly, but the feeling of your hand on his cock had him acting on instinct. The two of you dry-humping one another against the wall wasn’t enough.

“Need you, want you so bad,” Eddie confesses.

You push up off the wall and drag Eddie to your bed. You push him back with a giggle, then fall to your knees before him.

“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath. Your gaze meets Eddie, and it’s like a siren is looking back up at him, ready to drown him with your lust.

You quickly unbuckle and unbutton and unzip everything containing Eddie’s bulge from you, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you finally unwrap him. His tip was already crying for your touch, so red and shiny due to the precum that had been leaking ever since you kissed him when you both got off stage. His long, thick shaft taunted you as if it might not be able to fit.

“Want to teach me why they call you Eddie the Freak?” You smirk.

“Fuck Bunnie, you don’t know what you’re asking for. "

“That’s why I’m asking, big boy.”

You don’t give Eddie a chance to respond before wrapping your warm lips around his fat tip.

“Yes, sweetheart, right there,” he draws out his words as you take him in further.

His hands grip the roots of your hair, pulling them taught as your mouth takes him to the back of your throat.

“Oh god,” He moans again. The way your mouth feels around his cock is making him want to thrust up into you, but he holds back for your sake. He knows you asked him to share why he’s called the freak, but he’s not ready to scare you away with his kinks, not yet.

“Fuck baby, you’re so big” You pull off and replace your mouth with your hand so you can catch your breath. Your lung capacity may be suitable for singing, but you can only hold so much breath.

“You think so, pretty girl?” Eddie brushed a fallen piece of hair from your face, and you swore you had never been so hot and bothered.

You bite your bottom lip and try to grind yourself on your heels for any source of friction as you take him back in your mouth. His taste was addictive, and so was the way he was looking down at you with a look in his eyes that made you feel so wanted.

“Such good girl; you like being on your knees for me?”

You nod your head and hum on his cock in a reference, and that makes Eddie’s head spin. The way your mouth is sending vibrations through him has him pulling you up off of him because he would end the night early if you keep that up.

You giggle as he switches your positions and strips himself. Your head hits your pillows, and you sink into the plush mattress.

“You’re wearing too many clothes," Eddie smirks as his hands find the hem of your dress, pushing it up, up, up, until it meets the lower part of your breasts. Then you take over, folding the fabric over your head.

“Fuuuuuuuuck” Eddie draws out before letting his head fall between them. He presses his face into your chest, kissing and sucking on your tits before he finally takes one nipple into his mouth.

“Tonight should be all about you, Sweetheart.” he nips at your sensitive skin.

“Should worship you like you deserve.”

A low main leaves your throat before Eddie dips down to discard your sodden panties. Finally, he has you where he wants; needy for him and naked.

“Knew you’d have sucha’ pretty pussy, Bunnie.”

“Edddieee” you cry; it’s pathetic how riled up you’ve become.

“Don’t be a brat now,” he warns, but that only makes your pussy throb even more than it has been.

You’re dying to be touched; you craved him so badly that you couldn’t stand it.

Eddie’s mouth dips down to your lower stomach, long drawn-out mouth kisses trailing along your skin around your mound, your under thighs. His teeth nipped and bit at your tender flesh, not breaking the skin but enough to mark you up, to claim you as his own.

“Eddie, please, baby, touch me.” You ask as you stroke the fallen hair out of his face.

“Asking so nicely, good girl.” He purrs.

You can’t help but let out a long sigh as Eddie's tongue makes contact with your swollen bundle of overly sensitive nerves.

He tasers you fully as the flat of his tongue drags itself over your slit. Your slick coats itself on his lips and chin as he sends a rush of pleasure through your veins.

Eddie, the Freak Munson, should be renamed to Eddie the Munch for the irresistible way he’s eating you out. His hands push your inner thighs wider so he has more of you to consume. Your exposed pussy calls to him as he eats you like he’s enjoying it more than you are. He wants you to cum all over his mouth.

Eddie lifts his head and replaces his mouth with his fingers as he pushes up inside of your pussy while massaging your clit with his thumb.

“I know you’re close, baby; give it to me. I need to know how you taste coming on my tongue.”

His dirty words had your head spinning and your core tightening. He was right; you were so close, you wanted- no, you needed to come.

“Please, please, please,” you begged for him to let you have the wave of pleasure wash over your body.

Eddie had you right where he needed you, in the sweet spot of being so desperate that you’d agree to anything he asked. He loved being in control this way; he loved wanting to feel powerful but also loved how much you trusted him to do so.

But what Eddie loved most of all was how you were about to cum all over his face; he loves pussy so much he can’t get enough of it, so he dips back down and has you cumming on his tongue as he pushed it up into your hole and didn’t let up as his thumb rubbed on your clit.

He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice before wanting to get to the best part.

“Did so good baby, you taste so good. I know you got one more in you for me.”

You can’t even speak; the way he just made you come so quickly, one after another, was mind-blowing.

“Want to teach me why they call you Bunnie?” Eddie mocks as he pulls you up to switch positions.

How were you to ride him after all that?

“Fuck Eddie, I don’t know if I can; my legs are like jello,” you giggle.

“I believe in you, baby,” he creases your ass as you align yourself over his cock.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” He stops you.

“I’m on birth control” You slowly rub your pussy over his shaft, teasing the head at your entrance, threatening to put it in.

“Shiiiiiit” Eddie’s head goes back. “You want to be my little Bunny? Hop on it raw?”

“Mmmmmmm, yes,” you hum as your hips rock back and forth.

“Fuck okay, okay.” And before the second okay is out of Eddie’s mouth, you’re already sinking on his cock. It feels so good that he stretches you until your hips are connected to the bottom.

The only thing filling the room was the sounds of skin slapping skin and the moans coming from each of your mouths. His hands roam your body, exploring the swell of your breasts, your nipples, down around your hips, your back and your ass giving it a tight squeeze.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re such a good Bunny, bouncing and taking my cock so well.”

“So big.” Your legs were already burning as you worked yourself up and down on his body.

“You going to cum like that, huh?” His hips match your rhythm, and you work together to create the perfect pace.

“That’s my girl, that’s my girl, that’s my girl,” he chants like a prayer as your pussy clenches down on Eddie’s cock, making that your third orgasm of the evening. Your body shutters as your orgasm takes over you, the icing on the cake of the day you’ve had today.

“I’m close. Where do you want it.”

“In me, cum in me, please.”

“Fuck, you sure?”

“Yes!” You had stopped bouncing me, but Edie had you held in place as he fucked his hips up into you.

You can feel his balls slapping your ass and his cock twitching so deeply inside you that tiny ripples of post-orgasm spasms are still running through you.

With a grunt, Eddie collapses, and you fall on top of him. Your hot bodies pressed together, chests heaving, breathing in one another.

“Hey, you wanna stay?” You tentatively as as you curl up next to him.

“Sure baby, I can spend the night”

“No no-well yea, but no…I mean here in California… you can join the band” you bite your lip.

“You-you want me to join your band?”

You nod your head slowly.

“Woah…”

“I know it’s crazy! But you’re so good, and you love it. It wouldn't be exactly what you want, but it also puts your foot in the door, and I kind of don’t want you to leave.” You blab.

“All I heard was you don’t want me to leave, Eddie teases.

“I’m serious,” you playfully swat his chest.

“I’m going to have to call my boss in the morning,” he smirked.

“Really?”

“Id have gone an idot to pass up an opportunity like this sweetheart.

Tagging some mooties @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munson-blurbs @maisieisaloserr @ghost-proofbaby @littlexdeaths @take-everything-you-can @andvys @userchai @loserboysandlithium @floredaqueen @sexmetaleddie @strangerstilinski @myherometalhead

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 17

Word Count- 4.3k

Warnings-swearing, pain

a/n- idk if i like this one 

“Say something please, Theo,” I beg my little brother as he stares emotionlessly at his hands. 

When I began telling my brother about how his father wasn’t my father I expected my loud and obnoxious little brother to make snarky comments or even yell at me. But I didn’t realize just how much worse him not saying anything would be.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? What could I possibly say in this situation,” Theo looks about to me with tears building in his dark eyes and I have to swallow the sob that is building in my throat.

Theo stands up and I mimic his actions. I watch wordlessly as my brother runs a hand roughly through his hair and over his face in exasperation. 

“Three months! Really Y/n? You knew this for three months and you didn’t tell me. Why,” Theo whips around to me and he shakes his head, “I know I’m kind of a dick but I thought you trusted me.”

I quickly shake my hands and try to step closer to him but he instantly backs away. Memories of the night my mother told me this news flash in my mind as I realize Theo is reacting practically the same way I did.

I stop walking, “Theo of course I trust you.”

Theo shakes his head as if he doesn’t believe me, “Then why keep this from me!? Did you think I couldn’t handle it or,” His voice cracks and tears fall down my cheeks, “Did you think I wouldn’t love you the same? Do you really think that low of me?”

I stare at my brother wordlessly and sit back down at the kitchen table. I press my head into my hands and let out a sigh.

“Is that what it is? Did you really think that, what? I’d hate you or something?”

“I don’t know, Theo. Okay. I don’t…I just…I don’t know.”

My answer doesn’t seem to be enough for my brother because he lets out a sound of annoyance.

“Fine. If you don’t have an answer for me then I’ll just leave you alone,” I hear his retreating footsteps and I quickly pick up my head.

“I was scared you’d throw me away just like he did,” My voice comes out shaky and I see Theo stop and his back straighten, “I thought that…if the man that raised me couldn’t love me why should anyone else? I love you, Theo. I just didn’t want to lose you too.”

My blurry vision focuses slightly as I see Theo's figure turn around and make his way over to me. Within a second my brother is grabbing me and pulling me into him.

“You could never lose me, you idiot. I mean, you’re the one who has called me a roach on multiple occasions,” Theo pulls back and his teary eyes meet mine, “I could never hate you either. When Dad left… it wasn’t Mom who stepped up and took his place, it was you. When Mom was always away at work, who was the one who would make sure I got to practice on time, did my homework, and made sure I was always fed? You, Y/n. It was you. When Mom and Dad didn’t want to raise me, you did. I’m who I am because you raised me this way. I owe everything to you.”

I finally let out my sob as I pulled my brother back into me.

“And besides,” My brother pats my head like a dog as he hugs me, “Every Batman needs their Robin,” Theo pulls back and then raises an eyebrow at me, “Just so we’re on the same page, I’m Batman. You Robin.”

I let out a shaky laugh as I nod, “I can live with that.”

—-

3rd Person POV

“Okay, so we all know the plan now,” Damon looks to Elena, Stefan, and Rebekah as they all nod.

“We dagger Mikael to get Klaus into town, and then Mikael kills Klaus,” Elena reminds everyone.

Rebekah frowns deeply at the plan but nods nevertheless.

“Wait, where’s the other half of you,” Damon points to Elena who rolls her eyes. 

“Y/n’s with her brother doing some sibling bonding time. And besides I don’t want her involved in this.”

Damon frowns, “Why the hell not?”

“Because whenever Y/N gets involved in supernatural business it gets her hurt. And with Klaus already terrorizing her I don’t want him using her as leverage. Thankfully enough Y/n already said she’s not going to the dance.”

“Fine. Whatever,” Damon huffs as he downs his drink.

“Fine by me,” Stefan says, “Fewer people to screw this up.”

—

“Ho! Why haven’t you been answering my calls and texts.”

I sigh into my phone as Caroline Forbes bites my head off over the phone, “Hello to you too, Care. How can I help you on this splendid Saturday?”

I hear Caroline yell at some people around her and I laugh to myself.

“Elena’s getting ready with Bonnie’s help, so I thought I’d let you know you and I are getting ready together at your place.”

I freeze up at Caroline’s words and my brother who is glaring at me for pausing the video game we are currently playing raises an eyebrow in question, “Getting ready for what?”

I hear the line go silent for a moment and wonder if the blonde vampire is having a stroke, “The homecoming dance! Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n don’t you dare tell me you’re not going tonight.”

“I’m not going tonight.”

“I’m not accepting that as an answer!”

“Well, I’m sorry Caroline but I’m putting my foot down. I’m not going, Theo and I are sibling bonding.”

“Forget Theo! What about Caroline and Y/n bonding time?!”

I laugh at her dramatics, “We can bond tomorrow.”

“Y/n I can’t-’’

“I think you’re cutting out,” I gesture to Theo and he makes static noises with his mouth, “Oh would you look at that! Well bye! Have a fun time!”

I quickly hang up the phone before my blonde friend can harass me more and I look over to my brother who is laughing his ass off.

“Thanks for the help,” I put my fist up and he bumps it with his own.

“Happy to help. Now can we please play so I can kick your ass,” Theo says as he gestures to his Xbox.

I roll my eyes at him and grab my remote, “The only one getting their ass kicked here is you, dumbass.”

“Ya, whatever you say nerd.”

—

“You’re going to hate me,” I turn around at my brother’s comment and see him standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a sheepish look.

I put the piece of pizza I’m currently eating down on my plate and let out a deep sigh, “What did you do?”

“Well you know how I’ve been getting Tyler to warm up to me so that he’ll put me on Varisty,” Theo says in a hopeful but also weary tone.

“I recall…”

“Well, Tyler just called me and said he’d talk to the coach and get me that varsity jacket on one condition.”

I look at my brother and narrow my eyes, “What did you do?”

“He kinda told me to make sure you come to the homecoming dance tonight to appease Caroline and I told him you’d go,” Theo quickly spits out his sentence and we stare blankly at each other for a moment. 

I grab my pizza again and take a slow bite as Theo stares at me with wide eyes wondering what I’m going to do. 

“Looks like you aren’t making varsity,” I simply say as I grab my plate and walk around my brother and towards the living room. 

I hear my brother’s footsteps behind me, “Come on Y/n! Please do this for your favorite brother.”

“You’re my only brother,” I respond back blankly. 

“I mean technically we don’t really know that,” He says out loud and I turn around and glare at him.

` He raises his hands quickly and mumbles a sorry. 

“Please Y/n! You know how hard I’ve been working for this. Just show up and then we can leave after Caroline sees you!’’

“You know most people get their varsity spots because they show good athleticism. Not because they like to sweet talk the captain,” I stop as Theo runs in front of me.

“You know a pretty face like mine can’t work too hard!”

I roll my eyes at his comment and move around him. He doesn’t say anything and for a second I think he’s dropped it.

“I just,” My brother’s shaky voice makes me turn around. And I roll my eyes as I see him wiping a fake tear off his face, “I just really wanted this you know,” His fake sad voice is making a migraine start to form, “After finding out my sister isn’t my father’s child I just needed some good news.”

Well played, Theodore.

“I hate you,” I growl at my brother and his “sad” face instantly brightens.

“So you’ll go?!”

I close my eyes and sigh, “We go in, find Caroline, say hi, and then leave,” I point at him, “Got it?”

Theo practically starts hopping in excitement, “Got it!”

My brother quickly walks past me and I try to fight back a laugh as he starts talking to himself about what color tie he’s going to match to his eyes. 

I hear Theo’s door shut and slowly make my way to my room. I throw myself on my bed and then finish my slice of pizza. Eyeing my closet the entire time. What the actual hell am I going to wear?

I stand up and quickly eye the bags upon bags of designer clothing that Alastair had gotten me for my birthday. Ever since I found out about his betrayal I haven’t touched anything he had got for me. I’ve tried to give them back to him on the many occasions in which he just “accidentally” bumps into me. But he always refuses and says they’re mine to keep. Asshole. Scratch that, Rich asshole. 

I rummage through the clothes I have in my closet and frown when all I come across are, in Theo’s words, “clothes that not even a dead nerd would be seen in.” I pick up the dress I wore to the tea party in which Elijah threatened Damon but quickly put it back when I realize Theo’s words were right. I do dress like a nerd.

I’m about to throw in the towel and tell Theo to suck it up when something on my top shelf catches my eye. I reach up and grab the clothing box and instantly blush when I remember what’s inside. The dress Caroline bought for me. The very tiny dress Caroline bought for me. I hold the box in my hands and eye it for a moment. 

“Am I really going to do this?”

I close my eyes and rip off the ribbon and open the box, “Fuck it.”

—

“Shit,” Theo swears from his position in the passenger seat of my car.

“What? What happened,” I look over at him worried, as the traffic light in front of us flashes red.

“The gym flooded,” Theo says and I instantly smile.

“So no dance? How sad,” I fake a pout.

I watch Theo’s frown turn into a smirk as he reads another text on his phone, “Nope, My Captain came in clutch.”

—

“What the hell,” I say out loud as my ears are assaulted by the rock music being played by a live band in Tyler Lockwood’s backyard. A backyard that is somehow beautifully decorated with streaming lights, a dance floor, and filled with hundreds of people. Some who I don’t even look like teenagers.

“This is awesome!”

My brother stands next to me with a beaming smile on his face as he looks at everything like a child on Christmas morning.

“Something feels off,” I tell him and he doesn’t seem to hear me.

Some people pass me and I grow self-conscious of the dress I’m wearing. It’s a beautiful dress but with the hem that ends mid-thigh and the extremely low v-neck that seems to put my chest on full display for anyone who wants to oggle it, it makes me feel highly uncomfortable. 

“Let’s just find Caroline and then leave,” I yell to my brother over the loud music and he nods to me. 

We start walking through the crowds but a wave of people comes past us and I lose sight of my brother.

“Theo! Theo!”

I try to call out but all I receive is a few looks from people walking past me. I groan when I realize I’m going to have to go find my dumbass brother in this hoard of dumbass people. 

I push through the hoards of drunk teenagers and wonder just how the hell no cops have been called and also where the hell is the Mayor? I personally feel like having a bunch of underage teenagers drinking on my property would interfere with any future campaigns.

 I move around a couple as they dance to the end of the song and sigh as everyone around me blocks me in as they clap for the band. I decide to just push past them to get to the front but the sound of a British voice halts me in my tracks.

“Good evening, everyone!”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I look away from the people around me and up to the stage where the devil himself stands smiling down at everyone. 

“I want to thank you all for being here with me to celebrate. It’s been a long time coming,” Klaus addresses the cheering crowd and I feel my heart drop to my ass as his eyes scan the crowd. My shaky breathing is covered by the claps of the crowd.

I watch as Klaus seems to lock eyes with someone in the crowd and it gives me time to really look at the hybrid. 

Klaus is the devil. No doubt about it. But I would have to be blind to not think he’s beautiful. The dark suit and the polished hair he’s sporting tonight only seem to make him more heart-wrenchingly stunning. 

Fucking Mikaelsons and their God-like gene pool. 

I watch wearily as Klaus descends the stage and I hear the band start up again. The people around me start shoving me with their dancing and I let out a painful hiss as one of them jabs my left shoulder with their elbow. 

I quickly push through the crowd to the side where a table of cups is set up. I clench my eyes together to try to block out the searing pain in my shoulder.

“Y/n?! What happened?”

I open my eyes when I feel a soft hand grabbing my right shoulder. 

“Not you too,” I groan out as my eyes meet Alastair’s. 

“Is it your shoulder? Tell me how to help,” I lean away as Alastair comes closer to me trying to help me.

“You can help me by leaving me the fuck alone,” I bite out and watch Alastair watch me for a moment, and then his attention shifts to the table of drinks. I watch cautiously as he leans down to the cooler on the ground and grabs a handful of ice. He then takes out the handkerchief in his suit pocket and wraps the ice in it. 

“Here,” He reaches out the ice to me, “Take this it’ll help.”

I shake my head defiantly, “I don’t want anything from you.”

Alastair lets out a low huff and then pushes the ice into my right hand, “Just for once, let someone help you.”

I look at the ice in my hand and then practically growl in annoyance as I softly place it on my scar. A scar that is sadly on clear display, thanks to the tiny straps of my dress.

“See, was that so hard,” Alastair tries to joke but I just glare at him.

“Are you glad your boss is back in town?”

Alastair’s smile instantly drops and he glances over his shoulder momentarily. I follow his eye-line and see Klaus walking with Stefan. As if he heard us talking about him, which he probably did, Klaus turns his head and looks over to Alastair. He stares at him for only a moment before his eyes lock with mine. I inhale deeply as Klaus’ blue eyes devour my own. I feel like I can’t breathe as his eyes move from my face to my shoulder. I watch curiously though as his eyebrows slightly furrow. 

He looks cute when he’s confused. 

I know I did NOT just think that.

Klaus’ confused look drops when his eyes move from my shoulder to the rest of my body, more exactly, my dress. His eyes narrow for a moment before they seem to lose their brightness and then darken. It’s my turn to be confused as I watch his features turn into ones of anger as his jaw clenches and he practically glares at me. I can’t stand to look at him so I quickly turn back to Alastair who is now drinking a beer.

“Your boss really hates me doesn’t he?”

I quickly step back as Alastair chokes and spits out his beer. 

“Dude what the hell?!”

“Sorry,” Alastair coughs out loudly and he quickly wipes his face with his sleeve. 

“Your first time drinking or what,” I ask him and he looks up at me and sighs deeply.

“You two stress me out so fucking much.”

I fight back the urge to hit this bitch, “Really! You’re the one stalking me, and yet I stress you out?!”

Alastair stands to his full height and then pinches the bridge of his nose, “You’re blind and he’s stubborn!”

“I’m not blind!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Alright, asshat! Blind about what?!”

Alastair begins to open his mouth.

“Alastair,” A short dark-skinned woman in a black dress yells to him as she approaches us. She glances at me wearily for a moment before looking back to the vampire, “Klaus wants you inside…now.”

I turn and look back over to where Klaus and Stefan were once standing but they’re gone. I look back to Alastair and he gives a bitch face to the girl and then turns back to me.

“I’ll see you later,” Alastair turns around to follow the girl but then stops and looks over his shoulder at me, “You look beautiful by the way.”

—

“Y/n?”

I whip around and let out a sigh of relief when I see Bonnie standing by a keg holding a red solo cup. My relief is instantly gone though when I see the scared look on her face.

“Bonnie, what’s wrong,” I walk up to her and she quickly grabs my hand. She eyes the icepack that I’m holding to my shoulder for a moment but shakes her head.

“What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be at home!”

I frown at my friend’s anxious tone, “Theo made me come. Tyler texted him saying Caroline needed me to come so badly.”

Bonnie’s frown somehow deepens even more, “What are you talking about? When did this happen?”

I shake my head, “Uhh, I’m not sure maybe like 2 hours ago.”

Bonnie stares at me for a moment, “Caroline didn’t ask you to come, Y/n.”

“What the hell are you talking about Bonnie? Tyler said she did.”

Bonnie’s worried expression makes my hands start to shake.

“What’s going on Bonnie? You’re starting to freak me out.”

Bonnie walks closer to me and leans in, “Caroline wouldn’t have told Tyler to have you come. I told her 3 hours ago that you needed to stay as far away from here tonight as you possibly could.”

My eyes narrow at Bonnie’s quiet words, “Why Bonnie? What’s going on? Klaus is here I know that. Does it have something to do with him?”

“There’s no time to explain. You said Theo is here as well?”

I nod. 

“Where?”

I shake my head, “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Bonnie sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. I’m really just stressing everyone out tonight, aren’t I?

“You need to find him and leave, now!”

Before I have a chance to ask any more questions Bonnie quickly leaves and I groan in annoyance.

—

I’ve been searching for my brother all over this stupid mansion and have come up with nothing. I passed some of his friends who told me Theo was trying to find me so somehow we just keep missing each other. 

A cold liquid drips down my chest and I shiver. The culprit is the makeshift ice pack that is now completely melted and dripping down my chest. Fantastic. 

I make my way through the living room of the Lockwoods and walk through the hall trying to find the kitchen. As I turn the corner, I let out a huff as I’m knocked into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t-”

Blue eyes narrow into mine.

“Of course, it’s you,” I growl out at the Hybrid.

“Pleasure to see you again as well, Princess,” Klaus’ snarky words make me bite back a growl as we glare at each other.  

With a roll of my eyes, I go to move around him but a hand on my arm sends shocks through me. I look down and see Klaus’ hand grabbing my upper arm, Klaus’ who seems to have realized what he just did brings his hand back down to his side quickly.

“What,” I snarl at the man who stands only a few inches away from me. Making it hard not to breathe in his woodsy scent.

Klaus stares at me for a moment as if he’s trying to think of what to say and for a moment I think he’s just going to walk away. Or kill me. He could kill me as well.

“Your shoulder…what happened?”

I’m taken aback, not just by his question, but by his tone. Where I’m usually met with his usual snark, this time he sounds almost, not mean???

“Why? Want to push a finger into my scar to make me hurt some more,” I jab back and the man rolls his eyes.

“You may not believe this but I don’t take pleasure in seeing you in any pain.”

Klaus looks down at me and then at my scar and for a moment I think he might actually mean it.

“I got shot,” I say and look away from him and to my nails, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

I can see Klaus narrow his eyes from my peripheral, “You got shot?”

I turn and deadpan him, “Is that not what I said? Anyway, I’m fine now. Doc says I’m the fastest healer he’s ever seen.”

I don’t know why I told him that last part. But as I stare at the man I feel a bit of confusion when something unreadable flashes in his eyes.

“Is that so?”

I nod to his odd tone. Klaus just eyes me and I try to ignore the weird feeling that builds in my stomach as we stand there watching one another. 

“Mister Klaus?”

A low growl leaving Klaus’ mouth startles me. He turns and glares at the short woman who interrupted Alastair and I before. 

 “What,” Klaus practically snarls at the woman and I feel bad for her as she starts to shake.

“Someone named Mikael is here to see you,” The girl pretty much whimpers and I let in a deep breath at the mention of the asshole Original. 

My eyes go wide in fear as I look at Klaus waiting for his reaction. I expect to see fear on his face, but instead, he almost seems excited.

“Great. Wouldn’t want to leave him waiting then. Would we?”

The woman walks away and Klaus buttons up his suit jacket.

“Mikael’s here?”

My question quickly gains Klaus’ attention as he looks at me oddly.

“Isn’t this what you and your little friends planned?”

At his accusation, I glare at him, “You don’t know this about me Klaus, or actually anything about me, but let me make one thing clear. I will never and have never taken part in helping some abusive asshole. So I don’t know what you think my friends are planning, but I had no part in any of it.”

Klaus’ gaze softens for a moment and changes into an unreadable expression. Certainly, one I’ve never seen on him before. I find myself freezing when he reaches his hand up. I hold in a breath waiting for him to rip off my head for bitching at him but frown when all he does is grab a stray hair of mine and place it behind my ear. His touch lingers on my hair for a moment before he practically jumps away from me. 

“I believe you,” He says to me and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Klaus just lets out a sigh and turns away down the hall. He doesn’t get far because he turns around and his eyes go back to my dress.

“Did I tell you how you look tonight?”

I raise an eyebrow and place a hand on my hip, “I’m excited to hear whatever insult you have for me.”

Klaus just smirks, “Damning. You look damning Y/n Y/l/n.”

I stand there speechless as Klaus gives me one last look before he exits the hallway. 

“Nerd! There you are,” Theo jumps into my view, shocking me. He narrows his eyes at me.

“Are you having an allergic reaction?”

I frown and shake my head, “No? Why would you ask that?”

Theo raises his hand and then puts it in my face, “Cause your entire face is like REALLY fucking red.”

My eyes widen and I clear my throat, “I’m fine.’’

Theo thankfully just shrugs his shoulders and smiles, “Great! Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

[forever-rogue]

It's a Lifestyle

AN | Hello, its me! Back from the dead for my favorite time of the year. It's just a sweet little scene with Eddie and his angel and their love of Halloween! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie looked forward to coming home every day. So much. Like so much. 

Because he always knew that you'd be there, excited to see him, even if it hadn't been that long since you'd last seen each other.

He parked his truck in the driveway of the small house that now belonged to the two of you.

A very own home for you both.

He noted your car in the driveway as well, but when he came inside the house, you weren't there to greet him. He took off his boots and set them by the door, reaching down to pet Pickles as she wound herself around his legs. The small black cat purred loudly before giving him one final rub and heading over to the window to sit on the ledge and stare outside. People and animal watching had become a favorite pastime of hers.

"Angel?” he called out, wondering where you had managed to disappear too. He poked around downstairs but found nothing but the delicious smell of fresh brownies. It was like you'd known that he had been craving them. You definitely made the best brownies…not that he was biased or anything.

When you didn't answer him, he climbed up the stairs, assuming you were in the bedroom or office or…somewhere. Hopefully.

As he got to the top of the stairs, the floor squeaked slightly. That alone was enough to alert you to his presence, “Eddie?”

He followed the sound of your voice down the hall and around the corner, finding the stairs to the attic pulled down, “its just me. What're you doing up there?”

“Hi my love,” your pretty face appeared and made him smile, “I'm just going through some boxes to find the Halloween Decorations! I know I have some from the years past-”

“It's not even September yet,” Eddie raised an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face. He was trying not to laugh, but it was all in good fun.

“Halloween is a year round tradition, Edward!” You beckoned for him to come up the stairs, “its not my fault that my year round decor just happens to be Halloween appropriate. Halloween is a lifestyle.”

“I thought it was a holiday?” He started to make the short climb, quickly standing up next to you. He gently took your face in his hands, beaming at you.

“It's a lifestyle,” you repeated, putting your hands on his forearms, smiling back at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he leaned and kissed you softly, pulling away much sooner than you would have liked, but you knew you'd get plenty more later, “Halloween being a lifestyle choice makes sense considering your skull collection.”

“It is an impressive skull collection,” you mused before kissing him again. When he had first met you he was surprised to find that you collected all sorts of different replica skulls. You didn't give off the vibe immediately but he found that they did suit you, “wanna help me decorate, handsome?”

“For you? Anything,” he agreed, heart swelling at the pure joy on your face, “you want to decorate now? We'll decorate now.”

“And maybe go shopping for some new decorations?”

“Sure baby,” he promised, “you never decorated our old apartment much.”

“It was small,” you shrugged softly, “and that only felt like a home because of you. But this is our home now, one we worked hard for. And there's no one else I'd rather be here with. Now we have the freedom and ability to make it our own, however we want.”

“Yeah,” fondness colored his voice as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I love you, you know?”

“I love you,” you threw your arms around him and gave him a cuddly, tender embrace, “now, my love, will you help me bring the boxes downstairs?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed dramatically before immediately getting ready to bring everything down the ladder. You could have asked him for the moon and stars and would have gotten them for you, “I hope you know I'm only being nice because you made brownies.”

“I knew I made them for a reason,” you grinned at him, “you're not a hard sell, Eddie Munson.”

“You're lucky I love you!”

“I love you lots and lots,” you promised, moving the first box towards him so he could bring it down, “and then some!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I'm not sure about this,” Eddie frowned at the coffee currently nestled in your hand, eyebrows almost disappearing into his dark curls, “why do you want a drink that tastes like pumpkin?”

He was, meanwhile and as usual, holding a cup of hot, black coffee. You grinned and shrugged your shoulders before talking a long sip, “because it's delicious and the right amount of sweet and spicy. Besides, it doesn't taste like pumpkin, it's the spices. Try it.”

“What if I die?” He scoffed dramatically before taking the cup of your hand taking a tentative sip. You watched his face go through several emotions before he finally swallowed.

“It's good, huh?” You knew him well enough by now to know when he liked something. He mumbled something under his breath before handing the coffee back to you, “and you didn't die.”

“It's…acceptable,” he tried to play it off but you could see him struggle to hold his laugh back. He quickly grabbed it again and took another sip, “I wouldn't try it again.”

“Whatever,” you kissed his cheek before taking your coffee back and looping your arm through his, walking him in the direction of the home goods store you'd dragged him to. Not that he was really complaining - he loved Halloween too after all, “you don't have to admit I'm right.”

“You wish,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, eyes widening when he noticed all the Halloween items in the shop’s window display, “wow. That's so much Halloween…and it's still so early in the season.”

“That's how it is nowadays,” you shrugged, “but it's to my advantage!”

“What exactly is that you're looking for?”

You moved to step in front of him, looking ridiculously cute in your sweater and scarf and boots, all bundled up to stay warm, “we are looking for whatever speaks to us. You gotta feel it in your gut.”

He couldn't help but laugh as you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his, “whatever you say, angel.”

“We don't have to do this,” you whispered softly, “if you don't want to, I don't want to make you do this, or to make you feel obligated-”

“I want to do this,” he promised, “I love spending time with you, whatever we do.”

“Me too,” you relaxed, smiling shyly at your boyfriend. You reached over and tucked a rogue curl that had escaped from his bun behind his ear, “c'mon on then! Oh - you get to pick what we do next. Wanna go to Guitar Center maybe?”

His eyes lit up as he nodded. He knew that you weren't a music nerd like him, but you always listened intently when he spoke about it, often getting very passionate. You always supported him and his music and he couldn't ask for more.

 “Hell yeah.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That afternoon you spent several hours walking around and looking for the perfect Halloween and fall decor for the house. It was, admittedly, a lot more fun than Eddie could have imagined.

Plus, the two of you had gone to Guitar Center afterwards. Which hadn't hurt. You always felt like you were lost when Eddie got really into talking about music, but you loved how passionate he was about music…everything really.

The only thing that was left to do was to get pumpkins for the front porch and maybe some pie. But that you wanted to do closer to actual Halloween so the pumpkins wouldn't rot. Although Eddie had insisted that would look metal as fuck. 

The two of you had decided to make it a date day and by the time the two of you were heading home it was later into the evening.  Eddie was driving your car, one hand on the wheel and the other one was holding yours.

Music was playing quietly as the two of you talked about anything and everything that crossed your mind. After a while, a content silence fell over the two of you as you stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“What're you thinking about, angel?” He quickly turned his head to look at you, his face illuminated by the passing street lights.

“Nothing,” you felt your cheeks warm up, and keep your eyes turned from his. he squeezed your hand and you knew better than to think he would leave it alone. That wasn't his style at all. You turned your head to face him, squinting your eyes before sighing, “Alright, its something. But it's silly and you're going to laugh.”

“I wouldn't laugh,” he insisted as you raised an eyebrow at him, “fine, I won't laugh unless it's very laugh worthy.”

“You're such an ass,” but you were laughing now, the sound full of adoration and affection, “I was just thinking about how much I love this.”

“This?”

“Us,” you watched a smile tug up the corners of his mouth, “I love being with you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he turned the street to your house, effortlessly pulling into the driveway and parking the car. You unbuckled your seat belt and turned to him, looking at him sweetly, “what? You're looking at me all funny.”

“I'm not looking at you funny,” you leaned over the center console and traced your fingers gently along his jaw, “I just really love you.”

“And…? I know there's something else you're not saying,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted your face up towards him, “out with it angel.”

“It's just that,” you bit your lip, sucking in a slow breath, “I can't wait to marry you one day. I mean. I know this is all real, that what we have is real. But I also can't wait to call you my husband one day. It's like an added little bonus.”

“Oh,” his pale cheeks turned bright pink as he tried to control his excitement. At first you were worried that he wasn't going to share the same sentiment but any worry that popped up quickly disappeared, “I can't wait for that either. I can't wait to call you my wife one day.”

“And you'll be my husband,” you whispered as he nodded eagerly, “you want to marry me too?”

“Of course I do,” he admitted shyly, “and I'm going to propose. You'll just have to wait and see when that is. It'll happen but you'll never know when.”

“Until it happens…”

“Until it happens,” he agreed. Eddie held out his hands and motioned for you to shuffle over the center console, “c'mere.”

“We're in the car!”

“Don't care,” he insisted, helping you over and onto his lap, “just wanna be close to you.”

“Even better,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to your lips so you could kiss him. He sighed softly against your lips, his warm and sweet smell overwhelming you in the best ways possible, “I love you so much, Eddie. Thank you for always dealing with me and my shenanigans.”

“I've never dealing with you,” he nudged his nose against yours, “I love every bit of you. Plus I also enjoy all of your so called shenanigans. We just have…adventures. Silly ones, but good ones. and I happen to love Halloween as much as you. It's a win-win for me.”

“For both of us,” you pressed your forehead against his, “do you wanna go inside and put up some of the stuff we got?”

“Yes,” he agreed eagerly, “but I want to enjoy some more of you first.”

“What…oh,” you grinned, “I would very much like that.”

“Let's go then,” he opened the door and gently helped you out of the car, “no time to waste, m'lady.”

“You're such a dork!”

“So are you,” he countered, “but I love you regardless.”

“And I love you, Eddie."

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[cherriegyuu]

so high school | kmg | part 2

pairing: hockey player mingyu x f!reader  genre: smut (in later part), fluff, a bit of angst, bad attempt at comedy word count: 7.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think playlist: click here warnings: reader is mentioned to have long hair, mentions of food and alcohol please, remember to comment and reblog, it does mean the world to me and i would love to know your opnions.

< part one >

It had taken you almost two entire weeks to work up the courage to talk to Mingyu again. He had been nice enough not to contact you first. No texts, no calls, and the two times you had bumped into him on campus — aka seen him across the street — he had nodded in greeting, but made no attempt to get closer.

You hated it, admittedly, but you had missed his presence. The annoying texts at inappropriate times, the way he would wave his arm above his head every time he saw you, like he was a kid seeing a friend after a long vacation.

You had no idea how to talk to him. You couldn’t just say haha, I’m sorry I didn’t remember you, even though I saw you every day for two years, you know how it is, right? without sounding like a complete and utter lunatic. And you didn’t even need Jeonghan to pull out his school photo album, which he absolutely did, to rub in your face how completely forgetful you were. The moment Mingyu said the words “she doesn’t remember me”, laughing a little, a somewhat embarrassed by the situation, it was as if the movie of your adolescence suddenly flashed through your eyes.

Every time you had seen him leave the gym, following Jeonghan and Seungcheol closely. At first, he was quiet, just observing everything and later talking to your brother only, and then he was laughing and making jokes along with everyone else. He was obviously loved by his teammates. You remember finding him handsome back then when he was much younger and wore clothes chosen by his mother. You never talked, it’s true, you didn’t even know his name, but you always knew who he was.

How you went from that moment to years later not remembering him, you didn’t know. That was a big mystery, and you had no idea how to answer.

You saw Mingyu leaving the building next to a girl. He smiled and gestured as he talked, clearly excited about the subject at hand. The girl next to him smiled broadly, her body leaning closer to his, despite the clear space between the two of them. She looked at Mingyu as if he had nailed the stars to the sky, as if he was the only reason the sun shone every morning.

You thought about giving up. You were going to interrupt something and you didn't want that, didn't want to draw any kind of attention to yourself, anything more than necessary.

And then Mingyu looked straight ahead, right in your direction. You closed your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to do exactly what you had planned to do from the beginning. Slowly, you raised your right hand in front of your body, at the height of your stomach, and waved. It was a quick and shy movement that you almost didn't want to do.

The smile on Mingyu's face grew huge as if he had seen something that had truly made him happy. He held his arm over his head, swinging it from side to side like a child; you couldn't stop a small smile from spreading across your lips, no matter how hard you tried. 

Mingyu strode across the lawn, the girl he was talking to was left behind, forgotten, calling out his name loudly, but he didn't look back once. She glared at you and you knew, at that very moment, that if you didn't have a single enemy in your life, you had just made one. 

He stopped in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face. It took everything you had to do not to stare at his arms or to keep smiling. 

"Look, who's talking to me, in public" the teasing was clear in his voice. 

"Mingyu" his name came out of your mouth like a warning. 

Even though your tone didn't seem friendly, Mingyu smiled as if having heard a joke. It was almost a losing battle, not smiling while looking at him. You wondered exactly how things had changed, how one day you said "I don’t want to be seen with athletes in public places" to suddenly "talking to an athlete in public and still smiling".

“Sorry.” 

Although he was apologizing, you knew that there wasn’t a single bone, or cell, in Mingyu’s body that felt sorry while he was teasing you.

“I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t remember you.”

That’s why you had looked for him, why you had put all your pride aside and sent a message to Seokmin, asking — in the most delicate and unsuspicious way you could imagine — what Mingyu’s last class of the day was. When he seemed too excited about the whole situation, you didn’t even know that someone could be so excited through message, you were forced to ask him not to tell Mingyu that you had contacted him, because you still didn’t know if you would meet him because you had another appointment at almost the same time and might be late. It was a lie, there was nothing, but you didn’t know if you could trust Seokmin to simply not tell him. 

“It’s okay, I’m sure I don’t remember someone I’ve seen every day for years either.”

You smiled, unable to control it this time, and Mingyu smiled along with you as he took another step closer to you. You knew he was too close, rumors would start spreading around campus any second. You knew you should take a step back, and put more space between you two, you knew you should stop smiling like a teenager. But you just couldn’t force yourself to do anything but stand there. 

“You’re making me feel even worse.” 

“Seriously, it’s okay. I’m not going to use it to blackmail you or anything like that.” 

You wanted to ask him what he could blackmail you with, but that was too close to the line of flirting, and that was an imaginary line you refused to cross with him — even though most of the ones you had set had already been crossed, one by one. 

“Thank you,” was all you allowed yourself to say. 

He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. 

“Now that you know you’ve been unfair to me, for years I might add, and I’ve been benevolent enough to forgive your mistake, could you please stop making my life difficult and let me do the assignment with you, without me having to beg?” 

You threw your head back, laughing out loud. You wanted to tease him, tell him that he was already begging and pleading, but again, too close to flirting. 

“Benevolent? Ah, a man’s ego.” was all you allowed yourself to say as you rolled your eyes at him. 

Mingyu smiled, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours. 

“Come on, cut me some slack” 

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes again. 

“Let’s coordinate our free time and meet up again.” 

“Great.”

“A little green bird told me,” you rolled your eyes before Kira could even continue the sentence, “that you were caught with a certain hockey player.”

“Oh, for the love of God.”

Kira had hooked her arm through yours, her voice cheerful. If voices could have shape and were visible to the naked eye, Kira’s would definitely be bouncing around you. She was almost doing it herself.

You knew someone would have seen you talking, you knew someone saw it and wasn’t happy about it at all, you were sure it was only a matter of time until people were talking about it. You just didn’t think it would be so fast. It had barely been five minutes since you had said goodbye to Mingyu, you knew that that gossip was an inherent part of student life, but the quality and speed were impressive.

“Oh, come on! Tell me what you two talked about, I want to know everything, down to the smallest detail.”

Your friend’s voice was soft, almost like a child whining next to you. Kira knew how much you hated it, more than that, she knew that you would tell her everything, every word, just so that she would finally stop making that pitiful face and that shrilling and completely irritating voice.

“We talked about what I talked about with you,” you sighed, “I apologized for not remembering him, he was annoying and in the end we agreed that I wouldn’t stop him from doing the assignment with me.”

“The little green bird also told me that you were smiling and that you were even blushing while you were talking to him.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. It was true that you had smiled while you were talking to him, you had given up on playing tough. But you were sure that you hadn’t blushed or embarrassed.

“That little bird of yours is wrong. I smiled, yes, but the rest I didn’t do”

“So you didn’t make out in the middle of campus? You didn’t laugh out loud, the kind that makes you throw your head back and close your eyes?”

You simply stared at her, standing in the same place, refusing to move an inch. The student's gossip was fast, impressive, and deceitful.

“Some guy saw you guys and told everyone about it. I was walking by and heard it. They weren’t exactly talking quietly.”

You nodded and started to walk again. You didn’t have anywhere to go, but you didn’t want to stay either. Even if it wasn’t true, you felt like everyone was staring right at you, like you were a circus attraction in the center of the red and white tent.

“Nothing happened. We talked, I smiled, he said something funny and I laughed. That was it.”

It was a little strange that everyone was at your house at the same time. By everyone, you mean Mingyu and Seokmin, who were there to continue the project, and Jeonghan and Seungcheol, the first because it was his house and the second for god knows what — your best bet was that he had come there to see Mingyu, but he could also simply have wanted to see you embarrassed, it was almost like it was his and Jeonghan's favorite pastime.

You hadn't bothered to tell Jeonghan that the two of them were going home with you after class, you were sure that if you had told him and asked him not to be there, he would simply ignore your request. Besides, the rabbit was out of the hat already, there was nothing left to hide. Seungcheol being there was a surprise, but Mingyu knew him too and you figured he had told Seokmin everything.

Seokmin's behavior was surprising. He had greeted Jeonghan and Seungcheol when he came in, chatted with them for a bit, and then sat down at the table with you. You couldn’t help but wonder if Mingyu had scolded him and just how harsh he had been — though you didn’t think Mingyu and harsh were words that went together.

“Sorry about the other day,” Seokmin said. “I was just surprised.”

You shook your head. You had thought a lot about that day, about how you would have reacted in a very similar way if you had run into someone you were a fan of like that, at someone’s house from college. You had been taken by surprise, and that was one of the things you hated the most. You liked to have everything under control, to have all the cards in your hands, to know all the information before actually getting into a situation. You had made a bet by taking Mingyu and Seokmin home, and you lost. That had nothing to do with Seokmin.

“If I were his fan, I would have reacted the same way,” you assured him, not liking that he had become so quiet and introverted. “And look, they love the attention, so you can go as crazy as you want, you have my approval. And if they complain, you can talk to me.”

Seokmin laughed and turned his attention back to the book open in front of him, reading carefully and taking notes in the notebook next to it.

It wasn’t long before Mingyu entered the room too, still laughing a little at whatever he had talked to Jeonghan and Seungcheol about. He seemed distracted as he sat down and took his cell phone out of his pocket, placing it on the table, face down after checking the notifications.

It was impossible not to think about the conversation you had with Kira days ago, the fact that suddenly the entire college believed that you had hooked up because you had only talked for a few minutes. Could it have been gossip that had spread uncontrollably and thus taken on traits that had nothing to do with reality, or had Mingyu, in all his stereotype of dumb athlete and famous for being a womanizer, spread lies around, bragging about something that hadn't happened?

You hoped it wasn't the second option, not when hating someone for simply existing was just so much work, not when you had started to think he was a cool guy, not when every time you got a message from him you felt like an excited teenager seeing signs where there was supposed to be only a black screen.

"There's something I want to know," the voice came from the living room, distant at first, but getting closer with each syllable.

You were sure that this sudden approach from Seungcheol couldn't bring anything good. Especially when he had a cocky smile on his lips, the kind that you knew, just by looking at him, that he was not going to do anything worth of noticing and at any second someone was going to be embarrassed. And, in this case, you were sure that someone would be you.

Jeonghan was right behind him, his eyes showing that he didn’t know what it was about, but seemingly enjoying the whole situation.

“Seungcheol,” his name came out of your lips in a mix of warning and plea.

“When we were in school, you,” he stopped behind Mingyu, his hands on the younger’s shoulders as he leaned forward, “had the biggest crush on our dear youngest Yoon”

You closed your eyes and wished that someone, anything, would hit Seungcheol in the head with all its strength, to the point he would faint and no longer be able to open his mouth to say a bunch of nonsense.

You turned to Jeonghan, who seemed confused by the whole situation — having been completely taken by surprise by Seungcheol's revelations. His eyes went from you, to Mingyu, to Seungcheol, and back to Mingyu.

Mingyu was pale as if he had just seen a ghost, his eyes wide and his hands frozen in front of his body. The pen that was spinning between his fingers had rolled across the table and stopped in front of Seokmin, who was looking at the situation in complete shock.

“Do you still have a crush on her or is that a thing of the past?”

“Oh for the love of god, Seungcheol, shut up.”

Even Jeonghan, who loved a joke, a tease to the very last second, was uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't know where to put his hands or who to look at. Mingyu seemed to want to sink into his chair. Seokmin had his chin glued to his chest, his eyes completely focused on the open book.

“Dude”

Jeonghan slapped Seungcheol on the head, who was just laughing at the situation as if everything was a big joke to him and probably it really was. The only problem was that no one was laughing with him.

“That's a valid question! I'm sure you're curious too”

You pushed the chair you were sitting in back hard, the friction of the metal on the floor probably leaving marks that would be there forever.

“Seriously, what's your problem?”

You grabbed the hood of Seungcheol's coat and pulled him out of the room, while he complained and made a fuss.

“You're strangling me!”

You rolled your eyes.

“At least you'll stop talking shit”

You stopped only when you were close to the door and could reach the doorknob with your free hand.

“It’s just a joke!” he tried to defend himself.

“You don’t have the right to come to my house and embarrass my friends, so if you don’t know how to behave, you can leave.”

You turned your back to him for a second, just long enough to grab his bag from the couch and throw it into his arms.

“You can’t kick me out, it’s not even your house.”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Jeonghan?” you said without turning to look at your brother, your eyes never leaving Seungcheol.

“It’s her house, yeah.”

You raised your eyesbrows at him, mimicking him.

“See? Great, you can go now.”

Needless to say, the rest of the night had been pretty close to a funeral. Jeonghan had holed up in his room and you suspected he was either asleep or dead, because he hadn't made a single sound and hadn't come out for anything.

Mingyu didn't even dare to look at you, much less talk with you. A night that was already embarrassing enough because you still had college rumors swimming around in your brain had gotten even worse because, at some point during the night, Seungcheol had decided, in a not-so-casual way, to drop the bomb that Mingyu had a crush on you.

And no matter how much you thought about it, how many ways you tried to analyze and remember those years, it didn't make sense.

You were sure you had never spoken to Mingyu, that you hadn't spoken directly to him before. The first time you talked was a few weeks before, in college. Even if you didn't remember him, you were certain you hadn't of it. You always made a point of staying away from Jeonghan's teammates, your brother made a point of keeping them away too.

That old story, when one doesn't want to, two don't fight. And in this case, neither you nor Jeonghan had any interest in you getting closer to his teammates.

In your head, it didn't make sense. Seungcheol was just talking a bunch of nonsense because he could, because he knew you never had the urge to argue with him. With Jeonghan? Silly arguments were normal, you sent your brother to hell as easily as you fell asleep after a long day. But not with Seungcheol, because you knew he loved the fights, he had fun, you always chose to just let him talk until he got tired. It was one thing to tease you and another one, entirely too different, to do it with your friends.

Logically, you knew that at some point in the past Mingyu had been friends with him too, but you also knew that that friendship had died the moment Seungcheol graduated from school.

Seokmin was the only one who dared to say something, completely focused on the assignment, but it was obvious that he was trying to break the ice of the situation. Trying and failing.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” Seokmin said as soon as he heard the sound of a door coming down the hallway and a second later Jeonghan walked towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s kinda late” Mingyu agreed and stood up.

There was no way to disagree with them, it was late and the mood had gone down the drain. Prolonging the situation would almost be a form of torture for the three of you.

“Sorry about Seungcheol”

You didn’t know what to do with your hands. You wished you had pockets so you could have somewhere to hide them, but the leggings and shirt you were wearing didn’t provide any hiding spots.

“It’s okay, really” Mingyu assured you “He’s always been like this”

Seokmin went into the living room, but you and Mingyu remained standing there, barely breathing. You wanted to ask if it was true, if he really had a crush on you, or if Seungcheol was just trying to annoy someone and chose Mingyu. You also didn't understand what he had said, about Seungcheol “always being like this”. Did he mean annoying or someone who teased his friends with embarrassing secrets? Either answer would be correct but you wanted to hear it from him.

You wanted to ask, but you didn't have the courage. If it was true, it was bad and if it was a lie, it was worse. If it was true, you would feel even worse for not remembering him right away. If it was a lie, it would be bad you had liked to hear, when you knew you shouldn't care.

“I don't know if it's a good time,” he said, “but there's a game on Friday. You could go and take Kira with you.”

You were shaking your head before he could even finish speaking.

“It can’t, I already have a thing already” 

“Oh, okay” he nodded and turned to the living room. “Bye, Jeonghan.” 

Your brother appeared in the living room, putting his phone in his pocket, but looking like he had heard the entire conversation between you and Mingyu. 

“Bye.” 

You closed the door when you saw Mingyu and Seokmin enter the elevator. You were ready to hide in your room and try, even if it was impossible, to understand what had happened that night, but of course, Jeonghan had other plans. He was leaning against the wall in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, an inquisitive look on his face. 

“Don’t start,” you warned. 

Everything that had happened, not only that night but also during the week, had simply been too much for you. You had just gotten used to the idea of ​​having Mingyu around, you had started to like having him around. But then everything happened so fast. A laugh on the sidewalk had become an unbridled make-out, a smile a declaration of love. 

The rumors had gotten worse since that first day. Kira talked about them carefully, mainly because she knew you didn't want to be associated with athletes in any way, but she never failed to tell you anything about what was going on. That's only you begged her to tell you, otherwise it would be like in those cliché movies, the girl walking down the hallway and discovering all the rumors that were going around about her because she overheard someone's conversation. 

And it wasn't like you hadn't gotten stares in the hallways, but the truth is that you had gotten used to them when you were still a teenager. Getting into that same skin of an apathetic, uncaring person was pretty easy. 

"Why didn't you accept going to his game? You like it. It would have been fun” 

And on top of that, as the cherry on the cake, because of course life couldn't just make things a little easier for you, there was that whole shit show from a few hours before. Even though you hated the situation with a passion, you knew there was some truth to it. At that moment, you felt, once again, as if you were still 15 years old, sitting in the living room at home, enduring whatever nonsense Seungcheol decided to say.

Seungcheol was the kind of guy who made jokes out of real situations. In that sense, he was the complete opposite of Jeonghan. Your brother came up with impossible situations, bordering on insanity, and spoke about them with such conviction that you felt compelled to believe him. Seungcheol, on the other hand, took small facts and distorted them, or just exaggerated them in some way.

At that moment, sitting at that table, watching Mingyu's face become completely devoid of any color, you knew it was true. Maybe, yes, an exaggerated version of the truth, but a truth nonetheless.

“Jeonghan, it's just… I can’t”

You walked past him. That scene was too familiar and despite the theme of the conversation being different, you didn't want to have to go through the same situation again.

“Because of me?”

“Because of him.”

You hated seeing that look on Jeonghan’s face like he blamed himself for everything that was wrong with you. Daddy issues? Mommy issues? Apparently, you had brother issues.

“You know, one day I hope you stop caring so much about what people think, because you’re barely living your life right now, hoping that someone, someday, won’t care.”

Jeonghan's words floated through your mind for days. You found yourself standing in the middle of the campus several times, analyzing the people who were walking from one side to the other, some in a hurry, others talking to each other, many too distracted with phones in their hands to pay attention to what was happening around them. 

None of them, no matter how much part of your brain said otherwise, seemed to care about you. 

Even though you had been the main topic of conversation for a few days, everything changed when someone on the football team got drunk enough to kneel on a bar table crying, declaring his undying love to a girlfriend from elementary school. You had hidden yourself for so long, away from everything that you considered to be a problem, that you had forgotten how things worked. 

No one really cared — no one might be a little too much to say, but very few people looked at you and cared about what was happening. It was much easier to understand the situation than to start acting differently, but you hoped it was a start, however small it was. 

Your phone started to vibrate in your hand, a second later the screen lit up, and the word mom flashed on the screen. You knew what she wanted. You had been avoiding her calls and messages for a couple days. But you knew you couldn't pretend you were in class anymore, come up with some lame excuse to ignore her. She had even called Jeonghan and asked, or rather ordered, him to tell you to call her. You had avoided it as much as possible.

“Hi, mom”

“Ah, you finally remembered you have a mom”

You could imagine the exact scene: your mother walking back and forth, her hair tied into a low ponytail, gesturing before dropping her hand and slapping her thigh. You couldn't help but smile when you heard the clear sound of footsteps, followed by a slap.

“Sorry, I've been busy. You know how it is.”

“I can always talk to your brother just fine”

You knew she didn’t mean anything, you knew it wasn’t a comparison — at least not a conscious one — but the sentence was received with a sting anyway.

“That’s because Jeonghan has a schedule for literally everything. I study until I nearly blackout or my brain turns to pudding, which ever comes first.”

You walked to nearest bench and sat down with a sigh.

“Have you been sleeping? Eating enough? You and your brother are terrible cooks, and I know he eats at the club most of the time, but what about you? I can come by every week and bring you food, it’s not a problem.”

She kept talking nonstop, you were sure she was already making a list of everything she needed to make enough food for a week. 

“Mom!” you said loudly, loud enough for the girl next to you, who had headphones on, to look at you. You smiled awkwardly, lowering your head a little in apology. “Mom, we’re fine. We learned how to cook enough to survive.”

“Noodles are not a real meal.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We have vegetables, rice, and meat at home, Mom. I went shopping yesterday,” you said before she could say anything.

“One of these days I’ll show up and surprise you.”

“And on that day, you’ll find the fridge full and food ready,” you said jokingly.

You were silent for a few seconds, until she spoke again, this time her tone much more cautious.

“I know you don’t like it very much, that you’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than participating in this, but just this year, couldn’t you consider going to the hospital gala? I know it’s the middle of the semester, that you have a lot of things to do, that you’re looking for an internship, but it’s just one night and…”

Even with all the differences you had with your mother, you didn’t like seeing — in this case, hearing — her begging for anything, much less for your presence at an event that you knew was important to the family. Ever since you started refusing to go to it, your mother never forced you to go. She insisted a little on the first year and asked if you hadn’t changed your mind at the last minute. But never like that. For whatever reason, she wanted you at the party, and by extension, you knew your father did too.

“I’ll go, Mom. I’m going to buy a dress tomorrow.”

Despite the distance, you knew your mother’s breath had caught in her throat, that she was trying her best to control herself. She liked parties and glamor and she liked it even more when you attended. And you liked it too, until… until you decided to avoid it.

You had to start somewhere, this whole thing of not caring what people thought. It was best to start somewhere at least somewhat familiar, right?

“I… set… I have…” she cleared her throat and began again “I made hair and makeup appointments for me. You want me to schedule it for you too?”

Her voice was almost shaking, making you feel even worse. Had you alienated yourself from mother to the point where she was shaking just because you agreed to go to a party?

“Could you make an appointment for a manicure too? I need to get my nails done.”

He walked into the room, adjusting his tie around his neck, laughing at whatever his sister had said, hating the feeling of being suffocated. He wanted, almost desperately, to take off the damn tie, but he knew better than to. His sister would laugh at the situation, but his parents, especially his father, would not be happy about it. It's not like he disliked the event itself, but he hated having to pretend. Pretending that he and his parents got along well and that the smiles they gave when someone complimented Mingyu were genuine. 

It was all completely and utterly fake. 

The truth was that Mingyu barely spoke to his parents. He didn't know when was the last time he had talked to them, just to talk. He didn't know what it was like to ask if everything was okay just because he cared. He didn't know what it was like to send a picture of a place, or anything, to his mom because he could, because he wanted to like he always saw Seokmin do. 

He always tried his best to keep his distance. Maybe being so far away from his parents wouldn't make him feel like a complete failure every time he thought about them. Logically, he knew that wasn't the case, he knew he wasn't a failure, but he was a disappointment to his parents. So he kept his distance, it was easier.

He still attended events like that to keep up appearances, that was an important thing to them. Not having received support, affection, or love from his parents since he was 17? Insignificant compared to the need to maintain the idea of ​​a united and happy family in front of their friends.

In the end, he didn't mind going to events like that, supposedly for charity. He liked seeing his sister and deep down he liked seeing his parents' friends praising him and saying how amazing it was that he had a career completely independent of his parents and even without their help.

Mingyu liked to think that his father had opened up about not having helped him at all in an attempt to seem tough and smarter than his son, but that only made him seem bitter every time his career as an athlete was the subject of conversation. Besides, he could see his school friends again. So it was a win-win situation: his parents kept up appearances and he had fun reminiscing about his school days as if it had been 20 years instead of just 3.

“If you keep pulling that tie, it’ll rip,” his sister said, laughing as she forced Mingyu’s hand down.

“It’s suffocating”

“Oh, you poor baby,” she pouted mockingly at Mingyu.

Mingyu shook his head and turned to the rest of the room, looking for a familiar face. He quickly found Jeonghan and Seungcheol but decided not to approach them as he normally would. If it had been last year’s party, Mingyu would have talked to them both, but this time he chose to stay in the same place.

That night at Jeonghan’s house still left a bitter taste in Mingyu’s mouth. He had a plan, which might not have worked — that probably wouldn’t have worked — but if one day you found out about his teenage crush, Mingyu wanted you to find out by him, and not through some guy who had brought it up for no reason. He wanted to ask you out, to go little by little until you felt comfortable with him. But Seungcheol did him the huge favor of throwing everything out the window for a joke.

It’s like that old saying: I lose the friend, but I don’t lose the joke. And Mingyu wasn’t his friend, not now or back in school, so truthfully there was no loss for Seungcheol.

And then he saw you.

For a second he thought it was a mirage. It had been years since you had last been to that kind of event. Your last one was Mingyu’s first. He thought he was imagining things, that he was so crazy wanting to talk to you that he had started to imagine you in places you weren’t.

He watched as you walked right past Seungcheol, even when he tried to talk to you and stopped next to Jeonghan. Your expression was serious, a little uncomfortable, but beautiful. 

The strapless dress slid down your body, almost as if it had been molded to your curves perfectly, tailored just for you. Your hair was loose over your back, just two strands framing your face. And your lips... lips painted in the sexiest shade of red he had ever seen.

Forget the little crush he had back in high school, this didn't even compare. It was a goddamn waterfall. Mingyu felt like he was standing next to one too with the way his heart was beating so loudly and deafening in his ears. 

It was official, he was lost. He didn't know what to do. It was the first time he had felt this nervous in your presence. Before, it had been like butterflies flying around in his stomach, that kind of fun anxiety, the one that makes one giddy and excited. 

He tugged at his tie again and grabbed a glass from the tray of a waiter who passed by. He didn't know what it was and also he didn't care, he needed something to wet his throat. The liquid went down bitterly, burning. The surprise made him have a small coughing fit.

Suddenly it was as if all eyes had turned to him, including yours. You smiled slowly as Minseo patted Mingyu on the back, trying to help, but making the situation even worse.

You quickly turned to Jeonghan, saying something for a second before walking towards Mingyu. With each step you took, he felt like his heart was beating faster and faster, to the point of almost exploding in his chest.

Over your shoulder, he saw Jeonghan smile and give him a thumbs up.

"Go for a walk," he said to his sister, without taking his eyes off you.

Did he say a waterfall? Forget it, it was more like an entire ocean.

Unconsciously, you smoothed your dress at least twice as you walked towards Mingyu. In a place full of so many theoretically important people, much more important than the two of you, it was very easy to go to him. Taking all those steps wasn't scary at all.

The feeling was completely different from that one time you had talked in college. That day, you had waited for him, your fingers trembling a little because you were in a place where anyone could see you. However, at that moment, you didn't feel any kind of nervousness.

Maybe, there was some nervousness, but the good kind. When you're excited to do something, the kind that you were sure would bring good things. You liked to think that the good thing at the moment was Mingyu.

"You look, wow... stunning."

He smiled and it was as if the breath had been taken from you, as if for a whole second your lungs forgot their purpose, forgot that they were supposed to push air into your body.

“Look at you, using pretty words,” you somehow found your voice again.

You tried your best to hide the nervousness you felt, the slight tremor in your voice. You didn’t know why you were feeling that way. You had seen Mingyu so many times, before and after you found out who he was. You had seen him in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt walking around campus; you were at the bar when he walked in wearing an all-denim look and glasses on the back of his head — you remembered finding that way of wearing glasses ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it made sense on him —, you had seen him walking around with his cap on backward.

You had always made a point of staying as far away from him and the circle he frequented as possible, but you could never deny that he was gorgeous. But there, in that moment, in that a black suit, his tie a little crooked and the most magnificent smile you had ever seen, you thought that maybe you didn’t need to force yourself to be away from him all the time.

“Just to impress a beautiful woman.”

You smiled, even though you tried to contain yourself, pressing your lips together. But you knew it was useless. There wasn't a single cell in your body that didn't like the attention you were getting, that didn't like his compliments.

“You haven't been to one of these in years.”

You nodded and looked over your shoulder. Your mother was chatting animatedly with a colleague, her eyes shining as she held out her hand and a second later your father was beside her.

You had all these differences with your parents, things that you disliked about them, and that made you keep your distance from them, but the truth is that you loved them.

When you arrived at your parent's house to get ready earlier that day, your dress in the bag, your backpack almost falling off your shoulders, it was as if you had been transported to your house 8 years before. But it was also different.

You half expected some comment, anything, no matter how small, that could be a comparison with Jeonghan — how even though he was completely busy with work if he didn't have a game or any specific schedule, he would always go to events, while you did everything to avoid it. But the comment never came.

Your mother sat by your side all day, asking you questions about yourself, about college, about the internship. She never mentioned Jeonghan, and when you tried to mention him, the only answer you got was “I don’t want to know about your brother, I want to know about you.” 

You wanted to cry when you heard those words. It was the kind of thing you laways wanted to hear from her. The confirmation that you didn’t need to be compared to Jeonghan, that it was okay not to live in his shadow all the time. 

“Do you come every year?” 

“Yeah, my mother and sister would forgive me if I missed it.” 

You nodded with a low noise in the back of your throat and took a step forward, your body a little too close to Mingyu’s, your fingers closing around his tie and pulling it slightly to the side until it was aligned with the buttons of his shirt. 

You didn’t know what possessed you to do that. All your sane neurons, which hadn’t melted when he smiled at you for the first time, screamed that you were one step away from insanity, that you were, in fact, already crazy. You were sure that nurses the size of refrigerators would show up and take you to the psychiatric ward of the hospital at any second.

You licked your lips and took a step back, avoiding looking directly at Mingyu. 

“It was the first time my mother managed to convince me in years” you admitted. 

You looked around, looking for a waiter, wishing one would materialize in front of you, just so you could have something to hold on to, but have something to do with his hands, but there was none around. 

“I'll thank her as soon as I see her.” 

“You're a shameless flirt, aren't you?” 

“Only when there's a gorgeous woman in front of me.”

The rest of the night went by smoothly, without any temporary bouts of insanity. There were a few moments, but you managed to control yourself every time. You managed to control the urge you had when you were next to him, to simply hold his hand. 

Your mother was a great help, taking you away from Mingyu now and then to introduce you to some friends and coworkers. Jeonghan was by your side every time you weren't with Mingyu, like a bodyguard. You wondered if he was acting that way because you had said those things to him before; and if your mother's change in attitude was also related. Despite it all, although you had been shown off for part of the night, you had had fun. It could also have been the alcohol talking. 

You had accepted a few more glasses than you should have. You were far from drunk, but you were certainly not in your sanest state. However, the alcohol brought a wave of courage to you, which until then had been completely unknown. 

Towards the end of the gala, after dinner, when some of the guests had already started to leave, you saw Mingyu at the table next to yours. His parents sat in front of him, his sister next to him, and some people you had no idea who they were sat on at the edges. Mingyu kept his head low, nodding now and then. He seemed desperate to get out of there.

Before reason could prevail, you stood up and walked towards him. You placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned your body forward until your face was close to his.

“Can you help me with something?”

You didn't notice the tremor in Mingyu's voice when he asked to be excused because your whole body was shaking too. You smiled at his parents and turned towards the exit, needing some fresh air.

A new wave of tremors and electricity ran through your body when Mingyu put his hand on your lower back. He was neither guiding nor rushing you. His hand was simply there, lightly. He pulled the door open for you and somehow still managed to keep his hand on you. 

You liked it, the weight of it, his presence there.

"Did something happen?" he asked when you were far enough from the door and prying ears, letting his hand drop at the side of his body.

You just shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly missing the warmth from inside. 

"No, you just seemed to be suffering" you half smiled, half laughed, suddenly feeling a little pathetic for assuming things. 

Mingyu smiled at you then, removing his jacket and dropping it over your shoulder.

"Thank you. If it weren't for you, this night would have sucked entirely"

It was silent for a minute, neither one of you doing anything at all. You were simply standing side by side, his elbow brushing yours from time to time while he rocked on his heels. 

It was most definitely the alcohol talking, it had to be because there was no way you'd ever say what you were about to say if it weren't for it. Never, in good and normal conscience you'd have been bold enough. And yet, there you were. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

You turned to him and got a nod as an answer, his eyes expectant and curious. You forced the words out before you had the chance to stop yourself. 

"That day, at my place, Seungcheol mentioned you having a crush on me. Was that true?"

There was a beat of silence, as Mingyu's smile slowly dropped. It was enough to make you regret the question, almost enough to make you regret the whole thing. Seeing Mingyu at the gala was a pleasant surprise, his presence was something you were grateful for during the night. You didn't mean to ruin it at the last minute. 

You blamed the alcohol, though it had very little to do with your decision. You had been curious and wanted to ask Jeonghan about it but didn't dare to do so, not when you knew that your brother would be able to read right through you. 

You blamed Seungcheol and his constant puppy eyes throughout the night, following your every move. His clear apologetic look, though no sorry words were said. His pride was too big for that. 

You blamed yourself too, for being curious about it. You were just fine when he was just a guy from college, someone you'd see now and then in a poster, or someone you heard of in passing. 

You blamed Mingyu too.

"Yeah, it was," he finally answered, sinking his hands into his pants pockets.

Screw it, you thought, if it's raining I might as well get drenched.

"And now?"

You held your breath, waiting for his answer. 

"Still is," he said, voice soft, this almost apologetic smile on his lips. 

You closed your eyes for just a second, somehow lavishing on his answer. There was a small smile on your lips as you turned to him, gripping his tie and pulling him down until you could press your lips to his. 

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[lina-linny]

summary: yn is insecured about talking to much but her boyfriend hyunjin is there to comfort her

genre: hurt, comfort, fluff

words: 1k

It was a typical Friday evening. As always, Yn stumbled through the door of the small apartment she shared with her boyfriend Hyunjin just as he sat down in front of his canvas. Loaded down with bags, she tried to get rid of her shoes with moderate success.

"Yn-aaaaah how was work, love?"

"Good," she replied curtly, putting down one of her numerous shopping bags, which were filled to the brim. Hyunjin was taken aback. When yn came home on Fridays, she usually never stopped talking to him about her work. About how much fun she had with her new project at work, what she had for lunch or what her annoying colleague had done again. It wasn't like her to be that curt and dismissive, hyunjin realized with a frown. shrugging his shoulders, he began to draw. maybe she was just tired.

yn was completely caught up in her usual routine. everything was the same as always. But instead of looking forward to the weekend with her boyfriend and finding comfort in her upcoming weekly "painting-tea-talking ritual", she was plagued by countless self-doubts today. Was she not pretty enough? Was she really annoying hyunjin? Was she too loud?

Sighing, she walked through the kitchen and put the freshly bought groceries away in their designated places. When she had put the last can in one of the cupboards, she put on some tea water and opened the shelf with her thousands of cups. without thinking about it, she pulled out her comfort cup and filled it to the brim with hot water. looking at it, the cup wasn't particularly pretty. the design was peeling off nicely because of the frequent washing, and yet it was perfect in yn's eyes. it had been the first gift hyunjin had ever given her. when she met him, she was stuck in one of the darkest periods of her life. plagued by insecurities, stress and unhealthy relationships, hyunjin had smuggled himself into her life as a small glimmer of hope and when he wasn't there or she couldn't express her worries, she clung to the cup.

Ironically, the reason she needed to hold her cup today was her fear of losing hyunjin. Was she too exhausting? lost in thought, she picked out a tea bag and carefully let it disappear into the water in the cup. then, as usual, she sat down next to hyunjin, who by now had a rough sketch on his canvas and greeted her with a beaming smile.

the artist had been looking forward to her usual ritual all day. yn could only muster a half-hearted grin. as she slumped into her usual chair, hyunjin waited patiently to finally hear all about her day. he was dying to find out whether her colleague ayumi had so obviously made a move at her much too old and happily married boss again, or whether linh from the marketing department had spilled her coffee on her colleagues again and had brought these heavenly muffins as an apology for the chaos, which yn would quote "kill for". in both cases, this would be the third time in a month. but instead of the usual gossip, a depressed silence followed. hyunjin tried to ignore the silence by turning his attention back to the painting in front of him.

he began to paint a dark blue. he carefully let the brush glide over the canvas. as he always did. as he had done hundreds of times before and yet it was wrong. the line was wrong. it didn't show what his heart wanted to express. it was too big and too small, too wide and too thin. it lacked any warmth, just like hyunjin. the room was warmed by the rays of the setting sun and his sweater gave his body a pleasant temperature but it didn't reach his heart.

"yn-ah what's wrong? why don't you talk to me? you can't make me beg so brutally. give me all the tea!" hyunjin's mouth twisted into a pout and made yn smile slightly.

"I don't know, Jini... I talk too much anyway... I don't want to distract you from painting." to say hyunjin was confused would be an understatement. he furrowed his brow worriedly.

"jagia where did you get the idea that you talk too much? i love to hear you talk. especially when i'm painting! i want to know how your day was. every day! i want to hear everything you have to tell me my muse. i can't paint without you. the lines don't get right the painting can't really convey what i feel but when you're with me, when i hear your honey sweet voice it just becomes real love. i never want you to shut up understand?" hyunjin curled his shapely lips into a pout as if his girlfriend had personally attacked him with her previous statement.

"okay, okay jini!" yn laughed, but hyunjin didn't want to let the whole thing go so easily.

"jagi, what makes you think you talk too much?" hyunjin shifted so that his full attention was on his beloved. he looked at her anxiously as she nervously kneaded her hands and clutched her cup for support.

"well... i just thought... you know, hana, you know the one who regularly sleeps with the ceo... i was talking about our date where we went to see this beautiful van gogh exhibition and well... she said i always talk way too much and that i never let anyone get a word in edgewise. and... maybe she also said that... she's surprised that someone like you is still with me at all... and i mean she's not entirely wrong, is she? i always talk so much. when you paint i ramble non-stop. you don't get a word in edgewise and i'd understand if you were annoyed with me for that... or something"

"ohh love..." hyunjin sighed and wrapped his girlfriend in a warm hug, pulling her onto his lap, which she only commented on with a sad smile.

"have you forgotten that I always ramble the same way?" He lovingly nudged her nose, which made her giggle.

"i sometimes ramble on for hours about how great our new choreography is or how annoyed i am with one of the boys and as far as i can remember you always love to listen to me. so please don't stop. you shouldn't listen to hana this little..."

yn stopped her boyfriend from uttering a sinful insult to hana by placing her soft and tea-warmed lips on his. hyunjin sighed into the kiss and pulled her closer to him. Their lips moved as if they had never done anything else before. They danced a dance whose choreography only they knew. Hyunjin's hands were soon in her hair as he tried to take away her insecurities with his kiss alone.

panting, they broke away from each other but hyunjin didn't let her escape from his strong arms. slowly, he covered her now laughing face with kisses. smiling, hyunjin buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. "soo... are you going to tell me how your day was, my muse?" he asked, pressing a tender kiss to her sensitive neck, which made her giggle.

"okay... do you know how annoying hikaru was today? he's been running around all day and..." hyunjin returned to his canvas even though one of his hands was now occupied holding yn's, who by now was sitting in her own chair again, sipping her tea as she talked.

by now, the sun had disappeared and was replaced by the soft shimmer of the moon. the cool evening air wafted through the open windows of their shared apartment and yet hyunjin was much warmer than he had been just a few minutes before. her voice dripped like liquid honey straight to his heart and the soft giggle that had just left her lips made hyunjin beam. he carefully applied the brush and... the line was perfect.

[ajortga]

timeless

pairing: wednesday addams x fem reader

word count: 1k+

a/n: originally this was supposed to be a completely different story with a happy ending so if you like reading fluffy stories, maybe skip this one? pls let me know if this makes u sad!!

summary: wednesday visits the room that held all her favorite memories, bringing back a reminder that you two were so close to being timeless.

-

Wednesday didn’t know how she felt so different in this place, even though everything was the exact same.

The room she was in felt cold, empty, unknown. It was like a piece of coal that was once an ember, it was stale. 

It was all so strange, looking around and knowing that everything was like how she’s always seen your room. The way there were fairy lights and vines everywhere, the guitar that Wednesday learned how to play because of you, the random knick-knack animals that hung upon your display case.

She would’ve never felt like what she’s feeling now. That feeling was you, she had always thought your room had brought her so much comfort and a sense of tranquility.

Maybe it was the way she could hear the faint wind chimes when you told her all the things you wrote about in her journal, or the way you turn on your lamp at night, illuminating a soft glow in your room.

Or maybe it was just you.

Everything was the same, except you. And Wednesday tried to convince herself that you weren’t even a part of the room itself, yet some part of her felt as though you were the biggest piece. 

Because why did she feel so empty when she looked around? Why did it feel like a wilted candle that no longer burned?

The braided girl looks where Thing was at, his hand movements sad on your bed. She would’ve rolled her eyes, but she doesn’t feel anything when she sees it, just opens her mouth, “I feel more anxiety when I’m in here than the haunted houses I explore.” 

And though it was lingering, Wednesday knew that your perfume was fading away. Because no longer did your sweaters smell like the sweet musk of your skin and a faint hint of flowers, it smelled washed. 

And sometimes Wednesday wished that your parents had saved unwashed ones for hers, for that it would’ve comforted her when she slept at night now. For that it would've kissed her goodnight like you would’ve instead of Wednesday laying on an empty, cold bed in the days to come.

A deep exhale escapes her lips, her hands cascading over a journal that she knew all too well.

Thing tries to ignore the way Wednesday’s chin quivers as she bites on the inside of her lip, turning away from him to somehow make her feel better. She opens the journal, tons of photos falling out and onto your desk.

Photographs of you and her.

Us, Wednesday thought. It would’ve been us. Our lives against the world.

And instead it was a car against yours.

And it felt like all the spirit that the places those photos had captured were now dead. Wednesday’s heart and feelings were dead. You were dead.

But some part of you was alive somewhere in Wednesday’s heart, and it kept it beating. All these different shards and sides of you were all stored in the souls you knew.

The photograph was wrinkled, and as much as the girl was brought with negativity, your smiling face made it all better. Like you brought the light that she felt when you both were in that photo.

God, you had always found a way to make Wednesday feel the emotions she was so unfamiliar with. The happiness that came with what love was given. She was always an emotionless person.

But now the traces of you linger, and she no longer feels emotionless. Where in the past she would’ve felt the feeling of you. The feeling of happiness, a sense that she was at ease, that you were always there to catch her when she fell.

But she wasn’t there to catch you when you did. And now you were gone, and she was stuck with feeling the emotions she never felt when you were by her side. Stuck with knowing that she had never told you she loved you.

And Wednesday couldn’t handle that thought. In every other lifetime you would’ve been exploring mysteries that were unsolved, sharing unspoken and sacred kisses. 

Wednesday couldn’t bear to know that in this lifetime, it was different. 

Because she wasn’t there when you breathed your last breath, she wasn’t there to comfort you when someone had crashed straight into your car. She wasn’t there to hear your last words, or for you to see her for the last time.

She hated the fact that she slowly saw the people around her move on from their grief. She hated the fact that she was still stuck to you. She hated the fact that people didn’t feel the grief she did, because you deserved everyone staying at your grave till night. Why did other people move on so easily? 

Why didn’t they see you in the eyes of Wednesday?

Everytime she was in bed, she’d turn and see you, nuzzled up to her. Her hands would run through your hair as your lips slightly parted, your peaceful face resting as your cheeks were flushed with warmth. She would pull up the blanket to your neck so she could quietly press her lips to your forehead.

She always found it so endearing.

The reason she fell asleep with a small smile.

Then in the blink of an eye, she’d remember running up to the stretcher, seeing your peaceful face and a cover being draped over you. And this time, she remembered screaming, “It’s not sweet now Y/N! Open your eyes!" The tears that she fought back drizzled down her cheeks.

Wednesday never cried.

"You can't be gone."

For the first time in her life, she was scared. She was terrified. It was no different to how you looked when you might have slept, but oh it did. It terrified her knowing that you were sleeping and not waking up anymore to her brown eyes, to her kisses.

You were so cold, and as Wednesday stares at the journal, she knew it made her her heart cold again too.

“We had so much ahead of us,” Wednesday says, voice raw and a crack hiding underneath. She tucked the journal with your photographs into her bag. It served as a reminder on how your smile looked, and then your smile brought back how your laugh sounded, how your voice sounded, your smell, her memories of you. “We were so close to being forever.”

You two were so close to being timeless.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: loads and loads of tension in the air!!!!

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did - I am excited to see what you think about it!!!

After supper, Daemon found her lurking around Caraxes, she shined like a beacon in the dark of the night.

During the meetings with the riverlords, Lúthril had been by Daemon’s side, keeping her distance from everyone around her, only interfering to offer Daemon her wisdom or when Daemon asked her to provide her opinion on certain matters. Even though she kept saying that she had no King, in front of the little lords of the Riverlands, she did indeed act as if she had pledged her loyalty to Daemon as her king.

In everything she did, she was just too perfect: the way she carried herself ever so gracefully, the way she talked, her choice of words… It felt somehow wrong, making Daemon feel uneasy around her. Of course, at such moments, he would remember that she was no human and the uneasy feeling would go away. Deep down, he knew it only made sense for her to be perfect after having spent many years with the Gods.

Others in Harrenhal were mesmerised by her beauty the moment they saw Lúthril for the very first time that day – Daemon could swear he had seen Simon Strong drooling. Many tried to question her about where she came from and who she really was but Lúthril had a way with words – before they even knew it, she would brush the questions under the table, changing the subject or offering her wisdom about something completely irrelevant.

Before supper, Simon Strong had ordered the servants to prepare a room for the Lady to use as her chambers. Daemon could only imagine how different it had to feel to finally have a bed after hundred years of imprisonment.

As he approached Caraxes, the memories of the conversation earlier haunted him once again that day. Lúthril’s knowledge of his darkest deeds unnerved him. She was not just an advisor. She was a force—one he could not yet comprehend. But whether she was his salvation or his undoing, only time would tell.

“You give me the feeling that you enjoy the presence of my dragon more than my own, my Lady.” Daemon said, causing Lúthril to raise her head to meet his gaze. Throughout the day, he had got used to addressing her as my Lady to make the riverlords believe that she was some lady from somewhere. “Have you ever seen one this close before?”

Lúthril nodded as she placed her right hand on Caraxes’ scales. To Daemon’s surprise, the dragon was actually allowing her to touch itself, to come near itself. Daemon had no information about the Valargon’s relationship to the dragons; however, the view in front of his eyes was enough to intrigue him.

“We lived in Valyria amongst the dragonlords for a long time,” she responded, “but long before Daenys the Dreamer had her visions about the Doom, our Seers told us that we had to move to Westros.”

“So you can speak High Valyrian,” Daemon swiftly switched to his mother-tongue, causing Lúthril to giggle as she walked towards him.

“Of course I can,” Lúthril responded in High Valyrian. “Back then, the wealthiest dragonlords of Valyria could also speak the language of my people.”

Daemon took a few moments before continuing the conversation – the way Lúthril spoke the language had him mesmerised. The way the words rolled off her tongue, how High Valyrian added even more grace to her (as if it was possible) made Daemon want to stay there and just listen to her speaking in the language of his ancestors for the rest of his life.

“What about the dragons? Why do they know you?” Daemon asked, trying to gather his thoughts on the present moment but it was hard not to drift away. “Your people were no dragonlords, yet Caraxes seems to recognise your blood somehow.”

“Do you know how Targaryens became dragonlords, Daemon?” Lúthril asked, switching to the common tongue. Her intense gaze was causing different emotions to rise within Daemon, which had been confusing him ever since he met her. He didn’t really know her and yet, he was feeling the strongest attraction he has ever experienced in his life. It was exhilarating and also unsettling.

Daemon followed her when she started walking. “Of course,” he said, trying to understand where she was headed with this question. “They used blood magic – even Targaryen babes know about this.”

Lúthril sent him a confident look as she slowed down her steps. “And who do you think taught them how to carry out the blood magic to bind the dragons to the descendants of Valyrian blood?” Upon seeing the change in Daemon’s expression, she laughed. “I believe you now know the answer.”

“So it was your people?” Daemon asked, he found it hard to believe that the Valargon had played such a huge part in shaping the Targaryen dynasty – by teaching them how to be dragonlords. “That made us kings?”

She shook her head, causing her long hair to sway. “No, we simply taught you how to bind the dragons – the rest, you have accomplished yourselves.” Taking a deep breath, she rested her forehead against Caraxes’ scales, her feet stopping. It was astonishing that Caraxes was allowing her to get that close to him and that Lúthril was not getting any burns since the scales of a dragon tended to get very hot, even steaming during cold nights. “We gave you dragonfire, which eventually became our death. Destiny works in funny ways.”

Standing behind her, Daemon kept still for a moment, trying to decide whether he should listen to the wicked whispers crowding his thoughts. His reason was screaming at its lungs, telling him it was wrong, flashing him memories with Rhaenyra to make him feel awful about himself. However, the yearning after Lúthril and the desire to touch her skin was way stronger, coming from his very essence. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he would forget about Rhaenyra in a heartbeat.

At that instant, all Daemon wanted was to have her.

Listening to the whispers, Daemon took a big step towards Lúthril, resting his hands on either sides of her head, which still leaned the warm scales of Caraxes. The dragon’s hard scales were warm against Daemon’s skin, still leaving his hands unburnt. Upon realising the movements around him, Caraxes raised his long neck in an uneasy manner; however, upon seeing Daemon, the dragon let itself rest again.

“How interesting that might be, it still doesn’t answer my question – why does Caraxes recognise you?” Daemon whispered in her ear in High Valyrian. The way Lúthril shivered when his warm breath reached her ear was visible to Daemon as well, causing the edge of his lips to curl upwards.

“It is not just Caraxes,” She responded in High Valyrian, still her back was facing Daemon. “All dragons recognise us – the Valargon blood has been known to them ever since the first hatchling flapped its wings. They can smell our magic and realise its similarity to theirs.”

With slow movements, Daemon raised his right hand for a brief moment to gather Lúthril’s hair on her right shoulder. Then, he leant in for his lips to be on a level with her ear. His warm breath licked her exposed neck, causing her to take a deep breath. “In that case, I am certain Caraxes would gladly let you fly with me.” Daemon’s words were lower than a whisper. “Have you ever ridden a dragon?”

Lúthril paused for a moment before speaking, Daemon wished he could know what she thought at that moment or how she felt; however, she had a strong grip on herself, trying to show Daemon as little as she could. Well, the Rogue Prince always welcomed a challenge – the harder it was to unravel her mysteries, the more satisfaction the prize at the end brought.

“Flown I have,” Lúthril switched to the common tongue as she slowly turned inside Daemon’s arms to face him. The small distance between their bodies felt like it could burn any moment with the tension heavy in the air. “But not on dragonback.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her, looking down to meet her gaze. She seemed to know how to play this game as well; however, her moments of hesitation were more visible to the naked eye than his. “I believe you have to provide me more details as to how it is possible to fly without a dragon.”

A smirk found its way to her lips as she pushed back a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. “Daemon Targaryen, you do forget who I am often enough,” she spoke with a playful tone. “Why should it puzzle you that a being able to see your past, present and future can fly too?”

“I have never seen a person floating on their own in the sky,” Daemon responded with his quick wit, following the same playful tone Lúthril has set. He leaned in even further so that his lips were brushing against hers when he spoke, “have you?”

Even the brief touch of their lips in that single moment sent a shiver down her spine, Daemon had to try hard not to put on his victory smirk. He wanted to make her desperate for himself for he enjoyed this little game more than he could put into words.

He felt… alive after a long, long time.

Lúthril’s response took him by surprise. “It saddens me that your mind insists on restricting me to the fragile human body.”

“Ah,” Daemon spoke as he took a step back. “A shapeshifter, then.” It was a thought which has not occurred to him before; however, given everything the enchantress could do with her magic, shapeshifting was really not so surprising. “Which body does my Lady prefer for a pleasant flight?”

A giggle escaped her lips as she followed Daemon on his way to Caraxes’ saddle. “An eagle,” she responded, “a white eagle.”

[POV change]

You wrapped your hands tighter around Daemon’s waist as Caraxes flew through the night sky. Even though you had flown yourself, dragonback was a far different experience – far more thrilling and far more terrifying – even for someone like yourself.

In Valyria, conquering the skies amongst the dragons used to be one of your greatest pleasures in life – but that was another time, another life, when fire had not yet consumed your world, turning everyone you once held dear to ashes.

The wind tugged at your hair, the cold air biting against your skin and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of Daemon’s body through the leather garments he carried. Strange, you thought. He had a fire burning within him, one that not even the flames of his dragon could match.

And yet, he did not know how easily he could be consumed by it.

Perhaps I myself, too, do not know how easily I can be consumed by it. The fire burning with the dragon.

For centuries, you had been untouchable, even in your imprisonment. Men, mortal or otherwise, held no sway over you. Yet, this one—Daemon Targaryen—made you question your restraint. His touch was a flame you didn’t wish to extinguish, though you knew it was dangerous to let it burn too brightly.

Your fingers, so accustomed to cold distance, now gripped him as though clinging to the last rays of the eternal light. Vulnerability, once alien, now crept beneath your skin like an uninvited guest, and you wondered how long you could allow yourself to burn.

Knowledge made it even more sweeter, the taste of the fruit. Knowing that the connection between you and Daemon had been woven into the very fabric of the time.

Is this why I find it impossible to walk away from him? you thought as you inhaled his scent, which somehow brought peace to your mind. Or is it something else?

Being close to him was becoming more intoxicating each time – you could not even recall the last time you had experienced such feelings towards another person, Valargon or human. It felt… exciting, in a different way. Despite knowing his past, present and future; Daemon was still a mysterious new book needed to be read – you had to let yourself get lost between its pages to taste its mysteries.

Desire was, indeed, quite hard to put a leash on.

“You have been quite,” Daemon spoke, breaking the silence. “Is everything alright?”

“I am simply enjoying the skies,” you responded with a content tone, “it is truly wonderous – exploring the night sky on dragonback.”

For a quick moment, Daemon looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze, his purple eyes shinning with joy. “I am glad you are enjoying yourself, my Lady.”

After a short pause, you spoke. “I do enjoy your presence, too, Daemon Targaryen.” A soft chuckle followed. “Not just your dragon’s.”

Daemon’s laugh sent shivers down your spine, you found it hard to believe how much you had grown you like that sound. It was utterly enchanting, leaving you wanting to crawl into his arms.

After dismounting Caraxes, you both stood next to each other, looking at the cursed castle of Harrenhal in silence. The night was still calm but the wind was getting colder and the full moon was slowly leaving its place to the waning crescent, its light reflecting from the diamonds on your dress.

Upon feeling his gaze on yourself, you turned your head to the left, Daemon’s purple eyes awaiting you. The flirtatious aura he normally had around himself was quite thin at that moment; all you could see in his eyes was… adoration. You couldn’t recall the last time someone looked at you that exact way.

“The diamonds on your dress,” Daemon spoke slowly as he raised his right hand. His fingers brushed against the diamonds adorning the neckline of your dress. “They make me feel like as if they have captured the light of the stars inside.”

A small smile formed on your lips. “You are not entirely wrong,” you responded, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “These diamonds were forged under the light of thousand stars, during the brightest night in the Land of the Gods.”

Daemon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, the ghost of his fingers trailing down your left arm over the fabric of your silver dress, giving you goosebumps. You took a deep breath. The effect of his touch on you was terrifying – your heart was on a race, breaths getting deeper, your body aching for more.

“So they did capture the light of the stars,” Daemon muttered as he gently held your hand. “Any less wouldn’t do your beauty any justice.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

The distance between your bodies seemed to get less and less, until you stopped yourself – you knew today was not the right time. Upon seeing the confused look in Daemon’s purple eyes, you placed your right hand on the side of his face, your left hand holding his right one.

“Not today,” you whispered, your lips slightly touching his as you spoke. “The stars move in their own time, Daemon. Let us not rush what’s already written.”

Standing on your fingertips, you left a kiss on his left cheek, a chuckle leaving Daemon’s lips. “You are a strange kind of woman,” he spoke as you stepped back.

With a smile on your lips, you turned around to head back to the castle. “Good night, Daemon.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa @superintenseart @immyowndefender @claud012 @ayamenimthiriel @vavafaure1994 @ilovegrishaverse @avadakadabra93

[shalomniscient]

Finally got Feixiao after 150ish pulls and lost the 50/50 to welt. (i will now forever be salty when he gets mentioned lol still love the astral express dad tho). Did have stuff saved up so she was pretty much set up once she came to my account

Anyways after reading the lore about feixiao in the character codex. And everything that happened this patch. My horny part died down a bit and like I just wanna hug her, cuddle her, pamper her. Damn she deserves it. I love some comfort with my hurt.

you get me anon. you get me. sometimes the character had the saddest wettest backstory and all the freaky horny goes out the window and i’m left with the need to give the most emotionally charged head ever i mean what who said that

ANYWAY, huge yes to pampering feixiao. she’s a sweetheart deep down, and above all else she wants to make a peaceful world. and she has her main goal for that, obviously, to eradicate the denizens of abundance, but there’s also the smaller victories. there’s peace in the laughter between squadmates at dinner; there’s peace in the chatter of citizens whose hearts rest easy at the assurance of safety; there’s peace in the way jiaoqiu cooks with a smile and there’s even peace in the way moze can simply sit in the open, far from the shadows. there’s all these little things that keep her going, but in the end, she’s still mortal.

a general is not a god. she is not infallible. in the darkness of the night, the wolves come to haunt her, howling the names of those she couldn’t save—neergul, yueyu, and countless, countless others. on those nights she’ll wake up shivering, the sweat on her skin cold like ice. breathing suddenly feels like a monumental task, and the cold, cold water rises and rises until she feels like she’s plunging under, her body numb and helpless against the tide.

but then, you’re there.

your hands cup her face as you draw her back to shore, your words like shooting stars lighting the dark and guiding her back to solid ground. her ears pick up the steady thump-thump of your heart, and she follows your gentle instruction, matching each inhalation-exhalation to your own. with you, she remembers how to breathe. your lips are her safe harbor as you kiss her softly, and the riptide of her thoughts ebbs finally into nothingness. here, she is just feixiao—not the general, not the merlin’s claw, just her. feixiao, who is loved by you, and who loves you in turn.

feixiao doesn’t know if she’ll ever see the true face of ‘peace’—but if she were asked to envision it, the sight that would come to mind would undoubtedly be you.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 4- Love Unveiled

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N decides to give Oscar a chance, to give them a chance and she does not regret that one bit, except for how they got caught or maybe everyone already knew.

Implied smut

Y/N couldn't sleep. She saw the sunrise but her mind was preoccupied with everything Oscar had said. The past few days, the time they had spent together, the way he made her laugh, how he was the only person ever to coerce her with his puppy eyes. But was it worth it? Was it worth ruining the family friendship and dynamic she had going with his family. They had practically raised her; they would take care of her like their own, it wasn't right to do something like this to them. And even if Oscar's feelings were real, even if she decided to be with him; what if things don't work out one day and they break up. What then? Who was she supposed to go to? She would lose a part of her, why would they take her side when Oscar was theirs? Would her brother take her side or would he get angry for ruining everything? In hind sight, Oscar's a catch; no doubt about that. But she wasn't about to ruin everything for some fleeting moments. That's what she thought and decided to catch Oscar before he left. She sprinted to the guest room to find the door ajar. Oscar had left, when, she didn't hear a thing? Was she so caught up in her thoughts? Maybe this was for the best, maybe not seeing Oscar anymore would fix this.

Y/N decided to avoid Oscar like the plague, she didn't go to his house at all. A part of her did want to but she could wait until he left. That's what those weird feeling were right? The tightness in her chest when she thought about Oscar or the feeling of his hands on her; she craved the familiarity. She didn't like Oscar, surely. Nicole had called her over for dinner a few days before school was supposed to start and since Oscar was around she lied and said that she wasn't feeling well. What she didn't expect was Oscar to show up with hot soup and food. She opened the door to find Oscar stood there with a worried look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Why are you here?" she asked. "mum said you were sick, so I brought food over" he said holding the packet in his hand. "I..." she was speechless. "You lied" that's when it dawned on Oscar that she had lied so that she wouldn't have to see Oscar. "Do you hate me that much?" his voice cracked as he asked. "No Oscar I don't hate you. I just....it would've been weird" she began but stopped when she saw tears falling from his eyes. Oscar never cried, not in the 18 years she had known him. Even when he fell or scraped himself, he would just dust himself off and get up. It broke her heart knowing she was the reason for his tears.

She raised her hands to wipe away his tears but Oscar flinched. It made her heart break. "Don't. You don't get to wipe my tears" is all he said before he dropped the packet on the floor and left. Even though Y/N called him out, he just left. She picked up the food and walked in. The night was another sleepless night on Y/N's end. Oscar cried a lot, he went to bed early and didn't get out the next morning. Y/N was starting to feel uneasy; maybe she had been too harsh on Oscar. She should've at least rejected him so that the both of them could move on. But a part of her couldn't; that's why she had been avoiding him.

The next day on call with Nicole; "Do you feel better now, darling?" she asked. "The soup was very good, I need the recipe" Y/N said avoiding the question. "I have no clue, Oscar made it for you" she replied. "What?" Y/N asked. "Poor boy was so worried that you were sick, he made the food and said he'd bring it over" Nicole said. There was a lump forming in her throat, she was a horrible person.

After much deliberation, Y/N ended up texting Oscar, "Can we meet at the park near your house? I would totally understand if you didn't come but I'll be waiting for you at around 4" and sent. Oscar saw the text and he wondered if he wanted to see her or not after the events of the night before. He laid in his childhood bed staring at the ceiling for a couple of hours before getting dressed around 4. Even if she hurt him, he still liked her; he couldn't stop suddenly.

He got there quarter past 4 and he saw Y/N playing with some of the kids present there. She must've noticed Oscar staring and turned to him and waved at him. The kid she was playing with moved back to the swings while Oscar walked over to her. "hey" Oscar waved awkwardly standing in front of her. "hi" she waved back, patting the place next to her. Oscar sat down, she was playing with her fingers and tapping her foot rapidly, a nervous habit she had developed as kids and has yet to get rid of. "I'm sorry about the other day" she said not looking at him. Oscar just shrugged when she looked up. "It was wrong of me to lie and worry everyone like that" she remarked. "You worried me the most" Oscar mentioned. "Sorry" she whispered with her head hanging. "Did you think about what I said?" Oscar asked. "Oscar, I don't hate you and what I did yesterday was stupid. You are important to me, not sure in what way. I've had you around for as long as I can remember so you're just you, I guess. I did think about us, you and" she gulped; "I never saw you as anyone but my brother's friend" she said. Oscar felt his heart shatter for god knows which time. It was like he was being tortured. "But" she began while finally looking back at him, noticing tears in his eyes; "I've know you for 18 years and I'd never seen you cry before until yesterday. The two times I see you cry and it's because of me. Makes me feel like shit, honestly. I never saw you as anyone but Oscar, Ansel's friend until the Australian GP. You looked taller, older and I'd be lying if I didn't have thought after some of the moments we shared. It felt like there was something between us." she said, her foot almost thumping the ground. "You'll break the cement" Oscar laughed looking at her foot. "No one makes me nervous like you do Oscar." she stated. "Y/N you make me nervous, for years now." Oscar interjected. "Would it be selfish of me for wanting to be with you?" Y/N asked. Oscar's lips were turning up into a smile, his cheeks were twitching, "No" Oscar breathed. "I would love it if you did" he said. "Obviously you would" she laughed; a noise Oscar could get used to. "What if things don't work out between us? I'll lose you and your family" she pointed out. "That won't happen, and by some shitty luck that does. You won't lose me or us. Ever" he confirmed. "Never?" she asked. "never" he confirmed. "Are you free tomorrow?" Y/N asked this time, more confidently. "Yes" Oscar almost screamed. "I'll pick you up at 8, let's give this a chance" she said.

Oscar wasn't normal about this, at all. He spent the whole day scouring his wardrobe, texting and calling Lando to ask his opinion on outfits. Lando was half asleep when Oscar called but was fully awake when Oscar said, "she asked me out on a date, granted I confessed to her first" Lando had a smile on his face; he helped Oscar pick out an outfit since Y/N asked him to dress fancy. Oscar picked a white shirt, blazer and black slacks. Oscar casually strolled down towards the main entrance, a skip in his step. "Where you going?" his youngest sister asked. "Just out" Oscar said trying to leave before his mum saw him. "Mum, Oscar's going on a date" his sister yelled. His mother appeared from the kitchen, "Sweetheart, Oscar's 22. It's about time he went on a date. Have fun. Don't come home too late and stay safe" his mum told him waving good bye. The last sentence made Oscar's skin crawl. He was greeted by Y/N in his drive-way and hopped right in.

"You look beautiful" Oscar said, staring at Y/N. If this was a cartoon his eyes would've turned into hearts. Y/N was wearing white dress with a blazer on top to fight the cold. The blazer matched Oscar's coincidentally who was also wearing a black blazer. "You don't look half bad" she glancing at him before starting the engine. "I wouldn't have minded picking you up" Oscar pointed out. "Well, the place we're going to is a new restaurant that opened up soon after I moved back and I'd always wanted to try it out with my boyfriend" she stated casually. Oscar's eyes were the size of saucers, "Boyfriend" he stammered. Y/N smiled, "We might get there, who knows." she said. She had always been bad in choosing the type of men she decided to date. Maybe, Oscar confessing to her is what she needed to maybe instead of pursuing some one, let the other person do the pursuing. She wasn't sure how anyone would react to her dating Oscar, but that's a hurdle she'll cross when need be.

When they reached the restaurant, Oscar got out and opened the door for her, held the door at the entrance and even pulled her chair. Y/N was being wooed by the simplest things; truly she'd been dating some shitty men. The food was pretty good and the two of them enjoyed their meal while Y/N did most of the talking. She was talkative person, a complaint she carried forward through out her life; a complaint most of her boyfriends had and a complaint that ended most at a single date. Oscar had known her long enough to know, she talked a lot to fill in the awkwardness she felt. Oscar intently listened to her, a luxury in his eyes since he would be gone most of the year.

After dinner they hit up their favourite ice cream parlour which was almost about to close. Being the last customers there, they quickly grabbed their ice creams and left. Y/N had a bit of a habit of stealing other people's ice creams, having stolen Oscar's quite a lot in their earlier years. She thought he was dumb enough to not notice her taking bites well into their teen years but Oscar knew. He always knew. He just loved it when they got to share an ice cream. She did the same this time, but got caught. "sorry" she apologised, slowly trying to place the ice cream back. "Have it" Oscar said. "What?" she asked. "You've been stealing my ice cream for years. What's stopping you now?" he asked. "You knew" she was shocked. "Kind of hard to miss when you're ice cream's disappearing faster then you're eating it" Oscar commented. "OH" was all she said, now quietly eating her ice cream. "You can have mine as much as you'd like" she said offering her ice cream. Oscar took a spoonful and put it in his mouth. "I could get used to these privileges" Oscar hummed. She just smiled as they walked around.

Y/N dropped Oscar off. "Can I get a kiss?" Oscar asked with a pout. "Piastri, you're pushing your luck, don't you think?" she asked. "Maybe, but I can't let the opportunity go" he chuckled. "take me out on another date and maybe I'll think about it" she said. "Done, when are you free?" he asked. "Aren't you a little too eager?" she laughed. "I'm a man of action" he stated. "I start school in 3 days" she said. "I'll see you the day after. Good night" he said getting out of the car. "Good night Oscar" she said. "Dream about me" he called back shooting flying kisses at her. Y/N had never seen Oscar like this and maybe she could get used to this.

He kept his world and took them to have pasta. The ride there was quite eventful since Oscar almost rammed his car on the side walk as soon as he saw Y/N. "Are you okay?" she asked while getting into the car. "Yeah I'm fine. Don't worry about it" Oscar said. "How can I not?" she questioned giving Oscar a quick once over. He bought her flowers; a combination of every flower at the florist since he couldn't decide. Y/N was wearing the necklace he got her which made him comment about it every chance he got. The dinner was memorable to say the least since Oscar thought the waiter was flirting with Y/N and kept calling her girlfriend whenever he got the chance. "I don't think he believes you" she laughed. "What why not?" Oscar asked. "No one calls their girlfriend, girlfriend" she mentioned. Oscar's lips formed an O and resorted to calling her darling for the whole night.

"Word of advice before you call someone your girlfriend, ask her once" she said. "Sorry." Oscar apologised. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked immediately. "yes" she smiled. "For the record I don't agree to being someone's girlfriend on our second date" she stated. "I'm an exception. We've known each other forever, in my defence" he mentioned. "Yup" she said popping the p. She stopped walked and turned to face him, latching her arms around his shoulder, "You made feel special for the 2 dates we went on. Some of my best dates honestly." She said. Oscar's arms cautiously hovered over her waist. "You can place them on my waist" she said looking at his hands; feeling the warmth as they rest on her waist. "Does your boyfriend get to kiss you?" he whispered inches away from her lips. "maybe" she breathed out. Oscar looked into her eyes for any sort of hesitation before attaching his lips onto hers. Everything fell into place for the both of them; all those shitty relationships that ended in heart break meant nothing to Y/N. And the wait for Oscar was over, the lips he fantasised about for years were on his and he couldn't be happier.

Oscar dropped her back home, "Maybe I should walk you back to the flat" Oscar sited. "Why?" she asked. "We could continue our date, maybe Netflix and chill" he mumbled. "Slow down there tiger" she laughed. "Good night, Osc" she whispered leaving a quick peck on his cheek and opened the door. "My lips are here" he shouted out, making her giggle. She could get used to this, she thought.

The first day back to school was always hectic, Oscar offered to drive her there much to her resistance and even got her snacks for the day; she felt like she was going back as a student and not a teacher. He was back at the end of the day to pick her up. They drove back while Y/N told Oscar all about her day. It had been a while since she had someone to unload from the day's events. Oscar loved hearing her talk and he loved being called Osc occasionally. "I'm leaving the day after" Oscar said in the moment of silence when Y/N was done talking. "You are?" she said, there was a hint of disappointment. But she had known, Oscar wasn't here for long and he wouldn't be here for long ever. "Well, I hope you do well in the rest of the races" she mustered her most cheerful voice. "I don't think I'll be able to see you off" she lamented. "It's okay, you can come to some of the races when you're free" he reasoned. "Yeah, let's see about that" she thought aloud.

Y/N didn't think this would go any further. She expected Oscar to forget about her and then they'd eventually drift apart. Maybe one of the reasons she agreed to give it a try, to see where it went. But she caught herself catching feeling and wanting to talk to Oscar. She did not expect him to call her everyday, that was not very Oscar like. But he did, he would call her at very reasonable times except it would be super late where ever he was. He would ask about her day and then would fall asleep on call. Y/N found herself staring at Oscar as he slept. She would whisper a quick good night and sweet dreams before ending the call.

Everyone as in all of Oscar's family was going to the Singapore GP, Oscar had told her and also asked her to come along since he missed her. She missed him too. So, she was set to fly with the Piastri's to Singapore. Oscar was ecstatic when he saw Y/N but he couldn't jump on her when his family was around. But at the end of the day, he slipped into her room, wrapping his arms around her as he closed the door behind him. "I missed you" he whispered while hugging her tightly. "Babe, I can't breath" she whispered. "Then don't. I'm not letting go" he stated. She rubbed his back for a few seconds before Oscar loosed his grip and Y/N rested her chin on his chest while looking at him. "Didn't know I could miss someone so much" she commented. "Me neither. Lando hates me, though" he said. "What? Why? It didn't look like it" she asked worried. "No I mean, since I miss you so much, he knows about how much I miss you" Oscar clarified. "Lando knows about us?" she asked. "he's the only one" he said. "Oh, okay" she sighed. "Don't you want the others to know?" Oscar asked. "In due time, I just want to enjoy my time with you, for now" Y/N said. Which was true, she didn't want to involve their families just yet, she never told her parents about her past relationships until she felt the guy was worth it, she might've been wrong but it is what it is. The entire weekend, the pair would sneak glances at each other. Lando was having a lot of fun teasing Oscar and now Y/N.

After the race, when everyone suggested going out for dinner, Oscar said, "I'm tired. I'll probably get some sleep" and Y/N also said, "I just don't feel so good" They wished them well and left for the night. The two of them spent time together, for the first time in a while. Oscar ordered room service, they watched some rom-com, they don't remember since Oscar kept stealing kisses from her. Soon enough, those kisses turned into full blown make-out session which ended with the both of them forgetting the movie playing and Oscar on top of Y/N. Their fingers intertwined, Oscar's head was buried in Y/N's neck as they chases their high. After some time, they laid in each others embrace, while Y/N felt Oscar kiss her forehead, "I love you" he said. This was the first time they had said it. When she had asked him out, she had wanted to see where those weird feelings took her. She was very happy that this is where they got her, she was happy for the first time in a really long time. She felt loved and maybe dating your brother's best friend wasn't such a bad idea after all, she thought while saying, "I love you too"

The next morning, they were almost caught when Oscar's sister knocked on Oscar's door to join them for breakfast. Some how Oscar was able to ward her off and the two quickly got dressed and left their rooms. The breakfast was uneventful except Oscar being a lot more touchy feely, Y/N wasn't complaining it's just that it made focusing on what Chris or Nicole had to say extremely difficult.

Y/N had a Japan trip planned, or so she said and it fell exactly during the GP weekend. That's how Y/N and Oscar ended up exploring Japan a few days before the race and just enjoying the beautiful scenery and absorbing the culture after the race. They tried all those couple costumes and even went to amusement parks. The more time they spent together, the more they got greedy to have each other around. Y/N almost cried when she had to fly back. Oscar promised to be back as soon as the season was over.

And he did come back as soon as the last race was over and everyone was able to head home to rest and recuperate. Oscar reached home; he did not expect to find Y/N at his place, so without a second thought he dropped his bag and ran to her. He kissed her with so much need, his hands roamed her body and were under shirt while Y/N did try to get his attention but she lost her train of thought after she felt his body pressed against hers. "Please do not undress the poor girl in my living room" Nicole called out. Oscar almost jumped away from her. "I know you probably miss each other but keep it to the bedroom. I do not want to see what you two get up to" Nicole stated walking in followed by his whole family and Y/N's family. "That's what I was trying to tell you, that everyone's on their way home" Y/N whispered. Oscar took her hand in his, "I'm dating Y/N" he stated confidently. "We know" they called back. "Did you tell them?" Oscar asked, looking at her. Y/N shook her head confused.

Ansel told Oscar after dinner, "You know your parents lost 100$ because of you" Oscar was even more confused then before. "They had a bet going, my parents said that you two would end up dating, your parents said that you would pine your whole life away" Ansel elaborated. "My own parents have no trust in me" he lamented. "In their defence, you've had the biggest crush on her since like when we were in 5th or 6th grade" Ansel said. "You knew" Oscar asked. "I know you too well. It was getting painful watching you" Ansel laughed. "My parents couldn't be happier at the thought of having you as their son-in-law" Ansel said. "They think we'll get married." Oscar asked shocked. "At this point, they'll get you both married. Mum says she hasn't seen Y/N this happy in any relationship" Ansel explained. "Also the two of you are not stealthy at all. Nicole saw you leave with my sister multiple time, same goes for my mum. Also your sister caught you too getting too comfortable under the table in Singapore too, the poor girl. I almost puked when I heard that" Ansel gagged.

Oscar walked into the kitchen to find Y/N alone. "They knew, from the start" he said. "It seems" she smiled at him. "We're bad actors" she laughed. "Now I can touch you whenever I want" Oscar stated. "Please do not try to get me naked any where but our rooms, I don't think I can take the are we gonna be grandmas soon questions anymore" she said shaking her head. She pecked his lips, "I love you" she said. "I love you more" Oscar declared. "Honestly, didn't know I could love someone like I love you" she commented, pressing a kiss on his neck, "I might be staying over" she said in a sing songy tone walking away. "Really?" he asked. She nodded linking her hands with his.

[mauvecherie-writes]

the kaleidoscope theory: l.hamilton.

• pairing: lewis hamilton x black!oc kalani halloway

• chapter warnings: none

• w.c: 3.8K

• ru’s 💌: First thing first, I want to apologise for how long it took to post this. With school and placement taking up a lot of my time, amongst other distractions and my mental health just not being the best for a while, writing has not been my main priority, and I am trying to make up for that now. Updates will be slow, but they won’t be non-existent. Please don’t forget to like, comment and re-blog.

• tip: kofi | paypal

series masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

PRESENT DAY

“ARE you sure that you want to keep doing this with him Lani? Like I love you and I’ll always be in your corner, but I have to agree with your therapist here. What are you gaining from continuing to sleep with Malik?”

The bluntness of the question almost knocked the wind out of Kalani’s lungs. Over the decades of their friendship, she had come to know that Julian did not pull any punches when it came to honesty. It should not have shocked her that her best friend would react like this to the revelation of such news. Maybe it was the exasperation and disappointment that she picked up in his tone that made Kalani want to shrivel into herself from shame.

“Lani!” His voice boomed through the car speaker, breaking her train of thought. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” She mumbled as her hands tightened around the stirring wheel.

“Well, are you going to answer my question or not?”

“It was a moment of weakness okay!” She exclaimed, finally admitting it to herself and to her best friend. “There was always an excuse to get me alone. To discuss the divorce or something about the kids. And he’d just … he would charm me, and I would be reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place then I’d give in.”

“Tuh.” Julian scoffed. “Talk of the divorce like he’s not trying to distract you from the fact that he has not signed those papers.” He added, the truth causing her shoulder to sag as she leaned back into her seat.

“I know.”

“Baby, I’m not trying to make you upset —.” He sighed, speaking in a much tender tone. But it was too late. The shame that had been brewing in her stomach for so long had bubbled back up her throat.

“I just need you to really think about this. It has been two years since you have asked for the divorce, Malik keeps stalling signing the papers, under the guise of trying to make it work. But we all know that he is still with that bitch. Like he can’t have his cake and eat it too. He doesn’t have any regard for who he’s hurting and that is you and the kids. I need you to be better than your weakness for him. It’s not fair.”

His words were hurtful to hear but Kalani could not argue against them because she knew that they were true. That is why she had decided to begin therapy. She had not slept with Malik in over six months since she had started her therapy session. This round, Kalani had finally shared the truth that she had on tinted with intimacy with her ex-husband despite the separation.

“I KNOW.” Kalani sniffed as her tears threatened to spill over. The tremble in her voice could not be hidden and Julian picked up on it.

“Lani, listen-.”

“Hey, so um — I gotta go. I need to pick up Princess from my aunt’s place.” Kalani quickly spoke out as she rounded the corner into a residential street. “Talk later.”

She did not wait for him to respond as she ended the phone call. Kalani took a deep breath as she put the car into an empty parking spot. She continued to sulk in her seat as the heaviness in her chest had returned. Everything that Julian had said to her were all things that she knew and had known from the first time, she had slept with him after they split.

Stuck in the moment, every time they had done the deed had felt good. In some way, it had felt like she had been reclaiming her power. It felt good to know that in some way, her ex still wanted her. In Kalani’s need to be desired by the man that she was married to for nearly twenty years, she had momentarily lost herself and had forgotten what was important.

The happiness of her children.

So Kalani took in a deep breath and exhaled, wiped away her tears and re-applied her lip gloss. She practised her smile in the rear-view mirror until she was satisfied with a more approachable facial expression. She got out of her car and fixed the legs of her pantsuit before she walked a short distance on the pathway and onto the property.

It did not take any time from her opening the small front gate for the front door to be opened.

“Mummy!” The excited shriek of her young daughter sounded through the air as her little feet carried her as fast as they could towards her. Kalani immediately dent down to her level and opened her arms, waiting for her daughter. She dived into her arms and Kalani could just feel all of that heaviness began to lift away from her heart. As her daughter squeezed her little around her neck, Kalani immediately felt better.

“Hi, my Princess!” She smiled at Tiara. Princess’s little giggles were what she got in response as she pulled back to look into her mother’s eyes.

“I missed you so much, Mummy.”

“I missed you too! Did you enjoy school and time with Auntie Angie?”

“Mhm!” Tiara nodded her head as she played with Kalani’s earrings. “Today, I learnt what a doing word is! And then Auntie Angie baked me a banana cake.”

“The cake is for all of you, not just you baby.” Aunt Angela spoke from behind Tiara which caused Kalani to chuckle as a frown appeared on her little girl’s face.

“Emi doesn’t like banana cake as much as I do!” Tiara exclaimed.

“I know baby. But can we at least save a piece for brother first?”

“Okay.” Her small voice of defeat made Kalani’s heart swoon. She cradled her daughter’s head to her chest as she walked towards the door where Angela had been standing with Tiara’s belongings and the wrapped up banana cake.

“Hi sweetie.” Angela had greeted her as she awkwardly hugged Kalani.

“Hi Auntie.” She replied. It was like she could feel the love outpouring from the embrace. And it took all of her strength to not break down then and there.

“You okay?” Angela asked her. Kalani softly nodded her head, not trusting her words in that moment. She took a deep breath before offering a smile of re-assurance.

“Just need my baby.” Kalani replied. “Thank you for looking after her today.”

“You never have to thank me for that. I love Princess and I love spending time with her.”

After a couple of more minutes of casual conversation, Kalani and Tiara said their goodbyes and then left her aunt’s home. On the journey to pick up Emil, she sang along to the current kid bops that Tiara was currently enjoying. Her daughter filled the car with chatter about what her day at school was and repeated stories of previous adventures. Kalani did not mind at all. Hearing her daughter talk was far more enjoyable than being left with the chaos that was her thoughts.

~

When they had arrived at the local sports and leisure centre, Kalani noticed that by the outdoor astroturf, there was a larger crowd than there should be for a practice on an early Wednesday evening . She walked hand in hand with Tiara towards the grounds and smiled when she noticed the crowds full of young and old cheering on.

No matter how much Emil had tried to teach her, there were still aspects of the game of football that she would never understand. However, that never changed how much Kalani cheered on Emil and supported him. She knew that he had fallen in love with football due to Malik’s love for the sport, his passion came from within, and Emil had the talent to match. If Emil was willing to play, then Kalani was going to do everything that she could to make sure that he continued to play to his greatest heights.

From where Kalani stood, she could tell that it was an intense game for a practise but neither the Red nor Green sides seemed to care. When Emil touched the ball, he sprinted across the field with incredible of the ball and passing by the red players who were trying to defend. Emil then passed the ball to another green player who was open. This player then quickly shot the ball into the net, scoring the winning goal.

The crowd, including Kalani and Tiara cheered for the green shirts.

The game came to an end and with the crowds beginning to disperse, Tiara shot away from Kalani’s side and ran towards his older brother as she screamed his name. She smiled as she watched Emil pick up his little sister and throw her into the air, catch her and then spin her around.

As she proudly watched the moment, she caught a growing crowd from the corner of her eye. She noticed a man standing in the middle with the biggest smile on his face as he tried to greet every one that was surrounding him. That bright smile with the small tooth gap was the first thing that caught her attention. His twisted strands were in a ponytail, but his sides and beard were nicely trimmed in a way that brought attention to his chiselled facial features. Kalani’s eyes travelled to his large and muscular tatted arms that even with his bronzed, umber complexion, the design of the tattooed sleeves stood out. He was dressed simply, in a black, sleeveless knitted vest and what looked like black trousers. Kalani had spent too much time staring at him for her to notice that his jewellery was expensive and some of it was probably custom made.

As if picking up on her inquisitive eyes, the man looked up and stared right at her. She had never seen such an intense yet sincere pair of eyes that were the smoothest of chocolate brown. Kalani bit her lip in embarrassment at being caught looking when he smiled at her. She quickly averted her gaze to her children, who were walking towards her and tried not to think about why the stranger felt vaguely familiar.

“Hi Mum.” Emil greeted her as he placed Tiara down on her feet before reaching towards her and giving her a sideways hug. Kalani reciprocated the hg and patted his sweat drenched curls.

“Hi baby, you were great out there.” She complimented him which caused him to grin.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her.

“Any particular reason why you guys were playing like it was the finals of the Premier League?”

“Oh! The owner of the centre is here, and we just wanted to impress him I guess.”

“You were out there acting like he’s like a talent scout.” Kalani chuckled.

“He might as well be. He used to be a sportsperson, so he knows a lot of people.”

“Like Mbappa right?”

“Mbappé, Mum. Mbappé.” Emil corrected her with a roll to his eyes.

“Well, whatever his name is.” Kalani shrugged her shoulders and then picked Tiara into her arms. “Anyway, go get your stuff. We need to be home before 8:30.”

For a fraction of a moment, she saw her son’s gleeful demeanour slip. He nodded his head and then jogged away. Kalani watched as he stopped and talked to the same man that she had made eye contact with. The joy in his face was back once more and it eased the tension within her. She was sending them to their fathers’ for the weekend as she needed some time to herself to re-charge before she embarked on a large project at work.

However, Emil had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with the man that he had once idolised. Emil confessed to enduring the visit for the sake of Tiara, who was still trying to adjust to the separation.

When he came back, they all hurdled into the car and they drove back home, not before stopping for a takeaway pizza collection.

After they had arrived back at their home, Kalani rushed her children to take their evening showers before preparing their bags.

Kalani stayed downstairs as she prepared their dinner. Alongside the pizza, she made a simple arugula salad with cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and a balsamic dressing. Once she had set the table and could finally take a sip of her white wine.

She dreaded the weekends when her children were away. Because it forced her to think. It forced her evaluate every single decision that led to this very moment that she was currently residing in.

Her hatred for Malik increased.

Memories of their past floated in front of her. Her and Malik dancing around the kitchen as they cooked whilst Emil set the kitchen table and Tiara narrating stories from her vivid imagination.

They were so happy.

They were so in love.

Where in the fuck did he ever find the time to cheat on her? She wondered.

That was a question that she never got an answer to. And it was a question, she was afraid of what the answer may be. It just was not something that she was ready to confront. Kalani was left to deal with all of that harbouring anger all alone.

“Mummy look! Me and Emi are matching!” Tiara rushed rushed down the stairs with Emil in tow. When Kalani turned her head towards their direction, a laughter full of elation burst from her when she noted that the duo were indeed matching. Tiara was dressed in a hot pink Nike tracksuit that was a contrast to Emil’s grey one.

“She wasn’t going to wear anything else.” Emil commented as they entered the large kitchen area, approaching the sink to wash their hands.

“That’s okay. Princess just wants to be like her big brother huh.” Kalani smiled as she smoothed her daughter’s hair.

“Yep!” Tiara gave them her dazzling smile. “Except, I don’t like football, and he doesn’t like banana cake!” The little girl stated before her focus shifted to the slices of banana cake on the table. “Ooouuu caaaakkee.”

“Not so fast, young lady!” Kalani spoke up which stopped Tiara in her tracks. “Can you eat some pizza first before the cake?”

“Okay, Mummy.” She pouted as she moved to sit down in her chair by the table. Emil shook his his head as he plated a slice of pizza for himself before sitting down.

They sat in silence as they ate their food, but Kalani could tell from her son’s solemn expression that something was bothering him.

“You okay baby?” She asked him as a worried expression marked her face.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He offered her a smile that she didn’t believe.

“You sure? You know that you can always talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just -.” Emil stopped talking before he let out a sigh. He then turned his attention to Tiara who was focused on trying to do a cheese pull. “I’m not ready to talk about it.” He concluded.

Kalani swallowed as she tried to not be disappointed with his response. Outside of the pure anger that was palpable whenever his father was mentioned, Emil had concealed his emotions about the divorce from her, always giving her that same answer of not being ready to talk. She had offered for him to go to therapy but he refused, saying that he did not need it.

“I caught him cheating Mum, not killing somebody.” He had said to her after the therapy suggestion. She dropped it then, however as her sessions continued, the more she wanted to push for Emil to go. But she was not going to force his hand. He’d go when he was ready.

“How’s this? When you come back, I’ll take the day off work and break you out of school and we do whatever you want. Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.” Emil replied as a small smile returned to his face. Kalani reached over and softly pinched his cheek.

“That’s my boy.” She wicked at him.

They finished dinner in a much better mood with Emil updating her on his coming football schedule so that she could make time for it in her diary. And it wasn’t long after they had cleared the table did the doorbell ring.

Kalani glanced over to the clock on the wall. It was 8:40pm.

A cloud of tension suddenly covered the serenity of their home as she realised who was at the front door. Kalani looked at her son, who was already moving to collect Tiara from her position in her play area by the living room.

“Give me five minutes, I need to talk to your father about something.” She said to him. Emil nodded his head.

“Princess come on, gotta make sure that you have all of your toys ready.” He said before picking her up and giving her a piggy-back ride up the stairs which caused her to squeal with each step.

Kalani mentally prepared herself as she dried her hands with a hand towel before she headed to the door.

With one more pep talk, she swung the door open and met her ex-husband with a close-lipped smile with her body blocking the entrance.

Standing shy of 6 foot 2 inches with a rich, tawny complexion, a shaved head and trimmed goatee – Malik was a physically handsome man. At forty-three, he kept himself fit, had an impeccable wardrobe (that she introduced him to) and a gorgeous smile that her daughter inherited. Full lips with slick words that could charm the pants off a recluse. She would know, they’d been working on her for close to two decades.

“Hi Lani.” He smiled down at her.

“Hi Malik.” Her tone was curt, which caused his cheeky expression to slip by minor fraction, but she caught it.

“How are you?” He asked. “You look beautiful as ever.” He complimented her, trying to work his charm as he had done so many times before.

It wasn’t going to work this time.

“Thanks.” She narrowed her eyes before she moved to step outside. She drew the door close and left it slightly agar.

“I need to talk to talk to you about something.”

“Are the kids okay?” He worried.

“They’re as fine as they can be. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Then what?”

“When are you going to sign the papers, Malik? You’ve been putting them off for far too long now.”

“What do you mean sign?” He frowned in confusion. “I thought that we were taking this time to figure things out.”

“What things?!” Kalani sternly exclaimed in a hushed voice. “You refused couple’s counselling. Emil doesn’t want therapy and wont talk to me about it. Tiara thinks you’re working on a big project at work because she doesn’t understand that we’re separated.” As the words spat out of her mouth, the angrier she became. “Let’s not fucking forget, that little girlfriend of yours is still around and you thought that I didn’t know about it.”

“She’s not Kalani!” Malik quickly tried to shut down her accusation.

“Oh please!” She scoffed as she looked at him up and down in disgust. “Her perfume is lingering on you right now. I should know, I was washing it off for years!” She hissed.

Kalani watched as Malik tried to sniff his clothes and that disgusted her even more as she could see the gears in his mind churning up an excuse.

“Listen, it’s not like that.” He began to say.

“I don’t give a shit what it’s like. I want those divorce paper signed and delivered to my office by Monday. If not then no more nice Kalani, I’ve put up with your shit for too long.”

Without giving Malik a chance to reply, she opened the door just as she picked up on the patter of feet rushing down the stairs. Tiara zoomed past her and dove into her father’s legs, hugging them.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” She chanted, bouncing with excitement. Malik picked her up into his arms and gave him one of his practised smiles as he peppered her face with kisses.

“My gorgeous girl! You’re getting so big!” He said which caused Tiara to grin.

“Look! My tooth fell out and the tooth fairy gave me one pound and Mummy told me to add it to my piggy bank!”

“Oh, that’s so awesome Princess!”

“When all my teeth fall out, I’m gonna be rich!”

“Oh, I bet!” Malik tickled her sides which caused another high-pitched squeal to leave Tiara. In all of her rage, it was the joy of her daughter that mattered to her. Emil trotted to her side, holding their weekend bags.

“You got everything baby?” She asked him. He nodded his head.

She hated having to send him with his father, but she did not trust Malik to care for Tiara without Emil’s assistance. She brought in her son for a tight hug and kissed the side of his head. “It’s just two days and you’ll be back.”

Emil sighed at those words before nodding his head. “Bye Mum.” He mumbled before he kissed her cheek and walked past Malik without acknowledging him. She could see that Malik was trying to not let that get to him but kept a brave face for Tiara. It may be horrible to admit but it felt nice to know that there was one more person who hated his guts the way she did.

‘Right, Princess, you’re going to be on our best behaviour for your father, okay?” Kalani said to Tiara.

“Mhm.” Tiara nodded her head before Kalani placed a kiss on her forehead.

“We’ll talk about what we talked about later.” Malik glared at her.

“Unless it’s about that signature, then we have nothing to talk about.” She glared back.

Kalani waved goodbye to her children as Malik drove away. Once she shut her front door, she let out the biggest sigh of relief as her body relaxed. She had not realised just how tense she had been in the minutes Malik was here.

It had felt like hours.

With her body on autopilot, Kalani finished cleaning up the kitchen and packing away Tiara’s toys before she grabbed her bottles of wine, forgoing the glass and dragged her body up the stairs to her bedroom. As she prepared for her evening bath, she put her favourite playlist on and danced to the music as she stripped down to her bathing suit.

Once her tub was full of hot water and bubbles, she sank down, laying down her head on the towel. She took a large gulp of her wine and get the bottle down.

With only the sultry voice of Sadé as solace, Kalani let her walls down and cried to her hearts content.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT | 20 ... WITH BENEFITS??

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, y/n has daddy issues for the sake of the plot

NOTES | I have no idea why this update took me so long to post I'm so sorry 😭 I don't like making chapters like this too sad (don't worry there's still gonna be some angsty chapters) but I don't want the written stuff on its own bcs that feels too espresso depresso or wtv the phrase is so this is a bit of a longer chap than usual.. anyways if ever you feel bad for y/n, don't worry you're gonna feel worse

19:21, dinner the night before

Y/n shuffles in her seat.

Jaemin greets her with a smile, and though she offers one back, that sinking feeling in her stomach doesn't seem to settle.

Suddenly now that she finds herself face to face with her once best friend, no menus in hand since they'd already given their orders, no way to avoid conversation for just a couple seconds longer, Y/n finds herself at a loss for words.

What was anyone supposed to say in this situation?

Sure a thank you would be ideal, considering Jaemin had somehow managed the impossible, but the words escaped her. Like they rested at the tip of her tongue but she lacked the drive to speak them.

It's not that y/n wasn't grateful, no, she wouldn't be here if she wasn't, in fact she didn't know what it was, what confused her so deeply that she sat there silently. Her thumbs twiddling against one another, as she stared down at the table in front of her.

There was a nagging whisper in her mind, one that cast shadows over her once clear thoughts, leaving her in that haze of uncertainty that she recognised all too well. Recently it was all she could feel around the captain.

Something about this situation in particular makes her palms sweaty and the hairs stand on her neck, every glance at Jaemin feeling like a shadow of what had once been, a reminder of how it had all been lost.

Even just sitting opposite Jaemin isn't simple.

Not at all.

It's like sitting across from a mirror that once reflected shared laughter and secrets, now distorted by fractures of lost trust and unspoken words. She supposed that was the thing about mirrors and shattering. No matter how hard you tried to glue the pieces back together, it would never quite be the same.

Perhaps that's why y/n is lousy in her attempts, grateful to Jaemin but unbothered to express it. The thought that no matter how desperately she hoped, this couldn't be restored. That there was no point in pouring energy into a friendship that would never be resolved.

"So" it's undoubtedly jaemin who breaks the silence, a soft tone to his voice, not quite as gentle as the other night but still warm "are you feeling better? like really okay?"

For a moment she wonders whether she'll break at the sound of his voice like she always had. Would she go back to that point in life where it was so easy to lie, so easy to say she was okay, so easy to pretend, in front of everyone else but never in front of him.

"I'm fine, honestly." She lies.

There's a shy sheepish smile that creeps across her lips and slightly accents her words

Jaemin hasn't seen much of her positivity be directed his way, and seeing this ignites the little hope in him that they could move on from this, from everything.

"You didn't have to work on it without me you know, it was just as much my project as it was yours and you putting in all the effort isn't fair on you."

"You did most of the preliminary stuff anyways, and I really didn't want to ask you because of the other night" Jaemin finally admits, though not willingly, his words extracted more so by her sharp stare and the cold atmosphere.

"Right..." Her attempts at changing the subject, clearly in vain— he really needed to stop asking about the other night. Y/n wasn't sure how much h longer she could hold back the tears, the looming feeling of inadequacy as a guardian still strong. She should have been more careful.

She knows its her turn to speak, opening her mouth to do so.

But again, y/n struggles.

The words play hide and seek in her mind, leaving her to grasp at empty. The atmosphere grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Her mind races, a jumble of what to say, thoughts of how easy conversation once was, how effortless it had been, all such a stark contrast to now.

Jaemin watches, a mix of intrigue and concern in his eyes as she contemplates in front of him, quiet but with an expression that spoke volumes.

The silence between them seems to bite louder than any conversation they once held, each dish in front, a reminder of the bitter aftertaste of a friendship turned cold.

"It's just Minjun and I" she breathes out, voice shaky, and Jaemin realises that those nervous cues in her slumped posture and shaking hands had never changed "It's just been the two of us for a while" she whispered. "That's why I was so scared"

Jaemin's hand hovers uncertainly beneath the table, unsure if the gesture would be welcomed or misunderstood, caught in the delicate balance of care and concern.

Admittedly, Jaemin catches himself slightly intrigued, still confused what could have lead to her practically perfectly family turning into this.

But he knows better than to let his curiosity get the best of him.

He wants to stop her, tell her that whatever it is that causes her brows to knit together and her pretty eyes to gloss over isn't something she needs to force herself to talk about, but he doesn't know how.

For a moment he's kicking himself under the table— how had he ever let go of the person who meant so much to him?

Even now, knowing everything she had done, he couldnt help but question why hadn't he tried to get past it then?

At the sight of her downcast features suddenly everything that he once despised her for seemed so trivial.

Jaemin sees himself, a younger, less mature version that stands on the court, hair matted to his forehead from the rain, a ball long forgotten somewhere behind him, cold, betrayed, and so painfully alone. Those burning tear stained cheeks, the harsh whistles of wind, the bitter feeling of failure still clinging to his skin, he remembers it all.

But every feeling he recalls so well, so vividly, is so easily dismissed when her eyes shine with a painful tint, red from the piercing tears that she holds in them.

"My dad" she cuts him off, gaze now avoidant as he grabbed her cold hands in his, "he walked out on us not long after ...whatever hapenned between you and me. He never came back, didn't answer a single call, not even a text, no form of communication except the papers he sent in the mail so I could become Junnie's legal guardian."

I missed you, she wanted to say. I needed you she'd liked to add.

"That's why it's just the two of us now" she said instead, trying to find more words to stop the tears from flowing, like her words were the only thing that could hold them back.

Back then, Y/n remembers vividly the feeling of wanting to fall, to sink, to drown but still somehow keeping her head above the surface to hold on and stay strong for her younger brother. She wondered if Jaemin had been there, would it have been easier? Would she have let herself fall, would she have someone to give her a hand, to pick her back up again and hold her hand through it all? Would things have ended differently?

"I'm sorry" his words weren't new, they weren't special, they were the same as what everybody else would say but the fact that they came from him, Na Jaemin who now stood by her side with his arms wrapped around her, was enough to dissolve the feeling of emptiness.

08:25 present time

Y/n looks over at Minjun, still deep in slumber, smiling before she steps out of the room.

There's way too many toys sprawled out across the living room floor, a blanket she finds herself folding as she subconsciously begins to clean up. Her eyes land on the kitchen counter, wondering what to make for breakfast. She was never particularly good at cooking, but she'd been learning for her brothers sake.

When she gets to the black jacket resting over the couch, it hits her. She catches sight of her puffy eyes in the mirror, and a hand runs through her hair hurriedly.

"Why the fuck did I tell him all of that" she let's out a frustrated sigh, running her hands across her face, "I'm supposed to hate him" she reminds herself, though her tone isn't convincing in the slightest.

"You don't hate him though" Heeseung's voice comes out muffled, the toothbrush between his lips making it difficult to understand his words.

He had been the one to stay over last night, her friends still taking turns to accompany Minjun and her every night since he'd walked out of the apartment, a gesture that made her heart swell. Although up until now she was pretty certain he was still asleep. Clearly not.

"I can't hate him" she sighs, falling back into the couch "is it bad I want to be friends with him again?" she asks, even though Heeseung had retreated to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

Regardless he pokes his head out into the hallway, a sly smirk across his lips "with benefits?"

Y/n rolls her eyes.

He emerges again not long after, smiling from ear to ear "no y/n it's not bad if you want to be friends again" he takes a seat beside her "you can only fight your feelings for so long, let yourself be vulnerable, take the risk and try again" he says, hands resting on both his knees.

"and if you're feeling really risky, you can always—"

"shut up Heeseung" she smiles, lightly pushing against his arm "I guess it is worth a shot though"

"he's right next door anyways so sneaking around won't be hard at all"

"I meant being friends. Just friends." she stands up, walking over to the kitchen "you down for pancakes?"

He nods.

"You know it could be good though, he's hot, you're hot, there's enough tension to make things interesting and it ticks your not ready for a relationship box pretty well too"

Despite the pointed look the captain offers him, Heeseung doesn't let up, and secretly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

As Much As I Do - No Love Lost One Shot

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: One-shot request from my love lordofthunderthr! Extra thanks because I've been waiting for the genuine smallest reason to use this gif because it's in no way going to fit into the actual story. Title from Bob Dylan by Fall Out Boy (you guys can pry my Fall Out Boy song titles from my cold, dead hands)

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. It's fluff. Horny fluff.

Ben felt like a fucking cat. She was touching him casually while he “slept” and he was pretty sure he was fucking purring. The Thing was definitely making some sort of goddamn low sound, and Ben couldn’t blame it. She was touching him like it was simple, his head was buried in Her neck, and one arm wrapped was between her body and the mattress while one splayed out across the bed because it goddamn could. He was in their fucking bed and Ben could do whatever the hell he wanted on it. 

Except fuck Her. 

Ben wasn’t allowed to fuck Her. 

He wasn’t allowed to make Her moan and scream and feel fucking good. Fuck Her until she said his name and smiled at him and looked so fucking perfect, undone below him. Or above him. Or against him or in front of him or clinging to his body. He didn’t give a single shit, as long as it was Her. Wanting Ben, touching him, letting him touch her. Like this—where Ben’s breath was in time with her heartbeat and her perfect hands were running through his hair—but until She’d been ruined. Until her beautiful face was flushed and her hands were clawing at his back and her pretty eyes were blown out and lustful and all of it was for Ben. For how he was making Her feel, how she was gasping and begging for him to do it again and again until the only words She knew were Ben and please and everything else was just moans and whines. Until she felt half as damn good as Ben did now, resting on top of Her as she fucking pet him and he had to fight the Thing’s urge to just stay here for the rest of goddamn time. 

“I know you’re awake, Benjamin.” Her voice was so perfect, humming everywhere around him and soothing the Thing, that Ben almost missed her actual fucking words. “I can feel you.” 

He didn’t answer. Maybe She’d just give up, and keep him right fucking here—where they both belonged—forever. 

He should’ve known better. Ben knew Her too fucking well to think she’d ever just let anything go. 

“You’re heavy,” She said, and one hand dropped to the base of Ben’s neck. “And you smell like shit.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I smell fucking fantastic.” Ben didn’t move as he grunted the words against Her skin. He wouldn’t move, not until she damn made him. 

“I knew it.” 

Clever, impossible, perfect fucking woman. With Her happy giggle when Ben squeezed her closer and her gasp when he nipped the skin of her neck.

“That’s a goddamn underhanded move, Sunshine.” He muttered, and when he looked up at Her it was like he’d been struck by lightning. She was smiling at him so gently, eyes still heavy with sleep, and so fucking beautiful. Just looking at him, watching Ben like she’d never want to look anywhere else. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pretty Boy.” She kept smiling at him, voice smug. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “You didn’t know I was awake,” he said Her name, and her smile widened. “You fucking baited me.” 

She shrugged, body shifting under Ben’s and making a small sound that sent a rush of pure fucking hunger through him. “Prove it.” 

Ben had a lot of favorite sounds She made. The small squeak when he flipped her body over his—sitting up with his back against the headboard and sliding her down his chest—was certainly on the damn list. 

“You’re a fucking menace, beautiful.” Ben pulled Her forward slightly, leaning down to growl in her ear. “I don’t think I’ll have to prove it. I think I’ll ask you again and you’ll just tell me.”

When Ben moved back, meeting Her eyes, he could feel her heartbeat under his hands. Resting right at the line of her shirt, never higher. Holding her right where he fucking wanted her. Against him, so when she squirmed he’d feel it. 

“Fuck yo-“ 

He didn’t wait to make a teasing remark or dirty joke. Ben just leaned forwards and touched Her. Kissed her pretty mouth until she opened for him, pushing his tongue in—almost down her throat—and just trying to get closer. As close as he was allowed to be, while still touching her more, making her feel good. Make Her hands pull at his hair, make her whimper a fucking perfect sound from her throat that Ben got to devour. He’d lost sight of his original plan, but he didn’t really fucking care. Not when he bit her lower lip and could revere in the way she leaned further into him, or when he had to try not to lose his fucking mind when she started to grind down on him. Started to practically fucking climb up his body. 

When Ben sucked on her tongue and she made maybe the best sound he’d ever heard in his life—unintelligible and breathless—he had to wrap his arms around Her and pull her into his chest. Hold Her there until he could get goddamn control of himself and not have to explain why he’d fucking cum in his pants. 

“Ben,” She whispered, head in his chest. “You really do smell terrible.”

He chuckled. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Can you please shower so we can train?” 

“I told you last night, we’re not fucking training-“ 

“And I told you, Benjamin, that I do not care what you told me.” She glared up at him, so fucking beautiful, and now Ben had to goddamn pretend he hadn’t already given in. “I am training, with or without you.” 

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.” 

She smiled at him. “But…?”

Ben rolled his eyes, leaning his head back, forcing himself to stop staring at Her perfect face. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“We’ll train.” 

“Thank you,” She kissed his neck, near his jaw, and hummed against his skin. “Now go shower. You smell like balls.” 

The only thing that kept Ben from taking a year in the shower—letting the Thing grab him and show him all the ways he could’ve just fucked her on the bed, buried himself in her and made her scream—was that sometimes, when they trained her singing, his doppelgänger would appear. It would make Her face flush, make her eyes wide and heartbeat quicken, and Ben would get to taunt her until one of them moved and he was kissing the air out of her lungs. It was something to look forward to. Something that made Ben fucking haul ass, getting in and out of the shower in four minutes flat. 

Ben hadn’t left the room when he realized that She was already singing. She’d gotten more comfortable with it, the longer they practiced, and sometimes would hum softly during movies or while doing normal things. Normal, easy things like laundry or dishes or cooking, simple fucking things that Ben got to share with Her. Got to watch how Her humming would send the world into a spiral of her, all the perfect fucking parts of her cast across the room for Ben to exist in. Colors and lights that he got to watch her sway in. 

This wasn’t that. This was singing. 

With words and instruments and a beat that ran through Ben’s body and bones. With the room turned into a dark club, with lights that flashed and changed in time with the bass. 

And She was dancing. She was singing and dancing and moving with the music like it had been made for Her. Like the rhythm had been designed to follow her legs, and the guitar had been made to move her hips. Like the whole fucking song had been perfectly tailored to her voice and how she moved through it. How she didn’t stop for even a second, never losing a breath, performing for no one like her life depended on it. 

It didn’t, but Ben’s life might. Everything in the world might hinge on letting her just dance like that forever. The Thing wanted all of this. All of Her, forever, like this, or it would fucking explode. Ben had no will to push against it. Not when She was dropping down and twisting and turning her body and so lost in it that she didn’t even see Ben. Falling to her knees and leaning back while her hands gestured with the lyrics. Trailed down her body and up again. Wrapping around her throat before falling to the side. Her whole fucking voice saying every word like it had been written for her, the whole face twisting with the emotions of the song, smiling and dropping into a pout and so fucking perfect. 

She only saw Ben when the song ended. When the club disappeared and they were back in the apartment, leaving Ben no longer hidden in the shadows of her illusion. He should probably feel like a goddamn creep, but Her mouth fell open and her heart picked up, so he couldn’t really bring himself to give a fuck.

“Hi,” She whispered, and Ben grinned at Her.

“Hello.”

“How long-“ 

“About three minutes,” he crossed the room until he was standing above Her. “Almost the whole fucking show.” 

“You, um, you showered fast.” 

Ben winked at Her. “I’d have showered faster if I’d known I was missing something. You do dance like a fucking slut.” 

She scoffed, wrinkling her nose at him. “That’s pretty high and mighty for the manwhore to say.” 

“It was fucking hot,” he lowered himself down until his nose was bumping hers. “I think I prefer your slut dancing, Sunshine. It’s more you.” 

“More me?” She gave him a flat look. “Fucking rude.” 

“How the hell is that-“ 

“You just called me a slut, Benjamin. That’s not very nice.” She whacked his chest, and Ben caught her hand. Held it there. 

“It’s more you because it’s fucking loud. Because it’s fucking captivating and hot. So fucking beautiful and good.”

Because it’s fucking perfect, the Thing rumbled. Because you’re fucking perfect. 

She was watching Ben with wide eyes. Opening and closing her mouth like she was going to say something. 

Instead, she fucking tackled him. Rammed Her body forward, crashed her mouth against his, and let Ben pick her up and carry to the couch. Training could fucking wait. Everything could fucking wait. She was making that same perfect sound from before, and her hands in his hair were making him groan, and when his hand started to kneed at her skin she made such a happy fucking sigh and Ben knew everything could wait. This was just Her. Making the Thing content and goddamn purr in his chest. Making Ben grin against Her neck when he sucked that one spot and she moaned his name. 

The whole world could go fuck itself. This was Her.

End Note: Let's all say thank you to @lordofthunderthr for some easy fluff in these dark times (Chapter 16 to a secret chapter number I cannot yet say).

I'm going to start a separate tag list for one-shots, so lemme know if you want to be added!

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Cherry Lips.

Summary: You spend one night with world famous musician Remy Lebeau and everything changes.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Choking, Spanking, Swearing, Smut. 18+

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes, and there it fucking is. The most useless sentence in the history of humankind. Right up there with, “We’ll call you right back.”

You glance over at him—his pale blue eyes darting everywhere except toward you as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tiny, cramped café. The table between you feels like a mile-wide chasm, and yet, somehow, not far enough. You raise an eyebrow, half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Oh, I know it’s not me,” you say, letting your voice drip with a sarcasm you don’t bother to mask. “It’s Hannah McCoy down the road, isn’t it?”

Six years.

Six whole fucking years boiled down to cheap coffee and a line. One goddamn sentence.

He shifts again, more uncomfortable than before, his hand fidgeting with the napkin as if it’ll give him some kind of answer he’s too much of a coward to say out loud. You can see it—he’s stalling. Trying to find a way to make himself look less like the asshole that he is.

“It wasn’t meant to happen,” he says finally, his voice weak, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. “She was just... there. And she gets me, you know?” His words are lame, hollow, and all the more infuriating because he actually thinks they’re enough.

You laugh—a short, humorless sound that feels more like a release of pent-up rage than anything else. “Oh, she gets you?” you echo, your voice rising a little. “What am I, a fucking puzzle you couldn’t solve?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he stares at the table, his fingers still twisting that stupid napkin into knots. “We’re just... not compatible,” he mutters, as if that explains everything. As if that suddenly makes it all okay.

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “You mean I’m not compatible with your bullshit,” you snap. “Just admit it—you’ve been trying to fuck her for months. Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

He doesn’t answer, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. Anger burns hot and fast in your veins, but underneath it, there’s something else—a deep, bitter ache. Six years. You gave him six years of your life, and now you're sitting in this shitty café as he offers nothing but weak excuses and even weaker apologies.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to meet your eyes for a fleeting second. “Those tickets to the concert tonight... keep them. Go with Nat or someone. She’d probably love it.”

You almost laugh again, but this time it’s too absurd to even entertain. “Oh, I’m going,” you say, voice sharp as a knife. “Whether you’re there or not. I paid good money for those tickets, so don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”

You take a sip of the coffee just to do something with your hands, but it’s as bitter as you feel, and you pull a face. Of course. Even the fucking coffee is shit.

He nods, like this conversation is some kind of negotiation that’s finally being settled. Like you’re both just two rational people agreeing to part ways, when in reality, he’s ripping apart everything you’ve built together. There’s nothing left to say, except—

“I’ll organize a trailer to come get my stuff tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face saying everything: Yeah, you fucking better. You don’t want to see him again, don’t want to hear his voice or catch even a glimpse of his blond hair in the doorway. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. And good riddance.

Pushing back your chair, you stand up and toss a few bills onto the table, more than enough to cover your coffee. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and then lean down just slightly, enough so he can feel the gravity of your words.

“And by the way,” you say, your voice low and cold, “the coffee here tastes like shit.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk out of the café, your footsteps steady and sure, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Tonight, you’ll go to the concert—Remy LeBeau live at the old warehouse downtown. The tickets you bought months ago, back when you thought you’d be going together, back when you didn’t know your relationship was already on its slow, agonizing descent.

But now, it’s just you. And you’ll go. And you’ll scream the lyrics if you have to. Because you paid for those tickets with your own damn money, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him ruin the one thing you’ve been looking forward to for months.

The door to the café swings shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel something close to freedom. <><><><><> "So he really just did that, huh?" Nat says, almost incredulous, as she runs a straightener through her fiery red hair. Each strand falls smoothly over her shoulder, contrasting sharply with the black band tee she’s wearing. Meanwhile, you sit on the edge of the bed, focused on pulling your black fishnet stockings over your legs, the faint snap of the fabric a sharp punctuation to the conversation.

You nod, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. "Yep. Pulled the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit too."

You stand up, reaching for the pair of black booty shorts lying on the bed next to you. The cool fabric slides easily over the stockings as you adjust them, making sure they sit just right. You catch Nat’s eyes in the mirror as she pauses, mid-straighten.

"Hannah McCoy," she says, her tone flat, almost clinical, as if she’s diagnosing an obvious problem. "She’s the blue-haired girl on your corner, right? Goes to college in town?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "That would be her," you reply, grabbing your eyeliner and starting your makeup routine. Your reflection looks back at you, the same you, but tonight’s different. Tonight, you want to look like someone who’s ready to burn the world down. Or at least, burn away the memory of your ex.

Nat’s phone buzzes on the dresser. She picks it up, scrolling through her feed with a frown before tossing the phone toward you.

"Take a look at this," she says, her voice laced with a kind of cautious sympathy. "Looks like she’s going to be there tonight with ‘someone special.’" Her finger hovers over the image, zooming in on a guy’s hand. "Whose tattoo does that look like?"

Your stomach twists as you glance down at the screen. The photo shows Hannah McCoy, grinning ear to ear, her lips pressed against a man’s hand. But it’s not just any hand. It’s one you’ve held countless times. One you’ve traced with your fingers. And that tattoo, the one in familiar looping script? You had paid for that tattoo on your second anniversary.

Your ex’s tattoo.

You feel a surge of anger rise in your chest. “Oh, the universe fucking hates me, I swear,” you mutter, tossing the phone back toward Nat. “The audacity of knowing I’m going to be there and still taking the woman you left me for is... ballsy.”

Nat shrugs, but there’s a glint of anger in her eyes on your behalf. "I’m more impressed he managed to get tickets this late. I thought they were all sold out."

"Obviously planning this one for months then," you comment, rolling your eyes as you start blending your eyeshadow. Months. Months of fake smiles, distant conversations, and a growing gap you both refused to talk about. It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the breakup—you’d felt the relationship fizzling out for a while now. The spark had died sometime last year. Maybe even earlier than that, if you were honest with yourself.

But this? This was an entirely different kind of hurt. The fact that he had the nerve to not only break up with you but to bring the woman he cheated with to a concert he knew you were going to be at? It felt like a slap in the face. Like he wanted to gloat, to show off what he’d traded you for.

It wasn’t the breakup that stung. It was the sheer gall of how he was doing it.

"Does he think I’m just going to sit there and pretend they don’t exist?" you mutter, applying a deep red lipstick with more force than necessary. "Like, what, I’m supposed to be okay watching them together? He’s really trying to rub this in my face."

Nat finishes her hair and turns to face you, her expression softening. She walks over, picking up a bottle of perfume from the nightstand. With a gentle hand, she sprays a light mist over you, the scent filling the room as she leans in, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror grins mischievously.

"Well, you scrub up damn fine," she says with a wink. "And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, because that always works out perfectly," you reply, but a small smile tugs at your lips. You’re not looking for a rebound tonight. You’re not even looking to get over him, because deep down, you already are. What you’re looking for is to reclaim something for yourself.

You glance over at the concert tickets sitting on your dresser, the cheap paper so full of promise just a few weeks ago. Remy LeBeau, live in town, the rock concert you’d been excited about for months, back when you thought you’d be going with your ex.

But now? Now it’s just you and Nat. And maybe that’s exactly what you need.

"Fuck him," you say, standing taller and adjusting your shirt as you finish the last swipe of mascara. "Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about me. And damn it, I’m going to have a good time."

Nat grins, stepping back and giving you an approving once-over. "That’s the spirit. Let’s make tonight one to remember."

And as you grab your jacket and head for the door, you know one thing for sure: whatever happens tonight, you’re walking in there on your own terms. <><><><><><><> Crowded.

That was probably the only word that could remotely describe the scene in front of you. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of leather, fishnet, black band tees, combat boots, and patches sewn onto worn-out denim jackets. The crowd seemed endless, bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy bass thumping through the massive speakers. It was as if the entire city had poured into this venue, all drawn to the electric energy of the night. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke from someone sneaking a smoke break in the corner.

The venue itself was a cavernous, industrial space—an old warehouse repurposed into a music hall. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and metal railings lined the second-floor balcony where people leaned over, drinks in hand, watching the stage below. The walls were painted in dark, muted colors, and the dim lighting only served to heighten the sense of anticipation. Neon signs flickered above the bar, casting a ghostly glow across the crowd, while the stage at the far end of the room was bathed in deep reds and purples, waiting for the main act to start.

Nat held your hand tightly as she wove her way through the throng of people, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. You followed closely behind her, trying to keep pace, though your eyes kept darting over the crowd, searching, whether you wanted them to or not. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were scanning for that familiar flash of blue hair—her hair.

You hated that you were doing it. Hated that even here, in the middle of what was supposed to be your night, you were still thinking about them. About him and her. And of course, Nat knew. She always knew. She didn’t even have to say anything; she just gave your hand an extra squeeze, her silent way of telling you she understood.

She always understands, you think. Nat knows you better than you know yourself most days.

Finally reaching the bar, Nat let go of your hand and flagged down the bartender. The music was loud- Someone’s voice already blaring through the speakers as the opening band wrapped up their final song—but even over the noise, you could hear Nat’s shout. "Two shots of tequila!" she ordered, not bothering to ask if you wanted one. She knew you did.

You leaned against the bar, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at you since you walked in. It was stupid to let him—and her—invade your mind like this. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken anymore. The relationship had been dead for months, and you knew it. But here, tonight, knowing they were somewhere in the crowd at the same concert you’d been looking forward to for weeks? It felt like a sick cosmic joke.

The thought made your stomach twist. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose and forget about him. About them. But all you could think about was the fact that they might be here, just a few feet away, holding hands like you used to, maybe even in the same spot you and he had planned to stand.

"Here," Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts as she handed you a shot. "To assholes who don’t deserve your energy," she said, raising her glass.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "To assholes," you repeated, clinking your glass against hers before throwing the shot back. The tequila burned its way down your throat, but it was exactly what you needed. A little fire to match the one brewing in your chest.

The music shifted as the opening band finished their set, and the energy in the room changed. The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation. You turned toward the stage, watching as the roadies scurried around, setting up for Remy LeBeau. You could feel the excitement building, the air practically vibrating with it.

And then, the lights flashed once, twice, and a single spotlight hit the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers and screams as Remy himself stepped out, swaggering to the microphone with a confidence that could only belong to a rockstar. His presence was magnetic—dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his voice... oh, his voice.

Deep. Gritty. Raw.

It thundered through the venue, shaking the very walls as he belted out the opening lines of his first song. The crowd surged forward, bodies pressed even closer together, arms raised, hands reaching for the stage. The bass pounded in your chest, the drums a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. You could feel the music in your bones, vibrating through your skin, drowning out every other thought.

Nat handed you another drink, this time a beer, and you took it gratefully, letting the cold liquid wash away the heat from the shot. You both stood there at the bar, watching the stage, the music wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you forgot about him. You forgot about her. It was just you, Nat, and the music.

"God, he’s so fucking good live," Nat shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she sipped her drink.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. Yeah, he was good. Really good. And for the first time tonight, you felt yourself relax, even if only a little.

But still, there was that nagging thought in the back of your mind. You glanced around the venue again, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t that you were upset about the breakup itself. You’d moved past that. What pissed you off was that he had the nerve to bring her here. To the concert you were supposed to go to. It felt like a deliberate move, like he wanted you to see them together, to rub it in your face.

Nat caught you looking around and rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she said, nudging you with her elbow. "They don’t matter. You matter. And tonight is about having fun, okay?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. She was always right.

"Okay," you said, offering her a small smile. "I’m done. I swear."

"Good," she replied with a grin, taking another swig of her drink. "Because tonight, we’re here to get drunk, scream along to some killer music, and remind you exactly who the fuck you are."

As Remy’s voice echoed through the venue, the music engulfing both of you, you decided that maybe—just maybe—you could let yourself enjoy this. You were here for you. For Nat. For the music. Not for him. Not for her. It was halfway through the fourth song, the chorus echoing through the packed venue, when you saw it. That unmistakable flash of blue hair cutting through the crowd like a knife. Your heart, which had been pounding with the rhythm of the music, suddenly felt like it had missed a beat.

And there he was—right behind her, laughing, his flushed cheeks glowing under the stage lights. His arm was casually draped around her shoulder, the same way it used to rest around yours, and the sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The tequila and beer you’d been enjoying just minutes earlier suddenly felt too heavy, like a stone sinking in your gut.

You and Nat had been singing along, swaying to the music, your voices blending with the hundreds of others around you. It had been a good moment. No, it had been a great moment. You were finally letting go, letting the music take you somewhere far away from him, from them. But now, that bubble had popped, and the reality of seeing them together, in your space, shattered the fragile sense of peace you’d been clinging to.

They were making their way toward you, pushing through the mass of bodies with casual arrogance. You could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw you—his steps faltering just for a moment before he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She paused too, her gaze finally landing on you, and for a brief second, you could see the hesitation in her face. But then they kept moving, like they had every right to be in your orbit.

You raised your drink to your lips, taking a large, deliberate sip, trying to calm the surge of anger rising in your chest. It hadn’t even been a full day. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from you in that dingy café and called it quits. And now here he was, parading her around like some kind of victory lap.

The audacity, the fucking audacity of it all, made your blood boil. You weren’t heartbroken—no, that wasn’t it. You’d been ready for the end. What you weren’t ready for was this. Him, swinging her around like a prize, like he hadn’t just destroyed six years of history and walked away like it was nothing.

Nat saw it too—the way your grip tightened on your glass, the way your jaw clenched as they got closer. She didn’t say anything, but you caught the look she shot you out of the corner of your eye. She knew that glint in your eyes, knew what it meant. It was the same look you got right before you were about to do something reckless. Or, more accurately, something that was probably going to get you both kicked out of the venue.

"You okay?" Nat asked, her voice low, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

Before you could respond, they were standing right in front of you. Him and her. The blue-haired girl who had been a shadow in the background of your life for months, and now was front and center, arm-in-arm with your ex.

"Hey," he said, because of course he would. His voice was casual, like he wasn’t standing there with the woman he’d emotionally cheated on you with, like he hadn’t just blown up your entire relationship less than a day ago. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. Didn’t think I’d see you here? The nerve of him acting like this was some kind of chance meeting, like he hadn’t known exactly where you’d be tonight. The tickets had been your idea in the first place. He knew. He fucking knew.

Nat shifted beside you, her hand subtly brushing against your arm like a warning, but you were already too far gone. That anger, that bitterness, it was bubbling up faster than you could control it, and there was no way in hell you were going to let this slide.

"Really?" you replied, your voice sweet with an edge of venom. "Didn’t think you’d see me here? At the concert I bought tickets for? The one we were supposed to go to together?"

He had the decency to at least look uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, just stood there, her blue hair framing her face, her expression unreadable. You weren’t even mad at her, not really. This was his mess.

"Look, I didn’t want it to be weird—" he started, but you were already done.

Without saying a word, you lifted your drink, the cold condensation dripping down your fingers, and poured it over his head. The liquid splashed over his blond hair, soaking into his shirt, and for a split second, the entire world seemed to go silent. His mouth dropped open in shock, and the people around you gasped, some even laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Nat’s eyes went wide, but you could see the admiration behind her surprise. She knew this was coming, and honestly? So did you.

"Oops," you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Guess I didn’t see you there."

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You grabbed Nat’s hand and spun on your heel, pulling her away from the bar, away from them, and into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the two of you practically sprinted toward the back of the venue, weaving your way through the sea of people.

By the time you stopped, both of you were breathless, and Nat was laughing so hard she had to lean against a nearby wall to catch her breath. "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was... that was fucking epic."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension in your chest finally releasing as you leaned against her, the two of you a giggling mess. It felt good. It felt really good. For the first time all night, you felt like you had control over something. You weren’t just reacting. You were choosing how this night was going to go. And if that meant getting a little messy, so be it.

As your laughter finally started to die down, you glanced back toward the stage, still riding the high of the moment. And that’s when you saw him—Remy. He was looking straight at you from the stage, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, like he’d seen the whole thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

For a second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you—his grin, your flushed cheeks, and the thrum of the music vibrating in the air around you. There was something in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken again, but not in anger this time. No, this was different.

Nat nudged you with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her face. "Looks like someone’s got an admirer," she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your own face was impossible to hide. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all. The concert had ended, but the adrenaline from the night still buzzed through your veins like an electric current. You and Nat were stumbling out of the packed venue, laughing uncontrollably, replaying the entire night’s events in your heads. The music still echoed in your ears, and your bodies still thrummed with the energy of the crowd, the lights, and that moment when you’d dumped your drink over your ex’s head. It had been perfect—like something out of a movie—and you couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer audacity of it all.

"Did you see his face?" Nat cackled, leaning against you as you both pushed through the departing crowd. "Like, I don’t think he’s ever been so shocked in his life. You actually—" she paused, wiping a tear from her eye, "—you fucking drowned him!"

You were still giggling, the satisfaction blooming in your chest. "I mean, he deserved it. Who brings the girl they cheated with to the same concert as their ex? I did him a favor, honestly." Nat was about to respond when you both noticed the man pushing his way through the sea of people toward you. He was hard to miss: a burly, balding guy in a black shirt, wearing a lanyard and an earpiece, the telltale signs of venue security. The sight of him was enough to send a jolt of panic through your body, and you instinctively grabbed Nat’s arm.

You exchanged a look—both of you wide-eyed with matching oh shit expressions. There was no way this wasn’t about what had just happened at the bar. Shit, shit, shit.

"Uh, what do we do?" you whispered under your breath, trying to calculate your chances of slipping away unnoticed. But it was too late. The security guard had already spotted you.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, clearly annoyed but not quite angry. He exhaled sharply and jerked his head toward the back of the venue. "Come with me," he said, his voice gruff, leaving no room for argument.

You and Nat exchanged another glance, this time your heart sinking. Oh, great. Here we go. You opened your mouth to protest, trying to play it cool. "Uh, yeah, I don’t really go anywhere with strange men. Learned that one a long time ago."

The security guard rolled his eyes so hard you worried they might get stuck. "Mr. LeBeau wants to see you," he said, his voice low but firm, like he had better things to do than argue with you.

That stopped you cold. "What?" you said, blinking, any thoughts of running or playing dumb immediately evaporating. Your brain tried to catch up with the words, but they didn’t make sense. "Mr. LeBeau" as in... Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau who had been up on stage not twenty minutes ago, singing his heart out, making the entire venue lose their minds?

Nat’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, clearly as stunned as you were. "Like, Remy Remy? The guy we just watched? Wants to see... us?"

The security guard gave a curt nod, clearly unimpressed by your confusion. "Yeah. He saw what you did at the bar." He smirked a little, like he couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. "Said it was the highlight of his night."

Your heart was pounding now, but for an entirely different reason. You could still picture Remy’s face from earlier, that moment after you’d drenched your ex. He’d been singing, but he’d seen you—grinning down from the stage with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he was in on the joke. And now he wanted to see you. You.

Nat was already tugging at your arm. "Holy shit, we have to go," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Are you kidding me? The man himself wants to meet you!"

Your mind was spinning, a dizzy mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of fever dream. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting in a café getting dumped by your ex, and now... now you were about to meet a rockstar. The rockstar.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Okay," you said, your voice shaky but determined. There was no way you were going to pass this up. Not after everything that had happened tonight. "Okay, let’s go."

The security guard turned on his heel and led the way, weaving through the last remnants of the crowd as you and Nat followed closely behind. You could feel your heart racing, your palms slightly sweaty as you tried to process what was about to happen.

"Remy LeBeau," Nat whispered, half to herself, half to you, as you walked. "Dude, what the hell is even happening right now?"

"I have no idea," you muttered, glancing down at your outfit, suddenly feeling both excited and self-conscious. The adrenaline from earlier was still humming through your veins, but now it had turned into something else. Nerves. Anticipation.

The security guard stopped at a door near the back of the venue, nodding to another guard who waved you through without hesitation. You stepped inside, and the noise of the venue faded behind you, replaced by the quieter, more intimate hum of the backstage area. The walls were lined with posters and equipment cases, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat lingering in the air.

And then, there he was.

Remy LeBeau.

He stood near the back of the room, leaning casually against a table as if he hadn’t just performed in front of hundreds of people. His dark hair was still damp with sweat, and he had a half-smile on his lips, that same mischievous look in his eyes that you’d noticed from the stage. He was just as magnetic up close as he had been from afar, his presence filling the room without even trying.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Th’ girl who made my night." His eyes flicked over to Nat, acknowledging her but clearly focused on you. "An’ her partner in crime, I assume?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Uh, yeah, that was... me," you said, trying to play it cool but knowing full well you were probably failing miserably.

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the table, walking toward you with an easy confidence. "I got’ta say," he continued, "I’ve seen a’lo’ of crazy shit in my time, but tha’..." He shook his head, grinning. "Tha’ was somethin’ special."

Nat nudged you, her eyes wide with excitement, and you could feel your face flush with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little breathless. "It felt pretty damn good."

Remy raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Y’re a firecracker, aren’ y’?" He glanced between you and Nat, then back at you. "I like tha’."

For a moment, you just stood there, not entirely sure what to say. This was surreal. You were standing in front of Remy LeBeau, who had not only witnessed your dramatic confrontation with your ex but had actually enjoyed it. And now he was talking to you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

Nat, as usual, broke the silence first. "So, uh, what now?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Remy tilted his head, still watching you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I wa’ thinkin’," he said slowly, "y’ two seem like the kin’a girls who know how t’ have a good time. And I’m not quite ready for the night t’ end." He flashed a grin. "What do y’ say we grab a drink? My treat."

Your heart skipped a beat. This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable. You glanced at Nat, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then back at Remy.

"Yeah," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "We’d love that." The night had a dreamlike quality to it, a hazy mix of laughter, music still buzzing in your ears, and the steady pulse of alcohol warming your veins. You and Nat found yourselves sitting with the band long after most of the crowd had cleared out, the afterglow of the concert still lingering in the air. Empty bottles were strewn across the table, and the conversation was flowing easily, Nat animatedly explaining something to the drummer and bassist, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing out laughter from everyone around her.

But even amidst the easy banter, the shared stories, and the laughter, you could feel it—him. Remy’s eyes on you. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, like a heat that lingered on your skin. You were talking to the guitarist about some band you’d both seen live a few years ago, your conversation relaxed and casual, but every so often, you’d glance up, and there he’d be. Watching you.

Remy LeBeau.

There was something about him that pulled people in, a quiet magnetism that didn’t demand attention so much as command it. He wasn’t the type to shout or make a spectacle of himself, but when his eyes locked on you, it was as if everything else in the room faded away. He didn’t need to do anything more than smirk, that small, knowing curve of his lips, and it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just because he was a rockstar—though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was something deeper. Something in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it.

And now, he was watching you, that same smirk playing on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. You tried to focus on what the guitarist was saying, but it was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, the flutter in your stomach every time you caught Remy’s gaze.

It wasn’t long before Remy made his way over to you, slipping into the seat beside you with a kind of effortless grace. The guitarist gave him a nod and, sensing the shift in energy, excused himself to grab another drink, leaving you alone with Remy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still buzzing with energy, Nat’s laughter ringing out from across the table as she leaned into the drummer, her legs now casually draped over his thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles along her calves. You smiled at the sight of her, happy that she was enjoying herself. But when you turned back to Remy, your breath caught in your throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering hints of sweat from the concert.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you.

"Y’ having a good nigh’?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushed against your skin.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. "Yeah. Better than I expected, honestly."

"Tha’ so?" He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Didn’ think y’d end up backstage with a bunch of rockstars, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, definitely didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d spend the night drowning in cheap drinks and bad memories. Maybe even getting arrested for assault after the bar incident," You glanced briefly at Nat, still lost in her own world, then back at him. "But this... this is way better."

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, his smirk giving way to something a little more genuine. "Good. Y’ deserve better th’ bad memories and shit ex-boyfrien’s."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the tequila or the way his voice wrapped around the words like a promise, but suddenly, the room felt smaller, the space between you and him charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. "So, you always invite girls backstage who pour drinks on their exes?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Remy chuckled, leaning back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "No’ always. But y’... well, y’ caught my attention."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of boldness rise within you. "Oh yeah? What was it? The drink? The fishnets?"

He grinned, his eyes darkening slightly as he tilted his head. "Maybe it was the way y’ didn’ let him get th’ last word. Or maybe it’s th’ way you carry y’self, like y’ve got fire in y’." His voice lowered, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I like that."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. You could feel the tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you like a thread waiting to snap.

You glanced down at your drink, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his leg was brushing against yours under the table. The room was still full of people, but it felt like the two of you were in a bubble, separate from everything else. Your pulse quickened, and when you looked back up at him, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt it too.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretches out endlessly, where you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you know something is. You could feel the question lingering in the air—unspoken, but loud enough to drown out everything else.

And then, as if the decision had already been made, Remy leaned in just slightly, his voice low and rough. "Y’ wanna get out of here?"

It wasn’t a question so much as an invitation, one that hung between you like a challenge. Your heart was pounding now, your palms slightly sweaty as you held his gaze. You knew what he was asking, knew exactly where this was going. And despite the chaos of the night, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had started with seeing your ex, there was no hesitation in your mind.

You wanted this.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Remy’s smirk deepened, and without another word, he stood up, offering you his hand. You glanced over at Nat, who was still wrapped up with the drummer, her legs now fully draped across his lap, lost in her own world. She caught your eye for a brief moment and gave you a knowing grin, mouthing, Go.

You took Remy’s hand, letting him guide you through the backstage corridors, the noise of the room fading behind you as you walked. The air felt cooler as you moved away from the crowd, but the heat between the two of you only intensified with each step.

By the time you reached the door to his dressing room, your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of your chest. Every step you took down the corridor had been charged with anticipation, your pulse quickening with each second, each unspoken word between you and Remy. You could still feel the lingering heat of the room you'd just left, still hear the faint hum of voices and music filtering through the walls, but it all felt so distant now—like the world outside had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of heightened energy and unspoken desire.

Remy opened the door with an easy grace, his hand lingering on the handle as he gestured for you to step inside. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a lamp in the corner casting warm, golden light over the space. There was no harshness, no coldness—it felt intimate, like a place where secrets could be shared and moments could stretch into forever. The air in the room was cooler than the heat of the venue, but it was thick with something else, something palpable between you, something that had been building all night.

As you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the moment settling over you, a bittersweet mix of nerves and excitement surging through your veins. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint sounds of the distant music were muted, leaving only a soft hum in the background. It felt like a cocoon, a space where the outside world no longer existed, where the chaos and noise of the night couldn’t reach you.

You turned to face him, and that fragile tension—so carefully held in check since the moment you had caught him watching you from the stage—finally snapped. The charged atmosphere between you suddenly ignited, and in the span of a breath, Remy closed the distance between you. His movements were deliberate but urgent, a man who had been waiting for this as much as you had. His hands, strong and sure, slid around your waist, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

Then, his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, as if both of you were feeling out the boundaries of this moment. But it didn’t stay soft for long. The urgency that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise, like a flame fanned by a gust of wind. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pulled him closer, needing him closer. His breath hitched as your fingers slid through the strands, and you could feel the way his body responded to your touch, the way his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

And just like that, everything else fell away.

The music, the crowd, the chaos of the night—it all melted into the background, like a distant memory that no longer mattered. All that existed was the heat between your bodies, the taste of him on your lips, the way his hands roamed over your back, exploring, wanting. Each kiss, each touch, sent sparks of electricity shooting through you, lighting up every nerve, every inch of your skin. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, like the night had been building to this moment all along.

You weren’t thinking about your ex anymore. He had been nothing more than a brief, bitter distraction, a fleeting shadow that had been erased by the intensity of what was happening now. You weren’t thinking about the way his arm had been slung around her shoulders, or the way they had laughed as if you didn’t exist. That whole mess, that entire chapter of your life, felt miles away—insignificant in the face of what you were feeling now.

All you could focus on was Remy—the way his hands moved over your skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts between kisses. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care. You had never felt so alive, so seen, as you did in that moment, with him.

There was something intoxicating about the way he touched you, like he was both savoring every second and barely able to contain himself. His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours sending another jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat, and when his lips found yours again, it was like the world tilted on its axis, spinning faster, pulling you deeper into the gravity of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch, to bend around you, making every second feel heavy with possibility. You could feel the weight of his desire in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, closer—like he couldn’t get enough. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this moment to end.

Your back hit the wall gently, and before you knew it, his body was pressed against yours, his hands framing your face as he kissed you with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell in time with your own ragged breaths. It was all-consuming, the kind of connection that made everything else fade into oblivion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt free—untethered from the weight of your past, from the pain of your ex, from the expectations you had placed on yourself. With Remy, it was different. It was easy. It was exactly what you hadn’t realized you needed.

And as his hands slid lower, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering something low and full of promise, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment, to him. “Fuck,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with lust, dripping with raw desire. His accent was heavier now, his words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, one meant only for you. “Y’re so fucking beautiful.”

The room around you seemed to fade, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls, isolating the two of you in this moment. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, but before you could even muster a response, Remy’s hands were on your thighs.

Strong, calloused hands slid up your legs, pushing them apart with deliberate ease, his touch firm but gentle, like he was savoring every second. Time seemed to slow as he sank to his knees before you, his body lowering gracefully, and the sight of him—Remy LeBeau, on his knees for you—made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips parted slightly, and you sucked in a breath. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world he wanted at this moment.

You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your shorts, teasing the fabric aside as he slipped beneath the hem, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your body responding instantly to his proximity, to the heat of his breath against your skin.

"Remy," you breathed, your voice barely audible, strained and shaky, trembling with need. Your eyes locked onto his, and the way he looked up at you—kneeling before you like a worshipper at an altar—made your knees weak.

He grinned, that familiar, wicked curve of his lips that drove you wild, and without breaking eye contact, his fingers dipped further, tracing soft circles along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation running hot through your veins, every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch.

With one swift motion, his fingers slid beneath your shorts and into your underwear, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation. His touch was confident, practiced, knowing. He pressed his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you cry out. Your hips jerked involuntarily toward him, your body desperate for more, for everything he was giving you.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating against your skin. The sound of it sent another wave of heat coursing through you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in torturously slow strokes, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You could feel the tension building inside you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

Your body was trembling, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You were right on the edge, teetering there, your thighs trembling against his hands, your entire body aching with the need to come. You could feel it building, that sweet, aching pressure deep in your core, and you moaned, your voice a broken plea.

But just when you were about to tip over into bliss, Remy’s fingers withdrew, leaving you gasping, your body trembling, your mind reeling from the sudden loss of contact. You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, your body still throbbing with need, and you stared down at him, your chest heaving.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desperation, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Don’t stop." You could barely form the words, your body crying out for more, for him.

Remy’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes dark with amusement and promise as he slowly stood, his body towering over you now, casting a long shadow in the dim light. His fingers, still slick with you, brushed against your lip for the briefest moment before he wiped them on his jeans, never once breaking eye contact. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, something that made your pulse quicken all over again, your body aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise, each word sending shivers down your spine. He reached down, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment, the touch strangely tender considering the hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers slid down your jaw, tracing the line of your neck, lingering there as if feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved lower, over your collarbone, down the curve of your chest, before settling at the hem of your shirt. He tugged at it gently, his eyes flicking to yours, silently asking for permission. Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, your body already aching for more of him, already craving the feel of his skin against yours.

In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, casting it aside without a second thought. You were bare before him now, and the way his eyes roamed over your body, dark and intense, made your skin flush with heat. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel his breath, warm and heavy against your skin.

His hands, large and sure, moved to your waist, pulling you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was deep and demanding. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue sliding between your lips, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers as he held you close.

The kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate, as your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction sent another wave of desire crashing through you, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Remy broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m gonn’ make y’ scream my name tonight." His voice was a low growl, full of promise, and the sound of it made your core tighten with anticipation.

You were already lost to him, already craving everything he had promised. Your body trembled with the need to feel him inside you, to have him everywhere all at once. You could barely think, barely breathe, as he guided you backward toward the couch, his hands never leaving your body, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When your legs hit the edge of the couch, you sank down onto it, your body trembling with anticipation. Remy stood over you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his chest broad, his muscles taut, every inch of him exuding raw, masculine power.

He lowered himself onto the couch, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding your skin once more. The weight of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours, sent another wave of desire crashing through you. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you arched into his touch, your body aching for more, for everything he had to give. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, with a possessive intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. There was something about the way Remy touched you—like he was memorizing you, staking his claim with every brush of his fingers. His palms slid up your sides, tracing the lines of your body, before cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow at first, teasing, until they hardened into tight peaks beneath his touch. The sensation pulled a low moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily as you pressed yourself against him, craving more.

His mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent, his tongue moving against yours in a dance that was equal parts dominance and submission. It was a battle for control, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to win. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Every kiss, every touch, was like gasoline poured on an already roaring fire, and you were both more than willing to let it burn.

"Y; taste so good," Remy murmured against your lips, his voice rough and gravelly, thick with desire. His breath was hot as it ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words made your pulse quicken, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Before you could respond, his hand began its descent, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, and then dipping beneath it, his touch featherlight but full of promise. The anticipation made your thighs clench, your body aching for him to touch you where you needed him most.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively lifting toward him. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core as his fingers began to move, stroking you with expert precision. He found your clit almost immediately, circling it with his thumb in slow, deliberate movements that made your breath hitch and your body tremble.

"Remy," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling as he touched you. His fingers pressed deeper, probing, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and your body responded instantly, arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He watched you as he worked, his eyes dark and filled with lust, taking in every reaction, every gasp, every moan. There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at you, like he was savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath him. His thumb moved faster now, circling your clit with a pressure that was both perfect and overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Please…" you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting closer, your entire body taut with anticipation, teetering on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to tip over, Remy pulled back, his fingers slipping away, leaving you gasping, your body aching with need. Your eyes flew open, wide and desperate, and you looked up at him, your chest heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Beg f’r it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, commanding edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and for a moment, your pride flared up, making you hesitate. But the need was too strong, too overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of you.

"Please, Remy," you whispered, your voice trembling, your body trembling. "Please, make me come."

There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Tha’ my girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, and then his mouth was on you.

He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he removed your shorts, leaving you fully exposed to him. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth descended on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a speed and precision that made you cry out. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands as you held on for dear life, your body trembling beneath the onslaught of sensation.

Remy devoured you like a man starved, his tongue working you with an intensity that bordered on desperate. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue, driving you absolutely wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, your body moving on its own as you chased the pleasure, the tension inside you building higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely coherent, your body trembling uncontrollably as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too intense, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. You were desperate for release, your thighs shaking, your nerves singing with pleasure as his tongue moved faster, pushing you right to the brink.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. "I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let up. His tongue continued its relentless assault, flicking over your clit with a speed and precision that left you gasping for breath. He was merciless, pushing you closer and closer until finally, with a shuddering gasp, you came. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under, your body convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you in uncontrollable, shuddering waves.

You cried out, your vision blurring as the intensity of it overwhelmed you, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But Remy didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, softer now but still persistent, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were left gasping, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were barely aware of your surroundings as you came down from the high, your body still trembling, your thighs slick with sweat and the aftermath of your release. Remy’s hands slid up your legs, soothing now, his touch gentle as he kissed his way up your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

When he finally reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, unhurried way that sent a new wave of heat through your body. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just happened, and it made your already racing heart pound even harder.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down at you. "I’m not done with y’ yet," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes sent another jolt of anticipation through you. You knew he meant every word, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you realized you didn’t want him to stop.

Not tonight. Not ever. He held your gaze, eyes dark and unyielding, the weight of his presence suffocating in the most delicious way. His body was close, too close, the heat rolling off him in waves that made your skin prickle with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me what y’ wan’."

The command hung in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart thundered in your chest, the words you desperately wanted to say caught in your throat. But his gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, demanding your confession. You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you finally gave in to the desire burning inside you.

"I want…" you hesitated, the flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but the raw need in his eyes pushed you forward. "I want you to spank me," you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to be my Daddy."

A slow, predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, sending a thrill of anticipation through you. He moved closer, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the soft cushions of the couch. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel thick and heavy.

"Tha’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with unmistakable pride. The praise wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your skin tingle. "Y’re going to be such a good girl fo’ Daddy, aren’ y’?"

Your throat was tight, but you nodded, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, Daddy." His smile widened, a dark, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes as his hands slid slowly down your body, fingertips grazing your skin with deliberate intent. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation through you, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body as though you were his to command—and you were.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice low, authoritative, and laced with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You stood up, the cool air brushing against your skin, making you feel exposed in the most thrilling way. But there was no hesitation in your movements. You held his gaze, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips as you obeyed, the desire in his eyes only fueling the heat pooling deep in your stomach. The intensity of his stare, the hunger he didn’t bother to hide, made your body hum with anticipation.

"You ready for Daddy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your core tighten with need.

You nodded, your breath coming in short bursts as you braced yourself, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you. The tension coiled in your muscles, every nerve on high alert as you waited for the first strike.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. The sting of it spread across your ass, sharp and hot, and you gasped, your body jerking forward from the force. But there was no time to adjust, no time to catch your breath—his hand was already coming down again, harder this time.

The rhythm he set was punishing, each slap harder than the last, the sharp pain blending beautifully into the growing pleasure. Your skin burned where his hand struck, the heat blooming in waves that spread through your entire body. You moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, pushing back toward him, craving more.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice soothing but firm, like he was rewarding your submission even as his hand came down again. "Taking it so well for Daddy."

The praise made your chest tighten with something heady and warm, your core throbbing with need. You could feel the wetness between your thighs growing, the ache there intensifying with each slap. The mix of pain and pleasure, of his control and your willingness to submit, was intoxicating. Your mind was spinning, lost in the haze of sensation as your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, your skin tingling with every strike, the heat radiating from your ass as his hand continued its relentless assault. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. The pain was delicious, sharp and biting, but it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

Remy’s hand finally stilled, resting against your heated skin, his fingers brushing over the marks he’d left. The gentleness of his touch after the punishment made your breath hitch, sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel your body trembling, teetering on the edge of something raw and powerful.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.

Your legs were shaking as you obeyed, turning to face him on the couch. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from the spanking as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He looked down at you like you were his possession, something precious and fragile but also something he could break if he wanted to.

"Daddy’s proud of y’" he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. The words sent a ripple of warmth through you, making your skin flush with pride. But then his expression shifted, darkening with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. "But Daddy needs to hear y’ beg."

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you looked up at him, your mind spinning with the mixture of fear and anticipation. The weight of his command hung heavy in the air, and you knew there was no escaping it. You wanted to beg. Needed to.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, make me come."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped closer, looming over you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your throat. His grip was firm but gentle as his fingers curled around your neck, his thumb brushing over the rapid pulse at your throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with approval. The words he spoke made your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that left you feeling both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You were his, completely in this moment, but knowing that you still held the reins—that he was listening, that he would stop if you asked—made your body tingle with anticipation. His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough for your breath to hitch, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you. Every nerve in your body was alight, your skin buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop. You double tap if you need me to stop," he said softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through you. The reassurance grounded you, a reminder that despite the intensity, this was still your choice. The control you had over the situation only made your submission all the more intoxicating. You wanted this, craved it, and he knew it.

The sensation of his hand around your throat was overwhelming, the pressure making your pulse race beneath his fingers. It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—it was the power in his touch, the way it made you feel utterly exposed and completely his. Your body responded instantly, a flood of heat pooling between your legs as his thumb brushed over your pulse. The world felt smaller, quieter, like nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the way his hand made you submit so completely.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper that made your stomach tighten with desire. "I wan’ta see those pretty eyes on me when you beg, baby."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling at the raw hunger in his voice. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the air as you struggled to catch your breath. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, and your eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

"Look a’ me," he growled, his voice low and demanding, and the way he said it made your heart lurch in your chest.

Your gaze locked with his, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel heavy, like it was pressing down on you. His eyes were dark, filled with fierce possession, and the look he gave you made your entire body hum with need. Your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to hold his gaze. It was almost too much, the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he wanted to consume you whole.

The pressure of his hand around your throat made your head spin, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire swirling inside you. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as your body throbbed with anticipation. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as you focused entirely on the feeling of his hand on your throat, on the way your body responded to his touch.

"Beg," he growled, his voice thick with authority, the single word sending a wave of heat crashing through you. "Beg Daddy to make y’ come."

You whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to find the words. The need inside you was overwhelming, consuming, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. "Please," you gasped, your voice shaking as his grip tightened just a little more. "Please, Daddy… I need you. Please make me come."

The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate, unmistakable. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the frantic beating of your heart beneath his fingers as he loosened his grip just enough for you to breathe again. His mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched the way you trembled beneath him.

"Oh you beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and approval. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body reacting to his words as much as his touch. His hand moved from your throat, trailing down your body, his fingers brushing over every inch of bare skin with deliberate slowness, like he was savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

He sank to his knees between your legs, and the anticipation made your breath catch in your throat. You barely had time to process the shift before his mouth was on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that made your body jerk in response. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers curling into the dark strands as you held on, desperate for more.

The way his tongue moved—deliberate, intense, relentless—was driving you wild. Each flick, each stroke, sent you spiraling higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to hold yourself together. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking as he worked you with expert precision, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "I’m gonna—"

But he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its assault, his tongue flicking over your clit with unrelenting speed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, with a final flick of his tongue, you came undone. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping for air, your body convulsing as the pleasure tore through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice soothing, grounding you as you came down from the high. "Take it, baby. Take everything Daddy gives you."

Each word was like a balm, softening the sharp edges of your pleasure, grounding you as the intensity began to fade. But your body was still trembling, still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you could feel the heat between your legs still pulsing with need.

Your heart was still racing, your body trembling from the echo of the last orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes told you this wasn’t over. Far from it. The kiss he gave you was searing, possessive, but it was also a promise—one that left you breathless and aching for more. His hands still roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every sensitive spot, every place that made you tremble. You could feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his touch lingered with purpose, pushing you closer to an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face—but you wanted to, needed to.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something almost predatory. His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze flicking between your eyes as if searching for a sign. A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, unwavering confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

"Y’ can take more," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I know y’ can. Y’re such a good girl, and I’m not done with y’ yet."

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat in your stomach flaring to life again as your body responded to his command. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your chin tightened, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "Tell me y’ can take it for Daddy."

"I can," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I can take it for you, Daddy."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more before sliding down your throat, lingering there for a moment as if to remind you of the control he held over your body. The pressure was light, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to remind you how easy it would be for him to take you further than you’d ever gone before.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a ripple of heat through your body. "Now get on your knees."

His command was simple, but the weight of it was overwhelming. Your legs were still shaky, your body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but you obeyed, sliding off the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. The feeling of the cool floor beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off your skin, grounding you even as your mind spun with anticipation.

Remy towered over you, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with dark desire, and the way he watched you—like a predator watching its prey—made your heart race even faster. You felt small beneath him, vulnerable, but it only fueled the aching need inside you. You wanted to please him, to give him everything he asked for.

"D’y know what I want, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

Your mouth felt dry, your voice barely a whisper as you answered. "No, Daddy. Tell me."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I wan’t see how far I can push y’," he said, his tone dark and full of promise. "I want to see y’ break for me, but y’re going to ask for it. Y’re going to beg me to take y’ there."

The words hit you like a wave, the meaning behind them settling deep in your core. He wasn’t just going to push you—he was going to make you want it, make you beg for it. The thought made your stomach twist with anticipation, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as you knelt before him, waiting for his next move.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Open y’ mouth," he ordered, his voice soft, but the command in it was unmistakable.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability of the position you were in, the way he was looking down at you as though he owned you, made your entire body burn with need. You wanted him to take you further, wanted him to push your limits in ways you’d never imagined.

He slid two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he watched you intently. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and you closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently as you gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he watched you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

Your body responded instantly to the praise, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you as you sucked harder on his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. His eyes darkened, and you could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he was reveling in the control he had over you.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath as your lips parted with a soft, wet sound. His thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the moisture before he tilted your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Y’re going to beg for this," he said, his voice low and commanding. "’nd y’re not going to stop until I’m ready to give it to y’."

The heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body trembling with need as his words sank in. You wanted to beg, wanted to give him everything he asked for, but your voice felt trapped in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please… I need you."

His smile widened, dark and predatory, as he stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, and the way he looked down at you made your heart race even faster.

"I know y’ do," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with authority. "But y’’re going to have to work for it, baby. Show me how much y’ want it."

With that, he unzipped his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling with anticipation as he freed himself, his cock hard and thick, the sight of it making your mouth water.

He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the way your breath quickened, the way your body responded to the sight of him. Then, without warning, he gripped the back of your neck again, guiding you toward him.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your lips parted instantly, your body moving on instinct as he guided his cock into your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, and you moaned around him, your body trembling with need as you took him deeper.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he watched you. "Take it all for Daddy."

You did your best to obey, your throat constricting as he pushed deeper, the sensation making your eyes water. But you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to please him, to show him how much you could take.

His grip on your neck tightened as he began to move, thrusting slowly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of the moment, the way he was using you, made your body burn with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

"Look at y’," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the degradation. You could feel your pussy throbbing, the need for release consuming you as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs as you tried to take him deeper, the pleasure and pain blending together in a way that made your head spin. You could feel your body trembling, your vision blurring with the intensity of it all, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"Beg for it," he growled again, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg Daddy to let you come."

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice shaking as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please let me come. I need it."

His eyes darkened, his expression filled with satisfaction as he watched you. "Y’ll come when I say y’ can," he growled, his voice thick with authority. "And not a second before."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your body trembling with the need to obey. You didn’t know how much more you could take, but you trusted him to push you to your limit—to give you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know what that was yet.

"Now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as his grip tightened on your neck. "Let’s see how far I can take y’." Remy’s presence loomed over you, dark and intoxicating, his eyes gleaming with something primal, something that made your heart race and your body ache with need. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he held over you. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every second of your submission, sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, cher," he murmured, his deep Cajun drawl thick and dripping with honey, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You think you’re ready for more, but you gon’ have to beg me real sweet. I wanna hear how much you need it."

His accent wrapped around you like a sultry summer night, the smooth cadence of his voice making the air around you feel heavy and thick. The sound of his words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the way his voice dripped with authority, with promise.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Remy, I need more."

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of your neck, lingering over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers.

"More?" he repeated, his accent lingering on the word, making it sound almost like a tease. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "I don’t know if you can handle more, cher. But you gon’ prove it to me, non?"

You nodded quickly, eager, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you fought to hold his gaze. Your body was trembling, every nerve alight with anticipation, with the need to be pushed further, to see just how far he could take you.

Remy tilted his head, his smirk widening as he studied you, his thumb pressing a little harder against your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. "Y’ gon’ beg me. Beg me proper. Tell Daddy exactly what y’ need."

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his words coiled around you like a snake. The way his accent made every word sound like a command, left you desperate, aching for whatever he was willing to give.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please push me. I need it. I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, satisfaction flashing across his face as he released your throat and let his hand trail down your body. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as they traced the curve of your hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Bon," he murmured, his voice low and full of approval. "That’s my good girl. Y’ wanna be pushed till y’ can’t take no more, hmm? Y’ wanna see how far Daddy can take y’?"

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved lower, teasingly slow, inching toward the heat between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as you waited for his touch, for him to take control again.

"You gon’ ask for everythin’, cher. Every. Damn. Thing," he growled, his voice thick with his Cajun drawl, each word dripping with dominance. "An’ you ain’t stoppin’ till Daddy says so."

His fingers finally brushed over your clit, and you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden contact. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. You needed more, craved more, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, your body shaking as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements. "Please… more."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, his accent thick as honey as he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You want more? You gon’ have to work for it. Show me how bad you need it."

He began to circle your clit with maddening slowness, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to give you relief. The frustration built inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up toward his hand, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"No, no, cher," he drawled, his voice a low purr. "You don’t get to move till I say so. You gon’ take what I give you, and you gon’ be a good girl while you do it."

The dominance in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every sensation, made your head spin. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, but he wasn’t letting you have anything more than a taste. Your body was desperate for release, but you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you without making you beg for it.

"Please," you gasped, your voice breaking as you struggled to keep still beneath him. "Please, Remy, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—just, please, I need more."

He chuckled again, a dark, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. "That’s better. But I don’t think y’ beggin’ hard enough, non? I wanna hear y’ cry for me. I wanna hear that desperation."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble, but still, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed him to take you over the edge, to push you further than you’d ever been before.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to his wrist, but he didn’t let up, didn’t give you an inch of control. You were his, completely, and the knowledge of that made you tremble with need.

"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please make me come. I need it. I need you."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "Ah, there she is," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he began to thrust with a relentless, punishing rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building so quickly that it left you gasping for air, your body arching up against him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But even as your body trembled, even as the pleasure threatened to consume you, he didn’t let you have it. He kept you right on the edge, his movements precise, controlled, designed to keep you teetering on the brink without ever falling over.

"Y’ feel that?" he growled, his voice low and rough, his accent thick with desire. "Y’ right there, but you don’t get to come till I say so. Y’ gon’ take everythin’ I give y’, an’ y’ gon’ thank me for it."

Your body was shaking, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you fought to hold on, to stay in control, but it was impossible. The sensation of his fingers inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice—it was all too much.

"Please," you cried, your voice breaking as you begged him for release. "Please, Daddy, please let me come. I can’t take it anymore."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grin widening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then come for me, cher," he growled, his accent thick and commanding. "Come for Daddy."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped, the orgasm crashing over you with such force that it left you gasping for air. Your body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of your release. "Good girl, bébé. Y’ take what Daddy gives you."

Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as you rode out the orgasm, your mind spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You barely registered Remy’s thumb brushing over your swollen lips, or the way his grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as you came down from the high.

But even as your body began to relax, even as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, you knew that Remy wasn’t done. Not yet.

Remy's eyes burned with a heat that almost made you shy away, but the pull between you two was undeniable. His Cajun accent was thick, dripping with lust as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. You knew you were walking on the edge now, and he was about to push you over.

"Ah, cher," he drawled, his voice thick like molasses, rich and smooth, "y’ been beggin' so sweet, but now you gon’ really see what it means to be mine." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you close until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. "Y’ ready for Daddy to fuck you like you need?"

Your answer came in the form of a ragged breath, your body pulsing with anticipation. Every nerve in your body was alive with the need for him, for the way he controlled you, the way he made you feel like no one else ever could. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it from you.

"I asked y’ a question, cher," he murmured, his lips brushing just against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with a kiss he hadn’t yet given. "Tell me what you want."

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body trembled under his touch. "Please, Daddy… I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as a feral smile tugged at his lips. "Bon," he growled. "That’s what I like to hear."

Without another word, his hands were on you, strong and commanding. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you breathless. Before you could process it, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the dresser with a confidence that only made the ache between your legs worse.

"Y’ feel that, cher?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, his accent wrapping around you like a caress. "You feel how hard I am for y’?" He ground his hips against you, and you could feel the thick length of him pressing against your core. The sensation made you gasp, your body arching into him as your need for him grew unbearable.

"Remy," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I can’t wait anymore."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pressed your back against the wall. "Oh, cher, you ain’t gotta wait no more. Daddy’s gon’ give you exactly what you been beggin’ for."

His hands were rough but reverent as they trailed up your thighs, spreading you open as he pinned you against the dresser with his body, completely at his mercy.

"You so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Been wantin’ this, haven’t ya? Wantin’ Daddy to take care of y’?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick folds. "Please, I need you."

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "I got y’, cher. I’m gon’ take care of y’ real good."

With that, he gripped himself, pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat, the wetness. The anticipation, the need, was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

"Look at y’," he murmured, his voice low and full of pride as he lined himself up with you, his cock teasing your soaked entrance. "Y’ ready for Daddy, bébé?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Remy… I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching you in ways that made your head spin. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, designed to push you to your absolute limit.

"Ah, cher," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Y’feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’ were made for this, weren’t ya? Made to take Daddy’s cock."

You could barely form words, the pleasure too intense, too all-consuming as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with a force that had you gasping for breath.

"Remy," you moaned, your head falling back against the wall as your body arched into him, your legs tightening around his waist. "Oh god…"

"That’s it, bébé," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sound of his voice, the way his accent dripped with authority, with ownership, only fueled the fire burning inside you. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body, bringing you closer to a release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. "Please, I’m so close…"

"Not yet, cher," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his pace, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall. "Y’ don’t come till I say. You gon’ wait for Daddy, you hear me?"

You whimpered, your body trembling with the need for release, but you nodded, knowing that you were his to control, to use as he saw fit.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m gon’ make y’ scream."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, his pace rough and relentless, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sensation was almost too much, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely, and it was driving you wild.

"Remy," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shake, the pressure inside you building to a breaking point. "I can’t… I need to come…"

"Y’ gon’ come for me, cher?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he pounded into you with a force that had you seeing stars. "Y’ gon’ come on Daddy’s cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled violently, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer. "Please… I’m gonna come…"

"Then come for me, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with command. "Come for Daddy."

With a final, shattering thrust, your body exploded, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your body convulsing against him as he held you steady, his hips never stopping as he fucked you through the orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

"That’s it, cher," he murmured, his voice full of pride as he watched you fall apart in his arms. "You did so good for Daddy."

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, Remy didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace relentless, and you could feel the tension building again inside you, another orgasm already creeping up on you. You didn’t think it was possible to come again so soon, but with Remy, anything was possible.

"One more, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with lust as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Give me one more."

Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drove you toward another release, his cock filling you completely with every powerful thrust. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the pleasure so intense that it left you gasping for air.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body began to shake again. "I can’t…"

"Yes, y’ can, cher," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Y’ gon’ give Daddy one more. Come for me again, bébé."

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped for a second time, the orgasm tearing through you with even more intensity than the first. You cried out, your body convulsing violently as the pleasure consumed you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Remy let out a low, rumbling growl as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you with a warmth that left you trembling. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm, his grip on you tight and possessive.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing, the both of you still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Remy’s hands were gentle now, soothing as they ran over your skin, grounding you as you came down from the high.

"Y’ did so good, cher," he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride as he kissed your temple. "Daddy’s so proud of y’."

You smiled weakly, your body completely spent but utterly satisfied. You were his, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Y’ mine now," he whispered, his Cajun drawl thick with satisfaction. "All mine." <><><><> Remy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smirk as you slowly dressed. His jeans were already on, though still unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. The room was dimly lit, but he could see the faint redness around your neck, the way your makeup had smudged slightly under your eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the torn fishnet stockings you were rolling up, defeated, before tossing them into the wastebasket.

"So, is this what you do?" you asked, a teasing edge to your voice as you glanced at him. "Find girls who amuse you and fuck them into submission?" You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Remy’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Only the ones I like," he replied smoothly, his Cajun accent thick and lazy. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "What about y’, cher? Is this how you normally spend your nights? Pour drinks on your ex and fuck like a rockstar?"

You shrugged, pulling on your shirt and noticing a button missing. With a sigh, you muttered, "Haven't fucked like a rockstar in a while." You tugged at the shirt, frowning at the missing button, and whispered to yourself, "Fuck it."

Without a word, Remy reached over to the floor, grabbed his own shirt, and handed it to you. "Here," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "They're all used to seein’ me shirtless anyway."

You glanced up at him, a little surprised, but took the shirt, slipping it on. His scent lingered on the fabric, and it felt oddly comforting. As you adjusted the shirt, your eyes trailed over the scratches on his back, the marks you’d left in the heat of the moment. "Sorry about those," you said, your voice softening slightly.

Remy shrugged it off, his smile easy. "Don’t worry ‘bout it. Battle scars, cher. Comes with the territory."

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with the remnants of your shared passion, but something more serious lingered beneath the surface. You glanced at him, chewing on your bottom lip before speaking again. "It’s funny… me and my ex—we were always trying to match each other’s crazy. But we never really did." You paused, pulling his shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the confession. "We tried, you know? But it was like… we were on different wavelengths. My crazy was too much for him, and his was never enough for me. We just didn’t fit."

Remy’s expression shifted, the playful smirk fading into something deeper, more thoughtful. He leaned back against the dresser, arms still crossed, but his eyes were locked on yours. "Mmm, I get that," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher. Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Exactly. It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it."

Remy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he’d heard that story a hundred times before. "Yeah, well," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, "I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way."

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, the lazy smirk returned to his lips, but there was something different behind it. Something more serious. More real. "That is… until tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel the air between you shift, thickening with something unspoken but undeniable. You didn’t say anything at first, the weight of his gaze holding you in place as the realization of what he was saying sank in.

"Until tonight?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure if you were asking a question or just echoing his words.

Remy’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you again. His hand found your waist, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Yeah, cher," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tonight, I think I found someone who can keep up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the quiet intensity in his voice. There was a challenge hidden in his tone, a promise that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. You could feel the fire between you two still smoldering, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze again.

You turned to face him fully, your body brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You sure about that, Remy?" you asked, your voice soft but steady. "You think I can match your crazy?"

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I think you might just be the one to burn me alive."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a challenge, with desire, with something neither of you could quite name but both of you could feel. You didn’t need to say anything more—there was no need for words now. The look in his eyes, the way his body pressed against yours, told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d met someone who was ready to dive into the storm with you, no matter how wild it got. Remy shrugged casually, his eyes still glinting with that lazy, mischievous smile as he leaned back against the dresser. "I’m in town for a few more nights," he said, his voice easy, like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "Then I gotta head off to Europe for a tour."

Your brow furrowed, unsure where he was going with this. Before you could ask, he glanced at you through half-lidded eyes, a hint of something more serious behind the playful exterior. "Y’ should come with me."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as if you hadn’t heard him right. "Wait, what?" you asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Remy chuckled, that low, rich sound that seemed to rumble from somewhere deep within him. "Yeah, cher, I’m serious. I like y’. A lot." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, "And I think it’s somethin’ I wanna explore."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure how to respond. Your heart skipped a beat, and a million thoughts raced through your mind all at once. Was he really asking you to come with him? To leave everything behind for a whirlwind adventure across Europe? The idea was insane—completely reckless. You barely knew him beyond the fire and intensity of the past few hours. This was Remy LeBeau, the enigmatic Cajun heartthrob who probably had more women than he could count falling at his feet. And yet, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you now, that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. You’d heard stories like this before. Men like Remy didn’t just meet girls at bars and whisk them off on romantic tours across Europe. Was this just another game to him? Another notch on his belt?

As if sensing your hesitation, Remy crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. He scribbled something quickly before handing both over to you. "Here," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "Give me y’r number, cher. Ain’t no pressure, but I’d like to see y’ again. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think about comin’ along after all."

You took the pen, still processing his offer, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the paper. A light, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "What, you got one of these little scraps of paper for every woman at every port?" you quipped, the words coming out more as a joke than an accusation, though you couldn’t help the tiny hint of curiosity behind it.

For the briefest moment, Remy froze. His usual easy smile faltered, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. You watched as the playful mask he usually wore slipped ever so slightly, revealing something more vulnerable beneath it. Then, after a beat, he shook his head slowly, his expression serious now.

"Nah, cher," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its casual tone. "I ain’t got a woman in every port. I ain’t like that." He paused, his gaze holding yours, searching your face as if trying to make sure you understood. "Yeah, I fuck ‘em. Sure. But I don’t let it get further than that. I don’t… ask for numbers. I don’t ask them to come with me. Never done that before. Y’re different."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he spoke, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a glimpse of something real—something raw in his eyes. He wasn’t playing a part right now. He wasn’t the charming, reckless, devil-may-care musician. He was just Remy, standing there in front of you, telling you the truth.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself studying him carefully, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another well-rehearsed line. But there wasn’t. His eyes were steady, his expression open in a way you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t lying. You could tell.

For a few long seconds, you just stood there, staring at him, the pen still in your hand, the paper resting against your palm. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

"I don’t know," you finally whispered, your voice hesitant. "I don’t usually do this either…" You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. What were you even saying? That you didn’t hook up with guys like him? That you didn’t let yourself get swept up in the moment? Because here you were, standing in his shirt, your legs still shaking from everything that had just happened, and your mind was spinning with the possibility of something more.

Remy took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, careful. "Y’ don’t have to decide right now, cher," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Take your time. But know this… I wasn’t playin’ tonight. I meant every word. Y’ got me thinkin’ ‘bout things I ain’t never thought ‘bout before."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. This was more than just a fling to him, more than just a momentary distraction. He was offering you something real, something uncertain and wild, but real all the same.

You glanced down at the pen in your hand, then back up at him. His eyes were still on you, watching carefully, waiting. Slowly, you uncapped the pen and scribbled your number down on the scrap of paper he’d handed you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you handed it back to him. "Here’s my number." You took a deep breath, glancing at Remy as you pulled his shirt tighter around you, the scent of him still lingering on the fabric. It was tempting—God, it was tempting—but you knew better. You shook your head softly, feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. "But I can’t do Europe, Remy," you said, your voice steady but quiet. "I can’t just up and travel with you. I have a life outside of all this." You laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness you felt inside. "Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up on TMZ or something."

Remy’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was a softness in his eyes now, something understanding. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. "Yeah, I get it, cher," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I know the lifestyle—paparazzi, the chaos—it ain’t for everyone." He paused, watching you carefully. "But that’s kinda why I think it’d work with y’."

You blinked, surprised by his response. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Y’ ain’t lookin’ for fame or attention. Y’ just… get me. Most people wanna be around me for the wrong reasons. But you? You’re different. That’s why I’m askin’." He stepped a little closer, his fingers lingering at your waist. "But if you’re not lookin' for all that, we can keep it casual. Just see where it goes, you know? No pressure."

You swallowed hard, feeling the pull of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was insane—completely reckless—but there was something about him that made you want to take that risk. Still, you nodded, keeping yourself grounded. "Yeah… casual," you agreed, offering him a small smile. "We’ll see where it goes."

Remy’s smile widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. "I’ll call you, cher. Ain’t no rush."

With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from your waist as he led you out of the room and toward the exit. The night air was cooler than you expected, and the city was still buzzing with life outside the venue. Remy walked you to the street, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back before he gave you one last lingering glance. "Take care, bébé," he said softly, before turning and disappearing back inside.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of his words and the possibilities they held. But before you could get too lost in thought, Nat appeared, practically jogging up to meet you.

Nat’s eyes widened the moment she saw you wearing Remy’s shirt, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s… it’s a long story," you muttered, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt self-consciously.

Nat raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh-huh. And that shirt? Did you steal it right off his back or…?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "He gave it to me, okay? My shirt was missing a button." You paused, glancing away for a moment before deciding to tell her the rest. "Remy asked for my number."

Nat’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Wait, what? He asked for your number?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, biting your lip. "And… he asked me to go with him on tour. In Europe."

Nat stared at you in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Remy LeBeau asked you to go on tour with him in Europe?" She shook her head, laughing in astonishment. "What the hell are our lives right now?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. Just last night, you were at a bar with your best friend, trying to forget about your ex and blow off some steam. Now, you were standing outside a venue, wearing a rockstar’s shirt, having just turned down an invitation to travel across Europe with him. It was surreal.

"I know, right?" you said, shaking your head as the two of you started walking toward the subway. "I don’t even know what to think anymore."

And with that, you descended into the subway, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Remy, of Europe, of everything that might come next.