#so so sorry for talking your... eyes off?
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(previous part)
it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.
you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.
and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.
and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.
but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.
you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.
so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.
but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.
he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.
you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.
well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.
you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.
it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.
gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?
alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.
"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.
you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.
you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.
"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.
you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.
"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.
you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.
"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.
he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.
"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.
you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.
"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"
"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."
you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.
truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.
you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.
"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."
he paused for a second.
"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.
"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.
gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.
"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."
you raise a brow.
"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.
he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.
"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.
your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.
"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"
"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.
his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.
"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"
"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.
"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.
"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."
gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.
"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.
you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.
but that can't be correct.
so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.
"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.
gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.
the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.
"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.
he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.
you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.
"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."
your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.
you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.
never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.
"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.
"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.
"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.
"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.
if only he knew you wished the same.
#gojo x reader#gojo x reader angst#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x you#gojo drabble#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk drabble#arranged!gojo
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tears [rafe cameron]
pairing - rafe cameron x reader
summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.
warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe
rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.
“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.
“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“
his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.
“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”
his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.
he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.
“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.
“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.
“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”
she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.
“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.
“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.
she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“
“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”
he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.
she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.
he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.
she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”
he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.
she shakes her head. “just you.”
he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.
he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”
he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.
nothing came before his girl.
#rafe cameron#obx fic#rafe obx#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#protective rafe#outerbanks rafe#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine
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Rumour Has It
Franco Colapinto x Princess of Norway!Reader
Summary: you’ve never heard of Franco before and Franco has certainly never heard of you … but when gossip magazines decide to set you two up, Franco realizes that he wouldn’t mind making the rumors a reality
“Have you seen this?” Noora says, bursting into your study with a tablet clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and frantic.
You look up, half-expecting the sky to have fallen or for Oslo to be under siege. “Seen what?”
Noora slams the tablet down on your desk, and your face is met with a tabloid headline in bold, obnoxious letters: Norway’s Princess Caught in Secret Romance with Argentinian Racing Prodigy Franco Colapinto!
You blink at the screen, then back at Noora, and then at the screen again, as if maybe the headline might rearrange itself into something more sensible. “Sorry, who?”
“Franco Colapinto!” She says, exasperated. “The Argentine driver — the rookie! In Formula 1!”
You tilt your head. “I don’t know who that is.”
Noora gives you a look that’s somewhere between sympathy and horror. “Okay, well, apparently you’re dating him. And half of Norway seems to think so too, thanks to this article.”
“Dating? Noora, I’ve never even heard of him, let alone met him! And this … this is nonsense!” You shove the tablet back at her, feeling your cheeks flush. “How did this even happen?”
Noora sighs, sliding the tablet away. “It’s the internet. They don’t need facts to build a story — they just need a blurry photo and a wild imagination.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling sharply. “And why didn’t anyone tell me sooner? It’s not like we don’t have a whole team for this.”
“Well, to be fair, it only surfaced last night,” she says, crossing her arms. “But now it’s all over social media, and your name is attached to his. People are actually talking about you two as if you’re the new royal couple.”
Your stomach does an uncomfortable flip. You’ve spent years cultivating a careful, respectable image — a modern princess who’s still traditional enough to respect the expectations placed on her. And now, you’re supposedly dating a race car driver?
“What exactly are they saying?” You ask, your voice quieter, laced with dread.
Noora hesitates, but you give her a pointed look until she relents. “They’re saying you met him at some secret event in Monaco and that you’ve been hiding your relationship to avoid the media frenzy. Apparently, he’s been visiting Norway on his off-days just to see you.” She snorts. “It’s absurd, really. But people are eating it up.”
You stare at her, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “This cannot be happening.”
“Oh, but it is. And the comments …” She trails off, biting her lip.
“Out with it, Noora.”
She sighs. “Some are saying it’s refreshing that you’re dating someone so … I don’t know, normal. But others …” She winces. “Others think it’s irresponsible. That you’re … well, neglecting your duty for some glamorous fling.”
You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “Neglecting my duty,” you repeat, more to yourself than to her. “Because I’m apparently sneaking off with some Formula 1 driver I’ve never even met.”
“I know,” she says, reaching out and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But it’ll pass. A few days, maybe a week, and they’ll have moved on to the next scandal.”
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to imagine it blowing over. “And what if it doesn’t?”
“Then we get PR involved. Make a statement, deny everything.” She pauses, eyeing you with a wary smile. “Or, you know, we could just arrange a very public appearance with you and someone else. Nothing quashes rumors like a little royal romance with a suitable partner.”
Your eyes snap open. “Noora.”
She grins, unphased by your glare. “What? It’s an option.”
“I’m not going to parade around with someone just to make the tabloids happy,” you say, crossing your arms.
“Well, that leaves us with the boring option: addressing it head-on, squashing the rumor, and hoping it dies quickly.”
“That will just make it worse,” you sigh resignedly. “The press will think any denial means we have something to hide.”
Noora nods, still eyeing you cautiously. “You could always lean into it a little — make it sound mysterious.”
“Mysterious?” You echo. “No, Noora. I want it gone. I don’t even know this man!”
“All right, all right,” she concedes, hands raised in surrender. “But you know, you could at least look him up.”
You narrow your eyes. “Why would I do that?”
“Because people are going to be asking questions. You’re the Princess of Norway. If they think you’re dating him, it would help to know who he is.”
You open your mouth to argue, but she’s already pulling out her phone. “Just … humor me, okay? It’ll take two seconds.”
She taps her screen, and suddenly a series of photos pops up — images of a young man with dark hair and a serious expression, usually in some variation of a racing suit, often holding a helmet. He’s smiling in one photo, a faint smirk in another, but the confident gleam in his eyes is unmistakable.
“He’s twenty-one,” Noora says, scrolling through some text. “Started karting young, worked his way up. Got his big break with Formula 1 this year.”
You try not to look interested, but it’s hard to ignore the pictures flashing by. He has a kind of easy charisma, that much is obvious.
“And look,” she adds, holding up a picture of him on the track, eyes focused, mouth set in a determined line. “He’s pretty talented, apparently.”
You shake your head, forcing yourself to look away. “None of this matters. Because I don’t know him, and I’m certainly not dating him.”
Noora smirks. “Doesn’t matter. The media thinks you are, and as far as they’re concerned, that makes it practically true.”
You groan, sinking back in your chair. “So what do I do?”
“For now? Sit tight, let PR work their magic. But you might want to brush up on your Formula 1 knowledge, just in case anyone asks.” She grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Wouldn’t want you to sound unprepared.”
You roll your eyes, reaching for the tablet and skimming the article’s ridiculous details. “He brought me roses on the first date?” You mutter, incredulous. “We had a secret dinner at a villa on the Côte d’Azur? Do they just make this up?”
“Pretty much. And it’s only going to get worse if people keep sharing it.”
You rub your temples, trying to banish the lingering image of Franco’s cocky smile from your mind. “Fantastic. Just what I needed — a fake romance with a twenty-one-year-old race car driver.”
Noora pats your shoulder sympathetically. “Could be worse.”
“How, exactly?”
“It could be real.”
***
Franco is hunched over his phone, scrolling mindlessly through his notifications as he waits for his PR briefing to start. The Williams headquarters is bustling this morning, and he barely notices when the door opens until Abbie, his PR officer, strides in, her expression uncharacteristically serious.
“Franco, we need to talk,” she says, folding her arms.
He glances up, one eyebrow raised. “Am I in trouble already? That’s got to be a record.”
Abbie sighs. “No, you’re not in trouble. But you’re in … let’s call it a situation.” She pulls up a chair across from him, lowering her voice as if sharing state secrets. “Have you seen the news?”
“Can’t say I have,” he replies, half-interested. “What, did Carlos suddenly decide to retire and I get to keep my seat for next season?”
Abbie doesn’t laugh, which is a bit worrying. Instead, she hands him her phone, showing a screen filled with a tabloid headline. Princess Y/N of Norway in Secret Romance with F1’s Newest Rising Star, Franco Colapinto!
His brows furrow as he reads, slowly, taking in the headline, the photos, the fabricated “romantic details.”
“Wait … I’m dating a princess?” He says, breaking into a grin. “And nobody thought to tell me?”
Abbie sighs. “Apparently. They’ve got edited photos, fake details — everything.”
He leans back, intrigued. “Princess Y/N,” he muses, tapping his chin with a thoughtful smirk. “Of Norway?”
“Yes, of Norway.” She leans in closer, her expression serious. “This has gone viral, Franco. Everyone’s talking about it.”
He can’t resist; he grabs his own phone and taps out “Princess Y/N of Norway.” The first few links are about her background, her position in the line of succession. “So, she’s next in line to be queen or something?”
“Second in line,” Abbie corrects. “After her father. She’s a pretty big deal over there.”
Franco’s eyes sparkle with interest. “Second in line. And she’s what … like, forty?”
“Not even close,” Abbie says, exasperated. “She’s around your age, I think. She’s twenty-something.”
Franco looks at her, skeptical. “Twenty-something? And a princess?” He scrolls through images of palaces, state functions, and some photos of you smiling politely at dignitaries. She’s dressed elegantly, impeccably, not a hair out of place.
Then, finally, he finds one candid shot, and he stops scrolling. You’re laughing in the photo, a little windswept, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, your smile bright and entirely un-royal. He smirks.
“All right, all right,” he mutters to himself, still looking at the photo. “She’s pretty cute.” He taps back to the headline with a glint of amusement in his eye. “But still not a MILF.”
Abbie groans. “You’re impossible.”
He shrugs, still looking delighted. “Come on. You know my type. I like them older. But …” He trails off, grinning wider. “I could certainly do worse.”
“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Abbie says, horrified. “Franco, this is a fake rumor. You’re supposed to be distancing yourself from it.”
“Oh, I know. I know.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “But it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? Me, a royal boyfriend?” He leans back, arms crossed, still smirking. “I’m almost flattered.”
Abbie sighs and taps her own phone, clearly typing something in response to the rest of the Williams PR team. “Look, flattered or not, you need to be careful. She’s a public figure. If you say the wrong thing, it’ll just fuel the fire.”
“Oh, please,” he says, waving a hand. “What are they gonna do? Put me on trial?”
“Maybe not you,” Abbie replies, giving him a warning look, “but she has an image to protect. This isn’t just gossip for her — it’s her whole life.”
He lets out a low whistle, thinking. “Must be hard, huh? Everyone expecting you to act a certain way. Not much room for fun.”
Abbie eyes him, her expression softening a bit. “I’m sure it is. Which is why we need to treat this carefully.”
Franco glances back at the photos, his smile fading a bit as he considers. He may not know you, but he can picture the situation well enough: the relentless tabloids, the public judgment, all the expectations.
“All right, fine,” he says, finally. “What’s the plan?”
She breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll be working with her team to prepare a statement. The usual ‘there’s no truth to these rumors’ line. But until then, keep it low-key.”
He raises a brow. “Low-key? Since when have I ever been low-key?”
“Then try for once.” She gives him a pleading look. “It’ll help her out. Trust me.”
Franco nods, though there’s a spark of amusement still flickering in his eyes. He can’t help it — he’s never been one to turn down a little excitement, and this whole thing is exactly that. He glances at Abbie. “So … if someone were to ask about it …”
She narrows her eyes. “Franco. Don’t even think about it.”
He chuckles. “Relax. I’ll be good.”
But as he heads back to the simulator, he can’t resist a smirk.
***
The meeting room is far more understated than you would’ve expected for something of this scale, tucked away in a discreet corner of a private suite in a London hotel. But it’s neutral ground, and it’s quiet, and no one outside this room will ever have to know about this awkward collision of worlds.
You’re early, of course. You’ve been pacing for the last ten minutes, scrolling through every frantic email your team has sent since this ridiculous rumor broke, trying to make sense of the tabloids’ spiraling narrative.
Franco arrives with a small entourage, though it feels like the entire room shifts the moment he steps in. He looks relaxed, perfectly at ease — too at ease. He catches your eye almost immediately, smirking as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this absurd situation to unfold.
“Princess,” he says, as if the word is a private joke just for the two of you. He holds out his hand, that ever-present glint of mischief in his eyes.
You don’t take it, instead clearing your throat and nodding a polite, “Mr. Colapinto.”
He drops his hand, unfazed. “Mr. Colapinto? Ouch. I thought we were past formalities, what with the whole secret romance thing.”
You stare, unamused, but he only laughs, taking a seat at the conference table across from you. He leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, entirely too comfortable.
Abbie enters behind him, followed by Noora and two more of your advisors, who exchange a brief look with you before giving Franco a wary glance. The room feels divided: your side tense, professional; his side relaxed, as if they’re here for afternoon tea.
Noora clears her throat. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to discuss … the situation between Her Royal Highness and Mr. Colapinto.”
Franco raises his hand like a schoolboy. “Just Franco’s fine.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I think it’s important that we treat this with the gravity it deserves.”
“Right,” Franco says, his tone playful. “Like a royal summit.”
Ignoring him, you turn to Noora. “What’s our best option? A joint statement? Something definitive?”
Noora nods, producing a folder from her bag. “Yes, we think a mutual statement from both parties would be the most effective way to dispel the rumors. The tone should be clear, respectful, and leave no room for interpretation.”
Franco grins at you. “So, no room for romance?”
You bite back a sigh. “Exactly.”
He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand as if studying you. “Pity. I thought we made a pretty good pair.”
You shift in your seat, folding your hands tightly in front of you. “This isn’t a joke. It’s an issue of public perception, protocol-”
“Protocol,” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Can’t say I’m big on protocol. Haven’t you heard? I’m dating a princess now. Practically makes me royalty, right? Protocol doesn’t apply to me.”
You shoot him a pointed look. “Protocol applies to everyone.”
“Boring people,” he counters, grinning wider. “Which, by the way, you are not. I don’t buy it.”
You feel your cheeks flush. “I don’t think you understand the stakes here.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly. But, come on …” He gestures to the small group of advisors around the table. “Look at this! Two teams acting like we’re two PR disasters waiting to happen … it’s ridiculous. You would think we were in the middle of an international scandal.”
“We are in the middle of an international scandal,” you say, exasperated. “People think we’re dating. It’s a breach of public trust for both of us-”
He snorts. “You’re talking like I’m some kind of international criminal. Come on, Princess. It’s just a rumor.”
“It’s more than that,” you insist, struggling to keep your voice steady. “This rumor reflects on me, on my family. On Norway.”
He watches you, head tilted, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And do you care?”
You frown, feeling that flush creep back to your cheeks. “Of course I care.”
“No, I mean, do you care about it — us? I mean, the rumor?”
There’s something disarming in the way he says it, like he’s testing you. You can’t help but hesitate, your well-rehearsed words slipping just out of reach.
“It’s my duty,” you finally say, straightening your shoulders, “to uphold my family’s reputation.”
He doesn’t seem impressed. Instead, he shakes his head, a bemused smile on his lips. “You’re so serious. Makes me think I really did pick the right princess.”
Noora coughs, clearly eager to refocus the meeting. “Let’s discuss the actual statement, shall we?”
You nod, relieved to move on, but Franco holds up a hand, eyes still locked on yours. “I just want to say, for the record … I don’t think I’d mind the rumors, if they were true.”
There’s a moment of silence, thick and uncomfortable. You can feel the curious stares of your team, the surprise on Noora’s face, the quiet snickers from Franco’s side.
“Mr. Colapinto,” you say carefully, “this is neither the time nor place for that kind of … remark.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Who decides that?”
Noora jumps in. “We do. And as such, we have a preliminary draft we’d like to review with both of you. It’s brief and to the point, which is important.”
Abbie leans in, already reading over the statement. “The recent reports of a romantic relationship between Princess Y/N and Franco Colapinto are entirely false and without merit. Both parties are focused on their respective roles and responsibilities and have not been involved in any way that would support these rumors.” She looks up, pleased with herself.
You give an approving nod, glancing at Franco. “Short and factual. Perfect.”
Franco frowns, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a little … cold, don’t you think?”
“That’s the point,” you say flatly. “We’re supposed to be shutting down the rumors, not fueling them.”
He lifts an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “How about something more like … while I have great respect for Princess Y/N and have enjoyed our time together, I can confirm that we are, unfortunately, just friends?”
You look at him, horrified. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on.” He gives you a devilish grin. “It’s all about the narrative, Princess. People want romance, intrigue. You’re literal royalty — give them a little fairytale.”
You feel your cheeks burn, and it takes everything you have not to snap back at him. “This isn’t some soap opera, Mr. Colapinto.”
“Franco,” he corrects, eyes still dancing with mischief.
Noora clears her throat again. “I think it’s best we stick with the original statement.”
He gives you a mockingly solemn nod. “As you wish, Your Highness.”
You give a small, exasperated sigh, looking back to Noora and Abbie. “If we’re all agreed, can we proceed?”
Abbie glances between you and Franco, as if gauging the tension in the air. “Yes. We’ll finalize the statement this evening and have it released tomorrow morning.”
Franco pushes back his chair, rising to his feet. “Well, I suppose that settles it, then.” He glances down at you, his gaze lingering a bit too long. “Shame, though. This could’ve been fun.”
You fold your arms, giving him a pointed look. “We have very different definitions of fun.”
“Clearly,” he says, his smirk deepening. “But tell me, don’t you ever get tired of all this?” He gestures around at the meeting room, the stacks of paperwork, the solemn faces of your advisors. “The rules, the protocol. Doesn’t it get �� dull?”
You purse your lips, resisting the temptation to give him a real answer. “It’s my duty.”
He tilts his head, his expression softening just slightly. “I get duty. But where’s the fun?”
You open your mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. And for a second, just a second, you wonder if he has a point.
Franco’s gaze sharpens as he watches you struggle to respond. And then, to your utter shock, he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours. “Here,” he says, with that sly, teasing smile.
Before you can pull away, he lifts your hand, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate gesture. His eyes hold yours as he brushes his mouth over your knuckles, lingering just long enough to make you feel the heat creeping up your face.
“I promise,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, “the next time I kiss you, Princess, it’ll be somewhere much more pleasurable.”
You pull your hand back, heart pounding, but he only grins, unbothered, and gives you a playful wink.
“Until next time, Your Highness.”
***
The bar is dimly lit, tucked away on a quiet street where no one knows who you are and, more importantly, no one cares. It’s the perfect place to slip away from the weight of your title, from the headlines, from the rules and the statement that your team is probably drafting up at this very moment. For once, you just want to sit here, nursing a drink, and pretend you’re anyone else.
The whiskey burns as it goes down, but it’s a welcome distraction. You let out a breath, easing back against the bar, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders release. For the first time all day, no one is watching, no one is whispering. You’re just … here.
Until a voice slides into the quiet like a warm breeze. “Didn’t think I’d find royalty in a place like this.”
You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. You don’t turn, but your grip on the glass tightens as Franco slides onto the stool beside you, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, not bothering to mask the exasperation in your voice.
“Me?” He says, all innocence. “Just having a drink. Same as you.” He signals the bartender. “Tequila,” he says, then nods at your glass, smirking. “And whatever she’s having.”
You sigh. “Of all the bars in London, you had to pick this one?”
He grins, shameless. “Maybe I just have good taste.”
You roll your eyes. “Highly doubtful.”
He chuckles, unfazed. “Come on, Princess. I know you’re thrilled to see me.”
“Thrilled isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”
He leans in, his voice dropping low enough that it feels like a secret. “What would you use, then?”
You pause, taking a sip of your drink as you consider. “Mildly inconvenienced.”
He laughs at that, a warm, genuine sound that catches you off guard. You try to keep your face impassive, but there’s something disarming about his laughter, something that makes you wonder why it feels like he’s always able to unravel you with so little effort.
“Fine,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar, mirroring your posture. “Then I’ll just sit here, mildly inconveniencing you until you admit you’re enjoying yourself.”
You scoff. “That’s not going to happen.”
His whiskey arrives, and he raises his glass, clinking it lightly against yours. “Care to bet on that?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Do you always think everything’s a game?”
“Only when it’s fun,” he says, his gaze dropping to your lips. There’s something undeniably bold about the way he watches you, something that sends a little thrill down your spine despite yourself.
You hold his gaze, refusing to back down. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?”
“I thought that was obvious,” he says, his voice turning softer, more intimate. “I’m trying to get to know you.”
You snort. “Get to know me? I’m pretty sure you just want to use this as an excuse to fuel the rumors.”
“Maybe the rumors are more interesting than you think,” he counters smoothly, sipping his drink. “Or maybe I’m just curious.”
“Curious?” You echo, lifting an eyebrow. “About what?”
“About what a princess does when no one’s watching.” His eyes flash with that familiar glint, and he gives you a lazy, unapologetic smile. “And so far, you don’t disappoint.”
You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”
“Oh, I don’t need to try,” he says, his voice soft but self-assured. “I just do.”
You shake your head, determined not to let him win this little game. “I don’t think you’re as irresistible as you think you are.”
“Maybe.” He tilts his head, studying you with an infuriating level of focus. “But you’re still here, aren’t you?”
Your retort dies on your lips as his hand moves closer, resting just on the edge of the bar, fingers inching toward yours. It’s subtle, but it sends a pulse of awareness up your arm, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he is, the warmth radiating from him, the intensity of his gaze as it lingers on you.
You straighten, clearing your throat. “So what’s your endgame here, Franco?”
“No endgame,” he says easily, but there’s a promise in his tone, a flicker in his eyes that makes it hard to believe. “Just wanted a drink with a pretty princess.”
You almost laugh. Almost. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Is that why you’re smiling?” He asks, leaning closer.
You hadn’t realized you were. You quickly straighten your face, but he’s already noticed, that knowing smirk widening as he takes another sip of his drink.
“Relax, Princess. You’re allowed to have fun, too.”
“Define fun,” you say, though you’re painfully aware that you’re actually enjoying this little back-and-forth. It’s dangerous, exhilarating — two things you never let yourself indulge in.
“Fun?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Fun is you, sitting here, pretending you don’t like me, while secretly hoping I’ll keep talking.”
You roll your eyes. “Delusional.”
“Maybe,” he says, and his hand moves again — this time, resting casually on your thigh under the bar. The touch is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make you momentarily forget the carefully constructed boundaries you’ve set.
“Franco,” you warn, though your voice is less steady than you’d like.
He raises an eyebrow, his fingers tracing a slow, almost absentminded circle against your leg. “Problem?”
You don’t answer, but he takes your silence as permission, his fingers edging just a little higher, teasingly close, as if he’s daring you to stop him. And you should. You know you should. But for some reason, you don’t.
He leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me to stop, Princess. And I will.”
Your mind races, every sensible thought colliding with the thrill that’s building inside you. You swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch.
“Why would I tell you to stop,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper, “if I don’t want you to?”
He grins, satisfied. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Before you can respond, he’s closing the distance, his hand slipping higher under your dress, his thumb brushing slow circles that make your heart race. It’s reckless and wild and nothing you’d ever thought you’d do — but in this moment, it feels impossible to resist.
The next few minutes are a blur of whispered words and stolen glances, your resolve slipping with every soft touch, every cocky grin he throws your way. You barely register the decision to leave the bar until you’re outside, standing on the quiet street, the night air cool against your flushed skin.
“Your place or mine?” He asks, his voice a playful drawl.
You hesitate, a thousand reasons to walk away tumbling through your mind. But when you look at him — at that unrelenting confidence, the challenge in his eyes — you feel your control waver. Just this once, you tell yourself. Just this once, you’ll let yourself break the rules.
“Yours,” you say, surprised at the steadiness of your voice.
He doesn’t waste a second, taking your hand and leading you down the street, his grip warm and solid, grounding you even as your heart races. You follow him, pulse pounding with each step, until you’re standing outside his hotel room door, the reality of what you’re doing hitting you in a rush.
But then he’s looking at you again, that mischievous smile softening into something more intimate, and your doubts fade. He opens the door, and you step inside, feeling as though you’re crossing some invisible line.
The room is dim, the city lights casting a faint glow through the windows. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and for a moment, you see a different side of him — something softer, deeper.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, his voice low.
You meet his gaze, feeling the weight of his words. But instead of answering, you lean up, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that’s tentative at first, then deepening as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.
And for the first time in as long as you can remember, you don’t think about duty, or protocol, or anything else. In this moment, there’s only you and him and the quiet thrill of finally letting go.
***
francolapinto
Liked by f1wagupdates, royalwatchers, and 714,925 others
francolapinto all the rumours are true
View all 3,816 comments
pintobean everyone called me crazy for believing the articles but look who’s laughing now!
coca-colapinto because as much as i love franco, there’s no way i was about to believe he could’ve pulled a whole ass princess
pintobean this is a lesson not to underestimate his rizz
coca-colapinto please never say that unironically again
f1wagupdates pray for their PR teams, whatever they’re earning is not nearly enough 🙏
gridgossip franco had exactly nine races to turn the paddock upside down and boy did he not disappoint
f1wagupdates who needs an f1 seat in 2025 when you can have a throne?
***
The morning arrives far too soon, sunlight streaming through the hotel curtains and casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. You barely have time to blink yourself awake when a loud, frantic banging rattles the door, shaking you out of the haze of last night.
Franco groans beside you, his arm lazily draped over your waist. “You expecting someone?”
You’re too comfortable, too wrapped up in the warmth of his skin and the lingering bliss to even think straight. “Not … exactly.”
The pounding persists, and then voices — urgent, unmistakable voices — filter through the door. “Franco! Y/N! Are you in there? It’s urgent!”
Your eyes widen, a flash of panic cutting through the sleepiness. Franco doesn’t seem fazed. He barely lifts his head off the pillow, his hand lazily running down your spine as he mutters, “They’ll go away.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” You push yourself up slightly, glancing over the bed, finding discarded clothes and a vague sense of regret somewhere on the floor. The pounding grows louder, and finally, Franco sits up, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably disheveled.
He stretches, glancing at you with a lazy grin. “What do you think? Just a few more minutes or …”
“Open the door!” Comes a familiar, exasperated voice from the hallway. You recognize it immediately — Noora.
Franco’s eyes meet yours, amusement glinting there. “Looks like we don’t have a choice.”
Reluctantly, he pulls himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of pants from the floor and slipping them on with a casual ease that only makes your heartbeat quicken. He tosses you a smirk over his shoulder before heading to the door.
As he opens it, a whirlwind of people floods into the room — Noora, Abbie, and a few more members of both your PR teams, all of them looking like they’re seconds away from losing their minds.
“Oh my god,” Noora gasps, her gaze darting between you and Franco, her face turning several shades of pink. “This … this is-”
“Completely reckless!” Abbie finishes, giving you a look that’s half shock, half scandalized admiration. “What were you two thinking?”
Franco crosses his arms, unfazed. “Good morning to you too.”
One of Williams’ other PR officers steps forward, looking ready to faint. “Franco, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Those photos … your Instagram …”
Franco grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What, people are talking?”
“Talking?” Noora squeaks, her voice an octave higher than usual. She glares at you, her eyes wide, almost pleading. “This is a disaster! Do you understand what you’ve done to our schedule, our statement plan? And the … the-” Her gaze flickers to the faint marks on your neck, and her knees buckle. Abbie reaches out quickly, guiding her to a chair.
“Maybe we overreacted,” Abbie mutters, though she doesn’t take her eyes off you. “Or maybe we didn’t react enough.”
You feel a rush of heat flood your face as everyone’s gaze lands on you. Franco catches it and gives you a cheeky wink, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s created.
“Look,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “maybe we got a little carried away, but it’s … it’s not like we did anything wrong.”
“Nothing wrong?” Noora says, her voice faint as she studies the marks on your neck again. “You … you have no idea how this looks, do you?”
Franco, completely unfazed, strolls over to the mirror above the dresser. He takes a long look at his own reflection, tilting his head to admire the scratches and darkening bruises scattered across his skin. “Looks like a good night to me.”
Your PR teams collectively groan, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Franco catches your eye in the mirror, and the mischievous spark there makes it impossible not to crack a smile.
“Franco, this isn’t a joke!” One of his managers snaps, practically pulling at his hair. “Do you know how many calls we’ve received since you posted those photos?”
Franco shrugs, giving them a lazy grin. “Then turn off your phone. Worked for me.”
Another round of exasperated sighs fills the room, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for your PR team. Not enough, though, to actually feel bad.
Noora steps forward, hands on her hips, looking at you with an expression that’s somehow both sympathetic and stern. “Your Highness, this is … unprecedented. We need to issue a statement immediately, clarify this situation-”
“Or not,” Franco interrupts, his tone far too nonchalant. He turns away from the mirror, crossing his arms. “Honestly, I think the people like a little mystery, don’t you?”
Noora gives him a look that could wilt flowers. “This isn’t about what the people like, Mr. Colapinto. It’s about protecting reputations.”
“Oh, so we’re doing that now?” Franco glances at you, his smile playful. “Funny, last night I didn’t get the sense that the two of us in this room were all that worried about reputations.”
Your face flushes, and you shoot him a look that’s half reprimand, half reluctant amusement. “You’re not helping.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Who said I was trying to help?”
Abbie lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. “Can we at least agree that this … whatever this is, stays here? Quietly?”
Franco raises an eyebrow, looking at you with a smirk. “You hear that, Princess? Quietly. Doesn’t sound like much fun to me.”
You swallow, trying to ignore the way his gaze makes your stomach flip. “Maybe some things should be quiet,” you say, though your voice sounds unconvincing even to you.
Noora, still looking a bit wobbly, clears her throat. “Please, can we just … make a plan?”
Franco sighs, feigning disappointment. “Fine. Make your plan. But don’t expect me to follow it.”
Before anyone can respond, he gives you one last smirk and strides over to the door, pulling it open. “In fact, I think it’s about time we had the room to ourselves, don’t you think?”
The PR teams exchange panicked glances, but they don’t have much choice as Franco gives them a not-so-subtle wave toward the exit. Noora opens her mouth to protest, but Abbie gently ushers her toward the door, casting one last look at you that’s a mix of concern and reluctant approval.
“We’ll be in touch,” Abbie says, but there’s a hint of resignation in her tone, as if she knows that whatever control they thought they had is slipping fast.
Once the last of them has been herded out, Franco shuts the door with a decisive click. He turns back to you, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and before you can process it, he’s crossing the room, closing the distance between you in seconds.
“You know,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “I think we gave them quite a show.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “We? That was mostly you.”
He laughs softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t exactly object.”
You’re about to respond, but he doesn’t give you the chance. His hands find your waist, and suddenly you’re being guided backward, the mattress hitting the back of your legs as he eases you down. His gaze is intense, his smirk fading into something more serious, more intent.
“Franco,” you murmur, but the way he’s looking at you steals the rest of your words.
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “We’re not done yet, Princess.”
Your heart races as he shifts, his hands warm against your skin, his weight pressing you back into the bed. And as he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s somehow both playful and possessive, you realize that whatever the consequences, whatever scandal might follow … right now, none of it matters.
Right now, there’s only him, the quiet thrill of his touch, and the feeling of finally — finally — giving in.
***
The night sky over Las Vegas glitters with a million lights, bright enough to drown out the stars, as the drivers’ parade winds down the track. The grandstands are packed, the excitement in the air palpable even before the race has started.
Franco is perched atop the back of a bus, arms folded, his easy smirk in place as he surveys the flashing cameras and cheering fans. Beside him stands Lewis Hamilton, calm and collected as always, with that practiced smile of someone who’s done this a thousand times.
Franco nudges Lewis with his elbow, grinning. “So, you know we’re both basically royalty now, right?”
Lewis chuckles, giving him a sideways look. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”
Franco shrugs, looking as if he’s contemplating something serious for a split second, then tilts his head. “Well, you’ve got the knighthood, Sir Hamilton,” he says, drawing out the words with an exaggerated British accent. “And I’ve got, well …” He grins, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. “The princess.”
Lewis laughs, a rich, full sound. “Ah, I see. So you’re actually out here trying to one-up my knighthood?”
Franco clutches his chest dramatically. “Exactly. I mean, not to make it a competition, but I’m basically a prince now. Which, if we’re being technical, puts me a bit above you in rank.”
Lewis lets out a snort, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, man. I’m a knight, not a court jester.”
Franco raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts. I’m sure knighthood’s very nice, but I think there’s something to be said for having a princess.”
Lewis shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “So it’s true, then?”
For the first time, Franco’s smirk softens into something else, something quieter. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with an expression that’s unmistakably fond. He’s not looking at Lewis now, or at the cheering fans, or even the flashing cameras around them. His gaze is locked on his phone, where an image fills the screen.
It’s you, cozy on the couch with your Cavalier King Charles Spaniel in your lap, a warm blanket wrapped around you, hair falling casually over your shoulder. You’re looking straight into the camera, a relaxed smile on your face, and there’s an almost surprising intimacy in the photo — the kind that doesn’t come from a staged royal portrait but from a simple, real moment. It’s the type of photo someone only sends to someone they care about.
Franco doesn’t say anything right away. He just stares at the image, his thumb tracing lightly over the screen, as if he’s savoring the private moment before he has to lock his phone away for the race.
He nods, almost to himself. “Yeah. It’s true.”
Lewis studies him slowly, an almost invisible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d see the day,” he murmurs, a touch of amusement there. “Guess you’re growing up, huh?”
Franco finally looks up, chuckling. “Speak for yourself, man. I’m still a kid at heart.”
Lewis raises an eyebrow. “A kid at heart who’s dating a princess? That’s a combination I didn’t see coming.”
“Neither did I, to be honest.” Franco leans back, stretching his arms out along the edge of the bus, still clutching his phone in one hand. “One minute, I’m just minding my business, and the next … boom.” He snaps his fingers. “The entire world decides we’re dating. Didn’t even know her name before then.”
Lewis chuckles. “And now you’re on your phone looking at pictures she sent you. You’ve come a long way.”
Franco glances down at the picture again, a private smile playing on his lips. “Guess I have.”
The parade continues, the roar of the crowd swelling around them as they pass another section of the grandstand, but it all feels distant. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence, and Franco finds himself thinking back over the past few weeks, the whirlwind of rumors and statements, and then … the quiet moments that somehow followed.
Lewis studies him, eyes narrowing in that perceptive way he has. “So … you and her. Is it, like, official?”
Franco lets out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? This is Her Royal Highness we’re talking about. There’s no ‘official’ until we’ve been courting for at least a year. There’s procedure and … what’s the word she loves to use? Protocol.”
“Protocol.” Lewis grins. “That sounds … exactly like what you hate.”
“Oh, believe me.” Franco laughs, shaking his head. “She’s been trying to teach me, but I don’t think I’ve followed protocol a single time. I mean, she actually tried to tell me what utensils I should use at dinner. Like, why does it matter?”
“Didn’t go well, huh?”
“Let’s just say I’ve decided that those tiny forks are optional.” Franco sighs, pocketing his phone. “But that’s her. She takes it all so seriously. Makes me want to take it seriously too, in some strange way.”
Lewis tilts his head, watching him. “I get that. That’s what happens when someone really means something to you.” He pauses, as if weighing his words. “So, she’s watching tonight?”
Franco nods, a flash of pride evident in his smile. “She sent me this right before we went out for the parade.” He taps his pocket, where his phone is hidden now. “Said she’d be watching. Don’t know how she manages to get away with it, with her schedule planned out months in advance, but she’s … creative.”
Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “The lengths you two go to. Like some kind of fairytale romance.”
The bus they’re on takes another slow turn around the parade route, the lights of Las Vegas casting a surreal glow over the scene. The streets are packed with fans, all of them waving and shouting, and Franco finds himself wondering if you’re watching this right now. He imagines you, curled up on the couch with that fluffy little dog of yours, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Franco smiles. “Yeah, I guess it really is.”
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Wishful Thinking
arranged marriage with nanami… a continuation
pt. 1 - pt. 2
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
The silence that permeates the car you were shuffled into with your husband is suffocating.
Your life partner had let go of your hand the moment he had reached to buckle you into your seat. You strain your fingers now, hoping the sweat on your palms hadn't been noticeable.
A driver from your clan's estate had been tasked with dropping you and your husband off at your newly arranged space. You knew this man, the man who was seated directly to your left, was not affiliated with any clan, this meant you had no idea where you were headed.
Several shipments of your belongings had been retrieved over the weeks since the higher-up's declaration of marriage for you had been in place. A steady and simple move-in awaited you. Something you weren't particularly happy about.
You thought through a list of things to occupy yourself with instead of awkwardly standing in this stranger mans presence.
As curious as you were about your future arrangements, you truly could not ignore the silence in this vehicle much longer. Had you married any of the expected bachelors, you were sure your ear would be talked off at this point, yet, you did not even know this mans name.
You took in a deep breath, preparing to speak, the blonde fellow, (your literal husband) turned to meet your eyes, likely having expected you to say something. His eyes shock you, and you turn away once more to stare out the window.
You strain your hand into a fist and work up the courage. Turning with an inhale once more, you force out words before you can change your mind, "Terribly sorry..." You start, looking him in the eyes, "Could you remind me of your name?"
You had never been given it to begin with. Perhaps the officiant at your wedding had recited it in his speech, but you had been a little distracted at the time.
"I'm sorry?" He strains his neck in your direction, eyebrows raised.
"Your name? Sorry... I think I ought to know it, right?"
"You don't know my name?" His head shakes a little as he speaks, incredulous.
You hesitate, "...No? I wasn't paying the most attention for it during the ceremony..." You mumble the last bit, waiting for him to cut you off, but he just stares at you.
"I'm sorry-" His hand hovers mid-air, "You weren't given my name?"
Oh no, you've offended him.
"Oh! It's not like that! My family is....very fond of you! And the higher-ups speak very well of you as well! I...well...I erm..." How do you fix this? Stroke his ego?
His hand is firmly on his forehead now. "That is not what I meant. I'm asking you - you were not informed of my name? Who I am? Were you even aware you were to be wed?"
You fumble a bit with the skirt of your dress, "Of course! Yes, I just... well, I didn't know who, but the marriage bit was no surprise."
"But the rest, that is all true? You had no idea you would be marrying me?" He looks frustrated, to say the least. You had no idea this would come as shocking news, someone should have informed you.
He is peeking at you through his hand, "Well...no, but-" He cuts you off now, but he seems to not be speaking to you.
"No wonder you looked so ill up there..."
Okay ouch.
"When did you agree to this marriage? Was this simply... decided for you?
You weren't sure what to say. Had this not been decided for him as well? Speaking frankly, you were not entirely sure of why he had been chosen as your partner, he had no duty to his name. Even so, he looked repulsed at the realization, eyes shot wide.
"Well... it was-" Were you supposed to be talking about this? Should you say this to your husband? "Umm... Well, I'm sure you know the higher-ups are involved with the clans..."
He shifted in his seat to face you fully now, "You...were forced?" He almost looks frighted at the concept. You want to laugh.
Of course, you were. How else did he think marriage worked?
Despite your thoughts, all you said was, "No, it was a mutual understanding that I would be married."
"Yet you know nothing about me." He looks forward at the road.
Was that what this was about? "I'm a quick learner, if you're concerned about that."
He sighs and smacks a hand to his face again. "No...No that is not what concerns me."
You have a litany of responses ranging from, 'I see...' to 'what does concern you then?' but you say none of them. You just sit forward and stare at your palms.
Oddly enough, it does not take long for the silence to be broken once more.
"Nanami." He says.
"I'm sorry?" You hadn't expected him to speak, eyes wide, you turn to him again.
"Nanami Kento. That's-" He sighs, as if it's a real chore to introduce himself, "my name is Nanami Kento."
You look to one another for a moment before you quickly break the connection, gazing out your window, deigning to not look again until you arrived.
"Mmm...thank you." You finally say.
--
Although you knew the house was not terribly far from your family estate, it felt like hours had passed before you allowed yourself to move once more.
Mr. Nanami had climbed from his seat once the car had halted.
Eager to be away from me it seems.
Only, he had seemed surprised as you climbed from your door as well, having walked around to greet you.
"Allow me," He had said, reaching for the small train case in the back of the car, it had been filled with small wedding gifts and your husband insisted on carrying it for you.
I wonder how long he will keep up this act. You found yourself thinking. Your new residence was sizable. Nice, in an uncomfortably clean way. Perhaps that is how your husband liked it.
As you stepped over the threshold, moving out of "the man of the house's" way. You took it in.
This place must have been chosen by the higher-ups. Your father would not have bought you a home, nor did you expect a man without clan connections to have been able to purchase such a plot of land.
It was only mid-afternoon. Yet your life was impossibly different than it had been only a few hours prior. You had expected the driver to stay and discuss the honeymoon with the two of you but it seemed he had not been instructed with that information.
As many frightening realizations occurred to you, you were able to resign yourself to acceptance, putting aside the...bedding...situation... the concern that stuck with you was dinner plans.
Were you expected to have that prepared? You didn't know what he preferred though....
Thoughts of your...marital duties swam in your head while Nanami was making his way towards the living room.
"Of course," He was saying, "You're free to use whatever you like, these things are as much yours as they are mine..." He had rounded through the sitting area and around the kitchen into the master bedroom, never once turning to look at you.
It was clear that people had come to prepare the area for you two. On his bedside table, you see a comfortable pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose grey shirt. You had not been presented with such. No, on the bed, strewn out for the both of you to see was a... sordid... set of black lacy lingerie.
You stood in silence. A resigned look on your face. Your husband on the other hand, had coughed, spun around, and fully walked from the room in moments.
What was he doing? Was he sickened by you? Did he expect you to appreciate his apprehension? If you were being honest, you would like for him to get this act over with as quickly as possible.
Looking at your marital bed, you were once again reminded of your mother's sobs only this morning. You looked down at the gown that clung to your waist. You had felt pretty today, despite the occasion. You knew you would not feel beautiful in that raunchy piece of string.
How long do I have? You wondered.
Finally moving yourself, you come before the undergarments, sit next to them, and run your hand along the bed's silky duvet.
You sat in silence for longer than you expected to be given. You finally reached your hand up your spine. Unzipping the dress, unbuttoning the clasp at your neck.
You slid it off your body. Walking around the room near-nude to lay the dress along the ladder of a bookcase. It was nice, actually. Maybe you wouldn't mind it here.
You did not rush to dress in the sexy, frilly, underthings. You might not have been perfectly comfortable in your body, but that didn't matter. Not when you had knowledge of the intentions behind your wedding for years.
It was a bit of a challenge to get it on. You weren't sure how to get your arms through at first, and then you swapped them around when you couldn't figure out the neck bit.
What did it matter, it would be coming off anyway.
After dressing, you sat in the same spot on the bed for a while, staring at your hands. You wondered if he was expecting to eat first. Seeing as he had left you alone, however, you figured he would return eventually.
It was cold like this, you hopped he would hurry.
Just as you were beginning to consider moving to look at the bookcase, (panty clad and all) your spine snapped into place when you heard him calling for you. When had you given him your name? You weren't sure.
He was speaking loudly so you might hear through the wall, but not in a frustrated manner, "The kitchen staff is arranging something for us to eat-" He had slowly began to open the door, when his eyes landed on you. Not a moment passed before he dropped whatever he had in his hands. It loudly clattered to the floor and he slammed the door shut. The noise echoed in the room.
"What-??!" He stuttered, "What are you doing?!!"
Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. What were you doing? What did he mean? And how exactly do you respond?
"I... uhh-" You looked down at yourself in the ridiculous lace.
You had not been trained in much regarding sex, having been told that the man you would marry would be well aware of how to educate you when it came to your actions. Suddenly self-conscious, you wondered if you had done something wrong.
Nanami calls your name from outside your new bedroom, then repeats it. Firm and unmoving. "What-are-you-doing?"
Your hands flounce around. Stuttering for a response, "I- I don't know!?" You finally force out, the tone coming off a little too questioning for an answer.
After a moment there is a dull *bonk* against the door. You hear no response for a long while. The room is so silent, you can hear your heart pounding. It was so painfully uncomfortable, you reached a hand to your chest to try and calm it. Finally, he clears his throat and calls out to you from behind the door again.
He speaks your name gently, as if calling to a child, "I'm going to come in now, okay?"
You sit upon the bed once more, back straight. "Alright." You nod to yourself.
Unsure of what to expect, you watch the door handle tilt to allow for your husbands entry, but your eyes narrow as he shifts into the room, avoiding your gaze - in fact - avoiding your presence completely.
His arm is shaking off his nicely tailored suit jacket. Still turned to look at the closet, he comes before you, jacket in hand, and reaches out for your shoulders. You almost want to shrink back from this odd behavior but remain still as he wraps you up in his clothing.
After a few awkward seconds, he turns to look at you. "What are you doing?" He repeats, low and calm.
You raise your brows, "What... are you doing?" You reach up to feel the jacket covering your collar and torso, instantly, he drops his hands from your shoulders.
He shakes his head, a hand tugging at his loose blond hair. "I don't... understand." He is no longer looking in your vicinity. His voice shakes and all the air leaves his lungs.
"I'm sorry." You wrap yourself tighter in his jacket, shifting to stare at him, "Was this not... expected?" His apprehension certainly came as a surprise to you.
Suddenly he's back, fully facing you, "Expected?" He raises his brows, "What is this? You're... what? Doing what is expected of you?". Despite the severity of the moment, it is now that you recognize how expressive his features are. His neck, up to his cheeks, up to even his ears are a warm pink. It wouldn't be improbable to assume his chest is a rosy shade right about now as well.
You decide to push the boundary, share your frustration. Why is he upset? If he does not want you, he should just say. It's not as if you desire him in that way. This has been an incredibly stressful and tense day, at least he knew who you were before all of this, you did not have that liberty. If anything, you should be upset with him!
"Is it not?" You speak up, "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that...this" You pull your arm out from under his jacket to motion between you two, "was how this worked."
He makes a face. Revolted.
"You are- we-" He cuts himself off, waving his hands before himself, then covers his face, "no." He gets out, "This is not how this works."
"Well." Now you're flushing, embarrassed. You straighten yourself, balling his suit jacket in your firsts. "What... would you like for me to do? I told you in the car that I learn quickly, if thats-"
"Stop." He spits out, voice suddenly higher than before, "Just...stop."
You swallow. What does he want from you? "Okay." You whisper.
He calls for you gently, and motions for you to stand. He turns away from the bathroom now and shifts in the other direction, looking at your wedding gown strewn across the bookcase ladder. He purses his lips. "Please.... dress yourself." He swallows, motions towards the wardrobes along the wall. "Something comfortable in there. I was... going to ask your preferences, for a meal-for dinner. Let me-"
He clears his throat, moving away now toward the bedroom door, he drops to the floor and picks up what must be his phone, having been dropped earlier, he rubs the screen on his pant leg. "What would you like?"
You stare at him, straight-faced. "Anything you like." You're not a picky eater.
He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, "No. What do you like to eat?
You shrug, "Anything. I don't mind." You shake your head at him and he just looks you up and down. The stupidly large jacket comes mid-thigh.
He takes a deep breath. Then exhales dramatically. Nods. And he's gone. This time, when closing the door, he makes an effort to do so gently.
--
You had found a soft cotton pajama set in one of the dresser drawers. Having long since removed your previous attire, you wonder what your husband is thinking of as he silently serves two plates of Chinese food.
You wonder what your father would say if he saw Mr. Nanami serving up dinner for his wife as you sat on the living room couch.
You're taken from your thoughts as Nanami places a large wooden tray on the couch, he places the food on it.
It seems you will very much be eating together.
"I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you don't." He murmurs, seating himself near you in the dimly lit room.
In no world would you complain about the food your husband served you. Even if you disposed it, luckily, you liked Chinese cuisine. Before you can even get out a word of appreciation he is speaking again, "I think we should talk."
You sit up straight. "Alright."
He motions for you to eat, "Feel free. I think we ought to have an open discussion."
You grab your utensils but don't reach for anything until after he takes a bite. Awaiting his words.
"Well... I believe we ought to be on the same page about this. I had been under the impression that we were... but as I can see, that is not the case." He stares at you intently.
He is not speaking down to you, but rather, making space for an open conversation. You set down your chopsticks, and await further explanation.
"I suppose I should know what exactly the higher-ups asked of you."
You raise your brows, "Sorry?"
An apology has become a common synonym for many of your reactions.
"Earlier, you asked me for my name. And just then-" He flushes a little, motioning to the bedroom, "well- you mentioned expectations and I feel I ought to ask you what is is that has been requested of you."
Is this man daft? Is he playing with you?
Before you respond, you test the waters, "What did the higher-ups demand of you?"
The man sighs.
"I am terribly sorry," he calls your name again like its easy, a habit that makes your stomach flip, "It seems that people have not been honest with you, you deserve an explanation. I just expected you to be aware of this before our union."
He pauses for a moment, his eyes watch you and the chopsticks laying on the wooden tray.
Ah.
You reach to take a bite. It's good, and oddly puts the man before you at ease.
"Before this, I was intending to leave sorcery."
He states it as if it is nothing. Your eyes bug out and he pauses, allowing for you to ensure you heard correctly.
"The higher-ups have a large amount of sway in Tokyo, I'm not sure about Kyoto, but they were not fond of this plan."
I can't imagine why that would be. You thought as you recalled the moment you had first seen this Nanami Kento.
It had been an annual meeting between the Kyoto and Tokyo branches. You had heard him refer to sorcery as "a pain". Had he been considering retirement even then?
You simply nod, listening quietly. "It was their intention to find me...a wife." He huffs, "Maintaining a life in sorcery was highly important to them."
Oh, you see. Perhaps he wasn't so different from you after all.
The higher-ups have only had one expectation for you, even since showing promise in the world of sorcery, even after moving up the ranks at Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Your job was plain and simple.
To have babies.
Sorcerer babies.
Had they been so afraid of losing one sorcerer to the regular world that he was cornered into loveless marriage? All to keep him from departure? Was that why Gakuganji had been so immediate with his instatement of your husband?
"I see..." You nod once more.
"I would like to know your experience as well. What was it that they asked of you?" He had both hands laid flat on the makeshift table between the pair of you.
You consider what to say. "I...have known-" you try again, "My duty has been laid out for some time now." You tilt your head, he's squinting at you.
"Please. Just tell me. They... forced you - to - to do that?" He points his head in the direction of your room once more.
Now you're confused. You want to speak in a way that doesn't insult his intelligence but he's making is difficult for you. "Did you not... marry me for children?"
He chokes.
Coughing to clear his throat, he wipes his mouth. "That is not- eugh-" he tries again, "They cannot ask that of you. I will not do anything that you are not explicitly requesting of me." He pauses effecting a moment of silence before, "Do you understand?"
But you don't. "Mr. Nanami, are you... not expected to produce children? Is that not why you were chosen to be in this situation?"
He responds quickly and with precision, "I did not marry you for what you could give me. No."
You can't hold in your confused laugh, "Then...why?"
"Was it not the easiest for the both of us?" He smirks at you, his shoulders have eased only slightly after hearing your laugh, "I was informed that your other options were not the most savory."
"You knew you would be marrying me?" You ask, ignoring his reference to your suitors and flummoxed by how easy it is to speak comfortably with a man you had been so recently adverse to.
"Yes. I... cannot believe you were not provided the same..." He pauses, "I was under the impression that this was a mutual decision..."
"Oh." It's all you can say.
Nanami takes in a deep breath from across the couch cushions. "I'm sorry." And you really believe that he means it. "I would not have agreed if I knew." He forms a flat line with his lips.
"I think you're right, though..." He looks at you, addled, so you continue, “This was the easiest choice. I think so too." You're unsure of how else to conclude.
Your wedding dinner had not been what you would have expected and the night, unlike anything you could have predicted.
Nanami Kento, no matter how you denied and tried to shuffle from the bedroom, had sworn himself to a guestroom after collecting the night clothes laid out for him on the bedside table.
He had gently grabbed your shoulders, maneuvering you towards the bed and away from the exit. Pleading with you to remain in the master bedroom. Claiming that he had intended to sleep in a separate bedroom since the beginning.
Though you pulled at his arms to try and swap your standing, telling him adamantly to take the bigger of the bed options, he simply drew close to you, shifted farther from the door and blocked your sights. He lead you softly to the bed, and when you attempted to side step him and make your way to the guestroom, he took one arm, catching you by the waist, and swiftly lifted you from the floor.
"Please. Do not ask me again. Sleep here, alright? All of your things are here. I will be very comfortable in the guestroom."
And before you could get out any complaint, he had you placed upon the duvet. His hands were off you in an instant, but he remained looking in your direction as he backed to the door you had been fighting over.
"Do sleep well." His long strides had brought him to the rooms entrance with no delay, you were still caught up with the fact that he had lifted you like a sack of potatoes, with one arm no less. "We will likely have to arrange the...trip tomorrow."
The honeymoon, that's right.
He said it in a way that sounded like, 'just to warn you' or 'you should know'. But all you could reply with was, "Right."
"Right." He echo's, turning to walk through the door, and looks to you once more. "Sleep well." And there's your name again, leaving his lips as though you are long time friends.
"You too."
But the door has been silently shut.
His touch lingers on your waist from where he had lifted you. Not in the way your fathers hand would linger after he drug you to and from meetings, not the way his fingers would remain painfully on your neck after he would steer you into conference rooms. But rather, in an almost ticklish way.
You shiver.
And run your hands over your new duvet.
When you had made up your childhood bed and left this morning, you had listened to your mothers cries, sure that last night would be the last time you would have the peace of your own bed. Your heart swelled with the knowledge that you had been wrong.
Your fingers traced the stitching on the comforter. Swung your legs from the mattress, and almost-almost grinned.
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
tag list @longlivegojo @kitkatlover015 @l0v3rgirl-owo @smailaway (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fluff#jjk angst#nanami kento imagine#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami imagine#nanami fanfic#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami x reader angst#nanami x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami kento#kento nanami#nanami x you#kento nanami fluff#nanami fluff#nanami x y/n#jjk kento#nanami kento fluff#kento fluff#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#jujutsu kento#arranged marriage au#arranged marriage#jjk x y/n
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Okay so I see a lot of Yandere!Batfam with a darling who is one of the children in the family but what I don’t see is Yandere!Batfam with two darlings, a single mother with a daughter.
Based on this quick post I made (link)
Like just picture the mother!darling being a rich sweetheart of Bruce Wayne’s at one point, perhaps even being his fiancé bit was the engagement was called off by her because of his work as Batman. She did not want her husband keeping secrets from her, and then imagine if they had a child one day, what sort of life would it be for them?
Well that question certainly comes to life when she finds out she is pregnant just days after leaving Bruce. She has far too much pride to go back to him and scared what life her baby would live with their father being in danger every night. She gives birth and raises her daughter herself, beginning to travel in the world for her work, leaving Gotham just as Bruce takes in Dick Grayson.
Years go by and she raises her own child and Bruce takes in his own children. Of course they hear about each other in the press but really have not paid much mind until she is back in Gotham, attending a charity event at a hotel. Her daughter is up in their hotel room, asleep or so she hopes anyway, and she is sipping on a glass of champagne while making meaningless small talk and then like as if out of a scene from a movie both she and Bruce spot each other from across the room. Conversation between the two is unavoidable especially with Dick trying to push the two together but it is sour quickly with her quietly chewing him out for choosing his vigilante identity over her and-
“Ma’am, your daughter just woke up, a nightmare.”
The conversation is cut short by one of the hotel staff speaking out to her while holding a little girl’s hand who is standing there in her nightgown, eyes full of tears while she clutches her stuffed animal. Bruce just watches as his ex-fiancé takes care of her daughter, his daughter, excusing herself from the party to put her back to bed. Then when the end of the party comes and people have started to leave he finds her again and asks her the question…
“Is she mine? Your daughter…”
“…Yes… she is… I-I am sorry Bruce, I have to go.”
She runs off upstairs and he is just left there starstruck and with his own kids not too far away and listening into their conversation. So when they all arrive back at the manor Bruce is due to give an explanation about the woman who is the mother of Bruce’s daughter, Damian’s half sister, and who might as well be the little sister of the rest of the lot.
So with a bit of planning the kids come up with a way to add a few people into their family, a mother and a little sister…
Dick goes to visit them at the hotel, calling beforehand and asking her to meet husband in the hotel lounge to talk. He tries to convince her to come back, her daughter needs to know who her father and brothers are, and Bruce misses her and she cannot deny that she love Bruce at one point and-
That plan goes up in flames as she runs upstairs, rejecting Dick’s idea.
Then that falls to plan B with Jason.
This wasn’t actually intended to be a plan, just Jason keeping an eye on the little girl from afar to make sure nothing happened to her while she was out with her nanny, after all Gotham is a dangerous place. She and her nanny were just supposed to be out running errands before they leave Gotham but she just happened to be separated from the nanny and alone in the dangerous streets. It is only a matter of time before someone tries to snatch her up, the daughter of a rich woman, she would be perfect to hold for ransom. Luckily Jason, or rather, Red Hood is there in time to save her, telling her to go in the corner and cover her eyes while he deals with them. He hushes her as he wraps her up in his jacket, telling her to keep her eyes shut as he carries her out of there, he doesn’t want her to see the pools of blood he is walking through as he is carrying his little sister out of there.
Then when he returns to Wayne Manor with her, Damian looks after her while Jason explains what happened to Bruce. It isn’t safe for them, she could have been killed or worse if it wasn’t for him. Eventually Bruce caves and agrees to their plan of getting them both back.
Bruce goes to go see his ex-fiancé who is in a state of panic because her daughter is missing. Bruce sits her down and tells her daughter is safe and taken care of at Wayne Manor but there is a problem, her daughter’s kidnapping will be seen as child neglect if Bruce chose to file for custody of his daughter. If that was not enough to get her cave in he shows her a file of blackmail Tim had gathered on her which also shows old not look good to the court, so he asks her one thing with only one answer to it…
“Will you marry me?”
“…fine…”
Then not to far down the line there is a white wedding that should have happened years ago, and as Bruce and his wife exchange rings, say I do, and kiss, their children watch…
Her daughter is not a fool, she knows something wrong, she just has no way of telling anyone as Dick holds her on his hip as if she weighs nothing, and Jason fixes her flower girl dress for the pictures that Tim is already taking and has been throughout the ceremony.
#yandere dc x reader#yandere dc#yandere justice league x reader#yandere justice league#yandere bruce wayne#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere batman#yandere batman x reader#yandere batfam#platonic yandere batfam#platonic yandere#yandere batfamily#platonic yandere batfamily#platonic yandere dc#platonic yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake
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BDSMaid - Chapter 6
Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.
CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.
AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)
Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)
Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3
CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.
You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah! You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey.
You
Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this.
“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”
You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible.
The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”.
You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands.
“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”
You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”
“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.
“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance.
You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.
After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip.
You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold.
After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller.
You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car.
Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight.
The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.
Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.
He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists.
He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another.
Joel
“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”
His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.
“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”
You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.
“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”
You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”
He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something.
No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany.
He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”
When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”
He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”
He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms.
Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.
It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”
He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his.
“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”
“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again.
“So?”
“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.
He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss.
I love you.
You
You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands.
He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.
“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.
Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”
“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”
He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic.
“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”
“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”
“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.
“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way.
“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”
As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”
You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”
The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there.
“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.
“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.
Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”
“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”
Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”
“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.
“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”
You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.
“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.
“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”
You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”
Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”
He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”
You - Four Years Prior
“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle.
“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”
Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”
That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.
“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.
As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him.
“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.
One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”
You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”
You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours.
The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.
“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.
“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”
A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.
“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”
“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”
“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”
You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.
You - Present Day
A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him?
“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms.
“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”
“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”
His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”
“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.
“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.
Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.
Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.
“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”
You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”
“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.
She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”
You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”
“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”
She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”
You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.”
Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?”
“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”
“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.
“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.”
You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”
You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him.
All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right?
“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.
“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.
“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier.
She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.
“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”
“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.
You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.
“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”
Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”
The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you.
“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”
You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”
She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.
When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”
“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings.
Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”
His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now?
Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?
Joel
I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music.
Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers.
I love you.
Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder.
I fucking love you.
You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him.
“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.
He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”
“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.
“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.
“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”
“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”
You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”
One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song.
A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart.
You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”
At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.
“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.
The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”
“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”
Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.
“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”
You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”
“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?”
“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”
He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”
“What?”
“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”
You
“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.
Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”
That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.
The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.”
Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”
He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore.
You’re falling in love with Joel Miller.
“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.
Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over.
The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it.
Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”
“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”
“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”
He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.”
The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage.
“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.
“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.
“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”
You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”
The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage.
“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar.
“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.
You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”
You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.
His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?”
God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”
You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”
Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage.
He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with.
Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”
“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.
He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”
His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar.
If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself
His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.
Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself
He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords.
Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore
You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place.
And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me
You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel.
Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?
The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.
All the complexities and games No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on
You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.
And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me
And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.
When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us
This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.
And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest
You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’
All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.
‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.
So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay
‘I’m here for you’.
No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone
You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.
And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me
You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing.
You and me It’s just, you and me
You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”
Joel
The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.
He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women.
You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?”
He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.”
He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.
No, I just love her.
He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you.
His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”
You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints.
As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”
He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.
The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”
It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit.
A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once.
“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”
You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”
He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.
A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”
You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.
“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”
He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”
Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane.
His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him.
He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.
You
The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”
What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him.
“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’
His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties.
The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you.
“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.
He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”
His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”
The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him.
“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.
He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”
Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you.
The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady.
“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.
Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.
“Take me to the club.”
“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours.
“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”
“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”
Joel
This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are.
“I can take you home if you want.”
“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.
Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”
He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.
He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.
“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.
“What do you need?”
You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”
I love you.
He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.
“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.
You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”
He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?”
You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”
“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.
“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office.
“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused.
“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.
When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful.
I love you.
You
Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side.
“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.
“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull.
“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.”
“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.”
He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright.
If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego.
Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet.
You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”
You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?”
You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.”
One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.”
You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.
“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?”
You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”
“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.”
He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him.
He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours.
“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy.
Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants.
As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric.
“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!”
He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.”
The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.”
For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently.
“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.”
You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.
“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back.
Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”
You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.
He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.
“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.
“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.
The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”
You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him.
“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says, “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”
“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.
“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”
This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you.
“Is this ok?” He whispers.
“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips.
“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”
Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.
His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”.
You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now.
“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does.
His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.
“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”
“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.”
“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.
Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers.
“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.
Joel
He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach.
“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece.
More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.
Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”
He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen.
He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”
He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel.
I love you.
Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”
“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat.
He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”
“Again,” he growls.
“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.
He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you.
He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.
Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.”
He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling.
“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”
You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip.
“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you.
The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.
There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way.
Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl.
“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips.
His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”
Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”
He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk.
“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.
“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…”
His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating.
“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.
“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.
“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved.
The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you.
He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.”
“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses.
“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.”
“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask.
“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.”
“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”
“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”
The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now.
“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”
Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”
Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep.
His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”
Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”
Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”
Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”
Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”
“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”
“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.
“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed.
He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”
You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”
“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”
“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his.
There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”
Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany.
“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”
“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal#joel the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us hbo#tlou fanfiction#game joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x ofc#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x oc#joel miller x original character#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedal pascal characters#dom!joel miller#soft dom joel#soft joel miller#hbo the last of us#the last of us
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✏️ film major!mingyu x reader.
"the greatest films of all time were never made"? not if your ex, film student mingyu, can help it ✶ part of my svt university milestone event
⤿ college exes, exes to friends. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from @taeraegyat & @gyubakeries!
DIR. BY KIM MINGYU
FADE IN INT. CINEMA '76, LOBBY - DAY
MINGYU enters with his DATE. MINGYU's eyes go wide when he notices YOU at the cinema's snack bar.
DATE Do you want some popcorn?
MINGYU (hesitant) Uh… Isn't it kind of expensive?
DATE shoots MINGYU a look. He heaves out a longsuffering sigh.
MINGYU Okay, I'll get us some.
MINGYU makes his way to the snack bar. YOU look up. His eyebrows furrow, because he can't read the look on your face as well as he used to.
MINGYU Hey, look—
YOU (interrupting) Welcome to Cinema '76. What can I get you?
MINGYU feels his heart drop in his stomach. He wants to explain, but then DATE comes up to him.
DATE Can you get us some soda, too?
MINGYU wishes he hadn't noticed the slight change in YOUR expression. But YOU keep YOUR cool as you go to punch in the order.
YOU A large popcorn and two sodas. Anything else?
MINGYU I—
DATE And a pack of M&Ms, please.
YOU Got it.
MINGYU watches helplessly as you go get their snacks. When YOU return, he wordlessly hands over the payment. The tips of your fingers brush.
MINGYU (softly) Thanks.
YOU only give MINGYU a nod in response. He winces slightly when DATE grabs him by the arm.
DATE We'll miss the previews!
MINGYU Right, right.
MUSIC UP: "You Were Beautiful" by DAY6
MINGYU lets DATE drag him off. He casts one glance over his shoulder at YOU, except YOU'RE not even looking at him. Somehow, that's even worse.
INT. CINEMA '76, CINEMA 1 - DAY
The film is one of those cheesy romcoms. MINGYU thinks about how YOU had introduced him to his favorite romcom; how the two of you used to spend hours and hours debating over which was best.
His DATE leans over a lot to comment on things, he notices.
DATE (pressing close to MINGYU) I think Glen Powell is severely underrated...
MINGYU laughs, just a bit, because in his mind's eye, he can see how YOU would react to that opinion. He's also imagining the look on YOUR face if YOU saw somebody talking during a film.
YOU only allowed movie commentary if it was in the comfort of YOUR home. Otherwise, in public places like cinemas? YOU would glare daggers at anybody who dared.
DATE (CONT'D) ... And that's kind of like Sydney Sweeney, isn't it?
Crap. MINGYU has no idea what DATE had just said.
MINGYU (whispering) Yeah, I agree.
DATE seems placated. Close call, thinks MINGYU. But he's also thinking about how the two of you would argue about everything. How YOU would never back down on YOUR opinion, and how he adored YOU for all YOUR convictions.
DATE goes to hold MINGYU's hand. He almost flinches away. But that would be rude, so he awkwardly lets them hold on.
It's cruel, but throughout the movie, MINGYU bears it by imagining that it's YOUR hand instead.
INT. CINEMA '76, LOBBY - EARLY EVENING
MINGYU emerges from the movie with DATE. He immediately drops their hand.
MINGYU Hey, uh, I think I was short on change from the cashier. Mind if I go check on that real quick?
DATE Oh, sure. I'll wait for you by the entrance.
MINGYU Thanks.
MINGYU rushes back to the snack bar. YOU'RE nowhere to be found. He checks his watch; YOUR shift has probably ended.
MINGYU (underneath his breath) Damn it.
MINGYU had wanted to explain. He does the next best thing. He fishes out his phone from his pocket and pulls up your contact, which is still your name with a heart emoji. He hasn't changed it after all this time.
He types and retypes several texts. When did you start working at Cinema '76? and You looked good and Can we talk, please? and I wished it was you during the entire two-hour runtime of the film.
In the end, he only sends out an I'm sorry.
MINGYU puts his phone away. He wanders back to DATE, who greets him with a helluva good question; they're looking at the posters for upcoming shows.
DATE (absentmindedly) How do you feel about sequels?
And, again, MINGYU is thinking of YOU.
MINGYU I think they're always worth a shot.
FIN.
#mingyu x reader#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu smau#mingyu imagines#mingyu fluff#svt smau#seventeen smau#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine#── ᵎᵎ ✦ milestone event: svt uni#[ film student mingyu ? my new religion. ]#[ this came to me in one fell swoop idk when the rest will come out but i was sure about THIS ONEEE baby ]#[ @dir.bykmg it seems ive grown quite fond o f u ]
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Workplace
Pairing: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x (f)reader
Tags: NSFW, secret identity, vigilante reader, office romance, fingering, kissing, biting, wounds, penetration, slightly toxic Dick Grayson,
"Holy shit, y/n?" A gruff voice called your name from across the police station. You turned away from your papers and in the direction the address was coming from, meeting a bloodshot wild gaze of a man who looked around your age. You didn't recognize him, who was currently in the middle of being escorted into a cell.
You didn't respond, assuming he confused you with someone else. He called you again, though. "Y/n! It's Spencer Van! We were in the fifth grade together-"
You met his crazy gaze again, raising your brow in question.
"Ms. Strums class!" He added.
You blinked, recalling the name of your fifth grade teacher. You began to recognize him. And your mouth twisted in disgust. You didn't remember much other than him being a piece of shit; bullying the smarter kids, and constantly interrupting your teacher during class. Not a person worth remembering.
Your grimace didn't deter him, though, as his gaze slowly studied you up and down. You began to regret your earlier decision to discard your blazer when his gaze landed on the undone top buttons of your blouse.
You hated going to the police station for this exact reason. The staff were nice, but the people they brought in... different story.
"Damn," Spencer groaned, his tongue sliding across his teeth. "You grew up gorgeous."
The blood drained from your face, and you felt nauseous. Now definitely swallowing bile. Detectives and staff were looking between you two as you took in a steadying breath and tried to avoid glaring at him.
"You like me like this?" Spencer continued, grinning a dirty, crooked smile and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You like seeing me in handcuffs?-"
Before he finished his sentence, he was brutally shoved into the cell. The sound of the slam echoed throughout the station.
The detective who shut him up, Dick Grayson, stood towering, muscular, and gorgeous in his uniform, and your secret crush on him only grew. Dick barely broke a sweat while Spencer bounced off the wall and was now wheezing, struggling to get back up.
"You son of a bitch-" Spencer choked. "You fucking broke my rib!"
"Yeah?" Dick challenged. "Press charges when you're done serving ten years for drug trafficking. Prick." Then he slammed the cell door shut.
The rest of the room fell back into routine, the sounds of phone calls, walkies, filing papers, and conversations filling the air once more. Grateful for the change in pase, you returned to your documents.
"Ms. L/n, are you alright?" A low masculine voice you instantly recognized spoke behind you. You turned to see the detective. Sharp features and ocean-colored eyes pierced through your thoughts, catching you off guard. Your breath hitch at his size towering over you, while the smell of beachy cologne invaded your senses. His uniform hugged his body so well that you could almost see the defined muscle under the material.
"Yeah, thanks for hitting him." You stammered, your shoulders rising slightly.
"Sorry I didn't do it sooner." He frowned, his gaze flicking to Spencer, who still groaned in his cell.
You gathered your files. "Should we sit down to look over the Falcone case?"
"Yes, right." Dick gestured for you to take a seat at his desk. It was the only one in the room that wasn't covered in a million papers. Just his computer, a notepad, pen, and calculator lined up against each other in a tidy order, with a half finished cup of coffee sat on the corner. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
You shook your head. "Is there somewhere private we can talk?" Then, at his raised brow, you rushed to add. "I'll need to share some sensifitive information."
He nodded in understanding and got up, leading you down the hall. Your heels clicked behind him as he opened the door to a filing room lined with shelves. A single table and two chairs sat in the middle of it, illuminated by warm toned lights. The noise died down as he shut the door before pulling out your chair.
He spoke up as you sat down. "Late nights at the office, huh?"
You blinked, trying your best to look confused, also trying to cover the blush on your cheeks. "N-no. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged, offering you his signature joking smile. "From our email exchanges, you were originally supposed to come here yesterday. I was just curious why the last-minute change."
You shook your head, rushing. "Nope, I just... I wasn't feeling well."
"Oh no." Dick said, his brow creasing. His tone of worry hid a chuckle that was desperately trying to escape. You were such a bad liar. "I'm glad you're feeling better then."
"Yes, well," you took your seat, pulling out a series of photographs from your folder and placing them on the table for him to see. "Falcone met with the owner of MacKenzie Buildings in his club two nights ago."
Dick made a big show of studying the photographs, which he took himself two nights ago. "Hmmm."
You continued. "Yesterday, as you know, MacKenzie was found dead in his apartment."
Dick nodded along to your words, picking up a photograph to study it closer before frowning. His brows furrowed as he looked at the picture. "How'd you get these? Did you hire a P.I.?"
"Not exactly." You lowered your voice, eyeing the locked door behind you.
When you turned around, his blue gaze was narrowed at you. Questioning.
"I'd like to keep the source confidential."
♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤
Two nights ago.
"I need to go use the ladies' room." You spoke over the music before getting off your date's lap. He grinned and nodded, barely acknowledging you as he was distracted with a pair of girls dancing on a tabletop.
You matched with the man on a hookup app an hour ago, suggesting this club to meet uo, and he was more than happy to go - probably thinking he was going to get lucky. In reality, it was just a cover.
As soon as you walked off the main floor, you headed for the back of the club and out to an alleyway behind the building. Unwrapping a bandana from your wrist, you tied it around your face, hiding all of it, save your eyes.
Taking quiet steps in your combat boots on the gravel, you grasped at the bag slung across your shoulder as you spotted your opening. With a running start, you jumped up, grabbed onto the latter, and began to climb.
♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤
Nightwing followed you for the fourth week in a row. This time, your escapades brought you to Falcone's nightclub, with some creep who wouldn't stop running his hands over the open back of your corset top. Dick had half a mind to knock him out there, and then each time you stiffened from his hand, brushing against your skin.
Wearing an all-black outfit which helped you blend in, you hiked your makeshift mask covering your face. You used the railings to scale your way up the roof with practiced ease.
Either gymnastics or calisthenics - if Dick had to guess. Or the mandatory self-defense classes at Gotham Law had incorporated parkour. Brushing his chin with his fingers, he perched casually on a nearby rooftop.
Silently lifting yourself up and positioning yourself on a rooftop that overlooked a large window, behind which Falcone and his men were gathered around a table. Dick watched you pull out a camera from your bag and begin to snap pictures. Like you were some kind of private investigator.
Dick watched patiently. He's seen you do this several times now. He was curious where this was heading this night.
Silence and the howl of wind replaced the club’s thumping bass, and for a moment, you felt utterly alone - until you heard the faintest shuffle above.
Instantly, you rolled out of the way just as the guy's fist came down to the spot where you just were. You got up, hid your camera in your bag, and assessed the assailant. Only one. Good. That you can handle.
You dodge the following blow as well, dropping to your hands and swiping your leg under both of his, knocking him off balance. He went down fast, and you took out the taser you always had in your pocket, bringing it to his neck and activating it until his body began to shake. You held it long enough for him to pass out. Then, you held your hand to his neck, making sure you found his pulse, ensuring he was still alive and walked on, taking your camera back out. As you were snapping the pictures, what you didn't see were the two other bodyguards approaching you on the roof.
Good thing he did.
Out of nowhere, you were grabbed around your waist and flung onto a higher up rooftop, and away from the meeting. "Hey!-"
"Quiet." A deep voice growled against your ear.
When you two landed on another rooftop, you stumbled and caught yourself on the rubble. You turned around, facing your new assailant.
Momentary shock took over as you were met with THE Nightwing. The protector of bludhaven, glowering down at you with a disappointed look under his mask.
"Nightwing!" You choke out.
"The one and only." He confirmed.
You've never seen him in person, never mind standing inches away from him. Your initial shock wore off to make room for anger of your own. "Look... thank you for saving me, but I don't need your help."
He smirked like you just made a joke, then gestured behind you, tilted his chin. "Turn around."
Tentatively, you turned and faced the street, away from him.
"Look down, down at the alleyway." He said. "See those guys patrolling outside the club with their M16's?"
You strained your eyes, trying to see what he was referring to. "No..."
"Exactly." He came to stand side to side with you, taking something out or his utility belt and holding it up to you. Upon initial inspection, you concluded it was a lens of some sort, and you brought it up to your eye. The lens did show a pair of bodies walking back and forth behind a brick wall. Heat sensors.
Embarrased, you handed him the lens. You took a breath, steadying yourself under his intense gaze. Heart pounding, you wondered why his presence felt just as dangerous as comforting.
"It sucks. Doing what I do. Not everyone can." He said.
"I'm not trying to do what you do." You defended yourself. "I'm no vigilante."
"Why do you need these pictures?"
You follow his gaze down to the camera clutched in your hands. "That's confidential,"
He then stood face to face with you. Or rather, face to chest with his frame dwarfing you. "Are you a P.I.?"
"No." You huffed, hoping your raised brow will stop any more questions. "Thank you for saving me. See you around." Then you hopped down the rails and to the ground.
You pushed open the door to your apartment, stepping in still in your club clothing. The corset top was dirty and pulled out of your leather tights, which tore at some point during your escapades, and your feet were in immeasurable pain from walking in those boots all night. You were tired as you tossed your keys into a bowl and locked the door.
A man cleared his throat behind you. "So this is where you live," Nightwing stepped into your living room.
Your voice hitched, and you jumped, rushing to switch on your lights. You stumble over your heals and nearly fall. He caught you around your waist and stabilized you.
"What were you doing at Falcone's club?" He asked, eyes searching your apartment.
"Did you follow me?" You asked, tone incredulous.
"Didn't have to," he pulled up a piece of paper and held it to you.
Your eyes widened. "Is that my car insurance?"
"Mhmm," he nodded, walking to your kitchen and flipping through the papers on your counter. "Pro tip: when you go on patrol, don't bring ID. Otherwise, the mask becomes obsolete." He grinned and picked up an envelope. "Ah cute, your children's hospital donation went through."
You snatched the envelope from his hand. "Give me that! And get out of my house!"
He tisked and shook his head. "Not before you tell me when you were doing following Falcone."
"I- I already told you-"
"You told me fuck all." He interrupted. "Now, I know exactly who you are, miss. L/N I know everyone you've ever met and how to find them. Easily."
He stalked closer, the shadows of your dimly lit room casting sharp angles on his face. “Now ill ask you one more tim. What were you doing at Falcone’s club?” His voice was low, the threat behind it unmistakable, and for a moment, you wondered if Nightwing was as dangerous as the people he fought.
You gulped, straightening your neck. "Look, nightasshole-"
"Weak." He snorted.
"You're breaking and entering." You continued. "I could call the cops on you."
He grinned, wondering if he should let you, only for his phone ring when you dialed. Then, he set the idea aside. "That building you were on when you were snapping your pictures belongs to Falcone. You were on private property without permission. I'm sure a lawyer would know what the name for that is,"
Your shoulders sagged as you lowered your gaze. "Trespassing."
"Very good." He said. "So go ahead and place that call, y/n." He shrugged. "Tell them that Nightwing, identity unknown, address unknown, broke and entered into your house." You approached you, his tone sharpening. "Meanwhile, I'll place my own call. About Y/n L/n, from apartment 2a on 21 Nelson rd. For trespassing on Carmine Falcone’s private property. We'll see how long you get to keep your license."
Your eyes widened in shock. Would he really ruin your career over this? And all of a sudden, the mantle of "protector" became subjective in your mind. You swallowed nervously, regarding him with unease.
In a sudden move, you raised your knee, aiming straight for his groin, hoping to take him by surprise.
He was way ahead of you, and he dodged your knee along with the follow up attacking from your punches and kicks.
You were backed up against the wall, one of his hands easily held both your wrists above your head.
"Cute," he murmured, his voice mockingly soft, as though you're struggling amused him. "Should I be insulted that you think you can fight off Blüdhaven’s ‘protector’? Those defense classes they make you lawyers take get worse and worse each year -"
You collided your forehead with his nose.
"Shit!" He swore, then huffed a laugh, raising his free hand to wipe at the trickle of blood trickling from his nose, and looked down at his hand. The distraction you hoped for wasn't effective as you struggled against his hold, which was rock solid.
"I think you broke my nose." He said as a matter of factly. "How's your head?"
"Fine!" You snapped at him, fighting to keep your vision from blurring at the edges. That was the wrong angle to use, you thought, cursing yourself for forgetting the lessons you got from your self-defense training.
"Yeah?" He sounded doubtful. "Not throbbing anywhere? Like over here," he gave a gentle tap to your temple.
"Ow!" The point he pressed shot excruciating pain throughout your head, and your vision blurred even more.
"Yeah, valiant effort on your part." He commented, his voice growing more and more muffled as you struggled to... to...
He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes. "Hey, hey, no. No falling asleep. You gave yourself a concussion."
"Get... out of my home," you slurred.
"Can't do that either." He sighed. "I'd be leaving you for dead." He grinned. "That wouldn't be very heroic of me."
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Well, this is certainly the most creative way he had to keep a woman up all night, Dick thought to himself, bringing the smelling salts up to your nose.
"Ah, christ!" You exclaimed, jerking away from the violent stench. "Why do you even have these with you?"
"You'd be surprised how often head injuries can occur in my line of work." He explained, putting them away. "I've had to keep myself awake after a lot of brawls."
You nodded, eyeing him wearily. It was so odd how casual he was acting about this entire situation. You felt like you were a prisoner in your own home, with him as a friendly warden.
"How's your nose?" You asked, your hands rubbing your temples to try and ease the pain.
"Eh," he shrugged, looking at his reflection on your phone. "I've had worse."
He demanded on staying until he confirmed you were better. When the throbbing stopped, he did a quick assessment of your vitals using some kind of gadget you've never seen before.
The following afternoon, you came back to a package resting on the pile of mail on your kitchen counter.
There was a note on top, scrawled in sharp, hurried letters: "Thank me later."
Suspecting who it might be from, you carefully turned the folder over, spilling its contents—a stack of photos showing Carmine Falcone in a close conversation with Owen MacKenzie, the owner of MacKenzie Buildings.
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Present Day
"Let me guess," Dick said, arms crossed as he leaned against his desk. "You’re suggesting there’s a connection between MacKenzie’s death and his meeting with Falcone."
You nodded. "Just speculation for now, but it’s no secret Falcone’s been after those developments. I think he made MacKenzie an offer he didn’t like, and the next day…"
Dick’s gaze narrowed, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his desk. "So, what do you need from me?”
"You have access to the autopsy report," you replied, leaning forward. "If we can prove it was murder we can keep those properties out of Falcone’s hands.”
He studied you, scratching his head. "That’s making a lot of assumptions."
“Which is why I came to you,” you pressed, holding his gaze.
He raised a brow, lips quirking in mild amusement.
"If we’re right, we could keep dozens of families from getting pushed out onto the streets," you said, more earnestly.
After a long beat, Dick sighed and nodded. "I’ll see what I can do."
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Later That Night
Either that concussion affected your memory, or it dulled your self-preservation instincts, Dick mused as he watched you. He couldn't fathom why you kept diving headfirst into life-threatening situations.
You climbed the scaffolding at an abandoned construction site, slipping past rusted barriers until you reached the eighth floor. Perched on a narrow ledge, you crept toward a makeshift office in the corner—little more than a desk and chair surrounded by half-finished walls. Kneeling, you pulled out a lock-picking set and made quick work of the drawer, glancing over your shoulder once before opening it.
A low chuckle sounded behind you. "Not a shred of self-preservation in that little body of yours."
You jumped, heart pounding, and spun around to find Nightwing leaning casually against a support column, arms crossed over his chest.
"God," you muttered, trying to steady your breathing, "I thought you were a -"
"Bad guy?" He chuckled, tilting his head. "What exactly would you have done?"
"Maybe tase you," you shot back, turning back to sift through the documents in the drawer.
In two strides, he was beside you, looking over your shoulder at the papers. "What are we looking at?"
You glanced up at him, momentarily struck by his proximity. It took a beat too long for you to refocus, the sheer size and quiet intensity of him throwing you off balance.
"I’m looking for a ledger or a blueprint - anything tying this site to MacKenzie."
Nightwing raised a brow. "The project’s been transferred to Falcone. Announced just this morning."
"Do you believe that?"
He sighed, arms crossed. "Alright, trouble. Enlighten me - what’s your theory?"
"You really need me to spell it out?" you asked, arching a brow.
He smirked. "You think Falcone’s behind MacKenzie’s death."
You nodded. "A friend in Blüdhaven is working on getting me his autopsy report, and - "
"Oh, a friend?" he interrupted with a teasing tone. "Must’ve gone through all the right channels to get that, yeah?"
You frowned. "Of course."
He leaned in, the playful spark still in his eyes. "You know, a real friend would’ve gotten it for you just cus. No questions asked."
You stifled a blush, hoping your mask hid the heat rising in your cheeks. His gaze softened as it lingered on you, just a shade too long, his lips curling in a way that made your pulse quicken.
You were overcome with a need to defend Dick after Nightwing’s comment. "He's more noble than you," you said.
And oh god, if the irony alone didn't make Dick want to burst out laughing. Pull yourself together, he said to himself.
"Did anyone tell you." His voice was lower now, softer. "You have pretty eyes."
Thrown off, you glanced away, muttering, "Just… let me know if you see anything with MacKenzie’s name on it."
A low ding from the far end of the floor interrupted your sentence. You both froze, watching as the elevator doors slid open, and heavy footsteps echoed into the hollow silence. You quickly locked the drawer and put everything back in place.
Before you could even react, Nightwing’s arm was around your waist, pulling you back toward the edge of the building. He fired his grappling hook to the floor above, tugging you both up to safety. His hold on you was firm yet controlled.
Landing, you were acutely aware of every inch of him pressed against you, his gaze unreadable as he raised a gloved finger to his lips, signaling for silence. You swallowed, pulse racing, unable to tear your attention away from the solid, unyielding warmth of him beside you.
"Destroy every file on that table," a voice ordered. "Burn it all if you have to. I don’t want any trace left of his fingerprints here."
Your eyes widened. Proof that MacKenzie had been involved after all. You looked up at Nightwing, who nodded, clearly understanding the gravity of the moment.
The voice spoke again, sending a thrill of hope through you. "And make sure they do the same over at the south location. We don’t need loose ends."
Your eyes met Nightwing’s, urgency clear in your expression. There was still a chance to get evidence.
The smell of smoke drifted up from the floor below, mingling with the crisp night air as flames started licking up from the table and chair. You looked at Nightwing, panic flashing in your eyes. He didn’t move until the elevator dinged again, signaling the men’s departure.
"We need to get to that second site," you whispered, barely able to contain your urgency.
Nightwing’s gaze hardened, his earlier playfulness replaced by a steely resolve. "I need to get there. You’re going home."
"But-"
"No buts," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You want to help these people? Stay out of sight and leave the dangerous work to me. Trust me—this is my city."
For a moment, you considered arguing back, but something in his gaze warned you not to push him further. Instead, you gave a reluctant nod, allowing him to guide you away.
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There was a knock at your window.
You look up from your phone, already ready for bed in your pijama shorts and tube top. You see his outline through the glass as you aproach the window, already half-expecting bad news as you open it cautiously. You are met with Blüdhaven’s protector, leaning on the rail of your balcony, clutching his side, blood seeping through the cracks of his suit.
"Hey," he rasped, short breathes coming out of cut lips with a pained smirk as he raised a USB. "Got your evidence."
"You’re bleeding," you said, your voice a mix of shock and concern.
"Only a little," he grunted, but when he stumbled, you caught his arm, guiding him inside before he collapsed entirely. "You should see the other guy."
He helped you remove the top of his suit, leaving him bare to his hips. You tried not to linger too much on the ridges of hard-defined muscles lining up his chest, arms and stomach - it was a challenging endeavor.
Your hands moved carefully as you cleaned the gash on his side, trying not to let your worry show. "You should’ve gone to a hospital."
"They ask too many questions," he said with a wince but tried to smile. "And I’d rather have you play nurse."
Huffing, you rolled your eyes, but his words sent your pulse racing. You could feel his breath close to your cheek as you look down, the faint brush of his gloved fingers against your arm as you worked.
"Ive got a first aid kit. One moment." You said, getting up and bringing the white box that was kept on the top of your bookshelf. You've had some practice stiching up wounds back when your little siblings would get scrapes on the playground. You even wanted to be a doctor when you were a kid. Before you decided studying law was more interesting. Especially in a city like Bludhaven.
He drew in a gasp as you carefully threaded the needle, stitching up his wound. Finishing up, you placed a gauze bandage around the affected area, tisking. "You should still go get it checked out."
His fingers gently wrapped around your wrist, making you look up at him. Your eyes flickered to his, and for a second, wondering what color they were behind his mask.
“You dont need to worry about me,” he said softly, his fingers coming to play with the hem of your crop top. Your skin tingled where his touch brushed you. "But... I like that you do."
His words hung in the air, and your pulse raced as his gaze dropped to you lips, then back to your eyes.
“We shouldn’t-” you started, but before you could finish, his hand slid up under the back of your shirt, his warm fingers sending tingles along their path.
“I know,” he whispered, but then he pushed you towards him, lips pressing softly against yours.
Your hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You took a moment to orocess the fact that you were kissing a stranger. It coukd be anyone under that mask. The need to know clawed at you.
"Nightwing?" You asked.
"Yes trouble?" He wispered, lowering his lips to lay kissed down your neck.
You felt your cheeks warm as your shoulders rose. "D-do you do this often? Sleep with people you save?"
He grinned then, nipping your earlobe as his hand, covered in calluses and scars reached around you, pulling you onto his lap. Gasping, you could feel his hardness on your silk shorts.
"Only when they take such good care of me." He asnwered, grinding up against you, brushing your sensitive clit in the process. "You know, to return the favor."
You gasped and he repeated the movement a few more times, until you were riding him still separated by your layer of clothing.
"You're gonna open-" You wimpered when a particularly long brush of his Dick sent a powerful sensation down your core. "-Your stitches. This... this isn't a good idea."
"It's a good thin% that you're here to fix me up then, isn't it?" He challenged, an evil grin playing at his lips.
You moaned and shook your head, still trying to think logical. "It will hurt."
"It hurts more not being inside you now, trouble." He wispered- no, whined- as his lips brushed your ear. "Please, put me out of my misery."
His finger slipped under your shorts and between your folds. "Fuck!" He caught his lower lip between his teeth, the bit leaving a beautiful read mark on his gorgeous lips. "You're so wet, trouble."
Unable to look away from him, you whimpered as his fingers brushed your insides.
"I dont even know who you are," you wispered in disbelief, more so to yourself than to him. "I don't even know your name,"
A small, curious part of him wondered how you'd react if he pulled off his mask and presented you with the very same face that's been working with you this past week at the station. Your "good friend" detective Grayson.
"I'm no one," he said instead. "Come here, baby."
A minute later, his suit was discarded on your carpet, along with your pijamas, as the two of you gasped and writhe against each other on your couch. You were riding him, the feeling of him filling you up was extacy. And his view provided him with an image of you panting on top of him, red lips parted as your hair fell in messy stands around your face and shoulder. "Trouble," he moaned. "You're so fucking sexy. Oh my god."
"Thanks, you like... a seven." You joked, then squealed, arching your back as he rose and bit your collarbone, driving into you hard.
"For that," he growled, a wolfish grin playing on his lips as he eyed the new bite mark forming on your skin. "I'll keep you up all night."
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"Y/n?"
You looked up from your computer to see your co-worker standing nearby, balancing a cup of coffee and a stack of files. She offered you a shy smile.
"Detective Grayson from the station is here for you."
"Oh, thank you!" you replied, quickly standing and smoothing your skirt and blazer. Nearly tripping in your heels, you mentally scolded yourself for coming to work instead of calling in sick; you could’ve used more sleep.
At the front entrance, Dick waited in uniform, coffee in hand, his usual bright smile already in place.
"Good morning," you greeted him with as much energy as you could manage.
"Morning," he replied, grinning. You couldn’t help but wonder what he put in his coffee to always look so chipper.
He held up a folder. "Here are the autopsy reports you asked for."
Your eyes lit up. "You got them? Amazing!" Taking the folder, you looked up at him gratefully. "Thanks, Dick."
"Happy to help," he said, dimples appearing as he smiled down at you. "I’ve got to get back, but let me know how the case goes, yeah?" He turned toward the elevator, giving you a casual wave.
"I will! Have a great day!"
As you watched him leave, someone cleared their throat behind you. Turning around, you found Lily standing there, a slightly nervous expression on her face.
"Hey," you said slowly. "Is everything okay?"
Saying nothing, she took your arm gently and lifted her phone, angling the camera so you could see yourself in selfie mode.
Your hand shot to your mouth in shock.
Clear as day, a bite mark peeked out from your collarbone. "Oh god."
You felt your face heat up as realization hit. How many people had already seen that? And oh god! Dick definitely saw it too!
Meanwhile, in the elevator, Dick allowed himself a small, satisfied grin.
#batman#batboys#dick grayson smut#smut#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson#nightwing x you#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader#nightwing
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suguru was pleasantly surprised when you shook him awake this early morning and told him in a groggy voice that you wanted to take a shower together.
both of your bodies are still a little sore from the night before, as evidenced by the small bruises and marks scattered across your skin.
it's rare that you and suguru shower together since you prefer to shower at night while he prefers to shower in the morning. you also once explained to him that you like your space in there and that another person would kind of overwhelm you, so the idea of cleaning up together never really appealed to you.
he respected that, of course, but not without a tiny, little pout on his lips.
but now the two of you are standing in your shower stall, the glass door fogged from the warm water you always use, and the fresh, soothing scent of suguru's shampoo lingering in the stuffy air.
droplets of water cover your bare bodies, glistening, as suguru's back is turned to you so that you can wash his hair.
you can't help but admire the way his long, black locks cascade down the muscles of his broad back like ink accidentally spilled over a precious letter.
even though it doesn't seem like a big deal, you know that the fact that you can wash his hair is a sign of trust that only you are granted. his hair is important to him, he can be quite stingy when it comes to it - or dramatic, as you like to call it sometimes - and the realization that suguru even asked you to wash it for him makes you more than giddy.
taking more product into your hands, you rub them together to make the shampoo lather, and you have to reach up slightly to massage the product into his scalp in circular motions.
suguru's head falls back into your gentle, working hands with a low groan, the sound echoing through the small space.
"I could get used to this," he sighs, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
you snort behind him, "don't. this is basically a once in five years occurrence."
"mhm, I guess I should tire you out the night before more often then. it makes you quite cooperative."
a slight hiss escapes him as he feels a sharp tug on his hair.
"oh, sorry, I forgot that this is reserved for our bedroom," you say in a false, innocent tone, and suguru reaches a hand behind him to grab your wrist and halt your movements.
he glances over his shoulder, only to see an amused, mocking expression on your beautiful face. there's still a drowsy look clouding your half-lidded eyes, a puffiness that makes your cheeks and your lips plump, and he's suddenly overcome with the need to lift you into his arms and squeeze you against his chest until both of your lungs threaten to collapse.
"do you realize that we're both naked right now and that you're doing this?" he asks lowly with an arch of his thin brow. the grip on your wrist in his large palm is loose, a ghostly touch that you could easily free yourself from.
you simply shrug, "it's not my fault if it gets you off, I don't really see anything erotic about it right now. besides, you started with the dirty talk."
huffing in return, he turns back to face the wall and lets go of your wrist, but not before quickly bringing it to his lips and planting a light, ticklish kiss on it.
"that's hardly dirty talk from me, you should know that."
"I do, but your quality is not always consistent either."
"I wonder how someone can be so sweet and mean at the same time."
a humming noise emanates from you, automatically sending a shiver down his spine, "I can only throw the question back at you."
suguru can't stop a grin from forming on his flushed face, and his eyelids flutter shut as you touch a sensitive spot on his scalp.
"guess that's why we're here, huh."
#geto suguru x you#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#suguru geto x reader#suguru x reader#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#suggestive#fluff#jjk fluff#jjk suggestive#geto x reader fluff#suguru x reader fluff#oh to take a shower with suguru#geto x reader#suguru geto x you
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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 22
Word Count- 12.8k
Warnings-swearing, violence, mentions of bad parents, alcoholism, Mikeal and his abuse, self-loathing
Soulmates. What the hell are soulmates? Well, obviously I know what the definition of a soulmate is but what the hell does it mean in the supernatural world? Neither of the two Salvatores that drove me home last night were very chatty about it.
“Fables is what it is, Y/n.”
That is all Demon told me last night when he walked me to my front door. After I watched the two brothers drive off I stayed up for hours, actual hours, 5 to be exact, pacing my room waiting for Elijah to keep good to his word and come see me to explain what the hell happened tonight. But with the morning light streaming in my bedroom window, I realize that once again holding a man to his promise is never something I should do.
—
I stare blankly at the multiple unread text messages and missed calls from Elena. All morning she’s been trying to call me but right now I don’t have the energy to handle whatever she wants to talk about, especially since it’s probably something that everyone else knows and I’m the last one to find out, per usual.
When I haven’t been staring at my phone, I’ve been staring up at my white ceiling, replaying the events of last night in my head over and over again. Last night when I was up waiting for Elijah I researched everything I could possibly find on soulmates. But the more I read the more I started to freak the fuck out so I had to stop that for my own sanity. Which is ironic because I honestly don’t think I have any sanity left in me to spare.
“Damn, you look like shit,” Theo’s obnoxious voice comes from an open doorway.
“Leave, Gremlin,” I groan as I grab a pillow and hold it over my face.
“Nope, sorry,” I hear his voice and then the pillow is ripped away from me, “Your depression is stinking up the house and I don’t need it affecting me. So get your ass up. We’re going clubbing.”
I move nothing but my eyes as I look at my brother.
“We live in Mystic Falls. Where the hell would we go clubbing?”
Theo thinks to himself for a moment before tapping his chin, “Alright. Good point. See this is why we work, you're the brains,” He points to me, “And I���m the beauty.”
“Leave me to rot,” I groan and try to reach for the pillow and he swats my hand.
“Back, demon! Listen, get your ass up I’m hungry and I’m going to give you the honor of buying me lunch,” Theo declares like this is some great prize I’ve won.
“No thanks,” I grab my blanket and cover my face with it.
A moment later my blanket it being ripped off of me, “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I swear to the heavens above I will grab the garden hose and drench this entire room and yourself with it if you’re not in the car in 5 minutes,” Theo glares at me and then leans down and picks at a piece of my hair with disgust clear on his face, “Actually make that 10 minutes, you need to kick whatever family of rats is living in that mess you call hair.”
I go to complain but Theo shushes me, “I mean it! I’ll get the goddamn hose!”
I watch Theo dramatically stomp out of my room and I let out a sigh.
—
“I hate you,” I say to my brother as he holds open the door to The Grill for me.
Theo sends me a sweet smile, “No one could hate this face.”
I roll my eyes and begin to walk to an empty table when I notice Caroline and Elena sitting together at a table in front of us.
Shit.
I try to blend into the crowd but my obnoxious brother ruins that.
“Elena! Hey, Elena,” Theo’s voice booms throughout the restaurant and I instantly try to make myself as small as possible when I notice people turning to look at us.
“Theo, stop,” I hit my brother in the stomach but he just grabs my hand and pulls me along.
We get to the girl's table in no time, thanks to Theo’s sprinting, and Elena instantly sits up in her seat when she sees me.
“Hey, Y/n,” Elena smiles softly at me and I nod my head at her and then send a smile to Caroline.
“I’m sorry about your Dad, Caroline. Damon told me this morning,” I say softly to her and she nods.
“Thanks, Y/n. And I was going to tell you myself but I just forgot,” Caroline reasons, and Stefan’s words from last night come barreling through my head.
“Y/n?”
I shake my head clear and then try to pull a smile on my face, “Ya, totally. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ve tried to call you,” Elena tries to get my attention and I don’t meet her eyes.
“Ya, I forgot to charge my phone last night,” I lie and she looks at me as if she’s not sure she believes me.
“Oh, okay. Um,” She goes silent for a moment before gesturing to the table, “Would you guys like to join us? We’re talking about the Mikaelson’s throwing their weird ball. Their mother invited me personally because she wants to speak to me about something.”
At Elena’s words, I frown in confusion, “Who are you talking about? Who are the Mikaelsons?”
“Wait! A party?! There’s going to be a party,” Theo’s practically jumping in place as he looks wide-eyed at the two girls.
Elena looks at me confused for a second before lowering her head, “The Originals. They’re the Mikaelsons. We got invites this morning to attend their ball tonight,” Elena frowns sadly, “Did you not get one?”
A tightness in my chest builds at her pitiful look and I am sent back to my childhood when I would be the only kid in class who never got an invite to any of the other kid’s birthday parties.
“Naw, we haven’t got anything,” Theo chimes in for me and I feel and lower his hand to wrap his pinky around mine, “Yet. But like honestly even if we do get invites, which we will because anyone who doesn’t invite the Y/L/N siblings are losers, we probably won’t go,” Theo says and looks at his nails as if the conversation is now boring him.
Caroline raises an eyebrow, “Why not?’
I can see Theo look over to me and then back to Caroline, “We’re going clubbing.”
I release a deep sigh at my brother’s words.
“You guys are going clubbing?”
Caroline and Elena share a look and then I can see Elena look up to me, “And you agreed to this?”
I look down at Elena and an annoying wave of embarrassment washes through me. Even though I know they’re not judging me right now there’s that back part in my brain telling me they know someone like me isn’t cool enough to do anything like that, which is why I agree.
“Yup. It’s how we bond,” I say, nodding and glancing at my nails. Mimicking my brother who I can see from the corner of my eye, has a huge grin on his face.
“So, are you two going to this dance?” I try to act nonchalantly.
Caroline shakes her head, “Hell no! It’s some twisted Cinderella fetish is what it is. And Klaus only invited me to piss off Tyler.”
Klaus. Invited her.
“Klaus?”
My voice comes out pathetic, weak, and strangled and I feel Theo squeeze his pinky against mine.
“Ya, he sent me a dress and everything,” Caroline says dramatically as if she doesn’t notice my change in demeanor, “It’s totally weird. Also,” Caroline looks at Elena, “Why does the evil witch want an audience with you?”
“Evil witch?”
Theo and I say in union and Elena looks up at us, “That was who was in the last coffin. The mother that Klaus killed…actually not so dead.”
I blink at what she says and feel my breathing speed up.
Elena looks back at Caroline, “I have no idea. There’s only one way to find out.”
Caroline sighs, “I thought you told Damon and Stefan that you weren’t going.”
Great so it seems everyone knows about this dance.
Elena nods, “I did, which is all the more reason why I need a drama-free bodyguard.”
“Well, I think a Salvaotre would look a lot better in a tux, and by that, I mean Stefan.”
“Fuck that asshole,” Theo snarls catching Caroline and Elena off guard.
“Theo, language,” I warn lightly but honestly don’t care enough to chastise him much.
Theo shakes his head defiantly, “Hell no. Elena, you can’t be seriously thinking about getting back together with the man who threatened to kill you and your best friend?!”
Theo’s uncharacteristic outburst seems to startle both of the girls and Elena shakes her head, “No, of course not. I can’t deal with any of the Salvatores right now. Whatever Stefan’s feeling, he’s channeling it all against Klaus and Damon… it’s not a good idea.”
Theo nods his head seemingly accepting her answer but as I stare at him something in his eyes tells me he’s not 100% convinced.
Caroline and Elena converse for another moment about Elena kissing Damon and I can’t help but feel like nothing more than a fly on the wall again, just like I did last year and every year before.
“Hey,” Theo leans down to whisper in my ear, “You good?”
I don’t meet my brother’s eyes because if there’s anyone in this world who could point out my lies it’s him so all I do is nod.
“Careful Y/n, Caroline, and Theo. It’s all well and good until she stabs you in the back,” A feminine British accent has me lifting my head and the sight of Rebekah surprises me.
“What are you doing here? I know your mom’s rules. No hurting the locals,” Elena accuses.
Rebekah glares down at Elena, “Get over yourself, Elena. It’s not all about you,” Rebekah tells her and begins to walk away but stops when she gets to me.
“Meet me outside in 5 minutes would you, luv? I want us to have a little chat,” Rebekah smiles at me and I for some reason find myself nodding.
All four of us watch Rebekah walk off over to Matt. Rebekah pulls out an envelope from her purse and hands it to the blonde boy.
“Even the busboy got an invite,” I can hear Theo practically snarl under his breath.
“Oh my God,” Caroline gasped, “She’s inviting him to the ball. Why is she inviting him?”
“Probably to get this reaction from us,” Elena says and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“Or maybe she just wants a date,” I say under my breath and I hear Theo chuckle from beside me.
Caroline huffs in sits back in her chair, “What time is this stupid dance?”
At Carolie’s words my heart plummets. I’m not entirely sure why. I mean who cares that she was invited by Klaus? Was gifted a dress by Klaus. Is going to dance with Klaus. I mean who cares right?!? Not me!
“We’re leaving,” I mutter to Theo grab his hand and begin pulling him.
“Wait,” I hear Elena call to me and I sigh, “You’re not actually going to talk with Rebekah, right?” I shrug my shoulders and stare at her annoyed, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Elena looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, “She’s evil, Y/n! You can’t trust her,” Elena tries to reason and I raise my eyebrows in disbelief.
“Coming from the girl that quite literally stabbed her in the back.”
Elena blinks, shocked at my words.
“Why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything, Elena. I’m just relaying the information that has been told to me. Just like everything else that happens in this town,” I smile at her sarcastically and then turn around grabbing Theo’s hand.
“We’re leaving.”
—-
“Damn, woman,” Theo says as I pull him out the door into the parking lot, “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”
I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I deny and Theo comes to stand in front of me with his arms crossed.
“You can pull that denial shit with anyone else in this town, except me bitch. You and me, came from the same womb so that technically means we can read each other’s minds. So whatever you’re doing,” He raises his eyebrow, “This self-sabotaging thing or whatever it is, you need to let me in.”
I stare at my younger brother and feel tears rush to my eyes. Theo must see them because the stern look on his face quickly turns to fear.
“Oh shit, tears,” He quickly shakes his hands, “Please don’t cry! I don’t know how to handle tears,” He shakes his head, “Other than my own!”
“Is there something wrong with me?”
My question seems to catch my brother off guard as he frowns, “What? Like your fashion taste? Sister we’ve already established this.”
I shake my head and push away from him, “Never mind, God, just forget it.”
“Hey,” Theo pulls me back by my shoulders so I’m facing him, “I’m sorry, okay? You know I can’t do emotion without humor and sarcasm. But, why the hell would you ask me that? Did someone say something,” Theo’s concerned eyes turn to ones filled with anger, “Because if someone did I’m going to kill them.”
I just shrug my shoulders, “It doesn’t matter. I already know the answer.”
I begin to walk over to the car but Theo once again stops me, “Hold on for a second and talk to me! Why the hell would you ever think something is wrong with you?”
I look at my brother and clench my nails into my palm, “Because there has to be,” I almost cry out. Feeling the tsunami of emotions I’ve been holding in for the past few weeks rush forward, “There has to be a reason why people don’t choose me. Why my whole life I’ve always been on the outside looking in. Watching everyone live their lives happy and free while all I do is watch and hope that one day someone will notice me watching and ask me to join. I need there to be a reason because if there’s not then…”
Theo watches me with a heartbroken expression, “Then what, Y/n?”
I wipe a stray tear off my face, “Then there’s nothing I can change. And it means that it’s just me,” I point to myself defeated, “That I was just born this way. Born to watch everyone else be the main characters in my own life.”
I stare with blurred vision up at my brother who looks defeated as he shakes his head.
“Y/n, no one thinks that about you. And I promise everyone feels that way every once and a while it’s normal,” My brother’s soothing voice only frustrates me more.
I shake my hands, “You don’t get it, Theodore! Other people may feel this way every once and a while, but,” I shove my finger into my chest harshly, “I feel this way all of the time!”
“Y/n?”
I turn to see Rebekah staring at me confused, and I quickly wipe the tears off my face. Rebekah’s face drops as she watches me and she instantly rushes towards me.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt,” She asks me look a mother coddling her child.
I shrug her away and nod my head feeling numb again, “Fine. Don’t worry about it,” I look at Theo grab the keys out of my pocket, and throw them to him, “Drive yourself home. I’m going for a walk.”
I turn around and can hear them calling after me but I don’t turn around.
—
Why the fuck did I walk?
Why the fuck did I throw a goddamn temper tantrum.
God, can I be normal for five fucking seconds!??
These thoughts run through my head over and over again until I realize I’ve made it to the Salvatore house. Which is still about a 15-minute drive, or a one-hundred-hour walk to my house. Fuck me.
I’m about to continue walking when a flash of red catches my eye.
I eye the car that Stefan tried to kill me in for a moment and then shake my head, “No, I couldn’t.”
I take another few steps and then feel a cramp in my thigh.
“Fuck it.”
—
I speed into my driveway and a laugh escapes my mouth.
I just stole a car. I JUST STOLE A FUCKING CAR.
I laugh to myself like a crazy person as I shift it into park and get out of it. I stand there admiring the stolen vehicle until I hear footsteps behind me.
“I see you’ve acquired a new vehicle,” Elijah smiles at me kindly and I fight the urge to punch him.
“I stole it,” I bite and walk past the Original and up my porch.
“Stole it?”
“Yup, stealing is when you take something that isn’t yours. Pick up a dictionary,” I snarl as I try to put my key into the lock but with my shaking hands I just keep missing.
Elijah is quiet for a moment before I feel him next to me, “Here,” He extends his hand, “Let me.”
I shake my head and keep trying, “Screw off.”
“Excuse me,” Elijah’s tone comes off as somewhat surprised and a little irritated.
“Telling someone to screw off means they don’t want you around,” I mimic my tone from before and I hear Elijah sigh.
“You’re upset with me because of last night,” He says out loud as if it’s some fucking revelation.
I finally get the key into the lock, unlock the door, and then open it.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I step inside and try to slam the door in his perfect face but it gets stopped by his perfectly polished designer shoe.
“Elskan,” Elijah nudges the door open against my weight and I glare daggers at him.
“Stop calling me that,” I bite and he furrows his eyebrows.
“Please, let me explain,” He tries to reason with me and I shake my head.
“There’s nothing to explain. If you think last night is the first time I’ve ever been let down by a man, you are horribly mistaken. Now leave me alone.”
Elijah's free hand doesn’t move from the door and I realize he’s holding a big white box with his other hand.
“I understand you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I hate breaking my word, most importantly when it comes to you. I just hope you’ll listen to me now when I tell you how sorry I am,” He says earnestly and I glare at him.
“You’re sorry?”
Elijah nods, “I never intended to stand you up last night but there were…complications.”
I blink at him unimpressed, “Ya, you’re dead mother isn’t dead. Whoopty fucking doo.”
Elijah’s posture stiffens for a moment, “You know?”
“I’m the last one to find out it seems, but ya I do. So I’m sure mommy dearest wants you home for your little ball or whatever so why don’t you get off my porch and go home, Elijah Mikaelson,” I snarl his last name at him and he frowns.
“I understand you need some time to think,” Elijah nods his head and brings the white box up, and gestures for me to take it, “I’ll be at my family's ball tonight. I would be incredibly grateful if you would join me?”
I blink at his question and try to fight back any emotions other than anger. Elijah nods when he realizes he’s not going to get an answer right now and then places the box on the porch swing next to us.
“I hope to see you tonight,” Elijah gives me one last look before walking off the porch.
You won’t.
—
He will.
FUCKING THEODORE.
“I fucking hate you,” I glare at my little brother as I put on the stupid diamond necklace Elijah gifted me.
Theo, who stands next to me in front of my mirror smirks, “You’ll thank me later.”
I shake my head as I struggle to latch the necklace, “Hell to the no.”
Theo tightens his tie and then rolls his eyes, “Whatever,” He shoots me a look and then laughs, “Here let me help you.”
I glare at him but still let him take the necklace and latch it behind my neck.
After he latches it Theo’s eyes stay on the huge diamond necklace that adorns my neck.
“How much do you think that cost?”
I look at the huge statement diamond that hangs in the center of a dozen tinier diamonds holding the necklace together. I feel the weight of the diamonds, against my chest and cringe.
“Too much,” I look at the huge off-white gown that is encrusted with lace and crystals that I’m wearing and pinch the bridge of my nose, “This is all too much.”
Theo smirks and straightens out his black suit jacket, “Elijah may be a scary old vampire, but you got to give him some props,” He gestures to my dress, “The guys got great taste. And expensive too,” He points to the matching diamond bracelet on my left wrist, “After today you can pawn the necklace and bracelet, make bank, and then you and I hit Vegas.”
I turn and glare at my brother who smirks at me, “Not happening. We’re going to this stupid dance and then tomorrow morning I’m returning all of this crap and never talking to any of the Mikaelsons again.”
I watch Theo nod slowly and raise an eyebrow, “Rrrrrighttttt. Sure, okay. Um, how exactly do you plan on doing that? Also, I thought you and Rebekah were friends?”
I sit down on my bed and strap on the nude heels that were also in the huge white box that carried everything Elijah gave me.
“I’ll,” I stop and blow out a breath, “I’m going to….”
Theo snorts and nods, “Ya, you do that, nerd.”
With a huff, I stand up and take a step to grab my shawl but I let out a squeal when I trip over myself and bump into Theo.
Theo grabs my shoulders and pushes me upright and then dusts off his jacket, “Dude, walk much?”
I roll my eyes and throw my shawl over my shoulders, “I don’t wear heels!”
Theo purses his lips, “Cleary, hoe.”
I shoot him a glare, “Tell me why I’m letting you drag me to this again?”
Theo instantly smiles brightly at me and throws his arms over my shoulder pushing me down the hall, “Because you got personally invited by one of the hosts, and it would be rude to not go.”
I turn my head and shoot him a look and he smirks.
“Ok, maybe I don’t really care about him. But, come on! It’s a party and if we don’t go people will talk about how we were the only ones in town not invited!”
I shake my head as Theo opens the front door, “But we were invited?”
“Technically, you were invited. My invite must’ve gotten lost in transit,” He says confidently to himself, “And also people won’t know we were invited unless we go. And we need a night out. Too much shit has happened and we need fun.”
I go to argue but Theo shushes me.
“Nope. No complaining,” Theo then looks down at Stefan’s red car that is still sitting in our driveway, “Also, where the fuck did that come from?”
I cringe and close my eyes, “I kind of…stole it away from Stefan.”
I open my eyes and cringe as I look at my brother’s mad face.
“Are you serious?!”
I cringe at his yelling, “I’m sorry, okay? I was worked up and mad at the dick so I-”
“Bitch! I’m not mad at you for stealing the damn thing,” He gestures wildly at the car, “I’m mad that you stole a fucking car without ME!”
I blink and then shake my head, “I’m sorry. Next time I steal a motor vehicle, I’ll alert you first. Alright?”
Theo wipes a non-existent tear off his cheek and then nods, “Fine. But I get to drive there.”
I shake my head, “Hell to the no.”
“Oh, so you’re going to drive in those,” Theo asks and points to the heels I’m wearing and I frown.
“Fine. But, if you hit anything it’s on you.”
—
Theo hit 3 mailboxes. Ran a red light. The car no longer has a front fender.
“Well,” Theo opens my car door for me and I step out shaking, “That was…fun.”
My eye twitches as I look at my brother furiously and outstretch my shaking hand. Theo doesn’t say anything but nods his head in defeat, placing the car keys in my palm.
“Never again,” I growl.
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” I whip around to the car that now has no fender, a broken headlight, multiple dents, and an uncountable amount of scrapes, “Okay, ya. Never mind that one is on me.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath in and out, and feel Theo grab my arm.
“But at least we look good as fuck. Our parent’s gene pools do it again,” Theo says happily and then stops and cringes, “Sorry.”
I shake my head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You know… the fact that we don’t have the same father so your gene pool isn’t his gene pool,” Theo explains and I have to take another deep breath.
“Sarcasm, Theodore. I was being sarcastic.”
“Ohhhhh,” Theo nods and guides me up a huge staircase to the massive mansion that is covered in lights and beautiful decorations.
We stop as we wait behind three rows of couples and I feel my hand start to shake.
“Hey, it’s all cool,” Theo smiles down at me and I wish for even a second I could believe him.
“Next!”
Theo and I walk up to the security guard and he holds out his hand, “Invite?”
I look over to Theo expectantly and he does the same to me, “Please don’t tell me you left it at home?”
Theo shakes his head, “Bitch, it was your invite?!”
“But you’re the one that wanted to come!”
“Listen,” The guard catches our attention, “If neither of you have an invite I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He says and points to the parking lot.
“Sir, my sister was personally invited by the Elijah Mikaelson,” Theo states and the guard rolls his eyes.
“Ya, I’m sure she was,” He says sarcastically, “Now leave or I’ll have you escorted off the property.”
“That won’t be necessary,” A British voice says and I look up to see the light-brown-haired younger brother of Klaus and Elijah. Kol.
Theo shoots me a look, “Please tell me you didn’t bag, another one!”
I glare back at him, “Shut up!”
“They’re with me,” Kol tells the guard and reaches out an arm for me to take.
I stare at him cautiously for a moment before I hear people behind me start to express their annoyance.
With my free hand, I grab Kol’s right arm, while still holding on to Theo with my right arm.
Kol smirks down at me as he leads Theo and me into a huge ballroom, brightly lit with candles and twinkling lights, “My family can be quite dramatic with these things,” I look up at him and try to not notice how attractive yet another Mikaelson sibling is, “But, with our whole family back together again, our mother thinks it calls for a celebration.”
“How rich are you guys,” Theo asks bluntly and I jab my elbow into his stomach.
Kol smirks at him, “Very rich.”
I hear Theo mutter something about rich bitches under his breath and I try to not laugh.
“Thank you for helping us get in,” I say quietly to Kol and he shrugs.
“No worries. I thought I’d get to you first before the wolves descend,” He says nonchalantly but I can feel myself shake again at his words.
Kol must notice this because his eyebrows furrow, “Why are you doing that?”
I shake my head, “Doing what?”
Kol raises an eyebrow, “You’re shaking and your heartbeat is incredibly loud,” He says as if the noise annoys him.
“She has anxiety dickhead,” Theo bites at the vampire and I thrash my head over to my brother.
“Theo! Don’t be a dick!”
Theo shrugs and eyes Kol, “He’s the one making you feel bad for something you can’t control. How are you a thousand years old and not know what anxiety looks like?”
I cringe in pain when I feel Kol’s grip tighten on my arm.
“Theo,” I pinch my brother’s arm, “Please go get us some drinks, non-alcoholic.”
Theo glares back at me like I’m crazy and quickly shakes his head, “No, I’m not leaving you alone. Definitely not with him,” He points at Kol and I inhale a quick breath.
I turn to look at Kol, who is looking at Theo as if he wants to rip him in two.
“Theo,” I bite harshly, “Go. Now.”
Theo’s expression drops as he turns his attention back towards me. He must noticed the nervous look on my face because he lets out a sigh and nods his head.
“Ok,” He looks at Kol once more, “I’ll be right back.”
I watch with bated breath as Theo walks away and disappears into the crowd.
“Friend of yours?”
Kol’s tense voice makes me tense.
I turn and look at him and see the dark gleam in his eyes.
“My little brother,” I say equally as tense, “Try anything and I’ll steal one of those fancy daggers from your asshole brother and stab you myself.’’
Kol and I watch each other for a moment before he slits his eyes and hums, “If you were anyone else I’d rip your ribs out and stab you with them…but since I don’t want Nik or Elijah daggering me again and locking me away for another one hundred years,” He looks down at me and smirks, “You don’t have to worry about you coming to any harm from me.”
I stare at Kol with wide eyes and rip my arm out of his hold and he raises an eyebrow and smirks at my movement.
“I notice you didn’t mention my brother in that,” I turn to stand and glare at him, “I may not be able to stab you myself but trust me when I say this, for some reason, Klaus and Elijah don’t like it when I’m upset and people who make me upset,” I pause and think back to Klaus threatening Stefan, “and someone harming my brother would really make me upset.”
Kol stares back at me and after a moment he nods, “If you keep this attitude up, you’ll fit in just fine with my family.”
I furrow my eyebrows, “I want nothing to do with your family.”
Kol smirks as if what I just said was the funniest thing he just heard, “Oh Darling, you don’t have any choice in the matter anymore. Fate’s already picked you.”
I shake my head confused, “What the hell is everyone talking about?! What the hell does fate have to do with anything and what the hell is a fucking soulmate?”
Kol’s eyes widen slightly, “Women never swore as much as you do before I was daggered.”
I glare at him and he laughs, “My brothers say I’m not allowed to tell you anything,” He pauses and shrugs, “Actually they said I’m not allowed to even approach you.”
I look at him and groan in frustration.
“But when have I ever listened to what my brothers say,” I look up and find Kol smirking devilishly at me, “What do you want to know, Darling.”
I feel a weight lift off my shoulders at the idea of finally getting answers.
“What is a soulmate?”
Kol nods to a waiter passing by and grabs two glasses of champagne, he gestures for me to take one but I shake my head and he shrugs. Then he downs both of them.
“Let me give you the shortened version because I’m sure my brothers have already smelt you when you entered the house, so I’m sure they’ll be finding you soon,” Kol makes a show of looking around the room and then back to me, “Soulmates mean different things in different cultures…but, in your case soulmates mean someone who is bound to you forever. Someone who is a part of you, someone who is you.”
I shake my head not understanding what the hell he’s talking about.
“There’s not much understanding behind what this means in the supernatural world. There’s been much speculation, but what I do know is that when we were turned, our souls were ripped out. That human part of us was taken away…but it had to go somewhere.”
I shake my head and laugh in denial, “So what, you’re saying that I have Klaus’ and Elijah’s souls in me?”
Kol sighs and taps his chin in thought, “Ya. Pretty much.”
I let out a laugh at his joke.
“That’s really funny. It's good to know you didn’t lose your humor while in your coffin,” I smirk.
My smirk starts to slowly fall though as Kol doesn’t laugh with me.
No fucking way.
“You’re not joking are you?”
Kol’s smirk drops, “I honestly wish I was, Darling. I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy.”
“Elskan?”
Of course.
At the sound of Elijah’s voice, I let out a sigh and turned to see Elijah pushing through a few guests to walk over to Kol and me.
“Oh, fuck me,” I say under my breath and I hear Kol giggle.
“Don’t say that too loud, or my brother will take that as a request,” Kol gests and I stare wide-eyed at him which makes him laugh again.
“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Elijah says as he comes to stand in front of Kol and me.
“I didn’t want to,” I say.
Kol laughs again and I see Elijah turn his attention to his younger brother, “Brother, it appears you’ve met the lovely Y/n Y/l/N.”
Kol throws a hand over my shoulder making me jump and cringe at the feeling of a stranger's touch, “Yes, we’re practically thick as thieves already.”
Elijah’s eyes darken and narrow as he looks at Kol’s hand that rests on my shoulder, “So it appears.”
I bite my lip as I wait for Elijah and Kol to be done with their glaring at one another. Or more like, Elijah glaring at Kol and the latter smirking.
“Well,” I say interrupting them, “You two have fun…I’m going to go…anywhere else,” I turn to Kol who turns to me, “I would say it was nice to meet you Kol, but you are kind of weird.”
“Right back at you, Darling,” Kol says and smirks at me.
I don’t spare either man another glance as I try to push through the crowd away from them.
“Y/n,” Elijah’s voice calls from behind me and I roll my eyes, “Please wait a moment.”
With a sigh, I stop and wait a moment for Elijah. It doesn’t take him but a moment to stand in front of me.
“What?”
Elijah’s dark look is long gone and replaced with a smile, “You look positively breathtaking.”
I look away from him and nod, “Thanks. I mean you’re the one who picked out the dress so.”
“The dress, although beautiful, has nothing to do with the radiance that is you,” Elijah says as his eyes scour my face.
I look at him and finally get to focus on just how attractive he looks right now. Y/n he always looks good. Shut up. He’s switched out his usual suit for a black tux that hugs his chest perfectly. His dark hair is styled expertly letting his beautiful face to be put on display.
“You don’t look horrible,” I shrug, “I guess.”
Elijah’s upper lip twitches and he nods, “Thank you, I think.”
Elijah and I stand staring at each other for a moment before he clears his throat.
“I’m glad you accepted my invitation to be my date,” Elijah smiles and uck in a breath.
“Sadly for you, my man,” I hear Theo’s voice come up from behind me, “She’s actually my date.”
I let out a sigh as I feel Theo wrap his arm around my arm and tug me towards him.
I watch Elijah’s eyes narrow for a moment before he gives Theo a strained smile, “And you are?”
Theo smirks and puffs out his chest, “Theo Y/L/N. Pleasure,” He eyes Elijah, “I’m sure.”
I see the wheels turning in Elijah’s head and his shoulders seem to untense.
“You’re Y/n’s younger brother. Am I correct?”
At Elijah’s question, Theo nods his head, “The one and only. And let me guess,” He puts his free hand on his hip, “You’re the man who showed up on my doorstep this morning begging my sister to not kick him to the curb. Am I correct?”
I stare wide-eyed at Theo in disbelief, and then back to Elijah.
The Original stares at my brother for a moment and I wait for the backlash.
“That would be me, Theodore,” Elijah smiles, and I raise an eyebrow, “But, I‘m not so sure what your sister has decided to do with me. At least not yet.”
Theo whips around to me, “Well? What are you going to do with him?”
My eyes widen and I switch my attention from Theo to Elijah, who also looks expectant on an answer.
“Um,” I look between the two men and freeze.
Thankfully, someone entering through the door pulls our attention.
Not someone. Caroline.
Caroline is wearing a light blue gown that makes her look just like Cinderella and beautiful as always.
“Um, I’m going to go see Caroline,” I turn away from the two men and quickly begin to walk towards my blonde friend. For a moment I think she sees me as her eyes focus on something, but when I follow her gaze behind me I see her staring at…Klaus.
Oh.
Klaus, who looks absolutely earth-shattering, turns his attention from Caroline towards me and I feel my heart drop. The enlightened look on his face, the look he had when looking at Caroline, drops when he sees me. The blank look on his face makes a burning start in the back of my eyes and I quickly divert them from him.
With Elijah behind me and Klaus to my right, I quickly book it to my left, through a doorway, and run down a hall.
I run until I meet a dark brown door and I throw it open and go inside. As soon as I close the door I lean my head against it, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” A British voice says.
“Fucking Brits,” I groan out and turn around.
The other Mikaelson sibling, Finn I believe, stands before me. His once long hair is cut shorter and he’s wearing a suit that matches his brothers.
“You’re Finn,” I say and he narrows his eyes at me.
“Yes and you’re the soulmate,” He says annoyed.
I eye him and he eyes me.
What the hell is up with the Mikaelson siblings and glaring?
“Is this your room?”
Finn eyes me for another moment before nodding, “Yes.”
I nod and then wring my shaking hands together, “I’m sorry for barging in. I just… I couldn’t be out there. Around so many people.”
He doesn’t say anything and I nod, “I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”
I turn around and grab the handle.
“Wait,” Finn’s voice calls to me and I turn around, “You can stay. Just don’t touch anything.”
I look at Finn and then nod, “I won’t. Thank you.”
I slowly walk towards a couch and sit down careful not to rip my dress. I look up to Finn, who is standing in the corner of the room looking more awkward than I feel.
“Do you want to sit with me,” I ask gesturing to the other couch across from me.
Finn looks up at me suspiciously and then shakes his head, “I shouldn’t. Mother wants me out with the others,” Finn says and then walks towards the door.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him before he can open it.
I see him stop, “You already apologized.”
I shake my head, “Not about barging in…About what your siblings did to you.”
I see Finn’s shoulders instantly tense up and he turns around with a glare on his face, “You have no idea what my siblings did to me.”
I reposition uncomfortably and then shrug, “I know that they left you in a coffin for almost your entire life or at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve never been daggered by one of my family members but…I recently was betrayed by some of my family,” I open and then close my mouth thinking of what to say, “So I just…I guess I know what it’s like to feel betrayed.”
Finn’s eyes drop and he looks away from me. I take a deep breath and then turn back to look at my hands. I wait for Finn to either leave or kill me for speaking out of turn. What I didn’t expect though was for him to walk over to the other couch and place himself on it with a sigh.
We sit in silence for a moment before he sighs again, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to be out there,” He looks behind me towards the door, “It’s too loud.”
I nod and then realize just how much worse it probably is for him than me.
“This must be a lot for you,” I say and play with the diamond bracelet I’m wearing,
“Being away from civilization for so long, and now you have to get used to everything. I wouldn’t want to attend a party either.’’
Finn looks up at me and his face contorts into one of confusion, “You’re peculiar.”
I let out a low laugh, “Trust me, I know. Pretty much everyone does,” I say and take a sigh.
Finn eyes me oddly for a moment, “What do you mean?”
I shrug, “I’m not a very popular person. At all. For some reason, people don’t like to be around me much. Not even my family it seems.”
I feel my face warm up at the embarrassment I feel for spilling all that to a stranger.
“You’re not the only one that feels that way,” Finn says breaking me out of my embarrassment.
I look up to Finn and for a moment it’s like looking in a mirror. The sad look in his eyes is one I’ve seen one too many times when looking in my own mirror.
“You’re not what I was expecting,” Finn says as he leans back onto the couch.
I frown, “What do you mean?”
Finn eyes me, “You’re my brother’s soulmate. They’re both cruel and monstrous…yet you’re, peculiar.”
I shake my head, “What does that have to do with Elijah or Klaus?” Finn nods his head, “They said you don’t know anything about your soul bond,” He says to himself, “With souls being connected, the soulmates usually share personality qualities…yet you don’t seem monstrous like either one of my brothers.”
At his continuing insult to Klaus and Elijah, tension builds in my shoulders, “Then you haven’t seen me in the morning,” I joke but Finn doesn’t seem to get it. Or doesn’t find it funny, “Klaus and Elijah don’t seem that horrible. I mean ya they do bad things but, if anyone were alive for one thousand years then I’m sure they would also pile up their own bad deeds.”
Finn seems to be annoyed by my answer as he huffs and goes to stand up.
“Do you have a soulmate?”
Finn stops moving in his tracks and instantly looks at me, “Why are you asking?”
I shrug my shoulders, “I don’t know…Just wondering.”
Finn seems like he’s not going to say anything, but at least he sits back down.
“I think once I did,” Finn’s voice comes out so quietly I have to lean forward to hear him.
“Before you were daggered?” Finn doesn’t meet my eyes but he nods, “Sage. Her name was Sage.”
I frown at his saddened voice, “You loved her?”
I sad smile forms on Finn’s face, “I did,” He pauses, “I do.”
I feel my heart breaking for the man before me.
“Was she human?”
Finn frowns, “She was. Until she had me turn her so we could be together,” He pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I was daggered shortly after.”
“And what happened to her?”
Finn’s jaw tightens, “Well, it was over 900 years ago…I’m sure she’s…”
I nod, sadly, “Right.”
We sit in solemn silence for a moment before an idea comes to me, “How are you so sure,” Finn looks up at me confused, “That she’s dead.”
Finn shakes his head, “She has to be.”
I shake my head as well, “Finn, it was 900 years ago. She would be incredibly strong, one of the strongest vampires to date. I would be surprised if she wasn’t alive and if she truly loved you, I think she would’ve waited for you.”
Finn looks at me and I can see the wheels turning in his head but he still shakes his head, “It’s not possible.”
I laugh, “Dude, werewolves, vampires, and witches exist. Nothing is short of impossible here.”
Finn stops shaking his head, “Even if she was…there’s no way I could find her.”
I stay quiet for a moment until an idea comes to my mind, “I have a friend. She’s a witch, a really good witch. Maybe…I could ask her and we could find her. All three of us.”
Finn stares at me for a long moment.
“Why would you do that? Why would you do that, for me?”
I give Finn a soft smile, “I’m kind of peculiar.”
Finn’s solemn face changes for the first time since I’ve seen him. His sorrowful eyes look almost…hopeful now.
“I’d appreciate that. Greatly.”
Finn and I smile at one another until the door opening makes me jump.
“Finn,” A feminine voice says and I turn and see a blond older woman.
“Mother,” Finn instantly jumps up.
“Mother?!”
I jump up shocked and stare at the older woman who eyes me, kind of nastily.
“What is going on here,” She asks Finn suspiciously and he pauses.
“Um, Mrs. Mikaelson,” I say and she goes back to eyeing me, “Hey, Y/n,” I point to myself, “Finn and I were just discussing new-age technology. I heard he’s new to this era so I thought me and I could chat about it.”
I turn to Finn, “This was a good chat. Let’s meet…tomorrow. We can discuss how to send text messages.”
Finn eyes me oddly like he doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but he still nods.
“Great! Well,” I turn back to his mother, “Pleasure to meet you…I guess. I’ll be leaving now. Bye, Finn!”
I quickly speed-walk past both of them and exit the room. I close the door and take a deep breath.
“Y/n?”
“Oh come on!”
I turn around to see Rebekah walking towards me. Just like all other Mikeaslons, she looks absolutely gorgeous. The green dress she’s wearing matches perfectly with her blonde long hair.
“Are you alright?”
I nod and start to walk by her back to the party, “Peachy. Just happened to run into your mother. Tense lady.”
Rebekah walks up next to me and smiles, “Yes, my mother is an acquired taste. Don’t let her get to you though, you’re a part of this family.”
I shake my head viscously, “No I am not.”
“Yes you are,” She says as we enter the ballroom. An incredibly crowded ballroom.
“Literally, am not.”
“Sure, whatever you say,” Rebekah laughs.
We both watch the crowd of people dance, laugh, and talk.
“My brother has been looking for you,” She says and I groan.
“Ya? Which one?”
Rebekah smirks, “Elijah, and Nik.”
“Well, I don’t want to see either one.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Rebekah smirk, “Unluckily for you, I don’t think you have a choice,” At her tone, I look over to her and she nods her head to her left.
I follow her eyeline and let out another groan at the sight of Elijah making his way over to us.
“God it’s like he has a tracker on me,” I say sarcastically.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past either of them,” Rebekah replies.
We both watch as Elijah approaches us with a content smile, “Good evening, ladies,” Elijah says with his perfect accent, “Rebekah, mother wants us on the staircase,” Elijah turns his attention towards his younger sister and she rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” Rebekah says sarcastically then turns to me, “It was lovely to talk to you, Y/n. We’ll chat soon.”
I nod silently and watch as she walks towards the staircase.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Elijah’s voice makes me close my eyes.
“Doesn’t mommy want you on that staircase?”
Elijah’s jaw tenses and he rolls his shoulders, “Behave, Elskan.”
I purse my lips, “Don’t tell me what to do, Suit and Tie.”
Elijah’s tense expression lightens, “Suit and Tie?”
I shrug, “You have a nickname for me. I think it’s only fair I have one for you, as well.”
“Suit and tie,” Elijah says to himself as if he’s seeing how it sounds, “Hmm. It’ll need work, but it’s fine for now.”
I fight back a smirk at his words, “Fine. I’ll workshop it.”
Elijah and I stand there for a moment and I feel his gaze on me the entire time.
“What did you and my younger brother talk about,” Elijah asks with a hint of skepticism in his voice.
“Oh, nothing,” I look at my nails as if I’m bored, “Just the fact that I supposedly have your and Klaus’ human souls in me.”
I smirk as I watch Elijah instantly tense up, “My brother was told not to talk to you about that.”
“Well, no one else wanted to keep their word and talk with me about it. So, I’m glad he did,” I cringe, “Actually…I’m not sure. I still have no idea what the hell is going on.”
Elijah nods, “Once again…I apologize that I was unable to make it last night. You should’ve heard that from me and not from…Kol,” He says the name and I can clearly tell how pissed off he is at his younger brother right now.
“But I did,” I harshly say, “And I still don’t have any clue what to make of it. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Elijah sighs, “I know, Y/n. And I promise you, that I will tell you everything you want to know,” His eyes travel behind me and he sighs, “Right after I deal with my family.”
I nod, “Elijah, your promises don’t mean anything until you start living up to them.”
Elijah sends me a saddened smile and nods, “And I look forward to doing that.”
I nod and with a final smile, Elijah walks up a grand staircase to meet his siblings.
“Uh, if everyone could gather, please,” Elijah addresses the crowd of people standing below him and his family.
As I gaze at each Mikaelson sibling I can’t help but hate them all for how hot they all are. Like seriously, the most supernatural thing in this town is this family's good looks.
Elijah stands before his family, confident and strong; Below him, walking up the stairs, Finn stands with a scowl on his face. Even with the scowl, no one could deny how attractive the eldest brother is; Rebekah who stands behind Finn is a bright light compared to her brother’s darker exteriors; Kol who stands at the top step chugging his bottle of champagne looks so boyishly handsome it could make even the most confident girl blush; and last Klaus. The bitch-ass hybrid stands in the middle of all his siblings as if nonverbally telling all of us looking up at them that he’s the one that deserves their utmost attention and respect.
As if he could read my thoughts, the bastard’s eyes trail to me. The calculative look on his face doesn’t change as he stares down at me and I don’t care enough to hide the glare I know I have on my face.
“Welcome,” Elijah’s voice calls my attention once again and I trail my eyes away from Klaus to his older brother, “Thank you for joining us. You know, whenever my mother,” Elijah gestures to the older blonde woman making her way down the steps and I hate to say it but she’s also pretty hot. A shitty fucking person, but pretty hot, “brings our family together like this, it’s a tradition for us to commence the evening with a dance. Tonight’s pick is a centuries-old waltz so if all of you could please find yourselves a partner,” Elijah’s eyes land right on me as he talks, “Please join us in the ballroom.”
I debate on running away before anyone can ask me to dance but as I watch Elijah practically hop down the steps, dodge women trying to ask for his hand, all while having his eyes stuck on me I can’t help but only try to fight back the grin on my face.
“Elskan,” Elijah gives me a smile that makes me want to curl up into a ball and scream, “I would be ever so delighted if you would join me for this dance.”
I look at Elijah’s outstretched hand and cringe, “I can’t dance. Let alone, Waltz.”
Elijah smiles blissfully, “Then let me show you.”
I bite my lip thoughtfully as I stare at him for a moment before relenting, “Fine,” I point at him, “But if I step on your fancy designer shoes I don’t want any complaining.”
Elijah’s smile doesn’t change as he chuckles, “I’d happily have all of my shoes ruined by you if it meant I’d never have to have a different dance partner again.”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide the fact that his words are making me lowkey freak the fuck out. So all I do is place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor where other couples are lined up.
“I’m going to fall and make a fool out of myself” I whisper to myself as “Give Me Love” By Ed Sheeran starts playing.
“I’d never let you fall,” Elijah leans down and whispers in my ear and I gaze up to him.
“You’re pretty slick with your words. Y’know that right,” I joke and he shrugs.
“I’ve been told this once or twice,” He squeezes my hand and I’m glad the music is so loud because if it wasn’t I’d be sure every vampire in this room could hear how loud my heart was pounding.
Elijah guides me forward as the music starts and I try to copy the woman in front of me as she glides forwards. We turn forward, directly in front of Theo who is dancing with Mayor Lockwood and I let out a small snort. The glare on my little brother’s face shows that he doesn’t seem to find it as funny as me.
“Wait,” I look over to Elijah only to find it already looking at me, “You said whenever your mother brings your family together you have a dance… that crazy lady has been dead for 1,000 years.”
Elijah smirks at my observation, “A little white lie never hurt anyone.”
I roll my eyes, “Says the man who can’t die.”
Elijah squeezes my hand and without warning he twirls me. Being caught off guard I trip forward but thankfully Elijah pulls me back into him and I grab onto his chest.
“See, I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” Elijah, who stands a breath away from me, smiles.
“I hate dancing,” I say exhausted.
Elijah looks over to the other couples for a moment and I do the same.
Elena and Damon are three couples away, engaged in whatever drama is paining them today. Rebekah and Matt are next to them, and I can’t help but admit how pretty they would be as a couple. My eyes continued trailing over other couples randomly; I stop when my eyes catch the light blue of Caroline’s dress.
Caroline stands holding onto Klaus as they twirl around. They appear to be in the middle of a conversation and for some reason, all I want right now is to know what the hell they could possibly be talking about. I’d also like to know why the hell he invited her. I didn’t understand him. The man who one day grips my thigh like it’s his life source and the next won’t even spare me a glance.
I feel Elijah squeeze my hand and I instantly feel horrible for thinking about another man while in his arms.
“What’s plaguing your thoughts, my love?”
The nickname has me choking on my saliva, only making Elijah smirk.
“You’ve really got to pick one nickname and keep with it,” I say trying to act more annoyed than flustered.
“I’ve waited for you for too long to have my feelings confined to just one word.”
All reservations I had are now off the table as I stare wide-eyed at the man in front of me.
“Elijah…I,” I start but then a tightness in his lower jaw stops me.
“I’m sorry, Elskan. We have to change partners now. But, I promise we will continue this discussion,” Elijah says and with a pained look, he twirls me.
I’m twirling until a strong hand on my lower back stops me, “Hello again, Darling.”
I raise an eyebrow at the youngest Mikaelson brother, “Hello, Kol.”
Kol seems to be delighted with my lack of enthusiasm as he swings me in his arms. Where Elijah kept a tight hold on me, Kol seems to have more enjoyment in flinging me around the dance floor.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Kol says thoughtfully and I roll my eyes.
“Here we go.”
Kol rolls his own eyes at my comment but still continues, “So you need protecting, and I don’t want to end up with another dagger in my chest. So…we should team up.”
I frown at his words, “Who do I need protecting from? And why do you think I could stop you from getting daggered?”
Kol looks at me like I’m stupid, “Darling, please tell me you’re smarter than this.”
At my silence, Kol closes his eyes and sighs, “Bloody hell.”
Kol shakes his head, “Alright, you’re important to my brothers. This means their enemies are going to be coming after you; hence why you need protection. And to answer your other question…I’m willing to bet another one hundred years of my life daggered that if you were to bat those pretty y/e/c eyes at either one of my brothers they would move mountains to make you happy. So…”
At Kol’s expectant look, I nod in understanding, “If I tell them I don’t want you daggered…”
Kol nods happily, “Then I’ll stay handsome and perfectly unharmed.”
I consider about Kol’s words.
“You may have Elijah and Klaus’ protection,” Kol’s eyes go behind me to where Theo is dancing with Rebekah, “But your little brother doesn’t.”
I look at Theo who is currently talking a mile a minute with a smiling Rebekah.
“Fine. You have a deal. You protect me, and more importantly, Theo, and I’ll back up. I don’t think Elijah or especially Klaus care enough to listen to me but I’ll try.”
Kol smirks devilishly but then frowns, “You’re joking right,” He must notice my confusion because he continues, “Bloody hell, you really don’t see how they look at you?”
I shake my head and Kol nudges his head to his left and I catch Elijah watching us with an intense look. I quickly look back to Kol and he raises an eyebrow.
“See?”
I shake my head, “Okay…maybe Elijah and I are friends…but Klaus doesn’t give a damn about me.”
Kol’s mouth drops open and I loud laugh escapes his throat, “Bloody hell, luv. You really are oblivious,” Kol shakes his head, “Let me just say this…I’ve never seen my bastard of a brother look at anyone the way he looks at you. It may not register in that thick skull of yours but it’s true. This whole world could be burning down and my brother would not let a single flame come near you,” Kol shrugs, “He probably was the one who started the fire but what I say still stands.”
I stare at the youngest brother with my mouth hung open and he laughs, “I’ve enjoyed trying to knock some sense into, Little Doll. We shall talk more about our deal later on… Good luck,” He smirks evilly, and without a moment for me to say anything back he thrusts me into another pair of strong arms.
A strong masculine smell of something woodsy enters my nose and I breathe it in with a sigh.
“I didn’t know if you were going to show,” That British voice that I know so well enters my ears and I let out a growl.
“Of course, it’s you,” I open my eyes to find myself in Klaus’ arms.
Klaus gazes down at me and I shoot a glare at Kol who isn’t looking at me but has a smirk on his face, “That fucker.”
“Many people have the same reaction when it comes to my little brother,” Klaus says with a smirk and I just glare at him.
I turn away from him, look to my side, and watch the other couples dance around us.
“Don’t ignore me,” Klaus’ rough voice calls to me and I turn to glare at him.
“I don’t care enough about you to even care about ignoring you. Let’s just get this stupid dance over with,” I bite and he glares back at me.
“Fine with me,” He growls back.
“Good.”
“Good.”
We both huff and continue glaring at each other until his eyes fall down to my chest.
“Where is it?”
I glance down at my chest and shake my head at him annoyed, “Where the hell is what?”
“Your necklace,” He insists, “Where is it?”
I look down at my diamond necklace and then back up to him, “Are you blind? I’m wearing it.”
Klaus growls under his breath, “Not that one. The wolf one.”
I lean back in surprise momentarily, “Why do you care?”
“Because I want you to wear it,” He says as if it was obvious.
“Why the fuck would you want me to…” I stop talking when the answer hits me like a truck.
“It was…” I release my hands from his quickly and grasp my neck, “It was from you wasn’t it?”
Klaus tries taking a step towards me but with every step he takes I take one back.
“Don’t come near me,” I shake my head and feel my breathing picking up.
I quickly run through the couples dancing, not caring about messing up this stupid dance as I run through the doors and out into a low-lit garden.
I run a hand through my hair taking out the little pins I had holding my hairstyles together and let my hair flow freely. I kick off my stupid heels and throw myself onto the grass, the cold ground calming my hot skin.
I close my eyes letting out a deep breath and lay down, resting my head on the ground. I look above me to the bright moon overhead and the stairs that surround it. A wave of sadness washes through me as I look at it. I’d always related to the moon. Always felt like she and I were the same. Alone, even though they were surrounded by so many others. The brightly lit stars had each other, thousands of them to hold on to one another, but there was only one moon. Where the stars had their own light and color, the moon only shone because it had the sun shining on it.
I close my eyes and let a small tear fall down my face. As I’m laying there I feel a warmth come next to me and place itself on the ground beside me. I don’t have to open my eyes to recognize who the owner of the woodsy scent is.
“When I was a boy,” Klaus’ low voice fills my ears, “My father would beat me for never being the way he wanted. I could never hold a sword the right way, couldn’t hunt enough animals, I wasn’t man enough in his eyes. Even though I was surrounded by siblings, I never truly felt like one of them,” Klaus stops for a moment and I open my eyes to look at him. To my slight surprise, he was lying right beside me on the grass, his left arm lifted under his head and his eyes staring straight up at the sky, “The only time I felt like I belonged was when it was just myself and the moon. I’d spent most of my boyhood cowering, but…whenever I gazed up at the moon, I felt as though I was something greater. Better. It’s been over a thousand years and I still gaze up at her, remembering how that scared little boy held onto it like a lifeline.”
Klaus stops talking and we lay there together, staring up at the moon.
“I’ve been alone a long time,” I say softly and I can see him turn his head out of the corner of my eye, “When I was little, maybe 8 or 9 I’d cry to my mother asking her why none of the other kids wanted to be around me. She’d just tell me it was because I was too mature for them. I never really believed her though. When I was 10, my father started drinking,” I let out a sigh as the words came out of my mouth, “He’d get angry when he drank. He’d swear at me and my mother and do other stuff. He’d tell me that I deserved to be alone. That people like me…there’s something wrong with people like me. That went on for a few years before my father finally decided that starting a whole new family sounded like a better idea than being with his first one. He may have left but his words didn’t. My mother at first told me that what he was saying wasn’t true. That “hurt people, hurt people.” But as I got older and saw that everyone around me seemed to find their places with each other, and I couldn’t ever seem to fit in, I started to realize that maybe my…father… was right. It wasn’t up until about a year or so ago that I began to be one with the loneliness. Or at least I like to tell myself that. When Elena came around I saw it almost as a threat to myself. To what I was used to. Why, after 17 years did someone finally decide to see me? Having friends now makes me feel like a hungry dog. I got a taste of what it felt like to be fed, but it doesn’t seem to be good enough for me. That’s why it’s better for me to ruin anything that can have a hold on me…Even if it can take away that hunger.”
Klaus is silent for a moment and so am I.
“After I turned…the moon wasn’t the only thing that kept away the loneliness,” Klaus says and I turn my head to gaze at him and he turns him to gaze at me, “You were.”
I furrow my eyebrows, “What are you talking about?”
Klaus reaches a hand up and runs a finger along my face as if he’s memorizing every aspect of it.
“At first it was just glimpses. Colors. Almost like a memory that didn’t belong to me. But every night as I’d dream the images would get clearer. Until one night I was staring into the most exquisite y/e/c I’d ever seen. I didn’t know who they belonged to yet. But for the first time in my life, I felt seen. I’m a monster who has done monstrous things, but yet these eyes looked at me like none of that mattered. Like I had finally been accepted, monstrous bits and all. So every morning when I awoke I’d draw them. And every night I’d dream of them. It wasn’t for another 300 years that I would learn that the eyes belonged to the human part of my soul. And when I found that out, I was angry. Furious even. I hated the thought that the only way someone would ever look at me like I was deserving of being understood was if they were a direct result of me.”
Klaus stops and I can practically hear my heartbeat thumping.
“So I burnt the pictures. Hid anything that reminded me of those eyes and hoped to never come across them for the rest of my eternity. And for 1,108 years I had accomplished that…until one Friday afternoon, in a tiny high school where I locked eyes with that y/e/c. And everything I’d work for became nothing. It was like I was seeing everything for the first time. I was once again that little boy running from himself begging for someone to save him. Because I knew the longer I looked into those y/e/c eyes, the sooner I was doomed.”
Klaus grabs my chin and makes me look into his eyes, “You, Y/n Y/l/n have doomed for me for an eternity,” His eyes search mine, “And no matter how much I try to fight it, fight you, I can’t help but spend every waking moment hoping for you. Hoping for my promised destruction.”
I stare wordlessly at the man in front of me. I keep opening my mouth and closing it but I can’t seem to find the right words.
“I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” I sit upright quickly and clench my chest. I hear Klaus sit up next to me and clutch my shoulders.
“Y/n, just breathe,” He soothes and I think I am having a stroke because what the actual fuck is happening right now.
“I’m so confused.”
Klaus brushes my hair away from my face, “I know this must be hard for you. I didn’t plan on telling you like this…I actually didn’t plan on telling you at all. But when I saw that anger on your face,” he pauses, “Anger that was directed at me, for the first time in my life I felt sick. So I needed to tell you, that even if you may hate me…I could never hate you. And for as long as I live, you will never be alone again.”
I feel tears brim my eyes as I look over and up to him and shake my head, “If you feel this way then why did you invite Caroline? Clearly, you don’t feel the way you say,” I try to deny.
Klaus’s expression darkens, and he once again grabs my chin. “Do not for a moment try to tell me how I feel about you. The only reason I invited your blonde friend was because Elijah had already claimed you as his date. You can also ask your blonde friend, but the entire night all I did was ask her questions about you. I heard she can’t keep a secret for her life and so I picked her brain about you. If my older brother hadn’t gotten to you first…you would’ve been with me tonight.”
I try to process what he just said and I feel a panic attack come on, “I…I…but…I,” I continue shaking my head as I stand up and Klaus follows, “You and Elijah are just playing some sick joke on me right? As a way to get back at Elena? Mess with the mentally ill non-verbal best friend. Get her to hate herself for getting all flustered over two brothers! Fucking brothers!”
“I can assure you, Elskan. That is not the case,” I whip around to see Elijah walking down the steps into the garden.
I rub a hand over my face and start walking around in a circle as the two brothers stand next to one another, watching.
“I mean, come on! You guys have to see how crazy this is right? I mean what kind of whore gets feelings for brothers!”
Klaus and Elijah’s faces darkened and I hear Klaus release a low growl.
“Dont. Ever. Call yourself a whore,” Elijah takes a step forward and continues speaking with a deadly tone, “My brother has said his peace to you, and in due time I will as well. But don’t for a moment think that you should hate yourself for something that fate has put in front of you.”
I continue to stand there like a fish out of water, not knowing what the hell to say next. Thankfully, my saving grace comes in the form of a loud crashing sound coming from upstairs, capturing our attention.
“Shouldn’t we go check that out,” I point up with a shaking hand.
“Don’t for a second think that we won’t be discussing this further,” Elijah informs me and I have to fight back the weird feeling in my chest at his commanding tone.
I nod and Elijah comes towards me and reaches out a hand for me to take. Klaus steps forward and does the same. I stare at both of their hands and swallow my doubts as I place a hand in each and let them guide me upstairs towards the front door where my friends and their siblings are standing.
I quickly drop my hands from theirs as Elena turns towards me. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem she saw anything as she sends me a small smile.
Damon stands above Kol’s dead body with an enraged look.
“Fucking idiot,” I mutter.
“You’ve got that right,” My little brother says as he comes to stand next to me.
Damon looks over all of us before landing his eyes on me, “Pukey, we’re leaving,” Damon’s tone is harsh but something in his eyes makes my heart tug.
“She is not going anywhere with you,” Elijah says with a dark voice that has everyone looking at him.
I shake my head, “It’s ok,” I turn to Theo and hand him my *Stefan’s* car keys, “I’ll see you at home, okay?”
Theo looks at me like I’ve got two heads but still nods.
I look over to where Klaus and Elijah are practically seething and sigh.
“Let’s go, Freak,” I run over to Damon and grab his arm leading him away from everyone and out into the parking lot.
As soon as we’re out of sight from everyone I see Damon’s shoulders instantly drop and I turn to glare at him.
“You’ve seriously got the worst survival instinct, of anyone I’ve ever met,” I say with a hand on his hip.
“I’m never going to be the one,” Damon lets out with a shaky sigh and I instantly drop my disappointed mother act.
“What happened?”
I take a step closer to him and he shakes his head.
“Elena.”
I take a deep sigh and nod, “Of course.”
Damon lifts his head to look at me, “You look like how I feel,” He says trying to be sarcastic but I can hear the pain in his voice.
“I’ve had a rough night too, my friend. Movie night at yours,” I question as I wrap my arm around his, and his upper lip twitches.
“You called me your friend.”
I roll my eyes and let him lead me to his car, “Shut up.”
#klaus mikaleson imagine#damon salvatore#klaus mikaelson#thecwshows#elijah mikaelson#the originals#athenamikaelson#author#klaus x reader#the vampire diares imagine#klaus mikealson x reader#tvd klaus#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson imagine#stefan x elena#elena gilbert#davina claire#damon salvatore imagine#writers of tumblr#thevampirediaries#the vampire diaries#kol mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson x reader#kol mikaelson icons#rebekah mikaelson#x reader#reader#caroline forbes#bonnie bennett
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Lnds men taking their kids(s) to first day of school
Y'all I can't I accidentally posted this shit half way through writing. Which reminds me why I don't like writting 🫠but here yalll go
Xavier : daughter
Xavier would be the type to be waking up late for his daughter first day of school and other school days But lucky you woke them both in time before they're gonna run late , bec you had an early mission today Even if they run late your husband could just teleport with your daughter to the school "this is a crime for waking up this early just for school " you husband complain next to him was his daughter robbing her eyes with one hand and the other holding her dad hand You already prepared everything last night, packed her bags, set her uniform on the hanger and also asked her and your husband what kind of breakfast they want
You both get out of the house and head towards the elevator "Sorry I can't go with you bunbun, but daddy will drop you off " you apologize to your daughter as u can't bring her to school for the first day you give your husband and your daughter a good bye kiss before heading off in your motorcycle going the opposite direction "Looks like it's just you and me princess hold my hand and don't let go "
Sure he could just teleport there, but- " do you want me to carry you? " your daughter just nodded, with that Xavier lifted her up walked towards the school while his daughter took a lol nap on the way there
Arriving at the school and looking around which class his daughter will be staying, he puts her down and kneel to her level
" so this is where I'm going to stay in a few hours?" Your daughter looked around the classroom
Xavier just nodded and patted her head before telling " yup, just like what we talked about last night. after that I pick u up and maybe mommy too "
" okay... But promise me to pick me up in time okay Daddy " she holds her pinky out, without any hesitation Xavier wraps his pinks with hers " I promise ''
Soon after both you and your husband pick up your daughter from kindergarten.
" Daddy ! , mommy! You came in time! " she runs towards you guys and hugs both of your legs
Overall your daughter first day of school when better then her classmates. Because she didn't know why everyone cried at there parents. It's not like they leaving them there forever .
Or they didn't had the talk the night before
Zayne : son
Let's say like father like son.
It wasn't hard to wake your son up for the first day of school . Because you don't have to wake him up by the time you when to his room he was already getting dressed
So you decided to make some morning breakfast and their lunches. Breakfast was something simple , fluffy pancakes with some whipped cream and berries dusted with power sugar
As for lunch some rice with stir fried chicken with some vegetables including carrots. Even if they both don't like carrots they will eat them no matter what because you made them , and also why , you took this advantage to feed them some carrots ( bec it's good for the eyes ). But not very day, just a few time a month
After they finished eating your son and husband took their belongings and head towards the door, as you about to join them they stopped you
" my love , I think is best if you take some rest. You had a rough day yesterday. Let me take care of our lil snowflake to school "
" but it's his first day "
" it's okay mommy, dad is right you need to take extra rest and beside you can go with me tomorrow also you can pick me up after school "
What a wonderful husband and son you have taking care of you
Both getting in the car zayne check if his son putting his seatbelt on from the mirror , with that he head straight to his son school
First day of school was just like other days but just a lil different. He just had to sit at his desk and listen to the teacher for a few hour
Your son classmates where jealousy of his lunchbox , of course when they ask if they can have a bite he immediately said no, even when they asked for the carrots .
A no is a no
You son highlight of the day was when you pick him up from school and headed toward his dad workplace on your motorcycle. He likes being around his dad office learning and observing him because in the future he wants to be like his dad so he can take care of you in the future
Rafayel : daughter
Everything was going smoothly ,everything . From waking both them up and getting ready for school .
Rafayel definitely spent about half an hour dressing his pretty daughter up.
" are we going for pigtails or a messy bun orrrr braids?"
" which color bows do you want? "
" let's add some sparkles these glitter spay will do just perfect"
From eating a light seafood breakfast and heading out of the door and into his sports car everything was smooth sailing
Until you where standing at the school gates. Everyone looked at your husband sport car, you knew and HE KNEW. As it shows it on his face but don't mind him he loves the attention he's getting from the people
Looking for your daughter classroom was easy. The hardest part was letting her go and your husband to let go of her
" Rafayel, darling please let her go."
It was going well, you told your daughter that she's gonna stay here for a few hours and then picking her up. Until...
You're about to leave with Rafayel until you daughter runs up crying for the both of you. And your darling husband lost it.
You husband and daughter hugged each as you both cry creating a scene that got looks from everyone
Let's say you spend the whole 15mins to break the two of them apart with the teacher help of course. The teacher comfort her and you do the same with your daughter and husband.
Rafayel pouted the entire way to his car his red eyes are hiding behind his sunglasses
" I can't believe you Rafayel " your husband just scoffed at you as you laughed at him. He continue to opened the door for you before closing it .
Rafayel drives you to your work which u have him a kiss afterwards.
" one more goodbye kiss " it wasn't one it turned into 10
At home Rafayel watch his clock tiks , he wishes it would go afters. When it was finally time to pick you and your daughter up he was the happiest man he could be on earth
The moment your daughter and you husband eyes meet they both started running towards each other. Embracing each other like they been separated for 800years
Stylus : twin boys
It's not surprises that sylus woke up and made breakfast for all of you when you came down from the stairs as you just dress the twins up for school
You set up the table with the help of the twins of course. You put your twins lunches in there bag and you do the same with yours before heading out to the garage
Sylus debate on driving his SUV or take the bikes. You ended up with the bikes and making a wager out of it
" whoever make it there first is the victor and the last one there will grand the victor one wish" which sylus words you put on your helmet and so does the twins
" mommy vs daddy . This will be easy" your oldest said towards your youngest " get ready because mommy will win " your youngest fights back to his older twin
The race started when Mephisto cawed three times .
"Caw...caw... CAWWW" and off y'all go
Sylus ended up winning and your oldest son cheered and demanded his twin to give him his dessert for tonight . He agreed but-" next time I'll come back for your ass "
You dropped the twins in there class and sylus took some photos so he can print it and put it in his photo album, for future memories
The both of you said goodbyes to your kids and head back towards your bikes
" oh sweetie I haven't tell you want I wish for as victorious. I want us to try for another kid a daughter this time ." Feeling the heat rise up your cheeks,You punch his shoulder earning a chuckle from him " I'm being serious sweetie "
After it was time to pick up your twins from school. The both of decides it was best to take the SUV instead of the bikes
When the two of you arrived there was a sight to see. Your twins boys already a line a group. It looks like ther where playing cops and robbers in the playground . Your twin boys being the cops and some other
It looks like they where making a plan to capture the robbers. Both of them took leaderships and successfully capture all the robbers and putting them in jail
" looks like they took leadership after their father " you told your husband smiling at the twins working together
"Don't worry our daughter will take after you, sweetie" you just punch him again and called the twins as it time to go home
#sylus x y/n#lnds#lnds rafayel#sylus x you#lnds sylus#lnds xavier#lnds zayne#love and deep space#love and deepspace#rafayel x reader#rafayel#rafayel x you#xavier love and deepspace#xavier x reader#sylus x mc#sylus x reader#sylus#zayne x you#zayne x mc#lads zayne#zayne love and deepspace#zayne x reader#l&ds zayne#mc x rafayel#rafayel x mc
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The moon is pretty, isn’t it? ✧ CS
───~𓆩♡𓆪~───
bsf!chris! Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve—all the possibilities kept eating at you, until he showed up knocking on your window unannounced. [angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of everything]
wc. 1.1k
note. English is not my first language!
You and Chris had a falling-out.
You had accidentally laid your feelings bare during a harmless game of 'Truth or Dare'. The look on his face alone made you feel that twist in your gut, but what he said after his silence made your stomach feel like it was dropping down 10-stories.
"Are you fucking serious with me right now?" The almost mad sounding tone made your heart beat faster as you tried to backpedal, "no, Chris, that was–" he cut you off, standing up, looking pissed. "I’m going home, can’t fucking believe this shit," he stormed out before you could utter another word.
The front door slammed shut after him and you sat in silence for a while, your brain unable to comprehend what had just happened. When the realization finally dawned over you, you couldn’t help the tears from forming in your eyes nor the painful clump in your throat.
Not only did he reject you and get angry at you, he left as well. Was he that angry? Were your feelings such a bad thing? Questions swirled in your head like a broken record.
You didn’t know what to do, what to think or what to say. All you could do was sit there and cry, completely shocked with the turn of events. Some people may call you oversensitive or dramatic, but they don’t know how much it hurts—how much more painful it was than any physical injuries.
You curled up in bed, thinking about everything that you could’ve done differently, everything that would’ve been if you didn’t tell him about your stupid crush on him and everything that should’ve been – in your selfish fantasies.
𓆩♡𓆪
You had fallen asleep on your bed after crying. Feeling slightly better but your sleep was plagued by memories of his face, the way he reacted to your feelings and the words he spoke.
You were jolted awake by the sound of knocking, looking around in confusion as you sat up on your bed, only to see Chris looking at you through your window.
You nearly had a heart attack, staring back at him with wide eyes and your hand on your chest. After all, your room was on the second floor, how the fuck did he climb up?
You scurried to the window, opening it to let him in, all the previous hurt gone, replaced by pure bewilderment. His expression turned pained when he saw the dried tear streaks and red puffy eyes, "don’t look at me like that." You blinked, finally realising you’ve been staring at him with wide eyes and a gaped mouth, quickly closing your mouth as you schooled your expression.
"What was that?" Chris sighed, "what was what?" He questioned back, "how the fuck did you climb up? Better yet, why the fuck are you climbing in through the window?" He rubbed his temple, looking frustrated, "look, I knocked on your front door but you didn’t open it, just forget about me climbing in and let’s... let’s talk about—"
You cut him off with a stubborn "no" , he blinked, surprised at what he was hearing, "what?" He asked confused, making you repeat yourself, louder this time, "no." He looked at you bewildered, like he couldn’t believe he was hearing what he was hearing.
"Don’t be a brat," Chris inhaled deeply before continuing, "listen, I know I reacted a bit too dramatically and I’m sorry for that, but you have to understand how surprising it was for me," you scoffed at his words, eliciting a heavy sigh from him.
"Please, just..." His voice trailed off into another sigh, "I can’t... I mean, we shouldn’t," his voice was barely above a whisper, the uncertainty and vulnerability in his eyes caused your heart to race. "Why?" A simple question really, but the answer wasn’t so simple.
"Because..." His voice trailed off, knowing he doesn’t have a good excuse as to why they couldn’t, "because we’re friends." That made your expression harden, "right, of course Sherlock, I know." Chris groaned, "you’re not making this easier—" you cut him off, "and you’re being insensitive."
"Don’t be like that, i just..." he trailed off again, biting the side of his bottom lip nervously, he was fighting a losing battle between what he wanted and what was the better choice in his opinion. "Please..." you looked at him, "please what? What do you want me to do Chris? You know what, never mind—"
His eyes widened at your dismissive tone, realising he might lose you if he wasn’t honest, "no, no, I’ll— we’ll—fuck, let’s do it." He stammered, making you pause, "what?" He quickly added, "let’s date." You looked at him for a good minute, "what?" You asked dumbly, "let’s date," he repeated himself.
"Are you serious? You were just saying you won't and can't when i asked you just now," you raised your eyebrows, completely taken aback, to which he let out a quiet chuckle to. "I know, I just realised something, forget about it and come here," he pulled you closer, and you eagerly complied.
He hugged you tightly, "I realised I couldn’t fight it anymore, you’re too important to me, I can’t lose you no matter what," you let yourself melt in his embrace. "You serious?" You whispered into his chest, nuzzling into it, making him laugh softly. "Yeah, dead serious." You sighed, in relief and contentment.
Suddenly, he walked backwards with you still in his embrace and plopped on the bed, taking you down with him. "Hey–" he shut you up with a kiss, a soft chaste one, and you smiled into it, your heart feeling lighter and warmer.
As you deepened the kiss, his hands wandered over your body, inching down to squeeze your ass before smacking it gently. The sudden feeling made you squirm, causing you to grind on him, making him let out a small groan into the kiss.
You could feel the heat and hardness under you, the only barrier being your thin clothes, and the friction was almost too good to stop. Your hips rolled as you chased after that friction, only for Chris to hold your hips in place.
Groaning as you broke the kiss, "why?" you whined breathlessly, "I wanna feel you, can I?" He whispered, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts. Nodding as you helped him take off your sleep shorts, followed by his sweatpants.
𓆩♡𓆪
Your world blurred as he fucked you senseless, you didn’t even remember how or when you got into the doggy style position. Your orgasm crashed over you for the nth time tonight, gasping as you tried to control your loud moans, your wrists were pinned on the small of your back by Chris as he pounded into you. "Fuck—so beautiful, ma."
As you two lay in each other’s embrace, content and relishing in the afterglow, you couldn’t help but make a comment about the full moon glowing brightly in the darkness of the night.
"The moon is pretty, isn’t it?" Chris chuckled softly, pulling you closer, nuzzling his face in your hair, "yeah, as pretty as my girl."
𓆩♡𓆪
wc. 1,183
Isa's notes. I know my fics always end with smut or something suggestive... I try to make it any other genre, i really do, but the voices— lmaoo I'm js fucking around, i just like me some smut 🎀
xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪
Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist
Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya
© sweetshuga
#chris sturniolo#smut#blurb#chris x reader#chris x you#fanfiction#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo blurb#christopher sturniolo oneshot#christopher sturniolo blurb#christopher sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo oneshot#chris sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo fanfic#smut oneshot#oneshot#fanfic#chris x y/n#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sweetshugacs#𓆩♡𓆪sweetshuga
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Gentle Understanding
・ jude bellingham x reader ・
prompt: (fluff/angsty) an early morning accident leaves you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed, but your boyfriend’s gentle reassurance transforms the moment into one of trust and tenderness.
warnings: talks of blood
wc: 600+
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The light peeking through the curtain slowly pulled you from your sleep, casting a soft glow across the bedroom. The faint sounds of nature signaled the start of a new day putting a small smile on your face.
You felt Jude stir beside you, still in a state of sleep yet pulling you closer. Your crazy schedules had lined up for once allowing the pair of you to bask in each others presence for the past few days.
As you shifted to make yourself a bit more comfortable, you felt an uncomfortable wet feeling down under.
Slowing, as not to alert your sleeping boyfriend , you push the duvet down to confirm your suspicion. You look down to see that you had been right and had spotted some blood on Jude’s bedsheets.
You sit up slowly, embarrassment and shame washing over you at the thought of him having to witness this.
He shifts at the loss of your warmth mumbling something incoherent as you silently panic.
“Jude..” you whispered, nervous of what he might think.
You had only been dating for a couple of months and he had been the sweetest boyfriend ever but the embarrassment was clouding your judgment, thinking the absolute worst of what his reaction might be.
“Hmm, morning love” he hummed with his eyes still closed, unaware of the internal crisis you were going through.
You moved farther up the bed, your eyes starting to glaze over. “Jude,” you say again “I’m sorry..I’m really sorry.”
Finally opening his eyes, he looks over at you seeing the look of panic and embarrassment on your face. He then looks down to see what it is that's causing you so much distress.
“Oh, baby..” he coos.
For some reason that makes you even more emotional now sniffling and wiping your cheeks of your tears.
“I didn't know... I’m sorry” you repeat.
Jude looks at you with concern and love in his eyes. “Darling, don't apologize it’s perfectly normal. I know you didn’t mean it.” He sits upright scotting closer to you so that you're in his reach.
He pulls you closer to his side leaving a lingering kiss on your temple.
“I’ve got it, okay baby? Just go and wash up and I’ll deal with the sheets okay?” he reassures.
You look at him hesitantly repeating your apologies. “I swear it’s just fine” He giggles lightly giving you a kiss on your cheek after wiping your tears.
You slowly rise from the bed and rush to the bathroom, wishing the ground would just swallow you up.
You finish washing up, changing into one of Jude’s old jerseys. You then step out into the bedroom to see the sheets removed and hear the washer running.
You walk out into the hallway making your way into the kitchen to see your boyfriend standing over the stove, shirtless, looking handsome as ever.
He turns when he hears you padding into the space, sending you a gentle smile.
You awkwardly make your way over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head against his chest.
“Hi,” he chuckles lightly at your actions.
You look up at him with a nervous smile. “Hi,” you whisper back.
“You hungry? I’m making your favorite!” he proclaims excitedly.
You look over to see blueberry pancakes simmering over the fire and fresh fruits cut in your favorite bowl.
“Aww, Jude you didn't have to, really.” You insist.
“Of course I did, my baby’s not feeling well.” he retorts with a charming smile on his face. You giggle at this reaching up to give him a quick kiss.
“I really am sorry about your sheets Jude, I usually know when it’s coming I-”
“Baby” he cuts you off, “I understand, accidents happen. You never have to be embarrassed with me, okay?”
“It’s my job to look after you, and I love it so take a seat while I serve you your breakfast.” he coos
Before you can respond he kisses you passionately, running his hands along your arms causing you to giggle a little from the ticklish sensation.
“Okay?” he asks. “Okay,” you happily respond.
#jude bellingham x reader#football fanfic#football imagines#footballer x reader#jude bellingham#jude bellingham imagine#hey jude#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham fic
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bathroom sex with eddie munson pls!
warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, public sex, descriptive sex, oral sex
word count: 1.1k
masterlist
You weren't sure you'd be able to pull it off, but when you finally convinced Eddie to come with you to your family reunion, you were ecstatic. You hated going to them; you always thought they were stupid and cheesy. But you knew this would be a perfect opportunity to introduce him to your whole family, saving you multiple occasions of meetings.
This year it was at your cousin's house in Carmel, Indiana, which was only about a forty minute drive. Eddie was so nervous to drive that you decided to do it, knowing the route better anyway.
"They're gonna love you."
"No, they're not."
"They're not like most people, y'know. They're not so judgmental."
"You say that."
"I know that. I promise they're gonna love you."
You could tell he still wasn't trusting of that, but you knew your family. And you knew they would love him.
But he mostly kept to himself or you. At one point, your aunt dragged you away to help set up some activity and he gave you a panicked look as you walked off.
When you came back to the table you'd left him at, he was gone. After asking around, you found him standing alone in a corner with a plastic cup full of some kind of soda.
You wrapped your arms around one of his and you could feel anxiety lift from his shoulders.
"Sorry," you said quietly. "She has the grip of an eagle. What are you doing over here?"
He shook his head. "Just standing." He dipped his head down a bit to kiss you.
You smirked at him for a moment, then looked around. When you saw that no one was looking, you grabbed the drink out of Eddie's hand and laid it on the bookshelf next to him.
"What are you-" You interrupted him by pulling him into the bathroom behind him. You locked the door behind you and leaned back against the door. "What are you doing?"
You just looked at him, putting on the face that he knew too well.
His eyes widened and he pointed at you. "I know what you're trying to do."
"What am I trying to do, exactly?" you asked coyly.
"Your family is right outside."
You were silent for a moment, and you could hear loud, muffled music begin to play through speakers all throughout the house.
"I dunno, I doubt they'd be able to even hear us talking."
"I don't wanna fuck up my first impression with your family."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just standing here." You adjusted your position so your hips pressed backwards against the door, accentuating your curves.
He stepped over to you slowly and stopped when he was only a couple of inches from your face.
"Oh, is that all you're doing?"
"All I'm doing."
He sighed teasingly, unable to hold back a smirk.
"You're such a tease."
He kissed you, his hands cupping your face. He kept you pushed against the door for a moment, not waiting long before pulling you by the face to the vanity. He scooped you up onto it and you leaned back against the mirror, his kisses following you.
You hiked your dress up to your hips and pulled your underwear to the side, Eddie crouching down and throwing your legs onto his shoulders. He immediately found your clit with his tongue and you gripped the edge of the sink, trying to be quiet even though the music outside was drowning out your voice.
Honestly, the fact that there were people — all of whom you were related to — that could hear you on the other side of the door was a bit of a turn on for you, and you weren't sure why.
Eddie seemed to be holding back a bit, and you knew why. Normally when he ate you out, he had you screaming just from that. He was incredible with his tongue, able to manipulate that sensitive little bud in ways not even you could. The combination of his tongue swirling and lips sucking was like the most intense vibrator ever, and it was all you wanted most of the time.
This orgasm wasn't even close to as intense as they normally were, because both of you knew that if they were, you'd get caught for sure. But it was still enough that you struggled to stay quiet.
"I don't have a condom with me," he whispered into your neck.
"S'alright." You leaned into his ear. "I wanted you to bust in me anyway."
He gulped at that, never fully getting used to hearing you dirty talk.
"You're disgusting," he joked. "Walking around your family reunion with my cum inside of you?"
"Mmm, yes please."
And with that, he was inside of you. His arms snaked under your knees and pressed them closer to your chest to allow himself to go deeper. He really filled you to your brim, and you didn't think you'd be able to take any more had he been even an inch bigger.
"Fuck, you feel so good, Eddie."
"Yeah?" he breathed. "How good?"
"So fucking good, Eddie. Fuck."
After a few more seconds, he pulled out of you and turned you around so you were facing the mirror.
"Look at yourself getting fucked."
You made eye contact with your reflection, seeing how lust-filled your eyes were. You felt him pull your loose hair into a ponytail with his fist, keeping a tight tension on your scalp. His other hand was on your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place where he wanted you.
You'd never done doggystyle with both of you standing. Usually you were on your knees on the edge of the bed and he was standing on the floor to keep better control, but this — your back arched, your head pulled slightly back, and your tits bouncing in the mirror — this was different.
It was better. Maybe you'd have to incorporate a mirror into sex every time from now on.
"Y/N, I'm already close."
"Already?" you moaned. "What, can't even last three minutes today?"
He yanked you back by your hair, your back flush against his chest. The hand in your hair was now around your neck, his other hand reaching down to finger you.
"Maybe I would if your whole family wasn't outside."
"Turning you on?"
He grunted and laughed as you moaned from the extra friction. It was literal seconds later that he had to clamp his hand on your mouth to keep you from screaming at your second orgasm.
And once it had ended, you felt his warm cum fill your hole, gushing out onto your thighs. That feeling alone could've made you cum again if he hadn't have stopped.
You both stood standing for a moment, your legs trembling slightly.
"Shit," he whispered, pressing kisses to your neck. When he pulled out, you felt cum dripping down your legs and you rushed over to the toilet, cleaning yourself up a bit. "Maybe we should fuck in public more."
#*#*fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#smut#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson smut#joseph quinn smut#joseph quinn fanfic#joseph quinn fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut#stranger things imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x reader smut
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forgive and forget (CL16)
✰ charles leclerc x reader ✰
summary → dating a formula one driver meant that your boyfriend would always be busy, but what you didn't expect was for him to forget your anniversary all together.
genre → angst but gets fluffier towards the end (very short drabble, self-indulgent)
word count → 1.3k words
author's note → honestly, i really like writing angst with charles, i'm sorry dahbdhanda. i just needed a break from writing something with any sort of plot, so enjoy <3
the thunder in the background snapped me from my trance, i've been lost in thought for awhile now. the sky's dark and the day was almost ending, and here i was sitting at the dinner table, alone with food all around me.
the rain was drizzling in monaco, and it fueled the sinking hole in my chest. i knew that charles was a busy man, but i didn't expect him to forget our anniversary together.
somehow, i didn't feel sad, or disappointed. i just felt numb. it hurt of course, seeing your own boyfriend forgetting about your anniversary, something i thought that we would both celebrate together, spend the day together, or maybe just sit in the quiet of our apartment, kissing and touching and ending the day together.
but the fact of the matter was, he was a formula one driver and i couldn't keep expecting him to be there when i wanted. it was a selfish want, and somehow i needed to understand that not all anniversaries can be celebrated, and not all of them will be remembered.
a sigh escapes my lips, i've been waiting for him to come home for four hours now. maybe it was time to let up. i gently took the plates of now cold food and shuffled into the kitchen, putting them into containers to store in the fridge, not wanting them to go to waste. i had lost my appetite in the process, not even touching my own plate of food.
when i was finished putting all of the food away in the fridge, the door of our apartment jingled, charles was home.
"amour, i'm home," his voice had rung out in the apartment as he entered our shared apartment, even though i felt upset, i couldn't help but smile at him, at least he came home, right?
i was never the one to yell, to throw a fit when he forgot about something. even if it was something as important as our anniversary, i always wanted to talk it out, even when it made me upset and charles would always appreciate it, he would always talk to me lovingly even when we had our arguments.
"you missed our anniversary, love," i told him gently as i walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his middle before leaving a kiss on his cheek, his face flashed from surprise to frustration all in one go, he closed the door behind him and sighed, he was angry at himself for forgetting, i could tell. the way his brows were furrowed and his shoulders tensed.
"i-... amour, i'm sorry. things have been hectic, the car is just so shit this season and i didn't mean to—"
i cut him off before he could ramble on about his work with a soft kiss to his lips, "it's okay, i'm not mad at you. i know how things are at work and i understand, i just feel a little hurt that you didn't call or text me at all," i explain to him and he closes his eyes before wrapping his arms around me, he held me close.
i could smell the faint scent of his cologne as we held eachother close, the domestic aspect of it all. waiting for him to come home, cooking dinner for our anniversary even though he forgot.
"how about i make it up to you?" charles asked as he opened his eyes back up, the pretty green orbs of his eyes staring lovingly into me, staring lovingly into my bare soul, "what do you want to do?"
"can you just drive me around in your noisy car?" i laugh as he smiled at my joke, all of his cars were sports cars and they were noisy by default. i had always complained about it but i could never be mad at his love for his team, "just spend the night together, driving in the dark of the night while we sit in each other's company."
charles pressed his forehead against mine, he breathed in before nodding, "i can do that for you, do you want to go now?" he left a kiss on my lips before i nodded.
it wasn't long before i was in the passenger seat and he was starting his car up, i hadn't been in this car yet. i knew that he got it as a gift for his win in austin, i had attended the race and he had excitedly told me about the car once we got home in monaco but i never got the chance to sit in it until now.
"this one is a bit noisier, amour. i apologize," charles had said when the engine rumbled to life, i had settled into the seat as he drove off into the night of monaco, his phone had connected to the bluetooth automatically and his playlist was in the background, serving good ambience in the car.
"i love spending time like this, just the two of us, not really driving to anywhere meaningful," i had spoken up, breaking the previous comfortable silence the both of us were in, charles glanced at me before humming a response, eyes back on the road shortly.
monaco was a small city, but i noticed that charles had taken a particularly familiar track, it was the monaco grand prix track, where he had won earlier this year.
"i'm sorry," another apology leaves his lips, i turn my head to look at him, he didn't have to apologize. i forgave him after he got home, but i appreciated it, "i should've paid more attention, i know how important dates are to you. i should've set a reminder."
"i told you that it's okay, i'm not holding anything against you," i tell him softly, his hand instinctively reaches out for my knee and i let him, setting my hand above his as his thumb gently caresses my knee.
the both of us had spent most of that night going in circles, going on the familiar monaco track, it was almost 3am when charles had decided to go back home. the night drive we spent together was nice, it was peaceful. i loved it.
it wasn't long after the both of us had settled into our apartment, getting ready for bed.
i had sat in my vanity, just doing skincare with charles opting to sit on the floor, his head laid on my lap as i went through the steps for my night routine, my hand periodically going down to pat his head.
"we can go for dinner tomorrow, i have nothing planned," charles mumbles, leaving a kiss on my thigh, i nod, dinner was fun, considering that today's was left untouched.
i could feel his head lift up from my thigh, so i looked down and i saw him staring up at me, with all the love in his eyes, i just smiled at him, "what's wrong love?"
"nothing, i just... i'm sorry. i feel bad. i love you— i love us. i just can't believe that i could forget our anniversary so easily like that," charles mumbled, i pet his head again, i had told him countless of times in the car ride that i didn't hold any ill-intent against him for forgetting. his job was demanding, and something like that could've easily slipped his mind.
although i did feel hurt, he's trying to make it up to the best of his abilities now, and that's all i could ask for.
"how many times have i told you to stop apologizing?" i had told him before standing up, he did the same and the both of us made our way to the bed, snuggling up against eachother.
my head was against his chest and his face was in my hair, softly breathing in and out. i could tell he was tired but still went out to drive with me anyway.
"i love you, amour."
"i love you too charles."
"let's go to dinner tomorrow, okay? i'll make it up to you," charles pressed a gentle kiss onto my forehead and i could only hum back in return, i had my eyes closed and i was close to drifting off to sleep considering it was nearing 4 am at this point.
"okay, goodnight. sleep well."
"goodnight to you too mon amour."
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x yn#leclarifies fics#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1#f1 x you#f1 x yn#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc angst
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loml (r.c)
SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!
Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”
Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.
AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one
The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.
Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.
The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.
Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.
"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.
She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.
"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."
She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."
Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."
"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.
Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.
"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."
She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.
"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"
She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."
His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.
"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."
The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.
Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.
Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.
Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.
“Y/N! John B! Pope!”
Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.
“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.
“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.
But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.
The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.
Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.
At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.
||
Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.
Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.
Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.
Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.
He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.
So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.
A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.
He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.
“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”
Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”
John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.
Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.
Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.
“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.
“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.
Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.
“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.
There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”
She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”
Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”
“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”
The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.
She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.
“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.
“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”
“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”
||
A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.
Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.
Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.
Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.
She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”
She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”
Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.
They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.
For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.
#imagine#imagines#outer banks#jj maybank#rafe cameron#outer banks imagine#kiara carrera#john b routledge#rudy pankow#sarah cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe outer banks
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