#this man is so down for Selena and still is IRL

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

You know the dynamic that Chris Perez and Selena Quintanilla had in the 1997 movie Selena? That’s what I envision in a Rock Star!Eddie x Reader.

[daimyosprincess]

INTERLUDE: IDYLL

—PAIRING: Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—SUMMARY: Taking a little inspiration from some literature, Professor Fett indulges you in one of your fantasies.

—WORD COUNT: 10.4k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), reader described as having enough hair to grab, alcohol consumption by reader and others, Dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), lots of petnames, praise kink, dirty talk, mild degradation (discussed beforehand, use of “slut” and “whore”) choking, (sugar) Daddy kink, money kink, consensual non-consent (marked in story, can skip over and still enjoy the rest of the spice)

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Welcome back y'all! I hope you guys have a sweet tooth because this ten thousand words of pure sugar baby filth 🤑 I chose the title "Idyll" because of its associations with romance and the fact this one-shot is an interlude between Vols. I and II, and to keep with the literature theming for part titles (and yes also because I think I'm clever lmao).

A big thank you as always to @agirlnamejacq and @rexxdjarin for betaing this series, and thank you to you my beloveds for all the support and feedback 💖

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

<Part V

The idea hadn’t left your head since you read that Maker-forsaken chapter in the book Selena recommended to you. It’s dogged you for days, scrambled your thoughts, and ruined every pair of panties you’ve worn this week just thinking about it. You’d come embarrassingly quickly on your fingers the night before fantasizing about the plan you’d made to turn the chapter’s plot into your and Boba’s reality this weekend. Watching the clock tick down until five o’clock today had felt like literal torture; you’re so ready for the work week to end and your sexy little scheme to begin.

Your nerves thrum with excitement as you make your way to Boba’s front door with your overnight bag slug across your shoulder and the groceries you’d picked up balanced on your hip. Jiggling the key he’d given you in the lock, you ease over the threshold into the house, careful as not to drop anything. Setting your bag to the floor, you begin flicking on lights as you make your way to the kitchen.

Boba had to deliver some materials to another member of his department after class, giving you just enough time to start some dinner to surprise him with when he got home. With midterms fast approaching, he’d been putting in longer weeks and though he never complained, you know he could use a good home cooked meal and a little extra fun in the bedroom to take the edge off.

Once the groceries are sorted, you put on some light music and pour yourself a glass of the sweet wine Boba gets especially for you since you don’t care for dry reds he prefers. The kitchen is soon filled with the fragrant scent of onion and garlic as you busy yourself with the meal preparation, cutting and sauteing and seasoning, losing yourself in the familiar process.

Sometime later you hear the front door shut, signaling Boba’s arrival home. You wipe your hands on the blue-striped dishrag to your left and pluck another wine glass down from the shelf, filling it with the velvety red wine your professor favors.

“Careful, princess,” Boba’s luscious voice warns, “a man could get used to coming home to a beautiful woman cooking his dinner.”

And I could get used to doing it, you think as you re-cork the bottle, especially since this domestic stuff always has him on his knees wanting to have me for dessert. 

You can’t help the flirty smile that blossoms across your face as you take his glass in hand and turn to face him. Your response evaporates from your wine-sweet lips, however, when you see the colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your eyes travel up his arms to his broad shoulders before landing on his pleased expression and twinkling eyes. “Looks like we’re both full of surprises,” you grin—the flowers are your favorite kind. 

Boba winks, “Gotta keep my best girl happy since I haven’t gotten to see her much this week.” He closes the space between you, setting the flowers on the counter so he can link his arms around your waist. 

“And I have to keep Daddy fed so he has the energy to keep up with me all weekend,” you tease before pressing a kiss to his lips. Boba eagerly accepts it and his hand slides down to grab a fistful of your ass, jostling the wine glass in between your bodies. You pull back, doing your best to look annoyed. “If you spill this on me, I’m going to make you lick up every last drop.”

A chuckle rumbles in Boba’s warm chest pressed against you. “Is that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart? ‘Cause it sounds like an incentive to me.”

You make a scandalized noise, your free hand falling onto your chest. “Sir, how dare you! I am a proper young lady who-” You’re cut off by Boba’s mouth on yours, his tongue dragging slowly along your bottom lip and making the rest of whatever you were going to say slip from your mind.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he murmurs smugly into your kiss, grinding his hips into yours.

You lean back farther this time, arching a brow at him. “Keep it up, professor, and your dinner’s going to be burnt.” After a moment, Boba sighs dramatically in defeat and releases you to peek at what you have on the stove. Pressing his drink into his hand, you shoo him away. “Ah ah ah! No taste tests! Go change and it’ll be ready by the time you come back.” Grumbling, he complies and you watch him disappear off to his bedroom. 

Oh, just you wait until you hear the plans I have for you, Professor Fett.

After dinner, you’re curled into him on the couch with your shared nightcap in your hand. The sated, cozy atmosphere of the room combined with the low light of the lamps lends an intimate feeling to the space as you finish your dinner discussion. 

“So there’s something you wanted to ask me about, pretty girl?” Boba asks, his fingers trailing up your arm leisurely. 

You take a quick sip of the whiskey, not that you need it, and smile up at him. Finally, the time has come to reveal the desire that’s been consuming you all week. “Mmm, yes there is. It’s about what I want to do with you this weekend… something I read in the book Selena recommended to me.” Thrilling heat begins to creep up your neck at what you’re about to describe to him.

Taking a sip of the liquor from your cup, Boba sets it on the side table to give you his full attention. “I’m all ears, princess,” he purrs with eyes brimming with glimmering darkness, his other hand clamping down on your hip to pull you even closer into him. His posture remains attentive, however, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Welllll,” you draw out, enjoying the last of the suspense, “in this book, the girl falls in love with a super good-looking guy who gets coffee at the same café as her, who, as it turns out, is also super rich.” Boba hums in amusement and you have to swallow back the urge to jump him right then and there, though just barely; as tempting as making out with him is, your next words are far more important. “This rich, handsome man ends up taking the heroine out to buy some very expensive jewelry so that he can fuck her in nothing but the diamonds he bought her.” 

Glancing up, you see Boba has a devilish smile on his face. In the beginning of your relationship, you might have gotten a little shy at this point, a bit bashful about the nature of your desire for this god of a man.

Not now, however. With Boba’s reassuring hand and your agreed-upon rules at your back, you’ve sailed into uncharted seas, uncovering more than you ever thought possible along his shores: pleasures and comforts more satisfying and valuable than even the most lustrous of the ocean’s treasures. He is your north star, a guide who impels, rather than compels, as you discover your personal and shared splendors.

 Boba’s large hands snake around your waist to pull you over the thick of his thighs, your knees hugging the outside of his hips. “And has all this given my little princess some ideas?” he prompts with a knowing smirk.

A breathy laugh slips past your lips as he grinds the growing bulge in his pants into your core: your professor can get harder quicker than the boys half his age you’d been with. Focus, you chide yourself, you haven’t even gotten to the good part. Anchoring yourself in the depths of his mahogany eyes, you bite your lip. 

“Lots of ideas,” you confirm, tipping forward to place slow kisses up his jaw, “Ideas about how I want you to give me that full sugar baby experience… designer clothes, shoes, jewelry, everything.” Scalding heat flashes through your entire body as you relay your wicked request. When you reach his ear, you can feel the way his breath catches when you trace its shell with the tip of your warm tongue, his burning heat washing over you. “Then I want you to make me earn every single kriffing penny you spent, want you to make me prove that I’m Daddy’s girl inside and out.”

The unfiltered grit of Boba’s groan has you gushing like sin itself is stroking you between your thighs. “Oh babygirl, you want Daddy to spoil you then put you in your place? Give you everything your little heart desires then take it out of that sweet pussy? Fuck you like that’s all you’re good for?” he grunts, yanking your shirt to the side so he can suck a bruise into your exposed shoulder. His teeth graze over the damp skin under his lips, nipping at the tender flesh. “Fuck, you’re so filthy and perfect, just for me… mmph, just for me. Come here, sweetheart.” 

Cupping your face with battle-worn hands, Boba crushes his mouth against yours, hot, hungry, and demanding. Your chest is already heaving with the weight of your arousal from the mere discussion of your fantasy as he steals the air from your lungs, his tongue greedily licking into the heat of your mouth. Licentious warmth pricks your cheeks and simmers in your belly to see he’s also turned on by your lewd wishes—it makes you want nothing more than to tear into him right here and now.

Boba’s hands are already rocking your hips over the straining fabric of his erection, sending all your blood and attention to the slick apex of your thighs; the sinful huffs of pleasure coming from him are eating through the last of your fluttering restraint. Fisting the collar of his t-shirt to gather your resolve, you pant out the last of your request into your kiss. “A-and I want you to-shit-to shove your money down my brand-new dress and panties and fuck me in it.” 

A deep growl of pure desire claws its way up his throat, and straight to your pussy. “Kark, shit, w-we’ll talk about the rest of this later, filthy girl, I need you right fucking now.” 

You’re in his bed with open arms and open legs before the minute is out.

Clipping the straps of the garter band to the rest of the gorgeous lingerie set, you smile at yourself in the mirror of the elegant dressing room. The entire day has been better than you ever could’ve imagined, and kriffing hell if you don’t look good in this scarlet lace. It’s been worth every minute you spent waiting… and Boba hasn’t even fucked you yet.

He’s taken your fantasy very seriously—wining and dining you at restaurants you didn’t even know existed between trips to stores you’d only ever heard of from fashion magazines—and, if the hard-on he’s rubbed against your ass at every opportunity is any indication, is enjoying everything just as much as you are. You couldn’t help but suck him off in the backseat of his Audi wearing your new emerald earrings and bracelet to show him just how grateful his little princess could be.

As promised, the two of you had negotiated the details of today’s fun after your tryst the night before: materially, you’d get whatever you wanted but you’d have to be on your absolute best sugar baby behavior, meaning no sass, no back talk, and using good manners all day. The professor has quite enjoyed the deal thus far, and hasn’t hesitated to remind you of it every time a brattish look colors your expression. You’d been good though… mostly.

“Careful, little one. I’d hate to have to take you back early and remind you of the rules before you got to pick out something to wear tonight.” 

“What? All I said was that you’re an old-”

“I know my babygirl isn’t going to make the same mistake twice, is she?”

“Erm-I mean no, sir. Sorry, Daddy.” 

For the actual sex itself, you’d gone over the terms, bondage, and acts you both were comfortable with since you wanted a more intense scene than your usual. You made sure to ask what aftercare Boba wanted for the same reason: you’d read about dom-drop and wanted to avoid it at all costs, especially since your boyfriend is being so solicitous of your fantasies. The overwhelming amount of unspoken love in his eyes after you asked him nearly brought tears to your own, even more so when all he requested is to hold you skin to skin in a warm bath—Boba Fett is truly a man like no other. 

You give yourself one last once over in the floor length mirror before parting the dressing room curtains to step into the private viewing room. Boba’s eyes go wide when he looks up to see you standing there: you’re a vision of rosy temptation, ready, willing, and wrapped up in a bow just for him. His hand brushes over his crotch and you spin around so he can see just how much of your ass is not left to the imagination. 

Peeking over your shoulder with big doe eyes, you flash him a dazzling smile. “I really like this set, I think it might just be the one.”

He wets his parted lips with a slow tongue, his eyes sable and voracious as they rake over you. “Oh really now, princess? How about you come over here and show Daddy just why you like it so much.” 

Biting your lip, you bend slowly, pushing out your tits even more as you slip on the red bottoms he’d got you and saunter over to where he’s seated on the plush couch. With your hands on the curves of your hips, you lightly kick his feet wider apart so you can step between his open thighs. He allows it, amber flames dancing in his irises as he watches you preen under his gaze—there’s nothing like his little angel to bring his hellfire to the surface.  

Hooking your thumbs under the bra’s dainty straps, you pull them out a bit and slowly slide your hands down as you keep eye contact with him. “See, sir,” you murmur with a silky voice, “I like the little bows… the ribbons…” When the backs of your thumbs slide over your nipples on their path downward, your eyes slide shut at the sensation. “Mmmph, I like the pretty lace, too.” You release your fingers and slide your palms slowly down your waist; when you feel the garter belt, your eyes flutter open.

Boba’s jaw is clenched and his eyes locked onto where the tips of your middle fingers have come to lazily trace the heart cut-outs just above your hip bones. The skin over his knuckles is stretched tight as he balls his hands into fists on his thighs, the buttons of his crisp shirt are straining from the depth of his breathing. 

“I like these little hearts,” you continue, your tone dropping to sultry smoke as your fingers slip down to the panties, “and this cute bow…” Your dominant hand slithers farther between your legs to stroke over the thin material covering your folds while your other hand finds its way back up your torso to knead your breast. “O-oh, and I… I-I like how these panties feel over Daddy’s little pussy.” Your own breath shakes with your arousal and your head tips back, exposing the smooth length of your throat, liquid heat pumping under your pulse point. 

A ragged curse slips from Boba’s lips and it makes your entire body tremble; you’re unraveling this masterpiece of a man thread by thread without so much as the whisper of a touch. The taste of power is thick on your tongue—he might be in charge, but he is still a man at a woman’s mercy. 

Your fingers slide under the waistband to pull the lower garment up so that it sinks into your slit and your lips spill over the sides. “B-but most of all, sir,” you rasp, bobbing your head back forward to stare directly into his yearning soul, “I like how much it makes you want to fuck me.”

The earth stops spinning for a heartbeat as his pupils blow out to eclipse his umber eyes. “Put your fucking dress back on, princess,” Boba orders roughly, “because the second I’m finished paying, I’m leaving with you in that, covered up or not.”

You do as you’re told, making sure to toss a cheeky wink at the silently judgemental sales clerk on the way out, and another one to the amused woman behind the hotel desk as Boba guides you with a firm hand on your hip up to the penthouse suite he booked for the night. You can practically smell the ozone of the imminent storm that’s been building between the two of you since the night before—all that’s left is to pierce his dark cloud and be washed away down to your most primal being in the tempest of his desire.

No sooner is the room’s door shut then you throw yourself into the howling winds of lust that have been tearing through bones all day. There’s no time to admire how stunning the suite is, not when his hands and lips are on you with a bruising, burning passion that might as well be a force of nature. For a few minutes there’s only him and the sensations he elicits, a wild and unrestrained fervor that almost convinces you that you’ll get away with having him easy. 

Of course, once the eye of the storm swirls around the pair of you, that flimsy hope is banished when Boba draws back from your kiss. “Hey, easy now, babygirl. I need you to listen so we can start.”

The way his glossy, kiss-swollen lips form around his words threatens to derail your focus completely, but you swallow down your fervor as best you can; you won’t get what you truly want if you don’t check in with him first. You squeeze your eyes shut in a hard blink. “I’m… I’m listening,” you rasp, your voice already ragged at the edges.

“Good girl,” he praises gently, brushing his lips on your forehead. “The role play we talked about last night still what you want to do? Any changes you want to make?” His right hand comes up to massage the tension in your neck.

Your heart is pumping hot and ready in your chest, it’s all you can do not to grind your thigh into his very obvious erection. You can’t look at him, not when he’s too tempting with his earth-warmed eyes and sun-colored features. Burying your face into his neck, you sound an affirmative from the safety of your favorite spot.

A cimmerian chuckle rumbles in his warm chest. “You’re so ready, aren’t you, pretty baby? I know, I know. Tell me about the stoplight system we talked about yesterday and I’ll make all your dirty little dreams come true.”

“Green means good, yellow means slow down and check in, red means stop like our safeword and three taps,” you rattle off without hesitation, curling your fingers into his shirt over and over again as electric anticipation crackles through your nerves. You’re embarrassingly wet and Boba hasn’t even done anything yet… Maker help you when he does.

He presses a kiss into your hair, guiding your head up to look into your eyes. “That’s my smart girl,” he beams, the edges of his eyes crinkling, “Now remember, we’re checking in again before the actual sex since this is our first time doing a scene like this.” Accepting your nod of understanding, he asks if you’re ready to start.

“Fucking stars above, yes, I’m ready!”

[start of consensual non-consent]

It’s like a whole new man materializes before your very eyes, one with lurid intentions and inescapable demands as the gentle hand on the back of your neck comes to settle possessively around your throat. “Well then, princess, it looks like you have some debts to settle with me,” he informs you, his canines flashing in a wolfish smile.

Your game has only just begun and the thrill of your vulnerability has your pulse jumping under his thick fingers. You blink at him with wide, innocent eyes, playing along. “But Daddy, what debts? I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Boba tuts, the sound lush with false sympathy, his eyebrow arching up in a cruel look. “You think all those pretty things I got you just come for free, little one? That there would be nothing taken in return?” His words are followed by a greedy handful of your ass that crushes you against his chest and makes his belt buckle dig uncomfortably into your soft stomach.

“W-what do you mean?” you whimper, squirming and ensnaring yourself further into his trap, “I-I thought you bought me all those things because you l-love me.” Offering up a flowery smile, you paw at his chest in an effort to ward off his perverse intentions, your heart hammers out danger against your ribs. It pushes you towards fight or flight, but your self-preservation is no match for your fatal attraction.

“Love?” he scoffs viciously, icing out your budding attempt to sway him, “Who said anything about love, sweetheart? Is that what you think this is, is that what you’ve been filling your pretty head with?” His fingers twitch around your throat and your lip starts to tremble pitifully. “Aww, poor baby,” he mocks with a sardonic smile, his hand releasing its grip on your neck so his thumb can roll down your quivering lip. “You gonna cry about it?”

Maybe it’s your latent instincts actually kicking in, or maybe you’re just that much of a brat, but either way you’re not going to let this man get away with everything, especially in that tone of voice. Jutting your head forward, you bite down on this thumb and shove your hands between your bodies to push away from him. You manage to turn and take a harried step towards the other side of the room before you’re roughly snatched back by the hair. Yelping at the sudden sharp pain in your scalp, your hands flying up in an attempt to free yourself.

“Oh no you don’t,” Boba hisses, ignoring your pained protests as he pulls your back against his body, locking his arm around your waist.

You struggle and kick at his shins, doing your best to escape the much stronger man. As sweat beads along your brow and your muscles begin to burn with exertion, you realize far too late that he’s just letting you tire yourself out. “Let… me… go!” you demand with the last of your strength, slamming the ball of your foot down onto his shoe.

Boba sucks in a sharp breath and you know you’re fucking in for it now just from that sound alone, your thighs pressing together against throb between them. “You done now? Made your point?” he asks with a dangerous amount of calm, his voice as still as the sea before a storm. “Because the harder you fight, the rougher I’ll have to be, sweetheart.”

That should not be as hot as it fucking is. His threat has the twin flames of arousal and fear burning you alive from the inside out, your opposing desires for mercy and ruin warring within your chest. “No, wait! I’m sorry," you plead, "Please don’t hurt me, I-I promise I’ll be good!” You sniffle and do your best to well some tears in your eyes, wanting to make your performance as good as your boyfriend’s. “I’ll do anything you want, just… please!”

Boba bites down into the soft flesh of your shoulder and you have to stifle a moan. His hand in your hair loosens fractionally, allowing you enough movement to give him access to your neck, which he greedily claims with harsh kisses. “Anything you say? But princess,” he taunts, his breath hot on your damp skin, “you were already going to give me whatever I want… you know why?”

Heart in your throat, you choke on your own lust-fueled words so that all you can do is shake your head in the negative. His absolute dominance and your prurient desire are melting away the last of your reason and restraint, especially when his lips find that sensitive spot just below your ear. Alternating between sucking his mark into your skin and muttering into your ear, he continues in a coarse, strident tone. “Because I own you. From the top of your pretty head down to all ten of your princess toes, you’re mine. You’re Daddy’s girl and you’re going to do just as he says… isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

As sinfully delightful as all this feels, Boba is way too smug for your liking. The wheels turning in your head are spinning furiously to come up with another escape plan to further provoke him and draw out your game. Grinding your ass back against his crotch, you sigh and go loose like you’ve given up, even letting a few small moans slip past your lips for good measure. Boba takes the bait—and truthfully, you think about taking it too—releasing your hair and hips so he can grope your tits.

Now!

Forcing all the air from your lungs, you slide down out of his grasp, stumbling a bit in your high heels but making out of his reach all the same. Boba growls and you can feel the flurry of air as he makes to grab you again, but you duck and manage to dodge him. Heart pounding in your ears, you make a run for the next room, hitting the lights so they go dark. Panting, you lean against the wall next to the door to suck in a lungful of air only to have it knocked right back out of you a second later when you’re slung over his strong shoulder.

You howl in dismay at being caught so soon, kicking and pounding on Boba’s back as he hauls you over to the king-size bed. He asks for your color and you answer “green,” to which he squeezes your hip affectionately before falling back into character. “You sneaky little brat, you really thought you could get away from me?” he laughs cruelly, slapping your ass with a stinging palm. He reaches the bed in a few strides and tosses you onto the mattress like you weigh nothing. 

It makes you gush, your pleasure in your core already beginning to tighten as your ass cheek prickles and burns. Head spinning and vision blurred at your sudden change in position, you scramble up the sheets to put distance between the two of you in a final desperate attempt to elude the man you so desperately want to catch you.

“You got a tight little cunt and a warm little mouth that will pay off your debt nicely. There’s no point in fighting it, sweetheart,” he continues to taunt, his fingers unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease, “Might as well enjoy it, because you’re not getting out of it.” He discards his shirt, his tattoos gleaming in the sunlight peeking in through the windows; he’s as handsome and dark as a panther about to pounce on its prey. 

In all your haste, you’ve tangled yourself in the bedclothes well within his reach, and the wet heat slicking the inside of your thighs and underwear is bleeding the fight from you. That’s not going to stop me from giving this old man a run for his money… literally, you smile to yourself. You have one more trick up your sleeve but you don’t have much time with the way Boba is prowling toward you with the ease of someone at the top of the food chain. 

“W-what are you going to do to me?” you whimper, doing your best to distract him from the fact you’re untangling your foot. 

He gives you a chilling smile. “Oh, little princess,” he husks with a tantalizing, twisted heat, “I think you know exactly what I’m going to do to you.” 

He leans down to grab you, but you pull your knee up to catch him in the center of his chest with your designer heel. Boba’s expression flashes with wicked desire at the challenge, a hungry smirk turning up his lips. “Fast little thing, aren’t you?” he grunts in pleased surprise, locking his grip around your ankle, “Won’t save you though. I like my girls with some fight in ‘em.” His brown eyes are blown so wide with lust that they’re an abyss of black—maybe even a shade darker. In a flash, he snatches up your other ankle and yanks you back down the mattress, riding your dress up and rubbing your skin hot from the friction.

“No, no, no! Please, no!” you cry out, kicking your legs uselessly as his eyes zero in on the damp fabric nestled at your apex. No matter how much you pretend you don’t want this, you can’t hide your traitorous arousal.

Ignoring your pleas, Boba forces his way between your thighs, shoving his crotch against yours and making you gasp a moan. “Stop fighting,” he warns, crowding into your prone space, “I know you want this, dirty girl, you’re fucking soaked. Quit with the dramatics and Daddy will give you everything you want, just like he did earlier when he bought you all those nice things.” His hips grind into your center enticingly, accenting his offer.

You whimper and give a final kick before falling still, your only movement the heaving of your chest. Your blood is hot and torrid in your veins and sweat slicks your skin; you couldn't escape him even if you really wanted to and it burns you up. Knotting your fingers into the bedspread, you dig in your nails to keep from reaching for him—you’re enjoying your game far too much to give in and let it end now.

“Promising to spoil you makes you give it up quick, huh?” he smirks, kissing up to your ear, his right hand releasing your ankle to skate up to your damp panties. “Yeah, I know this is what you want. You want Daddy fuck you senseless in all the pretty things he bought for you, don’t you? To be his sweet little baby he uses however he wants? You can admit it, princess, you don’t have to pretend for my benefit.”

“Fuck you!” you spit back, knowing it would seal your fate. “I’m not some whore you can buy off and screw!”

[end of consensual non-consent]

Boba has the gall to laugh directly in your face. “That’s not what your panties are telling me. In fact,” he pauses to fish something out his pants pocket, “They’re telling me that if I make a little deposit… you’ll let me do whatever I want to you without a single complaint.” Before you can even ask, he pops the rubber band off a half-inch thick stack of hundred dollar bills with one hand. Your eyes widen and you clench around nothing, stunned into silence. 

He smirks, his shoulders set and his eyes glinting dark with desire. “Oh, is a few thousand dollars all it took to make you learn some manners?” he mocks. “Of course it is, my filthy girl, you’re spoiled rotten and all mine. Daddy knows how to get you to behave, doesn’t he?” You open and shut your mouth several times but you can’t get your tongue to form any words in your hazy, aroused shock. “Well now, if you’re not going to answer my questions, I might as well put something in that pretty mouth.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he reaches back into his pocket and stuffs his wallet in your open mouth.

All you can do is moan, your eyes rolling back inside your skull as carnal desire overtakes you. Your teeth sink into the buttery-soft material, the tang of leather flooding your taste buds as you writhe on the mattress seeking any sort of friction to quell the overwhelming need in your core.

Boba groans your name, long and deep, the rumble accompanied by the sound of a belt dropping to the floor. Your eyes flutter open to see him stroking his leaking cock with his free hand, his own eyes heavy with desire. “Look at you… so needy and pretty like this. I can’t wait to feel that perfect pussy strangling me.” He gives himself a few more tugs before releasing himself to ease his wallet from your lips, placing it and the money on the nightstand.

A whine sounds in your throat and he shushes you gently, coming back around to massage your thighs. “We have to check in, remember? How’re you feeling, babygirl?” 

Jagged shards of lust lodge themselves into your sweat-slicked skin, sharp and urgent, and every beat of your racing heart continues to pump unrelenting need into veins. “Everything is good, green, just keep going, please!” you beg, your mind spiraling closer to frantic desperation as the coil in your belly begins to unwind.

“Shh, shh,” he eases, stroking your hair back from your damp forehead. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, princess, but this isn’t optional. Do you need help calming down?” he asks in his even, guiding voice. Squeezing your eyes shut as hard as you can, you nod. “Okay, sweet girl, keep your eyes closed. I’m going to move and I want you to sit up. You want a pillow to hold?” 

Nodding again, you roll up to a sitting position, the empty loss of his touch soon soothed by the pillow he places in your arms. Boba praises you gently and guides you through a couple deep breaths and soon the overbearing buzz of desire wanes enough for your muscles to relax. After a few more exhales, you’re able to come back into yourself and you open your eyes, blinking against the sunset filtering in from the tall windows. Boba is standing in front of you, his drawn look of concentration melting into a smile.

“Better now?” he questions. You hum an affirmative in response and reach out a hand. He takes it, stepping closer so he can brush a kiss over your knuckles. “Ready to talk, sweet girl?” Taking a deep breath in and out, feeling your racing pulse slowing; when you’re sure you can focus, you confirm you’re ready. 

Boba sits on the edge of the bed, holding open an arm in invitation knowing that you need the added comfort of his touch during breaks. He waits until you’ve made yourself comfortable in his lap before continuing. “I know how bad you wanted to keep going, princess, so thank you for listening and being honest when I asked if you needed help.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Emotionally intense scenes like this one can be much different in real life than in our heads… sometimes it can catch up with you all at once and become overwhelming in a bad way. I want to give my little princess everything she wants, but I can’t do that unless I know everything’s alright up here,” he says, kissing the side of your head.

 “I understand, Boba, that’s why we have our rules and discussions to keep us safe.”

A warm smile spreads across his handsome face. “That’s exactly right, my smart girl. Now that things are calmer, how’re you feeling about everything? Anything that made you uncomfortable or want to change before we continue?”

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you hug him as tight as you can; Boba is everything to you and you want him to feel it in the strength of your arms and the beat of your heart. “I like it, like really, really like it. You’re amazing, all big and bad and mean… you’re so goddamn hot it drives me crazy. Makes me want to rip off all your clothes and ride your co-” 

Boba clears his throat, eyeing you sternly to remind you to stay on track and you snap your jaw shut with a sheepish grin. Rolling your gaze up to the high ceiling, you watch the patterns of the sun’s final light while you ponder his question. You certainly would never dream of acting out this kind of thing with anyone else, that’s for sure; not only because Boba is the only man you trust with such a fantasy, but also because it was precisely that, a fantasy, make believe. It ran so counter to who Boba is and how he treats you—that’s what made it so damn sexy.  

After a few moments of quiet consideration, shake your head. “There’s nothing I didn’t like or want to change. What about you, what did you like?” you ask, turning the question around and snuggling up against his warm chest.

He hums in dark delight, pulling you in tighter to his body. “When you kicked your leg up and got me in the chest, kark, sweetheart,” he puffs out his cheeks, “I almost lost my cool. Wasn’t kidding when I said I like a little fight in my women.” He pinches your ass playfully and you giggle, wriggling away from his fingers.

Sensing things are turning back towards continuing the fun, you twist around to straddle him, though keeping your hips still against his. “Well that’s no secret, professor,” you tease, linking your wrists behind his neck. “Don’t think you’d be with me if you didn’t.”

Running his hands up your sides, Boba’s fingers wrap around the swell of your ribs. “Mmm, I suppose that’s true,” he chuckles with a wry grin. When you ask him about any dislikes, he shakes his head, but there’s a caveat in his deep set eyes. “I’m enjoying it all and I definitely want to do it again, but…” He trails off, his brow furrowing in that pensive look he got when he’s trying to string together words to describe his feelings. You know it’s still a new practice for him, so you wait patiently, tracing little shapes on the nape of his neck. “But, not every time,” he concludes after a few moments.

Setting your forehead against his, you mumble in agreement, “But not every time.” You have a feeling you know why, not that you wanted it every time either, but that is a discussion for another day. For now, you would tuck it away in your heart. “Boba?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Thank you,” you smile, big and genuine, hoping he can feel all the emotion and gratitude behind your words, “For everything, for all of this. You’re amazing.” Pulling back, you capture his face between your hands so you can place a languid kiss on his beautiful lips. “I love you.” 

The way he always seems so surprised and hungry to hear those words is as endearing as it is heartbreaking; he should’ve heard that sentiment more often in his life.

“I… you,” he stammers, his usual stability thrown off.

“Shh shh,” it’s your turn to soothe, giving him another kiss, “I know.” You both hold the golden glow of affection between your bodies, warm and safe, for a few peaceful minutes, silently basking in its rays. When Boba begins to shallowly roll his hips against yours, a grin lights across your face. “If you’re ready, Daddy, I think there’s something your babygirl needs finished.”

“Oh, yes I think there is,” he agrees, nipping at the plush of your bottom lip with a devious grin. Sliding his hands under your thighs, he hoists you up with him as he stands to walk the pair of you to the long side of the bed. “Why don’t we get rid of this,” he suggests, tilting his chin down at your dress, “so Daddy can get a good look at his sugar baby all dressed up.”

He lets you down on your feet and you happily oblige his request, sliding the dress off your curves and tossing it in the direction of his clothes. The heat of his gaze as it rakes down your body is enough to brand your skin and reignite the coals flickering in your core. Brushing your hands over your tits and waist, you admire how the red lingerie flatters your form—as well as the effect it has on Boba. 

“Well,” you drawl slow and saccharine, batting your lashes, “if I’m not getting out of this terrible debt, I suppose I might as well enjoy it like you said.” As you echo his previous words, you sink back onto the bed behind you, spreading your legs wide. As one hand traces over your nipple peeking through the lace, your other one follows Boba’s hungry eyes down to the wetness staining your panties.

Your fingers dip under the damp fabric and swipe through the copious amount of slick coating your folds before coming up to breach the seam of your lips. “You make me so fucking wet, Daddy…” you moan, hollowing your cheeks, you softly moan as you suck the tang from your digit. Trailing your spit-cleaned fingers down your chin back towards your cunt, you simper up at him. “Wanna taste?”

Boba groans, his slitted gaze trained on your mouth as he smears pearled precum over his stiff length. “Oh, sweetheart, there’s a lot of things I want from you.” He enters your space, taking your jaw into his large hand. “Like this hot little mouth, for starters.”

Humming and blinking big blowjob eyes at your boyfriend, you grin and stick your tongue all the way out, tilting your head back for full effect. The air whooshes from Boba’s lungs in a debauched sound and the muscle in his neck twinges as his jaw clenches. “Such a sweet little angel when she wants to be…” he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself, collecting a leaking drop on his thumb to deposit on your waiting tongue. 

The salty taste of him has the coil of your release forming in your belly once again, salacious and hot. You lean forward to lap up more of his delicious taste, alternating between kitten licks and suckling at his tip while Boba continues to pump his shaft. Being the greedy little thing that you are you soon become unsatisfied with what small bit he’s allowing you—so you ask for more.

“Please, I want more,” you whine with a pout, “I want all of it.”

“Careful what you wish for, princess.”

You were, in fact, not careful for what you wished for and quickly became quite the little mess. Ravaged and ruined, and spoiled by the enjoyment of his cock down your throat as he clasped a diamond necklace around your neck. Your knees are now raw, hair wild, and your makeup is running down your cheeks. You’re a complete wreck.

You fucking love it.

Boba is standing over your kneeled form, gloriously naked and slowly stroking his dick that’s lubricated by a generous coating of your saliva. The dark look in his brown eyes and viperous grin send a shiver of arousal down your spine. “This is all you’re fucking good for isn’t it, sweetheart, spending my money and sucking my cock? Kriff, I think you like being a little slut as long as it gets you what you want.”

You blink up at Boba’s broad frame through clumped lashes. “Well, what can I say? We are living in a material world and I am a material girl,” you grin with puckish charm. You shimmy your shoulders just enough so that your tits jiggle and the light catches the trails of spit that have begun to dry on your neck and chest. You’d long given up your innocent act for your usual bratty self.

Boba huffs in amusement, rolling his eyes. “Do the jokes cost me extra?”

“Seeing how your dick’s not in me,” you reply blithely, “they absolutely do.”

You don’t even have time to pout before he snatches your face up in a tight grip, his thumb and fingers digging deep into your cheeks. “You really are a greedy little thing,” he chuckles, turning your head from side to side to appreciate the way the jeweled necklace sitting on your chest glitters in the low light. Hot arousal streaks through you, leaving shimmering trails of lust in your veins.

You try to shake off his hand but he only pushes his fingers in father. “There’s only one thing to do with greedy brats… you know what that is, sweetheart?” he asks with poisonous condescension. You glower up at him, unable to speak through his grip. “It’s to fuck it right out of them. You want more? I’ll give you more. I’ll give it to you until you’re begging and crying for me to stop, and then you know what?” Boba crouches down, resting his warm cheek against your burning one to hiss into your ear. “I’ll stuff those pretty panties in your mouth and keep going.”

The strangled groan that sounds in your throat is unlike anything you’ve ever made as you push out your chest to get closer to him. You’d give anything for him to fulfill that threat of promise because when he gets like this, it means you’re getting the fucking of a lifetime. Watching Boba as he fucks you is a treat in of itself, but witnessing that galaxy-stopping moment where he slips into that all-powerful, unshakable dom state? A truly indescribable delicacy.

Boba releases your jaw, yanking you up by your shoulders and roughly shoving you back on the bed. “You really are a dirty little whore,” he sneers, his lips quirking to a self-satisfied smirk, “begging for me fuck you to tears while you taste yourself. You’re lucky I’m in such a generous mood, princess, because you are absolutely ruined for anyone else.”

And the Maker knows it's true. “Daddy,” you whine, opening your legs wide in invitation, “please, I want you inside me so bad, please fuck me!” Boba likes to hear you beg and you’re all too happy to do it when it gets you what you so desperately want.

He looms over to you, his shoulders set and his eyes glinting dark with desire. “You finally learned some manners, have you? Figured out good little girls get more of Daddy’s money than bad ones?” He’s toying with you now. You both know what you really want: to have him filling you up over and over on a pile of the money he has stacked neatly on the nightstand where he left it. 

Truthfully, you’d do anything he asked at this point anyway—all this sugar daddy play has you step away from selling your soul just for a single stroke of his thick, perfect cock. You suppose it wouldn’t kill you to stroke his ego a little more if it speeds the process along. “Oh yes, sir, I’ve got it all figured out,” you answer agreeably, a picture of sweet submission, “I’ll be so, so good if you fuck me, I promise.”

“I bet you will, sweetheart,” he chuckles with a glint of mischief, “now that Daddy’s got you so well trained.” He’s testing you, seeing if you can keep up your obedient act, his dark eyes sparkling in challenge. When you swallow back your snarky response for a genteel smile, he relents. “Go put the heels back on and crawl back to me,” he commands, scooping up the stack of bills.

Scalding heat flashes through your body to settle between your thighs at his order, mixing with the excitement of finally having him inside your aching cunt. You jump up and eagerly hurry around the other side of the bed where you’d shed your shoes earlier. After slipping them back on your feet, you settle onto all fours and make your way across the expanse of the large bed, keeping your lust-dark eyes fixed on his own. 

The luxe bedding pools coolly between your fingers, the raw skin of your knees skimming pleasantly over the material; when you reach him, he caresses your face in a moment of tender affection. Before you can lean too far into his warmth, however, it’s over: he yanks down your bra and stuffs wads of bills into it. Wasting no time, he spins you around to continue slipping money under the edges of your lingerie, layering in a few bright slaps to your ass as he covers you in his paper wealth.

Your ears and cheeks are aflame by just how fucking dirty he’s treating you: like you’re a set of holes to be bought. It sets off a goddamn waterfall between your legs and you know he can see the slick starting to spill down your thigh—Boba Fett has corrupted you totally and completely, and kark if you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Look at you,” he goads, shoving a hand between your shoulder blades to force your front down and ass up, “such a greedy little whore, fucking dripping from just a bit of Daddy’s money.” He’s begging to be tested, pushing and prodding you for a reaction. Boba likes your submission, yes, but he wants to earn it, wrestle it out of you. He craves a challenge and you’re his favorite one, his perfect, bratty little match.

He slaps the blunt head of his cock against your ass and notches himself at your entrance. Just as he’s about to push in to feel that first bit of your sinful heat, you bow up your back so he slips out. “Ah ah ah,” you crane over your shoulder, smirking up at his genuine look of surprise, “I might be a whore but I’m not a cheap one. Don’t think that just because you can lay down some good dick that I’m going to give you a discount on this million dollar pussy. Finish paying up, old man.”

Boba grins like the devil, barking a sharp laugh. “Fuck, you’re so in for it, little girl. You and that kriffing attitude.”

You wink, jiggling your ass just out of his dick’s reach. “Aww, I know you like it when I misbehave, that’s why I do it just for you, Daddy,” you tease in a sing-song voice.

“I know it’s just for me, naughty princess, ‘cause no one else is ever gonna treat you this good or fuck you like I can.” Boba starts thumbing bills off his stack so they flutter and twirl like autumn leaves, landing around you. “So tell me when I get to enough, sweetheart.”

Biting down hard on your lip, you let the hundreds fall for a couple seconds until you can’t stand to be empty of him any longer. “That’s a start, but don’t get stingy on me.”

“Behave and take my cock like a good little princess and I won’t,” he retorts smugly. Tugging your hips back flush against the furnace of his skin, he smooths a roughened hand up your spine to massage your neck. Then, more gently, he requests, “Tell me what you do to make things stop, babygirl.”

“Kamino or three taps anywhere,” you answer dutifully, doing your best not to wriggle and grind against him while he checks in, your desire to have him inside you just barely kept in check.

Pleased, Boba hums and places a quick kiss to your shoulder blade. “Good girl. Because I’m not stopping for anything else, not when… fuck, when I can smell how much you want it.” Grinding against your thigh, he fills his hands with the globes of your ass. “Now, let Daddy see his pussy.”

How can you deny him when his voice is pure honey, sinful and spiced with everything you could possibly dream of? Sliding forward and widening your knees, you put yourself on full display for him, arching your back in a seductive curve. You’re rewarded with a deep, throaty groan from your professor and two quick slaps across both your cheeks that quickly dissolve into tingling pleasure. 

Pulling your ruined panties to the side, Boba groans again. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect…” he traces your curves reverently, bending to lavish pious kisses your dimples of Venus. “Fuck, I’m gonna tear this little pussy up... I'm gonna do it just how you like it,” he promises, his deep voice scraped with desire. 

Your response is snatched from your throat when he enters your dripping heat a second later. Gasping and cursing at the sheer girth of him splitting you open with each rut of his hips, you bury your face into the duvet, your eyes rolling back into your head. The sinful stretch burns you from the inside out in the most gut-clenching, obscenely delicious way that all you can do is moan into the mattress. By the faint sounds making it through the thick haze of pleasure fogging your brain, it sounds like Boba is fairing about the same as you are.

“Fucking kark,” he pants through gritted teeth, “Always s-so tight and wet.” He snaps his hips in the final way, making you both exclaim in pleasure; it feels like he’s throbbing in your damn throat. “Ready, pretty baby?”

Turning your head so he can hear you, your response comes out as a desperate warble. “More, please, more, you feel so fucking good!”

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, Daddy’s gonna spoil his little princess, gonna fuck her full of his cum just how she likes.” His free hand grips your opposite hip so he can pull you back into the roll of his thrusts. “‘Cause that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To be so full of me that you can’t take a single step without remembering who owns this pussy, who takes care of you and makes you feel this fucking good?”

You’re already losing your mind, all the build up of your fantasy and your extreme angle making it so his tip is kissing that perfect spot deep inside you already. Throwing a hand behind you, you curl your fingers into the bouncing flesh of your ass to spread yourself farther, desperate for more of him deeper, faster, harder. You feel the feather-light touch of more money brushing your skin as it rains down on your back, making the well of desire inside you roil and churn as you bear down on him. “W-wanna see, wanna see… please,” you beg, unable to form any more of the necessary words, your brain melting from the blood boiling in your veins.

“Does my little girl want to watch Daddy’s money while he fucks her? Hmm? Tell me.”

Part of you wants to continue bratting, summon the last of your strength from some hidden cavern within you to bite back at him, come up with some scalding quip to throw in his face. A larger part of you, however, wants to delight in everything his dominance has to offer, revel in the way Boba can fuck and make love at the same time. “Yes, sir, please, sir!”

You’re on your back, legs over his shoulders, with his dick sinking back into you before you even fully register him pulling out. He gives your clit a few sharp smacks with the remainder of the cash in his hand before he starts flicking it out over you again, making you cry out in ecstasy. “Aw, you like this, sweet girl? You like how I treat my pretty princess?”

You’re already on pleasure’s cusp, waiting to ascend into its unholy heavens when he leans forward to hear your answer, hitting your g-spot perfectly and making your insides bloom with the heat of release. “Oooohh fuck yes, r-right there!” you cry, throwing your head back into the downy mattress, “Please don’t stop, t-this is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me!”

“Not yet it’s not,” Boba chuffs between grunts, reaching over to the bedside table. Before you can utter the first sound of protest or question, Boba slings the rest of the bills onto your heaving chest and stuffs his wallet back into your open mouth. Your pleasure snaps so tight at the familiar taste of the leather that you scream around the makeshift gag. He immediately starts rubbing wet, slippery circles on your clit. “That’s it, this is what’s gonna make you come, isn’t it, pretty baby?”

Time slows down, or maybe even stops, stretching out into oblivion on either side of you, divided by this infernal ecstasy Boba is pounding into soul. Tears of pleasure spill out of the corners of your eyes and you can’t seem to catch your breath before his thrusts force it from your lungs again; all you can do is moan some semblance of a response around his wallet and take him deeper into your waiting walls.

That’s when it happens, that subtle shift that brings Boba into that raw, glorious version of himself where he is the master of your twin universes, all-powerful and all-mighty. It’s in the set of his jaw, the snap of hips, and the inky depths of his eyes that it happens, where your energies fall into flawless, seraphic balance. You become two halves of the same whole as he gives and you take, as he pushes and you pull in unspoken harmony. You’ve never had a religious experience, but at the risk of blasphemy, you think this is what one must feel like.

Where else would the divine exist except at the meeting of two souls?

You’re blubbering what you can of his name over and over as your one and only prayer, knowing that your devotion would reap all that it sowed. It’s so much, it’s all so terribly, perfectly much: the pressed open stretch of your ankles over his shoulders, the impossible fullness of his cock inside you, the force of his powerful hips—you need something to hold you against his unrelenting tide. Releasing the sheets, you throw your right hand over your head, curling and uncurling it to tell Boba you wanted his hand in yours.

“I got you, cyare, I got you,” he assures between ragged pants, leaning down to redistribute his weight to interlace his fingers with yours. He shoves his other hand under your hips to adjust your angle and you arch up with a cry when he hits that spot dead on. You know he can feel it too, his eyes screwing shut against the overwhelming pleasure. “Fuck, baby, you feel s-so good, you’re taking me so well. I-I know you’re close, beautiful. Spoil Daddy and come for me… strangle my cock w-with that perfect cunt. Come on, sweetheart, l-let go and let me feel you.” 

You’d do anything for him, anything: fight off his many demons, kiss away all his pain, and protect his heart until your dying breath. Coming on his perfect dick when he sucked your nipple between his teeth was the least you could do, right after being his little angel who took every last drop of his cum when he pumped it into you a few bruising thrusts later. Rutting and cursing, Boba rides out both your orgasms, prolonging your combined pleasure until his muscled arms begin to shake with the effort of holding both you and him up. 

Blissed out and impossibly, wonderfully content, you enjoy watching how Boba’s dark eyebrows knit together and how his pretty lips form around his little pants as he comes down from his high. When his eyes finally flutter open again, they’re the luscious color of exotic wood polished and shining in the tropical sun—he’s so beautiful all you can do is stare and appreciate the wonder that is Professor Boba Fett.

Gazing lovingly down at you, Boba smiles softly and removes his wallet from your mouth so he can sprinkle sparkling kisses all over your face. “My beautiful, perfect girl,” he coos between the brushes of his lips on your skin, “my sweet, precious babygirl.” Without pulling out, he rolls the two of you over so you’re resting on his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck and your head tucked under his chin.

You slowly come back to your senses together, wrapped in one another’s warmth, easy and unhurried. Saving your post-scene debrief for your bath later, you lazily trace over the ink decorating Boba’s chest, over the slopes and planes of his pectorals and ribs, while he massages your back and shoulders. Much to your dismay, he has to slide out of you so you can sit up and drink some water; he just feels so good, so right inside your velvet walls that you never want him to leave you empty.

Setting down your water bottle after draining its cool contents, you pick up one of the hundreds scattered around the bed, now curious in your orgasmic glow. Holding it up to the light, you curse and sit up when you see the watermark through it. “Kriffing kark! Are all these real?!” you exclaim, shocked at your discovery. You hadn’t dwelled on the details during your romp in the sheets, but now that you're more clear headed, it dawns on you just how much money is in your presence.

Boba watches with open amusement as you repeat your test a few more times to find that the other hundreds in your reach are indeed genuine. “Why wouldn’t they be?” he questions with an impish smile, “I only get the best for my babygirl.” He’s smirking, doing his best to stifle a laugh at your obvious amazement.

Smug, wonderful, sexy bastard, you grumble to yourself, shoving at his shoulder. “Quit laughing at me and get in the bathroom, old man,” you order with mock annoyance, “I’m sucking your dick as soon as you can get it up again, and maybe even before then if you’re lucky.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, still chuckling as he swings his legs off the bed. “Order us some room service and I’ll be all ready for you to choke on.” He winks and you roll your eyes as you head towards the room phone. “Oh, and say whatever you want, princess,” he throws over his shoulder, “but no one's ever made you wetter or come harder than this old man.” 

Damn if it’s not true, you think with a shrug and a smile—not that you’re going to tell him that, not yet anyways. Looking over the menu placed next to the handset, a warm feeling of contentment washes over you pleasantly, like sunny waves lapping at your mind’s shore. Fucked, filled, and happy with the man of your dreams, you can’t imagine it gets better than this.

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS

cyare - beloved, love

<Part V

[cantaloupe-draws]

El Chico del Apartamento 512

Irl! Quackity x Female! reader

Summary: Nothing interesting ever happens in the apartment complex you live in. It’s the same old routine for you. Constantly turning down your neighbor and heading too and from your apartment. Well that’s up until you meet the very cute boy that lives in apartment 512 that you can never seem to gather the courage to talk too. To make make matters worse, he shows up to the cafe you work at

Switches from Reader’s s POV to Quackity’s POV at the very end

Genre: Song fic, fluff, somewhat cafe trope, strangers to lovers, crushes

Warnings: use of Quackity’s real name, creepy neighbor, cursing, and I think that’s about it

Song :El Chico del Apartamento 512 by Selena

Lyrics are in bold

—

Every day is the same down the corridor

Every day it’s the same old thing. I pass the same old doors as I make my way towards my own at the end of the corridor. Counting the room numbers as I pass.

“508, 509, 510,-“ I count and but as soon as I reach room 511 the door suddenly swings forward and I’m greeted by both a whistle and Chad, my neighbor.

“Y/n baby I keep on waiting for you to go on a date with me like you promised,” Chad said as he stood in front of his door frame, right arm resting on the door. “I need to show you around town,” he said with a smirk as he rested his face on his fist.

I scoffed as I moved away from him, “The only thing you need right now is an urgent shower. You stink like a pig and it’s absolutely disgusting. Besides, I never promised you anything” I said, trying to continue on my way, but Chad just kept getting more and more persistent with every rejection. His nagging was getting annoying.

“Come Y/n I’ll take you to this bar across town, I’ll even pay for your drinks” he kept persisting.

You would think that any decent guy that’s asking you out on a date would obviously pay for them himself. It’s a given but this is Chad we’re talking about. I was sick of his terrible date ideas and I had to face him once again.

“Listen, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this and how many times I’ll have to repeat it but, I don’t want to go on these stupids dates with you,” I told him as I rejected for what seemed to be the millionth time. And as soon as I said that the door beside us swung open.

Out came a young man wearing a navy blue cap that was covering almost the entirety of his hair but still managed to expose small tufts of dark brown hair from the sides. He looked up at the predicament Chad and I were both in and I was able to get a good look at him.

He had almond-shaped eyes that were a dark brown color and had various beauty marks scattered around his face. He was attractive. Very VERY attractive. Oh no I’m in deep shit, I thought to myself as I quickly turned away when I felt that I was staring at him for too long. He turns away from us and heads towards the elevator doors.

I stayed stunned for a few moments then turned to face Chad again, completely red in the face, dumbfounded, and at a complete loss for words. But before Chad could get another word out I quickly rushed to my apartment and leaned my back against the door once I got inside. My heart is beating fast and my chest feels tight and constricted. I quickly got myself a glass of water from my faucet and though it helped with my fast heart rate, it didn’t help the butterflies swarming around in my stomach. It might sound crazy but I think I’ve just met the man of my dreams.

Ever since then, I’ve made sure to take my sweet time walking down the corridor in hopes to see the cute boy from apartment 512 again. I’ve gone as far as to purposely make small talk and fake my interest in Chad in hopes to see him once more.

—

The boy from apartment 512 the one who makes my poor heart beat fast.

I walked into the elevator quickly pressing the button towards the first floor when I heard someone yell “HOLD THE DOOR PLEASE!”

Loud footsteps came barreling towards the elevator. The yell of itself was enough to get my blood pumping but, to make matters much worse it was the cute boy from apartment 512 who was coming towards me.

“Thank you so much,” he said out of breath once he got inside. He offered me a smile of gratitude as the elevator doors closed. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a cap this time but, instead he was sporting a grey beanie with red and blue stripes.

‘He’s the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my entire life’ I internally screamed to myself.

“Yeah, no problem” I responded quietly in hopes I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.

Even if there weren't more than two pieces of dialogue uttered between us, it was enough for my heart to beat faster than the speed of light.

—

The boy from apartment 512 who causes me to stutter like I've never done before.

I was manning the cashier station at the cafe I worked at. It was filled to the brim with people who were either typing away on their laptops or having a conversation with their friends.

But on this day, I had finally learned his name.

The busy atmosphere had me tackling customers' orders from left to right, “Hello, may I take your order?” I said as the next customer approached me.

But surprisingly enough, I was greeted by a familiar face.

The cute boy from apartment 512.

“Yes, hello I would like a caramel macchiato please,” he said and I felt my face go red instantly.

Oh my god, it’s him again, I thought as I knew that my brain would start to scramble once more. “O-of course. Coming right up, n-name?” I asked him as I completely stumbled on my words.

“Alex,” he said, “Okay A-Alex your name will be called out when your order is ready,” I tell him as I continue on with my work.

My coworkers had never seen me lose composure like that. It was clear that they would never let me live this down but even if I made a complete fool of myself in front of him, a huge part of me also just wants to keep talking to him both night and day.

—

But today I have finally truly decided to confess my love to him

I mentally prepared myself for the next time I interacted with Alex. I’ve finally decided that the next time I would run into him, I would finally ask to get to know him better in hopes that one day friendship will blossom into a wonderful relationship. A giddy laugh escaped me as I thought of the idea.

The cafe was busy as usual, with the same groups of people coming in. As it hit peak rush hour the line of customers just kept getting longer and longer and I was attempting to quickly attend to them to the best of my ability. Somehow, this was not enough to deter the feelings of butterflies in my stomach.

I knock on his door and I get goosebumps,

a blonde answers the door and my heart breaks

As I heard the bell above our door ring once more I raised my head and saw him, Alex. He was holding the door open for a woman as she walked in. They stood close together as they waited in line. This might seem like a bit of an exaggeration but when I saw them conversing together waiting in line the butterflies that were once fluttering disappeared and were replaced with dread. As my heart dropped, I realized that one thing was wanting to be friends with him but, that doesn’t change the fact that I had grown feelings for him. If he’s in a relationship then, what now? I felt lost as to how to handle this.

As the line in front of me kept getting shorter and shorter, I was becoming anxious as his turn was approaching. Though as it was almost the pair’s turn to order, Alex suddenly turns around and leaves the line and when his turn arrives he still wasn’t there. Despite this, I still went ahead and tended his apparent girlfriend.

I truly felt my heart breaking into pieces when suddenly she asked:

"Were you looking for my brother?"

“Hello, may I take your order?” I asked her, “Yes, can I have a vanilla latte please? But um, can we wait a couple of minutes for my brother? He went to the restroom and didn’t tell me his order,” she asked. Then the realization hit me like a ton of bricks, this was his sister. I’m so dumb, how could I’ve not realized the resemblance between them?? “Yeah that’s no problem” I finally responded.

Soon enough Alex came rushing towards his sister, “I’m so sorry for the wait” he said once he reached the both of us. “Just hurry it up. I’ll be waiting for you at the table” His sister said as she turned her back to the both of us.

Turning my attention to him as I rang up his order he then speaks up “You’re one of my neighbors aren’t you?” He asks me with a grin. I stop in my tracks as if I’m a deer in headlights.

“Yeah I am actually” I smile at him trying to muster enough courage to continue our conversation.

“I thought so, you were the one who held the elevator door for me the other day right? Also, the one who was yelling at my neighbor.”

My face instantly goes red as I thought back to the first time I met Alex. “In my defense he deserved it. He’s been harassing me ever since I’ve moved in” I shudder at the thought of Chad.

“Yeah I’ve realized that he really is a douche, he enjoys banging on the damn walls at three in the morning” he said as we laugh together at the stupid things Chad has done.

“Okay, okay you’re order will be out shortly,” I tell him with a smile, feeling my heart skip a beat. But Alex doesn’t move from the line.

“To be honest the whole reason I even came here wasn’t really for a drink or anything.” He said gazing towards the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

“This might be a bit sudden because we’ve barely met but I wanted to actually ask you for your number since you seem really nice and you’re very pretty. If you’re not interested then that’s fine, I’ll just take my drink and go” Alex said sheepishly.

After I heard these words I found myself dumbfounded. At a complete loss for words. ‘DID HE JUST SAY THAT??? HOW DO I RESPOND???’ and from there my mind was absolutely speeding to the point where I just stood there. ‘HURRY UP AND DO SOMETHING!!!’ I yelled at myself, but yet still nothing managed to escape. Alex began to fidget more and more playing with his hands as I just stood there without a response.

“It’s okay, I’ll just go now.” Alex quickly said leaving.

—

Alex’s POV

‘SHIT. FUCK. MOTHERFUCKER. STUPID IDIOT.’

I cursed at myself while I walked towards my sister. Laying my head on the table, covering it in utter embarrassment.

“That didn’t go well, did it?” My sister said while casually scrolling through her phone. “And here you were boasting about how much of a smooth talker you were. You sir, just got rejected.”

“Will you shut up?” I groaned at her not raising my head. I’m already embarrassed out of my mind and she is not making it any better.

“Fine fine, you big baby I’ll go get our drinks and then you can go home and cry.” She said standing up as our orders were called.

‘God, why did I think it was a good idea to bring my sister along? How had it not crossed my mind? I hadn’t even given it a second thought as to what I was gonna do if I did get rejected. And to make matters much worse I just got rejected in front of my sister. I will never hear the end of it at family reunions. I’m already mentally digging my grave when I heard my sister come back.

“I think this one is yours” She said as she placed my drink in front of me. I raise my head slightly so I would be able to see what was in front of me. I looked at my cup as it said:

‘To the cute boy from apartment 512’

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx -Y/n’

—

A/N- So this is the first time I’ve ever wrote fan fiction before, I mainly stick to drawing so please excuse any mistakes I tried my best. But I hope you liked it over all. Also the lyrics in English don’t make as much sense as they do in Spanish, and it’s was bugging me so if they seem a bit odd you know why.

A special thanks to @tofuyami she really helped me with the brainstorming and editing process <3

@hungoverhellhound @cherrysirin @tofuyami @nealocus @struggling-with-time @bugsinmycoldsoup @venusacrossthestars @galaxygnf

Also stand Selena always -🍈

[danystargaryens]

tagged: by the lovely @proinsiasweeney tagging: @cristalcarrington @blarke @diyozah @maddigriffin @madigriffen @bellamyblak @daniels-gillies @queen-daenerys @sapphic-wanda @softloki

Rules: Answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

last

1. drink - coke

2. phone call - ? my mom ?

3. text message - also my mom ? lmao i have no friends

4. song you listened to - chase atlantic - church.

5. time you cried - ? i cry almost everyday so hah, wednesday? too tired of life.

ever

6. dated someone twice? - no

7. kissed someone and regretted it - nope 

8. been cheated on - kinda ?

9. lost someone special - yes

10. been depressed - yes

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - nope

fave colours

12. black

13. blue

14. purple

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends - yes!

16. fallen out of love - no

17. laughed until you cried - yes

18. found out someone was talking about you - yes.

19. met someone who changed you - i guess ?

20. found out who your friends are - i literally have nobody so.

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list - nope

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - all of them

23. do you have any pets - two dogs and three cats.

24. do you want to change your name - secret.

25. what did you do for your last birthday -spent time with my family & had a nice meal.

26. what time did you wake up today - 8 am?

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - sleeping.

28. what is something you can’t wait for - how sad couldn’t figure anything out.

30. what are you listening to right now - rooster teeth podcast

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom - not really.

32. something that’s getting on your nerves - that i ‘’fall in love’’ with any man that gives me attention. it’s not real love. and i hate myself for it.

33. most visited website -  tumblr omg. this site is addicting.

34. hair colour - blonde.

35. long or short hair - long. 

36. do you have a crush on someone - only celebrities, fictional characters & maybe a guy idk.

37. what do you like about yourself - my eyes

38. want any piercings? - yes !!

39. blood type - no idea

40. nicknames - meg // meggy // angel // princess // cutie

41. relationship status - single

42. zodiac - libra

43. pronouns - she/her

44. fave tv shows - about 20 that i love. but ultimate favs are from dusk till dawn, the 100, teen wolf & the originals.

45. tattoos - i have some pallned

46. right or left handed - right handed

47. ever had surgery - nope

48. piercings - nope

49. sport - no thanks 50. vacation - still wish to visit spain, mexico & new york.

51. trainers - converse.

more general

52. eating - bread

53. drinking - cola

54. i’m about to watch - rooster teeth lmao

55. waiting for - tmr. so i have another relaxing day.

56. want - to be happy.

57. get married - nah 

58. career - i hear they’re nice to have this time of year

which is better

59. hugs or kisses - hugs bc i want affection

60. lips or eyes - eyes

61. shorter or taller - taller

62. older or younger - older

63. nice arms or stomach - stomach

64. hookup or relationship - relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant - hesitant

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - no

67. drank hard liquor - yes

68. lost glasses - yes

69. turned someone down - yes

70. sex on first date - never been on a date, but prob not (?)

71. broken someones heart - idk

72. had your heart broken - yes

73. been arrested - no 

74. cried when someone died - yes

75. fallen for a friend - yes, in the past

do you believe in

76. yourself - ?? no idea

77. miracles - yep i do.

78. love at first sight - with the right person

79. santa claus - nope

80. kiss on a first date - if it goes well then ok

81. angels - yep

other

82. best friend’s name - kath & moose.

83. eye colour - blue

84. fave movie - 21/22 jump street, moulin rouge, power rangers 2017, pirates of the carribean, monte carlo, big hero 6, suckerpunch, jawbreaker, burlesque, garfield, hercules, transformers, beauty & the beast, wild child, oceans 8, jennifer’s body, st. trinians.

85. fave celebs - eiza gonzalez, ana de armas, tom hiddleston, amber heard, margot robbie, holland roden, zoey deutch, tom felton, dacre montgomery, richard harmon, bob morley, selena gomez, deepika padukone. yeah those are just some.

[pixelbatsy]

92 things!

yiKes im so late to this but i was tagged by @craighsiao, @kittenmusicals, @pbophelia, @zigisbisexual, and @mermaidwarriorqueen yall are so crazy i love yall thank u w all of my heart :’)))

THE LAST:

1. Drink: water 2. Phone call: my mom 3. Text message: "dont watch princess bride” w a pic of it buffering from my friend lmao 4. Song you listened to: fetish by selena gomez my newest bop 5. Time you cried: an hour ago bc of my shit eyebrows that got Ruined!

HAVE YOU:

6. Dated someone twice: lol

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: lol no

8. Been cheated on: LOL 9. Lost someone special: yes 10. Been depressed: hooyeah 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: not yet djfakld

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12. millennial pink lol 13. periwinkle 14. maroon

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: hooooo boy yeAH irl and on tumblr!! 16. Fallen out of love: specifically w thomas hunt sry bb 17. Laughed until you cried: me 24/7 18. Found out someone was talking about you: hajdhf yeah but she cried and apologized so we’re cool now 19. Met someone who changed you: omg yes so much 20. Found out who your friends are: yesyeysyes i luv them 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: who still uses fb

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: none?? 23. Do you have any pets: an inside cat, 3 strays outside that we just feed and they just chill out here, and also some fish that are like 6 years old 24. Do you want to change your name: i wanna switch my first and middle name 

25. What did you do for your last Birthday: i went on vacation in florida and new orleans with my best friends hfjakdhf 26. What time did you wake up: 12:30 my sleeping schedule is fucked 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: watching makeup vids lol 28. Name something you can’t wait for: TRR CHAPTER 15!!!!! 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: 30 mins ago idk 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: my ability to talk to people bc my anxiety!! ahhaha!!!! 31. What are you listening to right now: FETISH BY SELENA GOMEZ A BOP!! 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: no?? 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: my fukxign eyebrows that the lady messed up ughggjkhsd 34. Most visited Website: is this even a question lmao tumblr and youtube 35. Mole/s: ugh i have one on my stomach and it bothers the shit out of me but i have more in other places im just too lazy to look 36. Mark/s: do cat scratch scars count bc i got a lot of those 37. Childhood dream: my mom told me my 1st grade teacher asked what i wanted to be and i remembered the episode of curious george that i watched before leaving the house and said an ice cream girl in the park but either that or become ariel 38. Hair color: rly dark brown but in the sun it turns rly light like into like honey brown idek 39. Long or short hair: ive had both but long hair is such a chore so short bc i have like medium rn 40. Do you have a crush on someone: who needs that when ur already married to henry cavill but chris powell, drake, the prince, maxwell, dick grayson, jason todd... 41. What do you like about yourself: i DID like my eyebrows smh its ok theyll grow back 42. Piercings: lol i didnt even get my ears pierced so none 43. Blood type: who are u identity theft fuk off m8 44. Nickname: CATLYN, kk, kalina bc me and my friend have a 824 snap streak and its our #goals ship name 45. Relationship status: single married to henry cavill i even had to organize my own wedding for a project in floral design sophomore year 46. Zodiac: cancer im a crybaby ik 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show/s: pretty little liars, grimm, young justice, the big bang theory, two broke girls, sherlock, and family feud lmao 49. Tattoos: i want somethin smol but not yet 50. Right or left hand: i was gonna be a lefty but my daycare person literally treated me like shit and made me use my right hand so now im a righty and she got her ass fired :)) not like i remember anything tho lmao

51. Surgery: ortho surgery bc my mouth was too small and my teeth were so fucked up but braces gave me a glo up lol 52. Hair dyed in different color: omg no but i have these rly cool brown streaks on the side of my head and its also underneath my hair but its rly pretty ppl always ask me about it bc its like genetic idk its cool 53. Sport: i fucking live for watching football om Fg

55. Vacation: im guessing this is where ive been?? so uh hawaii, florida, mississippi, louisiana (and bish i been to shreveport, louisiana home of my boi jake mckenzie dshfjs), texas aka my home, las vegas, california, cozumel, jamaica, belize, and soon the bahamas!! 56. Pair of trainers: oh my god i have like 30+ pairs of shoes i love shoes!!

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: nothing rn i ate steak for dinner tho 58. Drinking: water! 59. I’m about to: start watching a youtube video 61. Waiting for: my bday party w my friends on wednesday (lowkey those choices chapters too i wish my bb chris powell could wish me happy bday :’)) 62. Want: a BIG FAT bank account 63. Get married: to a nice rich husband yuh finished the sentence

64. Career: im a senior in hs and i got accepted into my pharm tech class aaaah were gonna get to go to hospitals and and wear scrubs and shit im so excited i wanna be a pharmacist or like somewhere in the med field bc they make BANK and also they help ppl :’)) 65. Hugs or kisses: from my future bb kisses 66. Lips or eyes: eyes yus 67. Shorter or taller: im 5′5 so im smol and theyre tol 68. Older or younger: mmm i prefer older but only like a year younger if theyre worth it dhfgsk 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: this is so hard but arms bc abs arent a requirement but arms,,,, yes 71. Sensitive or loud: how am i both sensitive and loud (tru) 72. Hook up or relationship: lol relationship i want it all 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant but troublemaker when im feelin big mood

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: uh kinda 75. Drank hard liquor: not yET LMAOOO 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: nope 77. Turned someone down: jkasjdf lowkey yeah 78. Sex in the first date: no omfg sfdhgj 79. Broken someone’s heart: wym 24/7 lmao jk no 80. Had your heart broken: by many fanfics lord lol 81. Been arrested: nonoono 82. Cried when someone died: im making animals count so yes 83. Fallen for a friend: almost but skrtskrr were still friends

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: if i try really hard YUH 85. Miracles: 11:11 twice a day for extra good luck yuh 86. Love at first sight: lol no 87. Santa Claus: yeah until i was like 14 88. Kiss on the first date: YUH WHY NOT if theyre not shit 89. Angels: meh not really

OTHER:

90. Current best friend’s name: omg irl alina and caroline my bbs and online @evisms i rly love u,, so much 91. Eyecolor: brown 92. Favorite movie: the man from uncle that ive seen 7 times!!, wonder woman!!, ex machina, hidden figures, coraline, and moana

im not gonna tag anyone bc prolly the entire choices population has done this but hit it up if u wanna!!

[anavoliselenu]

Driven chapter 9

A pattern starts to evolve with my continued scrutiny of the images, and I realize that most of his escorts are long, leggy blondes, stick thin, with some type of plastic enhancement. And all are drop-dead gorgeous. Much to my chagrin, I realize they look very similar to Haddie, except hers are real. Ironically, the pale hair next to his dark features makes him seem more aloof and edgier somehow.

I note that each girl exists through a context of time, except for one. One particular stunner is scattered through different periods of time, and I wonder why that is. Is she an escort? The one he takes when his other arrangements have fallen through and he needs a date? Or is she the one he keeps going back to because there is really something there? After clinking on several of their pictures together, I finally get a caption that offers her name. Tawny Taylor. The caller on his phone yesterday. What is she to Justin? I know I could dwell on this for hours so I force myself to push it to the back of my head and resolve to think about it at another time even though I’m afraid to know the answer.

I look like none of them. I may be tall, but I’m definitely not petite on their anorexic scale. I’m thin but I have curves in all the right places, unlike their ruler-straight physiques. I have an athletic body that I’m proud of—that I work hard at to maintain—whereas they look like they have no need to even think about exercise. I have curly hair in a rich chocolate brown color that stops midway down my back; it is unruly and a pain, but it suits me. I continue the comparisons until I tell myself that I need to just get off the page before I become depressed. That my hatred toward them has nothing to do with them in particular.

I go back to Google and type in “Justin Donavan childhood.” The first few pages reference children’s organizations that he is involved with. I quickly scan through the links, looking for one mentioning his childhood in particular.

I finally find an old article written five years ago. Justin was interviewed in connection with a charity he was supporting that benefited new changes speeding up the adoption process.

Q: It is public knowledge that you were adopted, Justin. At what age?

CD: I was eight.

Q: How was the adoption process for you? How would you have benefited from these new initiatives that this foundation supports?

CD: I was lucky. My dad literally found me on his doorstep, took me in, for lack of better term, and I was adopted shortly after that. I didn’t have to go through the lengthy process that occurs today. A process that makes kids who desperately crave a home, a sense of belonging, wait months to see if an application will be approved. The system needs to stop looking at these kids as cases, as paperwork to be stamped with approval after months of red tape, and start looking at them as delicate children who need to be an integral part of something. A part of a family.

Q: So what was your situation, prior to being adopted?

CD: Let’s focus less on me and more on the passing of these new measures.

Does he not want to talk about it because it draws attention away from the charity, or was it so bad he just doesn’t talk about it? I scan the rest of the article but there is nothing else about his childhood. So he was eight. That leaves a lot of time to be damaged, conditioned as he’s said, by whatever situation he was in.

I stare at the screen for a couple of minutes imaging all kinds of things, mostly variations of the kids who have come through my care, and I shudder.

I decide to look up his parents, Andy and Dorothea Westin. The pages are filled with Andy’s movie credits, Oscar nominations and wins, and top-grossing movies, amongst other things. His family life is referenced here and there. He met Dorothea when she had a bit part on one his movies. At the time she was Dorothea Donavan. Another piece clicks into place. I wonder why he uses his Mom’s surname and not his Dad’s. I continue scanning and see the basic Hollywood mogul background, less the tabloid drama or stints in rehab. There are a few mentions of his children, a son and a daughter, but nothing giving me the answers I’m looking for.

I return to search again and scan through the different links that mention Justin’s name. I see snippets about a fight in a club, possible altercations with current-generation brat-pack actors, generous donations to charity, and gushing comments from other racers about his skill and the charisma he brings to his sport that had been tinged after the CART and IRL league split years ago; a wide range of information on such an enigmatic man.

I sigh loudly, my head filled with too much useless information. After over an hour of research, I still don’t know Justin much better than I did before. I don’t see anything to validate the warnings he keeps giving me. I can’t help myself. I open up the page again for CDE and click on the picture of him. I stare at it for sometime, studying every angle and every nuance of his face. I glance up and sadness fills my heart as the picture on my dresser of Max catches my eye. His earnest smile and blue eyes light up the frame.

“Oh, Max,” I sigh out his name, pressing the heel of my palm to my heart where I swear I can still feel the agony. “I will always miss you. Will always love you,” I whisper to him, “but it’s time I try to find me again.” I stare at his picture, remembering when it was taken, the love I felt then. Seconds tick by before I look back at my computer screen.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, strengthening my resolve as the song on my computer, Justin’s referenced song, repeats itself for the umpteenth time. It’s time. And maybe Haddie is right. Justin may be the perfect person to lose and find myself in at the same time. For however long he lets me, anyway.

I look back at my phone, suppressing the overwhelming urge to text him back. To connect with him. If I’m going to do this, I at least need to make sure a couple things are on my terms.

And chasing after him is definitely not going to allow me to achieve that.

CHAPTER 11

I barely recognize the girl in the mirror who stares back at me. Once again, Haddie has gone all out with her preparations for the launch party tonight thrown by the public relations company she works for. She spent almost an hour blowing my ringlets out so that my hair hangs in a straight, thick curtain down my back. I keep staring at myself in the mirror trying to adjust to this different person. My eyes are subtly smoked so the dark smudges have an opalescent quality, reflecting the violet in my irises. My lips are lined with nude liner and lip-gloss, making the slight touches of bronzed blush on my cheeks stand out.

She has talked me into wearing a little black number that shows off more skin than I’m comfortable with. The bust of the dress runs into a deep V, hinting suggestively at my abundant bra-proffered cleavage without being trashy. Just a suggestive hint at my curves. The straps go over the shoulders and connect the non-existent back with thin gold chains that drape loosely and attach at the swell of my butt. I tug down on the hemline for it falls mid-thigh, something I’m not altogether used to.

I look again in the mirror and smile. This is not me, the girl I know. I sigh shakily as I add chandelier earrings to complete the look. This may not be me, I think, but this is the confident girl I want to be again. The new me who’s going to go out tonight, let loose, and have fun. The girl who has resolved to have a night of fun and gain some self-assurance before I undertake all that is Justin and his warning-laced pursuits.

“Holy shit!” Haddie walks into my bathroom, a whistle blowing from her lips. “You look hot! I mean—” she stumbles over her words, “I’m at a loss here. I don’t think I have ever seen you this smokin’ sexy, Selena.” I smile widely at her praise. “You’re going to have them lining up tonight, baby. Hot damn, this is going to be fun to watch!”

I laugh at her response, my self-esteem bolstered. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” I compliment her harlot-red dress that shows off all of her best assets. I slip my heels, wincing at the feel of them, and smirking at the memory of the last time I wore them. “Give me a sec and I’ll be ready.”

I grab my clutch and stuff my driver’s license, money, and keys into it. When I grab my phone to place in the small purse, I realize I never asked Haddie about the voicemails from her I’d listened to earlier.

“Had? I never asked you what was so exciting about the event tonight. What hot celebrity did you guys secure as a carpet walker?”

She gives me an enigmatic smile. “Oh, it fell through,” she dismisses casually. I shake off the feeling that for some reason she is laughing at me. I quirk my head at her and she turns around, effectively changing the subject, “Let’s go!”

***

The entrance to the trendy club downtown is quite the spectacle, complete with criss-crossing searchlights, velvet ropes, and a red carpet ready for stars to walk for media photo opportunities. The entrance is complete with a backdrop displaying Merit Rum, the new product being launched. We park in predetermined spots for Haddie and her fellow PRX employees at the trendy, upscale hotel that owns and is somehow or another physically connected to the club. Haddie flashes her credentials, which allows us to whisk past the hoopla and within moments we are inside the populated club, the dull throb of the music pulsing through my body.

It has been years since I’ve been in a club like this and it takes me a while to acclimate to the dim lighting and loud music and not feel intimidated. I think Haddie realizes my nerves are kicking in and that my confidence is waning despite my sexed-up appearance for within moments she has pushed us through the throng of people to the bar. With disregard to the numerous bottles of Merit lining the slick countertop, Haddie orders us each two shots of tequila.

“One for luck,“ she grins at me.

“And one for courage,” I finish for her, our old college toast. We clink glasses and toss back the liquid. It burns my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve done a shot of tequila, I wince at the burn and put the back of my hand to my mouth to try and somehow stifle it.

“C’mon, Selena,” Haddie shouts, unfazed by the liquor. “We’ve got one more to go!”

I raise my glass, an intrepid smile on my face, tap it to hers, and we both toss them back. The sting of the second one isn’t as bad, and my body warms at the liquid, but it still tastes like shit to me.

Haddie gives me a knowing glance and starts to giggle. “Tonight’s going to be fun!” She hugs her arm around me and squeezes. “It’s been so long since I’ve had my partner in crime back.”

I throw a smile at her as I take in the club’s atmosphere. It’s a large expanse of a room with purple, velvet-lined booths around the bottom floor. A glossy bar with a mirror placed behind it fills one whole wall, the mirror reflecting the room back, creating the illusion that the massive space is even larger. In the middle of the main floor is a large dance floor complete with trussing lined with moving head lights that are spinning, creating a dizzying array of colors. Stairs angle up from various intervals around the floor to a raised VIP area where teal booths are sectioned off by velvet stanchions. In one section of the VIP area, a plexiglass partition allows all below to see the M.C. spinning the music that pumps through the club. Model-worthy waitresses flit around in hot pants and fitted tank tops, uniform purple flowers adorning each one’s hair in some way or another. The club is swanky class with a touch of sophistication despite the various advertising paraphernalia for Merit Rum placed strategically around the room.

It’s nearing eleven o’clock, and I can see the crowd thickening and can feel the vibe of the masses pulsate with energy. In the VIP area, there is a crowd of people around a particular corner, and I wonder what trendy celebrity Haddie’s team has gotten to promote their newest product. I’ve been to enough of these functions with her to know the drill. Hot celebrities shown taking photos with new product equals big-time press for not only the item but Haddie’s company as well.

I take the glass Haddie hands me, my usual Tom Collins, and I sip from the straw as I point to the upper section. I raise my eyes in question rather than shout over the music that is starting to increase in volume as the club becomes more crowded. I figure we have about thirty minutes left until the decibels are so loud that the only way to communicate will be to yell.

She catches my silent question asking who’s up there. She leans over to talk in my ear. “Not sure. We have several people confirmed for tonight,” she shrugs a noncommittal answer. “Some surprises are in store as well.”

I narrow my eyes at her wondering why she is being vague with me, seeing as I’m not going to blab to anyone and ruin the surprise. She just smiles broadly and tugs my hand to follow her. We navigate through the mob of people, moving together as one unit. I can feel the alcohol slowly start buzzing through my body, warming me, easing my tension, and relaxing my nerves. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel sexy. I feel beautiful and sensual and at ease with those feelings. It’s not the alcohol that’s making me feel this way directly; rather the alcohol is allowing it by lessening my anxiety and insecurities.

I squeeze Haddie’s hand as she pushes through to a purple booth, which is reserved for PRX staff. She looks back and smiles genuinely at me, realizing that I’m starting to relax. Starting to enjoy. We break through the crowd to the booth to find two of Haddie’s colleagues there. I smile to them and say a quick hello, having met them before at previous events I’ve attended. I thank one of them for his compliments on my vamped-up style for the evening. As we sit down, there is a large cheer from the other side of the room on the upper level where the crowd had been earlier. I glance up to see what’s going on and notice nothing really but a number of women showing way too much skin hoping for whatever hot item PRX has invited up there to take notice of them.

I roll my eyes in disgust. “Fame whores,” I mouth to Haddie and she bursts out laughing.

I finish my drink as the catchy beat of a Black Eyed Peas song fills the club. I start moving my hips to the tempo and before I know it, I grab Haddie’s hand and drag her through the people out onto the dance floor. The surprised look on her face has me laughing as I close my eyes and let the music take me. We sing the words together, “I gotta feeling, that tonight’s gonna be a good night,” as we undulate in our own world on the dance floor.

I haven’t felt this liberated in so long that I just want to suspend this moment in time. I want to capture it in my memory so that the next time I start to fall in that dark place, I can remember this feeling to help me hold on to the light.

Haddie and I move to the music, working our way through several songs, each one strengthening my confidence and increasing my fluidity on the floor. Several of her co-workers, Grant, Tamara, and Jacob, join us as the song switches to Too Close, an old song but one of my favorites. I flirtatiously dance with Grant, acting out the song with him. We laugh, our bodies rubbing innocently up against each other, enjoying the playful interaction of the lyrics.

I raise my arms over my head, crossing them at the wrists and swivel my hips to the rhythm, the alcohol buzzing through my system. I close my eyes, absorbing the atmosphere all around me. A tingling sensation up my spine has me flashing my eyes back open.

I look up, and despite the synchronized unison of the mass on the dance floor, I stop, frozen in place when I see Justin. He is standing on one of the stairways that angles down from the VIP section. He has a drink in one hand and his other arm drapes casually around the shoulder of a statuesque blonde. She is turned into him, her hand rubbing gently through the top unbuttoned portion of his dress shirt. Her face tilts up to him and even from a distance, I can see her reverence and adoration of him although he has his head turned away from her, laughing with a rakish man on his left. A large daunting man stands behind him, eyes scanning the crowd. His security, maybe? Justin flashes a smile at his male cohort and it’s natural and unguarded, allowing me to momentarily appreciate his absolutely devastating looks. The blonde says something and Justin turns his attention back to her. She lifts her hand from his chest to rest on his cheek and lifts her face up, placing a slow, seductive kiss on his lips in ownership.

My insides churn at the sight, clouding my vision so much that I don’t pay enough attention to see if Justin is encouraging and returning the kiss or merely just tolerating it. My mouth is suddenly dry. I am paralyzed on the floor as I watch him with her. Numb really. We’re not together—my constant refusal of him has not demonstrated that I want otherwise. And despite my intense and unfounded hurt right now, all I want is that to be me he is holding. Me he is kissing. In the seconds that all of this swirls within me, my hurt begins to shift to anger. How stupid was I to think a guy like him could actually want a girl like me when he could have a girl like her?

I notice Haddie fall motionless in my periphery, taking notice of what I see. I’m about to turn to say something to her when Justin lifts his chin away from his arm candy, and looks up, his eyes locking onto mine. My heart skips over a beat and lodges itself in my throat. Despite the distance between us, I see shock flash in his eyes at us being in the same place, same time, yet again.

Even though a fellow dancer jostles me, my eyes hold steadfast to his. I know I need to leave the floor before my emotions get the best of me and my threatening tears begin to fall, but I am riveted in place. Unable to break the inescapable, magnetic pull he has over me. He releases his hold on the blonde immediately, discarding her easily. He hands his drink off to his male companion without looking and strides unfaltering down the stairs. His emerald eyes burn into mine, never losing our connection.

As he reaches the dance floor, the music changes to a deep, pulsating throb enveloping Trent Reznor’s hypnotic voice. Without a word or a look, the horde of dancers seems to move apart as he stalks onto the floor toward me. His expression is indiscernible, the muscle pulsing at his jaw, the shadows from the lights playing over the angles of his face. His long legs eat up the distance quickly. Numerous people turn their heads in recognition as he struts past, but the hungry look in his eyes stops them from approaching him any further. Despite the music’s volume, I audibly hear Haddie suck in a breath as he reaches me.

All of the things I want to yell at him, all of the hurt I want to spew at him, disappears as he stalks up to me, and without preamble grabs my hips in his hands, forcefully yanking me up against him. He holds me there, pressed against him, as his body starts to move, hips begin to grind into mine in sync to the punishing tempo of the song. I have no other option than to move with him, respond to the animalistic rhythm of his body. I slide my hands over his hands on my hips and lace my fingers through his. Holding him.

Holding on to the ride that is undeniably coming.

Our eyes remain locked. My head tilts back to look up at him. His lips part slightly, and I can hear him hiss out as my hips respond with him. His eyes darken, glazing with desire, filling with heat—with a predatory need. His scorching look alone has my nipples tightening and my body becoming a melting mess of need in anticipation of his touch. Of his undoubted possession of me.

I bite my bottom lip as he moves our combined hands from my hips to behind my back, kneading my backside through my dress, handcuffing me there. We continue to move as one with the music, the feeling of his firm, defined thighs pressing against mine. His arousal rubs thick and compelling against the lower part of my belly. He leans his face down so that we are within inches of each other. I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he sighs into me.

It is by far one of the most erotically sensual moments of my life. The rest of the world has fallen away. The intoxicating effect he has on my body blocks out the crowd of people around us, all looking our way, noticing me because of the man I am with. Rather it is just he and I. Moving. Responding. Arousing. Anticipating.

The song comes to an end, but we remain entranced in each other’s spell. I breathe for what I feel like is the first time since we’ve touched, a long shaky breath. I don’t realize that the music has stopped, and that the DJ is speaking over the microphone about the product of the evening. That except for the small crowd around us, the attention of the club has turned and is focused on the stage.

Justin and I stand there, not moving, feeling like we are barely breathing despite our heaving chests, absorbing each other and the sparks of sexual tension that are igniting between us.

“Justin! Hey, Justin,” a voice breaks through our connection, snapping me out of my spellbound state. Justin swivels his head to find one of the PRX staff calling his name. “It’s time. We need you on the stage. Now.”

He nods curtly before looking back at me, eyes smoldering with a rapacious urgency that makes my insides shiver. He unlaces his fingers from mine, releasing his hold on my hands and pulls away slightly. The warmth of his body is gone immediately, but my body is still humming from the connection, aching with need. He gives me a slow, suggestive smile and shakes his head softly. At me? At his own thoughts? At which one I’m not sure.

He reaches up a hand and tugs on my hair, his eyebrows quirk up as if to ask me why the change in my hair. I shrug shyly at him, words escaping me. His name is called again. He turns to go, but not before I watch the transition on his face from the Justin Donavan I know, to the public persona. Aloof and untouchable. Sexy and untamable.

We haven’t uttered a single word, and yet I feel like we’ve said so much.

I watch his broad shoulders as he walks through the crowd toward the stage, his bodyguard falling in step beside him, pushing back the people swarming him. I watch the spectacle and a little part of me smiles at the fact that I’ve seen the real Justin, not this one. At least I hope I have, my ever-present doubts returning.

Before I can finish watching his ascent to the makeshift stage, Haddie has me firmly by the arm and is pulling me unceremoniously from the dance floor. My resistance is futile as she drags me down a corridor, past the line for the bathrooms, and toward a small alcove near the exit. She spins me to face her, an incredulous look on her face.

“Ow, you’re hurting me!” I snap at her, yanking my arm away, not exactly thrilled at being taken away from the chance to watch Justin.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?” she asks, each word a staccato. I don’t even know how to answer her. I think I’m still under his spell for my words are not forming. “Holy shit, Selena! You two were basically fucking each other with your eyes. I mean, I felt uncomfortable watching you two, like I was peeping into your bedroom,” she rambles on as she does when excited, “and you know I never get uncomfortable.” She leans back against the wall and tilts her head up to the ceiling, an unbelieving look on her face.

I stand there and stare at her for I don’t know how to answer her, so she continues. “I knew you said you guys had made out,” she continues ignoring the childlike snort of laughter that comes from me, “But you never told me that there was … that spark … that chemistry … such intensity … My God! I mean, I was hoping when you saw him that—”

“What?” Her last sentence triggers my brain to function. “What do you mean you were hoping?”

She smiles sheepishly at me. “Well …”

What the fuck is going on here? “Quit stalling, Montgomery!”

“Well, I was calling you last night to tell you we had landed him as a guest—Merit’s one of his new sponsors. Anyway I called just because I was excited, I thought we could sit back and lust after him tonight—I didn’t know anything about what had happened. I talked to Dane and that was when I found out you were out with him.” Her words are tumbling out now. I nod at her to continue, my eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Then you came home and everything unfolded …”

“And what? You decided not to tell me because …”

“Well,” she contemplates, “After you told me everything, I had no idea that you two—your connection—is that magnetic. That captivating. I thought maybe if you saw him here, I could help you—I could push the issue. Help you have some fun.”

I blow out a loud breath, silently staring at her. I know she means well, but at the same time, I don’t need my hand held like a child. I’m mad at her. Mad at Justin for being here with that bimbo. Mad at him for waltzing up to me and taking hold as if I belonged to him. Mad at him for making me want him so badly my insides are burning. My contemplative silence settles over us.

“Don’t be mad, Selena. I’m sorry. I was doing it from a good place.” She bites her bottom lip, pouting at me, knowing I can never stay mad at her for any period of time. I smile softly, effectively forgiving her.

I sag back against the wall and close my eyes, listening to the cheering of the crowd at something the MC says. The question rattling around in my brain comes to the forefront. “Who’s his plus one?” I ask, referring to the blonde. Is she one of his arrangements? Someone he picked up in the club? Why is he kissing her if he is telling me he wants me? Did he not ask me because I’m not enough—pretty enough, sexy enough, glamorous enough—to be on his arm in public?

“Does it matter?” she sputters, “I mean, Jesus, Selena, you two are—”

“Who?”

“Not sure,” she shakes her head. “His people just asked for clearance for ten. No names were given.”

I let out a slew of curses that make no sense, just something I do when upset and trying to process through a situation. Haddie eyes me cautiously, knowing my litany of cuss words and its implied meaning. “Talk to me, Selena,” she urges. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I’m not lying to myself, am I?” Haddie looks at me confusion etched on her face in question. “I mean, I’m not making it up? The chemistry? Justin?”

“Are you crazy?” she stammers, grabbing me by the shoulder and giving me a little shake. “I thought you two were going to spontaneously combust out there! How can you question it?”

The crowd erupts again, the sound echoing down the hallway. I can hear Justin’s voice on the microphone. The rasp of his voice pulls at me. The crowd cheers again at something he says, and I wait for the noise to subside some before I can continue. “If he’s that into me. If there is that much chemistry … then why is he here with that blonde? Kissing her? Why not ask me? Or am I just the girl he wants to fuck on the side?” The confusion and hurt are evident in my voice.

Haddie twists her lips up as she thinks about my comments. “I don’t know, Selena. There are so many scenarios here.” I raise my eyebrows at her as if I don’t believe her. “He could have already had her as a date before he met you. Or he could really want you and she could be the piece on the side until you say yes.”

I snort again. “Really? Did you see her?”

“Have you seen you?” she rebukes. “Have you looked in the mirror, Selena? You’re gorgeous on a normal day and you look unbelievable tonight! I’m kind of getting sick of telling you that. When are you going to start believing it?” I roll my eyes at her like a child. She ignores me and continues on her possible scenarios. “She could be one of his arrangements? Or maybe she is a fame whore who met him here? Or maybe she’s a friend.”

“When’s the last time you kissed a friend like that?” I whip at her, taking my hurt out on her. She just stares at me, arms folded across her chest. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’d say keep doing what you’re doing. He obviously likes you, including your stubborn streak and smart mouth.”

“But, how do I—what do I?”

“Selena, if you’re mad at him, be mad at him. It hasn’t stopped you from saying something to him before, and he still wants you. Just because you’ve decided to sleep with him doesn’t—”

“How do you know I’ve decided that?”

“Oh, honey, it’s written all over your face—and your body, for that matter. Besides, anyone watching that display out there already thinks that you have,” she laughs sympathetically at me as my eyes widen. “Look Selena, every girl in this club would fall into line if he snapped his fingers. Everyone, that is, but you. He’s the one pursuing you. How many times in his life do you think a woman has said no to him? Has walked away from him? Maybe he likes that. And if he does, don’t change it just because you’ve decided you want to do the deed with him.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“But that’s just it,” I confess, “Am I a challenge or does he really want me? And if it does happen, then will the challenge be over and then he’ll be done with me?”