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thealchemistbae · 2 months ago

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Asteroid Mony (7782) Persona Chart 🤑

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at [email protected] or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

Let's breakdown the houses in your Mony (7782) Persona Chart. Each house represents a different area of your financial life. This chart tells a story of your money personality behind the scenes. Think of this as your subconscious $$$ blueprint:

💸1H -> Your money aura: This is how your financial energy shows up to the world. Do people naturally see you as wealthy, abundant, or financially smart? This house is your money image. If Mony, Venus, or Jupiter are here? You're giving rich b*tch energy on sight.

💸2H -> How you earn: Classic money house. This is your natural way of making money, your self-worth, and how secure you feel. Planets here show your talents and what brings you financial comfort. Heavy hitters here = money comes through personal effort, business, beauty, or voice-related skills.

💸3H -> Money through communication: Here, money flows through content, writing, speaking, teaching, social media, or networking. If you've got Mony or Venus here? Your words can literally be spells that attract cash. Monetize that voice!

💸4H -> Money & home: This is "homegrown money" energy. You might make money through family, real estate, home business, or comfort driven work (think interior design, food, healing). Emotional security = financial security. Also, generational wealth could show up here.

💸5H -> Luxury, pleasure & creative cash: Money through fun, beauty, creativity, romance, kids, or entertainment. This is sugar baby energy, artist/creator money, or passive income through playful self-expression. You're meant to enjoy your bag here; not work too hard for it.

💸6H -> Daily grind & service: Money through jobs, health, organization, or being of service. Influencers with Mony here often make $$$ through routines, wellness, or being super detail oriented. Hustle queen vibes but don't forget to rest.

💸7H -> Partnerships & money: Money flows through connections. Could be a wealthy partner, business collab, or luxury relationships. If Venus, Juno, or Mony are here, you were built for divine union & financial alignment. Also good for contract work or client-based income.

💸8H -> Big baller energy: This is passive income, investments, shared money, sugar daddies, inheritance, transformation through finances, or hidden wealth. It's mysterious and intense. Big "rich through rebirth" vibes. If you've got Pluto or Mony here? Financial power = shadow work + boss moves.

💸9H -> Money through expansion: This is abundance through travel, teaching, spirituality, publishing, or going global. You might make money abroad, through higher education, or online courses. Think big. You're not meant to stay small financially.

💸10H -> Your boss era: Career success, fame, reputation, and legacy income. If you have Mony, Venus, or Jupiter here, you're literally meant to be seen and paid for it. CEO energy. Public recognition = money magnet. You could become rich for just being yourself.

💸11H -> Online & community wealth: Money from social media, networking, groups, fans, brand deals, or the collective. It's futuristic wealth. Build an audience, launch a product, or monetize your vibe. You were born to have a financial following.

💸12H -> Spiritual & subconscious wealth: This is hidden income, spiritual money gifts, or past life abundance. You may have to overcome internal blocks, but once you do ...divine money flow. Dreamy wealth, donations, healing work, or passive income through surrender.

✨PRO tip: If you find Mony, Venus, Jupiter, Part of Fortune, or North Node in any of these houses...pay attention! That's a major financial hot spot.

Here are some placements you can look out for:

💰: Mony in Cancer 2° 9H -> You're meant to make money by pouring your heart into your higher calling. You may attract abundance through soulful storytelling, international connections, or being a spiritual guide, educator, or content creator. Travel to heal. Speak to teach. Monetize your meaning. Big divine purpose payout energy.

💰: Sun trine Moon -> This is the ultimate flow between your internal needs and external self-expression. You attract wealth and success effortlessly when you're aligned with your true desires. Your energy is magnetic, and you know how to shine with both confidence and emotional depth.

💰: Sun conjunct Mony (exact at 12° Taurus) -> Your identity is intertwined with your financial purpose. You were born to secure the bag. This aspect = magnetic manifestor energy. People with this have an aura of abundance and always bounce back even after financial L's. The Universe likes to fund your purpose.

💰: Venus square Mony -> Luxury taste meets lessons in value. You may have to learn how to not overspend or get too attached to aesthetic validation. Money might come and go until you start investing in yourself first rather than buying for external approval. But once mastered? You become a rich baddie with budgeting skills.

💰: Moon trine/sextile Mony -> Intuitive money maker, emotionally aligned abundance.

💰: Venus trine/conjunct Mony -> Beauty = money, effortless attraction of wealth.

💰: Jupiter trine/conjunct Mony -> Luck + big $$$ manifestations.

💰: Mercury square Mony -> Potential money blocks through mindset or communication, but once cleared, major financial glow up.

💰: NN Cancer 10H -> Legacy-building through emotional intelligence and nurturing success.

💰: Mars or Jupiter 8H -> Investments, passive income, high earning potential through other people's resources.

💰: NN in 10H/11H -> Fated success and wealth through purpose and public life.

💰: Mony trine Jupiter in Capricorn 10H (18°) -> Success magnet! This person expands their wealth the more they step into their public persona. Being seen as an expert or authority literally opens financial floodgates. You're meant to go big. CEO vibes only. Your reputation = $$$

💰: Mony in Taurus 2H -> You embody luxury and attract money through aesthetics, beauty, consistency, and owning your value. You're destined to build wealth through your personal talents. That bag is slow but stable. You don't just want money, you want wealth.

💰: Aries Rising -> You chase the bag fast and head on. You're bold, competitive, and not afraid to ask for what you're worth. Your money comes when you initiate, lead, or start something solo. Business owner energy. You don't wait for permission; you charge forward and cash checks.

💰: Gemini Rising -> You talk the money in. Social butterfly with 6+ income streams. Content creator, brand ambassador, or communicator bag. When you're authentic and constantly learning, money follows. You're witty, adaptable, and people listen when you speak.

💰: Leo Rising -> Main character in your money story. You magnetize wealth when you're seen, celebrated, and confident AF. Think: influencer bags, creative entrepreneurship, and big LEO energy that says, "I know I'm worth it." Your radiance is profitable so don't dim for anyone.

💰: Libra Rising -> You attract luxury partnerships, aesthetics, and passive income through your connections. People literally want to spoil you. Money is magnetic when you lean into elegance, beauty, and charm. High-end creative entrepreneur energy. Look good, live well, get paid.

💰: Capricorn Rising -> Built for legacy wealth. Your aura screams CEO or mogul. You come off as responsible, grounded, and hella ambitious. People trust you with leadership, long term goals, and big money moves. You're not in it for the quick bag; you're building an empire.

💰: Mony square/opposite Saturn -> Money feels blocked, delayed, or tied to intense feelings of unworthiness. You might feel like you have to work 10X harder just to get a little. But this placement also builds long term wealth after lessons are learned.

💰: Mony square Moon/IC -> Emotional instability or family struggles deeply affect your financial habits. Money = safety, and when you don't feel safe, your money reflects that. Inner child work is MAJOR here.

💰: Mony 12H -> Hidden wealth...but also hidden money blocks. You may not feel "seen" financially, or you self-sabotage unknowingly. BUT spiritual work, subconscious reprogramming, and surrender can flip this into a secret millionaire placement.

💰: Mony Retrograde -> Internal money journey, lessons around belief & fear.

💰: NN in 2H/8H/10H -> You came here to evolve into wealth consciousness. This life is about claiming your worth, receiving abundance, and building a legacy. Especially strong in Taurus, Leo, Capricorn, or Cancer.

💰: Part of Fortune in 2H/8H/10H -> Your natural luck is tied to wealth, legacy and high visibility. These placements usually bring financial abundance when you're aligned with your soul's calling and confident in your talents.

Bonus Billionaire Indicators

Stellium in the 2H/8H/10H -> More than 3 placements here? You're literally built to focus on money, resources, power, and public legacy.

Trines between Earth & Water placements in money houses -> Earth signs = tangible wealth. Water signs = intuition and emotional intelligence. Together = money flow meets money instinct.

Mony, Jupiter, or Venus at 0°/15°/29° (critical degrees) -> Powerhouse money karma. These degrees intensify whatever they touch and in money astrology, that's a green flag for big financial breakthroughs.

Let me know if y'all want a Part 2 OR I'll give 1 lucky person a Mony Persona Chart reading 🤑

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at [email protected] or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

#astrology #astro observations #astro community #thealchemistbae #birth chart #horoscope #astrology for beginners #natal chart #astro notes #money astrology #mony asteroid #mony persona chart #persona charts #persona chart

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carmenlikeme · 1 month ago

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COWBOY LIKE ME: PROLOGUE

pairing: Jack Abbot x rescuer!reader

summary: After an unexpected storm hits Pittsburgh, the entire city stops. Floodings and destruction everywhere. Jack ends up trapped for two days at PTMC. When he's finally allowed to be outside, he ends up at the frontlines of the disaster, back to his MASH unit days. Abbot works right next to the rescuers, helping them stabilize patients before they reach the hospital. He meets an interesting person amongst the rescuers, and the magnetic pull is too hard to ignore. Will he give in?

Where Jack Abbot meets an eccentric doctor in the middle of a catastrophe, and finds light in one of the darkest places imaginable.

genre: romance, slowburn (on paper, speedrun irl), hurt/comfort, breakup, happy ending (?), sprinkled comedy, idk what else, highly medically inaccurate, heavy dialogue for the first chapters.

wc: 2.3K

warnings: age gap, (reader is in her late 20's, jack late 40's) major natural disaster, medical trauma, PTSD, mentions of war and violent situations, graphic depiction of injuries, mentions of COVID and death. Will edit as I write more.

a/n: hiii!! this is the prologue of my story, it's mostly a set up of characters and storyline, I hope you enjoy it! I'll be posting chapter one in the next few days hehe

you can find the masterlist HERE!

"How are we doing?"

Gloria asked as she walked into the never welcoming Emergency Room. Robby stood in the middle of the nurse station, his eyes glued to the board as his mind raced to gather his thoughts and course of action.

He barely registered Gloria’s voice until she stood next to him. He was sure she’d asked something more; her piercing gaze made it obvious. She blinked repeatedly, a silent question, and only then did he snap out of his world and sigh, as if he could handle her right now. As if he could handle anything else right now.

"So far, so good, but we have a lot of people coming in just seeking shelter. Power is out almost everywhere in Pittsburgh, and according to Abbot, there are already entire neighborhoods that got wiped off the map."

Gloria didn't respond; the only answer between them was lightning and thunder outside the ED. The rain was heavy and unrelenting, but the real problem was the number of traumas they weren’t getting; just a few, something they could handle in a couple of hours.

That meant people couldn't reach them, and God knows how many would come once the rain stopped.

It also meant that his adrenaline junkies; or as others called them, students, were fidgety, which was never good.

Shit, it even made him fidgety. He didn’t know that looking at all of those empty rooms would make him feel like that.

"Yeah, I heard it's bad. I'm trying to get you as many supplies and food as soon as possible, but all roads are blocked. How's everyone?"

He stopped blinking.

"Skittish, suicidal, damn; I'm sure they're about to jump out of the building at any moment. I would too."

She stayed quiet once again.

"Yeah, I can't reach my family either."

Robby finally looked away from the board, he sighed once more. Gloria didn’t seem to move, she was oddly calm for a situation like that. It wasn’t foreign to her, in all their years working together, she never flinched. Not even at the peak of the COVID crisis, even then, she was counting patient satisfaction scores.

“I’m sorry. I’ll ask Kiara if she can reach them.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in my office if you need something. I heard it’s all hands on deck.”

Just like that, she left before anyone could ask her anything.

Abbot joined the conversation just as Gloria left. He looked a little bit tired, but he was as sharp as ever. On the other side, Robby felt like something horrible was about to happen and he didn't have any form to stop it. Abbot was the complete opposite, a good man in the storm, —no pun intended—, the clear and calm mind in the middle of chaos. Robby would lie if he said he wasn't a little jealous of him sometimes.

Jack didn't ask about Gloria, despite his shameless eavesdropping from behind. Instead, he looked at the board along with Robby. It wasn’t time to activate full emergency protocols, but he knew it was close. Still, that wasn't the intention of his impromptu visit to the nurse station.

"Did you hear? They declared state of emergency, and they're getting rescue teams down here to help us."

It had been a bad couple of days. The rain came out of nowhere, and it only got worse, slow, relentless, and destructive. Before anyone realized, people couldn't leave their houses and some of them were already compromised by the heavy rain. It was still somewhat salvageable but less than 12 hours ago it got worse, with high speed winds that threatened to make everything worse, the city was on pause. Still in the middle of chaos.

Worse part? Immediate response was already at max capacity, and they had barely touched the surface of the catastrophe.

"Well, I now thank my old concrete apartment complex, at least I know it won't fall apart."

Jack scoffed, his hands going to his face in early defeat. If it weren't for the hospital being in a relatively safe zone, and their emergency protocols in place, he was sure they would be underwater too. But at the moment, it felt like they floating on a bubble under the ocean.

And it could burst at any second.

"Is it true?"

Princess walked towards the two men, her phone in hand, showing them a video. Robby had to put on his glasses to see, but even then, they still weren't sure what they were looking at.

"They say a rescue team from Mexico is coming due to the disaster."

Princess flipped the phone slightly towards her to speed up the video, where now a dozen people with orange jumpsuits could be seen getting ready to board a plane.

Abbot was immediately interested. He’d heard about those rescue groups and knew a bit about them, was never able to see their work up close to thank them for their labor. The wicked part inside of his brain sparked at the idea of seeing that in action.

"They're called topos." Princess’s Filipino accent slipped on the last word.

“Topo? As in mole? Like the animal? That’s Tagalog.”

“And Spanish.”

Perlah joined the conversation and pulled out her own phone to show them more pictures of the team. She knew a little about them too, but it was also mostly a mystery to her.

"Oh, yeah, I know them. They're like rescue nomads.” Abbot said, finding a granola bar in his pocket and opening it as he spoke. Robby took a piece without asking. Princess and Perlah followed suit, which forced him to find another one for himself.

“What does rescue nomad even mean?” McKay asked, sneaking next to Abbot.

Robby bit the inside of his mouth and took a look at the oddly clean board. No one wanted to say anything, they feared the minute they would mention it, patients would fall from the sky into their ED. Something about everyone gathering there started to bother him. Those were the moments when he needed Shen to crack a joke and hope for the best, maybe even throwing the Q word, and just end their misery altogether.

“They’re specialized lightweight first responders, any type of disaster you can think of, these guys can be there by yesterday and help you solve it. Last I heard, they were helping people in Spain due to their flooding. They even have K9s they train themselves, but they’re not your standard government issue rescue, they’re all volunteers.”

“Specialized in floodings?” McKay asked as she peeked beside Robby, trying to catch a better glimpse of the people they were talking about.

“Specialized in everything. Flooding, earthquakes, hurricanes, explosions, fires, you name it.”

“Damn, so they’re pretty badass.”

“Oh, so they’re those people who get under the rubble to pull people out?” Perlah scrolled, looking for more videos and pictures. By that moment, Dana was coming back to the nurse station, which immediately made Robby walk away in silence as he knew what was coming.

“Yeah, that’s why they’re called moles.”

“Wait, how do you guys have wi-fi and I can’t even get—?”

“Looking for anything here, folks?” Dana asked, which made Perlah and Princess scatter immediately. McKay tried to be more subtle, turning back slowly as if she’d just been there to grab a chart. Abbot disappeared before anyone even noticed.

“You’re scary.” Robby whispered, taking one of the coffees Dana offered him. She laughed, taking a sip of her own as she settled beside him. “Is your family okay?”

The hospital was safe, it seemed as the only place like that, for now. The worst of the heavy rain started right in the middle of the shift change, so they were working in a forced on-call rotation. Right now, most of the night shift was sleeping, at least the ones who could.

“Yeah, they left for Florida to visit the grandparents before all of this. At least I know they’re okay. What about you, is Jake okay?”

Jake. A whole unexplored topic for Dana to poke until he caved. Robby looked to the side before laughing to himself.

“He’s good. He’s talking to me now, which is way more than I expected. He and his mom are in a safe zone.”

“Well, yeah. I’m sure he’s feeling guilty about how he talked to you. It’s been almost a year.”

Dana didn’t push further. She didn’t have to. Instead, she stood next to Robby. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but at the same time, Dana would never escape the chance to try and pull him out of the gutter, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

“Stop looking at the board, it’s bad juju,” Samira whispered as she passed by. She had that same energetic bounce as the PittFest mass casualty hit.

“You believe in that stuff?” Robby asked, glancing one more time before walking away.

“You don’t?”.

Sixteen hours and at least two gallons of coffee later, Abbot and Robby started to despise the once beloved cafeteria sandwiches they were eating. Food supplies were still running low, so they were working with what they had and stretching it out as much as possible. But in all honesty, as their once-endless stack of coffee dwindled, things started to get very worrisome.

Doctors could live without food. They’d die within the hour without coffee.

It was noon when the rain stopped, or at least eased enough not to drown anytime you tried to come out. There was still an eerie silence as people mopped the entrance of the ED, but it seemed as if catastrophe was just creeping behind them. The TVs came back on, power was restored all over the hospital but they were told it could disappear again at any second. Gloria still made sure to come back and demand not to use any type of non-essential device, so everyone made sure to charge their phones somewhere she wouldn’t check.

Patients trickled in quietly. The cafeteria, waiting room, and other parts of the first floor turned into a shelter for those who couldn’t get to their home in time, or for the unfortunate unhoused who arrived at the shelters too late. By 2 o’clock, the ED was partially full.

“Hey, Robby,” Dana called from her spot. He walked over, giving Mel a few instructions for an incoming patient. Dana tapped her pen against the desk with a quiet sense of urgency, something she only did when facing a difficult choice. She allowed him to continue speaking even as he stood next to her.

“Command is asking for backup: emergency, surgery, and a nurse. Oh, and anyone else you can spare. Seems like the rescue guys are working overtime. ETA for transport is ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah…” Robby looked around, scanning the ED before grabbing one of the phones to call surgery. “Can you call Abbot? He might be sleeping, but I need someone up front when I’m gone.”

“I’ll go wake him up myself. Do you want Jesse or Mateo in the field?”

“Either is good, ask them if— hello?”

Robby turned around right as Dana headed towards the call rooms, waving goodbye.

“Yes, Dr. Stevens, command just called. They need at least one from surgery on the field, plus anyone you can spare.”

He paused, the always unfortunate Whitaker walked by, just close enough for Robby to motion him over. “Garcia? Yes, she’ll be great. We leave in ten. Whitaker! Get a jacket, we’re leaving.”

“A jacket?” Whitaker whispered to himself and walked towards the locker rooms with more urgency than expected.

In the meantime, Robby took a final walk around the ED before heading out, but just as Jack walked next to Dana, go-bag in hand, he knew that wouldn’t be necessary. Jack would tackle him before missing the chance of running point at the triage zone.

“Get any good sleep?”

Robby didn’t stop walking, falling in step with Abbot as they reached the ambulance bay.

“I never miss the feeling of sleeping on the floor, but I’ll manage.”

“You can always steal one of those plastic chairs from the cafeteria.”

“And risk hurting my back again? No, thank you.”

They were the last ones to join the group.

Garcia snapped out of her phone but didn't say anything. Abbot dropped the bag on the ground. Rain needled the pavement, the faint wail of sirens layering over the already high tensions in the air.

“Got everything you need?”

Everyone nodded. Abbot stood in the middle of his newfound team and Robby. Silence filled the cracks. His mind raced to find some reassuring words, but he came out empty. He sucked at it. Finally, the transport unit showed up.

“Any words of encouragement, chief?” Abbot inquired once everyone was settled inside.

Robby’s gaze hit him, exasperated.

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

Finally, something broke the silence.

“Uhm, where are we going?”

Garcia, barely spared Whitaker a look, pressed lips into a line. Her fingers squeezed the backpack.

“Triage on site. They need someone to stabilize patients before they reach the hospital.”

Robby held onto the door, Abbot still urged him to say something. But maybe nothing was better.

“The van will take you as close to the disaster zone as possible,” he mumbled. “But there’s about a five-minute walk to reach the rescue teams.”

He paused.

“Good luck.”

Robby stopped himself from closing the door.

“Wait, I forgot.”

He smiled widely, unapologetic.

“We’re out of coffee, try to bring some back, or else.”

“Coffee?” Garcia snarked back, deadpan. “Even the Waffle House back in Washington is closed. Best I can give you is mud with stevia.”

“Damn” Mateo muttered. “Not even a limited menu? We’re in deep shit.”

“I know a Chinese place that’s still open, but they don’t do takeout today. Marco is out.”

Robby sighed in true defeat.

“Then just get the coffee. Organic.”

“Gravel is up to your taste?” Garcia suggested before Robby closed the van’s door for good.

Any sparkle of joy died almost instantly.

The silence was immediately replaced by the rattle of the van. No one said anything, or rather, no one knew what to say. They feared they were getting into something bigger than themselves.

And oh, how true that was.

#the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt #the pitt imagine #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot #dr abbot x you #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #carmenlikeme

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tikitakatia · 3 months ago

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Louvre — A. Putellas x Reader

WC: 2k

Summary: Alexia wasn’t supposed to enjoy the museum tour, but somehow, she finds herself booking another one.

Alexia was already plotting her escape.

She’d barely stepped out of the Olympic village before regretting every decision that led her here. Not to Paris, not to the Olympics, but to this detour. Her teammates, running on impulse and questionable group logic, decided that they just had to visit the Louvre today, specifically the Egyptian wing. Apparently, team bonding now involves learning about mummification techniques. She supposes it might come in handy the next time the refs let a clear penalty slide.

Jenni was practically bouncing like a child that was fed too much sugar. Misa, who´s now fully immersed in her TikTok influencer era, was narrating every step like it was meant to be a viral trend. Irene and Laia had been arguing for ten straight minutes over whether ancient Egyptians worshipped cats or just really liked them. Alexia, meanwhile, was weighing her options: fake an emergency, claim sudden heat exhaustion, or just disappear quietly and hope no one noticed until she was already at the beach volleyball courts. Anything to escape another hour of 'team bonding.'

And that’s how you meet her.

You.

The tour guide. Underpaid, over-caffeinated, and radiating the kind of forced enthusiasm usually reserved for theme park employees in August. You spot them immediately, voice slightly too loud, smile a little too tight and donning Olympic gear acting like it makes them blend in. It doesn’t.

But then there’s her.

Leaning against a wall like it's personally inconveniencing her, arms folded with precision, brow set in a permanent state of "don’t even try me." She's wearing sunglasses indoors, not the oversized fashion kind, but the 'I’ve made a conscious decision to block all of this out' kind. You can’t tell if she's a chaperone, a coach, or just someone who took a wrong turn and is now emotionally trapped in the Egyptian wing. She doesn't speak, doesn't move, and yet somehow broadcasts a full essay titled I Would Rather Be Literally Anywhere Else.

You recognize that look. You’ve seen it on grumpy dads stuck at brunch, teenagers at family reunions, and one duchess at a ribbon-cutting ceremony who clearly wanted to set the building on fire. Whoever she is, she looked like she was more interested in being a mummy than learning about one.

“Welcome to the Louvre!" you announce, voice a little too bright, in that tone that screams, I am seconds away from losing it, but I’m smiling through the existential crisis anyway. You quickly scan their name tags and IDs to familiarize yourself, then your eyes land on the bored-looking blonde in sunglasses like a magnet. You read her nametag, Alexia, and give her another look. This is going to be a fun tour.

You kick off the tour in the section which also happèns to be your comfort zone. Not because you’re obsessed with mummies or anything, but because, let’s face it, the statues can’t talk back. And thank God for that, because if they could, they’d probably ask you the same stupid questions a thousand times a day. You launch into your usual spiel about the Rosetta Stone replica, spewing out facts you’ve memorized so well you’re pretty sure they’ve been burned into your DNA at this point. It's automatic. It's almost robotic. But hey, it’s a job. And you’re doing it.

But then you glance at her again. There she is in the back, looking like she was about to fall asleep on her feet. And then, just to top it off, you swear she yawns, and not just a casual yawn. No, no. It’s an audacious yawn. A yawn so big it could eclipse the entire museum´s collection, making you wonder if maybe she's part of some secret society of people who can’t be impressed by 3,000-year-old artifacts. The audacity of this woman.

You’re speechless for a second, standing there in utter disbelief, but you quickly recover.

Cool. Challenge accepted.

You lower your voice, just enough so only Alexia can hear. "This," you say, pointing to a funerary mask, "is believed to have been worn by ancient Egyptians to help hide their resting bitch face better than sunglasses."

Alexia’s eyebrows twitch slightly, like she's trying to hold back a smile. But as if in a last-ditch attempt to remain emotionally unaffected, she shoots you a look over her shades like you just told her the pyramids were built by camels.

You go on, unphased. "And this one here? The Anubis statue? Guardian of the afterlife. Also the first to popularize the smokey eye."

This time, she snorts.

"What was that?" Irene turns to look at her.

"Nothing," Alexia mutters, smoothing her face, her tone trying to hide the crack in her defenses.

You keep walking, dropping facts with the precision of someone who’s learned to keep this whole ‘tour guide’ thing going while simultaneously amusing themselves. Each one is aimed only at Alexia, like a game where the only rule is you have to try not to laugh.

"This papyrus scroll here? Early tax evasion forms."

"The sarcophagus? Absolutely cursed. By bad interior design."

"This entire wing? Sponsored by ancient trauma."

Each remark is met with an involuntary sound from Alexia. A laugh under her breath, an incredulous look, but she’s fighting it. Or at least, she’s trying to.

When you finally stop in front of the cat goddess Bastet, you can tell her teammates are trying to drag her out. You let them get just far enough away before you drop your next fact.

She’s still hovering, clearly trying to pull her composure together. "She protected households," you say, low again, "and invented knocking things off tables for sport."

Alexia glares at you, still fighting a smile. You can see she’s getting close to breaking so you point to a bunch of hieroglyphs on the wall.

You lean in, voice dropping just enough for her to hear. "And this one right here? Says ‘send nudes.’"

This time, there’s no stopping it. Alexia bursts into laughter, a loud, uncontrollable laugh that echoes through the room. Her teammates freeze, turning around to stare at her like she’s suddenly grown a second head.

"Alexia?" Jenni calls out, blinking in confusion.

Alexia just shakes her head, still laughing. "Nothing," she says, but the smile on her face gives her away.

Her teammates look confused, but you can see Alexia's walls crumbling. Her laughter starts to die down, and as she tries to compose herself, she bites her lip and shoots you a look.

"You’re making that up," she says, still trying to act all tough, but there's no hiding the grin tugging at her lips.

"Absolutely. But you believed me for half a second," you reply, unable to resist the smug satisfaction of getting under her skin.

She gives you a crooked smile, shaking her head in resignation, then turns to follow her teammates as they finally drag her out of the exhibit.

Two days later, your inbox pings.

Private Louvre tour request. Olympic Committee. Egyptian wing. No name.

You frown. Weird. Could be anyone. Could be another team of tourists who will complain about anything under the sun. Could be your worst nightmare. Who knows?

You show up anyway.

And there she is. Leaning against a column like this is now her new second home. The others are behind her, looking like they’ve just come off a 5-day hike through the Louvre's entire collection of obscure art. Clearly, they’re not happy to be here.

"You again?" you say, with a raised eyebrow, pretending you don’t already know exactly what’s going on.

"Missed your historical slander," Alexia says, deadpan, as if this is a normal thing to say to a tour guide.

Jenni groans dramatically from the back. "She literally made us cancel lunch for this."

They look like they’re already regretting their life choices, but you’re already leading them through the Greek wing, statues galore.

You lean closer to Alexia, dropping your voice just enough so only she hears. "This guy? Zeus. Massive ego. Turned into a swan to seduce someone. Because, you know, consent was apparently optional for ancient gods."

She raises an eyebrow, completely unamused. "A swan?"

"Yeah," you say, nodding seriously. "The original bird app."

You swear you hear her snort, and it’s louder than before, like she’s giving up on pretending to be unimpressed.

The others start to notice, slowly turning their heads toward the sound.

"You’re actually enjoying this," Irene says with a gasp, pointing at Alexia in disbelief. "Last week you said museums are just fancy sleeping areas."

"Shut up," Alexia mutters under her breath, trying to hide the smile that’s clearly threatening to crack her icy exterior.

"You made fun of me for liking art," Laia adds, half-shocked, half-amused.

"Still do," Alexia says without missing a beat. "But this guide lies better than you flirt."

You cough, covering up a laugh, but it’s clear you’ve won this round.

A few days later, another anonymous booking. This time, the Renaissance wing.

Olympic Committee. No name. But you’re not even surprised anymore.

You walk in. And there she is. Again. Waiting alone.

"Just you today?" you ask, trying to sound casual, like you’re not secretly a little excited.

"They're recovering," she says, her face completely straight.

"From art?" you ask, eyebrow raised.

"From me dragging them to three tours in a week," she admits, sounding almost proud of herself.

You grin. "Addicted to my lies now?"

"Something like that."

You step into the Renaissance section, ready to drop some fresh facts on the poor souls who just so happen to be standing next to you.

"Here we have the Mona Lisa," you announce dramatically. "Famously small. Famously smug. Fun fact: she’s actually judging you for your fashion choices."

Alexia stands next to you, arms almost brushing. Her lips twitch. "She looks like she’s holding in a fart."

You turn to her, mock-shocked. "How dare you. That’s the mother of all memes right there."

You move on and she follows, clearly enjoying herself.

"This one was painted with real lapis lazuli. Extremely rare. Also the reason blue pens exist today."

"That true?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug casually. "Fifty-fifty. But it sounds good, right?"

She leans in a little closer. "Tell me more fake facts."

It keeps happening. More anonymous bookings. More sarcastic commentary. More time with her.

You start branching out. The Medieval section. The Islamic Art wing. Even the random furniture gallery.

"This chair once belonged to Napoleon. He sat on it after every failed date."

"These tiles were early prototypes for IKEA."

"This painting? Definitely haunted. But only if you yawn too loud near it."

Alexia eats it all up, each remark leaving you with the satisfaction of knowing you’ve cracked her tough exterior. Every smirk, every eye-roll you earn feels like a win.

By the sixth visit, Jenni finally confronts her.

"You realize you’ve seen more of the Louvre than the football field by now, right?"

Alexia rolls her eyes, unbothered. "It’s educational."

"You're flirting," Jenni presses, smirking.

"Shut up," Alexia says, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s not fooling anyone.

After one particularly long tour through the Islamic Art section ("This calligraphy? Probably a 600-year-old text complaining about tourists"), Alexia lingers, pretending like she’s just inspecting the exhibits.

"Do you ever get tired of walking people through here?" she asks, leaning against a display like she’s been doing this her whole life.

"Not when they make weird faces at 12th-century tiles," you respond, smirking.

"I wasn’t making a weird face," she says, defending herself.

"You looked like you were trying to decode IKEA instructions in Arabic."

She laughs, and it's full this time. No hiding it. Her shoulders shake with genuine amusement. She leans in, her voice dropping just enough for you to hear.

"Okay. So what if I said I wanted a private tour... outside the Louvre?"

You blink, half-laughing, half-confused. "Like... a date?"

She pretends to think about it, looking up at the ceiling for dramatic effect. "Let’s call it a cultural exchange."

"That sounds suspiciously like Olympic Committee phrasing," you reply, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugs, completely unphased. "I can pull strings."

You shake your head, smiling. "Fine. But only if you promise to fact-check me."

"Never. That’s half the fun," she grins.

You grin right back. "God, you’re the most stubborn museum convert I’ve ever met."

"And yet..." she steps closer, voice quiet but playful. "Your favorite."

You don’t argue.

Because she is.

391 notes · View notes

hyunjincanraptoo · 15 days ago

Text

Good boy gone bad- H.HJ

Today is the equivalent of Valentine's Day in my country and I wrote this funny fluff fic to celebrate. A special thank you to my girl @jehhskz for giving me this incredible idea. I hope you like it 💜 And also have a nice day with your boyfriend Hyunjin 🤭

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: suggestive, supernatural and magical stuff, munch! Hyunjin

Alexa, play Good Boy Gone Bad by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

The lights are low. Not because you're trying to be romantic, but because everything bright, it hurts. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor of your apartment, in yesterday’s hoodie, surrounded by the wreckage of your evening— an empty takeout container, an untouched glass of wine, and the poodle your ex gave you last Valentine’s Day.

Prince.

Fluffy, white, ridiculously spoiled. And the only one who hasn’t left.

"You're all I got now", you whisper, reaching out to scratch his head

He yawns with that squeaky sound of his, then rolls over, showing you his belly like he knows exactly what comes next. You give in, of course you do, rubbing gentle circles on his stomach until his little paws twitch and he lets out a sigh like he had a long day.

"Don't look at me like that", you murmur, flicking a stray piece of lint from his fur. "It’s not my fault I wasn’t ‘ambitious enough’, you say flatly to no one in particular. Then you glance down at Prince, "That’s what he said”

You scratch behind his ears. He yawns.

"Not passionate about my goals. Not the kind of person he could ‘build a future with’ "

You let out a heavy sigh, "I work. I pay rent. I live… I just didn’t live the way he wanted me to"

Prince snuffles and rolls onto his side, now demanding back

"He wanted me to quit everything and follow him to Seoul. No plan. No job lined up. Just… pack up and support him. While he ‘figured it out’ "

You look at Prince.

"You, my fluffy bastard, are what he left behind when I said no"

You stroke a hand down his little spine. Prince shivers, sighs, tucks his nose into the crook of your elbow like he knows this is the only kind of affection you’re getting tonight.

"I told him I couldn’t just give up on everything. That I loved him, but I couldn’t abandon myself for him. And he said I already had”

You laugh, bitter, humorless

"And now here I am. Three weeks for Valentine’s day. No plans. No boyfriend”

Prince licks your chin.

"Except you"

You blink down at him, emotionally exhausted.

"My ex dumped me and left me with a poodle who refuses to eat unless I hand feed him roasted chicken breast"

You sigh, whispering into his fur, "At least I have you”

Prince curls deeper into your lap like you were just one. You love how warm he is, how he fits perfectly against you— how he stayed.

You love that it makes you feel a little less alone.

Then, suddenly, your phone starts buzzing

Incoming call: Quokka 🐿️

You groan but swipe to answer, “What?”

“OK LISTEN, before you hang up…”, Han’s voice explodes out of the speaker, “I may have unlocked the universe of infinity love”

“You bought another cursed item off the internet, didn’t you?”

“I invested, Yn. There’s a difference. This is artisanal craftsmanship with metaphysical properties”

“Oh, like that energy activating incense for ‘better blood flow down there’ you bought on AliExpress last year?”

“Ok, first of all, it had 1.2k reviews and a video testimonial”

“You said it only made it worse. Very legit”

“I was under a lot of stress, so obviously it blocked the energy flow”

“Sure”

“But not this one, Yn. This one, it came with a sparkly handwritten note. In blue glitter glue, so it’s legit”

Prince lifts his head and blinks at your phone. You stroke his back, waiting for what’s coming.

“It’s a love candle! But like, not a regular candle, a summoning candle. Like for attracting hot people”

“You mean… a spell for getting laid?”

“No! I mean like a soulmate magnet. A pheromone booster for your aura. It came from, like, Russia? Or was it Chicago? Well, somewhere magical”

You close your eyes and rub your temple, “Han, are you high again?”

“No, but I did almost pass out from the fumes when I lit it. Also, small detail… the wax made my dog horny. He’s been humping the couch for about fifteen minutes”

You pull the phone away from your ear, consider hanging up, then put it back, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re single, obviously! And miserable! And being held hostage by a demonic stuffed animal with a superiority complex”

You glance down. Prince is licking his paw with complete indifference.

“I think it could work for you”, Han continues, “The candles are colorful. You like colorful things. Mine is shaped like a torso, and I think one of the nipples fell off in shipping but that could be symbolic or whatever”

“I’m hanging up”

“WAIT, LISTEN! Just… light the candle, and picture your ideal man. Like… a nice guy. A hot guy. Someone with a big dick”

“Goodbye, Han”

“THE CANDLE WORKS!! I lit it last night at 11:11 pm, prime manifesting hour, and boom. This morning? My barista asked for my number”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“I’m not. She said, and I quote: ‘You smell like confidence and testosterone. Can I have your number?’ You know I definitely don't smell like that ”

You glance at the half empty wine bottle on your coffee table, “This is the weirdest call I’ve had in weeks”

He’s grinning through the phone, you can feel it, “You’re welcome. Want me to send you the link?”

“I’m not summoning sex demons for Valentine’s Day, Han”

Han scoffs, “They’re not demons if they’re hot and promise giving you back massages”

“Goodbye, Han”

“Don’t blame me when I’m happily cuddling after sex and you’re still watching Netflix with your dog”

“Enjoy your haunted candle”

“Oh I will. And so will my barista”

And with that, you end the call.

Prince blinks at you. You blink back.

“Don’t you dare turn into a human just to prove him right”

•°. *࿐

Later that night, after you've eaten both your dignity and an entire sleeve of cookies, your phone buzzes with a text from Han.

Quokka 🐿️:

[Sent you a link]: www.getlitgetlaid.com

You're welcome 😉

I lit another candle and now the barista gave me a free muffin

That’s foreplay, Yn!!

You stare at the link then you stare at Prince. He stares back.

You whisper, “This is stupid”

But you click it anyway.

The site loads with sparkly gifs, pink pop ups, and a massive banner that said:

💘 GET LIT GET LAID— SPARK YOUR SOULMATE 💘 One candle. One night. One stupid hot decision.

There’s a category list with candle names that range from “Mommy issues” to “Sugar daddy” to “Loser trapped in a hot body”

You narrow your eyes, “Han needs help”

Scrolling through, one product makes you freeze.

It’s titled:

VALENTINE #08: Sweet Venom

You start to read the description, already regretting:

🧸 Smells like gummy bear and sin 💦 Notes of grapefruit, bubblegum and fake innocence ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Dimples – Boyish grins – Soft flirting – Oversized hoodies – Shy glances that secretly know exactly what they’re doing – Possibly: men who giggle when they kiss you 🚨 Caution: side effects include blushing, butterflies, and delicious makeouts.

The candle wax is bubblegum pink, sprinkled with red glitter and shaped into a gummy bear wearing sunglasses

“Jeongin”, you mutter.

It’s literally Jeongin in candle form

Prince lets out a long, judgmental sigh through his nose. You look at him.

“I know, okay? It’s dumb. But I haven’t made out with anyone in three months and this one promises me to attract a shy hottie and smells like candy!”

Prince gives you the kind of slow blink cats usually do when they’re plotting murder. Then, to make his opinion perfectly clear, he dramatically gets up from your lap, trots over to the corner, and purposefully pees on your favorite fuzzy slipper.

You gasp, “Prince!”

He makes unbroken eye contact the entire time.

Later, as you clean up the disaster, you whisper, “Too bad. Candle’s already on its way”

He barks once in protest or even jealousy. But at this point, that candle is probably your best shot

•°. *࿐

It arrives in a suspiciously pink box.

You're in your pajamas, a messy bun on your head. Prince circles your feet with low grumbles, like he can already see the disaster.

Inside there's bubble wrap, glitter confetti, and a folded card that says:

💘 "For lonely hearts and delusional fools. Good luck, sweetheart" 💘

You blink at it.

Beneath the card sits the candle— chubby, bear shaped, glossy, and pink. You lift it and immediately get hit with the fruity punch of grapefruit and sugar scent. Prince snorts, clearly not liking it.

You're gonna light it up anyway.

When the match strikes, the wick catches instantly. The flame flares pink, then settles into a low glow.

You whisper, “This is ridiculous”

The candle crackles, like it has something to say about your skepticism.

You sit with it for ten minutes but nothing happens. No naked boys materialize from the void, no romance falls from the ceiling. Just pink light and an increasingly suspicious scent clouding your tiny apartment.

You blow it out.

That night, you dream of dimples and gentle hands that hold you tightly against a solid chest

•°. *࿐

You sit in your microbiology lecture the next day, twirling your pen, trying to forget the cursed candle and your pissy poodle.

Someone slides into the seat beside you.

“Hey”, says a soft voice.

You turn and there he is— Jeongin. Oversized hoodie, sleepy eyes, and the kind of lazy smile that makes your heart twitch like you’re allergic to calm.

“Hey”, you say trying to pretend you didn’t light up a magic candle to him last night.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Hum… so, exams are coming and I’m, like, failing bacteria”

You blink, “You mean microbiology?”

“Yeah, that. Can you maybe help me? Study, I mean?”

You stare at him. His lips curl up. Dimples. Soft. Boyish smirk. Your brain almost short circuit immediately.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You lit the candle and Jeongin just asked to spend time with you. To study ‘bacteria’. Romance is dead, but of course you want to spend hours talking about bacterial structure and infections with this man.

“Yeah, okay!”, you say, “When do you wanna start?”

“Tonight? If you’re free?”

You swallow, “Yeah, totally. My place?”

“Sure”

“Great, I text you the address”

“Cool”

He winks before he leaves, leaving you completely breathless

•°. *࿐

The books are closed. The last flashcard is discarded between pizza boxes and your empty soda cans. You're both sitting on your bed after hours of bacterial cell walls. Close. Way too close. Jeongin’s hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he keeps watching you. The kind of look that could knock the air out of your lungs if you let it.

“I think I get it now”, he says, voice a little raspy from talking for so long, “About bacteria. And maybe about... you”

You blink, “Me?”

His hand touches your knee, carefully. You don’t move.

“I thought I was imagining it”, he says, thumb brushing small circles against the fabric of your joggers, “But I don’t think I am”

Your voice is barely a breath, “Imagining what?”

“That you want me to kiss you”

The tension hangs between you.

“You were never ‘failing bacteria’, were you?”

He smirks, lazily shaking his head as a ‘no’. You lean forward, hesitantly, but Jeongin doesn’t waste time. His lips catch yours in a kiss that’s hungry from the very first second.

He kisses like he’s been holding back the whole time— deep, slow, full of heat that crawls up your spine and makes your fingers grab his hoodie like you were trying to pull him even closer. If that’s even possible. You feel him shift closer, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel every inch of you.

Your teeth graze, lips part. The sound he makes isn’t soft— it’s needy.

His mouth trails down your jaw, before returning to your lips again— urgent, wet, dizzying. Your heart races, your mind spins as he lays you down.

Jeongin’s hands slide beneath your shirt, and your breath hitches when he mutters something filthy against your skin.

You know you should stop, your dog’s still in the room but you think, “he’s just a dog”, and he’s curled up quietly at the foot of your bed like he always is. Right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Because the second Jeongin shifts above you, one knee nudging between your thighs, hips pressing down to close the space between your bodies— there’s a sudden blur of a bark and a ferocious growl followed by a:

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You jolt upright just in time to see your little white poodle, Prince, with his teeth sunken to Jeongin’s ass. His ears are back, eyes wild, tail puffed up like a pissed off cotton ball.

“Prince!!” you shriek, grabbing a pillow and throwing at him, “LET GO!”

“I think he broke skin!”, Jeongin mutters, stumbling off the bed, hand clutching his butt, “Why is your dog like this?!”

“He’s never done this before!”

“Well, and I am not in the mood anymore”

“Jeongin, wait!”

“I call you”, he says as he stumbles to the door with his dignity in ruins, muttering about rabies shots.

The second the door shuts, Prince hops smugly on the bed, circles once, and sits like nothing happened.

You look at him with a piercing gaze

“Prince” you say slowly, “Did you just bite someone because they were on top of me?”

He snores and then, like he has no shame, he crawls into your lap, lays his head on your chest, and lets out the most satisfied sigh you've ever heard.

•°. *࿐

It’s been three days since Prince ruined your make out session with Jeongin.

You still wake up remembering the look on Jeongin’s face. A little turned on. A lot confused

But life moves on, and so do your dating ambitions.

You’ve just finished vacuuming glitter from Jeongin’s candle out of your rug when your phone buzzes again.

Quokka 🐿️ :

How’s microbiology boy 😏

You:

He got scared off. Prince bit his vibe off…

… and his perfect ass

Quokka 🐿️ :

LMFAOO

Damn, I hate this dog

Try another candle 😌Rebound power unlockedStop falling for muscle gods.

You roll your eyes and type back, “go away”

Quokka 🐿️: No ❤️ Go to the website Do it for the plot

Get one for a comfort boy.

You stare at the link for a full thirty seconds before clicking it again.

You scroll past “Short kings”, “Bald and bold” and “Tight gym shorts”

Then you stop.

Because this one. This one is pale yellow, shaped like the Sun with a glistening label that reads:

VALENTINE #15: Sunshine Soulmate

🌞 Smells like honey tea, ginger and laughter 🤗 Notes of chocolate cake, kindness and cinnamon ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Gentle souls who bring you flowers for no reason – People who laugh at your worst jokes – Long nights with deep conversations – Someone who actually listens – Possibly: forehead kisses and hugs that feel like home 🚨 Caution: You may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

You whisper, “That’s… Felix” Felix, your neighbor. The guy who laughs when Prince humps his leg in the elevator, whose voice is deep but still soft as sunrises

You buy it. Heart pounding like a teenager in love.

Prince gives you that slow, side eye as if to say: what’s wrong with you?

•°. *࿐

The evening the candles arrive, you shut your curtains and pull Prince to your lap. You open the box, press your nose into it and inhale.

You light it.

The flame burns in a gentle yellow, rippling across the living room like sunlight on water.

Prince barks once, looks at you. You wrap him in your arms. He hides his head on your shoulder, tail thumping.

Beside you, the candle crackles in soft tones

“I don’t know why I’m doing this”, you whisper, “Felix is… he’s out there. Probably doing small talk with old ladies at the grocery store line”

You brush your fingertips along Prince’s fur, “And I’m here wishing he liked me. Not for muscles. Or dangerous smirks. Just… for real, warm, comfortable company”

You laugh weakly, “Instead, I am here like a desperate loser. Stuck on stupid candle magic and a dog who won’t leave my lap”

You blow out the candle and Prince snorts with satisfaction.

You lean your head back and close your eyes wishing it works this time

•°. *࿐

It’s the day after you lit the candle.

You’re in your apartment, dressed in your emotional support hoodie, trying to figure out if cereal counts as dinner, when there’s a knock at the door.

Prince immediately loses his entire mind.

You stagger to the door, hair messy, wearing socks that don’t match. You open it to see…

Felix.

Golden hair, oversized cream knit sweater, a smile that curves like a sunrise, freckles scattered on his cheekbones like a constellation. He’s holding a large tupperware container in one hand, and in the other a movie DVD.

You blink, “Hi…”

“Hey”, he grins, “I made cookies. Movie night? You, me, and…”, he peeks over your shoulder, “Prince. If His Royal Highness is free”

Prince wags his tail like he understands what Felix said, then bounces in excitement.

“I, huh…”, you swallow, “That sounds really nice, actually”

Felix’s smile grows, eyes doing that crinkly thing that makes your stomach fold in on itself like origami.

“Then come over. Comfy clothes are mandatory”

•°. *࿐

You arrive minutes later with Prince and a bag of chips. Felix opens the door and Prince immediately trots in like he owns the place.

You follow after him.

The apartment smells like vanilla, sunshine and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. There are string lights over the couch. A fluffy blanket fort in the corner. The screen is already paused on the movie menu.

“You seriously still use DVDs?”, you ask.

Felix shrugs, “They’re nostalgic”

He hands you a cookie and gestures for you to sit. Prince climbs onto the couch like he pays rent and plops between you and Felix.

You roll your eyes, “Prince, really?”

Felix just laughs, “It’s okay. He’s protecting his princess”

You choke on a cookie crumb.

Felix chuckle— warm and contagious. He pats the couch beside him, “Come on. I won’t bite”

You settle in, shoulder brushing him. Prince lets out a grumble, but accepts his fate.

As the movie plays, you pretend to focus. Felix smells like clean laundry and he keeps laughing at all the dumb lines, and every time, your head turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet

Halfway through, your fingers brush while reaching for the same chip. Neither of you pulls away. He glances at you. You glance at him and the tension grows heavier

“You’re warm”, Felix says, soft like the rain outside

You whisper, “So are you”

And then, very gently, his fingers lace in yours.

Prince snorts loudly and ruins the moment, of course, but Felix just grins and presses his shoulder into yours. He’s warm and sweet, and you feel like the candle was right: you may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

Even better? Prince is behaving.

Not just behaving like sitting quietly, he's actually snuggled against Felix’s side, tiny chin resting on Felix’s thigh, tail wagging lazily every time Felix absentmindedly scratches his fluffy fur

You almost tear up from the relief.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, “He likes you”

Felix grins, flashing that sunshine smile, “He’s adorable. So chill. I thought he didn't like me”

You look at Prince, who blinks innocently at you, “Yeah, me too…”

You start to relax. Maybe this time it’s different. Maybe Prince has matured, maybe he has accepted he can’t be your only source of affection forever.

When the screen goes dark and Felix kisses your cheek, thanking you for coming, and walks you both to the door. You feel suspiciously hopeful.

Until twenty minutes later.

Your phone buzzes.

Felix 🌞:

So…

Not to be weird but….

I think Prince left me a present

In my gym bag

Like a solid one

Like a Number Two

Your jaw drops.

You:

OH MY GOD FELIX I’M SO SORRY!!! Please say you didn’t put your hand in there

Felix 🌞:

I didn’t But he looked me RIGHT IN THE EYE before you guys left I thought it was affection It was a threat

You sprint to your room and throw open the door. Prince is stretched luxuriously across your bed, tiny paws crossed, eyes closed like a cat sunbathing.

You whisper, horrified, “You pooped in his bag”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?! You liked him!”

He opens one eye, blinks, yawns and turns away.

Yeah, you probably will die single because of him.

•°. *࿐

It’s been four days since the incident with Felix

You’ve blocked the memory of his hands on your waist and the sound of his laugh as the movie played. You’ve told Han you’re not buying another candle. He insisted anyway

Quokka 🐿️: Girl they have one called “Moonstruck”

That shit it’s POWERFUL

You roll your eyes so hard you almost pull something. But later that night, curiosity wins. Again. As always. You find yourself scrolling through Get lit, Get laid, one leg on the heater with Prince drooling on your thigh.

You scroll until you see it.

VALENTINE #20: Moonstruck

🕯️ Smells like lavender, rosemary, paint, and quiet mornings 🎨 Notes of melancholy, watermelon and pink glitter ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Artists who see the world sideways – People who cry at concerts – Loud laughter in silent rooms – Boys who write you poems – Possibly: a guy who really loves you, kinda needy and clingy 🚨 Warning: lighting may cause a sudden urge to talk to the moon

You frown. There’s no face you associate with it. No crush. No worthy idiot.

Just... an unexplainable certainty that you should buy that damn candle..

•°. *࿐

The candle arrives three days later in a box that smells like moon dust.

You light it that night. It flickers purple and gold

Prince hops on the couch, circles a free time, and flops dramatically into your lap with a grunt. You stroke behind his head as you whisper, “You realize this is your fault, right?”

Prince snorts.

“No, seriously. I used to be fine. I had a relationship. An almost stable emotional state. A carpet without candle dust”

He yawns, jaw cracking.

You sigh, laying your head back, candlelight dancing across the ceiling.

“You’re the one who scared my dates away. You. A chaotic dog with judgmental eyebrows and a spirit full of vengeance”

Prince blinks, like he was waiting for you to finish your dramatic monologue

“I’m going to die alone,” you say gently, cupping his face. “Just you and me, buddy. And someday you’ll bury me in someone’s backyard next to your long lost squeaky bones”

Then he licks your nose. You laugh softly, burying your face in his fur.

The candle flickers. Something in the room shifts. Not loud. Not bright. Just a breath of something different.

You fall asleep on the couch like that.

Prince curled at your side. Candle burning low. Dreams thick and golden behind your eyelids.

As you sleep, a shape stirs on the floor.

But you don’t notice

Yet.

•°. *࿐

You wake up with a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Not the clatter of paws on tile. No collar jingling. No soft whimper.

A human noise.

You sit up, disoriented. The candle’s completely burned down. Your phone says it’s 3:42 am.

You grab a blanket and tiptoe into the hall.

“Prince?” you whisper, heart hammering.

Then you see him.

A tall, completely naked man rifling through your fridge like he lives there.

His back is to you at first, but then he turns, very casually, sipping from your carton of chocolate milk with a smile like this is the best day of his life

You scream.

He drops the milk.

“WHAT THE FU… WHO THE HELL… WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”

“You asked that candle to bring you someone who really loved you. So… surprise?”

You take a full five seconds to connect the dots. The familiar shape of his lips. The floppy hair. The weird sparkle in his eyes that you always said made him look like he knew your secrets.

“…Prince?” you whisper again, backing into the wall.

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Technically, I’m Hyunjin. But yeah. You kinda wished I turned into a human”

You stare at him. “You were a dog…”

“Your dog” he says, stepping closer, still naked, “And now I’m something even better”

“Why are you still naked?!”

“Because pants weren’t part of the wish, obviously"

You’re still in shock. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out as you try not to stare at the way he’s standing there like he isn’t naked while drinking choco milk in your kitchen.

Hyunjin takes one last unapologetic sip straight from the nearly empty carton. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lets out a satisfied sigh like he just finished a fine bottle of wine.

“You’re gonna need to buy more of this, by the way”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He shakes the carton, upside down, “It’s gone. Like. All of it. I was thirsty”

Then, thoughtfully, he concludes, “I think it’s my favorite thing about being human so far”

“You…” You gesture wildly at the mess of milk dribbled on his chin, the open fridge door, the nudity.

“You drank my entire carton of chocolate milk naked at 4am?!”

“And it was amazing” he says, eyes twinkling, “but also kinda sad, because now there’s none left. So... maybe write it on a list or something?”

You inhale. Exhale. Pinch the bridge of your nose, “You are literally a magical dog who turned into a man because I lit a cursed Valentine’s candle. And your priority is…”

“Chocolate milk”, he finishes happily, “And pants. Eventually”

You sigh so hard your soul leaves your body for a second, “I need to go lie down”

“Bring me a glass of water?” he calls after you. “I think I’m still a little thirsty”

You just ignore him.

•°. *࿐

You wake up hours later, head pounding.

For a minute, it’s peaceful.

Maybe it was a dream. A fever dream. The wine, the candle, the stupid wish— maybe it all blurred together and created the world's most chaotic hallucination.

Then you hear it— a soft hum coming from your bathroom followed by a voice calling out sweetly

“Ynnie… I’m ready!”

You stumble to the bathroom, push the door open and immediately regret it.

Hyunjin is standing in the tub, completely naked again. Hair fluffed, cheeks glowing, a towel barely draped over one shoulder

“Took you long enough, lady”

“What… are you doing?”

He blinks, all innocent, “Waiting for you to wash me”

Your brain malfunctions, “I… what?! You’re a man now! Wash your own damn self!”

“But you always bathed me”, he tilts his head, lips curling into a pout so automatic that it has to be a leftover reflex from puppyhood.

“You use that nice strawberry shampoo. You talk to me while you scrub behind my ears. And you give me a towel hat after”

You gape at him, “Hyunjin”

“I even set everything up!” he says proudly, gesturing to the row of bath products you specifically use for your spa days, “I want bubbles. And the scalp massage thing you do with your nails”

He pauses, grinning wider.

“I’ll wag my tail if it helps convince you”

You slam the door in his face and shout through it, “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCHING MY EXPENSIVE MASK”

From inside, he calls back sweetly, “You’re still gonna brush my hair after, right?”

You groan, “I regret meeting Han in the first place”

You press your forehead to the bathroom door and sigh like you’re in a tragic k-drama.

“No”, you mutter to yourself, “You are not giving in. You’re not brushing his hair. You are not washing a grown man in your tub just because he used to be a poodle”

And then, the door creaks open.

He pokes his head out. Hair dripping, wet strands falling over his flushed face. And his eyes— those big, dark, round eyes— look up at you like you just kicked a puppy.

“Yn…”

You swallow hard

“I don’t know how to rinse the bubbles out without stinging my eyes…”, he says softly, pouting already, “You always helped me…”

You blink, “Hyunjin, you're literally 1,80 now”

He nods, “And helpless”

You try to hold back. You really do but then he whines— a soft, high pitched whine— and tilts his head the exact same way he did back when he wore a collar instead of a smirk.

That’s the end of you.

You sigh and push the door open wider, “Move over, prince of manipulation”

His face lights up like you just gave him a treat.

You kneel by the tub, grabbing the showerhead and your strawberry shampoo, muttering under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this”

He leans forward immediately, elbows on the edge, chin in his palms, a grin curling his lips, “You love it”

You glare at him.

He sticks out his tongue.

You dump water over his head.

Then you reach for the conditioner, “You're lucky you're pretty”

He grins, “I am, huh?”

You gently work the conditioner into his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. He melts instantly. He closes his eyes and lets a pleased little sound slip out of his throat, one that makes your chest tighten.

“I used to love when you did this”, he says, “Even when I was just… Prince”

You blink, “Yeah?”

He hums, “You were always so gentle. Careful. Like I wasn’t just a dog”

You pause, hands still in his hair, “You weren’t just a dog to me. You were like my best friend. Even when you acted bitchy”

That makes his lips part slightly, eyes opening to find yours.

He sits up just a little, water dripping down his chest, “You know what I didn’t like?” he says after a moment, more serious now.

You wait.

“When strangers touched me. Like, on walks. People always think dogs want to be pet, but sometimes I hated it. I only liked it when you did it”

Your heart thumps once, sharp and loud.

“I hated the vet”, he continues, “and when you left the house for too long. I hated when you cried and I couldn’t do anything but nudge your hand with my nose”

You look down, “You always stayed beside me, though”

“I couldn’t not. You are the person I love the most”, he says, voice catching a little with the weight of that truth. “Even then, you were mine”

The bathroom fills with soft steam and silence. You rinse the last of the conditioner from his hair, fingers lingering just a little too long at the nape of his neck.

When you look at him again, he’s staring at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Something human, vulnerable

“Do you still want me?”, he asks, voice quiet, unsure for the first time.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach for a towel, help him sit up, and whisper

“Let’s get you dry first, Prince”

•°. *࿐

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your fridge door slamming and a tragic gasp.

You stumble into the kitchen to find Hyunjin— still only in one of your oversized hoodies, hair a fluffy mess— standing barefoot and betrayed.

He turns, horrified. “You didn’t get more chocolate milk”

You blink. “Good morning to you too”

“I dreamed about it last night”, he whines, “I woke up tasting it. You promised me”

And like a fool, you drag yourself the shopping mall looking like a tired single parent and return with two gallons of chocolate milk, a new phone with a pink glitter case, a comfy set of sweatpants and sweatshirts, socks with little chocolate milk cartons on them and in exchange, you got a custom contact in your phone saved as:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑

By noon, he’s curled up on your couch, sipping from a bendy straw, scrolling through his phone while making soft noises every time he finds an emoji he likes.

“Why does this one look like you??”, he says, holding up 🐸

You finally stand in front of the hallway mirror, curling your lashes and adjusting your dress.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks casually, mouth full of banana bread you didn’t even see him open.

“Out” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“To see another man?”, his tone is suddenly more icy.

You sigh, “It’s just a date, Hyunjin. You’re fine. You’ve got snacks, Netflix, a phone…”

“You’re leaving me alone on my second real day as a human?”

“You spent all morning watching dance compilations on TikTok. I think you’ll survive”

He narrows his eyes, “I bet he's not even that cute”

You grab your bag and keys, “Stop being jealous”

“You’re being reckless!”, he shoots back, arms crossed, “You just got new clothes and now you’re going to let some muscle boy take them off you?”

“Oh my God. You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to!” he says. “I know you. And I know you like when someone is clingy and follows you around the house and licks your cheek to make you laugh”

“HYUNJIN”

“What? Too honest?”

You point to the couch, “Stay here. Don’t pee on anything. Don’t text my friends. And don’t sabotage this date, it's my last chance”

He sulks dramatically, curling up like a cat, muttering, “I hope he's allergic to fur”

You leave anyway.

But as you wait for your Uber, your phone buzzes.

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Fine. Go. But I hope his hugs aren’t as warm as mine Also we’re out of Nutella Also I miss you

You roll your eyes, ignore him and tell yourself, “Just one more date”

But you already know Prince is going to ruin it somehow

•°. *࿐

You were watching a movie at Changbin’s place— just the two of you, a blanket, snacks, and something cheesy playing in the background. He’s got one arm slung casually around your shoulder, his body warm and solid beside yours. You’re relaxed, comfortable, almost sleepy.

Until your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Changbin glances down first, just instinct. He's in the middle of reaching popcorn, and the screen lights up so bright it catches his eye.

Immediately, he frowns

“Hum… who’s Prince Hyunjin?”

Your blood runs cold. You reach for the phone but it’s too late.

He reads the preview out loud:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Baby, I want to taste you so bad I'm losing my mind.

Come home and let me be on my knees for you.

The air goes thick.

“Changbin, wait… I can explain…”

“You have a boyfriend named Prince Hyunjin?!”

“He’s not… he wasn’t… he used to be my dog!”

Changbin blinks, “That’s… somehow worse?”

You bury your face in your hands, “He was a poodle, okay? A fluffy little spoiled brat named Prince. But then one day he… he just turned into a human, and now he thinks he owns me”

Changbin just stares at you, “You’re telling me your ex poodle is now sexting you and calling himself Prince Hyunjin?”

“You think I’d make that up?!”

You phone buzz one more time

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Tell this dude you’re with to keep his hands off you unless he wants to lose them

Your thighs are mine.

Changbin slowly stands up, hands in the air like he’s surrendering to your craziness, “You should… just go. Before I get bitten. Or murdered by your shapeshifting, possessive ex dog”

“Bin, please, you have to believe me…”

He backs away toward the door, voice full of sarcasm, “No, no. It’s fine. I just need some time to… process”

He opens the door. And you can’t do anything but grab your purse and leave,

“I… call you?”, you try one last time

“Nah, you don't have to. Bye”

And then, he shuts the door on your face

You sigh and presses your forehead against the cold wall, picking up your phone

You:

HYUNJIN.

WHAT DID YOU DO???

He replies immediately:

I always get what I want

•°. *࿐

Your place is quiet when you enter. A low hum comes from the TV still on, playing some cartoon.

And on the couch, curled up sideways, limbs long and tangled, face buried in the cushions— is him.

Hyunjin.

He’s in your favorite hoodie. The one you wear when you’re sad or sick or just need to feel safe. It swallows him, sleeves bunched at the wrists, the hem covering his hips where his bare legs stretch out toward your coffee table.

One hand clutches the sleeve. The other clutches an empty spot on the couch like he reached for you in his sleep.

You stand there for a moment, just watching the ridiculous boy who used to bark at your guests now dreaming under the colorful lights of Adventure Time.

He shifts in his sleep and murmurs your name, crackling your chest open. You walk over, slowly, and crouch beside him, gently stroking back his hair.

"Yn…?" he whispers, eyes still closed.

"Yeah”, you whisper back.

He blinks once, then opens his eyes.

“Did he kiss you?”, he asks quietly, voice hoarse from sleep

“No”

“Good”, his lips curve into a sleepy smile, “I wore your hoodie so you’d think of me”

“How could I forget you, my prince?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your fingers, “Then stay here with me. Forever”

You nod, and curl onto the couch with him. His arms find your waist instantly, nose pressing to your neck. Right there in his arms, the weight of another failed date all thanks to Hyunjin’s relentless mischief, seems to fade a little

You sigh deeply, “You know what, Hyunjin? I give up”

He perks up instantly, “Hum?”

“I’m yours” you say, voice soft but firm. “I’ll spend Valentine’s Day alone and it’s your fault for ruining every single date I try to have”

Hyunjin’s little chest puffs out like he’s won the grandest prize. Then, almost immediately, he sulks, lowering his head and giving you a pout that’s impossible to resist.

“Come on… just one kiss. On the lips. You can’t resist me forever”

“Hyunjin”, you say softly, shaking your head with a gentle smile, “No. Forehead kiss only”

You lean down and press a warm, tender kiss on his forehead, feeling the soft brush of his hair. He grins so bright that you know you’ll never escape being his, no matter how hard you try.

Before you can pull away, Hyunjin’s hands catch your face, and with a cheeky grin, he steals a bold, lingering kiss on your lips. It’s soft but demanding, warm and possessive all at once.

When he finally pulls back, his grin is pure mischief, “See? Told you I always get what I want”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You’re impossible”

Hyunjin just snuggles closer, tail wagging like he owns your heart. And honestly? He does.

At the end, maybe all the love you needed was right by your side this whole time.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks and loves notes are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere, @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy, @jeonginsleftcheek, @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world, @hyunles , @lexlikesbts, @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold, @teenagepeterpan, @hangonhyunjin, @yxna-bliss

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w4ndal0ver · 9 months ago

Text

The Art of Submission (2)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The tension between you and Wanda becomes too much and you finally give into her alluring remarks and suggestions. She breaks you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mention of heavy dom/sub dynamic, fingering, orgasm denial, begging.

note: So this is the second instalment and I definitely have never put this much work into the build up of what's basically a shamelessly dirty smutty story, however I hope you enjoy. (the next instalment is where things get super interesting and it will be out soon)

The Art of Submission - Chapter 2

Your heart is still racing, the taste of Wanda’s lips lingering as you lean back, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of curiosity and something darker, more dangerous.

“I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful head of yours.” she teases, her finger still resting on her lips as if savouring the kiss, “what are you thinking.”

You try to compose yourself, offering a playful smile in return. “I’m thinking you’re trouble,” you say, but the voice betrays the thrill surging through you. Wanda’s energy is magnetic and you’re already caught in the strength of her pull.

She chuckles softly, leaning closer so that her arm brushes against yours again. The subtle contact makes your nerve endings tremble. “Oh, I think you like a little trouble.” She murmurs, her tone smooth as silk. She tilts her head slightly, eyes gleaming as they enter that same darling lock with yours once more. “It's not the writing, is it?” she asks, eyes glistening, “It’s what you’re writing about.”

You shift, unsure of how to answer, but Wanda presses on, her tone softer, coaxing you forward. “You know what you want to say,” She whispers, her fingers brushing a slow maddening path along your thigh. “It’s the feeling you’re struggling with. The way to express it… to make it real.”

Your breath hitches. You don’t respond right away, too caught up in the way she’s watching you, her gaze predatory and knowing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s clear she’s not letting you off easily.

“What is it that you’re really trying to explore?” Wanda’s voice is like velvet, low and intimate. “Sadomasochism, right? It’s more than just the physical, it's the headspace, the emotional surrender, pushing limits.” Her words stir something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. You nod meekly, almost on instinct, feeling the weight of her hand anchoring you in place.

“You’re not struggling with the plot,” she continues, her voice soft but relentless, “You’re struggling with how far to take it. How far to go beyond ‘safe.’” Her thumb continues to stroke a slow deliberate circle just above your knee, and your breath catchers at the subtle increase in pressure. “You’ve written about control before, but this is different. This is about letting go completely.”

With that your pulse is on fire, her words hitting home. It is different. It’s darker and dangerous and Wanda is pushing you toward that edge, darling you to step over it.

Her lips curve into a slow and wicked smile. “Maybe” She pushes, her voice laced with heat, “you’re scared to write about what you actually want.” Your body tenses at the insinuation and Wanda picks up on it immediately. She doesn’t pull away though, if anything, she leans in closer, her breath brushing the side of your neck. “You want to write about power,” She whispers, her hand sliding higher, the pressure firm but tantalising, “About giving it up, about what it feels like when someone takes it from you.” She pauses, letting her words settle into the heavy air between you, “but the only way to write that truthfully is to understand it.”

Your throat feels tight, your body alive with the tension crackling between you. You can’t find any words, but Wanda doesn’t seem to need them. She reads every flicker of your expression. Every quickening breath makes that wicked smile deepen.

“You can’t fake that kind of intensity darling,” Her voice is almost hypnotic, “You need to feel it. You need to know what it’s like to hand over your control, to be at someone else's mercy.” You feel her fingers move higher up your thigh. She’s testing you, waiting to see how far she can push you before you break.

“And maybe,” She adds, her hand reaching up to tuck your hair away from your face, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “You’re tired of always being the one in control.”

This was when you realised how close she had gotten to you, her hand still on your leg, firm and unyielding, grounding you in the moment as her breath fans across your neck. “It’s okay.” her voice soft but demanding, “to want something different, to want to feel different.”

The tension between you is palpable now, the air charged with the unspoken promise of what could come next. Wanda’s touch, so deliberate, so confident, feels like a silent dare - a challenge to take that next step, to let yourself go. “Tell me,” Her lips are almost brushing yours as she speaks, “What do you really want.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of her question sinks in. Your mind races, torn between the familiar safety of control and the intoxicating allure of surrender. But Wanda’s eyes hold you captive, drawing you deeper into her web and you know there’s no turning back now.

Wanda’s hand remains a steady weight on your thigh, the heat from her palm seeping into your bare skin. The faint scent of her perfume surrounds you, the intensity of the smell pulling you in deeper. She tilts her head ever so slightly, her auburn hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder as she studies you, “You’re thinking too much again,” she says, her voice a quiet murmur. Her thumb continues its slow, torturous circle against your thigh.

“I’m not- I just-.” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. Your hands restless in your lap as you fidget under her unwavering stare, the one that is watching every tiny flicker of emotion that crosses your face.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” She says slowly, “Not with me.” You can feel her body heat now, the way her knee is pressing against yours, her hand resting higher on your thigh, just enough to remind you of her control without pushing too far. “Look at me.” She demands, her tone firmer now, the authority in her voice making your pulse jump. You turn your head back to her, your eyes meeting hers and she holds your gaze, unrelenting. “You can’t write it if you can’t say it.”

The words feel impossibly heavy on your tongue, but the heat of Wanda’s body so close to yours makes it harder to resist. You lick your lips, trying to steady yourself and finally the words come out, shaky and quiet. “I want to give up control.”

Wanda’s smile widens, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Her hand continues to slide higher, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your tiny black skirt. Her thumb tracing the line of your inner thigh now with an agonising slowness. “Good,” She purrs, her voice dripping with approval, “But that's only part of it, isn’t it?”

You can’t look away from her, your chest tight with anticipation. She’s close enough that you can see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way her lips curve into that teasing smile. Her fingers move again, deliberate, testing, and your body reacts instinctively, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Her eyes darken with amusement, “Tell me the rest,” she coaxes, her voice like velvet, “What do you want from me?”

The question hangs between you, and your breath catches itself. Your hands trembling slightly in your lap and you glance down, the words heavy and terrifying as they try to force their way out. Wanda’s touch on your leg is insistent, her presence so overwhelming that you can hardly think straight.

“I- I want you to-” Your voice wavers, but Wanda’s gaze still doesn’t falter.

“Go on,” Her fingers brushing just a little higher, dangerously close to where you feel the heat pooling beneath your skin, finally becoming aware of the arousal that had built between your legs, “Say it.”

The tension between you is unbearable, the pull of her command undeniable. You bite your lip, you’d never wanted anybody more than Wanda at this moment. “I want you to take control.” Now, everything feels suspended, the weight of your confession hanging in the charged air between you.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She murmurs, her voice teasing your timid and shaky reactions. You shake your head in nervous response, her hand moves again, a millimetre higher, the pressure firmer and you feel your body shudder under her gentle but demanding touch. “Now that you’ve said it, we can explore what it really means.”

Wanda’s eyes stayed locked on yours, that familiar, testing glint dancing in their depths. She leaned back, her posture easy, as if she was weighing her next move carefully. “You know what you want,” Wanda murmured softly, her voice caressing your face, “But you haven’t said it out loud yet.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, “I- I don’t know if I can.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Wanda’s lips curved into a smile, her body leaning towards yours, her fingertips now dancing lightly over her own wrist, an unspoken reminder of the power she held, a soft contrast to the hard edge in her voice.

Your eyes flickered to the small motion, captivated by the simplicity of it. Her confidence was dizzying, making your chest tighten with a mix of excitement and intimidation.

“I-” You started, you wanted to tell her, to finally give in to that pull she had over you, but the fear of laying yourself bare - of admitting the truth - made your heart race, “I’m not sure how to say it.”

Wanda’s hand slid from her wrist, gliding across the table between you until it stopped short of touching yours. She hovered there, the warmth from her skin so close you could almost feel it, yet she didn’t make contact.

“Let me make it easier for you then,” She whispers, her voice laced with control, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that what you’re afraid to say?” This time she cocks her head, her eyes never leaving your face. Her lips parted slightly as she waited, giving you the space to answer but tightening the leash on the unspoken tension between you.

Every part of you screamed yes, but your voice remained trapped so all you could do was nod. Wanda’s eyes were still flickering with satisfaction, as though she had expected this. She didn’t move right away, letting the silence build around you, drawing out the longing anticipation until it felt as if time had stopped completely.

“I didn’t hear you,” She said, her fingers finally brushing the back of your hand, the lightest touch, almost too soft to feel.

“I want you to touch me.” You could hardly believe you had said it, your voice barely audible, but the words were out now and there was no taking them back.

Wanda’s smirk deepened, her confidence growing as she saw the effect she was having on you. Her fingers shifted over the back of your hand before slipping up to your wrist. She was barely touching you, yet it felt like she had control of every nerve in your body.

“You see,” she said quietly, her lips brushing the words against the air between you, “this is the kind of power you need to understand. Submission is about giving yourself over completely… even when it scares you.” Her fingers tightened around your wrist, a gentle hold, but there was no mistaking the control she was exerting over you.

Your breath quickened, and you felt your chest rise and fall faster with each passing second. She was pushing you—testing you—but in a way that made you feel safe, even as your body screamed with anticipation.

Wanda’s other hand came to rest on your knee, light at first, but her grip slowly tightened, her thumb drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin. It was all you could do to remain still, your muscles tense under her touch, your entire body hyper-aware of every inch of contact.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared back at her. The room felt smaller, the air too thick to breathe properly. She wasn’t just asking you about the book anymore. She was asking you what you wanted. What you were ready for. “Say it,” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for hesitation, sensing that you were holding back your words.

Your pulse quickened, your body aching with the tension of holding back. “I want to go further,” you whispered, the words leaving your lips before you even had time to think them through. “I want… to give up control.”

Wanda smiled, her satisfaction evident in the way her fingers flexed against your skin. “Good,” she murmured, her tone dripping with approval. “Then let’s start.” She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as her lips barely grazed your skin. “But remember... it’s my control now.”

Your body tensed, but not from fear. The tension was different—an anticipation, a feeling like you were about to step off the edge of something and you weren’t sure what lay below. And yet, with Wanda, you felt drawn to that edge, even if it terrified you. She leaned back just slightly, her lips no longer hovering near your ear, but her eyes never left yours, still piercing, still searching.

“Are you ready to surrender?” she asked, her voice low but commanding, her fingers curling just slightly tighter around your wrist. “To give me what I want?”

You couldn’t speak right away. The knot of nerves and excitement twisted inside your stomach, making it hard to find your voice. You swallowed, your lips parting as you struggled to answer.

“I—” you started, but her fingers tightened again, not painfully, but enough to remind you that she was in control now.

“Shh,” she whispered, her thumb stroking lightly across your skin, calming and demanding all at once. “Take a breath. You’re trembling.”

She was right. You hadn’t noticed how much your body was shaking, every nerve ending tingling from her touch, from the intensity of the moment. You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and her grip loosened just enough to give you space to catch your breath.

Wanda’s eyes softened, though the playful glint remained in them. She seemed to enjoy watching you wrestle with the tension between desire and fear. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice soothing but with an undercurrent of control. “You don’t have to rush. Just tell me how you want this to feel.”

Her hand on your knee shifted slightly, her fingers sliding just a bit higher, making your breath catch again. She was so good at this—so practised, it seemed—like she knew exactly how to push you, how to keep you teetering on that edge.

You licked your lips, your pulse still racing, but your nerves slowly giving way to a sense of surrender. You didn’t want to hold back anymore. You didn’t want to be afraid of what you were feeling. “I want… I want to feel like I’m not in control,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The admission came out almost like a confession, like you were telling her something you’d barely admitted to yourself.

Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up with approval. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers shifting again, just slightly, but it was enough to send another wave of sensation through you. “And what else?”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to put the words together. “I want you to push me,” you said, your voice more confident now, even if your body still trembled under her touch. “I want to feel like I don’t know what’s coming next.”

Wanda’s smirk deepened, and her fingers slid higher still, her touch achingly slow, deliberate. “You want to be surprised,” she mused, her voice soft but filled with that same commanding tone that made your pulse quicken. “You want to be on the edge, not knowing what I’ll do, but trusting that I won’t let you fall.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Wanda’s hand released your wrist, and for a moment you felt the loss of her touch like a sudden drop, your skin buzzing in the absence of her grip. But then, she moved closer, her thigh pressing against yours, her fingers brushing the side of your neck. It was such a simple gesture, yet it held so much weight—so much promise.

“I can do that,” she whispered, her lips curving into that dangerous smile. “But first…” Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, making your breath hitch. “I want to hear you say it again. Say that you want to surrender.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, your body feeling heavy with the tension she was weaving around you. But this time, you didn’t hesitate. “I want to surrender,” you whispered, your voice stronger, more certain. “To you.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her lips brushing yours for the briefest of moments, a featherlight touch that made your body yearn for more. “Good,” she breathed against your lips. “Then let me show you what it feels like to let go.”

She pulled back just enough to keep the tension hanging between you, her hands moving deliberately down your arms, her touch slow, intentional, as though savouring the moment. Your entire body was on edge, waiting for her next move, but she kept you there—suspended in that delicious tension, every touch, every breath drawn out.

Her fingers slid down your arms, stopping just at your wrists, holding them with a gentle but commanding grip. “Let me take over,” she whispered, her voice so close to your ear you could feel the warmth of her breath. “Let me guide you.”

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with that single movement, you felt the shift. Wanda was no longer waiting for permission—she was in control now, and you could feel the power dynamic shift, a current running between you that electrified the air. The question wasn’t whether you wanted to give in anymore. The question was how far you were willing to let her take you.

Wanda’s fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along the inside of your wrist, her touch sending a quiet hum of electricity up your arm. She holds your gaze, her eyes darkening, the room suddenly feeling smaller, the air heavier.

"You don’t have to be afraid of saying what you want," Wanda whispers, her lips barely moving. Her voice is low, controlled, as if she already knows your answer, but she’s waiting—enjoying the power of making you say it aloud.

You swallow, your throat dry. Her proximity, the subtle scent of her skin, the way her fingers never stop moving—it’s all dizzying. Your mind spins, words getting tangled in the heat between you. "I—"

Wanda tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. She leans in closer, her breath brushing against your cheek. "Tell me."

It’s not a request—it’s a command, soft but insistent. Her hand slides up, teasingly grazing your collarbone, her fingertips feather-light but purposeful, waiting for you to open the door completely.

“I want...” Your voice falters, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. The weight of what’s about to happen presses in from all sides, but there’s something intoxicating in it. Something you can’t pull away from. “I want you to show me.”

Wanda’s smirk deepens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “That’s my girl,” she murmurs, and in that instant, everything shifts.

You’re burning now, every inch of your body is desperate to feel the touch of her, even your mind is beginning to surrender itself to her. Wanda’s eyes finally broke the strong gaze that she had been holding, her glare now roaming down your body. You weren’t wearing anything particularly flattering, just a plain white cropped jumper paired with a short black skirt, but Wanda’s eyes still sparkled in delight at the sight of you sitting trembling on the kitchen stool.

Her grip around your wrist turns into a pull as she closes the gap between them, pushing her lips against yours, dragging her tongue across your bottom lip. You immediately give her the control, allowing her access, the kiss deepening as she slides her hand up the back of your neck, her nails grazing against your skin. You whine into her mouth and you can feel her lips curve into that same smile as she takes your bottom lip between her teeth, lightly tugging.

As she pulls away, her hand trails from your neck down your back, just one finger tracing the line all the way down your spine. “Are you comfortable with this?” Wanda asks, her voice deeper, laced with lust. You nod, your hand roaming to the back of her neck, gesturing for her to come back. “No, you need to learn to use your words honey.”

“Yes I’m comfortable.” You say, your voice laden with confidence all of a sudden and the look that this earned you made you understand why you would do anything she asked of you.

“Oh, sweet girl, that’s better.” Wanda praises and your cheeks flush scarlet in response. Her finger traces the outline of your jaw, her hand stopping against your chin, guiding you face upwards to meet her stare. With the length of your neck exposed, she leans in to make gentle kisses against your skin, the back of her hand keeping your neck rigid against her lips. You could feel your thighs squeezing together, the slow anticipation and sudden grazes of her teeth driving you crazy.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wanda warns, spreading your thighs back open just enough that she can stand between your legs. Her hands roam down the underneath of your thighs, her touches so gentle that you were surprised you were so desperate for her. Her fingers kept brushing closer towards where you needed her, your hips rolling towards her hand in a desperate attempt for any contact. “I need to establish a few things with you okay?”

You nod and you can see her suck her tongue between her teeth, the tilt of her head and the dark disapproving look that emerged immediately made you feel shameful in yourself, “Sorry, Yes Wanda.” Her frown turned into a smile, one that made your entire core shake.

This time as her hand edged closer to you, she didn’t stop, allowing her fingers to lightly brush your dampened underwear, an excited gasp eliciting from the redhead as your head hangs in prolonged anticipation. “Much better, you see when you do what I want, you get rewarded.” Wanda was laying down her expectations of you, but your brain was fuzzy as her fingers continued to explore the edges of your underwear that had become completely soaked in the process.

You begin to grip the sides of your stool as you feel Wanda dip her finger underneath the drenched material, gently skimming the length of your sensitive skin, not giving you what you needed but enough to make you tremble. Her stance between your legs, your head leaning to rest against her chest as she felt her way through the wetness that she found between your legs.

“When you do something against what I’ve told you, for whatever reason, you will get punished.” Wanda states, removing her fingers from you, leaving you without any contact. You whine at the loss, hips jutting against your will in an attempt to regain some friction. “Do you know what you like?”

You shake your head, brain foggy with desperation. Wanda pinches the skin between your thighs and you yelp in pain, “No Wanda.” You say, immediately correcting yourself

“That’s okay, we can talk about it and I can help you explore these things.” She demands and you swallow hard as she bites her lip feeling the thrill of your innocent vulnerability. “From now on you’ll be my good girl, and I’ll guide you through this, do you understand?”

“Yes Wanda.” With your immediate submission to her rules, her eyes darken with intensity as she replaces her hand back to where you needed her. You gasp at the immediate contact against your clit, her fingers skilfully finding your bundle of nerves beneath your underwear, gently tapping the pad of her finger against it.

“I know you’re familiar with the traffic light system.” Wanda continues, referencing your latest novel, a blush forming in your already flushed cheeks at the reminder that this is what led her into your apartment. “But this is very important, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want to slow down, just say your colour.”

“I understand.” You pant through breathy gasps, Wanda’s taps had become circles against your bundle of nerves and you could feel your core burning as she sent jolts of electricity through your body with nothing but gentle touches.

“That’s it, you’re getting the hang of it, pretty girl.” A soft moan erupted from your lips at her words and Wanda’s gaze dances over your face, warmth radiating from her eyes as she cherishes in their first moment. She lifts your chin once again so your eyes finally meet and she smiles at the lust and desperation hidden within the depth of your eyes.

You feel your orgasm nearing as Wanda speeds up her movements, her grip on your chin forcing you to look at her as she unravels you in your own kitchen. “Rule one, you don’t cum unless I give you the permission to do so.” Her voice was commanding and authoritative, her look fierce and unwavering, making it clear that she knows exactly what she wants.

“Y-yes.” You manage to get out, your body shaking as Wanda increased the pressure on your swollen clit, the short breathy moans that escaped your lips driving her forward, not wanting to tease you now, just wanting to see what you look like when you’re brought to the very edge, longing to see your head throw back and whine her name as she takes you over the brink.

“You’re close aren’t you princess.” Wanda exclaims, her smile not once leaving her lips as she tilts your head backwards slightly, forcing you to look up at her with a longing desperation that she couldn’t wait to draw out in the future.

“Wanda, please let me cum, I’m so close.” Your body was itching you closer and closer towards your orgasm but you were determined to wait for her order, wanting to prove yourself to her.

“Hold it for me, you can do it.” Wanda instructs and you whine against her grip on your chin, doing everything you can to hold it back, every nerve in your body on fire as she relentlessly works against your clit.

“I can’t, I need-” You splutter, slamming your hand into the counter, doing everything you could. Your fingers are gripping the counter, so tightly that your knuckles turn white trying to fight for control. You tilt your head back further, lips parting in a silent plea, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation becomes almost too much to bear. Even with your eyes closed you can feel Wanda’s gaze on you, a silent command for you to wait, keeping you just on the edge, right where she wants you.

Wanda leans closer, her lips ghosting over your ear, her breath warm against your skin. You shudder, barely able to hold on, her voice a soft, commanding whisper, ‘Beg for it.’

“Wanda,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both desperation and longing. The way her name rolls off your tongue feels almost sacramental, a plea that resonates deep within you. You shift your weight, leaning slightly closer, as if the proximity could bridge the gap between your need and her control.“Please... I need—” You pause, swallowing hard, the heat pooling in your cheeks, shame and excitement mingling in a dizzying dance. “I need your permission.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, charged with vulnerability. You can feel the pulse of anticipation thrumming through your veins, your body alive with the struggle of restraint. You take a steadying breath, grounding yourself as your fingers twist into the fabric again, a subtle plea for her to grant you this one thing.

“Please let me...” The words falter for a moment, but you force them out, the urgency driving you forward. “I can’t hold back anymore. I want to let go... but I need you to say it.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, raw and real, and you can see the flicker of something in Wanda's eyes—a mixture of pride and hunger. You lean in slightly, tilting your head, your gaze unwavering as you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to make that connection, to pull you from the precipice you’re hanging on.

Wanda’s smile widens, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, teasing your senses. She leans in closer, her warm breath fanning across your skin, igniting every nerve ending in your body. “But you know what you have to do to earn that release, don’t you?” Her swift circles against your clit were becoming stronger, the continuous roll of her contact pushing you closer and closer to an edge that you thought you’d already reached.

Your heart pounds harder, each beat resonating with the anticipation of what’s to come. You nod, swallowing hard, the words hovering on the tip of your tongue, begging to escape. Wanda watches you, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of authority and desire, and in that moment, you know that she holds the power to grant you the freedom you crave.

“Say it,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. “Tell me what you want.”

The air is thick with tension, and your body betrays you, trembling with the weight of your desire. You take a breath, feeling every fibre of your being attuned to her, your vulnerability laid bare. “I want... I want to come,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with desperation.

For a moment, she holds your gaze, the intensity of her stare igniting something primal within you. “Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “I want you to let go, to feel everything I’ve been promising you. When I give you permission, you can release all that pent-up desire.”

You feel the flood of relief and exhilaration coursing through you, a wave of warmth washing over your body at her words. “Yes... please,” you urge, each syllable laced with a sense of urgency. “I need it, Wanda.”

With a slow, deliberate smile, she nods, her expression shifting to one of wicked delight. “Then go ahead, my sweet girl. You have my permission, cum for me.”

The moment the words leave her lips, a rush of sensation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your body surrendering to the intoxicating pull of release. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for, and in that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure that Wanda has granted you. Wanda continues circling your clit, helping you ride out the orgasm that you’d so desperately waited for.

Once the pleasure has washed over you, all you can do is sit with Wanda standing between your legs, her brazen eyes beating down at you, her fingers still massaging into your thighs, sensing the sensitivity from your subtle squirms in response to her touch.

“My god Wanda.” You say in utter astonishment at the woman's talent and it was her turn for her cheeks to grow slightly blushed at the praise, “I’ve never felt like that before, you’re incredible.”

“So you want this?” Wanda blushes, that dominating persona slowly breaking down at a few compliments. You mentally noted that down, knowing that it would come in useful at a later date.

“I want nothing more than to do whatever this is with you.” You state honestly, your body still burning. You reach up to tuck her auburn hair behind her ear, the one strand that had been sat directly in front of her eyeline the entire evening.

With that you exchanged numbers and you found yourself eagerly sitting waiting for the first text.

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goldfades · 9 months ago

Text

STOLEN MOMENTS IN PARKING LOTS──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request!

─ summary | rafe tries to provoke jealousy by showing public affection for sofia, but as tensions rise, he confronts you and reveals his feelings.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x ex!fem!reader

─ warnings | NSFW!! (with plot) under the cut!! p in v, praise, pretty soft, nothing too cray but it's in the backseat of his car soooo. some angst in the beginning, rafe tries to fight someone (when does he not?), mention of drinking, ummm maybe cheating cause i lowk forgot about sofia cause bro does break up with her... but wtv! it's for the plot!

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! i actually love rafe more than i do life itself and... i wanna feed yall so PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME ANYTHING. anyways... sorry i just had to get that out there!!

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The air feels thick around you as you weave through the crowded beach, trying to keep your gaze anywhere but on Rafe. His laugh, louder than it needs to be, cuts through the noise of the party, and you can’t help but notice Sofia wrapped around him.

She leans into his touch, her smile bright as his hands roam casually over her waist, like he used to do with you. You catch a glimpse of them, Rafe pulling her closer, his lips moving to hers in a display meant for everyone, but especially for you. You look away, forcing yourself to focus on the bonfire, the drinks, anything. But it’s impossible to ignore the magnetic pull. It’s like he’s everywhere at once, the weight of his stare pressing into you even though his attention should be elsewhere.

And maybe it is—his lips are on her—but his eyes, whenever you risk a glance, are always searching for you.

You tighten your grip around your drink, jaw clenched against the swirl of emotions building in your chest. Each stolen glance at Rafe pulls at something deep inside you, but you refuse to let it show. The heat of the bonfire warms your skin, the crackling flames a welcome distraction as you will yourself to block out the image of him with her.

The party hums around you, but all you can hear is his laughter—so familiar, yet distant, like he’s a world away, even though he’s right there.

But before the thoughts can spiral further, someone steps into your line of sight, blocking the view you’ve been pretending not to care about. You blink up, surprised to see a guy you vaguely recognize from around town, his easy smile and tousled brown hair a stark contrast to the tension thrumming inside you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth, the kind that carries well over the music. “You looked like you could use some company.”

You offer him a half-smile, more out of politeness than genuine interest, but something in you shifts—an instinct, maybe, to distract yourself, to prove to yourself that you’re fine. If Rafe can move, so can you. So, you shrug, meeting his gaze for longer than you have with anyone all night.

“Maybe I do,” you reply, your voice light despite the ache still gnawing at the back of your mind.

He steps closer, leaning casually on the railing next to you. “Name’s Tyler. You’ve been to these parties before, right?”

You nod, taking a sip of your drink, your eyes drifting briefly toward where Rafe stands before snapping back to Tyler. He follows your gaze but doesn’t comment on it. “Yeah, once or twice,” you say, playing along.

Tyler’s grin widens, sensing an opening. “Let me guess, you’re not a fan of the scene? You don’t seem like the type to be into the chaos.”

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. “Not usually,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But it’s better than staying home.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, his eyes roaming over your face, lingering a second longer than necessary. “But I’ve gotta say, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

There’s a warmth in his words, a casual flirtation that makes it easy to forget the lingering tension in your chest. You tilt your head, giving him a look you haven’t given anyone in a while—playful, even if only for the moment. “And why’s that?”

His smile turns a bit more mischievous as he leans in, lowering his voice. “Because I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you.”

You feel a small spark of satisfaction flare inside, the kind that comes from knowing you’re being noticed, admired, even if it’s fleeting. You toy with the edge of your cup, glancing up at him beneath your lashes. “Well, aren’t you charming.”

Tyler laughs, a low, easy sound that feels like a balm against the tension in your mind. “Just telling the truth,” he says, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he gestures toward the fire. “Want to grab a seat by the bonfire? I’d hate for you to be stuck standing here all night.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing toward the beach where Rafe and Sofia are still tangled in each other. But the sight no longer stings as much—it’s dulled, replaced by a sudden urge to push back, to be seen with someone else, just as he’s parading her around. It’s petty, you know that. But right now, you don’t care.

“Sure,” you say, offering Tyler a real smile this time, one that lights up your eyes. “Why not?”

As the two of you make your way to the fire, you can feel Rafe’s eyes on you, burning hotter than the flames, but you don’t look back. Not yet. You settle onto one of the logs beside Tyler, letting his easy conversation and light touches distract you, pretending for a moment that you don’t feel the weight of Rafe’s gaze following your every move.

A few hours (and drinks) later, you find yourself leaning against Tyler’s car, his hands on your waist, lips trailing down your neck as the distant sounds of the party fade into the background. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been out here, away from the noise, away from him. The warmth of the alcohol buzzes through you, making it easy to forget about the tension that had been gnawing at you all night.

Tyler’s mouth finds yours, and you lean into it, closing the gap between you. His kiss is heated but unhurried, his touch light on your skin, and for the first time tonight, you let yourself slip into the moment. The back of your mind, the part that’s always aware of Rafe, quiets—just for now. Tyler’s hands move down to your hips, pulling you closer, and you tilt your head, deepening the kiss as his fingers trace soft patterns over your waist.

For a few blissful seconds, you don’t think about Rafe at all. It’s just you, Tyler, and the cool night air pressing in around you. Tyler’s touch is comforting, a distraction, a way to escape the complicated mess of emotions Rafe always drags you into. And for the first time tonight, you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of what used to be.

Tyler breaks the kiss, his lips still brushing against yours as he grins. “You sure know how to make a guy’s night, sweetheart,” he teases, his voice low and breathy, pulling you in even further.

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Do I, really?” You reply, matching his grin, feeling the haze of everything slip further away.

Tyler’s hands tighten around your waist, his mouth once again capturing yours as you press against the cool metal of the car. His kisses are eager now, more insistent, and you match his energy, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. The taste of alcohol lingers between you, the sound of your breathing mingling with the distant crash of waves and faint music from the party you left behind.

You close your eyes, momentarily letting go of everything—of Rafe, of the tangled mess he left behind in your head. Tyler’s lips move against yours, and for just a second, you feel light. Free.

But then, everything shifts.

The tension in the air thickens in an instant, and you sense it before you even open your eyes. A sudden presence, looming and charged, like a storm about to break. When you finally pull back from Tyler and glance up, your heart stumbles in your chest.

Rafe stands a few feet away, his expression dark—dangerously dark. His eyes lock onto yours first, blazing with an anger so intense it makes your stomach flip. Then his gaze flicks to Tyler, and you can practically feel the rage rolling off him in waves.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe’s voice is low, almost a growl, but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

Tyler, oblivious to the storm he’s just walked into, straightens up, his arm still loosely around your waist. “Relax, man,” he says, trying to sound casual, though there’s a note of uncertainty in his voice. “We were just—”

Rafe doesn’t let him finish. He takes a step closer, fists clenched at his sides, his whole body vibrating with barely-contained fury. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he spits, his eyes still fixed on you. But then his gaze cuts back to Tyler, and something dangerous flashes there. “But if you don’t get your hands off her right now, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Tyler scoffs, dropping his arm but not backing down. “What’s your deal, Cameron? She’s not your girl anymore.”

Those words are like a lit match thrown into a gasoline fire.

In an instant, Rafe’s on him, shoving Tyler hard against the side of the car. “What did you just say?” Rafe’s voice is low and menacing, his face inches from Tyler’s. His fists are white-knuckled, trembling with the need to unleash the anger bottled up inside him. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?”

Tyler stumbles, but he manages to push back, his hands coming up defensively. “Chill, man! It’s not that serious!”

But it is. For Rafe, it’s everything.

You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, in the wild, desperate look in his eyes as they flicker between you and Tyler. He’s spiraling, and you know this side of him all too well—the part that lashes out, that destroys when he feels like he’s losing control.

“Rafe, stop,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended, cutting through the haze of tension. You step forward, placing yourself between him and Tyler, your hand pressing against Rafe’s chest. His muscles are taut beneath your touch, coiled and ready to explode. “This isn’t worth it.”

For a moment, Rafe doesn’t move. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, his eyes locked on yours, searching, desperate for something he can’t find. He looks down at your hand on his chest, and for a second, you think he might back down.

But then he shakes his head, his voice tight with frustration. “What’s your fucking problem?” he snaps, his words aimed at you now. “Do you not miss me? Is this how you move on?”

You flinch, taken aback by the raw vulnerability buried beneath his anger. His words hit harder than any shove, cutting through the defenses you’ve been trying to build all night. You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat.

Rafe’s hands grip your arms suddenly, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching, the anger faltering for a split second as something else flickers there—something almost like hurt. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice quieter now, but no less desperate. “Tell me you don’t miss me.”

Rafe's grip tightens for a fraction of a second, his eyes still locked on yours, searching for something, anything, that will ease the storm raging inside him. His question lingers between you, thick and heavy, but you can’t answer him, not here, not like this. Tyler, still lingering nearby, lets out an irritated scoff, but there’s a tremor in it. He knows better than to challenge Rafe further—everyone does.

You feel Rafe’s breath against your skin, shallow and ragged, as if he's waiting for the moment you confirm his worst fears. But instead of answering him, you take a deep breath, your hand brushing over his chest. “Come on,” you murmur, voice softer now, low enough that only he can hear. “Let’s go.”

For a brief moment, Rafe hesitates, his gaze flickering toward Tyler, like he’s still deciding whether to throw another punch. But your hand slides down, gently tugging at his arm, and his attention snaps back to you. Slowly, his grip loosens.

Tyler, sensing the shift, straightens up but keeps his distance, his bravado from earlier slipping away as he watches you lead Rafe toward the beach. “Whatever, man,” Tyler mutters, though his voice wavers, betraying the fear he's been masking. “You two deserve each other.”

You don’t even look back at him, and Rafe doesn’t either. His focus is entirely on you now, the tension between his clenched jaw and the way he follows your lead without protest. Tyler slinks off, disappearing into the crowd as if he’s suddenly remembered who he’s dealing with.

As you walk further from the party, the sounds of the bonfire and distant music grow fainter, leaving only the soft rush of the waves and the cool breeze whipping against your skin. Rafe’s fingers brush against your hand, and though the anger in him hasn’t fully burned out, his pace slows as the two of you near the shore.

The silence between you is heavy, electric. You can feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down, the tension thick enough to suffocate. His frustration, his desperation—it’s all still there, simmering beneath the surface. But now, without an audience, without the pretense of Tyler or Sofia, it feels rawer, more exposed.

Rafe stops just shy of the water, his grip on you tightening again, though not out of anger this time. It’s almost as if he’s holding onto you for stability, for some anchor to stop him from drowning in whatever dark place his mind has gone. “Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice quiet, rough around the edges, but no longer carrying the rage that had consumed him moments before. “Why are you acting like you don’t care?”

You feel the words clawing at the back of your throat, the urge to lash out or deflect, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you stand there, caught between the pull of the past and the mess of emotions swirling around you now.

It’s all too complicated, and yet somehow, painfully simple. You’ve never stopped caring. But Rafe… Rafe has always made things more difficult than they needed to be.

Rafe’s question lingers in the salty night air, hanging between you like a taut string waiting to snap. His eyes search your face for something—an answer, an apology, anything to make sense of the confusion brewing in his mind. But you’re not ready to give him what he wants. Not yet, at least.

The sound of the ocean crashing against the shore fills the silence between you, your pulse racing in time with the waves. You look away, focusing on the dark horizon, your toes sinking into the cool sand as you try to gather your thoughts. Why are you doing this? The question echoes in your mind, but it’s not as simple as Rafe seems to think.

Maybe it’s because you’re tired—tired of feeling like he’s pulling the strings, tired of the toxic push and pull of your relationship. Maybe you’re doing it because it hurts too much to care about someone who only seems to care when you’re slipping away. Or maybe it’s because, deep down, you know that no matter how hard he tries to provoke you, to force a reaction, the person who’s really hurting is him.

You glance at him, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself really look. His eyes are still wild with anger, but there’s something else there too—something that cracks through the hard shell he’s built around himself. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged from the tension that’s been gripping him since the moment he saw you with Tyler. His hands, though no longer tight on your arms, still linger, as if afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go entirely.

“I’m not acting like I don’t care,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended. There’s a vulnerability in the admission that makes your stomach twist, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “I just… I can’t do this with you, Rafe. Not like this.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, his brows furrowing, but then he hesitates, the frustration flickering in his eyes giving way to something closer to desperation. “Then how?” His voice is quieter now, too, though it’s laced with an edge of exasperation. “Tell me how, because I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the ache in your chest keeps you from it. He doesn’t know what to do? The guy who’s spent the entire night trying to make you jealous, parading Sofia around like some twisted declaration of victory, now stands in front of you, unsure, vulnerable.

But this is Rafe Cameron. The boy who hides his insecurities behind anger and control. The boy who pushes you away just to pull you back in, like some sick game where neither of you ever really wins.

“You think this is all my fault?” you ask, taking a step back, breaking the physical connection between you. His hands fall away, and though his body stays rooted in place, his expression twists as if the loss of contact has left him exposed. “You think you can just act like that all night, throw Sofia in my face, and I’m supposed to be okay with it?”

Rafe winces at your words, and for a moment, he looks away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I wasn’t trying to—” He stops, gritting his teeth, clearly wrestling with what to say. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Right,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest, the bitterness in your tone impossible to hide. “Because trying to hurt me is the only way you know how to get my attention?”

He stares at you, his lips parting like he wants to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he clenches his jaw and looks down, the anger draining from his posture, leaving behind only exhaustion. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says finally, so quietly you almost don’t hear him over the waves. “I just… I didn’t know how to make you miss me. I don’t know how to do this without screwing it up.”

The confession hits you harder than you expect, a crack in the armor he’s always so careful to maintain. It’s the first time all night he’s shown you anything real, anything beyond the bluster and anger he uses to shield himself. And it leaves you speechless.

Rafe lets out a frustrated breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stares down at the sand, avoiding your gaze. “I know I’m not… good at this. At us.” His voice wavers slightly, like admitting it is a betrayal of the tough, unshakable image he’s spent his whole life building. “But I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else. Especially not him.”

There it is. The raw, vulnerable truth buried beneath layers of anger and bravado. The truth you’ve always known but never heard him admit out loud.

You swallow hard, feeling the sting of his words settle into the hollow ache in your chest. “Rafe… I can’t keep doing this. The fighting, the jealousy—it’s too much.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how exposed you feel saying it out loud. But it needs to be said.

His eyes snap back to yours, wide and frantic, as if he’s afraid you’re slipping through his fingers. “I’ll stop,” he blurts out, stepping closer, the desperation back in his voice. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—don’t walk away.”

You bite your lip, torn between the part of you that wants to believe him and the part of you that knows it’s not that simple. He’s said things like this before, made promises in moments of weakness, only to fall back into old patterns when the anger returns. But this time, there’s something different in his eyes—a genuine fear that this might really be it.

“I don’t know if you can stop, Rafe,” you say quietly, the honesty of your words hanging heavy between you. “You’re always so angry… and I can’t be the one trying to fix it every time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he absorbs what you’ve said. But then, to your surprise, he nods, his expression shifting from desperation to something more resigned. “You’re right,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am angry. But not at you.”

You blink, taken aback by the admission. It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged that the rage he carries isn’t about you—not really. It’s always been deeper than that, rooted in things he’s never fully let you in on.

“So what then?” you ask, your tone softer now, more searching. “What are you so angry about?”

Rafe looks away again, his jaw clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back. But then he sighs, running both hands through his hair in a gesture that screams frustration. “Everything,” he mutters, his voice rough. “My family, my life… I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it.”

You watch him, your heart aching at the sight of him so lost, so broken. For a moment, all the frustration you’ve felt toward him melts away, replaced by the familiar ache of wanting to help him, to fix what’s been broken between you.

But you know that’s not your job. It never was.

Rafe’s confession hangs in the air, weighty and raw, his vulnerability exposed in a way that catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and frustration that has built up between you feels insignificant. The walls he keeps so tightly guarded have crumbled, and in their place, there's a boy you recognize—a boy desperate for something solid in a world that’s been spiraling out of control.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach out, brushing your fingers against his arm. His breath hitches at the contact, and slowly, his gaze finds yours again. His eyes are dark, a mix of anger, longing, and something deeper, something that’s always been there but never fully spoken between you two.

“I’m not walking away,” you murmur, barely able to find your voice as the tension between you thickens. “I’m still here, Rafe. But you need to figure out what you want… and stop trying to hurt me to get there.”

His expression softens at your words, the desperation giving way to a flicker of hope. For a moment, he just stares at you, his lips parted like he’s trying to say something, but no words come. Instead, he steps closer, his hands brushing your waist, hesitant, as if testing the boundaries between you.

“Tell me what to do,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how to fix this.”

The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and despite everything—despite the anger, the games, the toxic cycle—you find yourself leaning into him. The truth is, you don’t have all the answers. You never have. But standing this close to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body, you know one thing for certain—you miss him. As much as you’ve tried to push him away, you can’t deny the pull that’s always been there, the magnetic connection between you.

“You start by being honest with me,” you say quietly, your fingers finding their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric as if anchoring yourself. “No more games, Rafe.”

He nods, swallowing hard as his hands slide up your waist, pulling you closer, the space between you shrinking with each passing second. “I’ll be honest,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, sending a rush of heat through your body. “I’m done with the games, baby.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s desperate and hungry, all the frustration and longing pouring into the contact. It’s not gentle; it’s raw and unfiltered, like he’s been holding back for too long, and now that he has you, he can’t stop himself.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely. The world around you blurs into nothingness—the sound of the waves, the distant party—it all fades away until the only thing that exists is him. His hands roam your body, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, and you melt into him, the heat between you building with every passing second.

He pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours as his lips move with a kind of desperation that makes your heart race. It's overwhelming, the way he kisses you, the way he holds you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. You feel the intensity of everything he's been holding back—the anger, the pain, the desire—and it ignites something deep within you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, but he doesn’t let you pull away for long. His lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your throat, and you can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips. His name tumbles from your mouth in a breathless whisper, and you feel him tense against you, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and hoarse as his hands slide under your shirt, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

Your heart stutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice taking you off guard. It’s not just the physical connection that’s pulling you back in—it’s the raw emotion behind it, the way he’s finally letting you see the side of him he’s been hiding for so long.

And then, somehow, you find yourself back in parking lot, against his car. His lips never leave yours, his kiss hungry and desperate.

“Rafe…” You barely manage to get his name out as he lifts you slightly, pushing you against the side of his car, his body pressing you firmly against the cool metal. His lips find yours again, and this time the kiss is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the taste of you.

Your mind spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the way he touches you, the way he kisses you like he’s afraid this might be the last time. There's a desperation in the way he clings to you, like he's trying to make up for every moment he's hurt you, every second he's pushed you away.

Rafe’s hands grip your hips as he pulls you tighter against him, his touch searing through the thin fabric of your shirt. The way his body presses into yours is almost suffocating, but in a way that you crave, like you’ve been starved for this kind of contact for too long. His lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, a contrast that leaves you dizzy, struggling to catch your breath.

Every kiss feels like a question, as if he’s asking for more, for you to let him in completely again. And you want to. Despite all the games, all the hurt, there’s something undeniable about being with him—something that makes your heart race in ways you haven’t felt since the beginning.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten as his hands slide up your back, his fingertips grazing the bare skin just under the hem of your shirt. It’s almost like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you, as if this is his last chance to make things right.

His lips leave yours for just a moment, trailing down your jaw and finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. You shiver as his hot breath fans against your skin, your body reacting instinctively to his every move. His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, and you feel him pause, his breath hitching at the sound.

You feel his hand reach for the door behind you, opening it before he practically threw you into the backseat. Rafe climbs on top of you, and his lips are on yours again. You moan at the contact, your head falling back into the cool leather of his backseat. God, how you missed those cushions.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion, barely holding himself together. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, and you feel his desperation in every touch, in every kiss that follows. It’s not just physical—there’s a vulnerability there, a need that goes far deeper than the surface.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize what he’s truly saying. This isn’t just about the heat of the moment or the chemistry that’s always drawn you two together. It’s about him finally letting you see past the walls he’s built—past the anger, the bravado, and the façade he shows everyone else.

You tilt your head back, giving him more access as his lips move lower, trailing down your collarbone, and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The world around you seems to blur, the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the soft hum of the party fading into the background until all that’s left is the two of you, tangled together in the dim glow of the night.

He leans back slightly and all you could hear in the darkness of the night was the clink of his belt, and a shiver went down your spine as you think about what's coming. You almost immediately slip out of your shorts as you slid back, giving yourself enough room to spread out before Rafe is in between your legs.

You can make out his face in the darkness, the faint moonlight casting shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes that have always had a way of making you feel seen—and sometimes too exposed—are locked on you, and it makes your heart (and pussy) beat faster.

“Rafe,” you breathe, your voice barely audible as his lips return to yours in a searing kiss. It’s slow this time, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands slide up your sides, taking the edge of your shirt with them, and your breath hitches as you feel the cool night air against your skin.

Then, you feel his warm tip against your thigh. Never leaving your lips, Rafe slowly leans his cock right into your sopping pussy. You let out a soft moan, the feeling of being filled up by his cock again making your head spin with pure bliss.

“Oh, shit,” he draws out as his head falls back, the feeling of your warm cunt overwhelming. “God I missed you, pretty baby.”

And it feels like time has stopped, like the only thing that matters is the heat between you, the way your bodies fit together perfectly, like this is where you’re meant to be. His hands roam over your back, your sides, exploring with a kind of urgency that makes your pulse quicken as he pushes in deeper into your pussy.

It hurts, at first until he bottoms you out. He's still for a moment as he leans his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy. After he felt you tighten around him, he instantly pulled your hips before he began thrusting in and out of you slowly, as if he was warming up.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out as your hands find his shoulders. Your breath comes out in short, ragged gasps as you cling to him, your body responding to his in ways that are both familiar and intoxicatingly new.

He's fucking into you at this point, his own grunts echoing in the empty car. You could feel the windows begin to fog up as his thrusts become more sharp, more meaningful. It’s overwhelming, the intensity of it all, but you can’t stop yourself—you don’t want to. You’ve missed this, missed him, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

At the sound of your cries of pleasure, Rafe chuckles breathless. “Oh, yeah? You like that?”

All you could do was nod as he begins increasing the speed of his thrusts, he was rocking into you with brute force but he was still gentle, somehow. His hands reach up to find your throat, holding it as he fucks into you harder. Rafe lifts your hips a little more so that he could reach that sweet spot, and you knew it was over.

“Rafe, fuck!” You cry as your head falls back into the cushion, your mouth slightly open and your eyes rolling back in your head. You're shaking, at this point—you're not holding back whatsoever.

Anyone who was walking by his car could probably see and hear what's happening, and probably think he was murdering you. And they were right, he was absolutely obliterating your insides. But you didn't care, and neither did Rafe.

His breathing is heavy, matching the erratic rhythm of his hips, and he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours. His scent—a mix of saltwater, cologne, and something distinctly him—invades your senses, grounding you in the moment, making everything else disappear.

“Oh, my god I'm gonna—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, the tight knot in your stomach snaps and it feels like everything is still for a moment. You can't even hear yourself anymore, it feels like you were on a cloud as you cum around his cock.

A few more deep thrusts and he was spilling inside you, his own body shaking above you. His lips find yours in a sloppy and desperate kiss, his hips keeping you placed right beneath him. He doesn't pull out—no, he wouldn't even dare. He doesn't want to. Not yet, of course. You both just lay in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“I missed you,” he finally whispers, his voice rough and edged with something almost like pain. His fingers tighten around your waist, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and your heart stutters at the vulnerability laced in them.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His breath is warm against your skin, his presence overwhelming but somehow comforting, like a weight you didn’t know you needed. You want to say something, to respond, but the words get caught in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you.

Instead, you reach up, your fingers grazing his jawline, feeling the stubble under your fingertips. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes—an acknowledgment of what you both know but can’t yet fully voice. His eyes close at the contact, and for a split second, the tension melts away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

Then his lips are on yours again, but this time it’s different. It’s slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring every second, every taste of you. His hands trail up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer, and your body responds in kind, the need for him growing stronger with every kiss.

You lose yourself in the feeling of him—how perfect he feels when he's inside of you, the heat of his skin, the way his fingers trace patterns along your back. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you in the darkness, tangled together in a way that feels both new and familiar at the same time.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything else fades away. The jealousy, the anger, the hurt—it all dissolves into the background, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, caught in a moment that you know you won’t soon forget.

You’ve been through hell with Rafe, and maybe there’s more waiting ahead, but right now, none of that matters. Right now, all you can think about is him—the way he touches you, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing that’s real.

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lieslab · 1 month ago

Text

Don't be afraid of me

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: Your ex refuses to let you go without putting up a fight and terrorizing you.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 5k

Trigger warning: Stalking, paranoia, and an unhealthy/obsessive ex.

A/N: Requestee, your request was vague. You never came back to clarify exactly what you wanted, so I wrote it as a 9th member AU and made sure the reader interacts with every single person. This is up far later than usual because I kept freaking myself out slightly aha whoops🫠 (stalkers are so scary, please call the cops if you have a freak on the loose near you)

_ _ _

It was a love pulled from the movies. Every kiss felt right. Hands touched, they pulled, and the body craved more. Magnetic forces aligned and everything remained right, until it all crumbled. A love story turned into a real life horror movie.

The moment things became too much, you put a stop to it. Your lover’s little moments of love became obsessive. Too clingy, too much, too suffocating. You couldn’t breathe. The moment you dumped them, you thought it’d lead to bigger and better things.

You shut the door to that chapter of your life, but you forgot to lock the window.

~ ~ ~

You sat in the cafe across from the JYP building drinking your favorite drink. You were released for lunch twenty-five minutes ago. Instead of heading down to the canteen, you walked across the street, down the block, and into the opening arms of fresh pastries.

Sweetened dough, french vanilla coffee, and pastries formed with love. Tea bags filled with dried herbs to soothe the soul. Enough espresso to awaken the dead, the hustle and bustle of an afternoon rush, and you. You in the wooden chair, scrolling on your phone with one hand, and sipping your preferred beverage with another.

Minutes rolled by and you scrolled. Glancing at local news, the front pages of social media, and you responded to two unread text messages. You stood up, about to head back to the company building when your phone vibrated with a new message from an unknown number.

I see you :)

The moment you read the message, fear spiraled down your spine. You slowly tipped your head up and glanced at the customers around you. None of them seemed out of place. A mother trying to console two young kids in the line with a few elderly folks behind her.

Notebooks sat scattered all over one table. A college kid with headphones in, he typed frantically at his laptop, probably writing an essay. Further in the back, two friends sat laughing. One gestured to the other’s face where a coffee mustache sat. They laughed and wiped it off with a napkin.

Another table housed a middle aged man with a book. In front of him, a half-eaten croissant sat on a piece of parchment paper. Salt and peppered hair, wrinkles creased in the center of his forehead, and golden-rimmed glasses on the perch of his nose. His eyes scanned the words, but he didn’t glance in your direction.

You didn’t have to ask. Your eyes shifted outside, but nobody seemed to be around. Another two people came through the glass door. A bell jingled, but nobody else followed. Wrapped up in their own conversation, they didn’t look at you, either.

You already knew who the message came from. When you left, they vowed you’d regret it. They couldn’t bear to be without you. A life without you would be a fate worse than hell. You thought you were bettering yourself by leaving, but the floodgates opened. Demons don’t play by the rules and neither does the primal madness sitting locked inside some humans.

You opened up Pandora’s box and you weren’t sure how to shut it.

~ ~ ~

A few days later, you tried to forget about it, but the paranoia grew. It ballooned in your stomach and eyes felt like they were everywhere. Even walking the halls in your familiar company building, you didn’t feel alone. As if someone lurked around the corner, an invisible being breathed down the back of your neck.

You couldn’t prove it, but you could feel it. They tip toed behind you, moving closer and closer, until you whipped around. They disappeared, morphing into the shadows and slipping just out of sight. That single text kept you on edge.

You were headed towards the dance practice room when Chan jokingly nudged your shoulder. You shrieked and nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Jerking around with wide eyes, your fists flew up to defend yourself.

“Woah, it’s just me! Don’t deck me, mate!” He held up his hands innocently and grinned. “I didn’t know you were that out of it.”

“What the hell, Chan?” You snapped angrily. “Oh my god, you practically scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry. What’s got you so worked up? Did you watch another horror movie last night? Let me guess. Was it the one with that smiling demon? Hereditary? A classic like Nightmare on Elm Street?”

Your head shook and you sighed. “No, I didn’t watch anything. It wasn’t like that.”

“Right,” he teased. He leaned over, letting his hand run through your hair. “Come on, let’s get into the dance practice room. The rest of the guys are waiting for us.”

You let him wrap an arm around your shoulders, but not before looking back behind you to make sure the two of you were alone.

~ ~ ~

Hello, baby. I miss you. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home :)

A batch of your favorite flowers sat beside Han and Changbin with the attached note. You came in to record your parts of a song. You weren’t expecting the flowers, let alone the note. The fear crept back up again.

“These are pretty flowers, but I thought you dumped your-”

“I did,” you cut Han off. “I did. Is this a joke?” You narrowed your eyes at him and then Changbin. “Because if this is a joke, it’s not fucking funny.”

Changbin glanced over from the director’s seat. “Woah, easy there. Why would this be a joke? The receptionist just sent up one of the assistants with them a few minutes ago. He said they were given to the receptionist and they were specifically for you.”

“From who?”

“From the flower guy. He was given to them by-”

“Shut up!” You snapped again. Tears filled your eyes and you blinked rapidly. You grabbed the flowers, walked over to the trash can and shoved them in the bag without another word.

“What was that for?” Han asked.

“Because ever since I broke up with that asshole, weird things have been happening and it’s freaking me the fuck out. The other day, I got a text message from them and now these flowers and I-”

“What text message?”

“I deleted it, but it said ‘I see you’ and it had a smiley face. I got it alone when I was at the cafe having lunch. It freaked me out and now these stupid flowers are appearing with a similar face.”

Han and Changbin shared a look. An unsettling feeling fell over the room. Changbin spun around in his chair and faced you. “Listen, if this is something that’s escalating, we should call the cops.”

“No,” you shook your head, “it’ll make it worse. I just hope they’re done fucking with me. I left them because they’re shitty. I’m done with it. I’m done with all of it and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

You wiped your eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to focus on the work before you. You held your head high and walked towards the empty recording booth. “Let’s just get started and forget about all of it.”

Han and Changbin wanted to say more, but they didn’t want to cause more distress, so they stayed silent.

~ ~ ~

On the way home, you laughed in the back of Changbin’s car. He sang along to the radio in a high-pitched voice. Beside him, Hyunjin fist-pumped the air to the beat. Their voices collided, leading you into a further fit of giggles.

The pair were supposed to drop you off at your own apartment. You were on your own until the weekend. The guys promised to help you move back into Hyunjin and Changbin’s dorm when they all had free time. You had been shuffling between living with your significant other and your own place for a few months, at least until things fell apart.

Changbin’s worries from earlier still lingered. They lingered so much, he insisted he needed to be the person to drive you home. He tried not to scare you as he stepped into your path earlier. Without much of a word, he hauled you over his shoulder with a fit of giggles. He’d do anything to distract you from the flower basket.

As he pulled into your driveway and the song cut to advertisements, Hyunjin turned off the radio. You shifted in your seat, reaching down to grab your bag when he called your name. “Hey, did you leave your apartment unlocked this morning?”

“No,” your head popped up, “why?” Your question was answered when you looked up at your front door. The wooden door sat wide open, silently beckoning you inside. Your face fell and the excitement to get home and comfortable melted away. “Changbin?” You weakly uttered.

“I know.”

“What?” Hyunjin looked between the two of you. “What is it? Why do both of you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

You cracked, forcing yourself to explain the situation to Hyunjin. The moment you finished, he reached out for his cell phone. “We need to call the cops.”

“Save it,” Changbin uttered. He jerked off his seatbelt and shoved open his door. “Get the authorities on speed dial and you might want to get an ambulance when I’m finished with them.”

He slammed the car door shut. You scrambled out of the car and Hyunjin followed. “Changbin, wait!” You cried out. As he climbed the steps, you followed. “Hyunjin is right. We should just call the cops and wait, so they can-”

He made it a handful of steps into your apartment when he stopped. “Hyunjin, call the goddamn cops.”

You peered around the corner of the door and your eyes widened. Your items were strewn everywhere. Couch cushions left the couch. Something heavy had shattered the TV screen. The glass coffee table laid in thousands of glass shards.

You tried to push past him, but Changbin’s arm shot out, stopping you. “Stay here until I clear things.” He stepped forward, heading deeper into the apartment.

As Hyunjin rang the authorities, his eyes ran along the door frame. He expected to find signs of breaking and entering, but the door frame didn’t contain cracking. The door knob was perfectly intact, as if someone slipped in the key and walked in like they owned the place.

You followed behind Changbin, in too much shock to stop yourself. In the kitchen, glasses and plates sat shattered on the floor. Your refrigerator door hung wide open and the fridge alarm beeped, signaling your fridge had been open for too long.

Empty condiment bottles littered parts of the floor. The acidic scent of ketchup made your stomach churn. Bright yellow mustard oozed down the fridge. Globs of mayo speckled open cabinets.

Fresh kimich squashed beneath Changbin’s feet. He cursed and stepped back. What you planned on having as a dinner side sat ruined. Everything was ruined. In the bedroom, your clothes had been tossed from the dresser. Your bed had been stripped from the usual comforter set.

Posters ripped to shreds. Jewelry littered the bathroom. The scent of your shampoo and conditioner soaked the tub. Your favorite book sat in the toilet. Everything was all wrong.

Noticing your closed closet, Changbin ripped open the door fuming. You flinched and tensed up, but nothing was there. All the boxes and items had been tugged out. Changbin flicked on the light and you screamed at the top of your lungs.

The only thing waiting for you was that sinister goddamn smiley face spray painted and covering the back of the closet wall.

~ ~ ~

You explained the situation to the cops a week ago. The unknown number. The flowers. The smiley faces. The paranoia. All of it. The messy breakup and the threats made to you when you left. They were so sure you’d come crawling back.

The cops dubbed it a crime of passion. Whoever trashed your apartment, it was a personal vendetta. Nothing was stolen, but everything was destroyed. When they cleared the scene, you tried to go back for your clothes, but they’d been cut.

Someone spent so long going through every clothing item you owned and they cut it in two. Over and over and over and over again. They cut and cut and cut and cut, with your own fucking scissors. The cops found them beneath a stack of clothes and took them in for fingerprinting.

Your ex became a person of interest, but they couldn’t find them. Hunkered down in Hyunjin and Changbin’s dorm, you grew more and more terrified as the days passed by. Little things made you jump. You no longer felt safe.

In fact, the paranoia grew worse. Even at work, it lingered. Singing and dancing used to bring you happiness, but now you dreaded going out. You performed once at an award’s show and the moment it was over, you fell apart backstage. Tearing up and shaking, you couldn’t stop. They could be in the crowd watching your every move.

Wondering.

Waiting.

Observing.

Planning.

Changbin and Hyunjin weren’t safe. The rest of the guys weren’t safe. Nobody was safe and if anyone ended up hurt because of your obsessive ex, you’d never forgive yourself. You used to think you were brave for getting through your trainee years and debuting, but this broke you.

Your sleep grew less and the restlessness grew more. The group worried about you. Changbin and Hyunjin would awaken and find you sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee. You were tense with purple bags under your eyes. On the defense, you’d never be caught off guard again.

You’d do whatever you could to keep yourself and the guys safe. You looked out for your group. You looked out for your fans. As the paranoia grew, your ex didn’t have to do anything else.

Too petrified of all the what-ifs, you brought yourself to your knees.

~ ~ ~

There was nothing to move on the weekend. Nothing in your apartment was salvageable. You and the guys entered with trash bags. Not once did you feel safe. You worked in silence, tossing all of your old clothes into a trash bag.

In the opposite room, Han and Felix whispered to one another. “I’m worried,” Felix uttered softly. “They’re barely sleeping. I haven’t seen them eat anything since Thursday. Even then, it was only a single banana. This is destroying them.”

“The cops are still looking for their ex. They have to find them. They’re going to find them.” Han carefully placed another shard of glass into the black bag. “They have to find them. This can’t keep happening. Things will go back to normal, I believe it.”

“This just sucks. They didn’t do anything to deserve all this.” Felix glanced around your destroyed living room with a frown. You hadn’t once spoken about your things since the home invasion occurred.

In your room, it took nearly an hour for you, Jeongin, and Chan to clean up all of your items. Jeongin offered you some of the necklaces and rings, pointing out that they were still okay, but you refused. You didn’t want anything your ex touched. Everything tarnished with their touch.

The person you once knew, they were dead. They died in the breakup. Something monstrous woke up and took over. You didn’t understand why it happened, or what it did. There were signs in your relationship before you left.

They begged you to leave your group. Insisting and pleading, you could live with them and they’d provide for you. You objected, reminding them it made you happy and you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in a contract and you couldn’t break it without legal trouble following you.

They scowled when it happened. Shooting you a glare, mumbling curse words, and slamming their empty plastic cup down on the table. You should have known they weren’t normal. Something was off, but you didn’t understand it then. You thought they were upset over something silly. You didn’t think they were showing you their real form.

Beneath the soft kisses and the need for intimacy, something dark hid beneath their skin suit. With each item you shoved in a trash bag, you were reminded of it. Your fingers shook, but you endured because you always did. If you could endure this, you could endure anything.

~ ~ ~

You dubbed them dickhead one and dickhead two. Seungmin and Minho stood guard with similar crossed arms and narrowed eyes. Felix sat down on the floor beside his bed with his Nintendo Switch.

“You’re being assholes!” You complained. Sitting on the edge of Felix’s bed, your arms sat over your chest. You glared at the floor. You knew they meant well, but you were too stubborn to admit it.

“And you’re being a little bitch,” Seungmin countered. “You’re lucky Felix is being nice enough to offer you his bed. Get in it, get under the covers, and go to sleep.

“Jesus Christ, do you two kiss your mothers with those foul mouths?” Felix mumbled. His thumbs moved as he moved his character around his Animal Crossing island.

“Yongbok, sit there and stay out of it.”

“Hey,” Minho countered, “don’t talk to him like that. You either put your ass in that bed, or I’m going to invent chloroform and knock you out with it.”

You glared at him.

“Keep it up and I’ll hogtie you while I’m at it.”

“Asshole.”

“Cuntdracula, get beneath the covers and go to sleep, or so help me I-” Seungmin never finished his sentence.

Felix’s bedroom door flung open and you glanced up. Han strolled in and smiled when he saw you. “I heard someone couldn’t sleep very well.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes and jerked open the door. “Thank god. I’m clocking out and I’ll be in the living room if anyone needs me. Actually, I take it back. I’m going into the kitchen and finding a drink. This is fucking exhausting.”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Han dropped beside you on the bed. He leaned over, placing his head on your shoulder. “We’re all worried about you. You’re practically sleep-walking as you speak. You can’t keep this up, you’ll collapse.”

“But I’m afraid,” you weakly admitted. You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. “I’m afraid if I’ll go to sleep something will-”

“Nuh-uh. That’s not happening. Yongbok is going to kick your ex’s ass. Before they get to him, they gotta go through me and my airfryer,” Minho reminded you. I’ll stick a feral ferret and wild boar on their ass.”

“Boar?” Felix glanced up from the floor. “Do you mean Changbin?”

“Have you ever seen Changbin when he’s mad? Dwaekki after dark is a boar.” Minho shuddered and shook his head. “That’s the stuff of nightmares. We’ll hold down the fort, you just focus on getting some sleep and letting us handle it for now. I’m going to go wrangle the puppy.”

He left you alone, leaving you with Felix and Han. Han wrapped an arm around your body. “Please try to get some sleep. We can tackle this again when you wake up.”

“Yeah.” Felix got up and crawled onto your opposite side. “I’ll bash their head in with my Nintendo Switch. Bet they wouldn’t see that coming, would they?”

“You’re not that scary, Lix.”

“Clearly, someone hasn’t seen me when I lose a game I play passionately.” He huffed, leaned over, and laid across you and Han. “Maybe I should ask Innie to join us. Would it make you feel better if we all puppy-piled?”

“Maybe a little,” you finally admitted.

“Say no more. Han, take over and watch my house. Chan is on my island and my house is in danger. He’s been threatening to take my stuff.”

Han raised an eyebrow. “When did Chan get into Animal Crossing?”

“Right after I threatened to open his window on the plane and let it vacuum him into the sky. I was bored and didn’t want to play alone.”

He texted on his phone, as if his words were the most normal thing in the world.

~ ~ ~

The thirteen hours of sleep finally left you feeling somewhat refreshed. You were still paranoid and worried, but you felt better. You entered the JYP building with the guys and scattered in different directions. With Minho and Chan, you ventured into the dance practice room, so you could try and learn the dance moves you kept messing up.

The rest of the guys did their own things. For nearly an hour, you worked tirelessly. When you paused to take a break, you sucked in a deep breath and headed to the door. “I’m going to go find a drink. I’ll be right back.”

“You didn’t bring one?” Chan called after you.

“Nah, I forgot it because I was in a hurry this morning.”

Minho laughed at you and pointed, making sure to make a mockery of your actions. You rolled your eyes, flipped him off, and headed out to go find a drink. On your way down the hall, you paused when your manager called your name and waved you down.

“Felix is on his way back from one of the cafes with drinks. He wants to know if you can head downstairs and meet him outside. Apparently, he’s almost dropping the drinks. I’d go help him, but I’ve got a meeting with the uppers.”

A brief lapse of fear ran through you, but you pushed it aside, forcing yourself to smile. “Yeah, I’ll head down there now. Thanks for letting me know.” You found it strange that Felix didn’t call, but you didn’t have your phone with you. It was tucked in your bag in the dance practice room.

You headed in the direction of the stairs, trying to be mindful of all the trainees, idols, and spare employees. In the lobby, you walked through the tile floors, trying to ignore the dreading feeling building in your stomach. You told yourself the anxiety was pointless.

Your ex wasn’t in the area. Surely, they knew you’d put the pieces together. They’d know you knew it was them and they’d go far away, never bothering you again, right? At least, that’s what you wanted to happen.

At the set of glass doors, you pushed them open and headed outside. In the early hours of the morning, cars brushed past downtown. A distant horn honked and a plethora of people hurried past the building, eager to go somewhere. You sucked in a deep breath and turned in the direction you assumed Felix would be coming from.

Usually when you got drinks for one another, you came from the cafe you favored. It was your favorite for that reason. Everyone liked the drinks and pastries, it wasn’t just you. As you walked, your nerves short-circuited and your feet stopped.

In the distance, someone walked towards you with their hoodie hood pulled down. You tried to look around them, searching for Felix, but you couldn’t find him. You took a step back, focusing on the fear running through you.

“You’re being dramatic,” you mumbled beneath your breath. “It’s just a random person. It’s chilly outside and…” You trailed off as they picked up speed.

Their head tipped up and they jerked down their hood. Even from a distance, you could see the dead eyes. Something hid beneath the arm of their hoodie. It sat balled up and your stomach dropped. Your heart took off and so did you.

Footsteps stormed after you. Cars blurred as you rushed back to the building. Your heart hammered in your chest and you struggled to breathe. There was one thing you liked about the JYP building. You shoved your finger against the fingerprint reader and the doors clicked.

Right as you grabbed the door and jerked it shut behind you, their silhouette appeared. You tugged as hard as you could. They tried to pull, but the door sealed shut with a loud click. Locked inside, you were untouchable.

A phone rang behind you and someone picked it up. Footsteps. Your own heavy breathing. The dead eyes of your ex and that damn smile. The corners of their mouth upturned and you couldn’t breathe.

A flash of something silver appeared in their fist. They taunted, waving whatever the object was at you. Your fear grew and so did their grin. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Tears pricked in your eyes.

They reached over to the keypad, trying to use their own prints to get in and it snapped you out of it. You jerked around. “Help! Help! Call the cops! Help!” You didn’t recognize the shrillness in your voice, but Felix did.

He was on his way down to the canteen when he heard you yelling. A handful of people started to dial and Felix approached you. “Hey, what is-” He stopped when something banged against the door. “Call security now!”

He grabbed you and pulled you back from the door. You clutched onto him, shaking like a leaf. Words erupted from your ex, but you couldn’t hear them through the thick glass. You heard the excessive banging, but the words remained muted.

Hot tears filled your eyes. A group of similar dressed men in dark polos and dress pants rushed forward to stop the man. Cries were heard. Felix jerked you into his chest, so you didn’t see the chaos. Your ex screamed.

“We’ve got a sasaeng!” Another yelled.

“It’s not a sasaeng,” you spoke up, “that’s my ex.”

~ ~ ~

“The cops said a phone call came in to the new receptionist. When the person said they were Felix from Stray Kids and needed you, she didn’t recognize the voice. Too frazzled and unsure, she passed the message along to our manager.” Changbin sat at the end of the couch. “That’s how you were lured outside.”

In Jeongin and Chan’s dorm, you all gathered to try and understand what happened. After everything unraveled at the company building, shaken up after two security guards were stabbed, the company dismissed everyone from the building, so the cops could put the story together. You talked to the cops. Changbin talked to the cops. Felix talked to the cops.

You were left exhausted and in disbelief. The injured security guards were going to be okay, but you were still distressed. If you wouldn’t have slipped back into the building, if the doors wouldn’t have automatically locked, you weren’t sure you’d be with the guys right now. Your head felt fuzzy.

Your body strung across Felix, Hyunjin, and Seungmin. Despite your argument with Seungmin the other day, he played with your hair gently as your eyes drooped. You were still so exhausted from everything occurring over the past two weeks. This morning felt like a nightmare came to life. Every time your eyes shut, you remembered the way they grinned.

A slew of charges awaited them. Tomorrow, you planned on going to the police station with Chan and your manager. A restraining order would be put in place. Not only with you, but your manager wanted to discuss a restraining order being prepared for the entire group. They weren’t having any of it.

“I really thought it was Felix,” you mumbled sleepily. “I went out because I thought he needed help.”

“I was recording with Han and Hyunjin.” He gently patted your back. “I’m right here and we’re okay. That’s the most important thing.”

“I can’t believe security guards were stabbed.”

“They’ll be okay, they’re rough guys. One time, one of them threw me over his shoulder and took me down the stairs to prove a point.” Hyunjin playfully poked your calf. “He was short, so I insisted he couldn’t carry me. He proved me wrong.”

“Huh?”

“It was sometime last year.”

“Cheater,” Changbin grumbled.

“And you’re a cheater, cheater,” Felix added, shooting a glare at Changbin.

“I did no such thing.”

“I’m a victim,” Seungmin mumbled beneath his breath. “Stuck in a love triangle that I didn’t ask to be part of. I knew I shouldn’t have sat on the couch.”

“I think the most important thing is that the jackass is gone. They’re gone and we’re all safe. They’ll be locked away for a long time and we’re safe,” Hyunjin repeated.

“Nuh-uh,” Minho strolled into the room, “you’re all about to be a victim of me. I killed off Han, Chan, and Jeongin.”

Jeongin peeked around the living room corner. “Hyung, we’re literally just in the kitchen and eating ice cream. We’re not dead yet. You wouldn’t kill me anyway, I’m too cute to kill.”

Minho glared and then sighed. “Damn. You make a good point. You’re off the hook, but not the other two.”

“I’m literally like the love of your life,” Han cried out.

“Yeah,” Chan said, “plus, I’m your elder. You can’t kill me off, that’s ageist.”

Minho’s hands went up in the air in defeat.

“Hey look, they’re finally asleep.” Seungmin gently poked your cheek. With your face relaxed and your eyes shut, you breathed softly. “It’s about fucking time.”

“Poor thing is traumatized.”

“I don’t think they’re ever going to date again,” Felix frowned.

“Welp,” Minho shrugged, “I guess they’ll just have to date one of us.”

Han’s eyes widened. “Hyung! You can’t just say that!”

“I don’t see any of you trying to stop my ass grabbing.”

“Perverts in my catholic home,” Hyunjin shut his eyes. “I can’t believe this.” He leaned back against the couch.

“Hey, this isn’t even your house.” Jeongin appeared from the kitchen. “Leave Channie hyung and I’s dorm alone.”

“You heard the little man,” Minho added, “leave my ass grabbing alone, or you’re next Hwang.”

They didn’t know you weren’t asleep; you heard the entire thing, just grateful that the horror had finally passed and you all survived.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike

Masterlist

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 years ago

Note

Getting fucked by ghostface!Billy in an alley on your way back from Tatum’s. He tried to scare you and pull this little stunt, but you figure out it was him

More Billy, YES (this is 1.5k, enjoy)

Please read the warnings before reading this one, some of the content might make you uncomfortable or be triggering for you

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, semi-public sex, p + v, non-protected sex, creampie,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Dewey to drive you home? He should be there at ten,’’ Tatum asked again as you were getting ready to leave. ‘’The psychos are out at this hour...’’

You declined her offer. ‘’I can’t. My parents will have my head if I'm not home before curfew.’’ You grabbed your backpack and opened the door. ‘’See you tomorrow!’’ You waved at her before stepping out and closing the door.

The chill autumn air brushing your face and the fallen leaves swished on the ground around you as you walked down the Rileys’ driveway and took the sidewalk. You didn’t particularly enjoy walking alone at night — no women did, honestly —, but Tatum’s house was only a few blocks from yours.

On the way, you admired all the carved pumpkins out on the porches and other halloween decorations, making you miss when you were kids. Halloween was still fun as a teenager, but no parties could beat trick-or-treating and exchanging candies with your friends.

As you turned on Elm street, a growing unease pricked at your senses. Someone was following you. Your steps became quicker, but not quick enough that your change of pace would alert the person behind you. The last thing you wanted was to let him know that you knew he was following you. He could take a run after you and it would be done for you.

You thought of going back to Tatum’s, maybe Dewey was home from work, but you were almost home. Instead, you took the shortcut to your house and turned in an alley, thinking you could kick a trash can at your pursuer's feet in case he tried anything, but a shadow loomed over you. Panic surged through you, and before you could react, a gloved hand swiftly clamped over your mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape.

Fear pulsed within you, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. You struggled against the grip, your instincts kicking in as you fought to break free. The scent of leather filled your nostrils as you twisted and wriggled, attempting to loosen the stranger's hold.

A distorted voice pierced the air, its chilling words sending a shiver down your spine. ‘’Don’t you know walking home by yourself at night is a danger-magnet? Especially with a tight little skirt like yours,’’ he said as the hand that wasn’t over your mouth slid up your thigh, making your heart race in fear of what was going to happen.

A sickening feeling twisted in your stomach. Maybe you should have waited for Dewey to drive you home. Your parents would have been mad for not respecting your curfew, but at least you would have been safe.

You tried to scream again, and fight back, but the stranger only laughed at your attempts.

‘’You’re not gonna escape me, babydoll,’’ the distorted voice laughed, tightening their grip and pressing your front against the brick wall of a building. ‘’If you try, I’ll gut you like a fish.’’ Something cool touched your leg and tears pricked in your eyes.

A knife.

Tatum was right about psychos being out at this hour…

You turned your head slightly, trying to see who was holding you, but all you saw was a strange halloween white mask with a black hood.

‘’Have you ever been told how good your ass looked in that skirt? Bet your boyfriend likes to take you from behind, uh?’’ The hand that was on your thigh moved up, pulling your skirt and lifting it up, making your skin crawl.

The night air hit your bare ass, completely exposed to the masked stranger, and you pressed your thighs together. You doubted it would stop the man from doing anything, but you could at least try.

‘’Mmh, what a nice ass,’’ he pointed out, smacking his hand on your ass-cheek, the sound resonating in the alley, and grabbing it. You squeaked at the impact. ‘’I can’t wait to feel it against me as I pound in your tight pussy.’’

Your stomach churned. Your night was turning into a nightmare.

‘’Now, I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but if you dare scream…’’ he trailed with a threat.

You nodded, having no other choice. He was the one with the knife.

‘’Spread those legs, hands on the wall,’’ he ordered, the distorted voice glitching a little, causing you to hear the man’s real voice. It sounded familiar, like you had heard it before, but a lot of men had similar voices.

Shaking that thought, you obeyed and parted your legs, holding a hiss when pressing your hands against the rough brick.

‘’Now what?’’ you spat, looking over your shoulder.

The stranger chuckled, then pushed himself up against the curve of your ass, letting you feel his erection through his clothes, the hardness and heat radiating from his body admittedly kind of hot. ‘’Now I'm gonna stick it in you and rearrange your insides, you dumb fucking bitch.’’

You gasped at his words, arousal leaking through your panties.

A car drove by on the other end of the alley, making the both of you go completely still. Minutes ago, you would have been relieved that a car was driving by. Not anymore. A sick and twisted part of you wanted the masked stranger to fuck you against that wall.

Once the car was out of earshot, the masked man another grope of your ass, then pulled aside your underwear, running a gloved hand over your folds and discovering your little secret.

‘’Is this…turning you on?’’

You kept quiet, disgusted and ashamed of yourself.

He laughed, keeping going with the teasing by pressing a finger inside you, making you gasp as you automatically clamped around it. ‘’It is turning you on.’’ You heard the smirk in his voice. ‘’Dirty little slut.’’

You whined at his words, his finger moving in and out, but not nearly enough. ‘’Please,’’ you surprised yourself by saying, chasing his finger. ‘’I need more.’’

If anyone were to see you right now, you would be mortified. Not only were you getting sexually assaulted by a masked stranger in an alley, but you were enjoying it. It was sick.

Much too soon, he removed his finger, making you whine in protest. You turned your head to glance at him, but his head was down and you couldn’t see much.

‘’Think you can handle my cock in you? Your slutty little cunt is weeping around my finger,’’ he said as he reached beneath his robe, fighting with his belt buckle and zipper to free himself.

Your stomach bubbled with excitement, your teeth catching your bottom lip when you felt his hard cock pressing against your entrance. You pushed back against him, the hard press of his tip prodding at you, his pre-cum mixing with your leaking arousal.

Your jaw dropped as you felt his cock part your folds, pushing himself all the way inside before stilling for a few seconds. Fuck. His dick was filling you so good. He gave a first snap of hips and a moan escaped from your lips, louder than you were expecting.

Behind you, the masked man stopped moving, clamping a hand over your mouth as he hissed in your ear. ‘’Keep quiet or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt. Can't get caught, can we?’’ he warned, forgetting to use the voice distorter and giving himself away.

‘’Billy Loomis, you sick fu—’’

Your words were cut off as his thick cock plunged back into you, making you moan instead.

Billy laughed. ‘’Surprise, babydoll.’’ He gripped your hip firmly with one hand, the second coming around your throat while he was pounding in you from behind, stars flying around in your vision as the pleasure filled your whole body, explicit groans and muffled moans filling the dark alley.

‘’Always so fucking tight,’’ he grunted, getting really hot under the mask. Halloween costumes were not made to be worn during sex.

You tried your best to brace yourself, both hands flat on the brick wall as Billy kept pistoning into you, your legs were shaking with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. ‘’Ahh, yes, just like that!’’

After he emptied himself and rode the waves of your respective pleasure, Billy slipped out from you, a white string of hot cum connecting you to him. He smirked under the mask, loving to watching himself leak from your abused pussy and drip out and down your leg.

‘’You’re insane,’’ you said, turning around to face your boyfriend, your wrinkled skirt still bunched up at your waist.

Laughing, Billy pulled the mask off his face, his lips curved into a wicked grin. ‘’The best people are.’’

You both fixed yourself in silence, having enough played with public indecency for tonight. As thrilling and exciting as this had been, you didn’t want an actual stranger to see you exposed like that.

‘’How did you know I just left Tatum’s?’’

‘’Stu,’’ he explained. ‘’Tatum called him saying you just left, so I put on that sweet little costume and decided to surprise you. Did you like it?’’

You grabbed the front of the black robe and kissed him in response.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy @s-al-em @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

#billy loomis #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #scream #scream imagine

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marvelousels · 5 months ago

Text

THEY SHOWED ME THINGS, I DIDN’T KNOW

authors note : been on a terribly long writers block and i decided to write this while listening to red wine supernova! this is not proofread and forgive me for how bad this is + smut is not what i can write so js made it an heavy makeout sesh.

pairings : caitvi x fem!reader

red wine supernova by Chappell Roan playing!

It wasn’t like I’d ever been invisible. My teachers loved me, my grades were near-perfect, and I played second violin in the orchestra. People knew my name. But somehow, none of that made me feel seen.

Until Caitlyn Kiramman and Vi walked into my life.

They were the kind of people who didn’t just walk through the halls of Piltover High—they owned them. Caitlyn, with her sharp uniforms, always carrying herself like she was heading to a boardroom rather than her next AP class. And Vi? Well, Vi was everything Caitlyn wasn’t—wild hair, a perpetual smirk, and that leather jacket she wore like a badge of honor. They were opposites, but together, they were magnetic.

And for some reason I still don’t fully understand, they noticed me.

I was sitting under the big oak tree in the courtyard, trying to focus on my history notes but mostly just zoning out. That’s when their shadow fell over me.

“You’re in my chem class, right?” Caitlyn asked, crouching down to meet my gaze. Her voice was crisp, but her smile softened it.

“Uh, yeah. I sit… three rows back?” I replied, surprised she even knew I existed.

“She’s got the neat notes,” Vi said, plopping down next to me like she’d known me her whole life. “The ones that look like they belong in a museum or something.”

I blinked, unsure if that was a compliment. “I just like color coding.”

Vi grinned. “Cute.”

From that day on, they didn’t leave me alone. Not that I minded. It was… nice. Caitlyn helped me with calculus when she realized I was hopeless at derivatives. Vi taught me how to throw a proper punch after she overheard me confessing I’d never even been in a fight. They pulled me into their orbit, and I let myself get swept away.

But the thing that stuck with me most wasn’t the tutoring or the sparring sessions. It was the way they opened my eyes to things I’d never thought about before.

“I can’t believe you’ve never done this,” Vi said, tugging me toward the edge of the rooftop.

It was late, far past curfew, and Caitlyn had dragged me out of bed with a promise of “something fun.” That “something fun” turned out to be sneaking onto the roof of the tallest building in the neighborhood to stargaze.

“I’m not exactly a rebel,” I muttered, hugging myself against the chill.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Caitlyn said, her tone light but her gaze steady. She sat down, patting the spot next to her. “Come on. You’ll like it.”

I hesitated for a moment before joining her. The view was… breathtaking. The city stretched out below us, a sea of glittering lights that felt as endless as the stars above.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Told you,” Vi said, flopping down on my other side. “This is what life’s about, y’know? The little things.”

Caitlyn nodded. “The things that make you feel alive.”

I glanced at them, my chest tightening. They made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t realized I was missing.

They showed me music I’d never heard, places I’d never been, and feelings I’d never felt.

Caitlyn took me to a gallery opening one weekend, her hand warm around mine as she explained the stories behind each piece. “Art isn’t just about technique,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “It’s about the way it makes you feel.”

Vi, on the other hand, took me to an underground concert. The music was loud and messy, and the crowd was suffocating, but she was there, grinning at me like this was the greatest place on earth. “You don’t think, you just feel,” she yelled over the noise, pulling me into the rhythm.

Between the two of them, I learned how to look at the world differently. To feel it differently.

I don’t know when I started falling for them. Maybe it was the way Caitlyn’s eyes softened whenever I asked her about her favorite book, or the way Vi’s laugh echoed in my chest like a second heartbeat. Maybe it was the way they looked at me—like I wasn’t just the quiet girl with perfect grades but someone worth knowing, worth loving.

The three of us were sprawled out on Caitlyn’s couch one evening, a bottle of cheap wine Vi had smuggled in resting on the coffee table.

“You’ve never had wine?” Caitlyn asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“I’m underage,” I reminded her, earning a snort from Vi.

“Rules are just suggestions,” Vi said, pouring me a glass. “Live a little.”

I hesitated before taking a sip. It was sharp and tangy, and I coughed, making both of them laugh.

“You’ll get used to it,” Caitlyn said, her hand brushing mine.

“Yeah,” Vi added, her grin softening. “First time’s always weird, but after that? You wonder how you ever lived without it.”

They weren’t just talking about the wine.

They showed me things I never knew—about the world, about myself, about what it means to love and be loved. And for the first time in my life, I felt seen.

By Caitlyn and Vi.

And that was enough.

It was one of those nights that felt infinite, the air buzzing with unspoken energy. Caitlyn’s bedroom was dimly lit by the soft, golden glow of her bedside lamp. The three of us were piled on her plush, oversized bed, a half-finished bottle of wine between us. I could feel the heat of Vi’s arm pressed against mine, Caitlyn’s knee brushing my leg as she shifted closer.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Vi teased, her voice low, a little raspy from the wine.

“About what?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“About this,” she said, reaching over to gently tug the hem of my shirt, her smirk playful but her eyes… different. There was something in them, something that made my breath hitch.

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying me like I was one of those paintings she loved to explain. “You’re nervous,” she said softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

I swallowed hard. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn interrupted, leaning in. Her hand reached up, cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “We won’t push you, but… if you want to try…”

I barely had time to process her words before her lips were on mine. They were soft, warm, and patient, moving against mine in a way that made my head spin. My hands hovered awkwardly at my sides before I hesitantly rested one on her shoulder.

“Not fair,” Vi murmured, her voice thick with mock annoyance.

Caitlyn pulled back, her lips quirking into a grin. “There’s enough of her to share,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes impossibly tender.

Before I could respond, Vi’s fingers found my chin, turning my face toward her. Her kiss was nothing like Caitlyn’s. Where Caitlyn was soft and measured, Vi was fire—hot and consuming, her lips pressing against mine like she’d been waiting forever.

I let out a quiet gasp, and Vi chuckled, her forehead resting against mine for a moment before pulling me into another kiss. This time, Caitlyn’s hand slid to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair as she pressed kisses along my jaw.

It was overwhelming and dizzying in the best way. Their hands were everywhere—Caitlyn’s light and exploratory, Vi’s firm and grounding. I felt like I was being consumed by them, every nerve in my body alight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Caitlyn whispered against my skin, her breath warm and her voice like velvet.

“Perfect,” Vi added, her lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I didn’t have words. I could only lean into them, letting myself drown in their touch, their kisses, their warmth.

In that moment, I wasn’t just seen—I was wanted, cherished. And I wanted them just as much.

The room felt heavier now, charged with something electric, like a storm waiting to break. Caitlyn’s lips trailed down the side of my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, while Vi tilted my chin toward her for another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or impatient—it was slow, deliberate, like she was savoring every second.

“Relax,” Vi murmured against my lips, her hand finding its way to my waist. “We’ve got you.”

The words sent a rush of warmth through me, making it easier to melt into them. Caitlyn’s hand cupped the back of my head, guiding me toward her as Vi pulled back with a playful smirk.

“Your turn again, Princess,” Vi teased, leaning back to watch, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my thigh.

“Don’t call me that,” Caitlyn shot back, though there was no real bite to her tone. She turned her attention back to me, her lips curling into a soft smile before she kissed me again. Her hand moved from my neck to my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss, her movements smooth and confident.

I barely registered Vi moving closer until I felt her fingers brushing against the hem of my shirt, her touch feather-light. “This okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost gentle.

I nodded, the word catching in my throat before I could say it out loud.

Vi’s grin softened as she leaned in, her lips pressing against my shoulder. “You’re so damn cute when you’re flustered,” she muttered, the warmth of her breath making my skin tingle.

“Don’t overwhelm her,” Caitlyn chided, though her lips were still brushing mine as she spoke.

“She can handle it,” Vi said with a wink, her fingers sliding under the fabric to rest against my waist. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it made my head spin all over again.

They worked together in a way that felt effortless—Caitlyn’s kisses slow and exploring, while Vi’s hands roamed, her touch just the right mix of teasing and reassuring. Every now and then, they’d exchange a glance, a wordless conversation passing between them, making me feel like I was the center of something bigger than myself.

“You’re doing so good,” Caitlyn murmured against my lips, her hand trailing down my arm to intertwine her fingers with mine.

“Better than good,” Vi added, her lips brushing against the corner of my jaw as her hand tightened slightly on my waist. “You’re perfect.”

I felt like I was floating, caught between the two of them, their touches and words wrapping around me like a cocoon. For the first time, I wasn’t overthinking or doubting myself—I was just feeling. And it was everything.

Caitlyn pulled back just enough to look at me, her expression soft and adoring. “You’re sure this is okay?” she asked, her thumb brushing against my cheek.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but certain.

Vi grinned. “Good. ‘Cause we’re just getting started.”

She leaned in again, and I let myself sink into the moment, into them. They were showing me things I never knew, things I’d only dreamed of. And for once, I wasn’t afraid to let go.

Caitlyn shifted, her hand trailing from my cheek to rest lightly on my shoulder. Her eyes scanned my face, taking in every reaction like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” she whispered, her voice so tender it made my chest ache.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Vi leaned in, pressing another kiss to the corner of my lips before trailing her way to my neck. Her teeth grazed my skin, just enough to make me gasp, and she chuckled against me.

“Damn, Cait, I think we broke her,” Vi teased, her lips moving against my neck as she spoke.

“She’s not broken,” Caitlyn countered, her tone amused but firm. “She’s overwhelmed. There’s a difference.”

I couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, my head spinning as their attention consumed me. “I’m right here, you know,” I managed to say, though my voice was breathless.

Vi pulled back just enough to smirk at me. “Oh, we know. Trust me, we know.” Her hands slid from my waist to my hips, her grip firm but comforting. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

Caitlyn hummed in agreement, leaning in to press another kiss to my lips. This one was slower, deeper, and I felt myself melt into her touch, my fingers instinctively reaching for her waist. She smiled against me, her hand gently tracing along my jawline before pulling back slightly.

“I love how responsive you are,” Caitlyn murmured, her thumb brushing against my bottom lip. Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and she smiled at my reaction.

“Yeah,” Vi added, her voice dropping an octave. “You’re like a little open book. Every time we touch you, it’s like you light up.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I ducked my head in an attempt to hide it. But Caitlyn’s hand was there, gently tilting my chin back up.

“Don’t hide from us,” she said softly, her eyes searching mine. “We want to see all of you.”

Vi leaned in again, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before whispering, “She’s right. You don’t need to hold back with us. Just let go.”

Their words, their touches, the way they looked at me—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. I felt like I was unraveling, piece by piece, but instead of falling apart, I was being put back together by their hands, their lips, their warmth.

Caitlyn kissed me again, her hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer. At the same time, Vi’s hands moved up, brushing against the hem of my shirt before slipping underneath, her fingertips trailing along my skin.

“You okay?” Vi asked, her voice softer now, almost gentle.

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat as I leaned into their touch. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Caitlyn’s smile was radiant, her lips pressing softly to my temple. “Good,” she whispered. “Because we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

Vi’s grin was wolfish, her fingers grazing my ribs as she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “Better buckle up, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

And with that, they pulled me even deeper into their orbit, their touches and kisses showing me a world I never knew existed—a world where I was wanted, adored, and completely, blissfully theirs.

The room felt smaller now, the air thick with heat and something deeper—something electric that pulsed between the three of us. Caitlyn’s lips found mine again, her movements impossibly soft, like she was memorizing every detail. Vi’s hands were still under my shirt, her touch slow and deliberate as her fingers ghosted over my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Relax, baby,” Vi whispered against my neck, her voice low and soothing. Her lips brushed my skin, lingering at the spot just below my ear, and I felt my breath hitch. “We’ve got you.”

Caitlyn pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against mine as her thumb traced slow circles on the back of my hand. “You’re safe with us,” she said softly, her words laced with so much care it made my chest ache.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Good,” Caitlyn murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead before leaning back, her eyes scanning my face. “Because we want to take our time with you.”

Vi chuckled, her hands sliding to my waist as she leaned back enough to look me in the eyes. “She’s right,” she said, her smirk softening into something warmer. “This isn’t just some one-time thing, you know. You’re ours now.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. “Yours?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Vi said, her grip on my waist firm but comforting. “If you want to be.”

Caitlyn’s hand cupped my cheek, her gaze steady and full of something I couldn’t quite put into words. “We mean it,” she said softly. “We want you with us—not just tonight, but for as long as you’ll have us.”

I blinked, the weight of their words settling over me like a warm blanket. “I…” My voice faltered, but when I looked at them—at Caitlyn’s gentle smile and Vi’s steady gaze—I felt the last of my hesitation melt away.

“I want that too,” I said finally, my voice quiet but certain.

Vi’s grin widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Good,” she murmured. “Because we weren’t planning on letting you go.”

Caitlyn smiled, her lips brushing softly against mine before she pulled back just enough to speak. “We’re going to take care of you,” she said, her voice like honey. “We’ll show you everything you’ve been missing.”

And they did.

Caitlyn’s kisses were careful and precise, her hands moving slowly as though she were savoring every second. Vi’s touch was bolder, her lips and hands leaving trails of fire wherever they went. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements seamless, their focus entirely on me.

I felt like I was unraveling under their touch, my head spinning and my body trembling as they showed me a world I’d never dared to imagine. Every kiss, every whisper, every touch was a promise—one of care, devotion, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

By the time we finally collapsed together, tangled in each other’s arms, I felt more whole than I ever had before. Caitlyn’s hand was in my hair, her fingers combing through it gently, while Vi’s arm was draped over my waist, her grip firm and protective.

“You’re ours now,” Caitlyn said softly, her voice laced with a quiet certainty.

“And we’re yours,” Vi added, her lips pressing against my temple.

I smiled, my heart full as I closed my eyes. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m yours.”

And in that moment, I knew it was true. They had shown me things I’d never known—about love, about trust, about what it meant to truly belong. And I was theirs, completely and undeniably.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #fanfiction #caitlyn defender #oneshot #suggestive #caitvi #caitvi x you #caitvi x reader #wlw smut #chappell roan #violet arcane #au college

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wannaeatramyeon · 7 months ago

Text

The Crew Heads with Reader: The Keeper

G/N. This is dumb. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo). Masterlists

If you turn left at the traffic lights, then continue on the path for another mile, you'll arrive at a block of apartments.

The facade is a little dated, the area unremarkable though safe. To the right is a sleepy high street, and the other side are more residential buildings.

It's peculiar in how unpeculiar it is. There's nothing that stands out-

Hold on.

That's not entirely true.

Dig further below the surface, past the stuttering lights of the convenience stores, the ajummas nattering on the sidewalk, the mom and pop diners favoured by the locals and you'll find that, in fact, the area is deeply peculiar and odd.

Maybe everything was built where ley lines connect.

It's a magnet for gangsters, congregating in groups and hanging around menacingly. Frequented often by freakishly strong people, whose monstrous strength strikes fear into the heart of many.

Yet here, they just loom quietly in the shadows, causing no harm and presence intimidating enough that there is very little crime committed under their watchful eye.

That's because what is known about this particular place to a specific and violent subset of people, is that it's neutral territory.

Peaceful territory.

No blood can be spilled. No gang fights. No violence.

Unless it's committed by yourself, of course. It's the number one unwritten rule amongst all the other unwritten rules.

(As agreed to and acknowledged by all parties. Thank you for your cooperation.)

When one of the men stretches your patience too thin and you want to slap them upside the head, then surely it's your god given right.

Not that you would but no-one could or would blame you.

Maybe oddest of all, however, is the collection of strays you have acquired.

One by one, they have come across your path and fallen for your questionable, awkward charm. Found you during their time of need, whether that is looking for someone who listens and empathizes, tells them to cut the crap, or can simply make them smile.

Managed to begrudgingly strike up a makeshift sort of truce with the other men, if only for your sake.

And you, well.

You're known as The Keeper.

For most who hear about The Keeper, it conjures up terrifying images of a beast of a man. Muscle-bound and able to snap necks without blinking an eye.

The Keeper is actually none of these things. Although you don't mind the rumours that swirl about you.

What The Keeper is, is very very bored and yawning, you scratch your left asscheek as you wait for your strays to select their lunch.

Look-

You don't get paid from your job for another two weeks and you really can't expect Sammy to foot the bill for everything.

He goes above and beyond to give you the best of the best, but if it was up to him, would give the other three straggler-ons nothing and tell them to fuck off.

It's only because of you that he reluctantly ignores the way Johan sneaks dog treats into shopping trips, Eli adding cute little dresses, and Jake an extra something or other for a member of Big Deal.

(Not that Samuel minds too much about the latter though he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it outloud.)

He pays for it all with little complaint - actually no, that's not right. He complains a lot and holds it over their heads (but not yours) at every opportunity.

But he pays.

So today's lunch is your treat.

Even if your meagre bank balance only stretches to four ramens and maybe a sad drink to share between all of you. It's the thought that counts, ok.

"Yenna has a cream for that," Eli says, clocking your itchy butt, "you want to borrow it?"

You shake your head no and tell him thanks anyway.

"Your hair looks good," you add with a smile, ruffling his blonde wolfcut mullet with the hand that was on your ass a second ago.

Eli doesn't notice, or decides not to comment, instead runs his own fingers through his hair self consciously and clutches his ramen (Carbonara Buldak - a rare spicy treat when he doesn't have to share with Yenna) tighter.

"You think so? I thought it might be too light."

"You could pull anything off."

You force the smile to remain on your face, not that you're bitterly jealous or anything.

"Thanks!"

"Buldak?" A familiar voice sneers and you both sigh and turn your head to the duo still standing in front of the display.

"What's wrong with Buldak?" Jake responds, frowning.

"Nothing." Samuel reaches pointedly for the 2x Spicy packet.

Jake's eyes narrow. 'Nothing, if you're a pussy' was silently insinuated by Sammy and heard loud and clear by Jake.

He replaces his Spicy Chicken Buldak and matches his choice to Samuel's.

"This might be too mild," Samuel adds nonchalantly, grabbing the 3x Spicy instead and wanting to one-up that bastard even with something as juvenile as this.

"You win. Hope your asshole burns, asshole." Jake gives him a playful smirk, returning the Buldak for a Shin Ramyun.

Samuel raises his eyebrows in surprise at Jake's choice. His face turns proud and victorious. "I'll be fine."

As Jake walks away, Samuel glances nervously at his own noodles.

"That jjajangmen smells good," you comment besides Johan, both cooking your ramen on the machine in the store.

On instinct, he moves closer, defensively, protecting his own food, shielding it from hungry eyes-

Then clarity hits. It's you.

"Wanna share?" He offers, willing all the survival instincts he has honed from the last couple years to be quiet.

"Nah, I'm good." You bump goodnaturedly into Johan as thanks and rest your head on his shoulder, waiting for the food to finish.

He shrugs and averts his gaze. "You're the one that paid," he mutters by way of explanation.

You see through his deflection and notice his ears turn crimson.

The five of you are a sight to behold.

Slurping noisily on noodles; Samuel bright red, beads of sweat down his neck as he tries to choke down his ramen, Jake and Eli chuckling together at that poor pathetic moron, Johan growing restless as his was finished a good while ago but nevertheless finding Samuel a source of entertainment too.

All sitting side by side, taking up the window seats that provide a perfect people-watching view.

The roads are almost bustling at this hour and the buzz of the streets spill into the store.

"That's The Keeper," A small group of men whisper to each other, bowing in respect to you as they pass through the entrance.

You smile back pleasantly, hiding your confusion. They must just be friendly.

Mid-mouthful, you spy a blonde walking on the other side of the road.

He's hard to miss, with a spring in his step and whistling. His suit is equal parts expensive, impeccably tailored, and tasteless.

Your eyes connect.

Goo Kim gives you a cheery wave, a loud, joyous 'HEY!' and calls out your name.

You wave back and his grin grows when he spots your companions.

His arm moves even more erratically and he cackles, the loud hyena shriek heard despite the distance and through the glass, when the Crew Heads grumble and flip Goo off.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism fic #jake kim #eli jang #johan seong #samuel seo #jake kim x reader #eli jang x reader #johan seong x reader #samuel seo x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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just1cefor4ll · 1 year ago

Note

How are you? I just read the cigarettes after sex fic and I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3 Can I request a Joost Klein x fem!reader that's opposite of his style? Like opposites attract :3

The devil with his angel

Joost Klein x fem!reader

summary: readers style is a bit more feminine and usually wear lighter colours, unlike joost who had a masculine, street wear type of style. you were the prime example of the saying ‘opposites attract’

a/n: reader has a slightly specified outfit, hope thats alright<3

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

— You and Joost have been dating for a few months in secret, wanting some privacy before revealing anything to the public. It was more for you to build your relationship more and have your peace and quiet for some time, knowing your fans could get a bit hectic. You loved each other dearly, you two filled each other’s empty spaces, you fit together like an ancient puzzle basically soulmates.

In the present, you were currently at Joosts concert, you being on the opposite side of the barrier blocking the fans from rushing to the stage giving you your space. You were smiling, singing along to his songs. You only started learning dutch when you started dating Joost to show your dedication to this relationship and how much he meant to you, and so you could support him during his concerts like you were doing now. You didn’t fit in the crowd however at all, everyone wearing more darker colours, or something not that bright meanwhile you were here in a floral dress, some white stockings, mary janes and some accessories. You stood out like a black sheep, which was ironic since you were the only one NOT wearing black. You stood closer to the stage, taking some photos of Joost on your polaroid camera he got you on your birthday. You smiled, everyone would be able to tell you were love struck if your back wasn’t facing them.

Joost was in the middle of playing his song ´Droom Groot’ , it was clear he loved performing the atmosphere of his concerts were never dull, always some kind of emotions were being felt during his concerts. The end of the song was nearing, the “Yes, yes, ladies and gentlemen this was Joost Klein with his hit single ´Dome Groot’ “ You smiled softly, Joost looking down at you with a smile before crouching and cupping your cheek in his hand, giving you a kiss on the lips. Your eyes went wide and your cheeks got hotter, the crowd screaming and whistling, even some gasps were heard. It really was a strange sight, you really were polar opposites.

The next day the media went crazy. You were on every media, trending somewhere in the tops 10s. You scrolled through all the articles, some fans were beyond excited and celebrated the union of their two favourite artists, while others were dumbfounded. They had no idea how such polar opposittes could have found their way to each other. Joost came out the shower, towel loosely tied on his hips as he dried his hair. He came towards you and looked at your phone. “How bad is it?” He asks, a smile on his face. You return his smile, looking up at him. “It’s a mix of ‘oh my god i’m so happy for them’ and ‘how are they even together’ but that was more than expected.” You say and he nods kissing your forehead. “Yeah, but i’m glad I don’t have to hide my love for you anymore.”

Despite the media going crazy, you two embraced your public relationship, attending events together and Joost couldn’t help to always post something about you somewhere, your styles making you guys even more magnetic. Fans slowly started to see the connection between you two, acceptance growing more by the day. One time you both had to speak up about your relationship a bit more, since death threats started to be thrown into your inboxes left and right.

——————————————————————————

Joost Klein

@joostklein✓

It’s funny how you all see our styles and think we’re two worlds apart. Aside our styles were just two people who have passion for music and love each other.

Liked by bambiethug, {yourusername} and 2,082,096 others

user79107 and 568K others commented

bambiethug: you two are such sweethearts!! sending you all the love and protection from evil<3

user6618990: JOOST NOO MY HUSBAND

fucktheebu replied to user6618990: grow up you’re like 12

——————————————————————————

{your nickname}

@{yourusername} ✓

I get we have different styles but giving us death threats? Wow..

You don’t see more then what we put on the media, you don’t know what our relationship is like behind closed doors. We may have different styles but we love each other and have the same passion for music, we basically balance each other out in our own way. Sending love to everyone that supported us xx

Liked by joostklein, user97741 and 1,980,762 others

hihixlovers and 567K others commented

lolianx: ❤️❤️ love your dynamic fr

apsondabluebirdha: tell them!!

——————————————————————————

After that the whole thing calmed down. You two lived your lives more peacefully and you didn’t have to hide anymore. The both of you made a song together, tours sold out and your albums too. It was nice but it did add some stress to your career. You managed it all together always being there for one another despite your slight differences. You cherished every moment together, whether it was a simple night out, cooking together, singing silly songs together or just cuddling and watching a movie, all of it was just perfect.

You were currently in prague, performing a concert there together. You were the opener of Joosts concerts, since you didn’t really have the finances to two different tours so you decided on being the opener which you were more than happy to do.

You sat in a café, admiring the view of prague and also lost in thought. Joost was talking about the upcomig concerts, talking about the new places he wanted to see. He noticed your dazed state and stopped talking, putting a hand on yours as if to silently as if you’re okay. “Just thinking.” You say and he raises a brow; “About?” He pries and you chuckle softly. “I mean, do you ever think about how unlikely this is? Us, I mean.” You ask he he thinks for a moment, gathering his thought before soeaking up; “All the time. And every single time I realize how lucky I am to have you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I appreciate you.” You smiled, heart full of his enduring words. “Same here Joost, same here.”

About half a year later, your one year anniversary came. You were standing on stage, just finishing a song you wrote together just a few months ago. Cheers were heard throughout the crowd, signs with words like “We love you!” “You saved me.” “We’re proud of you.” were held high in the air, your heart melting. Realisation hit you like a truck as Joost picked you up and spinned you around, smiling wildly. He put you down, resting his forehead against yours, sweat dripping down from all the jumping around you’ve done during this concert. You smiles lovingly, holding his hands, fingers interwined. “We did it Joost.” “Yeah, we did.” In that moment you knew you found the right person. You realised you wanted to spend the rest of your days on this earth with this man, in his embrace, in his presence. Together you created beautiful and unforgettable memories that defied expectations, showing that sometimes, the most gorgeous harmonies come from the most unexpected places.

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#joost klein x y/n #joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein requests #stand with joost #joostice #justice for joost #free joost #joost #eurovision #eurovision x reader #eurovision fanfiction #female reader #x fem!reader #fem!driver #fluff

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thealchemistbae · 4 months ago

Text

Asteroid Fama (408) Observations 💫

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at [email protected] or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

Houses:

💥: Fama 1H: Babe, your face is recognizable. You could be walking through a random city, and someone's like, Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? (Even if they don't.) People remember your presence, whether it's your looks, your energy, or just how you carry yourself. If Fama is retrograde, like mine, your recognition might come in waves. You're lowkey one minute and suddenly trending the next.

💥: Fama 3H: Y'all are the ones people can't stop talking about. Your words? Iconic. Your tweets, texts, and posts? Memorable. This is big "everyone knows your name online" energy. You probably have the type of voice or way of speaking that people instantly recognize. If it's conjunct Mercury? You could LITERALLY get famous from how you talk, write, or communicate. Podcaster, writer, content creator? This is your sign.

💥: Fama 6H: Y'all have workplace clout. Your name holds weight in your industry, and people know you for what you do. Whether it's your skills, your work ethic, or just the way you show up every day, your coworkers, clients, or even competitors talk about you. If it's trine Jupiter? Major success can come through your job. But if it's square Pluto...whew, watch out for haters in the workplace.

💥: Fama 10H: This is big boss energy. Your name is going to be attached to success, leadership, or career achievements, whether you like it or not. People associate you with your work, and you could easily become well known in your field. If it's conjunct the Midheaven (MC), babyyyy you were born to be seen. This is public figure energy. You're not just making a name for yourself...you are the name.

💥: Fama conjunct Venus: Everyone stays talking about your looks, love life, or aesthetic. People are obsessed with how you dress, how you carry yourself, and who you're dating. It's giving effortless it girl/ it boy energy.

Aspects:

💥: Fama opposite Pluto: Whew, people have intense reactions to you. They either love you or they cannot stand you, and there's no in between. You have that magnetic, polarizing energy that makes you unforgettable (for better or worse).

💥: Fama trine Neptune: Your reputation has a mystical quality. People don't just recognize you, they see you as an enigma. You might also be known for your creativity, spirituality, or artistic side. This is "people project their fantasies onto you" energy.

💥: Fama square Saturn: You probably have to work for your recognition. People might try to block your success, or your reputation could take longer to build, but once you get it, it's solid. Think slow burn success with lasting impact.

💥: Fama trine Jupiter: Your name carries luck, expansion, and good fortune. People might associate you with success, and you could easily gain worldwide recognition.

💥: Fama conjunct Lilith: Infamous energy. People misunderstand you, but they can’t ignore you. This is the “why am I always the villain in someone’s story?” placement.

💥: Fama sextile Mars: You’re known for your ambition, drive, and possibly drama. People might respect (or fear) your competitive nature.

Fama & Other Asteroids:

☄️: Fama conjunct Nemesis (128): Watch out for people who envy your success; because you’ll have them.

☄️: Fama aspecting Pallas (2): People recognize your intelligence, strategy, and wisdom.

☄️: Fama conjunct Eros (433): People find you seductive, magnetic, and unforgettable. You might have a sexy reputation, even if you don’t try.

☄️: Fama trine Fortuna (19): Your name is synonymous with luck. Good things just happen to you, and people notice.

☄️: Fama opposite Lucifer (1930): You might be seen as rebellious, controversial, or someone who challenges the status quo.

I’m sure there is more but honestly this is all I have for now. Enjoy ⚡️

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at [email protected] or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

#astrology #astro observations #astro community #thealchemistbae #horoscope #birth chart #astrology for beginners #natal chart #fame #fama #asteroid #fama asteroid #famous astrology

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leashybebes · 4 months ago

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seventeen, or forty, or nine! :^)

here is number 9 - bookstore AU. went for more of a meetcute vibe than either of them working in a bookshop but *handwave*

Buck's tried three book stores, two of which got him blank looks, and one an apology about being out of stock and an offer to order in. Karen's birthday drinks are tomorrow night, so that's a bust. He's already got her actual gift, but he saw the book title in a list of queer non-fiction recommendations that he was browsing the other night for…reasons he's kind of feeling his way around the edges of, and it jumped out at him immediately. The reviews are kinda mixed, but the title is too good to pass up, and he knows Karen will get a kick out of it even if she doesn't wind up loving the book itself.

His final stop is Skylight Books in Los Feliz and in the crowded shop, with shelves of all heights and at all angles, it takes him a second to find the queer section mainly because - as he belatedly realises, a big, bulky guy is blocking the sign as he stands with his arms folded, scanning the shelves. Buck ducks towards it, sees the title of the book, a single copy whose cover proudly proclaims Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America. And then the title is obscured when the guy reaches out his big hand and scoops it up, and Buck blurts, "Wait, wait, no!"

The guy looks at him, eyebrows up, dark blue eyes a picture of puzzlement and Buck's reasons for scanning those lists of queer literature and movies and history crystallise sharply. He's gorgeous. He's so tall and so broad and his eyes are so pretty and his jaw is so stubbly and strong and Buck wants to taste it. He also really, really wants that book.

"Hi," Buck says breathlessly. "I'm really sorry, but I need that book."

The guy glances down to the book, back up to Buck.

"I hate to pull playground rules, but finders keepers, man."

"No, wait, you don't understand, it's a birthday present."

"Same," the guy says, starting to step around Buck and towards the checkout. Buck's heart sinks at the imminent disappearance of both the book and the guy.

"No, no, c'mon, the birthday drinks are tomorrow, you've got time to find another copy, right?"

"That's a coincidence," the guy says. "My friend's birthday drinks are also tomorrow. Sorry."

"No, wait, like - look, I saw the book on this list of like - interesting queer non-fiction, and uh, my friend - well, my friend's wife originally, but my friend too now, she's so cool and so interesting and I think I gotta ask her questions about like. Being queer. So this would be a really great segue into talking to her about how I'm like…ninety percent sure I'm bisexual - " Some reflex takes over and Buck does a quick up and down glance of the guy's body. " - ninety nine percent sure, okay, so like. You gotta help me out, man."

The guy blinks, something amused in the small curve of his lips. "No dice, buddy. No one gave me a coming out book shield, so. You'll do fine."

"Aw, c'mon, please! Karen's so cool, and I - "

"Wait, Karen Wilson?"

Buck blinks. "Uh. Yeah? What the hell?"

"I used to work with Hen."

Buck's head is filled with static, running through a mental rolodex of people Hen or Chim have ever mentioned as predating him at the 118. There's always the chance this guy is a pharmaceutical rep, but he definitely has more of a firefighter's build.

"I work with Hen right now!" Buck says.

The guy looks him up and down, tilts his head. "Wait. Are you the - the disaster magnet probie?"

"Yes!" Buck says, way more pleased than he should be. "I mean, not anymore, I haven't been a probie in years, but uh. That's me! Evan Buckley!"

"Tommy," the guy says, and holds out the book. "Going on what I know, there's a non-zero chance the store collapses in on us if you don't get your way, so. Here you go. Good luck with the bisexuality."

"It, uh - it could be a joint present?" Buck suggests, his mouth taking over.

Tommy's eyebrows go up again. "Little early for that, isn't it?"

"Get coffee with me, then," Buck offers, his heart in his mouth. He's asking out a guy. He's asking out the hottest guy he's ever seen. He's asking out the hottest guy he's ever seen and if he crashes and burns he's going to have to see him tomorrow at Karen's birthday drinks and -

"Sure," Tommy says, half-smirk broadening into a smile that lights up his whole face. "I'd like that, Evan."

#bucktommy #my writing #au meme #if you see typos no you don't #may or may not be writing this at work in between meetings 👀👀

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neighbourscat · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐘 || 𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . president’s son!rafe cameron X crisis manager!black!fem!reader. ||

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆�� . .. . lowercase intended! second person reading-perspective. mature language! ‘G’ in ‘God’ & ‘J’ in Jesus is lowercased. age-gap between black!fem!reader (32) & rafe cameron (24) / power dynamic! multiple uses of ‘y/n’ and ‘ms. mcclellan’. mentions of political corruption and doctoring. suggestion of and carrying out of an inappropriate relationship — while engaged to another! political drama! heavily inspired by scandal and how to get away with murder. wordcount :: 3.8k!++

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . pyd, justin bieber ft. r. kelly ! || nervous, the neighbourhood !

BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY

with a perfect, manicured nail hovering over the green-call button, you thought of every way the next few minutes could go. each turn, each road block, each scenario more vivid than the next of how your mother would make the conversation / your situation, about her; letting you know what she wouldn’t have done, like ‘lie straight to the chief of staff, the national security advisor, and senior white house counsel’, though she sure would have, or remind you again that the white house just wasn’t the place for you. the courtroom was, by her side. she was batman, you were always robin.

you’ve tried the courtroom with your mother. you’ve tried ‘tegan mcclellan & associates’ law firm. it took you four years to realize that that wasn’t exactly the path you wanted to continue down, for building your own name and your own career was impossible with a.) tegan mcclellan constantly in your ear and b.) within the walls of tegan mcclellan’s fix-it-all firm. you experienced first hand why, sometimes, being employed in a family business does not work.

though, there were good things that came from ‘tegan mcclellan & associates’ .. you guessed your fiancé wasn’t too bad when he wasn’t complaining about work, loathing your mother, or drinking himself to sleep. like your friends, who were ( are ) constantly competing for your mother’s attention, approval, or begging you to put in a good word so they could take charge of a case.

you switched off your cellphone. you pulled open a drawer of your new desk and dropped the device into the empty space. you froze, taking another look at your phone .. and closed the drawer — a single knock sounded at the doorframe. you quickly gathered your thoughts.

“i heard what you did.” announcing her presence; it was gemma sutherland, looking slim and trim in a navy blue dress with white stripes under a plain cardigan, white pantyhose, and dirty red flat heels — this was gemma’s first year as the chief of staff’s assistant. gemma’s job entailed her to run around the west wing; delivering reports, key files, and memos to the chief of staff and the senior advisor. “you are incredible, ms. mcclellan.”

“thanks.” you hummed, unenthusiastic. you glanced over to the door, your expression cool and calm. you waved gemma in. your dark eyes — eyes that had sized up countless opponents in debate, law school — fixed on gemma with the kind of intensity that made her stomach flip. you weren’t just intimidating; you were magnetic.

gemma could hear her heartbeat in her ears, she did her best to keep her face neutral. “i, um, just wanted to applaud you,” she answered, her voice sounding a touch higher than usual, “i actually wanted to speak with you, ask a question or two .. really quickly, before you’re off.” gemma grabbed herself a chair, one of the three that had been lined up against the wall, and set it opposite your desk. without thinking much, she asked: “the recording was ‘doctored’?” not of usual icebreaker variety.

you gave a clean nod — you removed the president’s son from the narrative entirely. the recording was manipulated? a bold lie. a dangerous lie. but in today’s age; a world where digital forgeries were becoming harder to detect, it was plausible. “i know it’s not my place, but .. i’d rather hear about it - all of it - from you than the news, or office whispers in passing, if that - what happened in there?”

gemma knew of you. she knew a lot, but she learned more from the catch-up! category of the insider’s edge ( gemma had followed every article, every piece of gossip ); a self-owned, widely-read platform run by a seasoned political commentator who thrived on breaking exclusive, behind-the-scenes stories from capitol hill to the oval office. the blog’s built a reputation for sharp, incisive commentary, particularly on the role of women of color in washington’s power circles.

you weren’t just any washington insider. you were practically political royalty; the blog had chronicled your ascent from law school — where you showed flashes of brilliance akin to your mother’s — to your internships on captiol hill, and now to your coveted role in the white house.

the insider’s edge had consistently highlighted the pressures you face: navigating your role as a woman of color in a predominantly white, male political landscape while constantly being compared to your mother’s success. the blog didn’t dare shy away from critiquing your every decisions:

the blog’s most recent headlines:

— “following in her mother’s footsteps or creating her own path? y/n mcclellan’s first 100 days in the white house starts today!”

— “does washington have room for two mcclellan women? a look at the legacy y/n has to uphold!”

— “the new! crisis manager to watch: will y/n mcclellan rise above the expectations?”

— “recently engaged. is y/n taking his last name? or is he taking hers? i’d take hers! duh!”

gemma, with her auburn bob and bang swoosh, leaned in a bit — holding both hands over the edge of your desk. when you looked into her light brown eyes, it was just enough to make gemma’s heart rate spike — yeah .. gemma read the insider’s edge a lot, went nowhere without the tab available on that samsung device in her back pocket.

“gemma -“ you had barely exhaled when a harsh knock blared at your office door. rafe cameron stood in the doorway; tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, his usually composed expression shadowed by disbelief. his gaze cut past gemma and landed directly on you.

she looked between you and the president’s son .. not wasting a second — gemma nodded, pushing the chair back. she hurried out, not even brushing past the towering man .. and as she raced way back down the hall, she realised that she had gotten an answer to something that had been bothering her for months.

gemma sutherland was a reddit user. an avid user. months ago, she had stumbled upon a conversation post that had asked what y/n mcclellan smelled like, if one had to guess; many answered ‘too good to be described’, while others answered ‘chocolate’ or ‘vanilla’ or ‘pumpkin’ or ‘sea salt’, like a cool summer night on the boardwalk.

but gemma had an answer: floral. powdery. classic. like baby lotion. or exactly baby lotion.

— he closed the door behind gemma, careful not to let it slam.

“if you’re here to thank me .. don’t.” you started in ( poor ) attempt to lighten the air. and that was no good. you weren’t sure why you even tried. you remembered how he looked at you in the situation room — why would right now be any different? “why are you in here, rafe?” you should have started with that.

rafe took another step closer — hands in his pockets. and then another .. until he was standing directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the way his pulse ticked in his throat. close enough that the toe-part of your pearly-white heels bumped into his shins — you instantly uncrossed your legs .. any type of contact had your mind melting.

low and quiet: “because you lied.”

you should have expected this. “i did what had to be done.” you had lied. boldly. completely. without hesitation. you had taken something that was undeniably real and turned it into a fabrication. a deepfake. a smear campaign. a coordinated attack on the administration.

and the worst part?

people were actually believing it. the press was running headlines about AI-generated disinformation. pundits on cable news were questioning whether the recording could be trusted. the white house’s story was sticking ..

but it shouldn’t have been, because rafe had been there.

the scandal wasn’t just bad. it was catastrophic. it had everything the opposition could have hoped for — a secret meeting, an incriminating recording, and the president’s son; the face of the first family’s younger generation, at the center of it. the tape painted a clear picture: rafe cameron had tried to broker a private deal with a foreign power — one with enough economic leverage to tip the election if they pulled their support.

if the recording had gone unchecked, it wouldn’t just cost the president his reelection — it would have triggered a congressional investigation, accusations of collusion, and a media storm that wouldn’t die down until the administration was irreparably damaged.

and you had just buried all of it. you had stood in the situation room, surrounded by the most powerful men in the country, and rewritten reality with nothing but your voice — maybe your mother would be proud. you did what you always did. you fixed it .. but fixing wasn’t the word for what you had done. you lied. you fabricated a reality that did not exist — “by any means necessary,” your mother had instilled.

“i did it. i did that. i went behind my father’s back - you should have let me take the fall.”

you shook your head, rolling the office chair back .. giving yourself space to stand up. “i fixed it. i handled it.” he scoffed, scratching the scrunch in between his full eyebrows, “th- .. that shit? you call that fucking-shit fixing? handling? really, y/n?”

he watched as you circled around him and take position at the opposite end of your office .. at the liquor cabinet; its contents: high-end and classic. whiskey / bourbon, cognac, vodka, wine / champagne. “i saved you,” you corrected. “i saved you from public - generational trauma and humiliation -“

you snatched up a glass .. you wouldn’t go for something subtle. not tonight. you bypassed the carefully curated diplomatic wines and the champagne meant for toasts. you didn’t reach for the vodka — too clean, too impersonal. no .. you went for the bourbon. something strong and powerful. something with weight. you didn’t bother with a slow pour. two fingers, neat. no ice. no dilution.

“- you are welcome -“

“oh come-the fuck-on!” with lengthy strides, rafe came up behind and stole the glass of bourbon before you could gulp down the rest. “be honest with me, huh? you’re capable of that, yeah? me, not them? right?!”

a deep sigh, annoyed and exhausted. mentally. emotionally. politically. “if i didn’t, the administration would be over.”

“bullshit.” he set the glass down.

you rolled your eyes and reached for another mini glass. “well .. what else do you want me to say?”

“hmm, how about the fucking truth? hmm? for once, maybe? that would be fan-fucking-tastic.”

you huffed when his warm hands stopped yours from taking the bottle of bourbon. rafe then, gripped your shoulders and forcefully turned your front to face him completely. “what .. in the fuck .. were you even thinking?”

again: “the administration.”

rafe dropped his head — “you’re lying.” he removed his heavy hands from your shoulders and started toward your desk, creating distance. he couldn’t breathe anymore. taking a breath felt so much harder on his body. “this .. this wasn’t just about the administration.” rafe met your gaze again, “you didn’t lie to protect my father, his feelings and his job. what-the fuck-ever. you did that to .. to protect me. and i need to know why.”

yeah .. that had nothing to do with the president. and it had nothing to do with the reelection. “you don’t get it.” the answer was short, and way too simple.

“then make me get it.”

you shook your head — grabbing your previous glass of bourbon — because saying it out loud made it real. and if it was real, then so was the madness of what you had done. you had spent this entire year crafting your new career; fighting, clawing your way into the president’s inner circle, making yourself indispensable.

you felt like your mother.

the single woman who raised you to be sharp, relentless, untouchable. the woman who spent her life twisting the truth with ease, making impossible choices, cutting the world open with a scalpel and stitching it back together before anyone noticed the wound — the woman you swore you would never become. the woman who had taught you that power wasn’t about truth — it was about control ..

.. because in washington, that’s what survivors did.

rafe stared hard .. he wasn’t looking at you like a strategist. he wasn’t looking at you like a fixer. he was looking at you like he had just realized you were capable of anything.

“i ..” you were supposed to be above this. above emotions. above personal attachments. but tonight? you lied like a woman who had something special to lose. “.. saved you.” refilling the glass, “i saved you the trouble.”

“what ..?” searching your face for a new angle. “you should have let me fall.”

“i saved you ..” you repeated, wincing after the liquor intake, “.. from ruin. from becoming’a headline. front page of every outlet, broadcasted on every news channel. from the kind of scandal that doesn’t jus’end careers - it destroys legacies.”

rafe released a sharp breath, moving in — furious and disbelieving, “you think i give-a-shit about legacies? seriously?”

“i know you don’t. you’re reckless. i think you have no idea how dangerous that shit was - how one misstep, one wrong word, one leak could have ended everything. everything would have crumbled because of you!” you pointed a finger, hand trembling with restrained anger, “hours and hours and hours of everyone’s time spent into securing your father’s presidency .. wasted because of you!”

“me?!”

“yea’! yea’you! you don’t get to fuck up! you -!” and you stopped yourself. you had to. you couldn’t keep yelling .. especially at the president’s son. anyone could have barged in and caught the sight. you lowered the glass nearby and moved from the liquor station. you settled down on the arm of the lounge chair, much further from rafe now. you crossed your legs again, “you don’t get to be naive,” you said after, folding your hands over your knee. “you don’t get to be stupid. a stupid young adult .. like everyone else. you don’t get to make mistakes and think they’ll only fall on you -“

rafe stiffened, fists clenching and unclenching, his sky blue eyes widening just enough for you to see it. he dragged a hand down his dry mouth, his composure cracking. he needed the room to stop spinning — so he dropped himself down onto a corner of your desk .. looking straight at you. eyes flickering from your face, to the layered jewelry around your neck, to the closed buttons keeping your breast covered, to the glittering engagement ring on your left finger ..

he blinked off then.

“- you are the president’s son. you are the heir to a machine built on power and perception. and if you had gone down for this? if i had let you take the fall?”

a pause.

lethal, intimate: “they wouldn’t have just ruined you. they would have burned and buried you.”

rafe swallowed deeply, his adam’s apple bobbing.

“you would have been reduced to a cautionary tale. a disgraced footnote in your father’s presidency -“ unable to sit still anymore, you slid from the armrest. “- his failure. his shame. and then, rafe? he loses. ‘nd everything .. every policy, every promise, every ounce of work this administration has done - gets erased.”

and you weren’t done. not nearly.

you were marching toward him .. getting dangerously close. so close that he was starting to see the fire in your eyes, the seriousness. “rafe ..” barely a whisper, almost intimate in its intensity, “.. i saved you from a lifetime of being the reason your father lost his second term. i saved you from a shit-storm you would have never recovered from. i saved you from the press tearing into you, from the wolves in that room who would have chewed you up and spit you out before you even knew what was happening.”

rafe sitting on your desk allowed him to finally be eye-level with you. “i saved you from yourself.”

and the words hung between. rafe just stared at you, breathing hard. because now? now he understood. you hadn’t done it because of politics. you hadn’t done it because of strategy. it had felt like desperation. you had done it because it was him. and you cared so deeply about him.

that was the real problem.

you don’t save people. you fix. you manipulate. you control. you lie to keep your clients, your candidates, your president unbeatable.

again, this wasn’t strategy. this wasn’t some calculated political maneuver. because you cared about rafe, you had to save him. and for the first time in your career, you didn’t make a move based on logic or power or control — you made it based on him.

rafe was a weakness.

no. you turned sharply, ready to pack up your belongings and head home for the night. you had said what needed to be said. made your case. explained yourself well enough — rafe’s hand caught your wrist .. his grip firm and hot, locking around the cold silver of your timeless watch, like a restraint and a plea all at once.

“rafe,” a low warning.

but he didn’t let go. “i like when you say my name ..” with little force, he pulled you back in — swift, deliberate, no hesitation.

your body collided with his, and suddenly you were standing between his legs, your knees brushing against the edge of your own desk, your breath coming fast. “wh-no, rafe.” he shushed you softly, shaking his head. he released your wrist, only for a second, to snake both arms around your waist and tug you in even closer.

his gaze — god, his gaze. “no, rafe.” you tried to rip yourself away .. he wouldn’t dare let you go. not right now. your throat was dry and every exhale felt uncomfortable.

softly, “can we stop the bullshit?” rafe tilted his head a bit, careful as he leaned in .. trying to be extra sneaky. “please?” he leaned in some more, just enough for you to feel the heat of his breath against your jawline, and it was infuriating how easily he unraveled you. “please? can we stop the bullshit? please?” he was intoxicating.

when he pulled back to meet your eyes and study your face .. he could see the way your lips parted, the way your next breath caught, the way your entire body seemed to betray you. “please ..?” his fingers moved, maddening and slow, and skimmed the hem of your button-up.

a test. a warning. a promise.

you didn’t stop him. didn’t shove him away. didn’t say the words you should have said. so .. he kept going — his fingertips traced the first button, lingering for just a second before he slipped it free, gentle and precise, like he had all the time in the world.

“let’s stop the bullshit, yeah?” rafe’s fingers brushed against the skin just beneath your collarbone, burning against the cool air now slipping between the fabric. “we can do that, right?” light and easy.

then, the second button.

this time, you sucked in a breath, your pulse drumming beneath his fingertips. rafe lifted his gaze, watching you again — watching every tell. because you could outtalk, outmaneuver, outthink anyone. but your body couldn’t lie. not to him. he moved lower — third button, fourth — his knuckles grazing bare skin, the edge of lace beneath. “tell me we can .. ms. mcclellan.”

and when his slick fingers ghosted over your ribs, you finally reacted — your hand shot up, gripping his wrist, holding him still. your breath was ragged, your pupils blown, and god, you were trying so hard to fight this.

to fight him.

“you know i don’t beg, ms. mcclellan ..” and for you he would, which you knew. “we’re not doin’ th’bullshit anymore, right?” instead of responding, you brought your hands to his chest, fingers dragging against the soft, expensive fabric of his blazer.

he didn’t move. didn’t breathe. didn’t dare break the moment as you slowly pushed the suit jacket off his shoulders. the fabric slipped down his arms, and when he let it fall onto the desk behind him .. you found the first button of his crisp white shirt and drew downward; you were crossing a line you could never uncross.

his shirt parted just slightly, exposing the smooth skin of his collarbone, the faintest hint of muscle underneath. you continued on .. you weren’t thinking about the scandal. you weren’t thinking about the lie you had told to protect him, about the fact that you had risked everything for him.

you were thinking about how rafe cameron had always been off-limits ..

he didn’t speak, didn’t smirk, didn’t push — like he knew this was something you needed to do .. and this was something you needed to do.

daydreaming: two bubbles had been floating around in his mind. rough .. gentle. the two words were bolded and in their own unique, distinct font. and then, more words swept in. the question: ‘how was she in bed’? reserved? kinky? passionate? placid? dominant? submissive? too lost in his own world, he opened his mouth and almost asked the question —

— without so much as a warning, he felt your thumb on the underside of his cock .. you took in a low breath, heavy and wanting as you crept all the way to the tip. the pad of your thumb teased and gently dipped into his slit before you lifted your chin, finding his eyes.

rafe’s face twisted up as he let out a wounded noise. his whole body locked, gasping .. he hadn’t felt when you unzipped his fresh slacks and dipped your hand below, into his boxers. with a deeep gulp, he grumbled out: “i can’t do this ..” there had been enough build-up. there had been far too much sexual tension the last couple of months. he couldn’t do the foreplay. he couldn’t do the teasing, the edging, the whatever else before the sex. “i can’t -“ swallowing a sloppy mess of saliva that waved over his tongue.

in one swift motion, he took two fistfuls of your button up and tore it back — loud and deafening, you couldn’t react quick enough. rafe unfastened the safety straps, spun you around, and unzipped your mini-printed pencil skirt. the professional attire crumbled at your heeled feet .. again, he twirled you back and giving you zero time to adjust, lifted you up into the air — as if you weighed nothing, his strength an effortless vigor you couldn’t ignore.

for a second, everything stopped .. the world quieted. you were so caught in the moment, so heated and so caught up in him .. you didn’t hear what he had said. yeah, you saw his lips move .. but no sound was produced.

“put it in .. need you t’do it.” a sweet whisper. a whisper too good, you hadn’t thought twice.

#nali’s ᡣ𐭩 #black writers #black reader #black women #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe x black reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron!president’s son x crisis manager!black!fem!reader #rafe cameron!the president’s son

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novahreign · 5 months ago

Text

Terry Richmond x black fem

Summary: Charlie is at her wits end running her household by herself. She just needs one thing and that’s her husband. (Hoping to get better at summaries)

Angst, Fluff.

I hope you enjoy!

Charlie was at her wits end. She swallowed the hard jump in her throat as she stirred the tomato sauce for the spaghetti. She tapped the spoon on the edge of the pan, then it set it on a napkin. She checked her phone, it read 5:20 p.m, her husband Terry would be home soon. He had gone to pick up one of their twin sons, Terry Jr “Tj” from baseball camp. The other twin was currently staring her down, concerned etched in his face.

“You okay, mama?” He was just like his father-observant and empathetic.

“Im okay Tye, thank you.” She managed to give him a small smile, hoping that would keep him from asking any further questions.

“Alright.”

He turned his attention back to building his Lego battleship. Charlie turned the fire down, letting the sauce simmer.After, popping some garlic knots in the oven, she went to check on her other set of twins-girls.

“Callie, Truth? What are you girls doing?”

Callie was propped up on a bean bag pillow, intently watching Bluey, while Truth sang “Girl on Fire” at the top of her lungs, repeating the same line over and over.

“What are you girls doing?” She asked again, her eyes scanned the playroom-it was a mess. Dress up clothes, magnets, pretend food and foam blocks were scattered all over the floor. “Girls!” She huffed, “what did we talk about? You’re not suppose to pull all of the toys out, like this.”

“Truth did it.”

“Nuh uh, Callie did!” She frowned, “You did that Callie, stop lying!”

Charlie had to keep from rolling her eyes. The last thing she needed was breaking up a fight between her toddler twins “It’s both of y’all’s toys, so you two, need to work together.” She clapped her hands “get to it.”

“Hey bubba boy.” She cooed, kneeling down peppering kisses on his cheeks “Ooo, Carter Jay, you stink.” She got him out of the walker, grabbed a diaper and the pack of wipes. She laid him on the couch to change him.

Their living room looked like a nursery. She had just finished cleaning it that morning, and it was almost right back to how it was before. She sighed deeply, feeling the lump starting to form again and the tension build even more in her body. She had just threw away Carter’s diaper when she caught a glance at the camera, neither Truth or Callie were doing what they were told.

“Girls!” She yelled, causing Carter to jump. “I’m sorry bubba.” She chuckled. Her poor baby boy was looking at her like she was crazy.

She placed Carter back into the walker, who immediately stared crying. “You’re okay baby, you’re okay.” She moved to cut the stove off and took the bread of the oven. “Tye, could you watch him for a minute please, while I go check on your sisters?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t take him out though, please.”

“I got you mama”.

Back upstairs, After correcting them, she helped the girls picked up their toys, placing them in their designated spots, with a warning to not pull all the toys out again. She grabbed the remote, turning off the television. She scooped up Callie, placing her on her hip.

“Bluey!” Callie whined

“We aren’t watching Bluey anymore. You’re going to eat dinner, take a bath and go to bed.”

She slid down Charlie’s body, melting to the floor. Callie was their dramatic child. Carter spotted his mama and started up crying again.

“Great, now I have two kids crying,” she thought to herself as she took Carter back out of his walker.

“Yall go wash your hands for Dinner, you to Tye.”

“Aw man, but I’m not done yet mama.” She shot him a look.

“Yes ma’am” he hopped down from the stool. “Don’t touch my stuff Truth.”

“I’m not going to touch it, bubby, I’m just looking at it.” Her green eyes peeking over the counter.

“You better not.”

The garage door opened and Terry and his Jr, walked in. Truth immediately ran to him with her arms outstretched “Daddy!” He happily picked her up, planting kisses and telling her how much he missed and loves her.”

“Hey mama,” Tj wrapped his arms around her waist

“Hey sweetie, how was camp?”

“It was good, and fun! I hit a dinger and got three home runs.”

“That’s my guy.” They high-fived

He had a big smile on his face, showing his two missing front teeth ”Yeah, everybody can just call me Benny “the jet” Rodriguez now.” He hit the griddy dance.

Charlie laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead “Okay, Benny. How about you, griddy yourself to bathroom and wash up, you’re so sweaty, ugh.” He tickled Carter’s feet, causing the baby to laugh. “I’m gonna get those legs Carter boy.”

Charlie rushed him along “Go baby, quick, quick, quick.”

Terry leaned against the counter, taking in their encounter. Charlie turned toward him and sticking Carter out for him “Here you go, Say, Hi Daddy.”

Terry nibbled on his chunky boy. “Hey baby.” He leaned down, kissing her lips.

“Hi, honey.” She was just about to lean into him, when Callie started up her wailing. Charlie let out a frustrating huff.

“What’s up with her “he nodded towards Callie.

Charlie just looked at him.

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

Understanding how their child operated from time to time. Callie was no longer crying because of Bluey, but because no one wanted to play with her, although no one was playing but sitting at the table, ready to eat.

He looked at Callie, his sweet little baby twin. Tears streaming down her red cheeks. Out of all his kids, she was most like him as a child, not only that, she looked the most like him, from the skin complexion, to the eyes, even down to the big ears. He looked from his daughter to his wife. She wore a weary expression.

“Baby.” He called out to her

“Hum.” She answered as she put the plates of food on the table for the kids.

He stopped her from making another plate, “How was your day beautiful?” As she looked at him, there, he saw the unshed tears. He pulled her into him.

“I need your words baby.” He said as he ran a hand up and down her back. He adjusted Carter who stopped playing with his ear to look at his mommy. “Talk to me baby.”

She patted his chest. “Not good, but I’ll be fine.”

He’s known this woman for twelve years, and knew that she was no where near fine. He understood that this wasn’t exactly the right time, so he let it go-for now.

He hooked his arm around Tye, who was passing him by. “What’s up son.”

“What’s up dad!” He dapped his father up.

“You ain’t been giving your mama, a hard time, have you?”

“No, Sir.”

“That’s what I love to hear, holding it down while your daddy’s gone.” he kissed his forehead. “Your legos looking good. I’m going it have to check it out after dinner.”

Tye smiled, he was happy that his daddy was home. “I love you dad.”

“I love you too.”

They sat at the table as a family, well all except for Callie, who was still pouting.

“Callie, are you gonna eat your food?” Tye asked his little sister.

“Yeah, Callie. You gonna be hungry.”

She grunted at her twin, “Leave me alone Truth.”

Truth rolled her eyes and waved her off “whatever.”

Terry and Charlie pressed their lips together to keep from laughing. Charlie shook her head as she broke up Carter’s noodles, then turned back to look at Callie

“Callie, when Daddy starts washing dishes. Dinner will be over and you’re not going to be able to eat,so, if you’re hungry, you need to come eat.”

Callie didn’t say anything, just looked at Charlie.

“Did you hear your mother?” Terry’s calm but firm voice broke Callie’s gaze away from her mother’s. She nodded her head.

“I needs your words Callie Marie.”

“Yes sir.” She pouted.

“Alright, then. Come eat your food.”

She started crawling on the tile for “Stand up and walk.” She did what her daddy told her and sat down next to her mother. She looked at Charlie for sympathy “I’m glad that you decided to join us. Eat your food please.” She cast a quick glance at her father and did what her mama asked of her.

Once dinner was over and the kitchen was cleaned, Terry helped the boys with their legos. The girls were coloring and Charlie was playing with Carter on the couch.

“Uh oh, ooooo, mommy!” Callie jumped on the arm of the couch and tapped her repeatedly. “Mommy, Truth colored on the wall.”

“What?!” Charlie got up and sure enough, Truth had taken crayons to her newly painted walls, “Did you do this?”

Truth slowly shook her head .

”No ma’am! You know better than that Truth!” She grabbed a soapy rag and tried to scrub it off

“Callie did it too.” She said throwing her sister under the bus.

“Nuh huh!” Callie yelled from the couch

Callie wasn’t being honest. Charlie made out her name on the wall. Where she was practicing.

“Callie, you did, because you tried writing your name. Why would yall do that? Put the crayons on the counter.” She kept scrubbing “How the Fu-it’s not even coming off!” She stood up. “Yall are done for the night! We’re going upstairs,taking baths and going to bed.”

The girls started crying. “No, I don’t want to hear it.” She lead the girls upstairs “Yall knew better. Boys! Yall have thirty minutes with the legos and then it’s showers and bed, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.” They looked at eachother, glad that they weren’t on the receiving end of their mother’s frustration.

She got the girls bathed and in their PJs.

“I’m sorry for coloring in the wall

Mommy, I love you.” Truth hugged her.

“I’m sorry too, mommy.”

She sighed.”Tomorrow is a new day, we’ll make better choices.”

They asked for a bedtime story, she declined and they knew better than to start whining, she kissed them good night and left the room. When she made it back downstairs, she noticed the boys were missing and downstairs was damn near spotless.

“Where are the boys?”

“Upstairs, showering and getting ready for bed.” Carter was sleeping peacefully in his daddy’s arms. Terry placed him the portable crib.

“Come here beautiful “ she walked into his outstretched arms

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ve ran you a bath, go and take all the time you need.”

“All the time, I need. That’s sounds wonderful. Thanks baby.” She kissed him before going into their bedroom. She stripped out of her clothes and sank into the water “oh my goodness, this feels amazing.” The water was just the right temperature- it soothed her aches. She relaxed in the water, resting her head on the back of the tub. She needed this.

Life away from their family was hard. After leaving the Marines, Terry got into the oil and gas industry, which uprooted their family to a city on the outskirts of Houston, Tx. He made good money working in that industry and with her income as a Dentist, they lived comfortably for a family of seven, but this job required Terry to work turnarounds every now and then and when he did, he rarely saw his family. Again? The money was great, but with him being absent and them having five kids, the load fell solely on Charlie. She loved her kids but it could be a lot. That’s the only down side of not having your family near. She did receive help every other weekend from Olivia, a part time preschool teacher but that was bi-weekends. She was thankful for her but nothing compared to doing all of this with Terry and she was glad that he finished his last week of a thirteen week turnaround today.

Charlie finished her night routine and entered the bedroom, hoping to find Terry, who wasn’t in there. She grabbed her Dahlia lotion from bath and body works and rubbed it all over her body and sprayed a vanilla scented perfume named “Skylar” on her neck, wrist and behind her knees. She was feeling like herself again. She dressed in an oversized Whitney Houston t-shirt and a pair of boys shorts before exiting the room to find her husband.

“Baby?” She whispered just in case he still had Carter. She noticed the living room lights were dim. She stepped out further, confused “oh my gosh, Terry!”

Her husband stood there with a bouquet of roses in his hands and a huge bag from her favorite jewelry store-James Avery. She truly was becoming a Texan girlie. The room was lit with some candles, that smelled amazing. It gave the room a nice ambiance. He had a nice little spread of mini pizzas, fruit and champagne on the living room floor. Charlie laughed as tears came down her face. She held her hands clasped under her chin as she looked at her husband, she slowly moved toward him.

“I love you so much, baby.” She kissed his lips multiple times “thank you for this.”

“Anything for you Char. I love you baby.”

Terry handed her the roses.

“Awww,honey, They’re beautiful. I don’t think we have a vase big enough for these.”

“It’s cool, I got one.”

“Look at you thinking of everything and thinking of me.”

He kissed her hand “I’m always thinking of you Charlie.” She caressed his face.

“Ahhh!!! My husband is amazing. Thank you Jesus!!!” She whispered yelled walking into the kitchen.

Terry laughed as she went to put the flowers in the vase.

The night was filled with some much laughter and teasing one another. They were enjoying this much needed time together. She leaned against Terry and held her arm out. “Baby, I’m loving this charm bracelet, it’s so me.” She admired the charms. All the things she loved. He knew her so well.

“I meant to ask, Did Carter go down good?”

“He put up a fight, but I had him.”

“He’s just used to mommy’s boobies.”

“Well he ain’t have much of choice tonight, with his spoiled ass.”

“Leave my little chocolate baby alone. He does no wrong. However, Callie, that sweet baby twin of yours, sis, is on another level. I love her but my goodness. She’s literally all you. Had me ready to pull all my hair out.

“My baby does no wrong.”

“What do you call that Picasso art work, miss ma’am did on my wall.”

“Wasn’t that Truth?”

She snickered “here you go…honestly that surprised me. I wouldn’t have thought, she would do that. Truth is usually in her own world, miss independent. “Sometimes, I feel like a terrible mom.I hate having to get onto them, in that way, it wasn’t fair, I was already frustrated and then those damn crayons and my wall.”

Terry let her vent, he didn’t say anything until he was sure that she was done.

“I know that we’re still adjusting to life here in Texas and with our family and a lot has fallen on you. I’m thankful for all that you do for me and our kids. You hold us down, like no other. I know we don’t have the support we had in North Carolina, but you have made this transition smooth. I love you and appreciate you so much Charlie. I want you to know that I see you. You’re an amazing wife to me and amazing mother to those kids, they adore you! The way the boys were gushing about you, they have such great respect and love for you, baby! You’re the best mother to my kids. Never doubt your ability to mother them. And I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re a terrible mother or hear that out of your mouth, because you’re not and never will be. Im here for you baby and whatever I need to do, to ease this parenting burden for you, I will do it. I know our time has been few and far between but I promise to make it up to you. Because it’s me and you Charlie. We’re in this together. I got you forever, Charlie. Thank you for holding me down.”

Charlie wiped her tears “thank you for always making me feel seen and heard. Just you listening to understand to me, warms my heart Terry. I swear God handcrafted you for me.”

“I pray that I always show up for you and make you feel safe to be vulnerable.”

She turned in her husband arms and kissed him with everything in her. “I needed you so bad, thank you for being here.”

He kissed her equally as hard. “Let me take care of you.”

She climbed on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I know, I tell you all the time but I also really appreciate everything you for us. You’re such a man of honor and I couldn’t imagine anyone else loving me and my babies the way that you do. She licked his lips “the best husband award goes to you….now I want you to make love to me. Show me how much you missed me.”

Terry spent the rest of the night, doing just that.

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond x black reader #rebel ridge #black love #black family

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