#the party ended and shes still here <- me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlygirlaliveinnyc · 1 day ago

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bend, break, repeat [18+] ✮⋆˙ [pt.1]

pairing: noel gallagher x fem!reader x damon albarn genre: smut !!, drama—love triangle word count: 8316 warnings: unprotected sex, possessiveness, slight voyeurism, praise/degradation mix, oral (f!receiving), spanking, rough sex overall summary: in the wreckage of a london afterparty, you end up caught between noel and damon. a/n: part one of the challengers-inspired mess this is. part one only bc i have a lot that would work better for a pt.2— maybe even pt.3 !

the pub was already thick with smoke by the time you arrived — the kind that clung to your hair, your clothes, the back of your throat. it was late enough that nobody remembered whose afterparty it had been to begin with — blur’s, oasis’s, or just another excuse for half of london to cram into camden’s cracked little bars and pretend they were kings of the world.

you’d been here before. you always were. never as anyone’s girl — that was the myth that kept your name on every tongue. you weren’t pinned to a band, a boyfriend, or a clique. you floated. you drifted between tables and couches and booths, always with a glass in your hand and a laugh sharp enough to cut through the din. half the time you were in the wings, half the time draped across someone’s arm. people called you a muse, a menace, a groupie, a curse. it didn’t matter. what mattered was that when you walked into a room, it bent to you.

tonight, it bent twice.

damon spotted you first — perched at the bar like the whole scene orbited him. his shirt hung open a button too low, hair falling into his eyes, pint dangling in one hand like it had grown there. the grin spread across his face the instant he saw you, that lazy, lopsided smirk he knew people leaned into.

“there she is,” he drawled as you slipped up beside him. “thought you’d be off with the gallaghers tonight. what’s it now — monday for oasis, tuesday for suede, thursday for me?”

he said it loud enough to turn heads. not just a flirt — a jab. the kind of line meant to sting in someone else’s ears as much as yours.

and it did.

from across the room, half in shadow, another gaze caught and held you. noel — slouched in a corner booth, cigarette glowing between his fingers, pint untouched. he didn’t smile. didn’t even look away when you met his eyes. just tipped his head back, exhaling smoke into the ceiling, eyes already fixed on damon like he’d been waiting for the opening.

“rather dad rock than art-school nursery rhymes,” he muttered, and the words cut through the noise like glass.

the booth around him laughed. damon let out one of his own, sharp and showy, but leaned closer anyway, lips brushing your ear.

“what d’you reckon, then? better to be boring, or to be a joke?”

you swirled your drink, let the silence pool, felt both of them watching, waiting like your answer mattered more than chart positions.

“worse,” you said finally, smoke-soft. “to be predictable. and neither of you are that.”

silence fell again. then damon threw his head back, laughter splitting through the air, delighted. noel only tipped his chin, tapped ash into the tray, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’d just won a point damon hadn’t noticed was in play. damon was still laughing, loud and showy, but you only smiled into your glass, the sound tugging low in your throat.

you let the laughter fade, drained what was left in your drink, and slipped away before either of them could make a move. you didn’t leave the party — just disappeared into the crush of bodies, swallowed by smoke and the thrum of voices. teasing was half the fun: give them a taste, then vanish, see which one would chase.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

damon watched you go, grin flickering sharp as your eyeliner trailed into the blur. without a word, he pushed off the bar and cut across the room toward the booth in the corner.

noel didn’t shift. didn’t even blink when damon slid into the seat across from him, knee knocking the sticky wood of the table.

“she’ll come back,” damon said, cocky, like the matter was settled.

noel took a drag, exhaled slow, smoke curling through the air. “aye. just not t’you.”

damon barked a laugh, leaning back like he’d been born in that seat. “that what you tell yourself, then? helps you sleep at night?”

noel’s eyes narrowed, but his mouth twitched — not a smile, exactly, but close enough to sting. “helps me not waste my time.”

they sat there for a beat, the weight between them pressing heavier than the pub noise around them. it wasn’t the first time they’d been in the same room without guitars in their hands, but it felt like it. something raw, restless, filling the smoke between them.

damon tilted his head, voice dropping low. “she laughs at my jokes.”

noel tapped ash into the tray, eyes on him. “she laughs at everyone’s jokes.”

“nah,” damon grinned, leaning in, elbows on the table. “not like that. you saw it. the way she leans in, the way she watches. that’s mine.”

noel’s eyes lifted, steady and dark. he didn’t blink. “you keep thinkin’ that, lad. makes it easier when she leaves you flat.”

damon’s grin faltered — just for a second. but he liked the sting, maybe even needed it. “you’d know about bein’ left, wouldn’t you? all that noise, all that attitude… funny how quiet you get when she’s not lookin’.”

the cigarette burned low between noel’s fingers. his jaw tightened. he ground it out in the ashtray, leaned forward, voice rough as gravel. “better quiet than desperate.”

for a moment it looked like it might break — a glass hurled, a fist swung, a fight right there in the middle of the pub. but damon only laughed, sudden and sharp, throwing his head back.

“fuckin’ hell,” he said, grinning wide again. “you do enjoy this, don’t you?”

noel didn’t answer. just struck another match, lit a fresh cigarette, smoke curling between them. the smirk was small, but it was there.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you came back like nothing had happened, sliding into the booth with a fresh glass and a half-smile that made both men straighten in their seats. damon shifted over instantly, arm flung lazy across the back of the bench so it brushed your shoulders like he’d been saving the space all along. noel didn’t move — just flicked his eyes up at you, cigarette balanced between his lips, and let you sit close enough that your thigh pressed into his.

the silence was thick, electric. you let it hang, sipping your drink, pretending not to notice damon’s gaze cutting sideways at where your leg pressed into noel’s.

“so,” you said finally, smoke-soft. “did you two miss me?”

damon smirked, leaning in until his breath brushed your hair. “we were just talkin’ about you, actually. weren’t we, chief?”

noel didn’t glance at him. “don’t call me chief.”

damon laughed, delighted at the spark, turning back to you. “he’s jealous already. can’t stand the thought of me makin’ you laugh.”

noel’s reply was low, flat. “there’s nothin’ funny about you.”

“oh, come off it,” damon shot back, grin widening. “she’s sittin’ here, innit? doesn’t look like she’s rushin’ off with you.”

you arched a brow, swirling your glass, letting your eyes flick between them. “i’m not rushing anywhere.”

that earned the faintest curl from noel’s mouth as he tipped his pint. damon caught it, scowled, and pressed closer into your other side, his knee nudging yours beneath the table. noel shifted in response, shoulder brushing yours — too light to be an accident, too long to ignore.

“so,” you murmured, eyes half-lidded. “are you two always like this, or is it just me?”

damon grinned. “just you, love.”

noel exhaled, smoke curling upward. “aye. just you.”

the insults quieted, but the weight didn’t lift. knees pressed, shoulders braced, the three of you sat in the haze, waiting for something to crack.

damon flagged down another round, sliding your glass toward you with a flourish more for show than courtesy. “see? i look after her. proper gentleman,” he said, loud enough to turn heads at the next table. “not like some people who think a pack of benson & hedges is foreplay.”

noel’s eyes cut sideways, unimpressed. “better that than yammerin’ on like a fuckin’ radio. reckon she’d rather breathe than listen to you gas on.”

nervous laughter fluttered from the hangers-on. damon only grinned, biting down like he’d been waiting. “at least she laughs at my jokes. you just sit there, thinkin’ you’re mysterious, when really you’ve got nothin’ to say.”

noel stubbed out his cigarette with deliberate slowness, leaned across the table so the words landed close. “funny, comin’ from a man who’s been tryin’ to write a song half as good as live forever and still hasn’t managed.”

the table stilled. damon’s smile twitched, but he held it, head tilted, amused. “congratulations, mate — you wrote the people’s karaoke song. should put that on your gravestone.”

“better than bein’ forgotten before you’re buried,” noel shot back.

you sat between them, sipping your drink, heat coiling at the way neither looked at you but everything was about you anyway. their voices clashed sharp above your head, but you felt it in their bodies against yours — damon’s knee grinding harder, noel’s shoulder braced tighter.

you set your glass down, smile curling slow. “boys,” you murmured, smoke-soft. they both stilled, eyes snapping toward you like they’d only just remembered you were there.

you let the hush stretch thin, then slipped out in one smooth motion. “i need some air.”

damon started to rise, but you pressed a hand to his shoulder on your way past, a touch that was both promise and tease. “stay,” you said, before vanishing into the hallway.

behind you, the silence was heavier than all the noise before it.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

the hallway smelled of damp plaster and stale smoke, the kind of back corridor pubs never bothered fixing up. one bulb buzzed overhead, swinging faintly every time the door at the end slammed shut. it was quieter here, the music thudding faintly through the walls, voices muffled into a low hum. you leaned against the plaster, glass in your hand, the taste of lager and smoke still lingering at the back of your throat.

you hadn’t been there a minute before the air shifted.

noel’s boots on the boards — steady, unhurried. he didn’t announce himself, didn’t clear his throat or call out. just appeared, a shadow resolving into shape, cigarette still lit between his fingers.

“don’t tell me you needed air,” he said, voice flat, manchester vowels thick with smoke. “sat there laughin’ like you were havin’ the time of your life.”

you looked at him over your shoulder, slow. “maybe i was.”

he huffed something that wasn’t quite a laugh, leaned against the opposite wall, one shoulder braced, eyes on you through the haze. he took a drag, held it, let it out.

“he’s a fuckin’ clown,” noel said finally, flicking ash toward the floor. “loud, desperate. all he wants is to win.”

“and you don’t?” you tilted your head, watching the way his jaw clenched.

his eyes cut to you, sharp. “not like that. i don’t need t’prove myself every five fuckin’ seconds.”

you sipped your drink, letting silence hang between you. “seems like you’re doing a bit of proving now.”

he pushed off the wall at that, stepping closer. not touching, but close enough that you could smell the smoke on his clothes, the bitter tang of beer. his eyes dragged down your face, lingered at your mouth, then back up again.

“don’t get it twisted,” he muttered. “i’m not chasin’ after you like he does.”

you let a smile tug at your mouth, lazy. “you followed me out here, noel.”

that landed. his eyes flickered, a crack in the armour, and for a second it was just breath and smoke between you.

the door at the far end creaked then, and damon’s voice cut through, bright and smug. “knew you wouldn’t last five minutes without her.”

noel stepped back an inch, shoulders stiff. you didn’t move, just looked at the two of them, caught in the hum of the light, the weight of the game settling heavier around you.

damon sauntered down the corridor like he owned it, jacket half off his shoulders, grin wide enough to split his face. he stopped a few feet short, eyes flicking from you to noel, lingering like he could taste the heat in the air.

“look at you,” he said, laughter in his voice. “all serious faces, like you’re talkin’ politics. what’s he tellin’ you, love? that i’m a bad influence? that he’s the safe bet?”

you tilted your glass, let the liquid swirl. “something like that.”

noel didn’t glance at him, just kept his eyes on you. “told her you’re a clown. which you are.”

damon laughed sharp, head tipping back, then leaned in until he was close enough you could smell the gin on his breath. “a clown that had her laughing, mate. a clown she followed in here before you.”

noel’s jaw ticked. he took another drag, exhaled smoke slow, straight between the two of you. “she walked out on her own. only thing you followin’ is me.”

that got under damon’s skin — you could see it in the twitch of his mouth, the way his hand flexed at his side. he stepped in closer until all three of you were shoulder to shoulder in the narrow space, the plaster wall warm at your back.

“funny,” damon murmured, eyes gleaming. “looks to me like she’s right here. with me.”

you pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, watching them circle, each word heavier than the last. noel’s shoulder brushed yours now, firm, unmoving, his heat bleeding through your sleeve. damon’s hand ghosted your hip, fingertips teasing, daring noel to notice.

“maybe i’m with both of you,” you said, voice low, smoke-soft.

the silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. noel’s eyes snapped to yours, dark, searching, like he wanted to know if you meant it. damon grinned, slow and victorious, but there was a flicker of something else under it — a thrill, maybe, or a fear.

you drained the rest of your glass and set it on the ledge, the sound of it hitting the wood sharp in the quiet. “i should get going.”

both of them moved at once, subtle but there — damon’s hand firmer at your waist, noel shifting to block your way like he wasn’t ready to let you pass.

you smiled at them both, lazy, knowing. “don’t fight over it, boys. i’ve got enough nights for each of you.”

you slipped past before either could answer, the thud of your boots fading into the thrum of the music.

behind you, silence again, just smoke and tension filling the space you’d left. damon let out a low whistle, hands sliding into his pockets. “she’s good, innit?”

noel lit another cigarette, slow. “too good for you.”

but he didn’t walk away either.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

the door swung shut behind you, and the echo of your boots melted back into the pub’s roar. the corridor felt emptier for it, just the two of them and the buzz of the light overhead.

damon leaned against the wall, eyes still fixed on the space you’d vanished through, grin curling slow at his mouth. “reckon she’s half in love with me already.”

noel snorted, flicking his lighter to life, flame flaring as he cupped it to his cigarette. “reckon she’ll be bored o’ you by tomorrow.”

damon’s laugh came sharp, but softer than before, like he didn’t mind the sting. “yeah? and you’ll be the one to keep her interested, will you?”

noel exhaled smoke, eyes half-lidded, steady. “someone’s got to.”

they stared at each other then, silence stretching long enough that the hum of the bulb filled it. damon’s smirk twitched, tongue running over his teeth like he wanted to say something and thought better of it.

“funny thing,” he said finally, voice low, more careful. “you talk like you don’t care. but you’ve not stopped watchin’ her all night.”

noel didn’t flinch. “same could be said for you.”

a beat. damon laughed again, softer this time — a real laugh, shaking his head. “maybe she’s right. maybe it’s not about her at all.”

noel’s jaw tightened, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward like he almost smiled. “don’t flatter yourself, lad.”

damon pushed off the wall, brushing close as he passed, the edge of his jacket grazing noel’s sleeve. “didn’t say it was me you couldn’t look away from.”

then he was gone, whistling low as he melted back into the party, leaving noel in the smoke and the buzz of the light, cigarette burning down to the filter.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

somewhere between the bar and the hallway, he’d found you again — or maybe you’d let yourself be found.

outside, the street was wet and gleaming, puddles catching the smear of neon as you stumbled out with damon tugging at your wrist. laughter burst from you, unsteady — half from the drink, half from the way his grin wouldn’t leave his face. the night bit at your lungs, colder than you’d expected, but his hand was hot around yours, dragging you toward the curb like you’d already said yes.

“you’re fuckin’ dangerous, you know that?” he muttered, voice spilling warm against your temple as he backed you up against the pub’s brick wall. his breath was sweet with gin, chest rising fast like he’d just run a mile.

you tipped your head back, the wall cool at your spine. “takes one to know one.”

damon’s laugh cracked out, sharp and delighted. “reckon we’ll kill each other, you and me.”

you didn’t get the chance to answer — his mouth crashed into yours, urgent, hungry, all teeth and tongue. it wasn’t gentle. it was the kind of kiss that left you smeared, lipstick on his chin, his breath inside your mouth. one hand caught your jaw, fingers biting, tilting you up so he could take and take and take; the other slipped low, curling around your waist and grinding your hips against his.

you gasped into him, brick rough at your back, his thigh slotting firm between yours.

a cab slowed at the corner, headlights washing over you both. damon broke the kiss just long enough to shout, voice wrecked with laughter, “oi! over here!” his arm shot into the air, still pinning you with the other.

the cab pulled up, tyres hissing on wet concrete. damon tugged you toward it, giddy now. “come on,” he grinned, hand tight on your hip like he didn’t trust you not to vanish.

you stumbled after him, breathless with the rush, ducking into the backseat. the door slammed. the city dimmed behind fogged glass. before the driver could ask a word, damon was on you again — mouth hot and wet, hands already sliding up your shirt, fingertips cold against bare skin.

“fuckin’ hell,” he breathed against your lips. “can’t wait.”

the cab lurched forward. you tumbled into him, knees knocked apart. his hand squeezed your thigh, pushed your skirt higher, each kiss deeper, wetter, demanding more. you barely registered the city outside — just the thud of blood in your ears, the wet drag of his mouth, the heat crawling under your clothes.

and then — a shift.

through the fogged window, just for a flicker, you saw him.

noel.

leaning in the glow of the doorway, cigarette burning low between his fingers, smoke curling soft in the rain. he didn’t move. didn’t call out. just stood there and watched. unmoving, unblinking, eyes pinned to you through the blur of glass and heat.

your breath caught. damon’s mouth was still on your throat, his hands still greedy, but you didn’t look away. you held noel’s gaze like it meant something. like it always had.

his mouth twitched — not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. something colder. quieter. the kind of look that stayed under your skin. a look that said: this isn’t over. a look that promised: you’ll think of me when he’s done.

damon didn’t notice. his palm was already under your waistband, groaning softly into your skin.

but you noticed. and for a breath, the whole world narrowed — you, noel, the cigarette, the glass, the heat between your legs.

then the cab turned the corner. headlights flashed. and he was gone.

next morning, the sheets were unfamiliar. the light was too bright.

you woke slow, tongue thick with old gin, makeup smeared at the corner of your eye. your skirt was on the floor. your tights were halfway across the room. damon’s shirt — or maybe it was yours, who could tell — dangled from the radiator like a flag someone forgot to wave.

he wasn’t in the bed.

you stretched, bones aching in that sweet, used way, and padded out into the flat barefoot, still fogged with sleep. the kitchen light was on — yellow and unforgiving — and damon was at the counter, humming tunelessly as he fussed with a frying pan.

he was shirtless. trousers slung low. hair a mess. he looked too smug for this early in the morning.

“mornin’, sunshine,” he said, not looking up. “thought you’d sleep all day.”

you leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the way his shoulder blades moved under his skin. “you trying to burn the place down?”

“breakfast,” he said proudly, gesturing to the pan like he’d performed surgery. “bit of toast. eggs. man of many talents.”

“you forgot to turn the stove on.”

he blinked. looked down. swore.

you laughed, and he turned to face you, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “still drunk, maybe,” he admitted, stepping toward you with that same damned grin, the one he wore like a weapon.

you meant to tease him. meant to make a joke. but then he was there, crowding you back into the counter, hands hot on your hips.

“you look good like this,” he murmured, voice gone low. “all fucked-out and smug.”

you rolled your eyes, but your pulse jumped. “you’re projecting.”

“maybe.” his thumb traced the curve of your lip. “still want you again.”

he didn’t wait for permission — he never really did. just bent to kiss you, slow and filthy, tongue curling warm against yours like he already knew how you tasted.

your hands found his shoulders, nails dragging down to his spine. he made a sound, something between a sigh and a groan, and pressed closer until your back hit the counter hard enough to rattle the kettle.

“fuck,” he muttered, mouth moving to your throat, “been hard since you walked in. swear you’ve done somethin’ to me.”

“toast’s gonna burn,” you managed, breath catching as his palm slid under your shirt, up your stomach.

“let it.”

he knelt without ceremony, pushing your thighs apart, dragging your underwear down with a grin. kissed the inside of your knee like it was funny, like it meant nothing, like it didn’t matter that your legs were already shaking.

“still wet,” he murmured, voice thick, fingers sliding through the mess he’d left last night. “fuckin’ hell, love…”

your hands gripped the counter, head tipping back as he pressed his mouth to you, unhurried and greedy. he licked like he meant to keep you here — soft at first, then firmer, then all tongue and spit and heat. he moaned into it, drunk on it, his stubble rough against your thighs.

“fuck—damon—” you choked, hips rolling forward, heel digging into his back.

he groaned louder, fingers sliding in now, crooking just right. you were trembling, gasping, already close and shaking — it was too much, too good, too soon.

“go on,” he whispered, eyes dark when he looked up at you. “give it to me. fuckin’ let go, pretty girl.”

you came with a sound you didn’t recognise, one hand flying to cover your mouth, the other twisting in his hair.

he didn’t stop. not right away. kissed through it, licked it up, let you ride it until your knees gave and he had to catch you.

only then did he rise, hands braced at your hips, face slick with the proof of it.

“that’s better,” he said, voice wrecked.

you stared at him, still panting. “you’re insane.”

“and you love it.” his grin was shit-eating. “now… d’you want that toast, or d’you want me to bend you over this counter?”

“you’re insane,” you breathed.

“and you love it,” he said, all teeth and ruin, hair mussed from your grip, chin slick with your mess. his hands were still on your hips, holding like he might reel you back in for more.

but you were already pulling away.

you fixed your shirt with shaking fingers. tugged your underwear back up, slow and lazy, like nothing had happened — like he hadn’t just dragged the soul out of you against the counter tiles.

damon watched, blinking slow, chest still heaving. “oi,” he said, grin dimming just slightly. “where you off to?”

you glanced over your shoulder, already halfway down the hall. “out.”

“out?”

you turned, walking backward a few steps, expression unreadable. “don’t worry, damon. toast’s all yours.”

then you were gone — door shut, shoes tapping down the stairwell, and the scent of sex still hanging thick in the kitchen.

damon stayed where you left him, palms still warm from your waist, the burner still cold behind him.

the eggs never made it to the pan.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

now you were home, key stiff in the lock, lights dimmed low like even they couldn’t bear the brightness. your mouth was swollen, skirt wrinkled, damon’s taste still on your tongue. you stripped out of your clothes in silence, left them on the floor like evidence, like you didn’t want to look at what they meant.

and then—the phone rang. you already knew who it was.

you picked up anyway.

"i’m coming over."

his voice — low, even. like he hadn’t thought twice. like you didn’t have a say.

you pressed the receiver to your cheek. “noel—”

“don’t start.” a click. dial tone. he’d already hung up.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you didn’t change. just stood there barefoot in your dim kitchen, fingers curled tight around the edge of the counter, listening to the clock tick like it was counting down.

you told yourself he might not come. told yourself he was bluffing — that he’d cool off, that he’d meant it in the way people say things just to prove they could.

but then came the knock. three short raps, sharp and certain. you didn’t move. didn’t need to.

the door creaked open—noel never waited.

he stepped inside like he belonged there — coat still on, hands in his pockets, eyes dragging over the room like he could already smell what you’d done. what you’d let damon do.

you crossed your arms, leaned back against the counter. didn’t speak.

he looked at you for a long time. not angry. not smug. just quiet — like he was working something out behind his eyes.

“he’s not here,” you said eventually, voice low.

noel shrugged, started unbuttoning his coat. “i know.”

silence again. heavy.

he stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until the room felt too small.

his eyes dropped, scanned your body — bare legs, loose tee clinging to skin still warm from another man’s hands.

“you shower yet?”

you didn’t answer.

his jaw shifted. then, just: “figured.”

and still, he didn’t touch you. just stood there, close enough that you could smell the smoke in his clothes, the cold on his skin, the crackling heat behind his stillness.

“you fuckin’ him for fun,” he said, flat. “or you think he’s got a chance?”

you should’ve told him to leave. should’ve laughed. deflected. lied. but you didn’t. because this was noel. and noel never asked questions he didn’t already know the answer to.

you looked him dead in the eye. “does it matter?”

his mouth twitched — a ghost of a smile. and finally, finally, he stepped into your space.

his hand came up, slow, until his knuckles just barely brushed your jaw — not a caress, not quite. like he was checking if you were real. then he tilted your chin, just enough to make you look at him properly.

“don’t matter to me,” he said, quiet. “but i know you.”

his thumb dragged along your cheek, calloused and rough. “you’re not fuckin’ him for fun.” a beat. “you’re fuckin’ him to forget me.”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t. because he was right and you both knew it. because the silence said everything.

noel leaned in, breath warm against your ear. “how’s that workin’ out for you, then?”

your throat bobbed. your body ached. you hated him for being right.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes narrowed, voice cool. “still taste him?”

you didn’t mean to gasp. but you did. and it made his mouth twitch again, satisfied now. he reached past you, flattened a hand on the counter behind your hip — caging you in. not touching. not yet.

“bet he was loud,” noel murmured, voice like gravel. “messy. couldn’t stop talkin’, even when he had his mouth on you.”

your breath hitched.

he finally touched you, hand sliding slow from your jaw down to your throat, not squeezing — just holding. anchoring.

“you were in his bed?”

you nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

“figured,” he muttered again. his thumb traced over your pulse, slow, steady. “and now you’re standin’ here, still wet, thinkin’ about me.”

your hand flew out, fisting in the front of his jacket — not to push him away. to pull him closer. to feel something real.

his mouth ghosted over yours, breath tangled in yours. “you want me to go?”

you didn’t answer.

his hand slid under your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your throat — not hard, just enough to hold your gaze. “nah,” he murmured, voice gone low. “not good enough.”

you swallowed. he smiled like he felt it. “say it.”

your brows lifted, defiant, but your knees were already pressing together, thighs tight. “you came all this way,” you said, voice cool. “don’t flatter yourself.”

he laughed, slow and dark, then pushed closer until your back hit the door. “flatterin’ myself, am i?” he murmured, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your ear. “funny, the way you were lookin’ at me a few nights ago. all wide-eyed. all wet.”

your breath stuttered. he kissed the corner of your mouth — not quite sweet. “go on, then. tell me you don’t want it.”

silence.

“tell me to leave.” his hands curled at your hips. “tell me you’re not fuckin’ soaked for me right now.”

you hated how he said it — soft, sure, like he already knew.

you hated it more because he was right.

he waited. he was good at waiting.

and you — you cracked first. you always did with him.

not quite a whisper. not quite begging. “stay.”

his smirk flickered, slow and mean, like he’d been waiting for that crack in your voice all night. “yeah,” he murmured, palm dragging up under your shirt, calloused fingertips skating the edge of your ribs. “that’s what i fuckin’ thought.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

he kissed you then — not soft, not asking. lips hot, tongue slow, like he was tasting your surrender. his hand cupped the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek in a gesture that should’ve been tender, but wasn’t. not when his other hand slid down your stomach, hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugged like he’d done it a thousand times before.

you caught his wrist, instinct, pride flaring again — but he just leaned in closer, lips dragging along your jaw. “don’t play now, love,” he breathed. “not after that little ‘stay.’”

you hated that your grip weakened. hated more the way your hips tilted toward him.

he slipped his hand past the band and found you slick — soaked — and let out a low chuckle that sounded far too satisfied. “jesus,” he muttered, half to himself, “and you were gonna let me walk out.”

your head hit the door behind you with a quiet thud, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers slid deeper, dragged slow through the mess you’d made for him. “this from just seein’ me, yeah? didn’t even have to touch you first. that what you were thinkin’ about, back in that cab?”

you bit your lip. hard.

“nah,” he said, fingers curling, hips pushing forward like he couldn’t help it. “not good enough. say it.”

you shook your head, cheeks burning, breath stuttering out in a gasp as his fingers picked up pace.

“say it,” he growled, low and close to your ear, voice gone hoarse with want. “tell me you thought about me while he was fuckin’ you.”

you turned your face away, but he didn’t let up — two fingers deep now, thumb circling mean and slow.

“you did, didn’t you?”

your hands curled in the front of his shirt, breath coming fast, thighs trembling — and still he didn’t stop. he wanted to hear it.

“say it,” he murmured again, barely audible over the sound of your own panting. “say it and i’ll let you come.”

you didn’t say it. wouldn’t. but your body gave you away — hips stuttering against his hand, thighs tensing as he worked you closer, closer, closer—

and then he stopped.

you let out a noise that wasn’t a word, wasn’t anything pretty. your hips chased him on instinct, breath catching in your throat, pulse screaming at the loss of him.

he laughed — low and breathy, smug and cruel — thumb gliding over your clit once more like a tease. “fuckin’ hell,” he murmured, voice thick with heat. “look at you. all that attitude, all that pride — and still so fuckin’ needy.”

you went to speak, but he kissed you again — messier now, deeper, like he meant to wipe your thoughts clean. his fingers tangled in your hair, the other hand still tucked in your waistband, palm pressed against the heat of you but not moving, not giving.

he broke the kiss first, chest heaving against yours. “bedroom,” he said — not a question. just that. a command.

you didn’t move.

so he stepped back, just enough to grab your chin between his fingers. tilted your head up until your eyes met his, dazed and defiant. “you want it,” he said, voice rough, “so don’t fuckin’ pretend.”

your lips parted — but still, you wouldn’t say it.

he let go of your face, hands falling to your hips, and spun you around with a sharp tug. pushed you gently toward the hall, palm firm on the small of your back. “go on, then,” he muttered, right against your ear. “lead the way.”

you didn’t look back, just let him follow — bare feet whispering over the floor, the silence between you thick enough to drown in.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you reached your bedroom door and opened it, still refusing to speak, though every inch of you screamed for him.

he stepped in behind you, shutting the door with a quiet click. “there,” he said, voice low, satisfied. “now we can do it proper.”

his hands were on you before you could turn — tugging your shirt over your head, unfastening your shorts in one smooth motion, pressing you toward the bed like he’d done this before. like he owned it. owned you.

“i’ll make you say it,” he muttered, thumb brushing over your bare hip. “before the night’s over.”

and he’d mean it. every word. ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you barely hit the mattress before he was on you — one knee between your legs, the weight of him pressing you into the sheets. his hands found your wrists like it was instinct, pinning them above your head with one sharp movement, and he hovered there, eyes raking down the length of you like he’d never seen anything more unruly, more maddening, more his.

“look at you now,” noel muttered, voice low and cutting, his mouth just inches from yours. “mouthy all night, actin’ like you don’t give a fuck… and now you’re under me, pantin’ like a fuckin’ prayer.”

you shifted under him, thighs pressing together, but he didn’t budge — only smirked, the weight of his stare holding you still just as firm as his grip.

“wonder what damon’d say,” he went on, slower now, every word deliberate, dragging. “bet he thinks he’s got you tamed, yeah? thinks all it takes is a bit of charm, a cab ride, a few sloppy kisses.”

his lips ghosted along your jaw, not quite kissing — just the heat of him, just enough to make you ache. “but he doesn’t know this version of you,” he breathed. “doesn’t know what you sound like when you beg.”

your breath caught. you tried to twist your wrists out of his hold, but he only tightened his grip, just enough to remind you who was in charge.

“nah, let him play his little games,” noel murmured, voice thick with something darker now — hunger, possession. “let him think he won. he won’t fuckin’ touch what i get to ruin.”

he let his hips dip, just enough to press against your core — not thrusting, just there, the heat of him heavy between your legs.

“what’s that, love?” he mocked gently, eyes glinting. “you want somethin’? you could say it. or you could just lie there, squirmin’, while i take my time.”

he leaned in then, mouth brushing your ear.

“but if you want me to stop,” he whispered, “you’ll have to be louder than your pride.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

noel didn’t move. just hovered there, wrists pinned in one hand, the other trailing lazy down your ribs, over your waist, until his fingertips brushed the edge of your underwear.

and then stopped.

you arched beneath him, breath catching sharp, but his hand just rested there — maddening, unmoving — like he wanted to remind you how close he could get without giving you a thing.

his gaze stayed on your face, drinking in every twitch of your mouth, every stuttered inhale. “you’re quiet now,” he said, low. “not so smug, are you?”

his fingers dipped a little lower — just enough to feel the heat of you through the cotton — and you gasped, hips jerking.

but still, he didn’t give in.

“you think damon could handle this?” he went on, almost amused. “think he’d know what to do with a girl like you, all wound up and too proud to beg?”

his fingers stroked you through the fabric, soft, barely-there passes that made your spine arch and your jaw clench. he could feel how wet you were already, but he wouldn’t say it — not yet. he wanted you to say it first.

he leaned in close, lips brushing your cheek. “go on, then. ask me.”

your throat worked, but nothing came. not yet.

he tutted, shaking his head with mock sympathy. “thought so.”

and then — he moved away. hand gone, weight lifting slightly, heat withdrawing. not fully, not cruelly. just enough to make your body cry out for more.

“won’t touch you,” he murmured, lips at your temple now, “not ‘til you ask nice. not ‘til you tell me what that pretty mouth’s been dyin’ to say all fuckin’ night.”

he kissed just below your ear — soft, almost sweet.

“tell me you need me. tell me why.”

his breath dragged hot against your jaw as he shifted, mouth grazing your skin like it burned to touch. one hand still held your wrist above your head, the other dragged lazy patterns down your thigh, fingers ghosting just under the hem of your underwear — not enough to satisfy, just enough to keep you aching.

“funny, innit,” he murmured, voice low and smug. “thought you liked it rough.” his fingers slipped just a little higher, teasing the edge, knuckles grazing soaked lace. “but now i’ve got you all soft under me. pliant. quiet. not so mouthy anymore, are you?”

you arched, chasing his hand, but he pulled it back, just to hear the little whimper that escaped your throat.

“no, no,” he tsked, smile dragging slow across your neck. “don’t get greedy, love. you’ve had someone else’s cock already. gotta earn mine.”

your breath hitched. he was still fully clothed, jeans rough against your bare legs, weight pressed just heavy enough to pin you but not enough to let you grind for relief. his thigh shifted, teasing, just between yours.

“what was it, hm?” his voice dipped, taunting. “you liked how he moaned? liked how eager he was? bet you liked how easy he made it. sloppy little fucker, wasn’t he?” he nosed along your jaw, teeth grazing your earlobe. “didn’t even make you work for it.”

you squirmed, wrists twisting in his grip, but he held you firm.

“but you’ll work for me, won’t you?” his free hand finally slid down, over your hips, between your legs — but only over. the faintest pressure, dragging through slick, nowhere near enough. “you’ll lie here and take it, desperate and dripping, ‘til i say.”

the words coiled around your spine, thick as smoke, and you could feel yourself pulse against the ghost of his touch, the heat of his body pressed full to yours now — his hips nestled heavy between your thighs, chest grazing yours every time he breathed.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice rough at your ear. “fuckin’ wrecked already, and i haven’t even touched you proper.”

he let go of your wrist at last, but only to push your arms above your head, one hand holding them there as he dragged the other down your side, over the curve of your ribs, the dip of your waist, slow enough it made you whimper.

“keep ‘em there,” he said. “unless you want me to stop.”

you didn’t move. couldn’t.

his mouth dipped to your collarbone, kissing, biting — not gentle, not soft. his teeth scraped the skin just above your breast, tongue chasing after, soothing it raw. your back arched, body reaching for him, but he didn’t give in. he took his time. let you feel every inch of the ache.

his hand slid down, finally — palm flattening over your belly, then slipping beneath the waistband of your knickers, fingers dragging through the mess he’d made of you.

“fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, thumb swiping up to press against your clit, slow and deliberate. “you’ve been like this since the pub, haven’t you? since you saw me.”

your breath stuttered.

“since you left with him, thinkin’ i wouldn’t notice.” he curled two fingers against your entrance but didn’t push in — not yet. “thinkin’ i wouldn’t follow. that i wouldn’t take it back.”

then — he did. slid in, slow, knuckles-deep, his fingers curling until your eyes fluttered shut, a broken noise spilling from your throat.

“that’s it,” he rasped, mouth dragging over your jaw. “that’s mine now. you hear me? not his. never was.”

you nodded, but it wasn’t enough.

he fucked you with his fingers, rhythm deliberate, controlled — every stroke angled just right, every drag of his thumb sending you spiraling higher. and when your hips started to rock, chasing it, desperate for more, he pulled back. left you empty. aching.

“nah,” he muttered, pulling your underwear down slow, letting the fabric catch on your thighs. “you don’t get to come like that. not after makin’ me watch.”

he sat back on his heels, reached for his belt, and the sound of the buckle slipping loose made your breath hitch. he was still watching you like he was starving — eyes dark, jaw clenched, cock heavy in his fist as he stroked it once, twice, the tip flushed and leaking.

“turn over,” he said, voice low.

and when you didn’t move fast enough, still dazed with the loss of his fingers, he reached for your hips and flipped you himself — firm, controlled, palms dragging you up onto your knees.

“gonna fuck you like you need it,” he muttered, breath hot at your shoulder. “gonna make you forget anyone else ever touched you.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you felt him shift behind you — the bed dipping, creaking — and then the slow scrape of denim sliding down his legs. his fingers fumbled with the button, the rasp of the zipper loud in the quiet between your breaths. you twisted your head to look, but he caught your chin, nudging your gaze back toward the mattress.

“don’t look,” he said, low. “just feel.”

the weight of him behind you — heavier now, hotter — made your pulse stutter. he kicked his jeans off fully, the thud of them hitting the floor, then his hands were back on you, thumbs dragging down the slope of your spine, spreading you open slow.

“fuckin’ state of you,” he muttered, half to himself. “drippin’, yeah? and all for me.”

he stroked himself once, the soft wet sound of it catching in your ears, thick and slow, before he dragged the head of his cock through the slick between your thighs — a filthy tease, back and forth, not pushing in, just letting you feel the weight of him.

“wanted to take my time,” he breathed, voice tight. “really fuckin’ did.”

and then he pressed in — slow, deliberate, inch by inch until your hips trembled under the stretch, the fullness, the heat of it.

“but you’ve had enough games, haven’t you?” he bottomed out, hips flush, both of you gasping at once. “‘s time you remembered who this fuckin’ body belongs to.”

and then he started to move — slow at first, just enough to feel the drag, the ache, the way your body clung to him like it already knew him better than any mouth could say.

his hips rocked into you slow, then rougher, harder, until the whole bed was shifting beneath you, mattress groaning under each thrust. you bit down on a gasp, palms braced against the sheets, hips tilted just how he wanted — spine arched, ass high, thighs trembling.

“fuckin’— look at you,” noel gritted, hands gripping your waist so tight you knew it’d bruise. “takin’ it like that. takin’ all of me.”

you whined into the pillow, fingers twisting in the linen, trying to keep your balance with every slam of his hips. he wasn’t giving you space to think — just dragging you back into him with every thrust, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“don’t run now,” he panted, one hand sliding down, cupping your ass, squeezing hard before it cracked down in a slap that made you jolt. “you wanted this.”

you nodded, gasped, couldn’t speak — not with your jaw slack and your moans spilling out faster than breath.

“say it,” he growled, cock dragging deep and slow before snapping forward again, knocking the air out of you. “say who’s fuckin’ you like this.”

you whimpered, body shaking under him. he slapped your ass again, rougher this time, handprint blooming hot across your skin. “go on. don’t go quiet now.”

“you,” you breathed, voice wrecked. “fuck— noel— it’s you.”

“that’s right,” he snarled, dragging you back again, hips slamming into the swell of your ass. “not damon. not some fuckin’ art boy who cums in his jeans soon as you touch him.”

you cried out — half from the stretch, half from the words, because every thrust hit deeper, every snap of his hips was a claim you couldn’t outrun.

“just me,” he said, breath ragged, “just me, baby — this cunt’s mine, yeah?”

you nodded, sobbed, tried to meet him halfway but your knees were giving out, legs shaking too hard. he noticed — he always noticed — and grabbed under your hips, dragging you up higher, locking you in place.

“stay just like that,” he rasped. “fuck, you’re so tight— ‘s like your body knows me.”

his hand slid around your front, fingers rubbing over your clit in tight circles, just to feel you jolt, to watch you fall apart. your whole body went taut, breath catching, back arching hard into him.

“gonna cum, yeah?” he whispered, breath brushing your ear now as he leaned over you. “go on, then. let me feel it.”

you shattered around him with a choked gasp, thighs quaking, vision blurred — and he didn’t stop. he kept fucking you through it, groaning low as you clenched around him, his own thrusts losing rhythm, more erratic, rougher, his grip like iron.

“fuck— gonna fill you up, yeah? want that?” he panted, cock twitching deep inside. “want me to cum in this sweet fuckin’ cunt?”

you didn’t answer — couldn’t — too fucked out, too wrecked.

but your body said yes. the way you clenched around him, the way you moaned, the way you pushed back to take every last inch — it said yes.

and that was all he needed.

he groaned low and guttural, buried deep, and came with a hiss, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave fingerprints. heat spilled into you, and he stayed there, panting, forehead pressed to your spine.

for a moment, everything stilled — just breath and sweat and the slow thrum of your pulse.

then noel pulled out, slow, hands still steady on your waist like he wasn’t quite done touching you.

“fucked dumb, aren’t you,” he murmured, voice soft now, rough with satisfaction. “look at that— couldn’t even pretend you didn’t want it.”

he watched your body twitch, still spread out on the sheets, still dripping with him.

and he knew — this wasn’t over. not by a long shot. not with damon waiting to have you next.

#oasis #oasis band #oasis fanfiction #noel gallagher #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher smut #noel gallagher fanfiction #noel gallagher/you #noel gallagher/reader #blur #blur band #damon albarn #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn x you #damon albarn/you #damon albarn/reader #damon albarn smut

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blvckvelvct · 1 day ago

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"Patrick please, you don't..." Emma started to talk over him at first, wanting him to just agree to what she's asking of him. To understand that she doesn't want him to see her in such a state. To think differently of her. To see that she really was her father's daughter in those moments. But she stops her plea when he talks about love. How could she be so callous? Of course he would be the one person to understand. His poor mother. He'd watched her change before his eyes and still Emma knows that he stayed with her till the end.

The warmth of his body beside her radiates into her soul. Warm like the sun. A thing that only shone in the sky above Cypress Falls too far and too few between. Emma finally finds the courage to look up to him when he talks about his dream again, slowly taking the pill from his hand to take. The dream that had him running to Raven's Grove at midnight to see if she was okay. He said he watched her die. Felt it as real as she feels and sees this woman. "And I am yours." She always had been. Even when engaged to someone else her soul belonged to Patrick this whole time. "I'm sorry that it's affecting you too. That you saw me die. I know how real it all feels. It's overwhelming, suffocating." As much as Emma hates what is happening to her, the fact that he's heard and seen things too now is worse. "You don't deserve to be tormented by her. You've done nothing."

"The first time I saw her, at the manor, she grabbed my arm. When she was gone there was a handprint seared into my skin. I felt it, it was there and it was real and it burned. But to every one else it simply looked like I had scratched myself." Looking down to that arm all she saw now was the mark of her imprisonment at Raven's Grove. She remembers how angry she had gotten, how she thought perhaps Landon was on her side but in the end she pushed him so far away. Maybe it was her fault then, that he fell into the arms of someone else.

"The one eyed raven ruined my engagement party." She laughs a little at that. "Flew in and knocked red wine all over my white dress. Poetic when you think about it I suppose." None of that was meant to be. It's how she sees it now. "I should have gotten out then. Should have went to you." Would've, should've and could've have no place here now. It wasn't worth it to dwell, but having so much alone time in her cell at the asylum, Emma had nothing but time to think on her life and choices.

// @yvwninggrave

#c:patrick #emma interaction #i can't help but love you even though i try not to || emma & patrick #i could fight the living but i could not fight the dead || emma gothic au

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f1cflcfic · 5 hours ago

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Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part xxiii

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader; past carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v,part vi, part vii. part viii, part ix, part x, part xi, part xii, part xiii, part xiv, part xv, part xvi, part xvii, part xviii, part xix, part xx, part xxi, part xxii

bonus: one, two, three, four, five, six

4 - 7 September, 2025

[Excerpt: Article by the Guardian] "Y/N L/N Equals Record Set in 1988 with Historic US Open Win" After three sets and 2 and a half hours of pushing each other, Y/N L/N defeated Iga Swiatek in the Women's Final of the US Open. It certainly wasn't an easy win, but that probably makes the victory taste all the more sweet. Especially, as this victory marks a momentous occasion for not just the tournament itself, but also Y/N L/N's own tennis career.

As the US Open celebrates their 75 years of breaking barriers, L/N is the first player since Steffi Graff in 1988 to break the calendar and win at all four Grand Slam tournaments. It's truly a unique record, and one that no player - male or female - has been able to equal since. For L/N to accomplish the feat amid such a strong field of competitors, and her less than stellar prep in the run-up to this final tournament, is nothing less than extremely impressive. Legendary, one might even say. She might not have as many slams to her name as, say, Serena Williams - another female icon of the sport; but she's still got time. She's only 26 after all, and she might just still conquer the world. Especially if she continues to find the right people to surround herself with. That hasn't always been the case, as was clear last year. L/N mentioned as much in her acceptance speech, in which she also made sure to thank her opponent Iga Swiatek for a job well done: "I'm just speechless. Thank you New York, thank you to the US Open and all the staff. It's no secret that I haven't always enjoyed a good run here, so I'm glad we've turned a page now, ha. I just want to thank everyone who has supported me, I love you. My family, my friends, my team, all of you here. All of the amazing players participating in this tournament, you make this into what it is... I can’t – f*ck, sorry, I thought I wouldn’t get emotional but – this is huge. It’s only hitting me now, sorry. Iga, thank you so much and congratulations to you and your team for being such a great rival. For pushing me to play my best tennis in the greatest match of my career so far. I know that a trophy will be in your hands soon enough again. And yeah, just… you know who you are, I am so grateful to have you in my life. I can’t wait to share this win with you all." [...]

When asked on how she was going to commemorate this occasion, she seemed flummoxed. "Honestly, I don't know yet. For now, I’ll definitely party tonight with my loved ones, and then I just want to sleep. And have some good pizza, I’m in New York after all. But yeah, everything hurts, so food, sleep and then hopefully a good massage.”

[Excerpt: Post-Race Press Conference with P1 - Max Verstappen, P2 - Lando Norris, P3 - Lewis Hamilton]

Question for Lando – You finished P2 after a long race, where it seemed like there was perhaps some opportunity for you to glide past Max near the end. How did Oscar’s DNF affect your race?”

“I was really close to Oscar, and was about to pass when he locked up. So in a way I’m glad we didn’t crash, but I also saw him go into the barrier and that’s never nice to see. When the safety car came out with like ten laps or so to go, I knew there’d be very limited opportunity to race after. So I wish we'd had maybe one more lap without the safety car, but I mean - coulda woulda shoulda doesn't get me anything. Most importantly, Oscar's okay and the team has time to repair his car before the next race. We want to race each other properly, after all.”

Question for Lewis – You’re on the podium for the first time in Ferrari red, aside from the sprint win of course. How does that feel?

“It’s great, obviously it’s been quite the adjustment process and a struggle at times to get to grips with the car. And for the team, it's sad that Charles' race went the way it did. But for me to get that podium and to do that in Italy, it’s amazing. I can’t even begin to describe what that feels like. It definitely fills me with confidence and makes me hungry for more."

Question for Lando – your friend just made history last night as Y/N L/N won the US Open. Have you already congratulated her and does that inspire you to make your own mark in sports history?

“It's amazing! It just makes me really proud and happy. I will have to watch it back soon. I'm always fascinated by what sports success looks like in other disciplines, and I love seeing people I care about excel. We'll celebrate for sure when the time's right.”

Max, great to see you back on the top step again. Do you think there’s more of that to come this season?

“Honestly, no. We got very lucky. It’s obvious that the McLaren has better pace than we do, so Lando’s right in saying that without that safety car, he’d have passed me before that chequered flag. Of course there’s some tracks that suit our car better, and this is one of them – but there’s very few tracks left on the calendar where that’s also the case. Even if I qualify well, we just don’t have the pace to keep ahead throughout the entire race.”

Do you think that you’ve also made your peace with it this year, because you’ve got the historic wins already, you’ve made your mark – and you’ve got a family to come home to?

“I still want to win every time I step out on track. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I want to be the best. But it definitely makes the losses a lot easier to take, because I have my daughters at home.”

Lewis and Lando, what’s that like for you? You’ve both won historic races as well of course, and made your mark. How does that compare to other personal goals?

Lewis: “Uh. I think that’s wonderful for Max. I have a lot of respect for the drivers on the grid who have families. But I’ve got such single-minded focus, I really don’t know how he does it.”

Lando: “Yeah, same for me. I mean, I’ve been saying for years that I want a dog and even that seems irresponsible because I’m away so much. Even now – I mean, it wouldn’t work. Also, I think you’re being very generous to name me there in the same breath as Lewis who is a 7-time world champion, but thank you all the same!”

You might be a first time world champion at the end of this season! Lando: "Ha, we'll see. It's still very close, so still taking it one race at a time."

8 - 14 September, 2025

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘∘•···············•∘ A/N: too many images so a different divider here at the end haha, woops :') mega excited for what's to come still for these two <3

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012 @sadiemack9 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @its-elias-world @sarah-thatstings-ann @jessicanotta @fairyjinn @destinyg237 @verogonewild @annimausi @taetae-armyyyyy @jkoooooooookie @coral7161 @chezmardybum @guacala @m4rt10ne @gigigreens @that-dress

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henrygrass · 2 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday everyone! Now that smut week is over, I'm back to editing/writing A Dangerous Game. So, here's a snippet from Chapter 4 that will be out next week! Thank you for the tags @carlos-in-glasses @whatsintheboxmh ❤️

“I think you look like you’re cosplaying as a high-end escort,” Ashlyn says, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

TK takes one last look at his reflection, then spins around. “And that’s bad? This is what strippers wear, right? Sexy?”

Ashlyn pushes off the doorframe, starting to circle him, scanning from head to toe��it makes TK’s heart beat faster. He needs to look the part.

“I don’t know, maybe for a bachelorette party, but in this case…” She reaches out, starting to unbutton his shirt.

TK wiggles away from her touch, batting her hands away. “Ash—”

“Let me help. We committed a crime together; sartorial assistance should be the least of your worries.” She swats TK’s hand back, undoing his top two buttons, then scans him again, face scrunching up in thought.

TK stays still, the protest dying in his throat. Each second feels like pins pricking at his confidence.

“Okay, no. Take it off,” she finally declares.

“What? Why?” His hands automatically go to his now partially open collar, protectively. “I thought I looked sexy?”

“Sure,” Ashlyn mumbles, already walking toward the closet. “But it feels like you’re trying too hard.” She starts rifling through his clothes—a woman on a mission. “You look like you’re begging for the job. You want to look like the job is begging for you.”

“I don’t actually want the job, Ash.”

She freezes, clutching a gray V-neck she just took out of the closet, and looks at TK with narrowed eyes. “Only we know that. He could be the man in the red hat; if you’re gonna..." Her voice drifts off, exhaling sharply as she tosses the shirt at his chest. “I just want to minimize the risks.”

He stares at the soft, worn cotton. “This? Really?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. It’s cocky but not arrogant. It says, ‘This is my body, no big deal.’ Trust me. And wipe off some cologne—you need to smell like you, not like a perfume counter.”

The words land like a slap—unwarranted hurt that he tries to mask with a quiet “rude.”

“Sorry.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, voice gentle now. “What I mean is, maybe you could smell less… packaged?”

“That’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Open tag &

@heartstringsduet @emsprovisions @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @lemonlyman-dotcom @decafdino @ssealie

@bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @firstprince-history-huh

@ladyknight1512 @eclectic-sassycoweyes @neversleepuntilfive

@herefortarlos @strandnreyes @carlos-tk @lightningboltreader

@ladytessa74 @chicgeekgirl89 @everlastingday @paperstorm

@carlossreaders @pimento-playing-hopscotch @tellmegoodbye @afiendishthingynisba

@rangersoup @futures-tense @annoyingcloudearthquake @butchreyes

@liminalmemories21 @reyesstrand @my-beloved-lakes

@denizoid @sapphic--kiwi @ironheartwriter @lonestardust

@turnip-emergency @neverthesamebird @nogoodbyess @carlosandhistwinktk

(lmk if you want to be added or removed)

#wip wednesday #911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #ashlyn campbell

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tenjikusprincess · 2 days ago

Note

ok ok! So I saw you wanted requests and I have so many ideas for Abby x reader things. Here's an idea I had that maybe you would like to use

college au: Abby gets a crush on you after sitting next to you in class once or twice but he's like super awkward about it. Maybe he's in a frat and you show up to one of the frats party's. He's like oh crud I didn't think she'd be here I gotta act cool but he's like staring at you and tripping over himself and is too afraid to talk to you so he's just like kind of just trying to make you notice him by showing off and being loud. Reader doesn't realize he likes her so she's a little bit confused but she's also like... Ok why he kinda fine when he showin off tho... Anyways he eventually gets drunk or brave enough to talk to her and he just can't shut up about how much he likes her even though he's talking directly to her and she's like oh damn, he like, LIKES me. And then she like smooches him or smth?? Idk haha. It's an idea 🤷🏼‍♀️

the butterfly effect

abby x reader

tags: kissing, alcohol, frat houses, college au

a/n: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE I LOVED THIS IDEA SM!! u ate with this oneee

“c’mon!! let’s gooo!!”

your friend was practically on her knees in front of you, hands clasped like she was praying to some party god. she’d been invited to a party, her first one ever, and apparently you were her emotional support human.

you weren’t exactly thrilled. you liked parties, just not recently. the past few days have felt like a sweatpants, snacks, and binge-watch kind of days.

“why don’t you just go by yourself? hey, make some new friends!” you suggested with a shrug.

she gasped like you’d just told her you hated puppies. “bitch, i don’t want new ones!! i wanna take you! please, i’ll do literally anything.”

you sighed. hard. the kind of sigh that could power a wind turbine. she didn’t even flinch, just kept pleading like a broken record.

finally, she pulled out the big guns. “okay, how about this. i’ll take you out to eat. anything you want. your favorite restaurant. i’m paying.”

you squinted at her. bold promise for someone who still “forgets” her wallet half the time. but fine. bribery worked. you caved.

“yesss!! let’s get ready!!”

your head snapped up. “it’s… today?!”

“…yeah?” she said, like it was obvious.

you closed your eyes, sighed for the sixty-seventh time, and said nothing. she just giggled and bolted to her room to get ready.

you threw on the bare minimum. low-waisted jeans, a plain black tee, simple hair, and makeup that whispered i tried but not really. you still looked cute though.

meanwhile, your friend came out dressed like she was auditioning for a music video. tight dress, full glam, lashes that could fan a small fire. you couldn’t help but laugh, not at her, but at how much she was living for this.

“well let’s gooo!!” she squealed.

next thing you knew, you were at a frat house.

you groaned the second you saw it. “oh god… one of these. i’m gonna need therapy after this.”

your friend didn’t care. she was practically vibrating with excitement. the moment you stepped inside, the smell of cheap alcohol punched you in the face.

you rolled your eyes. “ah yes… eau de bad decisions.”

your friend bolted straight for the dance floor, leaving you like an abandoned mom at chuck e. cheese.

“unbelievable,” you muttered, dragging yourself over to the drinks table. you poured yourself something—anything—to survive what was clearly going to be the longest night of your life.

you ended up sinking into a half-broken couch shoved against the wall, the kind of couch that had probably seen way too many bad decisions and cheap beer spills. from your seat, you could clearly see your friend in the middle of the dance floor, wild, happy, and very much not needing you around.

you sighed, crossing your arms. “why am i even here? she begged me like her life depended on it just to ditch me for a bunch of sweaty strangers.”

as you zoned out, debating if it was socially acceptable to irish-exit in under thirty minutes, a guy walked past with his friend. he wasn’t paying attention at first, until…

oh shit.

you.

it’s you. sitting there, looking way too good for a grimy frat couch.

and suddenly, he wasn’t in a frat house anymore. he was back in class a few days ago, sitting across the room with his notebook open, casually taking notes like it was nothing. but to abby, it was like watching a movie in slow motion. you tucked your hair behind your ear, scribbled something down, leaned your chin on your hand… and that was it. hook, line, and sinker.

now here you were, in the flesh, and abby felt like the universe had just handed him a second chance.

“dude.” he grabbed jinu’s arm like he just saw bigfoot. “that’s her. that’s literally her.”

jinu blinked. “who—”

“shh!!” abby hissed. “don’t look. not obvious, at least. but that’s the girl from my class. the one i told you about. the one i said was, like… out of my league by ten miles.”

jinu raised an eyebrow. “the one you wrote a whole paragraph about in your notes app?”

abby glared. “that was private.”

his brain was in full meltdown mode. what do you even do in this situation? walk up and say hi? offer you a drink? pretend he hadn’t just spent three whole lectures memorizing the way you twirl your pen when you’re bored?

you shifted in your seat, looking vaguely annoyed at life, and abby nearly short-circuited. even you sighing looked attractive.

“bro, i can’t,” abby muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “she’s literally sitting there like… like she walked straight out of my daydream. what the hell am i supposed to do?”

jinu shrugged. “talk to her? crazy concept.”

abby stared at you again, heart hammering. you looked so unbothered, so out of place among the chaos, and he felt this stupid rush of hope. maybe you didn’t belong here either. maybe that was his in.

but for now, he stayed frozen, trying to gather the courage, while jinu just sighed like he was watching a slow-motion train wreck.

abby stayed glued to the spot, hands twitching like he was about to launch into a ted talk called how not to approach your crush. jinu gave him a look.

“still not talking to her?”

“nope,” abby muttered. “talking is… advanced level. i’m still in the tutorial phase.”

so instead, he decided on the next best thing. being loud. because obviously, if he couldn’t talk to you, then making sure you noticed him was the move.

he suddenly laughed way too hard at something jinu said. like, threw-his-head-back kind of laugh. heads turned. yours included. you blinked, unimpressed, and went back to your drink. abby, however, nearly fist-pumped.

“she looked!” he whispered.

“she looked because you sounded like a dying animal,” jinu said flatly.

but abby was on a roll. he started tossing a ping-pong ball back and forth like he was auditioning for beer pong: the musical. except on his third throw, it smacked into some guy’s shoulder. the guy glared. abby panicked, muttered “my bad, bro,” and nearly tripped over the table retreating. smooth.

you caught that too. you weren’t exactly sure why this guy was flailing around like a malfunctioning npc, but he was oddly entertaining.

then he tried flexing, literally flexing, while pushing his hair back. except his sleeve snagged on the sticky counter and nearly pulled his whole shirt up. jinu just facepalmed in the corner.

and yet… you found yourself watching. against your better judgment. he wasn’t blending into the chaos like everyone else. he was clumsy, awkward, a little too loud, but something about it made him stand out.

you sipped your drink and muttered to yourself, “what is this guy doing…” but you didn’t stop looking.

across the room, abby caught that tiny glance, and it felt like he’d just unlocked a secret achievement. he tried to play it cool, casually leaning against the wall, only to misjudge the distance and smack his elbow into it.

you actually snorted into your drink. for the first time all night, you weren’t bored.

and abby? he froze, staring at the floor, cheeks burning. he had no idea you were laughing because you noticed him.

abby was losing steam. his attempts to be subtle-but-not-subtle had left him sweaty, embarrassed, and, worst of all, still not anywhere near talking to you.

so when jinu shoved a drink into his hand, abby took it like it was medicine.

“dude, chill,” jinu said, sipping casually. “you’re acting like this girl is beyoncé. just… drink, relax, stop looking like a malfunctioning robot.”

abby grumbled but obeyed. one drink turned into two, two into… four? maybe five? he wasn’t sure. the frat cups all looked the same. somewhere along the line, he forgot that he’d already had enough.

meanwhile, you stayed lounging on the couch, half watching your friend dance like she was headlining coachella, half watching… well, him. the loud guy who’d been tripping over himself all night. you couldn’t explain why, but your eyes kept drifting back to him.

by the time abby realized how warm and floaty he felt, it was too late. his body was already moving toward you before his brain gave permission.

jinu saw it happening and muttered, “oh, hell no…” but didn’t stop him.

you were mid-sip when abby appeared in front of you, swaying just slightly, eyes a little too wide.

“hiii,” he blurted out.

you blinked. “…hi?”

and then the dam broke.

“you’re, like… so cute,” he said, way too loudly, like he was confessing to the entire house. “like, stupid cute. like, i saw you in class and i thought, wow, that girl’s probably smart and funny and way too good for me, but then you’re here and you’re just—” he hiccupped. “you’re literally my dream girl.”

you just stared at him, stunned. your brain was playing catch-up because… wait. all that loud laughing? the flexing? the tripping over tables?

he wasn’t just being a chaotic frat boy. he was trying to get your attention.

“hold on,” you said, setting your cup down. “you’ve been… doing all that tonight for me?”

abby nodded furiously, hair flopping in his face. “yes. you noticed?! i mean, you were supposed to. that was the plan. well, not the elbow thing. that hurt. but the laughing, yeah, that was totally on purpose.”

you couldn’t help it. you laughed. hard. he was a mess, but at least he was an honest mess.

abby froze, blinking at you like he just realized what he’d admitted. his face turned bright red, even through the haze of alcohol. “wait. forget i said that. oh my god. i’m so dumb. i ruined it—”

before he could spiral any further, you leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. just enough to shut him up.

abby’s entire system short-circuited. he froze mid-babble, eyes wide, cheeks even redder than before.

you pulled back with a little smirk. “you talk too much.”

he opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. no words came out. for once, abby was completely speechless.

and for some reason, you found that ridiculously endearing.

“relax,” you teased, nudging his arm. “i didn’t kiss you because i pity you. you’re… kinda cute too. even if you nearly concussed yourself trying to show off.”

abby made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a squeak. jinu, watching from across the room, nearly spit out his drink.

you leaned back against the couch, smiling to yourself. maybe your friend had ditched you for the dance floor, but the night wasn’t so boring anymore.

abby was still standing there, dazed, like you’d just rewritten the entire script of his life.

and you? you were already curious to see what else this clumsy, loud, unexpectedly sweet guy would do next.

abby stumbled back from you like he’d just been struck by lightning, his brain completely fried. he bee-lined for jinu, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“bro. bro. she—she—she kissed me.”

jinu looked at him like he’d just confessed to seeing a ufo. “yeah, i saw. the whole party saw, you weren’t exactly subtle.”

abby shook him, wild-eyed. “what do i do now?! do i… do i thank her? do i write her a poem? do i, like, move to another country because i peaked?!”

“you,” jinu said, prying abby’s hands off, “need water. and maybe a helmet, because you’re two pratfalls away from cracking your skull.”

abby groaned, raking his hands down his face. “i made such a fool of myself. she probably thinks i’m a clown.”

jinu smirked. “well, yeah. but you’re apparently a clown she kissed, so maybe stop panicking and take the win.”

abby whined incoherently and mumbled something about needing to splash water on his face before stumbling toward the bathroom.

you stayed seated on the couch, cheeks a little warmer than you wanted to admit. you replayed the moment in your head, the way he rambled, the honesty in his voice, the shocked look after the kiss. he was ridiculous, sure, but in the most genuine, oddly charming way.

just then, your friend came wobbling over, sweaty, mascara smudged, grinning like she just won the lottery.

“i’m tireddddd,” she slurred, flopping halfway into your lap. “take me homeeee.”

you sighed, brushing her hair out of her face. “yeah, okay. let’s get out of here.”

but before you left, you dug into your bag, pulled out a pen and a crumpled napkin, and quickly scribbled your number. folding it once, you stood and walked over to where jinu was still stationed, watching abby’s meltdown from afar like it was a live comedy show.

“hey,” you said, holding out the napkin. “when your friend comes back… give him this.”

jinu blinked at it, then at you, then at the napkin again. “you serious?”

you smiled. “dead serious.”

you didn’t wait for his reaction. just grabbed your drunken friend and started guiding her toward the door, shooting one last glance over your shoulder.

a few minutes later, abby returned from the bathroom, face damp, hair a mess, muttering to himself. “okay. okay. play it cool. maybe she forgot it happened. maybe i can—”

jinu cut him off by shoving the folded napkin into his chest. “she didn’t forget. she left this.”

abby blinked, confused, then unfolded it. his jaw dropped.

her number.

written in quick, messy scrawl, but still her number.

abby’s brain short-circuited for the second time that night. he looked up at jinu, dazed. “she… she gave me her number.”

jinu smirked. “yep. congrats, romeo. guess you weren’t such a clown after all.”

and for the first time all night, abby didn’t even try to hide his stupid grin.

#kpop demon hunter #kpdh #kpop demon hunters #abby saja #saja boys #abby x reader #abby saja x reader #college au #abby kpdh #kpdh x reader

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ladywindeepspace · 2 days ago

Note

Hiiiii leo buddy (because my bday is in August too 😁 rawr). Thanks for giving in your/our bday month, it's very sweet. Here's my request: Spicy #10 with zayne. Scenario: Mc dresses up as a sexy nurse for Halloween and surprises him in his home office while he's dealing with reports. She something like this.."ready for your check-up Dr 😉?"- while holding up a candy syringe with sweet jello in it.

(Imagine that's your hand 😄. Happy early or belated bday)

Ahh! Happy Birthday to you too!!! Thanks for the cute prompt, I hope you enjoy this ^_^

(Requests are open through the end of August! if you want to send an ask, you can see how to do that HERE)

~~~~~~~

I had just finished putting my outfit together and texted Tara that I was going to be leaving soon. I stepped in front of the mirror and took a quick picture to send to her.

What do you think?

Her reply came quickly

OMG you look so cute! And what does your doctor boyfriend have to say about it?

I smirked to myself, as I replied:

Gonna surprise him right now.

Oh, well, I won’t be surprised if you’re late then!

I rolled my eyes but tucked my phone into my purse as I checked my hair again, making sure the tiny little nurse’s cap was in place. I had tried to get Zayne to come to the Halloween party Tara was throwing. My vision had been Mad Doctor Zayne and his Nurse but he’d said he had to finish work before an early shift tomorrow so I was going solo. Even now, he was still at his computer in his office, typing away at reports.

I sighed, but grabbed the little bag of candy I’d put together for him as a work treat. He’d been working too hard lately, and I’d hoped he might take a moment to unwind, even though I knew parties weren’t his favorite thing.

It wasn’t like I was going to let him get away without having any fun, though. I still had a few tricks up my sleeve as well as treats.

I reached into the bag and pulled out one of the little jelly-filled syringes Yvonne had given me earlier as part of the hospital’s trick-or-treat party they put on for the kids. Feeling mischievous, I tucked it into my cleavage and left the bedroom before headed down the hall to Zayne’s office.

I could hear him typing away on his laptop as I opened the door and peeked in.

“Zayne, I’m about to head out,” I called.

He didn’t even bother to look up. “Have a good time. Let me know when you’re on your way home.”

Oh, that wasn’t going to do.

I pushed the door open fully and entered the room, hands on my hips. “ ‘Have a good time’? That’s it?”

He finally looked up and his brain looked like it short-circuited for a brief moment. He pulled his glasses down his nose and took me in as I stood there in the rather skimpy nurse’s dress with the addition of thigh-highs and heels. His ears instantly turned red.

“That’s…what you’re wearing?” he asked hesitantly. “It’s not very…accurate.”

“It’s not supposed to be accurate, silly, it’s supposed to be cute and sexy,” I chided, walking over to sit on the side of his desk, crossing my legs and pointedly nudging his thigh with my toe. “What do you think, doctor?”

He swallowed. “You look very good in it,” he said carefully.

I smiled coyly. “That’s very kind of you to say, Mr. Zayne, but a patient shouldn’t flirt with his nurse.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow, amusement flicking across his face. “Oh, so I’m your patient now?”

I nodded. “Yes, I hear you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself or getting much rest. Your girlfriend is very worried about you.”

“Is she?” he said, pushing back from the desk slightly to look up at me. “And what do you propose as treatment for my ailment, nurse?”

“I can hardly prescribe anything without having taken a closer look,” I teased, happy he was taking a break to play along. I shifted to sit in his lap, taking his face between my hands as I made my ‘examination’. “Hmm…your eyes have some very dark circles,” I said, tracing a finger under one of them. “Definitely a sign of exhaustion. Do you have trouble sleeping, sir?”

“Occasionally, yes,” he replied.

“I see,” I smirked. “Are you aware that…vigorous…exercise before bed helps you sleep?”

Zayne’s ears burned again and he cleared his throat. “I have heard that, yes.”

“Massage is also an option as something a little less…energetic.”

He cleared his throat. I slid my hand down to the jumping pulse on his neck.

“Why, Mr. Zayne, your pulse is so fast? Are you nervous? Or are you…excited?”

He huffed and reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a stethoscope. “Why don’t you check it more thoroughly?”

I grinned and put the stethoscope in my ears before unbuttoning a couple more buttons on Zayne’s shirt. His breathing hitched as I slid my hand inside and placed the bell over his heart.

I could clearly hear the fluctuations in his heartbeat and breathing, fascinated by the reaction Zayne was having. His hands came up to rest, one of my hip, the other on my thigh, squeezing a little as I pulled the stethoscope away.

“Have you decided on your prognosis?” he asked, voice a little husky.

I pretended to consider, keeping my face serious. “I think you are suffering from a very dangerous disease, Mr. Zayne.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow. “That is unfortunate news.”

I smiled at him. “Luckily there is a treatment.” I pulled the candy syringe out from between my boobs and held it up for him. “Will you be good and take your medicine for me?”

Zayne huffed a fond laugh, shaking his head, but he complied, opening his mouth.

I administered the ‘medicine’ and barely let him swallow before I ducked in for a kiss.

Zayne’s grip on me tightened, pulling me closer until I was pressed against his chest. I plucked his glasses off as they bumped against my nose and Zayne groaned softly as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased at my mouth, tasting like the overly sweet strawberry jelly.

I shifted to straddle him, pressing him back in the chair as one hand tangled in my hair, the other teasing the garter just under my skirt, threading his fingers under it.

When we finally pulled away, breathless, and my outfit more than a little in disarray, Zayne smiled, chest still heaving and pulse much quicker than it had been before. We both hesitated and I glanced half-heartedly at the clock, wondering just how late I could politely be.

Zayne gave a fond chuckle and patted my hip. “Have fun at the party, darling,” he said.

I hesitated but realized he also had work to finish and started to stand up. “Thanks. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home, but you better be finished with your work by then,” I chided.

“I will endeavor to do my best,” he promised, keeping me standing between his legs for a moment longer. “But I must say…it would be remiss of you to not finish your patient’s treatment when you return.”

I leaned down to give him one more kiss. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Zayne. I have every intention of administering your final treatment when I get home.”

He caught my wrist as I made to leave and gave me a small smirk. “Keep the outfit.”

I flushed, grinning to myself as I promised I would.

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3 LaDS Masterpost LaDS Whump Masterpost

#love and deepspace #lads #lads fanfic #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x mc #spicy lads #nurse roleplay #ladsrequestevent

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blainesebastian · 2 days ago

Text

safe

word count: 8,244 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: It’s underestimated, you think, that sort of sleepy intimacy that comes with knowing someone so well. In feeling safe. notes: is this just different sleepy moments with Nick? you bet your ass it is! Another one of my favorite tropes 🥰 notes2: gifs from here, masterlist here, requests masterlist here!

Trust for you has never come easy. There have been moments in which you’ve given it away too freely and those people have ended up lying to you, betraying you, making you feel foolish for ever thinking that they could cherish what you’ve trusted them with. Especially guys you’ve dated. Your mom has always told you that it just takes time to find someone to rely on, to realize a guy can be dependable. But that doesn't seem fair, that you just have to keep trying time and time again with second and third chances only to get hurt in the process. She says that’s what she did until she met your father but…

It feels safer to just not let anyone in, right? Better to not allow anyone to see you as vulnerable.

Which is probably why you’re shocked that by the second date you’re falling asleep on Nick’s shoulder.

You’re at a party at Zach’s, a long night of drinking, playing darts, spending time in the hot tub. After dancing with Jenna for the third time, you finally sit down on the couch to put your feet up. Nick settles next to you with a bottle of water, and you’ve never been so happy to see him before.

“Wow, just out here winning boyfriend awards.”

He smirks, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose before turning to continue his conversation with Lion about an upcoming fight he’s hosting at his gym next week.

You have no idea when you close your eyes, only that when you open them again, Nick has shifted so that his arm is around your shoulders to draw you closer to his chest. You lean back a little, lifting your head, blinking in soft confusion,

“Did I fall asleep on you?” Your voice is twinged in surprise, it’s rare to find someone you’re comfortable enough to let your guard down around. Granted, you could blame it on the drinks you’ve had tonight, but you’re not even that tipsy. Just…

Warm. Comfy. Safe.

Nick smiles a little, bringing his hand up to brush your hair away from your face. “Lion’s rambling about boxing stats tends to put me out too.”

A laugh bubbles in your chest and yet you still feel heat kiss the back of your neck, your cheeks, at practically passing out against his shoulder. You’re not sure what time it is, the party is still spinning around you in full swing, a twinge of a smile on your face as you catch Jenna on the dance floor. Again. The girl has so much stamina it’s impressive.

“Do you want to head home?”

You shake your head, “I’m totally awake.” Which would be convincing if not for the giant yawn interrupting your sentence.

Nick smirks, “Right, seems like it.” He stands from the couch, offering his hand, “C’mon.”

And you allow him to tug you up and take you home.

—

It’s underestimated, you think, that sort of sleepy intimacy that comes with knowing someone so well. In feeling safe. You’re not saying you’ve never fallen asleep around your exes or didn’t go to bed with them, but you remember that it only ever happened after a dedicated span of time. After months of dating.

And maybe it’s because you’ve been good friends with Nick long before becoming his girlfriend, but you also think it has everything to do with that feeling of being able to depend on him since the moment you met him.

The trust of sleeping, of allowing yourself to be completely unguarded…you think it’s one of the loudest forms of love there is.

—

one.

This has to be one of your favorite things, which sounds so oddly ridiculous. And yet, it should be no surprise whatsoever that Nick’s incredible with his mouth. With his tongue.

Your legs shake, bringing them closer together and almost squeezing his head as it settles between them, his fingers curling up inside of you.

“Fuck, Nick.”

He hums, the vibration of his voice driving you absolutely crazy, that heat that’s pulsing inside of you nearly reaching a crescendo. He splays your thighs further apart, the thumb of his other hand stroking the soft skin near your knee. He curls his tongue against your clit, flicking it, sending a bolt of pleasure through your bloodstream that causes your body to jerk.

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks and actually has the audacity to pull back a bit, pressing a kiss to your knee. His thumb now presses to your clit, making a whine crawl up your throat. “Use your words.”

“Fuck you,” You choke out, running your hands over your face, a heated ache pulsing low in your stomach at being kept on the edge.

Nick chuckles a little, licking his lips, “Maybe choose some different ones.”

You groan, rolling your hips down, but despite your boyfriend driving you absolutely fucking crazy—it’s not that you’re not enjoying it. And Nick knows that, which is why he leans his head down again, brushing his mouth along your cunt.

“That’s it,” He whispers, kissing your navel, looking for something very specific to leave your mouth.

Part of you doesn’t want to give it to him, that push and pull almost painful in a way that’s equally delicious. But god, you don’t want to linger on this razor’s edge, either.

“Please,” You whisper, your hand finding his hair. You tug, a groan rumbling in Nick’s throat. “Please, Nick.”

No sooner are the words leaving your mouth does he begin to pump his fingers in and out of you, his tongue flicking across your clit once more. A sharp gasp leaves your lips, your hips arching up off the bed as you cum. Stars burst in front of your vision, pleasure licking your nerve endings in such a sweet way, it’s like you’re experiencing it all for the first time all over again. Nick’s done this often enough that he practically knows your body like a road map, a favorite book, knows how to drive you right to the edge and how to keep you there with a press of his fingers or the flick of his tongue. The ride up that mountain, hitting the peak and tumbling over is…always worth it.

When your body settles back on the mattress, you vaguely feel Nick move around. Your eyes flutter closed as he gets off the bed, coming back to clean you up with a warm washcloth, peppering kisses along your torso, your sternum, the corner of your mouth.

You reach down between your bodies, wanting to pleasure him as well, but he gently catches your hand. Lifting your arm, he kisses your wrist,

“Later,” He assures, sensing that you’re wrung out.

It's been a while since you last did this—spent the night at a boyfriend’s place. But you can feel yourself starting to move in that direction again. You've always made it a point to keep some distance in your relationships, to build a wall that keeps things in check. And somehow, staying the night always felt like crossing a line that blurred those boundaries.

Your body feels heavy, leftover adrenaline from your orgasm fizzling out. The mattress is comfortable, you’re surrounded by sheets and pillows that smell like Nick and his hands are warm as they gently manhandle the comforter out from under you.

You force your eyes open, “I can…I can get going.” You mumble but your voice sounds weak even to your own ears.

There’s a smile in Nick’s words as he adjusts the covers over you, your eyelids fluttering closed. “Go to sleep, I’m just going to shower.”

You’re out before you can hear the water running.

—

You feel the bed dip some time later, Nick covering your shoulder with the comforter after his body slides in close to yours. He runs a hand down your arm, presses a kiss to your hair, and sighs, relaxed, when he feels you back up against him.

Maneuvering his arm over your waist, you press a kiss to his fingers, and fall back asleep.

—

two.

Settling in the corner of Nick’s couch with a book, you chew on your lower lip as you tap on his name from your messages. He should be headed back from his mom’s, spending the weekend hanging out with Maddie and going to some of her games. You’re glad that he’s been able to earn that time, especially since it wasn’t so easy when you first met him. You’re proud of him, of him being able to put some distance in-between some of his negative coping mechanisms.

The line rings a few times before he picks up, “I was just thinking about you.”

You can’t help but smile, “Oh yeah? That a regular occurrence for you?”

“Definitely.” A soft laugh leaves his chest, mixing with the familiar rumble of the McLaren engine underneath. “I’m just headed back—sorry, I know it’s a little later than usual. Maddie was insistent on ice cream before I left.”

“Can’t deny a girl ice cream,” You reply, tugging a blanket off the back of the couch to rest over your legs. “Pretty sure it’s against the law somewhere.”

Nick hums, his voice reverberating warmly in your ear. Then, “Are you trying to tell me you want ice cream?”

You playfully purse your lips, “Hmm, I dunno.” You sing-song, “Is that something you already have in your fridge and just never told me?”

“I’ll pick some up on the way back.”

“Really earning that boyfriend award I keep mentioning.” You can hear Nick smirk, “If it wasn’t clear before, I’m at your house. And by the way, your couch is far more comfier than mine.”

“As if I expected you to be anywhere else,” He muses. “Chocolate or strawberry?”

That familiar sensation of butterflies that you equate to Nick flutter inside your ribcage, “Chocolate.”

“Alright, chocolate it is. I’ll see you soon.”

You can’t help but smile, setting your phone down on the coffee table after you hang up. Not soon enough.

—

Shifting on the couch, you rub a hand over the side of your face, yawning, when you feel a weight disappear from your chest. Squinting through the soft darkness in the room, your vision focuses on Nick sitting on the coffee table, taking the book that was splayed open on your ribs and setting it on the table next to his leg.

He gives you a soft smile, brushing your hair over your shoulder, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

A soft sigh leaves your nose and you yawn again, blinking, trying to wake up. “I don’t even remember falling asleep. There was only one bed at the inn, you’d think that would have kept my attention.”

He smirks, shaking his head, “I don’t blame you, it’s late.” You turn a little to check the time on your phone and frown. It is late—much later than when Nick called you. He clocks that line of thought, “There was an accident right off the exit I usually take.”

That sounds awful, being stuck in the car for that long. Your gaze slips down to a bag on the floor near Nick’s leg and he still went to get ice cream for you. He follows your eyesight, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth.

“Heard it’s against the law somewhere not to get your girl ice cream.”

Your girl. Warmth spreads right through your body at that, followed by soft laugh rumbling in your chest. You shake your head, “Is this something that can be enjoyed in bed?”

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “I think that can be arranged.”

And before you can offer to get up and grab the bowls, he’s lifting you up from the couch and into his arms. A surprised squeak leaves your lips, your arms snaking around Nick’s shoulders to hold onto him as he makes a b-line for the stairs.

—

You enjoy kissing Nick when he tastes like chocolate far too much.

—

three.

You haven’t slept well the past few days, not since your parents told you that your uncle passed away.

It shouldn’t have been something that felt sudden, you knew he was sick, but…but you thought he had years, not months. No, overall, it’s not something that happened quickly and yet losing him makes it feel like someone has taken you out at the knees. You’ve been over at your aunt’s, trying to help her with anything she might need for the wake she’s having at her house tomorrow. Your parents have given support for the funeral and…anything else she might need? But it still feels like it’s not enough.

You look down at the album you were putting together that was originally for your aunt’s birthday next month but now you feel like she needs this more than ever. A collection of past family get-togethers, selfies, and old photos that are fraying at the edges pile up on your desk, all involving your uncle somehow. You’ve been trying to sift through and put them together in a way that’s…that’s nice? That feels like an assembly of time and a life well lived.

But everything also feels like it’s not working, either. Like the pictures won’t line up and you can’t find ones that you keep considering even though you just saw the one you needed at some point, lost in piles of scrapbook materials and other photos. The glue is getting messy and warping some photos, tape is pissing you off, and the burden of time sits heavily on your shoulders. You want this done by tomorrow, you want…no, need to give your aunt something to hold onto, to cherish. Maybe it can help?

Pinching the bridge of your nose, a headache pounds in your ears and when you glance at the clock and see it’s already ten-thirty, a tendril of panic swirls in your belly. You have to wake up early, you still have about five pages to get done.

“Okay,” You whisper to yourself, forcing your eyes open as you pull your hand from your face, “Okay, I can do this.”

You hear your bedroom door open, knowing who it is before he even settles behind you. A strong hand rubs along your shoulders and Nick leans down to press a kiss to your hair. You pause, closing your eyes again for a moment, tipping your head back to rest against his stomach.

“Hi,” You whisper.

He squeezes your shoulder, moving to stand beside you, leaning his hip against your desk. “How are you doing?”

You give him a small smile, shrugging your one shoulder, “I’m okay.” You nod, hoping that if you keep saying it, it’ll be true, “Just…trying to get this done.”

Nick draws in a soft breath, looking down at the desk covered with pictures before nodding. “Have you eaten today?”

And…alright, maybe you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself but. You’re fine. Everything will balance out once you help your aunt with the wake and give her this album. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been eating at all or…getting rest, that sort of thing. It just hasn’t been what your body probably needs.

“I had breakfast.”

He doesn’t look pleased with that answer, the time on the clock surpassing lunch and dinner, but he also seems to know better than to argue. “I’m going to go make you some tea.”

You shake your head, “I don’t need anything.” You reach for his hand, squeezing, “Really, I’m alright.”

Nick’s jaw works for a moment, looking down at the photos you’re sifting through again. He doesn’t offer to make food or tea for you again, but he does figure out the pattern in which you’re trying to organize piles into: photos of you and your uncle, your uncle and your aunt, group photos, photos in which your uncle was young—and he helps you.

It makes the bridge of your nose sting, the quiet comfort of having Nick there, of him following suit just because you’re being stubborn. You sniffle, your fingers trembling as you put another photo in place before picking another one up, smothering the back with a few stripes of glue and then sticking it to an album page.

“You know I was…I was going to give this to her for her birthday but she needs it now, you know? I just feel like I have to do something to help.”

Nick sets a photo down at the tremble in your voice, his hand settling back on your shoulders and rubbing soothingly, “You’re exhausted.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry. You nod, your lower lip wobbling, “Yeah, I’m—I’m tired.” You admit, running a hand through your hair. “But…”

“No,” Nick’s voice is gentle, but firm, “You won’t be able to help your aunt if you run yourself ragged.”

God. You hate that he’s saying things that make sense, frustration building in your chest as you realize that this…this won’t be finished for tomorrow, despite how much you want it to be. A tear escapes and slips down your cheek and Nick’s hand moves to rest behind your neck, encouraging you to turn and lean forward into him.

You press your face to his torso, his hands rubbing up and down your back and through your hair, squeezing your shoulders when a weary sob leaves your mouth. He crouches after a few moments, your arms sliding around his neck, pressing your nose and lips into his collarbone. Nick gently maneuvers you to stand, picking you up in one fluid motion to set you down on your bed.

You reach for a tissue on your nightstand, wiping the tears from your cheeks as Nick tugs the blankets back so you can crawl underneath them. You’re the kind of tired that sticks to your bones, making them feel heavy as you shift to lean against pillows. Tossing the tissue towards your trash can, Nick sits down near your hips, resting his one hand along your thigh and squeezing your waist.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers easily with his, “Can you stay for a while?”

He smiles a little, lifting your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

You fall asleep to Nick threading his fingers through your hair.

—

The next time you open your eyes, Nick’s passed out next to you. You turn to face him, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth at how he’s pressed up along your body. His hand is outstretched towards your hip, his other arm cushioned underneath the pillow under his head. Leaning forward, you brush a kiss to his temple, relishing in the heat of his body, the lingering smell of his cologne, on how he stayed just because you asked him to.

You carefully slip out of bed so that you don’t wake him and quickly use the bathroom. You pause by your desk before crawling back onto the mattress, seeing that Nick’s not only cleaned up the piles of photographs you had everywhere…but that he’s completed the album. The five blank pages you had left are filled with photos of your uncle that you had grouped together, spread out in a way that’s careful. Thoughtful.

You swallow over a lump in your throat, smiling despite the heavy emotion.

Nick shifts when you get back into bed, blinking sleepily at you, running a hand over his face. When his gaze finds yours, he gives you a small smile, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close.

“Thank you,” You whisper.

He shrugs his one shoulder, like it’s not a big deal. But it’s everything. You cup his cheek, running your thumb over the bone. He leans forward, playfully rubbing the tip of his nose against your own in a bunny kiss, just to make you smile.

And just like that, the weight that’s been sitting on your chest for days now feels like it’s slowly lifting.

—

four.

You know it’s totally fucking cheesy to want to go to a street festival and play carnival games and ride ferris wheels, the like. But there’s a huge grin on your face as you wind through the tents and rides with Nick in tow, squeezing his hand every so often when you see something exciting. It just…it reminds you of New York, of Coney Island, and even though you’ve been living in London for about five years now, the sights and smells take you right back.

“I want to try and win a stuffed animal,” You tell him, “Oh! Or one of those goldfish.”

Nick crinkles his nose but he laughs, coming up behind you to maneuver you out of the way as a large group passes that aren’t watching where they’re going. “You mean those fish in a bag that live for a week?”

You pout, tipping your head back to look at him. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, win one that’ll live a month.”

He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, “I could just buy you a goldfish at a store.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach for his hand again and pull him towards the right where you see some tents that play games, “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Although it takes about two attempts at said game for you to realize that you’ve got no sense of aim whatsoever. You’ve paid for the third round and then Nick pays for the fourth, a quirk to his lips that makes you roll your eyes.

“Don’t say a word,” You point at him.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, “I wasn’t going to say a thing.” Though he’s grinning when you lose. Again. “Maybe let me try.”

You huff, moving from where you were throwing balls to try and knock over a set of cans. “Totally has to be rigged.” You mumble, glaring at the cans like they’ve personally offended you.

The operator of the tent is completely bored, rolling his eyes when Nick steps up, grabbing a few tennis sized balls to throw them towards the tower of cans. He manages to hit one on the first try and you cross your arms over your chest, huffing out lucky in a way that makes him chuckle.

“Brat.” He says in response, before throwing another ball that knocks three cans down. It’s enough for a prize, he doesn’t even need to use the third ball.

“Wow,” The operator drawls, “Congratulations. Do you want a fish or a stuffed animal?”

“Fish!” You beam, coming to lean against the counter.

Nick’s hand rests on your lower back as the operator comes around with a sad looking box that has small plastic bags in it. You have no idea why you expected anything different but…your smile definitely falters a little seeing about ten bags of fish looking sad. Really sad. Like…close to dying sad.

“Well?” The operator huffs. “Pick one.”

“Uhm,” You chew on your lower lip, “Are they good? Can they like…breathe?”

“Are you from a fish activist group or something?”

You frown and Nick’s jaw works at the operator’s tone but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet anyways. “They just…don’t look okay.” You reach inside the box and pluck a bag out, your heart constricting when you see some of the others either float to the bottom of their bags or do tight frantic circles.

“Right,” The operator huffs, yanking the box back before you can do anything else. “I got other people that want to try their luck, so can you step aside?”

“How much for the whole box?”

Your gaze snaps to Nick as he takes his wallet out and the operator slow blinks at him. “What?”

Nick raises his eyebrows, like somehow the tent guy has a hearing problem at what he’s said. As if he’s not asking to buy a box of sad goldfish at a festival. “I think the question was pretty clear.”

“Guy, this is a fucking festival tent, not a fish market.”

“Thirty-six pounds?” Nick asks as plucks the cash from his wallet. Your mouth draws open, words stuck in your throat because—that’s fifty American dollars.

The operator’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head, “What the hell are you gonna do with ten goldfish?”

“Whatever she wants,” Nick’s tone is sharp.

“Nick…” You try, touching his arm.

“Seventy-four?” A hundred. Cash once again appears in his hand and the operator practically shoves the box at your chest and takes the money from him.

Nick grabs hold of the box before it can topple, maneuvering it with his one arm and encouraging you to back up with the one fish you selected at the start of all this and walk in another direction. You feel like your jaw is on the floor but when you step between two tents and out of the crowd of other festival goers, you push yourself up on your toes to look in the box he’s holding.

“You bought me ten goldfish.”

“Nine, technically,” Nick motions to the fish still in your hand, “I won that one.”

Still with his money, but you don’t say that. A laugh bubbles up and out of your chest, shaking your head in utter disbelief (and adoration for this man) because this is the last thing you expected in attending this thing with your boyfriend.

“I—I don’t even have a fishtank.”

Nick shrugs his one shoulder, glancing in the box at the fish, “Then let's go buy you one.”

And that’s what you do. Thank God you drove your car because there was no way you were fitting a box of goldfish and supplies into Nick’s McLaren. You find it hard to believe this is happening, that you spend the rest of the night buying things for your goldfish. Fish that probably won’t even live past a week…but you’re hopeful.

Laying on your stomach on your bed, pillows gathered under your arms, you watch Nick figure out the filter for the fish tank where it’s set on your desk. It’s not too big, but big enough that ten fish can swim around and have enough room. You’ve been scrolling on your phone about upkeep for tanks and how to keep goldfish alive for as long as possible, food to buy, more tank decorations, all of that. Eventually you rub your one eye, turning your screen off.

Smiling a little, a yawn escaping your lips, you stretch your legs out as Nick leans back and surveys the work. It’s all done, the only thing left to do is to put the fish in. The tank takes up the right side of your desk, filled with fish-friendly pebbles, safe plants to nibble on, silly things too—like a figurine of an old-fashioned TV that has an X-FILES title card on the screen and—

“Big fan of the flying saucer display you got in here.” Nick taps the glass.

“Oh me too,” You laugh, “See the tiny cow in the beam?”

Nick tilts his head, “Oh yeah.” He then reaches for the box of fish, setting them on your desk chair. He begins to carefully cut open each bag, using a designated spoon to get them out and deposit them into the tank.

“That one is named Rusty.” You inform him, and then begin naming each fish after that. “Mozzarella, Mozz for short, Clide.” You yawn again, watching as Nick adds another.

“How are you going to tell them apart?” He asks, voice teasing, “They’re all gold.”

You narrow your eyes, “Oh, I’ll know.”

He hums, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue. “For someone who claimed she wasn’t tired, you’ve been yawning like that for the past ten minutes.”

Glancing at your wrist, you purse your lips at the time. Yeah, it’s late. Time kinda flew away from you after the festival, taking all this time to gather things for your new fish. It’s been amazing, but oof, you’re definitely feeling like it’s time to crawl into bed.

“Had no idea tonight was going to be so exciting,” You huff out a laugh, your eyes trailing over the long line of Nick’s back, the way he carefully handles your fish before they’re all swimming in their new home. “Look how happy they all are.”

Nick bundles up all the trash, putting it into the cardboard box the fish were in. He backs up until he’s sitting on the bed next to you, his hand moving to trace along your spine until his fingers settle along your neck. His thumb rubs the muscle there, a soft noise of contentment leaving your lips, eyes fluttering closed.

You move the pillow you were on after a few moments, shifting until the upper half of you is laying in Nick’s lap. He inches back, accommodating you, fingers moving to thread through your hair. “Not sure if Mozzarella is going to make it through the night…he’s swimming upside down.”

“That’s Gorgonzola.” You mumble, not opening your eyes, to which Nick just chuckles and tugs a blanket over your shoulders.

—

All ten fish (including Gorgonzola) live for far longer than a week.

—

five.

It’s been a long day but you have zero regrets.

Or well, okay—you regret wearing these sneakers when you know they kinda pinch the sides of your feet sometimes when you walk around a lot. But in your defense, you woke up past your alarm and were already late to help your mother set up a charity event at the National History Museum. The only upside is that you asked Nick to meet you afterwards because you could explore the museum after it closed.

“And the reason why you asked me not to drive today is?” Nick questions as you tug him down the sidewalk and away from the museum entrance when you’ve had your fill. He’d taken his ride-share app to get here per your request but you hadn’t told him why.

Behold, turning and sticking your arms out at a spot on the sidewalk, you grin. “Because we’re gonna take the subway.”

“Tube.” Nick corrects, raising his eyebrows as he looks behind you towards a station set of stairs.

You roll your eyes—despite being here for a few years, you’re still stuck in some Manhattan ways. “Tube.” You huff, making the corners of Nick’s mouth twitch. “C’mon.”

He lets out a long sigh from his nose and makes his way into the underground with you, finding the right line to take you in the direction of home. You used to take the subway back in New York all the time, even though sometimes it’d spit you out somewhere in which you still had to walk four or five blocks to your destination. Either way, you’re feeling nostalgic as you make it to the tracks, lingering along the side with others to wait.

It’s a little crowded in the late afternoon, early evening? But you’re still all smiles when you turn to look up at your boyfriend.

“I like the tube sometimes, makes me feel like a real Londoner.”

Nick shakes his head, lifting his hand to curl your hair around your ear. You can tell he’d rather not be down here. You’re not going to go as far as to say he’s spoiled, or anything, but he does have a garage filled with expensive cars. So, you suppose you understand his aversion to, well…this.

“You know we’d be home already, right?” He crinkles his nose a little and yeah, the trash cans are a tiny bit full nearby. But in a high tourist area, that’s to be expected.

“If you think that’s bad, you should visit New York in the summer. The subway stations smell like humidity, urine, and broken dreams.”

Nick grimaces, unamused. “I’m driving next time.”

You can’t help but snicker, the tube you need pulling up beside you in a slow screeching halt. The doors slide open and as you get on, along with everyone else, you look over your shoulder at him,

“You look like a rich brat when you crinkle your nose like that.” But your voice is warm and teasing, reaching out to gently flick the tip of his offended appendage.

Nick swats your hand away, making you giggle and you turn your direction back to the seats around you. Unfortunately, it looks like most of the people waiting on the platform wanted this tube too. It’s filled and crowded, no seats available, and a gentle pout forms on your lips as the doors close.

The car jerks forward but before you can tumble from not holding onto anything, Nick wraps his hand around your arm, gently encouraging you towards where he’s standing. His one shoulder leans against a pole but he’s not really using it to balance himself, just the stance of his legs, which is altogether impressive.

You hum lightly, leaning against his chest, resting your cheek against his shoulder. He dips his head, your nose bumping into his chin, “It seems like you’d benefit from me being a rich brat right now.” He squeezes your hip, his tone amused and you roll your eyes before closing them.

He’s not wrong. You’re dead on your feet—your body aches from the constant movement and rushing around to get whatever your mother needed done for the charity event. Then there was the self-guided museum tour in bad sneakers. You could be in Nick’s comfy McLaren with heated seats or…probably on his couch by now, watching a movie with ice cream. Instead you’re in a crowded tube with three more stops to go.

Your arms wind around his waist, a soft squeak leaving your lips when the tube grinds to its first stop. Nick balances you perfectly against his body, absorbing the movement, turning you both a little to get out of the way of people moving.

It never really clears out enough for you to get a seat, but you suppose that’s not too bad. You bite back a yawn, a small smile spreading across your face as Nick rubs the back of your neck. He smiles too after you press a kiss to his lips, something light and easy but grateful. His arms briefly squeeze you and you find yourself feeling completely relaxed despite the ache throbbing the heels of your feet and the back of your legs.

Remembering his earlier statement, you shrug your one shoulder, “Think I’m benefiting from you just fine right now.”

Nick’s chest rumbles in a soft laugh before he draws you even closer, the tube shuffling towards its next stop.

—

plus one.

You’d be the first to admit that you’re an emotional person. When you get upset, you cry. It doesn’t matter whether you’re frustrated, hurt, angry—tears well in your eyes no matter how much you try to stop it. You know that some would pounce on that as a weakness, but you’ve lived with this reaction for a long time. The real people in your life don’t judge. Nick never does.

However, it’s clear that he doesn’t quite know how to handle you like this, pissed off, because it’s very rare when it happens.

You’re sitting next to him on his couch, practically buzzing with unspent energy and unsaid words because you’re not sure who should get the brunt of your venom—Nick or Lion.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did.” Nick says after a moment and a harsh laugh leaves your lips as you stand from the couch, needing to move.

“Well that’s apparent.” You snap, heading into his kitchen to grab the first-aid kit and an ice pack for his stupid face.

His stupid, still handsome face, which is covered in an ugly purple bruise and a split lip. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you lean against the sink. This whole night spun too much out of control far too quickly. The thing is, you’re not even angry with Nick for the initial way he reacted—that was warranted. But after? Lion encouraging him into a ring fight?

What the fuck?

As it was, you made the mistake of going to Lion’s gym just to watch fights he had set up that had nothing to do with your boyfriend—won’t be stepping foot in that place again after tonight. You completely understand that Nick wants to be there for his friend when he asks for support and Lion’s your friend too. But…the whole point is that Nick is supposed to be taking further steps away from that world, not being yanked back in it.

You bring your hand up to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose.

The gym is filled to the brim tonight with people. In all honesty, since Nick has taken a patient distance away from things like this, you wish this was a place you could skip altogether. You understand backing Lion and his endeavors? But the bare-knuckle fights are just…not something you enjoy watching.

When the third hit turns bloody, you turn a little into Nick’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He smooths a hand down your back,

“We’ll leave after this one.” He promises.

And you nod before pulling away, “I’m just going to wait outside. I need some air.”

Nick’s eyebrows draw together before he glances at the ring, at Lion, clearly torn between staying and going. You shake your head, squeezing his wrist, there’s no need for him to choose.

“It’s okay, stay. I’ll be by the car.”

Nick reaches into the pocket of his jeans, handing over the keys to the McLaren so you can wait inside it. He leans down and kisses your cheek, “Five minutes.”

The fight won’t be over by then, but that must be all he’s giving it until he comes outside. You smile, pushing yourself up on your toes to kiss him before turning and making your way through the crowd of people. You pull Nick’s leather jacket closer around your shoulders, finally feeling like you’re able to breathe when you throw the door to the gym open—

And nearly hit someone smoking.

“For fuck’s sake.” The guy snaps and you wince.

“Sorry,” You’re trying to figure out how best to explain that you were just trying to get out of there, but the guy doesn’t look like he’s interested or cares about what’s going to come out of your mouth.

Oh, you know him. Jackson—the guy who was in the fight before the one you just left. He lost, miserably, and you crinkle your nose as you think about seeing that punch that snapped his head back. He’s got a mark on his chin from it.

He misreads your expression, taking a step closer, “I recognize you from the crowd. Stuck-up princess too good to be here, right? Like somehow watching something like this personally offends you.”

You let out a slow breath, knowing better than to get into it with him, and yet— “Oh fuck off.”

He scoffs, “And an American at that.” Definitely said like an insult.

You bristle. You’re not sure why you’re even entertaining opening your mouth but you’re so tired of guys like this. Him and his bravado don’t get to talk to you however he wants.

And because you’re feeling particularly nasty and have a boxer for a boyfriend, you go straight into a critique, “It’s not my fault you lost—maybe stop stepping before you punch and giving all your angles away. Your right hook could use some work.”

Not that he was amused before but his gaze suddenly sharpens with fire, his jaw clenching as he tosses his cigarette aside, “The fuck did you just say to me?”

He steps forward, near invading your space, and fuck. You should have known that this guy would never be able to take feedback, especially like this. From someone like you. It’s one thing when it’s a verbal argument but…something physical?

A moment passes in which you end up mumbling ‘nothing, apologies’ and make the decision to go back inside. Things unspool far too quickly after that—

You make it back down the hallway towards the main area of the gym, you hear the front door open behind you, hear him calling after you, and it’s all reactionary when he grabs onto the sleeve of your leather jacket to force you back. The word ‘bitch’ leaves his lips at the same time you turn and thrust the heel of your hand up —and connect with his nose. He takes a step back out of surprise more than anything else and blood drips down his lip, but all you’ve managed to do is piss him off.

He grabs you, yanking at your hair, and a startled cry leaves your lips as he pushes you towards a wall. Panic gathers in the base of your stomach because this hallway is practically empty, the event in the gym is too loud for anyone to hear you and dread kisses your nerve endings about what might happen if he—

“Go ahead, say it again,” Jackson spits blood on the floor, “You had so much to open your mouth about before.”

But then the weight of his body is gone as soon as it begins to press into your back and you turn to see Nick throwing not one but two punches in rapid succession at Jackson’s face. He groans, stumbling to the ground on one knee and Nick turns to you, reaching both hands to cup your face.

“Are you hurt?” His voice is sharp, eyes blazing, completely at odds with how gentle his touch is. He brushes a thumb over your cheek, giving your body a onceover before his gaze is back on yours.

You shake your head, a short breath leaving your lips, “No—no, I’m fine.” And you are, even if you’re clearly shaken. Your hands settle along Nick’s waist, holding onto the t-shirt he’s wearing to ground yourself and your wobbling knees. It’s just leftover adrenaline, it’ll fade.

A small pool of people have slipped out of the main part of the gym, eyeing Jackson and Nick with keen interest. Some people leave, others linger, like they want to know what’s going to happen. You see Jenna approach the sidelines with Lion, her eyes wide and searching until they land on you.

Jackson gets up off the floor, huffing out a laugh as he gets a look at Nick, “You should teach your bitch some common courtesy.”

You shake your head, pulling on Nick’s shirt when his hands drop from your face. “Don’t.”

Jackson laughs, “Aw, that’s cute. She fight all your battles for you?”

“You really want to lose twice in one night?” Nick snaps, his body turning to block yours from Jackson.

And that’s all it takes for Lion to propose settling this where everyone can see. For a price, of course.

It doesn’t matter that the fight only took fifteen minutes, that Nick won. You’re pissed off that Lion took advantage of something that he shouldn’t have and that your boyfriend allowed himself to be dragged right back into what he’s been trying to step away from. You close your eyes for a long moment and draw in another deep breath—then, of course, also comes the guilt. Because accidental or not, you were in the center of everything that happened tonight.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek hard enough to bleed, you gather the things you need to take back to the living room.

Nick hasn’t moved from the corner of the couch, you can feel his eyes on you as you take a seat on the coffee table, your knees bumping his. Setting the ice pack aside, you put the first-aid kit on your lap, tossing the lid open and taking out cotton balls and antiseptic wipes. You try to tear one open but the plastic is proving difficult—

It’s not until one of Nick’s hand covers your own do you realize your fingers are shaking. Badly.

You swallow over a lump in your throat, stilling your movements. Nick leans forward until he’s seated on the edge of the couch, gently taking the antiseptic wipe to rip it open with his teeth. He’s quiet for a few moments, handing it back to you.

Then, “You know I can handle myself in the ring.”

A tired scoff, you do not want to fight anymore. “That is so not the point.”

“But that’s what you’re angry—”

“I’m angry,” You hiss, tipping Nick’s chin up with your fingers and pushing a little harder than necessary on his lip that has the cut. He winces but doesn’t pull away, “that you ended up in the ring in the first place. Lion is supposed to be your friend, and he too easily jumps at the chance to make money off of you way too often.”

Nick doesn’t argue but a muscle in his jaw twitches. He’s quiet again until you pull the antiseptic wipe away, “You think I was going to let Jackson walk out of that gym without a scratch after he put his hands on you?”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. It’s not that…it’s not that you don’t appreciate Nick’s protectiveness. You love that about him. But, “You already hit him, twice, there was no need to put yourself in the ring—”

“Oh c’mon.” He grits between his teeth.

“—where anything can happen. Broken bones, teeth getting knocked out, concussions,” A sharp breath enters your lungs, the bridge of your nose stinging as you look away from Nick. This is not a new argument, you’ve said these things before, way back when you learned that Nick fought in these ridiculous things in the first place.

“I…” You shake your head, reaching for another antiseptic wipe, “I don’t think I need to go on.”

It’s quiet for a long few minutes. You sniffle, getting this one open on your own. You toss the trash aside and before you can tend to Nick’s face, he lifts his hand and cups your cheek. You know you should pull away from him, you’re really trying to lean into this whole being pissed off thing. But you can feel that emotion dissolve into what you’re really feeling—which is worry, concern, guilt, love.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers after a few moments.

A few moments hang in the air before a ghost of a smile pulls on your mouth, “Thought you weren’t going to apologize.”

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, catching a tear when it falls, “Changed my mind.”

You turn your face to press a kiss to the palm of his hand, pulling back to tend to his face. It doesn’t take very long to clean him up and the ice pack, wrapped with a tea towel, is for the bruise underneath his eye. You wince as he presses it against his cheekbone. Nick lets out a long sigh out of his nose, closing his eyes, his eyebrows drawing together slightly.

“You have a headache?”

He nods, tilting his head into your touch when you brush your fingers through his curls. “I’ll get you some aspirin.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you stand and take the first-aid kit with you, along with scraps of trash to throw away. Slipping his leather jacket off, you set it on the back of a kitchen chair and take a glass of water into the living room for Nick with some painkillers. Handing it over, you sit in the corner of the couch, watching him toss back two pills before he puts the ice pack back on his face.

“How’s your hand?” He asks.

You purse your lips, glancing down at your right palm, “Used the heel, so not bad. Jackson was definitely shocked.”

He smirks and leans back into the couch cushion. “I’m sure he was.” You can tell he’s sore, spent—it’ll take a little while for the aspirin to kick in.

Shifting back onto the couch, you pat your lap with one hand. “C’mere.”

Nick turns a little to look at you, his eyes fluttering down towards your lap. He moves slowly, pulling his body onto the couch so that he’s laying down. He positions his head to lay on your thighs, letting out a long sigh as he settles into the cushions. Your one hand runs up and down his shoulder, pausing every so often to massage the muscles of his neck while the other threads through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

A low rumble of appreciation leaves his throat, eyes fluttering closed. “Should get into an argument with you more often if this is the end result.”

“Hush,” You laugh lightly, gently flicking his nose with your finger.

You turn the TV on low, just to have some white noise in the background, and adjust a pillow behind your back. Your hands continue to move, stroking Nick’s hair. You glance down at him, a smile pressing its way onto your face when you feel his breathing even out, falling asleep against you.

Warmth spreads in your belly at the sight, that sensation you so often associate with Nick humming in your veins. That sentiment of feeling safe.

You lean back against the cushion, getting yourself comfortable, not intending on moving until he wakes up.

#nick leister #nick leister x reader #my fault london #my fault: london #matthew broome #matthew broome x reader #mccall writes things

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fallingfor-fics · 2 days ago

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Chance Encounters - Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Part 3 to Meetings in Secret

Pairing: Step-Aunt Melissa x Step-Niece Reader (not blood relatives!!)

Word count: 8.9k omg, part 4 (the final part) will be coming soon since I split it off this one lol

Warnings: fooling around with your step-moms sister, some angst, drug and alcohol usage, jealousy

Summary: Its been awhile since seeing Melissa and despite having a new woman to distract you, the universe sees to it you reunite with the redhead whose grasp you have tried to escape.

Part 1 Part 2

It had been over a year since you last saw Melissa. When you had returned to school after that New Years, your friends and you rented a house off campus and you moved up near your school. It would be easy to get a job in the current company you were interning at once you graduated the following spring so it worked out. Vivian had casually suggested having a permanent position waiting for you and not wanting to be stuck job hunting back home you said you would accept when an official offer was made. Speaking of Vivian, when you returned from winter break she was eager to see you. As you got caught up on work the first few weeks back she was helping you personally instead of having an assistant do it, and she started to be more forward with her flirting. Now a year later as you prepare to walk the stage in a week, you were tying up things at school and had found yourself in a relationship of some sort with the powerful woman.

A few months ago she had asked you out to drinks, finally, and of course you had to say yes. You two hit it off and soon found yourself at her place, making out in her kitchen and soon ending the night in the bedroom. There was a mutual agreement on no labels or emotions and it worked perfectly. It was an insanely imbalanced power dynamic, but somehow it worked. You fulfilled her needs, and she got Melissa out of your head. You followed her orders, and she got-- her, out of your head.

Since work, school, and Vivian had taken over your senior year, you never made it back home. You went home to collect your things and move, but that was the last time you had seen all of them, and it was just your immediate family. You skipped the holidays and spent them with your friends and so your path never crossed with hers. You even managed to avoid Philly, conveniently always having plans already when a friend would invite you to the city, and you took that as a sign. The fact you hadn't had a real chance to go and Melissa had never found herself here, at least not that she told you of, you assumed this would be the end for good.

She was almost completely gone from your mind, a mere memory now. Faint and hazy but one you reluctantly managed to cling to. You convinced yourself you hadn't forgotten the smell of her perfume or the pitch of her laugh. At least you still got to see her every night in your dreams despite how little you had to work with now. You had her on instagram and would see updates occasionally that would set you back on your progress of getting over her, so you had blocked her. You felt terrible about it but if you two were not ever going to be together for even a night again, what was the point?

Graduation was in exactly a week and you were on the phone with your dad discussing tickets and who all was coming.

“Yeah everyone gets six so, if you and Mary want to come and then I'll invite mom, if she doesn't show up then it's fine but the boys can come too.” You spoke softly into the phone, trying to keep the conversation short and simple.

“Ok. Mary and I will be there, maybe Jude. Not Anthony he is out of town.” he spoke and you said that was fine, and that it was okay if you didn't use all the tickets, soon you heard Mary in the background.

“Do you want me to put together a small celebration Y/n?” she chirped and you smiled at the offer.

“Um no thats okay, its a little late notice anyways.”

“Oh nonsense, if we tell the family there's a party here with liquor they will show up. It doesn't have to be as big as Judes!” your body tensed as she said family and mentioned the party in which you were introduced to her little sister. The little sister that you had such a torrid affair with…

“Um, no really I think we can just go to dinner after the ceremony!” you heard her agree and say she would start looking at restaurants. Some would probably be annoyed by Mary's need to have control over this stuff but you didn't mind for some reason. However, the last thing you needed was to see Melissa at a party that was centered around you.

Soon after you hung up and continued to work on a final paper you had to write, you got a text from Vivian and you smiled. She had sent a flirty message, asking you what your plans for the night were. You told her it was just to finish all your homework now so you didn't have to worry about it. It wasn't long before she was calling you which she usually only did if she had an idea.

“Hellooo.” you said, a smile evident in your tone.

“Hello darling, how was your day?” She spoke softly, confident yet a sweetness laid underneath the words that rolled off her lips.

“It was good, I got a lot done. What about you?”

“It was the usual. Look, I have an old friend that wants me to come pay them and a few of their friends a visit tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like to join me. It's in Philadelphia so we would have to stay the night but obviously that's no issue unless you have something urgent to attend to tomorrow?” Your heart was in your stomach at this point in the woman's proposition. To translate what Vivian meant by “visit some old friends”, you were going to be meeting other equally talented, rich, and beautiful women as she. Women that would all feast on you if given the chance. It would be at some fancy lounge or premium hotel bar, and Vivian would cover everything for you, hold you against her all night long to show you off, and then have her way with you at the end of the night. This was gold, this was a rare occasion you had gotten to experience only twice before and anyone would be crazy to say no to.

It was in Philly.

Look, it's a ginormous city sure, the chances of running into someone or even being in the same region of them would be so unlikely. However, you had managed to run into Melissa a few times before out on the town, and at the museum, with Vivian, but you wouldn't be going back to that bar since it was hardly these women's scene and therefore the chances of seeing her were even smaller.

“I would love to, what time should I be ready by?” you asked sweetly and you could hear her smile as she replied.

“Excellent, I'll pick you up in two hours. Wear whatever for the drive, but bring that pretty blue dress I like for the evening.” A shiver crawled up your spine at the sultry tone of her voice and you pulled your lip between your teeth as you grinned.

“Yes ma’am, I can't wait to see you.” The weather was supposed to be nice and this seemed like such a dream night.

Two hours had passed and you had showered, shaved, waxed, moisturized, did your hair and makeup, and packed all your necessities while managing to finish a good chunk of your work. I guess with the right motivation level 4 chemistry suddenly made sense.

Vivian was always on time, so if she said she would be there in two hours, it would be to the minute. Thus meaning it was two minutes to the hour and you were walking downstairs with a small bag and your purse in hand, as well as your dress on a hanger, sealed in a protective pouch. Just as you made it to the door and had finished locking up, Vivian was pulling up. You smiled and put your bag in the back seat, stepping into the passenger seat of her sleek, black SUV, with a smile.

“Hey.” you smiled leaning over and she pressed her lips to yours softly but deeply. You pulled away after a moment and your cheeks were surely as pink as roses. You placed a kiss on her cheek and grabbed her hand, placing kisses on it as well. She watched with lustful eyes, admiring your sweet gestures and how innocent they made you look in comparison to how she knew you would look later this evening.

“Missed me, did you my pet?” your eyes locked with hers at the name and you grinned and nodded gently. Her own expression shifted to a sweet grin and her hand cupped your face.

“Buckle in, lets get going. I want to get to the afterparty as soon as I can.” A devilish smirk crossed her face and it made a ripple of nerves flow through your chest and down your stomach. Doing as you were told you pulled the strap across your chest and Vivian placed a hand on your thigh as she pulled out of the neighborhood.

The first stop was the hotel to check in and set your things down, and then change before going to the bar. Her friends had told her to meet them there and sent the address, you caught a glimpse and typed it into your phone, checking the area around to see if it was familiar.

“Have we stayed at this hotel before?” you asked, trying to get more clues without having to ask her straight up so as to not raise suspicion.

“No, I don't make my way out to this area very often so I haven't had the chance to bring you. It's about forty minutes west of that museum we hosted at. You know, where I met that lovely redhead friend of yours.” the tone of her voice was sly and catty, she was messing with you and you felt your cheeks burn at the reminder.

“Yes I remember that evening very well.” The small voice that followed these words did not have the confidence you wanted it to, hoping to seem nonchalant about the memory. She noticed but didn't seem to care and you felt some relief. It wasn't long before you were pulling up to the hotel, a valet coming to park the car as a bellboy grabbed your bags.

Vivian led the way to the room after checking in and you looked around, admiring the architecture. The ceilings were tall and full of ornate designs and trimmed in gold so it shimmered ever so slightly, paintings of clouds over light blue could be seen in the highest peak of the lobby, the many floors extending all around with railings that overlooked the decorative space. There were chandeliers you could tell weighed more than your car and sparkled like the night stars. You felt a hand on the small of your back and you noticed Vivian was guiding you to follow her after having fallen behind slightly due to your gawking.

The beep of the key card unlocking the door was music to your ears and you stopped in the doorway as she walked in ahead of you, once again marveled by the design of the room. You walked in slowly, the door closing after the bellboy dropped your bags in the room. The suite was large with a huge bed that still managed to look small, and a fireplace with a large flat screen above it. You went into the bathroom and saw a large walk in shower and a fancy soaking tub adorned with gold accents all around.

“Holy shit Viv, this is insane.” you said with your jaw dropped slightly.

“Only the best for you darling.” She winked as she began to take off her day clothes to change. You watched in awe, not hesitating to take the opportunity to admire her frame. She could feel you watching, eyes raking over her body, not leaving a single inch unseen, but she didn’t pay any mind, having such an effortless confidence like she possessed can do that.

“You are bewitching.” you muttered with a desperate sigh escaping your mouth, sounding like a gentle plea almost. It delighted the women to hear and she came to stand before you in nothing but a small, slightly fitted slip dress. She started undoing the buttons of your jeans and unzipped them, moving then to your shirt, pulling it over your head to reveal your bare chest. She had somehow not noticed you lacked a bra and she smiled. You pulled off your jeans and looked back up to her, she gripped your jaw suddenly, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. Mere seconds passed before she was pulling away slowly, tantalizing, with a strict smirk

“Go get dressed and touch up your makeup.” she said as she pulled away and you looked at her through your lashes as you blushed from the order following the heated exchange.

Doing as you were told you grabbed your dress and makeup bag and finished getting ready. When you came out Vivian couldn't keep her hands off of you, she avoided kissing you so she didn't mess up your lipstick, but her hands were roaming free.

“I hope these other ladies can keep their hands to themselves, you look ravishing darling.” she chimed and you smiled as you placed a light kiss to her hand and traveled slowly up her arm, making sure to not leave any residue behind as you gingerly pecked her soft skin. Her lips found yours and she hovered hers over your own, the faintest brush could be felt but she just smiled and pulled away, grabbing both of your purses. She was wearing a stunning deep purple dress that paired perfectly with her silver locks that hung around her shoulders.

---

A few hours into the party you and Vivian were talking to some wonderful ladies that invited you to a rooftop bar get together they were having the next night. It would mean extending your stay but that sounded like a dream to you. Another night of Vivian against you, showering you with praise and drinks? You smiled at the woman's invitation and looked at Vivian with knowing eyes. She looked down at you to get an answer from your expressions and met your bright eyes looking up at her. She kindly accepted the woman's invitation and exchanged numbers with her to get the information.

It wasn't long before your demanding date had enough of the parading around and was ready to take you home and finish the night her own way. You didn't protest as she dragged you out of the bar and you followed gleefully along, the drive home being tense. A few weeks and 4 long hours of tension was quickly shattered when you entered the hotel room. She wasted no time before giving orders and having you stripped in seconds. The rest of the night was spent as such and you both fell asleep hours later, excited to do it all again the next night.

Since the two of you didn't plan on staying another night, you were short on outfits for this other party, one you really had to impress at since neither of you were very familiar with the crowd of women that would be attending. Vivian and you were enjoying coffee before shopping for the occasion in a more upscale part of town.

“Don’t forget it's a rooftop place so if you didn't bring a jacket maybe buy one just in case it gets breezy.” Your jaw dropped at the mention of a rooftop bar, a detail you had forgotten in your drunken haze the night prior and you smirked.

“This is just getting better and better Viv. This is gonna be a hard weekend to beat..” You joked and she shook her head.

“Careful pet, it's not over yet.” She spoke as she gazed through her lashes over her sunglasses, causing a chill to roll over your spine.

“Are you prepared for your Graduation? Do you know what you’re wearing for that?”

You pondered for a moment, realizing you kinda forgot you needed something nice to wear. “I guess I can wear something I have unless I find something cuter today.”

“Yeah we have plenty of time so we can get you all ready, cant have my darling stressed before her big celebration.” she said with such an effortless sincerity yet coolness to her tone.

You had wound up in a fairly fancy store, one you couldn't afford unless you bought one thing and ate ramen for two months, but with Vivian it was an unspoken rule that she would cover any expenses like this, especially when she's the one that brought you here. It was a rather large women's clothing store but not one you’d get lost in. It was the kind that had a fancy fitting room that was always staffed with someone running to get other sizes for you. Vivian had gone off to look at shoes that caught her eye and you told her you’d meet her at the fitting rooms once you picked out a few dress options.

The large fitting room made you feel comfortable as you shimmied your simple skirt off and pulled your top off with it. You pulled on the first dress but immediately took it off due to its heinously placed ruffles, the second one was ok-- a good back up option. You were trying on the third now, a body con dark silky fabric that draped your curves elegantly and had enough structure to push your chest out. The only issue was that you couldn't get it zipped up on your own. You heard voices and figured it was one of the staff members coming back over and so you opened the door slowly to ask for help but by the time you did they were off helping someone else. A huff fell from your lips and you reached behind your back in an attempt to zip it yourself again.

Your arm was beginning to cramp but your stubborn thinking was rather determined to do this without assistance. Your thoughts were interrupted however by a familiar voice that rang out like a melodic church bell in the distance, startling at first yet so beautiful you can't ignore its singing.

“Hey hon-- do you uh, need some help there?” The woman's voice was soft with a slight humour.

You froze at her words and couldn't find the courage to turn around, surely she didn't know it was you yet or she wouldn't have offered to help, right? You shook your thoughts and knew you couldn't just keep standing there awkwardly in silence like a ghost being seen by a human for the first time.

“Um, no im okay,” your voice was soft and slow as you began to turn around, “thank you though.” you finished and by the look on her face she knew right from the first word you spoke it was you. Her hunch was confirmed when you turned around, your eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She was the one in shock now and just looked at you with longing yet confused eyes.

“Hi- How are you?” she asked and you played with the hem of the dress.

“I'm good. You?” you asked awkwardly and she just nodded.

“Same. It's been a long time, Y/n.” The sound of your name on her lips once again made your chest hurt instantly and you nodded, looking down at the dress you realized was still open in the back. She must have noticed too since you saw her looking over at the reflection of your bare skin in the mirror behind you.

“Yeah, a lot has happened in the last year.”

“You changed your hair, I didn't recognize you.” She noted and you looked at it and nodded. She moved closer to you and you stayed frozen unsure what to do or how to react. A worry that if you moved suddenly she would disappear had filled your veins, and so you just observed as she brought her hands to your shoulders and turned you around. You felt a chill come over you and surely your arms were covered in goosebumps by this. Her delicate fingers gingerly brushed the smooth and warm skin of your back as she moved your hair away from the zipper, pulling it up slowly. Her eyes met yours in the mirror and you felt your skin grow hot as you looked into her softened green eyes. She looked over your frame and smiled and your heart sank at the sight.

“What is the occasion?”

A silence fell over you as you thought of what to say, trying to keep it vague without lying.

“I need a dress for Graduation, but um I think this one isn't very appropriate.” Pink flushed your cheeks as you felt her eyes glide over your frame in a respectful yet mesmerized manner.

She nodded and looked around, her eyes being drawn to a few dresses on a nearby rack. She grabbed one that was your size, a more appropriate length, and in the particular shade Melissa had complimented you on and encouraged you to wear many times before. A smirk came and lifted the corners of your mouth as you watched her confidently bring her selection over. Your heart tightened at the interaction. It was so wholesome, sweet, and familiar. It made you remember how much you liked her beyond the sexual stuff and caused a painful rift to run through your chest. As you took the dress from her your hands brushed and your eyes tore from hers.

“Can you, um-” You gestured to your back and she nodded. Her hands gently moved your hair over your shoulder, exposing your back to her once again as she now pulled the zipper in the other direction, her fingers brushing against your flesh like hot iron. Your mind was overwhelmed with flashbacks accompanied by a flutter in your stomach that seems to be making its way down. Melissa was watching your face contour in the mirror before you, admiring the effect she still possessed over you. Silence remained as you walked into the room once again, changing quickly.

The dress was stunning, it was flattering and had a sweet and elegant yet alluring neckline and cinched at your waist, giving your curves some attention while not accentuating them too scantily. The color did compliment your hair and eyes tremendously and you had to give Melissa credit. You sighed before stepping outside the room and turning to look in the mirror. Melissa was at a nearby rack looking at clothes and saw you emerge. A smile graced her face and you couldn't help but smile back.

“Wow. You look absolutely gorgeous hon. As always.” Her tone was soft and genuine, a heartfelt tone that made you want to cry, scream, and kiss her all at once. The reality of the situation falling over you.

“I’ll second that.” Vivian said as she approached with a knowing brow and a mischievous smile. Your eyes widened and you turned to face her.

“You like it Viv?” You asked, trying to distract from the fact your cheeks were pink and your brows were furrowed, she just nodded.

“Very much,” her sultry tone made Melissa’s jaw tighten, though she knew she had no right to her sour attitude. You noticed this and had to bite your tongue to keep from smiling at her subtle jealousy. “You are that very dazzling woman from the museum aren't you?” Vivian asked as she directed her attention to the shorter but just as confident woman before her.

“Yep, that's me. Y/n’s dazzling… friend.” Melissa hesitated with slight sarcasm and her eyes flicked to yours at the last word and Vivian nodded with a knowing glance. Of course you had told Vivian of your whole history with Melissa but you only did so because never in a million years did you think you'd end up in this situation. You figured if you were ever in the same room with these women again it would be under more seductive circumstances much like the few dreams you had of the scenario. You rolled your eyes at your thoughts and snapped back into the conversation.

“Well it was good seeing you Melissa, we gotta get going.” You said politely and she nodded as she looked at Vivian who was sorting the clothes in her hands.

“Yeah you too.” She smiled and a brief and awkward tension grew.

“I'll text you some time?” you said suddenly but it came out more a question and her eyes lit up at the words and she smirked with her flirtatious grin that made your heart thump as she nodded.

“Get this dress. You’ll knock em’ dead, doll.” She smiled as she gestured to the dress, stroking the fabric around your waist for a moment. To the public it was an innocent gesture, but you knew better than that, so did the woman that stood behind you with a somewhat threatened gaze, one you’d never seen on Vivian's face before but one you didn’t question nor did she comment on.

Your heart fluttered and you batted your lashes as you nodded and retreated into the fitting room to change. You had to do some minor breathing exercises to regain your composure and get dressed, having to act as normal as you could around Vivian. To your surprise she didn't mention it and you couldn't tell if she just didn't care, or if she was waiting to bring the redhead up later.

----

A driver pulled up to the hotel and you both slid into the backseat, the rooftop bar was twenty minutes from the hotel and during the drive Vivian's hand never left your thigh, squeezing it hard every few minutes and then stroking it gently right after.

“So is it a ladies only place?” you asked for clarification and she raised a brow.

“Well I guess the whole place is for everyone but the rooftop can be rented, and the hosts that got it decided it would be a ladies night up there.”

“They are all in similar fields as you and I?” You were trying to gather insight so you knew what to expect with these women, so you knew how to communicate with them. Vivian had talked with one of the hosts prior and had figured out a good chunk of the crowd we could expect. Women like Vivian didn't need to waste their time, and they can tell quickly if someone is doing that. That means when speaking with them you have to have the diction and confidence that mirrors their own, but does not overpower them.

“Some, but some are also in more freelance roles or various leadership positions at larger organizations that are local to the area.”

“I hope I won't seem out of place.” you suggested and she shook her head to reassure you.

“No one would question anyone I bring, just as I wouldn't question those that they bring.” she smirked and you nodded. Vivian was always good at reassuring you because of her intelligence and the way she could find a logistic to back up any scenario would instantly calm your ever running mind.You liked Vivian a lot, but it was strange, the dynamic you had. Oftentimes you would find yourself pointing out the differences between this relationship and yours with Melissa.

You and Vivian were able to do the casual thing and yeah you cared deeply about each other but you both had a content and mutual feeling that it wouldn't last forever and that that was okay, and if you wanted to see other people you could. Then with Melissa it was so much pull, and attraction, forcing you together when in reality you never could be with each other forever. You desperately wanted to have Melissa the way you had Vivian. It just wasn't easy enough to maintain that kind of relationship, one that feeds off of lust created by raw chemistry, being squeezed to nothing but casual— is impossible.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when the car stopped. The tall building blocked the light of the sun that was just beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the cityscape. Vivian’s hand instinctively came to the small of your back and you walked into the building, taking the elevator up to the roof. She placed a small kiss to your lips and you smiled, your hand coming to caress her arm. The doors opened and you were met with a gorgeous sight. A beautiful bar overlooking the view of the city, a few fire pits with chairs around them, and tons of beautiful greenery and flowers. There was a quaint dance floor with an awning above it canopied with florals. It was so stunning. You shoved down one observation that was screaming in your head. It was an immature one that you were prepared for but still kicked yourself for thinking.

It was MILF central. You were ashamed to hear that thought in your mind but it simply was the truth. You suddenly felt so shy and vulnerable. Vivian sensed this and squeezed your waist to guide you to the bar. She ordered for the both of you as you continued your newfound routine of admiring your atmosphere in a trance like state. It wasn't long before women were coming over to Vivian to catch up or introduce themselves and get the read on you. Soon it was learned everyone was allowed to bring a friend (or in this case your controversially young lover who happened to work for you) so there were more women Vivian didn't know than she anticipated. Not that this phased her at all. Most of the women were rather easy to talk to and assess, you had not seemed to meet someone you disliked yet which was always nice. There was a soft hum of music that swirled through the air and muted the sounds of the city but didn't overpower the murmurs from the women conversing.

As you nursed your second drink, Vivian excused herself for a minute to talk to someone across the room and you agreed to stay at the bar. A gentle hand signaled the bartender in your peripheral and you looked beside you, a woman who looked to be in her early thirties spoke gently as she ordered. She had straight dark brown hair, and was wearing a flattering yellow dress.

“I'll have a Gin Martini, and then a Negroni for the lady.” You looked around casually but couldn't see the woman she was claiming to be with. She noticed your staring and smiled at you.

“Hi, I'm Rowan.” She said kindly and extended her hand, you took it and smiled in return.

“Y/n. What brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to nothing.

“I was invited by a friend, who is around here somewhere.” she said looking around.

“Oh me too, I'm glad I'm not the only one that doesn't know these people.” you joked and she laughed as she nodded in agreement.

“I am also glad to hear that. So what do you do?”

“I work for an Art and Heritage Consulting company. What about yourself?” The woman smiled and soon the bartender came with the drinks.

“Im a department head at a charter school.” she said and you raised your brows.

“Oh cool-” You felt a hand touch your arm and you turned to see Vivian, she smiled down at you and came to check in on you.

“Vivian, this is Rowan.” You introduced the women to each other and you smiled. Vivian shook her hand firmly as normal, her back pressed to yours as her arm extended around you.

“Y/n, Vivian, this is my friend,” she moved so you could see a woman that had come to stand on the other side of her. As Rowan started to lean out of the way it was like everything turned into slow motion. You saw a hand with dark nails clutching the Negroni, small drops of condensation formed on the glass and made the tips of her fingers shine from the water. Heavy eyes continued, freckled arms and a few strands of hair floating in the wind that caught the sunlight and caused them to glow an orange hue like flames igniting encaptured your gaze. Your chest tightened, it couldn’t be, no way this would happen to you twice. “Melissa.” She finished and the familiar face turned to look up at the sound of her name. You could feel Vivians gaze looking down at you and you froze.

You locked eyes and you felt your heart shrink and a lump creep up your throat from nerves. Melissa looked equally as surprised, but you didn't linger on her shocked expression because you were distracted by how amazing she looked in this light with her hair down and her dress hugging her curves. She was glowing, naturally, and the setting sun behind her matched her perfectly, making her look like a goddess. Her brows were furrowed and you soon snapped back to reality. A smile came to your face and you laughed.

“Oh, I actually know Melissa, we are old friends. She met Vivian once before too, but we haven't seen each other in… awhile.” You said not wanting to hide this situation as there was no point in lying here. A quiet confidence stood behind your words and you looked at Rowan who smiled. You could feel Vivians hand on your waist as she stood slightly behind you in your stool at the bar. Her hand was hidden on your left side so they couldn't see how she was squeezing you, as if to say careful.

“Thats so funny, what a small world.” Rowan exclaimed. A small, small fucking city indeed apaprently, you thought as you sighed.

“Well I'm going to go to the ladies room, so if you'll excuse me.” you said, stepping away quickly. When the sound of the bathroom door closing hit your ears you started to breathe heavily, this situation was so awkward and painful you were unsure you could stomach it. Leaving wasn't an option, and even though Vivian wouldn't care about what has happened between you two, you couldn't take her from the party simply because you couldn't tolerate a few hours with the woman. Maybe you could avoid Melissa all night and then it would be fine. You looked at yourself in the mirror and exhaled, expelling all the anxiety building in your chest. A plan was made as you gathered the courage to leave the sanctuary that had become this bathroom.

When you walked out you saw Vivian had moved to one of the corners of the roof, with outdoor couches around a fire. She sat to where she faced you as you exited the restroom, but you soon noticed the two women had followed suit and another pair had joined that you met earlier. Maybe Vivian was messing with you, wanted to make you navigate this situation and see how you handle the pressure of it all. Surely a game that she couldn't pass up. As you came to sit beside her, they were all laughing and you caught a glimpse of Melissa’s smile, and heard a faint laugh leave her lips. It made your chest flutter and you sat quietly beside your Mistress. You avoided Melissa’s gaze and sipped your drink. You truly thought the next time you’d see her it would be so far into the future none of this would matter. Instead, the year that passed seemed to be too little to heal you both completely, but too long of a time for it to not be awkward now.

“So Vivian, where did you meet Y/n?” one of the older women from earlier in the evening asked from across the fire.

“She started as an intern at the company and is now one of our Archived Collections managers.” She smiled and they nodded. Melissa’s jaw seemed to tighten and this you noticed, your eyes flicking to hers. Everyone at this event would refer to people as “friends” but you couldn't quite tell when that meant something more. Was Rowan a friend or was she here with Melissa? Did people know Vivian was with you?

“Melissa, how did you and Rowan meet?” Vivian asked her kindly and your eyes met the green ones across from you, they had ember reflections in them from the fire in front of her and it was hard not to get lost in them.

“Um, we were at an education conference and ran into each other at the bar.” She said simply, her eyes meeting yours to see your reaction. All you did was nod and sip your drink, you subtly moved your leg so it would touch Vivians. Anytime you were out, if you did small actions like this it would always signal her to pull you in, or ground you with her touch. Without looking at you her hand came to rest on your thigh and you relaxed for a moment. A strong gaze could be seen in the corner of your eye, the woman's hair so vibrant it blended in with the flames before her. You couldn't bring yourself to look at her despite the strong pull you felt in your chest to do so.

“I'm going to get another drink, does anyone want me to grab them another?” You offered politely as you stood, Vivian smiled and nodded but soon a voice chimed in.

“Ill join you.” Melissa spoke in a velvety yet somewhat monotone voice, one that seemed almost sarcastic. There was a moment of silence, you weren't quite sure what she was up to but you smiled and acted like you were excited to catch up. Rowan and one of the older women wanted another so you knew it would be good to have extra hands, but it also meant you would be alone with Melissa for longer while waiting for the drinks.

The two of you walked across to the bar, not saying a word. She ordered the drinks and you stood there, moving out of the way to the end of the bar that was beside the balcony, the city scape stretching out before you reflecting a gold and pink hue from the sun melting into the horizon. It was the most gorgeous sight you had seen in a long time. A figure came beside you, your eyes locking on Melissa's frame, the wind gently blowing her hair, her lips pursed ever so slightly, green eyes sparkling as they looked into the distance. Second most gorgeous sight. You corrected yourself in your brain and you felt yourself staring so you looked back out on the land.

“Where have you been?” she asked, finally breaking the silence with a softer voice, but still in that odd sarcastic tone, like she didn't care to ask, but was doing it out of obligation, but you knew this wasn't the case.

“I moved to a place by campus.” you said simply and she nodded.

“I heard, that means you stop seeing your family then?” You looked at her curtly.

“Whats it to you if I come home to see them or not? Besides, they could care less, let's be real.” the words spat out faster than you expected and she turned to look at you, assessing your body language and your expression that somewhat contradicted it.

“I'm just saying, I didn't think it would be this long before we saw each other again.”

“Why? You were hoping we could hook up and then you could just shove me away and tell me you can't do it again?” You were maybe being harsh out of nowhere but you couldn't help it, she needed to know how hard you had worked to get over her. In fact you were still working on that.

“I know, I'm sorry.” Her voice was gentle and defeated and you looked at her with care, the apology being an unexpected response and a wave of regret coming back over you.

“Me too, lets just forget about it.” you said with defeat.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming to Philly?” she innocently questioned, wanting to know the truth as to why you maybe didn't want to see her.

“I didn't think I would run into you, and I'm here with Vivian so…” you looked down and she nodded.

“How long has that been going?” her tongue poked her cheek as she looked at you with a small hint of jealousy behind her eyes.

“Melissa, we shouldn't talk about this stuff.”

“Relax, it's just friendly conversation sweetie.” she smiled and your heart fluttered at the name. No doubt your cheeks were turning pink in response to her casual use of the word.

“Careful.” was all you said and she raised a brow as you looked across the roof to Vivian, she was watching the two of you intently and had a small smirk on her face as she pretended to listen to the women around her. Melissa noticed her stare as well and how you responded to it, her brow twitching for a moment. She wasn't intimidated by the woman by any means, she actually liked Vivian, but she hated knowing she was having you in ways Melissa couldn't anymore. They two locked eyes, non threatening yet challenging glances were exchanged, and you were oblivious to the interaction.

Soon the drinks were ready and the bartender was calling you over. You both carried them over and distributed, getting thank you’s from the others. As you sat back down Vivian put her arm around your waist and you smiled. Resistance infiltrated your blood as you kept yourself from leaning back into Vivian on instinct. It felt wrong to do that in front of Melissa all of the sudden. Anytime your eyes met your heart pained and you felt the familiar pull. So you kept the PDA with Vivian to a minimum, which was fine with her since she knew the end of the night was when she really called the shots.

A few hours had gone by and everyone was beginning to feel their many cocktails. There were a few groups of women that had left, and a few groups that were very catty and loud the more they drank. The group had dispersed and currently Melissa and Rowan were nowhere in sight, and Viv and you were in the sea of people standing in the middle of the roof on the small dance floor. Some were just swaying or dancing with partners and others were just standing to enjoy the music. Per usual you needed to make a trip to the restroom, so you gave a kiss to Vivian’s cheek before slinking off to the hallway. You saw a line and sighed, a ladies only party will do that I guess, especially when there's only two unisex bathrooms. Leaning against the wall in line you sighed looking down. The drinks were getting to you the longer you stood still and you just relaxed, enjoying the numbing feeling they provided. You could clear your brain and just be, exist in the moment, and be happy. Soon a girl went in and you smiled knowing you’d be next if the other bathroom became vacant. The door began to open and you stood up straight, quickly stopping and staring with wide eyes, it was Melissa.

“Oh. Hi.” You said in a drunken shock.

“Oh, I thought you were Rowan.” She said and you furrowed your brows sharply in utter confusion.

“Why the fuck did you think Id be Rowan?” you asked, sounding more crass then you intended, suddenly you gasped in realization.

“Oh my god you were waiting for her so you could hook up in there weren't you?” You said with a cocky smile. She quickly grabbed your arm with force and tugged you into the bathroom with her. Luckily no one else had gotten in line when you did so you followed in with a small shriek.

“Shut up.” was all she said and you stood in the room that was thick with tension and some awkward silence.

“Im not judging.” you said kindly and she sighed looking down and running a hand through her hair. You leaned up off the sink and walked closer to her.

“Melissa what's wrong?” your voice was softer now and you hesitated to put a hand on her arm. She looked up at you and her brows were down in a line and her eyes were dark. Not with anger per se, but with, well a combination of things. Her expression was one you hadn't seen on her before so you felt the weight of worry come down harder.

“Hey, talk to me.” you said, grabbing her hand and she looked at your hand holding hers.

“Are you happy with Vivian?” she asked and you stepped back at the question. There was a pause, you knew the answer but were afraid of how Melissa would react to hearing the truth.

“Yes.” you said simply. “Are you happy with Rowan?” you asked in return and her eyes snapped to yours.

“No- yes? Its new, we have only been going out for a few weeks anyway.”

“Melissa, why am I in here?” She tilted her head softly as if to be thinking of a good reason.

“Ive missed you hon.” she said and you looked away, not being able to handle having this exchange with her.

“I cant do this again Mel, I cant. I don't know what it is about you, I mean I hardly knew you but I just felt-” you sighed, pausing your stammering haste. “I thought you felt it too, but I was just naive. Then you ended things, and it took longer than it should have to get not even halfway over you.” you spat, the alcohol making you ramble for longer than you intended.

“You're not over me?” she asked in a quiet confusion. A genuine surprise in her tone but her gaze was gentle. She stared with such soft eyes that dazzled and made your chest flutter. She was beautiful.

“W-” You started and stopped for a moment, sighing, “Well yeah, of course I'm not. I told you Melissa there's no way I could ever fully forget you.” Your voice was-- weak and small, yet steady and confident. She started standing up straighter as she listened to your confession.

“And if the day that I forget you does exist, I hope I don't last long enough to live it.” You finished and before you could say your final peace she was crashing into you. Her hands came to cup your face and pull you into her as her lips moved in sync with yours. You breathed heavy into her as your own hands slinked to her waist to pull her tighter. She was kissing you with a rough passion, her tongue exploring your mouth as her hands roamed your back. You pulled away for a second looking down to breathe, your forehead on hers. She only paused for a moment longer before kissing the corner of your mouth and up your cheek, turning to kiss down your neck. You moaned softly and cupped your mouth. Her hand grabbed yours and she came to face you again.

“Dont be embarrassed now honey.” She quipped and you blushed, her strong hands pushed your hips into the counter and you felt a shiver go up your spine, her hands came to your thighs and she pushed you up on the cold surface, your legs wrapped around her waist instinctively and she grinned, her eyes were dark once again. Only this time, you knew exactly what was causing this shift in hue. The soft music from outside filled the room as you continued to kiss her with passion. She started to kiss down your neck, over your chest and down to the skin of your thighs, sliding the dress up with cold hands.

“Did you get the dress I liked?” She inquired, the fabric under her hands reminding her of the earlier interaction. You blushed with a playful roll of your eyes as you nodded. Her lips followed and you smiled as she brought her other hand to bring your dress up on the other leg as well. Just as she was about to kiss her way to your center, there was a knock on the door.

“Hello? Melissa, are you in there? I'm so sorry I got caught up in a story by some artist lady.” Rowan spoke from the other side of the door. Your eyes went wide and you cupped your mouth. Melissa smiled to herself and you smacked her arm. You stood up quietly, gesturing to answer.

“Yeah it's me, hold on.” She said moving to the door, you glided behind the door and waved a hand to Melissa. She opened the door and pulled Rowan in, directing her gaze so her back was to you and you slipped out and walked down the hall casually. You heard the door shut as you rounded the end of the hall and you sighed. Soon your eyes found a dazzling woman waiting for you, she was standing by the stairs with a sly smile and she gestured to you with her head. As you stepped beside her she looked you up and down.

“So, what took you so long, pet.” she said with a tone that managed to sound ice cold while still having a mischief behind it.

“Um there was a line.” You nodded, that was the truth, just not the whole truth.

“Oh, and did you happen to run into your friend Melissa in that line?” She was smiling now and you couldn't tell if she was joking, clueless, or pissed. Hopefully not a combination of all three.

“How did you know?” your brows furrowed and your eyes flicked between the woman’s dark brown irises, that twinkled with a twisted playfulness.

“Come on dear, you think I can't tell when someone else is playing with my food?” her tone was condescending and sarcastic and it sent a fire through your chest as you blushed.

“What's to say I even gave in to her game?” you challenged and she tilted her head in pity.

“Well for starters you could hardly look at her without your heart rate going up, and you also,” her hand came to your mouth, her thumb brushing off your lip, “have some of her lipstick here.” she finished, bringing her hand back down. You looked down and sighed.

“Maybe it's mine.”

“You don't have to lie to me darling, it's okay.” She smiled and you nodded.

“Yeah I know, I just-” she stopped you with her hand on your cheek.

“Come on, we're going.” she said suddenly. This was usual, Vivian would choose she was ready to leave in a millisecond, and you would be out the door within minutes. You followed on instinct, holding her hand as she led the way. You felt a twinge in your chest, maybe this was wrong. You just kissed Melissa. As you walked down the hall, the bathroom door opened. Once again you were stopped in your tracks, feet frozen to the ground. Melissa was coming out with Rowan and you stared awkwardly, Rowan kept walking and Melissa looked at you and Vivian for a second.

“It was good seeing you again.” Vivian said and Melissa looked between you and her, but your eyes were following Rowan, and then looking over Melissa to see her hair was slightly tousled. Your thoughts paused, she's been nothing but unfair to you, why should you ruin your night with Vivian for her. Especially after this.

“Yeah, see ya around Mel.” you waved with a fake smile.

“Bye kid.” she said with a small and hurt scoff that only you could hear as Vivian started to move again. You left and pushed all thoughts of Melissa out of your head, telling yourself none of it happened. Even though it did, it didn't matter since she clearly didn't care enough to do anything about it.

By the time the night was over, you had done your job of pleasing and obeying Vivian, and she had done her job of getting thoughts of Melissa out of your head. It was harder this time since the memories were so fresh. It was like a fruit picked too soon, the knife trying to pierce it with an extra force to get through the unripe membrane. It worked though, and as usual you had an amazing time with your Mistress.

You had three dreams that night, and they all had Melissa in them.

-----

a/n: omgggg love yall miss yall hope you like this part three i have been working on for MONTHS omg its been brutal, part four/the final part will come soon!!!!!

Requests are open so please submit some for me to do when I wrap this mini series up!!

Tags: @marvelwomenrule @zuana2 @morgana-larkin @scarletwitcher97 @babytakeittothehead @infernumlilith @eliscannotdance @xblinkx2 @fashinitagirls @brattyapperexpress2849 @weeeeeeeeee3 @kaymariesworld @daisysage1950 @vyvvycg @freshrot @neverfindmegone @insert-issueslol @pitstopsapphic @darkcolorphantom

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa x reader #abbott elementary #wlw #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #step mom melissa schemmenti x reader

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starryhyuck · 22 hours ago

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back to december. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: ex!jaehyun x afab!reader

words: 5.4k+

summary: with your cousin’s wedding on the horizon, you realize there’s only one man who can save you from becoming a laughingstock.

genre: angst, smut

warnings: jealous!jaehyun, possessive!jaehyun, fingering, choking, spitting, squirting, pussy eating

this fic is exclusive to both tiers on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“I’m at a loss, John. He’s my only choice.”

“I could ask my mom to postpone the family trip, you know. She would never want you to be put out.”

You shake your head, rejecting his offer to help. You glance around the house party, with Donghyuck avidly spilling gossip in the corner and Doyoung running around the kitchen to ensure everyone gets fed. You and Johnny are tucked away near the window, whispering to each other in fear of the subject at hand catching wind of your conversation.

Jaehyun, your former boyfriend of five years, lounges casually on the couch, sipping on his mix of alcohol while he watches Jungwoo try to beat Donghyuck at another card game.

Your cousin’s wedding is weeks away and although you reserved yourself with a plus one, you have no intention to actually bring a date along. It wouldn’t be ideal considering your family still thinks you’re with Jaehyun, especially after you announced your engagement last Christmas.

You file through your options again. Johnny will be out of town on a family trip, Doyoung will be called away for a business meeting, and Jungwoo will be parading around Jeju Island to take photos for his social media page.

And there’s no way in hell your family would believe you’re dating Donghyuck.

“It’s fine, honestly. I’ll either go alone or get the courage to ask him,” you assure Johnny, even though he frets over your situation.

When you raise your eyes to glance over at your ex, you find he’s already looking at you. He averts his gaze quickly and you do the same, unspoken in the way you treat each other’s presence.

Your friend group was worried when you broke up, but you were determined not to let it change your dynamic. You still mingle in the same gatherings together, cordial in the way you exchange greetings and play drinking games without a second thought of how the other will catch a ride home.

You find Jaehyun towards the end of the night, when Doyoung and Johnny are belting out at karaoke. He’s in the kitchen, grabbing another serving of bibimbap.

“Hey,” you murmur, scratching your arm awkwardly as you step into the tiny space.

He turns to you. His expression slackens and his eyes drain of emotion, afraid to show his vulnerability in front of you again. You suppose you signed yourself up for that reaction.

“Hey,” he says curtly, taking his bowl and searching for a spare pair of chopsticks.

“Can I ask you for a favor? You can say no if you want to, I promise. I won’t hold it against you.”

He stiffens at the request but nods, giving you his full attention. You chew on your lower lip, fiddling with the edge of the kitchen island as you find your voice.

“My cousin’s getting married next month and I haven’t exactly shared with the family that we’re no longer together,” you say, observing his reaction very carefully. He’s guarded, not letting you get a good read on him like you used to be able to. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you’re free that weekend, do you mind accompanying me?”

Your mind suddenly whirls into the endless possibilities of his answer, and you know he has every right to laugh in your face and tell you to figure out this predicament for yourself. He could taunt you and relay to the rest of the group how horribly desperate you are for him.

But Jaehyun’s not that kind of person.

“Yeah, no problem,” he replies nonchalantly. “Tell me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

Your eyes soften. “Really? I’m serious, Jae, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

The nickname slips out so easily and his facade breaks for a second before he shifts back to his cold demeanor. You miss the way he would light up in front of you, how his dimples would peek out in full form whenever he sensed your presence.

“I want to,” he says, firm in his answer. “I’m not going to leave you out there to fend for yourself.”

There’s a lump in your throat that you can’t shake off. You open your mouth to apologize to him, to say sorry for the night you broke his heart, but Donghyuck strides into the kitchen before you can get a word in.

Donghyuck clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes at Jaehyun.

“You ate all the bibimbap!”

You make your exit while he argues with your ex furiously, missing the longing look twinkling in Jaehyun’s eyes as he stares after you.

want to read the rest? access both tiers on my patreon here!

#nct smut #nct x reader #jaehyun smut #jaehyun

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writtenbyshama · 1 day ago

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Memory Theatre (Sylus x Reader)

Synopsis: Y/n is a protocore researcher who is looking for answers about how an aether core got lodged into her heart and why is it messing with her brain. In the midst of this elaborate maze of dead ends and false answers, she encounters a man who seems to be very interested in her and is willing to find ways of providing her with the answers she's seeking.

Author's note: Y/n is not a hunter; she is a Master's student (not based on myself at all) and a part time protocore researcher at the Association. No changes to Sylus, although there may be situations in the story where he might be a little out of character. Mentions of the other LADS men, but they are not the love interests here.

Chapter 17: Returning To The N109 Zone

Sylus walked me to the front doors of my villa.

“Take care, and try to stay away from any further workplace explosions.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind. But you have to promise me that you’ll return from Tulla island in one piece, with your head and limbs still attached.”

He made a small show of rolling his wrist. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a robotic arm instead.”

“Sylus!”

“…Fine. I promise, kitten.”

His nonchalance was unnerving. Obviously he’d be fine, but I couldn’t let the thought go after he’d filled it in my head. Finally, I unbuttoned the holster at my waist and handed my Association licensed gun. All members were given two identical weapons, and I had both of mine altered by Sonia, a weaponry tech expert. “Please take this as a token of good luck and to put my mind at ease.”

He glared at my outstretched palm as if I had offered a dead mouse. “Tch. Don’t insult me. My fists are better than that.”

I sighed. “I know. But please accept it for my sake. I have had its ammunition enhanced so that a wanderer with a low metaflux will be dead with a single bullet. And the prince..is just human.”

The glare disappeared and his mouth curved into a smile. “A government worker handing a weapon to a criminal to help kill her own prince. Interesting."

“Just take it, please.”

He finally deigned to accept my demands, his large hand closing over mine. “Alright, then. Thank you. I’ll make sure its returned to you, irrespective of whether I do or not.”

🗡️🐦‍⬛🗡️

“How’s it going between you and Skye?” Tara asked between bites of her chocolate donut.

I wiped the crumbs off my lips with my napkin. “It’s going well, I suppose.”

Our department’s work had finally resumed, and I was sorting out the paperwork at my desk when the bag of donuts appeared in my vision.

Tara was a hunter working in Captain Jenna’s Alpha team, but we were friends from the time we’d attended the basic training together. She stopped by my desk whenever she didn’t have any missions to catch up on gossip and what not. She had ranted about her crush on her captain for half-an-hour while I listened, and now we had moved to my (non-existent) love life. All of my colleagues considered Sylus as my boyfriend and I didn’t have the heart to tell them otherwise.

Speaking of Sylus, it had been a week since he’d left for Tulla island. I had sent a tentative text and it had gone unanswered. The prince’s party was going to be two weeks long, so I had to wait a whole another week to hear from him. I desperately wanted to know what he was doing and whether he was alive.

“I saw the way he looked at you when he had visited to pick you up,” Tara’s voice brought me back to reality. “He’s utterly smitten with you, Y/n.”

Heat rose up to my cheeks. The intense way he watched me had not gone unnoticed by me, but I didn’t want to discuss him now. I steered the topic to generic banalities and Tara left after we finished eating and I returned to work.

In the evening, I unlocked my front doors to see Mashi greeting me with a peck to my shoulder. I held the mechanical bird in my arms, breathing him in, trying and failing to detect any scent of its owner. Mashi smelled like cold metal and loneliness.

I went about my days like I had before, my body going through the motions of muscle memory throughout my classes and at work. But my mind was occupied with was Sylus, Sylus and Sylus. No other person had consumed my thoughts this much. There were upcoming exams and I was trying to study but all I could think of was whether the silver haired man was doing okay. Had he used my gun on anybody? Did he gift the prince that dagger? Had he gone alone all the way to Tulla island?

The next week passed in meetings, assignments and conferences. On the day Sylus was supposed to return, I kept checking and rechecking my phone to see if he had called or texted. He hadn’t. And the blasted bird was nowhere to be found. I had woken up that morning to see Mashi’s nest empty.

I floated through the day and ended up on my couch in the evening, curled up with a forgotten mug of tea and blearily watching the news channel. My phone was on the coffee table. I had swallowed my pride and triple texted him which had gone unread.

It was late, but it was my day off the next day, so I didn’t get up from my place. Each thought swirled around my mind and blew away like smoke, to be replaced by another thought. I didn’t give much attention to anything.

An explosive noise from the TV startled me awake. The normal newscast was interrupted by a breaking news. I sat up, my horror growing inside me as the newscaster read from a report that there had been a bomb blast in Tulla island and it had caused injuries and casualties.

I grabbed my phone and dialled Sylus, but he didn’t answer. I tried again and again, my eyes glued to the screen where they were showing the prince who was severely injured in the blast. There was no official casualty count as of now. After the fifth time of empty ringing, I threw on a coat over my night pants and t-shirt and grabbed my motorcycle keys and gun, switching off everything and locking the main door as I ran out to my driveway.

🗡️🐦‍⬛🗡️

Author's note: This is my last update for this month. I'm moving to a new city and starting my master's degree soon. And September 2nd is my birthday, which I'll be celebrating far from home, lol. I'm a bundle of excitement and nerves at the same time. See ya soon!

Support me on Instagram: _writtenbyshama

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eeveedream · 3 days ago

Text

Red Lines in Snow: Chapter 3 (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Warnings, AO3 style: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hydra Trash Party, there will be a warning before the awful stuff I promise, Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Blood and Injury, Sexual Violence, Parent/Child Incest, Incest, non-consensual incest, reader's parents are fucked up people, Misgendering [she/her pronouns used], Anal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Gang Rape, Rape, Bucky is unfortunately involved against his will, Mind Control, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

READ THE TAGS AND HEAD THE NOTED WARNING BEFORE THE HYDRA TRASH PARTY SECTION. You are in charge of your own media consumption!!

Word count: Nearly 4k words, half of which are a torture scene

Notes about this chapter: This is the first time I've ever written a torture scene. It could have been more detailed and visceral, but I couldn't stomach it. However, my beta readers @kayotical, @reykenobbi,and @forgetmenotsilly, said that it was good and dark as hell! So, here we go y'all. Buckle up if you're gonna read through it. Partially inspired by a side story in Toy Soldier by @vunblr (SO good!!).

Also, I'm SO SORRY for taking so long. I started this series right after my mom ended up in the hospital for a stroke and I had basically needed to recover from the intense burnout that tense 2 weeks caused... She ended up BACK in the hospital today and it kicked my ass in gear to finish the edits for it at least. :') She's okay I swear.

This will be uploaded on AO3 soon! I predict at least 2 more chapters after this one before it ends.

Chapter 2 | Masterlist | Chapter 4 (Coming soon)

Tags: @anneliw (dedicated to you since you pushed me to work on it ages ago <3) @acenuggets @paristheonewhoreads @lemonabouttodrop @lynnieluvsu

Divider details: Photo by Adam Chang on Unsplash. Edited for dividers by me.

The sun’s rays seemed to be out to get you again, but this time, they had an additional obstacle in the way:

Bucky Barnes.

You still found yourself waking up, your nose brushing against the warm skin of his chest. The night before drifted into your mind, hazy at first, until you shifted your body and remembered one teeny little fact:

You were both completely and utterly naked.

As it turned out, that wild moment where two red line soulmates felt that irresistible pull towards each other was real. Real! You doubted it at first, as you didn’t feel anything when he first read his name on your chest. His fingers had traced the lines of his identity, written in your skin in red ink like a tattoo, with a reverence you couldn’t put into words.

“Do I…” His voice trailed off, eyes flicking between you and his name on your chest. “...do I have your name on me?”

He did.

Seeing him shirtless would have already done something for you, in all honesty. He looked incredible, his body full of tight muscle, his skin laced with scars. You couldn’t resist touching him, your finger tips skirting just along the edge of his arm at first, then his abs, then his chest. When your hand reached your name on his chest, scars covering the area, you realized a sinking reality. H.Y.D.R.A. tried to erase you from his body. From his soul. They used blades driven by arrogance in their effort to maintain control over a man who never should have been caged. But fate would never let them win, it seemed.

You didn’t remember exactly when his lips touched your skin, just that it felt like the best feeling in the world. You remember craving more, more, and him responding in kind like a feedback loop you never wanted to end.

The night was a blur of sensation and relief. Hands explored bodies, eyes searched souls, and the act of two becoming one lasted the entire night. For just that moment, nothing else mattered. You both were driven, pulled, swept away in the sensation of your souls as if it was truly fate for that to happen that day.

And now, waking in this moment, the sun caressing the skin of his back like you did just hours ago, reality sank within your gut like a cold pit to hell.

The two of you weren’t free to just do whatever you wanted. You were trapped by circumstance, slaves beholden to men who viewed themselves as gods. Your connection wasn’t love, not yet, not really, but you knew that from then on, things wouldn’t be the same for either of you. You feared what that meant.

----

Breakfast went easier than any of your past meals had.

Bucky was dressed in his tactical gear once more, and you were dressed in traveling clothes. You had no orders yet, but you didn’t want to take chances, to be caught off guard. Your father loved doing such shit to you, loved finding new ways to throw you off balance and punish you for not being constantly prepared. Your soldier had dressed himself on autopilot, claiming that the clothes you helped him lose the night before felt foreign. You knew that wasn’t the case, but who were you to argue, when the two of you lived on borrowed time?

The next few days passed in relative silence.

You spent your days waking up in each other’s arms, tangled and sore and feeling warm. Your bond felt almost physical, a rope thickening around your souls with each passing day that you spent together. It felt safe, secure, and you couldn’t bear the thought of it having never been there before. Getting up felt like a greater chore than normal.

Next, each morning, you would separate from each other, the tangle of limbs pulling past each other as stiffly as felt, to prepare for a performance that would never come. A performance of action and movement, where you both were the dancers, and your father and H.Y.D.R.A. were the ringleaders, hidden in the shadows with unknown cues.

Every day, you prepared.

Every day passed without incident.

Until one day…it didn’t.

----

The sound of your phone ringing broke the peace between you and Bucky. You had been sitting on the couch, muttering things to each other like quiet secrets. Each sentence felt like a folded piece of paper snuck beneath school desks to a sweetheart. Each time the words reached your ears, you felt the giddy feeling of unfolding such a note, like secrets only the two of you would know. The ringing felt like a crack down the center of that moment, splitting your proverbial desks like a teacher stepping between you both.

Your voice stuck in your throat at the ringtone, and you rushed to answer on reflex. Your father hated when you waited to answer.

“Hello?” You didn’t recognize your own voice, the stiff coldness you reserved for your father and his “friends” automatically fitting around you like a well worn jacket. He didn’t care. He never did.

“Hello, my sweets,” he sang. There was a shift of fabric and a suspicious noise in the background. You felt your stomach twist at what he could possibly be doing while talking to you. He loved to do anything that made you feel uncomfortable. “The coast is all clear now-” He cut off with a grunt. “-you can take your new boy toy and head on out~”

You looked at Bucky. He nodded, silently slipping away from you to grab something you didn’t dare question.

“...got it.”

“Atta girl!”

You flinched.

You were not a girl. But, like many other things that didn’t suit him, your father never cared. He continued on, with a tone that said he knew what his statement did to you, and he was relishing the sick control he still held.

“Your mother will see you soon, then~”

The line went dead.

You stared at your phone, your reflection blurry from the smudges on your screen, trembling slightly.

Oh…you were shaking. Your mind spiraled, unfurling slowly at first, then more and more, like picking up speed while walking down steps. Your father always had this horrid effect on you, one where even with a sentence he could dismantle your calm, shake your soul, and crush your will. He spent three, careful, long decades doing it, and you couldn’t handle it any longer.

You desperately needed to leave his grip. But, even with the Winter Soldier bound to your soul, you had no idea how.

A firm hand brushed against your shoulder, turning you to face a firm chest beneath a bullet proof vest.

Bucky.

He didn’t say anything at first, choosing instead to give you the silence and space you needed to sink within his embrace. His warmth helped push the thoughts, the memories, the feelings away.

You didn’t notice that you had started crying within his embrace, not really. You sniffled, frustrated and stuck in your head. Your mind spiraled, thoughts of the horrors that awaited the two of you once you got to your destination. Your parents would no doubt make things horrible for both of you as “punishment” (or would they call it a reward? You could never tell) for being independent without them.

You wished you could run, escape them while you could. But, despite your hopes, you knew that even with Bucky by your side, at least right now, there wasn’t anything you could do.

You had no papers, no way of traveling where your parents and H.Y.D.R.A. wouldn’t almost immediately find you. Hell, you expected him to know about your little Google search the other day, and find a way to punish you for that, too.

You had to figure out a way to reach out to someone with outside influence. Wait…

Your sniffles paused for a moment as your brain slowly turned its gears. There was someone you could theoretically reach out to.

Steve Rogers was an American hero, and Bucky’s supposed best friend before H.Y.D.R.A. Being a public figure of hope meant having something like a P.R. team. It was a long shot, but if you could get to an unmonitored phone in the nearest town you had to pass through…you might be able to reach out to him. You knew the lab you were going to, and Bucky knew things about Steve that no one else did. It might be enough to shock America’s golden boy into action…but you had no idea if it was going to happen soon enough. Or at all, if the other Avengers didn’t agree with his desire to rescue his friend.

Still…you had to try.

It was the only hope the two of you had.

The drive to town was spent discussing your plan with Bucky, who hesitantly agreed. The day after that, when you had gotten out your Hail Mary message into the jaws of Fate, was spent praying to whatever god would hear you.

You hoped it was enough.

----

*CW: SEVERE DUB-CON, MISGENDERING [she/her pronouns used], NON-CON, INCEST, PARENTAL ABUSE, AND VIOLENCE AKIN TO HYRDA TRASH PARTY LEVELS*

----

The pain was burning, ripping, tearing.

You knew this memory would sink into your bones, plaster itself into your skin, and mark you for the rest of your life. But…you couldn’t let it end. Not yet. Not until your parents got bored of the horrific show they decided to put on for themselves and the sick soldiers standing around them, who had taken the liberty of jerking themselves off to show their appreciation for your parents “efforts”.

You cried too many tears to count, constantly muttering the pitiful words of “it’s okay, it’s okay” to the man blindly fucking you against the wall. You had to want this, had to will it into being okay, otherwise he would stop, and if he stopped, his pain would start.

And you couldn’t handle his pain. He couldn’t even fight for himself like this. So you had to do it for him.

You had no idea how long the two of you were stuck in this horrid dance. Bucky, reactivated by trigger words and pounding into you at a horrific, painful pace, and you, back crushed against the concrete wall of the cell, skin bruised and blood leaking down from places you didn’t dare name.

When you reached the lab, your parents had met the two of you outside. Your mother, draped in a black, velvet dress that was dreadfully unbefitting a lab setting, immediately read off Bucky’s trigger words the second he took his place beside you.

“You’ve had control over him long enough, darling,” her smooth voice had said, a wicked smile taking over her lips, “Playtime is over, now.”

You learned quickly that you were right about them “rewarding” you for your “independence” away from them. You also learned, very quickly, that they definitely knew about your soul bond to the Winter Soldier.

“It’s disgusting, really,” your father had said as he fitted a shock collar on your soulmate, “That you would be saddled with a tool. Oh well. Far be it from me to keep you from him~”

Those words had been the undoing of you and Bucky, truly.

Your parents thought it would be “fun” for the two of you to finally “be together”. However, what shocked all of you was that their command to him to fuck you fell underneath him not being able to hurt you. It took them a moment to realize why:

You didn’t want to have sex, not here, not now. And going against your wishes in such a violating way fell under the “can’t hurt soulmate” rule.

You’ll never be able to unhear his screams.

The first one was met with the scrape of metal across stone. Bucky had dropped violently to the ground on his left side, his arm spasming as he tried, and failed, to remove the collar. Grooves carved into the ground as he fought, and your parents, full of fascination, upped the power of the shocks to the point of sizzling. Your stomach lurched as you realized something horrible; it smelled good. If you weren’t witness to the cruelty before you, you would have wondered if there was something different happening.

Blood trailed onto the concrete, smoke filled the air, and over the next few minutes, Bucky’s face went pale, the fingers of death slowly creeping around him. A soldier, at the wave of your mom’s hand, stepped forward the moment the shocks ended and injected him with…something. You couldn’t fully see the damage with the clunky collar in the way, but given the location, you figured it was some sort of healing injection to keep him alive.

Right now, as you blinked wearily against the wall, you could see the burns on his neck from the shock collar. Your parents tried to shock him into compliance, but even as trails of blood trickled down his chest from his neck and his flesh burned and cooked, his body still refused to move to fulfill the order. Even through the haze of mind control, his eyes showed a painful amount of awareness. The bond was stronger than your parents thought, and that angered them.

“You won’t do it? Such a pity. Maybe you don’t know how,” your father had snarled, his words punctuated by the sound of clinking metal and shuffling fabric. Your stomach sank as you tried to move as far away as possible in the small room, blood running cold. Of all the things he had done, this was never one of them. But, it seemed like his patience had worn out. “How about I teach you? After all, you’re nothing more than a beast, now aren’t you? An otherwise obedient beast~”

You remember your soul seizing within you as his hand grabbed your wrist, practically throwing you within a circle of soldiers who leered at you next to your father. The next few moments were more of a blur, your mind trying to protect you in real time. There were more hands than you could count, but the sharp pain in your ass jolted you back to the reality at hand:

Your father was raping you, his dick shoving its way into your body with a sick groan and the barest aid of spit as lube. And he wasn’t alone.

There was a lieutenant, one whose voice and face you recognize as one of your father’s “friends”, currently making himself very familiar with your throat, spit and more sputtering out past your lips with each gag. Another soldier, whom you couldn’t see but could hear, crudely grabbing parts of your body and tearing fabric to get his hands on flesh. His grip was horrid, damaging, and you felt things pop and break beneath your skin with each grab. You wanted to scream, but the cock in your throat turned it into another violent gag, bile and acid burning the tears forming within your throat.

There were more, so many more, taking turns, swapping out, talking to each other in a language you couldn’t understand, but you couldn’t process much of anything at the moment. Bucky was still screaming, your mother entertaining herself by turning the shock collar on and off at random intervals. At some point, you heard what may have been a moan from her direction, but you couldn’t see exactly what caused it.

“Oh, look at you~” she cooed in English, running a hand down his chest out of your blurry periphery before a loud crack reached your ears. You distinctly recognized the color of flesh where her dress was supposed to be, and the realization made you gasp. Well, try to gasp. Instead, you gagged on the cock in your mouth, only to feel a slap across your face. It muffled her next words to Bucky, keeping them from reaching your ears as your eyes were forced upwards by a rough hand on your head.

“Eyes on me, bitch,” the soldier snarled, shoving himself deeper into your mouth. You felt something burn deep in your throat. You tasted copper, bitter, and lingering.

The memory of what happened barely a few hours before your current situation now helped distract you, oddly enough. It was far easier for you to think about strangers and monsters violating you than it was to think about how your soulmate was forced to hurt you. You couldn’t think about it too long, otherwise Bucky’s hips would stutter, his breath would shake, and your parents…

A sharp stab in your side pulled a ragged breath out of your lungs. You were too exhausted to scream, but the fire overtook your bones and mind as your head lolled to the side to see what had happened.

Your mother wasn’t even looking at you, her delicate fingers lightly twisting a thin knife pressing into your ribs. With each twist, the blade struggled deeper, one millimeter at a time, slowly making its home between the bones. Your body trembled, and you realized why she had done it.

You had nearly passed out earlier. Whether from fatigue or blood loss, you couldn’t tell. And they didn’t like that.

“It’s a pity, love,” your mother murmured, inspecting the nails on her other hand, “It seems she’s at her limit. I suppose I owe you money for the bet.” You vaguely heard a groan and shuffle of fabric behind Bucky. The knife paused, its blade twisted just enough to scrape against the bones that kept it from going deeper.

“I-...ahhh…mmm, fuck….I told you she wouldn’t last 3 hours.” Your father’s voice was laced with pleasure, but it was too far away for you to understand why. Or were you too far away? You couldn’t think. Your brain felt like it was crying separately from your body, the nerves detaching one by one from your limbs, your bones, your skin.

Words filtered in and out.

You felt so cold.

Cold…

Pain.

…

The pain wasn’t enough anymore.

You couldn’t keep your head up, even as your mom mindlessly pushed the knife into you, purposefully scraping your ribs raw to try and force it further into you. You wondered, somehow, whether you were even bleeding. Looking back, you doubted that you even had enough blood left to bleed at that moment.

By the time your father and his friends had finished with you, you had thrown up so much blood it made you dizzy, your thighs heavily slick with blood and sweat and spit and cum. Your blood and spit was on his dick by the time he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him, a horrid smirk on his lips that told you how long he had fantasized about that moment. You wished you had the strength to say anything, but your throat, and spirit, felt broken.

Your head tilted forward off the wall, landing haphazardly against Bucky’s shoulder, your neck no longer working to keep it upright. There wasn’t much room on his shoulder for you, the shock collar bulky and utilitarian against his skin. The smell of sweat, blood, and burnt flesh seared your nose, but it wasn’t enough to keep your eyes open. Distantly, you heard his grunts, a sound you preferred over his screams. They felt warped, different from the ones he graced you with just two days ago. Back then, Bucky’s sounds were warmer, softer. They were for you, each gasp and moan whispered across your skin as he embraced you and your new beginning.

Now, each sound felt hollow, forced, mechanical. They weren’t his, no matter if they slipped from his lips.

They weren’t his.

His rhythm hadn’t stopped, hadn’t slowed, and the area between your legs had started to go numb. There was no doubt nerve damage from the tears that were there even before he was forced to slide his cock into you, but his strength and speed made things worse. So much worse. Blood, cum, and more dripped onto the floor beneath you, mixing around Bucky’s boots in an unholy blend that would stain the concrete floor forever. Your hips against the wall had been scraped completely raw by his earlier thrusts, bone scraping painfully with each impact.

You never came. Not once.

But, many others in the room had.

…

Cold…

You were…

…so cold…

----

*BAD STUFF OVER*

----

The world came back to you in waves.

First, it was muffled sound.

Voices like bubbles underwater would filter to your ears. Back and forth they would flow, like lazy waves breaking across the beach. They never lingered long enough for you to understand, each sentence feeling like it was broken in half and pieced with one completely unrelated.

Then, it was touch. Or rather, pain.

Pain in your groin, pain deeper, further in. Pain in your ribs, your arms, your throat, your back. Pain that would stun you, sharp and gripping, before rapidly melting away to a fuzzy, numb, hot-cold comfort. You never understood it. You just knew that not long after you sensed the pain, something always came and took it away.

Finally, it was sight.

You never understood what you saw. Not really. But sometimes, you would see things. Bright lights, blurry figures. Sometimes those figures were accompanied by sound, murmured and muffled like your ears were filled with water.

One day, something else changed.

It wasn’t in your world, but rather, inside.

You felt something, someone, press themselves warmly against your soul. You couldn’t explain what it was, only that you couldn’t feel them anywhere other than around your heart. The warmth helped push the pain away at times. Helped coax you to the surface. You didn’t have the presence of mind to understand it.

Even still, you clung to that feeling. Mentally, you kept yourself wrapped around that warmth, clinging to it when the pain grew to be too much, when the mumbles around you were too loud, when your eyes blinked up and the world was too bright.

Still, you clung.

----

It took several weeks to recover.

You didn’t properly wake up before then, not really, and when you did, you saw Bucky sitting near you, gripping your hand almost like in a prayer. The image would slip away, replacing itself with him again, but in different lighting. Over and over, your feeling of time took the form of him, whether pacing the room or holding your hand, or barely asleep in a bed next to you.

One day, you woke up to your head resting on something much more solid and warm than your pillow. The sunlight streaming through the window reminded you of the cabin, the dust motes dancing through the beams. Beneath your head, you felt the steady rise and fall of breathing.

“...Bucky?”

Your voice was dry, unused for far too long. That single, broken word might as well have been a gunshot in the quiet room. He froze, shifting slightly beneath you. Delicate fingers on your chin nudged your head up, slowly, carefully, until your eyes locked with familiar steel blue ones.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice a small whisper between the two of you.

“Yeah.” You smiled as best as you could. “How long have I been out?” Bucky glanced away, an almost guilty look on his face. It took a few seconds for him to reply, though whether it was because he was thinking or because he had to swallow down emotion, you weren’t sure. His eyes, locked onto the ceiling above you, seemed to glisten.

“Months,” he answered. His fingers slid from your chin to the curve of your jaw as he turned to look at you. Pain. All you could see in his eyes were pain, guilt, regret. “It’s been…months.”

#hydra trash party #winter soldier #the winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier smut #smut #dead dove do not eat #whump #whump writing #red lines in snow

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