#{ Here you go! Let me know if you need me to change anything at all <3! }

[lovrsm]

“ꜱʟᴜᴛ!”

sum: Ferraris golden boy moves over to RedBull Racing Team.

Daughter of the CEO of Red Bull, you’ve grown to love racing, and in the way making new friends. Even if you felt like your world was falling apart, even when you denied it, he was the only one you needed. And there was absolutely nothing that could change his mind about your beautiful self, the way he loves you.

word count:idk, prb 2k

pairing: rb!charles leclerc x horner!reader

warnings: name calling, alcohol, smut f! receiving, first time writing real horny shit!

a/n: sorry for the long intro, I swear it’s worth it😔✋ LOOOL, I WROTE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGOO, and I rlly wanted to clear up my drafts but this is too good to not come out. Yet idk if I have any mistakes, if I do let me know!! Also, checo acting as a dad (#IloveCheco)

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

“and I break down, then he’s pullin’ me in In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

Clink, clink, that’s what our champagne glasses sounded like together.

“Congratulations, what a wonderful year. It’s been a pleasure being with all of you.” Sergio, Checo Perez, made a brief goodbye to your team.

He was leaving Red Bull. Everyone here loved him, and loves him, including yourself. He became quickly your family after seeing him every day for more than 3 years.

“We will miss you” your dad palms his back, making Checo break a smile.

“It isn’t the end yet, you know that boss.” He laughed.

His reasons? Family, everything for him, he couldn’t bare leaving them anymore alone, so he decided after, several years, to leave formula 1. After helping Max to win his championships, he is a fucking legend.

“Well, I won’t leave you alone, I will still drag you everywhere, you know? Even after you leave.” Max and Checo have developed a very special bond, even if social media said otherwise.

“We, wont leave you alone, you still owe me those therapy sessions” I winked at him, he became a very big emotional support for me, believe it or not, he’s got some great advice to give.

“Lovely dinner” I took a picture of all of us with my camera, a goodbye dinner for Checo, and tomorrow, all of the world would see this on the newspaper.

-

“I really don’t know what to do, do you know how many drivers have reached us out in the last 2 hours? I mean, I have a few options but they keep giving me more reasons and… I just don’t know.” My dad was stressed, typing in his computer as if his life depended on it.

“It’s going to be alright, okey? You don’t necessarily need to worry about it right now, we still have a championship to win, you know?” I gave him a cup of tea, just so he could relax a bit.

When something is about work, everything else doesn’t matter. At all.

“We’ll watch your options, alright? I can help you with anything you want” I smiled at him.

“When did you became such a great business woman?”

“You’re my father, of course I’m hardworking.”

-

“Red Bull did it again, Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, world champion and sub-champion!”

Screams from Max and Checo blasted my ears, P1 and P2, again. Absolutely no mistakes. The internet going crazy. And somehow it all became quiet.

“Who will get that Red Bull seat next year? Will he be a fit to Sergio Perez place?”

Everyone went outside to celebrate, while I stayed so I could hear the TV and media.

what do people want?

“Ferrari didn’t have a great year, let’s hope they both get a better car”

“I agree! Great drivers, such a shame Ferrari has been getting worse every year. What a waste of talent.” The other interviewer said.

Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz appeared in the screen. Both with an obvious forced smile plastered in their faces.

Charles, my secret crush ever since… forever. Was I obvious? Not a single soul knew, well, except him.

-

Charles Leclerc signed in RedBull that was the only thing appearing on my feed right now . Red bull? Bullshit, you mean? What kind of a big lie is that?

Internet was filled with Charles leaving Ferrari for RedBull.

In what twisted universe does that even happen?

I later learned, I am living in that twisted world, and I discovered the great news in social media, and not my own team.

“What do you mean Charles Leclerc, dad? Why wasn’t I even informed about this. Wait, hold on, when did it even crossed your mind?!” I was dignified.

Following around the kitchen.

“I didn’t have to, oh, I do think I need to tell you this, he’s coming to dinner tonight so wear something nice.”

Wear something nice.

Thanks dad, as always, you’re so, so great.

Night time came sooner than expected, if my dad hosts a dinner, even if there’s a million, or just one person coming over, he likes to be extra.

-

Almost time, 8:00 and it is 7:50, all that was missing was the dress. It was placed on my bed. Showing all of it’s beauty.

Navy blue, our color. It was my dream dress.

Light, silky and fancy dress.

I walked downstairs, watching people running and arranging everything, doing just the final touches.

I’ve come to learn, that people arrive late, or just in time. Never earlier.

“Ah, what a beautiful young woman I have here!” Geri, my father’s wife came to greet me.

“You look amazing, I knew that dress would be perfect for you!”

“Geri, you are amazing, seriously. Thank you, and look at you! We both look gorgeous.” I smiled at her and we linked arms, she and I were walking towards the garden, where would be the dinner.

Some big, round, wooden tables were set in the middle. Each seat would have a name, decorated with a white flower in the middle of the plate.

It was easy to find my place. I was at the biggest one of all, where the most important people of this night would be seated.

Lucky for me, his name was right next to my plate.

In a matter of seconds, people started to arrive, old friends, and new faces passed through those doors.

This will be a great night.

“Funny to find you here, it’s been some time since I last saw you…” I rolled my eyes, I (sadly) recognized that voice anywhere.

“Go away Mike.” I grabbed my wine glass and took a big sip out of it. “C’mon princess, where are your manners?” He got too close to me.

“Hey y/n! Your dad was looking for you, like right now.” Max Verstappen here to save my day.

“Oooh that’s unfortunate, I’m so so so sorry Mike, hope to see you later!” I waved him off and quickly moved towards Max who then friendly linked his arm with mine.

“I owe you one.” I sighed. “You owe me much more than 1, little one.” I laughed at him.

We got close to my father, who now had a microphone at his hand.

“Hello everyone, thank you for coming here and be with us tonight. A toast for Checo here!” He announced and a light was shining on Checo, standing from his seat.

“It has been a wonderful year, sadly it has to end. And I know I’m not the first to tell you that an incredible young talent will be joining us for next season.”

There he was. Navy suit with our logo on him. His hair was messy yet perfectly placed. He showed his dimples and I’m sure I heard someone behind me moan at his sight.

My heart rate was increasing slowly but surely.

“y/n, you’re going to squeeze all my blood from my arm. Stop.” Max whispered in my ear.

Shit. I basically dug my nails into his arm due to my tiny crush.

“Yeah, It’s amazing to know that I’m to race with RedBull next year. I hope we can achieve everything we’ve dreamed of. Looking forward to race with my lifetime partner, Max here.”

Now the light was on Max and me. I discreetly let go of max so that he could have the spotlight. As Max waved I looked back at Charles.

The dimples in his face showed even more, he was looking at me too.

“I can’t wait to work with these wonderful people, and I hope we have a great year to remember, thank you and enjoy this night!” He raised his glass and so did all.

“Well, I hope we don’t have any inchidents” Max laughed at his own joke. Dad joke I must say.

“Well If you don’t push me off the track I think we’ll be just fine” his voice gave me chills. I felt his chest on my back.

I wasn’t strong enough to turn around.

“Oh, shoot, you hear that? I think P is calling me!”

“No, Max-” I tried to stop him.

Around Charles, I barely have control over myself.

“Uh-huh, yeah that’s P, she wants to go to the bathroom, and she needs food, ok have a great night bye!” He rushed to god knows where.

“You really don’t want to be with me, do you?” He whispered on my ear. Feeling the heat of his breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are such a lovely company, mr Leclerc.” I gathered the strength and turned around, and his beautiful green eyes shined at me, making me blush.

“Look at you, could you get any more beautiful?”

He lowered so he could whisper again. “I’ve missed you” I looked around real quick, thankfully Max took everyone’s attention on the other side of the place.

“Not here, Charles.” I whimpered.

“Yes here, I can finally be with you, do you think I would waste any more time pretending to not love you? If you do, let me tell you, you are completely wrong.”

He kept whispering, his hands slowly finding his way to my hips. And mine to his collarbone.

“It’s not even 9pm, Leclerc, this party hasn’t even started” I fighted against my own will to drag him upstairs.

“You know I’ll wait, just for you.” He winked at me, before slowly letting me go and walking away.

“You’re not coming, mon coeur?” Charles turned around to look at me. “If you insist.” I happily walked by his side.

We walked and talked for a few minutes before Mike magically appeared before us.

“Oh not even 5 seconds and you are already like a slut with the new driver” He looked at me with a disgusted face.

“Excuse her? Don’t tall to her like that. Do we even know you?” Charles used a very cold tone on him. And Mike started to stumble on his word.

“Uhm, no, she does, like I was something to her-”

“Was, that’s a key word, pal. Don’t you ever talk to her, no, don’t you ever talk to any woman that way do you understand?”

Now, I can defend myself just fine, but that right there soaked my pants in an unexplainable way.

“Get out of our sight, man.” And he crawled away.

“That was hot.” I whispered and he blushed. “Your mother did raise a gentleman.” I smiled at him and he gave me a cheek kiss.

-

Lost on the moonlit pool, drinking my… 11th (?) glass of wine at 1 in the morning while everyone was still dancing, was weird.

My feet swinging as I drink the last drop of my glass.

I went on a side quest myself just to get distracted for a bit. All the noise was going to hurt my ears if I stayed any longer.

“Here you are, you got lost?” He sat down at my side. Didn’t have to look, his thick accent gave him away immediately.

I took a long breath and rested my head on his shoulder . “Yes, Charles, I’m going to get lost in my own house.” I felt him move beside me. He then had his feet in the pool, just as I did.

I smiled to myself.

“Has anyone told you just how beautiful you look today?”

“You have, more than once.”

“I couldn’t let that slip, you do look beautiful with that dress. It suits you just perfectly.”

He paused.

“But I bet you’d look much better without it.”

I nervously chuckled at his comment.

“You haven’t talked to me in ages, you came back being a driver for my father, and now you want to have sex? Why don’t you already make me your wife?!” I dramatically fell into his arms

“Ages? I talked to you last week!” He showed his teeth to me in a smile. “That was a long time ago! Besides, you never told me about you and RedBull.” I sit straight up again.

“I needed your dad to love me one way or another. How else am I going to get him to approve of our marriage?” He joked.

“You are unbelievable Leclerc.” I stood up, and grabbed my high-heels on my hand, walking back to the party barefoot.

I surrounded part of the pool, my dad wanted to add a bar right beside it, and it was freshly cemented.

He quickly copied my moves, but instead, he went on a straight line to me, and in a step he covered his feet in cement, falling down and thankfully placing his hands before getting worse.

“Shit!” I ran back to help him. I stupidly placed my hand in the cement, the other helping Charles to get up.

“Look, we made a masterpiece! Your handprints and mine in wet cement.”

“And your feet.” I laughed

“And my feet… I really need to wash this off before it gets dry.” I grabbed his hand and he followed my lead.

If my dad sees that I’m getting his new driver to my room…

We rushed through the multitude of people on the garden.

“Ooh we’re going to your bedroom, can’t remember what happened last time there…” he whispered shouted as we were running up the stairs.

I jokingly rolled my eyes at him. We were giggling like children. He kept making dirty jokes and as much as I tried to control myself I’d end up giggling much more.

We got there quicker than I thought. With my clean hand I closed the door and he was already in my bathroom washing his hands, and feet with water. I ran to his side and did the same with my left hand.

“I’m done” I announced and got out of the bathroom. Deciding to do a touch up for my makeup, thankfully nothing was much out of place, but my lipstick faded.

I slowly applied it looking in the mirror, and through it I saw a curious Charles looking at me. “Why do you even apply lipstick?” He slowly walked towards me.

I took my sweet time spreading the color on my lips.

“Cause we are going back, party is not over.”

“But we don’t need to.” He grabbed me by the waist and turned me around to look at him and he swiftly placed me on the desk. A smirk plastered on his face, as he slowly got on his knees.

“Charles…”

He got to his knees, not breaking eye contact with me.

“You know that if you say no, I won’t do anything. But I’m not hearing those words, am I?” He lifted my dress planted wet kisses on my inner thighs, getting closer to my sweet spot. “You’re so fucking wet”.

“They will know we’re gone” I nervously whispered. He looked into my eyes and stopped, his hot breath making me squirm. “That isn’t a no.” He stood his ground.

And I’m not saying “do it anyway”, but we both know he is going to.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about the cons, his tongue was already doing its job.My legs were closing due to the pleasure, but his strong arms kept them wide open while he drew circles with his thumbs.

“Charles…” he hummed in response, sending me shivers all the way up. He kept licking my folds and as I looked down, he had his shiny green eyes looking at me. A hint of darkness in them that made me moan just at sight.

His head between my legs was surely what heaven looked like.

I curved my back and my hand gripping his hair so he could get closer. He groaned and sucked even harder.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy, I missed this.” His hand moved quickly into me, curling his two fingers finding my g spot. “Fuck, Charles!” I screamed his name while cumming all over him, his tongue taking all off of me, as he rose without slowly moving his fingers again. My hips rocking back and forth as he arose, keeping his hand busy. “Too bad that pretty mouth of yours can’t do much right now. I really would love to feel it sucking my dick.” I hummed imagining it and getting even closer to my second climax.

“I'll take care of you, just so my princess can remember who she belongs with.” His lips were on my neck, whispering sweet nothing between kisses and soft biting. My moans filled the whole room along with the sound of his fingers working on her center.

Charles, Charles, Charles…

Each time his name left your mouth his cock got even harder, to the point where it hurt. In a short motion his pants down and without any warning he thrusted into you. You both let out a pornographic scream. If the music wasn’t loud everyone would have heard you two. The sound of your slaps were evident, heat rising, the feeling of his beard in your neck was all too much. Curses along with moans were the only thing louder. He did a final thrust and immediately pulled out, jerking off and finishing in his hand.

“You just washed your hands.” I joked breathlessly, he messed up with my head real bad. “Couldn’t resist” he smiled, gave me a peck and disappeared into the bathroom. I melted on that spot.

“Come on mon coeur.” What I loved about Charles was that he always cared. we got into the bathroom and I washed my hands, in the reflection of the mirror his eyes were already in mine.

“What?” I asked as the blood rushed into my cheeks. “Nothing.” He gently smiled, and his eyes shined to me in a different shade of green.

-

Taglist

@delicatepeanutsublime @ironspdy @architect-2015 @buendiabebeta @dreamergirlatpaddock @lercvlie

[wands-natsthing]

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭?

Hellooo this is chapter 2!! I hope you enjoy it. If there's anything you guys would like to see for this little thing please let me know!! Also I will be trying to update this fic at least once a week maybe either on Wednesdays or Thursdays and then posting a request or something on the weekends. 

Feedback is more than welcomed, pls like and comment I enjoyed sm reading and replying to them and if you would liked to be tagged pls leave a comment

Warings: This is like previous high school student x teachers kinda sorta reader was 18 when that was happening tho no smut yet but will be implied in the future. That’s all i think but if you recognize anymore lemme know pls!! 

Word count: 1.3k 

Summary: You didn’t see Wanda anymore after the cafe incident but you go to the schools open house and see here there and have a talk. (I'm so sorry i'm shit at summaries)

 You didn't see Wanda around anymore after that. School was lingering around the corner, with the hot summer air turning into a cool breeze. You had comfortably settled into your new apartment, adorning it with various fall decorations. 

The open house was coming up in a few days. It was an event filled with eager students and their curious parents about the upcoming school year. Although you weren't required to go because you weren't a teacher, you wanted to. You needed to know if Wanda still worked there.

Technically, you could check the school's website and browse through the staff directory, but you wanted to see for yourself. You wanted to see with your own eyes whether the classroom still looked straight out of a Pinterest board. If the fairy lights you both had hung during a shared lunch still twinkled from the ceiling, if her favorite cinnamon and vanilla-scented candle still filled the room with its soothing aroma?

You wondered if her teaching methods had changed. Had the years hardened her patience, or did she repeat herself as often as needed? Did she still listen more than she spoke, or did she talk over students? Did her words continue to carry the same weight as they did all those years ago? Would they still keep you awake at night pondering over what she said? 

You had so many questions you wanted answers to, but simultaneously, you were afraid to know the answers. What would you do if everything had changed? What if this wasn't the same Wanda from five years ago? Physically, she looked the same, but what would that matter if she had changed from within? 

Realistically, you knew that asking her to stay exactly the same was impossible. A lot can change in five years. You should know you have grown a lot yourself, but that didn't mean you liked it. 

And who was that woman? 

You asked yourself this question for weeks after seeing her that day in the cafe, constantly fighting the urge to try and stalk her. It's not like you could, anyway. You didn't even know her name, let alone what she looked like, as her back was facing you, but that didn't stop you from obsessing over her. 

Were they together? Were they married? How did they meet? When did they meet? Was it long after you left, or did she move on quickly, and your shared turkey and cheese sandwiches didn't mean as much as you thought? 

There were just so many questions. 

The day of the open house had arrived. You sat in your car, staring at the familiarity of high school. From the outside, it looked exactly the same, with the red and blue colored letters spelling out "Go Ravens!!"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you observed the array of cars in the parking lot, heightening your anxiety. You contemplated the idea of simply driving back home, but just the possibility of seeing Wanda again was too irresistible to resist. 

The clock was ticking, and with each passing moment, your dread only seemed to grow. 

How would she react upon seeing me again? 

Would the awkwardness be palpable, or would she greet me with the same warm smile she did in the cafe? 

And what about me? How was I supposed to act around her? I certainly had to do better than last time. 

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself out of the car. The walk to the entrance felt longer than it was; each step was heavy with hesitation. You thought about the day she saved you as you entered the hallways filled with eager parents and students. The noise seemed to fade into the background as you made your way to where her classroom used to be. Your usual fast-paced walk is now turning into you dragging your feet. 

Before you even turned the corner, you heard the same laugh you did in the cafe with another voice. Your heart skipped a beat. Without thinking another thought, you turned the corner. 

There she was, Wanda, standing outside her classroom wearing black slacks and a white long-sleeved ribbed shirt tucked into them. Her hair was lightly curled down her back, and her feet adorned a pair of black loafers. 

She was engaged in conversation with a parent, and her passion for teaching was evident in how she used her hands to talk and the sparkle in her eyes. You hesitated, not wanting to interrupt but unable to pull yourself away. The parent soon left, nodding and offering a polite goodbye. 

As they moved, you saw her again, the redhead from the cafe. 

What was she doing here?  

She was leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Wanda interact with the parent. 

Your eyes met. She turned to tap Wanda to get her attention and pointed at you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to approach her. 

When she looked at you, the recognition on her face was immediate, and a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. "It's been a long time," she said softly while grabbing at your hands, using the same soft tone she had last spoken to you on graduation day.  

"Yeah, it has. Too long," you replied, the weight of the years settling between you both. You stood there for a moment, staring before you were brought back by the sound of the woman's voice that was standing next to her.

"Hey, Wanda, I can take over here for a while if you guys want to catch up."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know it's a little busy, " she asked, looking around at all the parents and students.  

"Yes, go. I'll be fine here; I can handle it, " the red-headed woman reassured her while pushing her farther in your direction. 

"Okay, then let's go somewhere less crowded," Wanda said while leading you away. 

As you walked to a quieter area, neither of you said a word. The silence wasn't necessarily awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. Inside, you were freaking out. 

What were you going to say? What if she told you to leave and that she never wanted to see you again?

It wasn't like you could fulfill her request if that's what she wanted. You needed this job; You could not go back home. 

The less crowded place turned out to be a janitor's closet. The smell of dirty mop water and ammonia was prevalent in the air. 

Wanda turned to lock the door. Once inside, you both looked at each other, wondering what to say.

"You look really good, so grown up," she whispers more to herself than to you while taking her left hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear before hesitating and bringing it back down to her side. 

You noticed that when she brought her hand back to her side, a silver ring with an oval-shaped diamond lay upon her ring finger. Has she gotten married?

"Thank you, so do you. Look really good, I mean," you stutter over yourself.

Wanda blushes with a slight chuckle, "Thank you."

"Of course," you smile.

Tension lingered in the air as both of you had questions but had no idea how to ask them or if you even should.

Wanda is the one to break that tension.

"So, um, not that I'm not super happy to see you because I am, but what are you doing here?"

Excitement swirled inside, hearing that she was happy to see you.

"I, uh, I got a job here as a library media assistant. I will be working in the media center, you know, checking out books and teaching computer programs."

"Really? That's great. You always loved the school library. I remember how you used to beg me to bring the class at least twice a week."

"Yeah, I'm really excited about it."

While you were trying to be present in the conversation, you really had a one-track mind.

"Who's the woman that was standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught english class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Lemme know whatcha thinkkkk

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[jeonginsleftcheek]

The sun to me

Chapter II. Water drop.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 5.1k

chapter summary: you could say that destiny always has a way of bringing together the souls that need each other. hyunjin meets not one but two people who will change his life for good.

warnings: tw for brief and vague mention of depression and suicide

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🤍 Snowdrop - hope and the ability to overcome challenges.

Deep breath in.

Hyunjin feels like his lungs are expanding, like a flower opening up its petals to receive the warmth of the sun.

It takes him a few seconds to even register the sounds of people who were aboard the ship with him, laughing, talking, walking further away from the pier.

Someone walks towards him and for a brief moment his chest constricts as he waits to be questioned, bothered and ogled at but the man passes him by, saying hello to one of the crew members.

Hyunjin exhales and starts walking towards the road, he needs to track down the location of the room he barely managed to find on the internet.

It was a hassle, getting to the owner of the little apartment, since it wasn't summer yet and the tourists haven't even started arriving. Not that many people even come to this island, which is exactly why Hyunjin chose to hide away on it.

He knows, hopes, no one here has heard about him. He hopes he can just be a regular guy and go about his day, reset his body and his mind.

Fishing out his phone out of his pocket as he stops walking, he frowns immediately upon seeing it blowing up with messages.

Good thing he put it on silent or he might've just let his intrusive thoughts win and chucked the godforsaken device right into the sea.

Hyunjin ignores all the little bubbles and notifications, opting to just find the address on google again.

The island is so small, so unknown, so irrelevant that even after finding the address information, it seems that gps has trouble finding him on the map.

It's like he literally fell off the face of Earth and for some reason, that brings him relief.

He stuffs his phone back in his pocket, he's gonna have to find someone to ask for directions.

He looks around, noticing everyone cleared away from the pier so he just follows the first street down.

It's eerily quiet, even on such a sunny, lively day, the sound of his suitcase being dragged breaking the beautiful peace of the island. All the houses are adorned with flower pots on their windows and balconies, colorful gardens inviting you in, mesmerizing like a flower is to a bee.

Hyunjin hopes he can find some kind of shop or cafe or anything with people in it, but all he comes across are a few cats sitting on a low roof and staring at him menacingly, as if asking 'what the hell are you doing here'.

He sighs in frustration, thinking he'll actually have to knock on someone's door and disturb their Friday afternoon peace.

Just when he's mentally prepared himself to knock on a stranger's door and potentially have them yell at him, his eyes light up.

There, on the corner, is a little flower shop like an oasis in a desert, promising safety and aid. Hyunjin speeds up towards it, the suitcase almost flipping behind him as it bumps against the uneven and cracked sidewalk.

It's time for your lunch break, the old clock on the wall reminds you together with your stomach, growling embarassingly loudly.

You're behind the counter, about to grab your bag and keys, when you hear footsteps approaching and the sound of suitcase wheels scraping against the stones before they come to a stop in front of the door.

"Um, hello?"- you hear a pleasant and curious voice ring out from the outside, you almost want to curse the person out because everyone on the island knows when lunch breaks happen, but judging by the suitcase and the unknown voice it must be someone who just arrived here for the first time.

"Hello, come in!"- you sense the apprehension and you walk around the counter, coming face to face with what you would describe as a man made of dreams.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and his reaction seems to be similar, as his eyes widen slowly to the point where he almost looks completely bamboozled as his lips part and he just stares.

Quickly shaking it off and putting on your customer service persona, you smile at the stranger.

"How can I help you?"- you ask and he swallows, closing his lips as he seems to snap out of whatever trance he fell in.

"I- um- I'm looking for this address. I booked a room here, but I can't seem to find it on google maps."- the stranger pulls his phone out and shows you the address and you nod.

"Oh, at Isaac's. It's not too far away from here, just keep going straight until you see a blue house, then go right and up the hill a little bit, you can't miss it since it's the biggest house on that street."- you explain.

"Oh, thank you! I thought I was gonna get lost."- he smiles a little and you chuckle, shaking your head. This seems to deepen the redness of the young man's cheeks.

"You can't get lost here. The island is so small, you can circle around it three times in one day and still have some daylight left. Plus, most of the time the internet doesn't even work so you can't rely on gps. If you need to make calls or such, you'd best stand on the pier and try to catch the signal."

"Oh, thank you for the tips. I'm actually relieved that there's no internet."- the man says, running a hand through his dark hair.

You quirk an eyebrow at him, your eyes running over his frame.

"That's a first. People usually complain about that."- you say, as you take in his expensive looking jewelry, the branded shirt hugging his lean but toned frame, jeans also probably more expensive than your entire wardrobe and the fancy sneakers on his feet.

"Then they've probably come to the wrong place."- he concludes with a small smile.

"Probably."- you agree, ready to end the chat even though literal eye candy was standing in front of you, you craved a warm meal more than anything else.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the handsome stranger sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, bringing your attention to it.

"Well, it's my lunch break, so... If I can't assist you with buying some flowers, I'd like to close up shop."- you say as politely as you can.

"Oh! Sure, sorry for taking up your time."- he looks apologetic as you round your counter to grab your things.

"It's okay, glad I could help."- you smile as the both of you make your way towards the exit.

"I'm Hyunjin, by the way."- he reaches his hand towards you just as you close the door.

"Y/n."- your hand slots into his and he shakes it, soft but firm.

"Nice to meet you, y/n."- something about the way your name rolls from his pillowy lips melts the ice built around your heart, gentle like the first snowdrop peeking it's head through the snow.

There's something different bubbling up inside Hyunjin, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

As he makes his way up the little hill towards the biggest house with faded yellow paint, chipped at some parts of the wall, his heart skips a few beats.

Maybe it's because he's been a bit out of shape lately, or maybe it's because of you.

You with your genuine smile, you with your curious eyes and with all the pretty flowers surrounding you.

The flowers that used to bring inspiration and comfort to Hyunjin, ones he painted so happily, his hand gliding easily across the once blank canvas, the colors all bleeding into one another, kissing and loving.

The feeling he forgot. The feeling of love. The feeling of home. The nostalgia that inevitably comes with it.

Hyunjin knocks on the big wooden door, and after a few moments he hears heavy footsteps and a voice calling out.

The door swings open and a man probably in his 60s stands in the frame with a friendly smile on his face.

His grey hair is neatly pulled back, the wrinkles on his face are proof of how many years he smiled and frowned. There's a sparkle in his eyes and a bright smile on his face, showing off perfectly white teeth that he probably had done.

He's dressed in a simple black turtleneck and grey pants, the only ornament on his body in the shape of a huge silver ring, a black tourmaline stone in the middle of it.

"Welcome, welcome! You must be Hyunjin. Come in, young man."- the man smiles wide, immediately helping Hyunjin with his suitcase and stepping aside so he could come in.

"My name is Isaac. But you probably already had that figured out."- the man waves his hand as if to dismiss what he just said. "Welcome to my humble abode, I hope your stay here is as cozy as can be."- Isaac says, leading Hyunjin through the lobby and towards the big carpeted wooden stairs.

The house looks old but well taken care of, everything is wiped clean and polished, each nook and cranny devoid of any dust and neglect.

Hyunjin can't help but notice the skillfully crafted wood on the handrail, as well as a few other sculptures carved out of wood, taking the shape of people with their head in their hands who are desperately crying, lovers holding onto each other where you can't even tell where one ends and the other starts, beautiful women with big breasts and tummies lying on their side, vunerable and goddess-like.

Isaac eyes Hyunjin carefully as he seems glued to all the works of art around him, probably forgetting that he should be settling into his room and eating something.

"What do you think, young man?"- Isaac asks, making Hyunjin jolt a little as he looks up for a second before the carved sculptures grab his attention again.

"Very beautiful pieces, there's so much detail in each and every one. They must be very expensive."- Hyunjin comments making the older man chuckle deeply.

"Yes, very expensive. Cost me a lot of time and patience. And then of course, there's the material. The actual wood."- Isaac crosses his arms on his chest and Hyunjin needs a few seconds before a lightbulb appears above his head.

"Oh... Oh, you made them. That's incredible, you're an artist."- Hyunjin smiles, somewhat chuckling ironically for the fact that he can't seem to escape that which he considers brought him to the state he's in right now. "I'm kind of an artist too."- he downplays whatever life he built, suddenly feeling too dumb and embarassed do act boisterous in front of Isaac.

"Let me see your hands."- Isaac says and Hyunjin doesn't question him, just reaches his hands towards the man and Isaac leans down a little, his lips pursed as he folds his hands behind his back, a quiet hum in the back of his throat.

"You're a painter."- Isaac concludes before lifting up.

"How did you know?"- Hyunjin's eyes widen just a little, his eyebrows lifting up and Isaac lets out a laugh.

"Your skin is too pristine for anything else. But your nails are stained a little."- Hyunjin brings his hands up, closer to his face, and stares as if he sees his own hands for the first time.

He never noticed the slight staining on his fingers, almost forgetting the fact that beyond all the expensive paintbrushes and tools, an artist's work comes from his hands and his heart.

Is his heart stained too?

"Which one calls to you the most?"- Isaac brings him out of his thoughts again with his warm and patient voice and Hyunjin follows his line of sight, landing his eyes on the beautiful wooden sculptures again.

Maybe if he was younger he'd choose the woman, her breasts full and supple, inviting him to lay his head on them, wrap his lips around the tender nipples.

Maybe if he wasn't so jaded, he'd choose the lovers because love is the greatest feeling of them all, love is what makes people climb the highest mountain peak, swim the deepest ocean, reach the furthest star.

But Hyunjin can't help but stare at the man sitting in despair, fingertips digging into his own forehead as if he wants to rip his face out, take his brain out and scream at it.

Isaac sees. He sees through Hyunjin, he was once like him. Caught in the web of self-hatred and nihilism, despising everything he once held so dearly in his heart.

"You must be hungry."- Isaac never comments on Hyunjin's silent choice and he's thankful for that.

"Actually, yes."- Hyunjin feels the emptiness in his stomach as soon as food is mentioned and he realizes he hasn't eaten anything since last night.

"Why don't you get settled in and I will heat up some dinner?"- Isaac suggests and Hyunjin quickly shakes his head.

"You don't need to do that for me, I'm sure you have other business to attend to."- Hyunjin says.

"Nonsense, I don't mind at all. Honestly, it gets a little lonely here before the tourists start coming in so it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Other than my sculptures, that is."- Isaac says with a chuckle.

"Alright, if it's no bother then."- Hyunjin nods, giving a small smile to the warm man.

"Your room is the last door on the right."- Isaac points towards the staircase.

"Thank you."

Isaac smiles, quickly turning on his heel and leaving, presumably to the kitchen.

Hyunjin makes his way upstairs, his suitcase in his hands, the floorboards look too old and sensitive to drag the harsh wheels on them so he opts to just keep carrying his suitcase to his room.

Every wall is adorned with framed wooden carvings, sculptures even bigger than the ones downstairs are sitting in the corners of the hall.

Hyunjin curiously eyes every single one of them, waiting for them to suddenly come alive and move.

He shakes his head quickly, opening the last door on the right.

A loud gasp escapes his lips as soon as he walks into the room. It's bigger than he thought it would be, decorated like the rest of the house, everything is carved out of wood and the works of art made from Isaac's hands have become a staple that Hyunjin's eyes are already getting used to.

Hyunjin lays his suitcase down next to the closet and his legs first take him to the big window, the curtains pulled back and neatly tied up on the sides of the window frame.

The view is breathtaking, being up on the hill allows him to see almost everything, the sea, the shore, the main square with a church and also part of the little flower shop that he was just inside a few minutes ago.

Hyunjin needs to snap a picture. He fishes out his camera and after adjusting it, he takes a few pictures of the beautiful view, zooming in on the flower shop for a second and seeing that the door is still closed and the lights are still off.

You must be on your lunch break as you said.

He looks around the room again, the huge bed looks inviting after traveling for hours but he needs to eat something first.

The room that's warm and lived in, the smell of varnished wood and cinnamon enveloping his senses, the lively art pieces around him, make for a big contrast to Hyunjin's modern apartment, cold steel, black leather, the smell of cleanliness, the perfection of it all, the paintings that he despises from the bottom of his soul.

The ones he made in a state of delirium because Charlie was pressuring him, because people want more, because he needs to meet the deadline, because he's obligated to do them.

A metallic taste spreads inside Hyunjin's mouth and it takes him a few seconds to realize he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood.

He curses under his breath, walking into the adjoining bathroom to wash his mouth and thoughts away.

Lunch break was something you loved to spend in your favorite restaurant unless it was tourist season.

Then, it would get too crowded for your liking so you'd just go back home and eat before re-opening your shop.

Everything is 2-3 minutes of walking distance, your shop and your home, and the restaurant that a young married couple owns.

"The usual?"- Bennet peeked his head from behind the kitchen wall, and you chuckled giving the man a thumbs up.

You took your book out of your bag and looked out the window before little giggles on your left caught your attention and you turn to see Luna, the owner's 6 year old daughter, staring at you with big shiny eyes and holding a makeshift daisy bouquet in her little hands.

"Oh, is that for me?"- you ask slowly, pointing at yourself.

She stares at your lips before giving a little nod and another giggle before she reaches the flowers towards you.

Your hand is placed on your chin, then reached towards her as you mouth a 'thank you'.

She smiles happily, her chubby cheeks rosy before she runs away to play.

Catherine is quick to catch up to the little girl, gently grabbing her shoulders before signing a 'be careful' to which the girl nods and mouths an 'okay'.

"Hey, y/n."- Catherine lets out a sigh and you chuckle.

"Is she giving you a hard time today?"- you ask as she puts your lemonade down on the table.

"Try yelling at a deaf child to watch out from a distance."- she shakes her head, a bead of sweet running down her forehead. "My whole life flashed before my eyes, but luckily it was Delmar and he managed to stop his car just in time."

"Heart attack inducing stuff."- you nod. "But everything ended well and I'm sure she'll be more careful now."

"I hope so too."- Catherine nods with a smile, before turning to go check on her daughter.

You sigh quietly, looking through the window again as you sip on your lemonade when suddenly, the face of the handsome stranger called Hyunjin appears in your mind.

There's something that flickers in your chest at the thought of his smile. Then it clicks.

He's probably the celebrity that Barbara talked about, he must be an actor or a singer with a face like that, you think.

You wonder why he would come here though.

Maybe he got sick of all the glitz and glitter that being famous brings. That's something you could never be, live in the spotlight like that, to be picked at and proded at like you were some kind of test subject, looked at like you were some kind of animal in a cage, existing to entertain other people.

"Here you go, y/n."- a plate is placed on your table, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, thank you."- you smile at Bennet, as the aroma of your favorite meal fills up your space, making your stomach growl again.

It's quiet as you start eating and as always you ask Catherine and Luna to join you, which they usually happily agree to unless there are customers to attend to.

Bennet whips up their favorites quickly and excuses himself because he has a kitchen to clean, as he says, while you learn a few new words that help you communicate with Luna.

The sounds of utensils clinking against plates fill up the room as Hyunjin and Isaac sit in his dining room. It's the most lavish room yet, the table they're eating on feels too precious to even be used so Hyunjin is extra careful with his meal.

The big chandelier hangs above their heads, the sunlight shining through the huge windows that reveal a balcony, reflects in the crystal pendants decorating the chandelier, creating little rainbows scattered around the room.

"My father made this table."- Isaac notices Hyunjin looking at it, as if he's deep in thought.

"It's really exquisite. I feel a little apprehensive using it as a regular dining table."- Hyunjin says and Isaac chuckles.

"We ate on it every day. And then my wife and son too."- Isaac says, the mood shifting suddenly as a sad smile spreads on his face.

"You have a son?"- Hyunjin asks, taking another bite of the meat.

"I had a son."- Isaac nods and Hyunjin feels bad that he pried.

"I'm sorry."- he didn't want to dig into someone's wound so he looked down at his plate, feeling remorseful for asking.

"It's okay, it's been years. He was probably around your age when he left us."- Isaac reminisces.

"Was he sick?"- Hyunjin asks, seeing that Isaac wanted to talk about his son, maybe it brought him some kind of comfort to keep the memory of him alive.

"He was... sad. Very sad. We tried everything. But nothing could light the spark in his eyes."- Isaac shivers with a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked anything."- Hyunjin quickly says, feeling embarassed for himself and sad for the kind man sitting across from him.

"No, it's okay, you didn't know."- Isaac shakes his head. "I like talking about my son. He was also great with woodwork. I learned from my father and he learned from me. Guess it runs in the family."- he nods with a small smile.

"If you'd like, I could teach you some woodworking too."- Isaac suggests before Hyunjin can say anything.

He can see the turmoil on Hyunjin's face, the cogs turning behind his eyes as he struggles with whether to love or hate that suggestion.

"I'll be in my studio later if you want to join me."- Isaac intervenes quickly, pointing to the hall.

"What was his name, if you don't mind me asking?"- Hyunjin asks after a few moments of silence, referring to Isaac's son.

"Leo."- Isaac says with a kind of pain in his voice.

Hyunjin finds those three letters etched into the windowsill in the room he booked, his fingertips tracing the chipped wood, realizing quickly that this room once belonged to him.

Hyunjin doesn't join Isaac in his studio, he can't bear to even think about painting or woodwork at this moment, all he wants is to feel free from the confines he created for himself.

After lunch, he took a much needed nap and then an even more needed warm shower. He walks out into the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist, using another one to dry his hair.

Being up on the hill probably caught some signal on his phone as it buzzes next to the bed. Hyunjin frowns, making his way to it and grabbing it.

Charlie. Of course.

In the heat of the moment, he doesn't think, he just chucks the phone on the bed and it bounces up and smacks into the closet and then lands down on the floor with a loud thud, the battery falling out.

"That oughta do it."- he says quietly, leaving the device where it landed.

Hyunjin gets dressed quickly, grabbing his backpack and camera before he makes his way downstairs. He glances shortly at the big door leading to Isaac's studio, something heavy weighing on his chest before he turns away and walks out of the house.

There's nothing like watching the sunset while sitting on the beach. The beautiful golden rays mixing with the orange and pink hues, reflecting on the water as the sun itself drowns in it.

You're sitting with your little diary in your hands, well one of many you have, one that still has empty pages you have to fill up.

Most of them consist of dried up flowers and even a few little sketches you did, sometimes you write something you found funny in it, sometimes you pour your soul out on the pages, your tears blurring your vision and smearing the ink of your pen.

Today, the page is blank but your mind isn't.

For some reason, it's filled with Hyunjin and you wish you were better at drawing people so that your hand could capture the face that was already etched in your brain even after you only saw him once.

A twig snaps behind you, and you quickly turn around, jolting a little.

He appears in your view like he was summoned, like he was there to help you see his face again so that you could maybe try to capture the beauty on paper.

"Oh..."- he also jolts a little like he got frightened by your presence. "Y/n, right?"- he licks his lips and swallows, as his feet come to a halt.

"Yeah."- you nod.

"Sorry if I scared you. Kinda scared myself too."- Hyunjin says with a timid smile, still keeping a good distance away from you.

"It's okay. Usually, no one comes here at this time so I was surprised."- you say and he slowly makes his way to you.

"Mind if I join you?"- he asks, almost timidly and you have to wonder what kind of celebrity is shy like that.

"Sure."- you nod and he comes closer, slowly sitting down on the rock next to yours.

"I decided to explore the island a little. And you were right, I saw everything in one evening."- he chuckles as he looks at you, then at the notebook in your hands curiously.

"Are you sure you saw everything? There are a few hidden spots here that only the locals know about."- you eye the camera in his hands.

Such pretty hands.

"Oh really? Is there a guide who could show me some of those hidden spots?"- he asks and you let out a small chuckle.

"Depends on how much you pay up."- you say and he looks at you before you start chuckling, making him chuckle too.

"I'm joking, of course. I mean, I'm free tomorrow if you want me to give you the real tour of the island."- you suggest, wiggling your eyebrows.

"I would love that."- Hyunjin nods, a smile spreading on his face that makes his eyes crinkle.

When was the last time he smiled like that?

Hyunjin lifts up his camera to snap a few pictures of the sunset and you can't help but look at his features more closely while he's distracted.

Beneath the smile and the obviously expensive attire, something inside him seems sad and tired, you can feel it meandering between your bodies.

"Is that a sketchbook?"- Hyunjin asks curiously, as you play with the cover of your notebook.

"Kind of. It's a sliver of my thoughts, if you will."- you say as you stare at it.

"Can I see?"- he asks and you look up at him, genuine interest painted on his face.

"Sure, I'll show you some sketches, just not the things I write."

"Yeah, of course, I don't want to invade your privacy."- he says and you nod, finding a page where you sketched a few tulips from different angles.

"Oh, that's really pretty. I like your shading."- Hyunjin leans in closer and you get a whiff of his shampoo that gets you feeling entranced for a moment.

"Ah, thank you. I'm not the best at drawing at all, it's just that I'm good with anything that has to do with flowers."- you smile, somewhat sadly, Hyunjin notices and something pulls him to you.

He wants to know everything, he wants to tell you everything.

But he's afraid.

He's afraid of revealing the truth, afraid of bursting the little bubble appearing around the two of you, he's frightened to open his soul up, only to find it was rotten, only to see you turn away.

Hyunjin is someone who believes, well, used to believe in love at first sight but that was before he destroyed everything gentle and pure inside him, creating another person out of the broken shards, a fake person, a disgusting and cold person who fades away into other darkened souls, lost in the abyss of eternal nothingness.

"You're an expert in your field. That's admirable."- Hyunjin manages to dig up anything that feels gentle, even for a split second.

"What about you? What is your field of expertise?"- you ask and Hyunjin dreads answering and talking about that which he despises right now.

"Art, I guess. Painting to be exact. I'm a painter?"

"You say that like you're unsure of it."- you give him an inquisitive smile.

"Sometimes you forget who you are and why you even do what you do. Sometimes, something you always knew and loved gets further away from you the more you try to reach out for it."- Hyunjin talks and you giggle, putting your notebook aside.

"Are you sure you're not a poet?"- you tease and Hyunjin chuckles nervously, his cheeks becoming rosy like the cotton candy clouds in the sunset before you.

"I'm better with colors than words, or at least I was."- he says, scratching his head as he purses his lips.

"You talk so nicely so I'm sure your art is even nicer."- you conclude.

It hasn't even been a day since he first laid his eyes upon you, but Hyunjin feels like you set his mind at ease with little effort, with just a few words and a sweet smile.

"Thank you."- he smiles. "I'll show you another time. I don't have my phone on me."- he adds.

"Looking forward to that."- you say. "And what you said earlier, I relate to it. Sometimes I feel like that with my flowers. But they're all I really know."- you shrug. "I always come back to them."

"Yeah, I find myself sitting in front of a blank canvas many times without even painting anything. I guess it's etched into my bones by now."

"Like part of your DNA."- you follow up and Hyunjin agrees.

"Is it okay if I take a picture of you?"- he asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

The sun has almost completely immersed itself into the water and the last light of the day illuminates your facial features perfectly, the sparkle prominent in your eyes.

Hyunjin wants to capture what you talked about, how you looked and how you smiled at him and keep it in his heart forever.

"Sure."- you nod, chuckling a little.

You turn towards the sea, the last of the sun's rays reflecting off of the surface and almost hypnotizing you as you hear the click of the camera.

Hyunjin thinks this is the best picture he ever took.

And as he walks back to his current home, he feels like destiny intertwined her hands into his life, bringing the two of you together, like this is a start to something he can't even begin to fathom yet, like whatever he searched for, he found in you.

Maybe he just met you, but deep inside his wounded soul Hyunjin knows, you will become the most important person that touched his heart.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly

[wooziorgans]

moon song || ljh

warnings: post breakup au. ex idol!reader. reader has an implied suicide attempt(s) in the past. reader is implied to do something akin to relapsing at the end of the fic. ed talk. lots of pressure that comes w being an idol. clubs. drinking. seungcheol hates y/n for leaving. leaving the idol industry behind. seeing your ex after four years. hurt w very little comfort. right person, wrong time.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: vent piece mostly. abt my frustration of still being sick, abt my frustration of not seeming to get better, abt how it never seems to stop. abt all of my wasted potential as a person. all of it, none of it, everything and nothing at all. i am so tired.

please read with caution. this is just a lot of emotions all in one place.

The loud bass that hits your head as soon as you enter the club makes your head pound immediately. It’s been four long years since you’ve even been in this part of Seoul, let alone been in a club with this group of ex-colleagues.

Ex-colleagues is certainly one way to put it. They were all so much more, and you know that this is just an excuse for all of them to get drunk. You wonder briefly if Jihoon’s here. He never used to drink, but then again, he didn’t do a lot of things until you were in the picture. You wonder how much has changed now that you’re not.

The memory of him burns like a hot iron branding your back, and you head to the nearest table of refreshments to grab a drink. If he’s here, you’ll need all the alcohol you can get your hands on. Maybe that makes you no better than anyone else; no better than the scene you so desperately needed to leave four years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re no longer apart of it. What you do now won’t cost you your career. If the night ends with you passed out in an alley way simply because you saw your ex at an album release party for an album he produced, so be it. He never comes to these things anyways.

At least, he didn’t when you knew him. You haven’t known Jihoon for a long time. It’s been four years after all; a lot can change in a week, let alone four years.

Like your decision to leave the K-pop industry. You had mulled over it for weeks, before you brought it up to anyone, and you didn’t go to Jihoon first. He was the last person you told. At least, officially, that you were leaving.

All those years of work as a trainee, just for it to be nothing. All of the tears, the angry screams into your pillow, the poverty your company forced you into in the first few years of your career because it was boarding on bankruptcy. All of this wasted potential. Maybe you could’ve been someone great.

You were, for a few years. Your group took off, and the first few years of success made all of the hard work feel like it was worth something. But as the saying goes, too much of a good thing won’t be good for long.

The pressure started to build, and it built until it boiled over and you were found on the verge of doing something terrible in your bathroom by your boyfriend and your manager after a week of unusual silence. Jihoon never was a crier, but god did he sob as he held you in the back of the ambulance. He had never begged for anything the way he begged for you to talk to him.

Please, god, please talk to me Y/N. Please, baby. I can’t— I can’t lose you.

It’s funny, really, how things work out. You dug yourself so deep into this hole of despair from the pressure of being an idol, that the only way out of it was to completely separate yourself from that life and start over.

After terminating your contract, you broke up with Jihoon. Or, you didn’t break up with him, only told him that you needed to take a break while you sorted yourself out. After being on a break for four years, is it still just a break? Or are you broken up at that point?

Both you and Jihoon know the answer to that.

Three years of no social media, no articles about you, none of your old friends reaching out to check in on you because they held a contractual obligation to be nice to you in the hallways. Three and a half years out of the spotlight. Three and a half years of peace, of healing, of sorting your life out and learning how to breathe again.

It’s been four years without Jihoon, and you didn’t really think much about the consequences that potentially sharing a space with him would have. But now they’re suffocating. All you can think about is the potential possibility of him being here, which, he wouldn’t be, right? He hates these kinds of gatherings. He used to skip his own release parties to watch shitty romance movies with you on the couch in his studio.

Does he have someone new to watch romance movies with? Or has he given up romance altogether? You know from the first few months, updates provided by Soonyoung, that he didn’t take the distance very well. You know that he missed you, and he worried about you constantly. You know you’re spiralling, and you know all those years of therapy will be for nothing if you don’t pull yourself out of it.

You don’t have to do that, because Seungkwan does it for you. “Y/N? You came!” He seems elated that you’re here, off his rocker, probably drunk.

“Of course I came! It’s your first album as BSS, Seungkwan.” You smile, and it’s not forced at all. You have completely forgotten how easy it is to fall into banter with Seungkwan. It’s almost like you never left in the first place.

Except something in his eyes seems off. That’s your first red flag to turn around and get the fuck out of this club, but you don’t. “My god. It’s been so long. How are you doing?” With anyone else, the small talk would’ve taken you out back and killed you. It’s different with Seungkwan.

Different how? He was one of the only people who consistently checked in on you when you first left. As you settled into your new life, the texts became less frequent; now, four years later they’re hardly anything to notice, but he’ll still send you a text on every holiday, and he’s wished you happy birthday every year since you met him.

“I’m doing a lot better. I’m… I’m good.” You laugh softly. Seungkwan smiles at you.

“That’s good. I’ve missed having you around— of course I don’t expect you to come back into this scene, but it would be nice to see you sometime.” Seungkwan squeezes your shoulder softly and smiles wider.

“Yeah, of course. I know I’ve been gone, but I’ll make it less hard to get a hold of me. I’ve missed all of you, truth be told.” You smile back. “I’ve just… been doing a lot of healing and I think it’s about time I finally start reconnecting with people. Is everyone here?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. We’re all here! I kind of spilled that I invited you so everyone decided to come just in case you showed up.” The depth of all doesn’t really seem to cross Seungkwan’s mind; he’s certainly not thinking about Jihoon right now, or Seungcheol for that matter. You’re pretty sure Seungcheol would punch you if he caught sight of you. Maybe Jihoon would too. You have no idea how Jihoon even feels about you.

“Even, uh, Jihoon?” The smile falls from Seungkwan’s face.

“Oh. Yeah. He’s here too.” Seungkwan swallows when he sees your face shift. “You… he-he wants to talk to you. It’s not my place to really say, but he’s not mad. I think he just wants closure.”

So maybe Jihoon wouldn’t punch you. That’s a bit of a relief.

“Oh my god! Y/N! You came!” It’s Seokmin, very clearly drunk. You didn’t keep in contact with him, though he did send you a few paragraphs over text as he wished you all the best, telling you to reach out if you ever needed anything. You didn’t take him up on the offer.

“I did!” You smile, tilting your head as you look up at Seokmin.

“Can I have a hug?” He’s already opening his arms and you slide right into them. His hug is firm and warm. You’ve missed Seokmin a lot more than you cared to admit. Seungkwan grumbles about how he should’ve asked for a hug and you laugh, pulling him into one.

You catch up with Seokmin briefly before he’s being pulled away by someone you don’t know. You stick with Seungkwan, talking about your life, the album, avoiding the subject of Jihoon.

And then you turn your head at the bright sound of laughter, and you see him. You see him, and he’s not the same mess he was when you left him with no promise of when you’d see each other next. He’s not the scared man in his early twenties who had no idea if you were going to die on him. He’s not the man who stayed with you in the hospital for days on end.

He’s not the producer you knew who’d slide his headphones over your ears as he pulled you into his lap. He’s not the warm hand that held yours because you forgot your gloves again. He’s not the hushed giggles at four in the morning, or the hurried kisses, or the soft whimpers and praises as you tangled yourselves in his bedsheets.

Jihoon isn’t yours anymore.

You had hoped he wouldn’t be such a sore subject for you anymore, but seeing him in all of his glory four years later… god does it fucking hurt. You’ve done a lot of healing in the last four years, but in that time you never really had the time to process the loss of Jihoon.

Soonyoung spots you, and that’s when you know you’re doomed, because if Soonyoung is distracted, Jihoon always notices the thing that catches him off guard. You try to pull your eyes away from Jihoon, but you can’t. You swear he’s gotten more beautiful in the last four years.

He’s gotten bigger, physically— far more muscular. You can see the curve of his pecks through his shirt, one that isn’t even tight against his body. Jihoon’s always been a big fitness buff, but it appears he’s put more effort into himself. His biceps strain against the fitted sleeves of his long sleeve black shirt.

Jihoon’s face looks different too. He still has the same round cheeks you used to always pinch and prod at. His jawline is still soft, but it’s more defined. His eyes are bright, and the bags under them are still there. You wonder briefly if he’s ever gotten rid of them; if the skin under his eyes has ever matched the rest of his milky complexion.

His hair is longer than you’ve ever seen it. Dark and flowy, it’s reflective and healthy, half tied up with what would be his undercut hanging freely. A few pieces frame his face. It looks soft and healthy. Jihoon looks soft and healthy.

He’s smiling as he scans the crowd to find what Soonyoung is distracted by, and then he spots you. The smile is wiped off of Jihoon’s face faster than your brain can even register it. Seungkwan stiffens beside you, hand finding your shoulder to steady you as you stumble briefly, but the pull between you and Jihoon is too much.

Both of you start moving towards each other, pushing your way through the crowd. “Y/N.” His voice comes out in a breath, chest heaving and then he’s there, right in front of you, after four years.

You don’t know what to say, can’t process the fact that he’s in front of you, as beautiful as ever. “Jihoon,” you echo, “hi.” You can’t help the small smile that threatens to pull at your lips. The tension on Jihoon’s face eases, but he doesn’t smile back.

“Hi. How are you doing?” Jihoon asks, and if it was anyone else, it would’ve been a sad attempt at small talk. It’s Jihoon, so you know he’s asking how you’re doing now, if you’re better. A part of him is asking if you still feel like killing yourself. The answer to the last part is no.

“I’m… better. A lot better.” You laugh awkwardly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t doing okay.” Now, Jihoon actually does smile at you, and though it’s small, it’s still there.

“You look a lot better. Healthier. I’m glad.” Jihoon takes a sip of his drink as he looks down at you. He’s right; you’re much healthier now. There’s solid meat on your bones, your thighs touch and your ribs don’t show anymore. Your face has filled out, cheeks full and round. Your eyes don’t look as though they’re sunken into your skull, they’re brighter now; they seem to shine with life in a way they never have before.

Jihoon takes you in properly, and god, you’ve gotten so much more beautiful since the last time he saw you. It hurts. It hurts a lot to see how good you look now, without him. He knows it’s a lot more complicated than that, but it still hurts nonetheless.

You look healthy, like an actual person and not a skeleton, and you were never that way when you were an idol. You were never like that when you were with Jihoon.

“Oh, um, thank you. Should we… should we sit? We have a lot to talk about.” You laugh again to hide your nerves. Jihoon can still read you, and he knows you’re brimming with nerves. He knows you’re a little scared, probably more than a little, and he is too.

You’ve never breached the subject, hardly even talked about your breakup. Jihoon doesn’t like to think about it. He just doesn’t. He doesn’t like to think about how much worse you were doing, even if it destroyed him. The breakup was harder on you, tenfold, and you went through it alone.

“I- uh. Yeah, yeah, we can go sit. It’s probably about time we talk.” Jihoon laughs nervously, closing his eyes for a second. He wordlessly starts walking towards the vacant booths of the club. You follow close behind.

Jihoon sits down, and you take a seat across from him. It’s silent for a few moments. Both of you are staring at your cups, not drinking, just swirling your liquids of choice.

Jihoon speaks first, but he can’t look at you. “Why’d you have to leave me?” He asks, and his voice breaks softly as he says it. You certainly weren’t expecting that as the first question he asked, but you don’t really know what else he would’ve asked.

“I… I had to leave everything that had to do with being an idol behind. You… you included.” It’s a shitty answer, but you can’t think in Jihoon’s presence.

“I understand that, but I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve helped you get help. You didn’t have to do it by yourself, Y/N. I loved you; I would’ve done anything to make sure you were safe.” Jihoon’s bites at his lip, eyes sparkling in the low lights of the club. He looks like he’s about to cry, and god does it break your heart.

He loved you, past tense. It’s jarring. It stings, but what else did you expect? For him to still want you? That’s unrealistic and completely unfair to expect from him.

It hits you then that you might still be in love with him. That makes this next part so much harder.

“I know. I know, but it made sense to me at the time. I can’t- I can’t rationalize anything that I did at that time in my life. None of it makes sense, but I made a lot of choices that I regret and I can’t go back on them now. It’s too late for that and I’m- I’m so sorry for everything I put you through, Jihoon. All of it; everything, god, I’m so sorry.” You spill, and the soft burn in the back of your throat makes it hard to speak as you try not to cry. “You didn’t deserve to deal with any of it.” You whisper softly.

“Y/N,” Jihoon whispers back, “I forgave you a long time ago. I just want closure.” Closure. Jihoon wants closure, meaning he wants to move on. The tears in his eyes shine brightly, though they don’t fall, but he’s crying nonetheless, and that makes you feel worse.

“I don’t deserve that though. I don’t deserve to be forgiven for just leaving you. Seungcheol still hasn’t forgiven me; why the hell would you?” You swallow hard, and that seems to break the dam as the first few tears slip down your cheeks.

“Seungcheol has his own issues. We never told him the full story, and maybe that’s why he’s still… iffy about the whole thing. But I forgive you. I just, I want to stop hiding from you. I don’t want to be worried about running into you somewhere and not knowing what to say. I still care about you, so much, and, god does it fucking kill me to still worry about you when you’ve never made an effort to reach out to me.” Jihoon’s always been blunt, so you should’ve expected this, but it makes you feel worse; guilty. “I would’ve answered your calls, in a heartbeat. You know I would’ve.” Jihoon blinks, and the first few tears fall down his face.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to call you after so long. I spent six months in and out of the hospital, and after that I had to get back on my feet. By the time I even had time to think about calling you, it’d been a year, and to me that was too late.” You close your eyes and exhale deeply, fingers twitching.

Jihoon used to hold your hands when you were upset to stop them from twitching so much. He used to pull your head close to his chest and wipe your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He makes no effort to do so now. Jihoon can’t even look at you properly.

He’s focused on picking at the calluses on his palms. Some things never change.

“You- six months? Y/N, fuck, I had no idea. I knew it was bad but, shit, really?” Jihoon’s voice breaks fully, and all you can do is nod. “How many more times? How many times did you—?” He can’t finish his sentence. His throat closes up.

“Four.” Jihoon has nothing to say in reply. He can’t, not with the deep hurt that settles in his chest, so you elaborate. “I really just wanted to die. The media was on my ass for the first year and it was just bad. I spent the next year after that in a rehabilitation program to fix my relationship with food and it helped a lot. I found a good therapist and I’m still seeing her. It’s helped a lot. I’m- I’m clean.” You pick up your cup, hand shaking, and take a large drink to calm your nerves.

“I’m really glad that you’re healthy now. Really, god, that’s such a relief.” Jihoon’s tears are steady now. He wipes at them with his sleeve. You mutter a soft thank you.

Outside of the booth, the noise has been blocked out by your conversation, but you hear something peculiar. It’s Seungcheol, his voice is loud and booming. He’s angry.

“What the fuck are they doing here?! Seriously, why did you even invite them?” Both you and Jihoon look up at the same time to see Joshua and Mingyu trying to deescalate the situation. Seungkwan is yelling back, face red as he tries to block Seungcheol’s view of the booth you and Jihoon are sat in.

“No, I’ve fucking had it with all of you. Defending them for just fucking leaving Jihoon without a word. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you bring them here?” Seungcheol is drunk and looking for a confrontation with you, and that’s enough of a threat to have you and Jihoon standing as he tries to usher you out of the club without Seungcheol seeing.

“Fuck, you should probably go.” Jihoon pulls you close to him, shielding you from Seungcheol’s view. You nod, walking fast beside him as you push your way through the crowd.

“Yah! You, get the fuck back here!” Neither of you listen as you push your way out of the door. You make the mistake of looking behind you to see Joshua and Mingyu physically holding Seungcheol back. Wonwoo is there now too, standing in front of him to prevent him from walking.

The outside air is cold and bitter. You shiver as you pull out your phone to order a ride. You and Jihoon are completely silent. He’s standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat radiating off onto you.

“I’ll wait with you. How long?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Two minutes.” You only have two minutes left with Jihoon. It’s so finite, the time you’re spending with him. If only you had more time.

You’re not afforded that luxury as you shiver beside him. “Can I- is it okay if I—?” You nod, unsure of what he’s asking. It’s a yes either way. Jihoon pulls you into his arms in a tight, warm hug. His hands don’t find their way into your hair, or rub your back. He just holds you. It’s all he can do.

Both of you ignore the mutual swell of warmth in your chests. You’re still in love with him, you know that, and that’s why the car seems to show up in no time. Your phone chimes as the car pulls up in front of the club as you reluctantly start to separate yourselves.

There’s so much you didn’t get to talk about. You tell him so. “We, fuck, I had so much more to say. I had so much more to explain. You, god, you were the right person, Jihoon. Everything else was just so wrong.” You thought the weight would’ve been lifted off your chest, but it only hurts more. You close your eyes as you turn away.

“Y/N, fuck, don’t do this to me right now.” Jihoon whispers, eyes filling with tears once again.

“I’m sorry Jihoon. I love you. I’ll see you around.” You open the door to the car.

“I, yeah. Take care of yourself.” Jihoon can’t look at you, no way in hell can he look at you as you close the door and drive off. He stands still in the cold, watching as the car disappears from his sight. He leans against the wall, head falling back as the tears start pouring freely.

As he pushes the door to the club open, it hits him hard, fills his whole body as a bone deep love for you settles. And it hurts, god does it hurt. Seungcheol’s calmed down, but the snide remark that slips past his lip doesn’t even register in Jihoon’s brain. All Jihoon recognizes is his tone, and that’s enough.

“I’ll punch you right in your fucking mouth, Seungcheol, I swear to god. Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hardly ever makes threats, but when he does it has everyone going quiet. Seungcheol, Joshua and Mingyu stop in their tracks. There’s been enough drama for one night.

Jihoon grabs a new drink and chugs it, before he goes to grab his coat. He needs to get out of here before the sob building in his throat bursts.

You manage to keep your tears at bay until you enter your apartment. You find yourself in the bathroom, against the cold tile and the porcelain of the bathtub. You don’t do anything, just sit there and breathe as the tears flow freely.

It wasn’t supposed to end like that. You were supposed to have more time to reconcile with Jihoon. You and bathrooms have seen a lot of hurt. Most of your bad decisions are made in bathrooms. You don’t do anything, you just sit there for a few minutes as you cry.

Nothing happens the next night. Or the night after. A week after the release party, Jihoon still plagues your mind and that’s when you crack. Your old manager turned friend answers the phone.

“Hi. You okay?” Yena asks softly, voice ridden with sleep.

“Drive me to the hospital? I think I need stitches.” You laugh nervously. The adrenaline has worn off and all you feel is regret.

“Y/N.” She sighs, but it’s not disappointment. She’s seen a lot of things with you, and supported you through all of them. You’re the reason she quit being a manager and went back to university. You made her realize the idol life isn’t as glamorous as it seems, and you’ve formed a very solid friendship over the past five years. “You know they’re gonna keep you for a few days, right?”

“Yeah. I know. It was impulsive. Like, I’m fine now. I just couldn’t stop thinking.” You sigh.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on the way. Cold water and pressure until I get there, yeah?” You laugh softly.

“Already on it.” The call disconnects soon after, and you look up at the mirror. Briefly, you imagine Jihoon standing behind you in a much different situation than the one you’re in now.

His thick arms are wrapped around your waist, head leaning against yours. He’s smiling in your vision. You smile softly in your reflection, though it’s strained. The blood on your hands pulls you out of it.

a/n: i wrote this when i was going through it. i’m fine now but i seriously can’t do angst like i used to so i might write a part two or something where they end up back together.

[puckinghischier]

I bet Nico Hischier is really good with kids. Not in the “oh I spend a lot of time around them so I got used to them way,” in the “they just like me” way.

Like imagine the two of you babysitting a friend’s kid, and you try to put them to sleep and they refuse, but when Nico lays beside them they’re out like a light immediately.

And when you’d walk in he’d definitely say he wants you to hold his baby against glass wearing a tiny #13 within the next two years because he’s so awestruck by the soft innocence of them.

oh he would so get baby fever every time any of his teammates would talk about their kids

he would always be the first to volunteer the two of your for babysitting duties anytime one of his guys needed a date night out with his wife, wanting to play house with you until he could make the real thing happen

“c’mon, it’s just for a couple hours. plus, i already told haula we’d do it. him and kristen have dinner reservations in an hour, so we gotta get going,” he would explain when you complained, saying you wanted a night in with him.

all through the night, you’d be trying to get henrik to play with you, but he would go to nico every time, acting like you weren’t even there unless you were offering him a snack

“okay, this isn’t even fair, nico. you can’t spring babysitting plans on me when the kid we’re sitting doesn’t even want anything to do with me. what do you have that i don’t? you hiding goldfish in your pockets or something?” you’d ask him skeptically, not knowing why henrik wants nothing more than to play cars with nico all night

“i don’t know, kids just love me,” nico shrugs in response, finding it cute how frustrated you’re getting.

when it would come time to put henrik to bed, you’d finally have your time to shine, considering the toddler crawled in your lap and started playing with your soft hair, eyes dropped so low you know he’ll be out any second.

you take him up to his bedroom and change him into his pajamas, laying him in his race car bed and tucking him in. as you’re walking over to turn his night light on, however, henrik suddenly thinks it’s play time again, refusing any and every plea you make for him to lay back down and go to sleep.

nico can hear your frustrated conversation with the child, peeking his head in to help you out. “want me to give it a try?”

you surrender, giving him control of the situation. your jaw is nearly on the floor when all nico has to do is pick the up the little boy, laying down with him in the small bed, the toddler almost immediately falling asleep once his head hits the pillow.

“whatever, i’m going to clean up their house,” you huff out in defeat, leaving nico alone to make sure the babe stays asleep.

when you come back into the room around 30 minutes later, nico is just laying there, watching the little blondie sleep.

he hears you enter the room, the creak of the hardwood floor giving you away. the sight is making your heart burst nearly in two, and nico can see it all over your face.

“you know, i wouldn’t mind to have a little one of our own here soon. buy a little custom #13 jersey, bring him or her down to the ice to beat around on the glass during warm ups. think it would be kinda nice, actually. what do you think?” he’d say, looking between you and the little angel in the bed next to him.

“i think you need to stop talking and take me home. erik and kristen just pulled in,” is all you would say in response, but the thick tone in your voice lets nico know you’re more than on the same page as him

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Cherry Lips.

Summary: You spend one night with world famous musician Remy Lebeau and everything changes.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Choking, Spanking, Swearing, Smut. 18+

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes, and there it fucking is. The most useless sentence in the history of humankind. Right up there with, “We’ll call you right back.”

You glance over at him—his pale blue eyes darting everywhere except toward you as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tiny, cramped café. The table between you feels like a mile-wide chasm, and yet, somehow, not far enough. You raise an eyebrow, half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Oh, I know it’s not me,” you say, letting your voice drip with a sarcasm you don’t bother to mask. “It’s Hannah McCoy down the road, isn’t it?”

Six years.

Six whole fucking years boiled down to cheap coffee and a line. One goddamn sentence.

He shifts again, more uncomfortable than before, his hand fidgeting with the napkin as if it’ll give him some kind of answer he’s too much of a coward to say out loud. You can see it—he’s stalling. Trying to find a way to make himself look less like the asshole that he is.

“It wasn’t meant to happen,” he says finally, his voice weak, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. “She was just... there. And she gets me, you know?” His words are lame, hollow, and all the more infuriating because he actually thinks they’re enough.

You laugh—a short, humorless sound that feels more like a release of pent-up rage than anything else. “Oh, she gets you?” you echo, your voice rising a little. “What am I, a fucking puzzle you couldn’t solve?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he stares at the table, his fingers still twisting that stupid napkin into knots. “We’re just... not compatible,” he mutters, as if that explains everything. As if that suddenly makes it all okay.

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “You mean I’m not compatible with your bullshit,” you snap. “Just admit it—you’ve been trying to fuck her for months. Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

He doesn’t answer, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. Anger burns hot and fast in your veins, but underneath it, there’s something else—a deep, bitter ache. Six years. You gave him six years of your life, and now you're sitting in this shitty café as he offers nothing but weak excuses and even weaker apologies.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to meet your eyes for a fleeting second. “Those tickets to the concert tonight... keep them. Go with Nat or someone. She’d probably love it.”

You almost laugh again, but this time it’s too absurd to even entertain. “Oh, I’m going,” you say, voice sharp as a knife. “Whether you’re there or not. I paid good money for those tickets, so don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”

You take a sip of the coffee just to do something with your hands, but it’s as bitter as you feel, and you pull a face. Of course. Even the fucking coffee is shit.

He nods, like this conversation is some kind of negotiation that’s finally being settled. Like you’re both just two rational people agreeing to part ways, when in reality, he’s ripping apart everything you’ve built together. There’s nothing left to say, except—

“I’ll organize a trailer to come get my stuff tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face saying everything: Yeah, you fucking better. You don’t want to see him again, don’t want to hear his voice or catch even a glimpse of his blond hair in the doorway. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. And good riddance.

Pushing back your chair, you stand up and toss a few bills onto the table, more than enough to cover your coffee. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and then lean down just slightly, enough so he can feel the gravity of your words.

“And by the way,” you say, your voice low and cold, “the coffee here tastes like shit.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk out of the café, your footsteps steady and sure, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Tonight, you’ll go to the concert—Remy LeBeau live at the old warehouse downtown. The tickets you bought months ago, back when you thought you’d be going together, back when you didn’t know your relationship was already on its slow, agonizing descent.

But now, it’s just you. And you’ll go. And you’ll scream the lyrics if you have to. Because you paid for those tickets with your own damn money, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him ruin the one thing you’ve been looking forward to for months.

The door to the café swings shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel something close to freedom. <><><><><> "So he really just did that, huh?" Nat says, almost incredulous, as she runs a straightener through her fiery red hair. Each strand falls smoothly over her shoulder, contrasting sharply with the black band tee she’s wearing. Meanwhile, you sit on the edge of the bed, focused on pulling your black fishnet stockings over your legs, the faint snap of the fabric a sharp punctuation to the conversation.

You nod, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. "Yep. Pulled the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit too."

You stand up, reaching for the pair of black booty shorts lying on the bed next to you. The cool fabric slides easily over the stockings as you adjust them, making sure they sit just right. You catch Nat’s eyes in the mirror as she pauses, mid-straighten.

"Hannah McCoy," she says, her tone flat, almost clinical, as if she’s diagnosing an obvious problem. "She’s the blue-haired girl on your corner, right? Goes to college in town?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "That would be her," you reply, grabbing your eyeliner and starting your makeup routine. Your reflection looks back at you, the same you, but tonight’s different. Tonight, you want to look like someone who’s ready to burn the world down. Or at least, burn away the memory of your ex.

Nat’s phone buzzes on the dresser. She picks it up, scrolling through her feed with a frown before tossing the phone toward you.

"Take a look at this," she says, her voice laced with a kind of cautious sympathy. "Looks like she’s going to be there tonight with ‘someone special.’" Her finger hovers over the image, zooming in on a guy’s hand. "Whose tattoo does that look like?"

Your stomach twists as you glance down at the screen. The photo shows Hannah McCoy, grinning ear to ear, her lips pressed against a man’s hand. But it’s not just any hand. It’s one you’ve held countless times. One you’ve traced with your fingers. And that tattoo, the one in familiar looping script? You had paid for that tattoo on your second anniversary.

Your ex’s tattoo.

You feel a surge of anger rise in your chest. “Oh, the universe fucking hates me, I swear,” you mutter, tossing the phone back toward Nat. “The audacity of knowing I’m going to be there and still taking the woman you left me for is... ballsy.”

Nat shrugs, but there’s a glint of anger in her eyes on your behalf. "I’m more impressed he managed to get tickets this late. I thought they were all sold out."

"Obviously planning this one for months then," you comment, rolling your eyes as you start blending your eyeshadow. Months. Months of fake smiles, distant conversations, and a growing gap you both refused to talk about. It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the breakup—you’d felt the relationship fizzling out for a while now. The spark had died sometime last year. Maybe even earlier than that, if you were honest with yourself.

But this? This was an entirely different kind of hurt. The fact that he had the nerve to not only break up with you but to bring the woman he cheated with to a concert he knew you were going to be at? It felt like a slap in the face. Like he wanted to gloat, to show off what he’d traded you for.

It wasn’t the breakup that stung. It was the sheer gall of how he was doing it.

"Does he think I’m just going to sit there and pretend they don’t exist?" you mutter, applying a deep red lipstick with more force than necessary. "Like, what, I’m supposed to be okay watching them together? He’s really trying to rub this in my face."

Nat finishes her hair and turns to face you, her expression softening. She walks over, picking up a bottle of perfume from the nightstand. With a gentle hand, she sprays a light mist over you, the scent filling the room as she leans in, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror grins mischievously.

"Well, you scrub up damn fine," she says with a wink. "And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, because that always works out perfectly," you reply, but a small smile tugs at your lips. You’re not looking for a rebound tonight. You’re not even looking to get over him, because deep down, you already are. What you’re looking for is to reclaim something for yourself.

You glance over at the concert tickets sitting on your dresser, the cheap paper so full of promise just a few weeks ago. Remy LeBeau, live in town, the rock concert you’d been excited about for months, back when you thought you’d be going with your ex.

But now? Now it’s just you and Nat. And maybe that’s exactly what you need.

"Fuck him," you say, standing taller and adjusting your shirt as you finish the last swipe of mascara. "Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about me. And damn it, I’m going to have a good time."

Nat grins, stepping back and giving you an approving once-over. "That’s the spirit. Let’s make tonight one to remember."

And as you grab your jacket and head for the door, you know one thing for sure: whatever happens tonight, you’re walking in there on your own terms. <><><><><><><> Crowded.

That was probably the only word that could remotely describe the scene in front of you. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of leather, fishnet, black band tees, combat boots, and patches sewn onto worn-out denim jackets. The crowd seemed endless, bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy bass thumping through the massive speakers. It was as if the entire city had poured into this venue, all drawn to the electric energy of the night. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke from someone sneaking a smoke break in the corner.

The venue itself was a cavernous, industrial space—an old warehouse repurposed into a music hall. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and metal railings lined the second-floor balcony where people leaned over, drinks in hand, watching the stage below. The walls were painted in dark, muted colors, and the dim lighting only served to heighten the sense of anticipation. Neon signs flickered above the bar, casting a ghostly glow across the crowd, while the stage at the far end of the room was bathed in deep reds and purples, waiting for the main act to start.

Nat held your hand tightly as she wove her way through the throng of people, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. You followed closely behind her, trying to keep pace, though your eyes kept darting over the crowd, searching, whether you wanted them to or not. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were scanning for that familiar flash of blue hair—her hair.

You hated that you were doing it. Hated that even here, in the middle of what was supposed to be your night, you were still thinking about them. About him and her. And of course, Nat knew. She always knew. She didn’t even have to say anything; she just gave your hand an extra squeeze, her silent way of telling you she understood.

She always understands, you think. Nat knows you better than you know yourself most days.

Finally reaching the bar, Nat let go of your hand and flagged down the bartender. The music was loud- Someone’s voice already blaring through the speakers as the opening band wrapped up their final song—but even over the noise, you could hear Nat’s shout. "Two shots of tequila!" she ordered, not bothering to ask if you wanted one. She knew you did.

You leaned against the bar, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at you since you walked in. It was stupid to let him—and her—invade your mind like this. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken anymore. The relationship had been dead for months, and you knew it. But here, tonight, knowing they were somewhere in the crowd at the same concert you’d been looking forward to for weeks? It felt like a sick cosmic joke.

The thought made your stomach twist. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose and forget about him. About them. But all you could think about was the fact that they might be here, just a few feet away, holding hands like you used to, maybe even in the same spot you and he had planned to stand.

"Here," Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts as she handed you a shot. "To assholes who don’t deserve your energy," she said, raising her glass.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "To assholes," you repeated, clinking your glass against hers before throwing the shot back. The tequila burned its way down your throat, but it was exactly what you needed. A little fire to match the one brewing in your chest.

The music shifted as the opening band finished their set, and the energy in the room changed. The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation. You turned toward the stage, watching as the roadies scurried around, setting up for Remy LeBeau. You could feel the excitement building, the air practically vibrating with it.

And then, the lights flashed once, twice, and a single spotlight hit the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers and screams as Remy himself stepped out, swaggering to the microphone with a confidence that could only belong to a rockstar. His presence was magnetic—dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his voice... oh, his voice.

Deep. Gritty. Raw.

It thundered through the venue, shaking the very walls as he belted out the opening lines of his first song. The crowd surged forward, bodies pressed even closer together, arms raised, hands reaching for the stage. The bass pounded in your chest, the drums a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. You could feel the music in your bones, vibrating through your skin, drowning out every other thought.

Nat handed you another drink, this time a beer, and you took it gratefully, letting the cold liquid wash away the heat from the shot. You both stood there at the bar, watching the stage, the music wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you forgot about him. You forgot about her. It was just you, Nat, and the music.

"God, he’s so fucking good live," Nat shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she sipped her drink.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. Yeah, he was good. Really good. And for the first time tonight, you felt yourself relax, even if only a little.

But still, there was that nagging thought in the back of your mind. You glanced around the venue again, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t that you were upset about the breakup itself. You’d moved past that. What pissed you off was that he had the nerve to bring her here. To the concert you were supposed to go to. It felt like a deliberate move, like he wanted you to see them together, to rub it in your face.

Nat caught you looking around and rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she said, nudging you with her elbow. "They don’t matter. You matter. And tonight is about having fun, okay?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. She was always right.

"Okay," you said, offering her a small smile. "I’m done. I swear."

"Good," she replied with a grin, taking another swig of her drink. "Because tonight, we’re here to get drunk, scream along to some killer music, and remind you exactly who the fuck you are."

As Remy’s voice echoed through the venue, the music engulfing both of you, you decided that maybe—just maybe—you could let yourself enjoy this. You were here for you. For Nat. For the music. Not for him. Not for her. It was halfway through the fourth song, the chorus echoing through the packed venue, when you saw it. That unmistakable flash of blue hair cutting through the crowd like a knife. Your heart, which had been pounding with the rhythm of the music, suddenly felt like it had missed a beat.

And there he was—right behind her, laughing, his flushed cheeks glowing under the stage lights. His arm was casually draped around her shoulder, the same way it used to rest around yours, and the sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The tequila and beer you’d been enjoying just minutes earlier suddenly felt too heavy, like a stone sinking in your gut.

You and Nat had been singing along, swaying to the music, your voices blending with the hundreds of others around you. It had been a good moment. No, it had been a great moment. You were finally letting go, letting the music take you somewhere far away from him, from them. But now, that bubble had popped, and the reality of seeing them together, in your space, shattered the fragile sense of peace you’d been clinging to.

They were making their way toward you, pushing through the mass of bodies with casual arrogance. You could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw you—his steps faltering just for a moment before he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She paused too, her gaze finally landing on you, and for a brief second, you could see the hesitation in her face. But then they kept moving, like they had every right to be in your orbit.

You raised your drink to your lips, taking a large, deliberate sip, trying to calm the surge of anger rising in your chest. It hadn’t even been a full day. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from you in that dingy café and called it quits. And now here he was, parading her around like some kind of victory lap.

The audacity, the fucking audacity of it all, made your blood boil. You weren’t heartbroken—no, that wasn’t it. You’d been ready for the end. What you weren’t ready for was this. Him, swinging her around like a prize, like he hadn’t just destroyed six years of history and walked away like it was nothing.

Nat saw it too—the way your grip tightened on your glass, the way your jaw clenched as they got closer. She didn’t say anything, but you caught the look she shot you out of the corner of your eye. She knew that glint in your eyes, knew what it meant. It was the same look you got right before you were about to do something reckless. Or, more accurately, something that was probably going to get you both kicked out of the venue.

"You okay?" Nat asked, her voice low, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

Before you could respond, they were standing right in front of you. Him and her. The blue-haired girl who had been a shadow in the background of your life for months, and now was front and center, arm-in-arm with your ex.

"Hey," he said, because of course he would. His voice was casual, like he wasn’t standing there with the woman he’d emotionally cheated on you with, like he hadn’t just blown up your entire relationship less than a day ago. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. Didn’t think I’d see you here? The nerve of him acting like this was some kind of chance meeting, like he hadn’t known exactly where you’d be tonight. The tickets had been your idea in the first place. He knew. He fucking knew.

Nat shifted beside you, her hand subtly brushing against your arm like a warning, but you were already too far gone. That anger, that bitterness, it was bubbling up faster than you could control it, and there was no way in hell you were going to let this slide.

"Really?" you replied, your voice sweet with an edge of venom. "Didn’t think you’d see me here? At the concert I bought tickets for? The one we were supposed to go to together?"

He had the decency to at least look uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, just stood there, her blue hair framing her face, her expression unreadable. You weren’t even mad at her, not really. This was his mess.

"Look, I didn’t want it to be weird—" he started, but you were already done.

Without saying a word, you lifted your drink, the cold condensation dripping down your fingers, and poured it over his head. The liquid splashed over his blond hair, soaking into his shirt, and for a split second, the entire world seemed to go silent. His mouth dropped open in shock, and the people around you gasped, some even laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Nat’s eyes went wide, but you could see the admiration behind her surprise. She knew this was coming, and honestly? So did you.

"Oops," you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Guess I didn’t see you there."

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You grabbed Nat’s hand and spun on your heel, pulling her away from the bar, away from them, and into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the two of you practically sprinted toward the back of the venue, weaving your way through the sea of people.

By the time you stopped, both of you were breathless, and Nat was laughing so hard she had to lean against a nearby wall to catch her breath. "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was... that was fucking epic."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension in your chest finally releasing as you leaned against her, the two of you a giggling mess. It felt good. It felt really good. For the first time all night, you felt like you had control over something. You weren’t just reacting. You were choosing how this night was going to go. And if that meant getting a little messy, so be it.

As your laughter finally started to die down, you glanced back toward the stage, still riding the high of the moment. And that’s when you saw him—Remy. He was looking straight at you from the stage, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, like he’d seen the whole thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

For a second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you—his grin, your flushed cheeks, and the thrum of the music vibrating in the air around you. There was something in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken again, but not in anger this time. No, this was different.

Nat nudged you with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her face. "Looks like someone’s got an admirer," she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your own face was impossible to hide. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all. The concert had ended, but the adrenaline from the night still buzzed through your veins like an electric current. You and Nat were stumbling out of the packed venue, laughing uncontrollably, replaying the entire night’s events in your heads. The music still echoed in your ears, and your bodies still thrummed with the energy of the crowd, the lights, and that moment when you’d dumped your drink over your ex’s head. It had been perfect—like something out of a movie—and you couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer audacity of it all.

"Did you see his face?" Nat cackled, leaning against you as you both pushed through the departing crowd. "Like, I don’t think he’s ever been so shocked in his life. You actually—" she paused, wiping a tear from her eye, "—you fucking drowned him!"

You were still giggling, the satisfaction blooming in your chest. "I mean, he deserved it. Who brings the girl they cheated with to the same concert as their ex? I did him a favor, honestly." Nat was about to respond when you both noticed the man pushing his way through the sea of people toward you. He was hard to miss: a burly, balding guy in a black shirt, wearing a lanyard and an earpiece, the telltale signs of venue security. The sight of him was enough to send a jolt of panic through your body, and you instinctively grabbed Nat’s arm.

You exchanged a look—both of you wide-eyed with matching oh shit expressions. There was no way this wasn’t about what had just happened at the bar. Shit, shit, shit.

"Uh, what do we do?" you whispered under your breath, trying to calculate your chances of slipping away unnoticed. But it was too late. The security guard had already spotted you.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, clearly annoyed but not quite angry. He exhaled sharply and jerked his head toward the back of the venue. "Come with me," he said, his voice gruff, leaving no room for argument.

You and Nat exchanged another glance, this time your heart sinking. Oh, great. Here we go. You opened your mouth to protest, trying to play it cool. "Uh, yeah, I don’t really go anywhere with strange men. Learned that one a long time ago."

The security guard rolled his eyes so hard you worried they might get stuck. "Mr. LeBeau wants to see you," he said, his voice low but firm, like he had better things to do than argue with you.

That stopped you cold. "What?" you said, blinking, any thoughts of running or playing dumb immediately evaporating. Your brain tried to catch up with the words, but they didn’t make sense. "Mr. LeBeau" as in... Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau who had been up on stage not twenty minutes ago, singing his heart out, making the entire venue lose their minds?

Nat’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, clearly as stunned as you were. "Like, Remy Remy? The guy we just watched? Wants to see... us?"

The security guard gave a curt nod, clearly unimpressed by your confusion. "Yeah. He saw what you did at the bar." He smirked a little, like he couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. "Said it was the highlight of his night."

Your heart was pounding now, but for an entirely different reason. You could still picture Remy’s face from earlier, that moment after you’d drenched your ex. He’d been singing, but he’d seen you—grinning down from the stage with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he was in on the joke. And now he wanted to see you. You.

Nat was already tugging at your arm. "Holy shit, we have to go," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Are you kidding me? The man himself wants to meet you!"

Your mind was spinning, a dizzy mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of fever dream. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting in a café getting dumped by your ex, and now... now you were about to meet a rockstar. The rockstar.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Okay," you said, your voice shaky but determined. There was no way you were going to pass this up. Not after everything that had happened tonight. "Okay, let’s go."

The security guard turned on his heel and led the way, weaving through the last remnants of the crowd as you and Nat followed closely behind. You could feel your heart racing, your palms slightly sweaty as you tried to process what was about to happen.

"Remy LeBeau," Nat whispered, half to herself, half to you, as you walked. "Dude, what the hell is even happening right now?"

"I have no idea," you muttered, glancing down at your outfit, suddenly feeling both excited and self-conscious. The adrenaline from earlier was still humming through your veins, but now it had turned into something else. Nerves. Anticipation.

The security guard stopped at a door near the back of the venue, nodding to another guard who waved you through without hesitation. You stepped inside, and the noise of the venue faded behind you, replaced by the quieter, more intimate hum of the backstage area. The walls were lined with posters and equipment cases, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat lingering in the air.

And then, there he was.

Remy LeBeau.

He stood near the back of the room, leaning casually against a table as if he hadn’t just performed in front of hundreds of people. His dark hair was still damp with sweat, and he had a half-smile on his lips, that same mischievous look in his eyes that you’d noticed from the stage. He was just as magnetic up close as he had been from afar, his presence filling the room without even trying.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Th’ girl who made my night." His eyes flicked over to Nat, acknowledging her but clearly focused on you. "An’ her partner in crime, I assume?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Uh, yeah, that was... me," you said, trying to play it cool but knowing full well you were probably failing miserably.

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the table, walking toward you with an easy confidence. "I got’ta say," he continued, "I’ve seen a’lo’ of crazy shit in my time, but tha’..." He shook his head, grinning. "Tha’ was somethin’ special."

Nat nudged you, her eyes wide with excitement, and you could feel your face flush with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little breathless. "It felt pretty damn good."

Remy raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Y’re a firecracker, aren’ y’?" He glanced between you and Nat, then back at you. "I like tha’."

For a moment, you just stood there, not entirely sure what to say. This was surreal. You were standing in front of Remy LeBeau, who had not only witnessed your dramatic confrontation with your ex but had actually enjoyed it. And now he was talking to you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

Nat, as usual, broke the silence first. "So, uh, what now?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Remy tilted his head, still watching you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I wa’ thinkin’," he said slowly, "y’ two seem like the kin’a girls who know how t’ have a good time. And I’m not quite ready for the night t’ end." He flashed a grin. "What do y’ say we grab a drink? My treat."

Your heart skipped a beat. This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable. You glanced at Nat, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then back at Remy.

"Yeah," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "We’d love that." The night had a dreamlike quality to it, a hazy mix of laughter, music still buzzing in your ears, and the steady pulse of alcohol warming your veins. You and Nat found yourselves sitting with the band long after most of the crowd had cleared out, the afterglow of the concert still lingering in the air. Empty bottles were strewn across the table, and the conversation was flowing easily, Nat animatedly explaining something to the drummer and bassist, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing out laughter from everyone around her.

But even amidst the easy banter, the shared stories, and the laughter, you could feel it—him. Remy’s eyes on you. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, like a heat that lingered on your skin. You were talking to the guitarist about some band you’d both seen live a few years ago, your conversation relaxed and casual, but every so often, you’d glance up, and there he’d be. Watching you.

Remy LeBeau.

There was something about him that pulled people in, a quiet magnetism that didn’t demand attention so much as command it. He wasn’t the type to shout or make a spectacle of himself, but when his eyes locked on you, it was as if everything else in the room faded away. He didn’t need to do anything more than smirk, that small, knowing curve of his lips, and it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just because he was a rockstar—though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was something deeper. Something in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it.

And now, he was watching you, that same smirk playing on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. You tried to focus on what the guitarist was saying, but it was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, the flutter in your stomach every time you caught Remy’s gaze.

It wasn’t long before Remy made his way over to you, slipping into the seat beside you with a kind of effortless grace. The guitarist gave him a nod and, sensing the shift in energy, excused himself to grab another drink, leaving you alone with Remy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still buzzing with energy, Nat’s laughter ringing out from across the table as she leaned into the drummer, her legs now casually draped over his thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles along her calves. You smiled at the sight of her, happy that she was enjoying herself. But when you turned back to Remy, your breath caught in your throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering hints of sweat from the concert.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you.

"Y’ having a good nigh’?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushed against your skin.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. "Yeah. Better than I expected, honestly."

"Tha’ so?" He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Didn’ think y’d end up backstage with a bunch of rockstars, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, definitely didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d spend the night drowning in cheap drinks and bad memories. Maybe even getting arrested for assault after the bar incident," You glanced briefly at Nat, still lost in her own world, then back at him. "But this... this is way better."

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, his smirk giving way to something a little more genuine. "Good. Y’ deserve better th’ bad memories and shit ex-boyfrien’s."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the tequila or the way his voice wrapped around the words like a promise, but suddenly, the room felt smaller, the space between you and him charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. "So, you always invite girls backstage who pour drinks on their exes?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Remy chuckled, leaning back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "No’ always. But y’... well, y’ caught my attention."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of boldness rise within you. "Oh yeah? What was it? The drink? The fishnets?"

He grinned, his eyes darkening slightly as he tilted his head. "Maybe it was the way y’ didn’ let him get th’ last word. Or maybe it’s th’ way you carry y’self, like y’ve got fire in y’." His voice lowered, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I like that."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. You could feel the tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you like a thread waiting to snap.

You glanced down at your drink, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his leg was brushing against yours under the table. The room was still full of people, but it felt like the two of you were in a bubble, separate from everything else. Your pulse quickened, and when you looked back up at him, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt it too.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretches out endlessly, where you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you know something is. You could feel the question lingering in the air—unspoken, but loud enough to drown out everything else.

And then, as if the decision had already been made, Remy leaned in just slightly, his voice low and rough. "Y’ wanna get out of here?"

It wasn’t a question so much as an invitation, one that hung between you like a challenge. Your heart was pounding now, your palms slightly sweaty as you held his gaze. You knew what he was asking, knew exactly where this was going. And despite the chaos of the night, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had started with seeing your ex, there was no hesitation in your mind.

You wanted this.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Remy’s smirk deepened, and without another word, he stood up, offering you his hand. You glanced over at Nat, who was still wrapped up with the drummer, her legs now fully draped across his lap, lost in her own world. She caught your eye for a brief moment and gave you a knowing grin, mouthing, Go.

You took Remy’s hand, letting him guide you through the backstage corridors, the noise of the room fading behind you as you walked. The air felt cooler as you moved away from the crowd, but the heat between the two of you only intensified with each step.

By the time you reached the door to his dressing room, your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of your chest. Every step you took down the corridor had been charged with anticipation, your pulse quickening with each second, each unspoken word between you and Remy. You could still feel the lingering heat of the room you'd just left, still hear the faint hum of voices and music filtering through the walls, but it all felt so distant now—like the world outside had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of heightened energy and unspoken desire.

Remy opened the door with an easy grace, his hand lingering on the handle as he gestured for you to step inside. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a lamp in the corner casting warm, golden light over the space. There was no harshness, no coldness—it felt intimate, like a place where secrets could be shared and moments could stretch into forever. The air in the room was cooler than the heat of the venue, but it was thick with something else, something palpable between you, something that had been building all night.

As you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the moment settling over you, a bittersweet mix of nerves and excitement surging through your veins. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint sounds of the distant music were muted, leaving only a soft hum in the background. It felt like a cocoon, a space where the outside world no longer existed, where the chaos and noise of the night couldn’t reach you.

You turned to face him, and that fragile tension—so carefully held in check since the moment you had caught him watching you from the stage—finally snapped. The charged atmosphere between you suddenly ignited, and in the span of a breath, Remy closed the distance between you. His movements were deliberate but urgent, a man who had been waiting for this as much as you had. His hands, strong and sure, slid around your waist, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

Then, his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, as if both of you were feeling out the boundaries of this moment. But it didn’t stay soft for long. The urgency that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise, like a flame fanned by a gust of wind. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pulled him closer, needing him closer. His breath hitched as your fingers slid through the strands, and you could feel the way his body responded to your touch, the way his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

And just like that, everything else fell away.

The music, the crowd, the chaos of the night—it all melted into the background, like a distant memory that no longer mattered. All that existed was the heat between your bodies, the taste of him on your lips, the way his hands roamed over your back, exploring, wanting. Each kiss, each touch, sent sparks of electricity shooting through you, lighting up every nerve, every inch of your skin. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, like the night had been building to this moment all along.

You weren’t thinking about your ex anymore. He had been nothing more than a brief, bitter distraction, a fleeting shadow that had been erased by the intensity of what was happening now. You weren’t thinking about the way his arm had been slung around her shoulders, or the way they had laughed as if you didn’t exist. That whole mess, that entire chapter of your life, felt miles away—insignificant in the face of what you were feeling now.

All you could focus on was Remy—the way his hands moved over your skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts between kisses. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care. You had never felt so alive, so seen, as you did in that moment, with him.

There was something intoxicating about the way he touched you, like he was both savoring every second and barely able to contain himself. His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours sending another jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat, and when his lips found yours again, it was like the world tilted on its axis, spinning faster, pulling you deeper into the gravity of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch, to bend around you, making every second feel heavy with possibility. You could feel the weight of his desire in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, closer—like he couldn’t get enough. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this moment to end.

Your back hit the wall gently, and before you knew it, his body was pressed against yours, his hands framing your face as he kissed you with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell in time with your own ragged breaths. It was all-consuming, the kind of connection that made everything else fade into oblivion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt free—untethered from the weight of your past, from the pain of your ex, from the expectations you had placed on yourself. With Remy, it was different. It was easy. It was exactly what you hadn’t realized you needed.

And as his hands slid lower, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering something low and full of promise, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment, to him. “Fuck,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with lust, dripping with raw desire. His accent was heavier now, his words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, one meant only for you. “Y’re so fucking beautiful.”

The room around you seemed to fade, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls, isolating the two of you in this moment. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, but before you could even muster a response, Remy’s hands were on your thighs.

Strong, calloused hands slid up your legs, pushing them apart with deliberate ease, his touch firm but gentle, like he was savoring every second. Time seemed to slow as he sank to his knees before you, his body lowering gracefully, and the sight of him—Remy LeBeau, on his knees for you—made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips parted slightly, and you sucked in a breath. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world he wanted at this moment.

You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your shorts, teasing the fabric aside as he slipped beneath the hem, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your body responding instantly to his proximity, to the heat of his breath against your skin.

"Remy," you breathed, your voice barely audible, strained and shaky, trembling with need. Your eyes locked onto his, and the way he looked up at you—kneeling before you like a worshipper at an altar—made your knees weak.

He grinned, that familiar, wicked curve of his lips that drove you wild, and without breaking eye contact, his fingers dipped further, tracing soft circles along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation running hot through your veins, every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch.

With one swift motion, his fingers slid beneath your shorts and into your underwear, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation. His touch was confident, practiced, knowing. He pressed his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you cry out. Your hips jerked involuntarily toward him, your body desperate for more, for everything he was giving you.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating against your skin. The sound of it sent another wave of heat coursing through you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in torturously slow strokes, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You could feel the tension building inside you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

Your body was trembling, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You were right on the edge, teetering there, your thighs trembling against his hands, your entire body aching with the need to come. You could feel it building, that sweet, aching pressure deep in your core, and you moaned, your voice a broken plea.

But just when you were about to tip over into bliss, Remy’s fingers withdrew, leaving you gasping, your body trembling, your mind reeling from the sudden loss of contact. You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, your body still throbbing with need, and you stared down at him, your chest heaving.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desperation, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Don’t stop." You could barely form the words, your body crying out for more, for him.

Remy’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes dark with amusement and promise as he slowly stood, his body towering over you now, casting a long shadow in the dim light. His fingers, still slick with you, brushed against your lip for the briefest moment before he wiped them on his jeans, never once breaking eye contact. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, something that made your pulse quicken all over again, your body aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise, each word sending shivers down your spine. He reached down, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment, the touch strangely tender considering the hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers slid down your jaw, tracing the line of your neck, lingering there as if feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved lower, over your collarbone, down the curve of your chest, before settling at the hem of your shirt. He tugged at it gently, his eyes flicking to yours, silently asking for permission. Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, your body already aching for more of him, already craving the feel of his skin against yours.

In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, casting it aside without a second thought. You were bare before him now, and the way his eyes roamed over your body, dark and intense, made your skin flush with heat. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel his breath, warm and heavy against your skin.

His hands, large and sure, moved to your waist, pulling you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was deep and demanding. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue sliding between your lips, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers as he held you close.

The kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate, as your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction sent another wave of desire crashing through you, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Remy broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m gonn’ make y’ scream my name tonight." His voice was a low growl, full of promise, and the sound of it made your core tighten with anticipation.

You were already lost to him, already craving everything he had promised. Your body trembled with the need to feel him inside you, to have him everywhere all at once. You could barely think, barely breathe, as he guided you backward toward the couch, his hands never leaving your body, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When your legs hit the edge of the couch, you sank down onto it, your body trembling with anticipation. Remy stood over you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his chest broad, his muscles taut, every inch of him exuding raw, masculine power.

He lowered himself onto the couch, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding your skin once more. The weight of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours, sent another wave of desire crashing through you. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you arched into his touch, your body aching for more, for everything he had to give. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, with a possessive intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. There was something about the way Remy touched you—like he was memorizing you, staking his claim with every brush of his fingers. His palms slid up your sides, tracing the lines of your body, before cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow at first, teasing, until they hardened into tight peaks beneath his touch. The sensation pulled a low moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily as you pressed yourself against him, craving more.

His mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent, his tongue moving against yours in a dance that was equal parts dominance and submission. It was a battle for control, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to win. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Every kiss, every touch, was like gasoline poured on an already roaring fire, and you were both more than willing to let it burn.

"Y; taste so good," Remy murmured against your lips, his voice rough and gravelly, thick with desire. His breath was hot as it ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words made your pulse quicken, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Before you could respond, his hand began its descent, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, and then dipping beneath it, his touch featherlight but full of promise. The anticipation made your thighs clench, your body aching for him to touch you where you needed him most.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively lifting toward him. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core as his fingers began to move, stroking you with expert precision. He found your clit almost immediately, circling it with his thumb in slow, deliberate movements that made your breath hitch and your body tremble.

"Remy," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling as he touched you. His fingers pressed deeper, probing, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and your body responded instantly, arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He watched you as he worked, his eyes dark and filled with lust, taking in every reaction, every gasp, every moan. There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at you, like he was savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath him. His thumb moved faster now, circling your clit with a pressure that was both perfect and overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Please…" you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting closer, your entire body taut with anticipation, teetering on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to tip over, Remy pulled back, his fingers slipping away, leaving you gasping, your body aching with need. Your eyes flew open, wide and desperate, and you looked up at him, your chest heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Beg f’r it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, commanding edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and for a moment, your pride flared up, making you hesitate. But the need was too strong, too overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of you.

"Please, Remy," you whispered, your voice trembling, your body trembling. "Please, make me come."

There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Tha’ my girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, and then his mouth was on you.

He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he removed your shorts, leaving you fully exposed to him. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth descended on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a speed and precision that made you cry out. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands as you held on for dear life, your body trembling beneath the onslaught of sensation.

Remy devoured you like a man starved, his tongue working you with an intensity that bordered on desperate. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue, driving you absolutely wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, your body moving on its own as you chased the pleasure, the tension inside you building higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely coherent, your body trembling uncontrollably as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too intense, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. You were desperate for release, your thighs shaking, your nerves singing with pleasure as his tongue moved faster, pushing you right to the brink.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. "I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let up. His tongue continued its relentless assault, flicking over your clit with a speed and precision that left you gasping for breath. He was merciless, pushing you closer and closer until finally, with a shuddering gasp, you came. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under, your body convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you in uncontrollable, shuddering waves.

You cried out, your vision blurring as the intensity of it overwhelmed you, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But Remy didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, softer now but still persistent, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were left gasping, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were barely aware of your surroundings as you came down from the high, your body still trembling, your thighs slick with sweat and the aftermath of your release. Remy’s hands slid up your legs, soothing now, his touch gentle as he kissed his way up your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

When he finally reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, unhurried way that sent a new wave of heat through your body. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just happened, and it made your already racing heart pound even harder.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down at you. "I’m not done with y’ yet," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes sent another jolt of anticipation through you. You knew he meant every word, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you realized you didn’t want him to stop.

Not tonight. Not ever. He held your gaze, eyes dark and unyielding, the weight of his presence suffocating in the most delicious way. His body was close, too close, the heat rolling off him in waves that made your skin prickle with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me what y’ wan’."

The command hung in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you couldn��t breathe. Your heart thundered in your chest, the words you desperately wanted to say caught in your throat. But his gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, demanding your confession. You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you finally gave in to the desire burning inside you.

"I want…" you hesitated, the flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but the raw need in his eyes pushed you forward. "I want you to spank me," you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to be my Daddy."

A slow, predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, sending a thrill of anticipation through you. He moved closer, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the soft cushions of the couch. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel thick and heavy.

"Tha’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with unmistakable pride. The praise wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your skin tingle. "Y’re going to be such a good girl fo’ Daddy, aren’ y’?"

Your throat was tight, but you nodded, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, Daddy." His smile widened, a dark, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes as his hands slid slowly down your body, fingertips grazing your skin with deliberate intent. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation through you, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body as though you were his to command—and you were.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice low, authoritative, and laced with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You stood up, the cool air brushing against your skin, making you feel exposed in the most thrilling way. But there was no hesitation in your movements. You held his gaze, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips as you obeyed, the desire in his eyes only fueling the heat pooling deep in your stomach. The intensity of his stare, the hunger he didn’t bother to hide, made your body hum with anticipation.

"You ready for Daddy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your core tighten with need.

You nodded, your breath coming in short bursts as you braced yourself, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you. The tension coiled in your muscles, every nerve on high alert as you waited for the first strike.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. The sting of it spread across your ass, sharp and hot, and you gasped, your body jerking forward from the force. But there was no time to adjust, no time to catch your breath—his hand was already coming down again, harder this time.

The rhythm he set was punishing, each slap harder than the last, the sharp pain blending beautifully into the growing pleasure. Your skin burned where his hand struck, the heat blooming in waves that spread through your entire body. You moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, pushing back toward him, craving more.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice soothing but firm, like he was rewarding your submission even as his hand came down again. "Taking it so well for Daddy."

The praise made your chest tighten with something heady and warm, your core throbbing with need. You could feel the wetness between your thighs growing, the ache there intensifying with each slap. The mix of pain and pleasure, of his control and your willingness to submit, was intoxicating. Your mind was spinning, lost in the haze of sensation as your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, your skin tingling with every strike, the heat radiating from your ass as his hand continued its relentless assault. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. The pain was delicious, sharp and biting, but it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

Remy’s hand finally stilled, resting against your heated skin, his fingers brushing over the marks he’d left. The gentleness of his touch after the punishment made your breath hitch, sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel your body trembling, teetering on the edge of something raw and powerful.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.

Your legs were shaking as you obeyed, turning to face him on the couch. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from the spanking as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He looked down at you like you were his possession, something precious and fragile but also something he could break if he wanted to.

"Daddy’s proud of y’" he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. The words sent a ripple of warmth through you, making your skin flush with pride. But then his expression shifted, darkening with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. "But Daddy needs to hear y’ beg."

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you looked up at him, your mind spinning with the mixture of fear and anticipation. The weight of his command hung heavy in the air, and you knew there was no escaping it. You wanted to beg. Needed to.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, make me come."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped closer, looming over you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your throat. His grip was firm but gentle as his fingers curled around your neck, his thumb brushing over the rapid pulse at your throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with approval. The words he spoke made your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that left you feeling both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You were his, completely in this moment, but knowing that you still held the reins—that he was listening, that he would stop if you asked—made your body tingle with anticipation. His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough for your breath to hitch, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you. Every nerve in your body was alight, your skin buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop. You double tap if you need me to stop," he said softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through you. The reassurance grounded you, a reminder that despite the intensity, this was still your choice. The control you had over the situation only made your submission all the more intoxicating. You wanted this, craved it, and he knew it.

The sensation of his hand around your throat was overwhelming, the pressure making your pulse race beneath his fingers. It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—it was the power in his touch, the way it made you feel utterly exposed and completely his. Your body responded instantly, a flood of heat pooling between your legs as his thumb brushed over your pulse. The world felt smaller, quieter, like nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the way his hand made you submit so completely.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper that made your stomach tighten with desire. "I wan’ta see those pretty eyes on me when you beg, baby."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling at the raw hunger in his voice. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the air as you struggled to catch your breath. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, and your eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

"Look a’ me," he growled, his voice low and demanding, and the way he said it made your heart lurch in your chest.

Your gaze locked with his, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel heavy, like it was pressing down on you. His eyes were dark, filled with fierce possession, and the look he gave you made your entire body hum with need. Your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to hold his gaze. It was almost too much, the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he wanted to consume you whole.

The pressure of his hand around your throat made your head spin, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire swirling inside you. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as your body throbbed with anticipation. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as you focused entirely on the feeling of his hand on your throat, on the way your body responded to his touch.

"Beg," he growled, his voice thick with authority, the single word sending a wave of heat crashing through you. "Beg Daddy to make y’ come."

You whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to find the words. The need inside you was overwhelming, consuming, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. "Please," you gasped, your voice shaking as his grip tightened just a little more. "Please, Daddy… I need you. Please make me come."

The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate, unmistakable. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the frantic beating of your heart beneath his fingers as he loosened his grip just enough for you to breathe again. His mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched the way you trembled beneath him.

"Oh you beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and approval. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body reacting to his words as much as his touch. His hand moved from your throat, trailing down your body, his fingers brushing over every inch of bare skin with deliberate slowness, like he was savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

He sank to his knees between your legs, and the anticipation made your breath catch in your throat. You barely had time to process the shift before his mouth was on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that made your body jerk in response. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers curling into the dark strands as you held on, desperate for more.

The way his tongue moved—deliberate, intense, relentless—was driving you wild. Each flick, each stroke, sent you spiraling higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to hold yourself together. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking as he worked you with expert precision, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "I’m gonna—"

But he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its assault, his tongue flicking over your clit with unrelenting speed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, with a final flick of his tongue, you came undone. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping for air, your body convulsing as the pleasure tore through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice soothing, grounding you as you came down from the high. "Take it, baby. Take everything Daddy gives you."

Each word was like a balm, softening the sharp edges of your pleasure, grounding you as the intensity began to fade. But your body was still trembling, still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you could feel the heat between your legs still pulsing with need.

Your heart was still racing, your body trembling from the echo of the last orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes told you this wasn’t over. Far from it. The kiss he gave you was searing, possessive, but it was also a promise—one that left you breathless and aching for more. His hands still roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every sensitive spot, every place that made you tremble. You could feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his touch lingered with purpose, pushing you closer to an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face—but you wanted to, needed to.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something almost predatory. His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze flicking between your eyes as if searching for a sign. A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, unwavering confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

"Y’ can take more," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I know y’ can. Y’re such a good girl, and I’m not done with y’ yet."

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat in your stomach flaring to life again as your body responded to his command. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your chin tightened, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "Tell me y’ can take it for Daddy."

"I can," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I can take it for you, Daddy."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more before sliding down your throat, lingering there for a moment as if to remind you of the control he held over your body. The pressure was light, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to remind you how easy it would be for him to take you further than you’d ever gone before.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a ripple of heat through your body. "Now get on your knees."

His command was simple, but the weight of it was overwhelming. Your legs were still shaky, your body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but you obeyed, sliding off the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. The feeling of the cool floor beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off your skin, grounding you even as your mind spun with anticipation.

Remy towered over you, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with dark desire, and the way he watched you—like a predator watching its prey—made your heart race even faster. You felt small beneath him, vulnerable, but it only fueled the aching need inside you. You wanted to please him, to give him everything he asked for.

"D’y know what I want, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

Your mouth felt dry, your voice barely a whisper as you answered. "No, Daddy. Tell me."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I wan’t see how far I can push y’," he said, his tone dark and full of promise. "I want to see y’ break for me, but y’re going to ask for it. Y’re going to beg me to take y’ there."

The words hit you like a wave, the meaning behind them settling deep in your core. He wasn’t just going to push you—he was going to make you want it, make you beg for it. The thought made your stomach twist with anticipation, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as you knelt before him, waiting for his next move.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Open y’ mouth," he ordered, his voice soft, but the command in it was unmistakable.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability of the position you were in, the way he was looking down at you as though he owned you, made your entire body burn with need. You wanted him to take you further, wanted him to push your limits in ways you’d never imagined.

He slid two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he watched you intently. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and you closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently as you gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he watched you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

Your body responded instantly to the praise, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you as you sucked harder on his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. His eyes darkened, and you could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he was reveling in the control he had over you.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath as your lips parted with a soft, wet sound. His thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the moisture before he tilted your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Y’re going to beg for this," he said, his voice low and commanding. "’nd y’re not going to stop until I’m ready to give it to y’."

The heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body trembling with need as his words sank in. You wanted to beg, wanted to give him everything he asked for, but your voice felt trapped in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please… I need you."

His smile widened, dark and predatory, as he stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, and the way he looked down at you made your heart race even faster.

"I know y’ do," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with authority. "But y’’re going to have to work for it, baby. Show me how much y’ want it."

With that, he unzipped his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling with anticipation as he freed himself, his cock hard and thick, the sight of it making your mouth water.

He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the way your breath quickened, the way your body responded to the sight of him. Then, without warning, he gripped the back of your neck again, guiding you toward him.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your lips parted instantly, your body moving on instinct as he guided his cock into your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, and you moaned around him, your body trembling with need as you took him deeper.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he watched you. "Take it all for Daddy."

You did your best to obey, your throat constricting as he pushed deeper, the sensation making your eyes water. But you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to please him, to show him how much you could take.

His grip on your neck tightened as he began to move, thrusting slowly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of the moment, the way he was using you, made your body burn with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

"Look at y’," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the degradation. You could feel your pussy throbbing, the need for release consuming you as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs as you tried to take him deeper, the pleasure and pain blending together in a way that made your head spin. You could feel your body trembling, your vision blurring with the intensity of it all, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"Beg for it," he growled again, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg Daddy to let you come."

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice shaking as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please let me come. I need it."

His eyes darkened, his expression filled with satisfaction as he watched you. "Y’ll come when I say y’ can," he growled, his voice thick with authority. "And not a second before."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your body trembling with the need to obey. You didn’t know how much more you could take, but you trusted him to push you to your limit—to give you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know what that was yet.

"Now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as his grip tightened on your neck. "Let’s see how far I can take y’." Remy’s presence loomed over you, dark and intoxicating, his eyes gleaming with something primal, something that made your heart race and your body ache with need. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he held over you. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every second of your submission, sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, cher," he murmured, his deep Cajun drawl thick and dripping with honey, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You think you’re ready for more, but you gon’ have to beg me real sweet. I wanna hear how much you need it."

His accent wrapped around you like a sultry summer night, the smooth cadence of his voice making the air around you feel heavy and thick. The sound of his words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the way his voice dripped with authority, with promise.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Remy, I need more."

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of your neck, lingering over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers.

"More?" he repeated, his accent lingering on the word, making it sound almost like a tease. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "I don’t know if you can handle more, cher. But you gon’ prove it to me, non?"

You nodded quickly, eager, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you fought to hold his gaze. Your body was trembling, every nerve alight with anticipation, with the need to be pushed further, to see just how far he could take you.

Remy tilted his head, his smirk widening as he studied you, his thumb pressing a little harder against your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. "Y’ gon’ beg me. Beg me proper. Tell Daddy exactly what y’ need."

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his words coiled around you like a snake. The way his accent made every word sound like a command, left you desperate, aching for whatever he was willing to give.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please push me. I need it. I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, satisfaction flashing across his face as he released your throat and let his hand trail down your body. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as they traced the curve of your hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Bon," he murmured, his voice low and full of approval. "That’s my good girl. Y’ wanna be pushed till y’ can’t take no more, hmm? Y’ wanna see how far Daddy can take y’?"

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved lower, teasingly slow, inching toward the heat between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as you waited for his touch, for him to take control again.

"You gon’ ask for everythin’, cher. Every. Damn. Thing," he growled, his voice thick with his Cajun drawl, each word dripping with dominance. "An’ you ain’t stoppin’ till Daddy says so."

His fingers finally brushed over your clit, and you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden contact. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. You needed more, craved more, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, your body shaking as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements. "Please… more."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, his accent thick as honey as he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You want more? You gon’ have to work for it. Show me how bad you need it."

He began to circle your clit with maddening slowness, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to give you relief. The frustration built inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up toward his hand, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"No, no, cher," he drawled, his voice a low purr. "You don’t get to move till I say so. You gon’ take what I give you, and you gon’ be a good girl while you do it."

The dominance in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every sensation, made your head spin. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, but he wasn’t letting you have anything more than a taste. Your body was desperate for release, but you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you without making you beg for it.

"Please," you gasped, your voice breaking as you struggled to keep still beneath him. "Please, Remy, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—just, please, I need more."

He chuckled again, a dark, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. "That’s better. But I don’t think y’ beggin’ hard enough, non? I wanna hear y’ cry for me. I wanna hear that desperation."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble, but still, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed him to take you over the edge, to push you further than you’d ever been before.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to his wrist, but he didn’t let up, didn’t give you an inch of control. You were his, completely, and the knowledge of that made you tremble with need.

"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please make me come. I need it. I need you."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "Ah, there she is," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he began to thrust with a relentless, punishing rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building so quickly that it left you gasping for air, your body arching up against him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But even as your body trembled, even as the pleasure threatened to consume you, he didn’t let you have it. He kept you right on the edge, his movements precise, controlled, designed to keep you teetering on the brink without ever falling over.

"Y’ feel that?" he growled, his voice low and rough, his accent thick with desire. "Y’ right there, but you don’t get to come till I say so. Y’ gon’ take everythin’ I give y’, an’ y’ gon’ thank me for it."

Your body was shaking, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you fought to hold on, to stay in control, but it was impossible. The sensation of his fingers inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice—it was all too much.

"Please," you cried, your voice breaking as you begged him for release. "Please, Daddy, please let me come. I can’t take it anymore."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grin widening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then come for me, cher," he growled, his accent thick and commanding. "Come for Daddy."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped, the orgasm crashing over you with such force that it left you gasping for air. Your body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of your release. "Good girl, bébé. Y’ take what Daddy gives you."

Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as you rode out the orgasm, your mind spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You barely registered Remy’s thumb brushing over your swollen lips, or the way his grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as you came down from the high.

But even as your body began to relax, even as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, you knew that Remy wasn’t done. Not yet.

Remy's eyes burned with a heat that almost made you shy away, but the pull between you two was undeniable. His Cajun accent was thick, dripping with lust as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. You knew you were walking on the edge now, and he was about to push you over.

"Ah, cher," he drawled, his voice thick like molasses, rich and smooth, "y’ been beggin' so sweet, but now you gon’ really see what it means to be mine." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you close until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. "Y’ ready for Daddy to fuck you like you need?"

Your answer came in the form of a ragged breath, your body pulsing with anticipation. Every nerve in your body was alive with the need for him, for the way he controlled you, the way he made you feel like no one else ever could. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it from you.

"I asked y’ a question, cher," he murmured, his lips brushing just against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with a kiss he hadn’t yet given. "Tell me what you want."

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body trembled under his touch. "Please, Daddy… I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as a feral smile tugged at his lips. "Bon," he growled. "That’s what I like to hear."

Without another word, his hands were on you, strong and commanding. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you breathless. Before you could process it, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the dresser with a confidence that only made the ache between your legs worse.

"Y’ feel that, cher?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, his accent wrapping around you like a caress. "You feel how hard I am for y’?" He ground his hips against you, and you could feel the thick length of him pressing against your core. The sensation made you gasp, your body arching into him as your need for him grew unbearable.

"Remy," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I can’t wait anymore."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pressed your back against the wall. "Oh, cher, you ain’t gotta wait no more. Daddy’s gon’ give you exactly what you been beggin’ for."

His hands were rough but reverent as they trailed up your thighs, spreading you open as he pinned you against the dresser with his body, completely at his mercy.

"You so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Been wantin’ this, haven’t ya? Wantin’ Daddy to take care of y’?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick folds. "Please, I need you."

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "I got y’, cher. I’m gon’ take care of y’ real good."

With that, he gripped himself, pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat, the wetness. The anticipation, the need, was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

"Look at y’," he murmured, his voice low and full of pride as he lined himself up with you, his cock teasing your soaked entrance. "Y’ ready for Daddy, bébé?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Remy… I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching you in ways that made your head spin. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, designed to push you to your absolute limit.

"Ah, cher," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Y’feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’ were made for this, weren’t ya? Made to take Daddy’s cock."

You could barely form words, the pleasure too intense, too all-consuming as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with a force that had you gasping for breath.

"Remy," you moaned, your head falling back against the wall as your body arched into him, your legs tightening around his waist. "Oh god…"

"That’s it, bébé," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sound of his voice, the way his accent dripped with authority, with ownership, only fueled the fire burning inside you. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body, bringing you closer to a release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. "Please, I’m so close…"

"Not yet, cher," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his pace, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall. "Y’ don’t come till I say. You gon’ wait for Daddy, you hear me?"

You whimpered, your body trembling with the need for release, but you nodded, knowing that you were his to control, to use as he saw fit.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m gon’ make y’ scream."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, his pace rough and relentless, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sensation was almost too much, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely, and it was driving you wild.

"Remy," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shake, the pressure inside you building to a breaking point. "I can’t… I need to come…"

"Y’ gon’ come for me, cher?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he pounded into you with a force that had you seeing stars. "Y’ gon’ come on Daddy’s cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled violently, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer. "Please… I’m gonna come…"

"Then come for me, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with command. "Come for Daddy."

With a final, shattering thrust, your body exploded, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your body convulsing against him as he held you steady, his hips never stopping as he fucked you through the orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

"That’s it, cher," he murmured, his voice full of pride as he watched you fall apart in his arms. "You did so good for Daddy."

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, Remy didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace relentless, and you could feel the tension building again inside you, another orgasm already creeping up on you. You didn’t think it was possible to come again so soon, but with Remy, anything was possible.

"One more, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with lust as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Give me one more."

Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drove you toward another release, his cock filling you completely with every powerful thrust. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the pleasure so intense that it left you gasping for air.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body began to shake again. "I can’t…"

"Yes, y’ can, cher," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Y’ gon’ give Daddy one more. Come for me again, bébé."

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped for a second time, the orgasm tearing through you with even more intensity than the first. You cried out, your body convulsing violently as the pleasure consumed you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Remy let out a low, rumbling growl as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you with a warmth that left you trembling. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm, his grip on you tight and possessive.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing, the both of you still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Remy’s hands were gentle now, soothing as they ran over your skin, grounding you as you came down from the high.

"Y’ did so good, cher," he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride as he kissed your temple. "Daddy’s so proud of y’."

You smiled weakly, your body completely spent but utterly satisfied. You were his, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Y’ mine now," he whispered, his Cajun drawl thick with satisfaction. "All mine." <><><><> Remy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smirk as you slowly dressed. His jeans were already on, though still unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. The room was dimly lit, but he could see the faint redness around your neck, the way your makeup had smudged slightly under your eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the torn fishnet stockings you were rolling up, defeated, before tossing them into the wastebasket.

"So, is this what you do?" you asked, a teasing edge to your voice as you glanced at him. "Find girls who amuse you and fuck them into submission?" You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Remy’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Only the ones I like," he replied smoothly, his Cajun accent thick and lazy. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "What about y’, cher? Is this how you normally spend your nights? Pour drinks on your ex and fuck like a rockstar?"

You shrugged, pulling on your shirt and noticing a button missing. With a sigh, you muttered, "Haven't fucked like a rockstar in a while." You tugged at the shirt, frowning at the missing button, and whispered to yourself, "Fuck it."

Without a word, Remy reached over to the floor, grabbed his own shirt, and handed it to you. "Here," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "They're all used to seein’ me shirtless anyway."

You glanced up at him, a little surprised, but took the shirt, slipping it on. His scent lingered on the fabric, and it felt oddly comforting. As you adjusted the shirt, your eyes trailed over the scratches on his back, the marks you’d left in the heat of the moment. "Sorry about those," you said, your voice softening slightly.

Remy shrugged it off, his smile easy. "Don’t worry ‘bout it. Battle scars, cher. Comes with the territory."

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with the remnants of your shared passion, but something more serious lingered beneath the surface. You glanced at him, chewing on your bottom lip before speaking again. "It’s funny… me and my ex—we were always trying to match each other’s crazy. But we never really did." You paused, pulling his shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the confession. "We tried, you know? But it was like… we were on different wavelengths. My crazy was too much for him, and his was never enough for me. We just didn’t fit."

Remy’s expression shifted, the playful smirk fading into something deeper, more thoughtful. He leaned back against the dresser, arms still crossed, but his eyes were locked on yours. "Mmm, I get that," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher. Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Exactly. It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it."

Remy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he’d heard that story a hundred times before. "Yeah, well," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, "I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way."

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, the lazy smirk returned to his lips, but there was something different behind it. Something more serious. More real. "That is… until tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel the air between you shift, thickening with something unspoken but undeniable. You didn’t say anything at first, the weight of his gaze holding you in place as the realization of what he was saying sank in.

"Until tonight?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure if you were asking a question or just echoing his words.

Remy’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you again. His hand found your waist, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Yeah, cher," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tonight, I think I found someone who can keep up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the quiet intensity in his voice. There was a challenge hidden in his tone, a promise that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. You could feel the fire between you two still smoldering, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze again.

You turned to face him fully, your body brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You sure about that, Remy?" you asked, your voice soft but steady. "You think I can match your crazy?"

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I think you might just be the one to burn me alive."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a challenge, with desire, with something neither of you could quite name but both of you could feel. You didn’t need to say anything more—there was no need for words now. The look in his eyes, the way his body pressed against yours, told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d met someone who was ready to dive into the storm with you, no matter how wild it got. Remy shrugged casually, his eyes still glinting with that lazy, mischievous smile as he leaned back against the dresser. "I’m in town for a few more nights," he said, his voice easy, like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "Then I gotta head off to Europe for a tour."

Your brow furrowed, unsure where he was going with this. Before you could ask, he glanced at you through half-lidded eyes, a hint of something more serious behind the playful exterior. "Y’ should come with me."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as if you hadn’t heard him right. "Wait, what?" you asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Remy chuckled, that low, rich sound that seemed to rumble from somewhere deep within him. "Yeah, cher, I’m serious. I like y’. A lot." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, "And I think it’s somethin’ I wanna explore."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure how to respond. Your heart skipped a beat, and a million thoughts raced through your mind all at once. Was he really asking you to come with him? To leave everything behind for a whirlwind adventure across Europe? The idea was insane—completely reckless. You barely knew him beyond the fire and intensity of the past few hours. This was Remy LeBeau, the enigmatic Cajun heartthrob who probably had more women than he could count falling at his feet. And yet, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you now, that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. You’d heard stories like this before. Men like Remy didn’t just meet girls at bars and whisk them off on romantic tours across Europe. Was this just another game to him? Another notch on his belt?

As if sensing your hesitation, Remy crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. He scribbled something quickly before handing both over to you. "Here," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "Give me y’r number, cher. Ain’t no pressure, but I’d like to see y’ again. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think about comin’ along after all."

You took the pen, still processing his offer, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the paper. A light, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "What, you got one of these little scraps of paper for every woman at every port?" you quipped, the words coming out more as a joke than an accusation, though you couldn’t help the tiny hint of curiosity behind it.

For the briefest moment, Remy froze. His usual easy smile faltered, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. You watched as the playful mask he usually wore slipped ever so slightly, revealing something more vulnerable beneath it. Then, after a beat, he shook his head slowly, his expression serious now.

"Nah, cher," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its casual tone. "I ain’t got a woman in every port. I ain’t like that." He paused, his gaze holding yours, searching your face as if trying to make sure you understood. "Yeah, I fuck ‘em. Sure. But I don’t let it get further than that. I don’t… ask for numbers. I don’t ask them to come with me. Never done that before. Y’re different."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he spoke, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a glimpse of something real—something raw in his eyes. He wasn’t playing a part right now. He wasn’t the charming, reckless, devil-may-care musician. He was just Remy, standing there in front of you, telling you the truth.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself studying him carefully, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another well-rehearsed line. But there wasn’t. His eyes were steady, his expression open in a way you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t lying. You could tell.

For a few long seconds, you just stood there, staring at him, the pen still in your hand, the paper resting against your palm. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

"I don’t know," you finally whispered, your voice hesitant. "I don’t usually do this either…" You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. What were you even saying? That you didn’t hook up with guys like him? That you didn’t let yourself get swept up in the moment? Because here you were, standing in his shirt, your legs still shaking from everything that had just happened, and your mind was spinning with the possibility of something more.

Remy took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, careful. "Y’ don’t have to decide right now, cher," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Take your time. But know this… I wasn’t playin’ tonight. I meant every word. Y’ got me thinkin’ ‘bout things I ain’t never thought ‘bout before."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. This was more than just a fling to him, more than just a momentary distraction. He was offering you something real, something uncertain and wild, but real all the same.

You glanced down at the pen in your hand, then back up at him. His eyes were still on you, watching carefully, waiting. Slowly, you uncapped the pen and scribbled your number down on the scrap of paper he’d handed you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you handed it back to him. "Here’s my number." You took a deep breath, glancing at Remy as you pulled his shirt tighter around you, the scent of him still lingering on the fabric. It was tempting—God, it was tempting—but you knew better. You shook your head softly, feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. "But I can’t do Europe, Remy," you said, your voice steady but quiet. "I can’t just up and travel with you. I have a life outside of all this." You laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness you felt inside. "Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up on TMZ or something."

Remy’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was a softness in his eyes now, something understanding. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. "Yeah, I get it, cher," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I know the lifestyle—paparazzi, the chaos—it ain’t for everyone." He paused, watching you carefully. "But that’s kinda why I think it’d work with y’."

You blinked, surprised by his response. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Y’ ain’t lookin’ for fame or attention. Y’ just… get me. Most people wanna be around me for the wrong reasons. But you? You’re different. That’s why I’m askin’." He stepped a little closer, his fingers lingering at your waist. "But if you’re not lookin' for all that, we can keep it casual. Just see where it goes, you know? No pressure."

You swallowed hard, feeling the pull of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was insane—completely reckless—but there was something about him that made you want to take that risk. Still, you nodded, keeping yourself grounded. "Yeah… casual," you agreed, offering him a small smile. "We’ll see where it goes."

Remy’s smile widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. "I’ll call you, cher. Ain’t no rush."

With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from your waist as he led you out of the room and toward the exit. The night air was cooler than you expected, and the city was still buzzing with life outside the venue. Remy walked you to the street, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back before he gave you one last lingering glance. "Take care, bébé," he said softly, before turning and disappearing back inside.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of his words and the possibilities they held. But before you could get too lost in thought, Nat appeared, practically jogging up to meet you.

Nat’s eyes widened the moment she saw you wearing Remy’s shirt, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s… it’s a long story," you muttered, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt self-consciously.

Nat raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh-huh. And that shirt? Did you steal it right off his back or…?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "He gave it to me, okay? My shirt was missing a button." You paused, glancing away for a moment before deciding to tell her the rest. "Remy asked for my number."

Nat’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Wait, what? He asked for your number?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, biting your lip. "And… he asked me to go with him on tour. In Europe."

Nat stared at you in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Remy LeBeau asked you to go on tour with him in Europe?" She shook her head, laughing in astonishment. "What the hell are our lives right now?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. Just last night, you were at a bar with your best friend, trying to forget about your ex and blow off some steam. Now, you were standing outside a venue, wearing a rockstar’s shirt, having just turned down an invitation to travel across Europe with him. It was surreal.

"I know, right?" you said, shaking your head as the two of you started walking toward the subway. "I don’t even know what to think anymore."

And with that, you descended into the subway, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Remy, of Europe, of everything that might come next.

[butterflyslinky]

Since AO3 is down, I'm going to continue on from this post here.

Buck spends the next several hours sitting in the hospital by Tommy's bedside. Eddie brings him coffee. Maddie forces him to eat. Eventually, the nurses kick him out because he isn't family and visiting hours are over.

(Fuck that, Buck thinks. I'm his family, we all are, he doesn't have anyone else.)

Bobby catches him in the lobby. He's staying with Athena (she's fine, just in for observation) and promises to keep an eye on Tommy as much as he can and to call Buck if anything changes.

Buck lets Maddie drive him home, because he's tired to the point of being a liability. He almost asks her to drive him somewhere else, but it's too late. It will have to wait until morning.

Maddie stays with him. Gets him to shower and go to bed, even if he barely sleeps. Stays on his couch; she probably sleeps a little, but both their phones are turned up to full volume.

The call comes at about eight, just as Buck was maybe starting to actually get some REM in.

"He's awake," Bobby says. "He's asking for you."

Buck is out of bed at once, no longer caring he hasn't slept or shaved and probably looks like death warmed over. "I'll be there in an hour," he says. "I need to run an errand first."

"What errand?" Bobby asks. Buck explains. "Okay," Bobby says. "Visiting hours don't start until then anyway."

He wakes Maddie up and asks her to drive. He probably shouldn't still. She agrees as long as he buys her breakfast. They end up in a really crappy diner that's more convenient than desirable. Buck watches the clock, waiting for it to tick over to nine o'clock.

As soon as it does, he pays the bill and leaves. Goes to the shop next door and makes his purchase.

He gets back to the hospital at 9:30. Bobby meets him in the lobby again.

"He's doing well," he says. "The doctors expect him to make a full recovery." He claps Buck on the shoulder. "Good luck, kid." He turns and offers to take Maddie home so she can get some proper sleep; Athena's been discharged so they'll be going soon anyway. Maddie agrees.

Buck goes back into the room alone. Tommy is dozing when Buck sits down, but wakes up when Buck takes his hand.

"Hey, babe," Buck says.

"Evan," Tommy says. His voice is quiet, but the word is kind. "Missed you."

"I missed you too." Buck squeezes his hand. "I know we haven't been dating very long, but...last night, they said I'm not your family and made me leave. But we are family, and I don't want that to happen again because we're both in here a lot, and so...so I wanna fix that." He reaches into his pocket and produces a ringbox. "Tommy Kinard, will you marry me?"

Tommy's face breaks into a wide smile. "Yeah," he said. "Soon as I'm out of here."

Evan laughs and slides the ring on his finger.

[shitsndgiggs]

heyyy Kaya!

im so sorry again haha i feel so greedy. May I have a fic where reader x jobe bellingham. Reader is also from Birmingham and has been Jobe’s childhood best friend. And finally when he goes to Sunderland Jobe begs her to stay with him and they both open up on their feelings for each other tyy

JUST WANTED TO SAY UR MY FAV WRITER EVER. IM SO HAPPY YOU WRITE. MASHALLAH. THANK YOUUU FOR TAKING IN ALL MY ANNOYING REQS HAHA

COME WITH ME - JOBE BELLINGHAM

Jobe asking you to move with him

Jobe Bellingham x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The news hit me like a punch to the gut—Jobe was leaving Birmingham. He was off to Sunderland for a new chapter in his football career, and even though I knew this was a big opportunity for him, it made me nervous.

The thought of him leaving, of being so far away, made my stomach twist.

We’d been best friends since childhood, growing up side by side on the streets of Birmingham. He was always there, and now, everything was about to change.

I sat on the edge of the park bench where we’d hung out countless times, my mind racing.

Jobe was pacing in front of me, hands running through his hair, eyes flicking to me every few seconds like he was trying to gauge my reaction. “You’re not saying anything,” he mumbled, his voice edged with worry.

“Please, say something.”

I finally looked up at him, my heart heavy. “You’re really going to Sunderland, huh?”

He stopped pacing, his expression softening. “Yeah... it’s a big move, but it’s the right one for my career.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “I know. You’re gonna be great there, Jobe. I just...” I trailed off, unsure of how to express the pit in my stomach. “I just don’t want you to forget about me.”

He blinked, stunned. “Forget about you? Are you mad?” He dropped onto the bench beside me, his knee brushing against mine. “There’s no way I could forget you. You’re my best friend. You’ve always been there, ever since we were kids.”

“But it’ll be different,” I muttered, staring down at the grass. “You’ll be up there in Sunderland, making new friends, living a new life. And I’ll just be... here.”

He was silent for a moment before letting out a deep breath, turning his body to face me fully. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I frowned, glancing up at him. “What do you mean?”

Jobe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “I don’t want to go without you,” he blurted, his words rushing out. “I don’t want to leave you behind.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I don’t want to do this without you,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I need you with me.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. “Jobe, you can’t just take me with you. It’s your dream—”

“And you’ve always been part of that dream!” he interrupted, leaning closer, his voice earnest. “You’re my lucky charm, Y/N. You’ve been there for every big moment in my life, and I don’t want to do this without you.”

My heart pounded in my chest as he continued, his words coming fast and a little frantic. “I need you there. You’re not just my best friend—you’re everything to me. I didn’t want to say anything before, but... I have feelings for you. I always have. And I can’t imagine going to Sunderland and leaving you behind. I can’t...”

His words started to jumble together as he rambled, trying to convince me. “We could make it work. We could get a place together, and I promise it wouldn’t be weird. Or, well, it might be at first, but we’d figure it out. And I’ll be there for you, I swear. We could—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could finish his sentence, I reached up, grabbed his face between my hands, and pressed my lips to his.

The world seemed to freeze. His breath caught, and for a second, he didn’t move. Then, as if everything finally clicked into place, he kissed me back.

His hands slid up to my waist, pulling me closer as the tension and nervous energy between us melted away.

When we finally pulled apart, he stared at me, his eyes wide, his breathing uneven. “Does this mean... you’ll come with me?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You really do talk too much, you know that?”

He grinned, his hands still resting on my hips. “Yeah, but... you love it.”

I smiled, my heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Yes, Jobe. I’ll come with you.”

His grin widened, and he let out a breath of pure relief. “Good, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned my forehead against his, our noses brushing. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jobe let out a soft chuckle, pulling me closer. “Thank God.”

[serxinns]

I forgot to add Yandere. Yandere Alien!Class 1-A x Human!Reader.

Their little earthing~

A/n: sorry for the rush and wait. I wanted to get this done very quickly! But I didn't want you to wait as well! I hope you like it

You were jogging one night while walking your dog you always loved the night you always admired the night as a child you loved looking at the bright stars and picking up small animals and drawing notes about them, yea you were a weird one and still were you were humming the music in your headphones not able to be aware that something or someone was watching you from afar

You notice a convenience store ahead and decide to stop by and get you and your pet a midnight snack before heading home you open the door as the bell rings you walk over to the snack aisle grab as many snacks you can afford and exit out the store until you heard some someone struggling you went out to see what was happening but to your surprise and confusion you spotted a girl with short hair struggling with trying to put a gas pump in the car confused you went up to her and tapped her shoulder which shocked her a bit

"Uh, hello. Need any help?" The girl stared at you as if you were some sort of beauty but snapped out of it "Hello hu- I mean friend! I'm just tryna find out how to fill up a moving vehicle!" She said, smiling. Usually, you chucked a bit. "It's easy, you just-" You took the gas pump out of her hands and put it in the hole. "See, easy!" The girl was amazed at the cute human's intelligence. She hugged you very tight. "Thank you! Thank you! So much. It's getting dark. Would you like a ride home?" She said you were a bit hesitant at 1st about going into a stranger's car but she seems nice and polite and wouldn't do anything to hurt you your dog was big enough to attack someone so if she ever tries to harm either one of you you'll know what to do plus you got a taser and a pocket knife in case she does something

The 3 of you got into your car and drove home. Even tho it was 5 minutes away, you made sure she went the right way. "So where do you live?" "At **** *** street right up ahead," you pointed directly to the road. "Oh, you lived there too?" She said with a bit of excitement in her tone, you nodded in response, "I live three stories down with my friends!" She explains, "Oh, your friends live here too?" "Yeah, 18 of them! Well, in separate houses, tho!"

"Jeez, 6-7 in each house sounds must be chaotic." Your thoughts were interrupted when she stopped at your house and said, "We're here!" Looking at you intensely with a bright smile, "Oh...thanks, I appreciate it! I didn't get your name." "ochako, Ochako Uraraka!" She greeted me with a bright smile as you got you and your dog out of the car "I'm y/n! This is my Dog D/N" you said as the dog's tongue hung low while wagging their tail Ochako smiled "It was nice meeting you y/n maybe me and you can hang out sometime!" You nervously laughed at the offer, trying not to show discomfort. "Yeah..maybe we will have a gold night!" You waved as she drove off

"What a strange girl..." you thought as you entered your own home getting ready for bed

"Phew that was close.." Ochako said as she changed back into her true form, a pink alien with a skinny tail at the back. She crept towards the living room, heading up the creaky stairs slowly, not wanting to wake up her roommates. "What are you doing up?" A stern voice echoed throughout the halls; the girl scoffed as she saw one of her roommates, Tenya Iida, in light baby blue pajamas, his sleeping mask hand on the top of his forehead. "I just wanted to uh..get some snacks. That's all!" Ochako said trying to think up some sort of shitty excuse to throw at him

Tenya started to sniff around. "do I smell?.. were you hanging around with a human?!" Tenya's voice was higher and more serious while Ochako winced quickly, shushing him. "I needed help and they helped me! So let me lend them a ride no big deal!" Ochako protested, trying to reason with her friend, which made him sigh in irritation. "We are going to have a group meeting in the morning about this, but for now, go to bed..." he slowly went back into his room, shutting the door. Ochako felt bad, but at the same time, she kinda.. didn't regret it she felt determined to want to be your friend or if anything closer

The next day roams around. You were busy attending to your garden in your backyard. It wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. It was the size of a kiddie pool. You were busy watering the flowers and picking off the berry bushes. You also took care of, "These would look good for some yummy desserts! And maybe jam!" You thought, drooling at the fantasy of the delicious dishes until some chewing snapped you out of it. You quickly turned to see a little white rabbit just munching away at your petunias. "Hey!" You yelled gently picking up the rabbit as he tried squirming away "the heck are you doing little theif?" You asked the furry culprit while it was trying to get away with a petunia in his mouth you were about to investigate more on the crime untill someone making noises like they're trying to signal a animal

There were 2 boys, one with brown hair and big lips, trying to comfort the other boy with peach skin with a rocky facial texture. The brown hair noticed you peeking out the back yard. "Oh, hello there! We were looking for a pet, a rabbit with white fur," the boy explained. You looked over to the bunny you were holding that looked the same description. The boy said, "Is this your rabbit?" You held up the rabbit high enough so they could see the worried boy was shocked and ran over and quickly grabbed him off your hands hugging and crying a bit "Thank you.." he managed to say as he poked at you smiling gracefully

"Heh it's no problem I just found him munching on my petunia little rascal" you teased at the rabbit while petting his fur the boy apologized repulsively as you quickly reassured him it was fine as the rabbit only ate two "I promise to pay you back my name is Koji, Koji Koda yours?" "I'm y/n! L/n" The two of you shook hands across the fence separating you. The brown hair, who was named Sato, came over and greeted you as well, and it was even nice of him to give you a slice of yummy cake as a greeting gift! Now lucky were you?

The two boys couldn't stop thinking about how beautiful and kind of you were, too. Then Koda wondered if you had any animals yourself while Sato was planning to bake something just for you!

Soon after you encounter most of your neighbors Denki invites you to a barbecue party along with his friends from, the other neighborhoods, and everyone I mean everyone greeted each other oh so even most gave you gifts all in their minds wondering about the same thing they just had to have you

Whenever you participate in a neighborhood event somehow your other neighbors like Mina, momo, and Jirou would want to join as well so will Yokoyama will tag along as well and they wouldn't even do the program just be too busy paying attention to you or to try and get your attention

Kirishima, Bakugo, and Ojiro would invite you to work with them in the nearby gym to watch you work out as they work out on their own they always compete to try and see who lifts the most trying to impress you or if you ever need help (you didn't) they'll try and do anything to smell your scent or find any excuse to touch you like holding your hands guiding you how you should lift a weight or bakugo and Ojiro wanting to spar box you when he's mainly just tackling you on the ground hands on your waist or your neck, and if you ever get any attention they'll do an abnormal glare at them signaling them to back the fuck off their little earthling

Momo would occasionally invite you to tea with just the two of you, and Koda would let his rabbit out on purpose in YOUR yard so he can have an excuse to go to your backyard and always excuse himself as in your wooden fence may has an entrance for animals for it, Sato and mochiko would invite you over to each other's house to go over to one house and you all bake together or have a baking competition

They all love their little human they plan to reveal their true intensity for you...someday tho maybe when they take you away but for now they work on protecting you with their lives

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

ROMANTIC WHUMPEE X WHUMPER DIALOGUE PROMPTS

trigger warnings: NSFW, violence, abuse, rape, power imbalance (everything in here is entirely fictional meant to serve as ideas for writers. I do not condone any of these in real life in any way, also I'm titling the post 'romantic prompts' due to the characters' romantic relationship, not because the prompts are supposed to be 'romantic or cute')

❝it's cute you think they can hurt you like I do.❞

❝you're not leaving me, and if I can't make you stay by words, I'm gonna do it by force.❞

❝are you gonna kill me like you killed those people?❞

❝you're gonna bleed to death if you don't let me help you. I am not asking. stop fucking squirming.❞

❝do I have to chain you up?❞

❝you like that, huh? being fucked on the floor by a sworn enemy and not being able to do anything about it.❞

❝friendly reminder, I own you.❞

❝you're only alive because I let you. don't forget that I could change my mind any second.❞

❝don't think I won't fuck you like an animal right here in front of everybody.❞

❝scream all you want. no one's coming, and I do like hearing you cry.❞

❝is this the only reason you're keeping me alive? because you want to break me more? come on, we both know you can't live without me.❞

❝make any noise and I'll slit your throat.❞

❝no, I had a chance to escape you. I didn't. you've made me love you, and for that, fuck you.❞

❝I hate that I could never hate you.❞

❝this is not a home. it's a prison.❞

❝if I'm ever going to die, and want it to be by your hands.❞

❝I need you to fucking look me in the eyes and say you won't run away again.❞

❝you're not safe with me. I'm scared of what I might do to you if I let the demons win, and I'm scared one of these days they're gonna win.❞

❝I am the only person who can hurt you.❞

❝I won't chase after you, because I know you'll come crawling back to me, you always do.❞

❝I fantasize about my hands around your throat, looking you in the eyes as I twist the knife.❞

❝I know you wish you could kill me and I know you wish you could hate me. but I'm the only person who understands you and I know you need me.❞

❝my only mistake was falling in love with you.❞

❝has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you cry?❞

❝you can't kill me. I'm already dead.❞

❝you've had that chain around my throat since the day we first met.❞

❝it'll hurt less if you stay still.❞

[morganski-19]

The One With the Second Date

“Ok, I’m not sure what I was expecting to happen in the end,” Ryan explains as they leave the theater, “but it wasn’t that.”

Nancy laughs. “It was a stereotypical romcom, they were always going to end up together in the end.”

Ryan and Nancy walk down the sidewalk. Ryan’s hands shoved into his jacket pockets while Nancy’s are at her sides.

“I just think that she was much better with the other guy. They had way more chemistry.”

Nancy nods with another laugh.

They come to a stop outside of a parking garage. Ryan turns toward her. “My car’s in there,” he points awkwardly to the garage.

“My bus stop is right over there,” Nancy points across the street.

Ryan lets out a nervous huff. “You know, we didn’t really get to talk much tonight. With seeing a movie and everything. My parking’s for the whole night. And there’s this nice ice cream place around the corner that we could go to. If you wanted to.”

Nancy smiles. “Sure.”

“Sure?” Ryan looks generally surprised. “Sure, yeah ok. It’s this way.”

He leads them across the street and down one block. Turning at the corner and halfway down, there is a small ice cream shop. They walk in, a family and one other couple at the tables. But otherwise, it’s empty. Nancy looks at the options, debating which to choose. While Ryan immediately knows what he wants and asks the employee. One scoop of vanilla and one cookies and cream. Making sure to note that they needed to be rung up together but were in no rush.

When Nancy chooses the honey vanilla flavor, Ryan beats her to register to pay.

“You know I can pay for us at least once,” Nancy jokes. She instead pulls out a few dollars and slides them into the tip jar.

Ryan laughs. Taking back his change and dumping it into the jar as well. “It was my idea, so it’s my money.”

Nancy walks over to the table in the corner. “So, I need to plan the next date and then I get to pay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan stutters. There’s been a nervous energy with him all night. “That would work.”

“I promise I don’t mean anything by this question, I’m just generally interested. Why are you so nervous? We’ve already been on one date.”

Ryan sets down his ice cream, rubbing his palms on his pants. “I’ve been on what seems like hundreds of first dates. It’s down to a routine at this point. But as far as second dates go, there’s only been a few. And most of those times, it never went anywhere else, and I was back on the app the next morning.”

Nancy nods, showing that she’s listening.

“I get that’s just how dating can be, sometimes. Especially through dating apps. But I just want something that lasts more than a week or two, you know?”

“I do.” Nancy stares down at her ice cream. “I kind of gave up dating for a while for the same reason. It was just horrible date after horrible date. So I gave up.”

“What made you try again?”

Nancy sighs. Debating how much she should tell. “My best friend, who also lives across the hall from me, got a new girlfriend.”

“Oh,” he says. With a mix of shock and concern.

“There’s nothing there, I promise. Back when we were in college, there was a phase where we both liked each other but didn’t know. Part of me kind of always harbored those feelings for her, but it was time to finally let them go. Whatever we could have had was over, it was time to recognize that.”

“And you though going on a dating app would help with that?”

Nancy lets her hands fall into her hands. “That makes me sound like an asshole. I swear that I didn’t agree to go on a date with you just to get over my stupid feelings. They played no part in deciding to go on a date with you.”

Ryan reaches across the table and gently pushes Nancy’s hands out of the way. “I believe you, for what it’s worth. We’ve all been there at some point.”

“That makes me feel a little better.”

“I appreciate you being honest with me. I,” he pauses. Taking a deep breath. “I really like you, Nancy. You’re probably the best person I’ve met on one of these apps.”

Nancy smiles. “Same here.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. Finishing their ice cream and heading outside again. When Ryan goes to shove his hands into his pockets again, Nancy stops him. Taking his hand into hers. They walk back to the street where they would need to part ways. Nancy waiting for the bus and Ryan crossing the street to his car.

“Would it be ok if I drove you home?” he asks. “It’s dark and way better than a bus.”

“Yeah, that would be ok.”

She follows him to his car and directs them to her apartment building. He finds a spot down the street and parks. Planning on walking her to her door. With full explanation that she can tell him no.

Instead, she rolls her eyes and gets out of the car. Waiting for him to get out. He does, stumbling over his step a bit.

“So, for our next date,” Nancy talks as they walk up the stairs. “I was thinking that we could to this Mexican place I love.”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“And it’s my idea so my money, right?” She stops in front of her door. Facing him.

He laughs. “That was the deal.”

Inside of Steve and Robin’s apartment, Robin is staring through the peephole. Having heard Nancy come back and got curious. That’s all, curious.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asks. Looking unenthused.

Robin shushes him. “Nancy is back from her date. She’s talking with the guy outside the door.”

“Let me see.” Steve pushes Robin out of the way, looking through the peephole. “Oh, he’s cuter in person.”

Robin slaps his arm. “Don’t encourage this.”

“How am I encouraging this? I’m behind a door, she can’t hear me. Also, it’s too late for that. I was there for the pre-date crisis.”

“And she still went out on the date?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah well, she seemed to really like the guy. Argyle even did his weird stalking thing he does and found nothing bad. He checked out.”

Robin pushes Steve out of the way again, looking through the peephole once more. “Oh no, she’s doing that face. You know that face.”

“I am well aware of the face.” Steve leans up against the wall next to the door. “Why is this bothering you so much? She’s allowed to date if she wants to.”

“I don’t know,” Robin groans. Letting her forehead thunk against the door. “She just deserves so much, and she’s been on so many dates and none of them have been good. I’m just . . .  looking out for her. That’s all.”

Steve hums, disbelieving. Pulling out his phone.

Steve: I think Robin is jealous of Nancy’s new guy

Eddie: Oh wow, what a shocker

Eddie: Do you not remember the two-hour long pity session she conveniently had after Nancy had the first date

Steve: They’re out in the hall right now, Robin can’t stop looking at them through the peephole

Eddie: Can’t she just pretend to take out the trash like a normal person

Steve: Are you going to go do that now?

Eddie: Yes

Eddie: I need to see this guy in person

Back in the hall, while all of that was ensuing, Nancy and Ryan were saying goodbye. Not exactly making any moves toward it. Until Eddie opens the door, with a half full bag of trash in hand, interrupts it.

“Oh, hey, Nance. I didn’t hear you get back,” he says, nonchalant. Looking over at Ryan with fake shock. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Nancy sighs, catching onto Eddie’s play. “Ryan, this is my roommate Eddie.”

Ryan holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, man. Nancy’s told me about you.”

“Same here.” Eddie shakes his hands. “I’m just gonna, thank you.” He steps in between them to head down the hall to the trash shoot. Leaving them alone again.

“I should get going,” Ryan says, pushing his hands into his pockets again. “It was really nice to see you again.”

Nancy smiles. “Yeah, it was. I’ll text you later when I’m free.”

“I’ll be looking for it.”

There is a break of silence. Expectation in the air. Ryan shrugs in the direction of the stairs. “I’ll see you later.”

“Oh my god.” Nancy stops his from walking away. Grabbing his face and pulling him down. Pressing a kiss to his lips. He’s shocked for a second, before pressing into it. “Have a good night,” she says after pulling back.

Ryan steps backward, a blush covering his face. “Yeah, uh, yeah. You too. I’ll text you later. Yeah. Bye.”

He turns to walk down the hall while Nancy snorts to herself. Eddie comes back around the corner with a teasing smile.

“Don’t even start, Munson.” Nancy walks into the apartment.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything.” He closes the door behind them. “I was just merely observing.”

Nancy glares at him while taking off her earring. “Observing?”

“He seems nice,” Eddie teasing tone.

“He is nice.”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“There it is.” Nancy walks to her bedroom. “Night.”

Eddie leans on the back of the couch. “No, I wanted to do the after-date gossip.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” She closes the bedroom door.

Eddie sighs, pulling out his phone to see many new texts from Steve.

Steve: Holy shit, she kissed him

Steve: Robin is not taking that well

Steve: She’s trying to play off her jealousy as protectiveness

Steve: Maybe we should warn Nancy about the tirade she’s going to get tomorrow about the dangers of kissing random men

Eddie: I don’t know, the guy was pretty respectful about it

Eddie: He was smiling like an idiot when I passed him in the hall

Eddie: And Nancy seems happy about it

Steve: This is going to be both entertaining and a pain in the ass

Eddie: Agreed

Eddie: I take it Robin isn’t going out tonight then

Steve: Sadly not

Steve: There goes our plans

Eddie: Damn, I kind of really want to kiss you right now

Steve: You know

Steve: No one is ever in the laundry room this late

Eddie: I could do some laundry

Steve: Meet you there in twenty

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot, @dreamercec, @dreamy-jeans137, @morallyundefined

[sleepyspudbrainrot]

Carry You Home (Pt. 3)

Roman Reigns x Lale (OC) | 18+, NSFW, eventual smut, fluff | 2281 words

Pt. 3 of that fluff piece... hopefully y'all enjoy this part as much as the other two.

This is based off of the August 11, 2023 Episode of Smackdown (I absolutely had to go back and watch it recently in order to get my brain back together.)

And let me not forget to tag ... @southerngirl41 & @tshepisho❤️️

“Deuces Uces!”

Lale’s hands clasped over her mouth, her shock not nearly as audible as the rest of the stadium that surrounded her.  A sea of signs that had once blocked out the led screens that encircled the stadium, were now crumpled at the feet of the frantic crowd.  Some frantic to reach their hands out to the departing Uso, other’s looking between themselves and the dazed form of Roman Reigns in the ring below.  Lale couldn’t figure out where to look.  At Jey Uso, a friend to her and cousin to Roman, or to the fallen man in the ring.  

The vibrating of her phone was nearly not enough to bring her out of her daze.  Even now, she still held one hand clasped over parted lips, her other hand thumbing open the screen.  A text scrolled across her screen from Kayla Braxton, the main backstage correspondent for Smackdown and one of her closest friends.  An invitation backstage, to get a feel for the chaos seemed to be spreading through the Scotiabank Saddledome.  It was almost as if someone else had control of her limbs.  She’d grabbed Cathy Kelley’s hand at some point, mumbling something about backstage.  Thankfully she didn’t seem to question it.

By the time they made it backstage, Kayla was nowhere to be found.  In her place stood the three people she’d least expected to find lingering in Gorilla.  Joe, Paul, and last but not least Sefa.  “I can’t believe those two.  This is what they’ve been hiding from us all week?”  The trio were deep in conversation, clearly just as thrown by the events that had unfolded in the stadium as the rest of the crowd was.  Lale hung back, fingers brushing the black curtains that marked the hallway that led out to the main stadium.  

“You’re not going to go say hi?”

Lale blinked over at Cathy, who stood beside her with a knowing grin.  “Kayla didn’t summon me back here to meet up with her did she…”  Cathy shrugged, not giving any indication one way or the other, which was an answer in and of itself.  “He looks busy… I don’t want to get in the middle of all - -” She gestured vaguely at the trio, who were now turned to look at her.  Joe’s face had quickly shifted from the storm of frustration, to something that could’ve been easily misconstrued as… amusement? Nope there was no misconstruing that. He was amused.

“Never knew you to be the type to crash backstage ma.”  

Lale rolled her eyes.  “I normally don’t unless invited and since you clearly weren’t about to, Kayla did.” She sighed softly, running a hand through her tousled hair.  “Thanks for the tickets by the way, you really didn’t need to send those.  I was half expecting another car to sweep me away for another private dinner.”  Cathy’s eyes widened beside her.  “Or was that supposed to be our secret?”

“Looks like you got your bite back… I’m surprised after tonight.  Thought your jaw would never come up off the floor after what Jey pulled…”

Lale blinked up at Joe, seeing a flash of the earlier frustration cloud his features.  “So I take it creative didn’t exactly - -” Sefa was quick to cut her off.  “They fuckin’ didn’t tell us anything.  All these last minute changes, it’d be nice to know about some of them so we’re not having to improv as much.”  Paul didn’t say much, but Joe’s features shifted.  “It makes for a better story, you and I both know that.  It wouldn’t make sense for the betrayal to have come from such… superficial reasons.  No one ever does anything just for the tribal chief.”

There it was, that flash of Roman Reigns who’d been out there on that stage.  The persona that filled rooms and turned the normally eloquent and put together Paul Heyman into a quivering mess.  “I’ll have to have a talk with creative.  I understand not telling you guys, so that the reactions are genuine but not telling me?” Paul clicked his tongue.  “Anyway, since it seems you guys have plans and I do not want to be the one to keep you from them.  So I’ll see you guys tomorrow? Hopefully I’ll have better news.”

Paul’s departure left a gap in the conversation, one that Sefa struggled to fill.  Thankfully Cathy seemed to pick up on that and offered to walk with him back towards the lockers in the hopes that she could track down Kayla.  Which then left Lale all alone with Joe.  While she’d been big talk when Cathy was beside her, something about not having back up had left her feeling vulnerable.  She’d been joking about the private dinners.  Joe and she hadn’t been truly alone in months.  They’d been texting consistently, the older man sending her food on days he knew were rough, but outside of that, their interactions had been limited to just that.

“So what was that about a private dinner?”

Lale settled into the plush leather of the Escalade beside Joe, a comfortable silence filling the luxurious blacked out vehicle that he’d summoned to take them away from the Scotiabank Saddledome and towards their destination for the night.  Somehow, even with last minute notice Joe had managed to get them a table at an upscale italian place downtown.  She’d had to resist the urge to check the menu, and honestly see what the actual hours were because she had a feeling that he’d called in a favor or two.

“Am I over or under dressed?”

Joe had been lost to his thoughts, blinking slowly at the woman beside him inquisitively.  “What?”

“Am I over or under dressed for where we’re going?”  Lale would’ve normally been annoyed at having to repeat herself, however given what had just went down at the stadium.  Regardless of the reality. She could almost sense the moments playing out in his head and knew he deserved a little bit of grace.

“You look perfect.  It’s after hours, so I can guarantee that they’re not going to give a fuck about a dress code.”

It was something that she herself should’ve realized.  The man beside her was clad in a pair of gym shorts and a tshirt that clung to his well defined muscles.  Compared to her crop top and jean shorts, they were about evenly match in terms of potentially violating a dress code.  Silence fell between them once more.  The smooth ride of the Escalade allowing to watch the world outside of them with very little interruption.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Lale was surprised to see a few cars sprinkled throughout the parking lot.  Joe seemed to sense her confusion, resting a casual hand on her back as they made their way inside.  “Couple of friends were already planning on joining us ma, nothing to worry about.  We’ll still have our privacy.”  A sly wink as he held the door open for her, her eyes wandering across the elegantly decorated space.  Tables with plenty of room between them, alcoves that seemed to hold a table for two, then others with tables that seemed to be able to accommodate a whole party. The floors beneath her feet were a deep mahogany, the walls adorned with very little to allow emphasis on the wall to wall floor to ceiling windows.  The same windows that allowed for a gorgeous view of the city as well as the stars that flickered in the night sky.

“Too much?”

Lale could only hope that her mouth hadn’t been hanging open for too long.  “It’s stunning Joe… and I absolutely feel under dressed.”  Too much skin exposed, not enough elegance, and yet somehow they weren’t looked at any differently than the few patrons who remained in suits and dresses.  

“Order anything you’d like, my treat.”

He’d been treating her so often lately and yet she still felt like she was taking advantage of his kindness.  Perhaps it was payment for all the times he’d teased her and given her a hard time.  Even tho… did he really owe her for any of that?  She sighed softly, settling into the chair across from Joe, smoothing the napkin on her lap.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about mama? I know that look.  You tend to get that look any time an interview doesn’t go your way.”

There it was, the jabs she’d been expecting.  Somehow that actually brought a sense of comfort, to a night that had absolutely thrown her for a loop.  “Trying to figure out what all this means?” It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.  “Between Kayla texting me and meeting up with you instead.  This private dinner, when they’d really been limited to texting ever since that night a couple of months ago…

“You’re wondering why tonight.  Why after all the drama, why I’m not out with the boys, or giving the twins an earful.  And I’m instead out here with you, wining and dining you in a way that doesn’t quite line up with anything we’ve been doing.  Sound about right?”

“Please remove yourself from my brain, thanks.”

The laugh that escaped Joe shook his shoulders, his head shaking along with it and his hair falling into his face from where it had fallen from his hair tie.  “Have you ever considered that your thoughts are practically broadcast on your face ma? Or at the very least… I know what the texts and the food deliveries and everything else have felt like the last two months?  Friendly support and this…”  He gestured to the intimate setting, the alcove that protected them from prying eyes while still leaving them a perfect view of the floor to ceiling windows. “This is more.  Though I would’ve thought we crossed that more threshold that first night.  But again, that’s just me.”

His teasing wink sent color spreading across her cheeks.  “I honestly… I don’t know how to count that night.  It was appreciated and… unexpected… considering how much trouble you’d given me in the past.  I… thank you Joe.”  She realized as the words left her mouth, that this was the first time she’d properly thanked him for the emotional support he’d provided.  From saving her from herself that night.

“So this is something that’s been in the works for a while hasn’t it.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upwards in what Lale could only assume was a smirk.  “Certainly cutting to the chase aren’t you.  Yes I’ve thought about this for a while, no it’s not exactly been in the works.  I didn’t want to put pressure on you with everything else that’s going on in your life.” He reached across the table to rest his hand on hers.  “But tonight wasn’t exactly in the cards.  I was just so frustrated with creative not sharing these last minute changes, with the improv that Sefa brought to the table… that seeing you…”  He shrugged, shifting in his chair, his gaze moving away from hers.  “Seeing you was exactly what I needed.  And I owe Kayla big time for getting you back there.”

Her suspicions confirmed, Lale released a breath she hadn’t intended on holding. “I think… I also owe her big time for this.”  She turned her hand under his, her fingers curling around his.  It was a gesture that Joe returned with a soft squeeze, his expression softening as they held on to one another across the table.  

A few hours later, the pair stumbled out of the restaurant.  Joe’s arm comfortably around Lale’s shoulder, her hand resting against his chest as they headed back towards the waiting Escalade.  The dinner had flown by with conversation, laughter, and at least a bottle and a half of wine between them.  Lale was lost in the warmth and presence of the man beside her and, if she was being honest with herself, didn’t want this night to end.

The car sat idling beside them and both were hesitant to open the door.  To start the journey back to their hotel that would signify the end to their night.  Joe was looking down at her now, large calloused palm brushing hair out of her face, grazing her cheek on it’s way by.  “Lale…” He leaned in close, strong arms framing her against the vehicle.  “Joe?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, tongue wetting her lip, letting her hands rest comfortably against his chest.  

“Can I?”

She knew exactly what he was asking and nodded.  His lips descended upon hers.  A gentle gesture given the size of the man, as well as the character he played for the masses.  Her eyes drifted closed, arms wrapping around his shoulders.  His arms moved from the car, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other reaching up to cup her jaw and deepen the kiss.  Her lips parted eagerly, his tongue sliding between to claim hers.  Fireworks went off from somewhere. Or if she’d been paying attention, the light of a camera flash. Either way, she was too lost in the moment for any of it to matter.

He pulled away after a moment, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving.  “Come back to my room with me?”  

Lale was not quite that tipsy.  She looked up at him once more, an eyebrow raised as she met his gaze.  

“Okay, not like that… like that first night yeah? Just… this time don’t go hiding in the shower first?”

Lale snorted, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she considered.  “Alright, as long as you’re good with stopping by my room first.  I would like to actually shower this time… deal?”

“Deal.”

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves: chapter three

chapter one ✩ chapter two

Paul Lahote x Reader

- The previous day -

“Why did we even agree to this study, clearly she is going to notice signs that the wolves around here aren’t always of the typical gray variety?” Paul questioned the tribal council, pacing at the foot of the meeting table.

“Son we didn’t have a choice, the majority of the land you boys protect falls out of the reservation. It was going ahead anyway, so it made sense to at least have someone from the council always there to steer clear of anything suspicious,” Billy placated, hands up in surrender to the clearly riled man.

“Billy’s right Paul,” Sam chimed in “there wasn’t an option. Plus this way we get income from the cabin and a guide. You know we need this to complete the maintenance on the school.”

“So you are okay with us becoming a study? Because we all know between the cameras and her field observation training we’re fucked. There is no way we can always play it safe with these cold ones lurking around, a mistake is inevitable.”

“Son,” Billy continued “it’s not even like it’s an issue anymore. You’ve imprinted on her, so she is one of us now. It’s well within reason to tell her what is going on.”

“No” Paul growled. “That is my choice and it’s absolutely not happening. Some silly idea that she’s my soulmate doesn’t change the fact she is a complete stranger. We don’t how she’ll react, there is no way I’m risking it,”

“You might not have a choice if she catches sight of something she’s not supposed to.”

“This is my only choice, and I’m not letting anyone taking it from me. Not even you.”

Billy sighed, resting his head in his hands. The chief was well aware what Paul’s reservations were really about. “Son, I know you didn’t want this. But please understand this is a blessing from the spirits, fighting this will only hurt you,”

“I refuse to let my choice be taken away, and I refuse to let hers. I will help to keep our secret safe but once this project is over she will leave and life will continue. And I don’t want anyone to try to do anything to change that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sky was clear but the southerly winds whipped ferociously along the cliff face where Paul parked up. The great blue expanse of ocean was mesmerising, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It was in moments like this you felt solace, out of the noise and bustle of large cities. Just the sounds of birds, waves crashing and winds whistling amongst the trees. After taking the moment to ground yourself you made your way over to the truck bed to grab your gear, Paul doing the same with his own bag.

“What’s the plan?”

“Well the most recent report says the last sighting was off this trail here,” you said pointing across the gravel road and to the unsigned trail head. “It happened in a clearing about four miles in so I think we head out there keeping an eye out on the way.”

“Sure thing boss. Anything you want me to keep an eye out for?”

“If you wouldn’t mind looking for prints, the ground should be pretty muddy under the vegetation cover so anything that’s been here since the previous rainfall last week should have left a mark. I don’t think we’ll actually come across a wolf since they’re nocturnal. But hopefully we can find a good spot for at least one of the cameras,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

For the past hour you had been hiking in relative silence. Paul lead the way, keeping a steady but maintainable pace. The trail itself was muddy but relatively flat, and wide enough you didn’t have to squeeze past any bushes. So far you hadn’t spotted anything apart from a wild rabbit that darted across the path in front of you.

Seeing a fallen trunk parallel to the path up ahead you decided now was as good a time as any to have a break.

“You keen for some morning tea?” You called to your companion, who gave you a nod and slowed down.

Perching on the thankfully stable trunk you pulled out the first of the sandwich haul.

“What’s your poison; PB & J or ham and cheese?”

“Whatever one you don’t want,”

“Na-ah, that wasn’t my question now was it. What kind of boss would I be if I just gave my worker scraps?”

“A standard one,” Paul smirked. Before grabbing the ham and cheese sandwich from the lunchbox. “Thanks”

“So Paul,” you began after a few bites of food, “what do you usually do besides leading clueless city girls around the forest ?”

“Thanks for making me sound like a serial killer. Plus I wouldn’t call you clueless,”

“I mean in the serial killer equation I think I’d rather be clueless. Would be worse if I willingly followed a killer into the middle of nowhere. Now answer the question idiot,” you laughed affectionately.

“Whatever the council needs really. Usually some form of construction or land maintenance,”

“Do you enjoy it? I imagine it’s nice to be working with your hands and doing something different every day?”

“I do. It’s not what I had anticipated doing, but it keeps me busy. I don’t think I could ever work in an office.”

“What did you think you’ll be doing?” You paused a second, and realised you may be getting too intrusive with someone you didn’t know. Something about Paul just made you want to dig into what made him…well him. “Sorry you don’t have to answer that. I’ll just shut up,”

“Don’t worry [y/n], it’s fine. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone,”

“I solemnly swear,” you declared grabbing his left pinkie with your right.

“Child,” Pull laughed, before wrapping his pinkie around your own. “I also thought by now I’d be travelling the country. Maybe working with animals on my way, at a ranch or something like that,”

“Nothing wrong with that at all. In fact it’s smart, animals are obviously much better than people,”

“Obviously,” he snorted.

“May I asked what changed?”

“Ah just council things really, it’s my duty to the tribe.”

You could tell he was skirting around the answer, but you knew it would be beyond rude to pry any further.

“Well there’s still plenty of time to try something new,” you declared as you swung your backpack on. “Shall we continue future cowboy?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hope you all enjoyed xx

[redsrooftopprincess]

💚 Master Post 💚

So you've found your way here! Welcome welcome, from me and the Bruiser. 😁

Here you will find fics about Big Red. All the boys, et al, are a combination of a lot of different canons, as well as my own personal headcanons. Visually, however, they are Bayverse because...

(Thank you ILM, for all that you do. 🥵)

So far everything is pretty mild. Even so, that may change in the future, and I do repost things that are spicy. I will do my best to put warnings on anything that needs it, but if you see something that may trigger someone and there isn't a warning, please lmk so I can fix it.

That being said, I'm not your mommy (well, not *yours*, anyway 😏), so if you're a minor, GTFO. I'm responsible for neither your trauma, nor your deviancy, and that will not be changing. So either go away or don't get caught.

Anyway, without further guilding of my very tarnished lily.....

Links for joy and pain below the cut!

Fics

(there is an overall story that's happening in out of order pieces, but they can read as stand-alone as well)

Raphael x Reader (GN unless noted otherwise)

Nightmare

Damn it

Sunlight

Assassin (fem reader) Part 1 Part 2

Gravity - Part 1 . Part 2 . Part 3

Headcanons

Disabilities ♥️💙💜🧡

Secret Swiftie ♥️

Sleeping ♥️💙💜🧡

....

Asks are open, though I am a grown up that has to do grown up things and for some reason just casually writing stories about giant anthropomorphic reptiles falling in love with you is... not financially sustainable? I feel like it should be.

If you want to be on the tag list, just let me know and I'll add you! Thanks for dropping by, and for all the love you've been showing my little psychosis.

Much love, from me and the big guy. 🥰

[elysiaheaven]

𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝟏𝟕-(The Fox's wedding)

Words:2682

You walked through the bustling streets of the Luofu, you adjusted the fox mask on your face, feeling the familiar weight settle over your features. Jiaoqiu glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow at the sudden reappearance of your mask.

"Why are you wearing that again?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "I thought you were done with it for now."

You laughed lightly, shrugging as you turned your head toward him. "Oh, this? I just feel like a chipmunk," you said with a grin, your playful tone making light of the mask. "It suits the vibe, don't you think?"

Jiaoqiu gave you a skeptical look, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he didn't believe a word you were saying. "A chipmunk?" He repeated the word as if testing it on his tongue, clearly unconvinced. "You don't even know what that means, do you?"

You chuckled, sidestepping his question. "Of course I do! It's all about attitude and style. You wouldn't understand," you teased, sticking your tongue out behind the mask. "Besides, it gives me an air of mystery."

Jiaoqiu sighed, shaking his head but not pushing the subject further. He knew there was more behind the mask—something you weren't willing to share just yet. Still, he decided to let it go for now, even though the tension between you two simmered just beneath the surface.

The two of you continued walking, the lively sounds of merchants and travelers filling the air. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you kept the mask on, knowing you weren't being fully honest with him. But hiding behind the mask had always been a way for you to protect yourself, especially when it came to the more vulnerable parts of your heart.

After a moment, Jiaoqiu spoke again, his voice quieter this time. "You don't have to wear it around me, you know."

You paused for a second, feeling his words settle heavily in your chest. "I know," you replied softly, not meeting his eyes. "But sometimes, it's just easier this way."

He walk in front of you. Took your mask away.

Why! Now! STOP!

Tears streamed down your face as you stared at Jiaoqiu, your body trembling as you tried to compose yourself. You reached for your mask, the one you wore when you felt too exposed, too vulnerable, and quickly put it on, hiding behind its cold exterior.

"I enjoyed doing what I did," you said, but your voice cracked under the weight of the lie. You hated it—everything about your past, the choices you made, the lives you hurt. Yet, here you were, trying to convince yourself, convince him, that none of it mattered.

Convince yourself you hurted them!

You did all of those.

Lie, Lie and Lie...So this kind-hearted fox won't leave you to live.

You couldn't..

Jiaoqiu's sharp eyes narrowed at you, catching the quiver in your voice. "If your voice breaks, you're lying," he said softly, but with a firmness that cut through the air between you. He stepped closer, his hand gently touching the mask's edge. "What happened in your past?" he asked, his voice gentler this time. "Tell me."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, the words sticking in your throat. "It's no use," you muttered, swallowing down the emotions that clawed at your heart. "Talking won't change anything. It's too late for that."

Jiaoqiu stayed silent, his frustration evident, but he didn't push further. He knew that whatever was haunting you was deeper than words could fix. You pulled away from his touch, your hands trembling as you turned your back to him.

  You couldn't face the past—not yet. You needed to bury it a little longer, hide behind your mask and move forward, pretending everything was fine. "There's no point in staying here."

Jiaoqiu sighed, knowing you were deflecting. His eyes softened, but he didn't stop you. "Fine," he said quietly. "But this conversation isn't over. You can't run from this forever."

You walked ahead, the silence between you and Jiaoqiu felt suffocating. The mask on your face was a barrier you couldn't seem to lower, even as every step felt heavier.

"Y/n," Jiaoqiu's voice broke the silence, and you stopped, your heart racing, knowing what he was going to say next. "I need you to open up to me."

You didn't turn around, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. His request was so simple, yet it terrified you. He stepped closer, and you could feel the warmth of his presence behind you.

"You can't keep running from whatever it is that's eating you up inside. I see it, Y/n," Jiaoqiu's voice softened, a strange mix of care and frustration. "If you don't trust me, if you don't open up... how can I help you? How can I even begin to understand?"

You closed your eyes beneath the mask, biting your lip to keep yourself from breaking. The pain you had been carrying, the guilt, the darkness—it was like a storm swirling in your chest. "I'm not... ready," you whispered, barely audible. "I can't... I don't even know where to start."

Jiaoqiu moved in front of you, his hand gently lifting your chin so you had to face him. His eyes bore into yours, filled with an emotion you weren't ready to face. "Start with me," he said quietly. "Start with the truth. I'm not asking you to spill everything all at once, but you need to let me in. Just a little."

You shuddered, feeling your resolve crumble under his gaze. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could crack. "You won't understand..." Your voice broke again, the mask doing little to hide the tremor.

"Try me," Jiaoqiu said, his tone unwavering. "I'm here, aren't I? Even after everything, I'm still here. So stop pretending like you're alone in this."

"...................!!!!!!!"

Your heart pounded as you felt the familiar wave of fear and guilt rise within you, but instead of surrendering to it, you forced a twisted smile onto your face. The mask was back—this time, not on your face but in your words, in the way you carried yourself. You laughed, a hollow sound, and turned away from Jiaoqiu.

"Ah, there it is," you said with a mocking tone, stepping forward with a sway in your hips. "You really fell for it, didn't you? All that crying and pretending to be broken... so easy to get your sympathy." You tossed your head back with another cruel laugh, refusing to look at him. "God, you're so gullible."

Jiaoqiu stood frozen behind you, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand the sudden shift. His expression was a mix of confusion and something darker, like he was searching for the truth behind your words. "What are you saying?" he asked, his voice calm but with an edge of warning.

You smirked, turning just enough so he could see the coldness in your gaze. "I'm saying it was all an act. The tears, the confession. I knew exactly what to say to make you pity me." You shrugged, nonchalant, though your insides were twisting painfully. "And it worked like a charm, didn't it?"

Jiaoqiu's eyes hardened, his jaw tightening as he watched you carefully. He wasn't buying it, not entirely. But you could see the doubt forming in his mind, the uncertainty creeping into his features. It hurt to see, but you couldn't stop now. You had to push him away—had to make him believe you were the monster you always feared you were.

You walked ahead, turning your back on him, keeping your head high. "I can't wait to kill you, Jiaoqiu," you said, your voice sickeningly sweet, like it was all a joke. "Maybe not today, but soon. It's going to be so easy."

The silence behind you stretched painfully, and for a moment, you almost stopped—almost turned around to take it all back. But you didn't. You couldn't. You were too far gone in this act, and the pain inside you was too deep.

But he didn't respond the way you expected. No sharp retort, no anger in his voice. Instead, Jiaoqiu's voice was calm, steady. "You're lying."

Your steps faltered, but you didn't turn around.

"You think I can't tell?" His voice was closer now, soft but certain. "You're trying to push me away because you're scared. But this—this isn't who you are, Y/n."

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms. "What do you know?" you spat, but the venom in your voice was faltering, cracking.

"I know enough," Jiaoqiu said, his hand brushing your arm lightly. "I know that everything you just said is a lie. You don't want to kill me. You're scared of losing me."

You laughed, a wild and bitter sound, pushing away the tenderness of the moment with a cruel edge. "You're an idiot," you sneered, the words coming out sharper than you intended, but you leaned into it, masking the pain in your chest. "Such a damn fool. I hope the worst for you." You stepped closer, grabbing the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss—harsh, needy, and far from loving. It was filled with desperation, as though you were trying to convince him, or maybe yourself, that you were still in control.

Jiaoqiu's body tensed against yours, and when you pulled away, you saw the confusion in his eyes, the shock. "What... what are you doing?" His voice wavered slightly, not with fear but with a kind of disbelief. He searched your face, like he was trying to find the real you beneath the mask you had thrown on.

You laughed again, leaning back as you waved your hand dismissively. "The lust, Jiaoqiu. That's all it ever was," you said, voice dripping with false amusement. "That's why you care, right? Why you're so obsessed with me?" You tilted your head, a twisted smile curling your lips. "I mean, who wouldn't be? That's all this is—a game to feed your desire. And when you're done, I'll just kill you."

You laughed, the sound hollow and bitter, though it masked the trembling inside. "You're such an idiot, Jiaoqiu. An idiot for even trying to understand me." You pushed against his chest, but it wasn't to break free—it was to pull him closer, as if mocking your own pain. "I hope so many bad things happen to you. I hope you regret everything."

Jiaoqiu's face twisted, a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes as he stared at you, unsure whether to believe the cruelty in your words or the pain you were trying to hide.

"I can't wait to kill you," you repeated, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to smile, to laugh. "Can't wait." The laughter felt foreign, bitter, choking you as it tumbled out. You moved closer to him, your breath hot against his skin. "Now kiss me again. Like it's all about lust. That's all it is, right?"

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, as if something inside him snapped, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his lips crashing onto yours. You kissed him back with the same intensity, frantic, desperate to make him believe your lie, even though it hurt more than you could bear.

You cried as you kissed him, your tears wetting your cheeks, but you laughed in between, trying to mask the truth. "See? It's all lust," you whispered against his lips, laughing even as the sobs wracked your body. "That's all it's ever been."

Jiaoqiu pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, his face tight with frustration and something else you couldn't place. He cupped your face, his thumb wiping away your tears even as he kissed you again, trying to silence the lies you kept feeding him.

Jiaoqiu's lips crashed against yours, his kiss rough, trying to shut you up. But you kept laughing, each kiss making the laughter more manic. "It's lust, Jiaoqiu! All lust!" you giggled between breaths, your voice rising with each word, mocking the bond you once shared. You could see the conflict in his eyes as he kissed you, but it only made you laugh harder. He was falling for your lies, the very lies you'd built around yourself like a shield.

"More lies on top of lies," you whispered against his lips, your laughter hollow and sharp. "It's so easy to fool you." Your laughter filled the small alley, echoing off the walls as if you were trying to drown out your own emotions.

He didn't stop. His grip tightened on your waist, and his kisses became more desperate, as if he were trying to make sense of the chaos you were creating. He could feel something was wrong, but he couldn't see past the mask you'd put on. Your tears mixed with your laughter, the contradictions within you swirling into a mess that you couldn't untangle anymore.

"Lies... so many lies," you kept saying, your voice shaking now, the laughter sounding forced, like it hurt to keep it going. "I'm so good at this, aren't I?" You kissed him again, biting his lip just enough to make it sting, as if punishing yourself for every word.

Jiaoqiu pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching your face for something—anything real. "Stop this," he muttered, his voice low but firm, as if he didn't know whether to be angry or heartbroken. "Stop lying."

You laughed again, louder this time, pushing him back playfully, though the ache in your chest grew heavier. "What's the matter, Jiaoqiu? Can't handle the truth? Or is it that you can't handle the lies?" You laughed, but it was more of a sob now, your body trembling as you forced out the sound.

You wanted him to see through it, to call you out, to make it stop. But instead, he kissed you again, and the bitterness of it all consumed you. "Lust... lies... lust," you chanted between kisses, the weight of your own deception crushing you inside.

You grabbed Jiaoqiu's face, pulling him closer, your hands trembling as they cupped his head. Your laughter was broken, the sound manic and desperate as you choked out, "It's all lust, Jiaoqiu! Just lust!" You laughed, but your voice cracked, betraying the real emotion underneath.

Your fingers dug into his scalp, and his eyes locked onto yours, searching for something, anything that would make sense of your words. But all you could do was laugh, the sound twisted and hollow. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your laughter bordering on hysterical, the pain in your chest threatening to tear you apart.

"It's all lust!" you shouted again, your voice raw as the tears continued to fall. But the laughter wouldn't stop, even though it hurt, even though you knew it wasn't true. You laughed like you could drown out the truth, like you could bury the pain under your lies.

Jiaoqiu's hands gripped your wrists, trying to steady you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Stop," he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. But you couldn't stop. You didn't know how anymore.

"It's just lust, you idiot!" you cried out, forcing a grin, trying to convince him, trying to convince yourself. But the laughter gave way to sobs, and you collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest as you broke down completely.

Your shoulders shook as the sobs wracked your body, and Jiaoqiu held you tight, his arms wrapping around you, no words left to say. He didn't care about the lies you told. He could see past them now, see the torment in your eyes, the pain you couldn't hide anymore.

Your voice was barely a whisper now, muffled against his chest. "It's all lies..."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 18 - Floo

@wolfstarmicrofic September 18, word count 571

Previous part First Wolfstar part

“What if I go ask father? He might be able to set something up,” Sirius chimed in the argument Remus and Regulus were having about how to lure Voldemort out into the open so they could plan their attack. 

“It can’t hurt,” Remus allowed. “He’s been an asset so far.”

“No,” Regulus glowered. “He can’t be trusted, especially not with something as important as this.”

“You’re just sore because he never made you the heir,” Sirius scoffed. “Right, who votes I go see Orion?” He looked around their gathered group, all of them put their hands in the air apart from Regulus. 

“Traitor,” Regulus glowered at James.

“Rorbey!” Sirius called, and a little pop alerted them to the elf’s arrival. 

“Yes, Master Sirius,” The elf said, bowing. 

“Is my father alone in the house?” He asked. Rorbey shook his head, his ears flapping slightly. 

“No, Sir. Mistress is there,” Rorbey replied.

“Could you come back and get me when he’s alone?” Sirius asked. Rorbey nodded yes. “Great, thank you, Rorbey,” And the little elf vanished. “Well, that’s that then,” He grinned, clapping his hands together. 

“Well, let’s hope, Father is more concerned about you than the Dark Lord,” Regulus scowled at Sirius and left the meeting, dragging his traitorous boyfriend behind him. 

It wasn’t long before Rorbey was back and apparating Sirius into the main drawing room, where Orion sat reading the Prophet. 

“Sirius!” He gasped, jumping to his feet and hugging his son tightly. “When you didn’t come after Rorbey had told you it was safe, I thought you wouldn’t come back,” Sirius could see the sadness in his father's eyes, and he tried to ignore it. 

“I’m sorry, I would have if I could, but there wasn’t the opportunity to get away,” His explanation softened the blow some but withheld the vital information that he couldn’t share. 

“Barty Crouch has changed his tune,” Orion changed the subject. “He seems less inclined to go out on the muggle hunts the others like to organise. He seems almost as though he doesn’t want to be a death eater any more,” Orion looked pointedly at his son. 

“Wow, who’d have thought it,” He said, taking a leaf out of Regulus’s book and forcing his face into an unpenetrable mask. Orion sighed. 

“Don’t shutter your face like that. You used to do that when you were trying to hide things from your Mother. I won’t ask anything, don’t worry, just don’t look at me with that blank face,” Orion's face fell as he pleaded with Sirius. Sirius let it crack a bit, and Orion’s smile returned. “There’s my handsome son. Now, why are you here?” 

“We need to know how to get Voldemort away from his followers and out in the open,” He told his father. Orion blinked at him in shock. 

“I’m not sure about that, son. Let me look into it, and I’ll send Rorbey to you with anything I come up with.”

“Rorbey, come here. Orion, where are you?” Walburga’s shrill voice broke the silence. Orion and Sirius jumped in their seats, Orion reacting first. 

“Quick, use the floo,” Orion urged him, pushing him towards the fireplace and summoning the pouch of green floo powder. It took him a precious second to figure out where to go, but once he decided, he stepped into the fire, tossing the powder as he went and calling out the address of Peter’s flat. 

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