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thirtysomethingloser92 · 5 days

Text

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.

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destieltropecollection · 4 months

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 28: Coffee Shop AU

The barista and the bookshop | @abi-cosmos Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Barista Dean Winchester, Librarian/Bookshop owner Castiel, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Gay Castiel, Slow burn, Angst with a happy ending, Depression, Costume parties and masquerades, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Sharing a bed, Coffeeshop AU Summary: In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, Dean Winchester has been running Squirrel and Moose Coffeehouse since his Dad died. Next door, anchored by family obligation, librarian Castiel has been tasked with taking over Chuck’s Bookshop. Wanting a distraction after his brother leaves town, Dean offers to help Castiel fix it up. It’s a job, something to get his hands on, it doesn’t matter that the librarian is hot and kinda weird. Castiel doesn’t understand why Dean is helping him, but he’s happy that he is, and their friendship grows until he can’t deny what’s right in front of him. But when their time together is cut short, both face a decision they aren't ready for. In a sleepy mountain town, stitched together with fairy lights, what's it gonna be? Peace or freedom?

Are You Writing From The Heart? | @luckshiptoshore Rating: Explicit Word Count: 86,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, comedian dean, Season/Series 04, Masturbation, Alcohol, Writer Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Fanfiction Writer Dean Winchester, dean/crowley relationship in the past of the fic, cas/meg and cas/hannah relationships in the past of the fic, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Jobs Summary: Castiel Novak's a writer who's waiting for his big break. His last book didn't sell, so now he's doing work for hire, ghostwriting the next in a series of ridiculous horror novels about two hot brothers who hunt monsters together. It’s pretty popular, and the fans are desperate for the next instalment — which is a problem, because the guy who usually writes them just up and vanished a couple of months ago. He left behind a signed contract and the outline for the next two stories, so the publisher’s been looking for someone else who could pick up where Chuck left off. And that's Cas. So he heads to a cafe to get the words out ... and that's where he meets Dean, a smartass wannabe comedian who's working on his stand-up set. Cas is straight, obviously, but there's something about this guy that he's fascinated with. The two of them strike up a friendship ... and soon the world Cas is writing and the world he's living in begin to get mixed up. Sometimes you're writing what you know without even realizing it ...

Finding You In Every Sign | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 99,407 Main Tags/Warnings: Deaf!castiel, mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, flower shop au, coffee shop au, strangers to lovers, bottom!dean, bottom!castiel, sweet!dean, hurt!dean, hurt and comfort Summary: Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #coffeeshop au

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keisgirl · 8 days

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1 or 3 with bnd jaehyun ❣️

in your arms; boynextdoor jaehyun

prompt; #3 “awww why are you embarrassed, you looked so cute sleeping on my shoulder” (request)

pairing; bf!jaehyun x reader

wc; 0.8k

notes; hiii! thanks for requesting <3 jaehyun imagines are my fav to read n write about as his personality is just fantastic / wrote this thinking about the rain outside (its raining here where i live!) have a nice day anon 💕

pls reblog and like if you liked the drabble!

looking for moots <3

cheers,, hannah

kpop drabble masterlist | prompt list #1

the gentle patter of rain against the café windows made the world outside seem distant and blurry, while the warmth inside wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. you sat nestled into his side, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders, holding you close as you leaned against him, soft scent of coffee hung in the air, and the café buzzed quietly with the sound of conversations and the occasional clink of mugs.

you sighed softly, the rain’s rhythm combined with his warmth making you feel completely at ease. he looked down at you, a smile tugging at his lips. “you feeling alrighr, baby?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“mhm,” you nodded, your head resting against his chest. “i could fall asleep right here.”

his hand gently rubbed your arm, slow and steady, sending waves of comfort through you. “then go ahead,” he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin. “i’ve got you.”

you closed your eyes, feeling the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath you. there was something so safe about being wrapped up in his arms, especially with the rain falling outside, making the world feel smaller. his heart beat steadily under your ear, gently bringing you closer to sleep.

it didn’t take long for the gentle rhythm of the rain and his heartbeat to pull you under, and soon, you were dozing off, completely relaxed in his embrace.

sometime later, you stirred awake, blinking sleepily as you realized you had dozed off against him. his hand was still resting on your arm, his thumb brushing back and forth in lazy circles, as if he hadn’t moved the entire time. you lifted your head slightly, drowning in his soft doe puppy looking eyes.

“how long was I out?” you asked quietly, rubbing your eyes.

“not long,” he replied, smiling down at you. he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and kissed your forehead. “you looked so peaceful, baby. i didn’t want to wake you.”

and with the rain softly falling outside, the cozy café around you, and his steady heartbeat in your ear, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be.

you cheeks warmed slightly, and you sat up a little, suddenly self-conscious. “i fell asleep on you in public,” you mumbled.

he let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart skip a beat. “awww why are you embarrassed ” he said, squeezing your hand. “I like it when you feel comfortable enough to rest on me. You looked adorable sleeping on my shoulder”

you tried to hide your smile, feeling your cheeks flush even more. “you didn’t mind?”

“why would i,” he replied softly. “i love it when you relax around me. it makes me happy, baby, knowing you trust me enough to lean on me like that.”

the way he said it, so earnestly and with that gentle smile, made your heart swell with affection. you squeezed his hand in return, leaning in a little closer. “you always know just what to say.”

he chuckled, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “i just want you to feel taken care of.”

you heart melted a little more at that, and you cuddled back into his side, letting the world outside the window fade away once more. his arm wrapped around you again, and you felt the warmth of his presence surrounding you, making you feel safe and loved.

“lets just stay here a little longer,” you murmured, resting your head back against his chest.

“as long as you want,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. he tightened his hold on you just a little, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

thank you anon :3

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ricciardosheart · 1 year

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A Night in Italy - Toto Wolff.

warning - fluff fluff nothing much, I don't think so, I mean it's a toto wolff fanfic

summary - just a beautiful exchange between a girl name hannah and Toto, how he becomes from a stranger to a familiar stranger, it beautiful

P.S - guys I want to make this a series, please let me know if I can make it better, not proofread

In the heart of Florence, where ancient wonders and modern delights coexisted harmoniously, two souls found themselves drawn together by fate. Toto, a charismatic and adventurous man with a deep passion for cars and motorsports, had always been fascinated by the bustling cafés of Italy. One summer evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the cobblestone streets, he found himself wandering into a charming café.

As Toto entered the cozy establishment, he couldn't help but notice a captivating figure sitting alone at a corner table. Her name was Hannah, an accomplished orthopedic surgeon, her presence exuding intelligence and grace. She was engrossed in a book, seemingly unaware of the world around her.

Something inside Toto stirred as he watched her, and he knew he couldn't resist the urge to speak to her. With a deep breath, he approached her table, feeling both nervous and excited. "Excuse me," he said, his voice gentle yet filled with warmth, "I hope I'm not intruding, but I couldn't help but notice you from across the café. Would you mind if I join you for a moment?"

Hannah looked up, her eyes meeting Toto's with a hint of surprise. She hesitated for a brief moment, but the sincerity in his eyes made her feel strangely at ease. "Sure," she replied with a smile, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Toto took the seat gratefully, introducing himself to Hannah. The conversation between them flowed effortlessly, as if they were old friends catching up after a long time apart. They spoke about their shared passion for cars and motorsports, exchanging stories about their favorite racing events and drivers. Toto, with his vast knowledge of automotive engineering, fascinated Hannah, and she, in turn, captivated him with her dedication to her profession and her insights into the world of medicine.

As the evening progressed, the café slowly filled with the soft glow of sunset, bathing the surroundings in a warm, romantic light. Hannah checked the time on her watch, realizing that she had spent several hours talking to this friendly stranger named Toto. "I should be heading home," she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice. "It's getting late, and I have an early start at the hospital tomorrow."

Toto understood the practicality of her decision, but he couldn't bear the thought of saying goodbye just yet. "I completely understand, Hannah," he said softly, "but what if we continued this delightful evening with dinner? There's a wonderful trattoria nearby, and I promise it'll be worth your time."

Hannah was taken aback by the invitation. Normally, she would be cautious about such spontaneity, but something about Toto's presence made her want to step out of her comfort zone. "Alright," she agreed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, "one more adventure for the night."

They made their way through the charming streets of Florence, the city's history and romance surrounding them as they walked side by side. The trattoria Toto had recommended was a quaint and intimate place, perfect for an unforgettable evening.

Over a delicious dinner, they continued their conversation, delving deeper into their lives, hopes, and dreams. As the night wore on, they laughed freely and shared stories that left them feeling like kindred spirits. Each moment spent together seemed to strengthen the connection between them, weaving an unbreakable bond that neither of them could fully comprehend.

Bottles of wine were brought to their table, and as the hours slipped away unnoticed, they lost track of time. The wine served as a catalyst for their candid conversations, allowing them to reveal their vulnerabilities and aspirations without hesitation.

Hannah couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of comfort in Toto's company. He was a stranger just hours ago, yet now, she felt as if she had known him for a lifetime. The walls she had built around her heart, hardened by the demands of her profession, began to crumble under the weight of this inexplicable connection.

As the clock approached 3 am, the realization that they had been lost in each other's presence all night hit them. Hannah's heart was filled with a mix of emotions she couldn't fully comprehend. She had fallen for this familiar stranger, and it scared and excited her in equal measure.

Toto, too, was smitten by Hannah's intellect, compassion, and adventurous spirit. The ease with which they connected and the way they understood each other felt like a once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

With the night coming to a close, Toto walked Hannah back to her car, the silence between them filled with the unspoken emotions that lay heavy in the air. As they stood under the moonlight, a soft breeze carrying the scent of flowers, they found themselves embracing, their hearts racing in sync.

"Hannah," Toto began, his voice gentle and earnest, "from the moment I saw you at that café, I knew there was something extraordinary about you. I've never felt such an instant connection with anyone before. I know we just met, but I can't ignore what I feel."

Hannah looked into Toto's eyes, her heart fluttering as she realized she felt the same way. "Toto, this is all so unexpected, but I can't deny that there's something between us. I've never met someone who understands me so completely. It's like we've known each other for ages."

Toto smiled, his eyes shining with affection. "I don't want this night to be the end of our story, Hannah. Can I see you again?"

Hannah's heart swelled with happiness as she replied, "Yes, I'd like that very much. Let's exchange numbers and find a way to meet again."

And so, they exchanged contact information, each feeling a sense of excitement and hope for what the future held. As they parted ways that night, their hearts felt lighter, knowing that something magical had unfolded between them.

In the days that followed, Toto and Hannah continued their conversations, growing closer with each passing moment. They found themselves making time for each other despite their demanding schedules, eager to explore the depths of their connection.

They shared countless adventures in the picturesque streets of Italy, embarking on road trips to the countryside and wandering through historical landmarks hand in hand. The bond between them deepened, and their love blossomed amidst the timeless beauty of Italy.

As summer turned to autumn and autumn to winter, their love story thrived, with each season marking a new chapter in their lives. Hannah found herself opening up to love in ways she never thought possible, and Toto discovered a sense of belonging he had never experienced before.

On a crisp winter's evening, Toto took Hannah to a secluded spot overlooking the city of Florence, where the lights twinkled like stars in the night sky. Under the shimmering moonlight, he got down on one knee, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hannah," Toto said, his voice filled with emotion, "you've brought so much joy and meaning into my life. With you, I've found a love I never knew was possible. You've become the light of my world, and I can't imagine my life without you. Will you do me the great honor of being my partner in this beautiful journey called life?"

Tears glistened in Hannah's eyes as she looked into Toto's earnest gaze. Her heart felt full, and she knew that this love was unlike anything she had ever known. "Yes, Toto," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "I love you, and I would be honored to share my life with you."

Their love story continued to unfold, a tale of two hearts finding solace and joy in each other's love. Together, they faced life's challenges with unwavering support, cherishing every moment they spent in each other's arms.

In the heart of Italy, amidst the ancient wonders and the modern delights, Toto and Hannah had found a love that transcended time and place. Their love story became a testament to the magic of destiny and the power of connection, proving that sometimes, the most extraordinary love stories begin with a chance encounter in a café on a summer evening in Italy.

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bullet-prooflove · 2 months

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headcanons 12. Grudges and vendettas (yes. yes this is just me giving you a reason to talk about how much natalie pisses him you off)

I feel like this could go on forever with Jimmy because he does not suffer fools, esp ones that fuck about with his wife.

Grudges:

Natalie – hates the fact she can’t do her job without getting overly emotionally involved often to the detriment of others. Is super pissed off when she tries to drag others into her drama, eg: Anita over Children’s Services queries, Will over the medical trial, Crockett over her feelings for Will, Jeff Clarke over her dead hubby.

Will – previous grudge – close friends now. – Absolutely hated his maverick attitude, felt like Will’s sole purpose was to make his life harder in the ED until… Those news rules got imposed preventing them from treating people who needed it, it really pissed Jimmy off that they couldn’t help people because of a financial factor. He really enjoyed Will’s creative application to the problem, also the way he handled the Matt scandal. It made him realise Will actually had the good of the patients at heart and it was more about doing what’s best for them than ego.

Anita’s mentor Danny,- if that man comes into the ED, he absolutely refuses to be the one treating him.

Social services in general for the way they treated his wife, basically using her up and spitting her out. For him it’s very much an example of how the system is completely broken.

The coffee guy from the café down the street who put his phone number on Anita’s coffee cup despite seeing the wedding ring. Jimmy will not leave a tip for this joker and will give him the most complicated order imaginable just to see him stress.

CFO of Chicago Med – He hates this guy, esp after the scrubs thing. He likes things run efficiently and that guy really fucked a lot of things up for them in terms of the supply chain and treating patients, to Jimmy that’s unacceptable. If they ever end up on the same elevator, Jimmy’s reminding him of the importance of patient care.

Connor Rhodes – mutual respect now – but at first he was pissed because Connor kept using the hybrid OR for shit it wasn’t meant to be used for and it was running up costs in the ED that Jimmy had to explain or make deficits for in the budget. When he very forcefully explained this to Connor who hadn’t realised this the two came to an agreement.

Jack Dayton – he hated 2.0 with a passion because it kept telling him what to do during surgery and despite knowing better he would argue with it. When he tried to explain the probs with this to Jack and Grace Song he was brushed off about his concerns because he know docs like Sam and Dean would go out of their way to avoid it’s backseat surgery.

Stevie Hammer – he will never forgive her for breaking Will’s heart a little. He was just starting to get back on his feet after Hannah, put himself out there a little and then she went back to a husband who didn’t love her, because he offered her a better medical position. For Jimmy it really showed her true self.

Maggie – initially because he found her nosy, but he understands now she cares deeply for the people around her and it’s done out of love. He was very sorry to hear about her and Ben and it put the shits up him a little, because to him they were the perfect couple and he never saw the divorce coming. He’s extra attentive to his own marriage after that.

Doris – He dislikes the fact she’s really gossipy. Him and Anita once had a very heated discussion she overheard and before lunch time, multiple people had made comments about the state of his marriage, offering him advice.

#jimmy lanik #jimmy lanik x reader #chicago med #one chicago

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avastrasposts · 1 year

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 21 **

The aftermath of that dramatic transfer to Arlington QZ, poor Frankie!

Series Master List

I've updated the master list of the series so all chapters containing smut are now marked with ** (so yes, there's more smut in this chapter 🔥)

Warnings have their own post but expect canon typical violence and smut.

Word count: 7.7k

Please comment and reblog, I love hearing your thoughts on the story and my writing! And BIG thank you to all of you who continue to support this crazy little one shot that's grown so much!

Frankie stays close for the next two days in the hospital, pushing the bed they bring in for him flush against yours so that you can sleep next to him. And you’ve been sick around Frankie before, a couple of colds and period cramps sometimes, and he’s always made sure to take care of you, bringing painkillers, your favorite food, fluffy socks or one of his softest hoodies.

But this is on a whole new level, he doesn’t want to leave your side, always watching you with worried eyes for any sign of discomfort and refusing to let you walk down to the mess hall with him for food, even though the doctor said it was fine and good for you to move around a little. He reluctantly lets you get into a wheelchair so that he can roll you down for meals after you tell him he can’t wrap you in cotton wool for weeks.

But when your two days in the hospital are up he still insists on rolling you over to the new apartment in the wheelchair and then proceeds to carry you up three flights of stairs to the new apartment. Benny walks behind him, rolling his eyes at you and shaking his head at Frankie’s determination to not let anyone else carry you. With a groan he carefully puts you down on your feet in front of the door with a number eight.

“Are you sure you don’t want the wheelchair, I’ll get it for you, cariño,” he asks as you put weight onto your feet and carefully stand up, his arms around your waist, anxiously looking at your face.

“I’ll be fine, Frankie, and the doctor said I need to start moving around or I risk getting a blood clot,” you say, wincing slightly as you straighten up. Frankie’s eyebrows immediately bunch together and he grabs hold of your arm.

“Are you in pain? Do you need to sit down?” He checks his watch and frowns, “You can’t have another painkiller until noon, maybe you should lie down for a bit?”

“Fish, chill, you’re fussing like a grandmother,” Benny sighs, sticking the key in the lock and opening up the door.

You give Frankie a smile, “I’m fine, sweetie, the skin is just a bit tight around the wound.”

“Ok, but any-”

“I know, Frankie,” you interrupt him, “if anything, I’ll tell you and you’ll move heaven and earth to make things right,” you smile at him and kiss his cheek, his eyebrows unfurrowing as he smiles back.

The apartment is in an older building in the city, not far from the river, and close to the café where Frankie and you had your first date. As in Franklin it’s only got one bedroom, but this one has a bigger kitchen, big enough for a large kitchen table with six chairs around it and island in the middle of the counters and cabinets on three sides. The living room itself is spacious and;

“Holy crap, please tell me that works?!” you exclaim as you spot the large open fireplace, flanked by two french doors.

“It does, but wood for it might be hard to come by, unless you wanna chop down a tree in one of the parks,” Benny says.

“That I can do,” Frankie says, flexing his hands that are still showing the calluses he gained while chopping endless logs at Denny’s cabin. You give him a small smile, squeezing his arm at the memory of how he used to try to handle his dark thoughts.

There’s a knock on the door and it swings open to Pope and Hannah walking in.

“Hi!” Hannah smiles and wraps her arms around you for a hug. She’d come to the hospital on your second day, you'd’ both started crying when she hugged you tight, and you’d spent a few hours talking through all that had happened since you last talked on the phone on outbreak day. She’s aged in the few months that have passed, there’s a strain around her eyes, a sadness that seems to simmer just under the surface. Will is constantly on her mind and when she sees Frankie fuss around you in the hospital bed she drops her chin down on her chest. You’re too occupied with trying to find a position that doesn’t make your abdomen ache, but Frankie sees her watery eyes and pulls her in for a hug, gently stroking her back as she sobs into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she says, swallowing back her tears, “I try not to cry but I just miss Will so much and seeing you two…” she trails off and you take her hand as Frankie puts his arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he soothes, “we all miss him and I’d be a wreck if she was missing,” he looks over at you, “I couldn’t even keep it together for the hour she was in surgery.”

“And we’re gonna keep looking for him, Hannah,” you say, “I know the odds are bad, but we’re not giving up on him.”

Now Hannah is helping you unpack your meager belongings into the closet in the bedroom and when you’re done she pulls a flat package out of her bag.

“I got you a house warming present,” she smiles and hands you the package.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you take it from her, “You didn’t have to do that!” The present is wrapped in children’s birthday wrapping paper and you carefully tug it off to reveal a silver photo frame. “Frankie told me you brought a photo from your old apartment and I thought you might like to have it framed. I got a frame for his photo too.”

You pull her in for a big hug, “Thank you so much, I love it!” While you were in hospital Pope had found out that both yours and his apartment were outside the QZ area now, and had most likely been bombed. That meant that since most of your possessions had been lost on the way to Franklin, the photo was all you had left of your previous life. It’s your favorite photo of you and Frankie, taken at a BBQ at Will and Hannah’s place. Frankie is smiling at the camera, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as you kiss his cheek with his trusty Standard Oil cap backwards on your head.

You open up the frame and slide the photo in, closing the frame again and putting it on the bedside table. Seeing the photo in the frame makes your heart twinge, except for Frankie, everything else in the photo is gone.

Hannah gives your arm a squeeze and brings you out into the living room again. Pope and Frankie are in the kitchen sorting through the supplies and preparing lunch with some extra rations that Benny brought over. When you come into the kitchen Frankie comes over and carefully puts his hands on your cheeks, cupping your face under his warm hands.

“How are you feeling, cariño?” he asks as he anxiously scans your face for any signs of discomfort.

“I’m fine, Frankie, no pain at all right now,” you smile at him and tug gently at his scruffy chin, making him smile back at you.

“I’ll stop bugging you next week, I promise,” he chuckles, “just let me fuss over you for five more days.”

“Deal,” you reply as he makes you sit down at the kitchen table for lunch.

A few days later Frankie goes in to see the officer in charge of new FEDRA recruits together with Pope. They both come back looking disgruntled, Pope slamming the front door behind him as you sit up on the couch.

“At least you won’t have to work for the prick,” you hear Pope grumble from the hall as the two men unlace their boots. “At least you have a proper job, I have to go out and find whatever’s available for ration cards;” you hear Frankie snap back, stomping into the living room. He slumps down on the couch next to you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What happened?” You ask, rubbing your hand over Frankie’s shoulder.

“I’m not allowed to work for FEDRA, indefinitely, due to my ‘unstable condition’,” Frankie replies. “They’d heard about what happened at the hospital and decided I’m not fit for service.” Frankie had told you about his episodes at the hospital, you’d noticed the cut knuckles on his hand at first and when you questioned him he unraveled the whole story, eyes downcast, rubbing his thumb over the fleshy part of the other hand. Now he leaned back and sighed.

“I’ve got to find some other job, or maybe I can convince them to let me do training, or weapons maintenance or something.”

Pope sinks down at the other end of the couch, “Like I said, at least you don’t have to work for that prick,” he looks over at you and pulls a dissatisfied face. “There’s a new head guy, the other one got killed when they cleared out a new building QZ last week.”

“He got bit?” you ask, horrified at the prospect of infected inside the QZ.

“No, that’s the irony, the guy stumbled and fell down a staircase, broke his neck.” Pope says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Of all the ways to die in the apocalypse. Anyway, Benny says he was a really good boss, this new one has a reputation for being a prick and he did not disappoint. He put me on latrine duty, I literally have to stand guard over people digging latrines.” Pope makes a disgusted face but Frankie growls.

“I’ll be the one digging the fucking latrines so I don’t wanna hear any complaints from you.”

Both men sigh and sink further into the couch next to you and you give Frankie’s arm a light squeeze in sympathy. You’ve been told that you’re back on kitchen duty which is lucky, it’s a good job that keeps you out of danger and it pays fairly well. With Frankie out of FEDRA you’ll need all the extra ration cards. But secretly, you’re relieved, and you know Benny and Pope are too. Frankie’s nightmares were never really gone, and they’d multiplied after Lucía died, but the past weeks have been worse than ever. The dark rings under his eyes, and yours, show the evidence. What’s worse is that he’s starting to show symptoms during the day too, in ways you haven’t seen before. Some you recognise, like when he jumps and grabs you when a window in the apartment slams shut. Others are harder to pinpoint, spending almost an hour in the bathroom with the door shut, answering only in monosyllables when you ask him if he’s ok. When he comes back out his eyes are downcast and shoulders hunched, moving with slow movements, sluggish. And when he does the same in the morning, leaving the apartment without even saying goodbye because he seems to shut off after being to the bathroom, you get scared. It worries you and you’re grateful he’s not going back to active duty like this.

Another week passes and you’re deemed well enough to start working, at least without any heavy lifting, and it’s a relief to be out of the apartment. And you need to talk to Pope without Frankie around. The FEDRA HQ and kitchen in Arlington is housed inside a mall, the big food court in the middle serving as the main mess hall for all the soldiers. The shops have all been looted for anything useful and the first few days you walk past the broken shop fronts with a feeling of complete surreality. You’d been to this mall countless times, you and Frankie had been to the movies here. Just the week before the outbreak Frankie had dragged you to see the new Riddick. It was terrible. If you’d know the world would end you would’ve forced Frankie to another movie.

Frankie has got a job clearing rubble around the QZ, clearing the streets, emptying out buildings and gathering anything FEDRA deems useful. It’s fairly safe work but sometimes FEDRA soldiers have to go first into closed off buildings, there’s always a risk of an infected hiding, locked away somewhere inside. He’s been on the job for three weeks and so far things have gone ok, they haven’t found any infected inside the QZ for two months and the job is physically exhausting. Frankie’s always coming home bone tired but unharmed, but his PTSD symptoms are getting worse.

Today Frankie has been assigned to a street on the other side of the QZ and Pope comes by to pick you up at the end of your shift. He lives in the same building as Frankie and you, as does Benny and Hannah, a perk of it being Benny and his C.O. who signed off on your transfer.

Pope is leaning against a pillar outside the door of the restaurant where the kitchen is set up when you step outside. He’s smiling at two of your colleagues who came out just before you, both of them giggling and throwing not very discreet looks at him as he shamelessly winks. One of them, a beautiful dark haired woman with an ass even you looked twice at, was absolutely his type and by the way she looks at him, you know she’ll be asking about him tomorrow.

“Hey Santi,” you smile as you reach him and he looks over at you, dropping a chaste kiss on your cheek, before glancing back at the two women again.

“Hey, hermana,” he says, “are they colleagues of yours?”

“Yes, they are, and yes, Olivia is single as far as I know,” you chuckle.

“Which one is Olivia?” He looks back at you, staying on you this time.

“The dark haired one, she’s your type right?” you ask with a grin, Santi was so smooth with women but subtlety was not his forte.

“You know me too well,” he laughs and slings an arm around your shoulder as the two women disappear behind a corner, “But just for the record, you’re my type too, I just let Frankie have you to be nice to him.”

“Sure, Santi, sure,” you laugh. This had been an ongoing joke for as long as you’d known Santi, always drawing a deep chuckle from Frankie whenever Pope tried to convince his friend that you would’ve given your number to him had he asked before Frankie. Your answer was always ‘Hell no!’ but it didn’t stop Santi from insisting he was right.

You start walking slowly towards the exit of the mall and out into the spring sunshine, “Which way home today?” you ask, continuing the tradition from Franklin to take different routes home every day to learn the city inside and out. You knew Arlington a lot better than Franklin but less so on foot.

“Let’s go this way, I heard about a new market popping up near Washington Park,” Pope says and turns right. You walk a little while talking about your respective days, Pope grumbling about new recruits the same way Frankie had done when he was with FEDRA. It seemed the standards of the former Delta Force men were decidedly higher than FEDRA’s recruiting officer. But once you’re away from the crowds milling around the FEDRA HQ you change the subject.

“I need to talk to you about Frankie,” you say and Pope looks over and raises his eyebrows. “He’s doing worse than he was in Franklin, he’s not as shut down as he was after Lucía died but he’s acting strange,” you push your hand through your hair, “And I don’t know how to handle PTSD, I need your help.”

“What’s he doing?” Pope asks and you tell him about the nightmares, the jumpiness and the long periods of locking himself away.

“Does he still talk to you?” he asks, furrowing his forehead and shoving hands inside the pocket of his jacket.

“Yeah, he does, but not much about what’s in his head, more about everyday things, mostly work and stuff. But he’s quieter than usual, I mean, Frankie was never a chatterbox, but you know, even for him, he’s quiet. But it’s the way he shuts himself away that worries me, and how sluggish he seems to be getting.”

Pope shakes his head and sighs, “He used to do that when he first stayed with me, when he lost his job and his apartment, before he started going to the NA meetings.” Pope stops and turns so that he’s looking at you, “I don’t want to worry you if I’m wrong but…” he pauses and sighs again, “the first few weeks at my place he would lock himself away in the bathroom. One afternoon I kicked down the door because he refused to open up, and he was using, doing coke, scrambling to hide it when I came in. I’d suspected it for a few days but…yeah, he was still using.” You close your eyes and drop your head, “Fuck, Santi, you think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know, hermana, I’m just telling you what he used to do, how he hid it.”

“How would he even get hold of coke now? And how did you get him out of it?”

“I’m guessing someone still has a stash of coke that they’re selling for rations cards, you can probably get hold of other drugs too, if you know where to look.” Pope puts a hand on your shoulder and nudges you along, a couple of FEDRA soldiers are walking in your direction. “I was offered to smuggle different drugs in Franklin but, with Frankie’s history, it was the last thing I wanted to get involved in.”

“And how did you get him out of it?” you ask, gratefully accepting Pope’s arm around your shoulders, you’ve feel like a lead weight has been dropped into the pit of your stomach, the thought of Frankie using drugs to handle his PTSD, in part because you got shot, has made you go cold.

“That evening, when I found him in the bathroom, our friendship almost ended. I tried not yelling at him but I was so fucking pissed. He knew he was going to become a dad, he’d already lost everything, his job, his apartment, most of his friends, and there he was, risking even his unborn child, just for a fucking high. So I yelled and I was prepared to stay pissed at him for a long time but you know what Frankie’s like.” Pope gives a chuckle, “First he yelled back at me, still high and trying to excuse his behavior, then he cracked, crying and begging for a second chance. And I know I should be immune to those puppy eyes of his but I couldn’t, the man has saved my life countless times, and he was at rock bottom and I had to help him. So I locked him in the apartment that night, literally, I put a padlock on the door and slept with the key on me. The next morning we threw out the coke together and then I drove him to an NA meeting. And then I kept driving him to them for about three months, every day for the first month, different meetings all around the city.”

Pope stops and sinks down on a bus stop bench, and you sit down next to him.

“You really saved his life, Santi,” you say, “I know he’s grateful for that, but he might need your help to do it again.”

“Yeah, and I’ll help him, hermana, but do you think there are NA meetings in Arlington now? And he needs to talk to a professional about the PTSD, because the shit that gave us all varying degrees of PTSD was at least over when we came back home, we didn’t have to face those types of missions again. But here?” Pope waves a hand at the broken city around the two of you, “Here he’s confronted with triggers every day and he needs tools to handle it and neither of us are able to help him with that.”

“Can you talk to Benny when you see him tomorrow, ask him if there’s someone, professional, that Frankie could talk to? Maybe there’s like a former psychiatrist or something in the QZ, someone who has at least some experience of helping with mental illness.”

“I’ll ask, sure, but you need to ask him if he’s using again, I don’t think he can lie to you, and from what I remember, what he said last time, the first step is for him to admit that he’s got a problem again.”

You nod, leaning back against the bench and tilting your head back.

“Fuck, Santi, as if things weren’t complicated enough.”

Santi sighs and pulls you to his side, giving you a side hug on the bench, “I’ve kicked him back into shape once, before, I’ll do it again if I have to,” he says and you give a weak smile. At least you’ve got Santi and Benny to help you with Frankie this time.

After you get back to the apartment, leaving Santi on the second floor to go to his own place, you pace across the living room, waiting for Frankie to get home. You’re chewing on your lip, going over how you’re going to ask him if he’s started using drugs again. However you form the words in your head, it comes out wrong. You don’t want to accuse him, you don’t want to make him defensive or angry, you want him to understand that you know the kind of personal hell he’s going through and that you’re not judging him. But he needs help, professional help.

But in the end, it turns out you don’t need to say anything. Frankie comes in through the door while you’re still pacing the living room, and catches sight of your pinched face. His hand immediately shoots to the pocket on his shirt, and his face falls when your eyes follow his hand and tears well up in your eyes.

“Are you?” you ask, your voice shaky, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. Stepping into the living room he nods, eyes on his toes, and when you hold out your hand he pulls a small bag from his pocket, four white pills in it.

“What are they? You take the bag from his hand and look at them, you were expecting coke, but this is something else.

“Xanax,” he says, his voice as low as yours as he sinks down onto the couch, he can’t bring himself to look at you when you sit down next to him, the bag still in your hand. “To help me sleep,” he whispers.

“You don’t take them just to sleep,” you say, it’s more a statement than a question and he gives a barely perceptible nod.

“They take the edge off,” he shrugs, his eyes still on his toes, “everything, in my head, the work, and it makes me sleep.”

“But it’s changing you, you’ve been sluggish and quiet, withdrawn,” you reach down and gently put your hand on his cheek, cupping it so that you can run your thumb over his scruffy beard and lift his head to make him meet your eyes. “You’re not yourself anymore, Frankie.” You feel him lean his head into your hand and he closes his eyes, a deep exhale escaping him, like he’s been holding his breath. .

“I’m spiraling, cariño, and I don’t know how to stop,” he whispers.

Suddenly he reaches out and grabs your waist, pulling you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, burying his face against your chest and pulling you tight. You gently wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head and dropping your nose against his soft curls. You can feel him breathe hot air over your t-shirt, drawing deep, shaky breaths, his nose pressed against the soft curve of your breast.

“You’ve got to talk to someone, Frankie, and I’m going to try to find you someone professional,” you whisper, caressing his scalp, running your fingers through his hair. “And you’ve got to talk to me, and Pope and Benny. We all love you and,” you pull away a little from him so that you can look down at his face, “I’m sorry to say this, but…you hurt me, and them, when you let yourself spiral without telling us. You have to let us help you, Frankie.” He drops his gaze and leans his forehead against your chest as you let your fingers run through his hair again.

“Remember one of the first times you had really bad nightmares when I stayed at your place?” you ask. “You were in such a dark mood the next day and you told me your sponsor had said that you should tell the people closest to you when you started spiraling, but you always thought that was the hardest thing.” You can feel Frankie nod against your chest.

“I told you I feel like I fail when I lose control, I feel so guilty,” his voice is low, guilt ridden already.

“And you said you thought I would leave you, think you’re a fuck up and not worth the effort.”

You cup your hands around his cheeks and pull him back, looking down into his warm brown eyes, riddled with anxiety and guilt now. “And I told you, you will always be worth the effort. And I think I’ve proven more than once that I meant that.” You bend down and press your mouth against his soft lips, feeling them part under yours as he tightens his arms around you..

“I love you Frankie, more than anything else, I’ve already said I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to be your wife.” You’re mumbling against his lips as you pull him to the side, climbing off his lap so that you can pull him down over you on the couch. He catches himself over you, sinking down on his forearms, caging you in as you kiss him again, your hands on his cheeks now. You can feel him sigh against your mouth, a low shaky sound, and his hands move under your head, holding you up to his lips. He’s warm against you, his heart racing under his flannel shirt and where your fingers rest against his neck, you can feel his pulse fluttering.

“Frankie,” you whisper against his mouth, “relax, we’ll get through this together, you and me.”

With a groan he sinks down on your side, angling himself so that he’s not resting on your injury. You turn your head so that you can still feel his lips brushing against yours. “You’re my Frankie, you’re mine,” you tangle your fingers into the curls at the back of his head and bump your forehead against his for emphasis, “I’m not giving up on you, ever. I’ll spend every night awake with you if it keeps you from taking the pills, I’ll join your work detail too, I’ll never leave your side if that’s what it takes.”

He cups your cheek, running his thumb over your nose, lips, down the line of your jaw before he replies, his eyes are calmer, softer now. “I’m an idiot for not saying anything to you, but I didn’t want to burden you with it on top of your injury.” He presses his thumb to your lips when you open your mouth to protest, “I just want to protect you at all costs, even from me, but I know you don’t think I should.”

“If I didn’t want to deal with your problems, I would’ve walked away after you told me about them that Sunday, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he replies, “I was sure you were just gonna leave, I couldn’t believe it when you asked if I wanted to get dinner instead,” a small smile actually tugs at Frankie’s lips and you smile back at him, remembering how Frankie had refused to take his hand off you even while he ate his pizza.

“I wanted to take you home with me that night so badly, but you were all Mr. Sensible and decided we should wait,” you giggle, “despite a raging hard on in your pants.”

“I did not have a raging hard on,” he protests with a small chuckle, pinching your cheek and making you laugh and you can see his mood lightening.

“You did, you couldn’t even walk straight back to your truck.”

Frankie’s ears have turned a beautiful shade of pink and his eyes crinkle as you pull a genuine laugh from him for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah, ok, maybe I had a bit of a boner, but you had me pulled up against your car, hands down the back of my pants if I remember correctly,” he’s chuckling as he leans in and runs his nose along yours, “You were so damn sexy whenever I saw you, still are, I have a hard time keeping thoughts straight in my head when I think about getting into your pants.”

“There’s my Frankie,” you smile, kissing him, chasing his lips with your mouth. “Did I ever tell you I had a sex dream about you that night?”

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he pulls back a little so that he can see your face, his eyes wide and filled with mischief. “No, you never told me that. Tell me everything!”

You laugh and pull him closer, “Take me to bed, Francisco, and I’ll show you.”

“My pleasure, hermosa,” he smiles and scoots off the couch, bending down to pick you up, bridal style, with your arms around his neck.

“I can walk you know,” you giggle, “I’m not even in pain anymore.”

“I know, but I also remember you saying you like it when I pick you up, something about the cave woman in you finding it sexy.”

“That is actually very true, and I still find it very sexy.”

Frankie grins and gently lays you down on the bed, “Now tell me about that sex dream,” he demands, sitting down on the edge and quickly unlacing his boots. You giggle and suddenly feel self conscious, your cheeks heating up.

“Did you ever have a sex dream about me?” You ask instead, to deflect Frankie’s amused gaze on you as he pulls his boots off.

“Sure, I had many sex dreams about you, and I’ll share them as soon as you tell me about yours, I’m really curious,” he gives you a mischievous grin as he climbs on top of you, propping himself up with his elbows on either side of your head again. You bite your lip, trying to hide the embarrassed smile that’s threatening to spill out, but Frankie doesn’t miss anything when he’s hovering over you, just inches from your face.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now, after we’ve literally fucked in every way possible,” he grins, rolling his hips against yours, “You’ve even got me hard, just thinking about it.”

“It’s silly, not some advanced sexcapade,” you say, but you let your legs fall open, caging his narrow hips with your thighs. “We were at my old place, and you had me sitting on the kitchen island there, and your fingers were inside me while you were kissing my neck, and…ooh, yeah, li-like that…” you stutter as Frankie drops his face into the crook of your neck and starts kissing the soft skin, trailing up towards your ear.

“Go on,” he mumbles, rolling his hips again, the hard length inside his jeans pushing up against your core, rubbing the fabric of your own pants against you in a way that makes your breath catch.

“Uuhm..we…” you gasp as Frankie’s teeth scrape across your neck, his tongue trailing softly at the same time. “You were pumping your fingers and I wanted you to fuck me so that I would come, I begged you to do it, and then you took your pants off and….then I woke up,” you giggle at the end, remembering how frustrated you’d felt when you woke up. You can feel Frankie smiling against your neck before he continues to trail kisses along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the skin, making you squirm under him.

“What did you dream about?” you ask, running your hands over his shoulders and down his back over the soft flannel of his shirt. You slide your fingers in under the hem, pushing up his shirt and Frankie sits back and pulls it over his head, flinging it off the bed.

“Definitely that,” he smiles, his fingers undoing the buttons of your jeans and pulling them down, gently lifting each of your legs to free them. “And then having you bent over my couch, and you riding me on the couch, and then eating you out when you were sitting on the couch.”

“Lots of stuff on the couch,” you giggle as Frankie carefully pushes your t-shirt and bra up over your breast, taking his time caressing them, letting the soft flesh spill through his fingers, before he pulls the t-shirt over your head, making the bra go the same way.

“I had a bad habit of falling asleep on the couch before you moved in, and I was always thinking about you when I was on it so…” he gives you a wink.

“Fantasy mingling with dreams? Are you telling me you jerked off on the couch thinking about me?” You can’t help but giggle as Frankie’s ears turn pink and he gives you a sheepish smile.

“Sounds so crude when you say it like that, cariño.”

“I like it,” you smile, “I like the thought of you getting off thinking about me, what did you think about?”

Frankie moves off the bed, standing to remove his jeans. You can’t help but smile as he pushes down the boxers too and you see how hard his cock already is, springing free from the fabric and curving up against his small, soft belly.

Frankie sees your eyes drift to his cock and gives you a crooked grin, “I used to think about what you would look like underneath me, your legs around my waist, moaning as I fucked you.” Frankie’s voice has dropped dangerously low and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body as he steps up to the bed again. All embarrassment about telling you what he used to think about has melted away and now he stands over you, looking down with a wicked grin. “I’d picture you on top of me, how tight and hot your pussy would feel as you sank down over my cock, how I’d grab your hips and fuck up into you as you feel apart on me, moaning my name.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel a rush of heat gathering between your thighs, making you squirm under his eyes, and he sees it, his gaze darkening and trailing down your body.

He bends down over you, caressing his thumb over your parted lips, letting his fingertips move down your neck, over your breasts, giving both nipples a gentle squeeze before pushing your legs apart and sliding two fingers through your folds, pulling a gasp from you as your back arches against his hand. “I really love hearing you moan my name, hermosa,” he mumbles, his eyes flitting up to your eyes before he looks back at how easily his fingers slip into your pussy.

You close your eyes and shudder, your limbs feel like liquid as he lets his fingers slide through the wet heat that started dripping from you as soon as he touched you.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, lifting your hips against his hand, pushing for more of his hand and he chuckles, bending down to your ear with his fingers still teasing your enterance.

“Just like that, cariño.”

When he removes his hand you protest, closing your legs to keep him there but he pulls away, sliding both arms underneath you and picking you up off the bed again. You can feel his hard cock press against the small of your back as he settles you into his arms.

“I’m gonna give you the ending of that sex dream,” he smiles, walking into the kitchen, “I reckon the height of the counter is just right.”

“Should’ve told you ages ago if I knew this would be the reaction,” you cup his cheek and pull his lips to yours as he sets you down on the counter, scooting you around so that he’s between your legs, pulling you against him and you can feel him smiling against your mouth.

“I should’ve told you ages ago about how I used to get off thinking about you, if I’d known this is how wet you’d get,” he mumbles between kisses. “Let me taste you first though, I want to put my mouth on you before I give you a dream ending.” He pulls back and wiggles his eyebrows up and down, “get it, ‘dream ending’?”

You give him a light slap on the chest but you can’t help but laugh, “That was so lame, jeez, Frankie,” you giggle as Frankie’s eyes crinkle at the corners from his warm smile. He leans in to kiss you, gently pushing you back against the cool granite on the kitchen island and you gasp as your skin touches the surface. It’s a strange sensation, cool stone against your back as Frankie presses his hot body into your front, his warm tongue slipping between your lips and his hands pushing your thighs apart, making room for himself between them.

He sinks his tongue into you, deepening his kiss as his hand wraps around his cock so that he can slide it through your folds. You hear him groan into your mouth, his grip on your hip tightening. He seems to fight with himself as he pulls away, stepping back so that he can press his mouth against the inside of your thigh but he moans as he does it, his tongue trailing down your body until he reaches your legs. Hooking them over his shoulders he nudges his nose against the top of your slit, dragging the tip down through your folds, stopping to gently rub against your aching clit. The action makes you keen loudly, your hips bucking against him and Frankie chuckles, the hot air of his laughter blowing over your wet pussy, making you clench around nothing.

“Tranquilo, hermosa,” he mumbles, putting his arm across your hips to keep you still underneath him. He lets his tongue travel a familiar path from the edge of your opening, dragging flat through your slick folds up to the swollen button at the apex, teasing around the edge with the tip, flicking across it when you whimper under his touch. He loves the sounds he can pull from you when his tongue teases you, every whine and moan goes straight to his cock, egging him on, making him moan into your wet heat as he buries his face, scratching your skin with his beard. You push your hands into his curls, tightening your grip as he moves his tongue down, driving into your opening, curling it back as far as he can reach, his nose pressing against your clit. Sometimes you worry that you’ll break his nose with how hard you want to press your aching core against it, but somehow he never lets up, always pressing it firmer against you.

He feels your thighs tighten around his ears, your fingers running through his hair, scrambling for purchase as he pulls your clit into mouth, tasting the sweet and salt as he sucks on it, every pulse of his mouth pulling louder moans from you. He swipes his hand over his cock, pressing down to stave off the ache, and gathers the precum on his hand. With an extra flick of his tongue he opens you up on his fingers, tightening his hold on your hips as your body arches off the counter at the feel of two of his thick fingers sliding into your wet heat.

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…” you gasp, stuttering breath caught in your chest, his fingers are impossibly deep, curling up into that one spot he finds so easily. “I’m gonna…” you pant, gripping hard on his hair and you feel him growl into your pussy, speeding up the smooth passes of his fingers, pulling back just a fraction to look up at you. Your head thrown back, your breasts pushed into the air as your body arches under his arm.

“Please, my gorgeous girl, let me taste you, come for me,” he urges you, flicking his tongue over the hard bundle of nerves before he sinks his mouth down over it again. Every muscle in your body tightens, that familiar fire building fast under Frankie’s hot mouth, and with a cry you feel the tension snap. Frankie licks through your overheated folds, pumping his fingers deep, keeping your climax going until your muscles go limp under him and you fall back onto the blessedly cool counter with a gasp.

You feel him stand up and kiss slow, wet marks over your warm skin, his hands skating up your sides, his hand gently brushing over the compress you still wear over your wound. He kisses around it, butterfly soft lips dusting over the tender skin. His arms go around your waist and he pulls you up to sitting, his mouth finding yours as you push your fingers into dark, damp curls at the back of his neck. His cock is throbbing, aching hard and pushed up against your slick pussy, and he moans as you roll your hips on to it, teasing the tip with the heat his mouth left.

“I need you inside me, Frankie,” you mumble into his mouth, “please fuck me now.”

He groans, his hands sliding down to your hips as his fingers dig into your flesh, pushing your thighs apart.

“Say it again, hermosa, beg me again,” he mutters, his hand moving to wrap around his cock, pumping it with a groan as he looks at you.

“Please, Frankie, I love how hard you get for me, fuck me, please, make me feel it.” You bring your hand down between your legs, sliding through the mess he made, parting your puffy folds for him to see your opening aching for him. Frankie growls, a deep rumbling in his chest as your fingers slip through your pussy. His hand tightens around his cock and he pushes the blunt head into you, feeling the muscles contract around his cock, making him stutter and grind his jaw.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Frankie sputters, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands are back on your hips, pulling you onto him as you keen under the feel of his thick cock.

“Always so fucking big, Frankie,” you moan, “always so…oh fuck…” you loose your train of thought as he snaps his hips, pulling you flush against him, his cock bottoming out. He draws a deep breath before he does it again, pulling back and slamming his hips against you, setting a forceful pace. Your legs wrap around his waist, your heels digging into his back, holding on to his shoulders as his fingers dig into your flesh. His mouth on yours in a messy kiss, heavy breathing and tongues slipping over teeth as he fights to keep control for as long as he can. Your pussy is squeezing him tight, his mind is blank, the only coherent thought how he wants this feeling to last forever, wet, tight heat around his hard cock, your soft, warm body pressed against his, wrapped around him, your hands in his hair and on his shoulders, whimpering in his ear as he slams his cock deep inside your tight pussy.

“I need to feel you come on my cock,” he groans, “I want to feel you come around me, sweet baby, please, come for me again,” he’s panting, pulling back to slide his hand between your bodies. With practiced ease he gathers slick on his fingers and starts to circle your clit. His eyes are black with arousal, fixed on your face as you whine under his touch. He knows you’ll come again, easily, he knows every button to press to make you cry out, but he likes to ask you for it, urge you to come for him, to make him feel how you shiver as his words run straight to your core

Your pussy starts to convulse around him when he tightens the circles around your sensitive nerves, your head falling back just the way he likes. If he couldn’t feel how hard your pussy was gripping him right now, he’d still know that you were close, your head back, whimpering his name, your body trembling against him. You feel his mouth against your throat, he’s marking you, his teeth nipping the thin skin as he moans, groans, panting hard as he fucks himself deep into you. White heat collects in your core, his fingers pushing you over the edge as he grinds himself hard against you, the ridges of his hard cock hitting every nerve ending as your pussy tightens impossibly around him. You squeeze your eyes shut and and cry out for him, his own release impossible to stop, he sinks his teeth into your soft shoulder, groaning your name like a prayer into your skin, his hips stuttering in their rhythm, wet heat filling you up, pumping himself deep as he pulls your hips even closer.

After, his head rests on your shoulder, his hot breath, deep lungfuls of air, slipping down your breasts. Your arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, nose buried in the sweat damp curls behind his ear, smelling him, only him. His release is slipping out between your legs, with a low hiss he pulls out and lifts his head. You let your hands stroke his warm cheeks, scruffy beard and bare patches and he tilts his forehead against yours, another deep breath escaping him.

“Every day, somehow, you make me love you more, hermosa.”

Chapter 22

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa

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mountainashes · 21 days

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Do you have any UD as adults hcs? (Like middle ageish)

Ooo hi!

Okay, again not rlly strict or clear ones, but I like to think about it. That being said, I'm mostly coming up with it as I go along. I'm just gonna answer this with every character as if nothing bad happened to them so I can include the Washingtons- I hope thats ok, if not I can do a post game one I'm sure all I think abt is this game.

Jess

I like to think she would become a model like she wants to be.

Also maybe an actress in some of Josh's films lol. I think she'd be good at it.

Honestly job wise I think she just does whatever she feels like, she's a very free and funloving person.

She visits Em at her work all the time, they have their lunch together.

She has a german shepard dog.

Ash

Ashley works on her books, which are mostly like crime-mystery type stories.

She often goes over Josh's scripts with him.

She works at a coffee shop in a mall because she just likes the vibe of sitting and writing in a café on her breaks.

She has pet ferrets.

Sam

She works at an animal shelter while also volunteering with conservation charities and stuff.

She's athletic and does runs and stuff for fundraising for charity.

She's hard to make plans with because she's always up to something, always busy. But she makes sure to be free for when the Washingtons host a get-together at the lodge :)

She works assistant manager at a clothing store, and she is in her ELEMENT.

Crochets in her spare time.

Sometimes does hikes with Sam.

Always changing her hairstyle, she's definitely braver when it comes to her style and doing what she wants.

She has a cat.

Beth

Does soundtracks for things, she's very into her music. Often Josh will get her for his films.

She's a music teacher on top of that, just because I think it'd be funny.

She gets really into gardening, grows fruit + veg and uses it when she makes any meals.

That said she also gets into cooking and sometimes hosts dinners with family or friends.

Han

Still into her weird hobbies (bug keeping, doll collecting).

She works with Josh all the time and helps with concept art and stuff. (Shes artsy as well to me).

Spends a lot of time up at Blackwood, works there when it's open. She's a ski instructor.

She also collects bones and feathers and stuff up there.

She joins Sam on a lot of her hikes/runs as well.

Plans and hosts the Feburary lodge hangouts.

Josh

He does film writing/directing, much like his dad.

His movies are much more psychological horror whereas his dad's were more ur slasher-type horror.

He spends pretty much all his free time with his friends and family, his own home is basically abandoned 90% of the time.

Often helps Ashley go over her writing as well.

Him and Jess drive out into the woods at random times to walk and chat, usually trading updates on their friends' lives and stuff.

Mike

Sort of like Jess, he just does whatever.

I can see him working with dogs tbh, maybe with Sam at the shelter. He deals with the larger breeds specifically.

He has a collie dog he goes everywhere with pretty much.

He also likes to show up and bother Em at her work. Lol.

Matt

He becomes a P.E teacher at the same place Beth is a music teacher.

He often goes to Blackwood when Hannah's there and they ski and hike together.

He goes on roadtrips with Ashley and Josh, he's usually driving while they get pictures and stuff for inspiration. They have gotten lost a LOT.

Chris

He does app design, most of his work is from home.

He's often with Josh, and does help with any technical stuff for Josh.

Ashley and Josh like to drag him out into the sun every now and again, because otherwise he would likely happily sit behind a screen all day.

I think I'll leave this now, I hope its ok. Thanks for the ask :D

#I'd go into more detail about hcs for specific ships n stuff #but idk what u ship so i wasnt gonna like. Force u to read my ship hcs and i wasnt gonna write down stuff for every ship i have bc jeez #Thatd take forever #And im already a slow writer #so i kept it all platonic hcs #that being said if anyone has any ship related hcs like this I wanna hear them #desperate to talk abt ud #again ty for the ask #Hope its cool #until dawn #until dawn headcanons #no prank au headcanons

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kevinvoncrastenburg · 5 months

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Uberhood (63) - Bubbler & Ruben - Beare

Fresh out of college Ty Bubbler is enjoying his life as an adult. He rented an apartment Downtown and is working as a Drive Through Clerk in the culinary career. Right now he's busy working on his reputation to become the "Don Lothario of Downtown" Good for him, I guess. 🤷🏼‍♂️

Ty met Hannah Bell at the local café. He wants to get to know her better.. well good luck Ty. Everybody around Uberhood knows (or should know) that Hannah Bell is trouble. We'll see how this unfolds.

In the apartment above, Joshua Ruben & Kevin Beare are living in a flatshare. While Joshua is busy meeting with old college flames..

Poor Kevin has to do the cooking and cleaning. He also recently got demoted from his job as a Fast Food Shift Manager. He now has the same job as his neighbor from downstairs, Ty Bubbler.

And if that were not bad enough, he was home alone when a burglar decided to break in to their apartment. 😂

Although Kevin was fast enough to notify the police, the burglar was able to escape after a turbulent pursuit down the stairs. It was very entertaining to watch ngl. 😂

#sims 2 #ts2 #the sims 2 #sims 2 uberhood #uberhood #downtown #sims 2 downtown #kevin beare #kevinvoncrastenburg #joshua ruben #ty bubbler #hannah bell #meadow pederson #rose dai #russ bear #katattys downtown

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hearts4leeknow · 11 months

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Never again (PT2 of “I’ve had enough!”)

Warning(s): sad seungmin, angsty, heartbreak, regret.

Genre: angst and maybe a tinny tiny bit of fluffy on (readers) side!

Pairing: seungmin x reader, felix x reader

> part 1 here

SKZ MASTERLIST

a/n: this pt2 was requested by @changbinisabigboy ! so sorry for the delay, your girl here had to babysit!

Seungmin didn’t know what to do, he was devastated he just lost the love of his life, you. You were gone and it was his fault, he couldn’t control express his feelings and because of that he lost a significant figure in his life. What a person he is. On the other hand, you weren’t doing so great either, you were hurt nonetheless yet you still had feelings for him that just wouldn’t go away. No, you couldn’t have feelings for someone that has bullied you a hurt you for months. That would be stupid, so you tried to move on, you started talking to this guy named Felix. Your friend Hannah introduced you to him since her and her brother, Chan, were friends with him and thought you two had similar interests. He was nice, relatable, funny, polite, and respectful. He was practically perfect, yet you didn’t know why you still had some attraction to Seungmin.

“Hey, girl!” Hannah exclaimed over the phone.

“Hi! I have something to ask you…” You replied, taking a deep breath.

“Of course, what’s up?” She questions sounding desperate and curious to know what was up.

“You remember Seungmin? I don’t know how and or why I still have this subtle feeling saying I still like him.” You whined now being able to describe the feeling.

“Maybe you aren’t completely over him yet, I mean it’s possible and it’s expected. You’re been friends with him almost since what? 4-5 years old, and you’ve had a crush on him for a year almost! It’s only normal, I think you just need more time.” The australian reassured.

“I guess, I don’t know anymore. I’m almost 100% sure I’m falling in love with Felix though! He’s so handsome, nice, kind, respectful…he’s just perfect!” You daydreamed as you fell back onto your bed.

“Seems like you two are getting along well! I knew he was perfect for you! You two can bake brownies together!!” Hannah screamed in excitement.

——

He couldn’t do this anymore, Seungmin was looked like a mess. His hair messy, eyes red, heart filled with regret and hurt. Yet he knew he deserved this, he deserved all of it after causing you so much pain and suffering. He needed to see you again even if its for the last time in his whole life, he would want to see you just once, but he knew you would never allow that. Seungmin thought about texting you, but he almost instantly fought with himself and said no. Instead, to cope with this pain, he went to the café you guys used to always go to when you two were still friends. Bad idea.

Seungmin walked into the café sitting down peering out the window admiring the beautiful scenery of plants and buildings surrounding the place. He was snapped out of his trance when the door of the café opened and the bell rang. A beautiful young lady walked into the café with a cute smile, the same laugh you had…he suddenly snapped out of his daydream. Was that you? The person he’s been missing oh so much? You were with some guy that had light blue dyed hair, he was fairly handsome. Seungmin could hear his deep voice from the table across, you seem to be having a good time with him. His heart broke, feeling the pain of heartbreak for once. He felt tears clouding up his vision, threatening to spill in the middle of this café.

——

After seeing you at the café he left as quickly as possible, being careful so you don’t recognize him. As soon as he got home he let the tears sprawl out of his eyes, sobbing into his hands. Shouldn’t he be glad you were happy? Yeah he should but he was selfish, he wanted you to be happy with him not this other dude, yet he did this to himself he decided to hurt you so much to the point that you absolutely hate him now.

After a while, he contemplated if he should send you a text asking if you were happier now just for some closure. He did, he sent you a text and asked.

📲seungmin: hey, are you happier with him?

📲y/n 💕: yeah I am thanks, he treats me right, unlike someone who decided to bully the one he quote ‘loved’.

📲seungmin: im sorry

📲y/n 💕: a sorry won’t heal the pain you caused me.

📲seungmin: I know, just know im terribly sorry, I don’t know why I did it, and I really regret it.

📲y/n 💕: well I hope you know I don’t want you to contact me again and remind me of what you’ve done. Goodbye, Kim Seungmin.

(this user had blocked you)

Ouch, that hurt. He knew something like this would happen, he knew you would never forgive a jerk like him. Seungmin knew it himself, he deserved your rude and cold attitude, he wronged you and he failed you. He knew he could never get you back, he knew he would never find someone so sweet and kind like you, he knew that no matter how hard he tried you would never forgive him, he knew you were happy and thats all that matters. Your happiness was his top priority, and you were happy now. So he should let it be even if this broke his heart, even if it pained him when he saw your posts on instagram you looking oh so happy with the new guy. He lost you because of his foolishness, and because of that he hurt himself yet made you find happiness.

Seungmin sat there crying in his bed until he had no more tears to shed, he would never forgive himself.

~FIN~

a/n: sobsbsbsbb, i need to post more but idk what to write! ppl give me suggestions please 😭😔😔

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cariantha · 1 year

Text

Doppelganger

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: Teen Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1K Summary: Sawyer meets her doppelganger.

A/N1: This fic was inspired by an ask from @jerzwriter. Ethan and Sawyer are on a much-needed vacation at a posh resort. Sawyer says she forgot something in the room and she'll be right back. Ethan heads to the buffet, the bar… someplace… and he sees "Sawyer." He swears she was wearing something different 5 min before, but then again, he may have had one too many mimosas. He walks up and puts his hand on her hip, and whispers something racy in her ear, and "she" turns around and all but smacks him. Now he realizes it's not her… but it's her… she says, "I don't know who Sawyer is, but my name is Hannah!" That's when Sawyer enters the room and meets her doppelganger.

A/N2: For background, Sawyer’s face claim is Hannah Jeter, wife of baseball legend Derek Jeter. The couple just welcomed their fourth child a couple weeks ago.

Walking arm in arm toward the hotel's coffee shop, Sawyer suddenly stopped.

"Ethan, we forgot to leave a tip for housekeeping."

He quickly replayed their morning activities in his head then leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'll go take care of it. We left quite a mess behind with our version of breakfast in bed, didn't we?" he winked.

"We're definitely going to need clean sheets. We got chocolate and strawberry juice everywhere," she giggled. "But I'll go. I want to grab a hair tie while I'm up there. You go order our coffee."

"Okay... here," he handed her the room key and some cash from his wallet.

"I'll be right back, babe."

After waiting several minutes in line, Ethan placed his order with the barista. He scanned the café for a place to sit and found Sawyer already sitting at a bar that took advantage of the tropical view. She had put her hair up in a ponytail and had definitely changed her outfit. He'd recognize that dress anywhere. The country club/cult dress.

She was completely preoccupied with her phone when he approached. Coming up behind, he whispered close to her ear. "Tease. This dress and a big window with a view..." pushing his hips against her backside, "....if you wanted to get a rise out of me, Sawyer, it's definitely working."

"Whoa there!" she spun around and pushed him back.

Before she said anything more, Ethan's mouth fell open as he realized his mistake.

"I don't know who Sawyer is, but my name is Hannah. And I think you’ve saddled up next to the wrong woman.”

Ethan immediately took a couple steps back. His cheeks turned a bright shade of red as he tried to offer an apology. "I…I'm so sorry! You…you, uh, you look so much like my girlfriend. She even has a similar dress."

"Yeah, I picked up on that," Hannah said, looking him up and down.

"My behavior just now was so inappropriate. I hope you can accept my sincerest apology,” Ethan begged as he ran his hand nervously through his hair.

Hannah could see he was genuinely embarrassed. "Of course…but only if I get to meet your Sawyer. I have to see this resemblance for myself now."

"It's uncanny," shaking his head, still in disbelief.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room…

Sawyer entered the cafe and looked around for Ethan. When she finally spotted him, her heart sank into her stomach. She couldn’t believe the sight before her. Her boyfriend, who she just made love to no more than an hour ago, appeared to be making moves on another woman.

Caught up in the scene before her, Sawyer didn’t hear the voice approaching from behind.

“There you are. I’m done with the golf tournament. What do you say we head back up to the room and try for number five?” he suggested, inconspicuously grabbing her ass.

“HEY!” Sawyer swatted his hand away, shocked out of her stupor.

“Sweetheart, what’s wro–” he stopped short, realizing the furious woman now facing him was not his wife. “Ma'am, I’m so sorry. I thought you were my wife, Hannah.”

The man looked familiar to Sawyer, but she couldn’t place him. Not until she heard the clicking of a camera and saw flashes of light.

“Derek! Over here! Are you and Mrs. Jeter on the outs?” the paparazzo yelled as the concierge tried to shoo him away.

“Derek Jeter?” she asked. “The baseball guy?”

The commotion caught the attention of Ethan and Hannah, who both made their way over.

“Yes, and I’m sorry again for the confusion,” he said as Hannah came to his side. “This is my wife, Hannah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sawyer,” Hannah offered her hand.

“I’m confused. How do you know my name?”

“Well, it appears your boyfriend was just as confused as Derek,” she smiled, watching Ethan take Sawyer’s hand in his.

“I’m guessing the guy with the camera was too. It makes a lot more sense now why he was following me around and asking why I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring,” Sawyer shared.

“Ethan Ramsey,” Ethan interjected, offering a hand to Derek. “It’s nice to meet you. Although, I wish it were under less embarrassing circumstances. I’m very sorry to both you and your wife. I wasn’t very gentleman-like when I approached her.”

Shaking his hand, “No worries, man. Apology accepted. And please accept mine in return. I tried to make it to second base with your girlfriend,” he chuckled. Derek looked between his wife and Sawyer. “It’s crazy how much you two look alike. You're each other’s…what’s the word?”

“Doppelganger,” Ethan answered.

“Yeah. Look, Sawyer, there’s a pretty good chance that a picture of my hand on your backside will be on TMZ tomorrow,” Derek said regretfully. “If there’s anything I can ever do to make it up to you, here’s my card.”

“We could use a ringer for our annual softball game,” she grinned, playfully jabbing Ethan in the side.

“She’s joking,” Ethan insisted. “We should let you both get on with your day.”

"Do you mind if we take a group selfie real quick?" Sawyer asked.

"Of course not." Derek held his hand out for her phone. As they squeezed together, he instructed, "Everyone smile and say 'Doppelganger!'"

“Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” Hannah offered politely as Derek handed the phone back. “Maybe we’ll see you around later.”

“Thanks, you too,” Sawyer waved goodbye.

Ethan put a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry, Soe. I honestly thought it was you. I meant no disrespect.”

“It’s okay, babe,” wrapping her arms around his waist. “I mean, I did have the scare of a lifetime when I walked in and saw you leaning over another woman, but it was an honest mistake. I forgive you.” She stood on her toes and gave him a chaste kiss.

“Excuse me, sir?” the barista interrupted, “I believe these were yours?”

“Yes. Sorry about that, thank you,” Ethan took the drinks, handing one to Sawyer. “Do you want to sit outside?”

Sawyer nodded and followed him out to the patio. “Hey, did you notice the tennis dress she was wearing? Did it remind you of anything?” she sang, suggestively raising her eyebrows a couple times.

“Yes. It’s what got me into trouble in the first place.”

As they took their seats, “Now this I have to hear…”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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lala3244 · 4 months

Text

Obsession Part 2

Finally! I got the inspiration and motivation to write again. I guess being on holiday helps between that and remodeling our bedroom it feels my days nicely! Apparently, I am doing this story in multiple parts as what I want to write can't get done quickly without any explanations. I don't know if people actually want to read the rest of that story but I need to write it and publish it for my own selfish reasons :).

Here is Part 1 for those interested

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Mention of death

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Jessy had a frown on her face when she saw me getting out of Jake’s car. As I walked towards her, I tilted my head and when I was in front of her, I stopped. “What’s up?”. She gestured to the seat next to me so I sat down but she was still wearing her frown which kind of made me uncomfortable. “Hm… You remember that Jake has a girlfriend, don’t you?” I laughed, “Sure, I know. Don’t worry nothing happened.” I tried to reassure her that I am not this kind of person. She shook her head. “Did you know she was a relative of Alan Bloomgate?” I shrugged. “Ok and? As I said nothing happened and nothing will happen as long as he is with her. So it doesn’t matter who she is.” Her face relaxed and she nodded. “I think they have a kind of understanding, him and Alan.” I took the menu to see what they offered as I tried to ignore the ache in my heart. “What kind of understanding?” I tried to look casual but I could barely breathe. I didn’t know why I reacted like that. It was not like I had high hopes of getting with the hacker anyway and I was still mad at him, also I didn’t care that he had a girlfriend. So why was my heart crushed by this? “I really don’t know. Jake doesn’t really talk to me, you know, unless it’s to talk about you.” I hid my blushing face behind the menu as my heart now was swelling by her revelation. I was still not looking at her but I heard her giggle. “He asked a lot of questions about you and especially if you were dating someone now. I did ask why he cared about it as he had a girlfriend. He always shrugged. It made me laugh every time.” I smiled tightly, as if I could have dated someone new after knowing him, I guess I should have. He did do it, after all. “Hmmm… Maybe I should start now!” She laughed. “Okay and who would be interesting to you?” I looked around us, not really looking for someone. “Oh! I know! Your brother!” Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare?!” I glanced at her quickly then looked away, a smirk on my face. “Well, why not? He is single and he’s been genuinely nice to me. Unless, of course, it would bother you and in that case, I wouldn’t dare, no.” She was still staring at me, wide-eyed, then she blinked a few times as if she was thinking about what I had just said. She moved slightly closer to me. “I guess it wouldn’t bother me only if you are sincere and not trying to make Jake jealous or playing some sort of sick game.” This time, it was me who had a shocked face and blinked a few times. “No! Of course I wouldn’t do that! I actually like him. But I am not sure I want to date anyone anyway.” A waiter came over to our table and took our order. .

We spent the rest of the morning in the café talking about this and that. The time passed quickly and we came out of our little bubble when Jessy’s phone rang. She answered the call and when she hung up she explained to me what was up. “I forgot to tell you! Tonight we are throwing a surprise birthday party for Hannah.” I nodded, smiling. “Oh I didn’t know it was her birthday. I mean I forgot about it. Do you think I’ll have time to buy her a present?” She laughed. “Don’t worry I bought it for you already.” I looked at the girl and smiled at her fondly. “Thank you! You’ll tell me how much it was and I’ll reimburse you.” “Don’t worry about it.” I promised myself that I would find out the price and give her the money. We stood up and went to pay for our drinks. While looking inside my bag, I felt my phone vibrating. I had left it there as I wanted my focus to be only on my friend and I was glad I did. We had such a lovely time, I didn’t really want to go somewhere else or to meet up with someone else. “Where are we going?” She thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. I am starting to feel hungry though.” I nodded. “Shall we buy some sandwiches and then go to the lake?” She turned back towards the cashier and asked for more food to take away. While she finished ordering and paying, I looked at my phone and saw I had notifications. I went through them quickly as Jessy was done paying but when I started to talk, she grabbed my wrist. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to pay.” I looked at her then smiled. “Thank you but next time you’ll let me pay.” She giggled. “Yeah sure.” And she started to walk away while grabbing her car keys and humming. I stood there, watching her walking happily. I would have thought she would have been destroyed after what had happened with Richy but she took it fairly well. Of course, the first few days were hard on her but rapidly she stopped crying every time we talked, then every time his name was mentioned and now she was humming as if nothing bad ever happened to her. I was glad, of course, but it just amazed me how people dealt with death differently. I walked to the car then we went to the lake. She had a blanket in the trunk of her car so we took it with the food and went to find a spot near the water. We sat down and we ate our food, silently, listening to the sounds surrounding us blissfully. After I finished my last bite, I heard Jessy clearing up her throat so I turned around as I thought she wanted to speak but when my eyes fell on her face, I saw a glint of mischievousness in her eyes. I tilted my head, waiting for her to finally talk. “Let’s go swimming!” She stood up and started to undress, keeping her underwear on, and she ran to the lake. She turned towards me and waved. “Come on! The water is actually alright!” I laughed but I reluctantly undressed and joined her. The water was actually alright. Cold, of course, but with the sun out, it was bearable. The glint in her eyes had not disappeared but I ignored it. I looked at the beautiful scenery, soaking up the sun on my skin when I felt some cold water being splashed on me. I gasped and jumped. I turned around and saw Jessy laughing while running away from me. I ran after her and managed to splash her too. When I did, I dived into the water so she couldn't get me anymore. I smiled at her and swam towards her. “Come on. Get into it. It’s actually nice. I love swimming. It feels like my sorrows and worries are being washed away and I am purified.”

Her face became serious. The carefree, happy woman was gone. Her wide eyes showed some emotions that weren’t there since I had arrived. She closed her eyes and sighed. “If only it was that easy.” I grabbed her hand to comfort her. “Jessy? What’s up?” She opened her eyes, I saw the pain she had been hiding all this time. How could I be this wrong? My friend was suffering and I didn’t notice in the slightest. It broke my heart. “I am sorry Jessy. I… I didn’t realise.” She shook her head and smiled tightly. “I know, don’t worry. I just… I just couldn’t hide it from you anymore.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks, mixing with the drops that were still running down from when she put her head under water. I saw the desperation and the deep sadness she kept hiding all those months back and I finally took her in my arms. I knew words could not sooth her. I could only just be there for the heartbroken woman. She didn’t move when she was in my arms but I didn’t mind. I could feel her tears wetting my skin as the top of our bodies were out of the water. I gently stroked her head while her body was shaking from her sobbing. She calmed down after a few minutes and I realised that the trembling was, now, not because she was crying but because she was getting cold like I was. “Let’s get out of here.” She nodded and slowly peeled herself away from me. As we slowly made our way back to the blanket, I had the weird feeling that someone was watching us. I took a look around and saw a man standing and I recognised Jake. I waved at him slightly and he waved back while joining us to the blanket. I put the stuff on it aside and grabbed it. I put it around Jessy and me in an attempt to dry ourselves. Jessy finally saw Jake. “Hello Jake. Are you being a weirdo?” He laughed and shook his head. “No. I didn’t know you would be there actually.” I quirked an eyebrow. “Really?” He looked away. “I mean, yeah I knew but I had planned to come here before you two came.” I hummed and started to get dressed while trying to hide my body from the man in front of us. “Why do you come here?”. He looked at the lake. “It is nice and peaceful. No one to bother me. I like solitude.” I nodded. “I understand.” He looked surprised by my answer. “What?” He shrugged. “You don’t seem like the type of person to like being alone.” I laughed. “I guess you don’t know a lot about me then.” I smiled at him and I could see a slight blush pinking his cheeks. “Maybe I don’t.” I laughed and turned to see that Jessy was dressed. “We shall leave you alone then.” He chuckled. “Thank you. Are you going to Hannah’s party tonight?” I nodded. “Yes, of course. I am guessing you are too?” I was gathering everything to get ready to leave. “Yes I am. I will see you tonight then.” We finally walked back to the car and we went back to Jessy’s flat to get ready for the party. As I sat down in the car seat, I heard my phone beeping. I frowned as I knew I put it in silent mode. I took it but saw no notification, perplexed I unlocked it and saw that I had one in the messenger app Jake had illegally installed. I chuckled to myself and opened the app.

*You both could have stayed.*

I looked at Jessy who was driving, the car was silent.

*Thank you but we need to get home and get ready. And I thought you wanted to be alone?*

I watched the messages vanish after a couple of seconds. I was startled by Jessy when she started to speak. “Who’s writing to you?” I glanced at her quickly. “Jake” She nodded and hummed unhappily. “What?” She was still looking at the road in front of her. “Did you forget what I said this morning?” I sighed. “HE texted me, first of all and he said we could have stayed.” She chuckled. “I thought he came there to be alone?” I laughed too. “I know!! That’s what I wrote.” I showed her the screen but then remembered that the message was gone. She couldn’t see anyway as she was driving. “What did he say?” I smiled slightly. “He hasn’t answered yet.” We waited for a few seconds and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the beginning of his message

*:)

I did but with you it is different. I do not mind the company.*

I stared at the words until they disappeared again. “So? What did he say?” I looked up from my phone. “Hm?” She laughed. “What did he say?” I looked back at the blank screen. “That he wouldn’t have minded the company.” She hummed quietly. I locked my phone and looked at the road. I realised my feelings for the hacker were creeping their way back slowly and it annoyed me, especially because they were stronger this time around. It was one thing to text him, I could put a safe distance between him and me even though the feelings were there but to see him in real life… He was exactly how I expected him to be, nice, sweet and caring and the fact that he was also gorgeous didn’t help. My phone beeped again, as my phone unlocked onto the opened app, I read the message.

*I am sorry*

The message erased itself after a few seconds. I was perplexed by this last message.

*What do you mean?*

And as my message disappeared again, we arrived at Jessy’s flat. We got ready then left early to help with the decoration and other things. It was at the Aurora. We decided to walk there so we could drink if we wanted. While getting ready, I heard my phone beeped again but I was so carried away with the preparations that I didn’t find the time to read the message. When we were ready with everything, we left the flat and I remembered my phone. I took it out and looked for the messenger app to open it.

*I am sorry that I never texted you. I am sorry I have someone. I am sorry I was a coward. I understand you did not want me to apologise to you but I am. I am really sorry.*

I smiled and sent a text back.

*I am just glad you are safe and alive, Jake. All the promises and other words you might have said were from another life. You don’t need to be sorry.*

We entered the bar and I saw Jake looking at his phone, a look of disappointment on his face. My heart sank at the sight and he looked up at the door being opened. He looked at me and I saw a sadness behind his bright eyes then he looked away. I followed Jessy as I didn’t know what they had actually planned. Phil had closed the bar for a couple of hours so we could set up everything. I went and said hello to everyone. When I hugged Phil, he offered me a drink which I accepted gratefully. Jessy joined us as we actually didn’t have much to do. Lilly and Thomas had done most of the decorations. Finally, it was time for Thomas to go and pick up Hannah. We waited for a few minutes then we turned the lights off so Hannah would not have a clue about what was going on. We only waited for a couple of minutes when we heard the door open. The lights got turned on and “SURPRISE!” Hannah did look surprised and we all laughed as she berated Thomas playfully. Phil turned the music on and opened the bar for other customers. We only took a part of the bar so he could still open it. We all went around the table where all the presents were and we watched Hannah open them all. She made a speech to thank all of us then she came over to talk to me. “Hey! Thank you for being here with us.” I smiled at her but I didn’t say anything. “And thank you for helping my friends… our friends with finding me. I don’t know how to thank you properly. You know I tried to text you multiple times the last few months but I got scared each time I was about to send it. What if you didn’t want to talk to me? What if you hated me? What if…” I cut her off smiling. “Hannah, I would have been more than happy to talk to you and I would have answered you straight away.” Before she could carry on the conversation we heard someone calling her name. We both looked up to the entrance and I saw an older couple waving at Hannah. She looked at me with a smile while they were joining us. “They are my parents!” She hugged them while they wished her a happy birthday. Lilly joined them too, looking stressed. “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?” Her eyes were darting around and when we heard the door slammed violently, her eyes screwed up shut and she sighed. When she opened them, there was a look of worry and she looked at me as if she was asking me something. “I told you not to come!” And she left in a hurry. I looked at the rest of the family, puzzled. Hannah scoffed. “Right, Mom, Dad this is…” Her dad cut her off and extended his hand. “Yes, we know. It’s really nice to finally meet you. Lilly doesn’t stop talking about you!” I laughed nervously and I shook his hand to be polite. Their mom hugged me and told me that if I needed anything they would be happy to help me. I thanked them and we started to make small talk.

After a few minutes, Lilly came back, worried still etched on her face. She grabbed me and took me away from her family. “I need to talk to you.” I followed her and she looked around to make sure no one was listening. “You need to go and talk to Jake.” I stared at her. “What? Why?” She sighed loudly. “Because MY dad, OUR dad is here…” I looked at the man and made the connection. I kind of had forgotten about it. I sighed. “Why do you think I could help?” Lilly was looking at her parents. “Angela and I tried to speak to him but he didn't speak. I am afraid he might come inside and punch my father.” I laughed at that. I couldn’t imagine Jake being violent but who knows? Maybe hacking his bank account or his computer but not punching him. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.” I followed Lilly outside and I saw Jake pacing around while Angela was trying to calm him down. Lilly called Angela to her and I walked towards Jake. “Hey Jake.” He stopped when he heard my voice and slowly turned to face me. “Hey” I showed him a table with two seats so we could sit. We sat down and stayed silent for a full minute before I started talking. “Lilly said they weren’t supposed to come.” He shrugged. “I know she told me.” I hummed, I didn’t really know what to say. “I just… I knew I would eventually bump into him but I don’t know why I reacted like that.” I leaned forward on my chair. “Will you talk to him? Will you tell him the truth? Will you punch him in the face?” He laughed out loud and shook his head. I saw Angela and Lilly watching us and Angela got upset. I felt bad but I was trying to make him feel better. “No, I would not punch him. I haven’t decided what I should do.” I leaned back on my chair. “Hmm. It’s not easy. I can’t say what would be best. I think it depends on what you want and need. Do you need him in your life?” He shrugged again. “I don’t know, I don’t think so.” His phone beeped and he looked at the screen, a frown on his face then he stood up to look around. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He turned his face towards me. “You remembered I told you that a friend helped me get free?” I nodded. “She is here.” A few seconds after he talked, we heard a car driving full speed and stopped suddenly in front of the Aurora. The engine stopped and a woman stepped out of the car. She was not conventionally dressed, I would say but she knew how to dress herself. She saw Jake who was walking towards her and her whole face was illuminated by the brightest smile I had ever seen. She ran towards the hacker and jumped in his arms while screeching his name. Hopefully, he caught her and held her for a few seconds before putting her back on her feet. I arrived next to them, curious about this woman in Jake’s life, whom he had never talked about. Jake sensed me next to him and he made the introduction.

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THE END

Thank you for reading.

This is not proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know.

Comments and feedback are welcome :)

Also what do you think about Moonvale?!!!!!!

#duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jessy #duskwood hacker #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #everbyte studios #duskwood lilly #duskwood hannah #duskwood jake #jessy hawkins #lilly donfort #hannah donfort

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mashihope · 2 months

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[The Day] || Bangchan, Stray Kids (ESP)

(This mini moodboard is made by me; I don’t own any of the pics.)

• Miembro: Bangchan

• Grupo: Stray Kids

!! • Aviso: Mención de comida, ligeras implicaciones de problemas de autoestima y/o ansiedad; Y/N es afab para ir a juego con la persona para la que está escrito esto principalmente

• Sinopsis: Ha llegado el día de tu cumpleaños. Tu novio Chan es muy detallista y se ha encargado de planear todo con dos meses de antelación. Desde los regalos hasta las personas a las que va a invitar a la fiesta, porque va a ser un evento inolvidable.

[Nota: Los títulos de las canciones estarán enlazados al vídeo en youtube :) Este escenario es un regalo para @ailenuspot por su cumpleaños que viene bastante tarde, el pastel entró en el horno en el 2022 y acaba de salir ahora, por lo que puede que su sabor ya no sea tan bueno como podría haber sido desde el principio. Sin más que añadir, ¡feliz cumpleaños! <3]

"Vamos, Y/N, Chris está fuera con el coche. No podemos hacerle esperar más", dijo Hannah tirando de tu brazo, para sacarte de la habitación.

"No puedo, este vestido me queda horrible, ¿tú has visto a tu hermano? Es una obra de arte con piernas. No puedo presentarme con estas pintas", dijiste intentando bajar la cremallera de la espalda para probarte otro.

Hannah te agarró las manos y las sostuvo firmemente frente a ti, frunciendo el ceño.

"Y/N. Primero, no estás horrible, eres y estás preciosa, Chris te seguiría queriendo y viendo igual de bonita aunque fueras a la fiesta con una bolsa de basura como vestido. Y segundo, me ofende muchísimo que ignores esta belleza divina que tengo. ¿De dónde crees que le viene a él?", dijo intentando contener la risa tras las últimas palabras, para, acto seguido, soltarte las manos y darte un par de palmaditas suaves en la mejilla.

Te miraste una última vez en el espejo, intentando procesar las palabras de tu amiga y teniendo un debate interno sobre si realmente sería mejor vestirte con una bolsa de basura en lugar de aquel vestido de tirantes rosa.

Volvió a tirar de tu brazo, aprovechando que estabas distraída y, finalmente, consiguió sacarte de la habitación, ignorando tus protestas. Le seguiste hacia la salida, cogiendo ambos bolsos por el camino para no olvidar nada. Abrió la puerta tras echar un vistazo rápido a la hora en el móvil y apresuró el paso hacia el ascensor, obligándote a hacer lo mismo.

Viste a tu novio apoyado sobre el coche con los brazos cruzados, incapaz de contener la sonrisa que se había formado en sus labios hacía unos minutos al pensar en todo lo que había preparado, imaginando tus ojos brillantes y esa sonrisa que tanto adoraba. Todavía no se había dado cuenta de que habíais salido del edificio y que lo estabais mirando, por lo que siguió soñando despierto. Hannah negó para sí misma tras observarlo durante unos segundos desde lo alto de la escalera.

"Podemos irnos", dijo golpeando suavemente el brazo de Chan con una sonrisa, para llamar su atención, después de pararse delante del coche. Estabas detrás de ella, por lo que tu novio no te había visto todavía.

"Y/N...", dijo Chan con una voz calmada, animándote a salir de tu escondite.

Tus mejillas se tiñeron de rosa cuando vuestros ojos se encontraron. Viste que miles de estrellas empezaron a adornar esos pequeños planetas de tonos café por los que solías orbitar cada día. Sentiste un cosquilleo en el pecho, un sentimiento cálido y familiar, ese que te inunda cuando sabes que estás segura, en tu hogar. El cosquilleo se convirtió en mariposas revoloteando por tu estómago cuando te fijaste en esos pequeños hoyuelos que coronaban sus mejillas como diamantes. Esas mejillas que solías llenar de besos cada mañana, haciendo que el chico se riera bajo tus labios bailarines, incapaz de contenerse debido a las cosquillas que estos le hacían con cada beso fugaz.

Hannah estaba de pie a vuestro lado, apartada, dejando fluir ese pequeño momento lleno de magia. Sus ojos pasaban de su hermano a ti, y de vuelta a él. Sabía que era algo normal entre vosotros y que solía ocurrir cuando os quedabais mirándoos el uno al otro por más de cinco segundos... Pero le costaba acostumbrarse y casi le daban escalofríos.

Ninguno de los dos hablaba. Ese silencio era más que suficiente para ver y entender las miles de palabras que estaban flotando a vuestro alrededor. Miles de palabras sin pronunciar que acariciaban dulcemente el corazón, haciéndolo latir más deprisa. Siempre había sido así. ¿Silencios incómodos? Nunca.

La suave brisa del verano era la única que se hacía oír en aquel momento, recordándoos que no estabais solos, haciendo que vuestra pequeña burbuja de amor y felicidad explotara para devolveros a la realidad.

"Estás preciosa, Y/N", dijo finalmente, todavía sonriendo, para dejar un beso rápido sobre tus labios que, casi sin darte cuenta, hizo que te olvidaras de los pensamientos negativos por un momento.

Hannah hizo un sonido de disgusto, sacando la lengua y empezando a caminar hacia la puerta del coche. "TE LO DIJE", murmuró (en un tono más alto del que pretendía) a través de la ventanilla en tu dirección, al sentarse en uno de los asientos traseros.

Chan la miró por un momento, negando con la cabeza para sí mismo tras dejar escapar una pequeña risa nerviosa. Porque, en efecto, estaba más nervioso de lo que en realidad llegaba a verse. No tenía miedo pero sí le daba miedo que algo pudiera salir mal. No podría perdonárselo nunca.

Al mismo tiempo, tú estabas tan nerviosa que cualquiera podría haber afirmado que te temblaban hasta las pestañas. Tenías una relación de amor-odio con las sorpresas y por más que lo intentaras jamás habrías sido capaz de adivinar todo lo que tu novio había preparado para tu gran día.

Tras comprobar una vez más que todo estaba en orden, Chan puso en marcha el coche y se dirigió hacia el lugar en el que se iba a celebrar la fiesta. A decir verdad, habías salido un poco más tarde de lo previsto, pero decidió no mencionarlo porque después de haber pasado tanto tiempo a tu lado era perfectamente capaz de imaginar los motivos. No quería hacerte sentir culpable por algo así y mucho menos en un día como este.

Tras unos minutos, el semáforo decidió que era un buen momento para haceros parar. Al comprobar la fila de coches que habían delante y que probablemente eso supondría tardar más, Chan empezó a tararear la melodía de una canción, casi sin darse cuenta. Frunciste el ceño cuando empezaste a reconocerla, pero no conseguías recordar cuál era.

"Eso me suena, ¿de dónde era?", preguntaste dirigiendo miradas a ambos. Ninguno de los dos respondió, Chan miró a su hermana a través del reflejo del espejo con una sonrisa culpable, y ella se la devolvió encogiéndose de hombros. "Vale, gracias", dijiste de una forma tan sarcásticamente adorable que Hannah ahogó una risa tras la pantalla del móvil.

"Según mis fuentes, "eso" debería estar listo en media hora", dijo tu amiga en un tono demasiado misterioso para tu gusto, sin levantar la vista del móvil. Chan respondió con un sonido de afirmación al mismo tiempo que asentía con la cabeza lentamente, sin despegar los ojos de la carretera. Los coches empezaron a avanzar y sintió que podía respirar de nuevo.

"¿Por qué tanto secretismo? ¿Me he perdido algo?", preguntaste dirigiendo miradas a ambos mientras fruncías el ceño. El silencio que inundó el interior del coche tras tus palabras fue la confirmación indirecta a tus dudas.

Hannah decidió poner una de sus múltiples "playlist random" con la esperanza de que eso te distrajera y evitaras hacer más preguntas que ninguno de los dos podía responder... Al menos, no todavía. Empezó a bailar en el asiento cuando una de sus canciones favoritas llenó el silencio del coche. Chan movía la cabeza al ritmo de la música.

Poco después, para evitar que el camino se te hiciera largo, Chan decidió que era momento de cambiar la playlist por una suya esta vez. Polaroid Love empezó a sonar, dibujando una inmediata sonrisa en tus labios. Notaste que la mano de Chan te daba un apretón suave y cariñoso en la pierna, como cada vez que sabía que estabas nerviosa.

(...)

Una hora después, levantaste la vista de la pantalla del móvil al sentir que la velocidad del coche empezaba a disminuir. Bajaste la ventanilla del todo para mirar a tu alrededor. Te llegó un olor intenso a flores lo suficientemente tolerable como para respirar profundamente. El lugar parecía ser un hotel casi a las afueras, alejado de todo el ruido del tráfico. Un par de jardines en "miniatura" decoraban la entrada a ambos lados de la puerta principal de la que descendían unos escalones con detalles dorados. A los pies de ésta había un hombre vestido de traje, siguiéndoos con la mirada y sonriendo de oreja a oreja.

"Hemos llegado", dijo Chan, sin añadir una sola palabra. De todos modos, no habría sido capaz de hacerlo, su voz ya empezaba a tener un ligero temblor (del que tú no te llegaste a dar cuenta, todavía admirando las flores)

El coche se paró y el hombre del traje se acercó a la ventanilla de Chan, esperando a que éste saliera. Se saludaron alegremente con un abrazo. No pudiste evitar sentirte confundida, lanzando una mirada a Hannah, pero solo llegaste a ver cómo salía para lanzarse a los brazos de aquel señor.

Chan se dio cuenta de que todavía estabas sentada y se giró. Dejó escapar una sonrisa nerviosa, un tanto culpable quizá.

"Este es Louis, es un viejo amigo de la familia. Es... como un tío para nosotros. Louis, esta es...", empezó a explicar tu novio, abriéndote la puerta y dejándote paso.

"¡Con que esta es la famosa Y/N! ¡Es un placer!", Louis se acercó a ti, seguido de Hannah, "He oído hablar tanto de ti... Ya empezaba a preguntarme quién sería la tal Y/N que tan feliz está haciendo a mi Christopher...", hizo un suave intento de cogerte las manos, atento a cualquier signo de incomodidad, "Te agradezco todo lo que has hecho por él, no puedo evitar sentirme orgulloso de ver en lo que se ha convertido este muchacho después de todo... Y sé que una parte de ello te lo debo a ti"

Tus ojos empezaron a llenarse de lágrimas. Había algo en la voz de aquel hombre... Podías sentir la sinceridad de sus palabras, saliendo desde lo más profundo de su corazón para alegrar el tuyo. Chan reparó en ello de inmediato, acercándote a él para rodearte con sus brazos.

(...)

Tras dejar el coche para que Louis se encargara de buscar un buen sitio para aparcarlo, caminasteis hacia la sala donde se iba a celebrar la fiesta, recorriendo amplios pasillos. Te fijaste en un jarrón de rosas (precisamente, rosas) sobre una mesa. Te giraste para comentarlo con Hannah, pero estaba claro que en algún momento se había quedado atrás.

"Eh... ¿Dónde está Hannah?", giraste completamente, dejando que tus pies empezaran a moverse. Chan tiró suavemente de tu brazo, "No te preocupes, habrá hecho una parada para ir al baño, sigamos adelante"

Lo miraste, tenías la sensación de que estaba mintiendo, pero, ¿por qué? ¿Acaso él tampoco sabía a dónde había ido su hermana? Te hubiera gustado preguntarle una vez más pero él ya empezaba a alejarse y no querías perderte en aquel lugar.

Tras recorrer un par de pasillos y girar unas tres veces, el sonido de la música empezó a acercarse. Pudiste reconocer la canción cuando ya estabais lo suficientemente cerca de las puertas, era Darari, de Treasure. Ciertamente, era una canción que había marcado muchas de vuestras citas, apareciendo cuando menos lo esperabais (en una playlist personal de algún trabajador de la heladería, fans escuchándolo en su móvil...) para convertirla en una canción especial para vosotros.

Chan se paró justo antes de abrir una de las puertas y respiró profundamente. Se giró y buscó en tus ojos cualquier signo de huida inminente, "¿Estás lista? ¿Deberíamos irnos y esperar un momento?"

"Estoy bien, me muero de ganas por ver qué has preparado" te acercaste a él para dejar un beso fugaz en su mejilla. Sus adorables hoyuelos te saludaron una vez más, cualquiera podría haberse dado cuenta en aquel momento de lo feliz que estaba tu novio de estar allí contigo.

Tras coger suavemente tu mano, empujó una de las puertas poco a poco. El sonido de la música aumentó, incluso podías oír a los invitados hablando, algunos riendo animadamente. Chan hizo un gesto para que entrases primero, siendo el caballero que siempre es.

Bajo todo aquel ruido, empezaste a escuchar un leve sonido de golpes en el suelo, uno detrás de otro. No te dio tiempo de intentar averiguar de dónde venía cuando una alegre bola de pelo empezó a moverse entre tus pies.

De no haber sido por Chan habrías acabado en el suelo. La pequeña Berry te había reconocido en el mismo momento que habías entrado por la puerta y no había sido capaz de esperar a que fueras tú quien se acercase. Entre risas y palabras de cariño, intentaste cogerla en brazos. Era evidente el cariño que sentíais la una por la otra.

Acariciando con ternura la cabecita de Berry, empezaste a mirar a tu alrededor. El lugar era muy espacioso, con suficientes mesas para todos los invitados (que hubieras jurado serían menos, pero al parecer te habrías equivocado), una pista de baile e incluso un escenario. El sitio estaba completamente iluminado, desde elegantes candelabros de cristal colgando del techo hasta los enormes ventanales que recogían la cálida luz de la tarde. En cada rincón, podías ver adornos rosas de diferentes tonos que, pese a ello, ninguno quedaba mal a la vista. Eras capaz de distinguir numerosos jarrones parecidos a los que habías ido encontrando de camino a la sala, todos ellos decorados con, una vez más, rosas de color rosa.

Todo aquello rozaba el jardín de un hada de las flores, pero la propia decoración del hotel dejaba claro que estabas presenciando una escena sacada de un cuento de hadas del que tú eras la protagonista y aquel tu palacio, con tu príncipe.

"Chan...", empezaste a decir. Ninguno de los dos habló, él había estado mirándote desde el primer momento, incapaz de disimular esa enorme sonrisa que había aparecido en sus labios al fijarse en el brillo de tus ojos. Era tal y como lo había imaginado, tal vez incluso mejor.

Se acercó a ti, con una mano sobre la cabeza de Berry y otra en tu mejilla, y te besó. Ni todos los postres que hubieran preparado serían tan dulces como aquel beso. Tras separarse de ti, te dedicó otra sonrisa. Miró a su alrededor, buscando a su familia. Vio a sus padres moviendo la mano en el aire, intentando llamar su atención.

Os dirigisteis hacia aquella mesa, todavía llevando a Berry en tus brazos cual bebé. Os habían reservado un par de asientos y, a su vez, habían otros dos asientos libres, sin rastro de sus hermanos.

Intentaste preguntar sobre ello, pero no fuiste capaz. Tras saludar a tus suegros y dejar que Berry descansara sobre una de las sillas vacías junto a la tuya, no tuvisteis tiempo de intercambiar más palabras. El sonido de un micrófono encendiéndose interrumpió todas las conversaciones. La pequeña pareció asustarse, intentaste que estuviera tranquila acariciando su cabeza una vez más.

Todas las cabezas se giraron hacia el escenario, a un lado de las mesas. Sobre él estaban Felix y Minho, saludando a todos con una sonrisa. Algunos de los niños les devolvían el saludo alegremente.

"Me gustaría daros a todos la bienvenida y las gracias por estar aquí. Como ya sabréis, hoy es un día muy especial en el que celebraremos el cumpleaños de una gran persona y amiga para muchos de nosotros", empezó a decir Felix, siempre tratando de mantener su radiante sonrisa. "Es probable que algunos ya hayáis empezado a ojear la pista de baile o incluso dejado caer por el bar pero siento deciros que las bebidas empezaran a moverse a partir de las nueve", dijo Minho, con una de sus tan conocidas expresiones traviesas. Algunos de los invitados parecieron decepcionados tras sus palabras, otros intentaron esconderse en su asiento, visiblemente avergonzados.

"Antes de todo eso, nuestro querido anfitrión se ha encargado de preparar una serie de actividades para que todos podamos pasarlo bien, desde los niños hasta los adultos. Cada uno será libre de elegir dónde participar y, ante todo, cuándo dejar de hacerlo", Felix abrió la pequeña guía que tenía en la mano, animando a los demás a que hicieran lo mismo con las que se encontraban sobre las mesas.

"Siguiendo nuestro lema de libertad, la mayoría de actividades serán aptas para todo el público. Una vez más, cabe destacar que el bar estará cerrado para menores de 20... No, Jisung", Minho lo miró de reojo al ver que empezaba a animarse como un perrito oyendo las palabras "salir a pasear", "tú necesitas un permiso especial, no queremos que se repita la escena sobre la barra de la última vez". Sus palabras parecieron resonar con algunos de los allí presentes, riendo tras imaginar aquello. Jisung, en cambio, intentó esconderse detrás de Changbin, que también reía recordando aquel momento.

"Si seguimos el programa", Felix se dirigió a Minho, dejando salir un tono en su voz que dejaba claro que era importante no salirse del "guión" establecido. Minho ni siquiera se inmutó, simplemente le lanzó una mirada traviesa. "Podremos ver que hay tres momentos marcados en rosa, esos son los más importantes de todo el evento y, como sería de esperar, sería bueno que estuviéramos todos presentes".

"Habrá un adulto en todo momento en las actividades asegurándose de... ¿sí?", Minho levantó la vista de la guía, habiendo visto por el rabillo del ojo que una mano se alzaba. "¿Y si necesito ir a hacer pis en los momentos "rosas"?", un niño de unos seis años que estaba sentado sobre el regazo de su madre habló. "Bueno... Puede ser una excepción, eso es una emergencia, podremos esperar, sí". El niño asintió, satisfecho con la respuesta, para seguir bebiendo su tercer vaso de limonada.

Felix se acercó a Minho y le susurró algo. Éste frunció el ceño, como si no estuviera entendiendo lo que decía su amigo, "¿Cuándo? ¿Ahora?", tapó el micrófono con la mano, intentando evitar que el resto escuchara su conversación. Tosió para despejarse la garganta. "Según me informan, habrá un rincón terapéutico donde unos trabajadores de un refugio estarán hablando sobre algunos gatitos que tienen en adopción, para concienciar a los más pequeños... Y a un servidor, probablemente".

Minho se despidió y bajó rápidamente del escenario, deseoso de llegar al encuentro de aquellos gatos. "Mi compañero se dirige en este momento a ayudar a las personas del refugio para preparar todo, sepan disculparlo, es su punto débil". Felix recogió la guía que Minho había dejado caer al suelo sin darse cuenta y la limpió. "Volviendo al programa, la puerta a los jardines centrales estará abierta en todo momento. En la sala que se encuentra a nuestra izquierda estará el servicio médico para atender cualquier problema que pueda surgir. A la derecha, junto al cuadro de los tigres albinos, hay un pequeño pasillo que lleva a los baños", le guiñó un ojo al niño de la (ya cuarta) limonada, consciente de que esa información le empezaría a ser útil en unos minutos tal vez.

Felix intentó hacer un resumen breve de cada actividad, para que los invitados pudieran empezar a hacer planes. Tras ello, se aseguró de que todas las posibles dudas quedaran resueltas y se despidió, dando comienzo oficial a la fiesta. Se apresuró a acompañar a Minho, sabiendo que era demasiado probable que se hubiera quedado ya jugando con los gatitos, olvidándose de todo.

Chan se giró, miró a sus padres con una sonrisa y luego a ti, "Bueno, ¿qué os parece?". Ellos se miraron, sin saber bien qué responder, "Cariño, ¿has preparado todo esto tú solo?", preguntó su madre. Al ver que el joven asentía con orgullo su padre suspiró, "Christopher, todo esto está muy bien, pero deduzco que no has descansado ni un solo momento..."

"No voy a negarlo. Preparar todo esto ha sido agotador, pero al mismo tiempo me daba toda la energía que necesitaba al imaginar el resultado, esa sonrisa que tanto adoro lo vale todo", dio unas palmaditas sobre tu cabeza para hacer todavía más obvio que hablaba de ti, "además, no podía evitar pensar en ello cada vez que intentaba dormir. Por ahora, solo puedo decir que está mereciendo la pena".

"Christopher... ¿Cuándo has crecido tanto?"

(...)

El tiempo pasó sin darte cuenta, llegando así uno de los momentos importantes (según la guía). Habías pasado la mayor parte en la zona de los gatitos, escuchando la pequeña charla de las personas del refugio y hablando con los niños allí presentes. Sin olvidarnos de los propios gatitos, claro. Hubieras dado cualquier cosa para llevarlos contigo.

Mientras jugabas con un pequeño travieso gris a rayas, sentiste una mano en el hombro. Nunca habrías prestado atención ante esa distracción de no ser porque reconociste el olor de la colonia de inmediato.

"¿Qué estás haciendo, amor?", la cabeza de tu novio se asomó por encima de tu hombro. Podías sentir su respiración sobre tu mejilla por lo que decidiste romper la distancia dejando un beso rápido sobre sus labios.

"Deberías haber sabido que no saldría de aquí en toda la tarde", dijiste intentando parecer inocente. El gato decidió que era buen momento para escapar de tus brazos, aprovechando que no lo estabas mirando, y salió corriendo para saltar sobre uno de los juguetes.

"Fallo mío", Chan sonrió, al menos sabía que habías paseado por todas las zonas de actividades antes de quedarte ahí. La pegatina de mariposa en tu mejilla, el globo con forma de gato y la pulsera de flores delataban que habías pasado bastante tiempo en tres de ellas, de hecho. "Siento decirte que es hora de despedirse...", dijo suavemente, intentando que sus palabras no te afectaran.

"¡ME NIEGO!", te cruzaste de brazos, "es imposible que haya algo mejor que esto. No pienso moverme de aquí".

Chan te miró con una sonrisa traviesa, convencido de que todo este tiempo a tu lado había sido suficiente como para tener algunos trucos guardados bajo la manga. Se aseguró de que nadie os estaba prestando atención para intentar dejar un beso en tu cuello. El resultado fue automático, pudo sentir como un escalofrío recorría tu espalda.

"¡CHRISTOPHER BAHNG!", te dejaste caer hacia un lado, intentando alejarte de él, mirándolo con una mezcla de enfado y vergüenza. "Oh no, ¡el nombre oficial!", él simplemente rio, observando tu reacción, tan divertida para él.

"¿Cómo te atreves a...?", empezaste a hablar pero un beso te interrumpió. "Y/N, amor mío, tenemos que volver, te aseguro que visitaremos el refugio en otro momento, pero ahora te tienes que despedir", te besó otra vez, intentando convencerte así... Tú y tus puntos débiles.

(...)

Al volver a la sala principal viste que las mesas estaban movidas. Alguien había estado haciendo espacio para que el centro de la sala quedara abierto y libre, para que todos los invitados pudieran estar de pie.

"¿Por qué tengo la sensación de que tú has hecho eso?", dijiste señalando las mesas con la cabeza. Chan siguió tu mirada, no estando completamente seguro de a qué te referías porque técnicamente él había hecho todo. "Oh, eso. Más o menos", soltó una risita nerviosa. "He tenido un poco de ayuda, lo habrías visto si hubieras estado por aquí en algún momento", continuó con cierto tono burlón. Simplemente rodaste los ojos en respuesta.

Felix pasó corriendo por vuestro lado para volver caminando hacia atrás rápidamente. "¿Crees que estamos todos? Minho y yo estamos contando pero no conseguimos ponernos de acuerdo", dijo, visiblemente nervioso.

"Y/N, quédate por aquí, seguramente se unan mis padres a ti si te ven", soltó tu mano y se dirigió hacia el escenario, seguido de su amigo. Subieron de un salto y empezaron a contar de nuevo. Podías verlos hablando desde donde estabas, pero no podías escucharlos. Felix fruncía el ceño. Changbin entró llevando en brazos a una niña con la cara llena de chocolate. Poco después, una mujer apareció acompañada de Seungmin.

"¡Youngseo!", la mujer soltó el brazo de Seungmin y caminó rápidamente hacia Changbin. "¡¿Se puede saber dónde te habías metido?!"

Por lo poco que llegaste a entender, la niña había estado jugando en el jardín con sus hermanos, se escapó para comer alguno de los postres a escondidas de sus abuelos y para deshacerse de las pruebas intentó encontrar los baños. Changbin la había encontrado andando sola por otro de los pasillos, pero ella no parecía estar asustada. De hecho, había olvidado casi por completo su misión y se había dispuesto a irse de aventuras por el hotel.

La mujer, que al parecer era su abuela, se había vuelto loca buscándola. Seungmin la había acompañado a ver al servicio médico mientras Changbin buscaba a su nieta. Sus hermanos (que eran mayores que la pequeña) ni siquiera se habían dado cuenta de su ausencia.

Changbin las acompañó a los baños para que la niña pudiera lavarse la cara, haciendo que la frustración de Felix aumentara. Chan observaba la desesperación de su amigo con una ligera sonrisa, había algo en los gestos de Felix que encontraba ciertamente divertido. Le puso una mano en el hombro y se apartó.

"Bien, atención, me gustaría comprobar que estamos todos presentes a excepción de tres personas", decidió acercarse al micrófono, saltándose sus propias normas. La gente empezó a mirarse entre sí, confundida ante el tono del chico.

Changbin volvió, Felix se llevó las manos a la cabeza al ver que iba solo. De no ser por el guiño de su amigo habría empezado a gritar. Detuvo su cuenta mental (una vez más) al ver que la señora entraba llevando a su nieta de la mano.

Se aclaró la garganta cuando Minho se puso a su lado, "Ahora que estamos todos, me gustaría...", para su mala suerte, el niño de la limonada se levantó de un salto, antes sentado en el suelo durante la espera. "¡Esperad!", dejó caer el vaso de plástico vacío y salió corriendo en dirección a los baños.

Felix miró a sus amigos con los ojos como platos, a punto de poner en práctica alguno de los actos malvados de Minho. Changbin empezó a reírse desde donde estaba, contagiando a otras personas en el proceso.

Unos minutos después, el niño volvió, andando tranquilamente. Cuando éste se dio cuenta de las miradas que le dirigían Felix y sus padres se apresuró a volver junto a ellos.

Felix y Minho intercambiaron miradas y asintieron a la vez, dispuestos a empezar por fin. "¿Estamos todos aquí ya?", preguntó Minho, observando atentamente a los invitados. Después miró a Chan, que le respondió con un pulgar hacia arriba. "En ese caso, y tal como habíamos anunciado, ha llegado uno de los momentos más importantes del día. Hemos intentado asegurarnos previamente de que no hubiera problemas, pedimos disculpas de antemano".

"Y ahora, démosle la bienvenida a nuestro querido chico de las flores", añadió Felix, sonriendo en tu dirección para intentar mandarte una señal de seguridad. Hacía bastante tiempo que se había fijado en todas esas nubecitas invisibles a tu alrededor, haciendo demasiado obvios tus nervios.

Minho bajó del escenario, seguido de Felix, y dejaron a Chan esperando, balanceándose sobre sus pies. Sus nervios eran cada vez más visibles, incluso habría jurado que eran mayores que todos aquellos provocados durante las actuaciones y conciertos.

Todos se giraron al oír la puerta abrirse a sus espaldas y los altavoces se llenaron de la voz de Hyunjin tarareando la melodía de una canción (que nadie reconoció de primeras), con un ramo de rosas enorme sujetado entre su brazo y su pecho, empujando un carro con el brazo libre, lleno de flores diferentes a las del ramo.

Caminó por el medio de la sala, en el espacio que habían dejado todos para que pasara. Dejó el carro a los pies del escenario y subió con el ramo todavía entre sus brazos. Hizo un gesto a su amigo con la cabeza a modo de saludo, sonriendo de forma que sus ojos estaban a punto de cerrarse. Tenían un brillo mágico, casi tan brillantes como las luces del lugar.

Chan dio un pequeño salto para bajar del escenario, cogió el micrófono que le tendía Hyunjin, y se acercó al carro de flores. Su mano vagó por el pequeño jardín, indeciso, pero poco después, tras coger un tulipán amarillo, esto fue la señal necesaria para que empezara a sonar la música.

Fue entregando flores a los invitados mientras cantaba alegremente I'm Yours*. Cada entrega parecía no tener ningún significado de primeras, pero, cualquiera que hubiera prestado la suficiente atención al tipo de flor y a la persona en cuestión se habría dado cuenta de que todo estaba perfectamente planeado en la cabeza de Chan.

Hubo reacciones de todo tipo, desde señoras sonrojadas hasta niños sonriendo de oreja a oreja. Incluso Berry recibió una flor de peluche, pensada específicamente para ella. La pequeña ladró alegremente a modo de agradecimiento, haciendo sonreír al joven.

En cierto momento (y tras repartir todas las otras flores), tu novio se acercó a ti, mirándote a los ojos. Solo quedaba el gran ramo de rosas que, al parecer, había reservado para ti. Entre ellas, podían verse pequeñas fotos (en las que aparecíais los dos) que él había elegido para añadir al ramo. Antes de dártelo, sonrió mirando hacía el suelo, sintiendo una repentina timidez. Después, puso el ramo sobre tus manos y te besó, sin importarle nada ni nadie.

Tras separarse de ti, volvió a mirarte con esa sonrisa tímida. Al ver tus mejillas sonrojadas pasó su mano dulcemente por una de ellas. Le parecía una de las cosas más adorables que había visto en toda su vida. Ni siquiera te salían palabras, solo parpadeabas, todavía confundida.

(...)

Minho y Felix volvieron al escenario. Felix lucía con orgullo la margarita que Chan le había entregado, adornando su dorada cabecita. Ambos sujetaban una serie de tarjetas que iban a usar. Esta vez, Jeongin se unió a ellos.

Tras acercarse de nuevo al micrófono de pie, comentaron animadamente la reciente entrega. Jeongin afirmaba que había estado a punto de derramar un par de lágrimas pero que el sentimiento había sido tan fuerte que éste se lo había impedido.

Empezaron a usar las tarjetas como guía, charlando con el público sobre diferentes anécdotas y momentos que Chan les había ofrecido días antes del evento. Tras ellos, una gran pantalla dejaba ver algunas fotos o vídeos relacionados. Recuerdos graciosos, adorables, todo aquello que el joven había querido compartir con los invitados. Pequeños trozos de un amor puro que no fallaron en sacar reacciones, desde "oooh" hasta risas sinceras que parecían salir de lo más profundo de un corazón contagiado por la felicidad que Chan estaba sintiendo en aquel momento.

Al acabar, hicieron una pequeña y rápida actuación, guardando silencio unos segundos y mirando en varias direcciones (lo cual provocó que varias personas hicieran lo mismo). "¿Qué es eso tan dulce que huelo?", preguntó Jeongin, "¿Quizá son los efectos secundarios de todo lo que acabamos de ver y escuchar?", respondió Felix, negando animadamente con la cabeza. Minho se posicionó en medio de ellos y posó ambas manos sobre sus cabezas, "Tal vez deberíamos investigar este suceso, a lo mejor el culpable aparece y resuelve nuestras dudas".

Una vez más, la puerta se abrió, dejando paso a un pastel de tres pisos, elegantemente adornado con flores y mariposas. En lo alto, dos velas indicaban tu nueva edad. Tras él, dirigiendo el carrito, tu amiga Hannah intentaba esconder sus significativos ojos rojos tras una sonrisa. A su lado, ayudando a su hermana, iba Lucas, el menor de los hermanos, a quien no parecía importarle lo más mínimo que los ríos que bajaban por sus mejillas fueran vistos por los invitados.

La suave melodía que llenaba la sala no fue capaz de amortiguar los continuos sollozos del chico, que acabaron contagiando a Hannah de nuevo. Hicieron su mejor esfuerzo para dejar el pastel junto a la mesa de la comida, para después ir a refugiarse en los brazos de sus padres, quienes fingían no estar emocionados ante la escena. La pequeña Berry se acercó lentamente para lamer con cariño la pierna de sus dos dramáticos humanos.

El brillo de las luces empezó a bajar lentamente, dejando únicamente dos focos iluminando la sala. Uno de ellos se centraba en el escenario, bajo el que esperaba pacientemente tu novio. Bajo el otro estabas tú, temblando más que cualquiera de los flanes o la gelatina que había en la mesa de postres.

Chan hizo un gesto a los encargados del sonido, respiró profundamente y la música empezó a sonar. Pudiste sentir como una pieza encajaba en otra en tu cerebro para formar un pequeño puzzle; la melodía que tanto él como Hyunjin habían tarareado era nada menos que Marry You**. Pese a ello, no fuiste capaz de comprender ni procesar nada de lo que estaba pasando, tus pensamientos seguían en la reciente escena de los hermanos.

(...)

La canción acabó, los invitados aplaudieron eufóricos ante la energía que había creado Chan sobre el escenario intentando animar el momento, consciente de que algunos de ellos habían sucumbido previamente ante la emoción. Miró a su izquierda y vio a sus amigos llorando en un rincón, incluso Minho había dejado caer su fachada de "tipo duro".

"Oh, siento destrozar el momento, espero que mi amigo H.ONE sepa animar el ambiente después en la pista de baile", dejó escapar una risa nerviosa, algunos de los invitados respondieron con risas también. Otros intentaron animarlo, conscientes de la importancia del momento. "Se agradece, casi me ha parecido que estaba en medio de un concierto", volvió a reír.

"A ver, bueno, creo que debo intentar encontrar las palabras adecuadas, esperad", algunos niños encontraron graciosos los sonidos que estaba dejando salir por los nervios, él no pudo evitar sonreír ante esto. Respiró profundamente, "Bien, creo que lo tengo". Se aclaró la garganta y empezó a hablar.

"Hace mucho tiempo, yo solía ser alguien que era completamente incapaz de imaginar que era posible recibir todo lo que yo intentaba dar a los demás. Siempre he sido el tipo de persona que hacía todo lo posible por hacer felices a los demás, dejándome a un lado a mí mismo. A su vez, no era consciente de que otras personas intentaban hacer lo mismo por mí, siempre insistiendo en que yo no necesitaba nada de eso. Poco a poco, y gracias a mi familia, amigos y fans, fui descubriendo que todo eso era posible. Fui aprendiendo a aceptarlo, pues todavía había momentos donde quería rechazarlo de forma inconsciente. Y, un día y sin darme cuenta, llegaste tú, Y/N. Me gusta pensar que llegaste como un milagro y te quedaste como un sueño. Sería una mentira decir que en aquel momento yo ya estaba "curado", de hecho, apareciste en un momento bastante oscuro de mi vida. No es algo de lo que suela hablar, pero empezaste a iluminar mi oscuridad sin darte cuenta. Había algo en esa contagiosa sonrisa, esa forma de decir mi nombre, esos dulces ojos... que me hacía querer quedarme a tu lado sin importarme nada ni nadie. Creo que ni siquiera lo pensé demasiado, pedí muchos consejos a mis compañeros, pero nunca dudé que eso era lo que realmente quería hacer. Afortunadamente, todos ellos me apoyaron, diciéndome en todo momento que me encontraban más feliz, más libre, más cómodo con mi vida. Nunca olvidaré aquel momento, con tus ojos brillantes y tus lágrimas sinceras, tras decirte por fin lo que sentía. Nunca cambiaría por nada del mundo todos estos momentos que hemos compartido juntos hasta hoy. Abrir los ojos por la mañana y verte descansando pacíficamente a mi lado es suficiente para dibujar una sonrisa en mi cara y llenarme de energía ante el nuevo día. Tus brazos son el refugio que ansío cada vez que me siento perdido, mientras que tus ojos me ayudan a encontrarme de nuevo, siendo mi guía para llevarme a ese lugar especial al que solo nosotros podemos entrar..."

Se detuvo en el medio del escenario, después de haber estado andando nerviosamente y suspiró, haciendo una pausa para volver a ordenar sus pensamientos. Sonrió, ni siquiera estaba siendo capaz de mirarte, pero podía imaginar tu cara de confusión y tus mejillas sonrojadas, una vez más. Decidió seguir.

"Tras este largo monólogo, te pido disculpas, pues nunca nada de lo que pudiera decir sería suficiente para decirle al mundo lo muy enamorado que estoy de ti, mi princesa. Tantas palabras como estrellas en el universo son las que necesitaría para decirte cuánto te amo y lo feliz y brillante que haces mi vida. Y es por esto que, dado que sin ti nunca nada sería igual", hizo una breve pausa para respirar hondo y descender hacia el suelo (recibiendo como respuesta sonidos de los invitados en señal de sorpresa y emoción), tras doblar una pierna y apoyar la otra, y sacó una pequeña pero significativa cajita del bolsillo de su chaqueta, para abrirla en tu dirección (con un ligero pero notable temblor en las manos y una sonrisa tímida en los labios),

"¿me harías el gran honor de casarte conmigo?".

[*versión original de I'm Yours / Marry You || **una versión diferente en cada palabra]

♡ Playlist oficial: (es recomendable leer primero el escenario)

#long scenario #kpop scenario #kpop #long scenario spanish #long kpop scenario spanish #stray kids #skz #bangchan #stray kids bangchan #skz bangchan #bangchan scenario #stray kids scenario #skz scenario #stray kids bangchan scenario #skz bangchan scenario #bangchan scenario spanish #stray kids scenario spanish #skz scenario spanish #Spotify

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permanentreverie · 2 years

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books read in 2023

1) get a life, chloe brown -> talia hibbert: jan 1 - 3

2) the night circus -> erin morgenstern (reread): jan 9 - 11

3) lost in the never woods -> aiden thomas: jan 6 - 15

4) on earth we're briefly gorgeous -> ocean vuong: jan 12 - 15

5) clap when you land -> elizabeth acevedo: jan 17 - 18

6) comfort me with apples -> catherynne m. valente: jan 18

7) not here to be liked -> michelle quach: jan 19 - 23

8) night sky with exit wounds -> ocean vuong (reread): jan 25

9) time is a mother -> ocean vuong: jan 27

10) anatomy: a love story -> dana schwartz: jan 28 - 30

11) babel, or the necessity of violence: an arcane history of the oxford translaters' revolution -> r.f. kuang: jan 24 - feb 2

12) next of kin -> hannah bonam-young: feb 3 - 4

13) tokyo ever after -> emiko jean: feb 5 - 6

14) once upon a broken heart -> stephanie garber (reread): feb 2 - 6

15) the ballad of never after -> stephanie garber: feb 7

16) tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow -> gabrielle zevin: feb 7 - 11

17) tokyo dreaming -> emiko jean: feb 11 - 13

18) the cruel prince -> holly black (reread): feb 15 - 16

19) the no-show -> beth o'leary: feb 17 - 20

20) time is a mother -> ocean vuong (reread): feb 20

21) sweet bean paste -> durian sukegawa: feb 22

22) before the coffee gets cold -> toshikazu kawaguchi: feb 24

23) the wicked king -> holly black (reread): feb 23 - 24

24) the queen of nothing -> holly black (reread): feb 25 - 26

25) tales from the café -> toshikazu kawaguchi: feb 26 - 27

26) daisy jones & the six -> taylor jenkins reid (reread): feb 28 - mar 2

27) before your memory fades -> toshikazu kawaguchi: feb 27 - mar 4

28) ninth house -> leigh bardugo: mar 3 - 6

29) hell bent -> leigh bardugo: mar 7 - 9

30) a good girl's guide to murder -> holly jackson: mar 10 - 11

31) portrait of a thief -> grace d. li: mar 12 - 15

32) good girl, bad blood -> holly jackson: mar 15 - 18

33) the last children of tokyo -> yōko tawada: mar 19

34) tiny pretty things -> sona charaipotra & dhonielle clayton: mar 20 - 21

35) the youthful you who was so beautiful -> jiu yue xi (reread): mar 22

36) shiny broken pieces -> sona charaipotra & dhonielle clayton: mar 23 - 24

37) the scarlet pimpernel -> emmuska orczy: mar 25

38) as good as dead -> holly jackson: mar 26 - 28

39) addicted to you -> krista ritchie & becca ritchie: mar 29 - 30

40) one of us is lying -> karen m. mcmanus: mar 30 - 31

41) kill joy -> holly jackson: apr 2

42) carrie soto is back -> taylor jenkins reid: apr 1 - 3

43) human acts -> han kang: apr 4 - 6

44) tender is the flesh -> agustina bazterrica: apr 6

45) this time it's real -> ann liang: apr 6 - 10

46) idol, burning -> rin usami: apr 11

47) i'll give you the sun -> jandy nelson: apr 12 - 14

48) the boundless -> kenneth oppel: apr 14 - 17

49) the great gatsby -> f. scott fitzgerald (reread): apr 17

50) beautiful little fools -> jillian cantor: apr 18 - 19

51) schoolgirl -> osamu dazai: apr 20

52) the witch haven -> sasha peyton smith: apr 22 - 23

53) the witch hunt -> sasha peyton smith: apr 24 - 27

54) a little life -> hanya yanagihara: apr 28 - 30

55) beach read -> emily henry (reread): may 1 - 2

56) no longer human -> osamu dazai: may 2 - 3

57) my dark vanessa -> kate elizabeth russell: may 3 - 4

58) the setting sun -> osamu dazai: may 5 - 6

59) the bridge kingdom -> danielle l. jensen: may 5 - 8

60) king of pride -> ana huang: may 8 - 10

61) happy place -> emily henry: may 11

62) the vegetarian -> han kang: may 10 - 12

63) the red palace -> june hur: may 14 - 17

64) the traitor queen -> danielle l. jensen: may 13 - 22

65) the sky is everywhere -> jandy nelson: may 22 - 23

66) beartown -> fredrik backman: may 24 - 25

67) deathless -> catherynne m. valente: may 26 - 28

68) notes on an execution -> danya kukafka: may 29 - 30

69) once upon a k-prom -> kat cho: may 24 - 30

70) almond -> sohn won-pyung: may 30

71) the white book -> han kang: may 31

72) my mechanical romance -> alexene farol follmuth: may 31

73) a room with a view -> e.m forster: jun 4

74) the poppy war -> r.f kuang: jun 5 - 6

75) the dragon republic -> r.f kuang: jun 7 - 10

76) the drowning faith -> r.f kuang: jun 11

77) the burning god -> r.f kuang: jun 11 - 15

78) emma -> jane austen: may 30 - jun 16

79) greek lessons -> han kang: jun 16 - 18

80) when marnie was there -> joan g. robinson: jun 18 - 20

81) bandstand -> richard oberacker: jun 21

82) white nights -> fyodor dostoevsky: jun 21

83) twisted love -> ana huang: jun 20 - 22

84) twisted games -> ana huang: jun 27 - 28

85) the bloody chamber -> angela carter: jun 28 - 29

86) my deepest secret -> hanza art: jun 22 - 30

87) coraline -> neil gaiman: jun 30

88) twisted hate -> ana huang: jul 1 - 3

89) sadie -> courtney summers: jul 4 - 5

90) twisted lies -> ana huang: jul 5 - 6

91) take a hint, dani brown -> talia hibbert: jul 6 - 7

92) better than the movies -> lynn painter: jul 16 - 17

93) act your age, eve brown -> talia hibbert: jul 18 - 20

94) beyond the story: 10 - year record of bts -> kang myeong-seok & bts: jul 17 - 20

95) love and other words -> christina lauren: jul 19 - 22

96) diary of a void -> emi yagi: jul 23

97) in five years -> rebecca serle: jul 24

98) us against you -> fredrik backman: jul 24 - 25

99) sirena -> donna jo napoli: jul 26

100) small things like these -> claire keegan: jul 26 - 28

101) exit, pursued by bear -> e.k. johnston: jul 28

102) red, white, & royal blue -> casey mcquiston (reread): jul 29 - 31

103) conveniance store woman -> sayaka murata: jul 31

104) the hurting kind -> ada limon: aug 2

105) one true loves -> taylor jenkins reid: aug 2 - 3

106) the deep -> rivers solomon: aug 6 - 7

107) all the lovers in the night -> mieko kawakami: aug 9

108) caraval -> stephanie garber: aug 6 - 10

109) we hunt the flame -> hafsah faizal: aug 16 - 18

110) we free the stars -> hafsah faizal: aug 18 - 19

111) i'm glad my mom died -> jennette mccurdy: aug 20

112) the ballad of songbirds and snakes -> suzanne collins: aug 21 - 22

113) kim jiyoung, born 1982 -> cho nam-joo: aug 22

114) legendary -> stephanie garber: aug 11 - 24

115) king of wrath -> ana huang: aug 23 - 24

116) the sisterhood of the traveling pants -> ann brashares: aug 27

117) out on a limb -> hannah bonam-young: aug 29 - 31

118) the winners -> fredrick backman: aug 1 - 31

119) the second summer of sisterhood -> ann brashares: aug 28 - 31

120) girls in pants: the third summer of the sisterhood -> ann brashares: sep 4 - 5

121) forever in blue: the fourth summer of the sisterhood -> ann brashares: sep 5

122) strange the dreamer -> laini taylor: sep 3 - 9

123) crying in h mart -> michelle zauner: sep 9 - 10

124) sisterhood everlasting -> ann brashares: sep 7 - 11

125) finale -> stephanie garber: sep 13 - 14

126) little thieves -> margaret owen: sep 11 - 16

127) les misérables -> victor hugo (reread): apr 3 - sep 18

128) business or pleasure -> rachel lynn solomon: sep 17 - 19

129) out there -> kate folk: sep 23 - 24

130) wuthering heights -> emily brontë: sep 18 - 24

131) painted devils -> margaret owen: sep 20 - 27

132) the foxhole court -> nora sakavic: sep 24 - 27

133) the raven king -> nora sakavic: sep 27 - 29

134) the hate u give -> angie thomas: sep 29 - oct 2

135) the king’s men -> nora sakavic: sep 30 - oct 3

136) the dead romantics -> ashley poston: oct 4 - 5

137) a discovery of witches -> deborah harkness: oct 6 - 12

138) mexican gothic -> silvia moreno-garcia: oct 13 - 14

139) the haunting of hill house -> shirley jackson: oct 15 - 18

140) the girl from the other side (vol. 1 - 11) -> nagabe: oct 19

151) fourth wing -> rebecca yarros: oct 22 - 26

152) king of greed -> ana huang: oct 26 - 29

153) yellowface -> r.f. kuang: oct 30 - 31

154) a curse for true love -> stephanie garber: nov 1 - 3

155) a study in charlotte -> brittany cavallaro: nov 5 - 7

156) dracula -> bram stoker: may 5 - nov 8

157) the joy luck club -> amy tan: sep 9 - nov 9

158) the murder of roger ackroyd -> agatha christie: nov 9 - 10

159) the last of august -> brittany cavallaro: nov 10 - 12

160) kamila knows best -> farah heron: nov 12 - 13

161) the case for jamie -> brittany cavallaro: nov 14 - 15

162) a question for holmes -> brittany cavallaro: nov 16 - 17

163) howl’s moving castle -> diana wynne jones (reread): nov 17 - 18

164) if we were villains -> m. l. rio (reread): nov 18 - 19

165) masters of death -> olivie blake: nov 20 - 22

166) jane eyre -> charlotte brontë (reread): nov 22 - 29

167) the name drop -> susan lee: dec 2 - 3

168) divine rivals -> rebecca ross: dec 6 - 7

169) the lightning thief -> rick riordan (reread): dec 9 - 11

170) the sea of monsters -> rick riordan (reread): dec 12 - 13

171) the titan’s curse -> rick riordan (reread): dec 14

172) the battle of the labyrinth -> rick riordan (reread): dec 16 - 18

173) the last olympian -> rick riordan (reread): dec 18 - 19

174) a study in drowning -> ava reid: dec 23 - 29

175) little women -> louisa may alcott (reread): dec 21 - 29

176) shadow of night -> deborah harkness: nov 1 - dec 30

177) the upside of falling -> alex light: dec 30

178) slade house -> david mitchell: dec 31

179) much ado about nothing -> william shakespeare: dec 31

180) romeo and juliet -> william shakespeare (reread): dec 31

#books read in 2023

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acasualcrossfade · 1 year

Text

It’s On the House

Written for @thefreakandthehair Sping Fanworks Challenge 2023, Prompt: Mud

Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Steve and Eddie

Words: 4326

Read this on Ao3 and find me at thunderously_halo over there :)

Summary: Steve works at Ungrounded, Hawkins’s new café in town next to the record store. When a person clad in all black bikes up with a guitar on his back, Steve is intrigued. Through many closing shifts, Steve learns more about the person, Eddie, and eventually helps Eddie after he gets caught in the rain.

“Large iced coffee and a chocolate chip loaf, warmed for Megan!” Steve called, holding up the bagged dessert as he slid the freshly made coffee forward. He turned back to the machine to foam milk for the cappuccino. He stepped to the side to let his boss, Keith, place a cup on the pick-up counter.

“Tuesday Special for Hannah!” Keith called.

As much as Steve hated closing shifts, he hated the company-mandated uniform a bit more. The uniform was no more than a tan-colored shirt and jeans, but the shirt was his least favorite. It had the words “Get Ungrounded” written in groovy letters on the front, and had a giant printed coffee bean on the back.

“I’m gunna go on break,” Keith said, scooting past Steve.

Steve sighed, already knowing that was code for I’m leaving, close up on your own . He was used to it by now, and as the last of the evening rush dwindled, Steve felt the familiar peace that came with the closing shift. A few of his evening regulars were already seated at their usual tables; the booths on the side were left empty except for one study group that sometimes came in around finals season.

The quiet of the café was his favorite. As the sun started to set, the streetlights glowed brighter against the dimming sky.

Traffic thinned and bikers were scarce.

Which was why when a biker whizzed past the window, Steve’s head snapped up in surprise. He abandoned all thought of cleaning the next table and watched as the figure on the bike, dressed in all black, gracefully dismounted. It wasn’t until the figure turned to lock their bike that Steve made out the hardback guitar case strapped to their back. The two seemed to move together as one, and Steve was sure if he strapped a guitar on his back, he wouldn’t look like that.

Steve finished wiping down the table before glancing up at the biker again. The figure had removed his helmet and was walking towards the coffeeshop. Their long hair flowed along with them, and Steve suddenly panicked.

Was it cooler to meet him at the counter or greet him at the door?

Why was he suddenly worried about that?

He was saved from having to figure it out as the man headed into the record shop next door.

A rush of relief seeped through Steve, and he went back to cleaning tables.

Steve was in the middle of bussing tables when the door opened and a customer walked in. He grabbed the last of the dirty mugs before heading towards the counter.

“One minute,” he called, before setting them all in the sink behind the register. And when Steve looked up, he immediately recognized the man standing at the counter.

It was the biker from earlier.

The biker stood patiently at the counter, taking his time to read the menu and glance at the dessert case. The man looked comfortable in his dark gray shirt and denim jacket, and his skinny black jeans were ripped in the knees. The light breeze from the coffee shop's weak AC blew the man’s flyaway curls around his face and made his features look soft and welcoming. The man carried his guitar case, and had set it down to lean against the counter.

His brown eyes studied the sweets and he rocked back and forth slowly as he contemplated, then turned his interest to the snacks along the side of the counter.

“What can I get for you?” Steve asked politely, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking. It always happened when he was nervous. The man had this gracefulness to him, and Steve automatically felt pulled in by it. His apron suddenly felt crooked and he fought the urge to straighten it.

The man’s gaze traveled from the snacks to the small card of specials next to the register. His brow furrowed as a soft smile played on his quirked lips. “What’s the Tuesday Special?”

“It’s a java chip Frappuccino with strawberry and peppermint drizzle,” Steve explained. “And you can get it with or without whipped cream. It’s pretty popular.”

The man nodded approvingly and spent a moment debating before finally shaking his head. “Another day. But can I grab a chamomile tea instead? Large?”

Steve typed in the order and then looked up again. “And what’s the name for the order?”

The man shifted to the other leg. “Oh, Eddie is good. E-D-D-I-E, though,” he said, standing on his tip-toes to peek over as Steve wrote on the cup. “Not E-D-D-Y.”

“Gotcha.” Steve wrote it on the cup. Eddie. The name fit him.

“And can you do me a favor?” Eddie asked, his voice going quieter. “Or, well, can I make an order in advance?”

Steve glanced around at the quiet coffee shop before nodding. The evening rush had died down, leaving the coffee shop in a quiet ambience. The evening regulars sipped their coffees and there were a few study groups gathered at some of the tables.

“Yeah, sure. I can also bring it to your table since it’s not too busy,” Steve mentioned.

“That’d be great. I’m waiting for someone and I want to order for them.” Eddie thought for a moment. “It’ll be a medium hot chocolate with whipped cream with a bit of cinnamon sprinkled over it? And can you bring it in like, 20 minutes or so?”

Steve added a note about the hot chocolate before putting in the order. “So it’s one hot chocolate with whipped cream and a bit of cinnamon,” Steve repeated as Eddie nodded along. “Okay Eddie, I’ll have that ready for you in a bit.” Steve took a handful of crumpled bills from Eddie and handed him his change.

When Steve handed him his tea, Eddie smiled once more before heading back towards the windows, taking a seat at one of the booths in the far corner.

A few more people trickled in, and Steve watched as a young kid headed to Eddie’s booth. In one hand, the kid held his windbreaker and in the other, a briefcase.

Steve hid his smile as he watched Eddie jump up to greet the kid, pulling him in for a tight hug. He placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder as he spoke to him and Steve watched the young boy nod a few times before hugging Eddie again.

They must know each other pretty well.

It wasn’t until the boy sat down and opened the briefcase that Steve realized it was a case of colored pencils.

The boy fished a few figurines from his jacket pocket and Steve watched as the two started exchanging pencils and erasers. Steve was sidetracked from his watch as a few more students came in for a light night caffeine fix. By the time he glanced back at Eddie and the boy, they were both sketching quietly.

Moving easily through his evening duties, Steve carefully rinsed the dirty mugs and closed up the sticky syrups. He snuck glances at Eddie’s booth more than he should, and each time he saw them, both were in deep concentration.

They pair worked in quiet tandem; the boy shaded something furiously as Eddie sketched quietly. They’d each turn the figurine every now and again to capture it in different stances. And Steve found that Eddie looked most comfortable with one leg hugging his chest, and his other stretched in front of him. There was a quiet, unspoken bond between the two; more than once, Steve caught sight of the boy holding up his drawing and Eddie giving him a high-five and a wide smile.

Work was busy enough to keep Steve at the counter, even though he burned with curiosity to see what they were drawing. Between drawings, they sipped their drinks and at one point, both of them dissolved into giggles at the kid’s whipped cream mustache.

Steve caught the boy’s name as they laughed. Will.

Steve’s finished stacking the clean mugs as laughs burst from the back table. Eddie and Will are giggling over one of Will’s drawings, both talking about something called a Thessalhydra.

Steve made a mental note to look up what a Thessalhydra was.

Steve just finished collecting the dirty mugs from the Tuesday evening rush when he caught Eddie walking through the door. Instinctively, he straightened his apron and headed to the counter.

“Hi, what can I get you?” Steve was glad his voice stayed even.

“I’m thinking I want something sweet. Is there anything you’d recommend…” Eddie paused and leaned closer over the counter to peer at the nametag clipped to Steve’s apron. “Anything you’d recommend, Steve?” Eddie rocked back and forth as he studied the dessert case.

Steve’s ears warmed at the way Eddie said his name. Somehow, Eddie made it sound more melodious than five letters.

“Well,” Steve started. “That chocolate chip loaf is pretty popular, and we’ve got some good donuts, too.” Steve searched the bottom of the case, but shook his head. “Our iced raspberry lemon loaf is good, too, but it looks like we’re sold out.”

Eddie tapped his chin before pointing to the loaf at the top. “I’ll give the chocolate chip loaf a try,” he requested. “And also small mocha.”

Steve smiled. “Good choice.” He took Eddie’s crumpled bills and brought out the man’s order.

“Do you want your loaf warmed?”

Eddie’s face opened into surprise and playfully grasped his chest, pretending to swoon. “I think you just became my hero,” he sighed dramatically before smiling. “I am truly both thankful and amazed such a thing exists.”

Steve waited for Eddie to add an order of hot chocolate like last week, but instead, Eddie handed over a crumpled bill.

“I’ll have that right out for you, Eddie,” Steve said with a nod, and Eddie headed back to his usual table. Instead of colored pencils, Eddie set a worn notebook and pen on the table. Steve could tell that from the way the cover bent upwards, it had been folded and bent backwards multiple times. Eddie settled into his usual perch and started writing.

When Steve brought his mocha and warmed chocolate loaf, Eddie smiled at him with the pen cap wedged between his teeth and Steve felt something warm inside him at the sight.

Steve wondered what he was writing. Could it be songs? Or poetry? He couldn’t dwell on it for long as another few late night students sauntered in. Steve stole a last glance at Eddie, and found he was crossing something out on the page. Steve caught Eddie’s slight frown before turning back to his own evening duties.

Steve glanced up at Eddie once more and found that he’d started gathering his things. As a pair of headlights swung into the parking lot outside, Eddie rushed as he shoved the notebook under his arm and grabbed his guitar. He was almost to the door when he turned to Steve at the counter. “Thanks again for the dessert rec,” Eddie called, and lifted one hand to wave to Steve.

Steve’s ears went warm as he nodded and smiled, raising one hand to wave back.

Over the next few weeks, Steve picked up on Eddie’s schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he biked in to teach guitar lessons (Steve saw him chatting with the kid and their parents outside one Tuesday). And Steve learned that Eddie had a specific drink depending on what he was doing there; art with Will meant a large chamomile tea and anything that dealt with the black notebook meant anything caffeinated paired with something sweet. Steve discovered that Eddie loved anything sweet, and it only took two weeks for him to nail down a favorite pastry. His usual was now the warmed chocolate chip loaf.

Steve found that he enjoyed picking up these small details about Eddie. Each one felt like collecting a piece of something special. And catching him writing, or better yet, pondering what he could be writing. The entire sight pushed Steve’s heart into overdrive.

Steve spent any free time of his shifts sneaking glances at Eddie as he sketched or wrote.

Was it creepy?

Steve was no stranger to having evening regulars; he knew that Mr. Westler was recently divorced and Candice and her young son Grant were going to the movies on Friday.

Eddie as a coffee shop regular felt different. No other regular made Steve excited to come in for his closing shifts. And he found that he even hated the uniform a little less.

After a month of observations and a goodbye wave at each shift, Steve begrudgingly accepted that seeing Eddie and serving Eddie was something he looked forward to.

It rained hard the next Tuesday shift and Steve looked outside as thunder rolled across the sky. The darkened sky made the overhead lights in the coffee shop glow a warmer yellow. The water on the window caught the headlights and lighted storefronts from outside, making the windows look like a watercolor painting.

Steve appreciated rainy days. The evening rush wasn’t as busy since people wanted to stay out of the rain, but, there was always a possibility of a rush for people to escape the rain. There’d been a slight rush in the afternoon, and Steve realized as time went on that Eddie most likely had stayed home. A bike whizzed past as Steve handed out a small Americano to a student. He watched curiously as the back wheel flicked up water, causing it to patter against the window. Steve’s brow furrowed.

Biking? In the rain?

The figure hurried in and it’s clear that they weren’t just wet from the rain. They’re soaked .

Water ran off the sides of the jacket sleeves and some of the patrons stared offensively at the dripping sight. It’s not until the man swiped back a handful of plastered curls when Steve blinked in shock.

“Eddie?” Steve’s heart stuttered, trying not to focus on how wide and innocent Eddie’s eyes looked as he slogged towards the counter. Questions bounced around Steve’s mind, but he cleared his throat and grabbed a few clean rags from under the counter.

It’s the closest thing to something dry that Steve can think of.

“They’re clean,” Steve explained. “And we’ve got some more in the back.”

Eddie immediately pressed the towel to his face and shrugged out of his guitar to lean it against the counter. The water droplets pearled against the hard casing of his guitar case and dark flecks decorated Eddie’s shirt and jacket.

“What….What happened?” Steve asked slowly. He suddenly wished the coffeeshop had bigger towels.

“Caught in the downpour,” Eddie replied quickly as he toweled off his neck and chin. “I never saw it coming,” he sputtered sadly. Eddie shook slightly and Steve realized the flecks on Eddie’s shirt weren’t the design, but were flecks of mud and sediment. Water is caught in his hair like crystals, and they shine down his curls and pearl at his ends. Some of the heavier drops splash to the floor.

“My uncle would have driven, but he’s already at work.” His face disappeared into the towel again before moved on to his jacket sleeves. “And I didn’t want to cancel the lesson.” He shivered, swiping the towel down the front of his shirt. His hair hung in soaked strands. “But I did not plan to be soaking wet like this. Fuck, it’s cold.”

It isn’t until Eddie starts patting the back of his jacket when he abruptly stopped. He twisted to look at the back, and then turned again, trying to see it better.

Steve suddenly envisioned a kitten chasing its tail.

Eddie cursed quietly. “The mud got sprayed up my jacket,” he moaned. He held up the handful of soggy towels. “Can I get these dirty? Is that okay?” He rotated around again, trying to get a better look at his back. “Actually, do you mind telling me how bad this is?”

Steve tried to keep his composure, but he was sure that his ears were fire-engine red. “I, uh, it’s not…” Steve thought of skirting around the question, but then he saw that Eddie’s back was splattered with mud. He winced out of sympathy. “It’s pretty dirty,” he finally settled.

Eddie groaned and studied his jacket. “Do you mind getting some more towels? I think I’ll need a few more.”

There aren’t any more towels under the counter, but Steve grabbed the few stacked next to the sink. “Here, try these.”

Eddie took them and dabbed at his soaked sleeves. “Guess this is coming off, too,” he sighed. The wet denim fought him and he yanked it to free his arm. When he turned to look at the back of his shirt, Steve caught a glimpse of Eddie’s quarter sleeve tattoo. An outline of a wing peeking under his left sleeve.

The weak breeze of the AC did nothing to help Eddie as he shivered in his black short sleeve shirt, and Steve suddenly wished he could wrap him in something warm and dry.

Steve paused, checking the coffee shop. There were only a few people that sat around, and all of them looked served. Steve lowered his voice. “We actually have extra uniforms in the back,” he offered. “It’s not the most stylish…” He glanced down at his own tan monstrosity. “But they’re dry.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? I-I,” Eddie started before shivering. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Keith is gone for the day,” Steve explained. “Besides, he can’t do much more than tell me off a bit.” He shrugged. “We gotta get you outta those wet clothes, come on.” He lifted the counter and it opened like a drawbridge and Eddie stepped carefully behind the counter.

“It’s kinda…fun to be back here,” Eddie mused as he took in the view from the café. “I feel like the king of the café.” He twisted to look at Steve as cleared away the few carts in front of the storage door. “Is this how you feel every day?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Eddie, soaking wet but serving coffee to other evening regulars. “Not exactly, but now that you mention it, Café King does have a nice ring to it.”

Eddie’s squeaky converse followed Steve’s sneakers into the storage room. Steve had only been back there a handful of times, but he didn’t remember it being such close quarters. Eddie felt attached to his back, but Steve found his presence surprisingly warm, despite the man’s shivers. He searched the shelves, certain there were extra shirts somewhere.

“Oo, it’s a little creepy back here,” Eddie whispered. “Looks almost haunted. Have you seen ghosts back here or like, felt cold spots?” He peered at Steve through one of the shelves. “Or have you seen anything out of the ordinary? Something you can’t explain?” Another smirk played at Eddie’s lips.

Steve gave him an intrigued look. “There was that one time I tripped over a sack of beans that were back here.”

“A bag of beans?” Eddi repeated.

“Yep, it was on a cart but I didn’t see either.” Steve nodded towards the wall. “So I redid some of the lighting.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “You...what?”

“Here, flip that switch on the wall?”

Eddie kept his brow furrowed curiously as he slowly flipped the switch by the doorframe. Instead of the expected harsh lighting of a storage room, the lighting of the storage room was done up in yellow Christmas lights that hung, strung from the ceiling.

“Okay, wait,” Eddie paused, looking around. “This is the coolest storage closet I’ve ever seen!” His hair flicked out cold droplets of water as he turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“Yeah, I sometimes get migraines so this room is a bit darker than the coffee shop ones,” Steve explained. His cheeks heated in muted humiliation; why was he talking about this?

“It feels so cozy in here,” Eddie replied. “And if anything, you could keep the lights out if you’re sensitive to low lights, too.”

Steve nodded. “Exactly.” He turned to Eddie to ask how he knew about migraines, and immediately was reminded the man was soaking wet. “You must be freezing.” Steve went back to searching the shelves.

“Will gets them. Migraines,” Eddie explained. He hugged himself as Steve searched the next shelf. “Kid’s a trooper, though. He’s better at catching them early.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Sucks that they can start so young, too.” He moved to the next shelf. “Found ‘em!” Steve called, holding up a tan shirt that smelled faintly of stale coffee. “And looks like they left behind some chef’s pants.” Steve held up the black and white checkered pants, holding back a laugh. “Is small okay for the shirt?”

“This’ll do,” Eddie responded gratefully as he took the shirt. “Thank you so much, Steve. I also did not expect to be doing any of this.”

Steve felt another strong urge to wrap Eddie up and watch him sip warm chocolate. He pushed away the thought. “You can change back here, and if you want, there’s some hangers and such back here if you want to hang up your clothes.”

Eddie looked down at the clothes he held. “That’s so great, thank you. And I can get my clothes back when I return them.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds like an even trade.”

Steve nodded once more before turning out of the room to let the man change. He couldn't help himself as he took one more glance at Eddie, dripping wet under the soft lights.

Eddie emerged from the storage room looking considerably drier. There was more color in his cheeks and he wasn’t shivering.

“You look better,” Steve smiled.

Eddie’s lean frame swam in the shirt, but the tan brought out the chocolate in Eddie’s eyes. Even with the tan shirt paired with the checkered chef’s pants, Eddie looked… cool . His curls were more damp than wet, and some of his usual flyaways did their usual dance in the light breeze of the AC.

Steve blinked. Could this man pull off anything? Or did this mean he liked a man in uniform?

“What, soaking wet isn’t my best look?,” Eddie playfully replied before going serious. “But really, I cannot thank you enough. You’re truly saving my life.” He ducked under the counter and reached for his guitar.

Steve shook his head. “Well, we don’t just let anyone wear the tan,” he laughed.

“It’s an honor, truly,” Eddie laughed. He gave Steve another one of his famous bows. “And are you closing on Thursday?”

“Yeah. “ His ears heated at the thought of Eddie knowing his schedule.

“Okay, cool, I can bring these back then.”

Steve nodded. “See you then.” Suddenly, he grabbed one of the drink trays. “Here, use this for the way over. It could be a good makeshift umbrella.”

Eddie gave him another grateful look. “You’re a genius, Steve,” he rushed. “Truly.” He grabbed his guitar and held up the drink tray in a wave. “See ya later!”

Steve lifted his own hand up to wave back. “See you!”

It isn't until Steve closed up that he remembered Eddie's clothes in the storage room. He quickly headed back there, and sure enough, the man's jeans and usual denim jacket were laid out on the shelves. Without another thought, Steve grabbed them to take them home to wash.

Thursday’s rush is busy enough for Steve to miss Eddie’s graceful dismount, but Steve caught sight of his parked bike as he cleaned up after the evening rush.

Eddie arrived at the café later with his guitar on his back. “Hey Steve,” he bounced, holding up a paper bag. He took a sneaky look around before placing the bag to the counter. “I’ve got the goods.”

Steve didn’t stand a chance against the smile that broke out on his face. “What are you, a drug dealer?” he joked. He took the bag. “Thanks, though. And besides, Keith left at like, seven thirty. As usual.” He pulled out a bag of Eddie's folded clothes, the ones he took home to wash and dry.

"Steve, you washed these? And folded them?" Eddie gave him a wide-eyed look as he stared into the bag. "You really didn't have to do that."

Steve rubbed his neck nervously. "It's nothing," he replied shyly. "Just a little mud."

Eddie took out his denim jacket and unfolded it before slipping it on. Nice and clean, it seemed to be glad to be back on his shoulders. "Well, thanks again, Steve. I feel like I'd be an Eddie-ice pop without you."

“Speaking of, is today a chamomile tea day or a mocha day?”

Eddie beamed. “I’ll take the usual small mocha and a chocolate chip loaf.”

“Warmed,” Steve added with a smile. His heart squeezed as Eddie beamed at him. He nodded towards Eddie’s notebook that he held under his arm. “So, do you write poetry?”

Eddie gave Steve a shy smile. “No, actually. Songs, they’re songs, well, half-songs. So kind of like poetry.” He patted his pocket before reaching in and producing a small folded piece of paper. “Actually, I’ve got a show coming up next week. It's a pretty small show, but it’ll melt your pretty little face off.”

Steve took the flier and looked it over. “Yeah, I’d-I’d love to come. Thank you.”

Eddie smiled. “And if you need, café-mandated uniforms are okay to wear.”

‘Hey, I thought you were done hating on the tan,” Steve laughed.

Eddie gave him a pointed look. “I’m not hating on it, I’m just saying their welcome at my show.”

And later that night when Eddie wrote, all leg-bouncing and pen-biting, Steve carefully set a second mocha in front of him.

“On the house,” he said.

Steve knew he’d spend the rest of his night remembering Eddie’s million-watt smile.

#lexsspringfanworkschallenge #prompt: mud #stranger things fic #steddie fic #steddie fluff #stranger things au #acasualcrossfade writes #thunderously halo writes #thunderously halo #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #what started out a small idea morphed into a 4000 word fic #but i had so much fun writing this #and also loved doing a coffeeshop au #thanks for hosting such a cool challenge Lex!

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