#I have an ending planned for this but I need to think up what comes in the middle lol

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: sweet baby boy drew whos willing to help u, nothing else rly

one | two | three

authors note: i wanted to give it a sort of “the proposal” / “anyone but you” type of feel !! this is obviously going to be a series so let me know if u want to be added to the tag list from now on so u dont miss an update ! <3

your body freezes in place when you’re asked about the wedding. crap, you forgot. but it isn’t like you received any invite.

“theo sent you an invite through the mail. you got it right?” your friend, leila, asks you. leila and her fiancé theo have been your friends for years now, ever since you met leila during a movie priemere and shared respect on each other's careers. she’s been your closest friend, so theo naturally had to come along too.

“what? yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, and guilt punches you in the face when you stare right into her bright eyes. you raise the cup of coffee. “was literally jumping for joy when i got it.”

leila sighs in relief. “thank god we got the right address,” she says and you question what she means by that before she continues, “we didn’t know whether to send it to your apartment or drew’s.”

your breath is caught and you pause before your drink reaches your lips.

“drew,” you repeat, and she nods.

“yeah, but we figured you’ll both see it either way so, sent it to his place ‘cause theo said it was closer,” leila says, and you raise your eyebrows in amusement. “but anyway! before the wedding, i wanted to stay with our inner circle so if it’s possible for a little two-week vacation? the venue is close to my mom and her boyfriend’s house so we’d just be staying there. i would’ve picked after the wedding if theo didn’t already have the honeymoon planned. he’s too excited.”

“wait, two weeks?” you inquire, “who’s coming?”

she shrugs, “you and drew, libby, gia . . .” she trails off as she thinks about it, and you swallow as you set your cup down. “i forgot who else. i know it’s one of theo’s coworkers but i forgot who. let me text him actually.”

your face lights up at the opportunity to get away, and you nod. “i need to call drew actually,” you say, and she smiles and nods as you stand from your seat and make your way to her living room. “need to remind him to take the . . . fish . . . out.”

“fish?”

“we’re having fish tonight, yeah.”

you turn away to scroll through your contacts until you find his, then click on it. you settle down on the couch as you wait anxiously for him to pick up, and just hope that he does.

just before the call goes to voicemail, the line clears. “yeah?”

“you are such a—!” you hiss quietly, careful not to let leila hear you. “why didn’t you tell me leila and theo sent you a wedding invite for us?”

“i literally just checked my mail, alright? i would’ve said something about it as soon as i saw it,” he tells you. “i just flew in two days ago, y/n. i’m at the . . . i’m not at my apartment right now but my mail’s all on my counter. i’ll look for it once i’m home and then send you pictures of it, okay?”

you know that your situation with drew is slightly complicated. you were together for five years before ending things just a year ago.

because of your careers, you aren’t surprised that people assume you’re still dating. even close friends like leila and theo. everything was kept private. a year into the relationship was when fans even found out about you two.

you both have been looking for a time to address the breakup, to friends first for sure, but with your conflicting schedules, the time’s just never come up, and sending a “by the way, we broke up” text to an imessage groupchat wasn’t totally ideal.

even with the wedding coming up, having to be around everyone while you celebrate your closest friends, how are you either of you supposed to bring it up now?

“okay,” you tell him. “just text me when you’re free. any time before 10, please.”

“okay,” drew’s voice is soft and understanding. the line goes dead and you pull your phone away from your ear, seeing that he’s hung up.

your expected text comes around 8pm. drew’s sent you four different attachments. all are photos of the elaborate and detailed wedding invitation. the designs must’ve been leila’s idea.

you’re surprised to see an incoming call on your laptop right after. you hover over the accept button, then click on it.

his face fills a rectangle of your screen. he’s on his phone—“do you see it?”

“yeah wait,” you mumble, clicking out of the facetime to open your messages with him, then click the first photo. “leila and theo; rsvp by september twenty-seventh.”

“the letter’s addressed to my place but they put our names on the envelope,” drew tells you, and it looks like he’s ruffling through something before he flips his camera to display his counter. on it is the envelope in question, which is addressed to his apartment, but for y/n and drew, it says.

you hum. “are you going?” you ask him.

“of course i’m going. what do you mean?”

you shake your head, “nothing.”

drew only knows of leila or theo because of you, because leila works with you. maybe he’s made friends with theo but it’s not something you’ve personally seen, so you’re just assuming that maybe since you’ve broken up, there’s no reason for him to go? especially when he’s filming soon?

you stare down at your keyboard as you speak again, “leila wants us to come on a two-week pre-stay with her and theo. and others.”

there’s a brief pause from drew, like he doesn’t understand.

you sense it immediately and continue. “like, before the wedding, she told me today about how her mom has his house she wants us to stay in, just a few of us for two weeks, then they have her wedding— i don’t know, i need to ask her more about it. i think she just wants to fly everyone out and spend more time with us before she’s on honeymoon and living the wife life.”

“could be fun,” drew says. “i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i was out with theo or leila. it might be good for us.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him through the screen, and you try to read him to see if he’s joking. “there is no more ‘us’, remember? and by the way, neither leila or theo or anybody else knows that.”

drew hesitates as if he’s trying to justify your situation.

you rub your eye before resting the side of your head against your fist, “they addressed the invitation to both of us, drew. i feel like we should at least tell them the truth so that when we get there, they know.”

drew hesitates, his eyes moving around as if searching for the right words. “yeah, i know. it’s just . . . complicated.”

“complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you say, feeling frustration build up. “it just feels dishonest. they think we’re still together, and if they find out at the wedding, it’ll look like we’re hiding things.”

“we are hiding things,” he reminds you. “we’ve been avoiding the topic. do you really want to drop this bomb on them right before their wedding?”

you go silent as you think about it, because if telling them isn’t a good option then . . .

“what if we just kept up the appearance that we’re still together?” drew suggests. it draws your attention as you look up at your laptop. “for the wedding and the pre.”

you blink, taken aback. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” drew continues, “what if we act like we’re still together while we’re there? it might make things easier for everyone. seeing us apart will just create tension. people will feel like they’ll need to walk on eggshells around us.”

you give him a skeptical look. “acting like a couple isn’t the same as actually being one. i’m not sure i can just pull it off without it feeling fake.”

“we’re not faking,” drew says gently. “we’re just playing a part for a bit. we’re professionals. it’s literally our job. we can do this for a few days.”

you pause, considering his words. “but what if it just makes things worse? what if pretending just complicates everything?”

drew’s expression softens, and he speaks more earnestly. “look, we’ve been in tough spots before. there’s been so many times on set with you and i before that we’ve had to navigate headfirst. this is no different. think of it as a role we have to play for a short time. it doesn’t change what’s real.”

you sit back, processing his suggestion. “so we fake it for now and deal with the truth later?”

he hums. “it’s not ideal, but it could save a lot of awkwardness and stress. we can be civil and supportive for their sake, and then handle everything after.”

you let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the decision. “it just feels like a lot of work to keep up a pretense. but i guess if we’re going to do this, we need to at least figure out how to make it believable.”

“we’ll figure it out,” drew says, his voice a little more hopeful. “it’s not about being perfect. it’s just about getting through the weeks without making things worse.”

you nod slowly, still feeling uneasy but recognizing the practicality of his idea. “okay. pretend for leila and theo, and then deal with the fallout afterwards.”

there’s a faint smile on his face as he nods at you. “just two weeks, remember? we can do that,” he says. “i’m gonna head to bed. i’ll talk to you tomorrow about it, alright?”

“okay,” you murmur, and drew hangs up on you.

the facetime window closes and displays your last app that’s been open, your messages. you’re face-to-face with the photos of the invitations once more, and a part of you is overwhelmed with emotions—fear, excitement, guilt.

two weeks. that’s all it is. just two weeks with your ex-boyfriend. you can survive that . . .

right?

[luimagines]

hellooooo im new kinda-

but i was wondering if you could do a twi x reader but the reader is insecure about their appearance?

ps: keep up the good work!

Okie dokie artichokie! You got it! :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"I have nothing to wear."

"Just pick something!"

"Like what? Nothing works!"

Uh-oh. Link didn't like that tone you were using.

He was wondering what was taking so long for you to get ready. He had planned to that you to the festival in Castle Town but this was something that he didn't expect. You were usually faster than this.

"What do you mean?" Link asks gently. He thinks he can guess what's wrong. "Can I see what you have?"

You had mentioned wanting to get something new for the special occasion but he had yet to see what you had chosen. You wanted it to be a surprise.

"...Yes. You can come in."

Oh dear, you really mustn't be feeling well if you're willing to ruin said surprise.

Link sighs and walks in. You're holding up a dress to yourself in the mirror. Two different options lay on your bed, waiting to be tried on. Or rather, have already been tried on and rejected.

"I like this color." You say, defeat coloring your tone. "But I don't like the way my shoulders look in it."

Link tilts his head. He can't see anything wrong with it, but he knows that's not what you need to hear. "What about the other ones?"

"Those were back ups." You pout, tossing the new outfit onto the bed with reckless abandon. "But I don't want to wear those tonight."

Link bite his tongue in thought. He didn't think there was anything wrong with the outfit or with your shoulders. It wasn't even on his mind.

"Try it on for me anyway." He finds himself saying. "At least let me see you in it."

"Ok, fine." You sigh, a little disappointed in yourself. Link can see it and he won't stand for it.

He steps out of the room momentarily so you can change.

You step out as well with the clothes on moments later. Link feels his breath leave his chest. You're beautiful.

But he can see already that your insecurities are beginning to take over. You give him a halfhearted twirl with pathetic flourish. "Ta da."

Link tries to hide his amusement and takes your hand, pulling you towards him. He gives you a proper twirl.

"You're gorgeous."

"...You think so?"

Oh merciful heavens, the tiny hope in your voice is a vice around his heart.

"I have eyes." He teases gently and pulls back to give the impression that he's giving this genuine thought. It's not that he wants to trick you, but there's really nothing wrong here. He has to let you believe that your beautiful no matter what.

He refuses to let you be uncomfortable in your own skin.

"Mmmmhm." He grins and purposely dances with you back into your room. You end up giggling at his antics, hanging onto him as he nearly throws you off of you feet.

"Link, please!" You laugh louder.

"Just like this then. I've figured it out." He says proudly, standing in front of your mirror again. Link had wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Is this better?"

You're smiling brightly, trying to see how it's any different in the mirror. But you realize. It doesn't matter. This outfit actually looks quite nice.

"It's because you're hiding my shoulders." You say gently, trying to pull away.

He doesn't let you. "No, it's because we're together." Link stresses, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. "Just stay by my side the whole time, you won't even notice."

You sigh and look back into the mirror.

He has a point. With his arm around you, you don't even see what's been bothering you anymore. You shake your head and smile again, your heart a little lighter than before. "You're to have your arm around the whole time then."

Link snorts. "Believe me, that will not be a problem."

[ashwhowrites]

Could you possibly do a part 2 of the pick me, choose me, love me fic that you did for Eddie x reader

I had a few people wanting a part 2 so I hope this will be a great ending for everyone!

Pick me, choose me, love me part 2

Y/N yawned as she opened her eyes. She was confused at first but then remembered where she was and why. She felt her stomach sink as she thought about Eddie. It killed her to know her best friend betrayed her and she felt sick at the thought that he knew how she felt for months and never said a thing.

She blinked away her tears as she felt a body moving next to her. She looked over her shoulder, letting out a small laugh as Steve's face was buried in the pillows. She rolled over to face him, closing her eyes to try to get more sleep.

Steve started groaning so she opened her eyes. She smiled when his barely open eyes looked at her. He gave her a tired smile, his hair all over the place as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer.

"Morning," he said, his voice low and deep from just waking up. "Did you get any sleep?"

"I did. Thanks for letting me crash here," she said, a sad smile on her face. "Guess I should start figuring out what the hell I'm going to do."

"I know what you need to do first," he said, slowly sitting up. The sheet moved and exposed his hairy chest as he smiled over at her.

"What's that?" She asked, trying to keep her eyes respectful.

"Breakfast" he whispered. He laughed as she pushed his shoulder.

"Just when I thought you were going to be helpful!" She teased. She got out of bed and groaned. "Fuck, I don't have clothes or anything."

"I'll drive you home and you can grab a few things. We'll go to breakfast and plan what you want to do next." Steve offered, and Y/N smiled down at him.

"Thank you, Steve. For all of this and helping."

Steve slipped out of bed and walked over to pull her into a hug.

~

Y/N sighed as they walked up to her door, Eddie's car was up front so she knew she was going to face him.

"You can do this. Just go straight to your room and grab what you need." Steve encouraged. She nodded and unlocked the door.

Steve followed behind her as they walked in. Y/N held her breath as she walked into the living room, Eddie and Kathy were cuddled on the couch watching TV. Upon seeing her, Eddie stood up shocked. Kathy grumbled as her body slumped against the couch.

"Y/N?"

"I'm just here to grab a few things and I'm gone." She snapped, rolling her eyes when she looked at Kathy. She walked to her room and Steve stayed behind. Y/N knew Eddie picked Kathy but it pained her to see that after the huge blowout, he was still right by her side.

"Eddie, Kathy" Steve greeted

"Playing the knight and shining armor, Harrington? I mean how long has she been running to you and she still has no feelings for you!" Eddie smirked

"Let's see," Steve pretended to think, "I think the first time was when you got completely drunk and told her that sometimes you have dreams about marrying her. Oh! Then a minute later, your tongue was down a girl's throat! That was maybe freshmen year? So um since then!" Steve said as he snapped his fingers. "I don't need her to have feelings for me to care about her. It doesn't give me a purpose to be a cocky son of a bitch like you."

Eddie's smirk dropped and he felt anger rush through him. "I've always cared about her. Her having a crush on me didn't change any way that I treated her!"

"That's true," Steve said as he stepped closer. "It's her that changed the way you treated Y/N." He whispered, his eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder to Kathy.

"You're pathetic, Harrington" Eddie growled, "she has never looked twice in your direction and you think that'll change because she's hurting? You'll just be a rebound. You'll never be me."

"You think I want to be you?" Steve laughed, "She runs away from you and comes straight to me. She comes to me for comfort, for love, for support. You fucked up, man. If she wants a rebound, I'll give her a rebound. I'll give her every damn reason to never speak to you again. You got Kathy, you're not the winner here."

"You'd take advantage of her and fuck her?" Eddie growled, shoving Steve's body.

"Be careful there Eddie, sounds like you might be jealous," Steve winked. He loved edging Eddie on. "I'd never take advantage of her, I'm nothing like you."

"Steve, I'm ready to go," Y/N said as she walked out with a bag.

"Yeah, me too," Steve said

"Y/N, can we please talk?" Eddie asked, ignoring the pain he felt when she stood next to Steve and held his arm for comfort. She used to hold his arm when she needed comfort.

Y/N wanted to say yes, but seeing Kathy on her old couch reminded her nothing was going to change and she'd keep getting hurt.

"Nothing we need to say. Once I figure out where I'm going to stay, I'll be here to pack everything up. Enjoy your life, Eddie." She said sadly, tugging on Steve's arm.

Eddie watched as they walked out, a different feeling swarming around his stomach.

~

"I think if I moved a few blocks down, it should still be in my price range," Y/N said, cutting up her eggs.

"Do you really want to deal with that? And you'll have to find a roommate." Steve explained, then shoved a mouthful of waffles in his mouth.

"What else can I do? Staying with Eddie is not an option. He'll probably have Kathy move in so I don't think he'll give me the place."

"Live with me," Steve shrugged

Y/N choked on her water, coughing as she set down her cup.

"You don't want me living with you. I'm going to be a mess with all my emotions and you deserve a break some days," she joked, but a sad reality to her words.

"I'll never need a break from you. You've been staying at my place for years when you need it. The only difference is that it's your place now too." Steve explained

"I don't know. What about when you want girls around? You don't need a sobbing girl across the hall." Y/N argued.

"I want you there," Steve said as he reached over and held her hand. "Give it a chance before you go out and spend all your money. It's a free trial!" Steve joked

He smiled when she let out a laugh. "Okay, fine. I'll be your trail roommate!"

~~~

It didn't take long for Y/N and Steve to spend every moment together. She always felt happiest around Steve and she forgot how good it felt. He always had her smiling and laughing, and it was refreshing.

After a week, Y/N forced herself back to work. She wasn't sure how it would go now that she and Eddie weren't talking. Or at least she wasn't, he still called every day. She was worried he would be sitting at the bar like he always did, she wasn't sure if she could handle seeing him.

"What do I even say? Can I ignore him? Or do I have to sit there and serve him drinks like he didn't break my heart!" Y/N ranted as she got herself ready for work. Steve sat on her newly claimed bed, admiring her as she brushed through her hair frantically.

"Would you feel more at ease if I came with you?" Steve asked, "If he gets out of line, I'll cut in."

Y/N smiled at him through the mirror, "You'd do that for me? I'm sure there's a better way to spend your Friday night."

"I'd do anything for you, doll." He smiled

~

"So, how long are you going to wait until you tell her the truth?" Robin asked, playing with the small umbrella in her drink.

Robin and Steve were sitting at the bar, keeping Y/N company throughout her shift. The bar was busy and packed so she was able to keep her mind off Eddie. And it helped that he still hadn't shown.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, Robin smirked as his eyes stayed on Y/N as she walked through the bar.

"Can you stop staring for a second and talk to me?" Robin joked, hitting Steve's arm.

Steve blinked and looked at Robin, "happy?"

"Yes, and you know exactly what I mean. You can't torture yourself by never telling her you are in love with her." Robin said she could see the emotions changing in Steve's eyes.

"I know and I will tell her. But she's still hurting right now and throwing that on her would be inappropriate. I want her to heal."

"No, you want her to be over Eddie." Robin corrected

"You're a pain in the ass," Steve groaned

"Drinks?" Y/N asked as she leaned over the bar to grab Steve's beer. He coughed as her cleavage poured out of the tiny tank top the bar made her wear.

Robin snickered and Steve was quick to kick her with his foot.

"For you," Y/N smiled as she placed the beer on Steve's napkin, he went to grab it and his fingers gently touched hers. Y/N couldn't help but let her fingers linger before she pulled away. Snapping back into reality as Robin coughed.

"Another one for you, Rob?" Y/N asked politely

"I'm good, gorgeous." Robin winked

Y/N winked back and went to help other customers.

"Do you have to flirt with her right in front of me?" Steve teased

"Let the show begin," Robin said with a smirk as she nodded her head towards the front. Steve looked to the door and there Eddie was walking in.

Steve glared flames into Eddie as he walked further into the bar and took a seat on the other side. Steve smiled when she walked right past Eddie and came to him.

"What do I do? I'm panicking" Y/N whispered, trying her best not to look over her shoulder.

"Want me to ask him to leave?" Steve asked, already standing up

"No!" Y/N said, "I don't need you guys fighting. It's my problem, I need to be an adult and just face him."

"I'll be right here if you need me. Just call me over," Steve said as he sat back down. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you," she said

Robin watched as she left. "He seems pissed. You really get under his skin, don't you?" she asked

"He doesn't like that she realized she doesn't need him," Steve shrugged as he sipped on his beer

~

"Is he your new bodyguard or does he just follow you around like a love-sick puppy?" Eddie scoffed

"What do you want to drink?" Y/N asked, ignoring his comment as she grabbed a glass

"You might not be talking to me right now, but I'm still your best friend and we can work this out," Eddie explained

"Are you going to break up with her?"

"Why does that have to be the only outcome?"

"Not understanding why tells me there's nothing worth working out. If you were my best friend you wouldn't have hurt me while you knew I have feelings for you. It took me too damn long to see that you don't care about me as much as you say you do. You picked Kathy, you get to live with that choice. And when you wake up and finally realize you picked a fake bitch over the girl who actually loves you, don't you even think about me." She spat, slamming down his glass of beer.

She felt proud as she turned around and walked over to Steve

Eddie gripped his glass as he fumed watching her laughing with Steve.

~~~

A few weeks passed and things were changing. The more time Y/N spent with the Steve, the less she thought of Eddie. She was moving on from him and slowly falling into Steve.

She realized it all on a random Sunday. Steve had his friends over for the football game, everyone was cheering and having a good time. Y/N didn't really watch football but she was dressed in one of Steve's jerseys, sitting next to him on the couch. Her legs were sprawled out on his lap, and his large left hand was softly tracing shapes on her bare skin. His eyes were focused on the TV, his mouth running as he talked with his friends. He was occupied by everything around him, but his touch never left her.

There was a knock on the door and Steve got up to answer it

"Hey Y/N," Robin greeted as she walked in with more beer

"Hey girl," Y/N smiled, she stood up so Robin could take her spot. The couch was full and Y/N prepared to head off to her room.

Steve sat down and cracked open a beer, within seconds he was lost in the game. But no matter how occupied he was, he would always know if she was missing.

"Whatcha doing over there? Come sit," Steve laughed as Y/N stood in the hallway

"Robin needs a spot and this is your friend time. I can hang in my room, don't worry about me!" Y/N shrugged

"I can grab a stool from the kitchen!" Robin offered, going to stand up but Steve pushed her back down.

"Nonsense, there is room for both my girls, come here," Steve said as he waved her over

Y/N slowly walked over, she leaned down to whisper in Steve's ear

"I don't want to be rude and make all your friends move," Y/N looked around the couch, all the boys zoned in on the TV and she didn't want to disturb that.

Steve didn't say anything, waiting until she stood up. Once she did, he turned her around and grabbed her hips, throwing her right down on his lap. She squealed in surprise.

Steve wrapped one arm around her and moved up to whisper in her ear,

"This okay?"

The feeling of his hard body against her back, the raspiness in his whisper, his breath tickling her ear, and the way his hand rested on the inside of her thigh made her think of Steve in ways she never had.

"Yeah, it's okay," she said, her voice cracking as she squirmed. Her eyes were on the TV but her mind was busy imagining Steve's hard body in different scenarios.

Ever since then, a crush on Steve formed and kept getting out of control.

~~~

More weeks passed and Y/N was a mess for Steve. She tried to keep it under control, cussing herself out for crushing on all the guys she moved in with. She knew how bad it ended last time and did not want to lose Steve too.

But he made it so hard

It was his birthday and he wanted to go clubbing. So now Y/N was slipping on her tightest dress, with her best heels, and perfecting her hair and makeup.

"Hey, are you re-" Steve cut himself off as his jaw dropped. He stared at her as she finished her lipstick. She stood up and turned around to face him. She shivered at the way he looked her up and down, once again making controlling her crush harder to do.

"Yes, let's go!" she rushed out, speeding past him so she could feel herself breathe again.

They were at the club for a few hours, a few drinks, and a lot of dances. They weren't drunk, but their liquid courage seemed to make them more free with each other. Y/N would never be grinding on Steve's body if she was fully sober. And Steve wouldn't be sucking on her neck if he was fully sober. But the heat between them was too much to ignore, the sexual tension needed to be acted upon, or neither would be able to move on.

So lost in lust, neither remembered how they got home. But it didn't matter as they pushed through their front door with their lips locked. They made out as they walked to Steve's room, pushing open his door. Steve pulled away as they walked towards his bed, she stopped when her legs hit the mattress.

"Is this what you want?" He asked, his chest moving rapidly as he breathed hard. She admired his red lips, loving the way she could see just how hard they were kissing. Then she looked into his eyes, so dark and swimming with lust. She wished she was looking at herself through his eyes because she must have looked beautiful by the way he couldn't look away.

"Make me feel good, birthday boy," she whispered, a smirk on her lips as he moaned. She gasped when he pushed her body against the bed and climbed on top of her.

His mouth was on hers as his hands moved under her dress. She moaned as he teased her cunt over her thin underwear. His long fingers slid up and down, his mouth sucking away her breath as she panted underneath him.

Neither wanted to spend time with foreplay, both early tearing each other's clothes off. He was painfully hard and she had never felt so wet in her life. She was running her fingers through his hairy chest and her other hand scratching down his back. His head buried in her neck as he pushed himself inside of her.

He started slow, memorizing how she felt wrapped around him. He had been dreaming of this for years and he didn't want to rush anything. But the way she moaned, begging him for more, and whispering dirty words in his ear made him want to lose himself inside of her.

"Steve please, I can handle it," she begged. He felt amazing don't get her wrong, but she wanted him to fuck her like an animal.

"I've wanted this for so long, I want to feel everything," he said against her lips, his forehead softly pressed against hers. She smiled at his words, feeling her heart burst.

"I promise this won't be the only time. Show me how desperately you want this, let yourself go," she said, reaching up to hold his cheek

He turned his head to kiss her palm

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he said

The second she nodded, his mouth attacked her chest. She moaned out as he bit down on her nipple, tugging it was his teeth as he drilled his cock inside of her.

"Fuck yes," she moaned, smiling as she felt pleasure running all throughout her body. He was long and thick, feeling like heaven inside her as he fucked her fast.

"You feel amazing, baby," He moaned

His bed was smacking the wall

His balls were smacking against her skin

Her moans were turning into screams

"Make me cum, Steve. Make me cum," she whined, throwing her head back

"Gladly" he smirked, and he slid himself out of her. Giving her no time to whine in protest as he flipped her around. She clawed at his pillows as he pushed her hips up, her ass in the air.

She gasped in pleasure as he slipped himself back inside of her, keeping a rapid pace as he moved his right hand down to her clit. She felt her eyes roll in the back of her head as he swirled his fingers against her clit, adding to the pleasure that was building in her stomach.

"Yes, yes, yes" she chanted like a prayer as she felt herself getting close. Then he slipped out of her again and she wanted to cry. But then she felt his wet tongue pushed inside of her.

She cried into the pillows as he tongue fucked her and kept his fingers rubbing circles on her clit. She didn't have time to warn him, her thighs shook and she felt everything snap.

Steve moaned as he felt her cum soak his face. He happily ate her cum, humming at her sweet taste. He groaned as he felt his cock twitch, he pulled back and pushed himself back inside her wet cunt.

She yelped at the overstimulation, crying into the sheets as he chased his orgasm.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum so hard" he moaned

"Fucking," thrust "Gorgeous," thrust, "best" thrust, "sex of," thrust, "my life,"

"Oh my god" Y/N whined as she felt Steve cumming inside of her. She could feel his warm cum painting her walls, every drop inside of him, her cunt milking him until he was empty.

His sweaty body collapsed against her back. He panted as he slowly stood up with shaky legs. She rolled her body over, a blissful smile on her face. Her eyes were heavy as she looked at him through her lashes, his sweaty and toned body standing over her.

He looked down at her in awe

She wiggled her finger to call him closer, he listened and leaned down. She smiled as she leaned up and softly kissed his lips.

~

The next morning Steve was in the kitchen making breakfast, his chest bare and a pair of sweatpants low on his hips. When he moved a certain way he could feel the scratches on his back and he'd hiss at the sting.

He was lost in memory when he heard a knock on the door. He turned off the stove and walked over to the door. He opened it and was surprised to see Eddie.

"I need to talk to Y/N," he demanded

"Hello to you too Eddie, and I don't think that is a good idea," Steve explained, ready to shut the door but Eddie stopped the door with his hand

"I don't care what you think, I need to talk to her," Eddie argued

"Well, she's not here so bye," Steve again tried to close the door but Eddie wasn't having any of it.

"I feel like I can barely walk, Steve. Jesus chr-EDDIE!" Y/N froze as she walked out of the bedroom. Her eyes locked between Eddie and Steve, both men looking mad as ever, but for different reasons.

Eddie felt his heart race as she stumbled as she walked, her words, and the dark marks on her neck. Eddie didn't take long to connect the dots; all he saw was red.

"YOU FUCKER!" Eddie screamed, taking Steve down to the floor. Y/n screamed in panic as Eddie and Steve began to brawl on the ground in front of her.

"EDDIE GET OFF!" Y/N screamed, grabbing his arm and shoving him away from Steve. Eddie stood on his feet, glaring as she helped Steve stand up. She frowned at the little blood that fell from Steve's nose.

"What the hell is your problem!" Y/N spat, turning around as her glare landed on Eddie

"He's my fucking problem," Eddie hissed, pointing his finger at Steve as he seethed in anger. "I knew all along that fucker liked you. Sitting in the corner, being a shoulder for you to cry on so he can make moves on you!"

"Why do you care so much? It's not like Y/N is your girlfriend, Eddie. I'm not in the wrong for going after what I want. You've got your girlfriend to focus on so leave us alone" Steve spat

"Kathy and I broke up"

Y/N whipped her head to look at Eddie, pure shock on her face

"What?" Y/N asked

Eddie looked at Y/N, softly grabbing her hand. Steve held himself back from tearing Eddie's hand off.

"I miss you," he said, his eyes staring deep into Y/N's. "I realized everything too late, I know that. But you changed my life and I'm never going to get over losing you. I should have listened when you warned me and I regret nothing more than picking her over you. I'm jealous, I'll be honest. The idea of you and him," Eddie said as he nodded his head towards Steve with a pained look, "breaks my heart. I thought I was so angry about it because I wanted to protect you, but I know that's not why."

"Eddie, what are you saying?" Y/N gulped

"I'm saying that I'm jealous and angry about Steve because I have feelings for you. I think I always have, it just took so damn long to realize it. I love you and I'm sorry for all the pain I put you through. I want you to come home, and I want to work this out. I want you."

Steve could feel his heart-shattering in his chest with every word. It hurt to see the look in Y/N's eyes. It was everything she wanted to hear ever since she fell for him. Eddie confessed he was in love with her, and Steve had no idea where that left him.

"Eddie I-I" Y/N stuttered, she was honestly at a loss for words

"Just say you love me too," Eddie begged, pushing his forehead against hers, he held her face in place. His rough hands on her delicate cheeks

Steve had to look away, the water filling his eyes as he tried to hold back his tears

"I love you too," she whispered

Steve bit down on his lip as hard as he could, silencing his sobs as his body shook. He did everything for her, he treated her the way she deserved, and he still wasn't going to get the girl.

"But I'm not in love with you anymore"

Her words made both boys freeze

Y/N stepped back, taking Eddie's hands off of her.

"What?" Eddie whispered, a pained look in his eyes as she kept stepping back

"I spent years wanting to hear you say that, but I've never felt loved by you. But Steve," she said, walking over to him. She softly grabbed his hand, "he shows me how much he loves me every day"

"I understand," Eddie choked out

Steve and Y/N watched as Eddie left, the door closing behind him

"So, you've uh liked me that long?" Y/N asked, a small smile on her face as she turned to look at Steve

"Just a bit," he shrugged

Y/N stood in front of him, dropping his hand to reach up and wipe away his tears

"I like you too, you know just a bit," she joked, loving the way he smiled and laughed

"I was preparing to lose you" Steve sighed

Y/N nodded and cupped his cheek, she leaned in and kissed his lips. "You won't. I pick you"

@dreamerjj @lotrefcp @daisy-munson @buckybarnessweetheart @munsongirl97 @mugloversonly @duncanhillscoffeecups

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[lostbookmark]

Read the original story here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything. 

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments,  Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself,

A/N : Here is a super small teaser for Whispered Vows. I'm hoping in about 2 weeks or so, I'll feel comfortable enough to start posting. Enjoy!

Entering the code to Yoongi's studio, you watch him as he sits at his desk with big headphones draped over his ears. His head was bobbing up and down to music that he was working on, and the clicking sound of his keyboard filled the quiet room. Closing the door, you walk over to him and gently place your hands on his shoulders, massaging them slowly. He groans, and his head falls forward in pleasure. You can feel his stiff shoulders start to relax under your touch. Sighing, he reaches around the back of his chair and pulls you into his lap. Yoongi takes off his headphones, tosses them gently on his desk, and gives you a quick kiss before resting his head on your shoulder. You run your hands through his dark hair, trying to comfort yourself from the stress of the day.

“How was lunch?” he asked, pulling his head away from you to look you in the eyes.

“There was no lunch. There were, however, five different wedding venues,” you tell him, and he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you questioningly.

“What? I thought you told your mom to stop that,” he said, eyes drifted back to his screen. His slim fingers go back to clicking away on his mouse.

“I did, but you know that she won't listen,” you say, pulling on the black strings of his hoodie. You twist them tightly around one another to let go and just to have them unravel. “One of them held 300 people and cost about 20 thousand dollars.”

“Excuse me?” he says, looking at you with wide eyes. You fully have his attention now. “20,000, 300? Who needs 300 people at a wedding? We are not spending 20k on a venue. A beautiful dress that I get to rip off you at the end of the night…sure.... but not the venue.”

You roll your eyes at him and shove him with your shoulder lightly with a small smile on your face. “Yeah I know, but supposedly it's going to be an extravagant event with a lot of important people. With you being all rich and famous….I have to impress people. I was told we need the best champagne, chandeliers, fondues, and the perfect sunset,” you explain.

“Rich and famous,” he said with a laugh. “That’s just stupid. Unless....is that what you want?” He asks you, eyes flicker between you and the screen .

“Of course not. What do you want?” You counter as your fingers continue to twist the strings of his hoodie.

“I want what you want,” he said distractedly, not even looking at you this time. His fingers continued to click away at his mouse. His focus was back on the crowded screen, which was his computer monitor as he watched colorful waves move across the screen.

Yoongi has been busy. Maybe that's why you haven't set a date or had any details figured out yet. He's been pulling long nights in the studio just to come home a couple of nights a week to sleep for a few hours and shower. He was usually gone by the time you woke up on those nights. The last thing that you wanted to do was bother him with questions about your future wedding. You didn't think centerpieces were high on his priority list right now. He promised you that this was only temporary, but honestly, you're not sure. Several artists that they have signed are growing in popularity, and the demand for songs are coming in strong. He's tired. You can see it in his face, and you can't see this stopping anytime soon.

[wannabanauthor]

I want a slow burn BuckTommy fanfic.

And I mean slow burn.

I want them hanging out, grabbing a beer, going to the movies, and spending time with Eddie.

Then one day, Eddie asks Buck if he can drop something off to him at Tommy’s house. Buck knocks on the door when he gets there and is greeted by a shirtless Tommy.

Tommy says they’re sparring in Muay Thai, and Buck’s like “can I watch?” And then spends the entire time salivating over Tommy without knowing what he was feeling.

Buck convinces himself that he’s only admiring Tommy’s body because Buck is also a fitness enthusiast.

Then Eddie leaves, and Buck barely notices because he’s staring at Tommy.

Tommy is not an idiot. He knows when another guy is checking him out, but he thinks it’s better to let Buck figure it out on his own.

Buck has different plans though. He takes off his shirt and is like “teach me Muay Thai”.

Now Tommy is the one staring. Maybe he starts asking Buck about his tattoos and even touched one and asks if it hurt to get them, meanwhile Buck has to restrain a moan in his throat.

Tommy just raises an eyebrow and continues asking about the tattoos. Then they do some light Muay Thai training, and Buck takes a cold shower when he gets home.

He has a wet dream about Tommy that night, and he still doesn’t know what to do because he’s not into men, right? Everyone makes a strangled sound when a hot guy with a great body touches them, right? He also finds himself with an erection that refuses to go away. So he gets himself off, and near the end Tommy pops into his mind, and he comes harder than he ever has in his life.

A few days later, Buck’s leg starts acting up, so Eddie asks Tommy to check on Buck and see if he needs anything while Eddie has to work.

Tommy comes over with food and entertainment to take Buck’s mind off the pain. Buck is happy and grateful, and is also a spoiled princess and puts his legs on Tommy’s lap, and Tommy gives him a leg massage. To both legs. Maybe it turns into a full body massage to help Buck relax.

Buck is practically in love but doesn’t know how to deal with or even properly acknowledge his feelings.

Later on during a shift, Tommy and Buck get called to the same accident site. They work really well together, and the people they save tell Buck that his boyfriend is very good at his job, and he’s like “my what now?”

Tommy pretends not to hear anything, but he’s quickly losing control of patience and willpower. He wants to make a move so badly, but he doesn’t want to freak Buck out.

So one night, Buck is elbow deep in Tommy’s social media profile and comes across an old post of Tommy kissing another man and referring to him as boyfriend. When I say elbow deep, I mean he’s 3 years into Tommy’s post history.

Seeing Tommy with another guy makes Buck feel angry, but he refuses to acknowledge why. Until he sees Tommy and accidentally confronts him.

Like maybe they’re sitting on a couch, Tommy takes a swig of his favorite craft beer that Buck bought him, and Buck just blurts out “are you gay?”

Tommy doesn’t even choke in surprise. He just says yep nonchalantly.

And then…stay tuned for the next update. This might be a summary fic (my term for a fanfic that’s more an in depth summary rather than actual fleshed out fic).

I want to see how long I can go on without having them kiss. I want longing and yearning and sleepless nights. Wait, omg, what if there’s only one bed in their hotel room in Vegas. What if they get drunk and accidentally get married? They try to get it annulled, but Buck’s like “wait a minute, we get a tax break” and Tommy has to be like “I think that’s called fraud.”

There are so many ways I can drag this out.

[thewertsearch]

I'm sure he wants Slick to kill her - but Scratch has this all planned out, right down to the second, and it's not quite time for this.

Slick is supposed to kill her, but he can't do it until all the dominoes have been set up.

Now that's a goddamn resurrection.

It's arguably flashier than John's original ascension, which makes me wonder if he's going to be more powerful after coming back a second time.

AG: Still not alive yet? Man. AG: You 8etter hurry up! She pro8a8ly doesn't have much time left. AG: Trust me, what she's going through on Derse right now isn't much fun. […] AG: You have to wake her up! 8reathe some life into her. Do the windy thing, with your lips!!!!!!!!

I think this is our first successful resurrection kiss since Hivebent.

...I mean, I certainly hope it's successful, and I don't see why it wouldn't be. Rose is probably fine, now - but she no longer has a backup body to deliver the Tumor. I guess you're up, Dave.

That's awfully intimate for a murder attempt, Slick.

I guess Kismesissitude can bloom, even on a battlefield. Especially on a battlefield, come to think of it.

AG: Gotta kiss her. AG: Don't worry, I still can't see you, so there is no reason to 8e 8ashful or anything. AG: And since we are a couple of professionals here who are focused on winning, we 8oth know it doesn't have any meaning. AG: It's not l8ke I would 8e jealous even if I could see. AG: Why wo8ld I 8e? AG: Or may8e that didn't even cr8ss your mind…….. haha. AG: M8n, why am I ev8n t8lking a8out th8s.

I'm actually not sure if John's reading these messages as Vriska's sending them, or if he's seeing them all after her death. Probably the latter, just for the sake of maximum tragedy.

Either way, I think it's very telling that John's not even trying to respond. His dad's dead, he just died, the whole world is ending, and he's finally lost the ability to be casual about it. Look at his face!

Yes, he'll read his messages, just in case they're important. Yes, he'll do what needs to be done to save Rose's life. But he's not in the mood to shoot the shit with Vriska - even though, unbeknownst to him, it's the last chance he'll ever get.

[merakiui]

Okay, but serial killer Azul getting revenge on everybody after he's presumed dead in a prank gone wrong.

Maybe you were a popular girl that he was always in love with, since you were the only one who wasn't outright cruel to him. One day you end up asking him to the prom and for him it's a dream come true, his true love is finally recognizing him. Unaware that it's a Carrie situation where you and your friends plan to humiliate him at the dance. He's so happy to spend the night with you, wanting everything to be perfect.

But when the prank happens, something goes wrong, leaving Azul worse for wear and you and your friends believe he's dead and get rid of the body. But he's still alive and not happy about what happened on the best night of his life.

Suddenly your friends begin to go missing one by one, until you're the only one left. It's then that Azul reveals that he's still alive. Except he believes that you weren't apart of the prank, that you were tricked into it somehow Delusional Tako. Now that all your friends are out of the way, you two can finally be happy together.

I hope you don't mind my rambling. Slasher Azul just gave me ideas.

AAAAAAAAA OTL oh, the wrath of a scorned octopus... this is so good!!! Being a popular bully and thinking it would be so funny to take that loser Azul to prom, only to then prank him alongside your friends. And when it goes terribly wrong the lot of you are in a panic. Suddenly, you have to delete all of the videos and pictures you took, and you all take an oath to never tell anyone about it, making sure to keep your stories and alibis in check in case you're questioned. All of you need to remain innocent when they start investigating his disappearance.

Dumping Azul's body somewhere in the woods and then going on with your lives, hoping no one will ever find him. >_< the heartbreak and betrayal and fear Azul must have felt that night... now he's just angry and so vengeful. He already hated your friends; he always thought they were a terrible lot. This was the final push he needed to do something about them once and for all.

It could never be you, though!! You must have been pressured into it by those bullies. After all, you asked him to prom! You were so excited, so sweet! He got you a pretty corsage with your favorite flowers. He made sure to look his absolute best, and you told him he looked handsome in his suit. So it definitely couldn't have been you!

He doesn't understand why you're crying, why you're fleeing. He should be the one crying! It's his life that was ruined, and your friends laughed at his suffering! Your friends tossed him aside so easily when they thought he was dead because they wanted to save their skins. You don't get to run away. Not this time. He's going to have that dance with you no matter what—the dance you promised him! A blood-stained, masked Azul is closing in on you, and you've run yourself into a dead end. :)

No one hears from you ever again.

[sykoangels]

Oh professor?

pairing: mutant!reader x professor!logan

warnings: age gap (everyone is 18+) slight dubcon , unprotected sex, degrading and praise, rough sex

notes: im surprised y’all liked the first part!! So since im nice i’m putting out part two! This is part one go read that first!!

It’s been a couple of days since the incident in Professor Logan‘s classroom. Something that hadn’t left your mind for a couple of days now all you could think of was that intimate moment you shared with him, it felt wrong because he was your professor, but also right and away felt like he could take care of you and pleasure you nobody else could.

So you made the executive decision to avoid him at all costs not because you were afraid of him or anything but because you didn’t want to risk your reputation or his reputation to be tarnished over some sexual experience. Many of the girls in your class found him attractive. They always said very sexual jokes about him and within earshot of you trying to predict things about his body and what he would do to you in bed, but you can only laugh along, pretending like you didn’t try to make out with him while getting calculus help 

Unfortunately, you had to come to class due to the fact you’re having a final today and not other than Logan‘s class. And the back of your head like he planned final this on purpose, but you know you were just being overdramatic because all of your finals were today due to the curriculum standards taking your final towards the end of the semester. Logan stood at the front of the classroom, his eyes scanning the rows of students. The room was filled with the usual chatter and rustling of papers, but his focus was on one person in particular. Y/N sat in the middle row, her head slightly bowed as she scribbled notes. He could see the tension in her posture and the way her fingers gripped the pen tightly. His heart ached with a mixture of guilt and longing.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and the room fell silent. Logan cleared his throat, his voice steady as he began passing out the test. But his mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the previous day. The near-kiss, the knock at the door, the aching need that still lingered like an unfulfilled promise. He couldn't let it go on like this. He had to confront her, especially since he noticed the effect on himself and her. As the class progressed, Logan found himself glancing at Y/N more often than he should. Each time their eyes met, she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink. It was clear she was just as affected by their encounter as he was. By the time the lecture was halfway through, he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. "Could you come up here for a moment?" The room fell into an uneasy hush as all eyes turned to her. Y/N hesitated, her breath catching in her throat, before slowly standing and making her way to the front. Logan watched her approach, noting the way her skirt swayed with each step, the subtle curve of her hips drawing his gaze. When she reached him, he could feel the heat radiating from her body, the scent of her perfume intoxicating." Is something wrong, Professor?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Logan shook his head, his eyes locked on hers. " I need to talk to you. After class.”

He looked at her up and down noticing the cute pleated skirt she was wearing with a black t-shirt with a lace ribbon hem with you pulled into a slick black ponytail that was curled tightly. He had thoughts of just fucking you senselessly on his desk for the whole world to see but he keeps himself composed giving Y/N a cold and husky look as he motions for her to sit down. Y/N’s mind was bustling with several different thoughts. Logan was so vague about what he had to talk to her about, but she had a feeling it was about to kiss they almost shared a couple of days ago. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on the lecture, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that moment.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students began packing up their things, chatting amongst themselves as they left the room. Y/N stayed seated, her hands trembling slightly as she waited for Logan to dismiss her. When the last student had exited, Logan closed the door behind them and turned to face her. "Come here," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before standing up and walking towards him. As she approached, Logan's eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail. He could feel the heat rising within him, the desire building in his chest. He wanted her, and he wasn't going to waste any time. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the edge of his desk. Y/N obeyed, her legs brushing against the cool surface as she perched on the edge. Logan moved closer, his hands resting on either side of her hips. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, a mix of vanilla and something else that drove him wild. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. Y/N shook her head, her eyes wide with anticipation. "No, Professor," Logan smirked, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist. "I think you do doll.” Y/N looked up at Logan feeling her heart beat out of her chest. Logan held Y/N’s chin looking into their eyes before speaking. “I know you stare at me darling and that little stunt you pulled a few days ago. I was perplexed why my star student would need help with something as easy as my calculus homework. You just wanted private attention but couldn’t admit it.” Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushed with arousal and embarrassment. "Yes, Professor. I shouldn’t attempted to “

Before she could finish her statement, his lips were on hers, pressing hard against her mouth. Y/N gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth with a hunger that left her breathless. She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, and she moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch. “Stop talking. Let me give you that private lesson you have been wanting” Logan said caressing her cheek. His hands moved to cup her breasts through her shirt. He squeezed gently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, causing them to harden instantly. Y/N arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, her breath coming in short gasps. Logan's hands moved lower, slipping under her skirt to find the lace of her panties. He traced the edge of the fabric with his fingers, teasing her sensitive skin. "I barely touched you and you are already soaked. I didn’t know you were such a whore." he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Y/N whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "Please, Professor..." Logan grinned, his fingers dipping beneath the lace to stroke her clit. “What do you want darling? Come on tell me what you want with that pretty mouth of yours”. She bit her lip, her eyes pleading with him. "I want you...inside me.”

Logan's cock twitched at her words, and he quickly unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing erection. He positioned himself between her thighs, his tip pressing against her entrance. Y/N gasped, her hands gripping his arms as he slowly pushed inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, her tightness gripping him like a vice. "Oh God," she whispered, her nails digging into his skin. Logan grunted, his hips thrusting forward as he buried himself deep inside her. He held still for a moment, savoring the feel of her around him, before pulling out and thrusting back in with more force. Y/N cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure as he pounded into her, his pace relentless.

"You like that, don't you doll ?" he growled, his voice rough with exertion. Y/N nodded, her eyes half-lidded with ecstasy. "Yes, Professor...so good..." Logan's hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly as he continued to fuck her with abandon. He could feel his own release building, the pressure in his balls growing with each thrust. He wanted to make this last, to draw out her pleasure as long as possible, but the sight of her writhing beneath him, her cries of passion filling the room, was too much to resist.

“Come on my cock doll! I know a good girl like you can" he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. Y/N cried out, her body tensing as she came hard around his cock. Logan followed immediately, his own orgasm ripping through him as he spilled deep inside her. He collapsed against her, his breathing heavy as he struggled to regain control. Y/N lay there, her body trembling with aftershocks, her mind reeling from the intensity of the experience. Logan pulled out slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He reached down, wiping away the evidence of their encounter with his thumb before licking it clean.

"That was just the beginning," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N shivered, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"

Logan smiled, a dark glint in his eyes. "I have plans for you, Y/N. My precious star student. Why don’t you run along now. You have combat training in an hour go get cleaned up and I will see you in tomorrow bright and early dollface.”

Y/N quickly readjusted her clothes and got her stuff before scurrying out of Logan’s class with a slight limp from taking him. Logan let out a faint chuckle before putting on his readers and adjusting them before grading some papers.

🏷️ @shoyofroyoyoyo @seasonofthenerd @fictionalmen-dilflover @g0ldenstarr

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 10 | END

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: tw-descriptions of car accident, mentions of blood, cursing, attempted m*urder, implied death, somewhat proofread WC: 6.8k A/N: I literally can't believe this series has finally come to an end. I had such fun creating this word, the characters and the story. I truly hope everyone who read this, enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

CHAPTER 10 ───────────────────

The youngest son had never known what a life of normalcy would look like. Not having to double, triple-think about what to say, what to do. Not having to distinguish what those expression on the faces of his so-called family members meant, were not things Minho had ever thought about.

The youngest son had always lived with his eyes peeled open. His gaze sharp, his actions calculated.

His heart, guarded.

The chairman’s lessons were engraved in his mind. Love has no place in business. Love was distracting, it hinders one’s ability to think with a sound mind, unbiased. A conniving businessman didn’t need those useless emotions.

The youngest son didn’t know what love was, he had never cared to find out. Yet he found himself already drowning in it even before he could realize.

Lee Minho had started to dream of normalcy.

The night he kissed Y/N the first time.

Perhaps even back when he drank that salt-laced water.

The loud bass of the music, bounced off his ear drums, vibrating the very ground he stood on. The vibrant colors, bright against the dark of the club.

His eyes scanned for just a few moments before he was drawn to her figure. Like a moth to a flame, hypnotized by her. He stood rooted to his spot, unable to look away, no matter how much his mind told him to leave. He was stuck.

Like an insect in a spider web. One she had intricately woven around him as she broke down his walls.

And deep down he knew he had no intentions of trying to break free.

The birthday girl swayed to the music, eyes shut, serene almost in the chaos of the club around her.

He inhaled sharply.

Minho didn’t plan on showing up. God, he should have just turned off the light and went to sleep that night. Yet when he had caught a glimpse of Y/N in that photo, uploaded by some other person amongst her group of friends, his breath hitched. Eyes scanned over her. Her smile, her figure, her dress.

He found himself moving on his own.

He found himself at the club, trailing behind her as she staggered her way off the dance floor, eyes searching for friends who she failed to recognize amongst the crowd in her drunken haze. Her words were jumbled, yet fingers easily clawed at whatever shot of alcohol was handed to her.

Minho’s body moved on it’s own.

The alcohol burned down his throat. A silent hiss escaped his lips as he slammed the glass down. Staring at her big eyes that glared at him.

Some accusatory words were exchanged, he couldn’t even recall it anymore, his mind had been fixated on the fact that her lips had engulfed his ones. On the kiss, the hot and wet kiss, that had sent alarms ringing through his head.

He should have never held her. Should’ve never allowed his fingers to cup her jaw, returning the kiss almost instantly, desperately.

He shouldn’t have allowed her to tie him in her web. Shouldn’t have loved her.

Minho shouldn’t have dreamt of normalcy.

───────────────────────

There was a chill in the air, the night enveloping the chaos that had occurred in its darkness.

Minho’s car a few feet away, slammed against the guardrail.

The larger, white car that had hit it stood alone in it’s own scrappy mess.

Lee Joohyeon’s senses were reeling as he gasped against the deflated airbag, the suffocating smell of smoke and the taste of his own blood made him groan. Made him nauseous, his head spinning.

His glasses lens was shattered, the frame digging uncomfortably into his temple. His neck throbbed painfully, and every movement sent sharp reminders of the impact coursing through his body. A constant hissing noise hitting his ears.

Slowly, he peeled himself away from the airbag, his hands trembling from pain, and aftershock as he gripped the wheel.

Reality crashed down on him with brutal force almost instantly.

He had caused this. 

The realization made his stomach churn, his breath hitch. Joohyeon leaned back into the seat, staring through the wrecked windshield, shards of glass casting shattered patterns across his view.

The chaos around him was surreal, aftermath of his violent collision. His car was a twisted mess, the front of it crumpled and the engine smoking.

He was lucky to even be alive. Lucky to have seemingly minimal injuries.

But even before he could take a sigh of relief, he stared mortified at the other car.

The sight of Minho’s car.

The younger brother’s totaled vehicle, sent a fresh wave of horror through him.

Joohyeon’s eyes traced the damage, a new fear tightening in his chest. He had struck Minho’s car with almost full force, driven by a storm of emotions that had instantly disappeared as he looked at this scene. 

Was it truly worth it?

The words of his grandfather, Park Hyunmin, echoed in his head. Their words of dismissal, of being deemed unworthy compared to his favored brother, Minho.

Lee Minho was capable.

Lee Minho was worthy.

Lee Minho deserved to become the next leader.

They had called him useless, not worth their time, while Minho basked in their praise and expectations. Raising in ranks, falling in love.

Being happy.

Anger had simmered beneath Joohyeon’s surface for years, fueled by resentment and the constant feeling of being overshadowed. Things he had suppressed in attempts to keep his facade as a capable son.

But today, something snapped. 

He hadn’t planned this. No. It was just a mere coincidence.

Truly. The older man’s actions were not premeditated.

A wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kind of situation.

But perhaps this was exactly the right opportunity for Lee Joohyeon. To soothe the anger that coursed through him.

When he had spotted Minho’s car on the road, triple checking the license plate, the make and model, a sudden surge of fury had consumed him. A fury that drove his actions without conscious thought.

He remembered the moment vividly.

The white-hot rage that had coursed through him as he stomped on the accelerator. In that brief, reckless instant, nothing else had mattered but the desire to lash out, to take a revenge he didn’t know he wanted. Nothing else had mattered when he was determined to hit the car. But now, all that was left was fear. Only one thought repeating in his mind over and over again.

That he was absolutely fucked.

Slowly, the second grandson gathered his senses, his trembling hands tracing the cracked frame of his glasses. Struggling against the pain, Joohyeon managed to pry open the door that rattled at the slightest touch, wincing as he stumbled out onto the pavement. He leaned heavily on his shredded vehicle, his breath catching in his throat as he limped towards the crumpled remains of Minho’s car, praying that he hadn’t actually ended up killing him. 

As he drew closer, he realized Minho’s car was much more of a wreck up close, its passenger side a mangled mess. His wide eyes scanned, peering inside.

He froze.

There, amidst the shattered glass and twisted metal, lay Y/N Park. Her serene stillness and the stark contrast of her blood against her once-white dress, blood running down her face, sent a chill down Joohyeon’s spine. 

He suddenly wished he did kill Minho. 

Joohyeon staggered back, his mind reeling with disbelief and horror. He swallowed hard, tears mixing with the blood on his face, panic setting in. The ringing in his ears drowned out the distant sirens approaching the scene. He was still in pain, but he knew that he should just consider himself dead now. There was no way Park Hyunmin would let him out of this alive. 

So the second grandson of the Lee family, did what he does best after creating a mess.

He ran away.

But of course he doesn’t think about the cameras, the witnesses that watched him do so.

Because after all, he wasn’t worthy of leading anyone, forget L Corporation. A dimwit indeed.

The news of Lee Joohyeon’s reckless actions and the tragic aftermath of the car accident spread swiftly through the media, overshadowing what should have been a joyous occasion celebrating the civil marriage of the youngest Lee son and the Park heiress, which had barely been announced before tragedy struck.

Breaking News.

This just in.

What should have been a happy day for the couple.

Brother attacks brother.

The headlines flashed across screens, capturing the attention of viewers nationwide. Among them, Chairman Lee stared at the broadcast, his face drained of color, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The reporters at the scene of the accident were mere feet away from the twisted wreckage, their voices somber as they described the scene. 

Secretary Cha entered the room hastily, but his steps faltered when he saw the stunned expression on Chairman Lee’s face. He approached cautiously, concern etched on his features as he realized the impact of the news on his superior.

Chairman Lee could feel it again. That pain in his chest. But this time, the pain struck him suddenly and fiercely, stealing his breath. He groaned in agony, the pressure in his chest unbearable.

   “Chairman!” Secretary Cha exclaims, holding onto him before he collapses.

Amidst the chaos, another alert flashed across screens.

Breaking News: Chairman Lee of L Corporation has a heart attack. 

Then there was Park Hyunmin.

Y/N’s father was beyond pissed. The kind of fury that could only be extinguished by seeing Lee Joohyeon pay for whatever chaos he had left behind in his recklessness.

Just this morning the father had seen his daughter, giddy and glowing. Radiant. She had hugged her mother, dressed up more than usual. Exclaiming she had a surprise for them, one she would bring home that same night. An inkling that it had something to do with Minho.

Yet the only surprise he received was a phone call. The kind no parent wanted to get. 

He stormed through the house security and kicked down the doors of the Lee Residence, wielding a katana.

Inside, the remaining members of the Lee family were gathered in the living room, visibly shaken by the day’s events. The Chairman’s two older sons had rushed him to the hospital, while Jihoon sat among the women, who were in hysterics over the family’s misfortunes.

   “Where the fuck is Lee Joohyeon?!” Park Hyunmin roared, his fury unmistakable, seethed through clenched teeth.

Joohyeon’s mother rushed to him, her voice trembling with desperation.

   “I’m so sorry Director Park, my son has done something so terrible. He didn’t mean to hurt Y/N. Please. Please forgive him.” She pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Park Hyunmin shot her an angry glare.

   “Even if he didn’t mean to hurt Y/N, his original plan was to harm Minho. My son-in-law. He’s had it out for him—even going as far as airing out his illegitimacy!” He spat, his voice laced with venom.

His words took the members of the Lee family and Minho’s so-called mother off guard, bewildered. Unaware of exactly what kind of misdeeds her competent son had been stacking behind their backs.

Now, with a sword in hand, Y/N’s father was searching for the man he had treated with kindness only hours earlier. Even going as far as pretending his nonsensical babble over their brief encounter, was nothing but drunken words.

   “I don’t care if I get arrested. Only god can save that son of yours. Because if I see him.” He warned, leaning in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

   “I will end him.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

───────────────────────

Minho’s eyes snapped open, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breath coming out in ragged exhales as he adjusted to the blinding hospital lights. The sterile smell of the hospital overwhelmed his senses, as his eyes darted over the pale ceiling, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

And almost instantly his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. The image of his bride, who had smiled so brightly at him, the image of her bloody figure slumped limply at just an arms length away, came surging back to him.

But now Minho was alone. In the room that smelled heavy of antiseptic and the loud, sharp ringing of machines. He was alone and his new wife was nowhere to be seen.

The youngest son grimaced as his hands attempted to push himself up, wincing in pain at the sharp sting he felt on his left arm, realizing it was in a cast. Struggling, he still managed to sit up, another surge of pain shot through him, making him groan.

His body was a patchwork of bandages, perhaps even cuts and bruises he hadn’t gotten a chance of looking at, the cast on his hand felt heavy. But not heavier than that anxious feeling weighing in his heart.

He glanced around at the emptiness of the room he was in a daze, confused, panicked. 

The door slid open, Secretary Kim, who Minho hadn’t seen since the day he found out about his mother, entered the room. Upon seeing him awake, the younger man rushed in, his face etched with a mixture of relief and distress.

   “Sir!” Yongguk exclaimed, hurrying to Minho’s side.

Minho attempted to rise, a sudden rush in his actions. But his legs felt weak, and he nearly toppled over before Yongguk steadied him. Minho’s eyes, filled with a desperate and pained intensity, searched for answers. Fingers clawing at the fabric of Yongguk’s jacket.

   “W-where’s Y/N?” Minho’s voice cracked as he barely managed to whisper, the horrifying image of her bloodied form haunting him.

Yongguk hesitated, his face falling as he braced himself to deliver the crushing news. “Miss Park… she’s—”

   “She’s what!?” Minho’s voice was a raw, desperate plea as he gripped Yongguk’s jacket with a tighter grip, his tears spilling over.

   “She hasn’t regained consciousness.” Yongguk said softly. “The impact of the accident was on the passenger side. She sustained critical injuries. Miss Park has been unconscious since the accident.”

The weight of the words crashed over Minho like a tidal wave. He slowly sank back onto the bed, his face a mask of pain. After a long silence, he wiped away his tears, his gaze piercing as he looked up at Secretary Kim.

   “Who did this?” Minho’s voice was barely more than a whisper, quivering with dread.

Minho knew.

His mind raced, fearing that this was no mere accident. His grandfather? Because he decided to leave? Or Jungshin? Getting revenge on him for the overseas slush funds? Perhaps even his uncle?

   “Lee Joohyeon.” Secretary Kim’s voice was grim.

Minho was surprised. 

No. 

He didn’t see this coming. He thought he didn’t ever have to worry about that idiot. Thought he took care of him, sending him away with his tail between his legs. But now the only person that Minho cared about was hanging between life and death because of him.

   “He had fled the scene.” Yongguk continued, his voice heavy with frustration. 

   “The authorities are trying to track him down, but he’s vanished.”

Minho’s hands clenched the bed sheets with white-knuckled fury, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity.

    “Release the CCTV footage from the yacht.” The superior ordered, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 

   “I want Joohyeon found. I’ll kill him myself.”

Yongguk swallowed. His form rigid as he took in the sight of his superior’s cold expression. He nodded, suddenly understanding the gravity of Minho’s command. Understanding the “risky” tasks he had been warned about.

   “I’ll take care of it, sir.” He found himself stating.

A sudden silence ensued. The secretary wondering if he should bring it up or not.

   “There’s more.” Yongguk added, hesitating. 

   “The Chairman had a heart attack after hearing the news.”

The chairman’s youngest son stared at nothingness as he processed the additional news. For a moment there was an unreadable emotion in his eyes before his gaze darkened.

   “That old man won’t die. He’s as stubborn as they come.” 

Minho was right.

The Chairman wouldn’t die so easily. 

As if Minho’s recovery was his medicine. Chairman Lee’s resilience was remarkable. Despite the heart attack, the news of Minho’s waking up, mostly fine and alive, seemed to invigorate him anew. 

The old man sat in his hospital bed, reading the news. He was angry, but after Secretary Cha came in with the news that Minho had woken up, the father felt fine, as if his heart was healed. 

Though it was a pity that Y/N Park was still in such a critical condition. As long as Minho was okay, it was solace enough for the greedy Chairman.

   “Secretary Cha.” Chairman Lee’s voice, though weakened, was still cold, authoritative.

   “Has Joohyeon been found yet?”

   “Not yet, sir. He’s injured, so he can’t stay hidden for long.”

   “Find him.” Chairman Lee ordered, his voice carrying sharply.

   “Yes, sir.” The secretary responded promptly.

   “Find him and deal with him.”

Secretary Cha blinked, a little taken aback. Even after working over thirty years for the Chairman, it was a first that the superior had ordered him to harm his own blood. But Lee Joohyeon had already been on thin ice because of his hand in Jae’s demise.

   “I will not tolerate anyone who harms my family.” Chairman Lee declared, his voice unwavering. 

   “Especially someone who attempted to kill my son.”

The Chairman’s words were cold. As if the man in question wasn’t his grandson. But some scum that was a threat to their lives.

The scum, Lee Joohyeon was painfully aware. Of course Joohyeon knew. 

Fully aware of the gravity of his situation, Minho’s awakening and the Chairman’s recovery had sealed his fate.

Oh, the things Minho had probably planned to do to him. The older “brother” knew what the youngest was capable of.

Chairman Lee had recovered and most definately would bury him alive.

Even Park Hyunmin wanted his head.

Lee Joohyeon had managed to anger three people that were capable of demolishing him. The threats against him were overwhelming.

He was better off in Japan. Exiled.

The second grandson made a fateful decision. A decision driven by fear. By his lack of choices, cornered.

Probably the best one in his pathetic life.

Wounded and desperate, he limped into the police station. He would rather surrender, than live with the relentless fear of being hunted down by his enemies.

At least he had some sense in him. 

───────────────────────

Minho gazed at his new bride, a sight that shattered him every time.

She wasn’t in the beautiful white dress she had chosen just for him. Instead, she lay in this hospital bed, littered in cuts and bruises, stitches and castings. An oxygen mask obscuring her face, while the relentless beeping of the heart rate monitor echoed in the oppressive silence.

Five agonizing days had passed, and still, Y/N hadn’t awakened.

The doctor’s words echoed in his mind. The longer she remained unconscious, the slimmer the chances of her waking up.

That thought terrified him more than he’d ever thought possible. He leaned closer to her bedside, taking her limp hand in his. Gently, he pressed his lips to her cold fingers, trying to hold back his tears. She looked so peaceful, almost serene in her stillness, a sight that only deepened the clench in his heart.

Still, an anger festered within him. Fueled by the knowledge that Lee Joohyeon had surrendered to the police while he sat here, helpless. 

He should’ve found that man first. Should’ve taken Joohyeon’s life for snatching away Y/N’s radiant smile.

Minho should’ve protected her.

Another promise he failed at keeping.

The Chairman’s heart attack ignited an inheritance battle between his two sons, unaware that neither had even been favored by the old man. 

The two sons sat down with the Chairman’s attorney, their greed barely masked by their feigned concern. They demanded the reading of the old man’s will. Even though he wasn’t even dead yet. 

Those greedy bastards.

   “I’ll just tell you myself.” A voice came from the doorway.

Mooyoung and Doyoung were surprised. Chairman Lee, seated in a wheelchair and pushed by Secretary Cha, entered the room. His expression contorted in annoyance and disdain.

   “You ungrateful fools couldn’t even wait for me to actually die.” He spat, his disappointment palpable

   “Father!” Mooyoung rushed to his side, his younger brother trailing behind.

   “It’s not like that.” Mooyoung stammered, trying to salvage his dignity. 

   “We just wanted to take precautions.”

   “Yes, brother is right.” Doyoung chimed by his side, attempting to justify their greed. 

   “Especially with everything that’s happened this week.” The brothers shared a glance.

The Chairman’s glare was unyielding, unconvinced. He looked past his sons to Attorney Goh, who stood by, waiting for instructions.

   “Attorney Goh.” The Chairman started.

    “Please, go ahead and tell them what I’ve decided. You have my permission.”

Although the lawyer didn’t have the document on him, he was familiar with its contents, especially after the numerous revisions. He had been relieved when he was told that the final draft was indeed final.

   “Chairman Lee has decided to give seventy-percent of his assets and shares of L Corp. and all businesses tied to L Corporation, to Lee Minho.”

The old man watched the expressions on his two sons’ faces fall. The shock on Mooyoung and Doyoung’s faces was immediate and profound. Their expressions darkened with disbelief and resentment.

   “Twenty percent will be divided between Lee Mooyoung and Lee Doyoung, with five percent allocated to Lee Jookshin, to her son, Chairman Lee’s great-grandson, five percent. Should something unfortunate happen to Lee Minho without an heir, the remaining assets will be sold, and the proceeds will be donated to charity.”

This new information shocked Mooyoung and Doyoung even more, hittling them like a sledgehammer. Anger flared in Mooyoung’s eyes as he turned to his father in his wheelchair. 

   “Father, how could you do that!?” Mooyoung’s voice trembled with fury.

Doyoung, though silent, was visibly seething. Falling into a silence as he began to ponder.

   “You built everything from the ground up. How can you just give it away to charity?” Mooyoung’s voice cracked with a mix of outrage and disbelief.

The Chairman’s eyes flared with anger. Already thinking about the what-ifs of Minho’s death.

   “Someone in this family tried to kill Minho. How else am I supposed to protect him?” He demanded with a glare.

Lee Mooyoung’s brow furrowed deeper, his frustration evident in his expression. “Why do you need to protect that bastard?”

The venom in Mooyoung’s words only served to further enrage both his fake father and The Chairman, his real father.

   “He’s my blood, Mooyoung.” the Chairman said with a chilling calmness.

The intensity of his gaze silenced Mooyoung, who took a step back, his anger turning to sullen defeat.

Lee Doyoung, however, was already plotting his next move. 

   “You’ve made a very wise decision, Father.” He said with a grin, clearly scheming about the potential shift in power, the change of ranks within the family.

   “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” The Chairman said coldly. 

   “If you think you can continue to exploit Minho, you’re a fool. He’s no longer the boy you could keep pressed under your thumb.”

Secretary Cha began to wheel the Chairman towards his bedroom.

   “He surpassed you a long long time ago.” His words seemed final.

Of course, Lee Doyoung didn’t grasp the gravity of his father’s words. He was, indeed, a fool. A fool who had made his way to the hospital where Minho sat by his new bride’s side. The new husband still clung to Y/N’s unconscious hand.

The hospital door slid open with an intrusive screech, jolting Minho. His gaze shifted from Y/N’s still form to the entrance, where Doyoung’s imposing figure appeared.

   “I knew I’d find you here.” The “father” declared, his eyes briefly flickering to Y/N before settling on Minho.

Yongguk ran closely behind, halting at the door and bowing deeply. 

   “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop him but—”

   “It’s okay. You can go.” Minho interrupted, his voice firm.

Doyoung’s eyes narrowed in irritation as he watched Yongguk exit. “What kind of secretary did you keep, that disrespectful fool—”

   “You’re the disrespectful fool.” Minho cut in, his tone icy and unyielding.

Lee Doyoung’s face twisted in disbelief. “How dare you speak to me like that!” He snapped, his anger bubbling over, suddenly recalling Chairman Lee’s words from earlier.

Minho was pissed. How much more shameless could he get? 

   “How dare you barge into my wife’s hospital room like this?” He said, his voice low, rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. 

   “Oh. You must have heard about the Chairman giving you seventy percent of the shares. That’s why you’re so cocky now, talking to your father so rudely?” Doyoung came to his own conclusions.

Minho’s eyes darkened further. And without warning, he shoved Doyoung against the door, the impact echoing through the room. He pinned Doyoung with his good arm, his face a mask of intense fury. The man under his grip stared back with bewilderment. A shock that made his face grow almost pale.

   “I don’t care about the shares of L Corp., Lee Doyoung.” Minho said, his voice a chilling whisper.

Doyoung’s eyes widened with shock at the way Minho addressed him. The intensity of Minho’s words left him momentarily speechless.

   “You’re not my father. You never were. The man you look up to so much, the one you’re so terrified of, set you up twenty-eight years ago and you didn’t even realize it.”

Doyoung’s anger surfaced on his face, shoving the injured man back. 

   “You ungrateful brat! The Lee family has taken care of you for all these years, and this is how you repay us?” He poked Minho’s chest, his voice dripping with venom.

Minho’s laughter was a bitter sound that filled the room, almost in disbelief.

   “Take care? You must be joking.” He said, his laughter abruptly stopping as his expression hardened.

   “The Lee family made a mess of itself. Don’t blame me. Rather, you should be grateful I had been there to clean up your messes. Or you would have fallen a long time ago.”

Doyoung’s realization that Minho was no longer a pawn but a force to be reckoned with was dawning on him. A realization he made after being humiliated. He suddenly understood, Minho would no longer be controlled, instead would be the one in command now.

   “Son, listen—” Doyoung began, his voice trembling.

   “I’m not your son, Lee Doyoung.” Minho cut him off coldly. 

   “And I don’t want to hear your rambling.”

Doyoung’s face paled with sudden anxiety as he looked up at Minho, who now seemed towering over him.

Minho leaned in, his breath hot against Doyoung’s ear. 

   “Make sure to tell that pathetic Joohyeon, that I was the one who sent those threatening texts.” He whispered, pulling back to watch Doyoung’s face contort with shock and horror.

Minho’s laughter, dark and menacing, filled the space as he opened the hospital room door and forcefully shoved Doyoung out. The door shut with a faint slam, and Minho closed his eyes, his jaw clenched in frustration.

It was one thing after another. The reporters wouldn’t stop calling him, Chairman Lee kept trying to contact him, the company couldn’t get anything done without him.

All he wanted was Y/N to be by his side.

Awake.

   “Min...ho.” A soft, fragile voice called out.

His eyes flew open, and he turned to see Y/N slowly turning her head toward him. His heart leaped as he rushed to her side. She weakly tugged at the oxygen mask, removing it with trembling hands.

   “Y/N!” Minho’s voice cracked with emotion, tears pricking in his eyes.

She tried to smile despite the pain, her tear-filled eyes meeting his as he held her hand to his lips, letting out a sob of relief. 

   “I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered with his cries.

   “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She murmured, tears mingling with her smile as she watched him break into a vulnerable chuckle, crying into their loose grasp of entangled fingers.

───────────────────────

The youngest son of the Lee family might have been on the lowest ranks when it came to the members of the family, but he was now the only one capable enough to run L Corporation. 

Lee Minho was the only one left. Mooyoung and Doyoung guessed it correctly, their times of pushing around Minho had come to an end. They were forced to acknowledge Minho’s authority, bow down to someone decades younger than them. 

Bow down to their younger brother. Though they never found that out.

The youngest son had been ready to leave behind the Lee family and L Corp. altogether. But after the accident, a realization dawned. 

Without the power and influence that came with his role, he could not truly protect those he cherished.

Protect Y/N.

The Chairman had practically begged Minho to return. His declining health, suddenly made him desperate perhaps. He could not bear to watch L Corp. crumble because of the rotten sons he unfortunately fathered. 

His company. His child. 

Minho went back.

But of course it came with clauses.

There were going to be significant changes in the dynamics of the so-called family he grew up in. A revenge in its own.

A change that amused the youngest son plenty, unable to hide his sinister smile as he stared at the faces of all those who looked down at him. The disgust-laced gazes were suddenly filled with desperation. A look he enjoyed the sight of.

Lee Jihoon, who had always wanted to live his life away from the spotlight of the Lee family, was free to do so. He took that opportunity to leave for his next trip to South America. Last anyone had heard from him, he was road tripping through Brazil. Though he did keep in touch with Y/N from time to time.

Lee Jookshin didn’t interact much with anyone in the Lee family following her brother’s fall from grace. Her interactions became sparse, her presence a distant figure.

Lee Jungshin, tainted by the scandal of the slush-fund fiasco, chose to disappear after learning of the potential prison sentence for money laundering. He fled overseas, with his mother in tow.

As for Lee Joohyeon, his fate was sealed with the weight of multiple crimes. Convicted not only of attempted murder but also of manslaughter in Jae’s death years earlier, Joohyeon’s downfall came swiftly. 

Prosecutors received an anonymous email with the yacht CCTV footage. Then a few days later, the chip containing Lee Jae’s car dashcam evidence showed up on the lead detective’s desk. 

As if it all came with the wind.

Minho’s ascend to the presidency of L Corp. was solidified with the success of The Rose Garden Resort, a testament to his leadership and vision. His victories affirmed his place as a formidable figure in both business and the family.

Chairman Lee rejoiced, as if he had planned everything from the beginning.

Except he didn’t plan another heart attack.

This one however, kept him tied to the hospital bed for the next three years.

───────────────────────

Lee Minho walked into his new office, its grandeur evident in the bright white walls and gold-framed paintings. His fingers brushed over the crystal plaque bearing his name.

Chairman Lee Minho. 

He paused, feeling the weight of his new title settle around him. Uncertainty and pride mingled within him. He did not know how to feel. He had once wanted this position. Only for the sole purpose to drive the company to the ground.

Yet, now that he was here, he found himself hesitating.

A knock on the glass door drew him from his thoughts. He turned to find Secretary Kim, greeting him.

   “I’ve declined the invitation from the directors for a celebration as you requested.” Yongguk reported.

The new chairman nodded, looking out of the large window once again.

   “There’s also a gala hosted by the Director of Yeom Arts tomorrow evening. I’ve arranged your schedule around it.” Yongguk continued.

Minho turned with a raised eyebrow. “Yeom Arts…Isn’t that where the Hwangs married into?” He tried to recall, to which his secretary nodded.

   “Their second son Hwang Hyunjin married Director Yeom earlier this year.” Secretary Kim clarified.

Minho let out a nonchalant “hmm”, already lost interest.

   “Madame Park has arrived and is waiting in the lobby.” The secretary continued.

The mention of Y/N brought a genuine smile to Minho’s face. The only one he wanted to celebrate with.

His family.

Heading to the lobby, Minho’s heart lightened at the sight of Y/N. Her presence already made him relax into a familiar comfort. She beamed as he approached, and Minho’s smile widened in return. Then his gaze flickered down to the approaching patters of small feet.

   “Daddy!”

Minho instinctively crouched down to catch his two year old running towards him, into his arms. Her laughter erupted as he scooped her up, his grin wide. 

   “Did you miss me princess?” The father asked, his voice full of warmth.

Y/N approached the father-daughter duo, reaching over and gently brushed back the little girl’s hair.

   “She got really excited when I told her we’re having dinner outside today.” 

Minho laughed, holding his daughter close before reaching for Y/N’s hand.

   “Let’s go.” He smiled softly.

There was a time the youngest son had doubted his capabilities as a father. But now, looking at the admiration in his daughter’s eyes as she played with his tie, made his heart swell.

Minho didn’t know what being a good father looked like. He had never seen a true example of one in his life.

The father figures, the fake, the real, had never embodied the qualities of a good father that Minho had glimpsed throughout his life of other children, of his siblings.

But he swore. To himself, to his then unborn child in the quiet of the night when Y/N had long drifted into her slumber.

He would be a good father. He would try to be a good father. He would do everything his fake father, his real father, hadn’t done.

Minho read the baby book. Studying it with such intensity that it felt like he might tear it apart.

Y/N would giggle, brushing back his hair as she pulled away the glasses that had been perched on his nose. A soft graze of her fingers that brought him out of his thoughts.

   “Are you planning on getting a PhD on newborn babies?” She laughed, settling on the edge of his desk.

Minho shook his head, closing the book before staring at her with a new intensity. His eyes darted from her soft expression to her stomach. Deep in thought once again.

   “Don’t be so nervous. We have plenty of time to prepare. I’m sure everything will be alright.” His wife’s words were reassuring, her smile unwavering.

He rolled his chair closer, sighing as he took her hand into his, attempting to thin his lips into a smile as he nodded.

But Minho was afraid. Still afraid that he wouldn’t be a good father. That he couldn’t be a good father. He was a mess of a man who was the outcome of a disastrous family line. An embarrassment he didn’t have the courage to even admit let alone bring up.

Minho knew he would be protective, just as he was with Y/N, the love of his life, the only person he truly cared for. He knew he would stand by his child’s side, watching over them and keeping them close. But he wasn’t sure if he could truly love them.

The youngest son had always claimed he didn’t know what love was. For a long time, he didn’t understand what it felt like to be loved. Not until Y/N had entered his life. 

Even then, he didn’t know that the feeling clenching in his heart whenever she hurt herself, whenever someone spoke ill of her was protectiveness. 

The sour taste in his mouth when hearing her name connected. To another’s, seeing her attached to someone else, was jealousy.

The overwhelming fear of losing her was, in fact, love. Nothing but love. Something he took too long to recognize, nearly losing her in the process.

But perhaps the cries were all he needed to hear.

The pure, innocent wails of a newborn that echoed, loud in his ears. A call to the world that she was finally here. A part of him, a part of Y/N. Evidence of the love he swore he didn’t know about.

And all his worries, his nervousness that he had bottled up during the months before she had arrived, melted in an instant. And the new father suddenly knew that he was going to be fine.

Lee Minho would make an excellent father, one that he had never known.

───────────────────────

Lee Minho was an excellent father. But he could never be a good son.

He would never be a good son. Both to the fake and the real.

The former Chairman had been bed bound ever since his second heart attack. The stillness of the hospital room was both suffocating, but serene.

Secretary Cha entered quietly. Like he did every day, a routine he had fallen into over the past three years. But this time he had a somber expression on his face.

The old man lay in bed, his movements slow and breaths labored, an oxygen mask over his nose.

   “Did Minho refuse to visit again?” The old man asked in a raspy whisper.

Secretary Cha’s silence answered him. The former Chairman managed a small, knowing smile.

   “Call him for me.” The old man requested, his voice strained.

Secretary Cha made the call. Minho didn’t pick up the first time, nor the second. By the fourth ring on the third attempt, his voice finally came through, cold and detached.

   “Chairman Lee, your father wanted to see you. He wanted to congratulate you in person.”

Minho’s silence was followed by a laugh, harsh and dismissive. 

   “Tell the old man to stick to the deal we made. Don’t contact me for such trivial matters.”

The call ended abruptly. Secretary Cha looked at the former Chairman, who continued to gaze at the ceiling. A faint smile spread across the old man’s face.

   “My son.” He murmured, his voice a mix of pride and resignation.

   “He’s achieved what he set out to do... reach the very top.”

The old man coughed, turning his head to meet Secretary Cha’s sympathetic eyes.

   “Perhaps it’s time for you to retire, Cha Wonshik.” Former Chairman Lee said softly.

Secretary Cha hesitated before nodding, his pity evident. “Go prepare for you granddaughter’s wedding.” The Chairman added weakly.

After a heavy silence and Secretary Cha’s hesitant exit, the room fell silent once more, the only sound the steady beep of the heart monitor.

The former Chairman stared up at the ceiling again, at the bright light and slowly whispered to himself.

   “My youngest son…is stubborn, he is arrogant, he is conniving. But he’s always done a very good job hiding it all behind his mask. He’s a master at mind games.” He attempted to chuckle to himself.

His laughs morphed into labored coughs. Former Chairman Lee took a strained deep breath, and whispered once more.

   “Lee Minho is…”

His voice trailed off into silence, the heart monitor’s beep stretching into an unending, haunting note.

Minho walked into the private dining room of the restaurant, his gaze softening as he saw Y/N and their daughter seated at the table. He placed his phone down and slid back into his seat.

Y/N looked up from her meal, her eyes curious. 

   “Who was that?” She eyed the phone he had discarded atop of the table.

Minho gave a reassuring smile, shaking his head.

   “Not important—How’s the food?” He easily changed the subject.

Y/N had always been one to easily read Minho’s expressions, his body language. And although she was aware that it was more than just a “not important” phone call, that his shrug as he sat down was to shake off her worries, she just smiled in return, nodding as she took another bite.

Minho’s gaze shifted to their daughter, who was happily making a mess with her food. Pasta sauce smeared across her lips which made her father chuckle, his eyes creasing into crescent-moons. Y/N watched as her husband leaned over to gently brush back their daughter’s hair and wipe the mess from her face, his eyes filled with the same warmth and affection he showed when he was with Y/N.

She watched Minho with a tender smile.

Lingering.

And for a split second, her expression wavered.

Y/N’s smile faltered.

Just for a fleeting moment though.

A millisecond of uncertainty.

A millisecond of something else.

Her husband glanced back up at her, hand reaching over to caress hers. Minho smiled. The genuine ones she loved seeing on him, one that she returned with her own wide grin.

Lee Minho is… just like his father, isn’t he?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

── thanks for reading! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 7

This story is just coming right along. I've decided that it is split into three acts. The Arrangement, The Turn, and The Embrace. The first is about Steve adjusting to his new life. The second is thinking he needs to get out of the situation. And lastly the third is about finding acceptance and love with Eddie.

Yesterday for WIP Wednesday, I finished act 1. I figure if I pace this right, each act will be roughly ten chapters. But we'll see.

In this Eddie is sweet as always, Steve goes clothes shopping, and Chrissy misunderstands what Steve is trying to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~

Steve woke up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He looked at the clock on the nightstand blearily. It was a little after nine am.

The knocking began again and he got unsteadily to his feet and wandered over to the door. He opened it.

Behind the door was a porter. “My apologies for the rude awakening, sir. But this came for you, marked ‘Urgent’.”

In the porter’s hands was a small box. Steve nodded and took the box. He set it on the side table and grabbed his wallet. He tipped the porter and grunted his thanks before slamming the door.

He trotted back over to the bed and flopped face first back into his pillows.

The next time he awoke it was more naturally, and closer to 10:30am than 9am. He rolled over on his back with a sigh. He’d missed breakfast, but he didn’t mind. He was tired. Just the feeling of nothingness clung to his chest like a heavy blanket.

He sat up and spotted the box. He picked it up and padded over to the desk. He looked around it for a moment and to his delight he found a letter opener.

“Thank god, for fussy hotels,” he murmured as he used the letter opener to open the box. He set the letter opener down and then took the box over to the sofa. He loved comfy it was despite it being black in color.

He pulled at the packaging to reveal a pair of designer sunglasses. Steve smiled as he pulled it out. Eddie must have thought of it when he heard Steve’s message about his day. All the driving around he did.

He picked up the phone and called Eddie.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “Did you sleep well?”

“Nearly,” Steve said with a hint of smile in his tone. “I got this urgent package from this hot rich guy that the front desk just had to wake me up for.”

“Whoops!” Eddie said, chagrin. “I didn’t think it would get there until this afternoon, sweetheart.”

Steve laughed. “It’s okay, I was able to go right back to sleep. Even remembered to tip the porter.”

“All’s well that end’s well,” Eddie said softly.

They talked for a bit before Steve said, “Oh, I was meaning to ask you. I have something I wanted to send to you. Is there an address or something I can send it to, to make sure you get it?”

“Aww...little Canary,” Eddie teased back, “you don’t have to send me anything. I like buying you things.”

“Oh I know,” Steve replied. “But I think you’ll really get a kick out this one, though.”

“Sure thing, baby,” Eddie said. “I’ll talk to Chrissy and she’ll give you a call with the information. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect, Eddie,” Steve murmured.

“What are your plans for today?”

Steve licked his lips as he thought about it. “Probably some clothes shopping now that I have this fancy black card to splash around.”

Eddie laughed. “You do that, baby. Just tell me which stores you’re going to so I can make sure they’re warned ahead of time about the card. Places like that are super weird about new people coming in with that kind of cash.”

“Ooh...” Steve said with a grimace. “Yeah, I saw that happen once. This woman had won the lottery or something and she came into the shop when I was there with my mom. The sales woman was absolute horrid to her and chased her out. My mom threw the newspaper on the counter and walked out. The front page had the picture of the woman and her three million dollar prize check. It was one of the few times I ever saw my mom do something remotely nice like that.”

After they hung up, Steve got up grabbed the box of truffles. He took a couple out to the box to eat while he gather up his things for a shower. He thought about hitting the gym again, but he wasn’t sure if the pink bitch was still here and he wanted to avoid her like the plague. And while he knew he could swim instead, he decided to take the day off.

Yesterday had been rough and he wanted to do a little bit of retail therapy.

Steve got dressed in his most high end clothing he had and made his way out to his car. Which he knew would be another indicator that he had come from money. His new wallet was designer, just like his new sunglasses.

He primped in the mirror a little to make sure every hair was in place and then he gathered all his stuff and made for his car.

He pulled up to the row of boutiques his mother used to frequent before she started getting her clothes from Paris and Milan. Steve personally thought these places had better quality stuff, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

He walked into the first boutique and looked around. He kept his sunglasses on until one of the sales women came up to him. Then he lifted him and set them on top of his head. He smiled at her brightly.

“Welcome to Le Chique!” she said cheerily. “How can I help you today?” She was dressed smartly in a knee length pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. She wore high heeled pumps and had her hair pulled back into a tight bun.

“Hi,” Steve greeted back. “I’m just looking to update my wardrobe. Get a little more of an adult style.”

He could see the fucking dollar signs lit up behind her eyes. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them greedily.

“Right this way,” she said, waving her arm in front of her and Steve stepped forward, further into the store. “I’m Olivia and I’ll be happy to assist you today.”

Steve tried on so many clothes he thought his head was going to spin. But never once did Olivia falter. He finally got an updated look. It was similar to what he usually wore with the jeans and polos. But he also got button down shirts and tailored slacks and pants. Everything that fit went with him and everything else that needed to be tailored would be picked up by a PA of Eddie’s and brought to the hotel.

In fact when he got back to the hotel, the mysterious PA had struck again. On his bed was a large box. As he got closer he could see it was from the shop he was at earlier today.

He didn’t know what it could be. He had everything he wanted from the shop. He had even gotten help carrying all his bags up the hotel room by a couple of porters, both of whom Steve tipped well. He kept an eye on the package the whole time he took off the tags and put away his clothes in the dresser and closet.

Once Steve was done he walked over to the package a tad warily. He knew it had come from Eddie. There was no one else it could have come from. He undid the silk ribbon and pulled it off gently. He lifted the lid and set it to the side. He then moved the tissue paper out of the way.

Inside was the most beautiful cream colored suit he had ever seen. He opened the jacket touched the black silk lining. Sticking out of the pocket of the breast pocket was a note. He pulled it out. In the loopy handwriting of the sales woman were the words, “I wanted to get you something special. I hope you’ll wear this for me when I get back to Hawkins.”

Steve shook his head, smiling fondly. He walked over to the phone and called Eddie. He bounced on the bed as it rang through.

“Hey, little Canary,” Eddie purred. “How was your shopping trip?”

“It was marvelous,” Steve giggled. “Though if you want me calling you at times other then when you buy presents, you’re going to have slow up a bit. It’s gorgeous, by the way.”

Eddie laughed. “You got me there, hon. But I’m glad you like the suit. I wanted to surprise you with it. I when I called about the card earlier, I told them that once they got your measurements to set it aside.”

“How did it get here before I did?” Steve asked, twirling the cord around his finger.

“See, I knew you would have a lot of clothes and couldn’t carry it up yourself, so I just made sure to have my little elf slip in while you were dealing with the porters.”

“Sneaky!” he crowed. “I love it. I even bought the perfect shirt to go with it. It’s black and grey in kind of watercolor like stripes. Add a black pocket square and some nice shoes I bought and I’d be the talk of the town.”

“Well you’re already the talk of my world,” Eddie murmured, causing Steve to blush dark red. “Have you eaten yet, little Canary?”

Damn. Steve knew he had forgotten something.

“No...” he whined. “I just got so excited about shopping that it slipped my mind.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll have dinner sent up to you. I think you’ll really like their hamburgers.”

Steve smiled at that. He had gone out to Benny’s to get a good burger, and they had them here. “Sounds good.”

They talked for a little bit more before Eddie had to go so that he could order Steve dinner, so they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Steve decided to take a shower while he was waiting on his food. He gathered up his things including his new hair products he bought yesterday.

He got undressed and turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked at every angle of his face and had to admit that he actually looked happy. And wasn’t that a fucking trip.

He had thought he was happy before all this. Yeah, sure his dad was a jerk and his mom was useless, but he had friends, money, a car. Hell, he even had a boyfriend in this backwater hick town.

And then it all fell apart.

He hated how all his friends scattered the second the chips were down. He hated how Tommy turned tail and didn’t even try to take Steve with him. He had no doubt that soon enough the town would be all a twitter about Tommy and Carol and how cute they were together.

It was all bullshit.

The only people that cared about him were the people that would get hurt the most by all this and Steve was determined to keep them out of it.

Just before he got into the shower, the phone rang.

He let out a sigh and went to go answer it. There were only three people who had his number, Eddie, Dustin, and Eddie’s manager, Chrissy. All people Steve didn’t want to leave hanging.

“Hello?” he greeted.

“Steve?” a cool female voice asked. “This is Chrissy, Corroded Coffin’s manager. I understand you wanted to send Eddie something?”

“Oh!” Steve cried. “Yes, thank you for getting back to me so soon. Yeah, it’s not very big, say about the size of a 3x5 picture frame?” He hurried over to the desk, dragging the phone and stretching its cord to the limit to pull out a pen and some hotel stationary.

She hummed. “It’s not, risque is it?”

He laughed. “What? No! It’s nothing like that I promise.”

“Okay,” Chrissy said skeptically. “We have people opening packages before they get sent to the band so don’t send anything you don’t want a total stranger to see.”

“I promise it will mean absolutely nothing to the poor soul that opens their mail,” he informed her, “but he will absolutely get a kick out of it.”

Steve could tell she was still leery about it, but he wasn’t going to ruin the surprise.

She let out a sigh. “Fine. Here’s the address to send it to.” She rattled off an address and Steve dutifully wrote it down. “By the time it gets there, they should be back in LA, so it’ll go to their main mail box.”

He wrote band PO Box over the address and underlined it. “Great, thanks.”

“Now do you need anything else that isn’t their personal information?” she huffed.

Steve winced, he could tell she wasn’t happy being Eddie’s errand girl and by extension, his.

“No,” he said, “Just that. It’s just a small token that I think he’d like.”

“All right,” she said. “Good evening.”

“Good evening!” he chirped back.

Once she had hung up, Steve shook his head. He knew it was her job to to look out for the band. But it wasn’t that big of deal. What she think she was going to do send his dirty panties to the guy?

Not!

He looked down at himself and sighed. He had carried that whole conversation completely naked. He padded back to the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

He stepped under the stream of water and let it soothe him. He was still smarting a little from Chrissy’s attitude. She seemed friendly enough at the bar and genuinely wanted to see Eddie and Steve hit it off.

But something between then and now she had completely soured on him. That was a problem for future Steve, though. Right now in this moment he was going to enjoy his shower, watch some TV and enjoy the burger Eddie was having sent up.

~

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @blondie1006 @sadisticaltarts

[vidavalor]

How do you think the Ineffable Husbands reacted to the 1914 Christmas Armistice?

Also, it is autumn now and very cloudy and soggy, so here is a seasonally-appropriate recipe: https://www.hairybikers.com/recipes/view/caramelised-apple-cheesecake

Aw, a recipe! You're lovely. 😊 That looks amazing!

I envy you being in one firm season over there. September is a transition month here in New England. Half-summer, half-fall. It's very strange, though, not terrible. One day is lemonade and watermelon and the next is where's my blanket? and I need an apple something and looking up what day Bake Off starts to air over here. Another week, though, and it'll be pretty much fall from here on out. Definitely going to make that cheesecake. 😊

I think they probably reacted to the Christmas Armistice the same way many of us do when we learn about it-- that it's both beautiful and morbidly depressing at once. It showed people coming together to express a sense of shared humanity but then they went back to killing one another afterwards. It wasn't a new story for Crowley and Aziraphale because they had seen that in people all throughout history but I'm sure they found the same mix of hopefulness and sadness in it that a lot of people do.

The one who understands what it takes to bring about peace now best in the series is actually Gabriel, imho. It's because he understood the deeper meaning of Sandalphon's words that Sandalphon didn't actually understand himself: "you can't have a war without war."

Some short thoughts on ties between war, frozen peas, and one of my favorite of Agnes Nutter's prophecies beneath the cut.

When Sandalphon said: "you can't have a war without war", what he meant was: "Look how clever I think I am to use this word twice in two ways in one sentence! You can't have a war without War: The Character! Mirelle Enos is playing a character that shares a name with large-scale killing and destruction and I pointed it out! I'm so smart!"

Gabriel, though, heard the potential of bigger ideas: "You can't have a war (a large-scale military conflict) without war (people willing to fight in a war and, also, a person's inner struggle leading them to be willing to fight in war)."

Meaning: A war can only happen if people are willing to fight the war.

Meaning: No soldiers, no war.

Gabriel knew Aziraphale heard it like that, too, and was like lol Aziraphale, this guy thinks he's a poet omg let me flatter him enough that he won't notice that I just tried to help you sell more erotica and didn't murder you for having a lover and then we'll get out of here...

Gabriel saying that he "might use that one day" about what Sandalphon says is a line that-- delightfully-- ages quite differently the more we get to know Gabriel.

We know he said it in that moment to make it sound like he was telling Sandalphon that what Sandalphon had said was just so profound that Gabriel was tempted to use it himself... but we also know that Gabriel is neither as dumb nor as vapid as he strategically lets people think he is and that he understood the deeper way of looking at what Sandalphon said more than Sandalphon did.

Looking back on it, it's Gabriel actually joking about mutinying in front of Heaven's most fervent Metatron-worshipping fascist in a way that is very much going over Sandalphon's head. Gabriel is all can't have a war without war-- yeah, true dat, Stasi a Fond. I'm slowly losing it over here and my favorite fantasy is just peacing out entirely of this whole 'Commander of The Heavenly Host' shit and wouldn't that really completely eff up The Ineffable Plan? Oh, my secret daydream... if only I could...

Then, what happens, though, by the end of S1?

Gabriel sees a kid do just that.

The eleven year old spawn of Satan is all yeah, no, you can't have a war without war. I don't want to start a war. I like the world. I've got enough on my plate dealing with my own life-- I don't want to rule over everyone. I want everyone to feel at peace and be happy and take care of each other.

Gabriel was freaked out because of the consequences of this and the fact that he, at the the time, thought The Metatron might kill him for failing to start Armageddon but, after the day was over and Gabriel had a moment to breathe and think about it, you can't tell me he didn't hear Adam saying that it was too much pressure to be in charge of every other living being in existence and he just wanted to chill with the people he liked and live his own life in peace and let everyone else do that, too and think to himself:

Yeah, kid. Me too.

The dude who is told he's responsible for everyone in Heaven and who sees angels falling as partly his fault and whom the humans deify and to whom they make statues was like fucking hell, the little antichrist brat was right.

He realized that it's not about Armageddon, it's about living and building a life until you have all the world you need. It's about what Crowley and Aziraphale have been trying to do and about what he and Beez were as well. Gabriel's proposal to Beez is a simple one:

What if, instead of Armageddon, there was no Armageddon?

What if, instead of war, there's no war?

So, he ended up fulfilling his own prophecy a bit when the one day came when he used what Sandalphon said-- just not in the way that Sandalphon meant it but in the way that Gabriel himself and Aziraphale heard it: you can't have a war without war... no war exists if enough people refuse to fight it.

That's the way to stop Armageddon.

Gabriel came to realize that the best thing he could do as a leader in Heaven and commander of its armed forces was to refuse to fight, come what may. He quits the army and defects to the embassy of the only independent country that exists in the supernatural world: the United States of Crowley and Aziraphale.

As Agnes said:

...the calm cometh when Redde and Whyte and Black and Pale approache to Peas is Our Professioune.

In this case: Redde/Red (Crowley), Whyte/White (Aziraphale), Black (Beez), Pale (Gabriel). To profess: to state. Peas = the talking of frozen peas because homophone: peace.

The calm cometh when Crowley, Aziraphale, Beez and Gabriel talk and each get closer to their own peace and to peace with one another and help each other to spread that mentality throughout all those willing in Heaven and Hell and Earth.

That's what you feed the other ducks-- your frozen peas. Your own stuff that is disturbing your own inner peace and creating inner wars and small-scale conflicts that, if left unchecked, can build into larger-scale ones.

If you break that shit down and talk about it, there needn't be any war.

Sometimes, it means shedding some armor, keeping an open mind, and admitting that you were wrong-- all things that can be difficult...

...especially for those are secretly tender-hearted but put up that armor to survive in worlds steeped in toxic masculinity...

...and, sometimes, it's maddening because people are scared and get set in their ways and do dumb shit and you have to upend power structures and reinforce more positive behaviors to get them to shut up long enough to start listening to one another...

...but the more who learn to unlearn the harmful stuff at the core of their own struggles and who open their minds up to listening to others, the more we're professing our peas to our fellow ducks and getting closer to peace within ourselves and within the world as a whole and that's what it's all about. It might always be approaching Peas is Our Professioune rather than a perfectly peaceful world but the point is the effort of the approach and to just keep making steady progress as much as we can while we're walking the Earth. After all...

[aziraphales-library]

Y’all are awesome and I appreciate the hell out of this account! Any fics that are an attempt at a season 3? Preferably comedic ones! Thank you so much and keep up the amazing work! ❤️

Hello. We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out. Here are more to add that have some kind of humour tag...

a place to be by kaiyen (NR)

In which Crowley moves back into his flat, Aziraphale has problems at work, and the Second Coming of Christ is but a stone's throw away. In the end, Crowley makes it to rolling green hills, leant against a stubbornly yellow Bentley. He remembers the first morning. He had slithered out of the ground not long before dawn, the dirt damp even before the first rain, the grass cool and crisp against his scales. And the sun had risen, jewels spilling across the great blue sky, warm and golden from the East. Crowley – Crawly, then – had wanted to follow it, had felt a great pull Eastwards. He went, too, until he found the ripe red fruit nestled amongst the lush green leaves and knew what they were for. It was luck, then, that the humans had left in the direction of the sunrise. Luck, or– ineffable. The sun rises over the South Downs, and Crowley finally wants to stay.

The Ineffable Shades of Gray (Good Omens Season 3) by altsernative (T)

After returning to Heaven, Aziraphale learns the Metatron's true intentions, finds himself disillusioned, and regrets his choice to leave Crowley, who has been working in the Temptations department. They reunite, and find themselves stopping the final war between Heaven and Hell and learning God and Satan's true intentions for the world and each other.

Demons are Forever by in_a_pickle (T)

After finallly finding the courage to tell his best friend his feelings, Crowley's dreams are shattered when Aziraphale once again chooses Heaven over happiness together. With ‘Great Plans’ afoot upstairs, Aziraphale discovers that the starring role he accepted comes with some unforeseen duties and that Crowley’s kiss has become something of a distraction. Crowley meanwhile is trying to come to terms with a broken heart and is trying to fathom why Heaven is so keen to have Aziraphale back in the fold. A mini adventure with our favourite group of two, written in case I get hit by a bus and never get to find out what happened next.

The Intended Effect by Esme_Abner (E)

A post-S2 fic that begins with a very sad Crowley and a conflicted Aziraphale and a surprisingly not-awful Jesus. It's all building toward our boys reconciling, because like everyone else, my heart is broken and I need to pick up the pieces somehow. And they might try to like save the world again, too.

(I just can't wait for) Season 3 Good Omens! by RCReveal (T)

After Season 2, I really needed to find out how Aziraphale and Crowley could get their reunion: a real reunion & not 'pretendy real'. They both have so much growing to do with neither of them, yet, being able to even say 'I love you' clearly to each other. Angel, what's going on? What kind of doublethink are you doing to still think that Heaven is the Good side & that you can't even admit to being friends? But you'll do anything to protect the World. Crowley, always planning on running. Sorry, but that won't work. If you had run at Armageddon there'd be no here to be in. But somehow, still a little seed of optimism. And wow! what you two can do together! Especially with a little help from old and new friends. So here's a story about averting the Second Coming with that great ensemble cast of characters in Heaven, Hell, and Whickber ST. Long set up, but then starts to speed up, kinda a wild ride from chapter 42 onto the end. This story is at about the same level of cursing, violence (well, maybe a little more Gaiman-esque), humor (definitely much more Terry Pratchett-esque) and romance as that of the second season.

There's a Special Place on Earth for Beings Like You by Kipje (T)

Set two years after Aziraphale leaves to become Supreme Archangel. It’s the Second Coming. Aziraphale is tasked with finding parents for the new Christ and returns to earth. He needs Crowley’s help, but the two haven’t spoken since the break-up. Crowley doesn’t want to forgive the angel, nor does he want to help out with the baby, but he finds it incredibly hard not to get involved. OR Aziraphale and Crowley raise the new Christ together; a girl named Eden. While they try to sort out their feelings and avert the apocalypse. Excerpt: Crowley had always assumed Aziraphale would want to run away with him in order to be together. He had never bothered to ask if there was a version where they would be an ‘us’ on earth. What was Aziraphale supposed to do once they arrived in the Alpha Centauri system. How would that even work with his book collection? Sure, Aziraphale had fallen in love with the demon – and it had taken him a while to be able to admit that – but he had also fallen in love with humanity, with earth. He had never planned on leaving. He knew earth would be no fun without his favourite wily serpent, but that did not mean he would be fine anywhere as long as Crowley was there. He had standards.

- Mod D

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE (CH 3) | Michael x Reader

just when i was finally starting to feel better physically, i tanked mentally :') so i'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. i hope this was worth the wait though! i promise i Do plan to work on other stuff besides just MoH but rn i just. needed to write Michael for a bit

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

PREV || NEXT

Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time for the town.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents made a point to accompany their kids everywhere or just simply stay home with them. If phones went down or power went out, babysitting teens were told to cross the street and get help, no matter what. Despite the horrors, people still dressed up, still went looking for candy, and still snuck out to make out with their respective partners.

Halloween for you had been quiet. You'd gone to a small costume party with your friends and tried to stay busy. You knew Michael was out working since news of his crimes reached your party, people whispering and gasping at the reported murders coming from the televisions.

You tried not to think about it.

By the time you got home, it was nearly 2am and you were exhausted. As though sensing your arrival, the Boogeyman stepped out of the shadows of your kitchen, bloodstained and breathing heavily. "Busy night?" You'd called to him with a tired smile. He tilted his head in lieu of any response.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. For many nights after, you lay in bed and bore holes in your ceiling as you tried to come up with a plan. Would he leave? Go back to Smith's Grove? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually. But was that the point?

You didn't know. You didn't like not knowing.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television, intrigued by the cartoons, or follow you around the house. If you left, he'd stalk you from a distance just out of sight. He joined you for dinner and movies in front of the television and seemed to enjoy watching horror films when you put them on. You knew him well enough to notice he had a soft spot for The Thing so you tried to put it on as often as possible.

It became the new normal. Domestic and quiet.

Months passed. Fall oranges faded to browns and whites as winter approached. You'd leave out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you began to lose hope. All you could do now was pray he didn't suffer or that he hadn't been eaten by some other animal.

Michael always watched you when you did this, stood in the doorway of the backdoor while you sat on the narrow steps, hoping your kitty would come home. It might've looked silly to him but he never tried to stop you. You appreciated that.

During all this, he didn't kill anyone. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news and, with your dad gone, you didn't have much insider information anymore. Who knows if they were even still looking for him.

So you made a Thanksgiving feast. Michael was familiar with the concept but you knew it had likely been a long time since he'd actually gotten to participate. So you went all out - turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes, eating your weights in food and falling asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

When you'd woken, you had been taken aback by how peaceful he looked when he slept. Curly hair ruffled from the awkward angle he lay against one of your throw pillows, his face still but not tense. Pretty, you thought to yourself not for the first time.

It was nice. Everything felt perfect.

One afternoon when you'd gotten back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing on your front porch cradling something wrapped up in an old towel. "What is that?" You gasped, fearing the worse as you hurried closer.

But you broke down into tears, immediately recognizing Mayhem. Cold, trembling, and most certainly sick in so many ways but alive and home. You'd taken him to the vet's office, a sobbing mess in the waiting room. He'd need surgery for his infected wounds and have to be on antibiotics for a long time but you were just relieved he was home and safe now.

Michael never told you how he found him. You didn't ask, just baked him a pumpkin pie as thanks.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost began to make appearances. The first snow day, you'd bundled both yourself and Michael up and dragged him outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, often leaving the thing in the corner of the closet, hidden away like a bad memory.

You didn't really understand that. Your best theory was that the mask compelled Michael to kill and now that Halloween had come and gone, he was back to some semblance of normal. He still wore masks from time to time - rustic paper mache ones crafted at your kitchen table on quiet afternoons - but significantly less now. Maybe it was just a Halloween thing and he was relatively normal the rest of the year? You weren't sure. Obviously, you knew better than to push about what happened with his sister but you wondered if the killings were a reenactment of the trauma.

Psychology has always interested you.

It wouldn't surprise you if the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge that Michael was traumatized, quick to demonize him rather than provide him proper care. That he didn't put together Michael went from a normal boy to suddenly completely nonverbal and monotonous after killing her. It had affected him, even if people didn't want to admit that. Michael himself included.

But wearing the classic mask a little less meant you could slip a cute wool hat on his head and drag him out, mitten-clad hands clasped together as you charged outside. "Come see, come see!"

Michael looked up at the falling snow, squinting against the snowflakes that began to freckle his face. You'd laughed and nudged him. "Try this," you said before opening your mouth and letting the snowflakes fall on your tongue.

He'd given you a bewildered look but tried it. Only because he'd grown so fond of you, you assumed.

Days passed. Mayhem made a full recovery and now spent his days lounging in the winter sun. Sometimes he'd brush against Michael for attention and the man had gotten better at returning it, fingers brushing soft black fur occasionally. It was sweet, you thought, how he'd slowly begun to reintegrate into your life.

When you caught him drawing on looseleaf papers, you decided to get him paints and canvases as an early Christmas present and cleared out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio to paint and work on his masks in private. You'd layed down old newspapers to keep the floor relatively clean when you revealed it to him. He'd spend hours up in there, painting or making masks. You'd helped him hang some up on the wall of the room with little thumbtacks as hooks. He was getting good, you'd thought as you examined a bright orange mask that resembled a jack o' lantern.

Michael didn't show you his paintings very often. That wasn't really the point anyways so you didn't mind. But there had been a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or atop your bed like a cat offering dead animals. Your favorite so far was one of the winter sky painted with fluffy whites and cold blues with your own profile looking up at the sky. The way he painted was streaky, like his hands shook, but it was still beautifully detailed despite the messy lines and bleeding colors.

It was interesting seeing yourself through someone else's eyes translated to art. You'd kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the raised streaks of paint, fingers running along the lines of your face. You wondered, fleetingly with bright red cheeks, if he painted you often and just never showed you.

There was a chance. You liked to think he did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. “Michael,” you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. “I told you, I’ll be back later tonight. I’ve left dinner in the fridge and I promise I’ll call when I’m coming home.”

It was nearing Christmas when you'd gotten invited to a holiday party. You were attempting to get ready, dressing up as a cute little elf. Attempting being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your stupid looking elf hat, "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you behind the accursed Halloween mask. He had a habit of being a bit of a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on when he'd learnt you were leaving but you'd expected that. Whenever he was generally stressed out or upset, you'd find it covering his head. The symbolism there wasn't lost on you but you had more pressing things to worry about then the possible metaphor of Michael masking himself literally and figuratively.

"If you're so upset, why not come with?" You snorted to yourself as you focused on doing your eyes in a dark green with white mascara. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater, no one would know it's you. Could be fun, yeah?"

You paused to do your lips in a dark red. Makeup wasn't really your preference but it suited the costume you wore - a dark green tunic with red and white striped knee socks with brown boots. The hat was a matching green and jingled stupidly from the little bell on the end. You'd done your face with a heavy blush and had drawn little white snowflakes in liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching you had you spinning around. Michael stood directly behind you and tilted his head when you made eye contact. "Wait, are you serious?" You blinked in surprise. You'd gotten good at reading him in the few months you'd spent living together and you could tell he was accepting your offer.

He gave you a blank stare before putting a hand around your neck and squeezing. You noted his tense shoulders and tried to relax. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things so you'd learnt to just roll with it, knowing that his intent wasn't to kill you.

So you didn't panic.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just need to be sure you're actually interested in going. There'll be people there, you know that right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either, you can't hurt or kill anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time since he'd killed anyone but you could never be totally sure of his motives. He could still be unpredictable from time to time.

Michael let you go and marched towards the dresser. You watched curiously as he fished out a black shirt and black jeans - clothes you'd gotten for him when he couldn't be in the jumpsuit - before offering them with outstretched arms. He gave you a curt nod and you smiled.

He didn't do that often so you knew he was serious.

"Alright then, c'mere big guy," you motioned for him to sit on the bed as you began gathering up makeup supplies. You kept your head turned away as he changed to offer him some semblance of privacy. Growing up in an institution meant he didn't have a lot of shame left but you always felt bad when you thought about that. 

You missed the way his hands shook as he took off the mask, too busy searching for a colored contact for his injured eye. You found a pretty jade green and figured that'd work. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of. Some red eyeshadow for his eyes would help cover up the scar and would also be cute for a Rudolph nose. You collected your supplies and turned to Michael with a wide smile.

That smile fell when you saw him sitting on your bed, dressed up nice as he stared at the mask clutched tightly in his hands. He stared into its face with wide, terrified eyes and that made you freeze. You'd seen that look only once before: when you held each other in the bathroom after you'd saved him from being shot.

"You don't have to go." Your voice was soft and reassuring. He looked up at you slowly and you continued. "I know this isn't something you normally do, but-" Michael blinked slowly as you rambled. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this for me." The last thing you needed was him snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You never forced Michael into things he didn't want to do and it was possible he wasn't used to that.

He stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into latex, before he unclenched long enough for the mask to fall to the floor with a soft crunch. The two of you stared at it for a long time and he blinked rapidly as he stared. You could tell by the clenching and unclenching of his jaw that he was fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you took a seat beside him and reached for his face with slow hands. His flinch made your heart break and you cooed to him softly. "It's just me," you soothed as you clicked open the container with the contact lens inside. "I'd never hurt you."

Michael relaxed slowly, watching you with something storming in his eyes. You cupped his cheek with one hand and his eyes fluttered briefly. "Have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, smiling warmly at him.

He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky.

It took some time to get the contact in. Neither of you really knew what you were doing and you kept worrying it'd roll back to his brain. But, with your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty green-hazel heterochromatic eyes that you fought to not get lost in. Even with the scarring he looked… normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You teased as you took out the eyeshadow. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took as a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You said softly before dabbing the brush in the dark red and swiping it gently over his lids, relieved it covered the scar pretty well.

You weren't sure how familiar people were with his actual face. When people thought of Michael Myers, did they just see the pale, masked face of the Boogeyman? Or did they see his mugshot, televised on the evening news as they reported his escape and recapture?

When you moved to his next eye, his hand shot out to clench your hip tight. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were the only exception to his no touching rule because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he'd given you protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you like a stressball was the only thing he could do to abate his anxiety.

You dusted some red on the tip of his nose and smiled to yourself. "So a few of my friends will be there," you hummed as you added the finishing touches on the raccoon-style eyeshadow you'd given him to hide a lot of the scars. Since he was wearing darker clothes, you reached for the black eyeshadow next with the intent of dusting it around his lids to give him a smokier look. It made him a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out into a dark red. "They'll probably try to talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, we'll say you got in a car accident when you were young and haven't been able to talk since."

He gave your hip a squeeze in confirmation.

You brushed some red on the tip of his nose with a hum. "My friend Leslie is the chattiest so at least we won't have to worry about him. He's always rambling on and on about the horror novel he's writing. To his credit, it's really interesting." You began to brush a heavy blush on his cheeks, chuckling at the way he squinted against the sensation. "It's about some boy who was thrown over a waterfall before rising to take revenge on the town? I think? I mean, he'll certainly tell you all about it. I think he's calling it Behind the Mask or something, I'm not sure."

Michael opened his eyes when you finished with the blush and you froze. He looked good and you couldn't help but stare. Tight fitting shirt, half-lidded eyes decorated in smoky colors, and messy brown curls that you made a note to fluff up before you left. He looked painfully normal and pretty and you wanted to-

You cleared your throat and grabbed the white eyeliner pen. "This'll be colder but try not to move." Gently, you held under his chin to keep him steady as you began to dot little freckles along his cheeks and nose, pausing to draw larger snowflakes at the corners of his eyes. That way you two matched!

When you pulled back, you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest thing possible, he knew exactly what scared someone. But, you reminded yourself, this wasn't some Stephen King novel. Still, it unnerved you to consider he knew what you thought of him privately.

"Oh! I know!" You hopped up and hurried back over to your vanity, grabbing a brown headband decorated with felt horns wrapped in tiny bells. They were painfully cute and you spun to show him.

He squinted at you and you giggled. "Trust me, it'll look super cute." Sliding it atop his head, you finally got to fluff his hair out to disguise the band better. When you stepped back, you gave him a once-over and a smile.

Michael fucking Myers dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"You think we should use nicknames to be less suspicious?" You hummed, tilting your head - a habit you'd picked up from him. "I could call you Mike." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "Aw, don't like it?" He glared harder and you laughed. "Well, if they ask for your last name, I'm making something up!"

He got up wordlessly and made his way to your vanity, examining himself in the mirror. As expected, he didn't say anything. But he did touch lightly at his eyes, curious when the powder came off on his fingers. You joined him, looking you both over in the mirror. From the outside, you two looked like any normal young couple heading for a Christmas party.

“Well Mikey,” you said as you grabbed your bag, “Shall we?”

You laughed at the slow, unimpressed blink he gave you.

You were honestly impressed Chrissy managed to get so many people to come. She'd been very popular in high school - a cheerleader who'd dated the quarterback of the football team, well-liked, and clearly still riding that high despite graduating out of high school cliques. Chrissy had been a year above you but had always been one of those girls to try and invite everyone she knew to any events she threw. So you weren't exactly close friends but you'd helped her with a school project once and apparently that was enough for her.

The house was decorated to the nines, lined in little white lights that glistened against the freshly fallen snow. Little reindeer animatronics made of the same lights "grazed" in the front yard and little candy cane lights lined the pathway. It all felt a little magical. A small flurry had picked up when you and Michael got out of the car and made your way up to the front door.

Michael paused to look up at the sky while you rang the doorbell, listening to the melodic chimes ring out inside the house. You swore he almost smiled, his hair dusted in little white flakes when he looked down at you. Your heart seized at the sight and you were struck with the urge to k–

Chrissy opened the door, smiling wide and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit. She surveyed you both and let out a surprised gasp, the corners of her mouth curling in delight. "And who's this hottie?" She whispered at you while giggling like a schoolgirl. "I didn't know you knew any cute guys. No offense." She twirled her hair, shamelessly looking Michael up and down.

Jealousy shot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh," she seemed almost disappointed, which you tried to brush off. She'd always felt a little entitled towards whomever she determined was the most attractive guy. It was just how she was, even if it pissed you off in the moment. "Well, I'm happy for you!" She spun on her heel and led you both into the house, gesturing for her butler to take your coats. "Feel free to mingle, lovebirds! We've got drinks, food, and our chef made a bunch of cookies."

Michael seemed to notice the lovebirds comment and you flushed, giving a nod and smile to Chrissy while trying to ignore his stare boring into the back of your head. "Thanks. Oh, um, here!" You reached into your bag and held out a small, nicely wrapped gift. "For the Secret Santa."

She lit up and took the box enthusiastically. "Ohmygosh, thank you! I was just going to ask." Chrissy added the box to a nearby table and clasped her hands together excitedly. "Alright, perfect, you're free to go!"

You led the way to the kitchen, dodging a few familiar faces with smiles and waves and promises to return once you'd gotten some food and drinks. Michael held your wrist the whole way there, squeezing harder and harder the more people spoke to you.

The kitchen was huge, white, and perfectly pristine. The maid who cleaned everything always made their house look like an interior design catalog rather than an actual home. A large plate of highly elaborate sugar cookies lay atop the countertop, a large amount already missing with only trails of crumbs indicative of their place there.

You grabbed a candy cane shaped cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one. "I think you'll like these." He just stared at you, eyes widened ever so slightly. "What?" You asked through a mouthful of cookie. His head tilted slightly and you swallowed nervously. "Sorry for the, um, boyfriend comment. It just, uh, it felt like a safe alibi, y'know?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You prepared a million apologies in your head before he reached for a snowman cookie and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there, staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies. Your fingers drummed anxiously on the cold marble tile of the kitchen counter as you tried to stand your ground.

When he finished his, Michael stepped closer to you and placed a hand at your waist. He leant forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, making you gasp in surprise. It wasn't exactly a kiss but the intent was there and the message was clear. You swallowed when he pulled back and you swore his eyes softened. "Okay, okay, cool," you said quietly, trying - and failing - to hold back your smile.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and smirked to yourself about the faint lipstick stain there. You snagged another couple cookies and a glass of cider. His cheeks were a soft pink when you passed him one of the cookies. "Shall we brace the music?" You grinned as you took his arm and led him out the door back into the party.

Everything went perfectly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you knew wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say as Michael took a drink to avoid talking. "I met him when my car broke down and we just… hit it off, y'know?" You'd smile as though recounting the memories through your pleasant buzz from the cider.

"How long have you been dating?" You were asked a few times.

"Oh, a month and a half now, I think. It feels like it's been longer." You'd say while Michael chewed on cookies.

It had been, if you thought about when the starting point of your relationship could've been. Maybe not long after he'd gotten sick and you'd cared for him in a way he hadn't had since he was a child. Or maybe after you'd both made a wordless pact to each other while your father lay bleeding on the kitchen floor. Hard to say. But calling him your boyfriend had come so easily that you questioned how long you'd considered him that in your subconscious.

When Chrissy announced her parent's arrival with a few of their friends in tow, you went to greet them without a second thought. You froze in fear when you caught sight of her father: John Kallas. Officer Kallas. A friend of your father's who had been part of the team searching for Michael around Halloween.

You clutched Michael's arm and steered him to a quiet hallway of the house. "Don't let her dad see you," you whisper-yelled. When he tilted his head, you ran a nervous hand through your hair. "He was one of the cops looking for you. He might recognize you."

Michael didn't visibly react but you did notice him clenching his jaw. "I didn't know he'd be here! I hadn't thought of it until I saw him." You sighed, frustrated with your own anxiety rising. "I'm sorry. Do you want to leave?"

He seemed to think it over but you were interrupted by heels clicking on the tile floor. In a panic, you grabbed his wrists and put his hands at your waist. "Act like we were kissing." You whispered as you leant in, bumping your foreheads together.

His head tilted askew slightly and gave you a moment to mess up your lipstick a little. The footsteps came to a halt and you heard a familiar laugh that made all the anxiety in your body melt away in an instant.

Kalei stood with their arms crossed, looking you both over with an amused expression. "So is this the guy you were telling me about back in September?" They laughed at seeing the way you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment.

Michael gave you a quizzical look and you groaned. "Yes, yes, he is." You confessed with an exhausted sigh. "But shh!" You waved a hand at them to try and quiet them.

They didn't back down though. "He would gush about you at work to me all the time," they drawled out, ignoring your flustered protests.

"I didn't-!"

"You better treat him right!" Kalei said, crossing their arms over their chest. "I may not look it but I can pack a serious punch."

Michael blinked slowly before looking back at you. "What do you need, Kalei?" You sputtered, trying to change the topic before your impromptu boyfriend decided to make a scene.

"Oh, the Secret Santa's starting. Came to getcha." They gestured for you both to follow with an impish smile growing on their face. "Better hurry up before people start making assumptions." They teased with a waggle of their eyebrows.

Your face lit up like a torch and you gently pushed Michael away to march down the hall. "N-no, wouldn't want that, yeah." Your voice sounded far away to your own ears, too much blood pounding through your head.

Michael followed on your heels like a loyal dog and you tried to ignore the way that made you feel.

You and Michael took a seat on one of the couches and you held his arm almost possessively, especially when you noticed some of the other girls at the party kept looking at him with bashful faces. It pissed you off just how shameless they were even when they knew he was dating you. Was it that hard for people to believe?

The absence of John Kallas made you think that he and his buddies had gone into one of the other rooms. Which put your mind at ease, at least a little.

The Secret Santa was relatively uneventful. You clapped politely as people opened their gifts and were surprised when Chrissy handed you your gift from her. A book on growing vegetables with a tab already inside on a picture of a tomato plant. "You think I should grow tomatoes?" You gave her an amused smile.

"Well, duh! It, like, suits your whole vibe, y'know? I'm surprised you don't grow more vegetables." Chrissy had nudged you gently as you began leafing through the rest of the book, skimming the words as Michael watched over your shoulder.

As it finally came time to leave, you were saying your goodbyes to Chrissy when you spotted Officer Kallas leaving the kitchen. You pulled Michael out of there quickly, hoping that the stumble the officer gave was simply him tripping and not because he'd seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Your walk back to the car was brisk and silent. White snow was like stars as it fell overhead before coming to rest on your shoulders and the ground below. "Thank you for coming," you said, reaching over to squeeze Michael's hand. "It was nice having you there."

Before you could pull your hand away completely, he gave you a squeeze of his own before climbing into the passenger seat.

Oh, you thought to yourself. Oh.

For Christmas, you'd gotten Michael a drum set.

It had been an impulsive buy, a decision you had made while walking past a thrift store and noticing a decently priced set on display in the window.

He enjoyed doing things with his hands - be it painting, making masks, or, most recently, helping you decorate Christmas cookies. So you figured he'd get a kick out of drumming. You lived far out enough that he could afford to be loud without worrying about waking the neighbors up and you had a detached garage he could play in. Maybe when the weather got warmer, he'd move outside.

And it might help him to let energy out. You'd caught him giving death glares to random postmen who came to your door and he'd already begun the habit of wearing the accursed Halloween mask around the house again. So you didn't want him to get bored.

“Here,” you said as you passed him the drumsticks. He examined them curiously and you gestured to the drums. When he gave you an empty stare, you took one of the stucks and whacked on the cymbals. That made Michael’s eyes widen and he moved around to take a seat. “You can be as loud as you want with them. No one’ll hear soooo… go crazy!”

Michael took the stick back and held them both in hesitant hands. With a few bangs that seemed exploratory coupled with getting the hang of pressing his foot to make a lower noise, he seemed to catch on pretty quick. His banging grew in speed and volume as he gained confidence and you laughed, covering your ears when the sound echoed off the walls of the small space. "You got it!" You called over the crashing cymbals.

A loud bang signified the end of his "song" and he stared at you with wide, crazy eyes, panting heavily. "Fun, right?" You smiled at him. "They're all yours so you're free to come play them whenever you want."

His lips curled into an almost feral smile that made you smile back. You'd never seen him smile before, much less like that.

Over the next few days, Michael continued sneaking – literally sneaking, like he'd be in trouble if you spotted him – into the garage to play the drums. His disorganized, chaotic banging was slowly starting to take form. Organized chaos, you smiled to yourself. The loud sounds and movements gave Michael a chance to express himself with noise which was quite the contrast to his usual quiet self.. You also found it exceptionally cute when he'd go play and come back inside hours later with his wild brown curls disheveled and a crazed grin on his face.

It had been unsettling at first seeing him smile the way he did but now it just made your heart seize. His fingers would drum on things to a tune you couldn't hear and he was painfully human now, relaxed around you and genuinely happy, from what you could tell.

So you made a mixtape for him that focused on heavy drum sounds, steady but loud beats the way he liked. At first he didn't seem too interested in it but you'd since caught him listening to it a few times, eyes closed and posture relaxed. Music wasn't something Michael had a lot of exposure to so you had fun introducing him to various bands and musicians.

Metal music seemed to be his preference, which made a lot of sense.

It was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn’t typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He’d been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. "Spring cleaning," you said to Michael as he watched you from the kitchen. "Cleaning makes me happy. It's nice to get everything back in order after the holidays. 'sides, it's still too cold out for gardening."

Michael tilted his head but retreated back upstairs with his water jar for his paints.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you’d gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for. "Don't knock it 'till ya try it," you'd snickered through a mouthful of pizza.

His brow furrowed in distaste as he took a bite of his own pizza.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he’d clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you’d been living together. It felt like a great honor to get to see Michael Myers do something as mundane as eat pizza in lounge clothes.

The two of you watched cartoons for a few hours until 11:57 hit. You flicked to the news channel and let your head loll to the side and rest against the back of the couch. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said as you glanced at Michael, "But it's fun. It's nice to see everyone around the world get together for something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head. 11:59 struck and you felt your throat tighten as an idea came to mind. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Chrissy a couple years back where she'd told you about her favorite New Years tradition.

50 seconds…

It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

45…

“Hey, Michael?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You kept your eyes trained on the TV even when you felt his eyes on you.

40…

Swallowing was a challenge for you. “There’s, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, it means-”

30…

“-you’ll have good luck for the rest of the year.” Your words were slow and methodical. It felt like you had to really sell him on the idea, even if you were afraid to tell him what it was. You weren't even sure you wanted to admit to yourself how badly you wanted to-

25…

“Want to do it?”

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between yours, calculating. It made you feel flayed open despite the fact you were pretty sure he didn't know what you were talking about.

20…

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips. Now or never, you sighed internally.

“Trust me,” you said more than asked. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't pull away. You knew he trusted you and all you could do was hope he didn't react poorly.

15…

You swallowed around the heavy lump in your throat and tried to not look too worried. If he got the impression it was something bad, you may lose your chance. Lifting a gentle hand, you let your fingertips graze his cheek before slowly settling to cup his face properly.

It was like you could hear the sound of your own heart pounding even over the cheering on the television.

10…

"This okay?

9…

Michael's eyes softened and he gave a slight nod, as though worried he'd dislodge you entirely.

8…

You scooted closer, the both of you adjusting so you were sat facing each other, opposite shoulders brushing the back of the couch. He sat perfectly cross-legged while one of your legs braced against the floor.

7…

Slowly, you reached over with your free hand to tangle your fingers together in a loose hold.

6…

His eyes widened more and his lips parted. A look of realization flashed in his eyes and for a moment you worried you'd overstepped.

5…

"Still okay?"

4…

Michael gave a small nod again, eyes darting all over your face as he searched for…something. You weren't sure.

3…

2…

1…

You leant forward and pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. The sounds of cheering that came from the television felt far away and underwater. Every sense in your body was focused on Michael - the warmth of his hand, the residual taste of hot chocolate on his lips, and the soft intake of breath you heard when your lips met.

It felt like the cheering was for you two.

At first, Michael didn't seem sure what to do with himself. With some gentle guidance, you tilted his head to the side to let him lean into the kiss better. He was clearly trying, so you scooted closer and let him set his hands on your hips to lift you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

When you parted to catch your breaths, Michael was staring at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest

You pulled him back in, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in place. His arms wrapped around your waist and you sunk into his hold. Being with him felt warm and safe.

So yeah. Things changed on New Years. But neither of you were complaining.

The snow finally began to clear up, being replaced smoothly by sleet and rain. It was honestly far more preferable to you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable. You'd always preferred the rain.

It had been a few weeks since the New Years and you and Michael were in some type of relationship. The word "dating" had come to mind but it wasn't really accurate. It was more than dating. You were partners in crime - literally and figuratively - as well as good friends, housemates, close confidants, and, more importantly, you saw each other. Really and truly. You'd both picked up on the others wordless sentences and slight shifts in your bodies were like loud declarations. Sure, you two held hands and he let you touch him more but that wasn't what was important to you.

Michael smiled more. He'd watch you with soft, sleepy eyes, stopped tensing whenever you cut his hair, and you'd caught him dozing off on the couch a few times.

You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

Today, you needed to run down to the store to grab a few things. The rain had finally let up enough that you felt comfortable driving. "Michael? I'll be back around 5:30, alright?" You called into the house as you fastened your shoes.

Ever since the Christmas party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time. So long as you promised to come back, that is. If you didn't, you knew he'd hunt you down with a knife and a bloodstained jumpsuit. Of that, you had no doubt.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen staring at you. You shot him a grin and grabbed your bags. "Be back soon!" You called over your shoulder as you ventured outside.

Looking back on it, you wished you'd stayed home…

You were examining a box of cereal for dents when someone approached you. "Hey," Chrissy's voice came from behind you. When you turned, she looked tense with her arms around herself and her smile was tight. Forced. Alarm bells began ringing in your head but you smiled back.

"Hey, Chrissy. Uh, you okay?"

"How's your boyfriend? What was his name, um, Michael, right?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt white-hot adrenaline shoot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He, um, is he around?"

You swallowed, keeping your movements slow and casual. If you cracked, then she'd know. So you made a show of putting the cereal box into your cart and took the chance to look around. The aisle was empty but you caught the sign of movement near the end. Blue police uniforms, likely Chrissy's dad and his partner.

"No, he's traveling." You gave Chrissy an exhausted smile. "Y'know I'm not gonna pass your number along, right?"

She looked pale but her smile got wider and she took a small step back, like you terrified her. "Did, um, did someone die?" Her fake pout made you want to punch her in the face. Her faux sympathy oozed from her tone and you couldn't help the way your eye twitched. "Maybe his sister-?"

You froze in place. She knew. You don't know how she found out but there was no doubt she knew. Why the hell Officer Kallas had waited so long to act, let alone use his daughter as bait, was beyond you. Had he seen pictures from the party and asked Chrissy to identify him? Had he compared it to his mugshot? The thought of that made you irrationally angry.

"His dad is sick." You grit out through clenched teeth.

"You're sick," Chrissy shot back like a viper. "You've been sleeping with the fucking Boogeyman! You brought him to my house, oh my god, what if he killed-!" She choked back a sob, having the audacity to look betrayed.

Like a Barbie doll with mascara tears.

Enough was enough. You spun on your heel and marched away from a sobbing Chrissy like a man on a mission. You heard Officer Kallas call your name and you took a steadying breath before spinning, swinging the metal cart full of boxes and cans behind you and watching the two officers stumble and trip. Chrissy shrieked in fear and you took off towards the sliding glass doors. The crackle of a walkie talkie behind you was loud, too loud for you to make out any words being said. Everything in you was hyperfocused on running.

You heard heavy footsteps hot on your heel and you wished, momentarily, that you had a weapon of your own.

All you had to do was get to your car, the little piece of junk like an oasis in a hot desert. All you had to do was get in and you could get away, get to a phone booth and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem, pack bags, and get out. You'd promise you'd pick him up. Something. Anything.

But you’d never get the chance. 

The officer tailing grabbed you around your middle and lifted you up like a bratty child hauling a cat around. “Put me down!” You shrieked and began to slam your fists on his arms.

"You're under arrest for disrupting justice, harboring a criminal, and assaulting an officer," his robotic words fell on deaf ears as you continued to fight for your life. Cornered animals bit and he was finding that out the hard way as you twisted to claw at his face.

But he easily overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat of his police cruiser and slamming the door. Tears began to fall down your face as you began to panic. Michael wouldn't know they were coming. They surely knew to check your house. They'd catch him there and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill, like you remembered hearing on the radio all those months ago?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up on the leather seats and sob your heart out.

All you could do was hope he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He was assigned to Michael Myers' case when the young boy had first been admitted to Smith's Grove when he'd just been a young, non-speaking child. His mother had brought him in, her eyes red rimmed and pleading to help her son.

And Dr. Loomis always loved a challenge case. Every 'difficult' patient he ever had while working in this institution had eventually cracked under his methods. So he studied Michael, subjecting him to various medications, talk therapy, and tried everything to trigger any kind of response out of him. At first, Michael seemed to truly want to be helped. His mother visited every week and talked with him about home, about his life after the institution.

Michael took well to art therapy, much to Loomis' frustrations - he had strongly advised against giving the young boy access to making masks - and he started to make progress in sorting through what happened to him.

Then his parents died. It was like everything in Michael shut down after that. Walls were built up high and became impenetrable the longer Dr Loomis poked and prodded for a reaction. 

Years went by and no more progress was made. It was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with eyes like the devil, as far as Loomis was concerned. There was no way a child could commit such atrocities without an ounce of guilt, no confession of sin. He'd advocated strongly against Michael being released on parole, insisting he was soulless and dangerous.

So Halloween came and Michael escaped, killing teenagers and reenacting the horrors he'd committed to his sister fifteen years ago. And now he had escaped yet again. This time was different though - Michael had gone missing for several months now. Too long had passed without any new murders and Loomis was becoming anxious and impatient. Police had let the case go, grateful at the idea Michael moved on to terrorize a new town.

But Dr. Loomis knew Michael Myers all too well.

He stood in his dimly lit office, watching a police car drive up through the large open window. Watching you get unloaded from the car and observing the way you fought so viciously, Loomis felt like he hit the jackpot. It was no wonder Michael was so obsessed with you. There was a darkness to you that had yet to grow anywhere. Surely he was just biding his time, playing house with you while he waited for you to snap and join him in his killing sprees.

He couldn't have that though. Michael had to be returned to Smith's Grove before he caused any more devastation.

“Doctor?” Officer Kallas’s voice broke the psychologist from his stupor.

“Come in.” He turned, looking over his shoulder and smiling when he lay eyes on you.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. Your lip was split from where you'd nicked it while trying to bite Officer Kallas. “We apprehended him like you asked. We’ll head to the house to retrieve-”

“Don’t,” Loomis held up his hand to still the room. “No. We’ve got all we need right here.” He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt slimy under his fascinated stare. “Michael will come looking for him. Then we’ll catch him. We can’t give him any home-turf advantages.”

Officer Kallas nodded and shoved you forward into the room before closing the door behind him. You felt like a muzzled dog, glaring down the doctor with such hate that it reminded him of Michael.

Dr Loomis took a seat at his desk. “Tell me,” he hummed, “What was it like being held captive by Michael?” You looked at him, brow furrowed. Held captive? Was that the narrative they were running with? He seemed to misinterpret your confusion and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were seen-”

“I wasn't a prisoner.” You spat, almost offended.

“So you were simply afraid.” The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something down. His scribbling felt grating on your nerves and you felt the urge to strangle the man, cuffs be damned.

But you just glared at him instead. “What is this, an interrogation?”

Dr. Loomis lifted his head and you could see the arrogance in his eyes. “I’ve studied Michael for sixteen years,” he said slowly, “And I’ve never seen him so fascinated by another human being.”

“Maybe you’re just shitty at your job.” You scoffed.

If you weren't already glaring daggers, you would have missed the disapproving look Loomis gave you. "In good time, my theory will be proven." He gave you a smile and gestured to one of the chairs sat in front of his desk. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I will finally rid the world of that potent evil." He said with a menacing, teeth-filled smile.

You wish you’d stayed home.

[reality-detective]

Reports are flooding in from across the country of a massive deployment of National Guard Troops over the past 24 hours. From coast to coast, major cities are seeing an unusual presence of armed military personnel patrolling streets, government buildings, and critical infrastructure. The sudden influx of these troops has ignited a frenzy of speculation: Is Martial Law on the horizon?

· Residents from New York to Los Angeles, Houston to Chicago, are on edge as these highly visible deployments raise red flags. There’s no clear reason for this surge—no major disaster, no widespread protests, no external threats. Yet, the troops are here. Why now? The coordination, the scale, and the timing suggest something bigger is brewing. Something they don’t want us to know about.

· MARTIAL LAW RUMORS EXPLODE ACROSS SOCIAL MEDIA! As more footage of troops floods social media, two words are on everyone’s lips: Martial Law. This isn’t just a paranoid fantasy. Martial law means the suspension of our rights, where the military takes control of civilian life. Curfews, checkpoints, property seizures, and arrests without trial are all on the table. And now, it feels like we’re just one step away from that strange reality.

· HAZMAT TROOPS? WHY NOW? The situation becomes even more alarming with reports of HAZMAT teams—military personnel in hazardous material suits—being spotted alongside these National Guard units. What are they preparing for? Is there an imminent bio-terrorism threat? Or is something more insidious at play? The government is silent, offering only vague statements about “preparedness exercises”, leaving the public in the dark.

· UNPRECEDENTED MILITARY ACTIVITY, ZERO EXPLANATIONS Despite the overwhelming presence of military units in our streets, officials aren’t talking. The Department of Defense and local authorities have given the public no clear answers, only further stoking suspicion. If everything was under control, why the secrecy?

· The lack of transparency is only fueling more speculation. Could this be preparation for mass arrests? A response to an unseen threat? Or is it the final push toward a totalitarian regime where our freedoms vanish overnight?

· PANIC AND PREPARE You need to be ready. With the looming possibility of martial law, it’s time to stock up on essentials—food, water, medical supplies. Create a plan to communicate with loved ones. Stay alert and question everything you hear.

· This isn’t just a drill. Something big is coming, and they’re not telling us the whole story.

You can think what you want, but I have been warning everyone that the end is near. Mass arrests are coming through Trump's executive orders he signed before leaving office. People are and have been taken down since 2017, I have been saying that for a long time. You're witnessing the fall of the old guard. 🤔

[diazsdimples]

🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠🤠

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Please ignore that I'm doing this several months late 😬

🤠 - 24 for Ranch AU!

But that did leave him with an awful lot of time on his hands. Bobby and spare time have never been great friends – the last time he was left to his own devices for more than a day, he’d ended up knee deep in planning a lavish wedding that had ultimately been chucked out the door when he and Athena realised, they really didn’t need anything more than themselves and the kids. All that to say that it isn’t really surprising that Bobby downloads the Sims 4 onto his ancient laptop and creates a full-scale version of the ranch. He gets the dimensions off the listing, and with the help of a convenient floorplan and google earth, he manages to make a rather convincing version of the home. He does up the exterior to look just like the ranch house, complete with the large veranda and the ornate trims around the spandrels, and even manages to find a tile that looks exactly like the path leading to the front door. The interior is a different matter. Bobby doesn’t love the colour scheme either, and he can’t see himself coping with an oven as miniscule as the one that comes with the home, so he allows himself a little creative licence. It’s just a video game, after all. He’s not seriously planning it out. Several hours later, Bobby sits back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. Blessedly, Athena still has a job, which means Bobby hasn’t needed to worry about her finding out his momentary lapse in sanity, but it also means he hasn’t got anyone to show off his creation to – a thought that upsets him a little more than it should, were he being normal about the whole thing. He’s fiddling around with some of the furniture in the master bedroom when the front door bursts open and a furious looking Buck stalks over his threshold, followed by a harried Eddie. “What’s going –” “Bobby, you wouldn’t believe what that man made us do!” Buck explodes as he starts pacing the kitchen. Eddie leans against the countertop, running a hand over his face. “I know you said I shouldn’t let him get to me but I can’t, he’s just so –” Buck trails off, looking over at Bobby. His eyes flicker from Bobby’s patient expression to the open laptop, still displaying the Fake Ranch. “Are we… interrupting something?” “No.” Bobby goes to shut the laptop but Buck is quicker. “Is that the Sims?” Buck asks incredulously. “Man, you must be bored, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play video games.”

❄️ - 24 for Frostpunk AU!

“You did it,” he repeats, praying his voice won’t betray him. “You’re safe.” At his words, Eddie’s eyes shut, and his brings his hands up to his face as he lets out a deep exhale. His fingers shake as he wipes a tear from his cheek. “I didn’t think we’d – I thought -” Eddie swallows thickly. He looks around the tent, eyes wet, and his gaze falls on a familiar mop of brown curls. “Is that – is that my son? Can I see him, please?” Buck squeezes Eddie’s shoulder again, offering him a smile. “Of course.” When Buck reaches Christopher’s bed, the kid looks up at him quizzically. It’s clear that he wasn’t as blissfully unaware of his father’s event as Buck had hoped, despite the small crowd of medics around him, all intent on distracting him. “Is everything okay with Dad?” he asks Buck, without preamble. Buck crouches down to Christopher’s level and brushes a loose curl out of his eyes. “Yeah bud, everything’s okay. Better than, actually – he’s awake.” Buck holds out his hand for Christopher. “Want to come see him? He’d like to see you.” Christopher throws himself into Buck’s arms, taking him by surprise. Buck catches him around the middle and hauls him up, carrying him to Eddie’s cot. The moment Christopher sees his father, sitting upright, awake and breathing, a great sob escapes his lips. Buck lowers him into Eddie’s waiting arms and pauses, not sure what to do as he watches father embrace son. Fat tears roll down Eddie’s cheeks as he holds Christopher as tight as he can, muscles shaking after weeks of no use.

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸 🇯🇵 🗼Jules Kounde (3/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys' trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim @/joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: Jules was in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you're a Jules girl, please let me know and I'll tag you in more chapters.

accordingtoayo • posted on their story 4 hours ago

story comments:

jkeey4:🚆⏩⛩️

nikkigal: ♥️♥️♥️

symonenotbiles: kyoto here we come!

Ayo shifted in her seat as the bullet train hurtled toward Kyoto, the sprawling countryside blurring into streaks of green and gray. The cool air inside the train was a sharp contrast to the heat that had been rising between her and Jules, especially last night. She stared out the window, but her mind was miles away, replaying the events of the night before.

She couldn’t help but wonder—what would have happened if Symone hadn’t gotten sick? Would she have stayed with Jules on the dance floor, let him pull her closer, tighter? Would she have followed him back to his room, let the heat between them finally boil over?

Ayo shifted again. It’s been awhile since she’d been with anyone, and there’s only so much her vibrator could do. Jules had been so close, his hands on her waist, his breath hot against her ear. She’d felt the hardness of his body pressed against hers and the slow, deliberate grind of his hips, like he was daring her to give in.

But then her friends needed her, and just like that, the moment evaporated. As she looked back at him on the dance floor, left alone and frustrated, she felt something she wasn’t used to—regret.

Across the aisle, Jules was deep in conversation with Wilhelm, his laughter cutting through the quiet murmur of the train. He glanced over at her, and their eyes met for just a second. There it was again—that flutter in her chest that made her both excited and anxious.

Last night had felt like a step forward, but just like that, they’d taken two steps back. Jules wanted her, that much was clear. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to let him in. She usually enjoyed the chase, but this time… she wondered if he was getting tired of the back and forth, or worse, maybe she was.

"You good, Ayo?" Symone's voice cut through her thoughts. You've been staring at that window like it holds the secrets of the universe."

Ayo rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. Just... thinking."

"About a certain French hottie?" Symone waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Shut up," Ayo muttered, but she couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"So," Nikki leaned over the back of her seat. "What's the plan for Kyoto? Please tell me we're hitting up some hot springs. Mama needs to soak."

Ayo chuckled, grateful for the distraction. "I think there's an onsen near our hotel. We can check it out."

As the group buzzed with excitement, Ayo felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, her heart skipping when she turned around and saw Jules sitting behind her seat. His expression was softer, more serious than before.

"Hey," he said quietly, as if the words were just for her. "I was thinking… maybe we could explore Kyoto together tonight. Just the two of us."

His offer hung in the air between them. Ayo hesitated for a moment, her heart racing. She could feel her defenses rising, the excuses forming on her lips. But there was something in the way he looked at her—like he was waiting for her to let him in.

"Yeah," she said finally, her voice softer than she intended. "I’d like that."

As the train pulled into Kyoto Station, Ayo felt a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside her. The group gathered their belongings, chattering excitedly about their plans for the ancient city.

"Okay, so who's ready to go to some hot springs?" Gigi asked, practically bouncing as they made their way off the train.

Ayo hefted her bag onto her shoulder, stealing a glance at Jules. He was helping Nikki with her oversized suitcase, his muscles flexing under his t-shirt. She quickly looked away, cursing herself for acting like a horny teenager.

______________________________________________________

The bus ride to the hotel was filled with lighthearted chatter, the group's excitement palpable as they discussed their plans for Kyoto. Ayo found herself stealing glances at Jules, enjoying the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

Their hotel was a beautiful blend of traditional ryokan and modern luxury. The girls' suite was spacious, with sliding paper doors and a view of a serene garden. Meanwhile, the boys were staying at a different hotel just down the street.

As they settled in, she quickly changed out of her travel clothes, opting for a cute midi dress that showed off her curves without being too obvious.

Gigi noticed her primping in the bathroom and raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, someone's getting dolled up. Hot date?"

"Jules and I are going to explore a bit in an hour," Ayo mentioned casually to Gigi as she put on her lipgloss.

Gigi's eyes lit up. "Oh really?" she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. Before Ayo could respond, Gigi opened her big mouth and spilled the beans to the others.

Symone grinned mischievously as she made her way into the bathroom with Nikki hot on her heels. "Girl, are you finally gonna let that man show you his Eiffel Tower?"

Ayo rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "We're just going sightseeing, you perv."

"Uh-huh," Nikki chimed in. "Sightseeing. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Laughing, Ayo threw a bag of cotton balls at her friends. "Y'all are too much. Besides, Symone, if you hadn't gotten sick last night..."

Symone held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't blame me for unintentionally cockblocking. I'm just glad I'm feeling better to enjoy all this. 'Bout time you gonna let ol' boy hit. Lord knows it's been a while since you had Grade-A dick anyways."

"'Cuz you definitely wasn't getting it from Jamaal," Gigi quipped.

"Forreal," Nikki added with a disapproving frown. "Ol' two-pump-chump headass."

Ayo snorted, grabbing her perfume. "And you would know, huh?"

"Damn right 'cuz you told all of us!" Nikki said, winking. "But seriously, don’t act like you weren’t ready to take Jules home last night. Your eyes were screaming, ‘get me out of here.’ If it weren’t for SySy hugging that toilet bowl, you would’ve been out with him, sis."

Ayo couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, okay, I’ll admit—maybe. But you know I’m not that easy."

"Girl, ain't nothing wrong with getting what you need. Shit, I'm doing it myself with AK." Gigi said.

Nikki pointed at Ayo’s dress with a knowing look. "She didn’t put that on just to sightsee. You tryna get dicked down, don't lie."

Ayo rolled her eyes, a warmth creeping up her cheeks. "It’s just a dress. Can’t I look good for myself?"

"Sure," Symone drawled, smirking. "But if Jules doesn’t hit tonight, I’m gonna be disappointed in both of y’all."

Nikki chuckled, "Yeah, Jules ain't the type to play the long game forever. You might just find out tonight what that man’s working with."

Ayo sighed but smiled to herself, her nerves mixed with excitement. Her friends were right; she had been ready to go home with Jules last night before everything derailed. But she wasn’t sure what she’d have done if they’d made it back to his room. It had been a while since she’d been with someone, and despite her flirtations, Ayo wasn’t used to letting someone get this close.

"Well, no matter what happens, at least I know y’all will be nosy as hell about it," Ayo teased.

"You already know," Symone laughed. "Now go get yours, girl."

Just as the teasing died down, there was a knock at the door. Ayo glanced at the time—it had to be Jules. She took one last look in the mirror, fluffed her hair, and grabbed her purse. Time to see where tonight would lead.

Ayo took a deep breath as she approached the door, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She opened it to find Jules standing there, looking handsome in a casual button-down shirt and jeans.

His eyes lit up when he saw her. "Wow, Ayo," he said, his voice warm. "You look amazing. That dress, your hair - everything."

Ayo felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself."

Jules's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer. "I really like your hair like this. The way it frames your face - it's beautiful."

Ayo smiled, feeling her nerves melt away as she looked up at him, her head touching her top knot unconsciously. "Thank you. Ready to go?"

Jules nodded, stepping back so she could join him in the hallway. As they started walking toward the lobby, she could feel the teasing gaze of her friends burning into her back, but she ignored them. Tonight was about her and Jules.

As they left the hotel, the gentle evening air of Kyoto enveloped them. The city's blend of ancient traditions and modern life created a magical atmosphere.

"So, where to first?" Ayo asked, falling into step beside Jules.

"I thought we could start with a walk along the Philosopher's Path," Jules suggested. "Then maybe we could grab something to eat. How does that sound?"

Ayo smiled. "Sounds perfect. I’m excited to see Kyoto like this."

Jules gave her another lingering look before nodding. "Yeah, me too."

They walked in comfortable silence at first, the sounds of the city buzzing around them as they made their way down the narrow streets. Every now and then, their arms brushed against each other, sending little sparks up Ayo’s spine.

As they passed through the old wooden buildings and paper lanterns lining the streets, Jules broke the silence. "You know, I was thinking... about last night."

Ayo felt a twinge of nervousness. She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes. "Yeah?"

Jules nodded, looking thoughtful. "I just— I was really hoping we’d get more time to talk, you know? It felt like we were starting to get somewhere, and then..."

"Symone got sick," Ayo finished, a soft smile on her lips. "Yeah, I know. I was thinking about that too."

He looked at her closely, his eyes searching hers. "And? Where do you think we were heading?"

Ayo paused, biting her bottom lip as they continued walking. She had asked herself the same question earlier—what would’ve happened if she hadn’t had to leave? "I don’t know," she admitted quietly. "But I guess we’ll find out."

Jules’s eyes darkened slightly, his lips curving into a slow smile. "I like the sound of that."

They continued walking, the conversation flowing easily between them as they explored the streets of Kyoto. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated their path, and the air was filled with the scent of cherry blossoms and street food. Ayo felt her nerves fading as she became more comfortable with Jules, the teasing, the shared smiles—it all felt natural, as if they’d known each other much longer than just a few days.

Eventually, they found themselves at a small, tucked-away restaurant. Jules led her inside, and they sat across from each other in a cozy booth. Over bowls of steaming ramen and shared appetizers, the conversation continued to flow effortlessly.

"So," Jules said, between bites of gyoza, "tell me more about your modeling. How did you get started?"

Ayo smiled, twirling her chopsticks in her ramen. "It's kind of a funny story, actually..." She paused, wondering how much to share. "I was discovered at a McDonald's, of all places."

Jules raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "McDonald's? Were you the new face of Big Macs or something?"

Ayo snorted, nearly choking on her noodles. "God, no. I was just there with my friends after class, probably looking a hot mess, when this woman approached me."

"A hot mess in McDonald's? Sounds like my kind of night," Jules teased.

Ayo rolled her eyes, but couldn't help grinning. "Anyway, she handed me her card and said I had 'the look.' I thought it was a scam at first."

"To be fair, 'you have the look' does sound like a creepy pickup line," Jules mused.

"Right?" Ayo laughed. "But it turned out to be legit. Next thing I knew, I was doing local shoots, then New York Fashion Week, and now..." She gestured vaguely. "Here I am, eating ramen in Kyoto."

Jules's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Quite the upgrade from McDonald's, I'd say."

Ayo felt a warmth spread through her chest. "What about you?" she asked, trying to keep her cool. "How'd you end up in sports?"

Jules's expression turned thoughtful. "It was always the plan, I guess, but I never thought it could actually be reality."

Ayo's eyebrows shot up. "Why? What changed?"

Jules shrugged, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Luck, I guess. Sports became my path when I was a teenager and I got lucky..."

Ayo leaned in, intrigued. "You're being pretty vague about this whole sports thing. What exactly do you do?"

Jules grinned mischievously. "I kick balls for a living."

"Come on," Ayo pressed, playfully narrowing her eyes. "Don't make me Google you."

Jules held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I play football professionally."

"Premier League pro?" Ayo asked, impressed. "Are you on FIFA?"

Jules chuckled. "Not quite. It's La Liga... same but different. La Liga is the top Spanish league, while Premier League is English. Both are top-tier, just different countries."

Ayo nodded, processing this information. "So you're kind of a big deal, huh?"

"I do alright," Jules said with a modest shrug, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Mmhmm," she said, tilting her head to the side. "Enough to buy a Rolex? Seems better than alright to me."

Jules chuckled, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "You caught me. I guess I'm doing better than just alright."

Ayo leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "So, Mr. Big Shot, what's it like? Playing in front of thousands of people, being recognized on the street?"

Jules paused, considering his words carefully. "It's... intense. Exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. One moment you're on top of the world, the next you're public enemy number one because of a missed pass."

"Sounds stressful," Ayo mused, stirring her ramen thoughtfully.

"It can be," Jules admitted. "But there's nothing like the rush of a good game, you know? It's addictive."

Ayo nodded, understanding the feeling. "I get that. It's like when I'm on the runway. Everything else just... fades away."

"Exactly," Jules said, his eyes lighting up. "So, tell me about your most memorable show. Any wardrobe malfunctions I should know about?"

Ayo groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Oh God, don't even get me started..."

Jules nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, well let's try this then. Favorite fashion show?"

Ayo's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's easy. Milan Fashion Week. It was my first time modeling internationally, being flown out and everything. There's something about being flown out, you know?"

Jules leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Maybe I'll have to fly you out to Barcelona sometime."

"Barcelona?" Ayo raised an eyebrow. "Is that where you live?"Jules nodded, and Ayo furrowed her brow. "I thought you lived in France?"

"For the summer, yeah. For the Euros," Jules explained, then noticed Ayo's confused look. "It's a major international football tournament," he added with a chuckle.

Ayo nodded, processing this information. "Barcelona, huh? Have you ever met Messi?" she asked jokingly.

Jules replied casually, "Yeah, he's a nice guy actually." Ayo's eyes widened in surprise, and Jules couldn't help but laugh. "It's crazy," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "You barely know anything about football, but you know Messi?"

Ayo shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face. "I only know minor things about football, mostly from conversations or social media. And it usually revolves around Beckham and Messi."

Jules pondered this for several beats, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he grinned. "Could be worse, I suppose. At least you didn't mention Ronaldo."

Ayo found herself increasingly drawn to Jules's charm and wit. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to see his world, to visit Barcelona and experience the excitement of a match day. But she quickly pushed the thought aside. This was just a vacation fling, wasn't it? No need to get ahead of herself.

After dinner, they wandered back through the quiet streets, their steps slower now, more deliberate. The tension between them had shifted—it wasn’t nervous or awkward anymore, but something charged, filled with unspoken potential.

Finally, as they reached the front of her hotel, Jules turned to her. "So... I’m picking you up for the temples tomorrow?"

Ayo smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I’m looking forward to it."

Her heart raced a little faster, but she wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. Jules was still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking at her with that relaxed, half-smiling expression that made her stomach flutter. Before she could think too hard about it, the words spilled out.

"Are you tired, Jules?"

Jules blinked, a bit taken aback. "What?"

"Are you tired?" Ayo clarified, her voice low and playful. "You know, sleepy?"

He tilted his head, catching onto her vibe. "Not really. Why, what’s up?"

Ayo glanced down the street toward his hotel, then back at him, her lip caught between her teeth in thought. She took a small step closer, her confidence building. "Well... I was thinking, maybe I could see where you're staying?"

Jules raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You wanna see my hotel?"

Ayo gave a playful shrug. "Yeah. I mean, if it’s cool with you. I’ve heard good things," she teased, biting back a smile.

His eyes gleamed with interest, and without hesitation, he slipped his hand to the small of her back, his touch warm and grounding. "Say less."

They walked together, heading toward his hotel just down the street. The energy between them shifted, the anticipation building. Ayo felt a mix of excitement and nervousness bubble up inside her, but she squared her shoulders, determined not to let it show. Jules walked a little closer to her now, his hand remaining at her back as they made their way down the softly lit street.

When they arrived at his hotel, the difference was obvious. While her hotel leaned into the traditional Japanese aesthetic, Jules's was sleek and modern, with sharp lines and glass walls.

"Okay, I admit it," Ayo said as they stepped through the automatic doors. "This is pretty nice."

Jules smirked. "Told you."

They made their way to the elevator, and Jules tapped the button for his floor. As they ascended, Ayo’s nerves stirred again. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was getting herself into, but the steady pressure of his hand on her back kept her grounded. When they stepped out of the elevator and started walking down the hall to his suite, Jules suddenly paused, his hand dropping from her back.

"Hold up," he said with a grin. "Let me check if any of the guys are here."

Ayo nodded as he slipped inside. She waited outside the door, her heart beating a little faster now. A few minutes passed before Jules’s head poked back out, a mischievous grin on his face.

"All clear."

She followed him inside, the door clicking shut behind her. Jules’s suite was spacious and modern, much like the hotel itself. The view of the city stretched out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it was the cozy, dim lighting that made it feel more intimate.

Ayo wandered into the room, pretending to take in the view but acutely aware of Jules standing behind her. She could feel his presence, the warmth of him, and when she turned, their eyes locked. The unspoken tension between them thickened, both of them knowing this moment had been building for days.

Jules stepped closer, his eyes scanning her face as if waiting for a sign. "You know," he said softly, "I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now."

Before Ayo could respond, he cupped her face gently in his hands and leaned down, his lips brushing hers. The kiss was slow at first, soft, testing. But then, something shifted. His lips pressed more firmly against hers, and Ayo melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest. She kissed him back with a kind of urgency she hadn’t realized she’d been holding onto, her body pressing closer to his as the kiss deepened.

Jules’s hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. The warmth of his body, the taste of him—it was like everything else in the world fell away, leaving only this moment. Her pulse quickened as she tilted her head, giving him better access, her lips parting as their tongues met. The kiss was intoxicating, a mix of heat and tenderness that made her knees weak.

He groaned softly against her mouth, and that sound sent a shiver down her spine. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands gripped her a little tighter, like he was barely holding back. Ayo responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer still. Every brush of their lips, every shared breath felt electric, and when they finally pulled back, both of them were breathless.

Ayo stared up at him, her heart racing, her lips tingling from the intensity of it all. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the same hunger she felt coursing through her.

"Still not tired?" she whispered, her voice teasing but breathless.

"Not even close," Jules chuckled softly, his forehead resting against hers for a moment. "You wanna see my room?"

Ayo’s heart raced, but she couldn’t deny the pull between them, the magnetic energy that had been simmering since they first locked eyes in Tokyo. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with desire.

Without another word, Jules took her hand and led her down the short hallway to his bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them, and the atmosphere shifted. His room was minimalist, sleek and modern like the rest of the hotel, but none of that mattered as he turned to face her again, this time with a hunger in his eyes that made Ayo’s breath hitch.

Jules stepped closer, cupping her face with one hand while the other rested at her waist. He leaned in slowly, capturing her lips again, this time with more urgency. The kiss deepened, both of them melting into each other, tongues exploring, breaths mingling. Ayo felt his hands glide down her back, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush against each other.

The bed was just a few steps away, and with a gentle push, Ayo felt the cool sheets against her skin as they tumbled onto it. Jules hovered over her, his weight pressing down just enough to make her feel enveloped, safe, yet electrified with desire. He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every moment as his hands moved from her waist to the hem of her dress.

Ayo arched into him, her fingers slipping under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his back. One by one, their clothes began to disappear, discarded onto the floor in a blur of motion.

Jules' lips were back on Ayo’s, soft but insistent, his hand cupping her cheek while his other roamed her body. As they kissed, he shifted them both until Ayo lay beneath him, his weight pressing into her just enough to make her feel wanted—claimed even.

He pulled away for a moment, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his eyes filled with hunger and something deeper. "Tu es magnifique" ("You’re beautiful"), he whispered, his breath warm against her lips, eyes locked onto hers.

Her breath hitched, her body already alight from his words, the low timbre of his voice sending heat straight through her. His lips traveled downward, grazing her jaw, her neck, and further still until they found her breasts. His tongue swirled slowly over one of her nipples, and her hands instinctively reached for his locs, tangling in the soft strands as he sucked gently.

Jules' mouth moved with purpose—focused, determined, yet unhurried. His teeth grazed her skin just enough to make her gasp before he soothed the spot with his tongue. She tugged at his hair, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against her skin.

When he finally started to trail kisses lower, along her stomach, Ayo’s heart raced in anticipation. Every inch of her body was on fire, every nerve ending alive as his lips teased her inner thighs.

"Jules…" she breathed, barely able to get the word out as he pressed a kiss to her already soaked core. He pulled back for just a second, his eyes dark and full of mischief as he met her gaze.

"Je vais te goûter, bébé." ("I’m going to taste you, baby.")

Her entire body tensed, not in fear but in anticipation, and then—oh God—his tongue made contact, slow and deliberate, licking a long, wet stripe from her entrance to her clit. She moaned, louder than she meant to, her grip on his locs tightening as her back arched involuntarily.

Jules groaned against her, the vibration of his mouth sending ripples of pleasure through her body. "Putain, tu es délicieuse" ("Fuck, you're delicious."), he muttered against her skin, his French slipping out like a prayer.

His tongue was perfect. He kissed her like he had all the time in the world, licking her with slow, languid strokes that had her toes curling. He alternated between flicking his tongue over her clit and sucking gently, each movement so precise, so intentional that she felt like she was losing her mind.

"Shit," she whispered, her breath coming in ragged gasps. His tongue felt like heaven, each flick making her legs tremble and her pull on his hair tightened. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he encouraged it, moaning softly as he worked her over, his hands holding her hips firmly in place.

"C'est ça, tire mes cheveux, bébé. Je veux que tu jouisses sur ma langue" ("That's it, pull my hair, baby. I want you to come on my tongue."), he murmured, his voice husky, sending another jolt of arousal straight to her core.

Ayo could barely breathe, let alone respond, as his mouth worked her closer and closer to the edge. His tongue swirled around her clit before dipping lower, teasing her entrance, then returning to suck her clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Her legs shook harder, the pleasure spiraling through her like nothing she had ever experienced.

"Fuck… oh God…" she gasped, her voice breathless as her orgasm built, her hips moving against his face on their own accord.

Jules didn’t let up, moaning against her as he flattened his tongue, massaging her clit with slow, sensual strokes. Her body was alive, pulsing with heat and tension as he teased her relentlessly, bringing her higher and higher.

"Jules… I’m gonna—" She couldn’t even finish her sentence before the world shattered around her, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her breathless.

He groaned in response, his mouth never leaving her, tongue continuing to work her through her climax. The sensation was too much, yet not enough, her body shaking uncontrollably as he lapped at her, moaning against her skin like he was devouring the sweetest meal he'd ever tasted.

Her juices dripped down her thighs, and Jules didn’t waste a drop, his tongue making her body sing with every soft moan he made.

When he finally lifted his head, his lips glistening with her juices, he smirked up at her, eyes dark with satisfaction. "You taste so fucking good, bébé. Je suis déjà accro." ("I'm already addicted."), he murmured.

Ayo was panting, chest heaving as she came down from the high, her mind still spinning. She watched as Jules leaned back on his knees, his lips still glistening from her arousal as he looked down at her, his gaze dark and intense. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing ragged as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Ayo's pulse raced, her body still trembling from the orgasm he'd just pulled from her. She could feel the heat between them growing, the charged air making it impossible to think clearly.

Ayo slid down the bed, her fingers trailing over his chest, then lower to touch his cock. It was thick, hard, and slightly darker than the rest of his body, a contrast that made her mouth water.

Jules’ cock was beautiful, curved slightly upward, with veins running along the length of him. She wrapped her hand around the base, feeling the weight of him, and slowly began to stroke. He was already leaking pre-cum, the head glistening in the dim light. Ayo smirked as she leaned forward, teasing him with her tongue, licking a slow stripe from the base to the tip. Jules hissed through his teeth, his hand resting at the back of her neck.

"Putain, Ayo… oui, c'est ça" ("Fuck, Ayo… yes, just like that."), he groaned as she swirled her tongue around the head before taking him into her mouth.

She sucked him slowly, taking her time, savoring the feel of him on her tongue, the weight of him pressing against the roof of her mouth. Jules’ hand tightened in her hair as she bobbed her head, her hand working the base of his cock while her mouth worked the rest. His moans grew louder, a mix of French and English curses spilling from his lips as his hips bucked lightly against her face.

"Mon dieu, tu me rends fou" ("My God, you're driving me crazy."), he muttered, his accent thickening as his breathing grew heavier.

Ayo could feel him throbbing against her tongue, the salty taste of pre-cum spreading across her taste buds. She increased her pace, hollowing her cheeks as she took him deeper, gagging slightly but loving the way his grip tightened in her hair. His moans became ragged, and she could tell he was getting close, his hips moving more insistently.

"Ayo, I’m gonna…" Jules groaned, his voice tight, but then he suddenly pulled her off his cock, his breath coming in short gasps. "Non, bébé. I want to come inside you."

He was already moving off the bed, reaching into his suitcase in the corner of the room and pulling out a condom. Ayo laid back, her heart pounding as she watched him tear open the packet and roll it on. He was gorgeous—every inch of him toned, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. He climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

Jules grabbed her thighs, spreading her wide, his eyes locked on her still wet, swollen pussy. He stared for a moment, almost mesmerized. "Fuck, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Jules spit directly onto her pussy, and the warmth of it made her shudder with anticipation. His hand followed, spreading the moisture around as the other guided the head of his cock to her entrance. He rubbed the tip of his dick along her folds, teasing her clit before slowly pushing inside.

The stretch was incredible, the head of his cock thick and filling her inch by inch. Ayo gasped as he moved deeper, her body tight around him, gripping him like a vice. Jules groaned loudly as he pushed in further, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he pressed forward.

"Christ, you’re so tight," he growled, his eyes locked on the place where their bodies met. "Relax for me, bébé."

He bent her legs, pushing them back toward her ears as he thrust deeper, his cock sinking into her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her. Ayo whimpered, overwhelmed by how full she felt, how perfectly he stretched her.

Jules paused for a moment, looking down at her with an almost possessive gleam in his eyes. "Tu te sens tellement bien" ("You feel so good."), he groaned, his voice rough with desire.

Then he began to move, slow at first, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in, each movement sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her. His hips moved fluidly, his cock dragging against her walls in a way that made her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"Look at me," Jules commanded, his voice low and filled with heat. Ayo’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto his. His gaze was intense, burning into hers as he thrust into her harder, deeper. "I want to see you come for me, bébé."

His dirty talk mixed with French had her unraveling beneath him. His pace quickened, his strokes becoming more deliberate, each one hitting a spot inside her that had her gasping, moaning his name. His thumb found her clit, circling it gently as he fucked her harder.

"Tu es à moi ce soir" ("You're mine tonight."), he groaned, his voice ragged.

Yes, yes, whatever you say.

Ayo didn't have a clue what he was saying, but that didn't stop her back from arching violently off the bed as her orgasm slammed into her, her body trembling with wave after wave of raw pleasure. Every nerve seemed to be on fire, and all she could do was hold onto Jules, her nails digging into his biceps as her climax ripped through her.

But Jules wasn’t letting up. Not even close.

"Shit, bébé, that’s it. Come for me," he growled, his deep voice rough with lust as he pounded into her harder, his hips slamming against hers with an unrelenting rhythm. The intense eye contact between them never faltered—his dark eyes burning into hers, his gaze locking her in place as if he owned every inch of her in that moment.

And he did.

Ayo whimpered beneath him, her mind unable to catch up with her body, the sensation of his cock stretching her, filling her, too much but not enough all at once.

"Look at you, fuck," Jules rasped, licking his lips as he watched her lose herself to the pleasure. "Tu es tellement belle comme ça… si putain de sexy" ("You're so beautiful like this… so fucking sexy."), he groaned, his locs falling forward into his face as he thrust into her, his pace picking up even more.

Ayo’s breath hitched as her body tightened around him, her pussy clenching in time with each thrust, and Jules could feel it. "I can feel you, bébé. Tightening around my dick, huh? You’re so fucking close again, aren’t you?" His voice was low, a seductive growl as he licked his lips, eyes glinting with satisfaction.

His words were driving her wild, the dirty talk pushing her deeper into the haze of her pleasure. "Jules, fuck, I can’t—" she tried to speak, but her voice was a breathless whimper, swallowed by the intensity of it all.

"Oh, you can, and you will," he cut her off, his tone commanding. His hands gripped her thighs tightly, spreading her legs wider, so he could get even deeper. He thrust into her, harder, faster, his body relentless as he fucked her through the pleasure. "You gonna come again, bébé? You feel so fucking good wrapped around me. Let me feel you."

Ayo’s body began to tremble uncontrollably, her legs shaking as the pleasure built up inside her once more. Jules knew it too, his eyes locked on her, watching her fall apart beneath him. "That’s right, bébé. Come for me again. Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my cock."

Her second orgasm hit her like a freight train, her body tightening around him as the pleasure surged through her. She screamed his name, her voice breaking as her body shook uncontrollably beneath him.

"Fuck, Ayo, that’s it," Jules groaned, his own body shuddering as he felt her clench around him. He kept thrusting, his hips slamming into hers with powerful strokes, drawing out every ounce of her pleasure. "Good girl… keep coming for me."

Ayo couldn’t stop, her body wracked with aftershocks as her orgasm pulsed through her, her legs trembling around Jules as he continued to fuck her. His locs fell forward, brushing against her face as he leaned down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she moaned into him, her body still tight around him.

Jules’ thrusts grew erratic, his breathing ragged as he neared his own climax. "Fuck, bébé, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his voice rough as his body tensed. He licked his lips again, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he buried himself deep inside her one last time.

With a guttural moan, he came, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into the condom. His cock throbbed inside her as he held her close, his chest heaving against hers.

For a moment, they were both breathless, tangled together in the sheets, their bodies slick with sweat. Jules finally pulled back slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips still tingling from the intensity of their kisses. His hand slid up her side, resting on her waist as he looked down at her with a satisfied grin.

"You’re fucking amazing, you know that?" he murmured, his voice still husky with desire.

Ayo smiled weakly, her body still trembling slightly from the intensity of it all. "You’re not so bad yourself," she managed to tease, her chest still rising and falling heavily.

Jules woke slowly, the soft Kyoto sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow across the room. For a moment, he felt disoriented, his body heavy with the satisfying weight of deep sleep. But as the memories of the night before came rushing back, a slow grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Ayo was still beside him, her body curled against the sheets, her breathing steady and peaceful.

He stretched lazily, careful not to disturb her, but his eyes remained fixed on her face. Jules had always enjoyed sex, craved it even, but last night with Ayo… it was different. The way her body responded to his touch, the way her soft moans had filled the room, the way she held onto him as if the world outside ceased to exist—it had flipped something in him. It wasn’t just about release or satisfaction. It was like he’d gotten a taste of something more, and now he was hooked.

Ayo stirred slightly, the soft flutter of her eyelashes and the curve of her lips making him want to pull her closer, to press his lips to her skin. There was something about her that he hadn’t felt with anyone else in a long time—if ever. It wasn’t just lust anymore; it was hunger. A need for more of her. More of the way she’d looked at him when he’d kissed her. More of the way she let him in, trusted him with her body, her pleasure.

He ran a hand through his locs, biting back a groan as he replayed every moment from last night.

Merde, he thought, already feeling that familiar pull.

He hadn’t planned on getting so wrapped up in someone, especially not on a trip like this, but Ayo had crept under his skin.

"Tu m'as rendu accro," Jules whispered to himself, his voice rough with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

The way she’d made him feel last night—like he couldn’t get enough of her, like every inch of her was a mystery he wanted to solve over and over again—it had him craving more. Jules wasn’t naive. He knew that what they had could easily be labeled as a fling, a one-time thing, but he didn’t want it to be. He wanted her again. And again.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, unable to resist the urge to touch her. Lightly, he brushed a finger along the curve of her back, watching her skin react to his touch, goosebumps rising in the trail he left. It was subtle, but it was enough to remind him of how her body had felt under his hands last night, trembling, warm, so responsive.

As Ayo began to stir, her soft murmur pulling him back to the present, Jules' heart thudded in his chest. He wondered what she’d say when she woke up. Would she regret it? Was it just a moment for her? Part of him didn’t care because he knew what he wanted. He wanted more of this. Of her.

Ayo stretched lazily, her eyes fluttering open as she turned slightly toward him. Their gazes met, and for a moment, Jules was unsure what she was thinking. But then she smiled—soft and a little sleepy—and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"Morning," she whispered, her voice a little rough but full of warmth.

Jules' grin widened as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Morning, ma belle. Sleep well?"

Ayo nodded, her fingers brushing his arm lightly as she blinked away the last traces of sleep. "Yeah, I did. You?"

He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he leaned in a little closer. "I slept like a baby… but I’ve gotta admit, I was thinking about waking you up in a different way."

Ayo’s laugh was soft, but she met his gaze with a hint of playfulness in her eyes. "Oh really? And how would you do that?"

Jules raised an eyebrow, the teasing grin tugging at his lips. "Let me show you." He leaned in again, capturing her lips with his, slow at first, but with a heat simmering just beneath the surface. As the kiss deepened, his hand found her waist, pulling her body closer to his, that familiar hunger stirring within him again.

He was already addicted—now, he just had to figure out how to keep her.

His kisses moved from her mouth, trailing down her neck and over her collarbone, each touch a promise of what was to come. Ayo's breath hitched when he reached her inner thigh, his mouth hovering dangerously close to her core. Just as he was about to kiss her there, a loud knock interrupted the moment.

"Yo, Jules ! Tu es réveillé ? On pense à prendre le petit-déjeuner et à visiter les temples. Ça te dit?" Nicholas’ voice rang out from the other side of the door.

Jules cursed under his breath, his forehead resting on Ayo’s thigh in frustration. "Ouais, je passe sur le petit-déjeuner. Je vous rejoins dans un moment," he called back, his voice steady but a little strained. He glanced up at Ayo with a mischievous grin before pushing himself up. "Now where were we?" he asked with a playful smirk.

Ayo blinked, curious. "What did he say?"

Jules sighed. "Just asking about breakfast and the temples. Nothing important."

Ayo raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips. "Aren’t you hungry? You did a serious workout last night."

Jules’ grin widened, his cockiness shining through. "Oh, I’m about to have my breakfast." He didn’t waste any more time, lowering himself between her legs, his tongue working expertly against her core. Ayo’s moan echoed in the room, her body arching in response.

"Shh, bébé," Jules murmured, pausing just enough to speak, his breath hot against her skin. "I don’t want my friends to hear all those lovely sounds you’re making. They’re just for me."

Ayo whined softly, rolling her hips teasingly against his mouth. "But, baby… I can't."

Jules chuckled darkly. "Oh, you can." His hands gripped her hips firmly as he rolled her onto her stomach, propping her up so that her ass was in the air. He bent down, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. "Bite the pillow, bébé," he commanded before diving into her again, his tongue licking and sucking from behind with an intensity that made Ayo’s legs tremble.

She moaned into the pillow, the sound muffled but still full of need as Jules worked her with expert precision. Her body tensed, then released as her orgasm washed over her, her thighs shaking with the intensity of it. Jules pulled back slightly, licking his lips as though savoring the taste of her. He gave her ass a playful smack, his voice husky. "Delicious."

With a satisfied grin, Jules walked into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He gently cleaned her off, the intimacy of the gesture making Ayo's heart race. Then he rummaged through his bag and handed her a fresh toothbrush. They brushed their teeth together in comfortable silence, the normalcy of the act juxtaposed against the intensity of their earlier moments. Ayo slipped back into her clothes from the night before, while Jules pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

When they were ready, Jules opened the door, glancing around the suite. The guys weren’t around, thank God. He guided Ayo out, his hand resting protectively on her lower back as they made their way outside and then down the street to her hotel. Jules noticed the way Ayo walked, slightly stiff, and concern flickered across his face.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

Ayo chuckled, a bit sheepishly. "I’m fine. It’s just… it’s been a while."

Jules nodded, understanding but with a knowing grin on his lips. "Gotcha."

When they reached her hotel, Jules surprised her by pulling her close and kissing her deeply. The affection was unexpected, but Ayo melted into it, her hands resting on his chest. She pulled away, slightly breathless, and he flashed her a playful smirk.

"I’ll see you soon," he said, his voice low and promising.

She smiled, walking awkwardly into her hotel lobby. Jules watched her until she disappeared inside, then turned on his heel, heading back to his own hotel to shower and get ready for the day. His mind was already replaying last night, but there was still something about this that felt different—like he was still craving more of her, more of them.

After a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes, Jules met up with the guys in the lobby, who greeted him with knowing smirks.

"J'ai entendu des bruits intéressants venant de ta chambre hier soir," (I heard some interesting noises coming from your room last night,) AK teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jules just smiled, shaking his head. "Un gentleman ne raconte pas ses secrets," ("A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell",) he replied smoothly.

"Allez, mec," ("Come on, man",) Nicholas pressed, kissing his teeth. "C'était Ayo?" ("Was it Ayo?")

Jules remained tight-lipped, but his friends could read the answer in his eyes. They continued to prod for details as they made their way out of the hotel, but Jules wasn't one to share, especially ones that involved Ayo.

As they met up with the girls, the group set off for their day of sightseeing. Their first stop was Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion. The temple's golden façade gleamed in the morning sun, its reflection shimmering on the surface of the tranquil pond surrounding it. Jules found himself constantly stealing glances at Ayo, admiring her beauty.

Somehow, in such a short period, she managed to erase the 'thoroughly fucked' look she was sporting earlier that morning, and now was fresh as a daisy with her hair styled in her signature two puffs and wearing a a baby tee with cargo pants.

They strolled through the meticulously manicured gardens, the gravel crunching softly under their feet. Jules and Ayo lagged slightly behind the group, their hands occasionally brushing as they walked side by side.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Jules murmured, gesturing to the scenery around them.

Ayo nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. "It's like something out of a fairy tale," she replied softly.

Their next stop was Fushimi Inari Taisha, with its thousands of vibrant red torii gates winding up the mountainside. The group began the ascent, the vermilion structures creating a tunnel-like effect that seemed to stretch endlessly before them.

As they climbed, Jules found himself walking beside Ayo, their playful banter returning easily despite the intimacy they had shared earlier. She shot him a knowing smile whenever their eyes met, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking about last night, too.

Halfway up, they paused at a clearing that offered a breathtaking view of Kyoto below. While the others snapped photos, Jules and Ayo stood slightly apart, catching their breath.

"Holding up okay?" Jules asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

Ayo raised an eyebrow at him. "I may be sore, but I can handle a little hike," she retorted playfully.

"Just making sure," he said, moving closer to lean in her ear. "I kind of wrecked that little pussy of yours."

His unexpected dirty words made her eyes widen and darken, causing Jules to lick his lips in anticipation, praying that she was yearning just as much as he was for another moment.

"You kinda did, but I'll be alright," she murmured.

"I'm sure you will, ma belle," he winked.

Later in the afternoon, they found themselves wandering through the bustling Nishiki Market. The narrow street was lined with vendors selling everything from fresh seafood to handcrafted knives. The air was thick with the aroma of grilled meats, sweet confections, and the chatter of locals and tourists alike.

They sampled all kinds of local delicacies—skewers of grilled chicken yakitori, chewy mochi in various flavors, and sashimi so fresh it practically melted on their tongues.

As they navigated the crowded market, Jules found himself gravitating towards Ayo. He leaned in close, ostensibly to be heard over the market's din, but really just to feel her nearness.

"You know," he murmured, his lips nearly grazing her ear, "there's still one thing here I'm dying to taste again."

Ayo's cheeks warmed, and she playfully swatted him away, but the look in her eyes told Jules she was thinking along the same lines. Her laughter was soft, mingling with the clamor of the market as they moved past stalls brimming with colorful produce and sizzling street food.

Ayo leaned in close, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, maybe if you're lucky, you'll get a chance for seconds," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear.

Before Jules could respond, Nikki appeared beside them. "Hey lovebirds, we gotta go. Sushi making class, remember?"

The group made their way to a traditional Japanese kitchen, where a sushi master waited to guide them through the art of roll-making. Jules and Ayo stood close, their hands occasionally brushing as they prepared their sushi rolls.

"Alright, everyone," the chef said, "let’s get rolling! Start by laying out your seaweed and spreading the rice evenly."

As they worked, the group chatted and joked, taking turns snapping pictures of their culinary creations.

Jules stared at the mess of rice and nori on his bamboo mat, a mixture of frustration and amusement etched on his face. His fingers, usually so deft with a football, seemed hopelessly clumsy as he tried to shape the delicate ingredients.

"Merde," he muttered, his voice a low grumble of defeat. The roll - if you could even call it that - had fallen apart for the third time, looking more like abstract art than anything remotely edible. "I think I'll stick to football."

Ayo leaned over, her shoulder brushing against his as she assessed his handiwork. The warmth of her body so close to his sent a shiver down his spine, momentarily distracting him from his culinary disaster.

"I don't know," she mused, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "It has a certain... abstract charm to it. Very avant-garde sushi, if you ask me."

Jules couldn't help but chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He pulled out his phone, angling it to capture his misshapen creation. "I'm just gonna take your word for it," he said, his eyes meeting hers.

The sushi-making class continued to buzz with laughter and chatter, the air thick with the scent of vinegared rice and fresh fish. Jules found himself speaking with AK and Wilhelm as they recounted the day's adventures.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Symone sidling up to Ayo, her expression playful and knowing. Despite his best efforts to focus on his conversation, Jules couldn't help but tune into their exchange.

"Girl, I see you over here getting cozy with Jules," Symone teased, her voice low but carrying just far enough for Jules to catch. "Maybe you should take another ride on him before the night’s over."

Ayo rolled her eyes. "Nah, I don't want to seem like I'm thirsty."

Symone waved a dismissive hand. "Bitch, that man wouldn’t mind if you were in his bed every night. You have ten days left until we never see these men again. Make it count, Ayo."

Jules felt a jolt at Symone's words, the reality of their impending separation hitting him hard. The revelation that their time together was limited, that this vibrant connection with Ayo might end soon, struck him like a sudden gust of wind. He hadn’t fully grasped how much her presence had become a highlight of his days, how the mere sound of her laughter had become something he anticipated.

As he refocused on AK and Wilhelm’s conversation, nodding along with forced ease, Jules’s mind was a whirlwind. How could he turn this vacation connection into something more lasting?

One thing was certain – he wasn't ready to let Ayo go just yet. Not when it felt like they were just getting started.

accordingtoayo • posted on her story 6 hours ago

Ayo laid back on Jules’ bed, her mind a flurry of conflicting thoughts.

Am I dickmatized now? Because sex should never be this good.

Ayo had always cherished the emotional connections in her relationships, with sex being a gratifying addition, a cherry on top. Her previous boyfriends had never managed to make her body react like this—never made her mewl, beg, and whine for more. Vibrators had once been her go-to for the ultimate satisfaction, eliminating the need for a partner to meet her needs. But Jules was different. Potent, eager, and incredibly skilled, he blended sweetness and dominance in a way that was both thrilling and dangerous. It was an addictive combination, making her wonder how she could possibly give this up when their vacation ended.

Barcelona isn’t that far, an intrusive voice whispered in her head. The thought was tempting—European travel was relatively easy compared to crossing states. But could she really take that leap? Would she for him?

The way Jules had devoured her, like she was his Last Supper, was something she never experienced before. It was raw, uninhibited, and intensely pleasurable. It was a level of passion she hadn't anticipated, nor had she ever imagined she’d crave it so much.

But oh, did she enjoy it. At least until the inevitable goodbye.

As Jules pulled away from her core, his breath hot and ragged, he gave her a sly smile. His voice, a low, commanding purr with that tantalizing French accent, wrapped around her like a promise. "Chérie, ride me," he said, his English words laced with a French lilt that made his request sound both urgent and seductive.

Ayo swallowed hard, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of his touch. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a condom, his eyes never leaving hers as he sheathed himself. The sight of him so confident, so assured, only heightened her anticipation. She nodded, her hands reaching out for his shoulders as she positioned herself above him.

As she began to ride him, her movements tentative at first, then gaining confidence, her thoughts raced. The pleasure was intense, the friction exquisite. Jules’s hands roamed over her hips, guiding her, his eyes locked on hers with a mixture of intensity and affection.

"Tu es tellement magnifique comme ça," he murmured in French, his voice a velvety crone that made her shiver. His gaze held hers, a smoldering look that made her feel both desired and cherished.

"Jules," she gasped, her voice breathy with pleasure. "You feel so… amazing."

He responded with a soft chuckle, his lips brushing against her ear. "C’est ce que je veux entendre (That’s what I want to hear)," he said. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, his thumb and fingers teasing her nipples, making her moan in response.

Ayo’s movements became more fluid, her rhythm steady as she rode him. Jules’s grip on her breasts tightened, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned forward, his tongue flicking out to taste her nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her.

"Such a good girl," he praised, his voice a mixture of adoration and dominance.

Ayo’s body arched as she felt him spank her ass playfully, the mix of pleasure and pain making her gasp. As she continued to ride him, her moans filled the room, the connection between them both electrifying and comforting. Jules’s touch, his voice, the way he commanded yet adored her—it was all addictive. The pleasure, the intimacy—it was everything she had been missing, and she couldn’t help but wonder how she would cope when the vacation came to an end.

Jules’s relentless focus on her, coupled with his soothing yet authoritative voice, pushed Ayo to new heights of pleasure. His grip on her hips was firm but tender, guiding her movements with expert precision. Each time she sank down, the sensation of him inside her brought forth a mix of delight and desperation.

"Look at me," Jules instructed softly, his eyes boring into hers. "I want to see that beautiful face of yours as you come apart for me."

Ayo’s breaths came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with every thrust. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, and she saw nothing but raw desire reflected back at her. The connection was electric, and she could feel the heat of his passion melding with her own. Her rhythm quickened, driven by the mounting pressure inside her.

"You’re taking this so well," Jules praised, his voice a throaty mix of admiration and raw lust. Jules’s hands slid to her ass again, kneading the flesh before delivering another firm, pleasurable smack.

The sting of his hand on her ass combined with the pleasure of his cock made Ayo cry out, her moans spilling from her lips as she moved harder against him. Jules’s words were a mix of command and caress, pushing her closer to the brink.

"Come on this dick," he urged, his voice a low growl. His eyes remained locked on hers, a dangerous glint in them as he watched her unravel.

Ayo’s body was a symphony of pleasure and need, her moans growing louder as she approached her climax. "Jules," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper as she felt the edge of her climax drawing near. "I’m... I’m so close."

He responded with a smirk, his expression one of both satisfaction and anticipation. He knew he had brought her to this point, and he couldn't wait to feel her release. "I know, bébé," he said, his own voice rough with need. "I can feel you tightening around me. Let go for me."

With a guttural cry, Ayo's body convulsed in ecstasy, her climax washing over her in waves. Jules followed soon after, his own release overtaking him as he buried himself deep inside her.

As Ayo’s breathing began to slow, Jules gently rolled over, bringing her with him, until she was nestled comfortably against his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his arms encircling her in a protective embrace.

Ayo let out a contented sigh, her body still tingling from the aftermath of her orgasm. Jules’ touch was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the intensity they had just experienced.

"Hey," Jules murmured, his voice a low rumble as he looked down at her. "You okay?"

Ayo nodded, her voice muffled against his chest. "Yeah, just…thinking."

Jules chuckled softly, his fingers lightly tracing circles on her back. "Mmhmm, let me clean you up."

He gently disentangled himself from her and reached for a condom, carefully disposing of it in the trashcan. Then he grabbed a washcloth from the nightstand and wiped her clean with tender care, his touch gentle and considerate.

"Sorry for the mess," he said with a playful smirk, his eyes warm and affectionate.

Ayo smiled up at him, her eyes still heavy with the remnants of their passion. "No need to apologize."

Jules settled back down beside her, patting the space next to him. "Come closer," he murmured, his voice soft and inviting.

Ayo shifted closer, resting her head on his firm, muscled chest. She let out a contented sigh as she snuggled against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

"You know," Jules said, his voice filled with a soft seriousness, "I really like us like this. Just chilling after sex. It feels… good."

Ayo smiled, her fingers lightly grazing his chest. "I do too."

Jules’s hand rested on her back, his touch soothing. "You feel so good," he admitted, his voice a mix of vulnerability and affection. "It’s like I can’t get enough of you."

Ayo tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with a soft, sleepy smile. "Same, you're like some drug I can't kick. Too good."

Eventually, Jules’s breathing evened out, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest and his light snores filled the room. As Ayo lay nestled against Jules, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment, she found her thoughts drifting. Despite the blissful haze of satisfaction, a soft tension tugged at the edges of her mind.

Did she like him too soon? Or was it just the allure of the vacation, the foreign city, and the intoxicating allure of a man who seemed to understand her body in ways no one had before? It wasn’t just the sex, though God knew that was incredible—it was how easy it felt with Jules. How their bodies fit together, sure, but also how their conversations flowed, how his teasing smile could light up her day, how his quiet moments felt more intimate than any words they could exchange.

She shifted slightly in his arms, feeling the strength in his embrace even as he slept. Could she give this up when the trip ended? Barcelona wasn’t that far from London. Hell, she’d flown longer for work meetings.

Ayo let out a quiet sigh, her breath mingling with Jules’ soft snores and the darkness of the room. The thought of never seeing Jules again after this trip created a pit in her stomach she wasn’t ready to deal with. For now, though, she’d just focus on this—on him, on this moment.

accordingtoayo - Kyoto, Japan

liked by jkeey4, symonenotbiles, gigithegreatest, nikkigal, and others

accordingtoayo: kyoto, you have my heart ♥️ ⛩️🍡

view all 290 comments….

jamaal_erickson: still not answering my calls? wtf ayo?

jkeey4: 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

jamaal_erickson: nigga who tf are you replying to my girls’ IG?

symonenotbiles: my bestie is a baddie 😝

gigithegreatest: 😍😍😍😍😍

nikkigal: why are you this fine, ma’am?? 😭😭

TO BE CONTINUED....