#What do you think will happen at the party?

[heeliopheelia]

GET HIM BACK! (s. jake)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: toxic relationship, stoner! jake, making out, skin marking, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, brief hair pulling, choking, slight bulge kink, degrading, praising too, slight exhibitionism, facial, cursing

word count: 3.7k

synopsis: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

A sigh leaves your lips as you flop down on your floor, bringing your knees to your chest and leaning your back against your bed frame. You take a quick glance at your phone and your stomach churns with disappointment when you notice the time and the lack of notifications on your block screen. 

He promised he would call. 

It’s been three hours since he was supposed to pick you up.

He promised he would call if there was any change of plans. 

And then you finally hear it. His bike is loud and obnoxious as it sounds through your quiet street. Everyone is sleeping now but he never cares about others, so the only thing you can do is roll your eyes when he revs the engine three times to gain your attention from below your window. 

It usually did the trick but you’re too angry at him to even show your face in the window right now. Instead, you cross your arms over your chest and scoff at his basically non-existent tact. 

One minute goes by, then another one, and just when you think he might’ve given up, the sound of your ringtone snaps your attention back to your phone. With another scoff, you pick up the vibrating device and answer the call.

“What?” You ask dryly, not bothering to get up from the floor. 

“I’m here, doll. You can come down now,” he talks to you as if he can’t sense the annoyed undertone of yours. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Go home, Jake.” 

And with that you hang up and toss the phone back on the carpet. It’s not even two minutes later when you hear a gloved hand knocking on your window. Of course. The roof above your porch is quite low, it’s not a problem for Jake to pull himself up and find your window with ease, he’s done that six times before. But not that you counted.

Running your hand through your hair, you finally move from the wooden floor and walk over to the window and open it just enough to let him see your annoyed glare and the dried tears on your cheeks. 

“Hi, doll. Sorry for the wait.”

He takes off his black helmet and holds it down, fixing his hair with the other hand. He flashes you this charming smile of his but it does little to soothe your nerves tonight.

“Go away, Jake. I don’t wanna see you right now,” you grumble out, the unimpressed look on your face makes his nose scrunch in displeasure. 

“Oh, c’mon don’t be like that. You know I came as soon as I could.” 

You take a moment to look at him properly now. Eyes bloodshot and unfocused, slightly out of breath and fingers twitching by his side sporadically. 

“Oh my god, are you high again?” You ask with resignation. When your only answer is the apologetic look in his eyes, you press your lips together and nod your head slowly. He promised he wouldn’t party today. Not with these stoner friends of his. “Is that why it took you so long to get here?” 

“I just took a little detour, baby. Stop worrying so much,” he lies through his teeth easily, reaching out to grab your hand over the window. 

You pull it away.

And then you pause.

“Was Katy there?” Your question makes him go still.

You’ve noticed that he was fucking his junkie friend a week ago and despite his pitiful promising that it’s only happened once, you never had even one reason to believe his lying self. 

But it’s fine, you tell yourself. It’s not like you’re together or anything. Fuck, you’ve only known him for less than a month, met him on a party and kept hooking up weeks after. Yet the tearing inside your chest becomes more hurtful with every word of his, day by day he takes a firmer grasp of your feeble heart.

Jake shifts on his feet then takes a step closer, thighs pressing against the window frame. “Yeah but not like that,” he explains and you scoff, hurt, and this time it doesn’t slip past his attention. 

You don’t make any move to stop him when he swiftly climbs through your window and in a blink of an eye is standing in front of you, the leather of his glove brushing against your skin as he lifts your chin up with his fingers.

“C’mon, baby. It wasn’t like that. I promise,” he mutters lowly, and though you know how little you can trust his words, you can’t help but look up and get charmed by his chocolate eyes one more time. Like always. 

Slowly, he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to the other one. “Your parents home?” He asks, nosing at your cheek and you close your eyes and nod your head, cursing yourself for how easy it is for you to forgive him. 

His warm lips are on yours then, hand pulling your face upward to leave you breathless in a matter of seconds. “Wanna go out with me?” He whispers in your lips. He hums when you shake your head, still quite not over his lousy reassurance. “No? The party is still going. We could go, hm?” He kisses you again even when you shake your head no. “Wanna just stay here?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out quietly, eyes never meeting his. 

Jake is perceptive when he wants to, especially under influence, so at the slightly dejected look on your face he sets the helmet on your dresser before pushing you in the same direction and caging you in between his flexed arms. He kisses you dizzy then, angling his face to the side to press and suck on your lips better.

He pulls away after a minute or so. “C’mon, baby. You know there’s no one else like you,” he sweet talks you and it shamefully works. “You’re my favorite girl. Nothing’s gonna change that, okay?”

It’s so Jake-like to mess up with your head with his careless actions, only to kiss you into forgiveness not even a day later. You always give in because you know you can only have him for the summer, before college starts again and you’ll be out of your hometown again. You always take him in, again and again, because you’re scared you’ll wake up from this dream too soon and never see him again. And you can’t let that happen. 

This time he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, the warm muscle working against yours. Your hands finally relax from where they’ve been clutching onto his black t-shirt so desperately, only to travel up into his hair. You tug on it gently, feeling the slightly sweaty strands underneath your fingertips. 

Jake pulls you closer, pushes his hips into yours for any type of fraction and groans lowly in his throat when he gets what he’s been craving for for the past hour. 

“Can I stay the night, baby?” He asks, but doesn't even really have to cause you’re nodding your head quickly before he even has the chance to finish the sentence. He smiles into your lips as your desperate fingers pull his shirt up and off of him, leaving you pressed to his toned chest. 

The two of you messily make your way to your bed, bare of any duvets and blankets as it’s too hot to sleep under any. You fall on top of him and part your lips only to latch onto his neck, some ridiculous jealousy blindly telling you to mark him up as much as you can, to let others know he’s with you now. 

Jake chuckles at your feverish suckling onto his skin. He tugs on the leather gloves with his teeth, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor, fingers immediately going down to follow your lead and dispose of your top. You’re only wearing underwear underneath the big t-shirt you sleep in and the sight makes Jake’s mouth water. He runs his hands over every inch of your burning skin, impatiently unclasping your bra as you’re still busy with his bruised neck. 

You pull away, visibly pleased with yourself, then lift yourself on your arms and smother his swollen lips again. Jake grunts, kissing you almost just as fervently, hands going lower and lower until he grabs a handful of your ass and rolls his hips up into yours. 

You let out a whimper at that, an even louder one following when his slim fingers skim over the soaked cotton of your panties. 

“You need to be quiet, doll,” he chuckles breathlessly, drowning the sounds you make with his lips when he slips his fingers underneath the fabric and gets a feel of your slick pussy. “I don’t think we would want your parents walking in on us like that, hm?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stumble out, shifting as you’re laying flat on his chest, face buried in his collarbone and eyes fluttering when his moves only grow bolder. You shudder slightly, feeling his long digits teasing your clit with butterfly touches. 

“Ease up, pretty girl,” Jake coos, other hand wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when the first of his now soaked fingers slips inside your tight hole. You nuzzle into him further, breath becoming unsteady as you whine quietly. He moves his hand, burying it deeper and skimming it over your walls. 

Couple seconds later he adds in the second finger, the heel of his palm pressing to your clit and making you jolt slightly in his firm hold. He strokes inside you slowly, feeling you progressively getting wetter with his every push. You’re panting, hot breath hitting his skin and making his dick twitch in his pants. 

He’s plunging his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squeezing him and stretching out his lips with a satisfied smile. You can’t help but buck into the air in the little space that Jake gives you, when he picks up on his pace. His fingers thrust in and out of you, one by one, never losing their rhythm. 

Curving his fingers, his knuckles brush against the spongy insides of your hole, making you moan shakily. 

“You good?” He asks, the hand on your waist caressing you gently. “Hate seein’ you sad.”

You sigh, hands reaching up to squeeze his shoulders. “Yeah,” you whisper because that’s all of your voice that you can muster. 

“Yeah?” He can’t help but tease and you can hear the grin that’s plastered on his pink lips. But this time you only respond with a nod of your head. 

With your face buried in his skin, hands wrapped around his neck tightly, you know you’re cumming when the warm wave hits your stomach breathlessly. You’re whimpering in his collarbone, really trying your hardest to keep quiet, but with the twitching pleasure spreading through your body, and his hard bulge pressing into your stomach, it’s quite difficult to stay sane. 

Jake gives you a second to breathe before removing his dripping fingers and unbuckling his pants with it. He somehow manages to shake out of his jeans while keeping you steady on his chest and you shiver when you can feel his warm cock resting between your bodies now. 

“Stay still for me, baby,” he coaxes you before shifting you on his hips. 

Next second, you can feel his tip prodding at your sensitive pussy and he glides his cock between your glistening folds, coating it in your slick. He readies you with a squeeze at your waist, and slowly starts sinking his length inside of you.

“Wait, Jake-,” you choke on your words when he buries himself entirely inside of you, stretching you out and making you lose your composure completely. “I’m still s-sensitive,” you mumble out, about to nuzzle your face in his neck when his hands grip your waist. 

“Now, up you go,” he says and lifts you up, making you sit on his hips and take in even more of his cock. 

You moan rather loudly, sinking your teeth in your bottom lip to stop yourself from spilling any more sounds. Jake slowly rolls his hips up into you, quiet grunts leaving his own mouth as his hands settle on your hips. He starts guiding you up and down carefully until you’ve fully adjusted to him.

He only lets go once you’ve picked up on a steady pace, bracing your hands on his stomach, the feeling of his hardened muscles making your cheeks heat up. The way your pussy spreads around him is making him go crazy, and now and then he decides that the combination of you and weed is nothing less than lethal. 

You’re so soft under his hands, soft around his cock, soft hands pressing on his abs – everything about you is so damn soft. You’re making him feel almost too good. To ground himself, one of his hands goes up to your hair and tugs on it slightly, making you arch your back and show your pretty, glistening with sweat neck. 

He grits his teeth when you speed up slightly, eyes misty and sparkling down at him in your dimly lit bedroom. You’re riding him so fucking well, taking his heavy cock with little struggle.

“So good,” he pants out, fingers digging into your ass. “You’re doing so good.”

You can feel your muscles straining whenever you lift yourself up, tired legs making you drop down onto him a little more forcefully than you initially planned but you’re rewarded with his low moan and eyes shutting tightly, long lashes brushing over his cheeks. 

The room feels almost too hot, the house is too quiet for the lewd noises coming out of both of you. Your rhythmic bouncing on his aching cock soon changes to messy grinds as your knees give out and thighs burn. Your movements are shallow and visibly weakened, so to help you up, Jake brings his knees higher and roots his heels into your mattress only to thrust up into you, meeting your hips halfway.

You mewl, your legs twitching when he makes your hole take even more of him. He can feel your slick mixed with his precum seeping out and covering his stomach, and he desperately needs more. 

Swallowed by the haze, you push your hips backwards and try to meet his thrusts, making his moves stutter and a strangled groan bubbles up his throat.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says through clenched teeth before grabbing you by your hips and pulling you off of him. Before you get the chance to ask what he is doing, you find yourself with your back slammed to the mattress, and Jake’s hands grabbing your calves and throwing them over his shoulders. 

When he enters you again, you feel your eyes rolling back a little but before any sound can make its way out of your throat, Jake’s veiny hand slaps over your mouth as he leans his face closely to yours. Your whimpers are muffled now as he picks up on his previous pace and the now changed position makes your walls clump down on him even fucking tighter. 

“Keep it down. We don’t want your mom barging in and seeing her daughter folded in half like a slut, do we?” His words only make you moan louder as your fingers dig into his toned shoulders. At your reaction, Jake’s lips spread with a sly smile as he raises his eyebrow. “Do we?” He asks breathlessly, watching as your eyes glisten in the dark room. “You really wanna get caught? To let somebody see you like that? Naughty, fucking, girl. Well, there you go.”

His hands leave your mouth and settle on your stomach instead. You just can’t predict his moves anymore, too absorbed in the pleasure spreading through your body, so when he pushes onto your stomach and presses you even deeper into the mattress, a loud moan ripples out of your lips. Jake groans too as he can feel himself moving so deep inside you underneath his fingertips. He pushes onto you even harder. Your head rolls backwards until you’re nearly facing the headboard.

It’s quite difficult to breathe and you’re not sure whether it’s from the stifling summer air that’s gotten into your room or the veiny hand that’s suddenly latched onto your throat. His hot cockhead seems to be hitting everywhere where you need it most. Nothing but dumb squeaks leave your parted lips and he thrives off of every single one of them, even deepening his thrusts to hear them grow louder.

His thighs clash into yours loudly and you yelp when he leans even more forward and the one hand that’s currently not on your throat clutches the headboard tightly. You can’t even do anything when the wood starts rattling against your wall. 

“You like getting fucked like this? Who would’ve thought,” he hums, grinning down at you with the teasing glimmer in his reddened eyes. 

His thrusts are deep, making the tip of his cock kiss your cervix over and over again. The moans you sob are like a shot of adrenaline in his veins, better than any drug he’s ever tried and suddenly the thought of having you to himself only for the next week crosses his mind. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to breathe without you now that he’s almost sure he’s addicted to you. 

He works his length deep inside you. Your vision threatens to turn black and you’re already out of breath when he presses onto your throat a little harder. You send him a half-lidded look and he moves his hand away from your throat to push your sweaty hair away from your forehead because nothing can fucking take the sight of your fucked out face away from him. 

Your lips are parted with the ragged breaths leaving them, hands fisting his hair and legs beginning to tremble against his chest.

“So pretty, all f’ me. All because of me.” You nod thoughtlessly at his words, mind taken over by the feeling of the soon to be approaching high. “So lewd too. Where did your shame go?” 

“C- Close,” is all you’re able to say. You can feel every vein on his cock more prominently with every next thrust of his, all of your senses besides touch evaporating. You can’t even hear any more of his dirty words when your climax hits you like a truck, making you let out a loud moan. 

Jake wraps one of his arms under your waist and lifts you up slightly, now folding you in half and making your orgasm hit twice as hard. He slows his hips down for a moment to help you ride it out, thrusting his dick with deep strokes. 

He’s letting go of you soon enough, quickly forgetting about your sensitive self as he feels the twitching and aching between his legs begin, waiting for his own release. With a groan, Jake braces both of his flexing arms on the headboard now and ruts his heavy cock into you feverishly, making you see stars and cry out of overstimulation. 

You have to bite on his shoulder to stop the sudden scream from leaving your throat, your whole body ricocheting with his hard thrusts. Your thighs are drenched and so are his, so the skin slapping against skin sounds even louder than before, leaving the backs of your plush upper legs red and stinging. 

He loves having you like that, limp because he’s fucked you just that good but body no less responsive to all that he keeps giving you. 

“So fucking good,” he repeats himself before abruptly pulling out of your spasming pussy. “Get down here, baby.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you only nod and eagerly pull yourself down on the bed with your wobbly legs. Once you’re lowered enough, Jake angles his swollen cock right above your face and strokes himself quickly, only to couple seconds later cover your face with the thick white ropes of his release. You flinch slightly, closing your eyes as the warm liquid hits your cheeks, lewdly licking everything that’s sputtered over your lips. 

“Oh, fuck!” Jake groans, a little pitchier than before, nonetheless just as pretty. You lift your head up from the mattress and swiftly engulf his leaking tip with your lips, milking him until he’s dry. Jake shudders above you and moans, watching you through almost closed eyes as you suck on his softening cock. 

You pull away when there’s nothing else to take from him and the doe eyed look you’re giving him makes him weak in the knees. He drops down next to you, brushing your hair away from your cum stained face before giggling and picking up the shirt you’ve thrown on the floor. He gently cleans you up with it, then leans forward to drown you with his lips. 

You could kiss him for eternity, be buried with his soft lips on yours. He’s gentler now, pressing his mouth on yours and leaving peck after peck on them.  

“You are my favorite girl,” he reassures you once again, nose brushing against yours and making you smile the softest smile at him. “There’s never gonna be anyone else like you, YN.”

The two of you get dressed, giggling and breathing heavily as there’s nothing much left to say. Your hip is leaned on your dresser when he steps in and kisses you again, sucking on your lips sensually and slowly, procrastinating as long as he can only to not part with you yet.

His gloves are back on his hands, helmet under his arm as he turns back to you and tries one more time, grabbing your smaller hand in his. “Go out with me now?” 

You don’t know how you’ll be able to face your parents tomorrow. 

You don’t wanna say goodbye to him yet. 

So with a smile on your lips, you nod your head and climb out of the window – hands intertwined together and his helmet safely tucked on your head.

But he was so much fun and he had such weird friends

And he would take us out to parties and the night would never end

taglist: @luvkpop @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart @seokseokjinkim @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @somekpopshiteu97 @enhypens-hoe @alpha-mommy69 @jwnzlvr @wondipity

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @kissestojapan

note: AGHHH i don't know... i feel like the beginning is a little too wattpad and not enough carly so i may rewrite that someday... but anyways, that's the final part of the series!! i had so much fun writing it ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

#carly's 2k event ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧ #jake imagines #jake x reader #jake sim #jake smut #jake sim hard hours #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #sim jake x reader #sim jake smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #jake hard hours

[helenanell]

Contempt of Court || Challengers

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: 18+ MDNI. Alcoholism / substance abuse. Suicidal ideation. Mentions of car crash/ injury, infidelity (technically - Art is still married to Tashi, but they’re separated) Angst. Smut. A little toxic.

Wordcount: 10.8K

Notes: No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film. Reader is a Tashi stan (There’s too much Tashi Duncan erasure happening and I won’t stand for it.) 

Summary: Still recovering from an injury that put your tennis career on pause, your publicist has landed you a deal to be an ambassador for Nike. What she doesn’t tell you, is that so is Art Donaldson: the player who bad-mouthed you in a live, post match interview two years ago. You only find out once it’s too late. 

 (This story was inspired by the dynamic between Billy and Daisy in Daisy Jones and The Six. But…make it tennis.)

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

For eight agonising weeks, your wrist has been encased in a cast, but now that it’s finally off, you feel far from relieved.

 As the doctor had sawn into the plaster, producing a cloud of white dust like he was breaking into a bone instead of revealing a healed one, you had actually felt panicked. 

After the car crash, you had spiralled into a pit dug with your own self-pity and pain. And once you’d reached the bottom, you’d staved off the encroaching darkness with alcohol and too many painkillers. 

You’d taken drugs before at parties and drunk until you wiped your own memory, the consequence being waking up with your skull practically splitting open from pain. But there was something profoundly different about becoming intoxicated in the hopes of rendering yourself numb:

 You hated yourself whilst you were doing it, and once the harmful buzz wore off, you hated yourself a little bit more. 

You had become fast friends with shame in the past few months. 

You have been desperate to play again, screaming, crying and practically tearing off your own skin with the need to get back to work- to not let yourself fall behind or your ranking suffer. 

But, amongst the amalgamation of negatives there had been a sort of relief, too. Relief, because the choice had been taken away from you. 

The accident hadn't been your fault and nor could you force your bone to heal faster, so for a brief period of time, you had convinced yourself nothing was your fault. For once, you couldn’t be blamed for your own fall from grace. 

But now your bone had healed and if you didn’t give recovery your all, it would be your fault. If there was no triumphant comeback, it would be on you. 

Another thing to fail at. 

Another thing to lose. 

All of which only added to your bafflement over your publicist’s insistence on coming over this morning, in order to discuss ‘a major opportunity’ that wasn’t related to a competition. 

You had originally tried to worm out of it, but your coach had found out and given you the third degree. 

You’re already tired at the thought of it and you don’t even know what it is yet. You don’t want to think about anything but tennis. You don’t have the energy for it. 

In all honesty…you’re hanging on by a thread.

‘Drinking too much’ is a far too casual phrase for how you’ve been living: it has connotations of casualness- a glaring lack of stakes. For you, the stakes are unbelievably high.

You know you can’t afford to become alcohol dependent because even being a functioning alcoholic isn’t an option for you. The only way to function as an athlete—to maintain your career trajectory and the attain the US Open title—is to be at one hundred percent. 

Mixing your painkillers with straight vodka isn’t one hundred percent: it’s a cry for fucking help. Except you can’t let anyone hear the cry, you need to stifle it. 

It’s bad enough that pictures of you being rolled away from your totalled car in a gurney had been plastered over the internet for weeks after the accident. The alcoholic, pill popping tennis pro was a story that would never go away. 

It would morph into an ugly sort of infamy: you’d been in the exclusive club of American sweethearts and heartthrobs who had been hounded so much by the ‘devoted’, that it had driven them to substance abuse to drown out the noise and fortify against the flashing lights. 

So, no one could know. No one.

Which is why, as your publicist pulls into your driveway, you’re rushing to hide a half full bottle of vodka inside a hideously expensive—and also just hideous—vase that had been given to you as an engagement gift.

Two years ago, when your fiancé–and fellow tennis player–had been caught in 4k, kissing a barely legal actress from a HBO teen drama, you’d almost smashed the vase. But, something about destroying a gift from Serena Williams felt like spitting out the ambrosia a god had fed you from their very own hand.

So, while your ring had been thrown into a ravine (best not to dwell on that.) the vase had remained. 

The doorbell rings much sooner than you’re prepared for. Who knew a five-foot-two woman in heels could move so quickly? 

You run over to the door, chewing down on two pieces of gum you’d hastily shoved into your mouth to cover up the scent of alcohol. When you pull it open, you’re met with the stern face of your Publicist, Rebecca. She’s tiny but terrifying, her sharp features framed by a pitch black bob.

Sometimes, it does feel a bit like you’re talking to Edna Mode, but you’d never dare say that.

“Rebecca, hi!” You’re aware the greeting is too happy, and try not to grimace.

When you step back to allow her to enter, Rebecca frowns at you as she passes.

“Why are you fake smiling?” she questions. “Your cast is off, you should be actually happy.”

 You drop the toothy grin, wincing with embarrassment as you follow her into the kitchen.

“I am happy about that, obviously.” You clear your throat, overly aware of how disingenuous you still seem. “What I’m not exactly overjoyed about, is whatever this ‘opportunity’ is.” 

You watch as Rebecca grabs bottle of water from the fridge and then pulls out a stool to sit at the kitchen island. You follow suit, dropping down beside her.

“Well, you should be. I practically had to sell my soul to get them to pick you.”

You level her with an unimpressed look. “Wow, Rebecca, way to raise me up from rock bottom.”

She waves you away. “Oh, please! You hate when I coddle you.”

You huff, dropping your chin into hand and propping your elbow on the counter. “Okay, out with it then. What is it?” 

Rebecca’s cheeks split with a blinding grin. “Nike.” She declares gleefully. 

“Nike.” 

Her smile dampens, disappointed you haven’t burst into happy tears. “Yes, Nike. You know…Just Do It.”

“Yes, I do. I’d just prefer not, you know…do it.”

Your publicist looks just about ready to slap you. “You’re kidding. It’s Nike.”

“Oh, is it? You haven’t mentioned that.”

Rebecca’s frown becomes a scowl and you think about ducking when she angrily snatches up her water bottle. But she doesn’t throw it, just waves it around as she begins to rant at you: 

“Do you know how hard it was to get this?! They wanted Naomi Osaka but I convinced them to go for you instead. And christ knows they were hesitant after the US Open meltdown-”

“We agreed not to refer to it as a meltdown.” You cut in. “My therapist says it has negative connotations that, ‘make me feel a harmful degree of shame.’”

Rebecca scoffs. “You went to one session with that therapist and then fired her because you didn’t like that she drew you a diagram.”

“It was condescending: I’m not five, I don’t need visual aids.”

“Okay, just shut up!” Rebecca barks, smoothing down her still immaculate hair and taking a deep breath. “This isn’t actually up for discussion. You’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing it.”

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Weeks Later… )

‘Just Do It.’ 

It’s the first thing you see when you walk into the Nike office for the photoshoot. 

The poster from a past campaign with Andy Murray has been blown up to ridiculous proportions and framed, hanging in on the first wall that greets anyone who enters.

“If they make mine that big I won’t be able to look at it. I’ll actually vomit. ” 

When Rebecca–who is the epitome of a chatterbox–remains silent, you turn you head to look down at her. She’s already peering up at you, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your eyes narrow with suspicion. “What have you done?”

Rebecca lets out a laugh laced with unadulterated fear. “Okay…so, any minute now you’re going to be super fucking pissed at me and you have every right to be, but remember that as you’ve already signed the contract, you don’t have a right to walk out of here.”

You stare her down, knowing it doesn’t take much intimidation for her to crack. 

You don’t end up needing her to blabber, however, because not even five seconds later, the door you’d just come through swings open and a lone figure enters.

 As you turn, you feel your publicist actually take a step away from you.

“Rebecca, I’m going to kill you.” 

You’re not looking at her as you spit out the threat, your eyes are already boring into the man who’s noted your presence and is lingering just beyond the doorway. 

Your history with Art Donaldson is far from extensive. In fact, while the trajectory of your careers have practically run parallel, the two of you have spoken maybe twice. 

But then, almost two years ago, the U.S Open had happened. 

Still dealing with the fall out of your fiance’s cheating scandal, you’d been in potentially the worst mental space of your life. And yet, you had still made it to the final.

 But, during the match…well you’d sort of lost your shit. And then you’d just lost. It had been dramatic and mortifying. 

Then, with the dust not even close to settling, things had gotten even worse. 

Having just clinched the men’s singles trophy for himself, Art Donaldson had sat down for his live post-match interview and one of the first questions he’d been asked, was about your ‘comportment’ during the final. 

You would never forget his answer: 

'Well, obviously it’s a massive disappointment. In so many ways the match between those two women today was legendary. But it always stings when you see someone get in their own way. Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court: it’s infantile and disrespectful to staff and to the fans. It threatens to overshadow what was otherwise a phenomenal game of tennis for both of them.'

When he had then been pressed for his thoughts on what should be done in regards to sanctions, Art had simply said: ‘I think whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’

In a few minutes, Art had made you a subject of scorn as well as unwanted sympathy.  He’d made you sound simultaneously contemptible and pitiable. 

He was right, but he hadn’t needed to sound so sanctimonious when he’d said it. And telling the world your own mental anguish was probably torment enough, was just salt in the wound.

In your own defence, you had gone into the final right off the back of the announcement that your ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend was pregnant. And the dates had made it blindingly clear, that conception had happened whilst you were still with him.

 You’d never felt so worthless or dehumanised. And then, after you’d practically killed yourself playing the match of your life, only to lose, Art fucking Donaldson had felt the need to call out your behaviour. 

‘Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court.’ 

Anger ‘like that’ wasn’t something you’d brought to the competition in your overhead luggage, it was a parasite that had been poisoning your blood.

You’d thought that sort of self-cannibalising rage was in your past, bust as Art starts walking over to you, it rears its ugly head once more.

And he has the gall to smile at you. It’s an amicable, almost anticipatory smile. 

You barely even register when Rebecca ducks away, muttering something about finding the photographer. 

Art calls out your name as he stops before you, the corners of his eyes creasing as his smile intensifies. “It’s good to see you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” You intone harshly.

Art’s smile doesn’t drop, it just becomes tighter, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ah- so you are still upset about what I said at the Open.” 

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stop gritting your teeth lest they shatter. “What could possibly make you think that I wouldn't be?”

Art laughs softly, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Well, because your coach and your publicist both assured me that you weren’t.”

Those fucking traitors. 

It looks like you’ll be going into tomorrow with only your nutritionist and your physio left on your team.

“They lied.” You reply sharply. 

Art tilts his head, his gaze becoming brazen in the way it assesses your face. “Clearly.”

“Well, obviously this isn’t happening.” You gesture between the two of you. “I’m not doing a photoshoot, let alone an entire campaign, with you.”

“I don’t see why it can’t go ahead.” Art declares casually, his lips tugging upward as he observes your indignation. 

You take a step back, not trusting yourself not to lunge for him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have little regard for your opinion then, isn’t it?”

Art's brows draw together, some irritation beginning to pollute his easy going demeanour. “You do care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do care about my opinion, because f you didn’t, you wouldn’t still be this pissed over something I said years ago. 

“Pissed?” You almost choke on the word. “You made me sound pathetic. Weak. You insulted my entire career!”

“I seem to recall saying that your match was ‘legendary.’ Phenomenal, is another word I used.”

If there wasn’t so much anger writhing in your gut, you might have rubbed it in his face that for something he’s outwardly dismissing, he seems to remember what he said about you very well.

You step up to him, closing the distance in two strides.

“‘Whatever she���s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’ You said that about me in front of peers and fans in a live interview that was watched by thousands!”

“You’re telling me you don’t think you were out of line?” Art challenges, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning in. 

You know he’s not wrong: it hadn’t been your finest hour. In fact, the morning after, with your behaviour laid bare in the cold light and already being picked over by commentators and tabloids, you had been able to acknowledge it may very well have been one of the worst hours you would ever have. 

But you’d rather die than acknowledge that to Art.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you!” You hit back disparagingly.

Art’s fingers dig into his arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a hypocrite, Art. I watched your match against Patrick Zweig at the…what was it- Phil’s Tire Town Challenger? Someone recorded it from the stands. Tell me, what emotion were you bringing to the court when you yelled ‘fuck you’ at him across the net?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m not proposing a thesis, Art. This isn’t up for debate. I’m just telling you what I saw. And it seems to me, that you have some fucking anger issues of your own, so quit chewing me out over mine.”

“Chewing you out–” He splutters, his cheeks flushing with outrage. “Wow, you really do have a victim complex, huh?” 

“Fuck you!” You seethe.

Your exclamation doesn’t dissuade Art, instead he gathers momentum: 

“You’re acting like I should fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness over an entirely reasonable answer I gave to a question about your piss-poor behaviour. But I didn’t make you launch your racket across the court or cuss out the line judge. You’re not a tragic woman, or some wronged heroine, you’re a grown woman throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t very nice about her in an interview, two goddamn years ago!” 

“Well, I’m a bitch and you’re a hypocrite, looks like neither of us should be tennis’ poster child.” You snap, pushing past him and heading for the door. 

There was absolutely no chance you were doing this photoshoot. Nike could give Naomi Osaka another call. 

Just as you’ve got past him, Art is following you, snagging your wrist with his hand. “Hey! I didn’t call you a bitch.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Badmouthing people in public forums is your move.” 

You yank yourself out of his hold and with his eyes burning into the back of your head, you leave Art Donaldson alone in the lobby. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Weeks Later… )

In the intervening weeks since your confrontation with Art, you have discovered just how airtight employment contracts can be. 

Nike should really give their lawyers a raise, because you have been assured that there is more chance of you sprouting wings, than being able to get out of the ad campaign. 

You’d been forced back to the studio a week later with your tail between your legs, but while you’d felt genuinely apologetic over the inconvenience caused to Nike’s team, your fury at Art had only compounded. 

Thankfully, the feeling had been mutual and the two of you had passed the entire shoot in utter silence. Neither of you had offered up so much as a hello or goodbye to the other, and while it had clearly been painfully awkward for everyone around you, it had worked out quite well. 

Unfortunately, you and Art had been called back for a day of what they were calling ‘action shots.’

Which is why you’re currently at a country club, dressed in all of Nike’s new gear, being forced to actually play tennis against Art. 

If it was anyone else, you would already have drawn attention to the fact that your wrist is in excruciating pain, but you refuse to falter in front of him. 

Besides, as much as you’re loathe to admit it, playing against Art is exhilarating. 

The team have just called for a break and somehow, despite the innumerable people that have been buzzing around you for the entire day, you and Art suddenly find yourselves alone at the side of the court. 

You’ve done well at remaining civil with each other, but that’s only because you only said ‘hello’ and ‘ready’ before you’d started playing.

Unfortunately for you, Art seems to be in the mood to antagonise.

“I don’t get why this is making you so miserable.” Art says, dropping down onto the bench beside you with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

You hold up the can in your hand, fingers biting into the condensation slick metal. 

“I specifically asked for Tangerine La Croix and they’ve given me Pure.” You mock. You couldn't care less about what you’re drinking.

“Funny.” Art deadpans. 

“And here was me thinking you’d jump at the chance to call me a diva.” You answer, donning a smirk of your own.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Some genuine anger colours Art’s tone and it only feeds the fires of your own.

“What?” 

Art grabs the can from your hand and maintains eye contact as he steals as a sip.

“You refuse to let go of a few critical, but very valid sentences I said about you in that interview and you’ve used them to construct a narrative about my dislike for you. I don’t dislike you.”

“Oh, you don’t? That’s good, because this amicable exchange is really making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” 

Art groans, slumping back on the bench. He manspreads so wide that his knee knocks into yours. 

“Can you not just enjoy yourself? It’s a beautiful day and we’re being paid to do what we’re great at.”

You wrinkle your nose and try to snatch back the can, but Art tightens his grip and the metal crumples as you both tighten your hold. 

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets off on having their face on a billboard.” You sneer, almost falling back when Art suddenly lets go of the can.

It’s practically empty and completely deformed, so you slam it down onto the empty space beside you.

“How do you know that I do?”

“What?”

“How do you know that I get off on it?” He repeats glibly.

“Because, you’ve clearly wanted to retire for years and now that you have, you can monopolise on the popularity that your wife built up for you and live off clothing lines and ads for the rest of your life.”

“Being great at tennis built up my popularity.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually believe that, Art? So many phenomenal players go widely unknown for their entire careers. You are only The Art Donaldson instead of just plain old Art, because Tashi Duncan made you a brand. She’s responsible for your legacy.”

“She didn’t make me.”

“Maybe not, but she did mould you into what you are. You would have been just another generic Stanford whiteboy if she hadn’t decided to give you fucking form.”

“You talk about her like she’s God.” 

“Are you telling me that’s not what it feels like when her attention is solely on you?” You challenge, but you don’t wait for an answer. “You know, I actually played her quite a lot when we were teenagers– we always ended up being us against each other in finals– and even then…it was like trying to play against an elemental force. Every time, without fail, there was a tiny part of me that just wanted to fall to my fucking knees in front of her. But I never did, instead it made my game better. She made my game better. Tashi put all she had into you after her injury, the least you could do is acknowledge what she’s done for you.

“You don’t have to tell me what I owe my wife.”

You scoff, rising to your feet. “I’m telling you what you owe your coach.” 

You don’t actually know where you’re going as you walk away, only that you need it to be far from him.

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Months Later… )

At the launch event for Nike’s new line, you’re standing in front of the massive poster that’s at the forefront of the campaign and swallowing down bile. 

It’s a great picture, you’ll give them that: Your feet are practically lifting off the ground as you throw up the ball for a serve, your expression is contorted with a ruinous passion that portends some sort of violence. And across the net, there’s Art: he’s dropped into a crouch, ready to pounce once you send the ball his way. In the face of your fury, his anticipation comes fitted out with his signature smirk. 

It’s not just a great photo, it’s phenomenal.

 You want to tear it off the wall. 

You’re on the verge of asking anyone if they have a pen so you can scribble over Art’s face, when the man himself appears beside you. In your peripheral vision you catch a glimpse of his sleek, all black suit, but you don’t turn to look at him. 

“I’m not sure you’d get away with defacing it in front of so many people.” 

Trying to suppress your eye roll would be a fruitless endeavour, so you turn to face Art, forcing him to bear witness to your indignation. 

“You should know by now that I have little regard for decorum. You certainly like commenting on my lack of it.”

“I thought you’d still be hung up on that.” 

“Yeah, well, some of us have follow through.” You give him a venomous smile. “How is retirement treating you?”

“Ah, I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“You see retirement is quitting. So, you’ll force yourself to continue well past the point you should, your game will get shittier and shittier, so by the time you’re forced to quit, people will be pitying you instead of remembering how phenomenal you were.”

There’s a compliment in there, but you’re not feeling generous of spirit enough to pluck it out of the insult. 

“I know when to stop, Art. It’s just not now.” You answer coldly.

“Okay, when? Like- give me your timeline. You must have thought about it.”

“Not yet.”

This answer seems to really frustrate him and he just stares at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he grips his champagne flute. 

“Do you think I didn’t notice how much your wrist was killing you when we played each other? Are you really going to wreck your body out of stubbornness?”

“You know, Art, what you did wasn’t bowing out at the perfect time, it was cowardice. You skipped right to the curtain call when you still had a last act left to perform. You never got that US Open trophy, did you?” 

Art sighs, his gaze moving back to the photo of the two of you. "Yeah well, something tells me you won't either. Have a good night."

Then he's backing away, his stare lingering on you even as he lets the crowd reabsorb him. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( One Month Later… )

Had Tashi Duncan not been one of the people in your life that you most respected and admired, you wouldn’t even have considered attending the fundraising gala for her and Art’s foundation.  

But you were, quite frankly, obsessed with her, so of course you had come.

 Sitting in an uncomfortably tight dress at a table of people you don’t know and with a fair amount of alcohol circulating through your system, is quite possibly the most painstaking thing you’ve ever gone through.

Apart from the car crash. That had been pretty bad. 

But you’re adamant you won’t think about the car crash tonight, or the fact that, somehow, your wrist seems to be getting worse; devolving to a state more dire than when the cast had first come off. 

The meal—which you hadn’t been able to stomach—had come and gone and now the auction is beginning. Tashi is up on the stage, dazzling in the way that only she can and Art is standing at the bottom of the set of stairs that lead up to the platform.

Unfortunately, your table is very close to the front and you’re positioned right in his eyeline. 

Art keeps stealing glances at you with an emotion you can’t place. You had tried to switch seats with the man across from you, but the asshole turned out to be a real stickler for assigned seating. 

If only to distract yourself, you whip out your phone, resting it in your lap beneath the table.

The moment you open up Instagram, your heart drops into your stomach. 

You thought you had expunged any remnants of your ex from your life, but it seems you’ve missed a mutual friend on Instagram, one who has just reposted his engagement announcement with his girlfriend and mother of his now one year old daughter. 

That bastard has broken your heart and wrecked your head, but while your life just keeps getting worse, the universe has seen fit to bless him with everything he’s ever wanted. 

The auction is already in full swing when you rise clumsily from your seat and weave through the tables, heading for the closest exit. 

It’s only as you push open the door and begin to sway, that you realise you’re actually quite tipsy. You might have drunk a little too much before you’d left the house. 

It’s freezing outside, but you can’t face going back for your coat, so, unsteady on your feet, you flee into the extensive gardens that surround the estate that’s acting as the gala’s venue. 

You walk well past the point where the lawn lighting disappears and clamber over a fence that has ‘restricted area’ prominently posted in front of it.

You don’t know where you’re going, but as you stagger down the hill, your sadness is alleviated very slightly by the sight of a massive pond that you’re sure is beckoning to you. 

You kick off your heels and drop down onto the bank, quick to put your feet into the water. Once you’re settled, you retrieve your hip flask from your clutch and begin to guzzle vodka in earnest.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You turn and you find an incensed Art striding towards you. You’re more than a little delighted by the sight of mud splattered over the polished surface of his shoes. 

“I was having some time to myself.”

“You needed to walk all the way down here to get it?”

You laugh caustically, gesturing at him. “Well…no. Obviously I should have walked even further away.”

Art huffs, entirely unimpressed. He takes a few steps further down the bank and holds out a hand beckoning you over.

“Come on, you need to come back inside.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, you offered tennis lessons with yourself as an auction item and you’re up soon. You need to be on stage.”

Ah. You’d forgotten about that. 

“Why do I need to be seen? It’s not like they’re buying me.”

“You still can’t stay in there. Get out.”

“I’m not in it, Art. I’m just dangling my feet in the water.”

“Well, you can’t ‘dangle’ your feet in there, it’s a pond not a swimming pool.” 

“I can’t?” You feign a bafflement as you look at your feet, submerged in the murky water. “I sort of already am?”

Art moves even closer but falters, his bright eyes becoming an invading force: his gaze takes hold of your edges and peels them back.

He can see inside.

“What’s wrong?” He probes, the harsher edges of his previous words now nowhere to be found.

“At the moment, it’s you.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not actually, but I’m getting there.” 

Art’s eyes flick to the metal object glinting in your hand. “Is that a hip flask?” 

“What a keen eye you have.” You mutter sardonically.

“Okay, I'm serious now, get out.”

“Oh, he’s being serious!” You mock, rising to your feet.

 But you don’t move away from the pond. Instead, you turn and start walking backwards into the water you wobble when your bare feet sink into the mud, icy liquid seeping into the thin fabric of your silk dress.

Art lunges forward, closing the distance until he’s standing at the edge of the water. His hand darts out and he grabs your forearm. 

“You’re too close to drunk to be near a body of water, let alone in one. You’ll drown yourself.” 

Art plucks the hip flask from your fingers with his free hand and tosses it into the grass behind him, all without taking his eyes off you. 

Then he seems to actually register where his hand is. He’s still gazing into your eyes as his thumb brushes over the scar above your wrist. 

“Compound fracture.” You say on a bitter breath. “The bone went right through. Fucking drunk driver. Funny that, isn’t it? He crashed into me, fucked my career probably permanently and then I became a drunk to cope.”

Some of the hardness in Art’s expression melts away, but it pools into the bags beneath his eyes and the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look almost distraught. Once you realise it’s sadness--no, pity--for you, you wrench your wrist out of his grasp and wade further back into the pond. 

You gasp, shocked as the frigid water wraps around your legs in an eager embrace. It’s like it’s clinging on, wanting to keep you forever. 

You find the thought of it quite peaceful.

You think on Art’s words from months ago: he’s right, about you being too stubborn to know when to stop. You won’t retire until you’re physically falling apart.

 But what if you just sink down into the water right now? You’d disappear and the memories would be of a great player gone too soon.

God, you didn’t realise you had such a large ego that you’d consider letting yourself drown just to save face.

Art is beyond unimpressed now. He’s furious. 

“Get out.” You just smile at him, stepping further back. The water reaches your navel and you let your fingertips skim over the water. “I’m not kidding, get the fuck out. Now.”

“Will you just back off!” You erupt. “We’ve done the campaign, we’re not friends, there’s no reason for us to be involved.” 

“None of that gives me a reason to leave you alone out here.”

“Why not?!” You protest desperately. “It’s not the ocean, I can’t be swept out to sea!”

“Get out of the water.”

“No.” 

“Get out.” 

“Get fucked.” You hit back, letting yourself sink back into the water. 

As you move to float on your back, another frantic laugh bubbles up as you're enveloped by its icy grip. Your dress becomes heavier, a five thousand dollar weight around your body, urging you to sink lower.

You turn your head to the side so that you can see the surface of the water:

This far out of the city, the stars are no longer choked by smog and so are able to tear through the darkness. The water perfectly mirrors the sky, so much so that it’s like you’re swimming in the cosmos. If you open your mouth, you could take some of it into yourself. 

You had struggled to get out of bed this morning, but now, in the quiet night, you have the chance to swallow a thousand stars–

Impudent splashing disrupts your peace. 

Your head shoots up, water running in eager rivulets off your hair as you watch wide eyed, as Art drops into the water. His jacket and shoes have been discarded on the edge of the bank. 

“What are you doing?”  

Art doesn’t answer, instead he drives through the water towards you, his strides producing ripples that disturb the reflected constellations. Shooting stars. 

You’re not very far out, so just as Art closes in on you, you plant your feet on the muddy bottom of the pond and stand up.

The fabric of your dress is dark and slick against your body like an oil spill. The breeze blows a tentative breath against you, causing your skin to pebble and your nipples to harden.

Art reaches for you but your hand flies out and you swat him away.

You push yourself further out, giggling at his expression as the water comes up to your chin. 

Then Art’s diving after you, the white material of his shirt submerged in the water. 

“Art, this is a pond, not a swimming pool.” You tease, amusement blooming.

In fact, you’re relishing the sight of his arms pushing through the water so much, that you forget to make another escape attempt. 

Before you know it, Art is right up in front of you, his breath coasting over your face as he wraps an arm around your middle beneath the water. 

You drive your feet into the mud, your smile growing as he looks exasperatedly up at sky. His fingers press into your side.

“This is so beyond funny.” He grouses, trying and failing to tug you closer.

Seeing as you’re not actually drunk, you’re not sure what comes over you, but you’re seized by a giddy, childlike urge. 

You decide to give into it.

Art’s eyes widen slightly as you rush forward, pressing your chest right up against his. Then, you place one hand on each of his shoulders and push.

There’s a brief moment, where your face rises above Art and he gazes up at you, droplets of water rolling off your face and onto him. He’s looking at you in the same way you had been gazing up at the stars. Perhaps you’ve become one of them. Wouldn’t that be something?

Art realises too late what you’re going to do. 

“Don’t you dare–”

You push all of your weight onto his shoulders and dunk him into the pond. His head goes under, short blonde locks floating up in the water.

You immediately let him go and when he comes up, spluttering for air, the hand not on your waist winds around the back of your neck, threading into the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulls you flush against him again.

When he speaks, it is a whisper you feel against your cheek. “You’re such an asshole.” 

Your hands fall onto his waist beneath the water. “I know.” 

You shriek as Art tips you back, his hand still cradling the back of your neck as he dunks your head into the water in retaliation. It feels like a baptism. 

When you come back up, he's chuckling as you gasp for air. 

“I had to do that.” Art defends.

 He notices you scrambling to push soaked strands of hair out of your eyes and proceeds to help you, his hand brushing over your cheeks and forehead before returning your sight to you. 

“I feel like you didn’t have to.” You splutter, fighting back a laugh of your own. 

You’re suddenly glad for his grip on you- you’re far too flustered to stand firmly on your own two feet. 

Art’s cheek’s dimple as he smiles, shaking his head at you. Your breath hitches. 

When he’s unencumbered by negative emotion…Art shines. 

He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear: 

“Don’t start something you’re not prepared to finish, sweetheart.” Your breathing becomes even more laboured as he draws away, his nose briefly dragging against your cheek. “Now…get out of the goddamn pond.” 

And then he’s pulling away, leaving you gaping after him as he moves back towards the bank.

 His touch is an absence you really wish didn’t feel so profound 

“Spoilsport.” You grumble. But you’re already moving after him. 

The alcohol you did have in you has disappeared; shocked out of your system by the frigid water and the feel of Art’s hands.

 You wade back towards the bank, your hip flask is nestled in the grass and glinting seductively in the moonlight. 

With Art’s back to you, you let yourself stare as he drags himself out of the water. His shirt is stuck to his body and entirely see through, settling into the ridges of his muscled chest. The moon’s light shines through the fabric hanging from his sleeves, making it look like the membrane of wings.

As Art kneels on the grass, you blink rapidly as if he’s a vision you can dispel from your sight. 

You can acknowledge he’s attractive- you’re not blind– but you can’t abide the yearning arising within you. You don’t have room for that in your life, for anyone, but especially not for him. 

You finally reach the edge of the bank and then Art is kneeling at the edge, holding a hand out for you to take.

You consider him for a moment and process the newfound ease on his face. He seems almost serene. 

You fight off a shiver that you blame on the cold and ignore his outstretched hand, pulling yourself out of the water unaided. 

“Really?” Art bites out irritatedly, watching as you wander over to your hip flask and sit down right beside it. You take it into your hand and unscrew the cap. 

When you bring it to your lips you look right into his eyes. “Really.” 

You throw your head back, the path the vodka burns down your throat is a welcome discomfort. You had felt far too peace just now, floating in a sea of stars with Art. 

But those weren’t stars, just a reflection of them. It was a trick. Nothing that could ever be real. 

When you drop the now empty flask into your lap, there are tears in your eyes. 

When was the last time you’d felt even close to the happiness you’d found in that water? 

It wasn’t real.

A traitorous tear is already rolling down your cheek as you drop your eyes to your hands. 

“Hey.” Art says softly. He kneels down beside you, one hand on your soaked back as the other plucks the flask out your lap. “What’s wrong?”

You make a noise that’s half sob, half laugh. “I already answered that question.” 

“Yeah, except I know you’re full of shit.” When you look up at him, Art’s frown becomes something gentler. “I know I’m not your problem.” 

You scoff, shoving his chest. He sways backwards, but drops down onto his knees, planting himself on the ground beside you. His hand is still on your back.

“Yes, you are actually.” You answer nastily. “You really are.”

“Just tell me.” Art whispers, ducking his head into your field of vision so you’re forced to look at him. His free hand settles on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong because this…is sort of scary.”

You lift your hands and clasp his cheeks, digging your fingers in. You’re overcome by a violent impulse to tear into his skin. 

It would be far easier to draw blood than confront how you’re beginning to feel about him. 

“Aww.” You croon. “Did I scare the poor little baby?” 

“Stop it.” He scolds. His hands move to grasp your wrists but he doesn't pull you away, not even as you press your nails further in.

But you won’t stop- can’t stop. Your feelings have become spiteful and unruly, running away from you at a pace which you can’t hope to match.

You can’t take the strain. And because Art is the contributor to that is closest to you, it’s him you’re going to lash out at.

“No, really, I didn’t think you’d be such a pussy.” You forge on, spewing venom. “I scared you by getting in a pond? Grow the fuck up, Art.”

But Art doesn’t rise to it. His jaw doesn’t clench and his grip on you doesn’t tighten. 

“This isn’t okay.” He says, tentative but assured. “You’re not okay.” 

“No, I'm not!” You snap wrenching your wrists free. “But it’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”

You try to rise to your feet, but Art doesn’t let you. He moves so he’s kneeling either side of you, his legs pressing into your thighs as his hands fall onto your shoulders. You can feel in the way his fingers press into you that he’s fighting the urge to shake sense into you. 

You look up at him, slightly startled by his forcefulness. His back is facing the moon now and his drenched body is limned in silver. 

Before you can berate yourself for even thinking about it, you’re winding your hand around his tie and dragging him down, smashing your lips against his. 

You shouldn't be doing this, a large part of you doesn’t want to, but it feels like the only way to purge yourself of him. And what kills a bacteria faster than blazing heat?

Art lets out a warning groan, but your teeth nipping his bottom lip is all it takes to have him leaning in. Even your kiss feels like a fight, battling each other for control, pressing with bruising force.

Art crowds over you, guiding your back against the grass.

You let yourself fall. 

As your back presses into the earth, one of his hands settles on the side of your neck as he drags the other up your leg. When he peels up the sodden material of your dress, his hand exploring your thigh, the cold air bites tauntingly against your rapidly heating skin. 

Your hard nipples brush against his soaked t-shirt and the feeling is so tantalising, that you find your back arching, pressing yourself into him and chasing the sensation.

When you let out a moan into his mouth, Art draws back as if some unseen hand has pulled on him.

He’s still agonisingly close, his lips a hair's breadth away as he gazes down at you through heavy eyelids, water droplets running down his face from his hair. His breathing is ragged.

 Art’s eyes close and with his sight lost to him, his lips drift closer to you again and his teeth nip at your chin. After placing a ghost of kiss over where he’s bitten, he takes a deep breath.

Then his eyes open, and his expression is blank. It makes you feel sick.

You’re burning up with want, but you can already see the realisation of your transgression settling into the very bones of Art. He’s about to spurn you, disdain no doubt working its way to the surface. So you have to get there first. 

“Poor, sensitive Art, scared by a kiss.” You goad. The words are forced out and they feel malformed on your tongue. “Don’t worry your little head over it, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

Art drops his eyes from you, shaking his hand as he pushes himself off up. 

“Nice try, but I know what you’re doing.”  

He mumbles it and doesn't give you a chance to acknowledge it befores he’s on his feet and walking away. 

Tears prick insistently at the back of your eyes but you force them back, pressing the heels of your thumbs into them until it hurts. 

You sit up, feeling leaves and blades of grass sticking to your exposed skin.

You feel the air shift behind you, and are startled when you peer over your shoulder and find Art standing at your back. He has his shoes back on and is gripping his dry jacket far too tightly. 

You find your voice, but it’s weak: “What am I doing Art?” 

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead he opens up the jacket in his hands and settles it over your shoulders. You sit there, stunned as he tugs it around your body. Then he leans down and over your shoulders, his breath on the side of your face as he deftly buttons the jacket up. 

Art encloses you in the dry garment that carries the scent of him. 

“You’re doing the same thing as me.” He says quietly. It sounds almost painful for him to talk. “Running away. I guess we’re both cowards.”

And then he’s gone, marching back up the bank without another word.

You’re left sitting there, wrapped in his jacket and staring out at the pond. 

Not the night sky. 

Just a pond. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Months Later… )

After your cast had first come off, Wimbledon had felt like an intimidating but still far off thing; a dark shape on the horizon, but one you had to squint to see. But then it moved closer, barreling towards you like a bat out of hell. 

You’ve made great progress in your recovery, you really have…but all your extensive physiotherapy hasn’t been able to heal the nerve-damage you’d turned out to have- at least not in a timespan that’s workable for a professional athlete. 

You’re done. Tennis career over.

And your worst fear has come true: it hadn’t been your choice. Injury has forced you out and the public discourse is rife with commiseration and useless, positive platitudes. 

Art has been proved right. Everything would be so much better had you known when to quit. You had preferred ridicule to this. 

But until you’d come to Wimbledon, it hadn’t really sunk in yet: you hadn’t had the moment of finality. 

What closure has ended up feeling like, is the final nail in your coffin.

As you had watched the first matches of Wimbledon from the stands, Rebecca glancing at you constantly–presumably to check you weren’t about to burst into tears–you had felt as though you were being buried: each serve and volley another hand tossing dirt on top of the coffin, sealing you beneath the ground for good. 

At least one part of your day has been successful. You have completed the challenge you’d set for yourself that morning, which was to not drink any alcohol until the evening.

 It has been excruciating.

Evidence of your victory lays in your trembling hands as you fit your keycard into the door of your hotel room. You’re desperate for what you know sits waiting for you on the other side. 

But then, just as the lock mechanism chirps to let you know you’ve been granted entry, someone calls your name.

Your keycard is left in the door as your fingers fall away from the handle and you turn to face Art. He’s stopped himself a safe distance from you and is gazing at you with what looks like…relief? 

Of course you knew he was at Wimbledon–you’d narrowly avoided crossing paths with him a number of times already today–but to hear his voice and having his probing stare directed solely on you, is as debilitating as you remember. 

You haven’t seen each other, or even spoken, since the night by–or rather in–the pond. 

The only place the two of you are still together in any capacity, is on the Nike billboards that are still occupying space throughout the world.

And as if Art’s thoughts align with your own, he says: 

“You pull an impressive disappearing act.” He steps closer.

“That suggests you went looking for me.” You counter, pleased with how detached you sound. “We both know you didn’t.” 

“No. I didn’t.” Art replies frankly. 

“So I didn’t disappear, did I? You just couldn’t see me.”

Art moves towards you some more, stopping an arms length away. 

“It felt the same.” He utters lowly. “You were gone.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “So were you.” 

Then you press your back into the door, fingers seeking out the handle, shaking now for a reason other than alcohol withdrawal. 

You really don’t know if you’re running away or urging him on, but when you push open the door and duck inside, you do know that you’re not angry when he follows. 

You put your back to the hallway door, expecting Art to move past you and head into the suite, but he doesn’t. At least not right away. Instead, he stops right in front of you, looking down at you as the door swings shut. 

You would barely have to lift your hand and you’d be touching him.

You hate that he looks so good. He’s in simple navy dress pants, a white shirt sitting snugly on his chest, the top few buttons undone. 

The two of you stand like that for a minute or so, and just as you realise that your breaths have practically synchronised, Art is moving away from you and wandering inside. 

It’s only then, as he ventures deeper, that you remember what you’ve been so eager to get back into the room for. You curse yourself, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

Even if he hadn’t already seen them, it would be too late for you to hide the line of alcohol minis that you’d gathered from the bar cart. 

You’d set them out earlier, the process almost meditative. It had been a promise to yourself: get through the day without drinking and you can have all of these once you’re alone.

But now they’re standing out in the open, displayed on the nearby desk like pieces knocked off a board in a game that you’ve been playing against yourself. 

You watch helplessly as Art walks right over to them, his hands in his pockets. Your face flushes with shame.

Art cranes his neck back to look at you. You’re still pressed against the wall, afraid that if you take one step closer, you won’t be able to stop yourself from taking ten more. And you don’t want to be close to him when his face shifts into pity or revilement. 

“You planning on drinking all of these?” Art asks, turning back to the bottles as if he knows his gaze is steadily undoing you and wants to grant a reprieve.

Eased slightly by the remarkable placidity of his tone, you’re able to answer calmly. But you still don’t move. 

“That was the plan.” 

Art lets out a non-committal hum. “Why?” 

You laugh awkwardly, wringing your hands together. “I don’t know, why does anyone drink?” 

“I don’t care about anyone, I'm asking about you.” His voice is firm, but the foundation of it is something less solid. His words shake on the way out. 

You’re overcome with the urge to be honest. It’s actually a lot easier when he’s not looking at you. 

“I drink because at some point in my life, every tiny thing became really difficult- like, embarrassingly difficult, to the point where I feel like a child again. And it turns out that ineptitude is easier to bear when you feel like you’ve imposed it on yourself. I drink because it makes me feel helpless…but, helpless by choice.”

The confession hangs suspended in the air, a horrifying, complicated marvel- like a beautiful butterfly now dead and pinned by its wings to a board. 

Art speaks into the silence, his back still turned to you. “Do you want to forget? Is that part of it?” 

“Forget what?” You’re struggling for breath now, his presence drawing all of the oxygen from the room.

He half-turns his head, blue eyes settling over you once more. “All of it.”

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world for that.” You say morosely.

You have learnt that getting drunk doesn’t rid you of all the thoughts that torment you in sobriety, it just pushes them further to the back. Even if you drink so much you can barely walk, the thoughts remain, banging on the barrier and demanding to be let back in. 

Art doesn’t respond to that. He turns back to the little bottles and you watch as he reaches out a hand and knocks over the one closest to him. He pushes it forward, sending them all toppling one after the other like dominos. His eyes are set on them as they roll around on the table, a couple falling onto the plush carpet. And your eyes are set on him. 

Then, he finally turns to properly face you, knocking the fallen bottles with his feet as he leans back against the table and crosses his arms against his chest. 

He’s waiting, you realise. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for you to make the first move. Wanting you to come to him. 

You push off the wall and start walking towards him. “Why did you follow me in here, Art?”

He sighs, the corner of his lip pulling up with a melancholy smile. “Because you make me feel helpless.” 

That almost stops you in your tracks, but you recover quickly, barely a footstep faltering as you advance on him. Your heartbeat is a warning drum in your ears.

Once you reach him, Art widens his legs, allowing you to step between them.

As you settle your hands on his thighs, his duck beneath your dress and come to rest on the bare flesh of the back of your legs. He draws you closer, making you fingers dig into his trousers to steady yourself. 

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans forward, brushing his lips against your exposed sternum. 

You’re still flushed and sweating from the uncharacteristically blazing English sun and you shudder as Art’s tongue darts out lapping at the moisture there. 

You rock forward, placing your chin on the top of his head, inadvertently pressing his mouth further into your skin. His lapping tongue turns into kisses, kisses that travel down onto the swell of your breasts and into the valley between them.

Even when he reaches the fabric of your dress, he doesnt let it stop him: Art’s lips close around your clothed nipple, wetting the thin fabric with his saliva. You let out a breathy moan into his hair as he moves onto the next one. 

As Art works his mouth against you, you push your hands higher, letting your fingers brush the bulge in his pants before they’re settling on his belt buckle. 

He says your name, each movement of his lips searing into your flesh. 

“Do I make you feel helpless?” He asks, his hands moving up to curl in the sides of your underwear. 

“No, Art. You don’t.”

As you undo his fly, he begins to pull your underwear down.

“Why?” He closes his mouth around your breast and bites down just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

You remove one of your hands from his crotch and use it to grab the back of his neck, you pull him away from your chest, forcing him to look up at you as your other hand disappears into his trousers, palming his hardness.

Even as you step out of your underwear and kick it away, you’re starting to stroke him. His mouth falls open, sucking in a breath as gazes up at you as if you hung the moon.

“How could I feel helpless?” You goad, leaning in and resting your mouth beside his ear to whisper. “When I have so much power over you?” 

Art’s initial answer is to buck up into your hand, chasing the friction you’re moving too slowly to give him, but when you laugh at his desperation, he’s surging up, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you.

In a flash, you’ve taken up his position: ass resting on the edge of the desk. 

Before you can catch your breath, Art has his hands on your knees and is spreading your legs, exposing your bareness to him.

But apparently he still hasn’t got you where he wants, because his fingers then wrap around the back of your legs and he lifts you, placing you further back onto the wooden surface. More bottles roll off the edge and drop into the carpet. 

Then, finally, Art’s eyes meet yours. His smirk makes a return. 

“So…” He begins, his hands gathering up your dress and leaving it to bunch up at your waist. “I have absolutely no effect on you? None at all?”

“No-” You can’t even finish your thought let alone the word before his fingers are running through the wetness between your legs. Your instinct is to shut them, but his hips are in the way, so you only succeed in holding him firmly in place. 

You are left to stare as he lifts his hand up, evidence of your arousal glistening on his fingers. Then, slowly enough that he can watch the realisation of what he’s doing dawn on your face, Art takes his fingers into his own mouth.

His eyes meet yours and do not shift away for even a second as he licks your wetness from his skin. 

The tightness in your belly becomes almost too extreme to bear, and a throbbing begins between your legs. 

“I want you to ask.” Art says, his fingers–now wet with his own saliva–drawing circles on your inner thigh. “I want you to ask me to fuck you.” 

“I thought you were here because I make you feel helpless?” You try to sound taunting, but your voice is ragged with want. “Now you want to be in control?”

Art leans down and you expect an abrupt, bruising joining of your lips, but instead he kisses you slowly, tenderness in every gentle movement. His mouth is is still aligned with yours as he answers: 

“It’s not about control, sweetheart. I just want to hear that you want me as much as I want you.” 

You begin to kiss along his jaw, your sentence formed with words cushioned between the press of your lips:

“I want you to fuck me, Art.” 

Art's fingers curl around your jaw, bringing your lips back to his as he frees himself from his pants with his other hand. Your kiss is languid but rapidly growing with force, passion driving pleasure ever closer to point of pain.

“Condom?” Art questions into your open mouth. 

With his fingers digging into your chin, you can't shake your head so you’re forced to gather enough of your wits to speak again:

“Birth control.” 

“Okay.” Art pecks your lips before lifting a hand and spitting onto it. Then he’s fisting himself in his hand and pressing inside of you. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist, hooking together to pull him in even further. 

Art lets out a shuddered breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he settles himself inside of you.

He kisses and licks across your collarbone, only stopping when he comes across the thin strap of your dress. With a little growl, he takes it between his teeth, tugging it back and then letting it ping back into your skin. 

You laugh, still adjusting to the feel of him inside of you as you move to pull down the top of your dress. But Art has other ideas. He stops you with a slow thrust, rolling his hips just enough to have your hands wrapping around his neck instead. 

“Let me do it.” He’s giving a command and yet it sounds like a grovel. 

Then, in unison, his fingers find the straps of your dress and he’s pulling them away, tugging the bodice down and exposing your breasts to him completely. His hands fall onto them immediately, palming the supple flesh and lifting them up higher so that he can kiss them even as he begins to rock into you. 

Just as your heartbeat begins to find some sort of rhythm again, Art pulls out of you almost completely before driving back in. Your breath is knocked out of you and as he begins to thrust with controlled rapidity.

Your hands fall to his still covered ass and dissatisfied with the lack of contact, you push your fingers past the waistband and dig your nails into his naked flesh. 

Art moans into your neck, clamping down with his teeth as he picks up his pace yet again. 

“Art-” You call out, lost in the press of him inside you. 

The table begins to shake so much that it’s slamming against the wall, the noise perfectly aligning with the sound of your hips slapping together.

“Tell me this doesn’t make you feel out of control.” Art pleads, his movements growing frenzied. 

By this point you can hardly think straight, so you give in, his statement going unanswered as your head is thrown back in pleasure. Art chuckles, licking up the column of your neck. 

“I think I got my answer.” 

“Shut up.” 

When Art laughs at you again, you remove your hands from his ass and grip his face instead, drawing his lips back up to yours. He opens wide, panting into your mouth before your tongues start to move together.

You stay like that, mouths joined and breaths shared as his thrusts become messier,  his hands on your back beginning to tremble.

But you’re not close yet and he knows it. He reaches between you and presses his thumb into your sensitive bud, applying enough pressure that, combined with him driving into you, has you quickly coming undone.  

You break the kiss, crying out as your body is wracked with convulsions. 

Art smiles, his eyes drooping closed as he chases his own release. And it doesn’t take long. You’re still coming back to yourself when his hips stutter and his fingers dig into you. He lets go, spilling inside you. 

You both go still. You press your face into his chest–his shirt now dappled with spots of sweat–as he places a kiss on the top of your head. 

You’re both breathing heavily, reeling in the wake of your joining when your phone–tucked into your purse that you had dropped by the door–begins to ring

Still inside you, Art shifts, pressing closer as his lips begin to kiss a path down your cheek. “Don’t answer it.” 

You lean back just enough to meet his eye and smile. “I’m not going to answer it.” 

Art matches your grin as he leans down and gives your lips a peck. “Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers movie #art donaldson smut #mike faist #tashi duncan

[leah-lover]

Two hearts one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader.Angst

Part 1. part 2

“ Why did it take you so long to go out with me?” asked alexia. She sat opposite wearing a dress, heer hair was down, her makeup was minimal but she was absolutely stunning.  Her words were true though. It took her asking you out 4 times for you to agree. 

“ Well I wanted you to be sure that you wanted me. I don't want to cause you any stress especially because this is  a crucial part of the season.” you respond. “ I am happy you agreed to come with me. And yes, I really really want you.” she cheekily responded. 

Both the conversation, food and wine were great. Once you finished she drove you to your house. 

“ This was definitely the best date I have ever had.”  you say to alexia once you get to your door. “ i will be happy if this date continues?” she suggests. 

“ I am not sleeping with you, capitana. We have a game tomorrow, you need sleep. I am willing to kiss you though.” you say before giving her the sweetest most gentle kiss. Her hands on your waist, your on her neck. You last for a while before pulling out. “ go home and rest, capi.” you say before pulling out of her hold and entering your apartment complex. 

The next morning was matchday. You had a strict routine to follow and you did it to the T. However, flashes of the night before kept flooding your mind from time to time. Alexia’s smile, laugh, and lips were all what you were thinking about on your way to the stadium. 

Upon getting there, you also do your usual routine getting ready for a game you were starting, Alexia still on your mind. When you saw her in her game fit you couldn't help but let your jaw drop. She was in fact wearing a very sexy look that you wanted to tear it off her right then and there. When she saw your reaction she couldn't help but smile. 

The game started out really well. You managed to score 2 goals in 10 minutes which earned you an embrace from your captain, and the team was dominating like usual. however , it would all turn at the 60 minutes when alexia falls on the ground. You weren't far away from her when it happened so you ran as soon as you saw her ignoring the play happening. You knelt as soon as you got there and heard her say “ Joder, joder, no joder mi rodilla, no otra vez.” you understood that she was cursing about her knee. 

You then get the hai out of her face and tell her to calm down. “ Dulce bebé, todo estará bien.” you comfort her. 

You didn't hear the whistle blow, still in your bubble with Alexia when Parti urged you up to leave space for the medical team. You were shaking with fear for Alexia but the play resumed. She was the only thing on your mind for the next 10 minutes you were on the field before Jona subbed you out. 

You made an excuse for needing ice from the locker room so that you can go in and see alexia. 

Once you got there, she was laying on the physio bed alone and her knee was bandaged up.  “ ohh my sweet baby” you say to her when you see the tears i n her eyes. You go to her cup her face and kiss her lips and her red cheeks gently. 

“ It's gonna be fine mi amor.” you add but she is still silent. “ Can I stay with you?” you ask. “ Look, Jona is pretty upset about me re-injuring my knee. I don't want him to blame you or anything so it is best to keep our relationship a secret for now.” she says breaking what was left of your heart. You get up and leave immediately not wanting her to see you cry. You try and collect yourself before heading out to the field again. 

You keep your head down, meet the fans and shake the hands of the players. 

When you get to the locker room you change quickly and head to your car without saying goodby to anybody which they would later find weird. 

You cry the whole way to your house “ she is ashamed of me.” you say quietly between sobs. When you get home you go directly to your bed and fall asleep wanting this day to end. 

You wake up at 4 am and check our phone to find a text from alexia “ estrella i am just trying to protect you.” 

“ thank you capi.” you respond and shut your phone again. You didn't realize how much you felt for Alexia until you saw her down on the field,  an image that would haunt you.  

The next morning you got a message from the group chat that said that alexia was injured and needed another surgery. So you text her wishing her good luck and that you were thinking of her but she was radio silent. 

The following days were grim for you. You felt bad waking up and even worse going to training. All you thought about was how Alexia was doing. You were getting regular updates through the group chat but wanted to hold and sooth her knowing how badly she felt. You wanted to kiss  her and be with her but you couldn't since patri was at her house and a few medical staff members too. 

You were bad at training, you didn't sleep well or eat well and your negative state was obvious to the entire team. 

“ chica what’s wrong?” asked aitana one day after training. As soon as she put her hand on your back you broke down and started crying. You didn't realize how touch starved you were and how much you needed to be comforted. 

“ You need to talk to me right now.”  ordered aitana after you came down. 

“ I caused alexia’s injury.” you declare looking at the ground. 

“ We started dating a few weeks ago and we went on a date the day before. I think I distracted her and caused her injury. I just want to be there for her and love her but we are a secret so I can't.” when you verbalized  your feelings you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

“ re-injuries happen when you had an ACL it's not your fault estrella . if you want to go see the captain a can arrange that.” 

You look at her in shock before she says “ go get ready i go do some phone calls. “ 

When you park in front of her apartment, nerves settle in your stomach but you push through, go to her door and open it with the keys patri left under the mat. 

You enter as quietly as possible. When you set your gaze on her form you feel relieved. She was laying on the couch watching tv with her knee propped up on a pillow. 

When you see each other she smiles and you tear up. 

“ oh my god i missed you so much.” she says when you reach her. “ Amor, why are you crying?” she adds. 

“ I missed you.” you respond before meeting her soft lips. “ I was  so worried.” you say before she cuts you off. 

“ I know aitana told me. Amor, you didn't cause anything and I am sorry for pushing you away.” 

“ te amo” she added. “ I love you too” you respond before kissing her again. 

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso request #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas angst

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone {8} || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After a record smashing 2023 season it seems to be about to repeat as 2024 begins. Warnings: 18+ only, violence, reader injury WC: 2.3k One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight

The season had ended on a high with Max rightfully where he belonged. You had accompanied him to the FIA awards and cheered proudly as he accepted the winners trophy before jetting off to the Swiss Alps for a much needed break. Unfortunately work was never far away and all too soon it was time to make your grand entrance at the annual end of year Board of Directors meeting at the Scuderia Ferrari Headquarters.

The memory of the shocked faces when you walked into the meeting room and took the last chair around the table never ceased to make you smile. The brooch pinned to your Chanel suit jacket had recorded the moment of silence before chaos erupted while you reclined back in the chair to watch the men scramble for an answer.

Now it was time for the new season to begin.

Melbourne, Australia

It should have been a safe place. You had walked the perimeter three times just to check for any signs someone would be trying to get into the event. You hadn’t found any. Leaving the security team to their job, you returned to Max and accepted the cocktail he had ordered.

Australia was always a lively place for Red Bull as they gathered a range of their athletes across a dozen extreme sports and created some promo videos for the year. This year was no different with a party to kick off the week long trip down under and it was more than just the Red Bull family in attendance.

“What’s wrong, liefje?”

You shook away the lingering feeling that something was amiss and draped your arms around Max. “Nothing, baby, I’m just a little on edge.”

“I thought things were going well with the Board?”

You scanned the room for the current Ferrari drivers, and the future one, spotting them all in separate areas and deep in conversation. “They are, I haven’t been able to find anything planned yet but it doesn’t mean they won’t try something.”

“Relax,” he soothed as he kissed his way across your collar and up to your lips. “You can have the night off worrying. I want my girlfriend not my bodyguard.”

“Maybe if you stop winning all the time I will be able to relax,” you teased. “You’re just too damn fast, baby.”

Max’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he dipped his head to your ear. “I went slow last night, didn’t I? I think I got in trouble for that too the way you begged me to go faster.”

The witty retort you had to torture him with was lost as two men stumbled over their feet and knocked into Max. Unsure of their intentions you shoved them back and stepped in front of him protectively but all they could sum up were a few drunken expletives at your lack of hospitality. It was only going to get worse when you signalled for security to escort them off of the premises.

“It’s fine, liefje, I’m safe, we’re safe,” Max soothed as he rubbed your tense shoulders. “Have another drink with me.”

You turned to the bar and reached over the counter for two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. “I don’t know how many more 1-2 finishes I can survive,” you admitted as you tapped his glass and downed your shot. You could feel the desperation growing with each Ferrari board meeting but it was the meetings that were happening in the shadows that concerned you more. The only reprieve was that Mercedes had started the season off poorly so it was one less team for them to worry about competing with. “I think we should hire more personal security for you and maybe Checo too now.”

“Do you know what I think? I think you worry too much.” Max laughed at the roll of your eyes in response.

“One of us has to be the responsible one.”

Max took your shot glass and the bottle of vodka, placing them on the bar top before taking your hand and giving it a small tug.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m being the responsible one and taking you back to the hotel,” he said with a grin. “A bottle of wine in the jacuzzi with you is much safer.”

There were plenty of drivers parked outside the venue for when guests wanted to leave and the valet waved one forward. Plastic barriers kept fans back, photographers snapped shots for the newspapers and police lined the entrance for anyone that grew too bold. You scanned both sides of the tiled floor for anything out of place and shifted as you saw a flash catch the glint of metal.

When the gunshot rang out, your first thought was of Max. He had only been a few feet behind you, but with the crowd that had gathered in the hopes to get an autograph you had lost sight of him. Had he been hit? Had he ducked along with everyone else? You dared a glance over your shoulder and found he had been quickly covered by the policemen while the man you had spotted tried to make his escape. 

Max’s leather jacket billowed at your sides as you sprinted after the shooter and you heard his voice over the screams of panic, he was calling you back, but there was no way you were letting the man get away. You made it two blocks before he dove into the back seat of a black sedan and fired off a few wild shots as it shot away from the curb.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket you dialled Max’s head of security and it picked up on the first ring. “1NF 2DU, Toyota Caldina,” you panted as you leaned against a building and watched the car disappear around the corner. “Male, early 30’s, brown hair, and fucking short. 9mm Beretta Nano.”

“Got it,” Harry noted before the phone was jostled. “Schatje, where are you? Are you alright?”

You looked down at the tear in his jacket and pulled it aside to see blood soaking your blouse beneath. You closed your eyes as the burning spread to your lungs and your panting grew more laboured. “I’m fine, baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, they won’t let me leave,” he growled the last part at Harry who was holding him back from chasing after you.

“Good…that’s good…you’re good,” you sighed in relief and slid down the brick wall. “I love you, Max.”

You heard what could only be described as a roar of pain before the line died and you were left looking at the background image on your phone. You had never been happier than that moment of waking up in Max’s arms on a lazy Sunday before the season began, your head on his bare chest and Achilles curled up on your feet with Jimmy and Sassy. The daily stresses of life hadn’t begun to claw itself to the forefront of your mind and nothing existed outside of those four walls.

 As a teenager you lived life a day at a time, not caring if it was the last one because you had never had something to look forward to. Now, the longer you stared at that photo, determination grew stronger than the pain in your chest and you cut your palms on the brick as you pulled yourself to your feet. 

“Liefje! Y/N!” Max’s voice carried above the sound of sirens and you tried to call back to him but only a hacking cough sawed through your lungs and your vision dimmed. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

Your steps faltered as you followed his voice and when your legs collapsed beneath you his strong arms were there to catch you.

Max thought about just going to the car but there was a young boy holding out a cap and he couldn’t leave the little guy disappointed. He looked up to tell you he would just be a moment when he saw you shift suddenly, then the gunshot rang out. Everything moved so quickly as bodies surrounded him and the crowds screamed in the chaos, and he lost sight of you making chase down the street. 

“Max, stay down, we’ll get you out of here,” Harry stated calmly as he pulled Max away from the policemen. 

“I’m not going anywhere without Y/N.”

“These are her orders, shh,” Harry growled as he saw your contact calling and answered in an instant, listening intently. “Got it.”

Max snatched the phone from Harry before he could hang up. “Schatje, where are you? Are you alright?”

The pause was long enough for him to hear his heartbeat in his ears and when you finally answered your voice didn’t sound quite right, “I’m fine, baby, are you okay?”

Max looked at Harry who was using his muscle mass to build a wall between him and the street you had run down. “I’m fine, they won’t let me leave.”

“Good…that’s good…you’re good.” Your voice was growing quieter as he grew more agitated. “I love you, Max.”

Max looked at the floor where he had last seen you and noticed the darkened spot of blood stains that led away from him. Strength he had never known flooded through him and not even Harry’s arms that were as thick as Max’s thighs could hold him back. His trousers threatened to rip from the long strides and the quick pace of Max’s sprint and he screamed for you, praying for an answer as he followed the blood drops down the street.

Max knew there were people following him as he ran to the silhouette he innately knew was you. “Where’s the fucking ambulance?”

“On its way.”

The street lights illuminated the pain etched in your face when you tried to walk to him but your legs collapsed. “I’ve got you, liefje, I’ve got you,” Max promised as he felt his hands grow slick with the blood leaking out of your side. “I’m not letting you go.”

Max could count on his hand the number of times he had felt true fear. He remembered the way his mother cried when she had him down to tell him she was leaving and how she wished she could take him too. He could remember the sound Achilles made when the neighbours dog escaped their property and chased him. He would always remember the look in your eyes before they closed.

For three days Max sat at your side, only moving from the room when you were wheeled away for scans and tests. Christian stopped by each night for an update that hadn’t changed and flowers arrived from the Board but Max dumped them straight in the bin, but other than that the room was empty and quiet. 

Max knew he wasn’t liked by a lot of people but he never really believed that his life had become a target. You loved that he was still naive to the dark side of the sport and you happily became the shield that protected him from the innocence that had long been stolen from yourself. It was why you put yourself into the trajectory of the bullet meant for him. 

Max could still see the footage that Harry had found from the lobby cameras. He had nearly thrown the laptop across the room where he waited for you to come out of surgery. That minute shift, the smallest of movements, had saved him - but at what cost?

“I found a little house,” Max said quietly as he held your hand. “It has an orchard and plenty of space for our babies, and no city around for miles. It needs some things fixed up before we could live there, but it sounds like a good place to retire.” He closed his eyes and lay back in the uncomfortable chair, your hand still resting in his so he could feel for any sign of life.

“I didn’t die just for you to retire now,” you rasped, your throat dry and voice hoarse.

Max was on his feet in an instant, capturing your face delicately as he kissed you with a sound that was some cross between a sigh of relief and a joyous laugh. “You didn’t die, liefje, I couldn’t have survived that.”

“I’m pretty sure I met the devil,” you groaned as you tried to sit up, “he spoke Italian.”

“That’s just Benedetto,” Max said with a flat laugh, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you moving while the other pressed the call button. “You need to keep still.”

You weren’t impressed by the intrusion of the doctors and nurses who came flooding in and after answering dozens of pointless questions, because yes you were in pain after being shot, they finally left again. 

“They’re just doing their job,” Max murmured as he found space on the bed to sidle in with you. He carefully shifted you so that he could lay his arm out before tucking you in to rest your head on his shoulder. “Let them prod and poke you until they are satisfied you are completely healthy again.”

“I just want to go home-hey! Why aren’t you at the track?”

“Did you seriously think I would leave you?” Max shook his head at the idea and kissed your forehead. “You risked your life to save mine, I know exactly where I want to be.”

The stitched in your side stretched as you craned your head back so he could reach your lips. You had thought there would never be another kiss so you were going to savour the feeling that came with it. “I love you, Max.”

“Ik hou van jou.”

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #max verstappen x you #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

[sapphicnae]

Love, Hate and Everything in Between

Summary: Regina hated you and you hated Regina. Each of you so obsessed with taking down the other. But was this obsession pure hatred or something more?

Character Pairings: Regina x fem!reader, Regina x Cady (if you squint)

Warnings: Slurs, Bullying, Toxic Behaviour, Internalised Homophobia

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This is my first fic / one-shot on here so I hope you guys enjoy. I’ve been reading some fics on here and decided we don’t have enough Regina fics going round, so I thought, what better than a classic enemies to lovers (?). Apologies for any mistakes I did write half of this at 4am. If you do enjoy, please let me know because I wouldn’t mind turning this into a full blown fic, I have plenty more ideas for it. Also, I’m very open to requests!

You and Regina. Two of the most popular girls in school.

Regina hated you, and you hated Regina.

 It had been this way since you had joined North Shore a year ago and gained popularity, despite Regina’s attempts to take you down at every turn. But one thing you and your best friend, Janis Imi’ike couldn’t figure out was why Regina was so obsessed with you. To the point you would catch her staring at you from across the cafeteria almost daily, albeit with an icy glare plastered on her face. You had both had your fair share of run-ins with each other, after all, Regina couldn’t stand to see the new girl rise to popularity as fast as you had in your year of being at this school. But the difference between you and Regina was that you actually treated people with respect... and you just happened look pretty while doing it.

Jealousy. That’s all you had chalked her behaviour down to, until recently.

Regina had consistently made it clear that she was in fact, not gay. From her messy relationship with Aaron Samuels to openly flirting with Shane Oman in the halls, she had made it very clear she only had eyes for men. Her performative gestures with Shane in the hallways also coupled with the spreading of rumours about certain people being a lesbian. From the way Regina had spoken this word, it had made it seem as if this was the worst possible thing to be known as at North Shore. No one in school had ever had the guts to stand up to Regina for her problematic behaviour, especially since she ruled the halls with fear. Yet her reign seemed to be interrupted the moment you transferred to North Shore. You were the only person who wasn’t afraid to defend yourself, or others for that matter.

Naturally, Regina could not stand this. Which lead to you having a constant target on your back for rumours and blatant lies in order for you to lose your popularity as well as your dignity. You thought it was incredibly excessive of her to make out that being a lesbian was a bad thing. Partly because your best friend and partner-in-crime, Janis was a lesbian and partly because deep down, you knew you had an attraction to girls too. Yet the only people who knew this was Janis and Damien, of course, your two closest friends.

You had not yet been in a relationship since joining North Shore that year, not due to avoidance, but due to all your time being taken up by your rivalry with Regina. Which was totally normal… right?

The most recent rumour that was circling the halls, of course spread by Regina, was that at a party that you had both been to last Friday night, you had made a pass at Regina. Hearing this from Damien in English class that day was the last thing you had needed after enjoying a supposedly drama free day for once. Anyone who was at the party that night would’ve known that wasn’t true, yet Regina had a certain charm to the way she could make anything seem believable. You of course weren’t surprised at her attempts to drag your reputation down for the umpteenth time this year. She loved making out that you were the one who was obsessed with her and not the other way round. It irked you to think that she could get away with having the last laugh. You would have just let it slide, but your ego once again stood in the way of your ability to allow Regina to think she had won.

So that’s when lunch rolled around. You, Janis, and Damien were sitting at your usual table, with the plastics in view. Having to watch them gossiping with each other and occasionally glancing your way had left you with a deep-seated feeling of rage. You had never been one to often keep your emotions in check, this seemed to be your downfall in situations like these. Feeling anger like this was always the driver of your revenge. Coupled with the fact that thoughts of Regina didn’t often leave your mind. Which was obviously due to the fact that you resented her so much. You hated everything about her. Sure, she was gorgeous, with those stupid green eyes that always harboured some form of winged eyeliner, along with the rest of her makeup that accentuated her already flawless features. That stupid beautiful blonde hair that always seemed to sit in the perfect place, flowing down her back like she was some sort of supermodel. Those perfect lips tha-

“Dude, are you even listening to me right now?” Janis questioned, lightly punching your arm, ripping you away from your thoughts. A small blush crept up your neck, realising you had been so deep in thoughts about Regina that you had completely zoned out of the conversation you were supposed to be having.

You faltered for a moment before attempting to save yourself with a reply “Y-yeah of course. I was just-“

“Clearly planning her revenge against queen of the plastics, god Janis, keep up” Damien chimes in, attempting to save the day. Janis just rolls her eyes at both of you. She had been dealing with Regina and her posse for years, which meant she had more or less tuned their drama out in an attempt to stay sane at this school. With you however, it was a different story, Regina somehow always found the perfect way to rile you up.

“The day queen bitch of North Shore gives it a rest with these dumbass rumours, will be the day I know peace” Janis huffed, which made both you and Damien chuckle in response. “Especially with her obsession over who’s a lesbian and who’s not. If you ask me, she should just come out of the closet already.” She then nods to you “I mean, the closet might as well be glass with the way she stares you down at any given moment. Coming from a fellow girl kisser, she wants you baaad.” She laughed at her own words. Receiving an eye roll from you this time.

“That girl needs to be called out on her shit.” You glance over at Regina who is sporting a smug smile listening in to her friends gossiping. You couldn’t stand the fact that she had gotten under your skin once again. With the rumour fresh in your mind, you couldn’t help yourself from wanting to act. Deep down you loved the drama between the both of you, it gave you some sort of high, being able to pull Regina off her own narcissistic pedestal. It was like some sort of addiction; you couldn’t get enough of it “in fact… what better time than right now?” You uttered, as you shot up from your seat. Before either Janis or Damien could sway you out of it, you were already making your way over to the table across the cafeteria.

As you approached, you could see Regina’s eyes flicker towards you, a wry smirk growing on her face. On seeing Regina’s attention shift, the rest of the plastics turned to face your way, which didn’t deter you in the slightest. Having a rivalry with Regina for this long, you were used to all eyes being plastered on you while confronting her. Plus, nothing about Regina’s minions scared you. All they ever seemed to do was blindly follow her around like lost puppies. The only person who you had never understood as being part of the group was Cady Heron. You had sat with her in a couple of your classes, and with the way she spoke, it seemed she so desperately wanted to be her own person instead of being grouped in with the meanest girls in school. This lead to you gaining a small amount of respect for her. A few times you had considered asking her why she still sticks with Regina after seeing the way she treats her, but you knew that would be a whole other mess. Besides, there was a high chance that she’d go running straight to Regina about it. It seemed as though Cady was on the tightest leash out of anyone in the plastics… probably because Regina knew she could be pulled away from her with the right amount of convincing.

Right before you reached the table you noticed Regina stiffen her posture, followed by a groan, “here comes queen lesbo of North Shore”, which was followed by a few snickers from Gretchen and Karen. Funnily enough, Cady remained silent. “What’s up? Couldn’t get enough of me Friday ni-“

You interrupt her by slamming your hands on the table, which not only grabbed the attention of the plastics, but those who were on the surrounding tables too. You lock eyes with Regina as you spoke in a low tone, attempting to control your anger towards her.

“Real cute hearing that you’re telling people I came onto you, when anyone who was there knows we barely even made eye contact.” Regina raised an eyebrow at you, smirk still in place. She then spoke condescendingly, before you could continue.

“Oh honey, of course you don’t remember, you were sooo drunk and all over me, everyone saw it, right Gretch?” She then shot her a dangerous look to which Gretchen instantly nodded in response. This amused you slightly, knowing she was laying it on thick. She was trying so desperately hard with this angle that you decided to use her tactics against her for once. You let out a laugh of false amusement before continuing.

“Oh please Regina, you’re trying so hard to convince everyone it’s true, almost as if… you wish it was? I mean it wouldn’t be surprising. I’ve seen the way you stare at me in the hallways, you make it a bit obvious don’t you think?” By this point, the smile on Regina’s face had completely dropped, morphing into a poisonous glare. As she opened her mouth to cut you off, you kept speaking, raising your tone to catch the attention of others. “-so obvious in fact, that I don’t even need to say it out loud, people are whispering about it already. So next time you wanna spread rumours like that, try taking a look in the mirror first.” People around you gasp, hearing you speak to Regina in the same way she would leaves even the queen bee herself in slight shock before she manages to compose herself. You hadn’t even considered the weight of the words you had spoken until they had left your mouth. You had basically just accused her of having a huge crush on you and judging by the state it left her in, it didn’t seem like that was far from the truth.

“So, you are gay?” Karen pipes up first, mouth slightly agape as she speaks. Regina shoots a glare at her, making her immediately look in the opposite direction.

It was your turn to smirk seeing her cheeks turn scarlet as she gritted her teeth. She was clearly outraged, the look on her face said so. Yet, hidden behind her eyes, there seemed to be an ounce of shame present. Having a moment to study this look almost made you feel… regret? Though in the next beat, she rose up from where she was sitting and took a few steps towards where you’re stood, towering over you slightly. She had rarely ever made a move to get this close to you before, and standing where she is right now, you could practically smell her expensive perfume. You fought the urge to take a step back, as your breath hitched slightly. For a moment she hesitates, her eyes flicker to your lips for just a split second, but not fast enough that you don’t catch her doing it. If this wasn’t happening in front of the whole school crowd, you would be sure that she was about to lean in and kiss you. You felt yourself taking a heavy breath to steady yourself before she snaps at you.

“Listen, dyke. If you ever catch me staring at you it’s because I think you’re a freak. And if you think for one second, I would ever be into you, then you’re even more delusional than I thought. So why don’t you and the rest of your sad little band of freaks over there, go and-“

She is almost immediately cut off by a teacher who walks over to the group, clearly having been alerted of the altercation going off in the middle of the cafeteria. Regina immediately takes a step back from you and fixes her hair, attempting to seem as innocent as possible.

“Girls, what seems to be the problem?” Ms. Norbury questions, looking between the two of you. With the rest of the plastics keeping silent, it was up to one of you to speak up first. Regina then plasters a fake polite look on her face and turns to Ms. Norbury to speak. Right as you expected her to defame you all the way to your seat in detention, she instead gives a different response.

“There’s no problem, everything’s fine.” Regina smiles at her as you see the rest of her crew nodding behind her, which brings you to scoff at the sudden change up in her demeanour. Having dealt with Regina many times before, it was clear that Ms. Norbury saw right through this attempt to get her to leave you both to it. Which lead to what she had to say next.

“Look girls, I know the two of you have had issues in the past. But I won’t tolerate drama like this during school hours.” She then steps between the both of you. “Now separate this and I’ll see you in my office after school. Both of you.” She then turns on her heel and walks away.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you huff out in disbelief. After this, you decide it’s best to walk away from Regina and return to your table before your day could get any worse. But not before she hastily grips your forearm and subtly whispers some hostile words close to your ear.

“We are so not done, freak” she then roughly drops your arm before coasting back to her seat. Though her threatening remark left you stunned for a moment, her closeness left you breathless for longer. As you made your way back to Janis and Damien, you couldn't get the thought of her out of your head. After all the tension and pent-up anger between you, you secretly hoped she might be right. Because as you stared at her from across the cafeteria, your heart thumped in your chest, not out of fear, but something else. You were definitely not done with each other. Not by a long shot.

#regina george #regina x reader #regina george x reader #mean girls 2024 #cady heron #janis imi'ike #mean girls #regina george x fem!reader #fanfic #mean girls musical #renee rapp #angst

[lolawritesfanfics]

The After Party

Gif by: hils79

Genre: Idol!AU, 9th member!AU, angst, smut, fluff

Pairing: Mingi x female reader, reader x OC

Word count: I honestly don't know.🤷‍♀️

Content warnings/themes: Week 2 Coachella Mingi (yes, that is a warning.), reader is the 9th and only female member of ATEEZ, reader, her female friends and most of ATEEZ are in their early 20s, jealousy, hidden mutual feelings, confessions, someone almost gets beat up by ATEEZ(minus Mingi), slut shaming(from toxic "fans" and some guy), implied female masturbation, oral(f receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex(Do NOT do this in real life!😡), multiple positions, spanking, Mingi is a nasty pervert, mention of panties, nipple play, pet names(baby, bunny), let me know if I missed or misspelled anything.

Y/n's POV

"What the fuck was that?!"

Oh boy.......how did I end up in this situation?

I guess I have to start from the beginning.

We finished our Week 2 Coachella performance(which was absolutely fucking amazing.), so I decided to throw a large after party with my ATEEZ members and my female friends to celebrate.

Before we went to the after party, one of my female friends, Denise, got me to wear a really gorgeous black floral lace corset dress, where the lace showed around my abdominal area, the dress really hugged and accentuated my curves which I appreciate.

"Hey Y/n, are you ever gonna get with Mingi or what?" Denise asked. "No, I can't, Denise. Mingi is my bandmate, if that was to ever happen and the fans and public found out about us, it would ruin our careers forever. Not to mention the amount of endless hate I'll receive, hell would have to freeze over before people would stop calling me a whore and a slut for existing." I replied.

Ever since I debuted with ATEEZ as the 9th and only female member, I have always been a target of hate, especially from toxic female "fans" who would comment awful things about me such as:

"She's nothing but a cheap slut with no talent."

"I bet she slept with all the other members in order to debut."

"She only got to debut because of her looks and sex appeal."

"The whore of ATEEZ."

Another one of my female friends, Mia, facepalms and shakes her head and says "Y/n, you care way too much about people think of you, those "fans" who post those hateful comments about you are just jealous of the fact that you're in the same group as the members, especially Mingi."

"Exactly, you know you want Mingi, Y/n. I mean, you talk to us about how you want to be dicked down by Mingi all the time, so why are you not allowing yourself to be with him? Besides, you can be in a secret relationship with Mingi, the fans and the public doesn't have to know." Denise complains as Mia nods in agreement.

In their defense, I do want Mingi, so badly my body aches for his touch. I cannot count the amount of times I fantasised about Mingi, I even touched myself and made myself cum to the (im)pure thought of all the unholy, depraved things I would let Mingi do to me so many times that I'm embarassed to say it out loud.

And being in a secret relationship with Mingi would be such a good id- No, no, no and no, I cannot and will not ruin my members' reputation just because I want Mingi to myself. We made it too far to just let it all crumble down because of my feelings.

As I shake off the thoughts of being with Mingi, Iet down my hair and put on stlying mousse to make it more defined, then I do a smoky eye with mascara, an wine red ombré lip, lightly spray on my Black Opium perfume, put on my black stilleto heels on and call it a night.

"Y/n, you ready? Everybody's waiting for you!!!" Denise called as Mia did a come-here gesture for me to hurry. "Yes, I'm on my way!!!" I replied as I walked out my hotel room to the after party with Denise and Mia.

"HEY Y/N!!!" The rest of my female friends, Tatiana and Simone, greeted as they pull me, Denise and Mia in for a group hug.

"Why hello ladies." Wooyoung greeted. "Hey, Wooyoung." We greeted back. "You all look gorgoeous tonight."

"Thank you, Wooyoung." We all said as we giggled due to him complimenting us.

"Wooyoung, such a shameless flatterer, is he." Simone says as she shakes her head in pure fondness.

"He sure is, anyways what the hell are we waiting for, let's celebrate for Christ's sake!!!" Tatiana cheers as we all go to party.

"Hey Wooyoung, call the rest, the party is about to start!!!" I called him.

"Will do, Y/n. Yeosang! Seonghwa! Jongho! The party's about to start!"

90s and early 2000s pop, hip hop and r&b music booms throughout nearly the entire hotel as me, my friends and bandmates Wooyoung, Yeosang, Seonghwa and Jongho dance to our hearts' content in celebration of our week 2 Coachella performance. Then an hour later, Tatiana introduces me and the girls to this guy in our age range called Jason. "It's so good to finally meet you ladies, Tati told me so much about y'all, especially you, Y/n." Jason says as he gives me a lustful smirk which doesn't sit well with my friends and I, but me and Tatiana try to ignore it.

As the song Genie in the Bottle by Christina Aguilera comes to an end, Simone taps me on the shoulder and says "Y/n, if you need us for anything, we'll be at the door over there." while pointing at the door in the middle of the venue room where the party is taking place which is not too far from me.

"Ok. Thank you guys." I nod. Simone, Mia and Denise go on their way as she warns me "Be careful with that Jason guy, ok?" I nod, she smiles and follows Denise and Mia.

As the party goes on, I dance with Jason when he asks me "So how is it like with your bandmates, Y/n?" with that damn smirk. Then I reply "Oh, my bandmates are really great people to be around, especially Mingi. Throughout all the years I was with them, they always made me feel welcome, safe as if I've known them all my life." with a smile on my face at the thought of them. "Oh, is that so?" Jason tilts his head to the right with his infamous smirk and a jealous glint in his eyes, which obviously weirded me out but then again I try to ignore that.

As more early 2000s songs such as Promiscuous and Maneater by Nelly Furtado, The Way I Are by Timbaland and Gimme More by Britney Spears played throughout the party, Jason and I continue to dance together with our bodies increasingly pressing against each other, which doesn't go unnoticed not only by my female friends but with my bandmates Wooyoung, Yeosang, Seonghwa and Jongho as they looked at each other in suspicion and confusion at me and Jason. Dancing so closely against him doesn't feel right to me, however I try to ignore it in order to help myself move on from Mingi but it doesn't work.

Then Jason tucks my side bangs behind my ear to whisper softly "Can we take this to the pool?" I nod as he grabs my hand to lead me to the changing room where I changed into my glittery gold bikini while Jason changed into his swimming shorts. He then takes from the changing room to the outdoor pool with gorgeous pink and purple lights. We step into the pool, Jason grabs my waist and pulls me closer to him. "You've been really enjoying yourself, haven't you Y/n." once again with that smirk. I look down and nod with a forced smile as what Jason said isn't the truth at all in the slightest(not that he knows this, of course). Throughout the whole time I danced with him, all I could think about was Mingi and how I wished he was the one I was dancing with instead of Jason.

His notorious smirk soons fades away into a serious look on his face as he holds up my chin with his thumb and index finger to get me to look at him, he states " Y/N, I met a lot women in my lifetime and I must say, you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid my eyes on." "Really?!" I squeaked out with a stunned look on my face. Jason curtly nodded as he come even closer to me than ever before. He holds up my chin again as he turns to kiss me. My hearts starts to beat rapidly against my chest, I force myself to close my eyes as Jason leans in to kiss me.

Until I heard someone clear their throat.

My eyes shoots wide open as I turn my head to the right. To my greatest shock and horror, my heart hammers against my chest and my face goes pale as I see Mingi, face to face, with the most furious look in his face I have ever seen in all the years I've known him, with jealousy and lust in his eyes, along with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, Jongho and all my female friends looking at me and Jason, shocked beyond belief.

"Y/n, what's the meaning of all this?!! Who is this guy?!! Hongjoong exclaims, pointing at Jason, who is confused and irritated at this whole situation happening here.

" I...I..." I stutter, not knowing what to do or say.

"And why are you alone in the pool with him?" Yunho questions, with a puzzled look.

San turns to Wooyoung and exclaims "How the hell did this happen?!" while pointing at me and Jason, who is becoming increasingly annoyed.

"Oh, I'll tell you. Tatiana introduced this Jason guy to Y/N and the rest of her friends!!!" Wooyoung exclaims as he points at Jason, then at Tatiana.

"Huh?!" Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Yunho exclaimed, raising their eyebrows.

"That's his name? Tch, Jason." San scoffs which really pissed off Jason as he darts his head and glares at San.

Tatiana immediately raises her hands in defense and raised her voice. "Hey, hey, hey!!! I only invited Jason to the after party and introduced him to Y/N, Mia, Simone and Denise. I didn't expect him to try kiss Y/n!"

Jason becomes more and more angry as he fumed "What the fuck is this bullshit, Tatiana?!!" glaring at her in which she becomes visibly upset at his accusatory remark.

"Hey, don't you dare frown at her, Jason." Mia warns Jason as she wags her index finger at him with a stern glare. She turns to me and questions "Also, Y/n, why the hell did you go in the pool with him in the first place?!" "Exactly." Denise added, rubbing her temples in annoyance, as Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho and Simone nodded in agreement.

I look around, speechless as I still don't know how to go on about this situation I found myself in.

"Y/n, I think it's best we call this party off." Seonghwa states as Hongjoong curtly nodded in agreement.

"No." Mingi says for the first time since this messy incident took place, taking everyone, including me, aback.

"You can continue with this party, I'll take Y/n with me to my hotel room so she can explain herself to me about whatever this is." Mingi says as he take off his jacket.

"Y/n." Mingi calls out my name.

"Y-yes, Mingi?" I answered with a shaky voice.

"Get out of the pool, put on my jacket and follow me to my room." Mingi says flat out.

Jason snaps when he hears this, he gets out of the pool, goes up to Mingi to bark at him " Fuck off, you asshole!!! Find your own girl, I had Y/n first!"

Mingi scoffs and sneered at Jason "You think I give a fuck about you want?"

Mingi turns to me and says "Y/n, you have two choices now, me or him?"

Everyone, especially Mia and Denise, look at me in hopes I'll pick Mingi over Jason.

I wanted Mingi to myself for such a long time so, I no longer see the point in fighting my feelings anymore.

I take in a deep breath and reply,

"You, Mingi." as I get up out of the pool and go towards him.

Jason looks at me in an unimpressed, condescending stare and has the audacity to open his decaying mouth to say to me "I actually expected a lot better from you, Y/n. But of course, what is there to expect from such a cheap slut."

"Wow." I say as I look at Jason with the utmost unimpressed expression ever.

Everyone else screamed out "WHAT?!" in absolute fury at Jason's hateful comment towards me due to me rejecting him for Mingi.

"You lowlife bastard!!!" San roars as he charges towards Jason, along with the rest of the members.

Jason, now terrified, tries to run away but ends up slipping on the concrete floor towards the end of the outdoor pool porch.

"Mingi, take Y/N to your hotel room while we deal with this bitch made loser!!!" Hongjoong shouted.

"Will do, Captain! Y/N, put on my jacket and come with me." Mingi says as I put on his jacket. He grabs my hand and leads me to his hotel room.

Author's POV

"Oh, I'll make you regret saying that about Y/n." Yunho growls as he rolls his sleeves up.

"Me too!!!" Wooyoung roars as he clenched his fists.

"And the rest of us, you son of a bitch. Get him, boys!! Seonghwa yells, all of them ready to lunge at Jason.

Jason screams "NOOOOO!!!"

However Tatiana rushes to stop them. "WAIT!!!" she yells.

"What is it now, Tatiana?!! Wooyoung growls at her with gritted teeth.

"I have a better idea on how we should deal with Jason." She says.

"And what is the idea do you have in mind, Tatiana?" Jongho questions. "Yeah, how are we sure that your idea is better, Tatiana? Yeosang added.

"Mia! Denise!" Tatiana calls with a come-here motion.

"Yes, Tatiana?" Denise replied, with a confused look on her face, along with Mia.

"Y/n talks to the both of y'all about Mingi, right?" Tatiana questioned.

'Well duh, she goes on and on about him all the time, including all the nasty shit she would allow Mingi to do to her" Mia confirmed, which made all the other ATEEZ members raise their eyebrows in shock and curiosity.

Jason becomes confused as he can't hear what everyone else is saying as they're talking in hushed tones.

"She does?!" Yeosang and Simone whisper yells in shock.

"Yep, a lot of it involves hair pulling, manhandling and multiple positions." Denise confirmed.

"Well damn, this is news to me." Yunho chuckled.

"I never knew Y/n is so naughty." San smirked. "Anyway, Tatiana, what the hell has this information got to do with your idea?" Wooyoung asked.

"In Mingi's hotel room, he and Y/n could end up having sex, so why don't we force Jason to hear them fuck?" Tatiana whispers in Wooyoung's ear.

Wooyoung gleefully smirks at Tatiana's delightfully lewd idea. " You know what, Tatiana? You're a genius" he LOVED her idea.

"So what did she say?" Hongjoong curiously asked as everyone were all ears.

"She said we should get that loser to listen to Y/N and Mingi fucking." Wooyoung confirmed with a mischievious smirk on his face.

Everyone else, even including Jongho and Simone, giggled at the dirty idea. "I'll give you credit, Tatiana, your idea is indeed better than we initially had in mind." Hongjoong stated and winked at Tatiana, which made her flustered as a result.

"Jongho! San! Carry that dork up to the area facing Mingi's hotel room door. Wooyoung! Yeosang! Get a stable chair, really good duct tape and follow Jongho and San. Seonghwa! Yunho! You both look after the ladies in the party, ok?"

"Ay, ay, Captain!" Seonghwa and Yunho replied in unison.

"Hey! Who are you calling a dork, asshole?!" Jason yelled at Hongjoong.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot." Jongho spits out as he carried the pathetic man along with San.

Y/n's POV

Mingi and I finally make it to his hotel room, he closes and locks his door as I take off his jacket and put on the hanger next to the door on the left side.

Mingi looks at me and exclaims "What the fuck was that?!".

'What was what?" I asked as I dart my eyes left and right with a puzzled look on my face.

"Don't play dumb with me, Y/n. You, in the pool with that Jason guy, that fucker trying to kiss you and you allowing him?! What the hell was that?!" Mingi seethed with jealousy, lust and desire in his feline eyes, which makes me throb with need in between my thighs.

"Mingi, I can explain!" I plead with him.

"Oh, you better explain yourself, Y/n and start explaining right goddamn now." Mingi ordered. "And I don't want to hear about what led up to whatever that was, I wanna hear WHY you were in the pool with that asshole in the first place." He added.

I take in a deep breath, clear my throat and decide to tell him the truth about everything.

"Mingi, the reason why I was in the pool with Jason is because I was trying to move on from you."

Mingi looks at me, confused and asks "What do you mean by "trying to move on from me"?"

I sigh and confirm his question "Mingi, I wanted you for a long time, I chose not to tell you because I was worried if we were together and the fans and the public found out about us, it would ruin everything we worked so hard for, not to mention how people would always attack me for ruining ATEEZ's reputation, especially yours. I felt I would be selfish and inconsiderate if I told you my feelings, Mingi."

Mingi walks closer to me and says "Y/N, look at me in my eyes." I look at him in his eyes as he lifts up my chin with his index finger.

"What if I told you...I want you to be selfish, Y/n?" Mingi purred in my ear with that deep, raspy voice of his that always makes me soaking wet.

"W-what d-do you mean?" I stutter, already trembling, feeling breathless from how seductively Mingi whispered in my ear.

"You said you want me, right Y/N?" I nod with no hesitation as his statement is true in every sense of the word. "If wanting me to fuck you senseless makes you selfish, then be selfish with me, Y/n. Because quite frankly, I don't give a fuck about what the fans or the public thinks of us, baby."

Mingi then crashes his lips against mine with a needy, desperate kiss as he pins me against the hotel door with my legs wrapped around his waist, leaving my wine red lipstick smudged, sending me into a state of bliss and ecstasy.

I knew Mingi would be a good kisser but goddamn.....he took my breath away.

As he wantonly kisses my jaw, he purrs in my ear "I'm gonna do all the nasty shit you've wanted me to do to you, all the things you said amongst your friends."

"W-what?!" I squeaked out as my eyes pop wide open, completely caught off guard by his dirty remark.

He chuckles with a lewd smirk "Oh baby, don't act so innocent with me. Did you really think I don't know how you talk about me with your friends? The amount of times you touched yourself in your dorm when you thought no one else was around?"

My cheeks burned, flustered at his confirmation.

"There's no need to be shy, Y/n. I think it's hot." Mingi coos as he cups my cheeks with his left hand.

He then kisses my neck, sucking, gently biting and leaving hickies on it, making me moan and whine as a result.

As he goes down to my chest, he takes off my bikini bra, showcasing my erect nipples.

"Goddamn, you have such gorgeous tits, Y/N." He then sucks and nibbles my left nipple. "Mingi!! Please.." I gasped. My body starts to heat up, I try to suppress my moans and whimpers by pressing my lips together as Mingi sucks on both of my nipples.

He leaves a trail of kisses from my chest to in between my inner thighs, where my arousal drips down to my legs. "I want to eat your pussy so bad." Mingi breathed out.

"Mingi!!" I cried out as he ripped my bikini panties off. "Don't worry, bunny. I'll buy you another set." I clenched around nothing at the pet name, Mingi takes notice of this. "Oh, you like that, huh?" He smirks. He then takes a view of my dripping, aching cunt, face to face. "My God, you're dripping, you have such a pretty pussy. I bet you taste so good."

He put my legs on his shoulders and latches on my throbbing clit with his wet lips, making me throw my head back against the door and nearly scream as a result.

I clutch my mouth shut, biting into my left hand, to keep my voice down as he sucks and licks my clit like a starved man, desperate moans and whimpers threatening to erupt from within me.

All of a sudden, Mingi takes his mouth away from my clit, leaving me all taken aback, confused and frustrated. "Mingi, wh-wh-why did you stop?"

"You fucking tease me by showing off on stage, touch yourself to the thought of me when no one's at the dorm, talk about all these things you want me to do to you to your friends and you hide those moans from me? Very rude of you, don't you think?"

The fucking audacity of this menace. I'm literally wet and horny all the damn time because his goddamn antics on stage, him grabbing his cock every 5 seconds, his deep, raspy ass voice that goes straight to my clit and so many other things I go on and on about, is this man for real?!

Before I even get the chance to go off at Mingi, he goes down to hungrily suck my clit, making me throw my head back against the door again and scream out loud in pleasure.

"Mingi! Please...please, pl-ease."

"Please what, Y/n?" He growls.

"Please keep going." I shakily moan.

"Then don't you dare hide those moans from me, otherwise neither of us will cum."

I quickly nodded, desperate to have my sweet release.

Mingi then continues his attack on my clit with his mouth.

My moans and whimpers start to fill up the room, I stroke his platnium blonde locks as he flicks my clit with his tongue, he moans into my throbbing bud. "My God, your pussy is so delicious, so much better than licking off your red panties."

No wonder I couldn't find my red panties anywhere in my dorm.

Perhaps, I should have been disgusted from Mingi saying this but it just made me even more needy and desperate for him.

Because of this, I drew closer and closer to my much needed orgasm, my moans becoming more high pitched and breathless.

"Mingi....baby, I'm so close, please don't stop"

"I won't stop, bunny. I promise" He breathes out as his sucks and flicks on my clit becomes much quicker and desperate.

Then I feel that oh so familiar knot in my stomach. "Oooh! Mingi, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, please keep going."

My breathing become more uneven and labored, my bangs stick to my forehead in sweat as that the knot in my stomach becomes tight, so close to snapping.

"Mingi! I'm cumming, I'm cumming, ooh!"

"Cum for me, baby" Mingi says as he gives one last harsh suck on my clit, looking into my eyes with the most lustful, ravenous gaze which pushes me over the edge.

"Mingi!! MINGI!!! Mingi-i-i-i...."

I breathlessly moan out his name as I come down from my high, he greedily licks my aching cunt clean of my cum, moaning as he tastes it.

"Goddamn, baby, you taste absolutely divine, even better than I've imagined."

He gets his head out of between my thighs, my cheeks burn as I see his face covered worh my juices. I use my fingers to get all my nectar off of his face, he hungrily sucks my fingers as I put inside his mouth, groaning as he relishes in my taste.

Immediately after, he crashes his lips against mine with a hungry, needy kiss, I let him inside my mouth and have reign over my tounge as he puts my legs around his waist and carries me to the bed.

He lays me down on the bed, rolls me around so my butt is facing him. He grabs and kbeads my ass slowly so he can have a feel of it, soon enough, I yelp in suprise and pleasure as he slaps each cheek of my ass, sending shivers down my spine. "You have such an amazing ass, Y/n. Are you ready for my cock, baby?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm ready, I need you inside of me." I enthusiastically nod as I plead for Mingi. "Get on all fours, baby, don't put your head on the mattress, bunny." He orders as I obediently comply to him.

He takes off his belt, takes his huge cock out of his pants, making my eyes pop wide open in shock and worry that it might hurt or not fit. "M-Mingi, w-would it fit?" I ask him, worried and scared. "Don't worry, bunny, I'll make it fit. I won't hurt you, I promise." Mingi reassures me, rubbing my right shoulder. He then spreads my lower cheeks apart, rubs his tip, dripping of pre-cum on my dripping entrance. "Oh my God, you're soaking wet." He moans out. Slowly and carefully, he pushes himself into me, tears prickle in my eyes at the almost painful stretch. I roll my eyes a bit and let a choked moan when he's fully inside of me. Mingi gives me time to adjust to his monster cock.

"Are you ready for me, bunny?" Mingi groans. I nod, looking at him with pleading eyes. Not even a second after that, he slams his cock into me, making me cry out as a result.

Soon enough, Mingi's thrusts becomes more hard hitting, rapid and desperate, he moans into my ear, sending chills down my spine, making me even more wet than ever now.

I yelp and whine as I feel his bulge in my stomach and how Mingi's throbbing, hard dick feels inside of me. "Baby, you feel how hard I am for you? That's how you make me feel, you have no idea what you do to me. I wanted to...nnnnggh...to fuck you like this...ssss...for a very long time...aaah." Mingi desperately moans into my ear.

That alone drove me dangerously close to my second orgasm of tonight. Our moans and whines fills up the room to the brim as Mingi's thrusts becomes sloppy and hurried. "Oooh baby, please...sss...I'm so close, I need you to cum with me...sssss...I need to cum inside you, please." Mingi begs me, so needy to have his long awaited release inside me.

Immediately, the familiar knot came very quickly tightening rapidly, ready to snap. "Oh Mingi!! I'm cumming, I'm cumming, cum with me..ooh..now."

Mingi and I yell and whimper each other's names as we cum together, feeling his hot seed inside of me while soaking him with my cream.

I scream without any hesitation, tears of pleasure fall out my eyes, leaving my mascara running as Mingi pounds straight into me, not allowing me to recover from my precious orgasm.

"Mingi! Mingi, please, please, please."

He continues his relentless pace on me, both of us wildly moaning, too lost in the entangling pleasure to care if anyone can hear us.

"Y/n, you're gonna make me cum again, I can't s-stop, I c-can't control it." Mingi needily whines.

Soon enough, when that knot in our stomachs snapped, we came again together as I collaspe with my face on the mattress.

'MINGI!!! Baby-y-y...."

"Y/N!!! Y/n...ssss...baby"

Mingi rolls me around as we recover from our highs so I can look at him, face to face.

"I'm not done with you, bunny" He reminds me as he puts my legs on his shoulders. He look at me directly with small hints of lingering jealousy, lust, passion, desire and even love(?) when he states this "I'm going to give you what no other man can give to you, ever"

Suddenly, he once again slams himself into me, making me scream out loud again as I arch my back from his immediate thrust.

Our moans and whimpers freely flow across the room as Mingi beats up my slutty cunt once again with hard hitting, rapid thrusts.

"Y/n..ssss..tell me. Can that Jason bastard fuck you better than I can, huh? Mingi grunts.

"Nnn..no, he can't." I weakly moan.

"I can't hear you." Mingi growls out as he even further sped his thrusts.

"NO, NO, NO!! He can't, he can't, he can't!" I scream and sob out of pleasure as Mingi went even faster than ever before.

"Damn fucking right, he can't. You can't get enough of me nor my dick, look at how your pussy sucks me in, baby." He grunts, pointing his chin at my pussy. I lift myself up a bit to take a look, my cheeks burned profusely at the lewd, obscene view of Mingi's cock disappearing into my cunt.

"You wanna cum for me, baby?" He moans out. I rapidly nodded. "Then look at me in my eyes while I'm splitting you open, ok bunny" I nodded once again and laid back down on the mattress.

Mingi continues his merciless pace, loudly moaning as we both look into each other's eyes. The knot in my stomach start to develop for the umpteenth time tonight.

Mingi's moans soon turn into whines and whimpers as he's close to having his release. My head is full of him fucking me into the next century when he moans out "Y/n, w-would you-fuuuuck-be mine?"

I get a bit out of my daze when he says this "Y-Yours, as in?" I whine, not completely sure of his question.

"Y/n, would you..haah..be my girlfriend?" He breathed out. This completely snaps me out of ny daze. "Yes, yes, yes!! I would be your girlfriend." I cry out of pleasure and pure happiness.

Mingi brightly smiles at me accepting his confession. "Baby, I need you to cum with me, I'm gonna cum." He whimpers.

Our whimpers becomes more desperate and high pitched as the knots in our stomach are about to snap once again.

"Oh fuck, baby, I'm cumming, cum with me at the same time." Mingi cries out.

"MINGI!!"

"Y/N!!"

We both scream and sob each other's names as we came down from our most intense orgasm ever with our foreheads touching each other.

We take a while to recover before we get up. Mingi slowly stands up to get a towel and a water bottle, he cleans me up with the towel and gives me the water bottle to drink off of. "Thank you, Mingi." I rasp as my voice is worn out from all the screaming from earlier.

"Anything for my beloved girlfriend." Mingi coos as he pecks my lips. "Goddamn, it feels so good saying that." He breathes out in pure bliss.

Suddenly we hear a strangled, muffled cry from outside Mingi's hotel room. "The fuck is that?" He questions with a puzzled look on his face as he gets up from the bed.

Mingi, can you help me up, please? I can't feel my legs anymore." I call for him, reaching my arms out in his direction. "Alright, bunny, I'll help you up." He chuckles in fondness. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as I walk beside him towards the door.

He opens the door and tell me why do I see Jason, tied down to a chair with duct tape around his arms, legs and mouth, with his swimming shorts on?!

Jason rocks side to side on the chair, muffled cried come out of him with a traumatised look on his face.

"What the fuck is Jason doing here" I exclaim, all bewildered by what's in front of me.

I hear giggles on right side of the corridor, me and Mingi go outside of his room to see Wooyoung and Tatiana snickering with their hands over their mouths.

"Which one of you came up with this?" I ask them, pointing at the mortfied man tied on the chair.

"Her idea." Wooyoung replies, pointing at Tatiana, leaving Mingi and I pleasantly suprised. "I thought it would be a good idea to go back at him for calling you a slut when you rejected him, Y/n" Tatiana smirks, shrugging her shoulders. "It certainly was, thank you, Tatiana." Mingi replies.

He then turns to Jason, still feeling humiliated after what happened (as he should be.) and fiercely glares at him. "You better know your fucking place, you asshole." He growls, still furious at Jason's verbal attack towards me from hours earlier. Terrified out of his mind, he rapidly nodded his head, shaking in his chair.

"Let's get going, baby" Mingi says as we walk down to the after party.

"See, I told y'all Mingi and Y/n would end up having sex, I mean, look at her makeup!" Tatiana giggles, pointing my face.

"Oh man, Tati's not lying, Y/n's lipstick is all smudged." San chuckles.

"And her mascara is all over her cheeks." Wooyoung snickers.

"She really looks like she's been fucked." Yeosang grins as the rest laugh while examining my face.

"Hey! Cut my girlfriend some slack, will ya?" Mingi replies in my defense, making everyone else stop dead in their heels and snap their heads in his direction, completely taken aback by what he said.

"Girlfriend?!" The Ateez members yells out in pure shock.

"Mingi, repeat what you just said." Denise says as she and the rest of the girls come closer to us.

"Y/n is my girlfriend, we're a couple." Mingi confirms.

Oh Hallelujah! The Lord has answered my prayers!" Denise shouts in pure delight as she raises her hands in the air.

"Well motherfucking finally! Took y'all long enough." Mia added.

"I'm so happy for the both of you." Simone beamed at the great news.

"LET'S CELEBRATE!" Tatiana cheers as she calls the Dj to turn up the music.

I smile ear to ear in pure, unadulterated joy, Mingi looks into my eyes with genuine love, he holds my chin to pull me into a loving, passionate kiss as the music plays in the background.

At this point, I don't care if I'm called the most deplorable of names anymore due to being the only female member or Mingi's significant other because I have him, the members, the rest of my friends and that's all that matters.

Happy (belated) birthday to @almightyddeonghwa and @callmeghostly!!!

Taglist: @jeon-ify, @ja3honey, @shinestarhwaa, @bunnliix , @itsnotmydejavu , @yourfatherlucifer , @holybibly , @beenbaanbuun , @

#mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi x y/n #mingi x you #mingi hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #mingi fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez ff #ateez hard thots #mingi hard thots #ateez scenarios #lola writes #newworldnet

[ih34rt-alphatxuri]

Hi! Can I request a Carlos Sainz x Reader?

The reader is a fashion blogger and one day got asked to do a photoshoot for Mercedes with Lewis Hamilton, it turned out great because even the fans are starting to ship them online and all over social medias. Carlos gets adorably jealous of seeing her in other team’s color and the fans reaction didn’t help either.

Thanks!

It's not nothing

table of contents/pairing: carlos sainz x reader

summary: check request !!

warnings: some cursing, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content but no actual smut.

message from A☆: Has this been sitting in my drafts for weeks ? Yes. Did I fully scrap the original fic ? Yes. But here it is !! I felt this kind of trope was especially fitting after Carlos' win in Australia, so I tied that in. ALSO, WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK. Again, sorry for taking so long to get this request done, but I hope you enjoy...

It was just her job. That's what Carlos kept telling himself as he looked at the pictures. Y/N, one of his closest friends and a very popular fashion girly, had done a photo shoot with Lewis Hamilton, his replacement. Now sure, Carlos hadn't left Ferrari just yet, hell the season had barely even started, but it was just a sad coincidence. The longer he stared at the photos the more jealous he became, he felt stupid for it. But she looked gorgeous in silver and green, even though she'd look better in red, and the way they had Lewis pose with his hands around her waist made him want to claw his eyes out. And to make matters worse, fans all over the internet kept making little comments about the idea of her and Lewis being together. He needed to keep reminding himself, they were just friends. Just friends. But friends didn't think of each other the way Carlos thought of Y/N. Friends didn't crave each other the way Carlos craved Y/N. But it was whatever, it was nothing, he had remind himself.

It. Was. Nothing.

---

Ok, so maybe it's not nothing. He was trying to celebrate his win in Australia, enjoy himself with his team and his friends, but he couldn't keep his eyes off her. Mercedes had invited Y/N to the Grand Prix, so she'd been in the paddock the whole weekend. It was easy to distract himself from her when he was wrapped up in his work, but now watching her from afar as she swayed her hips on the dance floor, it was too much. Her dress sparkled beneath the lights, her hair swished around in tandem with her body, she looked perfect. It was eating him alive, he needed to do something. He needed her.

"Carlos!" She screamed excitedly over the music, looking up at him with an almost drunken gaze. It wouldn't be shocking if she was drunk, they were out partying, and as much as Carlos didn't want to admit it he was a little tipsy too.

"Hey..." He said as he took her waist in his hands. She didn't stop dancing, letting him press her body into hers as they swayed to the music, what's the worst that could happen? They were best friends. Friends dance together. It was nothing. But then dancing turned into teasing touches, and then kisses, and then running off together to Carlos' room. So yeah, it definitely wasn't going to be nothing the next day.

---

He was the first to wake up of the two. The sight of her tangled in his bedsheets and arms made his heart want to sink. What if he'd ruined it with a drunken mistake? He grounded himself with a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't freak out once she awoke.

About 20 minutes later, Y/N began to wake up. She looked around confused for a moment, until her eyes met a very familiar pair of brown ones. Oh shit, she thought to herself, I've fucked everything up. She went to try and speak or stand up, but she felt Carlos' hand on hers, stopping her.

"Look Y/N, I know this is..."

"Carlos, I'm so sorry, I'll leave ri-"

"Cariño, relájate (darling, relax)...look, I don't know if i can keep lying to myself and you. I like you, a lot. And it just seems so stupid to me because you're on of my best friends in the whole world, friends shouldn't want each other the way I want you. It felt like it just blew up in my face after you did that photoshoot for Mercedes with Lewis, and all the stuff that's been happening. It just made me feel so...like I needed to have you all to myself. But at the same time I don't want to ruin what we have, so if you don't feel the same just forget this ever happened..." He kept going on his rant, and she just stared at him a little bewildered yet flattered.

"Carlos...who said I don't like you like that?" She giggled, taking his hand in hers once again. He looked into her eyes with a wide-eyed and relieved look, smiling brightly as he took her face into his hands and gently kissed her. He pulled back seconds later.

"I'm going to fast, aren't I?" He said with a bashful look to him.

"I mean...we're already here, so might as well" She smiled up at him with the warmest smile and the most loving eyes. If anyone happened to see the pair they'd think they were soulmates, which they very possibly were. And so in that moment, Carlos thought to himself, maybe it's not nothing anymore.

#f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz imagine #f1 #carlos sainz

[sepherinaspoppies]

The One That Got Away

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: After she escapes Aemond Targaryen, back home to the modern world her family decides to throw her an eventful baby shower where she is constantly being reminded of the father of her unborn child.

warnings: mentions of dark! book Aemond, mentions of forced marriage, and future spoilers to my main story.

wc: 4,864

main story masterlist

my masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a small drabble lol but I got carried away lol. btw maybe this can be read as a stand alone but I do suggest to read the first two parts. this is a spoiler drabble so read if you must or come back to it when the story is finished!

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

As of late, she had begun to feel strange. 

It was not the same ill feeling she felt when she first found out that Aemond Targaryen had knocked her up. No, this was different. Odd. 

The closest she could describe it was multiple sets of eyes watching her every single move. From crossing the street, to walking to the mercado and perhaps even sitting on the toilet as she peed.

It was an unsettling feeling that blossomed into slight paranoia. Alys was the first to have warned her about this after she escaped. Saying she too felt something lingering by days after she fled Aemond and settled into the modern world but it was gone once Alys met her. 

However, that strange feeling was always creeping around, never disappearing. And even though Alys had promised that Aemond would never find her with the many spells and seals she encircled around to protect her, she still didn’t feel quite so easily convinced. 

Late at night, she would pray for that strange yet uncomfortable feeling to be gone and to never come back. But most importantly she prayed to the Gods for the very memory of him to vanish completely from her mind. 

The Gods, nevertheless, didn’t seem to want to grant her daily prayers as cruelly as they were. 

She was near the third trimester in her pregnancy when her primas Gabriela and Mariana decided to throw her a baby shower. While she was in no social or partying mood, considering her six month belly weighed her down every time she walked, she reluctantly gave in to their pleadings. (female cousins)

Mostly because she desperately needed the distraction. 

So she let both Gabriela and Mariana organize the shower. Her only request was to keep the party small, with only her, her abuela, them and the rest of her primas and tias. Seeing as her extended family that resided deeper inside the pueblo, did not know about her pregnancy. And she wanted to keep it that way. (aunts, town)

But did Gabriela and Mariana ever listen? No.

The pair had practically invited half the town over with people she had never met before. It came as a huge surprise after she got done from her shift at Doña Maribel’s shop, just how many people showed up. 

The whole street was filled with baby blue, pink, and white balloons with a huge banner with her name on it. Her neighbors, mostly the women, approached her with congratulations and a small gift. She, of course, thanked them for their kindness. 

Meanwhile her tios happened to be making carne asada in the middle of the street and placing bets on the gender of her baby. If she wasn’t so paranoid about Aemond searching for her, she too would’ve also joined in on their bets. (uncles, roasted meat or barbecue lol)

Her primas were the first to greet her while eagerly showing the decorations they had made, the party games they had planned, and the many gifts she had been gifted. 

“We made these little pins for the gender of the baby, and all of us are wearing what we think the little frijolito is going to be. Now it’s your turn to pick!” Gabriela says holding two pins, each adorned with a baby bottle with either pink or blue. (little bean)

She looked at both very hesitantly, unable to just pick one. She had heard stories from multiple customers that came from the shop, how they just knew the gender of their baby by the feel of their bump or mood symptoms. 

After weeks of trying to feel something or to establish some type of connection for it, she sadly could not get a good feel of what it was. 

Though, the only thing that did matter was for the little frijolito to be happy and healthy. When reading Fire and Blood, she remembered reading how Rhaenyra Targaryen had birthed a daughter with dragon-like birth defects and a scaled tail.

She prayed that she wouldn’t hatch an actual dragon as well. Birth sounded painful and unpleasant enough as it was. 

She pinned both decorative pins to her shirt earning several dissatisfied ‘aw’s’ from her surrounding family. 

“I’m pretty sure it’ll be a boy,” Her abuela added in, sitting adjacent to her on the small couch. “I carried five boys and my belly was as low as yours. When I carried your mama, my belly was higher and rounder from the sides.” 

Some of her tias nodded in agreement. But it was her tia abuela, Dora, who examined her from head to toe, doing what she did best; stirring the pot. “Yes and her belly is very big which means it’ll be a tall baby. Tell me, hija, is the father a tall man?” (great aunt, daughter)

The room went impossibly quiet so much that she could hear a hair pin drop. She saw her abuela shift uncomfortably against the couch as so did the rest of her tias and primas. Although she had not mentioned who or what exactly happened to her family, they all had an inclination of what stemmed between the father of her unborn child and her. 

“Yes. Yes he is.” She answered with a fake smile. 

Dora raised an eyebrow, more than intrigued to know more. “¿Cuánto mide?” (what’s his height?)

In the corner of her eye, she saw her abuela give her sister a harsh look, the same one she’d give her when she was little whenever she did something wrong. 

“I don’t know his exact height, tia. I just know he is a lot taller than me.” She informed, trying not to let her voice waver at the small flashback she had of Aemond, standing in front of her where he’d forced her to marry him against a Weirwood tree at Harrenhal. It was the first time she really took in his massive height. And it was also the first time she felt truly smaller and inferior than him. 

You’re safe. You escaped. He’s gone. He’ll never find us. 

Dora did not let her sister’s harsh stare get to her, and instead fixated her eyes on the way she kept rubbing her heavy bump. “Will we ever get a chance to meet him?-”

“Hermana,” Her abuela warned with a stricter and more stern tone to her voice. (sister)

“Que? I just want to know more about the father so I can figure out if the clothes I bought would be a right fit or not.” Dora shrugs, feigning an innocent look on her face. Though, it was transparent enough to know she was lying. (what?)

Truth to be told, she never really quite liked her tia abuela. No one ever did. Not even her mama or abuela or quite shockingly her own daughter. Dora was known to be a pretentious chismosa, sticking her nose into other people’s business and going as far as to twist people’s words for the sole purpose of her own enjoyment. (gossiper)

Multiple times her family called Dora out for her bad mouthing. But the older woman stuck around like a moth to a flame, awaiting for new chisme to spread. (gossip)

“Well, if the clothes don’t fit we can always buy new ones. So stop being a metida, hermana.” She watched amazed as her tia abuela only huffed, crossing her arms on her chest and for once kept quiet for the remainder of the party. (someone who is other’s business)

To dissipate away the eminent tension, Mariana had brought out custom baby shower tablas of loteria she and Gabriela had ordered from Etsy. She laughed at the ‘La Botella’ being replaced with a biberón and ‘La Sirena’ being replaced with a pair of lactating breasts that tia Diana joked it’ll soon look like hers whenever she’d give birth. (cards of the game loteria. The bottle. Baby bottle. The siren)

As per usual, they played with money involved. She had won seven rounds out of ten against her family and earned around five hundred pesos until her tios decided to join in and tried to defeat her. Keyword, tried. But they never did and pinned four hundred more pesos to her dress. All five of her tios had playfully cursed her out as they kept drinking their Coronas. 

“Alyssandra, bienvenida!” Her abuela welcomed a bashful looking Alys holding a gift. The green eyed woman wore an all black outfit, jeans that Alys had once confessed to her were her favorite stylish invention of the modern world (besides non toxic makeup). (welcome)

“I hope I’m not too late for the celebration,” Alys pointed out, taking a seat in front of her. “You kept my nieta safe those many months ago, you’re always welcomed here at any time, Alyssandra.” (granddaughter)

Safe. 

She let out a humorous laugh. Safe was the opposite of what Alys had done to her. Kidnapped and held hostage was a better fit for words. She had been magically transported to a world she only knew existed in a book, and met one of her favorite book characters, Aemond Targaryen. A man who she thought to be a kindhearted friend by promising to return her back to her universe. 

Instead Aemond Targaryen had betrayed her trust and loyalty by destroying what she needed to get back home. Thus forcing her to marry him. It was then when she realized who he truly was hidden behind empty promises; a man who was crazy and obsessed with her. 

And everything had happened for a stupid sapphire that held a high sentimental value to Alys. 

Alys narrowed her eyes from where she sat but suddenly softened when she saw the permanent bruises on her wrists where Aemond had tied her down for their intense wedding night. 

Multiple times did Alys apologize for sending her to the arms of a delusional man. From what Alys remembered, Aemond didn’t go as far as bounding her whenever they slept together. Alys had let Aemond take his pleasure with a feign smile ultimately to play her game of survival. 

She didn’t quite so easily forgive Alys and she doesn’t think she’d ever will. 

“I still am sorry for what I did.” Alys’ voice softly wandered on her head. 

“I know,” She replied back through her mind. 

As the day turned into night, it was finally time to open gifts. However, not without having cake, her abuela brought out a delicious looking chocoflan. A cake she previously loved but thanks to Aemond, she no longer was fond of it. 

Her abuela cut the biggest slide for her and the little frijolito and called out the rest of the family to come have a slice. In an instant the chocoflan was gone but her abuela secretly whispered to her that she had more in the fridge saved just only for her. 

It took her over an hour to unwrap the stack of gifts she received and she was grateful for the many boxes of diapers as they would come utterly in handy. She’d been gifted a dark green crochet hat with matching mittens from her abuela, a pair of red mal de ojo bracelets for spiritual protection from tia Imelda, a mini thick cobija Mexicana from tio Eduardo, and several gender neutral clothes. (evil eye, mexican blanket)

It was Alys’ gift that made everyone’s head turn in confusion. 

“They are scrolls. I found them as I was cleaning my bookshelf and I thought they might be useful to your babe,” Alys explained as she fully opened one of them, revealing hieroglyphics and scriptures in a language she didn’t understand. 

“What’s… High Valyrian?” Mariana asked ever so curious, over her shoulder. 

Alys interrupted her before she had a chance to speak. “It is a language originating from the land of Old Valyria.” 

Her youngest prima Sofia’s eyes lit up in interest, “Oh cool! Is it like the Sith language from Star Wars?” 

It was Alys’ turn to look at the young Star Wars fan in befuddlement. “What’s Star Wars?”

Sofia scoffed in shock and explained in full detail what the fictional universe that was Star Wars. Well at least she hoped it was fictional. At this point, if Luke Skywalker was real in another universe or in a galaxy far, far away she wouldn’t be astonished. Though, if the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t mind traveling to that world to meet Anakin Skywalker. If the real Anakin Skywalker looked anything like Hayden Christensen, within a heartbeat she’d run to Alys to do one of her spells. 

“Who are the Targaryens?” Gabriela questioned reading one of the scrolls that had a list of Valyrian houses. 

“Nobody.” She sharply replied, starting to feel somewhat vexed. 

“They are the people who descended from Old Valyria and speak High Valyrian. They are the only ones who can read these scrolls-”

One flesh. One heart. One soul. 

“Alys.” 

“They sound magical,” Sofia replied, full of awestruck. Only if she knew that they were more than just that. 

“Why did you say that these scrolls would be useful to the baby? Is the baby part Targaryen or something?” Mariana jokes, making her family more intrigued by the edge of their seats.  

“Can’t have my seed go to waste, my love. You shall swell with my child soon enough. A perfect babe born from our love.” 

Stop. No more. You are safe. He’ll never come. This is your baby more than it is his. 

“You are mine. You’ll never leave me…”

“Hija?” She heard her abuela call out her name as she broke out in a run. 

She wanted to get out, every second that she was there, being reminded of the man who impregnated her made her feel nauseous. Maybe it was because of the frijolito or just pure fear. She didn’t know, but either way it was a feeling she didn’t want to have. 

She did not spare anyone a glance, not wishing for anyone to see the panic and wretchedness. 

“I love you.” 

In an instant, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find and emptied out her stomach until Aemond’s voice stopped circulating in her head. 

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke behind her. 

She turned around seeing a man around her age, tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. His hand extended a red solo cup that he softly murmured was water.  

She nodded, easing the worry on his face. “Yea just a little sick is all.” The worrisome never faltered on his face, if anything he looked more concerned. “There’s some gelatina inside, I could grab you a plate? When my sisters were pregnant all they ate was gelatina to ease the nausea.” (gelatin aka jell-o)

“No it’s fine, I’ll-” He waved her off, sprinting inside before she could even finish. He brought a small plate of gelatina de limon to an empty table, motioning for her to sit. (lime flavored gelatin)

He watched intently as she took a few bites into the gelatina, humming when the color came back to her face. She sure did feel better, small little kicks to her belly confirmed that the frijolito felt the same. 

“Better?” The dark haired man asked. 

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. 

“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Armando,” He bashfully confessed with a tint of pink on his cheeks. 

Of course she most definitely remembered him. The boy next door she had a huge crush on when she was little. Only that he was not so little now. 

“I do remember you. It still feels like just yesterday when we were sitting here on these tables eating the paletas de hielo after school.” She smiled fondly at the memory. Unbeknownst to her Armando would use the money his parents would give him for school lunch, to buy their paletas de hielo just so he could spend more time with her. It was his favorite part of the day. (popsicles)

Armando laughed as he too looked back at the memory. “I would’ve come a lot sooner to catch up. But I had some business to do in Oaxaca and Merida. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me since it's been more than thirteen years but I needed to see you just once more before I left.” 

A part of her felt touched that he had come all this way, and the drive she knew wasn’t easy. “I’m surprised you remembered me,” She quipped back. 

“Who would ever forget you?” 

It was her turn to bright pink. She couldn’t find any right words, but what could anyone say? Armando’s confession had been honest. Since she had left al otro lado, there hadn’t been a day where he wouldn’t stop thinking about her. (to the other side/ the states)

She decided to briefly change the subject instead. “I see that you didn’t change your mind about going to Oaxaca after all these years.” For as long as she could remember, Armando more than often would say that he wanted to live in Oaxaca, especially near the coast. What she also didn’t know was that it was her who he wanted to live there with.  

“No I didn’t. I’m building a house there since my papa left me some terreno there after he passed away. You should come visit after it’s finished, soon.” Armando sincerely hoped she would. (land)

Aquí vas a terminar de enamorarte conmigo. He thought to himself. (here you are going to end up falling in love with me) 

The idea of going to Oaxaca sounded not so bad. But traveling with a big and heavy belly sounded tiring and draining. Perhaps after she’d given birth when the baby was past its infancy. 

“I leave in four days and I’d like to see you again. Or perhaps you wanna come with me?” The dark haired man asked, quirking a brow. 

“So what do you think of Armando?” Her abuela slyly probed, after she’d just given her goodbye to Armando. She should have known her abuela would be closely watching their interaction. “He’s gotten taller,” She jokes with a playful look on her face. Her abuela rolled her eyes, “You know that’s not what I mean.” 

She knows what she means but the talk of men was not something she wished to continue further. If she had met Armando first rather than Aemond, she definitely wouldn’t mind the conversation. But yet, Aemond had been thrown into her path unwelcomed. 

“When you left for the states with your mama, Armando would ask everyday when you were coming back or any news of you. We thought he’d eventually get the hint that you were gone for good but that boy still asked about you. It wasn’t until your abuelo finally broke the news to him that he stopped coming here.” 

She remembered that day when she left, her mama barely gave her time to say her goodbyes. 

“He seems to be doing alright.” She pointed out, picking up dirty plates to place them inside the sink. “Oh, he’s doing better than alright. He got offered a position to work at a law firm in Oaxaca and his mama told me he’s also building a house over there. I heard it’s beautiful and spacious.” At the last sentence her abuela wiggles her brows, teasing. 

She hummed in acknowledgement, knowing where the conversation was going towards. “Good for him.” Although Armando gave her a sense of kindness and genuinity, she was in no way ready to be involved with someone romantically. Aemond, too, seemed kind at first until he had betrayed her trust and went completely haywire and delusional. He had shown her a different side to him once she figured out their well thought out plan to transport her back home, was all a lie to get her to marry him and never leave. 

Aemond and Alys both shattered that illusion of the fairytale love she wished to have.  

What’s not to say Armando had an evil and dark side to him as well? 

“El es un buen hombre con un muy buen corazón, tiene trabajo estable. Te lo digo para que lo pienses,” Her abuela advised, gently squeezing her forearm, “A house like the one he’s building, deserves a family to live in.” (he is a good man with a good heart, he has a stable job. I say this so you can think about it) 

Her abuela’s eyes then trailed to her swollen pregnant belly. “One must make sacrifices that we don’t always want or agree with for our children.” 

The party began to slowly falter close to ten, she never was one for sleeping early but after such a long day she and the frijolito needed much necessary beauty sleep. 

Although her abuela said she’d clean, she ended up doing it herself as cleaning gave her a sense of control and some therapy clear of anxiety. She went ahead and took all the gifts up to her bedroom where it was much more quiet and alone amidst others. 

She plopped herself down on the bed, opening a small bottle of lavender oil to rub to her belly that Doña Maribel suggested was good for calming stretch marks. She did not mind them, she knew it was natural for her body to expand to fit the babe, but what did bother her was the itchiness to it. 

Not only did the oil soothe itch, but the frijolito loved it when she would firmly massage the spot where it rested. She once massaged the side of her belly only to find out the dragonling was ticklish there. 

She nearly screamed when she heard two loud knocks at her door, revealing a certain black haired witch. 

“Mind if I come in?” Alys asked, her head popping inside the little crevice of the door. As much as she wanted to be alone, she muttered a simple yes. Alys made herself comfortable by plopping down to the left of her on the bed. 

“I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier, I was out of line to give you those scrolls in the presence of your family.” Alys admitted, her enchanting face etched with sincerity. 

She sighed, “You were. I have a feeling my family will ask me more questions about it.” 

Alys made a face that suggested she was thinking about something, “I could always make them forget it. Just say the words and I’ll do it.” Alys promised. 

“No, no more magic or anything of what I used to think was fictional. I mean it Alys, I don't want to ever think of Aemond Targaryen.” 

Alys understood what she meant, after her version of Aemond died at the Battle Above the Gods Eye, she too didn’t want to think of him. The only thing that mattered was her son, her beautiful little boy that was taken too soon. She regretted not saving him sooner and transporting him to this new world she found. Alys had a feeling that he’d love it here, this country full of colors and great food. 

Even if Alys could bring him back from the dead, her son’s body resided in the Riverlands. 

“What if…” Alys thought before continuing, “What if I could take the memories away? Just the ones of him and-” 

“Forgetting doesn’t change what happened,” She bickered a little too loudly causing the babe to stir and kick all around. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Alys began to admire the many gifts she’d been given, never in her life had she seen so many boxes that read to be diapers. She had only used scraps of linen she’d find lying around and cleaned it when her son did his business. Disposable diapers sounded less work but the thought of the amount of waste in this world seemed unappealing and would much rather keep the scraps of linen. 

“This isn’t really your thing, is it?” Alys motioned her head to the side where her window was, her family still celebrating outside with the whole neighborhood. 

“Not really. This whole thing was organized by my primas and tios. But now that I look back on it I think this was an excuse for my family to throw a party and drink,” She chuckles, even more when she sees her tios, Mario and Pedro dancing together (most likely drunk) to an uncoordinated cumbia.

Alys also lets out a chuckle of agreement, “Your tio Chema kept giving me Coronas after Coronas. I’m amazed that I’m not drunk.”

She smiles, knowing damn well tio Chema loves to get anyone drunk. He’d even pour an ounce to the dog’s kibble too if he could.

“But you are quite lucky you know,” Alys turns to her with a solemn look in her forest green eyes. “To have a family who loves you so much enough to throw you a grand celebration for the babe that you carry.” All that Alys got in return was being called a whore when she was far enough to show. Of course, Aemond hadn’t been one of those people. He rejoiced when she first told him months after he took her as his bedmate. 

“I didn’t.” Alys shrugged. Even though she despised touch, she placed her hand on top of Alys’ and gave it a squeeze. Alys’ eyes began to incite with tears at the gesture, but she quickly shrugged the feeling off. 

“This isn’t about me, this is about you. I know you said no more Westeros talk but I’ve been meaning to give you this for a while now and I wish not to keep it anymore.” Alys placed a medium sized box on her lap. Whatever was inside had some weight into it. 

“You already gave me a gift, Alys-” She declines but the older witch shakes her head and gestures for her to open it. 

She unwraps the green ribbon and opens the top of the box, revealing some kind of oval shaped rock. The color was a mixture of teal and violet, its edges were rough and scaled to the touch. 

It was not just some rock. It was an egg. 

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Alys.” She murmured anxiously, distancing herself from the object. Alys proudly smiled, “If you assume this is a dragon egg, then yes you’re correct.” 

She immediately places the dragon egg back in the box, afraid of the little thing hatching in a world that it isn’t supposed to be hatched. “You can’t just give me a dragon egg! What if this thing hatches? Dragons aren’t-” She babbled before she was rudely interrupted. 

“Relax, I have enchanted it into a stone. It will not hatch here, I made sure of it.” Alys reassured, placing the egg back onto her hands. 

Still startled, she shook her head. “Nope, I can’t accept this Alys.” She gave the egg back. If anyone were to walk in it’d look like they were playing a game of hot potato. 

“Yes you can and you will. Besides, it’s not like it’s for you; it’s for the babe.” 

She narrowed her eyes, it was still a dragon egg. “How did you even get a dragon’s egg anyways?” 

Alys sighs, sitting back down on the bed taking a trip down memory lane. “My version of Aemond gave it to me. After I told him I was with child he made sure to give me one of Dreamfyre’s eggs. Though, Aemond died shortly after and it did not hatch. My son however, was sad about it but I knew if it hatched Aegon the Younger would send his men to either kill it or to take it for himself since his own dragon died. So I kept the egg for myself.” 

She still had many more questions to ask but for now it would suffice. She walked to the crib that she purchased not too long ago and placed the teal-violet egg next to some dragon plushies she knew the frijolito would like. 

“Thank you Alys,” She told Alys with a smile before releasing a long tired yawn. 

Alys nodded, grabbing her purse, another fashionable invention she loved from this world, deciding to give the young girl some rest. She suddenly came to a stop at her bedroom door.

“You know, you deserve happiness. I believe that young boy with the curls will give you and your babe just that. Give him a chance, take that risk and follow him.” 

With that Alys left. 

Four days later, she knocked at Armando’s door with her belongings in her hands and left with him to Oaxaca. A month later, they both married in a small Catholic church next to their families. True to Alys’ and her abuela’s words, she was happy with Armando. 

Unbeknownst to her, her true husband had been watching through the flames. 

“Oh, my love it seems like you have forgotten who you belong to. Fret not, you will learn soon enough.”

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[rougecreator1]

wassup man. hey i got a requestion. Could you write a Regina Georgee fic where she andd NB!Reader are in a secret relationship but Y/N is dysphoric, and regina reassures them she won't leave them for someone else? Lots of praise, physical touch for comfort (smut only if ur comfy!! xx) + regina wears Y/N's letterman jacket to hard launch at school the next day so everyone knows her ass is owned by Y/N? If you do make it smut, bottom!regina would be great with whimpering and begging Thanksssssssssssssss

You're Beautiful ||

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings: minors don't interact, first time posting smut (just a small amount, isn't the main focus and doesn't go overly detailed; does skip through some of it), body dysphoria and description of how it feels, reader being upset, some swearing, regina comforting reader which means somewhat out of character regina, bottom!regina, top!reader

|| Summary: Reader struggles with body dysphoria, Regina assures the reader they're beautiful which leads to reader showing Regina they're thankful for her... the next day, Regina shows the school who owns her.

Requests open!

Started: May 2nd

Finished: May 10th

~~~

This week has been absolutely awful, mental health wise. Everything else was about the same. Which you were grateful for, you really didn't need any extra stress from school drama or assignments.

You had stayed the night at Regina's place, having decided to have a cozy Thursday night in with your girlfriend instead of attending the usual parties and such. You ordered take out and watched a movie. Regina's always had this certain image about her, but behind closed doors? When it was just the two of you? She could be so uncharacteristically soft. The first time it happened you had to do a double take and stare at her; wondering if that was really your girlfriend or if she had a twin you didn't know about.

Speaking of her being your girlfriend. Nobody knew about the two of you. You were considered an outcast for your gender identity, the only ones in the school that didn't judge you (besides your girlfriend) were Janis and Damien. They were pretty much your best friends because of it. And only friends...

You were currently getting changed in the bathroom; something you usually did, much to Regina's annoyance. She would always tell you you could change in front of her, that she didn't mind and in fact insisted that you did this. It's not like she hasn't seen you like that before anyway. But you always made up some excuse for why you couldn't and then scrambled off to the bathroom before she could stop you.

Today had been no different.

When you finally got out, Regina turned and looked at you. Eyes scanning your body. Instinctively your arms went to your stomach and you took a step back. Trying to avoid her gaze. You hadn't changed into anything different, just your regular set of pyjamas. Despite that you couldn't help feeling self conscious about your body. It wasn't what you wanted. Some days, you managed... others? Others were harder. You wished certain body parts could just be detachable. Well, they were with the right surgery but you didn't have that kind of money and you sure as hell weren't about to ask Regina.

When you backed away from her, she raised an eyebrow and took a couple steps closer until her hands gripped your waist and pulled you in flush against her.

"Where do you think you're going?" She smirked at you, hand trailing up your side. Sending a shiver down your spine as you bit your bottom lip in response.

"I..." You take a breath, gathering your thoughts. Do you tell her about your insecurities? "Not today, Regina. Please." You voice was barely above a whisper, feeling vulnerable in the moment.

She looked almost offended for a brief second but her features softened as she looked into your eyes, trying to get a good read on how you were feeling. She could see your vulnerability and it all clicked in place.

She sighed deeply and grabbed your hand, pulling you over to the bed as she made you sit down before straddling your lap and looking into your eyes. Her hand rested under your chin.

"You are fucking beautiful." Regina whispered, giving your jawline a kiss." So damn handsome."

"Regina- that's not-" You stuttered out, though whatever you were going to say died in your throat as she kissed your jawline. Your hands instinctively went to wrap around her waist to keep her in your lap.

"What? That's not true?" Regina's eyes met yours again and you shook your head. That wasn't what you were going to say.

"That's not what I meant. I can't stand my body, it makes me feel sick just thinking about it. This isn't who I am in my head and it hurts. How can you be with someone like me? Someone who can't even accept their own body?" You admitted out loud how you really felt, it felt good haven't it out but it hurt talking about it. Tears brimmed your eyes.

Regina frowned as she listened to you, she knew being nonbinary was hard for you. She knew you were hurting. She never realized just how much.

"Because I love your body. I love your mind. I love you. Alright? I'm not going to fucking leave you for someone else, you have what I want even if you can't see it for yourself. You're beautiful." Regina replied, her hands trailing along your sides as she speaks; making you shiver under her touches.

"Alright?" She asked again, her lips now brushing against your neck. You tilt your head to the side almost instinctively, allowing for her to have easier access as she kisses your neck. Sucking on the skin until a mark is left behind. Her finger gently touch it, making you shudder as she laughs a little. You were so easy. Every little thing she did had an effect on you.

"Mm..." You tried talking, but it came out as a soft hum instead of the 'okay' you had tried to say. Your mind wasn't fully settled, Regina could tell just looking into your eyes.

"You're beautiful. My handsome partner." Regina whispered into your ear, making you blush. You could tell what she was doing, giving praise to lessen your thoughts. You appreciated her for it.

You nodded slowly, taking in her words and allowing them to sink into your mind. Even if they were hard to accept.

"Better?" She asked, her hand now resting below your neck as her fingers just barely graze against it.

"Better... thank you." You mumbled, letting your eyes close as you melted under her touch.

"That's not a real thank you. Show me just how much you appreciate me." She whispered into your ear again, you blushed a deeper shade of red as you read between the lines of what Regina really meant.

She looked at you expectantly, you rolled your eyes but that didn't hide the smile (or blush) on your cheeks.

Regina smirked when she saw it and laid back in bed, head rested on the pillow as she grabbed you by your arms and pulled you on top of her.

You easily followed, laying your body down on hers as you began giving her neck soft kisses. Her head tilted to the side in response, eyes closed as she melted into the feeling.

Regina wouldn't call herself submissive, she wasn't submitting to you. She was more of a pillow princess, she wanted her body to be worshipped by you. Treated like a Goddess.

Your soft kisses became harder as you sucked on her skin, leaving that oh so familiar mark. Matching the one Regina had given you just moments before. You heard a soft whimper escape Regina's lips, so you kept going. Getting more of that sound from her. You made sure to start slow so you could worship her body the way she had wanted; and show her just how thankful you were. You'd spend the whole night treating her if you could.

"More... please." Regina almost begged, her tone sounding desperate. Part of her wanted you to just skip the worshipping and get right into the hard stuff, the other part of her wanted to be worshipped and praised. She felt torn.

"Hm? What's that, baby?" You smirked against her neck, looking up for a brief moment to lock eyes with hers. God, you loved being able to make her this desperate.

Regina gritted her teeth, trying to keep herself from begging for it but she knew you wouldn't give her what she wanted if she didn't.

"Fuck you." She cursed, you held back a laugh. You knew she was just frustrated with how you were doing this.

"Keep talking like that and I'll just stop all together." You whispered in her ear, sending a shiver through her body." Go on, beg me."

Regina's eyes closed again as she kept her mouth shut, when she felt you start to pull away and get up... she grabbed you and held you in place on top of her.

"Don't stop."

You smirked, knowing you had her exactly where you wanted her. You gave her throat a kiss and continued on with what you had been doing before... only you upped it a notch like Regina had asked for.

~~~

The next morning, you had woken up sore as you took your spare clothes and went to change in the bathroom like you normally did. Regina had felt you getting out of bed and started to stir, sitting up and rubbing one of her eyes.

Her eyes narrow when she sees you heading to the bathroom with your clothes.

"Y/N." Regina spoke up, her tone a mixture of stern and tired with sleep.

You stopped in your tracks, hand on the door frame as you looked back at your girlfriend and tilted your head in confusion.

"Yeah?"

"Get your ass over here." Regina demands, you sigh and listen. Going to her bedside. She grabs you by your waist and suddenly pulls you into her lap, making you gasp at the sudden action.

"Regina-"

She cuts you off with a kiss, making you quickly shut up and melt into her body.

Regina parts the kiss and stares into your eyes, hand gripping your chin to make sure you had your full attention on her.

"You're changing out here. Repeat what I told you yesterday." Her tone was stern, but it didn't come from a place of meanness like it usually does for everyone else. She was always a little softer on you.

"You told me a lot of things yesterday," You gave a teasing response back, you knew what Regina wanted you to say. You wanted to see how much you could get away with.

She rolled her eyes, her grip tightening around your chin just slightly." Don't be a smartass."

"Fine... I'm beautiful." You muttered, she could tell by how you said it you didn't mean it.

"Y/N." Her tone remained the same.

"I'm beautiful." You repeat, Regina kissed your cheek and let go of your chin.

"Damn right you are. Now get dressed. Where's your jacket?" She added, looking around her room for a brief moment to see if she could spot it.

You looked at her in confusion. Your jacket?

"My letterman jacket?" You asked, wondering why the hell Regina would want it.

"Yeah. Where'd you put it?"

"Um... I think it's on the couch downstairs. Why?"

Regina rolled her eyes, getting out of bed. There was a slight shake in her legs which made you smirk, feeling pretty damn proud of yourself because you knew she was still effected by the night before.

"I'm wearing it. Obviously."

"To school?" Your eyes widened a little, that jacket had your last name on it. Was she seriously about to reveal your relationship?

"No, to a funeral. Yes, dumbass." Regina narrowed her eyes, annoyed with the amount of questions you were asking though she couldn't help feeling a little amused when she saw your reaction. She was planning on hard launching your relationship. She wanted people to know she was taken by you. She wanted it to be the talk of the school. She knew exactly what she was doing with this.

And sure enough, everyone at school knew Regina belonged to you and that you belonged to her. When they saw her in your jacket it started so many rumours and for the first time in your entire highschool life... nobody bothered you. They didn't want to risk the wrath of Regina George.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #nonbinary reader #regina george x nonbinary reader

[vroomvroommuppett]

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blakelyvettel

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lilymunhe A MAN TOOK MY WIFE

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blakelyvettel just posted a story!

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zoocbs Meet Chloe Tousignant, played by the amazing Blakely Vettel, who is a French Intelligence Analyst. Watch Zoo this summer on CBS. *due to the nature of the show, viewer discretion advised* 🦁

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blakelyvettel watch the trailer for my new show, "Zoo" above! *due to the nature of the show, viewer discretion advised* 🦁

carmenmmundt BLAKELY JAMES VETTEL YOU KEPT THIS FROM US?!

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blakelyvettel thanks lew lew 🫶🏼

sebastianvettel THATS MY DAUGHTER! GO BLAKELY!

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[jq37]

You know not to keep harping on this but like if Kipperlilly wanted a mystery that's close to home it didn't have to be her parents, ya know? Like her party Wizard's grandma was paling around with Kalvaxus and her party cleric/best friend? is a descendant of a clan that was subjugated by followers of a god the Barbarian teacher is trying to revive, there was so much going on girl. If what she wants is a big exciting adventure then that's a skill issue, frankly. And it wouldn't have even helped her grades

You're right and you should say it.

Like, no idea if Oisin was flaunting that info from the jump but if she was down to hack her parents' emails I can't imagine she's above getting into her party's private business.

I really would like to pick her brain about what is it exactly that she wants because it's not like there was a lack of adventuring opportunities in the general vicinity. There were shenanigans happening in her party as you stated. A dragon crashed the prom that everyone was invited to. The sun went dark for a summer--did she try to do anything about that? This is Spyre. Things are CONSTANTLY happening.

And it's not like her party doesn't have advantages. She's being all, "There's a flaw in the system >:(" while she has Oisin on staff to supply the party with as many revivify diamonds and spell components as they need. I'm sure not every party has that advantage but you don't see her campaigning about that.

The thing about Kipperlilly that's been stuck in my head since we learned it is the fact that SHE came up with the High 5 Heroes name and was upset when it was changed. That's a name that makes me think of cheesy Saturday Morning Cartoons where things follow a certain formula and the good guys are best friends who always get along and all that (think Super Friends). Is that what she was expecting? Is that what she thinks she's being deprived of? Did she resent their name getting changed to the (arguably much more fitting as far as we know) Rat Grinders because she was holding on to the hope that they could still be that tight knit group of adventurers that she always wanted to be a part of? Like, she obviously has a major case of Main Character Syndrome and the fact that her life isn't conforming to that is what's driving some of her actions but I also have to wonder.

Is Kipperlilly more jealous of Riz's dead dad or his friends?

#asks #a-salty-alto #dimension 20 #fantasy high #girl what makes you tick? #what is happening in that brain of yours #this isn't an unfair disadvantage but the bad kids ARE lucky that they just found each other first day and are all compatible/complimentary #there are people who--even if you're totally cordial with them--you're never gonna be tight #and despite how different they are they do all click #I think kipperlilly wishing she had family tragedy like riz is unhinged and deeply unsympathetic #I think kipperlilly being jealous of the party that's actually tight and likes each other is much sympathetic #(though still not a good enough reason for Her Crimes lol)

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 13

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Shitty exes being shitty, anxiety, stress of confusion, attempted sabotage. A bit of dirty flirting in there for good measure. Summary: When you and Marcus stumble upon the perfect place for your engagement party, things get complicated by Sam's plans to rent the very same venue. Notes: I'm sure I missed some errors in the proofreading, but such is life. Please enjoy, my dears! Chapter photo from Monticello's website.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

The idea happened a bit by accident, but a few days after your goddaughter was born, once Sydney and Juan and Constance were comfortably and safely at home, Marcus had convinced you to take the last of your days off and go out to Monticello with him for some fresh air and historical tourism. The numerous tours and lunch at the café on the vast grounds are exactly the break that you need, and you're bent over the map together on the sunny grounds when you tilt your head and look up at him beside you.

"Ya know..." The idea is just a hum in the back of your throat. "I bet they're booked ages in advance to do events here...but it might be worth asking if they have an opening or a cancellation sometime soon."

"What are you thinking of having here?" He's not even arguing against the idea, just trying to get a feel for what you are starting to plan. "I don't think we can build our house here." He teases, having nearly gone cross eyed from going through house plans with you over the last two days.

"No, we're definitely not doing that." You roll your eyes playfully and nudge him. The work on the house is finally underway and now you've moved on to talking about decorating so it feels like square one of an entirely new project instead of just a new phase on a continuing one. "I was thinking it would be a hell of a place for an engagement party if they have an opening before Thanksgiving. But I doubt it."

Marcus contemplates it, looking around with his hands on his hips and hums. "I think it would be good." He agrees before glancing back at you with a smirk. "There's only one way to find out if they have any dates available." He teases. "We've got to ask."

"Gee, what a shocking idea." When you poke him in the side it comes with a giggle and you motion back at the visitor's center behind you. "Let's go see if anyone is in to chat with us about it."

Marcus snickers, wrapping his hand around your waist and tugging you closer while he snatches up the map with his free hand. "Let's go. Touring can wait."

Inside the Visitor's Center, the middle–aged woman sitting at the desk is pleasantly chatting with the last guests of a long line before turning her smile on you and Marcus. "Well hello there dears," she greets, just as pleasantly as a sunshiney summer day. "How can I help you?"

“My fiancée and I were hoping to talk to an events coordinator?” He glances back at you for confirmation at the title and when you nod, he turns and beams at her. “Is there one available, or do we need to make an appointment, Miss….” He glances at her name badge. “Amber?”

“Well certainly there is, but she is just finishing up a meeting at the moment.” Amber glances at her computer screen and back again without the smile ever leaving her face. “They should be done in just a few minutes if you’d like to wait and speak to her afterward?”

Marcus turns back to you, “do you want to wait, sweetheart?” He asks, rubbing your waist gently. Still proud as a peacock at being your fiancé.

“Why not?” There’s still a chance that there are no openings anytime soon, but waiting around for a few minutes to ask won’t hurt anything.

“Wonderful.” Amber picks up the telephone on her desk and pushes a few buttons with that everlasting smile on her face. “I’ll let her know she has someone waiting. May I have your name, sir?”

Marcus smiles as he gives your name and tries not to smirk when it’s obvious she recognizes the surname. “And Marcus Pike.”

“One moment, please.” The conversation that Amber heads into the receiver is hurried and she tries not to be terribly animated but you catch her glancing up at you once during the frazzled conversation and you smile kindly in response.

Marcus leans over and nuzzles your neck. “Hopefully she’s a political support of your mom and not firmly against her.” He teases quietly.

“Fingers crossed,” you laugh back quietly.

Marcus chuckles in your ear, holding you close as you both politely wait for the phone call to be finished.

When Amber sets down the receiver, she offers you and Marcus a warm smile and motions to a set of chairs to your side in the lobby of the Visitor's Center. "Melanie will be right with you. She will only be a few minutes more."

“Thank you.” Marcus thanks her sincerely and guides you to the chairs.

It's about ten minutes later than a tall, pretty blonde in a floral dress appears from around a corner, leading two people back toward the lobby of the building. If you hadn't watched them come into view you would have said it was too ridiculous. Too much of a coincidence. But there they are – Sam and Vanessa side–by–side with a notebook and pen in Vanessa's hands and Sam gesturing authoritatively all the way.

Marcus stiffens slightly, his hand squeezing yours gently and he wonders if he should stand and greet them or pretend that they aren’t known to you or him.

It only takes a split second, but the decision is taken from you almost instantly. Sam spots you from across the lobby and pauses only momentarily before aiming the group of them directly for you instead of toward the exit. “Looks like we’re doing this,” you murmur to Marcus, and stand with his hand still in yours as your exes approach.

“Congressman Chase, Vanessa.” Marcus greets both of them politely, if a little stiffly. Formal. Something that couldn’t be misinterpreted by anyone as rude. “What a surprise to see you both.”

“Well this is a surprise.” Sam doesn’t offer to shake Marcus Pike’s hand or yours, barely looking at you while the well–dresses blonde that had been walking with them senses the tension right away.

“Congressman. Miss D’Amario.” She looks nervous too, by association. Unlike Miss Amber at the desk, she knows exactly who is in front of her. “Let me just get you that last brochure, shall I?”

Marcus doesn’t say anything else, just rubbing the back of your hand gently and watching as the blonde guides them back towards the desk. “Well, I’m not sure why they are here.” He murmurs quietly.

“Who knows?” You huff quietly, holding onto him for stability. “Maybe the same reason we are.”

“No, no.” Sam’s voice is distinct in the echoing building. “We want to have the event at the house.” He is insisting loudly. “Not on an overlooking lawn.”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but as I explained to you, we have four locations across the grounds for private events.” With the patience of a saint, Melanie explains yet again. “Each location has multiple rooms available for hosting. However, the historical house is not one of them.”

“That’s is not good enough.” Sam tried charming her, but now it’s time to be serious. “Don’t you know what this is for?”

“Yes Congressman, you’ve been very clear about that.” Her painted on smile is placid and professional, even if her nerves are fraying slightly. “But with respect, even if the president wanted to have a campaign event here, the house would still not be an option.”

“There has to be a way to make this happen.” He glances over at you and Marcus, frowning slightly at why you are here. Another symbol of why he is having to fight so hard to make things happen. You’ve screwed him over.

“It is not an option we have available.” The woman’s eyes track his, glancing over at you in the lobby. She knows the ticking time bomb she has in her hands. She had been following the new first family in the news since the election. “And I assure you that our answer for anyone else will be the same.”

The shift of her eyes irritates him. Signifying that he’s not the most important person in the room. Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head. “I would hate for this to descend into a legal battle.” He speaks as if it’s not a threat but then he shifts topics. “What days are available?”

“If you are looking to hold an event next month, our lawn here is entirely booked aside from the night of Saturday the fourteenth. We had a cancellation that night. Otherwise we have smaller spaces available on several days but your maximum capacity for the event would be sixty people.”

"That will not be enough for our needs." Sam insists. "We would need the entire venue."

"We will be happy to accommodate the number of guests you quoted on the lawn on Saturday the fourteenth." The otherwise very pleasant looking blonde smothers a sigh of frustration and hands a brochure over to Vanessa, who accepts it with a snap of her hand and clips to the folder she is carrying. "Beyond that, our next available date to accommodate that many guests would be in January."

"Fine." He's not happy and he will be having a word with the proper people to get the answers he wants. "We will let you know, but pencil us in."

"The date will be held for twenty–four hours. At which time I will be happy to accept your deposit or establish an alternative plan with you for another space on the property, otherwise the availability will be released to other clients." When she smiles this time there is a measure of relief in it. "If there is anything else I can do for you, or anything other questions I can answer for you, please feel free to contact me. My office hours and direct line are listed on the card that I gave to your assistant."

Vanessa straightens slightly, tall and proud beside Sam. Her eyes flicker over to the pair of you to see if you are watching. Curious to know why you are here and desperate to not appear that way.

“Fine.” Sam bristles, disliking being told ‘no’ and placing the blame squarely on one single set of shoulders. No one had told him no while he was publicly dating the First Daughter. His effort to organize re–election events shouldn’t be nearly this hard, but here he is. Having to take meetings himself instead of making a simple phone call or just sending Vanessa on his behalf. But without knowing for certain why you and that FBI lackey of yours are here, he wants to see if he can at least eavesdrop on the beginning of your meeting before he leaves.

When Melanie shakes hands with Sam and Vanessa again, turning to walk towards you and Marcus, the two of you stand. “Thank you for taking the time to see us.” He starts, offering the slightly frazzled woman a sincere smile. “Hopefully our questions won’t be too arduous.”

“I’m sure they won’t be.” She wants to say that nothing would be as arduous as the meeting she just took, but that would be less than professional. She shakes your hand in turn and motions toward the direction she had come from with the congressman. “Why don’t we go to my office?”

Marcus does the polite thing and nods to Sam and Vanessa, a little surprised when the woman who had ended things with him amicably turns her head to snub him. He doesn’t say anything, just guides you to office, following behind Melanie at a few paces.

“Here we are.” Down a hall and up a few stairs, she stops and opens the door of an office to let you and Marcus inside. “My name is Melanie O’Neil and I’m the special event coordinator here at Monticello. I understand you’re interesting in planning an event with us?”

“Sweetheart?” Marcus looks towards you to take the lead, smiling softly.

"We were hoping you might have availability in the beginning of October, though I know that is short notice," you explain, but you did hear her rattle off some dates to Sam in the lobby. "We're interested in having our engagement party here."

“Engagement?” Her eyes widen happily as she takes in the sight of a happy couple in love. “Delightful.” She shuffles through the book and nods. “We have Saturday the fourteenth, I’m afraid that it is the only date available.” She tilts her head. “Someone else has expressed interest, but they have not paid to reserve it.” She would not feel bad about direct Sam Chase somewhere else.

"That would be fine with us, but I insist on waiting the appropriate twenty–four hours to give the other interested party their fair chance." You won't have Sam whining to some blogger about how you stole his venue space. That just won't fly. "Can you tell us a little about how you organize the space or if you have caterers on site?"

“It is the lawn area.” Motioning to the large detailed map of the event areas, she indicates a gorgeous area close to the water. “We can set up the space to accommodate practically any needs. A dance floor, a bar, string lighting.” She explains. “Tents are approved but they have to be provided by Monticello, to make sure that we don’t have someone coming in and destroying the grounds. Catering can be provided or you can invite someone in to cater for you.”

“That all sounds very reasonable.” The pricing is also reasonable for the location and what is being offered, and Melanie shows you and Marcus a brochure of price packages. “So we could select to have you provide the bar, tents, tables, chairs, lighting, and a dance floor…and we can bring in our own catering?”

“Absolutely.” She agrees with a nod and smile. “We pride ourselves on making sure that our clients have the best possible time.”

“And…” Glancing over at Marcus and then at the door where Agent Bailey is currently standing as nonchalantly as possible while keeping her eyes open. “You won’t have a problem with having the Secret Service on property?”

“Oh no.” If she’s shocked by the question, she doesn’t show it. “We will follow the lead of your security at all times. I do have to warn you that there are other events that day, but we keep the spaces separate.”

“That’s wonderful.” It’s hard to believe that anyone would have a problem doing business with this woman, but then…some people are quite picky. And you know Sam is one of them. “Honey, did you have any questions or ideas?” You ask, wanting to make sure Marcus is in on this planning.

Marcus considers the space and looks towards you. “Live band?” He asks. “Can there be speakers placed?”

“Certainly.” Melanie smiles at that and scribbles an additional note in the pad in front of her. “We have a bandstand ready to be put up when needed. As long as we’re not talking about a full scale orchestra, that can be accommodated.”

“No, nothing like that.” Marcus laughs. “I don’t think we would want to be that pretentious for an engagement party. We just want to have fun, right Birdie?”

“I don’t even want a big orchestra for the wedding, let alone the engagement party.” You agree, laughing a little at the very idea of it. It’s utterly ridiculous. You’re not orchestra people even if you do both like classical music sometimes. “No, I think we’re talking about something very reasonable. Nothing too big or too nit–picky.”

“I think that’s the best option, a live band and then we have a playlist for when they are taking breaks.” Marcus agrees looking towards Melanie. “Do you have a lot of bands that you work with? I’m not too familiar with the scene here.”

“We have a few.” She nods, turning to her computer, presumably to print out a list. “Mostly the kind you would hire for a wedding. Cover bands like that get a lot of work out here.”

“I would imagine they would.” Marcus agrees, looking towards you. “What do you think, sweetheart? Unless you have someone specific?”

“No, I think that sounds perfect.” Live music is definitely something you both feel strongly about, and it continues to incorporate local artists into the fold of every one of your events. It’s an excellent plan. “Can I leave you my number, and ask you to give me a call tomorrow to tell me whether or not Congressman Chase decides to take the date?” You ask Melanie as politely as possible. “If he doesn’t, I think we’ll be very glad to have it.”

“I will most assuredly call you.” She promises with a smile, hoping that she deals with you instead of the congressman.

“Then how about a tour?” You suggest, offering the woman a smile.

“That would be wonderful.” Marcus agrees. “If you have time, of course.”

“Of course.” Melanie stands from her desk again. “Come along with me.”

******

“What if we just stayed here?” You groan for the second time this morning, burrowing deeper into Marcus’s side in bed as the sun rises higher in the morning sky. It’s early but you have a lot to do. His parents and a few other friends and family are arriving this morning for the engagement party tonight. The planning had gone well for being such short notice, but that still doesn’t mean you want to leave the warmth of your fiancé’s side just yet. There are a thousand things to do today before the party tonight, but you’ll manage. You just want a few more minutes of quiet with Marcus before facing it all.

“Then we will have a party that will be will be talked about for ages.” Marcus hums in amusement. “An engagement party where the couple doesn’t arrive.” He rubs your back gently. “We could start a new fad.”

“It would be very mysterious of us,” you snicker, knowing you and Marcus are some of the least mysterious people on the planet.

“Yes it would. I think everyone would start a manhunt for us.” He laughs.

“Probably not the best idea,” you admit, even if it makes you laugh. “Since the Secret Service would be involved in the manhunt.”

“Millions of taxpayer dollars, wasted.” He snorts, smirking at you slightly. “All the helicopters they would bring out.”

You snort, looking up at him in the morning light and sigh dramatically to get one more laugh from him. "I guess we should get up then, huh?"

“If we have to.” This time, he’s the one pouting. “Our honeymoon needs to be someplace quiet. A cabin in the mountains. Where we just stay in bed all day.”

"You know you can go stay at the hotel where they filmed Dirty Dancing, right?" As you drag yourself out of bed on the morning of your engagement party, talking about your honeymoon sounds like the perfect conversation.

“Really?” Marcus hums, intrigued by the idea. “It’s really up in the Catskills, isn’t it?”

"It is." Unconcerned with wearing anything night for the first part of the day, you go straight to your closet for jeans and a t–shirt. You'll change into the silver cocktail dress you have picked out later tonight. "And they supposedly really lean into the Dirty Dancing thing, which is fun."

“I’m sure Agent Bailey would love an isolated cabin to have us locked away.” He teases. “If you want to look into that, I’m completely game.”

“It’s a far cry from our original idea.” Which is neither good nor bad, just worth pointing out. “Paris is very different from a cabin in the Catskills.”

“That’s true.” Marcus stops and turns to you. “I love the idea of both, each for very different reasons.” He admits with a grin. “Whatever you want, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

“We could always make up a little list?” You offer, ultimately pulling an old college t–shirt out of your closet with a clean bra. “And then narrow it down after we settle on a wedding date?”

“That works for me.” Marcus agrees, watching you as you start to get dressed. It’s probably his favorite part of the day, unless you count undressing.

"Where else might you want to go?" He's watching carefully and you wiggle your hips a little in his direction.

Marcus grunts, feeling his body respond to the little tease and he’s honestly wondering if he can take you back to bed for another hour. “Um…you pick.” He tells you. “A beach?”

"The beach is good." If you reach for a pair of nearly non–existent panties just to keep teasing him? Well, who can blame you for that? "Sand and swimming and sunny skies. Are you thinking Mexico or Mediterranean?"

Marcus blows out a breath when you pull out the see through lace that is literally just scraps of cloth posing as panties. “Mexico would be nice. Somewhere off the beaten path?”

"Someplace with a little bungalow and a private beach?" Since Marcus likes to tease you just as much as you like to tease him, you don't feel bad for even a second about bending over dramatically in front of him so he can have the best view of your ass when you put your panties on. "Hawaii could be fun, too."

“Too many people.” He immediately grunts. “Too many cameras.”

That makes you smirk, and you throw it over your shoulder at him. “So you’re looking to have me all to yourself?”

“Absolutely.” He nods immediately, finding your eyes for a moment before he goes back to ogling you. “All mine.”

“Well that’s true even if we go someplace not isolated.” Deciding to continue messing with him just a tiny bit, you grab your tightest jeans to slip into while you’re still talking. “I’ve been yours since the day we met.”

“But I’m thinking more of being able to strip you down whenever I want.” He admits with a grin. Completely unrepentant at the idea. “Maybe not even pack clothes.”

“If that’s what we’re going to do, we can lock ourselves in the house and Door Dash every meal.” You remind him, finally going to put on your bra and shirt. “Our honeymoon is a chance to have an adventure together. A sexy adventure, but still an adventure.”

“Get your head out of the gutter, got it.” He winks and shoots finger guns at you playfully. “Like it said, just ideas.”

“Listen,” you grin in response to his silliness. “If we decide on a winter wedding, we’re absolutely going someplace tropical to get away. I’m not looking to put snowshoeing on our itinerary.”

“So an Alaskan dog sledding race is off the table?” He jokes, snickering to himself.

“You don’t like snow either, Texas.” But both of you laugh, and as you shimmy into your t–shirt you’re already feeling better about the day. “Also…I don’t think a winter wedding sounds ideal. Even DC gets snow, and we lose any chance of having part of the night outside.”

“Yeah, I’ve never understood the ‘Winter Wonderland’ theme some people go for.” He admits with a huff. “Freezing my nut— uh, toes off doesn’t sound fun.”

“No,” you snort and tug him up out of bed to get dressed with you. “Freezing your nuts off does not sound fun.”

“Caught that, huh?” He huffs, even if he’s well aware that you don’t mind that kind of humor. “I don’t think you would like it either. You seem to like that part of my body.”

“I like that part of your body very much.” Your smirk is puckish. “Just as much as you like my tits.”

“Don’t forget your ass.” He reminds you, smirking as he pulls off his sleep shirt to get dressed. “I like that too. Oh and your thighs.”

“I like all parts of you and you like all parts of me.” You bite your lip unconsciously when he starts to change, always admiring of your fiancé in as many ways as he’ll let you at any given time. Marcus isn’t vain. He doesn’t dedicate himself to cut abs and weight lifting. But he does go to the gym to be in shape for his job and that combined with his love of food has made him broad and strong with a layer of cushioning softness that you adore.

“Then it sounds like we are a perfect match.” He winks at you as you eye him. Turning around and wiggling his own hips playfully, even though he has a flat ass.

It gets a snort and a giggle from you, and you swat at him playfully. “Do you want to go downstairs for breakfast or have something up here?”

“Completely up to you, love.” He promises. “I’ve heard rumors that Syd has been haunting the kitchens with a snuggly little Constance strapped to her chest.

“I keep telling her that maternity leave exists for a reason, but she can’t stay away.” Not that you blame her. You know for damn certain that you won’t be able to stay away from the inn after you’ve had your kids, either. “Let’s go down and say hello.”

He snorts to himself, well aware that he will be fighting the same battle Juan is when you are recovering from giving birth. “I think we need to just build her a house on the property too.” He tells you. “Make sure she’s close enough to rest.”

“The house is almost done.” Just one more month, according to the contractors. “Maybe we should keep the apartment up here as a resting space for the staff for a while? Before we turn it into a guest suite.”

“Orrrrrr…” Marcus tilts his head as he looks around the apartment. It’s not large, but it’s large enough. “What if we turned it into a small area for a nanny?” He asks. “Someone to come and watch Constance and the future Pike brood for us?” He had been thinking about it and it seemed like a good idea and it would allow everyone peace of mind in knowing the kids are close.

“That…” Your eyes flick up to his, wistful smile tugging at your lips and warmth blooming in your heart. “Sounds like a wonderful idea.” Marcus has an uncanny ability to see the future so clearly that it might make you envious if you weren’t so grateful to have him as your partner. “I genuinely love that, baby.”

“You do?” He asks, wondering if you are just agreeing to it because you are so in love with him right now. “I figured it would be a good way for you to see the babies, ours and Syd’s, anytime you get a chance.”

“It’s a lot more practical than driving them to daycare in town only to come back here for work.” Instinct and affection make you want to snuggle into his side again, but you know you have things to do around the possibility that your baby goddaughter is downstairs make you reach for a cardigan instead of your fiancé. “I think it’s smart. And will probably save us some anxiety in the long run.”

“I think so.” Marcus agrees quickly. “There’s someone dedicated to watching them, so work can be uninterrupted, but you can see and snuggle them when needed.”

“Don’t pretend you won’t be working through your lunches sometimes just to get home to them sooner.” It’s an image you can see so vividly that it almost makes you glow, knowing how much Marcus is looking forward to being a father to as many kids as you can manage together.

“Have to make it home before the sun goes down.” He scoffs. “How else will we play ball? It can’t be in the house.”

“The only balls anybody’s playing with in the house are yours when I give you head,” you tell him unequivocally, nudging him toward the bedroom door once you’re both dressed to go brush your teeth together so you can go downstairs and eat.

He snorts in amusement, although he can’t deny that you do play with his balls while you are blowing him. Smacking his lips to your cheek before he loads up your toothbrush and then his, he winks in the mirror – thoroughly enjoying the everyday chores with you.

You’re on your way downstairs within about fifteen minutes. Agent Bailey is downstairs by your office when the elevator opens, having opened up to giving you more space now that you have an armed federal officer in the apartment with you every night. Around the corner and into the kitchen, you have to smother a squeal of delight when you see Syd hovering by the line with little Constance in her baby carrier strapped safely to mama’s chest.

“Told you.” Marcus bumps your arms and immediately grins when he sees the little girl. Shes not too old to stay awake for long and she’s snoozing peacefully while the chaos of the kitchen goes on around her. “This has to be her lullaby.” He jokes. “She grew in the womb to it.”

“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness.” You scurry to Sydney’s side without hesitation to hug her gently and peer into little Constance’s face. “Hello angel! Oh my goodness she’s so sweet when she sleeps!”

“She’s actually one of those babies that sleeps better amidst the noise!” Sydney laughs and rubs her daughter’s back through the sling, leaning against you instantly. “You caught me, huh?”

“I’m not even cross that you’re poking around work while you’re supposed to be resting because you brought the baby,” you admit, although you restrain yourself from doing anything besides admiring Constance. Waking her up by accident would be awful. “Are you guys feeling okay about coming out tonight?” Juan’s mother had assured her son and daughter–in–law that the baby would be in expert hands if they wanted to make the engagement party their first outing since her birth. And you had also assured them that you wouldn’t be offended if they only came to the party for dinner and headed home before the dancing to be with their little girl.

“I’m looking forward to it.” She admits with a lopsided smile. “Just forgive me if I text my mother–in–law six hundred times to check on her?” She asks, knowing you would never be upset about that. “I don’t know how we are ever going to drop her into a daycare. That’s if we find one that will open up in the next six months.” They have been on a wait list for the daycare of their choice since she found out she was pregnant. There are still twelve other couples on the wait list ahead of them.

“Marcus actually had an idea about that.” A proud grin to your fiancé on the other side of the kitchen where he is getting your breakfast from Syd’s sous chef lights up your whole face. “Why don’t we bring dinner over to your place after the weekend is over and the chaos subsides, and we’ll tell you about it?”

“Of course.” She grins at the way the two of you had made deep and lasting plans. Knowing you deserve all that and so much more. “Indian?” She suggests. “I’m craving curry.”

“We’ll get take out from Rasika. Whatever you want.” While it might be one of your and Marcus’s favourite take out spots, it’s also a favorite of your friend group so that is an easy answer. “And you text home as much as you need to tonight, love.” Casting your eye from mother to daughter, your smile softens and your heart aches from wanting one of your own. “This little angel is worth it.”

“Isn’t she?” Like any new mother, her daughter is the most perfect thing to ever exist. “She’s feeding for longer. She ate four whole ounces yesterday when Juan fed her a bottle.” She’s pumping and they are bottle feeding to make sure Juan gets his own bonding time with Constance when Sydney isn’t breastfeeding. Plus there are times the still recovering mother is too tired to do it. So it helps them tag team their newborn.

You and Syd can and have cooed together over her growing girl for hours at a time, so you don’t even realize you’ve been standing there for ten solid minutes being an absolutely doting pair of sentimental idiots until Marcus comes up behind you and gently slides one hand around your waist.

“You need to eat, sweetheart.” He reminds you, whispering in your ear as he watches the baby sleep against her mother’s chest. He’s gotten to hold her for a bit, but he lets you hold her more when the opportunity presents itself. “We have a lot to do before the party.”

There are two plates with pesto–prosciutto breakfast panini on them sitting on the counter nearby along with two oversized ice coffees and you relent, leaning back against Marcus after giving Syd one more gentle squeeze. “You’re right,” you sigh. “I just want to stare at this little nugget of a baby forever.”

“I know.” Marcus chuckles. “How many times have you thought about having our first since she’s been born?” He teases, knowing he’s also been hit by baby fever as well.

“Like fifteen times a day every single day.” You can’t help but laugh, knowing he feels the same, and you let him peel you away from the baby reluctantly when Syd’s sous chef has a question for her. “Fifteen is a minimum estimate, by the way.”

“I was honestly thinking it was more like thirty.” He laughs. “I’m about that too.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t wait a whole year to get married?” The idea hums through you with excitement. Being able to have a wedding date by tonight would be a fun little plus.

“When’s the last time the roses bloom in the Rose Garden?” Marcus asks, knowing you want to have your wedding there.

“September, really.” The first week of September would be a full year from when Marcus proposed, which seems tidy to you in a way you weren’t expecting but makes you smile. “What if we did early September? Would that step on Constance’s first birthday?”

“I think we should talk about it with the parents, but I don’t see that being a problem honestly.” Marcus hums happily.

"I heard parents!" Syd calls across the kitchen, fearless in the face of a miracle baby who truly can sleep through the chaos of a kitchen. She bounces subtly as she walks across the room, making sure her daughter is comfortable against her chest, and leans against the counter where you and Marcus are having your breakfast. "What's up?"

“We were talking about wedding dates.” Marcus admits, glancing at you with a small smirk. “We don’t want to schedule something to step on the birthday girl’s toes.” He reaches out and caresses the sleeping baby with the back of index finger.

"Were you guys thinking of doing it in September?" She asks, eyes sliding over to you and when you nod through a bite of food she smiles. "What if we pick a different weekend?" Sydney suggests. "I don't want to suggest doing the baby's birthday in place of a day–after brunch or anything. So we can just do two weekends in a row?"

“Or we could.” Marcus offers with a grin. “I know my family is up for celebrating a baby’s first birthday. Especially since they are going to fall in love with her tonight.” He warns. “Constance will be gaining a lot of aunts and uncles.”

"We weren't really planning on having a day–after event anyway," you assure her. There are already so many wedding events on your plate that adding one more sounds overwhelming to you. "What if we added more of Juan's family to the wedding guest list so they'll already be in town, and the next day we can all relax with something much more casual? It sounds...kind of perfect, actually."

“I think that Juan would like that. I thinks it’s perfect.” Their friendship had grown even closer and Juan had confided he wanted more time with his family. It’s the perfect opportunity. “We can book out the inn, right?” He asks you. “And get more hotel rooms, of course.” He chuckles. “My mom has already said she wants to stay here but the Watergate Hotel is calling her name.”

"We could have Connie's birthday here?" You raise an eyebrow to Syd in question. "We'll be surrounded by family and friends and you'll barely have to roll out of bed to get here." The Badillo house is close by and you and Marcus will be more or less in the inn's backyard.

"Comfort food, family event, and very casual." Sydney laughs, but she is nodding her head. "Sean has been a great sous chef. I know he can handle that even with my nitpicky ass hovering over everything."

“It sounds like we have a plan.” Marcus agrees. “So I think our wedding day needs to be the day before little Connie’s birthday.”

"September ninth." Of course you and Sydney say it at the same time, grinning at each other. Constance was born in the wee hours of the tenth.

"That means it will be a long weekend for people. It will be good to give them the date well in advance." It will be beautiful, is what it will be. Beautiful, and fun, and an occasion well worth celebrating.

**

His suit and your dress in the trunk of the car, Marcus steers towards the venue happily. “So we start getting set up, the band should be there first, right?” He asks. “Get the sound check done before the other vendors?”

"Yeah, that's what we planned on." A White House photographer will also be on hand, documenting the event for any press that Annette deems appropriate. You've left it entirely to her. "Melanie will be there to direct traffic, and she has a room for us to change and keep personal affects in."

“My parents are landing in about an hour.” He reminds you. “They will be out here to help and generally support us as soon as they drop bags in the hotel.”

"Selena, Leo, and Clark are all meeting us out here around the same time. They're riding together." The contingent from Dallas that has moved to DC in the last few months have banded together well and are all excited to join the next board game night. Bringing your friends and his together has been exceptionally easy.

“Perfect.” Marcus chuckles. “It’s a good thing the bartender will be showing up next.” He jokes. “Seriously, if we need to get any last minute items, mom said she’ll send dad.”

"I'm just glad we decided not to do flowers." It had been Junie's idea. During the Friday night dinner after you had booked Monticello, the discussion at the table had turned to decor and when your mother's ideas for florals got overcomplicated it had been your sister who suggested having a few large, live plants amongst the tents and lights and candles on the tables instead. "Melanie pulled those potted plants and light plans out of nowhere and I love her for it."

“I think it will make the wedding even more special.” Marcus admits. “Flowers don’t need to be at every event.”

"The rose garden is going to be spectacular." Your genuine excitement for that is infectious enough that it makes Marcus beam brightly at you as he pulls his car into the large lot around the Monticello visitor center.

“Wow.” Marcus frowns slightly as he sees all the vendor vans. “Are they early?”

"They must be." You check the time on your phone and frown to see that it is a full forty–five minutes before the caterer is set to arrive, and two of the vans nearby are marked with a florist's logo. "Maybe it's for one of the other locations on the property? Melanie did say they had multiple events tonight."

“That has to be it.” He agrees, although he knows the other venues have their own designated parking on the other side. He sends you a smile as he parks. “Let’s go get started.”

Melanie is waiting for you inside, smiling and ready in the lobby. “It’s so good to see you!” The nice thing about her is that she seems to actually mean it. “Your caterers just got here, and the florists are starting to unload. We’re doing great for time.”

“Uh...” Marcus shakes his head and looks towards you. “We don’t have a florist.” He reminds her. “The potted plants were what we decide, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure that the plan hadn’t changed.

"And I confirmed the arrival time with the caterers this morning. They aren't supposed to be here for another hour." Your worried eyes meet Marcus's and then Melanie's. "I think there has been some kind of mix–up."

Her brow furrows for a moment and she nods. “I will go make sure they aren’t supposed to be on the other side of the mansion.” She decides, sure that it’s a simple mistake.

"I'm sure it's nothing." The words come out of your mouth but you aren't convinced. Instead, you squeeze Marcus's hand in yours and head to the small room beside Melanie's office to store your party clothes and purse until you're ready to change.

“I’m sure it will all be worked out.” Marcus promises, reassuring you even if he has his own worry. “Come on, let’s go see the space.”

Once your things are stowed away, the pair of you step outside to the lawn to check out the tents, lights, and plants as they should be finished being put up. But instead of seeing potted plants and fairy lights there are sunflower arrangements and autumn harvest centerpieces stacked out on the banquet tables. Even the tables have the wrong color tablecloths – deep navy instead of the seasonal shade of red that you had picked out.

“Well, shit.” Marcus huffs, clearly seeing the problem and he quickly steps over to the young lady that is directing the flowers. “Excuse me.” He interrupts politely. “I’m afraid there is a problem.”

"There is?" She looks spooked, almost like a deer in the headlights with the large arrangement of flowers in her hands. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure–who are you, exactly?"

“Sorry.” He’s always going to fall back to manners, so he offers her an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus Pike and this is my fiancée.” He introduces you. “We are setting up for our engagement party tonight and we don’t have floral arrangements.” He explains kindly. “Are you sure you have the right spot here? I know there’s several events happening tonight.”

“Oh!” She laughs in obvious relief and digs in her pocket to pull out some folded paperwork to show you both. “I think you’re in the wrong place, Mr. Pike. We’re setting up for Mr. Chase.”

Fuck. Marcus feels you tense beside him, but he shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the wrong place.” He tells her kindly aware that she is a vendor caught in the middle of something. It’s not her fault. “My fiancée and I rented out this space for tonight. Mr. Chase must have gotten his dates mixed up.” Marcus is well aware that isn’t the case, but he won’t air dirty laundry in front of her. “Here.” He pulls out his own contract for the venue that he had slipped into his pocket, always one to cover his bases and he’s glad that paid off.

“That’s weird…” Looking at both contracts, the florist frowns heavily and offers you both an apologetic expression. “Let me get my boss. Hang on one second,” she says before scurrying away.

“Shit.” Marcus hisses, turning towards you. “What are the odds it’s a mix up on Melanie’s part?” He knows the answer, and so do you.

“Zero. That woman is so meticulous it makes Juan look scatterbrained.” Closing your eyes against the frustrated outburst that is pushing on your chest right now, you lean into Marcus and exhale slowly. “I honestly can’t believe he’d go this far.”

“Just plaster on that amazing customer service charm and I will dazzle them with kindness.” He murmurs, leaning in and kissing your temple. “We have the contract for the venue.”

“I love you.” Murmured words aren’t enough to keep your heart from pounding with anxiety, but his arms around you are. Marcus hugs you tight and you just find yourself wondering what the hell happened to turn Sam into this vindictive monster…or if he was always this way and you never knew him at all.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He promises. “It’s just a small bump in the road.”

“I hope you’re right.” It’s terrifying to think that things might go so entirely wrong so early. It isn’t something that sits well with you, especially not when you have almost a hundred people coming tonight.

“It will.” He promises again, kissing your forehead again. “We have a legal contract.”

A serious looking woman with short gray hair and a clipboard comes back with the girl who had scurried away, and she introduces herself only to Marcus with forceful authority. "I understand we have some confusion on our hands?"

“Yes madam.” Marcus shows her the contract that Melanie had given him, clearly stating the space and date were his and gives her an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid your client is mistaken.”

"I'm sure that's not right." The prim woman doesn't even look at the paperwork that is being presented to her. "The Congressman was very specific in his planning and we are right on time in setting up for tonight."

“The Congressman was mistaken.” Marcus insists, a little more firmly. “The First Daughter signed this contract to rent this space tonight for her engagement party. Which the President will be in attendance for.” Titles seem to impress this woman, so he throws out a few that are sure to get her attention.

"Let's see if we can't get all of this sorted out." Melanie has appeared, looking frazzled but quickly recomposing herself with a young man in tow behind her. "It seems that our event staff did not verify paperwork for the caterer or florist when you arrived." She offers the gray–haired woman a professional smile, but you get the impression that the kid behind her with his tail tucked between his legs is going to get his ass kicked for this mistake. "May I see both sets of reservations, please? I'm sure we can get this cleared up quickly."

Marcus steps back and lets Melanie take over, sure that she will be able to clear things up quickly. He turns to you and gives you a reassuring smile.

"Well, I'm not sure what went wrong." After looking over both contracts, Melanie holds tight to both and looks between her actual clients and the florist who apparently should not be here. "But unfortunately, Congressman Chase never reserved this date or location with my office, did not make any payment on the space, and certainly is not hosting an event here tonight. So I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I'm afraid. We do have a contracted event here tonight and our security will be very tight."

“I’m sorry?” Blinking owlishly, the prim woman shakes her head, obviously not used to being told no. “Congressman Chase has a campaign event here tonight. Many important people will be here.”

"More important than the President of the United States?" Melanie challenges, not backing down. What she does, though, is turn to you and Marcus and apologize. "I will take care of this. If you would like to have a seat inside, I will absolutely come and let you know when everything is resolved."

“Thank you.” Marcus takes your arm and leads you towards the building so Melanie can deal with things. “You might want to call that White House press person.” He murmurs quietly. “I have a feeling Chase did this on purpose.”

"I don't know what the hell we did to deserve this," you huff, pulling out your phone to call Annette. She's probably on her way to the venue already but you know she was coming with her husband so hopefully he's driving and she can talk.

“I think he’s got a fucking screw loose.” Marcus mutters, shaking his head at the increasing antics the congressman is pulling.

When the call connects you have to swallow a sound of relief mixed with frustration. Getting to talk to Annette is a relief but you're so frustrated you could scream. "Annette? It's Birdie. We, uh...we have a situation. It appears that Sam Chase has attempted to double book the same venue as us for tonight."

“Oh dear.” The soft sigh is one of practiced patience, having put out many a fire in her day. “It’s not a mistake on the venue?” She clarifies.

"No." You shake your head as though she can see you, but it's just an emotional reaction. "Miss O'Neil is certain there was no mix up in the booking, but there are vendors here to set up for a campaign event that is definitely not supposed to be happening." Glancing up at Marcus beside you, you sigh softly. "Marcus and I suspect that Sam is trying some kind of indecipherable stunt. To make us look heartless or something equally outlandish. Like we stole his venue, I guess."

“Gotcha.” Her voice is slightly terse but it’s not towards you. “I will start making calls to his office right now. You just hang tight and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

"Thank you, Annette." Your eyes close against the sinking feeling in your stomach that the night is starting to unravel at an alarming rate. "We'll see you soon."

You end the call and Marcus reaches for you, pulling you into his arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He soothes you, quietly.

“She’s almost here.” The urge to cry out of sheer frustration is strong, and you bury yourself in Marcus’s chest for strength. “What in the hell did we do to deserve this?”

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, unable to fathom the malice behind the way Sam Chase is operating. “But we will show him that we are not to be messed with.”

“How?” The question is incredulous, but it’s honestly because you’re feeling so at sea with confusion in this whole situation. “By running to my mommy about it? The President can’t kick a Congressman out of power for being a dick to her daughter.”

“By showing him that he holds no power over us.” It’s a bit unsatisfying, being the bigger person and not using his own status to make like difficult for Congressman Chase, but he wants to be above reproach when shit hits the fan. And he has no doubt it will.

“Ugh, that’s so unsatisfying,” you groan, unknowingly echoing his thought exactly. It’s a small mercy to have the same thought, though, and you both laugh. “I want to nail him to the wall but there’s no crime against being an asshole.”

“I know, but he wants to get under your skin.” He reminds you softly. “That’s the entire point of this, I think.”

“Well he’s succeeded.” As much as you hate to admit it, he really has. He’s made you feel guilty and selfish for wanting to celebrate your love with your soulmate, which isn’t fair in the least.

“I know.” Marcus kisses your forehead again. “I’ve never wanted to hit someone more in my entire life.” He huffs. “Not even Patrick Jane when he convinced Teresa to choose him.”

"And that guy was an asshole," you huff, having heard the entire story from Marcus early on in your relationship.

“Yeah…he really is.” He chuckles and pulls away slightly to look into your eyes. “He did me a favor.”

"I don't know what I did to deserve you." His kindness and his support mean the world to you, and the ugly realization that if Marcus had not appeared in your life like a whirlwind that you might still be with Sam? It stings your heart in a way that isn't quite aching or envy but that smacks of bitter regret.

“Just being the most wonderful woman in the world.” He teases, nudging his nose against yours.

"Hardly." Or, at least, it doesn't feel like it right now. But you sigh, letting yourself settle against him and accepting the kiss he offers you before you stand straight again. "We should change a little early," you decide after a moment. "Present a united front of joy instead of looking like we're not quite prepared."

“Whatever you want to do, sweetheart.” He will follow your lead of course, wanting you to feel in charge. Especially with the turn of events.

"I think it might be better." Or, at least, it well help you feel less at sea. Because right now you just feel like you're floundering in uncertainty. "Especially if we have to deal with Sam directly."

“Do you think that he will actually show up?” His brows lift and he doesn’t like that prospect at all. Sam has been exhibiting dangerous behavior, even if he can’t prove it has been him behind the vicious rumors.

"At this point I'm not really sure what to expect at all." But confidence comes from all places, and if right now it comes from putting on the beautiful dress that Alex and David helped you pick out and going out there holding Marcus's hand? Then so be in. Sam does not get to ruin to night, and he does not get to ruin your joy. "But I guess I would rather be mentally prepared for the worst."

“Whatever happens…” Marcus smiles at you proudly. “I’m going to be right there beside you.”

**

It takes nearly a half an hour to calm down, change clothes, and do your make up, but once you’re ready you head back outside with Marcus to find Agent Bailey waiting for you in the lobby and a commotion outside. “What’s going on?” You ask, though you’re afraid for the answer and not even sure if she will know.

“Miss D’Amario is trying to get the Congressman on the phone,” Agent Bailey explains. “Your vendors are starting to arrive and Melanie had them prepping so they can set up the second the others are cleared away.”

“Vanessa is here?” Marcus looks around warily and spots her standing off to the side looking slightly frazzled as she furiously types on her phone.

“Awesome.” The obvious sarcasm in your voice comes out in a huff. Your exes always being together is more like a Nightmare Team than a Dream Team.

“I’m going to talk to her.” Marcus decides, done with them upsetting you.

“I’m going to stay nearby so that I can intercept anyone who arrives,” you decide. Going up on your toes to give him a kiss, you brush the sharp lapel off his blue suit and offer him your most encouraging smile. “Go get ‘em, Slugger.”

Marcus smiles at your reassurance, but it drops into a frown when he turns and walks towards Vanessa. He’s tired of the games and now, he’s going to face the problem head on. “What is going on, Vanessa?” He demands when he reaches her side. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“What’s going on is crossed wires.” She doesn’t look up from her phone. She doesn’t need to. She still knows Marcus Pike’s voice. “I don’t know how this woman could possibly have booked us both tonight and now she’s playing dumb and getting defensive about it.”

“She’s not playing dumb, but I’m disappointed you are.” Marcus states flatly, sighing softly. “This little game you and Chase are playing needs to stop.”

“I’m not playing dumb.” Vanessa defends, brow furrowed in frustration as she looks up at Marcus after hitting the send button on her text. “The Congressman booked the location himself. All the other vendors were booked by me personally. We’re supposed to be here.”

“Did he forward you the contract and emails?” Her reaction is more honest than he expected and the fact that Sam booked the venue makes him wonder if she was kept in the dark. He pulls out the contract he had tried to show the vendor earlier. “Where is this if Chase actually was double booked?”

“He has the contract. I’m trying to get ahold of him to get a copy right now.” She huffs, frustration and uncertainty lining the worries creases in her brow. “Why couldn’t you two have just had your little party at her hotel anyway? Isn’t that what the place is for? You don’t need the clout of a place like Monticello.”

“Why should she always have parties where she’s doing most of the work? This is our engagement party.” Marcus fires back, unable to believe the condescension in her tone. “What do you have against her, Vanessa? You ended things with me not the other way around. And I thought we ended on good terms.”

“She’s a snob. And dishonest, too boot.” Vanessa doesn’t hold back, obviously pushed to the edge of whatever manners she usually has by the situation at hand. “Almost an entire year in the campaign trail as her mother’s Golden Child preaching freedom of affection and holding Sam up to be the next Jack Kennedy and then she flips her entire platform on a dime when she claims to find her soulmate. It’s pandering, Marcus. And I honestly thought you were better than that.”

“I am her soulmate, Vanessa.” He murmurs quietly. “We didn’t know when we met. I figured it out, that night you broke up with me. Hell, she knew before I did and didn’t say anything because she was with Chase.” He sighs. “So freedom of affection means you can’t choose your soulmate?” He asks. “What about you? You chose your soulmate when you broke up with me. Should I have been spiteful?”

“I always wanted my soulmate.” Vanessa defends, standing up a little straighter and squaring her shoulders. As it that stance somehow gives her a moral high ground. “I support him, and take care of him, and do whatever he needs. That is what love is.”

It clicks, like a bolt of lightning. “It’s Sam, isn’t it?” He asks. “Your soulmate is Sam Chase. That’s why you are doing this.”

The frown on her face flattens into a thin line, unwilling to say a single thing against the man she’s been loyal to for years now. “If I can’t give him the position he wants, I can at least help him make up for what he’s lost,” she reasons, not thinking for a moment that Marcus would understand. He isn’t ambitious the way Sam is. He doesn’t want to lead. To mold an entire nation. Dating the First Daughter was supposed to get him there in leaps and bounds.

He shakes his head sadly, hating to see that Vanessa is blind to what is happening. Willingly looking the other way. “Are you happy?” He asks. “Not being enough?” He folds the contract up and puts it back in his pocket. “If losing access to the White House on a personal level is a detriment, then he’s not a very good politician.” Marcus turns around and starts to walk back towards you.

“No one gets into the White House without knowing someone.” She tells his back, tone laced with bitterness because, No of course she isn’t happy, but why does her ex boyfriend have to be the one to point that out to her? “Just like you don’t get to Hollywood or a record deal or a place in an Ivy League without it.”

He doesn’t answer her, knowing that nothing he says will get through to her. She’s blinded by her loyalty to Sam and her utter devotion to the idea that she should support her soulmate no matter what. It’s a twisted logic and he feels bad for her. When they were together, she was a sweet and earnest woman, looking forward to having a family and building a life with her soulmate.

When Marcus comes back to your side he looks sad rather than angry, and you frown all the more deeply for it. “What’s going on?” You ask gently, letting him lean into your side for comfort. “What did she say?”

“Well….I figured out why Vanessa is so blindly helping Chase with his revenge.” He sighs and glances back at the other woman. “She’s his soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” It was somehow in the back of your mind the whole time, you realize, and now that he’s said it there are puzzle pieces that click into place all too easily. “So this…all of this really is just about the fact that I dumped him?” It makes your skin crawl to think about, a grotesque and unsettling feeling that you know is going to haunt you far longer than you want to admit.

“He wants the White House one day.” He reminds you. “I’m almost positive that he either made promises to people because of having access to the President, or was using that relationship to bolster his career.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel used and disgusting at all.” You cringe, eyes set down on the sturdy flooring beneath your feet. It’s worse than disgusting, actually. It’s downright humiliating. You’d fallen in love with his act. Bought it hook, line, and sinker. Meeting Marcus may have snapped you out of it, but you had still be entirely fooled for a year.

“Hey.” Marcus reaches for you, rubbing your arms and pulling you closer. “Don’t blame yourself, sweetheart.” He hums. “Chase is a man who put on an act to get what he wants. He has fooled plenty of people.”

“Please know that none of this is because I missed him or still had feelings for him.” Careful not to get makeup on his shirt, you tuck into Marcus’s embrace and breathe in the strength of him. “I’m embarrassed at being taken in so completely. And love you impossibly more for being such a good, honest man.”

“I don’t think you feel anything but heartbroken that he could feign affection for his own personal career gain.” He promises. He would have thought it was because of his feelings for you that he was reacting so badly to this, except for what Vanessa had told him. “Even if you still had feelings for him, I would never expect you to turn off a year of emotions like a switch.” He’s secure enough in your love that there is not any reason to doubt you or be jealous.

“Whatever I felt for him started dimming the second I met you,” you assure him. Even though you and Marcus are strong in the love you have for each other, a bit of reassurance never goes amiss. “More than anything I’m upset with myself for being so blind to his true intentions.”

“Honey, you can’t always see the darkness in someone’s heart.” He reminds you, not wanting you to feel guilty. You have nothing to be upset about. Your intentions have always been good.

“So what do we do now?” He seems to have the answers tonight and there is comfort in that — on top of which, he is the one who talked to Vanessa. “Is she backing down? I don’t want to have to have an altercation.”

“I don’t think she knows what is going on, to be honest.” He admits, looking back at the very flustered woman. “I told her that if it was a venue mix up, the congressman would have a contract.”

“Vanessa does all his bookings.” You look up at him in confusion. “Shouldn’t she have the contract?”

“She said he booked the venue and she booked everything else.” He explains, shaking his head. “It’s pure fucking malice.”

“He never booked it.” The realization kicks you in the gut with the force of a wild stallion. “He’s going to go to the press with a story about us stealing his event venue to make us look bad.”

“What better way to do that, with all the press already here for his ‘event’?” His smile is brittle and humorless.

“I heard the press.” Annette comes swinging around the corner and into view like she’s late for a cue on stage. “Tell me what’s going on, kids. I’ll handle it from here.”

Marcus looks at you for the go–ahead and when you nod slightly, he turns to the White House press agent. “We think Sam Chase did this deliberately.” He explains quietly, not wanting the conversation to go beyond the three of you. “Vanessa D’Amario is his personal assistant and apparently his soulmate.” The older woman’s eyes widen in surprise. “She says that Chase personally booked this venue and she booked the vendors. I think he set this up, knowing we were considering this place to force some kind of public ‘they are pushing their weight around’ accusation.” When it’s voice out loud, it sounds like some kind of conspiracy theory, but he knows it’s true.

“Interesting…” Annette looks between the two of you and offers you both what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “If all of that is true, which sounds alarmingly plausible, by the way…well, it means doing a little politicking of our own. Are you two going to be okay if a little press leak happens ahead of your party?”

“Whatever we need to do.” Marcus agrees easily and then looks at you. “What do you think, sweetheart? I think we’ve been on the defensive long enough. Time to play a little offense.”

“There was going to be press coverage for this party anyway, so why not?” You shrug slightly “Do whatever you think will help, Annette.”

“I’m on it,” she promises, disappearing again in a flash with a wink and a thumbs up.

“Well, if anything, we can prove when we sent out the party invites.” He reminds you with a shrug.

“Annette seems to have it in hand.” The best you can do right now is shrug and check your watch. “Your parents, my siblings, and the first carload of our friends should be here soon.”

“We are a little bit behind, but nothing we can’t deal with.” He promises.

“At least I can hear the band doing sound check.” That in and of itself is a huge relief. It means things won’t be too behind schedule. “Let’s go see who’s here.”

“Of course.” Marcus grins at you. “Maybe we stop by the bar and grab a drink to calm our nerves.”

“Slow sipping,” you agree with a nod of your head. “It makes me extra relieved that we have those charcuterie tables as part of our appetizers. Even if the caterers get held up with the other things, people can graze.”

“You loved that idea and I have to admit that it’s a good one.” He steers you towards the lovely little alcove that the beer, wine and cocktails will be handed out from. The bartender is already set, since the venue provides ice and he is handing you drinks in no time.

The first to arrive are Marcus’s parents. Matthew and Donna practically smother the two of you in hugs immediately, so glad to be here to celebrate that they’re buzzing. How handsome Marcus looks in his suit, how lovely your dress is, the perfect warm autumn night for the party, they’re just delighted to be there and a balm of positivity over your soul.

Marcus points his father to the bar while his mother coos over you with a proud smile. Donna Pike absolutely adored you, it was evident from the way she always asked about you and reached out to you without him as an intermediate, wanting to forge a relationship with you separate from her son.

“We’re so glad you were able to come up on short notice.” It’s a relief (one of many tonight) to have such a good relationship with your fiancé’s mother, and you walk with Donna toward the bar with Marcus walks ahead with his father. “We both would rather have waited on the party than do it without you here.”

“The good thing about what I do is that I can teleconference when needed.” It’s not something she employs all the time, but her only child’s engagement party warranted the change of pace.

“We’re grateful.” Especially now that their presence is a calming balm over both you and Marcus. “And I thought…while you’re here…I was hoping to ask a small favor of you?”

“Anything.” The answer is immediate and doesn’t need any consideration. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“I was hoping you would be willing to come to lunch with me tomorrow,” you glance up at her with a small smile. “At the White House. For a little wedding planning.” It’s both to include your future mother–in��law in planning that she will not be close by enough to really take part in, but also to have your family around you for an afternoon. “My grandmother’s wedding dress has been passed down and I’d like for you to be able to see it. You know, before any decisions or shopping or anything happens.”

“Oh…” she exhales softly, tears immediately making her eyes water and she nods. “Absolutely. It would be— of course.” She insists. “I would be delighted to come to such an important event.”

“I know it will be hard to have you included in most aspects of the planning,” you explain, wanting to make sure she understands how much you’ve thought about this. “So I wanted to have to you included in the most important ones.”

“And I would have understood if you hadn’t included me at all.” She folds you into another warm hug. “Thank you. And I have something for you.”

“Oh?” In all the commotion you can’t think what it would be — after all, you and Marcus had specified that gifts were not necessary in your invitations for tonight.

She pulls back and reaches into her purse for a card. "I know that we aren't supposed to bring gifts, but..." She looks fondly to where her husband and son are at the bar talking and smiling. "It's the groom's family's responsibility to take care of the rehearsal day and I want you to plan exactly what you want."

“Donna.” She knows very well that you and Marcus are doing well in your careers. Well enough to be able to build a house and plan for a family and all sorts of other things. “You really didn’t have to.”

"Yes we did." She tells you with a small smirk. "You have made Marcus completely happy and that is worth more to me than the national debt your mother inherited."

There is the barest moment of pause before you snort, and you and Donna both bust out giggling. “Well, thank you.” You’ll open the envelope later with Marcus, but for now you give her a very tight hug. “I’m sure everything will go smoothly. It’s just the nerves of everything.”

“Anything else we can help you with?” There’s the briefest flash of unhappiness on your face before you hug her and she knows it’s nothing between you and Marcus that caused it.

"Not at all." Their being here is wonderful, and they're helping financially when they're not obligated to. That is more than enough. "Why don't we grab you a drink and we can take a look around. The view from here is beautiful."

“You have chosen a gorgeous venue.” She marvels, even as the people working continue to bustle around to put the event together.

After procuring a glass of the same spiked hot apple cider that you're drinking for Donna, you turn to look around the lawn with her and actually let yourself smile. "We were here for a day out after our goddaughter was born and we fell in love with it," you tell her. "It was perfect, so we dove in and talked to their event coordinator that day."

“It’s a mixture of homey and sophisticated.” She admires. “I think it’s very fitting for the two of you.”

"I think that's sort of the vibe we're going for with everything," you admit, sipping your drink beside her. "Comforting and fun Americana, but a little sophisticated."

“I think that you’ve nailed it, love.” She agrees, taking a sip of her drink and humming in approval.

"I'm really glad you're here." And while you know that isn't something a lot of people say to their in–laws, you count yourself as lucky. "And I'm just as excited for tomorrow as I have been for tonight."

“I am too.” She admits with a grin. “I am just happy to be included.”

**

On the edge of the lawn, nearest the parking lot, Annette has intercepted the first batch of friends and family to arrive with a plan and a spark in her eyes. "Alex! June!" She knows the First Children well, and Sydney Badillo as well, flagging down the new mother and her husband when they get out of their car. "I'm very glad to see you all."

“I wonder what this is about.” Juan murmurs to his wife, taking her hand after he rounds the front of the car. “I don’t know.” Sydney frowns slightly, knowing that you hadn’t said much about Annette doing the publicity for the party, but it’s unusual to have her meet them out in the parking lot. “But we will find out.” She murmurs before sending the older woman a warm smile. “Annette! Lovely to see you.”

Alex’s soulmate David, his brother Noah, and Junie’s soulmate all pile out of the cars as well, followed closely by the arrival of Marcus’s cousin Selena and his friends that had moved to DC. This is Annette’s army assembled, and she smiles at the large group. “I wonder if I could ask a favor of all of you?” She poses, knowing there will be a few skeptics in any group. “We’ve had a little mix up here tonight but everything will go smoothly will your help.”

“What happened?” Alex demands, aware more than Junie about all the negative press surrounding you and Marcus lately. He and David both agree it’s a smear campaign.

“It’s not necessary to go into deep detail,” Annette insists. She doesn’t want anyone being pointed or cruel tonight. “But there is someone trying to claim that Birdie and Marcus stole this venue from them for an event tonight. They don’t have any proof that they booked it, of course, but I suspect they’ll try to go to the media with a story for the morning. So I was hoping I could get all of you onto your social media accounts tonight with positive posts from the party and a few mentions about how excited you’ve been for this?”

“Done.” Junie immediately agrees. “I’ve got photos of the invitations to the party when I opened them. I’ll post those with the ‘it’s finally the day!’ theme.”

“We’re on it. A hundred percent.” Alex agrees, glancing up at David and getting a nod from his partner. They don’t have to be told to know who is behind this, and they’re going to do their part to stop the stupidity.

“Do we have an official Insta for Birdie’s wedding?” Junnie asks. “Or should we tag mom’s White House account?”

“Definitely tag the White House.” Annette nods, but she chewed over the question. “But we should do a tag for the event, and maybe a tag for the First Kids? What do you think?”

“It is our sister.” Alex muses. “We should also do a tag for the engagement. Something like fairytale2017 or something as equally disgustingly cute.”

“Maybe we could think of something unique and a little catchy?” Sydney suggests, pulling out her phone. “Something we can use through all the events?”

“Birdie&Marcus’TilEternity?” Junie offers, a slightly dreamy smile as she thinks about soulmates. Since discovering her own, she’s become more of a romantic.

“It’s a little long…” Alex chews on the thought. “FirstWife2018? Like a reference to being the First Daughter?”

Sydney laughs softly, shaking her head. “It would work,” she admits with another laugh. “Except he’s been married before. So technically she’s the second wife.”

“We will come up with something.” Annette agrees. “May I text you all when it’s decided.”

“Of course.” Selena nods her head along with several of the others. “We already have a group chat for planning their combined bachelor/bachelorette party. We can do a version of that group that has you in it, too? In case you need us again.”

“That would be perfect.” Annette agrees. “I will not text without a good reason, I promise.”

There is a little bit of back and forth conversation, but Alex adds Annette’s number to a new group chat with everyone involved and renames the new group Mythbusters with a giggle.

“Oh that’s good.” Sydney snorts when the welcome text pings through and quickly responds with who she is so Annette can associate numbers with names.

“It’s the Congressman, isn’t it?” Selena asks, saving Annette’s number to her phone like the others.

Her brow wings up, nothing getting by the friends and family you have, but she doesn’t answer in the affirmative. “We would just like to get ahead of any potential issues a quickly as possible.”

“That’s yes, in White House Staffer,” June translates for anyone who isn’t familiar. “And I can finally say with glee that something about that guy always felt off to me.”

“I tolerated him.” Sydney admits. “I know Birdie would huff, but he just always was so smug. I wanted to slap him.”

Alex offers here a high five for that and Juan nods in agreement while Annette bites her lip from saying anything unprofessional. “How about something cheeky?” She suggests after a moment, when the murmurs about disliking Congressman Chase have subsided. “The press called her the First Princess after she and Agent Pike were photographed dancing together. Maybe we can do something with that?”

“#PrincessPike2018.” Sydney supplies immediately and Juan chuckles. “They will love it and she will be a tiny bit embarrassed when it trends.”

“Which is perfect.” Selena agrees. She’s taken to this new group of friends like a duck to water, sense of humor included. “We can also do a plain and simple #PikeWedding2018 for all the event photos we’ll end up posting.”

Juan nods. “Well, the official day should have the hashtag #WhiteHouseWedding2018.” He offers.

“Perfect.” Annette agrees with that right away. It’s good social media coverage in every way. Let’s use #PrincessPike for anything relating to Birdie as a bride, #PikeWedding for planning and events, and then #WhiteHouseWedding for the day.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Everyone nods as Sydney answers. “We will start posting things now. Tagging them and Monticello for the engagement party.”

“I appreciate all your help.” Annette steps away, as if she is releasing the group into the wild. “We’ll nip this in the bud and have fun doing it.”

“Is there anything else we can do?” Junie asks seriously, her hand in her soulmates and looking determined.

“Help your sister have a great time.” Annette tells her seriously. “Right now she’s a bit stressed, and nervous. Just go celebrate with your family and she’ll feel better being surrounded by it all.”

“That’s easy to do.” Alex grins. “Come on, Junie.” He chuckles. “Let’s go lovingly bully our older sister.”

**

"Baby, come here. You have to try one of these." The catering company had agreed to tweak their stuffed mushroom recipe to meet the one created by the Kennedy family's personal chef as written down in his cookbook, and the result is absolutely stellar. "Tell me this isn't the best stuffed mushroom you've ever had in your life."

He hasn't strayed from your side for more than a few steps, so it's easy to come closer. Grinning as he opens up for you to feed him one of the stuffed mushrooms, closing his eyes in utter delight as the flavors burst on his tongue. "Oh god, we are keeping the leftovers, right?" He moans.

"Absolutely." You grin and giggle a little that his face matches yours perfectly. They're little bites of heaven. "I have half a mind to have these at the wedding, too."

"We should." He agrees quickly, picking up another bite off the table and offering it to you since you sacraficed one of your mushrooms for him.

Without looking, he has grabbed one of the little cornbread cups filled with pulled pork with has been your other favorite bite at the beginning of the party. You hum around the delicious choice and sigh happily. "Everyone seems to be having fun. And the band is great, thankfully."

"They are good." Marcus has been impressed with the range of songs they can play, but it's to be expected for a good wedding band. "I'm so glad that tonight has gone off with little more than a slight hitch." He leans in and kisses your cheek. "Everything worked out."

"Fingers crossed that the rest of the night runs as smoothly." It's almost time to start dinner, which will surely come with a couple of speeches but should be a beautiful meal. This catering company is fantastic and the two sisters that run it deserves as much recognition as you can possibly heap on them. They, along with the band, will hopefully get lots of coverage from the White House.

"It will." Marcus doesn't mention that there is the best security that could possibly be provided by the Secret Service at this event. He pecks your lips. "Tonight is amazing and it will continue to be so."

"Are you sure about that?" Having not seen her in a while, it is a surprise when you glance past his shoulder and see Vanessa approaching from the corner of the lawn.

Marcus hisses a quiet sigh and squeezes your hand. "I'll ask her to leave and then I'll have someone escort her out." He tells you quietly, waiting for you to agree with a quick nod before he moves to intercept her.

"I come in peace." Vanessa insists, holding up a hand briefly as though it were a white flag.

"I'm not sure that I believe that." He admits, not calling security over simply to avoid a scene. If he can get her to leaving willingly, it would look better.

"I just came to tell you that my vendors are packed up and we're leaving the premises." She's feeling deflated and frankly embarrassed by being stuck in the middle without any kind of life preserver. The shouting match she had with Sam over the phone inside the Visitor Center did not help. At this point she just wants to go home and open a bottle of wine.

His brow lifts in surprise, sure that she would once again insist that this was their venue. "I have to say....I'm surprised that no guests of the Congressman have shown up." He comments quietly. "It's…almost as if they weren't invited."

"Please don't prod at me." Vanessa huffs, shaking her head slightly. At this point being kicked while she's down would be deserved but humiliating. "I just spent forty minutes making phone calls and having arguments. I have no idea what happened, but it's–it is what it is."

"I'm sorry." Marcus apologizes and bites his lip for a moment. "Why don't you join us for a drink?" He offers, motioning towards the bar. "I'm sure you could use one?" He wants to know what has transpired but he also wants to prove that, despite everything, you and Marcus are not her enemy.

"That...doesn't feel appropriate." It's kind of him, but Marcus is kind. That is part of him. "You guys enjoy your party. It...it looks nice. And the hashtags are a cute touch. Very media friendly." Vanessa sighs again and her deflation happens all over again. "I should...I should go. There are campaign events to plan. Even if this one sort of...imploded."

"Listen...." Marcus frowns slightly and looks over at where you are watching him with avid interest. "I know that we are kind of on opposite sides of the sand, but Birdie and I— we aren't— we don't wish you and the congressman anything more than happiness." He offers softly.

"It's all a little complicated," she admits, though she doesn't relish it. "Sam feels so strongly about this whole situation having two sides but I have to admit that I feel like that attitude is starting to do more harm than good."

"I think it is too." He agrees, nodding and offering her a small smile. "If you need anything..." The offer dies, unspoken, but it's there in case she needs it. Vanessa bites her lip and looks conflicted so Marcus takes that as his cue. "Have a good night, Vanessa." He offers before he turns back to return to your side.

"Is everything okay?" There wasn't any shouting or any real fighting that you could see, but Marcus looks upset when he comes back to you.

“Yeah, it’s good.” Marcus reassures you, rubbing your shoulder and bringing you closer for a kiss. “I think – I hope – that she’s starting to see the light in this entire situation.”

“Some cracks in the shiny veneer of it all?” You feel bad honestly. Vanessa might be blindly loyal but she never seemed outright cruel to you.

“I think so.” He hums. “She desperately wanted her soulmate, so I think she justified a lot in her mind.”

“I feel so bad.” There are a lot of people in the world who suffer in different ways for want of their soulmate, and Vanessa might not be your favorite person but she still doesn’t deserve to have that kind of pain.

“I do too.” Marcus admits, but he shrugs. “No one ever said every soulmate match was good.”

“I’m just glad I have you.” Your arm around his waist and your head momentarily on his chest are so grounding and so incredible calming. Just because you could weather the storm of the old without him by your side doesn’t mean you ever, ever want to. Not anymore. Not now that you know how much better it can be. “I love you, Marcus. More than words.”

“You are part of me.” He promises. “My soul, my heart, my thoughts.” He smiles softly, unaware that the moment is being photographed and posted online with the captions declaring true love was real.

“I’m stealing that for my wedding vows,” you chuckle softly, admittedly because you’re so choked up in the moment.

“Steal away, sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead and sighs, letting the problems of the day fade and just reminding himself that everything is perfect now. He has you.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #PrincessPike2018 #PikeWedding2018 #WhiteHouseWedding2018

[notafragilething]

Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambles: Vertigo Week

Happy Sunday evening. I'm on the cusp of an insanely busy week but I wanted to spend my last calm evening sharing some of my thoughts on Buck and Tommy with all of you. So let's get into the highlights of the weekend.

Let's start with the hospital kiss Instagram reels data. Right now the video is at 921k and 83k in likes. It did get passed by the Happy Birthday Gavin post but who can blame that. But strangely enough, it still holds the 9th overall place because the video of Oliver making a basket on set of episode 4 is now gone. I'm really not sure what happened to that one. With that said, there is now only a 26k difference between it and video 8 and I do think at some point in the coming weeks it will pass that. I'm probably not going to be checking this everyday anymore since the views has slowed so much (which is to be expected). I'll probably check in once a week until it hits a million or until another Tevan reel is posted.

The Vertigo Poster nonsense that happened late last night and early this morning. I already made a post talking about this here so please go check that out if you want to know my thoughts on it. But to quickly summarize: it was made by a friend and posted on Tim's private Facebook. I'm not personally going to be putting much thought into it or using it for any theories because I don't think there is anything more to it then being a fun spoof poster made by a friend.

After seeing the second round of interviews with Ryan coming out on Friday I am now fully confident that marketing is doing a hard-kill on pushing Buddie. I was predicting this in my last ramble but now I'm fairly confident I was right. Ryan repeatedly hit the same key points in multiple interviews by explicitly saying that Eddie is straight. At this point, that seems to be intentional and seemed to be a talking point that marketing wanted out there. There also seemed to be far less buddie questions so I'm fairly sure they're not approving or limiting how many interviewers can ask.

Next weeks episode prediction: We will not be seeing Tommy...and possibly not Eddie or Buck. The summary only focuses on Bobby's storyline and the preview only showed him (and Athena). This might be an episode where the rest of the cast isn't there and is solely focused on what is happening with Bobby and Athena. If it does include the rest of the cast, it looks like there only going to appear in very short segments and are definitely not the focus. Which does mean the Eddie storyline is either on pause for next week or marketing is really, really killing anything involving Buck or Eddie.

Final thoughts: I don't predict anymore interviews with Oliver or Lou until the finale. Probably not anymore for Ryan either that haven't already been done. Marketing in general seems to have massively pulled back after the mess with the bachelor party. I think we won't get anything about this week until Thursday (just like last week).

#911 abc #evan buckley #bucktommy #tommy kinard #tevan #firepilot #Late Night Rambles

[gojolatte]

hating you's the only way it doesn't hurt 💔

thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ comment/reblogs(s)/like(s) are totally welcomed! › read more work here: masterlist ‹

↳ g. satoru x reader, k. nanami x reader (separate) ♡ angst, fluff ↳ tw: college!au, brief cheating, moving on, satoru gets slapped, slice of life, non-sorcerers. ↳ posted: 05/10/24 ↳ song(s) playing: somebody by jungkook, shot glass full of tears by jungkook

Thinking about a college!au (that's been probably a million times over but who cares?) but you and Satoru have been together since your Sophomore year of high school. You were excited about college, wanting to explore more of your likes and what you want to do with your life but Satoru, not so much. He was doing it because you and Shoko decided he should too. He would have been content with visiting you on campus but ultimately doing something else with his time. Instead, he's stuck in these hot and stuffy classrooms, surrounded by things and people he couldn't care about.

It wasn't until he met Suguru that everything changed. He would still hang out with you from time but most times, he would blow you off for the latest party hosted by whatever Sorority or Fraternity (thinking he should at least get the college experience since he's here). it's at one of these parties that he meets one of the sorority girls by the name of Himari. what started off as friendly banter had turned into mild flirting and one thing led to another and Satoru found himself waking up in her bed the next morning. Head hurting, vomit sitting at the peak of his stomach. He realized he fucked up severely and that's something he doesn't want to admit to anymore.

So he ignores it. Ignores the issue like it never happened.

Ignore the glares he receives from people who know he's in a relationship when he's leaving to go back to his dorm. Ignore the lecture Suguru gives him when he realizes what his friend has done. Granted Suguru hasn't met you yet but from how Satoru talks about you, Satoru loves you. Why he would do something like this? Neither of them knows but Suguru isn't one for keeping secrets so he urges Satoru to tell you.

But he chooses to ignore it.

He isn't up for being lectured (and probably smacked) by Shoko because you're her best friend. She wouldn't let any harm come to you (regardless of who it is). He isn't up for seeing you cry and he knows you breaking up would be the next step because in the beginning, you told him cheating was one of your ultimate deal breakers.

"Have you told her?"

Satoru shakes his head as he sighs, knowing his friend is right but of course, he still ignores it like he's been ignoring Harami.

It all comes to a head when Shoko talks you into going to a party to celebrate finishing up finals. You were determined to let loose and ignore everything that was going wrong in your relationship in favor of booze and a good time. You tried to ignore the irritating feeling you had when you would look over to see some female you've never met, stare you down. Unsure as to why, you mention it to Shoko who says she noticed her too.

You tried shrugging it off but when you see Satoru being dragged upstairs by that same woman, everything in you snapped.

The missed dates.

Him being secretive with his where-a-bouts.

You loved Satoru but you weren't in love with him anymore and that was your motive when you figured out where they'd gone. Door slamming open, no kicking and screaming because you have no more tears to cry. You've mourned the relationship the moment he started distancing himself from it.

From your point of view, it looks as if they're making out. A kick to the groin that leaves him laid out on the floor as you curse her out too. You leave in the heat of the moment not wanting to be around for the aftermath as Shoko is the first to follow you.

It isn't long until the rest of your friends follow.

Suguru is the only one that goes to check on Satoru but when he sees who he’s with, he turns his back on him and leaves too and Satoru finds himself aching at the thought of losing you.

Everything was a mistake. That's all he had to tell you.

It isn't until he finds himself standing at your dorm two days later that his heart truly begins to ache. Everything is so different now. He can't barge into your room like he's used to. He can't text you randomly, and tell you he loves you.

Kiss you.

Hug you.

He can't do any of those things because he's sure that this is the end.

He thinks of tucking his tail and running until the door swings up with your face coming into view. You look tired as your eyes are bloodshot red and you're wearing his sweats with a tank top. Satoru is sure he looks the part of grieving because you're all he knows and he doesn't want to be with anyone else.

"Satoru." Your voice is stern but broken and he hates that he's the reason behind it. "You're here for a reason."

"To apologize." He bites his lip, trying to keep the tears from falling because he hates seeing you like this. He misses your bright smile. Your giggle when something is only mildly funny but he knows he doesn't have access to that right now. "I'm sor-"

"When were you going to tell me?"

Satoru's heart drops to the pit of his stomach because there's only one thing you could be talking about right now.

"Bab-"

You shake your head, holding your hand in his face. "Try again."

"It was a mistake."

You hum before scoffing.

"Listen." You start and Satoru knows nothing that you're going to say is going to be good. He feels his heart drill against his chest as his breathing becomes scarce. He knows this is all his fault, he shouldn't have even entertained Harami. He was happy. You were home for him and now that's gone.

"Please don't-"

"I need space-"

"We can work on this! We can work on us!"

"There is no us, Satoru!" You snarl, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You don't have the right. Suguru told me you've already slept with her and honestly, I don't even know if I can even forgive you. If you didn't want to be in a relationship, you should have fucking told me instead of stringing me along. You ain't shit Satoru and I wish you and Harami the fucking worst. Leave me the fuck alone."

You don't allow him the chance to say anything, slamming the door in his face. He doesn't care that he's banging on your door, trying to get you to come back. He doesn't care that people are looking at him sideways. He doesn't care that he's on his knees, pleading with you through your door for you to listen.

He can be pathetic if that means you'll come back to him.

It wasn't until one of your dorm neighbors called the campus police to have him ushered out and back to his own.

Months pass and he's surprised you haven't blocked him on anything. He did realize you unfollowed him and his number is blocked. Unsharing your location with him as well, Satoru would only get a glimpse of you around campus. Every time he tried to get close to talk to you, however, Shoko and Maki were quick to whisk you away. Shoko stopped talking to him once he told her what happened because what the fuck?

Of course, she'd side with you.

It was like the universe wanted to see him broken.

...but then he realizes he brought this on himself.

He wanted an chance to apologize and let you know how much he misses you! Damnit, he's so lost because you're all he's known for the past three years! You were his home, his peace and he screwed that up for a hookup that wasn't even remotely good. Himari had become an afterthought the moment after it happened. She's still trying to get close to him but he simply wants nothing to do with her.

Maki and Shoko gatekeep you, always whisking you away so you can’t hear him spout his nonsense. They know you just want to move on and well, u can’t do that with Satoru being everywhere you are. So, you entertain the idea of dropping out but Shoko talks you out of it. Instead, you transfer to a better school (financially and academically) and when Satoru asks, no one tells him anything. He notices this is when you finally decide to block him on everything so he can’t see anything you’re up to.

Fast forward to a year later, Satoru decides to try his hand at dating again when he finally accepts you aren't coming back. They're walking down the street with her holding on to his arm like it's a prized possession. They've only been together for two months but Satoru can't see this relationship going anywhere because he's still not over you.

But... He'll pretend. It's what he's been doing for the last year or so anyway.

"We should get some coffee!" Satoru rolls his eyes but decides to indulge her as they walk into a local coffeehouse. Standing in line, the place seems busier than the coffee shop near the campus and he groans because he wanted to simply get in and out. She's talking his ear off when he hears the sound of laughter he hasn't forgotten. At first, he thought he was going insane. Of course, he still misses you but that couldn't be you... Right?

Satoru heart drums against his chest and for a second, his heart plummets to his stomach. He hasn't seen you in months, he wonders if you've been taking care of yourself. Are you happier now that you're not together?

He was scared to turn around because what if you're with someone else?

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Y-Yeah." He doesn't say much else as he takes a deep breath to try and calm his heart. He decides a little peek won't hurt.

Little did he know... You moved on too. Tall, blonde, muscular but happy man (something that he used to be when he was with you too). You haven't noticed him but he can't take his eyes off you. You're glowing, smiling wider than you had with him and he's wondering how long you've been miserable in your relationship with him?

It makes him wonder...

How long you’ve been dating?

Is it new?

Do you miss him?

You're cuddling up with him in a booth as Satoru's heart sinks further. There's a part of him that knows he should leave you be. You're on a date (most likely). He misses you so much and seeing you was the nail in the coffin for him. He finds his feet moving on their own, ignoring Utahime as she calls out to him. He makes a beeline for your table, catching you off guard as Nanami goes to feed you another bite of his cheesecake.

“H-Hey! I haven't seen you in ages!” Satoru’s nerves skyrocket when he peeps the glare you're sending his way.

"For a good reason."

"R-Right?" Satoru stutters, realizing how much of a mistake this idea was because you’re staring at him like he’s the devil reincarnated… and maybe he is but he just wanted to apologize after all this time. he owes it to you. “How have you been?”

Utahime finally catches up to him when she sees what has caught his attention, she frowns.

You only hum, glancing at the two before returning back to your boyfriend who doesn’t acknowledge either party. You don't want to talk to him so as far as Nanami is concerned he’s irrelevant.

“Hi, I’m Satoru.” He holds his hand out to shake his but Nanami completely ignores the gesture.

Nanami glances at Satoru out of the corner of his eye before scoffing, “I know exactly who you are.” He goes to stand, realizing just how much bigger Nanami is compared to him as he and Utahime take a step back. You can see the heart eyes she’s making at Nanami but you can’t help but laugh. “If you’ll excuse us, my girlfriend and I were on a date before the two of you rudely interrupted.” 

His upper lip turns up in disgust at Utahime as she blinks.

“I blocked you for a reason, Gojo Satoru.” Full name. Ouch. He watches you and your boyfriend walk away to the counter hand in hand as he’s stuck in place. Utahime, on the other hand, is pissed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?" She screeches at the top of her lungs as almost everyone is looking at them in frustration. Satoru loves being the center of attention but right now? Not so much. He tries to get her to quiet down but it only makes her angrier. "No. You don't get to do that. Fuck you, Satoru."

"You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. I told you I was still in love with my ex," Satoru sighs, glancing at her as she glares back like she wants to slap the fire from him. “You’re making a scene right now, calm down.”

She catches the longing in his gaze as he watches you excitedly pick a pastry he knows you love because he used to get it for you. You smile at Nanami as if he hung the stars and the moon. Almost in the same way you used to look at him. She realizes what he's looking at before turning around to wind her hand back. Her palm connects to his face as he stumbles back into a table with a loud groan.

"What the fuck!"

“I’m leaving. You’re a piece of shit.”

Everyone glances at the couple to see her storming out and him standing there, dumbfounded. Hearing his name being called and two coffees being placed on the counter. Everyone's eyes are glued on him as he stumbles to grab them...

Except you.

He tries one last time and looks your way as you're both still standing at the counter but you don’t even bother to look his way.

His face burns in not only embarrassment but anger because he lost the one thing he thought would be forever. All because of a dumb mistake. Would he ever forgive himself? Who knows but he knows right now, it's time to tuck his tail and run.

"I loved you..." Words are spoken in a whisper but never heard as Satoru high tails it out of the shop and out of your life for good.

© GOJOLATTE 2024 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED  PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work. Thank You, Beautiful People!

#jjk #jjk x men #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young!President!Coriolanus x Reader

WARNING ⚠️ struggling to conceive, infertility, miscarriage, 2nd trimester miscarriage, anti-adoption views, adoption, angst, tragedy, bittersweet ending, Soft!Coryo, Supportive!Coryo

This is a very touchy, hard, and difficult subject. I hope I did this request justice.

*This is set in the Not A Bob universe*

You and your husband, President Coriolanus Snow, have been married for a few years now. And in those few years you've desperately wanted a child. It started with a tiny want once you saw your friends start to get pregnant right away after getting married and grew into a desperate need once you and your iciscle of a husband celebrated your 5th wedding anniversary.

Truth be told, you were worried about your lack of conceiving since you and Coryo never used protection and fucked like bunnies. Only the gods know how high of a sex drive your husband has; how often he's plowing into you. So, in your mind you feel like you should've been pregnant at least 3 times already. But, sadly, you and your husband haven't been blessed.

And then one of your friends sends you a pregnancy announcement that has you in tears. She got married a few months before you and she's now having her fourth (Yes fourth!) child.

Your husband finds you staring at the announcement as if you'd be able to set it on fire via telekinesis. Upon walking over to the sofa in your private parlor, located in the living quarters of the Presidential Palace, he notices what the announcement is for that's lying on the coffee table.

Oh no. Your peasant of a friend, that managed to set her claws into some mediocre politician (who's in the rival party of the President), is having another brat. In Coriolanus' opinion he feels that your friend, Megara (who he never approved of) shouldn't be gloating and taunting you with professionally made up pregnancy announcements- not with how you and he have been struggling to conceive.

Coriolanus is concerned, as are you, about a lack of pregnancy. Of course, he needs an heir to carry on the Snow name, but he truly does want at least one child with you because he loves you; wants a family with you. And being on this hard, frustrating journey of trying and failing to fall pregnant every damn month during the past 5 years has shown him just how much he loves you and wants a family with you.

He's sure you'd be a wonderful mother and he wants nothing more then to make you one. But, unfortunately, he's been unable to do that.

You've both been to doctors and have gotten tests done, only to be assured that you're both young and healthy. You've both been told that you're trying ‘too hard’ to conceive; that it'll happen when you least expect it. You just nod and take in everything you're told while your husband curtly nods while thinking about whether to seek other opinions; what could be done to make a child possible.

The President lets out a deep sigh and sits down next to you. Wrapping his arms around you; holding you close to his chest and allowing you to cry, Coriolanus tells you, “I know you're hurt that she's having another baby while we haven't had one yet.” Softly stroking your hair, something that seems to calm him more than you, he assures you, “You can cry, my darling. I know you better than you know yourself, just let it out; cry.”

“It's not fair, Coryo.” You tell him as the tears you've been holding back starts rolling down your cheeks in a tremendous downpour. “Why does Megara, hell everyone we know, have children but we don't? Why can't I get pregnant?”

“I don't know, baby. I honestly don't know why everyone's able to have such an excessive amount of children while we're struggling to conceive just one.”

“It's not fair. Megara knows how hard the subject of pregnancy is for me and she just sends me this generic, but professionally done announcement. She couldn't have the decency and respect to call; tell me on the video phone or face to face at an afternoon tea or something?”

“Megara was always a peasant with poor manners. Her marrying some mediocre staffer for a senator of the party opposing mine just shows it.” Coriolanus tells you. Pressing a kiss to your head while continuing to stroke your hair, he suggests, “We could always go to another doctor. Get another opinion; see if there's any options.”

“You know there's nothing that can be done, Coryo. And the only option we have is adoption.”

“I refuse to discuss the topic of adoption, darling. I don't want some unwanted, District reject or some bastard baby of some Capitol City whore. I want our child to carry on the Snow bloodline; to make our family complete.” The president coldly and a bit cruelly tells you; cutting off the discussion of adoption before it can truly even begin.

You've learnt over the years to not to push your husband too hard. You cut your hair super short once, when you and Coriolanus were 18, and it really hit your relationship hard. There was trust lost between you that had to be rebuilt, especially when drama and rumors surrounded his tribute surfaces, but the two of you prevailed in the end. But, after that incident, you tried your hardest not to push Coriolanus’ buttons too hard.

And it seems like adoption was a subject that wouldn't push the President's buttons, but would push his big red nuclear weapon button.

Knowing that adoption was off the table, you weakly nod and agree to see another doctor. Coryo just kisses you and wipes the tears from your eyes. Then he assures you that he'll make the appointment for as soon as possible.

The latest doctor, one that was a fertility expert, had told you that you're young and healthy. That you seem to be in prime condition to have a child. He also concludes that stress might be a large factor in your issues to conceive, considering that you're the First Lady; that you're husband's President Snow.

The doctor gives you a diet plan full of foods that are rich in nutrients and vitamins known to help women conceive. He also gives you hormonal supplements to take as well. Oh, and the doctor explains how to track your ovulation and how to position yourself during and after lovemaking to ensure that your husband's seed takes root.

And Coriolanus is very tedious when it comes to you following the doctor’s orders. He's so hopeful after you received new instructions from a specialist, but you just feel exhausted. And now fucking is a project. Oh boy, it's normal until you start your ovulation window; then it feels like a big production. Various positions before and after to ensure that Coriolanus' seed can successfully get to your womb and take root is a very daunting task.

But your husband doesn't seem to mind. He's determined to have a child with you. But at this point you're about to throw in the towel. You're just so damn exhausted.

But after roughly 5 months of hormonal supplements and ritualistic sex, you FINALLY get pregnant.

When you missed your period, you were nervous and told Coryo. Of course, he made you an appointment with the doctor right away to be checked. You had blood tests done as well as a urine sample test. Waiting for the results while sitting on an examination table, in an itchy gown, with your husband by your side- clenching your hand with an iron grip- was very daunting.

“President Snow, First Lady Snow, I have the test results right here.” The fertility doctor announced, holding some papers in his hand, as he entered your room in the clinic. Sitting down on the stool near you, the doctor looked between you and your husband, only to smile, “Congratulations, First Lady Snow, you're pregnant.”

FINALLY!

After everything that you've been thru during the last 5 years you're finally expecting a child with the love of your life. You just can't believe it. You feel nothing overjoyed and relieved to finally be pregnant after so long.

Coryo, well, he's elated too. Ever since he's said his vows to you and made you his wife he's wanted a family with you. Now, the want is a reality. One that he's happy about. One that he feels blessed about. Coriolanus knew that with enough patience and perseverance it'd happen. That you'd fall pregnant.

“With the date of your last cycle that you provided the nurse with, I estimate that you're about 6 weeks a long in your pregnancy. I'd like to do an ultrasound to measure the fetus and get a better estimate of conception and how far along you are, First Lady Snow.”

“Okay.” You nod, smiling happily, while your husband just silently nods in agreement. Whatever's best for the baby must be done in his books.

After the exam, the doctor prescribed you some prenatal vitamins and an iron supplement. He also gave you some instructions to take it easy, but to also make sure to get plenty of fresh air and to take some walks to strengthen your disposition. The doctor also told Coriolanus to be mindful of pregnancy hormones; that the smallest slight or rude remark could put you into an emotional turmoil. A crying jag that could be draining.

You and Coryo thanked the doctor, agreed to follow all of his instructions, and made a follow-up appointment for a few weeks down the line before leaving and going home to the Presidential Palace.

President Snow's known to be a cold, callous, imposing, stoic man, but with you he's a very loving and devoted husband. After everything you've been thru, Coriolanus is actually quite worried about you. He's always hovering over you, wanting to ensure your comfort and safety.

Every morning you eat breakfast with him in the sunroom before he has to go to his office, in the public section of the Presidential Palace. And everyday during lunch he takes his break with you in the private living quarters of the Presidential Palace. Sometimes he arranges for lunch in the sunroom and other times it's in the rose garden that's in the greenhouse. But after every luncheon he takes you on a small walk in the rose garden to build up your and to ensure that you get plenty of fresh air.

And this goes on for months until you’re 24 weeks pregnant; nearing your third trimester. That's, sadly, when the unthinkable happens. When heartbreak hits you and your husband full force.

Your day had started out normally, as it always did. You took a warm shower and dressed for the day in a dress that flattered your round belly. Coryo had Tigris make you an entire new wardrobe to accommodate your swelling belly. Yes, your round and big now, but in a short time you'll grow even larger with the blessing you're carrying inside of you.

And then you had breakfast with your husband like you always did. Coriolanus was very gentle with you, helping you take your seat and pressing kisses to your forehead and running a soft, but protective hand over your swelling belly before serving you your breakfast and taking his seat next to you. You engage in small talk as you eat your salsa smothered eggs, something you've been craving for the last couple of months, and drink your juice while Coryo sips on his coffee, eats his hard boiled egg, and reads his newspaper while engaging in endearing conversation with you.

You speak about how you're feeling, the baby, and even start to think up baby names. At your last appointment the doctor confirmed that the baby’s a boy and encourage you and your husband to start thinking of baby names. To also start planning for a baby shower and to figure out a nursery design because everything was going smoothly. Before the president has to depart for his duties in his office on the other side of the mansion he promises to get you for lunch at noon sharp.

So, when noon closely approaches your sitting on the sofa in the living quarters of the Presidential Palace. In the parlor to be exact. And you're patiently waiting for your husband to get you.

You're reading one of your favorite books whenever you feel a sharp pain in your side. You gasp, placing your hand on your side. You take calming breaths, trying to stabilize yourself. But then you feel a lightning bolt straight in your lower belly.

You stand to your feet, with the intention to go get help, but the pain in your stomach brings you to your knees. And suddenly you feel something hot and wet trickle down your thighs. Shakily you fall on your butt, against the couch, and start to cry.

You know exactly what's happening.

You're suffering a miscarriage. And all you can do is loudly sob as your heartbreaks, as you feel more blood flow down your thighs.

Your lost in your own thoughts, your body's own trauma, that you don't even hear the door open or the footsteps of your husband rushing towards you while screaming your name at the top of his lungs. You don't notice how his eyes are panicked and full of horror.

You do, however feel him as he drops to the ground next to you; gathering you in his arms as you sob uncontrollably. You can feel his heartbreaking with yours as he places a hand over yours that's on your lower belly. His other hand’s petting your hair in a fruitless attempt to calm you both.

“I know, my love. I know, it hurts.” Coryo whispers against against your hair.

You just bury your head into his broad shoulders and clutch at his waistcoast while uncontrollable sobs wrack your body.

Coryo quickly goes into President Coriolanus Snow mode as screams for help, causing a maid to come running in. Her eyes are wide in fear, but before she can utter a word the president orders her to get him the nearby phone so that he can call the doctor. She does as he asks before scurrying off to prepare a guest room for you to experience the worst moment of your life in.

The maid knows that the doctor won't be able to help. Nobody's going to be able to help. It doesn't matter that you're the First Lady; married to President Snow: nobody can fucking help you.

No.

Not with the backasswards, asinine, laws that have strict limits on women's reproductive health in the mighty nation of Panem. If the baby's not to full term, a doctor won't touch the woman in fear of being accused of performing an abortion. A procedure that's illegal in Panem: one that will get a doctor arrested, charged, and unable to practice medicine ever again.

So, sadly, there's no help for a woman when she's suffering a miscarriage. If she's able to get to a hospital at the 8 or 8 ½ month mark then a doctor will try to save the baby. But other then that, well, a woman's on her own in Panem.

A hard, dark, nasty truth that hit both you and your husband right in the heart and the gut. Despite being President of Panem, Coriolanus couldn't make the doctor rush over and help you. No, because the doctor refused to risk his freedom and his medical license.

Coriolanus was beyond scared out of his mind, despite trying to keep a cool head for you. It wouldn't do you any good to see him breaking down. But, honestly he's about to lose his shit at any moment.

Seeing you in so much pain, both emotionally and physically, has your husband reeling. Your Coryo can't handle seeing you in agony knowing that he can't make it better for you.

You barely hear him hang up the phone and tell you that the doctor says that there's nothing he can do; that you're on your own. You're too busy crying your eyes out as you bleed, cramp, and feel the most painful you've ever felt in your entire life.

The president screams for help, only for the maid from earlier and another one to come in. They assure President Snow that a nearby guestroom is prepared for you and that they'll help you during your trying and traumatic time. Your husband thanks the maids and picks you up bridal style, only to follow the women to the guestroom.

Coryo's by your side the entire time you experience your miscarriage. The maids help you, of course, and they're a big help in your survival. But it's your husband holding your hand and smoothing back your hair while begging you not to leave him like his mother did that gives you the strength you needed to get thru the worst of the miscarriage.

With Coryo by your side you can get thru anything, can weather any storm.

And after seeing the horror of your 6 month term miscarriage, well, Coriolanus Snow quickly changed his firm anti-adoption mindset. Adopting a baby's much safer than risking his soulmate dying in the birthing bed along with his unborn child. The death of his mother was very traumatic and your miscarriage with his first born son had reopened those old, never fully healed wounds ten fold.

A month after your miscarriage you have a check up with your doctor. The specialist apologized for your loss and claims that there must've been an abnormally that wasn't caught on any testing performed. But then the specialist says that in another 3 months you and your husband can always start trying again- except this time with high dose hormone shots for you and male pre-conception vitamin supplements for him that would boost the vitality of his seed.

Before you could even think, President Coriolanus Snow shot down the doctor's idea. The cold as ice look the president gave your doctor was enough to have the doctor shaking in his shoes and praying for his life. Before ending the appointment the doctor left you and your husband with some pamphlets about grief, rainbow babies, and adoption.

Coriolanus left the first two pamphlets on the small counter in the examination room, but he took the one about adoption. He gave it to you, because as much as he wanted his own child with you he wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to become a mother.

One week before the games were due to start President Snow got a call from the Capitol run adoption center. The woman in charge said that they had received a newborn baby boy with blonde hair and blue eyes (as he has requested) from District 12- of all places. The adoption director explained how the newborn was given up by the biological parents because the father had enlisted as a peacekeeper and the mother couldn't handle the pressure of being an unwed teen mother.

Of course, Coriolanus told the director that he'd be by with you at once. To start on the paperwork for the adoption; that you'd sign it when you arrive.

And when your husband rushed to the rose garden, where you spent a lot of your time thinking and healing spiritually, he smiled. “I got a call from the adoption center, they've got a newborn baby boy for us, darling.”

“Really? We're going to have a baby?” You ask in disbelief, your eyes welling up with unshed tears of joy.

“Yes, my love.” Coryo nodded, cupping your face in his large hands and using his thumbs to brush away the happy years that began to fall from your eyes. Pressing his forehead against yours, he promised, “We're going to go pick him up and bring him home.”

Crassus Javanis Snow, named after both of your fathers, was a very cute and happy baby. He was the sweetest thing. He truly looked worthy of the Snow name with his light blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was both the love and light of your life and Coryo's life.

But President Snow became very protective, possessive, cold, and even downright cruel towards other people when it came to you and your son. Nobody could say a word about how the Snow heir was adopted or how you were a useless wife by Old Guard Capitol standards, not unless they had a death wish.

Your husband did push for better women's reproductive health and reform. And when he signed the bill into law he had the proudest smile on his face.

Of course the bill was only for Capitolite women; it didn't hold up for women in the Districts. But he didn't care. You're a Capitolite woman and whoever your son married will be a Capitolite girl as well.

So…

But as long as Capitolite women are healthy, fertile, and happy that's all that matters to President Snow.

And when your son's getting ready for kindergarten at the Academy you get the surprise of your life when you turn up pregnant, after so many years of nothing; after you and Coryo stopped trying, with your daughter.

A baby girl that you'd name Demeter Rose, in honor of Coryo's late mother and grandmother.

But one day, when both of your children are middle-aged with children of their own, during the 74th Hunger Games, your eyes widen when you see the tribute from District 12: a broad and tall boy with blonde hair and blue eyes that looks strikingly like your son did as a teenager.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #thg #coryo snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #soft!coriolanus snow #soft!coriolanus snow x reader #president coriolanus snow #young president snow #president snow #coriolanus fic #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo x you #coryo snow fanfiction #coryo snow x you #coriolanus snow fic #tom blyth fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #tbosas fic #thg fanfiction #coriolanus x reader

[harmonicakai]

Was It Something I Said?

Part 5 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: It gets harder and harder for you and Kai to pretend like there isn't something going on between the two of you.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst, stylist!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni!!!!), reader is insecure, miscommunication, alcohol, injuries

A/N: ahhh this series is almost over!!! i'm gonna miss it so much, but there's still plenty to come :-)

FIC INSPIRED PLAYLIST <3

“Did I fuck it up again? Are we destined to be friends? I wanna give you more than that” —Be Around Me, Will Joseph Cook

Kai and the boys have been in Japan for two days now, but with the amount of times that he has you on the phone, it feels like he never even left. Even if he refuses to talk about what happened at the album party, things are going pretty well between you and him.

You’re about to head out the door when your phone rings. You don’t even need to check the caller ID.

“Y/N, you didn’t call! The show’s about to start and you didn’t call!” Kai’s voice rings out of your phone’s speaker. While you can tell he’s mostly joking, he’s also a little worked up.

“Kai, we just talked, like, two hours ago. You know I have that date tonight.” Oh, he knows.

“Yeah, but I like when you call right before I’m about to go on stage. You’re my good luck charm.”

“You’re just being superstitious.”

“I wish you could see me pouting right now.” His sad puppy dog visuals pop into your head.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent. “You’re going to do amazing, Hyuka. Fighting!”

“That’s my girl!” he laughs, immediately ready to give his all on the stage. “I miss you so much.” 

His affection catches you off guard and you go quiet. 

“Hello?” he asks. “Y/N, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m still here. Call me back so I can know how it went, okay?”

“You know I will,” he assures you. There’s obvious disappointment in his voice.

“Hueningie, it’s time to go!” you hear Taehyun call in the background.

“I have to go. Bye. Have fun on your date!”

“Bye,” you say. He ends the call and you feel an ache in your stomach. You miss him too, so why couldn’t you have just said it back?

When you finally get out the front doors of your building, Seongjin’s already waiting for you, flowers in hand. You note his outfit, something similar to what you have pinned on your “boyfriend manifestation” moodboard.

“Hey,” he says, holding the bouquet out to you. “These are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” you smile, bringing them to your nose to sniff them. You love the smell of roses. “I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” Seongjin’s hand finds its way into yours. He’s bold and romantic, even dressing exactly how you’d like him to. He’s checking off all of your boxes, and yet something feels off.

As the two of you walk towards the city’s center, you actually have no clue what he’s planned for tonight until he stops outside of a restaurant that you’ve had on your bucket list for years now.

“You’re joking!” you say in disbelief. “You have to get a reservation months in advance to eat here, and even then it’s impossible.”

“I called in a few favors,” he grins, holding the door open for you. You blush, wondering what you’ve done to deserve even a fraction of the effort he’s gone through.

The dinner’s going okay. There’s just something about the way that Seongjin’s meticulously planned everything, even his responses to your small talk, that makes you suspicious. He feels too perfect, almost unreal.

You find yourself focusing more on the delicious food than on any of what he’s been saying.

“You know,” he starts, “I only went to that album party because I knew you’d be there.”

The hint of Seongjin speaking in a less rehearsed way grabs your attention. You look up to see him grinning.

“No, you didn’t,” you laugh, dismissing him. “You probably didn’t even know who I was before Yeonjun introduced us.”

“Of course I did. I’ve thought you were cute for a while now. The way you’re always running around with your arms full of clothes. I can’t wait to debut so you can dress me up.”

You can’t believe that anybody had even noticed you around the building, let alone taken a romantic interest. If only somebody else felt that way. 

“Well, does that mean you’re not a big fan of TXT?” you ask, sipping your wine. You’re mostly joking, but also curious what his honest opinion of the group is.

“I mean, obviously, I think my uncle makes great songs for them. But besides Yeonjun, I don’t think they’re the kind of guys I’d really hang out with, you know?”

Your face heats up at his answer and your energy shifts. “No, I don’t know. Care to explain?”

“The other guys just seem so dorky. Not to mention half of them were wasted at a work event. Like that Huening kid whose outburst interrupted our conversation. What was that about anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” you scoff, setting your silverware down. “And he’s not a kid. He’s almost twenty-two.”

“Look, Y/N, I know you’re close with them. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” you say, standing up and gathering your things. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

On your way home, you start to wonder if you’ve made a mistake blowing off someone so well connected, but the way he talked about your friends makes your blood boil. 

Then again, things had been going just fine before then. Maybe you should’ve just smiled and nodded like you usually do. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get asked on another date again, let alone one that was planned so well.

Suddenly, your phone rings and for some reason, you answer. “What do you want now, Kai?!” you snap into the speaker.

“Whoa,” an unexpected voice replies, dragging out the word. “Actually, it’s Yeonjun.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you groan, embarrassed at your attitude. “Hi, Jun.”

“So, I’m guessing your date didn’t go very well?”

“I think I’m going to get fired,” you huff, finally reaching your building again.

“That bad, huh? Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. He’s handsome and thoughtful and everything I could ask for really, but there wasn’t any sort of spark. Plus he called everyone in the group except you dorky, and that’s when I just got up, thanked him, and left.”

“Everyone else is dorky, Y/N. You really couldn’t wait until the end of dinner because of that?” 

“Fine, it’s stupid when I say it out loud. But the damage is already done,” you sigh, digging through your purse for your keys.

“I’m sure he’d reconsider if you apologize,” he reasons with you. You’re not sure that you actually have anything to be sorry about.

“I shouldn’t have to! He was making fun of Kai!” That’s it, you realize. That’s the reason you’re so upset. Of course this is somehow about him.

“Ah, I see now,” Yeonjun says, dropping the issue. “Well, hopefully you won’t run into him at work much.”

“Hopefully,” you agree. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing,” he muses. “I really played off the crowd’s energy, and they loved my solo stage.”

“That’s awesome, Jun,” you smile back. Ever since you and Kai have grown closer, it’s felt like Yeonjun has taken a backseat. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Soobin tried to do the Water challenge,” he laughs. “We all ran to cover him up, though. Beomgyu played the guitar, and MOA kept mentioning how Taehyun looked like Ash Ketchum.”

“Maybe you guys need to do a Pokémon concept,” you think out loud. You don’t fail to notice that Yeonjun has conveniently left out Kai from his recap, as if he’s testing to see whether you’ll bring him up first.

“Would I get to be a fire type trainer?” Yeonjun asks. So, he really isn’t going to mention how Kai did tonight. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to ask about him.

“Yes, of course. I think Soobin would be water, Beomgyu grass, and Taehyun psychic. Actually, wait. Maybe Beomgyu would have fairy types.”

“And Kai?” Yeonjun finally relents. You breathe out in relief at the mention of him.

“He’d be electric,” you decide. “Or normal. Whichever ones are the cutest, really.”

“You wanna know how the concert went for him, don’t you?” he asks.

“No, it’s okay, Jun,” you brush him off. “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“Y/N. It’s cool. I’ve just been messing with you.” You can practically hear him smirking through the phone.

“Oh,” you twiddle your thumbs. “Well, yes, then tell me how he did.”

Yeonjun sucks in a breath. “First off, I don’t want you to get worried.”

“Okay? Why would I be worried?”

Yeonjun hesitates before answering you. “He’s at the hospital right now.” Your stomach drops.

“What?! Is that what you were hiding from me?”

“I knew it would make you upset, Y/N. It’s not a big deal. It’s probably just a sprain, alright?”

“But he’s hurt,” you sigh. “Is that the reason you called me and not him?”

“Can’t I just want to hear my dear friend’s voice and ask how her date went?”

“Mhmm, sure.” You side eye him through the phone, plopping down onto your bed. You’re too tired to change out of your date clothes.

“Okay, fine,” he continues. “Kai did ask me to call you while the doctor checks him out. He knew it would probably be all over social media and didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s probably my fault he injured himself,” you mutter, kicking off your shoes. “I hope it’s not too bad.”

“Y/N, he’s fine,” Yeonjun assures you. “And how could it possibly be your fault? We aren’t even in the same country right now. The stage was probably just wet because of the rain from earlier.”

“I think I made him upset right before you guys went on stage. He said he missed me and I didn’t say it back, but I think he wanted me to.”

“Hmm, I guess he did seem a little down now that you mention it.”

“Well, tell him I said sorry.” Knowing that he was noticeably off tonight because of you makes you feel horrible. If you had just said it back, he probably could’ve focused on the show better.

“I mean, if you want to wait and tell him yourself, he’ll probably be back any second now.”

“I don’t really feel like talking anymore. Night, Jun. I’ll see you later.” Before Yeonjun can say bye, you’ve already hung up. You’ve never been more confused over your emotions than tonight.

Throwing a pillow over your head, you scream into it. Your love life is in shambles and all you can think about is Huening Kai’s stupid, possibly-sprained ankle.

—————-

When Kai’s plane lands, you’re the first person he wants to see. Before he even left, he made sure that you had a key to the apartment, something Yeonjun was always too lazy to do.

You haven’t brought up the disaster of a date you went on while he was away, and to your relief, he hasn’t asked about it either. It’s almost as if he doesn’t care that it happened.

Getting him to agree to watch the new Mean Girls remake for your weekly movie night was much easier than you expected. You had even prepared a whole speech for why he should relent even though it was supposed to be his choice tonight.

“It’s a musical,” you reasoned. “You’ll like it!”

You were very, very wrong. The movie was horrible, but at least that meant that the two of you could hate-watch it together.

“Those lyrics…” he starts, rubbing his temples as the closing credits played.

“And the costumes!” They were not going to age well.

“That was really bad,” he laughs. “That’s the last time I’m letting you pick when it’s my turn.”

“I have a feeling I’ll still be able to charm you in the future,” you say, batting your eyelashes.

“That is so not fair.” He crosses his arms. “Why are you so cute?”

“It’s my superpower,” you say, grinning. A few months ago, you would’ve never said something like that, but Kai makes you feel so much better about yourself.

The way you’re looking at him makes him blush, and he glances away hoping you haven’t noticed. His gaze focuses on the clock on the wall.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s past two.” Kai says. Time always seems to disappear when you’re together. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Thunder booms outside the window and you can hear raindrops hitting the roof.

“That might be a bad idea. I can just call a car,” you say, grabbing your phone. He stops you.

“Just stay here,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can’t sleep on the couch,” you disagree. “Yeonjun will think we’re mad at each other.”

“Well, if we sleep in here together, he’ll probably start planning our wedding.”

“I guess we’re losers in this game, huh?” you say, immediately cringing at the pun. The two of you exchange glances before cracking up.

Kai always takes longer to stop laughing than you. “Okay, how about this. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says, still giddy.

“But it’s your bed! I can sleep on the floor.”

“I am not letting you sleep on the floor. You’re my guest.”

“This is stupid, Kai. Yeonjun doesn’t know the difference whether one of us sleeps on the floor or in the bed. We might as well just share.”

“But you snore, remember?”

“There’s actually no real evidence to that claim,” you refute.

“Well, it’s a twin sized bed. I might crush you.”

“I don’t need that much space. We can even sleep head to toe, if you want.”

“My feet stink. Your feet stink.” The effort he was going through to not share a bed with you was eating away at you. You’re sure he’s slept with his group mates plenty of times before, so what difference did it make?

“Oh my god! Fine, sleep on the floor.” You throw a pillow and one of his many plushies his way, turning on your side to face the wall. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asks from behind, his voice now quiet and careful. To be honest, you’re not quite sure whether you’re being serious or not.

You turn over to look at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, petting the plushie’s head.

“Kai,” you sit up. “Kai, look, I’m sorry. I’m not mad.”

“I feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth when I’m around you.”

“You’re not. I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I didn’t want to.” You cup his cheek, running your thumb over one of his moles. “I promise.”

Yeonjun isn’t afraid to check you when you’re in the wrong, but Kai is too sweet to deal with any sort of confrontation. It’s something you’ve been having to adjust to lately.

“We can share the bed. I didn’t mean to make it seem like it was a bad thing,” he says. Sometimes you think he can read your mind.

“Okay,” you say, making room for him. He turns off the lamp and climbs in next to you, making sure to leave a big enough gap so he doesn’t touch you. Even in the dark, it’s obvious that he’s lying halfway off the mattress.

“You can come closer,” you say. God forbid he falls onto the floor in the middle of the night and it’s your fault for hogging all of the bed.

He moves inward, your faces so close that your noses are nearly touching. You could probably count his freckles from here.

Sure, every once in a while, you’ll lay your head on his shoulder or he’ll lay his in your lap, but this is much more intimate. Suddenly, your heartbeat feels too fast to fall asleep anymore.

“Y/N,” Kai whispers, although he already has your full attention. You like the way he says your name. His fingers grip your waist under the sheets, bringing you even closer. 

You tremble under his touch, his eyes locked on yours. This is a dangerous game.

In seconds, his mouth is pressed against yours, desperate and hungry. You’ve been kissed by boys before, but never like this. You can’t get enough of him.

You run your fingers through his hair, still soft even after several sessions of bleach. Like that night in the cab, you feel him hard against you, except now it’s intentional. It feels good.

Kai climbs on top of you, finding his way between your legs without breaking the kiss. You wonder how often he’s done this.

“We shouldn’t,” you breathe as he presses kisses along your collarbone, although it’s lost between your heavy sighs.

His hand grazes the waistband of your shorts. Visions of him doing the same with other girls—specifically the one from that morning—pop into your head. Panicking, you pull away from his kiss, using all of your strength to push him off of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, his lips puffy and his brows knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” you say, tugging down the hemline of your t-shirt, which had ridden up during the exchange. You hop off the bed and attempt to find your sneakers in the dark.

“Please don’t go,” he pleads with you, grabbing onto your wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was stupid.”

You turn back to him, tears welling up in your eyes. “It was stupid?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just—I don’t want to do anything that could ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how much I wanted to and no matter how good it felt.”

“It felt good?” you say, stepping towards him. It’s a relief to know he at least enjoyed it as much as you did.

“Really good,” Kai admits. “But it shouldn’t have happened. I can’t risk losing you.”

“Right.” It’s a really good point. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“So… no kissing.”

“No kissing,” you agree.

“Anything else off the table?” He asks this in a way that you can’t tell if he’s flirting with you or not. You decide to take the risk and step closer to him. 

“I think cuddling is fair game. It would be too great a loss to our friendship.” You hold his hand.

“Mhmm, definitely.” He helps you climb back onto the bed before following suit, pressing his chest to your back, enveloping you in his warmth.

“You know, if I had you around in the wintertime, I’d save a lot on my heating bill,” you point out. 

“Go to sleep, silly,” Kai laughs, nuzzling his head into the nook above your shoulder. 

“Fine. Goodnight,” you yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispers, although you’re already sound asleep, your soft snores filling the room.

—————-

When you wake up, Kai is gone. He’s left a note on the bedside table that reads: Went to get breakfast. Be back soon :-)

You stumble into the living room, rubbing your eyes as sunlight streams through the balcony doors. Yeonjun sits at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and watching footage from the group’s latest dance rehearsal.

“Be honest, did you and Huening fuck last night?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Come on, Y/N. I heard some suspicious shit when I went to the kitchen to grab water and unless he’s doing some magical switcharoo, you’ve been the only girl around for the last few months.”

“Is this some weird cross examination? Are you going to compare my story to his?” You try not to smile at the notion that Kai has stopped seeing other girls, but it makes you giddy.

“I wish. He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Yeonjun huffs.

“Well, if you must know, we made out for a few minutes. I panicked. He panicked. We both agreed to never do it again. End of story.”

“That’s no fun.”

“It’s not, but it prevents us from doing something we might regret and breaking up the entire friend group.”

“Do you like him like that?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does, Y/N. I’m pretty sure that boy is head over heels in love with you.”

The thought of Huening Kai being in love with you stops you dead in your tracks. Your Kai, secretly pining for your affection? You decide that it’s nothing more than a fantasy.

“That’s impossible,” you shrug. “It was just a moment of weakness between two friends. Nothing more, okay?”

Before you can discuss this any further, Kai is walking through the front door, coffee and pastries in hand.

“Y/N, you’re awake! I was scared I’d have to get you out of bed myself. Yeonjun was warning me how grumpy you are in the mornings.”

“She’s a monster,” Yeonjun says. You flick him on the side of the head. “Ouchie.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he giggles, unpacking enough doughnuts to feed an army. “I didn’t know which one you wanted, Y/N, so I just tried to pick ones I thought you’d like.” 

“I love honeydew, so you picked well,” you say, taking a bite of one with bright green filling. “Mmm! Where’d you get these?”

“Old Ferry Donut. It’s across town, but totally worth the trip. I go with my sisters all the time. You should come with us next time.”

“Ooh, introducing Y/N to the family. It’s getting serious,” Yeonjun teases. Kai shoots him a dirty look. He takes the hint, grabbing a couple of doughnuts on the way back to his bedroom.

“He can be such a dick sometimes,” Kai sighs.

“Yes, but he’s our dick,” you insist, trying not to let him ruin the moment.

“I suppose that’s true,” he laughs. It always makes you feel good about yourself whenever you manage to cheer him up. Usually, that’s his job with you. “I’d really like for Lea and Hiyyih to meet you, though. I think you’d all get along super well.”

“Then let’s set something up. I’m free all day,” you say, your mouth full of food.

“Really, Y/N?” Kai asks. You nod in agreement and his eyes light up at your enthusiasm. “This is awesome! I’ll text them right now!”

Maybe, just maybe, he really is in love with you.

—————-

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