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seriesxwriting · 8 months

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Soulmates

W Klaus Mikaelson <3

Warnings- swearing, flighting, kissing.

Series- the vampire diaries/ the originals

Summary- After being prisoner to mikael for a century your finally free and can find your soulmate again… once you’ve sorted out a few issues about why you left in the first place. Presuming the Mikealson’s don’t kill you first.

Recreating a post I deleted from when I first started writing<3

I’d just arrived in New Orleans. It had been a long ass time since I’d been here. It had been a century. I was here for only one reason. Id been dwelling on if it was a good idea or not for a while. It wasn’t, I’d probably lose my head as soon as I got into town. But I grew some balls and followed my heart. And that lead me to New Orleans.

I stepped off the train and just looked around for a second breathing in a deep breath of New Orleans air. I remember how this place looked since I was last here. It hadn’t changed much apart from the vending machines and new benches made of metal now.

Working up the courage, I left the train station and went into the square which wasn’t a long walk. It was kind of refreshing. Being back was scary almost but it was home, I knew I was risking a lot coming here but I had to. For myself, for him. I walked down to my favourite bar, I needed to be a little intoxicated before I faced him. Rousseau’s.

There it stood, proudly if anything. I’d missed this place. That feeling was very short lived as a hand tightened around my throat dragging me into an alley next to the bar. I struggled against them but could only use vampirism after I was out of sight from the humans. I elbowed the man but he managed to push me against the wall.

I looked up to see who it was and the colour left my face. “So it really is you” he scoffed shaking his head. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t removed your head and give it to him in a box?”. Elijah Mikaelson. Always a pleasure. “Get off me!” I hissed as the tears started forming in my eyes. He had never been hostile to me before. I’d only seen it when he was fighting his families enemies. Now I was an enemy of the Mikaelsons.

He threw me against the wall again after letting go of my neck. “I came to explain not fight” I scoffed rubbing my neck from the throbbing pain. “You shouldn’t have come here if you didn’t expect a fight” he mocked shaking his head. “I assumed it would be on the table” “why are you here? After what you did?” Elijah asked squinting his eyes at me.

“I didn’t do anything!” I hissed trying to contain my tears. “Will you hear me out or not?”. Elijah looked like he was debating it. “Fine I will hear you out but I can’t promise I won’t pull your heart out mid conversation” “I’m not a fool Elijah- I know you don’t trust me I know you don’t want to see me- he won’t want to either but I owe it to myself to explain what happened” I told him pushing off the wall now.

“Let’s have a drink shall we, be civil about this?”. He looked like he was holding back a laugh but he nodded his head once and then followed me into the bar. We took one of the back booths so we could talk without being heard or seen. “You look different” he told me sitting across from me. “You look worn out, skinnier” “where do you want me to start?” I asked swallowing, feeling even more intimidated now it was really happening.

“Start from the fire” he told me bluntly keeping his eyes on me. “1919, we were in the Oprah house” I began thinking back to that terrible night. “Klaus had gone to get our seats while I went to the bathroom, when I exited I saw a face that still horrifies me to this day” “mikael” Elijah exhaled as he began to realised there was much more to the story. “I ran to get away from him but he caught me quickly over powering me”.

“He told me all these things- everything he was planning on doing to klaus, I struggled but he was too strong” I shook my head as the tears started forming again. “He compelled me- to leave with him- compelled me to say what I said to Klaus- I told him I was done I was leaving and that i couldn’t stand the sight of him- those words rang in my head for years” I sniffed as the first tear fell down. “After that mikael snapped my neck and left me in the trunk of some car” I explained.

“He did what he did in New Orleans- and kept me prisoner for years on end, he thought he could use me to help find Klaus as I knew him so well- I refused and that’s when his violence appeared”. Elijah looked horrified. That was the only word to describe his face. He reached over to my hand and nodded sympathetically. “You can compel me if you don’t believe me” I made very clear.

Elijah shook his head vigorously “I believe you’ve had enough compelling to last you for a lifetime” he told me rubbing my hand gently. “I believe you y/n” “thank you Elijah, truly” i gasp nodding my head agreeing I’d had enough. “I’ve heard enough about mikael- how’d you escape”.

“He didn’t come back to where he left me for a while- I had the chance to escape with him gone, but I don’t know where he is- he must be looking for me” I shook my head not wanting to think about it. “He’s not” Elijah squeezed my hand as he plunged in abruptly. “He’s dead y/n, Klaus killed him”. I sat back in the chair as my eye brows knitted together.

A weight off my shoulder literally lifted off me and I felt as if i could breath again. The tears leaked out my eyes without permission as I laughed from happiness. Elijah moved round to my side and embraced me. It was nice having him back, he was always so caring towards me. I’d truly missed him. “It’s over y/n- you done it, your home- and I am so! So sorry that my father put you through that, that he turned us against you”.

“You weren’t to know” I shook my head not wanting an apology from him. “What happened? When I left- Klaus- what happened?” “He um…” Elijah started before his eyes drifted to the table. “He hasn’t been okay since” Elijah shook his head vigorously. He must have been thinking of the events because I practically saw them flashing in his eyes.

“I didn’t think he ever would be again” he smiled before looking at me. “But you both will- I assume that’s why your here” “I’m here to explain- I understand it’s been a long time- I don’t expect him to feel the same way about me now” “do you want to see him? I’ll take you to him- help you smooth things over” “yes please” I nodded feeling my heart patting against my chest. “I’d like that very much”.

“Let’s go” Elijah nodded with a smile getting up from the table. I was afraid to face Klaus. I knew what his temper was like, once upon a time I was the only one who could control it. Though I didn’t think now would be one of those times. Elijah walked me over to the house. I stopped at the threshold taking a deep breath. “It’s going to be fine” he whispered comforting me. But that was when I heard his voice.

“Brother! Bout time you were back we have business to discuss” klaus called out as we walked into the house. His back was turned to us and he was pouring two bourbons. “Yes brother, we do indeed” Elijah told him forwardly. “We have much to discuss”. With that Klaus turned around. His smirk dropped off his face as he locked eyes with me. How the hell do I feel right now? I didn’t know myself.

He clearly didn’t. It took a few seconds but his face hardened just as I remembered, just as I’d imagined it to do. “You were foolish to step into this house” he told me seriously. “Thank you for delivering her to me brother but I have no intention of looking at her for more than two seconds, your welcome to let her out” klaus crushed a glass in his hand. The glass scattered everywhere.

“I thought- you’d want me dead for sure” I told him in a wavy voice. “I want you dead believe me, I just don’t want to watch it” he frowned as his jaw locked together watching his cuts heal up. “Brother, I haven’t delivered y/n to you to inflict any sort of harm” Elijah stated making Klaus look at him with the hard look now. “Explain yourself now Elijah” his hand flew out and I saw his eyes getting watery. “You should sit down and let y/n explain herself” he nodded taking a step forward.

I guess he knew Klaus was about to attack him as that’s exactly what happened. Klaus vamp ran towards him knocking Elijah off his feet. Klaus turned to me, his eyes orange now. That was new. “Get out, before I change my mind” he told me without a wave of anything but anger. “Klaus please- that night didn’t go down how you think it went down” I told him with tears in my own eyes now.

“Don’t think you can lie your way out of this one” he scoffed, the veins seemed to run further down his eyes onto his cheeks as his teeth came out. He had another set now, that was new too. “Klaus, she’s not lying- she was compelled” Elijah explained as he stood back up fixing his suit. “Oh really and by who exac-.” Klaus trailed off as a moment of realisation hit him. “No” he shook his head as his eyes went back to normal and he took a step back.

He looked me up and down before shaking his head and walking off toward the bourbon again with his hand pointing out. “I will not hear these lies!” “I’m not lying- I’ve never lied to you” I told him confidently, it was working he was realising. “If so, why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you look for me?” Klaus asked me with a frown. “Because you had no interest in it!”.

“I came as soon as I escaped from mikael- well- a week after- I was debating whether i should come or not, I wasn’t sure if you’d hear me out”. Klaus’s face dropped. “What do you mean… escaped from Mikel” he asked me walking slowly towards me. “He- he kept me prisoner, he wanted my help to find you” “he- no I would have known- I- no” klaus shook his head but I knew he was just in denial about it now.

I slid my hand up to his face. “Klaus, I never would have left you” I told him when his eyes landed on me. “You don’t have to believe me- I didn’t come and see you to make things go back to how they were I just- i couldn’t live with you thinking I hated you” I told him softly holding eye contact with me. I slowly took my hand away but he caught it holding it bringing it back up.

“He- hurt you?” “It’s over now Klaus I’m free” I shook my head not wanting to give any details. “He hurt you?” Klaus asked me again in a much more authoritative tone. I nodded losing eye contact with him drifting to the floor. Klaus moved forward wrapping his arms around me tighter than I’d ever felt a hug. He didn’t want to let go and I was okay with that.

“You two- you should talk, clear everything up” Elijah told us with a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again y/n” he nodded before wondering out of the door. “Elijah!” I called out before he got too far. He turned innocently looking at me under his brothers arm. “Thank you- seriously thank you” I nodded with sad eyes. “Who am I to keep soulmates apart” he chuckled as he walked off backwards.

Klaus didn’t say anything more to me just led me to the sofa and looked at me. He scanned me for a minute or two. “Klaus- it’s me” “I know” he nodded still looking at me. “I’m savouring it” he answered a few seconds after. He was holding my hand and hadn’t let go since we sat down. “What do you want to know?” “Nothing gorgeous- I believe you, Mikael is a bastard always has been, I presume Elijah told you he’s dead”.

I nodded frantically. “I’m free” I smiled again as it really sank in the the nightmare was over. A hundred years later. “I’m tempted to bring him back so I can kill him again for the years he kept us apart”. “I’m glad you came- I’m glad you chose to come” he told me fiddling with my fingers. “So am I- I don’t- expect anything from you Klaus not for you to take me in, take me back, nothing, I have peace knowing you know the truth”.

“Y/n, You are the queen of New Orleans and you are never leaving my side again” klaus told me putting his hand on my cheek. “Does that mea- mean you’ll have me back?” “Your my always and forever” he chuckled kissing my hand softly. “I should have knew something was off- I should have looked for you” he tutted, I spotted a tear falling down his face. “No don’t do that” I warned him.

“Don’t not make this your fault- you were hurt and you had every right to be” “y/n I know you better than anyone- I should have known something was wrong” he clutched my hand to his chest. “Can we- stop talking about it please- we can tomorrow just…” “…it’s done- I just want to make up for lost time, my love” he brushed my cheek with my thumb.

“Then there’s no better way” I smiled as I moved my head towards his attaching his lips to mine. Klaus didn’t hesitate for a semi second. He was right there with me, we’re truly were soulmates. We moved like we were made for each other because we were. “Now, nothing can take you away from me” he whispered holding me close.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that” I smiled putting my head in between his shoulders and neck. Klaus kissed my head gently. Heaven.

For more like this

Masterlist of masterlists

The vampire diaries Masterlist

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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sassyfrassboss · 5 months

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So I have been following along quietly for a few months now. Not gonna lie, pretty burnt out on all of this. Pretty much at the point where the BRF needs to shit or get off the pot when it comes to Harry and Meghan. Strip the titles and give the US Gov a strict ultimatum, the UK or THEM. Take them off the royal website and shut down any and all connection to them for good.

I will tune in if there is a divorce. No way in HELL would I miss that. Especially since I have been dying for one since May 20, 2018.

As for the new book and Omid once again showing his true colors...yeah we all knew that was going to happen. I knew in advance this book was going to be a total dumpster fire and a pile on Kate. Don't need insiders or a psychic to tell me that...

However, it never crossed my mind he would claim Kate was one of the royal racists. I truly didn't think he, nor Meghan, would go that low. But alas, I was wrong.

I figured he would call out Charles as one of them but I thought he would claim William was the other.

Remember also, Meghan claimed that there were MANY conversations held regarding Archie, although according to Harry this was before Meghan was even pregnant and Meghan was never part of these conversations.

Back in 2018 before the wedding, we all know Kate was pregnant with Louis. Now I can see Harry inquiring about Kate's pregnancy and what it was like to prepare himself for future fatherhood. I can also see a conversation happening in regards as to who this potential baby would take after looks like since George looks like Mike Middleton and Charlotte looks like William. Heck, this conversation could have happened before he even proposed to Meghan.

What I can see happening is a casual conversation between Harry and Kate being mentioned to Meghan where Harry says "yeah we talked about what the baby would look like" and Meghan turning that into it being racist. Then over time the exaggerations begin and the next thing we know, Meghan has claimed on Oprah that skin tone was brought up and she was there...even though later corrected her saying it was before she was ever pregnant and she wasn't there.

So that's my thought on that...

As for Omid...

The biggest issue with him denying that he NEVER wrote the names of the royal racists and that it was a "translation error" is something he got right from the book of Meghan. Deny till you die or until they actually find proof you're lying.

Omid has already been caught lying under oath and he got a free pass. He is taking a page out of Meghan's book and expecting people to forget that he is a habitual liar or that he "misremembered" what actually happened.

However, we have the actual translator coming out and saying that the book she received included the names and that she did NOT mistranslate the book. All this woman needs to do now is show her copy of the manuscript she received (hopefully she still has it) and we have proof once again Omid lied.

Guaranteed though he will claim that the publisher must have been the one to change the manuscript and he is innocent...

Which either scenario leaves him without credibility or any future jobs because no publisher or network will touch him after this...

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jgem87 · 5 months

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#stargate #stargate sg1 #teal’c #christopher judge #quotes #funny

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months

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Well, as one of the anons commented on the 'February' post, it's only mid-February...so expect a lot more in the Game of Windsor Thrones.

We've got an update already: William has entered the conversation.

He's firmly rejected Harry's attempt to weasel back into being a working royal. There really is nothing to worry about. Harry and Meghan can scheme all they want with whatever support (overt or covert) from Charles but William is standing firm on his "no."

This is the third time we've seen William this angry, and he only gets this angry when his family is attacked (first time was the "we're very much not a racist family" after Oprah and the second time was when he caught the pap filming the children).

He definitely didn't like Harry coming to bother Charles and he definitely didn't like whatever Harry had to say, which Charles definitely told William about in their own Sandringham meeting...which is the whole point of KP leaking to Myers that they met - William is putting Harry on notice that he knows. Whatever it is, he knows, and It's giving

if there will soon be consequences.

(Sorry for the terrible photoshop. I have only the magic of PowerPoint.)

#brf #sussexes #waleses

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thegridgoddess · 10 months

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Prove It | Charles Leclerc Pt. 8

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x fem!wolff!driver oc

Summary: Charles has a new teammate, but just because she's pretty doesn't mean he's gonna make things easy for her.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, angsty Charles, slow burn till it hits you in the face. Piningggg. George Russell best friend and ultimate mom energy, Lando Norris sibling energy, Pierre Gasly is the worst in this ngl, and Toto Wolff sucks here (not a good dad!). Also did I mention the angst? Remember that this is all purely fictional.

A/N: I have been waiting to write this chapter foreverrrr and I think it's my favorite one yet... Also, ended up throwing another pairing in there, but let me know what you guys think🤭

Word Count: 5.4k

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He won.

Riley could have kissed him. The way he lit up, beaming, pumping a victorious fist in the air as he exited the car. The way it seemed, even time bent to his will, slowing to stop as she took him in. The champagne droplets fell around him like fresh summer rain, soaking his hair even more than the sweat of 78 laps in Monaco–his home race. The sight was too much for her. Charles finally did it. He won his home race, fulfilling a long-awaited dream of his, and Riley was placated with the fact she could be near him as a teammate, if nothing more.

Lando got lucky today, stealing her third-place spot only because the stewards got nitpicky, handing out five-second penalties like they were Oprah tossing out car keys. Still, she couldn’t be happier for Charles. She just wished she could show it better.

They still hadn’t talked things out after what went down in Miami, but all things considered, Riley wouldn’t even know what to say. Hey, about that drunk kiss… yes, I’m dating your best friend, but also, I know you’re in love with me? It didn’t sound like the start of a very promising conversation to her either.

Despite all that awkward tension in the air, he still hugged her as soon as he hopped out of the car. He didn’t hesitate to envelop her in a hug–albeit a sweaty and rushed one, yes, but a hug nonetheless. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in deeply before he was instantly pulled in a hundred different directions by other Ferrari crew members. Needless to say, he didn’t hug any of them. He threw her a sheepish smile as he got dragged away in the frenzy.

It’s just the excitement, she told herself, nothing more. It was pointless to think about it anyway. She was with Pierre and blah blah blah, a million reasons why she shouldn’t be with Charles, why she shouldn’t act on the information she heard. Yes, it was his friend she was with, for starters, but also the fact that Charles hadn’t been the one to divulge his feelings to her. Until she hears the words coming from his mouth, they might as well not have been real at all. Love, what was he thinking? It was ridiculous to even conceive the notion, so if Charles was really in love with her, he would have to prove it.

She was lost in thought until a hand wound up on her shoulder, bringing her back into the moment. She assumed it might have been her boyfriend, but she turned around instead to find her best friend standing before her.

“That must have been rough,” he said, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“What? I’m fine,” she dismissed, but it was useless. George could see right through her on the best of days. This was no different.

“Sure you are,” he indulged her.

“I should probably talk to him about it at some point, I’m aware, but not now,” she sighed, her eyes following Charles on his victory tour around the paddock. “He deserves this moment without my melodrama to ruin it.” She nodded to herself, reassured she was doing the right thing by speaking her thoughts out loud.

“I could have been talking about your race, you know? You made this about Charles. I’m just saying.” He brought his hands up in a no-offense kind of way. “Either way, are you still coming to celebrate with us tonight?”

Riley let loose another sigh. “I can’t. I’m supposed to meet Pierre tonight.”

George rolled his eyes, ever against the Frenchman. “You can’t just ditch him this one time? Lando doesn’t just get a podium every day.”

“No, I can’t just ditch him this one time. I’ve already been blowing him off to be with you two since we landed here because you guys can’t mind your own business.” Then to add the icing on the cake, “You remember when you and Lando dabbled in breaking and entering?”

“Hey, it’s not ‘breaking’ if you gave me a spare key,” Lando says, materializing. “Just entering,” he says more thoughtfully as if this distinction matters.

“Yeah, in case of emergencies because you’re the only person I know in this stupid country,” Riley said tight-lipped, arms crossed.

“Oh well, that’s just completely false,” another voice chimed in behind Riley. His voice was silky smooth despite the amount of cheering and shouting he must have done. That adorable accent would always give him away. “You know me,” Charles said cheerfully. “And my country is not stupid,” he added.

It helped that everyone laughed. It meant that Riley didn’t actually have to come up with a serious response to that comment. At least not here. Not right now, in front of her closest friends and just about most of the online world–not that she wouldn’t put it past Lando to curate the rumors regardless of who was around.

She searched for a way out of the conversational group. She didn’t want to stand next to Charles and pretend they were fine when things were not in any way fine between them. She spotted salvation in the form of Pierre Gasly, her boyfriend. Perfect.

“Gotta go. Need to talk to Pierre about something,” she said while already speeding away. She turned over her shoulder and added a wink for good measure. Totally normal behavior from someone who was totally fine.

Pierre must have been deep in thought because he didn’t notice her coming until she stopped right in front of him. His surprise softened into a smile with her presence, and he greeted her with a deep kiss.

“They seem to be doing well,” Charles smiled wistfully. It was apparent that George and Lando didn’t share the same mindset as they were staring daggers at Pierre’s back. Charles was glad that Riley had people that really cared about her. He could live without Riley considering him one of them as long as she was happy. “But you both can let her know that she doesn’t need to worry about anything. I’ve thought about it, and I decided we should just let things go and go back to the way things used to be. We don’t even have to talk at all if that would make her more comfortable. I’d tell her myself, but I feel like she’ll just run away again.”

“What?!” Lando and George exclaim at the same time.

“You can’t do that!” Lando cried out. “What if she’s in l–”

George slapped a hand over Lando’s mouth before he could do any damage. Lando tried mumbling against George’s hand, but George had learned his lesson with Lando the last time he allowed him freedom of speech.

“What Lando means to say is, you can’t do that!” George realized his outburst and blanched at his unexpected response, feeling faintly embarrassed to have lashed out at Charles in the same way as Lando. Was he feeling alright? To Charles’ credit, he didn’t even react to George, that placated look still lingering on his face. George cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity. “I mean, have you tried telling her how you feel? Because I think you should really try talking to her.”

“There’s no point. If she’s happy with Pierre, then I’m not going to stand in the way of that. Pierre told me they’re taking things seriously, so I won’t mess with that. And there’s nothing more to say about it besides that.” At that point, George felt a slimy wetness against his hand and dropped it instantly, forgetting why it was necessary to be held there in the first place. He made a sound of disgust and wiped his hand on his racing suit.

“But what about your feelings?” Lando asked fervently.

“It’s Riley’s feelings that matter, not mine,” Charles answered calmly.

“But how do you know she doesn’t feel the same if you don’t talk to her?” George continued, not caring that he was stooping to Lando’s level of meddling.

“If she felt the same way, she wouldn’t be with Pierre.” Charles sighed ruefully as if he fully resigned himself to the situation and the reality he was forced to come to. There was no other way.

Lando and George started a series of half sentences they couldn’t continue out of respect for Riley, but there was more each of them wanted to say about the matter. The fact of it was that it just wasn’t their place, and it couldn’t be helped.

“Ugh! Fine,” George finally said, dragging Lando away by the arm. “I still don’t understand why I chose to surround myself with children,” he muttered to himself.

“Because you care about us, for one,” Lando answered as if it was a question George was actually proposing.

“Don’t start with me,” he said. The look he gave Lando was enough to shut him up as they left Charles behind to more crowds of celebration. “If they’re gonna figure this thing out, it’s gonna happen regardless of what we think is best. You got that, Lando?”

George didn’t actually wait for a response to that. He knew the other boy well enough. But much to his surprise, Lando groaned in agreement.

Charles and Riley were just gonna have to work this thing out for themselves, if at all. No outside help, however well-meaning. The only question about it now was as to how Lando and George would fill the time.

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Charles was on a high like never before. He was downright cheery despite his resolve to let Riley go. This win was special, and nothing could change that. If anything, the fact that he won today only strengthened his resolve. He was certainly on the right track, and this was a sign.

Not much else could bring him down, except possibly for Toto Wolff obstructing his path.

“Charles, I would like to speak with you,” he said without hesitation. The permanent smile on Charles’ face faltered as he thought about how this was Riley’s father, the man who abandoned and ignored her for years. He did not want to speak with the man any more than she did.

Toto caught his face falling and dropped his similarly. All pretenses of politeness fell away just the same. “Look, I don’t know what she’s told you, but it doesn’t matter–not in the face of your future,” he said with a finger pointed in the air.

“My future?” Charles repeated bewilderedly. Anyone could see them having this conversation here. The paddock wasn’t the most private place to be having this conversation. Toto had to be really assured of himself to be lacking all subtlety.

“Yes, the future you could have here at Mercedes if you keep this up. Nothing is final, of course, you know how these deals work. But I can say that Lewis will have to retire eventually, and it would be a shame not to have that seat filled by someone of your talent.”

Charles scoffed, taking Toto aback. “Talent? You wouldn’t know talent if it hit you over the head. And I know this because it did.” Charles shook his head in disbelief. “Riley is a talented driver. And an even better person at that, but you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You don’t have a shred of the kindness, humor, and ingenuity that she has, so why would I waste my time with you?” Charles didn’t wait for a response as he walked past Toto, checking him.

Somehow, that cheery attitude found him once again, and a smile returned to its rightful place on his face. He was looking forward to the rest of the day. Despite his win, he didn’t really want to do anything in celebration. He wouldn’t be going out anywhere with anyone–not that it had ever been his thing. Finally, he has some time to focus on himself and maybe begin to let go of his feelings for Riley. Because what was the point in celebrating if he couldn’t even do it with the person he wanted to the most?

It was just a little past 11 PM when he saw the headlines, and he jumped in his car well before his phone even had the chance to ring. So much for staying in tonight.

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For once, Riley did not feel like going out. There was a first time for everything, but she didn’t think there would ever be a first time for this. Maybe it was because she didn’t actually win today and had no reason to be celebrating, or maybe it was because these stupid heels were already killing her. It felt like her foot was going to be stuck in that permanent arch if she didn’t take them off soon enough. And she was certain that if the black satin material of her dress kept riding up, she was going to kill someone.

The building itself was gorgeous, of course. Everyone knew that the Casino de Monte-Carlo was a sight to see, with its marble architecture and columns along every wall. The number of chandeliers lighting each room made Riley wonder how much the casino spent on electricity alone. Then again, the cost of the paintings probably wouldn’t pale in the face of that insane number. The space was filled with the gentle cacophony of games happening all around.

Riley wasn’t sure what she was meant to do here, but Pierre wanted to come so she would indulge him. They had actually been having a rather good time together as of late. Before today’s race, they had stupid conversations that made Riley laugh while Pierre rolled his eyes and just hung out like normal people would. It was simple between them, and that was nice—no headaches required.

She texted him of her arrival and waited for him to come find her.

People were mingling all around her, looking effortlessly classy in a way that made Riley feel out of place, even in her nicest black satin dress. Though she knew her friends weren’t there, she kept scanning the room, holding out hope for a friendly face.

She almost wished she already had a drink in her hands so that she would at least have something to do with them. She hated having to stand around awkwardly, fidgeting with her hands. Finally, she pulled out her phone to text George and Lando, but her messages sat there on delivered. This meant they were probably getting absolutely plastered somewhere. It almost concerned her since she didn’t know anyone else who could be with them to look after them, and George certainly wasn’t the reckless type to be partying without someone declared to stay sober. She hoped wherever they were, they were being safe but still having a good time–not like she was while waiting for her boyfriend to turn up.

She stared at the small screen, willing something to happen, anything at all. It had been almost ten minutes, and nothing. Originally, she and Pierre were supposed to arrive together, as they agreed earlier in the day, but he had changed his mind after the race, saying he’d rather wait for Riley at the casino. He didn’t give a reason for his change of mind, but Riley didn’t really mind. This way, she could get ready in peace without him hounding her to get going. And even still, the night was still young.

She almost started taking a turn around the room to find Pierre when a grating voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Well, if it isn’t Riley Wolff,” Lance Stroll drawled out, walking up to her with Esteban Ocon following closely behind. “Wouldn’t expect to see you here.”

She had avoided Stroll for so long in the hopes of distancing herself from any nepo-baby allegations, but it seemed it couldn’t be helped at this moment. He hadn’t taken kindly to being blown off regularly, and she always paid for it on the road with him. Despite this, she was glad to see people she recognized, albeit if they weren’t the friendliest. It’s not that she had anything against Ocon, but they hadn’t spoken much, and as far as she knew, Ocon had some rivalry going with her boyfriend. Needless to say, the universe couldn’t have picked worse people to walk up to her.

“Stroll,” she said in acknowledgment with a nod. “Ocon,” she turned to him as well. Ocon had the decency to nod back respectably so, but Stroll remained impassive with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. There was no point in picking anything with them, so she just let it go, moving to walk away.

“We were just talking to Pierre by the bar over there if you’re looking for him,” Stroll said innocently. It was unsettling, but Riley wouldn’t give him the time of day. She just had to find her boyfriend, and then everything would be fine.

“Thanks…” she said warily and stepped away from them toward the bar. She threw a look back over her shoulder only to see the boys were still watching her with something akin to fascination. She quickened her step.

It didn’t take her long to spot Pierre–only, he had a hand on another girl’s upper arm, and she held a blush on her cheeks and wonder in her eyes. He was unsteady on his feet, eyes half-lidded, clearly drunk. He reached up to the girl’s loose blonde ponytail and began playing with it nonchalantly.

“...love to see them sometime,” she heard Pierre say as she neared. The girl giggled and reached out to hand her phone to him in turn. Riley promptly stepped in between them, the phone falling to the ground with a clack as it was knocked out of the blonde girl’s hands. She scoffed at Riley’s intrusion, obviously unaware of who she was.

“What the fuck,” she said, dead staring Pierre’s cloudy green eyes.

“Riley!” Pierre said, failing to school his shock into excitement and stumbling over a bit. He latched onto her for support, but she shook him off. “You were supposed to text me when you got here.” As he patted the pockets of his suit, he noted the total absence of his phone. Explanation dawned on him in the form of a cackling Stroll, keeled over ten feet away with Ocon waving a phone in the air as if to say looking for this?

It gave Riley all the confirmation she needed as to what was going on right there. She should have known better.

He tried changing his tune. “Shit. Riley, I’m sorry–”

“Save it,” She spat out, suddenly not caring about what everyone else thought around her. “I’m leaving. Come find when you’re sober and ready to talk like an adult instead of getting trashed.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Riley just didn’t understand why? What made him act out this way? They were doing so well, she thought.

The blonde girl tapped her on the shoulder, and Riley almost bit her head off until she realized she was just trying to get to her phone, which was lodged directly under Riley’s heel. She felt a little bad–it wasn’t the girl’s fault Pierre made poor decisions, but the glare in the girl’s eyes quickly made her change her mind about that. Not innocent then, I suppose.

Riley lifted her foot off the girl’s phone and stormed away, rage fueling her senses. She was not five steps away when she heard Pierre say, “Don’t worry about it. She’s one to talk–but what can you expect from a spoiled girl with daddy issues.”

Riley had never turned around so fast in her life, nor had she ever clocked anyone square in the face. But this was exactly what she did as she whirled around and lined up her fist to meet Pierre’s nose. “Ah!” He cried out in pain, blood pouring from his now disfigured nose. Several shocked gasps were coming from the crowd around them. Multiple games came to a halt, and the murmuring started a half-second later.

Oh, and it felt good–for all of two seconds until her knuckles started hurting from the pain of colliding with Pierre’s bones and skull. This time, she couldn’t have walked away even if she wanted to, as two arms seized her on each side, forcibly pulling her away. Security.

Riley would be more embarrassed if it wasn’t for Pierre being dragged away as well; somehow, that made her feel better. All of the journalists, podcasters, and influencers were going to be having a field day with this one, to say the least.

_____________________________________________________________

Apparently, casinos had detainment rooms for this kind of thing, in the same way, that you might get held at a grocery store for shoplifting until the police arrive. Lucky for them, the management at the casino decided they didn’t want to get the police involved. Not only would it be bad press for them, but Riley and Pierre just so happened to be considered high-profile guests in a country where everyone was a multi-millionaire–so that meant something.

It also probably had to do with the fact that neither of them had done anything illegal to harm the casino, like cheating. So they were getting off easy. All they were asked to do was have somebody there to escort them, and they would be allowed to leave the premises–no press or cops involved.

Regrettably, Riley only had a short list of people to call, and none of them would pick up the damn phone. Just what the hell were George and Lando up to?

She was left with no choice but to leave Charles a voicemail and hope that he would see it sometime soon.

“Hey, it’s me. Um– I need a favor from you,” she cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable begging Charles for help. “I’m in a bit of trouble right now, and well, you’re the only other person I trust in this country, as we established,” she chuckled awkwardly even though Charles wasn’t actually on the phone with her. “Anyway, if you could please come pick me up I would really appreciate that. Uh– just open Instagram or something, and you’ll know where to look.”

She left the message at that, not knowing what else to say.

“You have some nerve,” Pierre piped up from his side of the room. There was only one detainment room in the casino (Riley supposed it had something to do with fist fights being more uncommon amongst those who thought themselves classy), and this meant that security had handcuffed Riley to the bench on one side of the small room, and Pierre on the other. There was also a tiny camera in the corner surveilling them. “Calling my best friend to pick you up after you hit me.”

He was given a ziplock bag of ice for his wound, and he held it up with his free hand. Riley didn’t have the satisfaction of seeing him cry out in pain once again as he was taken elsewhere in the casino to have the bone reset. The blood was dry on the stubble above his lip, just as it was dry on her knuckles. She was also given ice for her wound, but it was awkward to apply with her good hand being cuffed, so she quickly gave up on it.

Riley clicked her tongue. “Well, my teammate can decide whether or not that punch was justified when he gets here. It was warranted,” she gave a hmph. What the fuck had gotten into Pierre? They were just fine before this.

Then again, now that she thought about it, he did try to shake her off rather quickly after she caught up with him after the race. She had assumed he was tired, but clearly, it was something more.

Pierre tilted his head all the way back in cacophonous laughter as if Riley had made the joke of the century. “He’s not coming, Riley,” an air of finality rang in the words. “Even if you two are screwing around behind my back–”

“Whoa- what the hell?!” Riley raised her eyebrows at him. She wanted to throw her arms up too, but the move wasn’t as effective with only one of her arms free.

“--he couldn’t come even if he wanted to,” Pierre finished.

“We’re not ‘screwing around behind your back.’ All right?” Riley clarified. For all she thought of Charles, she hadn’t made a move on him at all since she and Pierre decided to go steady. At the very least, she couldn’t be accused of that.

Pierre gave a little scoff and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. He’s clearly into you. More than into you, even.”

“What does that matter? I chose you,” Riley made sure to emphasize that last word.

“But you didn’t. Not really,” he said more quietly. “I’ve seen the way you look at him and god–have you heard the way he talks about you?” There was pain in his voice. “You may have agreed to date me, Riley, but you never chose me. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Riley was stunned into silence as Pierre continued, “I liked you first, Riley. For the first time in my life, I was nervous around a girl, and I didn’t know what to do with you. How was I supposed to show you I wanted more without messing it all up? I’m not exactly known for being great at relationships.” His eyes were trained on the floor. “And when I was finally getting round to telling you everything, I realized it was pointless. Because he liked you. Why bother trying when I could see you were already inclined to pick him either way.”

“You don’t know that,” Riley shook her head incredulously. It was hard to describe how she was feeling at the moment. She was still mad at him, of course, but something about the severity of his voice at that moment made her turn in on herself.

“Except I do know that because it’s been this way forever. My whole life, Charles has taken everything I’ve done and done it better. I made it to F1 before him with a decent team, and I thought to myself, wow, I actually did something better than him for once. Only for Charles to come in the following year and just be so goddamned perfect as always that he gets a seat at a front-field team like it’s nothing.”

“So you have poor self-esteem issues when it comes to Charles,” Riley said, “that still doesn’t explain what you think happened between us or why you couldn’t just talk to me,” She gave a light shrug with her shoulder and wrapped one arm around herself in comfort.

“I tried to pretend like it didn’t matter to me, okay? Like I didn’t want you the way I did. I even lied to Charles about it, thinking that it would help me believe it, but it didn’t.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to surprise you that night in Miami and make things official in a special way. I was always going to come back for you. I didn’t imagine George would have left you and that you would end up inviting Charles back to your room.”

Riley sucked in a sharp breath at that. She had certainly been drinking that night, but she remembered the situation all too well. The way she wanted to just let everything go to hell if she could just have Charles for one night.

“I was coming back, and he didn’t even notice me on his way to the bar.” Did everyone see Charles that morning? Riley held back the question, but she almost began to wonder if she was the only one who didn’t understand Charles was in love with her then. All things considered, it was likely. “I could see his emotions written all over his face, and it pissed me off. Just for once, I wanted to have something of my own. Just for once, I wanted to be selfish. That’s when I decided to be selfish with you anyway, despite knowing how he felt about you and how you felt about him. It wasn’t enough in the end, of course. And before you say anything, Riley, it is so obvious that you’re in love with him. It was painful to see you two together today, and I had to pretend like you were still mine.”

Riley wanted to be shocked at the insinuation, but she couldn’t, not when this was what everyone was telling her. Her. Charles. Love. It just all fit together like a puzzle she didn’t know she was building. How could that be? It was just yesterday that Charles was her rude teammate who she couldn’t figure out. Now, she wanted him in a way that could only really be translated as a need.

That reminded her. “What did you mean when you said that Charles couldn’t come here even if he wanted to?”

Pierre gave a small grin, and she was sure it had to do with her lack of rebuttal against his claims. He was right, and he didn’t need to be told, but it was all the confirmation he needed.

“Charles is a Monegasque citizen,” he said plainly.

“Yes, I happen to be aware of that fact, thank you very much,” Riley replied snarkily, her patience growing thin with this tiresome turn of events.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he pulled a tight line with his lips. “He’s a Monegasque citizen; therefore, he cannot enter the casino. They’re not allowed to gamble.”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” she dismissed. The more she thought of the metal bench under her, the more uncomfortable it grew. She needed to leave. Her dress and heels were already enough of a discomfort.

“It’s true. It’s the law,” Pierre continued, sitting up straighter with not a hint of humor in his voice. He was serious. “Government didn’t want all its citizens to spend all their money here. They’re not just checking IDs for age at the door, Riley. They’re checking for proof of overseas residency.” He waved a hand pragmatically. “Charles would be arrested if he did find a way in, and it’s not as if every person in this country doesn’t know his face either–it’s his home, and he’s famous.”

“Shit.” She hung her head a bit. Charles was already a last resort for her. What was she gonna do without him? “And where are my friends?” She muttered to herself.

Pierre must have heard her because he said, “You mean George and Lando?” He pressed further when Riley gave a nod. “Well–” he stopped himself, chuckling a bit, “I always had the impression that Lando was gay. And George always did enjoy taking care of him too much. If I had to guess, they’re probably ahem together, right now, if you know what I mean.”

Riley's jaw dropped to the floor, only giving Pierre cause for further laughter. This couldn’t be true. There was no way she was so wrapped up in her own life that she could have missed her two best friends getting together or even remotely liking each other in that fashion.

But she had been rather focused on other things as of late… And all they ever talked about were her relationship issues… Wait, except that one time she was talking to Lando, and he mentioned that nothing happened with a girl he was talking with. But Lando should have already known that eating McDonald’s in a hotel room wasn’t a great date idea because it was something he did with Riley all the time as friends. Then it dawned on her. He was never trying in the first place! Oh my god, they are together!

Riley was lost deep in this thought when keys began to jangle outside the door. One of the security guards came through, but Riley was barely in this reality–astounded still by this revelation. She almost didn’t register the words coming out of the guard’s mouth.

“Riley Wolff, there’s someone here for you. You’re free to go.”

_____________________________________________________________

A/N: For those who are curious, this is actually a real law if you can believe it or not. Learning about it kind of inspired this whole fic, so I suggest looking it up if you want to know more :)

As always, let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to be added to the taglist for all future chapters! I really enjoy reading all your comments!!

Taglist: @leclercwifey @hihiroc511-blog @omnesmorimur3 @siovhanroy @charlesswife @chilifanacc @satanfinalgirl @nikolaisblog @91vhs @dr3lover @onlyonetifosi @chiliwhore @nataliambc @livster @celine-xox @mrsmaybank13 @peachiicherries @purplephantomwolf @leclerc13 @deepestkpoponanime @moonclaine

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derekhernandezfuentes · 1 year

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darklydeliciousdesires · 23 days

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Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.

Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)

With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!

Previous chapters - One Two

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,300

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.

“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.

“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”

“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.

She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.”

Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.”

Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?”

“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.”

She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?”

“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.

Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.

“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”

Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.

“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”

“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.

Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.

It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.

She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict.

Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.

“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”

“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?”

That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”

“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.

It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.

She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.

What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake?

He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.

“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat.

“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet.

“Oh, alright. When will you be back?”

He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?”

She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.”

His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”

As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.

How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him.

Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.

“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it.

“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?”

She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”

Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.

“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”

“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.

Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer.

Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.” Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.

“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.”

“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back.

“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”

Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.”

“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked.

“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”

Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.

“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”

It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”

Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”

Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close.

“Tell me more, sugar!”

Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”

The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?”

She nodded.

“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!”

Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?”

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.”

“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show.

“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.

“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”

Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,”

The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.

“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”

“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?”

His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.”

He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.”

“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”

Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?”

“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”

That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons.

“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.

Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.

With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”

“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.

“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.

“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.

Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.

The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.

“Luca?”

He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”

He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.

Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’

It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.

He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her.

He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.

But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #luca changretta fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

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punk4ndisorderly · 11 months

Text

light on

The one where Y/N is the daughter of a legendary Team USA coach and used to attend the development program with the boys. 8 years after they last saw each other in person, a reunion brings Jack and Y/N back into each other’s lives... and hearts.

if you leave the light on, i'll leave the light on

II III - america's suitehearts IV

Cole and Alex hadn’t stopped laughing since they had climbed into the car, the blond one doing the best he could to control his breathing. Y/N gave them a stern look, ignoring their jesters as she zoned out.

Thinking about it, she didn’t remember ever seeing Jack that flustered, and she had known him since they were angsty teens living and breathing hockey. What had gotten into him? He looked really good in a suit, though. If she were to be honest, he looked good in almost everything.

“Poor Rowdy, I could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating for a second.” Alex said in between breaths.

“Even I had to get it together after I took a look at Y/N's boobs in that dress. Respectfully, Junior... Damn!” Cole agreed.

“You’re all very funny, I get it. Can you stop making fun of the poor guy now? He’s clearly hurting and you’re being mean spirited.”

“What do you mean, ‘mean spirited’? Haven’t you heard of the saying 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else´, or something like that?”

“You did not just say that, Turc.”

“Oh, but he did, princess.” Cole chuckled, not even flinching at the sight of the death glare Y/N sent his way.

 Inside the main gym, the prospects and their the ones tjey gave their spare tickets to were already filling up their seats at the different tables scattered across it, waiting for the alumni to arrive.

Jack was the first one to climb out of the car, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a minute to get over the embarrassing moment he had just experienced back in the hotel.

Walking through the door, he was left stunned yet again by the way she looked. The vivid image of Y/N Y/L/N in a red dress that was still burning in his brain did not do her justice. She walked up to him, a worried look on her face.

“Are you okay?” the doctor inquired, her beautiful eyes filled with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry.” he waved it off, quickly changing the subject. “Didn’t I tell you you would look great?”

“Thank you.” she smiled, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

 “Look at them! They’re acting like a couple of middle school kids, I don’t get it.” Trevor huffed, watching the two of his friends interact.

“They’re good friends, Z. She has a daughter and he just got out of a long-term relationship. You can’t really expect them to jump into something new all of a sudden. The spark is definitely there and I teased them about it already, but if anything happens, it’s going to be on their terms.” Cole chimed in, taking a sip of the mocktail he had picked up from the refreshments table.

“When did you become Dr. Phil?”

“Olive kept me up crying for a week during that storm last year and all that was on at 4 am at home were reruns of Oprah and Dr. Phil… I picked up a thing or two.” he shrugged.

“Jacko!” they heard Alex call out from behind them and jogging to meet their friends, bursting their little bubble. “You are both cordially invited to the midnight ice cream run. Tonight. At, you know, midnight.”

The pair looked at each other, remembering the conversation they had earlier at the hotel.

“I think I’m going to pass, Turc. Sorry. Very early flight, long hours on a plane, dying to get some rest.” Y/N politely declined.

“Guess that’s just you, me and Z then, buddy!”

“Did you stop to consider the fact that I might actually want to sleep during the night?”

“What are you, ninety?” Alex stuck his tongue out at him, strutting off to check which table was the one he was assigned to.

“Sometimes I wonder why I surround myself with a bunch of five-year-olds.” the brunette man chuckled.

“Tell me about it.”

The room was buzzing in anticipation, longing for the prodigal alumni, especially Jack Hughes, to make their entrance. He could feel all eyes on him, which he could name as one of the things he disliked the most about his found stardom. The pro player greeted the teenagers sat at the table he was sitting in, making small conversation, looking over to where Y/N was instinctively.

He could feel the young girls' eyes on him and he assumed they were probably waiting for him to tell them something they probably already knew. Jack stopped chewing the small piece of bread he was eating, raising his eyebrow.

“Do I have something on my face?” he inquired, scratching his scruff.

They instantly shook their heads, a few giggles escaping their mouths as their boyfriends frowned beside them.

“They're waiting for you to spill the tea on the highly anticipated Jack-Y/N reunion. Your line is us boys about...Coach Y/L/N plays us the tape of you guys scrimmaging every year.” one of them, a redhead with freckles, explained.

“Oh.” he cleared his throat, straightening up in his chair. “It’s always cool to hang out with my linemate.” he winked. “It’s good to be back here and getting to meet you guys as well. Also, if you ever get your hands on that tape, promise me you’ll delete it.”

The group of young girls swooned over his ever-growing charm and playful smile, the boys equally as charmed.

* “Y/N, we found some pictures of the boys when they were little and we wanted to know if you could figure out who they are.” a blonde girl requested, avoiding meeting her eyes.

“Sure, I love a good throwback.” she smiled warmly, taking the phone the girl was holding out for her. “Oh, this one’s way too easy. Cole. Sophmore year trip to the Rocky Mountains. He had just gotten his braces and was adamant on not showing his teeth to anyone.

“You’re right.” the girl beamed, quickly letting go of his shyness. “You can swipe left, now.”

“Aw, that’s me! Really cool pigtails, hu?” she giggled, nudging one of the boys with her elbow. “Mmm… This is a good one… Is this… Z?”

The girls all nodded in unison, surprised she recognized them when all the pictures were at least twenty years old. Y/N felt quite proud of herself, swiping every time she got it right with a smirk. She stopped to look at the one that came up next with a little bit more attention, taking in the details. There stood an approximately five-year-old Jack, no front teeth, grinning mischievously and winking at the camera, making finger guns.

“Oh, it’s impossible not to know who it is! It’s sweet baby Jacky!” she chuckled, zooming in on his face. “Hey, Rowdy! Hughes! Jack!”

His head snapped up to where he heard his name being called from, seeing Y/N waving him over excitedly. He smiled at his dinner dates apologetically.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think my partner wants to have a word with me. I’ll be right back.” the brunette man said, standing up and walking up to Y/N's table. “What’s up?” he asked, trying to avert his eyes from her plunging neckline.

“Look at this! You look so cute in your little cowboy suit! Wasn’t this taken at the Halloween party back in first grade? When you tried to convince your mom to rent a pony?”

“You remember that?” he replied, surprised at how good her memory was.

“Of course I do, you adorable nerd, your mom's stories have always been incredibly memorable.” the doctor cooed, her smile only widening more as she looked at the picture again.

“That’s a really embarrassing photo… And memory.” Jack blushed, scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t forget Ellen posted pictures of you in a honeybee costume on social media.” Trevor pointed out from the table next to Y/N.

“Dude, seriously?” the Devils' player grumbled, much to his friend’s delight.

“I live to annoy the shit out of you, brother.” Trevor grinned before realizing what he had said and slapping his hand over his mouth. ”I’m sorry, kids. Swear words are bad words! Don't tell Coach."

The whole table laughed at their interaction, one of the girls speaking up before Aleksander went back to his table.

“We didn’t find those honeybee pictures online but we do have a very interesting photo of you as a newborn that is circulating around social media, we were just about to show it to Y/N.”

“Oh god, please don’t.” he begged, looking mortified.

The girls nodded, giggling, not wanting to go against the handsome man’s wishes.

“Hey! I want to see that picture!” Y/N pouted, standing up to face him, crossing her arms over her chest, accidentally making her breasts stand out even more.”

“Pouting isn’t going to cut it, sweetheart.” he sang, turning his back on her to avoid letting his eyes rake down her body again.

“Party pooper!” the doctor called out, earning a few amused looks from her old friends and the guests.

He chuckled, sitting back down at his table.

“So, where were we?”

He tensed up at her proximity, but quickly relaxed when he noticed how content she seemed to be while doing it, like she had many times before, during long hours studying tapes, back in the day.

“I still want to see the picture, you know…” she teased, looking up at him with puppy eyes.

“It’s awful.”

“I have some pretty embarrassing childhood pictures myself… Come on.”

“You’re not giving up, are you?”

“Nope.” she grinned sheepishly.

“Promise you won’t laugh.” Jack requested, dead serious.

“I won’t!” Y/N crossed her heart, turning on her seat, waiting expectantly for him to show her the dreaded photograph.

“Well…” he began, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his suit jacket and looking it up. “Here it is. A newborn Jack Hughes.”

“Oh… Wow.” the doctor stuttered, not knowing what else to say.

“I wasn’t turning heads back then, no sir.” the pro player solemnly declared, his words laced with humor.

“That’s a terrible thing to say about a baby!” Y/N swatted at his arm, struggling to keep a straight face. “Even when the baby…”

“Looks like an elderly alien?”

“At least you lived up to the name Rowden for once.”

They both burst into laughter, not being able to hold it in and earning themselves a few stares from their fellow alumni.

“We’re terrible people.” she joked, gently placing her hand on his shoulder as she used her other hand to wipe a single tear that had escaped her eyes and struggling to catch her breath.

Just then, Trevor walked past them, wearing a powder blue suit with a huge red stain on the crotch area. Jack looked at Y/N and they completely lost it again. Their friend stopped to look at the pair, bewildered by their sudden amusement.

“Assholes.” he mumbled, leaving them to find the nearest bathroom.

They made it to the hotel in twenty minutes, every single one of them going straight to their rooms after saying goodnight to each other.

Y/N managed to unzip her dress herself, after numerous attempts, and hung it up in the closet, taking another quick shower to relax and get ready for bed, putting on an old band t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. She brushed her teeth and let her hair down, running her hands through it, before texting her mom to kiss Joey goodnight for her and lying down to sleep.

As comfortable as the bed was, she struggled to fall asleep. She tossed and turned for at least two hours and a half, eventually deciding to just wait it out, staring at the ceiling with an arm over her head. The doctor used to suffer from a really bad case of insomnia back in camp and it seems like she was doomed to another sleepless night in Plymouth.

Annoyed and sleep deprived, Y/N did the only thing she could think of: getting up, picking up her room key and walking down the hall, mindlessly roaming around, hoping her eyes eventually grew heavy. At least that used to work.

As she was turning for yet another lap around the quiet floor, she bumped into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” she whispered, not trying to cause a commotion. “Jack?”

The brunette man rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, nodding in response.

“What are you doing out here at three o’clock in the morning?”

“I could ask you the exact same thing, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Plymouth induced insomnia.” Y/N shrugged.

“Oh… Same, I guess… Remember that one trip to Canada we went on when we stayed up walking around the halls until Coach caught us and tried to give us the sex talk?”

"Oh my god, that was so embarrassing! I can’t believe he thought we were hooking up! I was wearing my pink bunny pj’s and my retainer... Come on!” she laughed quietly, looking up at him.

“It was the first time we really talked one-on-one, no pads, no rink. I really enjoyed it.”

“Sleep deprivation sure did make great friends out of us.” she nudged his side. “My dad's not here though, he can’t keep us from fighting this together now.” the doctor winked. 

“This isn’t working, is it?” he sighed, desperate for a couple of hours of sleep.

“I don’t think so…” Y/N half-smiled, stopping in front of her door.

“Well… It was worth a try. Good night, Mess.”

“You can come in if you want, if we’re not getting any sleep at least we can be miserable together.” she offered. “It’s okay. Come on in.”

The doctor opened the door and stepped aside, letting him in. His tall frame towered over her as he walked past her. Jack was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts that attracted attention to his (very) attractive backside. Y/N averted her eyes, shaking the thought of his sculpted body out of her head.

“I’ll turn on the tv, Cole told me we can stream shows here.” she said, climbing back into bed, and pointed to the other side of it, noting Jack awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. “You can lay here, the bed’s big enough for both of us. Hell, we could probably squeeze Z in here with us if we wanted.” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

Y/N looked at her, the woman who could pull off a sensual red dress and a band tee and no make-up in the same night without losing an ounce of her incredible sex-appeal, wondering what the Universe was trying to do to him.

“So… How I Met Your Mother?” her voice brought him back to reality.

“Mmm… Sure.”

They remained quiet for a while, watching the episode and occasionally letting out a chuckle or two, Jack finally felt like he could relax around her. It was Y/N after all. There was no reason for him to act like a sixteen-year-old with a crush.

“Barney’s pick-up lines would never work on anyone in real life.” she spoke up, ten minutes into the episode. “They only work in theory… And in really corny romantic comedies.”

“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you.”

“Excuse me?” the doctor pretended to be stunned by his ‘audacity’.

“I’ve got a good one and it kinda works.” Jack shrugged, not taking his eyes off the flat screen on the wall.

“It worked on who, exactly?” she snickered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“My last two girlfriends.”

“Mmm… Alright. Let’s hear it, then.” Y/N taunted him, muting the tv and turning to her side in order to look directly at him.

“Be careful, you might fall in love with me after I use it on you.” he warned, raising his eyebrow.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you… Okay… Here it goes… How much does a polar bear weigh?”

“I have no idea.” Y/N replied, amused by the excited look on his face.

“Enough to break the ice. Hi, I’m Jack.” he smirked, extending his hand out for her to shake.

Y/N took his hand, struggling to hold in her laughter.

“You’re such a dork, Rowdy.”

“C’mon, it’s a good one!”

Jack had the cutest grin on his face, the one she loved to see adorning his features. It made her heart warm. No matter how much time had passed since they had last been together.

“We’re definitely done with How I Met Your Mother for the night, I’m not taking the risk of having to suffer through another one of those.”

Y/N switched to MTV, turning up the volume, turning up the volume. Prince’s Kiss was playing and, as soon as she realized it, her eyes widened. She slapped his arm in excitement.

“Oh my god, this is our karaoke song!”

The brunette man smiled at the memory of the two of them singing that exact same song together after they won the juniors championship, happy and carefree.

 “Get up, we’re doing this.” she demanded, jumping out of the bed. “Want to be your fantasy, maybe you could be mine… You just leave it up to me, we could have a good time." Y/N sang, incredibly off-key, pointing at him. “Sing with me!” she pleaded, taking Jack's hands in hers and making him dance with her.

“You don’t have to be rich to be my girl, you don’t have to be cool to rule my world.” he followed her lead, in a high-pitched voice, making her giggle uncontrollably while he made her twirl. “Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with, I just want your extra time and your…” Jack paused, realizing he was now standing unbelievably close to her. “Kiss.”

#jack hughes x reader #trevor zegras #jack hughes #cole caufield #quinn hughes #luke hughes #alex turcotte #fanfiction #hockey boys #team usa #hockey #blurb #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes blurb #y/n x jack hughes

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