#could be younger too... but it may be a bit too dark. at which age can you go to Byrgenwerth anyway?! that would fix the pb | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

runningfrom2am · 2 days

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michigan cherry // part one

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the song in this chapter is "Second Child, Restless Child" by The Oh Hellos !!

a/n: heyyyy part one here we are!! i was going to post requiem first BUT the second part of btk s2 came out today so i couldn't resist posting this first :) playlist will be up very soon too!! hope you guys enjoy!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

It was muggy outside when Billy tied up his horse, and even hotter inside the saloon when he entered through its creaky swinging doors.

It was his current life as a bit of a lone wolf that brought him to this town he stumbled across by mistake, in search of a place to camp the night or ideally- a warm bed, but unsure if that was in the cards for him tonight, he decided to grab a drink instead.

He could hear the music before he saw the band, considering the whole town had apparently turned up to hear them play. Or, it was a Saturday night and no one had much of a better idea of what to do. He wasn't sure, until over the loud chatter and obnoxious shouts of men at the bar he could make out the sweet, damn close to angelic tones of the lead singer.

She was beyond anything he had ever seen, when he finally got a look at the owner of that beautiful voice, his blue eyes lit up in the dim light of the saloon. He flicked up the brim of his hat to get a better view as he leans back against the wall, absolutely mesmerized by the rapid pace at which the young woman's fingers strum over the strings of her guitar with expert precision.

"They saw trouble in my eyes, they were quick to recognize the devil in me."

With every word she sang, the smile he had to resist threatened to make itself seen. He could see the trouble in her eyes, even as they scanned the room- crinkled from the grin on her cheeks. It took Billy a few moments to even register that she wasn't the only one up on that old wooden stage- she wasn't the only one playing.

It surprised him even more when he tore his eyes off her to actually take notice of her band, that it was comprised almost entirely of children. Other than her and one boy behind her with light hair and hauntingly dark eyes who was dedicated well enough to his bass, none of the others seemed to be over fifteen.

A boy and a girl, who seemed to be just about the same age side by side playing little hip drums, and a blonde girl on a fiddle who appeared to be just a few years younger than the beautiful young woman taking up front and centre.

The smell of cigar smoke hits Billy's nose and brings him back to focus on where he was. He's not the only one watching this performance, as much as he felt the tunnel vision pulling him in on the girl with the skirt that spun almost as prettily as she did while she danced to her own music.

Completely lost in the song and the noises of the bar, she does a spin holding firm onto the guitar slung over her shoulder. Her hair flares out around her the same way her skirt does, and she has to steady herself as she stops, facing the old and abused microphone again to continue with the next verse.

"Can you hear it hanging on the wind? Can you feel it underneath your skin?"

Her eyes lock with Billy's as she looks around, the wide smile on her face hardly faltering even as his heart quits for a moment. She gives the man with striking blue eyes a small nod, not missing a beat of the song she was singing.

She was absolutely breathtaking to him. His eyes were stuck on every movement she made, every note she sang, and every word she uttered. He had seen pretty women before, but there was something about this girl that was different.

He couldn't help but notice how well she carried herself; with such confidence, and there was also a certain charm to her little nod as her eyes met his. The song and dance of the band were captivating, but his eyes were glued to her.

He raised up one eyebrow and gave her a little smile as he tilted his head curiously. Her voice somehow gave him a sense of home he hadn't felt since his ma passed. A sweet comfort he hadn't had in years.

He was being crazy, he knew as much- so he shakes his head of the feeling and peels himself off the wall to head over to the bar.

When the song was done, your chest was rising and falling heavily as you smile out at the crowd, waving to a few people before moving to set your well-loved guitar down.

"That's all we've got for y'all tonight. Thank you for listenin' to us take up your space tonight, but I sure hope at least a couple of y'all enjoyed it." You say into the mic with a smile, letting out a slight laugh as the crowd does with you.

"My name is Y/N and this is the Covey, and on behalf of all of us, have a good night! But not so good you don't make it home safe." You wink, signalling the end of our set and giving a quick bow to the crowd before stepping back to pack up.

Despite the shouts from saloon-goers and the usual sounds of the space echoing through, it seems quieter now to Billy without her beautiful voice, and he watches until her guitar case is closed and she passes it off the stage to her older bandmate who was helping collect the instruments.

As a matter of fact, he was staring into his whiskey and debating on whether or not he should even bother trying to talk to her when he's blessed by hearing her pretty voice again.

"Excuse me, miss!"

She's calling out to the busy bartender, leaning over the wood surface and resting her arm across it in front of her.

Now or never, Billy supposed.

"You've got quite the voice," He comments, voice rich and dripping with his unique mish-mash of accents- never having quite committed to one from moving around so much in his youth. "I'd wager you could melt even the coldest of hearts."

She turns her head to look at him, giving up attracting the attention of the barkeep. Up close, her eyes pull him in deeper.

"I'm Billy." He continues, extending a hand to her. It was out of character for him immediately- to offer up his name to someone he'd just met without them asking, but something about her made him unafraid to do so. Or... it was the unfamiliar jitters of nerves lowering his inhibitions.

A smile tugs at your lips as you quickly look him over, recognizing him as the man who had been leaning against the back wall while you were performing. You give his hand a quick and polite shake before responding.

"Y/N." You introduce yourself with a smile, despite having just done so on stage. "Was your heart cold 'til tonight then, Billy? Is that what I'm hearin'?"

"It was pretty cold." He admits, laughing. "But it seems like I've stumbled across just the fire to warm it up."

He looks you over again subtly, taking in how you still seem almost a little breathless from the performance you had just finished. It's interrupted by you laughing, shoulders shrugging as you adjust your top a bit, rolling up your sleeves.

"That's a good one, I must say." You giggle, shaking your head.

"Thanks, came up with it myself." Billy chuckles, mindlessly tapping at his almost empty glass. He figured he should at least come by it honestly if you were going to pick up on him so quick. "Tell me something, though. You're not from here, are ya? What brought you in? This isn't exactly the centre of the entertainment industry."

You look around at his final statement, nodding a bit in agreement. "Well, we're musicians by trade- travel about as we see fit. We're not really... city folks." You answer, looking back over your shoulder toward your band as they pack up and the kids play around on the stage.

"I hear that." Billy agrees, following your gaze. "Cities are too cramped for me."

"A bit of fresh air is good for the soul." You hum as you watch little Harvey and Josie chase each other around and behind the wooden stage and Max tries to wrangle them up. Business as usual.

Billy smiles as his eyes drift from the kids back over to you, letting your statement settle in before he spoke again. "Could I buy you a drink?"

You turn back to him again and nod, your smile returning in full. "I was waitin' for you to ask." You grin, waving again for the bartender who this time sees you and begins to make her way over.

He's a little shocked by your confidence in eagerly accepting a drink, but it just makes him more intrigued as he tilts his head at you. "Alright, then, darlin', what's your poison?" He asks, sliding over his glass and nodding to the woman running the bar for a refill of his whiskey.

"Water with a shot of warm honey aside, if ya got it." You smile to the bartender instead of answering Billy directly. "Please and thank you."

You had always had men offering to buy you drinks after your little shows, this wasn't anything new, but you always found a little bit of fun in seeing their subtle reactions to you ordering your water. Sometimes disappointment, occasionally even anger- but this Billy was the first one to ever smile.

"Well ain't you a fancy one." He chuckles, a small smirk on his face as his glass slides back to him over the countertop and he takes it with a nod of thank you to the woman behind the bar. "You one of those religious temperance girls?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

Your nose scrunches up in response to the thought alone and you shake your head. "Nah." You take the cup of water and the shot glass full of warm honey from the bartender and thank her again quietly. "Just a girl who's overindulged herself one too many times."

Billy takes a sip of his whiskey and nods, watching curiously as you take the honey shot and lick the sweet liquid off your lips delicately.

In theory, that sounded so messy- but you handled it with such grace it honestly could have blown his mind. You must do that often.

"A bit of restraint never hurt anyone." He agrees, watching you dip your finger into what honey clung to the inside of the tiny cup and lick it off your finger before taking your first sip of water to rinse it down. "Hell, sometimes I could use more myself."

You shrug and let out a small laugh at his little joke, looking over at him again and smile as the sounds of the bar are swallowed by the invisible bell jar that seems to have engulfed you both.

"You, uh..." Billy speaks again after a moment, shaking his head a bit to clear his mind. "That song, you write it?"

"That I did." You smile proudly, nodding.

"Ah," He nods, spinning the glass on the counter in front of him. "So, I should ask, do you really have the devil in you?"

The reference to your lyrics makes you smile more and you shrug, taking another sip of your water. "I'd sure hope so." You tease. "I sold my soul to him in an even exchange for our music."

"So your voice is the devil's work, hey?" He laughed, sipping at his glass of whiskey once again.

He took a moment to study you, the way you wiped the inside of the shot glass clean with one delicate finger and licked it free of the stickiness. It drove him crazy just to look at you.

He leaned in a little closer as he continued. "Or are you saying that the whole you is the devil's work? Because I'd agree that you're certainly a little bit of trouble. As the song said, of course."

"That's certainly what I've heard." You giggle, shrugging softly as you put the empty shot glass down. "But I promise you I get into no trouble. We keep to ourselves, The Covey and me."

He smiled at you, the hint of mischief that danced in your eyes, that smile on your face sending chills up his spine.

"Well," He says, leaning in close to you, "You know what they say. The best things in life are dangerous. At least, I'm sure I've heard that somewhere." He chuckles a bit and it comes across with a hint of nervousness as he leans back away from you, not wanting to come across as too forward.

"Says the man with a gun on his hip and two in his coat." You say with a small smirk, nodding toward the inside of his jacket where he had hidden weapons.

He chuckled, admiring your perceptiveness.

There was an understanding about you, one that he was coming to enjoy. It was a quality that was hard to put his finger on.

All he knew was what he had at first glance; a gut instinct about you that screamed, "this will be worth it."

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes glued to your own. "You notice everything."

"Trick of the trade." You shrug, bringing your glass up to your lips again and not looking away from him either.

"What trade?" He asks with a slightly confused laugh. "Does singin' come along with a lot of gunfights or..?"

For the first time while interacting with men at these saloons all across the country, you laughed at one of their jokes. For the first time, it was genuine.

It even catches the ears of your band, who give each other confused but knowing looks as Billy's eyes light up with your laughter, knowing he prompted it to fall from your beautiful lips.

"I didn't take you for a funny one, Billy." You admit after a moment, still giggling as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"You've got a cute laugh," He said honestly, almost without realizing he'd said it out loud.

He sees your band mates in the corner of his eyes, watching the interaction unfolding before them, and smiled just a little more. He wanted the whole damn saloon to see that he was winning you over right in front of their eyes.

"I could have the worst laugh in the world and you'd still compliment it. You can't trust a man who's tryin' to charm your skirts off." You say, laugh devolving into giggles as you tip your glass toward him.

"Oh, and here I thought my intentions were genuine, and not just to get in your skirts," He said, laughing again. "Is that what you think I am, some kind of creepy bastard with ill intentions?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised that when it's falling from his lips- you actually believe the denial.

"Men often lose themselves in pursuit of provisional pleasures." You comment, tilting your head at him. "It makes it hard to tell when once in a blue moon there's one who means what they say."

He was intrigued. Not necessarily by the comment itself, but more by the intelligence behind those pretty eyes of yours.

He was usually able to play these kinds of games easily, but you seemed to see right through them at every turn.

"Fair play." He says, giving you a nod of acknowledgement, "How do I know I'm the first man you've told that exact little poem to?"

"You just have to trust me." You say with a small smile. "If it helps, I wrote every word in those songs you heard earlier. I only speak when I have somethin' to say, and singin' is much of the same. You don't gotta believe me, but I'll tell you now it's not your wisest move to imply you don't think I'm smart enough to own the words I speak."

He couldn't deny that he had a weak spot for pretty, assertive women. But you were sweet, too, covered in it like the honey you just shot back a few minutes ago.

Those words, that tone, spoke volumes to him.

His lips curled up in a grin, and the tone of his voice took on a slightly more flirtatious edge. "I guess I should just count my lucky stars then. You don't happen to write songs about sweet talking men you meet in nowhere towns, do you?"

"Only about how they're venomous without the correct antidote on hand." You say, leaning against the counter and shifting your weight onto one hip.

He chuckles, his eyes glued on yours, not looking away.

God, he was in trouble.

The alcohol was making him cocky, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel. "And what if I came to you, hat in hand, asking for a cure? Begging you for a cure, because I'd been bitten by this sweet speaking cowgirl who's left me weak at the knees?"

"I'd tell you the nearest damn thing to anti-venom is just to run." You advise him, taking another drink before putting the glass down and sliding it across the bar. "And you'll find the real thing in the next dead end town you call a home, and then the cycle begins again."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Damn it, she had him. He couldn't even argue with that one.

He wanted to kiss her so bad right now, respectfully, of course, but he knew he should wait for some kind of signal from her. So instead he played it cool, grinning back at her.

"Okay, okay. What if," He said, watching with a smile as you raised an eyebrow at him over the edge of your glass, waiting for him to continue while you polished off your water. "And I'm just saying hypothetical here, theoretically, if he promised to stay in that next dinky ass town for a month just to see the woman he fell for again?"

"Then that would make you a fool." You answer. "Theoretically, of course." You add with a wink, standing up straight again.

You wanted to stay, to talk until last call and learn all his secrets- but you knew better than to fall for it all.

"Well, it sure was nice to meet you, Billy."

His heart drops at the words and he sighs, his expression softening as he saw you standing up from the bar.

He should keep it casual, he reminded himself. Be nice. Don't mess this up.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, darlin'." He stood up again slowly, his eyes lingering on yours for a few seconds, before he spoke again. "I hope we run into each other again, if only for a moment. Take care of yourself, Miss..."

"I don't doubt we will." You smile, giving him a small punctuating bow as your bandmates wave you back over.

You glance back at him over your shoulder as you walk away, giving him one of your winning smiles before picking up your guitar case and following your friends out the back door.

Billy stood there in the saloon for a few moments, watching you go with a wistful, almost regretful look on his face.

There was something about you that made him want to do stupid things.

"Run after her," his other half shouted. "I don't care if you look like a damn fool."

But he just stood there, like a damn fool, until he finally shook his head and muttered to himself. "Damn it."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x you #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid season 2 #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney x you #william h bonney #william bonney #tom blyth #tom blyth fic

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fantomette22 · 2 years

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In the fic I wrote, the knight and the beast of cainhurst is basically a fairytale.

But in the early old hunter era it wasn't really/everytime the case. Some hunters/prospectors looking for other missions might have catch rumors of the original event.

-thoughts of the characters are written like this-

In a tavern/bar/ workshop whatevever :

Hunter 1: "Do you know where we could find our next more interesting mission ?

H2 : Oh there's one thing we could go investigate ! I heard rumored that not to far from Cainhurst there's a mysterious huge creature hiding!

-Really ? You’re sure the nobles didn't already took care of it ? That seems weird they would let something like this pass.

-Well apparently some of their knights got smoked !

-That's concerning...

H3 : If I may, I thought it was some children who got killed ?

h1 : Children !?!?

h2 : Um...You're sure ?

h3 : I'm not sure... but that's what I heard... It happened a few years ago...

h2 : Yes, one winter...

h1 : Are we even sure that monster is still around ? Is it even still alive? "

Maria who heard the conversion at the other side of the room :

-Who could we asked to learn more... they gazed at the entire room looking one by one at the fellow hunters "Ahah!" they seems to have found the perfect person to answers their interrogations.

One of them called and hold up their hand : "Hey Lady Maria ! "

-Scream internally-

She slowly turn toward them : "Hm... yes ?

-Do you have a minute ?

She finished her drink then walk beside them "What is it ?

-We were wondering if you know anything about some big creature hiding next to Cainhurst ?

-Hm well, there was one... sometimes ago.

-Yeah it cause some troubles apparently ? / Could you tell us a bit of what you know ?/ Who was involved exactly ?

-There was an incident a few years ago... Involving some young knights...I mean they were going to become knights. They went into the forest one snowy day and... a lot of them never came back (alive)... A beast had attacked them.

-Oh...

-Is that thing still around ?

-I'm not sure... I think Cainhurst took care of it... But you know in either cases I don't think you should go in there. I'm not sure you could even get in the area without authorizations. Just mentioning it to them my cause you problems you know....

Sorry I don't think I can help you more on this...

-Hm it's alright thank you...

-Do you know who we could ask to get more info perhaps ?

-Well... she thought a few seconds before answering : Maybe you could ask Gehrman about it. He might have heard a few things..."

-------

Some times later they spoke with Gehrman (I'm not going to detailed the entire conversation here, just the end).

"[…] Like she says you cannot just go in there and see for yourself. It's pure madness and I don't think anyone want to have to deal with Cainhurst. They don't like when people dig to much into their little secrets...

And you know... Lady Maria personally knew some of the person who disappeared that day... So please don't mention it to her again..."

-I really wish one day that dark story can finally have a satisfying ending.But that day has yet to come...-

#bloodborne headcanons #bloodborne #bloodborne fanfiction #gehrman the first hunter #lady maria of the astral clocktower #I just wanted to write this funny/angsty thing #hope you enjoy #it was supposed to be a bit more fun too 😐#it's not actual writing I guess #wait did I managed to actually write more than 5 lines of dialogues ?? and 500 words ?#knight and beast of cainhurst #in the years between part 1 & 2 #more lore/ in between things on the fic I might maybe never write?#Maria be like : nop I don't exist. I didn't hear anything. I don't wish to be perceived u_u - 'HEY MARIA !'#oh shit #I don't have a clear age in mind so let's just say they were like between 18-20y...that would explain they're still in some way #kinda children #could be younger too... but it may be a bit too dark. at which age can you go to Byrgenwerth anyway?! that would fix the pb #Maria did told Gehrman in detailed what happened...

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cherry-leclerc · 6 months

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lolita ☆ cs55

genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature

word count: 14.9k

You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).

cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY.

She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground.

He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.

But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began.

Where Paradise met Hell.

Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.

They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew.

You liked them older.

Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.

And that’s a story for later.

Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.

Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.

And your older sister, Ollie?

Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one.

Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.

Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good.

Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped.

“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”

Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.

“Papi, how are you?”

Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.

“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”

You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?

You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.

“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”

It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.

Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.

Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?

“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”

Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.

Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-

“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”

Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.

Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room.

He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

“I am so, so, sorry.”

Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume.

Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down.

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”

Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”

Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between.

“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”

Wait.

“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”

No, no, no.

“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”

Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?

What was so fucking special about her?

Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man.

Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest.

“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you.

It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that.

Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze.

“How’s school?”

Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”

The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming.

Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain.

“What do you do for work?”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.”

You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair.

“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”

Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.

“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”

The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”

“I might.”

Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”

You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.

You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities.

Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”

He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.

“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”

He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”

It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over.

“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”

“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”

7 years.

Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”

“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”

Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.

“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.

“Calling him wh- Papi?”

He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again.

“Forget it. How would I know?”

Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless.

Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.

Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.

“Not having fun?”

Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.

“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.

“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night.

“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights.

You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.

“You know the groom or the bride?”

“Bride.”

He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.

Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.”

“It is. Thank you for caring.”

He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”

“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”

He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it.

“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”

Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.

“See you around?”

“See you around, Maxie.”

Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.

The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So…What were you talking about with Max?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.

“Right. Have a good night.”

Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all.

So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.

Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place.

“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”

“Ouch.”

Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.

Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be.

“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”

Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke.

“When was this taken?”

“The day of our engagement.”

You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you.

Fuck her, honestly.

“Why’d you propose?”

He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?

“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware - and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”

Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults?

He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words.

You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you.

Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”

“You should leave.”

You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff.

“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”

Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought.

He’s fucked.

The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along.

“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room.

It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back.

Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you.

The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight.

His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete.

His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion.

Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps.

“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law.

��What are you doing up so late?”

Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs.

“First time?”

“No. It’s just been a while.”

You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns.

“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”

And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes.

His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly.

“You know what you remind me of?”

You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips.

“A Lolita.”

A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin.

The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.

A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home.

More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce.

Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up.

“Why’d you do it?”

Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue.

“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”

Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-

His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.

He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello.

“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”

His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips.

“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”

Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.

“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.

Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling.

“Take care, Carlos.”

It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.

“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”

You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”

Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”

The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.

“What are we talking about?”

“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.

“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”

Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”

“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”

Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other.

“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”

“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.

Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular.

“The fuck - Are you crying?”

“What do you want?”

She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”

Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.

“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”

You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience.

But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?

She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away.

“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”

We probably shouldn’t-

Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.

“You and him…”

She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.”

“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.

But now you did.

“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”

Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.

Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.

“How are we all doing?”

They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.

Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.

Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.

“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”

Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”

You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.

“Not a word of this to Carlos.”

“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”

Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”

“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”

“He won’t believe you…”

She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”

“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”

Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.

“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”

“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”

Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”

If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this?

You hated her.

You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.

Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.

“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”

You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.

“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”

“Thank you,” you blush.

Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”

“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”

“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.

“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”

Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”

Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?

“I always find you alone.”

You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.”

“Ah. I see.”

You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”

“About?”

“Marrying a monster.”

He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”

“You were thinking of quitting?”

He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”

It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.

Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow.

“Want to dance?”

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”

“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”

Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”

His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.

“Mentirosa.”

“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully.

The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…

His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap.

Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.

“Goodnight, Carlos.”

Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie.

He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely.

“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”

Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.

“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.”

He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins.

Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!

The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.

Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.

With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches.

“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”

Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.

As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast.

“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.”

True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps.

“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”

Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red.

Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.

“Boo!”

“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”

“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.

“You’re fucked up.”

Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”

“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”

He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.

“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”

He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”

Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.

Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.

“Fucking delicious.”

Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of cours-s-e.”

Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.

“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”

The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action.

“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”

Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.

Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”

If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it.

His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.

“How about mine?”

He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you.

He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.

You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.

“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”

Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss.

“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”

“You know it’s always been for you.”

With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”

His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”

Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out.

“Let’s start off with something else then.”

You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place.

“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”

“Yes.”

His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck.

Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria.

“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.

And that was only going to multiply.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”

No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.”

His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.

“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”

Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.

He adds a fourth digit.

“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride.

“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”

He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax.

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.

This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening.

Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.

Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.

Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.

Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.

His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser.

Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.

The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.

Light of my life. Fire of my loins.

Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips.

“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”

When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release.

Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more.

Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths.

“Will you fuck me now?”

You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.

“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”

In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.

“Then you should be fucked as such.”

With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.

First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.

I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.

Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.

“Oh God.”

Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.

“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment.

Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets.

The keys for the gate to Heaven.

Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.

“Does that feel good, bonita?”

Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours.

In this moment; he looked immortal.

“Carlos, I’m gonna-”

“Hold it.”

Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”

You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear.

He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.

“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”

It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex.

Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.

He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-

“I will.”

When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”

Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.

“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”

There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.

You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.

You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.

“Nice ceremony.”

“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”

He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”

“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right?

The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.

Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.”

“Good to know.”

“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”

“Like you care.”

She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”

No.

“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”

It can’t be.

Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.

Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”

She knows. He told her. And they still got married.

“Ollie, don’t…”

Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.

“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”

Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?

“Ollie, please…I love him.”

Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”

Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by.

Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.

You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.

“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?”

Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.

“Carlos!”

Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake.

“Coming.”

Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.

“¿Bonita?”

Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?

Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists.

As red as your dress.

He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.

“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey. C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.

“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.”

But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore.

A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene.

None of it mattered anymore.

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scuttling · 1 year

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Flicker in the Dark - Jacob Black/Reader

Fandom: Twilight Saga Pairings: Jacob Black/Female Reader Word Count: 12,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Pining, Unprotected sex, Slightly aged up (Jacob is 20), Fix it fic Summary: My take on New Moon, if all of the characters were a bit more mature and Jacob got his girl. A/N: This is a third-person story that pairs Jacob with a girl who isn't Bella but who fills her role in the story; Bella doesn't exist in this universe because I find she's not as interesting to write as an original character, for me personally. The character has no name and no physical description, so treat her as an OC or a "reader," your choice there. :)

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Bringing the idea of fixing the bikes to Jacob was the best thing she’s ever done: the best, and one of the dumbest, by far.

They both have adult obligations now—she has class, and a part-time job, which are thankfully both online, and Jake works full time—so when the stars align and they’re free at the same time, they spend every moment in his garage like a couple of bored kids. They listen to music on his dad’s old radio, eat pizza and tacos standing up much more often than they should; Jacob isn’t twenty-one just yet, but they’re on the rez, so they sip beers sometimes, especially on the rare warm days where the sun shines into the garage and sweat prickles at their hairlines.

He’s taller at twenty than he was when he was younger, broader and more filled out, like he’d said back on her birthday; she notices, sometimes, things like the tightness of his t-shirts stretched across his back, the way his jeans fit just, extraordinarily well. Those kinds of things you can’t help but notice, even if you’re emotionally, physically, and mentally unavailable, the way she is.

He pokes fun at her age—forever a sore spot, especially when Edward is and will be twenty-two forever—but she catches him noticing her, too, sometimes, so she’s not a total embarrassment at least.

It doesn’t happen right away, like magic or anything, but hanging out in his garage does make her feel better; he makes her feel better, if she’s being honest with herself. He quiets the chatter in her brain, the anxiety, the self-doubt, and she smiles more when she’s with him, laughs more, gets out of her own head. She’s happier when she’s with him, too, bikes or no bikes—though the roar of the restored motorcycle engine certainly doesn’t hurt—and he’s good for her, there’s no denying that.

She remembers her dad’s advice, even more meaningful now that she’s moved out of his house and living on her own—sometimes, you gotta learn to love what’s good for you—and she even thinks she could, some days.

That’s easy enough to say to herself, but so, so much harder in practice. She can tell Jacob is… interested, when they go to the movies, with the way he lays his hand on the armrest, palm up, in case she wants to hold it. Part of her wants to, really wants to; part just thinks about Edward and she clams up, can’t do it. She feels guilty, like she’s doing something wrong, even though he left her and not the other way around.

She still loves him, will always love him, but Edward made his choice; she just wishes she felt free enough to make her own.

She feels guilty when they ride, too, because the one thing he’d asked of her was not to be reckless, and now she goes out of her way to find a rush wherever she can. Anything legal, be it motorcycles, rock climbing, running, skydiving, really, really big roller coasters—you name it, she’s done it, and though none of it ever worked as well as she’d hoped it would, she never stops trying.

She knows better than to give herself over to things like drugs or binge drinking or meaningless one-night stands, but aside from that the limits to what she will try are almost non-existent. She loves the thrill of it all, loves feeling brave, feeling strong; In the end, she may wind up with a few cuts and bruises, but as long as she’s hurting no one but herself, she doesn’t feel too bad.

When she hurts Jacob, she feels awful, terrible, and she does hurt him—he’s so hurt for a while that he doesn’t want to see her, doesn’t even return her calls. She feels weak for the first time in a long time, like if she’d just been able to be what he wanted, to hold his hand, to kiss him, to get over herself, they both would have been happier. Now she just feels sad, and selfish, hurting the one person who has always been there for her, who’s always eased her pain.

She wants to respect his space, can’t bear the thought of hurting him more than she already has, but her anxiety gets the better of her; no amount of kickboxing or rock climbing has been able to take her mind off of him since that night at the movies, when he left in such a hurry. Even Edward has shifted to the back of her mind, though she has no idea when exactly that happened.

So she goes to him. Against his wishes. In the pouring rain.

She’s so, so stupid.

He’s so, so shredded, even more so than usual; it’s the first thing she notices only because he’s soaking wet and shirtless and that makes it pretty obvious. The second thing she notices is his hair, no longer long and pulled back with a cord of leather, but cropped short, though inky black as always. The third thing she notices is the tattoo, a large, tribal design on his shoulder that looks well-healed even though she saw him less than a week ago.

She catalogs all of that, and then she remembers he’s avoiding her and that she’s here to ask for forgiveness (she’s willing to beg, but it’s sort of a last resort.)

She calls his name, but he doesn’t turn around at first, not until she’s right in front of him, fists balled angrily at her sides.

“Jacob, I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the movie. Can we talk about it?” He huffs an unamused laugh, takes half a step closer; that kind of thing used to be playful, but now it seems almost menacing, between the muscles and the tattoo and the deepening frown on his face.

“This isn’t about that. You–you need to leave. Now.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument… but then again, that’s never stopped her before. She steps closer too, more of a challenge than anything.

“Well if it’s not about that, what is it? What happened?” He turns away as if to leave and she reaches for him, fingers latching onto his wrist. She knows right away that when she tugs, and he turns, it’s because he let it happen; there’s no way anyone could force him to do anything now, not with how big he is, how strong, how solid beneath her hand. “Is it Sam? Did he get to you too?”

“I was wrong about Sam. He’s helping me through it—just like he helped the others,” he says, but it sounds odd to her ears. If something was wrong, if he’d needed help, he would have come to her… right? “I can’t do this right now—you have to go. Please go.”

Before, he was stern, but this time he’s pleading for her to leave, and that’s just not Jacob—they’d hash it out before he cut her off without so much as a word, instead of ghosting her and making his father lie for him and keeping secrets with Sam Uley.

“Jake,” she pleads too, but instead of tightening her grip on his wrist she brings her hand up to the nape of his neck, to brush through the short hair that lays there, drenched in rainwater. “Please don’t do this to me.”

He closes his eyes like it pains him, and it very well might; she knows the similarities to the night Edward left are becoming almost too much for her to bear.

Maybe that’s why she came here, after all, because she could, because at least she still knew where she could find him. Because even if he didn’t want to talk to her, at least she’d know he was okay.

“I’m not doing this to you, I’m doing it for you. I’m not who you thought I was, I’m not good for you. You can’t be around me anymore.”

Fuck that, she thinks immediately, because she is so absolutely tired of people telling her what she can and can’t do, what she’s strong enough for, what’s safe.

She doesn’t want safe. All she wants is Jacob.

“I decide what’s good for me; I decide,” she says, voice raised and rough, jabbing a finger in his direction, and he grabs both of her forearms and holds them between them. He looks like he wants to shake her, he’s so frustrated, but his grip isn’t tight. “You think you’re going to hurt me, or something? Because look at us, Jake.” Her gaze moves to his hands on her, holding her still but doing it gently, carefully. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me, I know it.”

He drops her arms like she’s burned him, like he didn’t even realize he was holding them, and takes two steps back, away from her.

“You’re right, I won’t—because you can’t ever come here again.”

He turns and runs to Sam and the other guys, leaving her standing in the rain, soaked and alone, her stomach in knots. The chatter is back, the self-doubt, louder than ever now; if they could both do this, both leave her so easily, would she ever be enough for anyone?

She’s not sitting around her house moping about this, not again. She did that with Edward and it got her absolutely nowhere, so this time she resolves to just skip to the front of the line. She packs a bag for the trail and goes hiking, plans to take a long path deep into the woods, away from the bear attacks or whatever’s going on out there. Her dad would have her head if she walked headfirst into danger, and she knows better, anyway, isn’t going to actually risk her life just to get Rocky Mountain high.

She hadn’t planned on risking her life, anyway, but how was she to know the formerly peaceful Laurent was back in Forks, red eyes and all, and that he was working with Victoria? That wasn’t on her supernatural drama bingo card, that’s for damn sure.

She listens to him do the villain rambling for a moment, but irritation wins out over fear and she loses her temper, slips up and says that Edward is gone and he’s not coming back, and if he wants to kill her, well no one’s stopping him!

He looks amused by her outburst, but the smile melts off of his face when an enormous black wolf steps out of the trees, followed by several others of all shades, shapes, sizes. She doesn’t get a chance to count them, just runs like hell in the other direction, but when she risks a look back they are going after Laurent with a precision she wouldn’t expect from wild animals just looking for dinner.

She tells no one about the wolves—who would believe her anyway?—just runs back to her truck until she’s breathless, goes home and takes a steaming hot shower to rinse away the cold clamminess of his touch. She makes a cup of tea and changes into a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, then parks herself on the couch with her laptop for the rest of the night.

Until the knock at the door that comes around 1 AM.

It’s Jacob, and she’s so happy to see him that she forgets all about her day up until that point and wraps her arms around him, hugs him where he stands in the doorway. He hugs back, thank god, his embrace tight and warm and comforting, and then she ushers him in, offers to make more tea while they talk.

“About the other day,” she begins, filling the electric kettle with water and plugging it in, but he cuts her off, panicked.

“I wish I could explain,” he says, and he’s almost got those puppy dog eyes that always get him his way; he doesn’t even do it on purpose, just looks like that, and it’s incredibly hard to resist. “But I literally can’t.”

“No, I know, I… I mean, I think I know.” She has a box of tea in her hand and she’s gesturing a bit wildly with it, so she sets it on the counter, walks closer to him, so there’s about a foot of space between them. “First rule of fight club is you can’t talk about fight club—wait, it’s not an actual fight club, right? Because you’d dominate.”

He laughs, a real one, with his head thrown back, and she all but grins. There he is. Her Jacob.

“No, it’s not a fight club, but you’re right. I can’t talk about it, I can’t tell you anything.” His tone of voice hurts her, because it’s clear this is something he wants, needs to share; she moves closer, eyes on his.

“And what if I guess? Is that against the rules?” He shakes his head fervently, rests his palm on the counter beside him.

“No, no—in fact, that’s exactly what I need you to do. Sam can’t stop you, and I know you, you’re smart, won’t stop until you figure it out.” He reaches out with his other hand, tentatively, and links their fingers together like he did at the movies; when he brings their hands up to his chest, this time, she doesn’t pull away. “It would be so much easier if you knew.”

His face is so soft but so serious, his brow furrowed, and she squeezes his hand.

“I’m going to feel really silly if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I’ve been working on it all night.” With her free hand, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, shows him the same screen she has up on her laptop in the other room. It’s a list of all the facts she has, her own speculation, and finally, in size 42 font, one very important eight-letter word. “You said before that Sam was collecting disciples—a pack of them, Jacob, right?”

“Yes. Fuck,” he breathes, and though she’s heard him say it in the garage many times, this one is special because it means she’s right. He slides down to a seat on the tile floor, looks so relieved it makes her chest feel tight, and she kneels in front of him, hands on his bare shoulders.

“You’re a werewolf, Jake, just like the legend—your tribe is descended from wolves. Tell me I’m wrong.”

He doesn’t say a word, and at first she’s afraid she is incorrect, but then he reaches out and pulls her close, crushes her to his body. He breathes hard into her hair, holds her tightly, and she can’t help it, she cries, hot tears leaving tracks down her cheeks.

He brings his hands there after a moment, wipes the tears away with his thumbs, then holds her face like she’s something precious, lips turning up into a half-smile.

“Thank you. I knew you could do it.” He tips forward, presses their foreheads together, moves his hands to her waist. “You don’t know how badly I wanted you to know.”

“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry—I should have caught on faster. It’s obvious, when you put everything together, when you… You know. When you’ve seen what I’ve seen.” He nods his head and swallows, presses his fingertips into her side. She shifts closer, or he does, maybe they both do, so their breath mixes between them, soft and warm.

“It’s okay, you’re here now. You’re here, it's okay,” he repeats, and she pushes fingers through his hair, softer now that it’s dry.

“I’m here, and I don’t have to stay away.”

They don’t quite kiss, because she’s still nervous, maybe even more so now—they were so close to being separated, and now that he’s back in her life, in her house, she doesn’t want to risk breaking this delicate, fragile thing between them. His mouth just brushes over hers, more a swipe than a press of lips, and she turns her head so the rest of it catches her cheek instead.

He sighs, but he’s not upset, and he lifts a hand to smooth through her hair before dropping it altogether.

“I should go,” he says, but she can’t bear the thought of losing him again already. She stands when he does, takes his hand the way he did before.

“Can you stay the night? Please?” She squeezes his fingers, tries her hand at her own version of those sad puppy eyes. “I understand if you can’t, but I’d feel… I want you to,” she’s clear to say, and eventually, he nods.

She makes up a bed for him on the sofa, intends to head upstairs when he’s comfortable; she doesn’t know what stops her, but she stretches out on the other end of the couch instead and they put on a movie, something black and white, volume low. She couldn’t say for sure who’s the first to fall asleep.

She’s the first to wake up, so she takes a quick shower, does some work, brews some coffee. He’ll probably head out the moment his feet hit the floor, so she prepares herself for that—she just hopes that the rest of his pack knows he’s there, that they aren’t worried, or frantically searching the preserve for signs of him like she would be.

She asks him that when he pads into the kitchen an hour later, eyes sleepy, bedhead evident, and he pours a cup of coffee and sits across from her at the table.

“Nah, they knew I was coming,” he assures with a sip. “They know by now that if they can’t find me, I’m probably here with you.” That makes her smile, though she looks down into her mug and tries not to show it. He takes a few more quick gulps despite the temperature and sets down his empty cup with a smack of his lips. “Speaking of the pack, I think you should meet them. We gather at Emily’s—that’s Sam’s fiancee—sometimes, and they’ll be there today.”

“Will they be angry that I figured it out?” she asks, genuinely curious. She wants to meet them, wants to know more about the group of guys Jacob is now supernaturally entangled with, but she’s not so sure a house of angry werewolves is somewhere she’s ready to be so soon after her last brush with death. He breathes a laugh and shakes his head.

“They won’t be angry. They’ll probably be irritated with me, because I couldn’t just let you go…” Their eyes meet, and she thinks of reaching out to touch his hand across the table, though she doesn’t in the end. “But as for you, they’ll probably just be impressed.”

The pack is both impressed by her and slightly irritated with Jacob, but stern glances and eye rolls quickly turn to laughter and playful shoving, as they pile into Emily’s small but cozy kitchen and make introductions around a batch of fresh muffins.

She gets official confirmation on things she’d only read about—like their ability to hear each other’s thoughts when shifted, the accelerated healing, their speed, their power—right from the wolves' mouths, and they learn from her too, everything she knows about vampires like Laurent and Victoria. She doesn’t talk much about the Cullens, mostly because their secrets are not hers to tell, but she can see Jacob’s brain working as she mentions Victoria’s vendetta, as she shows the group the pale, silvery bite mark on her arm.

“If she’s here, she’s here for me,” she tells them, and Jake tenses, his jaw tight, veins visible, shoots Sam a look that conveys they have a lot to talk about when she’s not around.

Later, she suggests to Jacob that he take a walk with her, because she can tell how all of those stories have put him on edge. Together they amble slowly toward the beach, close but not touching, and this time she does take his hand, leans in so their forearms brush.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head to look up at him. “You guys are strong, fast. You took down Laurent—I have no doubts you’ll get her too.”

“Before she hurts you?” he says, staring ahead, voice rough because he’s been mostly silent all day, listening closely to her and taking everything in. “Because if she does…”

“She won’t. The others are watching her,” she says, hoping like hell that’s still true, “and even if she finds me… I trust you to protect me.” He stops there, on the wet sand, and she turns toward him so she can see his expression, to get a better idea of what’s on his mind.

“If they come back, I’m not allowed to fight on their land—I’d be breaking the treaty,” he says with a pained look. She understands the words he’s not saying: if they come back, I wouldn’t be able to protect you in your own home.

“They’re not coming back,” she whispers, because she can’t say the words any louder than that, even though they’re true. “He made his choice, and that’s—that’s okay.”

“Is it?” Jacob asks, leaning in, and she gets it, gets why; she hasn’t exactly been positive about Edward’s departure, how his choice affected her, took his family away from her too, and now suddenly she’s okay with it?

It isn’t sudden, though, not really. It’s been a gradual acceptance, something she’s been coming to terms with since the day he left. She knows Edward’s decision wasn’t made easily; she knows he didn’t leave because he didn’t love her, but because he loved her so much he put aside his feelings for her and did what he thought was right.

He went about it all the wrong way, removing every trace of himself from her life, banning his family from communicating with her, taking her choices away, but in the end his heart was in the right place, and she’s found a way to respect that, despite everything.

Maybe it’s just Jacob. He brought her out of her post-breakup shell, made her smile again, laugh again, feel important and wanted and cared for. Maybe he filled in the cracks of her broken heart so she could use it again, without the need for exhilaration and adrenaline to cover up the pain of what she’s lost; maybe it’s just Jacob, bright like the sun they so seldom see, special and rare and wild.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, voice steady with her conviction. She raises their conjoined hands and presses her lips to his knuckles, just briefly, before dropping them back to her side.

Jake nods, accepts her answer, and they walk further along the beach until the sun goes down in a hazy blend of blue and orange and red.

He offers to drive her home, and even though it’s impractical, and she’d usually put up a fight, she wants that extra time with him. Wants to be that close to him. She sits in the middle of the bench seat, neither up against him nor really on the passenger’s side, but close enough for Jake to throw an arm across her shoulders, and they listen to the radio and talk about his pack while cruising down the road.

“I better go,” he murmurs before she can even unlock her front door, and she tries not to let her face fall; she’d been hoping he’d stay over again, or come inside for a little bit, at least.

She must fail at controlling her expression, because Jacob smiles softly, like he’s pleased with himself, and leans in, brushing his fingers over the line of her jaw.

“We’re patrolling tonight—got a vampire to kill. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

She nods beneath his touch, and he pulls back and turns to leave, jogging down the street and toward the forest that’ll lead him back to La Push.

He does call the next day, but it’s brief; Victoria’s back, just as Sam expected, so they’re running all night, all day, trying to catch her off guard, taking breaks only to eat and sleep when they absolutely have to. Jacob promises to check in when he can, but after three days with no contact—and a voicemail from her father about locals spotting wolves in the woods—she’s on edge again, less concerned for her own safety, more worried about Jake’s.

She’s an absolute idiot for doing it—going to the beach, to the tall cliffs that loom over it—but she needs the rush again, doesn’t feel right when it’s just her own troubled voice in her head. She needs to hear the purr of an engine, the hum of a plane, the crashing of pure, white water against rocks… or maybe Jacob’s heartbeat. But the cliffs are the simple option at the moment, and all she can think about until she’s actually there, looking out over the ocean, the gritty scents of sand and salt in her nose.

She takes several deep, long breaths. That’s the key to these things that bring her so much excitement—using all of her senses, so she’s not just herself but everything around her too. She needs to see the sun on the horizon, taste the spray of seawater and clean, crisp air. She needs to smell the damp earth, touch the frothy bubbles that lap at the shore, hear…

She hears a wolf, actually, howling solemnly in the distance, but doesn’t register the sound until after she’s already jumped.

The waves are choppier than they’d appeared when she was looking down at them, and it knocks the breath out of her lungs when they crash into her body, pulling her down into the dark vastness of the icy sea. Her arms and legs move instinctively, fighting to bring her back to the surface, but the water is deep and heavy and she’s already so tired of trying.

She’s so cold all she can feel is cold, her teeth chattering, so even when she hits her head on a boulder and it starts to bleed, she doesn’t realize what’s happened until everything turns black.

She’s warmer, suddenly, that’s all she knows, though the ground beneath her back is rocky and wet, uncomfortable. She thinks maybe it’s a blanket that feels so warm, but quickly realizes it’s Jacob above her, soaked to his bones, a sigh of relief passing his lips.

“Oh thank god. Can you hear me?” He cradles the back of her head in his palm and helps her sit up, then presses his fingers tenderly to the sore bump beneath her hair. “Your head’s not that bad, but I bet it hurts.”

“Hmm. Hurts,” she mumbles, her throat raw, temples throbbing. She’s cold and tired and thirsty, but ashamed above all else; maybe she really does need someone making the decisions for her, if this is the kind of stupidity she gets up to when she’s alone. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and he runs his hands over her arms and legs, her neck, her face, checking for further injury. “I’m just glad you’re alright. The waves are bad today; you could have been swept away.”

“I didn’t realize that until it was too late,” she admits sheepishly, and when he brings her closer she rests her cheek against his chest, feels tears stinging her already tired eyes. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”

“It’s okay, I’m here. It’s okay.” His voice is as soft as his hands as they curve around her, holding her against him, and they sit like that for a couple minutes, until Sam runs over and tells him to get her home.

He drives again, but this time she’s even more grateful, because there’s no way she could have done it herself. She feels so much at once—dumb and scared and childish, but also brave and calm, while somehow her mind races with thoughts of the wolves howling and Jacob’s hands in her hair. Her focus is shot, and even though she’s wrapped in one of Jake’s thick, fleece lined hoodies, she trembles, heavy and cold, as she peers out the passenger side window, watching the trees go by.

“Hundred and eight degrees over here,” Jacob says eventually, with a half smile, and she blinks for a moment before giving in; with a sigh, she scoots closer, wraps an arm around his waist. She can feel the heat of his body even through the layers they wear, and she shivers involuntarily at the pleasant but abrupt change in temperature.

“You still want me this close? Not afraid the bad decisions will rub off onto you?” It’s a joke, a self-deprecating one, and an apology all bundled together. “What I did was stupid, I know. I could have gotten really hurt, and you should have been out there with the pack, with Harry, not saving me.”

He tilts his head, leans closer so his cheek rests against her hair.

“Well it wasn’t smart, but we all have our moments. And you couldn’t have known about Harry—don’t be too hard on yourself.” A long beat of silence passes, and she turns toward him, pressing her icy nose to his neck with another sigh.

“Mmm. You’re so warm. It must be nice, never getting cold.”

“It’s a wolf thing,” he says with a shrug, but it’s not, not really, and she can’t let that stand.

“Maybe, but trust me, it’s a Jacob thing too. You’ve always been warm.” She just sits there, breathes him in, lets him warm her hands and nose, so content she almost doesn’t notice when he pulls up in front of her house.

“This is better. Now that you know about me,” he says, tipping his face down, after he turns off the truck. She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, to try to gauge his intent.

“But?” He swallows hard, looks away for a moment before returning to her face.

“You saw what happened to Emily. Sam got angry, lost it for a split second, and Em was standing too close. He’ll never be able to take that back.” He shakes his head, as if imagining the two of them in the same situation. What he could do to her. What she would think of him. “What if I get mad and I hurt you?”

“You’re new to this—even if you are a natural,” she says, remembering a comment Embry had made when they’d last spoken. “You’ll learn how to control it, how to read the warning signs, and you’ll either stop yourself from turning or get somewhere safe. We’ll be okay,” she promises, resting her hand soothingly against his neck, and he sighs softly.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. Like one day it will be all wolf and no Jake.” He leans in, close enough that their noses just barely brush, and the way he looks down at her is something like…

Yearning, she thinks to herself after a beat. It’s a powerful emotion, but she’s never seen it look quite so beautiful before.

“You’re not going to lose yourself. I won’t let that happen.”

“How?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cover hers, and she wets her lips, shakes her head to clear it; it’s swimming again, in this small space, so very close to him—especially when he’s looking at her like that.

“I’ll tell you all the time… how special you are to me.” She looks up, feels like she’s showing her soul to him, like this incident has stripped her down to bare bones and she’s letting him see her, once and for all. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, then leans in slowly, tentatively, and this time she doesn’t stop herself from meeting him in the middle, from pressing her mouth to his.

She can actually feel the relief wash over him when she doesn’t reject his kiss, like he’s been tightly coiled and tense and can finally relax because she wants the same things, feels the same way.

She expects his lips to be warm, soft, but he is scorching against her skin, even more so when he moves his hand to her cheek in a gentle caress. With the palm against his hip, she pushes up his t-shirt, gets her fingers on his body, and they both gasp softly into the kiss, deepen it.

“Jacob,” she sighs when they part for air; he seems okay, if a little shaky, but she feels flushed, eager, almost vibrating with the need to keep kissing him. She wants more, even though her throat burns like the last time his lips touched hers, when he forced the water out of her lungs and saved her life.

That’s what he does best, her Jacob—like a flicker in the dark, he always pulls her away from the dangers of her own making and brings her back into the light.

“Is this real?” he asks, his breath a ghost on her lips; his other hand, on her lower back, pulls her closer to his body, and she turns her head and kisses the palm resting on her cheek.

They kiss again, hands a bit less careful, hers sliding up his back, his weaving into her hair to control the tilt of her head. She gives in to it all, lets him set the pace, gripping him like a life preserver and letting his heat warm her from the inside out. She feels like she can’t get possibly close enough, wants to be pressed skin to skin, but she settles for sliding into his lap, ducking her head so she doesn’t hit it on the metal roof of the truck.

He groans as she twists fingers into his hair, as she pulls him into her and feels the long, hard line of his body against hers. She kisses faster, harder, and he matches her fervor, wraps an arm around her waist and catches her chin with tight fingers.

They kiss for a long time, and the cabin heats, windows fogging up as they share breath and saliva, as they murmur each other’s names like prayer. Her lips are red and raw when she finally needs to pause, and she rests her head against his chest and listens to the thunderous, wild beating of his heart.

“Will you stay the night? Please?” she asks, voice a little broken—rough with need, and soreness from nearly drowning, and breathlessness caused by the most intense kiss of her entire life.

Jacob nods, and he sets her carefully back on the seat, removes the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the truck. She slides out behind him, and he closes the door, takes her hand in his just like she did on the beach.

He locks the front door behind them when they’re finally inside—as if that will stop anyone we need to worry about, she teases with a soft laugh—and she takes the lead, walks up the stairs toward her bedroom with Jacob trailing behind.

Despite his surreal body heat and the thick, warm sweatshirt he’d given her to wear, she’s still cold down to her bones, and wet like a drowned rat, so she pulls off her shoes and socks and sets them down by the radiator. Jacob watches her every move from a couple steps away, eyes lingering as she shrugs out of his hoodie, then pulls her damp sweater over her head.

There’s nothing sexy or seductive about it, it’s not a striptease by any means, but he doesn’t look away when she’s down to her bra, and she doesn’t want him to. He bends down to take off his boots, to line them up next to hers, then bridges the distance between them and leans in for a deep, slow kiss.

It’s not long before they both sink down onto the bed, and her fingers slip open the button of her jeans, then hesitate, wait at the button of his. She looks up at him, and the confirmation is all but written there, in the darkness of his eyes, the swipe of his tongue over his lips, but she needs to be sure.

“I want you, all of you,” she murmurs, and then she brushes a hand through his hair, leans in to just rest her mouth against his. It’s delicate like the first time, but full of meaning, and he presses up into her kiss. “Do you want this?”

“I want this. You. All—all of you.” He nods, licks his lips again, eyes softer but no less hungry, and she flicks open the button and kisses him like she did in the truck: hands on his body, in his hair, her breath all his.

They don’t part, not really, just fall back against the pillows and tug at clothing, pressing kisses to throats and palms. His t-shirt drops to the bedroom floor, then her jeans and underwear, his, and the room is quiet except for the sounds of eager, wet kisses and soft, needy moans.

She sits up, reaches back to unclasp her bra, and Jacob drags the strap down her shoulder, helps her take it off, leaving it somewhere in the bed; his mouth moves to hers, then down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally caresses each nipple with a gentle reverence that makes her ache all over.

“You’re still sure?” he asks when she is shaking beneath his touch, strong arms wrapped around her back, and she nods and shifts up into his lap.

When their lips meet, the kiss is hard, and she curls an arm around his shoulders, weaving a hand into his hair. They’re both panting when she leans up, guides him inside her, and when she sinks down it’s like a flash of tingling heat takes over her entire body.

Jacob groans, holding her securely, thrusting up as she works her thighs above him. They kiss, deep and messy, graceless but passionate, her fingers tugging, his pressing hard into her skin.

It’s not at all how she’d expected her first time to be; she’d imagined it would be with Edward, of course, and slow, but she can’t get enough of Jacob and it seems like he can’t get enough of her either. She’d imagined a cool, pale body above her, but it’s Jacob’s deep, rich, hot skin she presses her lips to, her fingernails against. She’d expected Edward’s hard, marble arms around her, and while Jacob is strong and firm he’s still soft, skin slick with sweat as they move together.

“Jake,” she murmurs, the taste of him on her lips, his scent in her nose, woodsy, clean. “Jacob.” Her body trembles and he holds her tighter, presses his face into her neck.

“I’ve got you.” She sighs happily at that, grabs his hair more roughly, rides him faster.

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

Jacob looks up at her, eyes fiery, liquid, then pulls her in with a hand on the back of her neck and kisses her like the first time—soft, nervous, sweet. The juxtaposition of that gentle kiss and his possessive grip makes her dizzy, and when he pulls back his face is all she can see, all she wants to see, all she needs.

“I’ve always got you,” he promises, his gaze tender, unflinching. “Always.”

He’s got her when he comes, holding her tightly with one thick forearm and dragging his free hand over her breasts, then lower, to rub her clit as she bounces herself to climax in his grasp. “Oh, god,” she breathes, voice like a shiver, and her fingernails dig half-moons into his biceps as they both slow, slow, slow, then stop altogether.

He eases them both down against the bed, arms around her, their legs entwined, and they catch their breath, just look at each other until the exhaustion of the day catches up to her. Her eyes flutter closed, and pressed so close to him, so warm, all she can do is sleep.

When she wakes, it’s still mostly dark, and she desperately needs to clean up in the bathroom and get a glass of water. Jacob’s t-shirt is the first piece of clothing she sees—or the first she wants to see—and she pulls it over her head and pads to the bathroom for a human moment—a very human moment indeed.

She pauses, while washing her hands, to look over her reflection in the mirror. Rationally, she knows nothing has really changed, but at the same time everything has.

The bathroom water is never cold enough to drink, so she treads down the stairs, across the kitchen, turns on the tap and lets it run until the water is icy and crisp. She fills a glass, takes a couple of sips, then almost drops it when a cool hand is suddenly pressed to her shoulder.

It’s Alice, and she uses her other hand to catch the glass before it can hit the floor and shatter.

“Relax. It’s just me.” Her eyes are soft, and it’s clear she is happy to see her, but there’s something else in her expression, something inquisitive. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fine. I’m… good, actually.” She shrugs, which bares her shoulder, in the large t-shirt she wears, that she’d forgotten she was wearing. She freezes—she knows how she must smell to Alice, like Jacob and like… Jacob—but her friend just shakes her head.

“I couldn’t see you; well, I saw you jump off a cliff, and then you were gone. I thought you died.”

“Alive and well,” she says with a tone that’s hoping for lighthearted, but…

She has no regrets about being with Jacob, not one—she just hadn’t expected to be confronted with a vampire she once considered a sister almost immediately after. She doesn’t know what to say right now, how to act. Who to be.

“I was cliff jumping, recreationally. It was fun... for a minute.” Alice rolls her eyes, but it’s clear she’s happy she’s unharmed—though perhaps irritated by her tendency toward life-threatening idiocy.

“That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t see you, why your whole future went black.” Her golden eyes stare seriously, unblinking for a moment, and then she looks away. “Though maybe I owe that to the wolf in your bed.”

Of all the nights for Alice to come back to Forks, she thinks, a suddenly uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

“Not in her bed anymore,” Jacob says, voice low, from the doorway to the kitchen; he takes half a step forward, an aborted move, like he wants to put himself in between them.

“This is Alice, Edward’s sister. Alice, this is Jacob,” she explains, trying not to focus on his shirtless torso, or the pained expression on his face. She blows out a deep breath. “It’s okay. She won’t hurt me.”

“She’s hurt you before,” he counters, no doubt remembering every heartbroken, aching expression she’d worn in the months prior. He takes a step closer, so he is next to her, his forearm grazing hers, and Alice takes a step back. “I’d like to stick around, if it’s all the same to you.”

He’s posturing, that much is clear, but she can't find it in herself to be irritated, because at least he’s giving her the option, letting her choose.

“I thought you couldn’t protect me here,” she says, turning her face up to look at him, and Jacob’s response makes heat pool low in her belly, just like the night before.

“There is nowhere in this world I won’t protect you—treaty or no treaty.”

She wants so badly to kiss him, but Alice is there, Alice, right in front of her after all this time, and she’s conflicted. Torn. He can tell, she knows, but he doesn’t take it personally, just reaches up to scratch his head, sighs.

“So are more of you coming? Is–is he…?”

“I came alone. And no,” Alice replies after a moment, but she’s looking at her instead, probably knows that he’s just saying what she’s too worried to ask. “He only calls in once every few months. Says he wants to be alone.” Jacob scoffs.

“Great. He wants to be alone, so you all leave her behind, unprotected? That red headed vampire is after her because of him.”

That gets a reaction out of Alice, whose eyes darken protectively.

“Who, Victoria? I haven’t seen her.” She stares off into the distance, like she’s searching for memories, visions, sifting through what she’s seen and trying to piece together what she hasn’t. “Just like I didn’t see you get pulled out of the water. There’s a lot I haven’t seen, apparently,” she adds under her breath, and the other girl presses her lips together, sighs.

Not the time or place for this discussion, and they both know it, but that doesn’t mean it’s avoidable for long.

“So you can’t see around Jacob. The wolves,” she guesses. “I’ve been with them a lot lately.”

“With him a lot lately,” Alice corrects. Jacob huffs, but it’s not untrue, so she lets her think what she wants. Her silence must speak volumes, because Alice takes a deep, wholly unnecessary breath, and gestures toward the door. “Should I go?”

“Please don’t,” she says quickly, nearly begging. It’s the first she’s seen of Alice in almost a year and she cannot let her leave as abruptly as she’d shown up. “If you could just give us a minute…”

“Take two,” the vampire says, and it’s with a half-smile that turns into a smirk. “I’ll go Febreze the living room while I wait: it smells like wet dog.” She turns to leave, a bounce in her step that the other girl can’t help laughing at, shaking her head.

She sobers up when Jacob turns toward her, takes a step that moves the both of them, so her back is pressed up against the kitchen counter. He looks so serious, and her heart beats for him everywhere.

“Do you believe her? When she says she came alone?” he asks, and she tilts her head, nods softly.

“Of course I believe her. She just had to make sure I was okay, that’s all. There’s… there’s nothing for them here.”

Even as she says the words, she hopes they’re not true—hopes that, even if they really aren’t meant to be together, that she and Edward, she and the Cullens, can still be… Friends isn’t really a strong enough word, but she wants them in her life, potential bloody accidents be damned.

“So if he came back,” Jacob says, leaning in closer, his lips hovering over hers, “you wouldn’t go to him?” His tone is light, but she understands the weight of his question, takes a moment to find the right words to answer it.

“If he came back, I’d want to see him. Just like I want to see Alice.” She reaches out to touch him, his warm, bare skin, places her palm over his thumping heart. “But I wouldn’t go to him. Not like this.”

It’s true, and she wants to say more, to promise him, reassure him, but just after she says it, the landline rings. Jacob sighs, his breath on her cheek, and reaches out a hand to answer it. “Hello?” The person on the other end speaks in a low tone she can’t make out, but she can see the tick in Jacob’s jaw, a hard set to his eyes. “He isn’t here right now, but that’s not who you really want, is it?”

There’s another moment of conversation she can’t hear, and Alice walks into the room looking stunned; Jacob hands the other girl the receiver, and she looks from him to Alice and then speaks into the phone. “Hello?”

“You’re alright.”

It’s Edward, his voice cool and smooth but thick with emotion. It makes butterflies flutter around in her stomach, just like it used to.

“I’m alright.” She doesn’t give him more than he asks for, doesn’t take more than he offers. She’s aware of two sets of eyes on her, feels more nervous than before, in her oversized t-shirt and sleep-mussed hair.

She’s glad he can’t see her and wonders exactly what that means.

“Good. Rosalie said Alice had a vision…” He trails off, but they both know what he’s not saying: everyone thought she’d given up and killed herself. She crosses her arms.

“The vision was incomplete. I’m fine. Stupid, but fine.” Edward huffs a laugh down the line, and she can imagine the exact cant of his mouth, the glimmer in his eye that always seemed to be reserved for her.

“You are many things, but stupid is not one of them.” There’s more he wants to say, she can tell; as a man of few words, many of their conversations were punctuated with heavy, meaningful silence. Part of her wishes she could see his face, at least. That always helped. “Who answered the phone? Jacob?”

She looks up at him involuntarily, notes the tightness of his mouth, his arms folded in front of his bare chest.

“Yes, Jacob. He’s the one who pulled me out of the water, the one Alice didn’t see.”

“Hmm. He still doesn’t seem to like me much.” Her lips turn up at that—understatement of the century—and she wonders if Jake can hear him too. Based on the stoic expression he wears, he either can’t, or he’s not paying attention.

“No he does not.” A beat passes, then two. “You should call your family more often, go see them. They miss you.”

“It’s difficult,” he says, swallowing, and she nods at no one.

“I know, but don’t punish them. Please.” She knows how it feels, to be totally cut off from people she loves, to constantly wonder, always fear the worst; she doesn’t say it because she knows he knows.

“I’ll consider it, if you don’t go jumping off those cliffs any time soon.” She laughs softly, surprised at his humor; this was not how she would have ever anticipated a call like this to go, but she likes it. Likes them, like this.

“Deal. Alice is looking at me like she’s going to steal the phone any moment,” she warns, which is putting it mildly. “So I’m going to put her on. You can call when it’s not life or death, you know,” she adds quietly. “It would be nice to hear from you. If you ever want to talk.”

She doesn’t know if he responds, because Alice takes the receiver, winds the cord around her arm, and scolds her brother with love in the way only a sister can manage.

While they talk, she walks toward Jacob, then past him, toward the staircase, but she takes hold of his hand as she goes, and he follows just like the night before. This time, he closes the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m sorry this happened like this,” she says, sitting down on the bed, one leg beneath her and the other hanging over the edge. “I’m not sorry Alice is here, but I’m sorry that’s what you woke up to. If you were… worried.” Jacob takes the space next to her atop the rumpled duvet.

“I was worried when I smelled a bloodsu- vampire,” he corrects quickly, “and you weren’t beside me.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again, this time leaning closer. “But thank you for giving me the phone, letting me talk to him. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” He shrugs, like it was no big deal, even though she remembers how angry he’d looked at the sound of Edward’s voice.

“I almost didn’t. I mean, technically, he didn’t ask for you.” She rolls her eyes—definitely guy logic—then stands up, scoops his jeans off the floor and hands them over to him. Her face heats at the memory of removing them in the first place, but she snaps out of that for her own sake and grabs fresh clothes, steps into the bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she’s done, she heads back to her bedroom, where Jacob is now clad in jeans and boots, sitting shirtless on her bed. She deposits the borrowed t-shirt onto his lap, and when he thinks she’s not looking he brings it to his nose, inhales long and slow, before pulling it over his head.

That action does things to her, and she wishes for a moment that she had his senses, so she could smell the two of them the same way he does, their scents deeply saturated and blended together.

They head downstairs when they’re both dressed, and while he rummages in the refrigerator for something to make them for breakfast, she treads into the living room and sits down next to Alice on the couch.

“So,” Alice says, and then she gestures to a cup of tea. The other girl picks up the mug and thanks her, brings it to her lips. “How long has that been going on?”

She feels her cheeks heat, and she hides behind another sip of tea.

“Really? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and that’s what you want to talk about?”

“Oh, forgive me for being curious about what it’s like to date a werewolf when last I saw you were grieving the loss of my brother.” Alice’s tone is more playful than it would seem, and her eyes smile even if her lips don’t.

She always knew that Edward wasn’t telling the truth when he said he didn’t want her. He just couldn’t bear it, knowing that being with him put her in so much danger, caused her so much pain. She knew it was worth it, but if he didn’t… there’s nothing she could have done to change his mind, she knows that now. She can’t feel guilty for moving on when it’s exactly what he’d wanted her to do in the first place.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s talk about how I’m going to comb the woods, find Victoria, and rip her into confetti for threatening to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jacob says, walking into the room with… a cup of tea. He looks over at the mug in her hand, then sets the one he brought her down on the table without a word. “The pack’s got it covered.”

“All due respect, but if the pack had it covered, she wouldn’t be a threat anymore, would she?” Alice tosses over her shoulder. The other girl sets her tea down and sighs.

“Alright, can we not do this? The age-old vampires versus werewolves thing? Especially if I’m in the middle of it. Maybe you guys could work together for a change; Alice can’t protect this part of the territory all by herself.” She picks up her drink—a drink, the one Jacob made, this time—and takes a long sip, looks up at them over the rim of the mug.

“The pack could help, if you give us the authority to amend the treaty,” Jacob says to Alice, though he’s kind of looking at the ceiling, his arms crossed. “But wherever she is, I’ll be.”

“You can’t be with her every second,” Alice counters, and her exasperation makes it sound like an argument she’s had before. “It’s not good for either of you and could put her in danger; if Victoria picks up on it, she’ll be able to use your scent to track her anywhere. Trust me, yours is a lot stronger than hers is, and it’s all over her.”

She thinks Jacob makes some kind of noise, like a low growl in the very back of his throat, but it’s hard to hear. Alice raises her eyebrows like she’s trying not to roll her eyes.

The three of them discuss potential ways to coordinate with the pack, and Alice mentions calling in Emmett and Jasper to see if they could help with the search; the sooner Victoria is gone, the better, is the general consensus, and Jacob thinks he can get Sam on board with that as well, even if it means more Cullens coming back to town.

She finishes both cups of tea, then a plate of eggs and toast Jacob put together from the bare-bones contents of her kitchen—she reminds herself to make a shopping list, then absently wonders if she’ll have a grand escort to Trader Joe’s.

“I’ll make some calls while you’re gone,” Alice says as she is taking her last bite; she looks up from her plate, confused, and Alice waves a hand. “I saw a glimpse of you at the grocery store, but then it went dark; I assume that means he’s going with you.”

“I thought about it for a split second, as a joke,” she clarifies with a huff of laughter. “I don’t think I need a bodyguard in the produce aisle at eight AM.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Alice and Jacob say, at the same time, and her lips twitch in amusement.

Looks like they’re not so different, in the end.

She gives in and allows Jacob to drive her to the supermarket, though not without a long look from Alice as he walks her to the truck with his hand on the small of her back.

They breeze through the store thanks to the list in her head—she buys a little more than she usually would, because it seems like Jacob plans to be around. She likes the thought of that even more than she’d expected, likes choosing things solely because she knows he’ll enjoy them.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Jacob says, voice low, when they’re nearly back to her house. She cringes internally, because that’s never a sentence a girl wants to hear after a night like that, and he clears his throat. “I know cliff jumping ended up being kind of traumatic for you, and it didn’t feel like it last night, but if I took advantage…”

He looks over at her, his expression pained, and she shifts closer and wraps her hand around his forearm.

“God, no, Jake—that’s not what happened.” He brings the truck to a stop in her driveway, puts it in park, and she presses her palm to his cheek so he’ll focus on her instead of fixing his gaze out the window. “I wanted everything, every moment. I still want it,” she murmurs, and he looks over her face like he’s still not quite sure he believes it.

“You do? Even after… after you spoke to him, and everything?” It’s a fair question, and again, one she answers very carefully.

“I think we needed to talk, he and I, but it didn’t change anything. You’re the one who changed everything,” she admits softly, tentatively, wetting her lips. She hopes her eyes convey the certainty her voice can’t seem to. “Do you want to kiss me?” she breathes, leaning closer, her fingers winding a path through his hair, and he nods his head and presses his mouth to hers.

She gets up on her knees so she can be closer to him, but she doesn’t climb into his lap like before—she does have some self-restraint, despite what it may seem. She curls one arm around the muscles of his back, pulls him in for more contact with the hand in his hair, and it’s a few minutes later when she remembers they’ve got bags of perishable groceries in the back and a vampire with excellent acoustic abilities just inside her home.

She pulls back, smiles a little at the soft, unfocused look on his face, then runs her hand down his chest before lifting it away entirely.

“I know we’re kind of at DEFCON 1 right now, but more of that a little later would be nice.”

“Hmm. Very nice,” he agrees with a nod, his voice slightly rough, and he turns off the ignition and carries all of her groceries into the kitchen with one strong arm.

Emmett and Jasper do come back, with Rosalie and Esme, to her delight and Jacob’s discomfort. Between the pack, who comes to get the vampires’ scents so there’s no friendly fire, and the family, who split time between her house and the one they left behind, the place is a revolving door of the supernatural for the next few days.

All of them take turns watching over her house at night, while the others patrol the woods. She catches up with everyone she’s been separated from—even Jasper gives her a crushing hug, so at least the time away was good for something—and it’s wonderful, but it means there’s not much time to be with Jacob aside from planning sessions and the occasional quick check in. The most time she spends with him is when they attend Harry’s funeral, something somber and intimate, with ethereal music and a glowing campfire and endless stories about the Clearwater line.

She is introduced to Leah and Seth, Harry’s children, and while Seth seems welcoming and friendly his sister is cold, standoffish—though not without reason, she soon learns from the pack.

“She’s not always like that… mostly just when she’s around Sam,” Embry says where they stand on the edge of the forest, away from the thick smoke that burns her very human eyes. She looks over at the pack leader at the mention of his name. “Now that she’s part of the pack, we have to live the Leah/Sam/Emily painfest all over again.”

She turns back to him, to Quil, who’s standing beside him, and tilts her head, curious.

“I don’t think I follow—Sam left Leah for Emily?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think. He hates himself for hurting her, but he couldn’t help it. Emily was ‘the one.’” Quil says it almost sarcastically, with air quotes for emphasis, and she frowns.

“The one?” She doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but these days she’s not as big a fan of providence and destiny as she used to be.

“Sam imprinted on Emily. It’s kind of like… soulmates, but bigger. Cosmic. They were literally meant to be together.”

“Like fate,” she says, filling in that blank, and then a large, warm hand is splayed across her back, fingertips pressing into the fabric of her dress.

“We make our own fate around here,” Jacob says tightly, and she looks up, regards him curiously. He’s not just upset about Harry, or Victoria… there’s got to be something else making his jaw tense, his eyes hard. “And I think that’s more than enough of the pack soap opera for tonight. Are you ready to go home?”

He turns his gaze to her, and it softens, for which she is grateful; he is her guardian on duty tonight, and despite the solemn evening—or maybe because of it—she wants to spend the night as close to him as she possibly can.

She nods, and after they say their goodbyes he walks her to the truck, opens the door for her, closing it carefully when she’s safely inside. He takes the spot behind the driver’s seat—his usual, now—but doesn’t drive straight to her house like she expects.

“Ice cream?” she asks when he turns off the engine outside of a mom and pop shop selling sundaes, cones, and shakes. She exits the car at his indication, and the two of them walk hand in hand up to the illuminated window that says Order Here. An older couple is ahead of them, pointing at the chalk menu board, and Jacob leans in to speak in a hushed tone.

“This place was Harry’s favorite. You like chocolate, right?”

“Has anyone ever answered ‘no’ to that question?” she asks softly, playfully, and it works as intended, lightens the mood just enough to bring a brilliant smile to his painfully beautiful face. “I think this is a wonderful way to remember him, Jake.” She wraps a comforting arm around his, and Jacob nods, lips pressed together, eyes sad.

“Just kind of feels right.”

He orders for them when it’s their turn, two waffle cones with two scoops of chocolate ice cream each, and they sit at a picnic table on the side of the building, eating their tributes with heavy hearts and looking up at the stars.

The ride home is quiet, contemplative, at least for her; by the time they arrive she has been running through thoughts of mortality, finality, how short life is and how very precious.

These are all normal thoughts for a person to have, and certainly after a celebration of life like the one on the reservation tonight, but she thinks seriously for the first time about Jacob and his desperate need to protect her, the way he puts himself in danger—stupidly, recklessly, completely—every day to keep her safe.

When they’ve made it inside, she exhales deeply, looks up into earnest, curious eyes, and wraps her arms around him, presses close so she can bury her nose in his clothing.

She breathes him in long and slow, his usual scent of crisp air and rain and oak dulled by the smoke of the bonfire, and then his hands are in her hair, tipping her face up for a decadent, passionate kiss.

God, how is he so good at this? she thinks as he sips at her lips, glides his own down the tender line of her throat. She sighs and grabs for his arms, something to ground her as her desire threatens to take over, to leave her a whimpering, begging mess beneath his hands.

Jacob turns them so she’s got her back to the kitchen table, sets her on top of it, and she parts her knees for him, pulls him closer. Her fingers itch with the need to touch his skin, so she tugs at the hem of his shirt and gets her hands beneath it, skims them over the taut muscles of his bare back.

“I can take it off,” he murmurs against her neck, and she nods breathlessly and helps him pull it over his head. His hands bracket her hips, palms flat on the table, and her arms curve up around his back, bringing him closer; she kisses him eagerly anywhere she can reach—his throat, shoulders, face, everywhere.

She whispers his name into his own skin, presses her lips to his biceps, scrapes her teeth over the lobe of his ear, and he shudders at her touch, tilts his head to look up at her, his eyes dark and almost… dangerous.

What does it say about her, that she finds that look so goddamn attractive?

“I’m sorry, I—I need a minute,” he says, panting through gritted teeth, and she lets her hands fall away, leaning back a little to give him space to breathe.

“Take all the time you need,” she assures him calmly, patiently. It’s the first time she’s ever seen his wolf so close to the surface, and she’s completely unafraid, would hold him and help him ride out the tension in his body if she thought he would let her. “It’s just us, Jake, just me and you.”

“Just us,” he repeats, his fists clenching and unclenching, taking a long breath with his eyes closed. She breathes with him, has always found that helpful when she herself is overwhelmed, and after a few moments he presses closer and she runs a soothing hand over his chest. “I’m okay,” he says eventually, leaning in slowly for a kiss as though he’s afraid it will be rejected. She brings her hands to his face, deepens it, so it’s still soft and easy but with enough meaning behind it to convey her thoughts.

“I know,” she murmurs, just to be certain he believes her. “You did so good; so good, Jake.” He nods, pulls back a little so he can look into her eyes.

“It’s not that I can’t control it, I can, but…” He looks away for a moment, swipes his tongue over his lips. “The instincts are so strong and I don’t always want to fight them. Sometimes when I’m with you, I want to let the wolf win.” He says it like he’s ashamed, and she puts her arm around his shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, this one just a gentle press of mouths.

“I understand that more than you think I do.” His breath on her lips makes her crave more of his heat, but she knows it has to be slow now, or he’ll get too in his head and never let himself enjoy their night together. “I may not be supernaturally inclined, but sometimes making decisions with my body is all I want to do. Especially with you,” she adds, just a sigh between them, then touches their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a moment, embracing in their own way, until he initiates a kiss that is so thorough it makes her toes curl. She brings her hands to his waist, guides him closer, and he rests a broad palm at the base of her throat and kisses her, again, and again, and again.

Her arms curl around his body the second they separate for air, and he lifts her from the table, carries her up the stairs with an ease that makes her long for more frequent displays of his strength.

Getting his clothes off is quick enough, since he’s already shirtless, and his hands are tender and gentle as he sweeps her hair away from her neck, pulls down the zipper of her dress, slides it off her bare shoulders.

Neither of them bother to pull back the covers, simply lay back on the bed, her knees apart again, Jacob hovering between them and letting his eyes move over her like he’s committing her body to memory. It makes a wave of heat rush through her, and since tonight is less hurried she does the same, lingers over every curve of muscle, every sharp line of bone. He leans in, lays an arm behind her head, glides his lips over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.

“I was right, before,” she says after another satisfying kiss, letting her fingers press into the flesh of his hips. He looks into her eyes, tilts his head curiously, and she smiles a little, can’t help herself. “You really are beautiful.”

Jake breathes a laugh, even blushes a little, then kisses her until they’re both panting; her fingertips press harder when he pushes inside, then glide up his back to keep him close while the two of them move together.

Jacob feels so different this way, is so much deeper, filling her in a way that makes it so she really can’t tell where she ends and he begins. He is heavy on top of her, but not uncomfortably so, and when her body shifts up the bed with every thrust it’s thrilling, incredible—she’s never felt so much in her life.

His face is serious, eyes focused, and she weaves her fingers into his hair and catches his lips in a kiss, moans into the end of it when he finds a spot inside of her that takes her breath away.

“Oh, god, Jake.” He leans in for another kiss, deep and wet, nods against her lips.

“You’re perfect—so perfect,” he huffs, breathless; he moves his hand to her hip, runs it over her stomach, then presses his palms to the bed and repeats his previous motion, over and over, her body coiling tight with pleasure. “Can’t believe I get this.”

“We get this,” she corrects in a whisper, won’t let him think for one second that she’s not as completely in awe of him as he seems to be of her. She skims her nails over his lower back, his ass, tightens her thighs on either side of him and tips her head back just as he makes her come. “Don’t stop, Jake, please,” she whines, shaking, holding him so tightly with her entire body—she never wants it to end, never wants to be separated from him again, and he agrees, if the way his body presses down on hers is any indication.

“Can’t stop… need you,” he groans, pushing her leg up further, so he feels almost impossibly thick and deep. Her arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer, holding him there as he ruts into her, scorching flesh pressed against flesh.

“Yes, oh—”

Before she knows it she’s quaking again, gasping when he brings his teeth to her throat, scrapes them over her throbbing pulse. He growls in her ear, a deep, low, animalistic rumble she can feel in her stomach, then comes inside, claiming her with a broken, raspy, “mine.”

He lays half on top of her, half on the bed, after, their skin soft and damp with cooling sweat. She can’t stop looking at his face, his dark eyes, sharp jaw, and he cups her cheek with a gentle palm and gazes just as intently at her.

“Come here,” she murmurs, a soft smile on her lips, and he kisses her slowly, makes her sigh with a pleasure so complete—mentally, physically, spiritually—it feels like she’ll never be the same.

He gets up after a moment, comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and helps her clean up well enough to hold her over until she’s ready to get out of bed. She pulls the covers back while he’s gone, slides in between the cool sheets, and he follows her lead, pressing close to her beneath them.

“Are you upset you didn’t imprint on me?” she asks carefully, propping herself up on her elbow and using the other hand to run fingers through his hair. “I noticed that when the guys were talking about it, you got kind of tense.” He shrugs slightly before shaking his head.

“No, not upset… I was just so sure you were meant for me; I really thought it would happen sooner or later.” She understands that, can picture him wishing and waiting for something that would never come to pass. So patient, her Jacob.

“Do you wish it had? Do you think it would make this more real?” Her hand moves from his hair to his collarbone, down his chest, over his stomach, so very low. “Because when I’m touching you like this… nothing has ever felt so real.”

He presses her against the bed, hovers over her, kisses her breathless, and it goes without saying that he agrees with every word she says. She softens beneath him, tired and pleased, and he shifts into a more comfortable position, laying behind her, that she knows means sleep for the both of them. He drapes an arm over her, and she draws circles into his skin with her fingertips, feels his warm breath on her neck, closes her eyes and revels in the weight of him at her back.

“Anyway,” she whispers, one last thought on her mind before she succumbs to sleep, “I almost think it’s better like this, that we have to fight for each other. No help from fate—just your will and mine.”

A/N: I got my start in fandom spaces by writing Twilight fanfic fifteen years ago, but I never posted it because it was... bad. Last week was a crummy week for me, so I found comfort in watching New Moon, and I literally couldn't help myself from re-writing it in Jacob's favor. There's no Edward hate here, and he'll play a bigger role in the next part I have planned, but Jake took hold of me in this one and didn't let go.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight saga: new moon #twilight fanfic #jacob black #jacob black fanfic #jacob black x reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black x original female character

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canirove · 3 months

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Mason Mount Imagine | seven

Author's note: I hadn't written an imagine in ages, but yesterday after seeing these gifs of Mason at that charity event the other day I got inspired, and here we are 😁 Hopefully this will give me the last push I need to finish my next story, who also happens to be about Mason 👀 As always, I hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜 Little summary: Your dad works at a chairty auction and has asked you to be his plus one. You expect to bore yourself to death, but a cute guy with a dimple has other plans 👀 (Female reader/pov)

Masterlist

“Dad, do I really have to go?”

“Yes, honey. You must.”

“But it is going to be so boring…” I complain. “What am I going to do at an auction full of old people?”

“Thank you for the compliment” he chuckles. “But you will be supporting your father after months of hard work. And there will be young people too.”

“Sure” I snort.

“There will be. Now c'mon, I can't be late.”

“But…”

“Chop, chop, honey.”

“Ok, fine” I sigh. “Just promise me you won't call me honey in front of everyone.”

“I won't” he smiles, opening the door of our house. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you, dad. But I feel like I may rip this dress any moment now” I say as I walk past him, crossing all my fingers so it actually doesn't happen, and I end up making a fool of myself in front of all his work colleagues and some of the richest people in the city.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ok, this is your seat, hon… Your seat” my dad smiles after I give him a murderous look.

“Aren't you sitting down with me?”

“I still have to take care of a bunch of things.”

“Are you leaving me alone? And surrounded by strangers?”

“You'll be fine, honey” he chuckles. “I promise I'll come and have a drink with you. Now try to have some fun.”

“But dad…” I start, not being able to finish my complaint since he is already gone. "Great" I sigh.

“So, do you come here often?” someone says, taking the empty seat next to mine.

“I beg your pardon?” I say, turning around to face the owner of that voice.

“That was bad, wasn't it?” he laughs.

“Worse” I say, my eyes fixed on him. On the cutest guy I have ever laid eyes on.

He is wearing a classic black suit with a black tie, nothing too shocking. But paired with the smile on his face and the dimple on his left cheek… wow. Simply wow.

“What are you doing at an event like this, tho?” he asks me. “I wasn't expecting to meet anyone younger than 50” he chuckles, his dimple showing once again. Is it possible to fall in love with something like that? Because I think I just have.

“My dad convinced to come as his plus one and support him tonight.”

“Is he part of the auction?”

“He is the guy running around like a headless chicken to make sure everything is ok” I laugh, looking at him when he suddenly shows up running up and down the stage.

“Martin?”

“Yep, that's him. Do you know him?”

“I do. He is a really nice guy.”

“I may be a bit biased here… But he is, yes” I smile. “He has put so much work and sleepless nights into today's auction… Like, I don't know how many coffees I made for him while he tried to convince this football player to be part of it.”

“A football player?”

“Yeah, a super famous one, I can't remember his name. He kept telling my dad that he was super busy with other commitments” I snort. “What commitments could have a guy who makes a living from kicking a ball? Spending lots of money in ugly clothes just because they have a certain logo, and buying huge cars?”

“Don't forget about the ugly haircuts and tattoos” he chuckles.

“That too.”

“Aren't you into football, then?”

“Nah, not my thing. What about you?” I ask him, finally daring to look him in the eyes. Which is a big mistake, because even in the kind of dark light of the room, I can see that he has the most beautiful brown eyes ever. Eyes that are currently giving me a mischievous look I can't understand.

“Not my thing either. Footballers are a bunch of twats” he says, making me laugh. “Anyway... I know we just met, but I'm gonna need your help with something.”

“Mine?”

“Yours” he says with a smile that matches the look on his eyes. “I'm about to be auctioned.”

“You what?”

“It sounds bad if you say it like that, but people are basically going to bid money to have a personal experience with me.”

“That isn't making it sound any better.”

“Oh, you dirty mind” he smirks, making my cheeks start to burn. Thank God he can't notice with the low light. Or can he? “But some people here may be expecting that kind of experience. Earlier I overheard a couple of women talking about me and looking at me in a way that… Well. You can imagine.”

“I don't blame them, tho” I say, speaking before thinking.

“Thank you” he smiles, that dimple I'm definitely in love with showing in all its glory. “So, what I need you to do, is to win my auction.”

“What? With which money?”

“Mine.”

“What?” I say again. “Is that allowed?”

“I don't think so. But since it is for charity, I think your dad can look the other way and allow it. What do you say? Will you win this for me? I promise you you will have the best date ever.”

“A date?” I say, almost choking with my own words.

“Unless you have a partner and I'm making things weird.”

“No, no. There is no one” I quickly say, my cheeks burning once again, and especially when I notice how I've made him smile.

“Great” he says. “It'll be very easy. They will say a number and you…”

“I know how an auction works.”

“Yes, of course. Of course you do” he apologizes. “Will you do it, then? Pretty please?” he pouts, making me focus on his lips. Lips that look so kissable and so…

“Fine, I will” I sigh, giving up and focusing on a different part of his face. But even his hair looks attractive.

“Thank you” he smiles once again, kissing my cheek. “And that's my cue, I have to go. Don't worry about the amount of money, ok? I can pay whatever they offer.”

“Ok” I nod, my brain still thinking about the feeling of his lips on my cheek, on how my skin tingles.

“And you have number 19 on your bidding paddle, that's my lucky one. Everything will work out, you'll see.”

“Yes” I nod again.

“See you in a bit” he winks before leaving our table and me trying to understand everything I'm feeling and that just happened.

“And now for our next bidding… Mr. Mason Mount, Manchester United player and football star!” a voice announces from the stage.

“What?” I say, snapping out of whatever is going on with me and focusing on the guy walking up the stage. “No way” I gasp.

It's him. The cute boy with the dimple who just convinced me to bid for him and win this auction… It's Mason freaking Mount. The football player my dad spent hours trying to convince to attend tonight. The one I basically called a twat to his face.

“Remember that the winner will get to enjoy a personal experience with Mr. Mount. Not that type of experience...” the auctioneer chuckles as some women start giggling. “Are we ready? We'll begin with £1,000.”

The moment he says that number, a bunch of bidding paddles are raised.

“Ok, what about £2,000? Does anyone offer £2,000?”

More paddles around me. People definitely are eager to spend some time with him, with Mason. And once again, I don't blame them.

I've spent five minutes with him, and you could say they have been some of the best five minutes of my life. And not because of how handsome and cute he is or because I'm in love with his dimple. There is something about him, about the way he talks, looks and listens to you, that makes you feel… I don't know. Comfortable.

“What about… £5,000!”

Still the same amount of paddles. No one is giving up. And it keeps being like that as the number keeps going up and up until it makes it to…

“£50,000! Does anyone offer £50,000?”

People start whispering among themselves, trying to decide if they should make an offer or not. And then, a blonde woman raises her bidding paddle.

“We have an offer! Anyone else?” the auctioneer says.

That woman is going to win, and Mason doesn't seem to be too happy about it. The look he is giving me from the stage is saying it all, and also reminding me that I should be bidding for him too.

“And we have another offer!” the auctioneer says when I raise my paddle, Mason smiling from ear to ear while my dad looks at me as if I've grown another head.

“What the hell?” he mouths.

“Trust me” I say back.

“Ok, what about £51,000? Does anyone offer £51,000? Ladies?”

Once again, I can feel Mason's eyes fixed on me.

“And we have £51,000 from the lady in the back!” the auctioneer announces when I raise my paddle, everyone in the room looking my way. “£51,000 at one… £51,000 at two… £51,000 at three! We have a winner!” he says, hitting his little hammer so loud that I can feel it in my bones, Mason pointing in my direction with a smile that could make anyone's knees feel like jelly. Dear God, what did I just do?

“Honey, what did you just do? Are you drunk?” my dad says, suddenly showing up next to me.

“I can explain everything, I swear.”

“Miss, could you please join us on stage?” the auctioneer says.

“You better. Now let's go, they are waiting for you.”

“But dad, wait. I can't. I can't go in there.”

“You won the auction, honey. You must go up there” he says, helping me get up.

“Dad, I can't. I…” And then, I hear it. The back of my dress ripping. “Dad!” But he isn't listening, already dragging me to the stage where Mason is waiting.

“Please let's give a round of applause for this young lady!” the auctioneer says.

“Thank you for… Hey, are you ok?” Mason says as he takes my hand and helps me up the stage.

“I'm pretty sure I just ripped the back of my dress” I say while everyone claps.

“Oh, shit” he says, looking at my back. “I'll help you, don't worry.”

“Do you have magical fingers?” I say with a nervous laugh. “Like fingers that can sew” I quickly add after seeing the smirk on his face.

“I do have magical fingers, and among other things, they can do this” Mason says, putting his hand on my back to make sure the dress doesn't open, the feeling making me gasp.

“Thank you very much for your generosity, Miss” the auctioneer says, unaware of everything that is going on. “We hope you enjoy your time with Mr. Mount.”

“Thank you” I manage to say, my brain only being able to focus on Mason's hand on my back, on one of his fingers touching my skin. I'm pretty sure he can feel it burning.

“Now, onto our next bid!” he announces as we leave the stage, my dad already waiting for us.

“What have you done, honey? £51,000! We don't have that money!”

“But I do, Martin. I asked her to bid for me” Mason explains. “Here, put this on” he says, taking off his jacket and putting it around my shoulders. “This should help cover the back of your dress.”

“Thank you” I mutter, missing the feeling of his hand and especially that one finger on my back. Though it doesn't last long. He is so close to me while helping me with his jacket, that I can smell his perfume all around me, and it smells so good…

“What do you mean you asked her to bid for you?” my dad asks, completely ignoring that I may be melting.

“I didn't want one of those women to win. I don't trust them, to be honest” he chuckles. “And this is for charity, isn't it? It should not matter if the money comes from me or them.”

“I guess, yes. But…”

“Martin? We need you” someone says behind my dad.

“Yes, of course” he tells them. “We'll continue this conversation later” he says, looking first at Mason and then at me.

“That went well” he chuckles as we watch my dad walk away.

“Did it?”

“It did. They now have £51,000 they will definitely put to good use, I am free from that woman, and you just got yourself a personal experience with Mason Mount” he smiles.

“Hasn't all this been an experience already?”

“It definitely has, yes” he chuckles. “But the one I'm offering you will be more enjoyable. We could go shopping for ugly and very expensive clothes” he says with a teasing smile.

“I could actually do with a new dress seeing that this one… Well. It has seen better days.”

“You look beautiful, tho.”

“Thank you” I mutter, looking down and starting to play with one of the buttons on his jacket to hide that my face is about to burst into flames. “Sorry about what I said earlier, by the way.”

“About what?”

“About calling you a twat.”

“I called myself a twat, you didn't. And if someone has to apologize, that should be me for not telling you who I really was.”

“I guess...”

“I think this makes it a tie in the apologies department. Don't you agree… honey?”

“I beg your pardon?” I say, finally daring to look him in the face.

“Ok, ok. Forget that I said that” he laughs. “The look you just gave me is scary as hell.”

“You deserve it. That is my dad's nickname, and no one else can use it. Sometimes not even him.” Like tonight, for example.

“I'm sorry. I truly am” Mason says, getting serious. “I just thought it was really cute.”

“When you are a kid, maybe. But I'm not five anymore.”

“I'm sorry” he says again. “I guess I'll have to think of a good nickname for our date. Something that doesn't sound too childish and that…”

“Wait, wait, wait” I interrupt him. “Our date?”

“Or personal experience, call it what you want” he shrugs.

“Are we actually doing it?”

“Of course we are. You paid for it, didn't you?”

“You paid for it” I correct him.

“Small details” he replies. “But you and I are going on a date, and I promise you it is gonna be an experience you won't forget” Mason says, taking my hand on his and kissing it, the way he is looking at me when he does it, plus the smile on his face (dimple included) and the feeling of his lips on my skin, making me feel things I can't explain.

I'm going out on a date with Mason Mount. The Mason Mount. A freaking football star.

And oh... my God.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Authors note: I know some of you may now be like, I need a part 2, I need to know what do they do on that date! 😅 But I've run out of ideas, so if you can think of something they could do or where they could go, let me know and I'll try to write something. Though I can't promise anything.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #football imagine #masonimagine

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proxima-writes · 1 year

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Dbf Joel and younger reader sneaking off in his truck to make out !!

I may have done a bit more than making out, but I hope you enjoy!

title: moments we stole

pairing: dad's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 1544

summary:

It''s your dad's 40th birthday party and you can't help yourself from flirting with his best friend, Joel Miller.

author's note: if you've sent in a request, thank you!! i love you!! the biggest smooches for you!! i promise i'm working on them. hope you enjoy!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, age difference (22F and 36M), pre-outbreak, teasing, flirting, established relationship, sneaking around, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, vaginal fingering, making out, semi-public sex. let me know if any are missing!

It’s your dad’s 40th birthday party. Your house is packed with all your dad’s friends from the architectural firm he works at, including a slew of brawny construction workers and contractors that mingle among the more clean cut architects and engineers. There’s one man in particular that keeps drawing your eye.

Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller.

He’s a contractor your dad has worked with on a number of projects over the years. He’s younger than your dad at thirty-six years old, tall and broad with gorgeous brown eyes and dark curly hair. The first time you saw him at one of your parent’s parties, you could swear it was love at first sight for your little sixteen year old brain.

You're twenty-two now as you mingle with your dad’s guests, a beer bottle sweating in your hand as you nod along to the story your dad’s colleague is telling you. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention as Joel walks by.

“Excuse me for a sec, Richard. It was nice talking to you,” you say to the man you’d been speaking with. You follow after Joel, broad shoulders easy to track in the crowd.

He stops to talk to your dad and you slip beside him, your bare arm brushing his flannel covered one. Your dad smiles at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, sweetie, you remember Joel, right?” He asks, gesturing to him. You grin at Joel.

“Of course I do, dad. He’s been at all your parties since I was sixteen. I haven’t been away that long,” you reply with a good natured roll of your eyes. “Hiya, Mr. Miller.”

The man chokes on his sip of beer, clearing his throat. “How’ve you been? You graduated in May, right?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that,” you giggle. His eyes go the tiniest bit wide. “It’s been good. Happy to be back home.”

“I bet. You went pretty far for school.”

“Still made it back for all dad’s parties and holidays, though. So, hopefully you didn’t miss me too much.”

You can see his jaw clenching. Your dad continues to smile at the two of you, blissfully unaware of the blatant flirting you’re throwing at his friend.

The thing is, you do know Joel. Intimately.

It started when you were nineteen. You came home for winter break but your parents had re-keyed your childhood home with some fancy biometric locks that you weren’t set up to use yet, nor did you have the physical key to bypass it.

But Mr. Miller had a copy of the key. Your dad gave you the man’s address and when you showed up, Joel had groaned and ran a hand through his messy curls.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I tried to tell your dad that I gave him that key back. But you’re welcome to come inside and wait until one of ‘em gets home from work?”

And that’s what you did. Waiting with Joel Miller turned into watching movies with Joel Miller, which turned into kissing Joel Miller, which turned into laying beneath Joel Miller and moaning his name as he pounded into you.

You saw him a couple more times during that first break, each time more explosive than the last. You went back to school with a sore pussy and a new number saved in your phone that you would call late at night, tucked under your covers in your dorm.

The secret hook ups and phone calls continued and every time you flew home to visit your parents, you’d slip into bed with Joel. Somewhere between nights on the phone and nights in his bed, you’d fallen in love. A fact that you accidentally let slip during a call, when you had to get going and you absentmindedly told the man, “Bye, love you!”

You remember freaking out about that for hours. But when he called you that evening, everything seemed perfectly fine. As you were saying goodbye, he asked, “Aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’, baby?”

That’s how you found out Joel Miller loved you, too.

“We’re very proud of her. Graduated with honors,” your dad chimes in.

“Yeah. Cum laude,” you say, emphasizing your mispronunciation of the phrase. Joel looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“I forgot somethin’ in the truck,” he mumbles. “Be back in a minute.”

He leaves without waiting for a response, a hitch in his step that makes you giggle. You continue to speak with your dad for a couple more minutes before you excuse yourself under the guise of getting another drink.

You grab two beers on your way out the front door, swinging them gently as you walk to the edge of your driveway and follow the sidewalk to where it ends near the woods that border your parent’s neighborhood.

A familiar black truck is tucked away in the tree line and you smile as you see Joel Miller standing there with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“You think you’re so fuckin’ funny,” he says as you draw near. He takes the beer bottles from your hands, setting them in the truck bed before tugging you close as you giggle.

“Absolutely hilarious,” you reply. His broad palm cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his in a kiss so heated it makes your toes curl. His other hand grips your ass through the fabric of your dress.

“Wearin’ this little thing was the worst tease of all,” he growls. He hoists you up onto the truck tailgate, stepping between your legs. The added height of the truck brings his hips flush with your aching core, the hard length of him brushing against your clit and making you whimper. “Mmm, not so smart now, huh?”

“Joel,” you whine. His lips descend on yours, moving in practiced tandem, spit slick and so warm even the chill night air can’t bother you. “We don’t have much time,” you say between his drugging kisses, your words a little slurred and not from the buzz of beer in your veins.

“Don’t rush me, princess,” Joel says as he trails kisses down your neck, across your clavicle, to your shoulder. His hand grips your breast, tugging the neckline of your dress down to expose one of your nipples. He runs a thumb across the hard nub before chasing the sensation with his lips and tongue and teeth. You squirm against him as he gives your other breast the same attention.

Joel slides a hand up your leg, starting with a light trace of his fingertips at your ankle and ending with a harsh grip to your inner thigh, his thumb reaching to rub your clit through your panties. You whine again, high and needy, as he draws back to watch your face while he circles your clit.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he says. His fingers shove aside your underwear, sliding through your slick folds. “Always so fuckin’ wet for me. Teasin’ me work you up that much?”

His groan echoes yours as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling them harshly as he pulls back before repeating the actions again and again, winding you so tight but backing off just as you’re about to explode that you want to cry in frustration.

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?” Joel teases. You pout and he chuckles, adding a swirl of his thumb on your clit to each thrust inside your cunt. “Don’t pout, you know I can’t say no to you when you look at me with those sweet little eyes.”

“I wanna come so bad, Joel, please,” you beg, rocking against his hand.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, concentrating his efforts on your clit with incredible precision. You bite into his shoulder as you shatter, stifling your moan into that goddamn flannel that makes his biceps look so good. “That’s it, good girl, fuck you look good comin’ on my fingers. Can’t wait to get you in bed later.”

Joel slows his hand before withdrawing, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean while you try to catch your breath. When he deems them clean he digs his fingers into your hair, tugging your head back to grace you with a filthy kiss that tastes like you and the beer he’d been drinking earlier.

“I love you,” he says as he pulls away, lips tilted in a completely besotted smile that makes your heart beat triple time. It makes you so glad to be home, where your stolen moments are slowly turning into something more real, more permanent.

“I love you, too.”

________

You drink your beers on the way back to the house, slipping back into the party just as your mom announces it’s time to cut the cake. You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel as everyone sings an off key rendition of Happy Birthday to your dad, the older man smiling brightly at everyone.

He helps your mom pass out plates of dessert. When he reaches you and Joel he asks, “Did you get what you needed from your truck?”

Joel chokes on his bite of cake and you pat his back as he coughs.

“Yeah, uh, yeah. I definitely did.”

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-catals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the master list

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #age difference #joel miller fic request #ask request

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toji-girl · 3 months

Text

sugary sweet | k. nanami

tags: fem reader + you wear lip gloss and such + age gap (you mid 20's & him early 30's) + oc! friends + weed and wine + I had this sitting in my drafts for a while

The apartment complex Kento rented a year prior was one of the best decisions he made in his life, it was quaint and on the corner with his favorite bakery so it never took him long to grab his food.

But now he finds himself dreading coming home because he knows he'd catch a glimpse of you, doe eyes, a soft smile, and a body he wanted to explore. You're younger than him he knows this much.

However, that didn't deter him from thinking about you.

You're the devil trying to tempt him into sin with the way you bat your eyelashes at him, your lips turning into a pout when all you get from him is a tight smile. "Mr. Nanami! How are you? I'm sorry If my party kept you up late last night. It didn't, did it?" You asked when he stepped on the second floor with his keys in one hand, your glossed lips set in a soft smile as his eyes raked you in slowly and subtly.

He stood at the ledge keeping his face neutral as your eyes shifted from the keys that he twirled between his fingers and his eyes that spoke of a tiredness that even a month's worth of sleep couldn't fix, with a soft smile waiting for his answer.

"I'm fine, and it didn't, but you might want to keep it down still. The walls are thin." He hummed and unlocked his front door.

Kento left you standing there when he stepped inside his apartment thinking about his comment, you sighed and glanced at his door wondering how you break his walls down while getting ready for work you stepped into your own territory and left for your evening shift.

It was only a few times you saw him in the beginning, the first two months you could count on both hands how many times you spoke, and each time he stonewalled you, but sometimes you were able to make him smile which in turn made your blood run hot with curiosity.

"Mr. Nanami!" Kento's shoulders tensed when he heard your syrupy sweet voice call out his name as you bounded up the stairs with grocery bags in your hands, you looked so naive but he knew you were anything but, it was just a front you put on for other people.

He paused and left his keys hanging from his front door. "Everything okay? I told you that you could call me Kento." His tone was a bit warmer this time around, a clear sign you've broken down his walls.

There was still a high guard up, but you'll take what you can get. "Kento, sorry, I was letting you know that I'm having a few friends over, and we'll keep it down this time." You told him warmly with a smile so sweet that he was sure rotted your teeth.

That's when he noticed your lips were glossed again with a clear glitter, pouting and perfect. His mind drifted away for only a moment.

His eyebrows furrowed first then smoothed out quickly relieving himself of the thoughts. "Thank you for telling me, have a good evening." With that he ended the conversation with the soft click of his door when he locked it, putting another wall up between you.

All night, Kento could hear your giggling and hushed warnings to the people who were loud enough for him to hear every single detail.

Mai wasn't happy in her marriage. Ema was thinking about sleeping with her best friend and classmate who has a girlfriend. Ami wanted to quit her job because her husband's sister, whom she doesn't like started working there.

It was hard to ignore, and he couldn't deny that he was curious as to what happened next and heard you give honest advice to each friend.

There was some crying, and another wine bottle popped open, making him wonder just how thin the walls actually were. Now came the questioning of your love life, or lack thereof.

"I'm not looking for anything. Being single is nice, you know? But I will say I have a very cute neighbor, his name is Na-Kento. He's cute. Dark and very mysterious, older too and rugged." You gushed warmly.

He could hear the other women giggle and push you for more information when a heavy aroma of marijuana wafted into his apartment followed by more of your cute giggles. "What if he hears me saying how I want to bounce myself stupid on his dick?"

"We could ask him! Let's get our friend laid!" Mai crooned.

Kento listened to the shuffle of feet and the women trying to shush you, drunk and high they didn't think about tomorrow as they pushed you out of your apartment and watched as you knocked on his door.

With a huff, he removed himself from his couch wondering why you had to move next door to him, and it's not that he hates you, if anything it's the complete opposite, now you've latched onto him.

It's a burning lust that consumed him whole, anytime he sees you his dick starts to think for itself, the way you smell so sweet like a freshly baked vanilla cake, and that made him want to have a taste of you.

Your group of friends watched as the door was pulled open revealing Kento in a soft white shirt and plaid pj pants with socks covering his feet. Ema pushed you forward with a giggle. "Kento - I'm so sorry about this, I said we'd be quiet and here I am, anyway sorry, good night!" You called out and scurried back into your apartment with them.

Embarrassment coursed through your veins as you rubbed your face and flopped on the couch.

Kento still had no choice but to listen to your conversation until the four of you passed out tangled up on your couch until the next morning you woke up with a pounding headache and regrets.

#tw: weed #tw: wine #kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento #jjk x reader

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ghouljams · 2 months

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Ghoul ghoul ghoul, idk if you've listened to the new Hozier song "too sweet" yet but I'm having some SEVERE brain wormies and I need them out before they consume me. It's just ugh- At first I was like- oh man, this is totally a Ghost song and it could still kinda be a Ghost song. But then Hozier himself dropped from the clouds and slammed my head into the radio and that's when I realized, this isn't a Ghost song. No no. This is a Price song. I could see this as him rejecting a much younger person.

He likes you, he does. You're this sweet, young thing who's just fallen head over heels and he's flattered. Really! But... you're too young. Too sweet. Maybe one day when you've grown up a bit more, gotten some more life experience or maybe never. In truth, you may never be bitter enough for him. He needs someone that's aged like him, someone who can match his stride. Just AHHHHHHH it's so Price coded I swear I'm gonna cry.

- 🦈 anon

OK FIRST OF ALL

All day baby, we're on 48 hour Unreal Unearth Unheard lockdown. I'm studying these songs like I'm a gonna write a thesis on them. "Too Sweet" is a Ghost song baby, but it can apply to Price as well. Here's my interpretation of it. I was going to include how it relates to the boys but uh... this got long...

I don't think it's about a younger partner at all, I also see this as a song more about the narrator than the subject...

Diving in with Verse 1

It can't be said I'm an early bird It's 10 o'clock before I say a word Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well? You keep tellin' me to live right To go to bed before the daylight But then you wake up for the sunrise You know you don't gotta pretend Baby, now and then

Our subject is a morning person, they're up early while the narrator is sleeping in. The narrator clearly doesn't sleep well, for one reason or another, they even ask how the subject sleeps so well. But then we get this line that defines the whole song.

"You keep tellin' me to live right"

The subject isn't just an early bird, they're the sort of person who sees this as a health issue. They go to bed, sleep well, and wake up with the sunrise to enjoy the day. By contrast the narrator goes to bed in the wee hours of the morning and is clearly living a life that isn't healthy in the subjects eyes.

But the narrator also doesn't believe that the subject is truly the healthy person they "pretend" to be.

[Pre-Chorus] Don't you just wanna wake up Dark as a lake Smellin' like a bonfire Lost in a haze? If you're drunk on life, babe I think it's great But while in this world

Here the narrator describes his nights spend out in the darkness partying. Lost in a haze of booze or drugs, he says it's great that the subject is "drunk on life" but he'd prefer to get "lost in a haze." He questions why the subject wouldn't want to join him in this lifestyle, we go into the chorus with the understanding that the narrator is "enjoying" life through his unhealthy habits.

[Chorus] I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me I take my whiskеy neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for mе You're too sweet for me

He takes his whiskey neat, which gives this wonderful impression of masculinity and sounds very clean, but in reality he may as well be pulling straight from the bottle. Whiskey neat just means no ice, no nothing to distill the liquor down. Then he takes his coffee black, again we get this sort of rich bitterness, but he contrasts it, he drinks it in his bed at 3. There's no good 3 at which he's drinking black coffee, pm or am.

The narrator lives his life in bitterness, in unhealthy habits. Of course his subject is "too sweet" for him, they're healthy and seem happy. In contrast the narrator doesn't seem happy so much as he feels pre-destined to this life. He doesn't want to change his habits because this life feels almost deserving to him. He's lost in the haze, he's taking pulls straight from the bottle and waking up late in the day only to do it all over again.

[Verse 2] I aim low I aim true, and the ground's where I go I work late where I'm free from the phone And the job gets done But you worry some, I know But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate The rest of you like you're the TSA I wish that I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong

Oof verse 2. This is where I think we really see where the narrator sees their lives diverging. "The ground's where I go" his life is going downhill, he's headed for an early grave, but he can't divert the arrow. He is forced to lower his aim because this is the cycle. Hozier himself said this song was meant for the circle of gluttony, and I hear it. The idea that his consumption, his over consumption is going to kill him one day.

And he tries to justify it! "I work late... the job gets done" he's away from his phone, the subject can't reach him, healthy habits can't reach him. But he deserves to let loose, because he's getting the job done. He sees this as a freedom, as a reward, and yet he knows it worries the subject, but by his own words "who wants to live forever"? If he's already destined for the grave why shouldn't he enjoy it?

Contrasted again by the subject. "You treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate" he sees the subject as preachy, they keep trying to offer him salvation he doesn't want, and the words hit him as almost fictitious. He's so deep in the hole that even the hand held out to him seems like it's coming from heaven, so far is he from his baby. "The rest of you like it's the TSA" regimented, the subject has rules that they follow dutifully, they have a routine, they're strict with what they let through their filters. And the narrator wishes he could go along with it! He admires it, but for one reason or another he can't.

[Pre-Chorus] You know you're bright as the morning As soft as the rain Pretty as a vine As sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel Maybe I'll wait Until that day

Ok this is the part I think makes people imagine it's about a younger person. The lines "If you can sit in a barrel/ Maybe I'll wait" people think is about aging, but I disagree. I think it's about embittering the subject. Grapes are sweet, wine is dry and bitter, it's hot in the blood. The narrator is saying that if the subject can grow to be as bitter (and alcoholic) as he is then maybe he'd be able to stick to them.

BUT in the background going to the chorus we hear church bells, we hear wedding bells. The narrator is vividly in love with the subject even though they're such opposites. I think he wants the subject to save him, but he can't find the strength to ask. He's telling them that he loves them, they're all these wonderful opposites to him, but they don't understand his bitterness for one reason or another. He can imagine a future with them, he can hear the wedding bells, but he can't stop pushing them away. He knows they're right, knows they're good for him, but he's not ready to be saved yet.

[Chorus] I'd rather take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me I take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

This last chorus really seals it for me. It's so powerfully sung, again the narrator is justifying his lifestyle to the subject, but it's more desperate. He's trying to convince himself as much as them. The wedding bells ring, the narrator pushes this too sweet person away because he knows he's bad for them. He wants to make them bitter, he wants to make them more like himself instead of changing his habits, and he knows that's wrong. It's a declaration, "You're too sweet for me" find someone else, find someone that doesn't drink from the bottle, that can wake up with you and go to bed with you, find someone that doesn't want to ruin you the way I do.

I think the fact that the bells ring all the way through the end of the last chorus lines signals that the subject sticks around, that they're determined to help the narrator, and finally when the song ends (rather abruptly) the narrator gives in. His life of debauchery ends, and that pretty thing, soft as the rain, is no longer too sweet for him.

#ghoul speaks #hozier #hozier analysis #unreal unearth #ghoul's hozier bullshit #ghoul's pretentious hozier bullshit #I think that's the tag lol

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dried-mushroom · 2 years

Text

Breed (for anon)

The Grabber x reader

Warnings- Kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, rough sex, dubcon breeding (I didn't make it too rapey bc i was uncomfy)

You've gotten used to it. Every bit of this torture. You were being locked away in this basement of all places, by a deranged man who usually kidnaps young boys. You honestly think picking a girl would throw off the police in the search. You really didn't know why he chose you, it was a constant lingering thought in the back of your brain. He wasn't overall brutal towards you, gross threats here and there, 'If you don't stop fucking complaining I'm going to shut your mouth for you mhmm' or 'Be a good girl while I'm out, you wouldn't want me to hurt you now would you?'.

You knew exactly what his words implied and it sent a sinking feeling to your stomach, you really didn't want to endure what he potentially had in store for your future. You really didn't care about how the poor conditions you were subdued to, you stopped caring when you realised that no one was going to come to save you, you might've as well just start warming up to the man. You took notice of his sudden changes around you, he gave you nicer food, and he let you shower (obviously with the door unlocked, and him behind the door, 'supervising you') and he became more touchy when visiting you. You tried telling yourself that it was just your imagination at first, but it was clear as day (not that you saw any) that he was hiding something, and you were secretly willing to do almost anything to leave the dark room.

Smol Time Skip

He really liked you, like really liked you, not a small schoolboy crush like perhaps Albert may have had when he was a younger man, no this was more of an obsession for you, no love for you. He knew that he had to have you, at the very first glance. Now with you downstairs, practically at his whim, he knew wanted you to be his, his precious dove, by his side always. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, exhaling sharply as he sat in the kitchen, staring intently at the closed-door leading to the basement, waiting patiently to see if you would betray him, see if you would leave him, leave the beautiful thing you both had together. Before he would have drifted to sleep by now, but with such an intriguing victim like you, he couldn't shake the thoughts of you doing lewd things to him.

He used his free hand to slide down his khaki-clad thigh and palm at his crotch, his head lolled back as he started to thrust into his hand carelessly. He had one particular fantasy in mind that made him rock hard, it was one where he'd chain you to his bed, and use you for hours upon hours on end, coaxing each orgasm out of you, and even with you overstimulated he'd keep going until he'd fill you up with his cum to the brim, he wanted you to get pregnant, to be this little perfect mommy in his fantasy, you'd love him and never wish to leave. He could feel that he was going to cum soon, the harsh feeling of his cock rubbing against the rough interior of his pants, made him whimper softly behind the frowning mask which adorned his face. He was borderline on orgasm, his hips bucking up into his hand, he could even feel the amount of precum leaking from him. He knew he didn't want to cum in his pants, he would much rather it be inside you, so he begrudgingly moved his hand away and got up, discarding his belt and lead himself down those very familiar stairs.

You were staring wide-eyed up at the bleak ceiling, starting to slowly reckon with age, you couldn't sleep. It was a routine most nights, he'd come down with a bottle of water and would say goodnight, then leave the door locked, most of the time. Did he really think you were an idiot? you knew something bad was bound to happen if you'd ever walk up those stairs, so you would just lay there, all night if so, just to feel some spark of control when he'd come down the morning after, radiating disappointment. it was almost like he wanted you to leave, like he wanted you to get hurt. Perhaps your other self would have tried, the one who had many friends, the one who couldn't stand being home all day, and the one who wasn't trapped here.

"I hope you don't mind this."

You honestly didn't understand what he meant until he grasped your chin with his hand and tilted it towards him, you saw how blown wide his pupils were and you didn't fail to notice the rather large bulge in his tight pants. You couldn't help but get slightly aroused, you hadn't fucked anyone in ages and there was practically offering himself on a silver platter for you and perhaps this way a means of a way out, perhaps get close and he'd let you out of this room. So when he left his thumb drift to your bottom lip you were more than happy to oblige, you let it past your lips and proceeded to suck on it, looking up at the man with doe eyes. You could see he was losing it, his breathing was erratic and you weren't doing actually anything to him How pathetic? you snickered to yourself.

Then out of nowhere, he pounced on you, straddling your hips before ripping your shirt wide open, his hands went straight to your still clothed breasts, squeezing gently. He let you hastily unclip your bra, throwing it somewhere unimportant before he continued his administrations. Seeing him on top of you, was something else, he oozed confidence as he quickly tore off your shorts. You let out a loud gasp as his calloused fingers slid over your clothed pussy, feeling the wetness through the thin fabric. He chuckled lowly,

"You naughty girl, are you this really this wet for me?"

Condescension laced his words but a hint of praise was underlying, as he craved you to be like this. He shoved your panties to the side and slipped two fingers into your slick, relishing how wet and how fucking tight you were around his fingers. You felt something thick and cold now grazing the lips of your pussy, drawing closer with each stroke of his fingers. You whimpered softly as you realised it was the rings he adorned constantly, it was a pleasant addition to his already amazing fingers inside you. He moved his thumb to softly rub at your sensitive clit. You could feel the coil that was building up inside about to burst if he kept pleasuring you. You were so so close, teetering on the edge of coming.

Then it just stopped, he halted his movements, making you mewl at the man on top of you.

"aw look at how cute you are when you're desperate. But you're not cuming until I do."

You didn't want to admit it but the power that this man had over your body made you even wetter, he chuckled when he felt you clench around his fingers. He quickly removed his fingers and unzipped his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock. You honestly would be drooling over how gorgeous his cock really was, the tip was a blushing shade of red and was already leaking pre-cum for you. He lazily stroked himself, you watched eagerly on your elbows as you noticed his veins popped out with every flex of his arm (🥵). When he was satisfied with himself, he pushed the tip to your entrance and slowly thrusted inside you. You threw your head back in pleasure as he filled you so heavenly.

He hooked your right leg over his shoulder, as your other went around his waist, pulling him closer. He started to thrust slowly in and out of you as if preserving this very moment. His mask still was on, it was as if he still didn't trust you, even with you seeing every other part of himself, you just couldn't meet his eyes.

His pace became faster, erratic even. He was now even becoming loud, he grunted with every thrust and every so often he'd groan, particularly in your ear, showing you how much he loved your pussy. You were honestly no better, letting out moans every time he hit your cervix. Out of pure fucking curiosity, you begged him,

"Choke me."

He laughed, amused at your seemingly odd request. He placed one of the hands that were holding your hip and wrapped it around your throat, squeezing gently. The constriction paired with the pleasure he was giving you with every thrust made you squirm with euphoria, bucking your hips to meet his rough thrusts. His pelvis, with every thrust, rubbed deliciously over your clit, adding to your bliss. With one more thrust, he had you unravelling around him. You moaned out in downright fucking ecstasy, you were squirming underneath his tight grip as you succumbed to your orgasm. Your tight cunt clenching delectably around him was driving him crazy. Even with you still dick-drunk, you muttered in his ear.

"P-pull out."

He snickered at your cute little demand, he wasn't going to pull out, he was going to fill you til the brim and knock you up. The thought of you pregnant with his child made his hips stutter and he unexpectedly came with an animalistic groan. He relished in the feeling of him spurting into your heat, and how you whimpered when he slowly pulled out of you. He sat back on his knees, admiring his 'handiwork', while you dreaded opening your eyes, you knew what he did. And now you're stuck with him.

Time skip (bc lazy)

Here you were smiling fondly, while Al rubbed your stomach gently, caressing the child inside. Ever since that night, he had changed. He let you out of the basement from time to time, letting you shower (with supervision of course) and eat with him. But when he bought you a pregnancy test and it came back positive, he was ecstatic with you. You were going to be his perfect little mommy.

#the grabber x reader #the grabber #the black phone #ethan hawke #god i hate myself #im done #sigh

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artycomicfangirl · 16 days

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Princess Daisy’s Past, Her Family, and her Kingdom

Personal Headcanons List so far

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Because it seemed like quite a few people were interested in some of my Daisy fan works. I decided to release this list of headcanons, which I actually found out I abandoned a while ago. Just decided to polish up and add more!

Before I go on, I just would like to add some context of my own kind-of AU and lore about Daisy’s father. (Since the fandom calls him Richard, I’ll be using that name too!) Some of these are just complete brainstorming. So in the future, info might change.

Now we got that out of the way, hope you enjoy this almost mini-book length lore, haha. Take your time, no pressure. But consider this as a little treat for those who love fan-lores and such!

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Sarasaland’s History

Sarasaland was either a Barren wasteland, where 4 Kingdoms have been at each other’s throats for a long time in prior history.

Or, it was once a prosperous land. But one where it had been oppressed and enslaved by a crueler rule.

Whichever idea I was planning, it’s important to know that before Current Sarasaland, it was said to have been a bleak and dark place where “Not even flowers would even dare bloom”. The innocent folk there always dreamed of seeing beautiful fields of flowers.

There was supposed to be a miracle event that was recorded in a historical book entry about the day that Sarasaland was saved. From an account written by someone unknown:

“…Gone was the grey, somber Plume Filled Sky. When the Rays of light shone through, For the first time in ages, we saw crystal blue. Blessed by a miracle, the sight of flowers blooming all across the land. We have been kept in darkness for so long, now finally free from a cruel ironic-clad hand.”

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Daisy and her Family

Daisy’s Father

I had ideas that Daisy’s Father may not even have originally been of royal blood at all. However, he ended up being the ‘Hero’ of his time long ago, when he and his comrades swore to save Sarasaland. And because of his spirit in battle and admirable leadership, he was chosen to be the King of the Land. A bit like Mario and Luigi being the signature heroes of Mushroom Kingdom.

The way Richard was crowned Prince could be similar to how Princess Peach would go through a process in the Super Mario Bros movie 2023. A time period of training, until he was very much ready to be crowned.

I 100% believe that this is a like Father, like Daughter situation. Daisy has inherited much more of her personality from her Father than her mother, and it shows. People would wonder how a Princess can be so battle-ready, rough and brave? Just take one look at her Father, and you’ll see why! She has very much inherited her his stubborn, and often at times very energetic and silly nature.

Personality wise, I assume that current Richard is overall, a tough man. A Veteran. He might look a bit too intimidating. But deep down, he still has a good heart that cares for the well-being of those around him.

Even more so, he melts when he’s around his wife. He adores his daughter even more so, because she is all he has left. So I guess we can believe with certainty, that Richard is definitely an overprotective type over things he loves and cares for.

When he was his younger self, he was more of a Bright-Eyed and determined youth. Leaning towards more of the stereotypical hero figure. Over time, he did learn to become a stronger and good leader. But as he grew older, there show the traces of a slightly grumpy older man.

There was that point where he did made sure to keep a child Daisy in the confines of the castle, right after losing his wife.

At first, the subjects and other 4 Kings thought this was a necessary and appropriate idea. But a while after, they started to think that the Princess might be sad if she was to constantly be watched over and told to stop doing things and be careful.

The King’s mindset would end up changing, when he finds a Diary that his wife used to own around the time when they were both still Prince and Princess.

The contents of the diary contained deep, poignant feelings and emotions. The most that moved his heart, was when she would describe her love for the King. All in all, Richard got an insight of his late Wife’s thoughts. Her happiest moments showed how genuine, kind and free the Queen felt, and how much of a beautiful person she was inside and out.

It was then Richard decided to do what was right, and to raise his Daughter to not always just be cautious and meek. But to be brave, carefree and unafraid, letting her flourish to be her best self. So that in the future, he would be able to have more faith in Daisy being able to take care and fight for herself.

At the beginning, He began teaching Daisy at a young age on how to fight and defend herself, along with giving her scholars that teach her about Sarasaland’s history. It’s a bit later that Richard had the idea of Daisy being also mentored by the 4 Kings in Sarasaland. This is the reason why Daisy is so headstrong and strategic as she is now. Also opening for the idea of her having a close familal relationship with the other Kingdoms, and how much they trust and have faith in her.

I actually thought it would be an interesting take to get some inspirations from the 1993 Daisy in the live action Super Mario Bros movie. A personal Headcanon (And inspired from her original personality), is that despite being a tomboy, Daisy values and treasures history and culture. Being quite knowledgeable in some things across the cultures of the 4 Kingdoms under her rule.

It’s because Richard wanted Daisy to be able to know her kingdom like the back of her palm. In fact, Daisy’s vast knowledge with certain historical things comes off as a surprise to most others. It may be even implied that Daisy could even be able to read and speak certain languages. Funnily enough, Daisy is also quite savvy when it comes to financial things.

But with Daisy being Daisy, she is more of an assertive Soldier/Leader. A bit different to Peach being a calm and caring Diplomat.

On the Day Tatanga made his presence known, the King only found out about the invasion during his usual visitings with the Palace Scientist’s (A bit like their version of Prof E. Gadd).

One of the Scientists gave reports about how for the past few days, there have been strange activity of something entering and lingering within the world’s Atmosphere, Somewhere above Sarasaland. This strange activity would try to emit signals. which each time, seem to grow more powerful every day.

After Richard asks when the next signal could be predicted, all computers and systems were hijacked. Each and every communicative technology displaying a sinister message, Implication of an invasion. The King immediately took action, initiating an entire announcement throughout the entire land. However, they were little too late.

The Main Sarasaland Palace was seized as Tatanga and his army would make his appearance. But not wanting to give up, The King was able to cause a rebellion. Sparking the first Battle with the Alien Army.

At this point is where I thought of the idea that originally, it seemed like that Both the King and his daughter were going to escape together, trying to reach one of the Warp pipes.

However, the big reveal was that The King had only wanted to assist his Daughter in making sure the Future Heir of Sarasaland, would escape safety. Richard would stay and fend for the Kingdom he swore to protect. As he said “Much like your mother did in her last moments, before they took her away.”

Richard believed that because The Aliens had been above their land for quite some time before they attacked, they had been surveying the land down below. And in turn, knew everything on what to expect. If Daisy were to escape, it was highly likely that she could reach other Kingdoms in time and ask for help, places where Tatanga would have not been able to reach just yet.

Daisy initially refused to leave her Father. But at the end, Richard ordered the Sphinx King Totomesu to take Daisy away to the last warp pipe. And that once Daisy was able to be transferred successfully, to destroy the Warp pipe afterwards. The last thing that Daisy saw before she was knocked out from the Warp Pipe being destroyed, was her father and the other 4 Kings going right into battle.

Usually I would go the route of “Parents have died” route. But I’m juggling with a potential idea that in fact, both of Daisy’s parents are not actually dead. She may have initially thought so. But both her Mother and Father in both occurrences, have only been taken away. But in Daisy’s case, she has witnessed Tatanga perform the mind control across almost all residents of Sarasaland.

It is through her Father’s will, which drives Daisy to take back and free her Kingdom and her father.

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Daisy’s Mother

(She is sort of like a Fan Character/Oc at the point. And because I have a name for her, I’ll be referring to her as such here!)

Queen Laelia. A woman of knowledge and intellect, A preserver and appreciator of history and culture. She is pictured to be calm, elegant, kind, gentle and wise. However, she is also known to be firm and confident when it comes to decision making. Yet also understanding and more willing to hear the perspectives of anyone to gain an understanding of them.

Her Namesake is inspired from the Laelia Orchid flower, known for its purple colour. She might have some hint of magical abilities, or has a connection with magical places or objects.

Laelia could potentially be a descendant of long past ancestors from Sarasaland. That, or her ancestors were known to have an old holiday home/territory/Base somewhere located within one corner or Sarasaland. However during her time before she met Richard, she only knew life of her own Kingdom, located across the sea.

Because of this, she always felt like there was a ‘calling’ for her to one day see Sarasaland. Yet, she couldn’t quite place why. Her name might serve as a little indicator that Her Ancestors adopted the floral naming ideas, showing how deep their connection with the homeland runs.

Surprisingly, It’s Laelia whose main role as the Botanist/Plant specialist in the family. Daisy just ends up sharing and taking up similar hobbies and passions as her Mother did. But Daisy might more under the Explorer/Archaeologist role.

A young Princess Laelia would have met a Prince Richard when she was arriving to Sarasaland. Her Royal family treated this trip as a big deal, as this would be the first time they were able to set foot on Sarasaland docks. About a year or more prior, was when the news of Sarasaland being saved became public celebration.

The Princess and her family were impressed at the efforts for the 4 Kings in making the most of their efforts to restore Sarasaland to its former beauty. And even moreso shocked, as the Princess was always told that for the longest time, Sarasaland had lost its beauty and flowers. Yet here, the land was now thriving with no more war.

Laelia’s Interactions with Richard began when the Prince offered to give her a tour of Sarasaland, when she personally asked to be able to learn more as a part of her research and studies. Surprisingly, the Prince took up the role of Acting almost like a guide or advisor to her and her family.

This would lead to The Princess being curious as to why he offered to personally guide her, instead of sending a subject instead. The Prince mentions how much pride and love he has for the land. And how he will always wholeheartedly be a supporter to advocate for how much the Land changed him for the better. It was his job to oversee as much of the responsibility he can, so all of the civilians can live life in peace and free from worry. However, he mentions that if the Princess would like to have interviews with some of the local folk, he’ll gladly let her.

While Laelia’s family had to return to their kingdom, she opted to stay in Sarasaland for a while in order to keep watch, and to learn more about the development and culture. She promised that she would come home some time after them.

However, during this window of time, the Princess was slowly growing attached to Sarasaland. And unbeknownst to her, The Prince was the first to Harbor feelings for her as time went on. This would all build up throughout more interactions with the Prince, and soon ended up falling in love with one another.

When it was time for her to go back to her kingdom, she of course felt sadness when Even when she promised that one day she will return. But at that point, the thought of not being able to see Richard again made her feel down.

This would later be picked up by a family member (Could be mother, uncle, aunt or sibling ect) who couldn’t help but be concerned about the Princess. At first, the Princess tries to hide this, as her time there was meant to be strictly professional. But said family member would put the pieces together. Commenting how they noticed that from reports they heard, Laelia looked like she belonged there. That she had a newfound happiness.

This would later become a process of Laelia discussing with her Father. The King arranging to return to Sarasaland again with his daughter. And after some further discussion between two Kingdoms, there would come to an agreement that re-uniting and reforming an alliance that was once broken, would be the first beneficial step for both Kingdoms.

After a Wedding being arranged and taken place in Sarasaland. The Princess would gain her title as Queen, and the Prince now became a King.

Some time after, The Queen would give birth to their first and only child, A Daughter. They decided to name her Daisy, after the Queen’s favourite flowers.

(*NOTE!! At this point I’m not so concrete and fleshed out on this part of the story next, so these are just potential ideas)

The Queen would be able to be with her Daughter throughout most of her early childhood. However, the first life-changing incident would happen at a festival at the Queen’s home Kingdom.

During the yearly festival, an attack was made where a Villain wanted to take something from the kingdom. Maybe an object that radiated energy or held ancient secrets and knowledge that kept the kingdom thriving. A planned mission. All in all, if this object was taken, the Kingdom would call into Chaos.

At this point, there may be an implication that Daisy’s Mother has a magical ability. ( a Hand Power?? Similar to Firebrand or Thunderhand?) Maybe always born with one. So even when the enemy had failed to take the Prized object. They unfortunately managed to take Daisy’s Mother away. And the little Princess had witnessed it all.

Both Kingdoms were left grieving immensely after the incident. And even as both sides tried to heal over time, this was where Richard would have developed that time period of protectiveness over his Daughter for a little while.

#super mario #nintendo #the super mario bros movie #princess daisy #super mario land #fan character #headcanons #headcanon #fan lore #super mario movie #head canon #lore #sarasaland

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venus-haze · 2 years

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Chain of Fools (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Growing up with your mother, you only knew your father from the occasional visits and holidays every year. He was always busy as part of Elvis Presley’s “Memphis Mafia” but during the summer before your final year of college, he invites you to spend the summer in Las Vegas. You were looking forward to the opportunity to reconnect with your dad, but find him busy as ever. You spend more time with Elvis, the Colonel encouraging you to help him reach audiences your age. Initially reluctant, Elvis starts to see you as the answer to all of his problems, personally and professionally.

Note: This is based on an anonymous request and takes place during the Vegas era, some timeline stuff might be off for plot purposes, the usual. I did change the request a bit so the reader didn’t really grow up knowing Elvis. The reader is gender neutral in this. Please look at the warnings before deciding if you want to read this fic. Do not interact with my blog or my content if you’re under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail, financial abuse/exploitation, and obsessive and manipulative behavior, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Some sexual content that involves coercion, but nothing overtly explicit. Do not interact if you are under 18.

You’d gotten to Las Vegas at the end of May, just before Memorial Day, hoping to enjoy the summer away from home in between semesters and reconnect with your dad. Instead, you hardly saw him apart from the first week you arrived, where he brought you all over Vegas. Majoring in music education, you were even planning a short trip to Los Angeles to explore the city where so much of your favorite music came from. You had hoped you and your dad would take the trip together, but it was looking more and more like it would be a solo trip as he seemed too busy with work. Regardless, you were excited. Music had always been your passion, and you wanted nothing more than to share that with and encourage the next generation of young minds.

Counting yourself extremely lucky to spend the summer in the vicinity of such an influential musician like Elvis, you were taken aback when the Colonel asked you to speak with Elvis about music, help him connect with younger audiences. You obliged, but weren’t sure what you could even talk about. You weren’t music of a musician yourself, you just loved music, all genres, with every fiber of your being. You supposed that way one thing you inherited from your father, a music fanatic and one of Elvis’ so-called “Memphis Mafia.”

The first time you tried to talk to Elvis about music as the Colonel requested, he was kind but disinterested in what you had to say. Not that you could necessarily blame him, he hardly knew you outside of what your dad had told him, and he had his show to focus on. It was looking to be a lonely summer, and you considered moving your Los Angeles trip up a few weeks and then just heading back home.

You couldn’t feel completely comfortable in the hotel. Sure, the room you stayed in was nice and your dad told you not to worry about running up room service and other amenity charges, but he preoccupied with work, even though he promised you two would finally get to spend time together. Not really knowing anyone else there, you made use of the hotel’s pool and went out window shopping, but it wasn’t what you wanted to do for the whole summer.

One afternoon, you finally allowed yourself to use the stereo system in the room that probably cost more than your tuition, which was a lot, even with your parents helping how they could. Earlier in the week, while scouring the record stores in Vegas, you bought Aretha Franklin’s newest release ‘Young, Gifted and Black’. You’d only heard a few of the singles on the radio but didn’t have the chance to listen to the full album yet.

Sitting on the floor in front of the stereo, which you’d turned up so loud you’d probably end up with some kind of hearing damage, you couldn’t help but smile as soon as the first song played. Aretha’s vocals always blew you away, and the accompanying instrumentals were perfect.

When the first side of the record finished playing, you finally noticed someone knocking at your door. Am I seriously getting a noise complaint? You opened the door, feeling a pit in your stomach when you saw Elvis standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is it too loud?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I was just tryin’ to ask if you minded some company.”

“Sure,” you said, surprised, yet welcoming him inside your hotel room.

“You’ve got good taste,” he said, looking at the dozen or so albums you had laid out on your bed.

“Thanks. I went kind of crazy in the record stores earlier this week, but I love music, so being in them is like heaven for me.”

“That’s what you’re goin’ to school for, right?”

“Music education,” you said.

“You know, when I was in school, my music teacher said I had no future as a musician.”

He intended the anecdote to be a funny joke to try to break the ice with you, but your face fell, hurt and concern evident in your expression.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice strong and sincere. “Teachers should encourage kids, especially when feeling comfortable enough to express themselves through music. That takes a lot of vulnerability, and to discourage that is just messed up. Music saves people.”

“Well, at least I proved her wrong.”

“But if you hadn’t–how many kids were told the same thing and gave up? How much music we’ve missed out on because of teachers like that? I couldn’t live with myself if that were me,” you said.

“You really care about this, huh?”

“Music is everything to me.”

“So why aren’t you goin’ into the business, then?”

“What’s the saying, ‘Those who can’t do, teach’,” you shrugged, giving him an embarrassed smile. “I just want people to love music the way I do.”

“Who’s your favorite musician?” he asked. “And don’t say me just because I’m here.”

You laughed. “I don’t know if I can choose just one. I mean, I listen to every genre out there, even global music.”

For the next few hours, you and Elvis listened to your records and talked about music, sitting on the bed until he pulled you up to dance with him. He was a lot more receptive than when you first spoke to him, and he seemed to take your opinions to heart. You hadn’t noticed how much time had passed until he said that he had to leave to get ready for the show. He was surprised when you told him that you hadn’t attended his show yet, despite being there for nearly two weeks.

“I know how hard it is to get tickets. I didn’t want to take a seat from someone else,” you said.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll work it out so you can come tomorrow night, best seat in the house.”

“Okay,” you smiled, “thanks Elvis.”

“‘Course, Y/N. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

For all the years your dad worked for Elvis, you’d never actually heard the man sing in person. Of course, most of the time you spent with your dad was when he’d take time off work, but that was less and less frequent as you grew older. In fact, you’d only met Elvis once before this summer, when you were fourteen and your dad begrudgingly let you onto one of the movie sets to get Elvis’ autograph on your copy of the ‘Blue Hawaii’ soundtrack. It was a short meeting, with your dad apologizing to Elvis and ushering you away as quickly as possible to bring you to Disneyland for the rest of the day. You doubted either of them even remembered that.

You ordered room service and decided to rent a movie from the pay-per-view options that the hotel had. You’d fallen asleep with the TV on, but awoke to the phone in your room ringing. Reaching over to the nightstand, you groggily answered.

“Hi sweetie, how’s Vegas?” your mom asked.

“Hi mom,” you said, sitting up in bed. “It’s been really good, actually. How are things back home?”

“Everything’s fine, same as usual. You know, I got a call from your college this morning saying your tuition and fees were paid out through the rest of the year. Did you get a scholarship or something?”

“No, not that I know of. Did they say who paid for it?”

“I didn’t ask. It completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay; I can call back and see if they know.”

“Alright, well, have fun on the rest of your vacation, Y/N.”

“Thanks, mom,” you said. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The university usually didn’t bill you for the semester until a week or so before classes started. You went ahead and called up room service for breakfast before dialing the college. When you got through to the financial aid office, they got your file and informed you that the balance of your tuition, fees, and room and board had been paid in full earlier that morning by Presley Family Enterprises. Taken aback by the news, you thanked the person on the other end of the line. Why would they go ahead and pay for your school?

Startled from your thoughts by a knocking at the door, you got up, opening the door to let the hotel worker bring the food you’d ordered into your room. When you went to grab a piece of toast from the tray, you noticed a thick envelope with your name written across it next to your food.

Taking a bite out of the toast, you turned to ask who the envelope was from, but found the worker had already left. You picked up the envelope, opening it to find a stack of cash and a note.

‘Buy yourself something nice to wear tonight. See you then, baby. - E.P.’

Checking the clock, you realized you had a few hours to go shopping, but would probably need time to get ready before the show. Something nice. Did he have anything specific in mind? Surely he had a different definition of ‘nice’ than you did. You figured you’d know what exactly to get as soon as you saw it. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen so much money in your life, and you certainly weren’t going to put it to waste.

You scarfed down your food before getting ready for the day, shoving the cash into your bag. Double-checking that you’d have everything you needed, you headed out. You spotted your dad in the hotel lobby and waved at him. He ended the conversation he was having, and walked over to you and gave you a hug.

“Hey dad,” you said, hugging him back.

“Hey kiddo, where are you headed off to?”

“Elvis gave me some money to go shopping,” you said.

“He’s a good man, always generous like that,” he said. “He told me you’re going to see the show tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Will you be there?” you asked.

“I’ll be helping out backstage, but you have fun.”

You tried to hide your disappointment. “Okay, well, see you later.”

The Las Vegas Strip was bustling, and you walked up the street into one of the designer clothing stores, feeling immediately overwhelmed by the selection–and price tags. You spent the afternoon going in and out of designer stores, hesitant to actually spend the money that weighed your bag down like a brick. Elvis had given you the money, he wanted you to spend it, but between the tuition and the cash, you felt guilty even considering doing so.

You settled on some clothes and shoes that were in the clearance section of one designer store, which made you feel somewhat better when the shop assistant told you the total for your trip. Handing her the cash for the purchase, she looked at the money and then at you, curiously. It didn’t surprise you, you certainly weren’t dressed like the type of person to go to designer stores with wads of cash.

It was an hour before the show was set to start by the time you finished the shopping trip, so you booked it back to the International. There was already a line of people waiting outside of the showroom to get to their seats. You changed quickly in your room, doing your best to freshen up before heading back downstairs for the show.

You got in the back of the long line, and it hit you that you didn’t even have a ticket for the show. All you had was Elvis’ word for your admission, and you could only imagine how many people in line would try to pull that one over on the usher taking tickets. Biting your lip, you were just about to step out of the line when you heard your dad calling your name.

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. “C’mon, let’s get you to your seat.”

“You got here just in time,” you laughed.

You chatted with your dad as he led you past the people waiting in line, who huffed and complained as you walked straight into the showroom. The massive auditorium was packed, and as you stepped closer to the stage, you realized you’d be sitting in there by yourself. Everyone around you seemed to be with someone. Your dad gave you another hug when you got to your seat and then disappeared into the crowd.

Elvis wasn’t exaggerating when he said you’d get a spot up front. You could touch the stage if you wanted to. The curtain was down, but you could hear people moving and talking behind it.

As soon as the curtain rose, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. The horns section blared, echoing through the auditorium. You felt like you were in a cathedral, the music ascending to otherworldly heights and permeating your chest. Elvis’ voice sang out and filled the room once the curtain fully rose over him. His gaze immediately dropped down to where you were sitting, and he smiled at you.

You watched in awe, this was how music was supposed to be experienced. It was supposed to take over your body and make you feel like you could fly. You always liked Elvis’ music, but this brought his place on your list of favorite musicians way up. Sure, a lot of bands went with more casual shows and concerts, but Elvis’ showmanship was unmatched.

As the night went on, you noticed Elvis focusing a lot of his attention on you. At one point, he was practically thrusting in your face, and you were embarrassed at his antics, hardly able to conceal your bashful smile. Of course, he worked over the whole crowd, talking a bit and cracking jokes in between songs, but he always ended up back where you were. You didn’t want to assume it was just you; it was part of the show. He was Elvis Presley, after all.

When he introduced the next song, the soft piano playing behind him, you gasped. You knew it was cliche, but ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ was one of your favorite songs of his. You could remember the first time you watched ‘Blue Hawaii’, tears streaming down your face when you first heard the ballad. You watched him intently as he began to sing.

You couldn’t fight back the smile on your face as he leaned down to serenade you. Then, he did something that truly took your breath away. He kissed you. Tenderly, passionately, like it wasn't just for the show. He gave you a handsome smile and a wink when he pulled away and went back to singing.

Before you knew it, he was bowing and thanking the crowd. You couldn’t believe how good the show was, it’d be the one you’d compare all other concerts to going forward. A man walked up to you, letting you know to follow him to get backstage. You went down a narrow hallway and through two heavily guarded doors. A dozen or so people stood around talking, but Elvis was the only one who looked up when the doors closed behind you. Immediately, he made his way over to you.

“Y/N, you look great,” Elvis said, giving you a hug.

“Elvis! That was absolutely incredible; you were incredible! I don’t know what else to say, but that was the best performance I’ve ever seen in my life,” you exclaimed.

He laughed. “It was all for you, darlin’.”

“Well, thank you, for everything. My mom told me this morning that you paid for my last year of college,” you smiled.

“I’ve been in a slump for a while, but talkin’ to you yesterday, Y/N; it put things into a whole new perspective.” he said.

“I’m glad.”

“Let’s go up to my suite; we can talk more there.”

“Sounds good,” you said.

You gushed to him about the show on the way up to his suite, excited to talk more about music with him. As soon as the door shut behind him, he pressed his lips to yours, far more passionately than during the show. When you tried to pull away, he only held you tighter, groping you through your clothes. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, feeling lightheaded the longer he kissed you. After a few minutes, he pulled away to hungrily kiss your neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you protested breathlessly.

He scoffed, lifting his head. “Don’t you think you owe me somethin’, Y/N?”

“Why would I owe you anything?” you asked.

“I paid for your school, your little shopping spree, and don’t even get me started on that bill you’ve been runnin’ up with the hotel since you’ve been stayin’ here.”

“I didn’t ask for any of that. You did that on your own,” you countered.

You didn’t miss the way Elvis’ jaw clenched. You hadn’t given him the answer he was expecting by disagreeing with him. In an instant, though, his expression shifted, his face calm, but his eyes were burning through you.

“Your dad’s a good man. I’d hate to see him without work ‘cause of how ungrateful you are,” Elvis said.

Your eyes widened. “You–you can’t do that.”

“I can’t?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t make one phone call and have you both out on the street?”

You and Elvis stared at each other in silence until he walked over to the phone. He picked up and began dialing a number, stone-faced as he did so. When you heard the dial tone, you panicked.

“Wait.”

“That’s better,” Elvis said, a smirk on his face as he hung up the phone.

You felt helpless as he made his way over to you, smug that he’d gotten his way. Even though you weren’t all that close with your dad, you couldn’t let him lose his job if you could help it. Elvis was one of the most influential people in the world, one word and he could make your dad unhirable.

Elvis held your face in his hands. “You’re gonna finish your last year of school and get your degree, then you’re gonna come right back to me and–”

“And do what?” you asked.

“I’ve got it all under control, baby. You don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing,” he said, kissing you again.

You kissed him back, reluctantly, but he didn’t seem to care. He helped himself to you, felt entitled to it. You felt more like a possession than a person when he undressed you, the clothes technically his, anyway. Why couldn’t he take them off of you when he wanted? Your whole life was his. The rest of the summer went this way, with Elvis giving you money and buying you things you didn’t ask for while holding it over your head to keep you with him. You were looking forward to the semester starting so you could at least get away from him and try to find a job teaching somewhere far from Memphis or Vegas, anywhere he’d be regularly. Most of your last semester would be student teaching, and you hoped the school would be interested in hiring you for the following school year.

Even on campus, though, you couldn’t get away from Elvis. He made you give him a copy of your class and student teaching schedule each semester, and called whenever he knew you’d be in your dorm. If you didn’t answer when he called, he’d give you hell when you did eventually pick up, and threaten your dad’s job and your future. As a result, your social life became completely non-existent as your friends slowly stopped inviting you to study or hang out when you kept declining. By the time the spring semester ended, you were miserable and lonely, absolutely dreading graduation day. All of the time and effort spent toward getting your degree for nothing.

During one of the final classes of the semester, one of your classmates excitedly approached you once the professor dismissed you all. “I heard you got a job already! Congrats!”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, as you gathered your things.

“C’mon, Y/N, everyone in the major is talking about it. I mean, Elvis Presley starts a foundation to teach kids about music and hires you right out of school to help run it. He even made a big donation to the education department. I guess you really impressed him during your interview.”

“I–thanks,” you said, unsure of how to respond. You weren’t sure when all of this happened, but it figured everyone else knew but you. That’s how things always seemed to be with him. If financial threats weren’t enough, the mind games were.

“Hey, if they have any openings, put in a good word for me!” your classmate said.

I’d be doing you a favor if I didn’t. “Yeah, of course,” you said. “See you around.”

You held back tears as you made your way back to your dorm room. It wasn’t fair. Not only was your dad’s livelihood caught up in Elvis, now yours was too. Making the donation to your university’s college of education was a brilliant move, you had to admit as much, everyone was singing his praises at his generosity. You didn’t want any of it. Your only dream was to help kids develop a love of music and have someone who believed in them, and he made it into an inescapable nightmare.

While he didn’t go to your graduation ceremony the following week, he had you flown out to see him in Vegas, as he usually did when you had a longer break from classes. Again, you supposed since he basically owned your degree and now your career, he’d get to choose how you spent your graduation day.

You didn’t try to conceal your displeasure when you saw him, and he didn’t appreciate the coldness you displayed. He practically threw the bouquet of flowers he was holding at you, dragging you inside his suite by your arm.

“You’re the most ungrateful brat I’ve ever met in my life,” he snarled, his lip curling in anger toward you.

“I didn’t ask for any of this! I didn’t want it!” you argued.

“Well you got all of it, so you better act like this is everything you ever prayed for,” he said, backing you into the door, seeming to tower over you.

“What do you even get out of this?” you asked, looking up at him in fear and desperation. “You’re bleeding yourself dry and for what?”

He grinned, sending a shiver down your spine. “You.”

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