If anyone is still wondering Candyās/ Ysalineās age is confirmed to be 22.
In Episode 1 there is an option to make a comment about Tashaās age (16) and in episode 5, Candy talks about her 9th birthday and mentions that Tasha was 3 at that time.
The difference between LIs plots for the Halloween event 2024 is hilarious
spoilers!!
Roy: wants to do a good job, but be nice to kids (we fix up his makeup)
Thomas: wants to do a good job, prevent everyone from getting to the candy jar (we fix each other's makeup)
Amanda: wants to do a good job, prevent people from getting to the candy jar, wants to scare everyone, but kids only a little and have them have sooome candy (we fix each other's makeup)
Devon: wants to do a good job for future job opportunities, just overall chill (we have to fix an emergency together)
Jason: scares the THE LIVING HELL out of everyone AND we stab him!!!
š„pairing:Ā Dake x Candy (named Lexi) - female, using she/her pronouns - also Candy x two male ocs (threesome) š¶ļø
š„wc:Ā 3'660
š„summary:Ā Lexi, a well-known model living in Paris, appears to live a glamorous life. However, her reality is quite different. When she receives a text from Dake, her on-and-off boyfriend of four years, it leads to a messy night where she ends up hooking up with two Parisian artists. Although her friends advise her to move on from Dake and explore her sexuality, Lexi struggles to let go, as she and Dake have been engaged in this toxic relationship for years. To her, this is it.
š„warnings:Ā threesome, hangover, toxic on-and-off relationship, gaslighting, eating disorder, mental health problems, substance abuse, unhealthy family dynamics, manipulation
š„a/n:Ā I wrote another story bitching about Dake because I hate him. This story takes place a year before "In his grasp," where Lexi finally escapes her toxic relationship with Dake. If you'd like to learn more about their relationship dynamic, feel free to read that story too!
Remember, if you find yourself in a relationship similar to our girl Lexi's in this story, it's time to step out! You are worthy of so much more, just like Lexi!
Lexi woke up with a pounding headache and an unquenchable thirst, the harsh morning light cutting through her disoriented thoughts. The night before, sheād attended a high-profile fashion show, intending to head home afterward. But a series of messages from her on-and-off boyfriend, Dake, proposing yet another ābreakā had thrown her into a whirlwind of emotions. The news hit her hard, leading her to make regrettable choices.
She should have been used to this by now. She had lost count of how many times Dake and she had broken up or āgone on a short breakā over the last four years. Yet, the messages managed to break her down on the venueās bathroom floor, resulting in Lexi receiving many confused and judgmental looks from the guests who attended the show.
āHey, can I join you after all?ā Lexi asked the group of pretty girls, who were almost out the front door. They were models like her and knew each other pretty well from other shows they had done together. Sometimes, they even stayed together at hotels before significant events.
āAh, youāre coming to the after-party after all! Let me guessā¦Something happened with Dake?ā asked Brielle, a French girl with pale skin, dark brown eyes, and short mid-brown hair. She and Lexi worked together for years, and Brielle was more than aware of who Dake was. Though Lexi did not know it then, but most models were warned about her āon-and-off relationship,ā which often resulted in drama, tears, and screaming. But the models were also told that whenever her relationship was āon the rocks,ā Lexi became fun to hang out with: She attended parties, flirted with guys, and spent time with her colleagues by joining them on long shopping trips and morning mimosas. Either way, because the girls knew Lexi would not ask to join them if she was not looking for fun, they allowed her to join their group for the night.
This was how she ended up to at the after-party, got utterly wasted in an hour, and managed to charm two āsmall-timeā Parisian artists, who were now in her bed, completely naked. Lexi was horrified as she recalled some of the things that happened the night before: She remembered making out with the both of them in the back of a taxi. The taxi driver ignored them as Lexi let one of them push her thong aside and finger her while the other guy kissed her just about anywhere. She also remembered stumbling into the apartment before her roommates got home. Not sure how they got into the room, but she remembered standing in the center of her bedroom, unsure of what she was supposed to do since this was her first threesome. She was nervous and excited at the same time as she waited on the guys, who both sat at the end of her bed, watching her with a mix of admiration and desire. Her skin tingled as the guy with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes stepped towards her first, gently brushing a blonde strand of hair from Lexiās face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. He called her beautiful and āa piece of artā between soft, warm kisses. While they enjoyed each other, the other guy with messy brown hair moved closer too, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She felt the heat of his body against hers, his hands slowly sliding down her sides, his touch light and teasing, sending shivers through her entire body. Ā She turned her head slightly so that her lip could meet his in a passionate yet somehow tender kiss. She felt the dark-haired guysā hands on her waist. Firm, reassuring. The three of them quickly found their rhythm, pleasing her with their hands and mouths. They explored every inch of her curves with her clothes on before the dark-haired guy started to unbutton her blouse, his eyes never leaving hers. He was hungry for her. With the brown-haired guyās help, her blouse soon ended on the floor, alongside her black, skin-tight mini-skirt, tights, and high-heels.
Lexi became more heated by the second as they undressed her together while kissing and touching her so tenderly that Lexi could only feel cherished and desired. Standing before them in her black laced lingerie, she felt more vulnerable than ever.
The boys shared a silent, understanding look before the dark-haired guy sat down on Lexiās bed and gently pulled Lexi with him. His kisses were more profound, his fingers firmer. From behind, his friend kneeled behind her, his lips pressing a trail of kisses along her neck and shoulders, his hands sliding around to cup her breasts through the delicate fabric of her bra. Soon, he unhooked the bra, revealing Lexiās bare breasts. But before Lexi could feel embarrassed about her naked body and try to cover up herself, his hands were already on them, massaging them, sending waves of pleasure through her body. Before Lexi knew what was happening, she was moaning into kisses, and all three of them were in her bed, all their clothes long removed. Desperate touches and kisses were exchanged as she remembered riding the dark-haired guy at one point while the brown-haired guy kissed both her and his friend. Lexi also remembered getting on all four and letting the brown-haired guy take her from behind. At some point, she also had the dark-haired guyās penis in her mouth while the brown-haired guy made her lose her mind about what he was doing to her. She remembered laughter and orgasms, lying in bed together, entangled, happy, and free. Lexi also remembered the two guys getting down on one another, including her slightly, but not too much, having their own moment together. Lexi couldnāt remember when the last time she felt so understood and seen: they treated her as if she were beautiful and powerful.
Dake didnāt make her feel like that in a long time.
Ā Ā As she turned her head to look at the guys, she was relieved that they seemed handsome in the daylight as well. If they were handsome, he couldnāt have embarrassed herself entirely. Some newer models probably considered her an āiconā for picking up two cute French guys who loved art and all things beautiful. Beautiful, like Lexi apparently.
āFuckā¦ā she whisper-cussed at herself as she emerged from the bed. At that moment, she didnāt feel beautiful or cool at all. Nor did she feel any sort of accomplishment for the two hotties in her bed. If anything, Lexi was more embarrassed that she couldnāt remember their names. And she was incredibly embarrassed that she only got with these two guys because she got drunk out of heartbreak, thanks to Dake.
She opened her closet with silent, small steps and got out an oversized T-shirt. It was Dakeās, but Lexi only cared that it was long enough to conceal her private part. She didnāt have any energy to put pants on, and after putting on the shirt, she needed multiple minutes to put panties on. She almost gave up on that mission, but the thought of walking around the apartment without underwear pushed her to continue. Even though she stammered and was not-so-quiet when she tried to put on her underwear, the boys kept sleeping in her bed, which was a massive relief for Lexi because she didnāt feel like dealing with them. Not yet, at least.
When she entered the hallway and walked straight into the kitchen, most of her roommates were already up. Her hopes of hatching a plan while silently drinking coffee went to waste.
āOh, lĆ lĆ !ā one of her roommates, Elsa, sent her kisses in the air when Lexi entered the kitchen. āLook who is awake! Feeling tired after your night ofā¦ā
Ella didnāt finish the sentence, but she didnāt need to they all knew what Lexi did last night.
In that moment she would have liked to kick Elsaās skinny ass for joking around about her terrible mistake, but she also knew that Elsa didnāt mean any harm with her comments and jokes. Not her nor the other girls judged her ā why would they? They would have slept with the cute guys too if they had gotten the chance.
Model life was quite different: all the girls lived for one-night stands, open bars, and drugs. They only judged each other if they botched a job (which was fair) and overate without throwing up the excessive amount of food later (which was insane). All the girls in the apartment were not healthy or stable ā but they would have never ridiculed Lexi for what she did. Ā
āCan I get some of this coffee?ā Lexi looked around the room as she reached for the hot coffeepot.
āSure.ā answered one of the girls.Ā
All her roommates watched her closely as she poured herself coffee and took her first sip. She desperately wanted to add creamer and sugar to the coffee, but models only drank their coffees black.
āWant to talk about it?ā Maeve asked her as she continued brushing her long ginger hair. In front of her was her morning glass of lemon-water. She usually didnāt eat food until 4 pm.
āI donāt know what to say.ā Lexi shrugged and let out an embarrassed laugh. Despite how hot and free she felt when she had her threesome, she hated herself this morning.
āWell, Iād say congratulations.ā Issa chuckled. āTheyāre cute.ā
āSure, butā¦ But the reason I slept with them isā¦ā
Lexi didnāt need to finish the sentence as the girls did it for her: āDake.ā
As they said his name, they rolled their eyes, made āvomiting noises,ā etc. No one besides Lexi liked Dakota in the apartment. Her modeling friends and her friends at home all told Lexi repeatedly over the years to get away from Dake, but it seemed impossible for her to do so. Even now that they were broken up, Lexi knew it wouldnāt be long before theyād get together again.
āAnyone wants to throw those guys out for me?ā she looked around the room desperately. She didn't want to take another look at them because she knew the memories would once again flood her mind. Even though Lexi was a well-paid model who got to live around the world in cities like Paris and London, she was very insecure. She didn't used to be, but her complicated on-and-off relationship with Dake made her to be.
She was so used to feeling incompetent, not good enough, and not pretty enough that she believed that's how the entire world saw her, even when she walked in highly esteemed fashion shows. Yesterday showed her just how wrong she was about herself - the two guys called her "perfection," a "walking dream," and a "goddess."
Lexi did not know what to do with this because if she wasn't a failure and was, in fact, perfect, then why did she feel like the world's biggest letdown for the past four years? She was not ready to confront that.
āWhy throw them out?ā Hua wiggled her eyebrows at Lexi. āEnjoy them before they have to leave!ā
Lexi tried to imagine getting in bed with the two guys one last time, but it cringed her. She couldnāt be so careless and sexy without a significant amount of alcohol in her system, and the thought of starting her day with drinking made her want to puke. After all, the floor still swayed under her feet.
āYeah, no. Thatās not going to happen. Any other suggestions?ā
āYes. Go back to bed and sleep. Then maybe go on a date with one of them, or hell, both. Just have fun, Lex!ā Issa suggested.
Out of everyone, she was the most vocal about her dislike for Dake. She also believed in female empowerment and that women could get their power back from men by āhaving sex like menā. Without any feelings, doing it for their own needs and benefits.
āI-I canāt do that. I canāt even remember their names; honestly, I want nothing to do with themā¦ā
āOh, come on, Lexi. Dakota is a jerk. He asked you to break up, so why not explore other options?ā Hua shook her head in disappointment. She never understood why Lexi chose to stay loyal to Dake all these years. Lexi didnāt understand it either, but she didnāt care to understand her complicated relationship with Dake. She tried to wrap her head around her situation with him many times before, which always gave her a headache. The only thing she was sure of was that every time the two of them were broken off and she ended up hooking up or making out with someone, she felt horrible the next day. He always had a hold of her, even when he was messing up things between them. And he was always the one she yearned for.
āI just canāt have this conversation again, guys!ā
Lexi left the kitchen and locked herself into the bathroom trying to make herself feel like a human again. After she removed her messy makeup, brushed her teeth, applied her skincare products, and did her hair, she felt much better indeed. Yet, she still dreaded having to go back to her room and confront the guys in her bed.
So, she went out to the balcony where the freshly washed and dried clothes were hanging. She put on a denim skirt and a pair of white socks.
āAre you going somewhere?ā Maeve asked when Lexi got her bag and phone from the living room couch, which is where she left those things when she came home with her one-night-stand buddies.
āYes. Out. I need time to think.ā
She got her sunglasses out from her bag, put on her shoes and walked towards the front door.
āWhat about the guys?ā Hua called after her.
āDonāt know, donāt care. Just let them sleep, I guess.ā
One of the girls responded with something else, but Lexi was already out the door.
The city of Paris buzzed with life around her as she wandered aimlessly through the streets. The cobblestones felt uneven beneath her feet, the chatter of people in various languages created a comforting white noise, and the scent of fresh pastries wafted from nearby boulangeries. She needed to clear her mind, but the vibrant energy of the city was both a blessing and a curse. It kept her from sinking too deeply into her thoughts about Dake but also made it impossible to escape them completely. Lexi's thoughts wandered to the first time she met Dake. They were both young and ambitious, full of dreams and energy, but over the years, their relationship had morphed into a rollercoaster of highs and lows. She kicked a loose pebble on the sidewalk, thinking about how easy it was to fall back into old patterns with him, no matter how many times they broke up. It was always a cycle: a passionate reunion followed by intense fights and inevitable "breaks."
As she woke up from her ādaydreamingā she found herself at the entrance of a park. Sheās never been to this park before, mostly because Lexi didnāt really explore Paris or any of the cities, she has previously lived in. She was always on video calls with Dake, or working out, or walking shows, or having a mental breakdown about her relationship, or hooking up with strangers because of her toxic relationship or studying, or she was simply just working on āher next big projectā. When she sat down onto a bench and watched some kids play in a nearby fountain, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages, hoping for a further distraction. Instead, she found a string of texts from Dake.
Dake: Can we talk?
Dake: I miss you.
Dake: I'm sorry about last night. Please, Lexi, let's work this out.
Lexi's heart ached as she read the messages. Part of her wanted to respond, to give in and start the cycle all over again, but another part of her knew she needed to break free.
But was she ready for that?
She continued to read the messages he sent her.
Dake: I saw the videos and pictures posted on Instagram.
Dake: I came to Paris, please pick up your phone.
Dake: You mean everything to me. Sorry, for messing up again.
Dake: Baby, I am trying to make things right, otherwise I wouldnāt have come to Paris. Text me your new address.
As she read the last message from him, Lexi almost choked on her own spit.
Did he come to Paris for her?
And what Instagram posts was he talking about?
When she opened Instagram, she was confronted by her drunk self from last night. People tagged her as she sat on someoneās shoulder to try to get off the top champagne glass from a champagne tower (thankfully, she succeeded!); there were pictures of her laughing and drinking with her model friends, videos of her dancing with cute guys (in many videos her threesome partners were present) and also rich Parisian people tagging her in the pictures they took from the show she walked. Lexi knew she looked magnificent in every single post people have posted. For a moment, she wondered if this was what bothered Dake. Lexi thrived, and the fake persona she put on didnāt seem to care for him or their break.
Did he come to Paris to make a big romantic gesture or because he was jealous and insecure?
Just as about she was to put her phone away, Dake sent her another message.
Dake: Lexi, I love you. I have always loved you. Letās talk. I am here in Paris; we can meet up anywhere you want. I donāt want to lose you and I donāt want to lose the last four years.
Lexiās heart pounded as she stared at Dakeās message. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The images from the previous night flashed through her mindāthe fun, the freedom, the new possibilities. Could she really let go of that?
But more importantlyā¦ Could she let go of Dake?
Her eyes left her phone, and she watched the people around her. Parisian life moved around her as if in slow motion. Her mind raced with memories of her past with Dakeāmoments of happiness, love, and passion interspersed with tears, arguments, and heartbreak. Was it worth fighting for, or was it time to move on?
The truth was that Lexi couldnāt imagine a life without Dake. Without all the love and passion, without all the tears and arguments. She didnāt want to lose him, nor did she want to lose the past four years. If she was honest with herself, she knew she needed Dake to function, even if he occasionally broke her down. Although she had her modeling friends and her friends at home, Lexi felt alone. She felt like everyone else had much more fulfilling lives than her and knew themselves to the point where they didnāt need to rely on others. But this wasnāt the case for herāLexi didnāt know who she was anymore beyond her job and her relationship with Dake.
While others sorted out their lives and put puzzle pieces into the right places, Lexi desperately tried to hold onto the little pieces she had found very early on in her life.
She had her modeling career and Dake.
Initially, she also had her friends at home, but then she made the mistake of taking the contract that forced her to travel around the world away from her girls. She hoped she would make her mother proud with that contract, but she didnāt. That was impossible.
Lexi knew she shouldnāt have chosen modeling over her friends, as leaving them behind made everything ten times worse. They kept in contact, but Lexi was too embarrassed to tell them what was happening, so she lied about her āmarvelous modeling life.ā And if they werenāt talking with one another on the phone, Lexi missed them and hated them a little for being so busy, normal, and happy without her. The girls had each other back home. Some of them even had supportive and loving family members and partners. They found their passions, passions that didnāt make them as miserable as they did Lexi. With their passions, they could drink coffee with sugar and cream without feeling guilty.
Lexi yearned for a life less filled with toxicity, a boyfriend more faithful and caring, and a more loving and supportive family. But she knew these were just wishes, things she couldnāt or wouldnāt have enough power and confidence to change.
She was a model living in Paris and had a boyfriend desperate to get her back. A boyfriend she loved, a boyfriend who was in her life ever since she was sixteen years old. A boyfriend who jumped on a plane to be with her again. Toxic or not, he was all she had and all she knew.
So, she dusted herself off as she got off the bench and clicked on the call button next to Dakeās name.
āDake. Hi. Yes, I just saw your messages. I love you, too. Where are you? Letās meet up!ā
How was your "moment" with your Love Interest in episode 4? I went for Jason's and Devon's route (as always) and I feel like every time I go with Devon my Candy is horny for him. Someone said the moments with Amanda are cute, so I am wondering if this horniness is only during Devon's route.
š¹ļø pairing: Candy x Armin (Candy's name is Violet, uses she/her pronouns) - my Candy is Castiel's half-sister in this story!
š¹ļø wc: 1'800
š¹ļø summary: Violet is unable to sleep due to the storm outside. She decides to head downstairs, leaving her boyfriend Armin to rest. However, the peace is shattered when an intruder breaks into the house and leaves a mysterious wooden box on the kitchen counter. It seems that Violet's complicated family history and past have come back to haunt her. āļøš¼
š¹ļø warnings: break in, mention of cheating, toxic family relationships, mention of mental health issues, mention of murder, mention of psychological abuse, mention of mental hospitals
š¹ļø a/n: I had this story in my head for years and I am so glad I was finally able to make it into a short-story! Hope you enjoy! š
A summer storm raged outside, its relentless thunder and flashing lightning making it impossible for Violet to sleep. Typically, she slept through anything, but tonight was different. With high hopes, she turned to look at her boyfriend, but to her disappointment, Armin was snoring softly, oblivious to the chaos outside. She sighed and turned her gaze to the ceiling, where shadows frantically danced, cast by the flickering streetlights outside. Nor watching the ceiling or listening to the rhythmic pattern of raindrops against the window managed to lull her back to sleep. After a few minutes of restless contemplation, Violet gave up. Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed downstairs to the living room. The house felt eerily quiet, its usual occupants absent. Her father and stepmother were often away because of their work, and tonight was no exception. Her half-brother, Castiel, had gone to his girlfriendās place, taking his loyal dog, Demon, with him. Violet sank into the old, worn couch, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. The stormās ferocity seemed to seep into the house, making the air electric. She glanced around the dimly lit room, noticing how different it felt at night, empty and silent. A sudden crash of thunder made her jump, her heart racing. As she sat there, her mind wandered. She thought about the legends her grandmother used to tell her about storms being portals to other worlds, places where magic thrived, and anything was possible. A shiver ran down her spineānot entirely from the cold. What if tonight, of all nights, the storm brought more than just rain? Though as much as Violet hoped, she knew that magic was not real (she waited long enough for her Hogwarts acceptance letter), so maybe not that. Suddenly, she heard a faint noiseānot the storm, but something elseāa soft, almost imperceptible sound, like a whisper. Her pulse quickened as she strained to listen. The noise seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, Violet stood and cautiously made her way towards the sound. In the dim glow of the kitchen light, she saw it. A small, mysterious box sat on the counter; one she had never seen before. It was intricately carved with strange symbols. Her breath caught in her throat. Where had it come from? Compelled by an irresistible urge, Violet reached out and touched the box. The moment her fingers brushed its surface, she felt a cold breeze against her skin. She was only wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, but she shouldnāt have been cold even with the storm outside. Before opening the box, she looked around and noticed that the door to the back garden was wide open. She was sure she locked all the doors before bed, meaning someone picked the lock and left the box on the kitchen counter. Scared and confused, she walked around the kitchen, wondering if the intruder was still in the house.
She was completely alone, yet unease and uncertainty hung in the air. A robber takes objects and leaves. A kidnapper would have struck by now. A murderer wouldnāt have been lingering. So, who would break into her house and leave a mysterious wooden box on the kitchen counter?
Violet heard her racing heartbeat in her ears, and she wondered if she should wake Armin up or if she was perhaps overreacting. She had no idea what was happening, and all the facts she knew would make her sound insane if she were forced to tell them. Wanting some clarity about her situation, she touched the box again, running her fingers along its smooth edges. Taking a breath, she opened up the surface and, surprisingly, found pictures inside instead of all the horrific things she was expecting, like human fingers, a pig heart, or a horse tongue.
Looking through the pictures, she recognized her father and biological mother when they were young, probably before they had her. Violet knew that how she came to be was not a happy love story, as her father was cheating on her half-brotherās mother while she was pregnant with him. Violetās mother was her fatherās mistress for a while, and she was deeply in love with him. He kept telling her empty lies and promises about a future together, which Violetās mother believed. But he never meant any of it, and although it took a while for Violetās mother to realize that, once she did, all hell broke loose. Violetās mother already suffered from some mental health problems, but the realization that the life she was working towards and had hoped for years would never come true broke her. Violet was unaware of the details, but she knew that her mother had ended up at a mental hospital, and Violet was placed with her grandparents. She never visited her mother in the mental hospital; her mother was one of the sickest people there, and visitors were not allowed. Not only was she a danger to herself but also to everyone else around her. When she was seven years old, Violet overheard her grandparents discussing an āincidentā that happened at the mental hospital. Her mother strangled someone to death.
In all the pictures in Violetās hands, her mother looked happy, beautiful, and normal, which broke Violetās heart. She often wondered if her mother would have ended up in the mental hospital either way, even if her father made different and better choices. Violetās grandparents thought so and explained to her how her mother was born sick and was a profoundly complicated and disturbed woman. But then Violetās aunts and uncles (her motherās siblings) blamed Violetās father and even Violet herself for everything... for breaking their sister.
She turned the pictures around and saw neatly written words and dates on the back. Violet assumed they were written by her mother. Her eyes once again shot across the kitchen. The door was still ajar, and the storm was still raging, but there was no unusual movement outside or in the kitchen. She wondered if her aunts and uncles broke into the house to guilt her. They have always hated her, and they hated her even more after she moved in with her father. Not that she had much choice. When her grandparents died, she was once again placed in the care of other family members: this time, her uncles and aunts. Their hatred for her made her living situation hell. She was scared to speak up and involve the authorities, and at that time, she had no idea who her father was or that Castiel - the guy she went to high school with - was her half-brother. After... the fire, her father revealed himself and offered her a home and a new family. Despite all her complicated feelings towards him, she accepted it. She wanted to get away from her aunts and uncles, and she and Castiel got along surprisingly well, even if Castiel was difficult to get to know. Unbeknownst to them why, they always had a brother-and-sister-like relationship. Even when they didn't know that they were related.
āVi?ā Armin walked into the kitchen with a scared expression. Violet jumped because she was so deep in thought that she didnāt hear him walk around the house. āAre you okay?ā
He rushed over to her. Violet was confused about how Armin knew something was wrong.
āYour brother called! Your mom escaped the mental hospital.ā
Violetās heart stopped, and she forgot how to breathe. She thought the box came from her aunts and uncles and that this was all to guilt her. Her aunts and uncles were pieces of shit, but they were not capable of murder. Or better said of planned, intentional murder. When the fire happened, they left her to die, yes, but the fire was an accident, and they didnāt have to do anything besides saving themselves. But her motherā¦ her mother was dangerous. Her mother has killed before. And Violet had no idea how her mother felt about her.
Was this box for her to find? Or was this box meant for her father?
Her mother could not have known that Violetās father was in another country. So, who was she after? What did she want?
āA-Arminā¦ā Unable to say more, she put the pictures in his hand. He instantly knew who the pictures were of. āI think she broke in. I think she was in here and left this box of pictures here.ā
Arminās eyes jumped to the wide-open door.
He wanted to scold Violet for not waking him up, not screaming for help when she realized someone had broken in, and for standing around looking at pictures instead of calling the police. But he saw how terrified and confused she was, and he didnāt have the courage to tell her off right away. So, he fought his instincts and refrained from sarcastically calling her out on her actions. The best he could do for her was immediately getting her out of the house.
āWe need to leave!ā
Armin put the pictures back in the box and then grabbed it. He grabbed Violet and led her out of the kitchen with his other hand.
āWait, wait, the door!ā
Violet protested, breaking free from him and rushing towards the open door to close it. āOne person already broke in here tonight; letās not invite more people inside!ā
Armin didnāt know his girlfriend had managed to stand inside the house so long and think about āclosing a doorā while their literal lives were in danger. They were both terrified; they both knew they were in danger, yet their priorities didnāt seem to align.
āViolet, we need to leave!ā He rushed her.
After she closed the door, she joined him, and they practically ran through the house. Violet had nothing on her, not her wallet, ID, or phone. Ā Armin only had his cell phone in his pockets. They were unprepared, and getting out into the storm like this was a bad idea, but the idea of being sitting ducks and waiting for Violetās mentally unwell mother, who might kill her the same way she has killed others before, was way worse. So, when Armin opened the front door, they ran outside, holding up their hands to protect their heads from the rain.
And as they were running in the cold rain, drenched in seconds, the hope for an everyday life left Violet. When she accepted her fatherās offer to live with him and his family, Violet thought her life would finally stop being tragic and that she would have a normal (more or less) family even if her father and stepmother were barely around, thanks to their work.
But no, it didnāt seem like Violet would ever escape her past as her past just came back to hunt her.
šø summary: A stranger accidentally texts Amber a love letter intended for someone else. Despite the mistake, Amber can't stop thinking about it and begins texting this stranger. As they chat, they realize they have a few things in common, - being anonymous helps them connect - such as how both of them love their jobs but feel painfully lonely. They start as friends, but their connection grows stronger, and they begin to wonder if there's potential for something more exciting than friendship. š²ā¤ļøāš„
šø warnings: masturbation, phone/video sex, nudes, mention of anorexia and body issues, mention of drugs, mention of bullying, mention of abuse and toxic relationships, mention of addiction
šø a/n: I forgave Amber a long time ago. Maybe after reading this fic, more people will start to like her. Either way, I had fun writing this story, and it is surprisingly spicy, even though it happens over the phone. š¶ļøš¶ļø
Amber Carello lived the dream life she was yearning for: She was a successful lingerie model and widely known influencer on Instagram. She had so much money that she never had to worry about paying her bills or not being able to dine in high-end restaurants. Because of her lifestyle, she received so many free things that she daily had something new and fashionable to wear. But this ādream lifeā didnāt turn out to be so dreamy after all, despite all the good things she was getting because of it. Amber had body issues and anorexia, which she was battling daily, and she had no real friends, as no one from the modeling or the influencer world cared to āhave actual friendsā beyond posting pictures together for fans. And doing drugs together.
Amber tried to become friends with her former modeling partners in the past. But she ended up almost killing herself from how much of a bad influence they were on her: they worsened her body image, got her into drugs, which was also a hard habit to kick, and overall, Amber was connected with some shady people for a while. But now that she didnāt have any debts to any shady drug dealers (thanks to her brother Nath) she started eating more or less (thanks to Nathās girlfriend, Esha), dropped her former āfriends,ā and stopped trying to fit in the modeling crowd Amber realized just how alone she was. After every shoot and show, the other models left together to party, and Amber went home. For a while, she lived with some of these girls as they were from the same agency, and money was easier to save that way, but they made her feel like an āunwanted alienā when she stopped pretending to be someone else. So as soon as Amber hit her big break, she moved out. However, she often questioned herself, which was worse: Living with the other models but being constantly ridiculed or living utterly alone and watching Netflix for five hours every night with nothing else to do. Amber yearned for friends in her life, but she was surrounded by either super-skinny coke-head models or other influencers who only cared about their image and numbers. She was thankful to have Nathaniel in her life, but she was embarrassed to always hang out with her brother and his girlfriend ā they had their own lives and surely wanted alone time. Plus, they were busy people: Nathaniel was now a police officer and Esha was following her dreams of becoming a doctor.
Amber also thought about reaching out to old friends like Charlotte and Li, but Amber knew that there were several reasons why their trio parted ways, as they were not a good influence on one another. Their friendship started as kids, and back then, it was innocent, but they became ruthless bullies, heartless mean girls, and privileged queen bees over time. Amber still had a hard time believing herself to be a good person after everything she did. She was in therapy and changed significantly after high school, but she wondered if she deserved kindness and goodness in her life. Her friend Ella thought so, and they started out as enemies in high school and became friends during university. It was easy to find common ground between them: They both cared for fashion, so they got along surprisingly well, but Ella was also busy building her fashion empire, and if she wasnāt working on that, she was spending time with her boyfriend, Castiel. Castiel was Amberās ābig loveā and borderline obsession for an embarrassingly long time. Castiel, a known musician now, was constantly on tour, so he was glad to have some alone time with his girlfriend whenever he returned home. Therefore, Amber felt embarrassed to rob them of their time together. The only option for Amber left was Lexi, who was also an old acquaintance turned model, but Lexi didnāt care to hang around Amber as she never forgave her for what happened between them in high school. Amber understood this decision and also respected Lexi as unlike Amber she never even tried to fit in with the toxic model crowd. But unlike Amber, that decision didnāt make her a lonely loser as Lexi had her own support system, something Amber most definitely didnāt really have. She barely talked to her parents, and if she did, she only spoke to her mother, as Amber could never forgive her father for being physically abusive to Nathaniel. Even though she had some contact with her mother, Amber sometimes wished she was strong enough to completely cut her out of her life too, as her mother was not only aware of the abuse going on in their home and decided to do nothing about it, but she also caused Amberās body issues to flare up constantly. It most certainly wasnāt just the modeling industry that pushed her into anorexia.
āThis is itā¦ā Amber sighed to herself as she lowered herself onto her couch. She pulled a soft pink blanket over her body and looked for something new to watch on Netflix, which turned out to be challenging as she kept getting through all the shows at an embarrassingly fast pace.
For several minutes, she searched for something before she caved in and clicked on āBreaking Bad,ā a show many guys seemed to be obsessed with for some reason. As she watched the screen, trying to give the show a fair chance, she munched on celery sticks dipped in hummus. A couple of hours went by when she finally reached for her phone to see if she had gotten any new messages from people who wanted to hang out with her on a Wednesday night, but that was not the case. It almost never was.
As she half-watched the show, she started scrolling on Instagram. Thatās when she received a message from a number she didnāt recognize, nor did she have it saved in her contacts.
Evidently, the drunk-lover boy sent the message to the wrong number. Still, Amber couldnāt help reading the message repeatedly and imagining herself as this mysterious āAllieā with this poor guy wrapped around her fingers years later. Amber had never experienced love, nor had she ever been in a serious relationship before, but she wondered what it felt like to be so insanely in love with someone that you catch yourself thinking about them from time-to-time years later. Their engagement announcement causing you to get drunk and send a heartfelt message ā a declaration of love.
She felt for the guy, not only because he clearly still had feelings for his ex and hoped that sheād want to re-connect with him, despite having no contact between them for years and her clearly moving on, but also because of the sentence: āI think you were the only person in my life who ever cared about me.ā He seemed lonely, just like she was. Therefore, out of kindness, she decided to put this guy out of his misery before he ended up staring at his phone for weeks, wondering why Allie was not messaging him back.
Amber: Hi. Iām not Allie; I think you either sent this to the wrong number, or Allie switched numbers, and I got hers. Iām really sorry.
In a minute, she had already received a reply.
Stranger: Seriously?
Amber: Yeah, sorry. I kind of wish I was her, though.
As soon as she clicked on āsend,ā Amber felt embarrassed for admitting that to this complete stranger, who was, in fact, Allieās ex.
Stranger: Yeah, why?
Amber: Not only is she engaged, but she has another guy declaring love over text. My love life is basically nonexistent, so I am a little jealous.
It was surprising how easy it was to be completely transparent over text. Maybe because they were strangers who would never meet, perhaps it was so easy because the texting was completely anonymous, or maybe because texting was less cringe-worthy than saying things out loud in real life ā either way, Amber enjoyed how frank she could be without a care.
Stranger: I think I completely embarrassed myself by sending this text, but Iām glad you liked it. Iām not sure Allie would have.
Amber: Probably not. The girl is engaged; I think she has moved on. Sorry.
Stranger: Itās okay, I thought so, too. But I just still had to send it, just in case. Itās pathetic, no?
Amber: Itās romantic. She would be on her way to your apartment now if this was a movie.
Stranger: Sure, and it would be pouring rain.
Amber: Absolutely! For some reason, sheād know where you lived after all these years, and she would be drenched in rainwater, waiting for you to open the door so that she could make her own declaration of love.
Stranger: I usually donāt like romcoms, but this one sounds awesome. What happens next?
Amber: Well, after she tells you she loves you back and wonāt marry the other guy, you have this dramatic kiss and probably end up having sex.
Stranger: Awesome. You should become a screenwriter or a book author.
Amber giggled as she read the message.
Amber: Oh no, this was all I had. Iām not really a creative person.
Stranger: Hmmm. So how come you have a nonexistent love life, by the way?
Amber: Only douchebags ask me out. Stopped saying yes to those kinds of guys a long time ago. Theyāll never change, and theyāre only after one thing.
Stranger: Thatās tough. Maybe youāre looking for the right guy at the wrong places?
Amber: The truth is Iām not even looking.
Stranger: Gave up on love? Welcome to the club!
Amber: Well, at least you have been in love. I donāt even know what that feels like.
Stranger: Well, I got drunk and embarrassed myself through text, trying to stop my ex from marrying someone else, so you can imagine how awesome it is!
Amber: So, whatās the plan? Are you sitting in a bar, continuously drinking shots, thinking about Allie?
She couldnāt help texting the stranger. Maybe she liked being the onlooker in someone elseās love story or she was just desperate for any ārealā human conversation.
Stranger: First, Iām not at a bar but at home. Second, I have no idea what the plan is. Texting you helps, though.
She felt a little smug reading this.
Amber: Really?
Stranger: Yeah, youāre a good conversation partner, and your āpresenceā through texts keeps me from embarrassing myself further.
Amber: How could you further embarrass yourself?
Stranger: Well, I could send her a DM. Iām sure she would receive that message; I donāt know why I texted her number. Maybe nostalgia.
Amber: Ooooh yeah. Donāt do that. Can I ask why it ended between you two?
Stranger: We wanted different things, and she kept telling me that I was making a mistake in my profession. She said, āIt wasnāt me.ā
Amber: Was she right?
Stranger: Kind of. It wasnāt me then, but I still pursued it. Then, it became me.
Amber: So, you chose work over love?
She wondered what decision she would make as she typed out this question. She suspected she would have chosen love.
Stranger: Yes. But I like where Iām at right now and enjoy my lifestyle. Iām justā¦ lonely? I guess? I donāt know; itās kind of embarrassing to admit this.
Amber: Hey, youāre not entirely alone in this! I feel the same way! I love my job and my lifestyle, but I also feel lonely. And itās okay to admit this: itās anonymous.
Stranger: Well, we have a couple of things in common: we love our jobs, weāre lonely, and weāve given up on love. But hey, what if we became friends?
Amber almost let her phone fall when she read the last sentence.
Amber: What??
Stranger: This is the most honest conversation I had in a while. So, what if we became friends through text? We donāt share our identities, so being authentic is easier.
It took Amber a couple of minutes to text him back. It seemed insane to become friends with someone who sent her a text message by accident. But he was also right: they were both lonely and seemed to have a couple of things in common, which made it easier to understand one another. Plus, there was nothing to lose! They would never meet, never share their real identities ā if things went south, they could just stop texting or block each otherās numbers.
Amber: Okay, Iām in.
Stranger: Nice. Omg, wait, youāre an adult, though, right?
Amber: Yes. Iām 25. Youāre also not a 12-year-old, I assume? :)
Stranger: Yes. Iām 27.
Amber: Puuuh, good. So, what should I call you?
Stranger: Hmm, good question. How about āDeanā?
Amber: Sounds good, but how did you come up with that?
Stranger: Well, itās my real name. No, just kidding. I like the show Supernatural, and Dean is one of the main characters.
Amber: Oh, I heard of that show!
Stranger: You need to watch it! Itās awesome.
Amber: Iāll put it on my list!
She saved the stranger under the name āDeanā and then opened her notes app to write down āSupernaturalā as a potential new show to binge-watch.
Dean: So, what can I call you?
Amber: Dove.
Dean: Dove? How did you come up with that?
Amber: Honestly, I have no idea; itās the first thing that popped into my head.
Dean: Hahaha, okay then, āDove.ā
The conversation stopped right after that as both ran out of things to say. Amber wondered what things she should ask him to get to know him and to become friends. She hadnāt felt this excited to get to know someone new in a while, and because of this, she was also nervous about fucking it up. Therefore, she poured herself a glass of white wine to ease up. Before she thought of something fascinating to ask āDean,ā her phone screen lit up. He had already thought of something.
Dean: This is so high school, but I found an app that would provide us with questions to get to know each other better? Itās randomized questions.
He included a screenshot of the app, and Amber downloaded it.
Amber: Okay. I downloaded it. What now?
Dean created a āprivate roomā in the app and gave her the code. Then, the fun began. They would randomly select a question, see it at the same time, and answer it over text. First, Dean randomized the question, āWhat keeps you up at night?ā
Amber: Wow, that is a deep one for the first question!
Dean: Should I randomize for another question?
Amber: No. Iām not a coward! Iāll answer it!
Dean: Brave girl.
Amber: What usually keeps me up is being lonely. I wish for friends, a boyfriend, and maybe a better family.
Dean: Hmm, I get that.
Amber: What is your answer?
Dean: Work sometimes keeps me up at night. Itās hard to switch it off. That and lately Allie, when I feel particularly lonely. Your turn to spin!
The next question was less deep.
Amber: Okay, so if you could swap lives with anyone, who would it be?
It took Dean a couple of minutes to answer. Amber poured herself a second glass of wine in that time.
Dean: Thatās a tricky question. I donāt think I would swap with anyone else? Despite my loneliness. You?
Amber: Maybe my brother? He seems to have his life under control. He has a job he loves, like me, but he also has friends and is in a stable relationship. And he is less insecure about his looks.
Dean: You donāt like the way you look?
Amber: I know Iām attractive, but I have someā¦ issues regarding my weight. Being skinny is now trendy, so Iām trying to stay skinny, but I tend to overdo it with diets.
She was surprised that she admitted her anorexia to a stranger. It wasnāt as embarrassing or as bad as she thought it would be.
Dean: Iām sorry about that. Society is brutal on women.
Amber: Yeah, tell me about it! Your turn to randomize!
Dean hit the randomize button, and the next question popped up. āDo you go on many dates?ā It was Amberās turn to answer first.
Amber: I used to. Not anymore. Like I said, I started saying no, when someone (usually an asshole) asks me out. What about you?
Dean: I go on a lot of dates. But Iām not looking for love. Itās just casual.
Amber: So, itās about sex?
Dean: More or less. But Iām upfront about it. The women I go out with know this.
Amber: Are you really attractive or something? To go on a lot of dates and have it all be so casual?
Dean: I think so. I feel like you get asked out a lot from our texts. Is that right?
Amber: Yes.
Dean: So, we have another thing in common. Weāre both hot.
Amberās cheeks flushed as she imagined what āDeanā looked like. She was tipsy, and she hadnāt had anyā¦ fun in a while. Suddenly, she wondered if this friendship between them could also be more sexual. Though maybe Dean didnāt want it to be: It seemed like he didnāt need to have anonymous friendship+ relationships as he dated around a lot.
Dean: Are you still here?
Amber wondered if she should ask him for a picture. Not with his face in it, because that would defeat the whole āanonymousā thing, but more down from his neck. Was he muscular? Was he stylish?
Dean: Youāre thinking about what I look like, arenāt you?
Instead of being embarrassed by how quick he caught on, she was more aroused. Dean was smartā¦ but what if he wasnāt as hot as she imagined?
Dean: Give me a sec.
Amber nervously waited for another text from him, sipping on her wine. A couple of minutes later, she received a photo from Deanā¦ He was standing in front of his bathroom mirror, and it was taken from the neck down. He was shirtless, had a six-pack, and was quite muscular. Some veins were seen on his arm, and he stood far enough from the mirror for Amber to tell that he was only in his (blue) boxers.Without thinking much, she rushed into her bedroom and pulled her clothes off. She put on a matching set of underwear (as she got rid of her bra when she arrived home, and the panties she was wearing were more comfortable and less sexy) and got on her knees in front of her full-body-length mirror. Her blonde curls draped over her left shoulder, and she didnāt care if Dean knew she was a blonde or if he was into blondes. She just wanted to have some reckless fun, as it had been too long since she had exchanged pictures or had sex with anyone. And this time was different: It was anonymous, and it was for her own enjoyment. There were too many incidents in the past where sex or sexual fun was about her previous partners and not at all about her.
As soon as she sent the picture, Dean wrote a reply.
Dean: So, we were both telling the truth: weāre insanely hot!
Amber: And we both had to drink.
Dean: So, Doveā¦ tell me, what are you into? What would you do to me if I was there right now? Or what would I be doing to you?
Ā It was hot how he wanted to know what she liked. How he wanted her to take chargeā¦ As she seriously thought of her answer, she climbed into her comfortable bed.
But what did she really like? She hasnāt really explored her own sexuality, as sex, making out, and all her relationships were always about the other person and not her. What were their needs? What did they find attractive? What were they into?
Amber: What did I make you feel when you saw that picture?
Deep down, Amber felt the need to be wanted, to be recognized, to be understood, but not only that: she wanted to be cherished, no, even more than that, she wanted to be treated like a queen. Amber wanted to be worshipped.
Dean: Take a look.
He sent her another picture. This time, he was in bed, and the picture showed a noticeable bulge under his boxer shorts.
Dean: You look like a goddess.
A smile played on Amberās lips as she read through that sentence again and again. No one has complimented her like this before, but this was precisely the compliment she yearned for.
Dean: I kind of wish this wasnāt anonymous anymore. And that we could meet up, and I could run my hands across your perfect body. Has anyone ever told you that you should try modeling?
Amber chuckled and shook her head in disbelief.
Amber: Sorry, but a deal is a deal. We canāt meet up.
Dean: Youāre killing me. No, I think this is a crime: youāre committing a crime. Youāre torturing me.
Amber: I am?
Dean: Yes. But if we canāt meet upā¦, would you mind sending pics without underwear?
Maybe it was the alcohol, the loneliness, or just how sexually frustrated she was, but Amber practically tore off her thong and bra in a rush of excitement.
Amber: Will you do the same?
Dean: Yes.
Amberās next message was a photo of her bare breasts, her back against the bedframe, her right-hand cupping one breast provocatively.
Dean: I knew it ā breasts of a Greek goddess. Please keep the pictures coming. I need to see more. I donāt even know how someone like you can be real.
Her pulse quickened at his words, and she could feel the heat building between her legs. Without hesitation, she slid two fingers inside herself, the pleasure immediate and intense. She snapped a picture of her hand between her thighs, her fingers glistening with desire, and sent it to Dean. She imagined the perfect body she saw in his mirror and a handsome face with a deep, seductive voice, whispering all the right things to her.
It was insane how turned on she was by just texting with some guy.
Dean: Fuck.
Amber waited for another request or picture from Dean, but after several minutes, there was nothing. Undeterred, she continued to touch herself, letting her fantasy take her to new heights. Her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. It was a video. With a racing heart, she opened it to see Deanās boxers gone, his fully erect cock in his hand. He stroked himself slowly at first, then faster, his groans echoing in her ears.
Dean: This is your doing. All you.
Amber wanted more. She needed more.
Amber: Facetime? But without our actual faces? And no talking other than moaningā¦
She was scared he would recognize her voice if he followed her on Instagram.
Dean: YES
The video call started immediately. Their screens filled with their bodies, hot and eager. Deanās hand was still on his thick, throbbing erection, and Amberās fingers were still buried deep inside her. At first, they were out of sync, but soon their rhythms matched, moving together in a dance of mutual pleasure. Sometimes, Amber closed her eyes, imagining Deanās fingers inside her instead of her own. Other times, she kept her eyes open, reveling in how much she was turning him on.
But fingering herself wasnāt enough, so she stopped her movements and sent him a text.
Amber: WAIT.
He stopped masturbating, and Amber placed her phone down momentarily, reaching into her bedside table to retrieve her pink dildo. With a sly smile, she got back into position, feeling the cool silicone against her warm skin. She could sense Deanās excitement as his breathing grew ragged. Holding the dildo just above her entrance, she let her anticipation build before revealing herself on the call once more. The tension was electric, and Amber reveled in the control she had over Deanās desire. She teased herself with the toy, mirroring Dean's slow, deliberate strokes, their mutual yearning palpable through the digital connection. Unable to hold back any longer, Amber finally pushed the dildo inside her, her moan echoing through the room. She imagined it was Dean, his touch, his presence. The rhythm they created together, though separated by distance, felt synchronous and deeply personal. Masturbating with one hand and holding up the phone with the other was hard, but the sheer arousal she felt drove her past the discomfort. When she unexpectedly hit her G-pot, she loudly gasped, and upon hearing that, Dean groaned. She continued to hit that spot, her mind spiraling into a haze of pleasure, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. Dean was close too, she could tell. His moans were becoming more frequent, more urgent. They were both caught in a rapture of mutual pleasure, eyes locked on each other, feeding off each otherās reactions. Then Dean came with a sexy low grunt, and she imagined tasting his release, feeling it on her tongue, a fantasy that only heightened her arousal. He texted her.
Dean: Keep going, baby. I want to see you come.
Amber obliged, her body trembling as she hit her G-spot one final time, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. She pulled out the dildo, now slick with her cum, and lay there, breathing heavily, completely spent. Dean mirrored her, both of them basking in the afterglow of their shared experience. At some point, she hung up.
Dean: This was fun. I loved hearing you moan and seeing you pleasure yourself. I wish I could have actually been thereā¦ But I think this friendship will be fun!
Amber: Sure sounds like it. :)
As Amber lay in bed, her head in the clouds from pure ecstasy, her mind imagining what Dean could be like in real life. She was unaware of just how close they were to one another. Just a wall away, her wealthy, privileged neighborāthe one she thought she hatedāwas lying in his own bed, his thoughts consumed with her. Well, he knew her as āDove.'
