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alygator77 · 4 months ago

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 2 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex » 【note, there is physical & emotional intimidation in this chapter (from naoya not satoru), this is a form of domestic abuse, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 12.5k

ꨄ a/n. firstly, wow thank you so much for all your kind words on ch 1 :") secondly, this series may be more than 3 chapters (maybe more like 4 or 5?) idk i'm still working out the pacing rn bc i really want the relationship to feel fluid and natural. this chapter ended up being much longer than i anticipated 😅 but as always, i would love to hear your thoughts and hope you enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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ch 2 // under the spotlight

Becoming a mother makes you realize you can do almost anything one-handed—though honestly, sometimes you wish you had an abundance of limbs.

Especially now. Your apartment is a whirlwind of activity – scattered toys, half packed bags and the remnants of breakfast still on the table. You’re in the middle of prepping your daughter’s essentials, trying to make sure you don’t forget anything important. Her preferred snacks, extra clothes, diapers, and a few of her favorite toys all stuffed into a bag.

“Mama, mama, look!”

Haru’s innocent voice rings out like a melody amidst your morning clamor. Halting your frantic movements, you’re drawn to her face, lit up with pure joy as she holds up her beloved Pikachu plushie. The bright yellow toy bounces in her hands as she makes it dance.

Her innocence provides a brief, much-needed, calm to the storm of nerves brewing inside of you. After all, today’s the day you’re meeting with Satoru and his lawyer to finalize the marriage contract. Your marriage—weird.

It feels odd saying it, the word foreign on your tongue. Marriage is a concept you never thought you’d be rushing into, especially not like this.

Once upon a time, you thought you’d marry Naoya Zenin.

Back then, you were so in love with his charm, his confidence, and the way he seemed to have everything figured out. But reality had a way of shattering those illusions.

His charm turned to arrogance, his confidence to control. It wasn’t long before you realized he cared more about owning you than loving you, and now you’re left with nothing but heartache and a broken family.

But amidst your turmoil you found a precious gift—Haru.

Her infectious giggle is a stark contrast to the chaos within your mind—it always manages to pull you back from your whirlwind of worries.

You’ll do anything in your power to keep her smiling, even if that means marrying Satoru Gojo, the man who is guilty for an abundance of your headaches.

With a deep breath, you zip up your duffle bag and turn to Haru who is lovably babbling to Pikachu.

“Come here, sweetie,” you say, kneeling down with her small jacket in your hand.

She toddles over to you, clutching her comforting plushie, eyes wide and curious.

Easing her tiny arms into the sleeves, you gently help Haru into her jacket.

“We’re going to meet some new friends today,” you tell her softly, fastening the buttons with care. “One of them is named Mr. Gojo.”

“Mr. Gojo?” she echoes, face scrunching up in concentration.

Truth be told, you weren't planning on bringing Haru to this meeting, but you’re faced with a lack of options, especially since technically, you’re fired.

Well… temporarily.

Until Satoru rehires you, paying the nanny isn’t feasible with your already stretched finances, Utahime, your ever-reliable friend, is unavailable. Your neighbor, who sometimes steps in to help, is out of town, and your mom is… your mom – as undependable as ever.

At this point you'd rather be caught dead than call Naoya again.

Calling him yesterday, when your nanny bailed, was a moment of pure desperation, a lapse in judgment driven by the chaos of the day and the fear of getting fired. Not your proudest moment.

It’s no surprise he’ll likely use it against you—hold it over your head like a weapon. It’s a pattern you’re all too familiar with.

But today marks the beginning of a new chapter, one that you’re determined to make the best of for both you and your daughter—once this marriage is finalized, you’ll be back to earning a steady income again.

A sigh escapes your lips as you focus back on Haru, her innocent eyes look up at you expectantly.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo,” you repeat, giving her a reassuring smile as you reach down to tie her shoelaces. “We’re going on an adventure today, just you and Mommy.”

“An adventure!” Haru cheers, clapping her hands in unbridled excitement.

Just as you pull the last loop tight, a knock reverberates through the front door, startling you. It’s unexpected, you weren’t anticipating any visitors.

With a deep breath, you twist the handle and pull the door open. The sight that greets you sends a cold wave of dread crashing over you, your heart pounding in your chest.

Speak of the devil—Naoya.

He has an uncanny knack for impeccable timing, always appearing when he’s least wanted.

His presence is as imposing as ever—a smirk crowned on his lips, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets—exuding an air of ownership over everything that’s around him.

As if he owns you.

Damn it. You really can’t deal with this right now; you don’t have the time. Satoru is expecting you, and you need to get moving.

Leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, he surveys you with that annoyingly smug expression plastered upon his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't my two favorite girls," he drawls, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

The frustration you feel from Naoya is vastly different from what you experience with Satoru. With Satoru, it's harmless—like dealing with a mischievous child. But with Naoya, every sight of him makes you want to flee, as if each encounter is a battle you barely survive. He reopens old wounds that never truly healed, leaving you raw and exposed.

Every fiber of your being screams in protest at the sight of him, but you force yourself to maintain composure—refusing to let him see the effect he has on you.

"What do you want, Naoya? I really don’t have time for this today."

Turning away from him, you begin gathering the last of Haru’s things with brisk, precise movements, making it clear you have no intention of prolonging this interaction.

He steps inside, smirk widening with satisfaction and tone laced with mock concern.

"Just thought I'd drop by and see how you're managing. Got your message. Heard you were looking for a babysitter yesterday.”

As expected—you’re really kicking yourself for calling him. His false sympathy only heightens your irritation, grating on your nerves as the condescension drips from his words like venom.

If you weren’t already leaving, you would slam the door right in his smug face.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to keep your tone steady, for no one other than Haru.

"We're fine, Naoya. We don’t need your help."

In hopes to end this conversation quickly, you grasp Haru’s hand and attempt to brush past him. But he sidesteps, effectively forbidding your path to the door, looming like an unwanted shadow.

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see. How’s that working out for you?” he scowls as he peers through your apartment, “This place is a mess. And you don’t look like you’re dressed for work. Lost your job already?”

His words hit a nerve, you feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"We are managing just fine. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have somewhere to be."

But he wasn’t going to let you go so easily. His expression darkens, and as you repeatedly try to step past him, he halts you yet again, blocking your way like an insurmountable wall.

"And where exactly are you going? Shouldn't you be at work today?"

"That's none of your business. I really need to go," you retort, lifting your chin assertively as you force your way past him. Your shoulder brushes against his in a deliberate act of defiance.

The moment you cast him aside, he immediately pursues after—but choosing to ignore him, you close the door behind you, turning the lock with a decisive click.

As you start leading Haru towards the elevator, you adopt a brisk pace in hopes to put as much distance between you and Naoya as possible.

But he raises an eyebrow, smirk widening as he traverses after you. You hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway of your apartment complex.

"Oh, I think it is my business. Especially when it concerns my daughter."

Oh, please.

It’s painfully ironic how he pretends to care about Haru only when it suits him.

After you served him child support papers, he had the audacity to demand a DNA test, claiming he needed ‘proof’ that Haru was his. Of course, something like that takes time for the judge to arrange.

He knew that damn well—it was just another ploy to delay the process further.

As anger bubbles up within you, a scoff escapes your lips, teetering on the edge of a bitter laugh.

"Oh, so she’s yours when it’s convenient for you. Don't pretend you care about Haru now. You’ve done nothing but make our lives difficult."

Your movements are sharp and frantic until you finally halt in front of the elevator. Just as you press the button to descend, Naoya’s presence descends over you—suffocating like a dark cloud, his face twisting into a menacing scowl.

"Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, things wouldn’t be so difficult. You know, if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask," the insincerity in his voice makes your skin crawl—as his words slither into your ears, each syllable is laced with a condescending edge.

You scoff, jabbing the button over and over again with mounting urgency. Can this damn elevator come any faster?

"Help? From you? I'd rather figure things out on my own than rely on your 'help'."

He steps closer, making you feel small and cornered. It’s a familiar tactic he would use to get his way—the accustomed sense of intimidation he used to exert over you returns, chilling your spine.

"Suit yourself. Just remember, you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, you’ll realize you need me again,” his voice drops to a low, threatening whisper, the underlying menace making it clear that he relishes the control he still believes he has over you.

Suddenly, you feel small tiny hands gripping tightly onto your leg. Haru’s wide eyes dart between the two of you, her innocent face reflecting a nervous unease that she can’t fully understand—but you do.

Fuck it. Enough is enough. You can't let this continue any longer—screw the elevator.

With a determined breath, you scoop Haru into your arms, feeling her trembling slightly against you. "Come on, sweetie," you say softly.

Her tiny heart beats against your chest, mirroring your own anxiety. Holding her close, you immediately head towards the stairway, your stride quickening.

But Naoya's presence lingers, his footsteps echoing ominously after you.

“Really, Naoya?”

Oh, this is it. Your patience is wearing thin—he’s like a growth you can’t get rid of.

You feel Haru’s grip tighten around your neck as she buries her face into your shoulder. You have been trying desperately not to yell, for Haru’s sake, but at this point, Naoya is overstepping your boundaries.

“Just go away. The only thing I need from you is to hurry up and finish that damn DNA test,” you shout, refusing to look back as you head towards the stairs. “There was no reason for that bullshit; you know Haru is yours. I know you’re just trying to stall our court date,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration and anger.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with a cold amusement, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a mocking smile.

"Stalling? Hardly. You’re insane, I just want to be thorough. You should understand that, being so meticulous yourself," he sneers, tone derisively sweet.

Finally, you reach the stairway—beginning your descent, Haru clings tightly to you as Pikachu dangles precariously from each hurried step.

"This conversation is over, Naoya,” your voice echoes in the narrow space. “Stay out of our lives. I only want to see you in court."

Naoya contemplates following you, lowering himself a few steps before abruptly stopping. As his voice reverberates through the stairwell, his unsettling demand bounces off the cold concrete walls, chilling you to your core.

"For now, y/n. But remember, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You always come crawling back to me one way or another. You’re incapable of anything without me."

There was a time when you believed those words, but you will not fall back into that same vicious cycle.

Choosing not to respond, your resolve is sharpened with one clear goal, getting Haru and yourself out of this building as quickly as possible.

The moment you clear through the lobby door, a shaky sigh escapes your lips. This day is already starting off with a bang—hopefully it goes much better at Satoru’s.

Forcing a smile for your frightened daughter, you try to mask the tears welling up in your eyes—the tremor in your voice quaking.

“Come on honey, let’s go meet Mr. Gojo.”

Time to get this marriage finalized.

ꨄ︎

You had expectations of what Satoru’s house would be like, but even those couldn’t hold a light to the real thing—it’s a stark contrast to the modest apartment you call home.

The meticulously manicured lawn, the pristine arcadian, and the large, ornate door all showcase opulence.

It’s far more luxurious than you had imagined, making you feel distinctly out of place as you step out of your car in your worn jeans and t-shirt, hair pulled up in a lazy bun.

Wait…should you have come dressed businesslike?

But you have Haru—was this supposed to be a professional meeting? Fuck.

On top of everything else, you’re already a few minutes late. Tardiness has become a tiresome trend in your life, one that exhausts you to your very core.

Traversing the entryway, Haru grips your hand tightly as you walk through the stone pathway. Her fingers tremble slightly, perhaps from the unsettling encounter with Naoya, or perhaps from the overwhelming new environment.

Nerves simmer through you once you approach the doorway, but you resolve to mask them. You weren’t going to let Naoya ruin your day—this meeting is your chance to retake control of your life.

As you reach out and press the doorbell, a soft melodic chime resonates, echoing through the spacious foyer beyond.

Within moments, the door swings open, revealing Satoru.

You immediately feel a sense of relief as you observe him dressed surprisingly casual—a fitted blue t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and lean frame, paired with dark jeans that hug his long legs. His snowy hair remains tousled in that effortlessly stylish way, framing his strikingly handsome face.

It’s impossible to advert your eyes as he greets you with that familiarly confident smile curling upon his lips, and those vivid blue eyes, enchanting you with an intriguing glint.

“Hm, late again, I see,” Satoru teases, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if wounded with an exaggerated sigh. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up. Here I was, thinking you might divorce me before we even get married—” he stops, lifting his brow as his gaze shifts to the small figure peeking out from behind your legs.

“Well, well, and who is this?”

Haru’s wide eyes are filled with curiosity and apprehension. She peeps out nervously, clutching her plushie’s worn, familiar fabric for comfort.

Satoru’s smile softens as he looks at the little girl, but a twinge of uncertainty tugs at him internally. Children were a mystery to him, their emotions and reactions unpredictable.

What should he say? How should he act?

A flicker of fear crosses his mind—what if he says the wrong thing and makes her cry?

Oh God…

The thought of dealing with a child's tears makes him feel out of his depth, a sensation he’s not accustomed to. Satoru finds himself in unfamiliar territory. He’s used to commanding rooms and negotiating high-stake deals, not interacting with shy children clutching stuffed toys.

But faking confidence has always worked in the business world, and he is determined to make a good impression now.

As you notice Haru’s uncertainty, you gently caress her head, delicately coaxing her out from behind your legs.

"It’s okay, sweetie. This is Mr. Gojo, can you say hi?"

There is an air about you—the gentle ease in your voice, the way you instinctively know how to comfort Haru. It stirs something within Satoru, something he can’t quite place.

All he knows it that now he really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

"I’m really sorry for bringing her along," you begin, tone earnest as you meet Satoru with an apologetic gaze. "I hope it’s okay. I just didn’t have anyone who could watch her today. But she’ll keep to herself during our meeting, I promise."

Satoru’s expression softens further as he looks at Haru, his uncertainty momentarily forgotten. She is so fragile, so docile. In her delicate features, he sees an uncanny resemblance to you—a small reflection of your strength and vulnerability intertwined.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he reassures softly. Crouching down to her level, his toothy smile is warm and inviting. “Hi there, I’m Satoru. What’s your name?”

Haru looks up at you for reassurance, her small hand tightening around your leg. Encouraged by your nod, she turns back to Satoru and whispers tentatively—

“Haru.”

Satoru grins, captivated by the softness and delicacy of Haru's voice. Though he is uncertain how to connect with a child. His mind races—

What do kids like?

What should he say next?

While his thoughts scramble, a spark of an idea forms the moment he observes Haru clutching Pikachu.

“Nice to meet you, Haru. Do you like Pokémon?”

Haru nods, her grip on the plushie relaxing slightly. There is a subtle warmth behind the apprehension in her eyes as she holds up her Pikachu toy to show Satoru.

“Yes, Pikachu.”

“Pikachu is pretty cool,” he lets out a contemplative hum as he tries to find common ground. A faint nostalgic smile plays on his features. “But you know, Digimon is even better. Have you ever heard of Agumon?”

Haru’s eyes widen with curiosity as she shakes her head, her interest clearly piqued.

Satoru’s inner child shines through—eyes sparkling with a genuine enthusiasm as his lips curl up into a grin. This is his chance to bridge the gap between them.

“Tell ya what, maybe we can watch some Digimon together sometime. How’s that sound?”

You feel Haru’s grip loosen on your leg. A faint smile touches her lips and a quiet giggle escapes as her initial shyness begins to slowly fade.

“Okay.”

There are many thoughts that come to your mind as you watch this interaction play out—the foremost being how unexpectedly gentle Satoru can be with kids. Something about him, that overconfident and sometimes arrogant man you’ve worked beside, feels different now. Almost likable.

Charming, even

But what you really can’t fathom the most is the image of a sophisticated billionaire engrossed in a kids’ cartoon. That concept alone is enough to make you suppress a laugh.

��You’re a fan of Digimon?” you raise an eyebrow.

Satoru stands up, brushing off his knees with a nonchalant shrug and a crooked smile.

“I used to watch it all the time growing up. Please, come in,” he ushers you inside the building, leading you down the grand hall.

Your breath hitches at the sight of the expansive foyer. The high ceiling, polished marble floors, and impressive chandelier casting a warm glow leave you speechless.

Following behind him, you find yourself studying Satoru’s confident strides—the movement of his back, his broad shoulders and the effortless air of authority he exudes. It’s a stark contrast to what you just witnessed moments ago with Haru.

But that alone makes him even more intriguing to you. Satoru can feel a bit like a wild card. Glimpses of tenderness hidden behind feigned aloofness—subtle playfulness followed by an exacting seriousness.

He keeps surprising you.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Digimon fan,” you remark as you follow behind him.

Satoru chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“Guilty as charged.”

You can’t help but notice the way he avoids your gaze—is he perhaps being… bashful?

Oh, this is rich.

You really would need an abundance of limbs to count on your hands the amount of times Satoru has given you shit—making your life a daily torture is his specialty after all. Perhaps that is why you couldn’t resist letting this opportunity pass up.

“Next thing you’ll tell me is that you have a secret stash of Digimon cards somewhere,” you snort.

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum.

“Well, I did have a pretty impressive collection back in the day. Who knows, maybe I still have them tucked away in a drawer somewhere.”

“Seriously?” you are unable to hide the amusement in your voice. “You, with a collection of Digimon cards? That’s something I’d pay to see.”

He rolls his eyes with a pout tugging on his lips.

“You’re enjoying this too much. Maybe I’ll dig them out for you one day. But only if you’re nice.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Me, nice to you? That’s a tall order.”

A faint chuckle leaves Satoru’s lips as the spacious foyer transitions into a grand hallway. Haru skips beside you, glancing up at Satoru with a newfound admiration.

The moment you reach a large set of intricately carved wooden doors, he pauses, turning to you with a reassuring smile before pushing them open.

Inside, a cozy yet sophisticated study awaits—shelves lined with books and a large mahogany desk dominating the room.

“Yo, Suguru,” he waves flippantly, “this is y/n and her daughter, Haru.”

Your eyes are met with a man seated behind the desk—a calm and composed air about him. He is strikingly beautiful, raven hair tied back into a bun with louse tousles framing his face. As he looks up from a stack of papers, his sharp yet gentle eyes focus on you and Haru. He rises, extending a hand with a polite smile.

“Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” you shake his hand with a subtle nod.

The presence of another stranger causes Haru’s shyness to return as she hides behind your legs again—you kneel down, smoothing her hair gently.

“Haru,” you pull out a small bag of her favorite toys from your duffle bag, “why don’t you take a seat over there and play with your toys while Mommy talks with Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto?”

With a light nod, Haru takes the bag and settles into a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room—spreading out her treasures with a look of concentration.

You take a seat across from Suguru, with Satoru sinking into the chair beside you—posture relaxed and seemingly indifferent.

“Alright, let’s get down to business,” Suguru leans forward, “I’ve drafted the marriage contract based on the discussions I’ve had with Satoru. I’ll walk you through the main points.”

Referencing the document upon the desk, he begins.

“Firstly, as you both know, the purpose of this marriage is strictly business-related with no romantic implications. Both parties agree to maintain the appearance of a committed relationship in public and professional settings.”

Okay, easy—right?

You nod, but in the corner of your eye you can see Satoru lounging back in his chair. The mild disinterest on his face and the nonchalant way he twirls a pen between his fingers makes you grit your teeth.

He carries a casual attitude—one you shouldn’t be surprised with at this point because it’s the same infuriating aura he brings to every business meeting. But in this case, it’s a stark contrast to the gravity of this conversation. Here you are, discussing marriage and he’s sitting here as if you’re determining what to eat for lunch.

Yup, nothing’s changed. He still aggravates the hell out of you.

“Next, the duration of the marriage is set for one year, starting from the date of signing,” Suguru continues. “There are provisions for extending or terminating the marriage early, should both parties agree.”

You absorb every word as you listen intently, but Satoru seems to be in his own world. It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes as you catch him leaning back further into his chair, now balancing it on two legs. He taps his pen against his lip thoughtfully—an indifferent expression plastered across his face.

Is he even listening?

Here you are, about to commit to a fake marriage for the sake of your job and your daughter, and Satoru looks like a bored child.

You shoot him a sideways glance, silently willing him to take this more seriously, but the moment he catches your eye he simply offers a lazy wink, making your blood boil even more.

Suguru, unfazed by Satoru's demeanor, continues outlining the contract.

“The financial arrangements are next…Satoru will include a monthly allowance to you, y/n, to cover personal and household expenses. Both parties will maintain separate bank accounts, and any joint financial decisions require mutual consent.”

You blink in surprise. A monthly allowance?

Though you had asked Satoru to cover child care, you weren’t expecting this level of financial support. Isn’t that a bit excessive?

“Wait, what?” you blurt out, unable to hide your astonishment. “A monthly allowance? For personal and household expenses?”

Satoru’s chair drops back onto all four legs with a soft thud as he leans forward, finally showing a hint of interest. He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, a lazy smile curling his lips.

“We wouldn’t want you or Haru to struggle, now, would we?”

His words sound almost considerate, but it’s the casual way he says them that makes you question his sincerity.

“Some might see you being my secretary as a conflict of interest now. You’ll still work beside me, but I can’t give you a formal salary for that role. Doing it this way ensures that all you have to worry about is playing your part. Besides,” he adds, a hint of amusement creeping back into his voice, “what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t support my wife?”

Raising an eyebrow, you shoot him a wary look, trying to gauge his true intentions. It makes sense… but is he mocking you, or is this his way of showing genuine concern? With Satoru, it’s always hard to tell.

Suguru clears his throat, drawing your attention back to the contract.

“Moving on to the living arrangements, you will both reside in the marital home here.”

Satoru interrupts, tone almost too nonchalant as he leans back in his chair and lazily stretches, “I’ve already arranged for a moving company to pack your things in a few days. They’ll handle everything.”

You blink, the suddenness of it all sinking in.

“Huh?”

“Problem, sweetheart?”

“I... I didn’t realize I’d be moving in so… soon. What about my apartment? I have a lease, and breaking it will incur a penalty.”

He waves off your concern with a dismissive hand, leaning back further with hands casually behind his head.

“I’ll pay it. Consider it handled. No point in you staying there when you’re supposed to be living here.”

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his insouciant dismissal of what, to you, is a significant expense.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. We need to make this look legitimate, and that means living together. Consider it part of the arrangement.”

To him, solving problems with money seamed effortless.

To you, this isn’t just a contract; it’s a complete upheaval of your life.

You’re starting to really feel the difference in your two worlds.

The abruptness is a bit overwhelming, and yet, Satoru seems to handle it with the same ease he applies to all his business dealings.

It’s a bit unnerving. It’s not that you aren’t grateful, but you can’t help but wonder…does he pity you? See you as a charity act?

Suguru, sensing your hesitation, interjects your thoughts with a soothing tone,

“It’s important for appearances that you both share a residence. It solidifies the arrangement in the eyes of your colleagues and the public.”

You take a deep breath, nodding again. “Right, I understand.”

Suguru nods, making a note on the document.

“Good. Now, let’s move on to the responsibilities and obligations. You’re both expected to attend public and social functions, maintaining the façade of a loving marriage.”

Satoru who still remains leaned in his chair, now has his head tilted back, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Oh, and by the way," he begins, eyes flicking to you while his posture remains unmoved, "we'll be getting married at the courthouse tomorrow to make things official on paper. Our public ceremony will be a grand affair, but it will come later to keep the media satisfied and appease everyone."

Tomorrow?

You give a hesitant nod, absorbing the rapid pace at which your life is changing.

“Alright…tomorrow.”

Suguru flips to the next page, “In terms of termination, either party can initiate it with a 30-day notice. Grounds for early termination include breach of contract or mutual consent. Upon termination, Satoru will provide a one-time settlement payment to you, y/n.”

You blink as Suguru pushes the contract towards you, the settlement amount highlighted in bold. Did Satoru add a few extra zeros by mistake? That number can’t be correct, right?

You glance up at Satoru, who is now inspecting his nails with a look of utter boredom.

“Is this…correct?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru looks up, meeting your eyes with a casual shrug.

“Yeah, it’s correct. Consider it a thank you for playing along.”

You shake your head slightly, trying to wrap your mind around the figure. This settlement could change your life, secure Haru’s future, and give you the stability you’ve been desperately seeking.

You could pay off your medical bills for the childbirth, could go back to school. Hell, you could be free of Naoya, you wouldn’t need him or his money.

You narrow your eyes, suspicious of his sudden generosity.

"And what’s the catch?”

Satoru chuckles, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand.

"Come on now, sweetheart. Just think of it as me taking care of my...business partner."

Suguru clears his throat, glancing between the two of you.

“Well, there is one additional detail, y/n. The settlement is contingent on maintaining a favorable public image. Any actions or behaviors that damage Satoru’s reputation would result in the forfeiture of all financial support and settlement funds.”

You blink, the implications dawning on you. Ah, of course there would be a condition—you knew better than to think he was just being generous.

“So… I’m responsible for upholding your image? What does that even mean?”

Satoru’s crooked grin widens.

“It means no scandals, no controversies. You play the part of the perfect spouse, attend events, smile for the cameras, and keep any...personal indiscretions out of the spotlight. Simple enough, right?”

Your stomach churns as you realize the depth of his control—you thought you were escaping Naoya’s grasp, but it seems control is still a prevalent force in your life.

This isn’t just a marriage of convenience; it’s a binding agreement that keeps you in line with his public persona, ensuring that any slip-up on your part will have dire financial consequences.

A part of you can’t blame him, though. It makes sense for him to take extra precautions. The Gojos have always been in the public eye, and there have been countless rumors about Satoru's refusal to settle down.

“What if something happens that’s out of my control? What if someone tries to smear my name?”

Satoru’s eyes harden slightly, though his smile remains.

“We’ll handle that on a case-by-case basis. But let’s just say I have ways of managing the media. You just need to play your part, nothing more.”

The calculated control in his tone, juxtaposed with his unwavering smile, makes your skin prickle with unease. The room feels suddenly colder, and a knot tightens in your stomach. You thought you were stepping into a partnership, but now it feels like a performance where one wrong move could cost you dearly.

Suguru interjects, his tone professional.

“This clause is essential for protecting both your interests and Satoru’s. Maintaining a positive public image is crucial for the success of this arrangement and for avoiding any complications that could arise from negative publicity.”

You take a deep breath—this was a gamble. The settlement would secure Haru’s future, your future, but your every move would be scrutinized, and any misstep could strip away the stability you desperately needed.

Your eyes wander to Haru, quietly and innocently playing with her toys. For her sake, you were willing to play Satoru’s game, even if it meant living under the constant pressure of his expectations.

“Alright,” you say firmly. “I agree to the terms.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker with satisfaction and Suguru leans forward sliding a pen towards you both.

“Good. If you both agree to these terms, we can proceed with the signing.”

You observe Satoru as he reaches for the pen—he is back to that usual air of nonchalance; it is almost unsettling. He signs the document with a flourish, barely glancing at the terms, and you envy his composure.

When he hands you the pen, meeting your eyes with a confident smile, you hesitate for a second—then, with a determined snatch, you take the pen from his delicate hand.

Holding your breath, you press the pen to paper and sign your name in one fell swoop. Each stroke of the pen feels heavy, final, but also strangely empowering.

No turning back now.

ꨄ︎

The courthouse ceremony was as brief and impersonal as you expected.

Something about Haru witnessing you legally enter into a fake marriage just didn’t feel right—so you opted to leave her with Satoru’s nanny.

Standing in front of the judge, reciting vows, and signing the official documents felt more like a business transaction than a wedding.

Glancing at Satoru, you couldn't help but feel a bit solemn as you observed him, his expression as indifferent as ever.

This wasn't the fairy tale wedding you once dreamed of. There was no crowd, no rings, no romantic gestures—just a legal agreement with a pen on paper, binding you to him for the next year.

But then again, you knew that coming into this—it was never about romance or dreams; it was about survival and securing a future for Haru.

It was over as quickly as it began—just like that, the judge declared you husband and wife, immediately leaving you alone with Satoru right after.

Noticing your serious expression, Satoru leans in slightly as you gather the official documents.

"You look like you're attending a funeral, not a wedding Mrs. Gojo," his voice drips with playful mockery.

Hearing him call you ‘Mrs. Gojo’ sends a shiver down your spine. That was going to take some getting used to.

“And you look like you’re at a board meeting, not your wedding, Mr. Gojo,” you retort, unable to hide the underlying bite in your voice as your fingers shuffle through the pages.

A deep chuckle reverberates through the otherwise solemn atmosphere. Once you tuck the documents under your arm, you begin to make your way towards the exit. Satoru immediately falls into step beside you.

“Touché. But really, lighten up sweetheart. Gonna need to work harder to convince everyone you’re head over heels in love with me,” there’s a playful challenge in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

“Well, forgive me for not swooning over this magical moment. You know, this isn't exactly how I pictured my wedding day," you mutter, trying to mask the internal melancholy whirling within you.

When you reach for the door, Satoru beats you to it, holding it open with a flourish.

"Oh? And how did you picture it?” he raises an eyebrow as his eyes gleam in amusement, “Let me guess, lots of flowers, a big white dress, and some poor guy professing his undying love for you?"

Okay, screw him. He was really not making this any better. You feel the heat rise to your face as a scoff escapes your lips—the only response you will give him.

Brushing past him, your heels click against the polished floors through the marble halls of the courthouse. As you glance to the tall, ornate windows lining the corridor, the sunlight streams through, casting intricate patterns.

“Hmm, think I guessed right,” he chuckles as he saunters after you.

“And what if you did?” you snap, voice echoing in the grand space. “Is it so weird for me to want a normal family for my daughter?”

The teasing glint in his eyes dim as his expression softens slightly. Once you reach the elevator, Satoru presses the button—the two of you wait in an awkward silence.

The moment the elevator door slides open, you both step inside, the quiet hum of the machinery enveloping you.

“No, it’s not weird. It’s just... different from what I’ve ever thought about,” he says while he presses the button to the lobby.

You huff, crossing your arms as you lean against the back of the elevator.

“What, Mr. Perfect never thought about settling down?”

Satoru's gaze drifts for a moment as he considers your question. The elevator begins its descent, the soft whirl filling the silence.

“Honestly? No, I never did. My father used to pressure me about it all the time. Wanted me to marry someone who could... 'enhance' our family’s status.” He was contemplative, and the echoes of old frustrations are clear in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden openness.

The rumors about Satoru had always painted him as a carefree bachelor, uninterested in the constraints of marriage.

Some said he was too focused on his career, while others whispered that he enjoyed his freedom too much to settle down. There were even speculations that he had a hidden lover, or perhaps he was waiting for the perfect match to come along, someone who could stand by his side both in business and in life.

“…and you never found anyone who fit the bill?”

He chuckles, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Plenty of candidates. None that I wanted to spend my life with. Plus, all those ‘suitable matches’ were just women trying to get their hands on the Gojo fortune. Most people just see the money and power. They don't see the person behind it.”

The vulnerability in his eyes is fleeting, and you realize that his father’s expectations must have weighed heavily on him. The pressure to find someone was not about love or companionship—it was about maintaining an image, a legacy. In a way, you both have been victims to control your entire lives.

As the depth of his frustrations become more apparent, you feel a pang of sympathy. It’s enough to make you wonder about the real Satoru. The elevator continues its descent, and you find yourself lingering on his words.

“That sounds... difficult. So why did you go through with this then? With me?”

His gaze softens; his expression thoughtful as he watches the numbers descending the floor levels. He tilts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Because you’re different. You didn’t come to me looking for wealth or status. You needed help, and I needed a solution. It’s honest, in a way. No hidden agendas, no false pretenses.”

A nervous flutter dances in your stomach, your fingers fidgeting with the folder of documents in your hands. The softness in his words catch you off guard, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact.

A small, rueful smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“In a world where everyone wants something from me, I find your straightforwardness refreshing.”

Your heart skips as a warm blush creeps up your cheeks.

“I never thought you’d see it that way. I just... I wanted to do what was best for Haru.”

“And that’s what makes you different,” he replies softly. “You’re doing this for her, not for yourself. That’s why I agreed to this. Because I believe you’re sincere.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal the bustling courthouse lobby.

The weight of the conversation settles between you, a rare moment of vulnerability that made you see Satoru in a new light—a glimpse into his inner world.

The moment you near the courthouse door, you and Satoru push it open in an attempt to exit, but are immediately greeted by a barrage of flashing cameras and shouted questions. Paparazzi swarm around you, seeming to have materialized out of nowhere—how did they even know where to find you both?

Satoru, ever the master of public appearances, wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch is warm and firm, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart through his suit.

The sensation of his hand resting securely on your hip sends a tingle through your body, a fluttering in your stomach—you realize now that this is the first time he has touched you.

“Smile for the cameras, Mrs. Gojo,” he whispers into your ear, breath tickling your skin.

You blink, heat rising to your face as you’re momentarily caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. But you quickly compose yourself, remembering the role you have to play.

Leaning into him slightly, you offer a shy smile to the cameras. The flashes intensify and the questions grow louder.

“Mr. Gojo why are you in a courthouse?”

“Mr. Gojo, what is the status of Gojo Corporation?”

“Who is this woman Mr. Gojo?”

“What is your statement on your father’s passing?”

As the paparazzi continue to snap photos and shout questions, Satoru leans down and presses a quick, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips were soft, and the warmth of his breath burned your skin. The gesture, though small, sends a shiver down your spine.

It was all for show, you reminded yourself. Just part of the act.

Yet, the unexpected intimacy lingered, making it hard to ignore the way your heart raced at his touch.

Satoru’s kiss had worked perfectly, fueling the media frenzy. The paparazzi went wild at the tender action—camera flashes intensifying and voices growing louder. They call out more questions, desperate to capture every angle of the seemingly affectionate moment. You feel the eyes of the crowd boring into you.

“Let’s get out of here,” Satoru murmurs, voice low and soothing amidst the chaos.

He reaches out, hand warm and firm as he interlocks his fingers with yours, gently guiding you through the throng of reporters towards the waiting car. His other arm subtly shields you from the crowd.

As you finally break free from the mass of flashing cameras and shouting voices, you slide into the car, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as Satoru slides beside you immediately after.

Glancing back at the courthouse, the reality of your new life begins to sink in. Once the car pulls away, a breath escapes you—one you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

“That was... intense.”

Satoru chuckles, arm resting behind your shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, allowing a few tousles of white hair to fall into his eyes. Through the soft strands, his gaze meets yours, a mix of amusement and seriousness dancing in his striking blue eyes.

“Welcome to my world," he murmurs. "Better get used to it, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”

ꨄ︎

The following day, a moving company arrived at your apartment as promised—they packed up your belongings with swift efficiency, leaving you feeling like a spectator in your own life.

Watching your life be boxed up and loaded into trucks was bittersweet—as your small apartment, with its familiar creaks and cracks, had been your safe haven.

Everything was arranged, down to the smallest detail. By mid-afternoon, you found yourself standing in the grand foyer of Satoru’s mansion once again, this time with all your worldly possessions.

Haru, wide-eyed and excited, clung to your side, her tiny fingers wrapped around your hand.

"Welcome to your new home," Satoru says with a grin.

It felt more like stepping into a palace than a home.

He reaches down and grabs one of your suitcases, lifting it effortlessly,

"Let me show you to our room."

You feel your face heat up instantly.

"Our room?" you stammer. "Why would we need to share a room when no one is here to watch this charade?"

Satoru's grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"Relax, I'm just teasing you. You have your own room. I just wanted to see your reaction."

You shoot him a glare, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance.

“You're impossible," you mutter, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

He chuckles, leading you up the grand staircase, and Haru follows closely, her eyes darting around in awe at the luxurious decor. The polished marble steps feel cool underneath you, and the ornate banisters gleam under the soft lighting.

"Come on, let me show you around." Satoru says as he leads the way down a long corridor.

The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and framed artwork, each piece more exquisite than the last.

Eventually, Satoru stops in front of a set of double doors, turning to you with a small, satisfied smile.

"Here we are."

He pushes them open to reveal a spacious bedroom. The room beautifully furnished, with a large bed, elegant drapes, and a balcony overlooking the manicured gardens below.

"This is your room," he announces, setting your suitcase down gently.

"Wow," you breathe.

It feels a bit overwhelming the moment you step foot inside. Haru, on the other hand, darts past you, exploring every nook and cranny with a delighted giggle. It was easily twice the size of your old apartment.

"This is beautiful... and a lot."

Satoru leans against the doorframe, arms casually crossing over his chest.

The soft light from the chandelier above casts a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His white hair, tousled just enough to seem effortlessly stylish, frames his face perfectly.

"Only the best for my... business partner," he says, tone light yet carrying a hint of something deeper.

You offer a simple, "Thanks," but your voice is softer than you intended. Your eyes betray you, lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

Satoru's eyes hold yours with a softness that catches you off guard—a striking shade of blue that seems almost ethereal. In that moment, you couldn't help but notice the intensity and warmth in his gaze, it’s almost tender, making you feel like anything but just a ‘business partner’.

Was he always this beautiful?

You can’t help but wonder, feeling a warmth spread through you as the silence stretches on. The moment feels strangely intimate, a connection forming that neither of you expected.

Crap. What are you thinking?

Haru’s giggle breaks the spell as she jumps on your bed.

"Oh, and just so you know," he adds with a playful glint in his eye, "my room is right next door. We share the bathroom, so try not to hog all the hot water."

You blink, surprised. "We have to share a bathroom?"

Curiosity getting the better of you, you open the bathroom door and peer inside.

It was equally impressive, with a large tub and walk-in shower, all in pristine condition. The fixtures gleam, and the marble countertop adds a touch of luxury. There was another door leading directly to Satoru’s room, a constant reminder of his proximity.

"Yep. Just think of it as our first test of marital bliss. Can we survive sharing a bathroom?" Satoru's voice was suddenly closer.

You turn to find him standing right behind you, having moved from his previous spot at the doorframe. The idea of sharing such a personal space with him was a bit unnerving. An awkwardly intimate setup for such a detached relationship, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"…I suppose I'll manage.”

Satoru laughs softly.

"That's the spirit. And don't worry, Haru's room is right across from us. She's got the best room in the house actually," he adds, tilting his head to the side as a cue for you to follow him.

Haru trails excitedly behind as you walk through the luxurious hallway, her giggles echo off the walls. Opening the door, you peek inside and are struck by the sheer extravagance of it.

The room was a child’s dream—decorated in soft pastel colors, with a canopy bed draped in delicate lace, plush toys neatly arranged on shelves, and even a small play area complete with a dollhouse and a set of building blocks. The walls were adorned with whimsical murals of fairies and woodland creatures, creating a magical atmosphere that seemed straight out of a storybook.

Haru's delighted squeals bring a smile to your face, easing the last of your worries.

It was clear that Satoru had spared no expense in making her feel welcome. Each detail spoke of thoughtfulness and care, from the cozy reading nook to the vibrant rainbow-colored rug that added a playful touch to the room. How on earth did he pull all this off so quickly?

“Wow, look, Mama!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up with joy, running inside to inspect her new haven.

A sense of relief washes over you as a tender smile forms upon your lips. At least Haru would be happy here. The sight of her so animated and cheerful makes the transition a bit easier to bear. Satoru stands beside you.

“I wanted her to feel at home," he says softly, eyes reflecting a rare sincerity.

“You've done more than that. She's ecstatic," you reply, watching Haru dive into a pile of stuffed animals with a gleeful laugh.

Satoru clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, the gesture uncharacteristically awkward. He glances at the clock on the wall, as if searching for an excuse to end the moment.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," his tone is gentle and almost hesitant. "Let me know if you need anything. Dinner will be ready soon, see you down there?”

His usual confidence is somewhat muted—you wonder, is it you? Haru?

"Yeah,” you nod, “I’m going to put a few of my things away and then we’ll meet you downstairs."

“Right. Take your time. There's no rush."

You can’t help but replay the interaction in your mind as you unpack the essentials from your suitcase. The awkwardness between you and Satoru would pass, you hope. For now, it was enough to know that Haru is happy and safe.

Haru’s laughter echoes from her room, a sound that brings a smile to your face. She seemed to be adjusting much faster than expected, her innocent joy undiminished by the upheaval.

And to you, her laughter solidified it—marrying Satoru, this was the right call.

ꨄ︎

The past few days living with Satoru had been a whirlwind of adjustments—it wasn’t without its challenges. The mansion, with its sprawling rooms and luxurious decor, is more like a museum than a home.

The sheer size makes you feel small and out of place at times, and the constant presence of staff make it difficult to find a moment of privacy.

Satoru, however, had been surprisingly considerate. He’s a constant reminder of the delicate balance you need to maintain—attentive yet reserved, playful yet serious, a paradox that kept you on edge.

Your interactions with Satoru had settled into a routine of polite, if somewhat distant, cohabitation. There were moments of unexpected tenderness, like when he had found you struggling to open a jar in the kitchen and had stepped in to help with a playful grin.

Another time, you had been overwhelmed while trying to assemble a new toy for Haru, and Satoru had quietly taken a seat beside you, helping to figure out the instructions without a word.

Yet despite these moments, there was always an underlying tension, a reminder of the unusual circumstances that had brought you together.

As the days passed, the impending charity gala loomed larger in your mind—the first public event you would attend together as a married couple.

Satoru had taken the time to sit down with you and discuss how you would present yourselves, a task that seemed daunting but necessary.

You agreed on the basics: stay close, exchange subtle touches, and share occasional whispers to create an air of intimacy. The plan was straightforward, but the execution would be another matter entirely.

He emphasized the importance of appearing united, offering tips on how to handle the media and the probing questions that were sure to come. His confidence and ease in handling the media was something you were learning to lean on, though the pressure of maintaining the charade weighed heavily on you.

“What about Haru?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

“We’ll leave her out of the spotlight,” Satoru replied gently. “I don’t want to overwhelm her. She takes no part in this agreement beyond being your daughter. She’ll stay here with the nanny during the event.”

Amidst all this, your phone had been buzzing constantly with missed calls from Naoya. You hadn't answered any of them—maybe you should just call off the court case?

You did just go through a life changing event, marriage, and that often interferes with the legal process anyways. The judge would need to take into consideration your new source of income for the child support payments.

Honestly, you don’t need Naoya’s support anymore.

You’ll take care of that after the gala though—right now you already have too much on your plate, spending hours with Satoru, fabricating shared experiences and finding common ground to make your relationship believable.

The task of memorizing details about his likes and dislikes, his habits, and his quirks was daunting, but you found yourself surprised at the small details you were beginning to remember about him—the way he took his coffee, his favorite late-night snack, the way his eyes crinkled just slightly when he found something genuinely funny, or how he would absentmindedly run a hand through his tousled white hair when deep in thought.

As the days slipped by in a blur of preparations and rehearsed smiles, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this carefully constructed façade was starting to take on a life of its own. Each shared glance and each moment of unexpected kindness blurred the lines between reality and pretense, leaving you wondering just how deep this charade would go.

ꨄ︎

Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, you adjust the luxurious dress Satoru had picked out for you. A deep, elegant blue fabric clings to your curves in all the right places, and the V-shaped open back that rests above your hips adds a touch of allure.

Loose cascading waves frame your face perfectly, and the professional makeup artist gave you a look that is both subtle and glamorous, enhancing your features in a way the felt natural yet striking.

You barely recognize yourself.

The transformation was astonishing, turning you from a frazzled single mother into a vision of sophistication and grace.

Was it too much? You feel out of sorts, like you’re wearing someone else's skin. The elegant image in the mirror is both thrilling and unnerving.

As you try to steady your racing heart, a knock on the bathroom door makes you jump slightly—Satoru’s door.

“Y/n you ready?” his voice calls out.

With a deep breath, you take one last look in the mirror. As you open the door, Satoru’s frame leans casually against the entryway.

The sleek black tuxedo he is adorned in highlights his broad shoulder and lean frame. His white hair is perfectly styled, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric.

He meets you with a stunned silence—eyes widening slightly as he takes you in. The cool blue of his irises seem more vibrant, gleaming with anticipation as they trace over your form.

You had never seen his eyes linger across your figure like this before—the intensity of his gaze makes your stomach flutter. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you fear what will come out of his mouth.

Does he think it’s too much?

“Wow,” he breathes, voice almost reverent. “You look... stunning.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his unexpected compliment, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze.

"Thank you," you say softly, smoothing down the fabric of your dress.

Satoru steps closer, eyes locked on you. He reaches out and gently lifts your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Seriously, you look amazing. I knew the dress would look good on you, but this... you’re going to be the star of the gala,” a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Ready to knock them dead?”

You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be…hopefully I can live up to the part.”

“You will,” offering you his arm, he adds, “Just be yourself, and stay by my side, we’re in this together."

ꨄ︎

The ride to the gala is filled with a comfortable silence.

The city lights blur outside the window as the car smoothly navigates through the streets. You find yourself stealing glances at Satoru, admiring the way his profile looks in the dim light.

Strange.

The usually insufferable man seemed different tonight—steadfast, dependable, almost... comforting? Perhaps it’s the nerves.

His arm rests casually behind you, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, and you’re surprised yourself how it does not bother you—in fact, it’s actually quite soothing.

Once you arrive, the grand ballroom is a stunning sight. Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the elegantly dressed crowd.

The room is filled with the city’s elite—a sea of luxurious gowns and tailored suits mingling and exchanging pleasantries. The sight of you and Satoru together was enough to turn heads, drawing curious and admiring glances.

But the sheer number of people, the pressure of playing your part, and the countless eyes watching your every move—it’s all a bit overwhelming. You really felt out of place here.

Sensing your unease, Satoru leans in close, breath warm against your ear.

“Remember, just follow my lead.”

Guiding you with ease, his hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you voyage through the attendees—the warm gentle touch is electric against your bare skin.

Your eyes skim through the herd of people and land on a waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses. Perhaps a drink would ease your nerves? You don’t hesitate to grab a glass as you navigate the crowd.

Satoru, ever the socialite, seamlessly traverses the room, introducing you to important figures and engaging in small talk that you struggle to follow.

Discussions ranged from market trends and corporate mergers, to the latest charity galas and art exhibitions. Trying to keep up, you nod and smile at the appropriate moments.

It’s clear that Satoru is in his element—his charm, effortless. You find yourself admiring how easy he makes it all look.

As you cling to him, the pride in his eyes when he looks at you makes you feel like you belong, even if you are just playing a part in this elaborate charade.

The evening flowed smoothly enough, with your glass of champagne acting as a steady companion. The warmth of the alcohol helps you mingle with guests, exchange polite conversations, and stay close to Satoru, all as planned. But each interaction was a delicate dance—your smiles and nods masking the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

Honestly, your mind was elsewhere—there is an undercurrent of anxiety as you anticipate Satoru’s announcement on stage, where he would publicly acknowledge your marriage during his donation speech.

When the moment you had been dreading finally arrives, you settle into a chair near the front, heart pounding in your chest.

Satoru takes the stage with a natural grace, and as the spotlight illuminates his striking figure, his presence commands the attention of everyone in the room.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice resonating with a confident authority. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. Your generosity and support make events like this possible.”

His words flow smoothly as he speaks eloquently about the cause and significance of the charity, each sentence perfectly crafted to engage and inspire—you marveled at his ability to enthrall people.

Pressing your champagne glass to your lips, you desperately hope the cool liquid can help to steady your nerves a bit more.

Then, the moment came.

“I will be donating ten million dollars to this charity,” Satoru announces, his voice carrying a conviction.

The amount causes a ripple of excitement and murmurs to spread through the crowd—you nearly choked on your champagne in shock.

Ten million?

You couldn’t even fathom having that much money, let alone donating it. The magnitude of Satoru’s status is staggering.

A smile tugs at Satoru’s lips—a genuine warmth mingling with the mischievous glint in his eyes. He pauses, letting the impact of his words settle, then lifts a finger to tap his chin contemplatively, as if he just remembered something.

“Or should I say, we will be donating—me and my lovely wife.”

Satoru gestures in your direction as a spotlight beams upon you. The crowd erupts into an enthusiastic applause, causing your heart to race the moment all eyes instantly turn to you.

There is a rush of heat that rises to your cheeks, mixing with the warmth of the alcohol. The weight of the crowd’s gaze makes your vision a bit blurry.

Beckoning you to join him on stage, Satoru extends his hand and offers a comforting smile. Though, the moment you stand, the room spins slightly—perhaps it’s from the champagne, or perhaps it’s the sheer pressure.

You can’t fuck this up.

With as much grace as you can muster, you make your way to the platform.

Satoru wraps an arm around your waist the moment you are at his side, pulling you close and steadying your trembling figure. He looks down into your eyes with a genuine look of endearment.

“Everyone, please welcome my beautiful wife, y/n,” he says softly in the microphone, his voice filled with a gentle pride.

The applause swells, and you manage a smile, trying to focus on Satoru while ignoring the spotlight’s heat and the intense gazes of attendees.

Leaning in, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “You’re doing great.”

Despite the orchestrated nature of your relationship, in this moment, his genuine reassurance means everything. His presence is a steady anchor in the sea of faces and flashing cameras, the only thing holding you together right now.

When the applause dies down, Satoru continues his speech, the warmth of his hand remaining on your waist as his thumb traces soft circles.

You can barely focus on his words, the dizzying reality of where you’re standing feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

The moment Satoru’s speech concludes, the soft hum of conversation mingling and the delicate notes of the live orchestra begin to fill the air yet again. Satoru leads you off the stage, his hand never leaving your side.

Almost immediately after you descend to the floor, Satoru is approached by a business associate, his demeanor shifting effortlessly into that of a seasoned negotiator as they exchange discussions of market trends, potential collaborations, and strategic ventures.

Your heart is still pounding—public speaking was never your strong suit. Despite not needing to speak, being on that stage stirred something within you.

You recall a particularly disastrous presentation in college where you accidentally knocked over the projector, sending your notes flying across the room. The laughter from the audience still haunts you, and since then, you’ve always dreaded being the center of attention.

With Satoru engrossed in conversation, you seize the opportunity to make your way to the bar—seeking a moment of reprieve. Another drink wouldn’t hurt, right?

The gleaming rows of crystal glasses and various bottles of wine and spirits catch your eye. You scan the selection, your gaze lingering on a particularly rich, deep red wine.

Deciding it’s exactly what you need to steady your nerves, you signal the bartender and opt for a glass of the robust vintage, savoring the thought of its smooth, calming flavor.

One glass turned into two—your nerves finally beginning to settle as the soothing effects of the alcohol take over your senses.

Realizing you’ve been away from Satoru for quite some time, you prepare to rejoin him—but just as you start to rise, a familiar, unwelcome voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Naoya sneers, leaning against the bar beside you, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here, mingling with the high society.”

A chill runs down your spine and you heart drops. No amount of alcohol could have prepared you for this moment.

“Naoya,” you stiffen, clutching your wine glass tighter. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a swig of his scotch, emptying the glass and placing it down on the counter with a loud clink. Leaning closer into your space, his eyes narrow—a cold, cynical stare boring into you.

“I could ask you the same thing. This doesn’t seem like your usual scene. What’s your angle?”

Your breath quickens and you feel your pulse hammering in your chest. Adverting your gaze, your fingers brush against the rim of your wine glass.

“I’m sure you heard, I’m here with my husband, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The sneer he meets you with makes the room suddenly feel smaller, as if his presence is suffocating you.

“Husband, huh?” his eyes rake over you with contempt suspicion, “Quite the leap from where you were a few weeks ago. Is this some kind of game to you?”

Summoning your courage, you straighten your back and meet his gaze head-on.

“Not a game, Naoya. It’s called moving on. You should try it sometime. My life is no longer any of your concern.”

Taking a step closer, he looms over you—his voice lowering to a menacing whisper.

“I don’t buy it. This whole charade… you think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull?”

For a moment, you are frozen in place, the fear and control Naoya exerts paralyzing you. Your mind races, the implications of his words sinking in.

What if he exposes you?

What if this carefully constructed facade comes crashing down?

Before you can respond, you feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you with practiced ease out of Naoya’s bubble and right beside Satoru.

“There you are, darling. Everything alright?”

His voice is smooth and warm, and his gaze flicks between you and Naoya, narrowing as he surveys the situation. The look on your face unsettles him—something feels off.

Naoya straightens himself, leaning against the bar with a supercilious smirk as he crosses his arms.

“Just catching up with an old friend. No harm in that, right?”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Satoru’s tone was light but laced with an underlying steel, “I’m y/n’s husband, Satoru Gojo.”

A scoff escapes Naoya as his eyes flash with irritation, but an unnerving smile remains upon his lips.

“Yes, I’ve heard. You certainly move fast, don’t you, y/n?”

Naoya can see right through you—you fell a flash of panic. Turning to Satoru, your eyes meet his with a silent plea for support. His expression softens and he gives you a reassuring nod while tightening his grip upon your waist.

“Well, when you know, you know,” Satoru says with a charming smile, “and we knew.”

Naoya snickers, running his hand through his hair in disbelief.

“Come on y/n. How did someone like you end up with someone like him? Seems... unlikely. You don’t belong here.”

Heat rises to your face and the sudden urge to shrink away overwhelms you—your heart dropping at the sting of Naoya’s words.

Suddenly, Satoru steps closer, creating a protective barrier between you and Naoya—the playful glint in his eyes gone, replaced with a cold, steely determination.

“Watch your mouth, you don’t get to talk to my wife like that.”

“I’m just stating the obvious,” Naoya shrugs, meeting Satoru’s glare with an indifference as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “She’s out of her league here.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his voice low and dangerously calm.

“If you think she’s out of her league, then you clearly don’t know her at all. You’re out of line. Y/n belongs here more than anyone. So, unless you have something worthwhile to say, I suggest you move along.”

“Is that so?” Naoya raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical. After all, you’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, Satoru Gojo.”

Panic seizes you as Naoya’s observation hangs in the air. The last thing you need is for him to start spreading rumors or causing trouble. You realize you have to do something, and fast. Your mind races, desperately searching for a way to convince Naoya of your authenticity.

Summoning all the courage you can muster, you step forward, threading your arms around Satoru’s neck as you rest your forehead against his own. Your words are addressed to Naoya, but your eyes remain on Satoru the entire time, drawing strength from his steady gaze and the warmth of his touch.

“Satoru and I... we chose each other for reasons that go beyond what you see. We may have our differences, but we’re stronger together, and we have a connection that you can’t comprehend.”

Satoru’s eyes soften, reflecting a silent understanding and a shared resolve—his breath mingling with yours.

Feeling Naoya’s probing gaze, you know he won’t be easily convinced, and so, acting on impulse, you pull Satoru closer and crash your lips against his.

For a moment, Satoru seemed caught off guard. His eyes widened in surprise before they fluttered closed, his hands moving to rest on your hips. The world around you seemed to fade away as the kiss lingered, heat pooling in your stomach.

It was supposed to be a quick peck, just enough to sell the act. But the moment your lips met his, something shifted.

Perhaps you were emboldened by the alcohol, perhaps it was the need to be convincing, perhaps it was the way Satoru stood up for you—without thinking, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and slipping your tongue into his mouth, making things more intimate than you originally intended.

You can feel Satoru tense for a moment, his surprise evident. But then, with a soft hum against your mouth he melts into the kiss, a hand moving to cup your face as he returns the intimacy with unexpected fervor—his other hand encircling around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

Your fingers thread through Satoru’s hair and the world around you seems to fade away—the only thing that mattered now was the heat radiating off of Satoru’s body, the warmth of his lips against yours, and the lingering sweet taste of the gala’s chocolate cake mingling with the wine on your tongue.

It was a moment that felt both incredibly real and utterly surreal.

When you finally pull back, you are both breathless. As you catch a flicker of something unreadable in Satoru’s half lidded eyes, for a brief moment, you forget about Naoya completely, about the act, about everything except the electric connection between you both.

Satoru's thumb gently caresses your cheek, his gaze softening.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you peer over to Naoya—his smug expression had vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and irritation.

“As you can see, we’re very happy together,” you say sweetly, rubbing your nose against Satoru’s.

"Didn't think you were the type to move on so quickly," Naoya sneers.

A wave of exhilaration and embarrassment course through you as Naoya retreats back into the crowd. The kiss had done its job, but it had also left you with a lingering sense of uncertainty. Satoru’s touch is still warm on your skin—you can still taste him on your lips.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his concern genuine.

The question pulls you out of your thoughts, but his gaze does the opposite—your face flushes and it feels like your heart is going to pound out of your chest.

"Yeah. I... I just needed to convince him.."

Satoru studies you momentarily—knowing there is more to the story with Naoya. But he also knows now isn’t the time to pry.

He chuckles softly, his hand lingering on your waist.

“Well, I think you succeeded. That was... unexpected. You really went for it there,” he murmurs.

For a moment, it felt like you were playing a role, but the feelings stirring inside you were anything but fake.

"I'm sorry," you swallow hard, face flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..."

“I didn’t mind,” he interjects, thumb brushing against your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just so you know, you did great. Better than I expected,” his voice low and husky.

Fuck.

You blink—Naoya is gone, but here Satoru is, still holding you so intimately, so intently.

The way he looks at you, the warmth in his touch, the tone of his voice—it makes you question the lines between reality and pretense.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Satoru hums, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, tantalizingly close. “But next time, let’s save the tongue for when we’re really alone, hm?”

What is he saying?

Your mind races, trying to decipher his words, his intentions. Was he still in character, or was there a hint of genuine desire in his eyes?

The electricity in the air was undeniable, and you find yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze—the crowd around you fading, their murmurs and whispers becoming a distant hum.

Satoru’s eyes held secrets you were desperate to uncover.

As you struggle to formulate your thoughts, Satoru’s hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along you jaw.

"Relax," he murmurs, "We're just putting on a show, remember?"

You nod, though your heart betrays you with its rapid pace.

“Right,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Just a show.”

But deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that there was more to this act than either of you were willing to admit.

ahh i really enjoyed writing this chapter. okay, i was snickering at satoru's internal turmoil when he met haru for the first time. i couldn't resist with the digimon 🤭 my daughter is currently obsessed with pikachu so that's where that inspiration came from lol. also, this kiss was one of my favs to write 🥰 lemme know if you guys are interested in me making this a longer series. as always, thanks for reading 🫶🏻 → on to the next chapter ꨄ

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accioscarheadthings · 5 months ago

Text

ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 1

kenji sato x reader

summary: you are professor sato's student and mina contacts you when kenji finds himself with an injured kaiju baby

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

author's note: turning this into a series (?) may not follow the movie's timeline completely. future smut, so minors DNI.

masterlist !

you stood beside professor sato in the tube lift as it descended to kenji's basement.

you fiddled with the ends of your shirt, anxiety beginning to spiral within you by the second.

being at kenji’ house was something you never imagined would happen, especially after your not-so-smart first date.

like kenji, you also had a legacy to bear, with your father as an expert mechanic, he built a titanium-alloyed suit with sato to fight by his side. and with him gone, you had to take on the mantle and the responsibility of protecting the city.

kenji knew you as his father’s student, slightly bitter that his father was spending time with someone who was not him.

but he couldn’t deny, you were a sight for sore eyes.

he would throw his words at you now and then, relishing in your sarcasm and remarks, falling more and more for your fiery demeanour and silver tongue.

and with you both fighting kaiju attacks together, it only pulled you closer to each other.

the baseball player won a bet against you, asking for just one date with you.

you were skeptical about it, not wanting to get tangled in his spider web of messy celebrity life. but you couldn’t back off from the bet. a deal was a deal.

the date went surprisingly well, with you and kenji bickering back and forth about the most mundane things, just to get a rise out of the other. but as time went by, the sexual tension was increasing between you two.

you couldn’t deny it, no matter how much he annoyed you with his bratty charm. he was hot.

the date was supposed to end with him dropping you in your place, but instead, you found yourself in his arms in the back of his car- naked, needy, and moaning his name like a prayer.

after that, he took you into your apartment and fucked you good, mumbling praises and promises as he drilled into you. the next morning, he left before you woke up, leaving a note saying that last night was fun.

no calls or messages after that. he merely acknowledged your presence after that.and you were thankful for it. a bit.

part of you wished he would reach out and check in on you after that night. but you knew he wouldn’t.

it made you feel used and unwanted. took you quite a while to get over it, but you eventually did.

you only took care of the fights he didn’t pay mind to. like the kaiju attack he ditched when the kdf intervened.

and now with the doom of meeting him again, your nerves were on end.

“fret not, dear,” professor sato glanced at your tensed state, “it will be alright.”

"professor, um, you still haven't told me why we’re at your son’s place. or what we're gonna do. or why you needed me out of all people-”

"i just need you to trust me on this, dear. you're the only one i do at this moment. can you do that for me?"

"you know i'm big on trust, professor, " i commented, shaking my head.

the lift stopped, and professor smiled, "that i do,"

when the lift doors opened, ultramn’s face was right on, big glowing eyes.

you took a step back with a yelp, “what the-"

"oh my-" ultraman gasped, “y/n… hi,” he seemed to be dazed, breathless.

you nodded nervously, glaring at his metal head and glowing eyes, glad that you didn't have to look at his handsome face, “hi,”

“dad! what is she doing here?” kenji hollered, as if you were invisible.

you glared at him even harder, tilting your head to the side at his tone.

"i apologize for my son," professor told you, "kenji, this is my assistant and she knows best about kaiju infants,"

i added, "because i've studied about them.my entire life. what they eat, their life cycle, the metamorph-"

"okay, okay, got it yeah," he waved you off in a hurry, his voice laced with impatience and worry.

you were about to snap when a pained squeal rang out and you leaned past him to sneak a peak, but ultraman obscured your view.

“dad, i’m not asking for pain, complaints, guilt, or criticism. not right now. i just-” he paused, struggling, “i need your help. both of you,” his head turned to you.

when he moved out of the way, you saw it, a gasp escaping your lips .

a baby kaiju lying on its back in the middle of the room, its head resting on ultraman’s knees while he held it down, rubbing its head. a red beam blinked under its skin, signaling its distress.

"wow," you gaped at the kaiju baby, following after professor sato.

“she was hurt, dad. we were attacked, i don’t know what to do. she got loose. i-i should’ve been there,” kenji rambled, guilt evident as he beat him up for what happened.

professor sato examined her, running a hand over a scales, “incredible,”

i held out my fist, metal plates slipping over your fingers and crawling up your arm till your elbow. you held out a hand, shooting a scanning bean from your fist to examine.

“you brought your warsuit?” ultraman asked in wonder. he knew about your identity and was hoping he’d run into you in one of the fights.

“just in case,” you shrugged, eyes on the anatomy chart you had pulled up in front of you as the holograph blinked on the arm of the kaiju, indicating the site of injury.

meanwhile, professor sato ran a chem analysis of the tranquilizer that had hit her.

"oh, hello mina," you greeted the ai when it floated towards you, “it’s been a long time,”

"indeed," mina responded, "you look well,"

"thanks,"

the kaiju baby whined in pain, squirming. you rested your metal palm on its tummy, easing your way up and down on its body, "shh, hey, hey- it's okay, we're gonna help you, baby, mkay?” you cooed.

the kaiju baby seemed to somewhat calm down at your words, its body still trembling.

“is it a he or she?” you asked, tapping and prodding her arm juncture.

“a she,” mina responded.

"she's beautiful," you looked up at her in awe, “professor, i suppose she has fracture. there’s fluid build-up in her elbow. mina, can u confirm?,”

“yes, she had a mid-humeral fracture with associated hematoma,” mina added.

the kaiju baby cried out again.

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” professor sato uttered softly caressing her arm.

mina was filling in the professor about the analysis of the tranquilizer while you got a closer look at the baby, running your metal hand over her palm.

her fist closed around your hand, the kaiju baby cooing slightly. your heart melted at the action.

“poor thing. does it hurt too much?” you reached to touch her arm where she got hurt, only for her to squeal in alarm.

“it’s okay,” kenji soothed, “she’s-” he stammered, looking at you now fully and taking in your appearance and feeling somewhat flustered, “she’s not gonna hurt you,”

you spared a glance at him, turning away, your face turning red at the mere sound of his voice. pathetic, you scolded yourself.

“can you synthesize a 100 ccs?” professor sato asked mina.

“yes, professor,”

“good we’ll need more,”

“more?!” kenji snapped, “for what?”

“kenji,” “you may not agree with me on anything else, but right now, i’m the best chance she has. and with y/n, it will be easier. so please, please just let me help,”

kenji glanced at you, agreeing, “okay,”

professor sato held up a ragged bunny in the air. the kaiju baby beamed at it.

“dad,” kenjis sighed in nostalgia, “bunny?”

“it always worked on you,” he placed it on the baby’s arm. he notched his walking stick between her shouler and arm, making sure it was right. i nodded in approval.

i placed my hand on the kaju baby’s palm, “hold her tight, kenji,”

two mechanical arms appeared from the ground, grabbing onto the baby’s arms.

taking a deep breath, you mumbled along with the lullaby mina played in the back and pushed her dislocated bone into place. kenji turned his head away to the side, unable to watch while the kaiju baby screeched in pain.

you sat by the stairs of the containment unit as the kaiju baby slept in it, snuggling a half-crushed car.

you were watching the footage of the kaiju baby loose in the streets, observing its movement, behaviour—

“hey,”

you slapped your watch shut and looked up at kenji, blinking, “hi,”

your eyes locked for a moment longer adn you both looked away, feeling bashful and flustered.

you felt him sit on the stair beside you and rest his elbows on his knees, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

“so, uh, how are ya?” kenji turned to face you, his hair falling all over his forehead.

you bit back the urge to brush them back, “fine. so how’s life being a single mom with two jobs?” you teased, hoping to ease the tension.

kenji gave a small smile, his chest rumbling with a groan, “exhausting,”

“i can tell,” you noticed the fading dark circles under his eyes, the fatigue in the paleness of his skin.

“watching me that closely, sweetheart?” he tipped his head to the side, leaning forward a bit, his flirty tone showing up.

“you wish,” you rolled your eyes at him.

“it’s good to see you,” kenji spoke genuinely, “after the last time we met turned into-”

“oh dear god-” you sputtered, “don’t just don’t,”

“was it that bad?” he seemed offended that you were shutting out that incident so quickly, “was i that bad?”

“no, no, ken,” i laughed carelessly, missing the way a shy smile crept up kenji’s face at your sound, “its just that,” you tried to find the right words, “it was amazing, but the days after that, not so much. we-”

“-drifted apart,” kenji completed, understanding now.

"yeah,"

“i’ll just,” kenji jabbed his thumb to the couch area and walked towards it, muttering and scolding himself for being so clumsy and flustered around you.

you smiled at his back, watching him sit down. you turned back towards the containment unit, watching the kaiju baby snore away.

you crossed your legs, getting comfortable, "mina?"

"yes?" the ai floated towards you.

"give me everything you have on the kaiju baby. and you might wanna get filled in on the kaiju anatomy and life cycle info i have in my database," you held up your watch for her.

“sure thing,” a mechanical arm took it from you.

"and also, could i get a cup of coffee, with three-,"

a cup was thrust beside your face to hold.

you looked up and saw kenji holding one for you, having one for himself, “three shots of espresso. just how you like it,”

surprised but touched, you accepted it with a kind nod, watching him walk back to his father.

he relaxed back, leaning into the couch and spreading his legs apart shamelessly, one arm resting on the head of the couch.

you lips parted at the sight.

kenji did a double take and caught you staring, a grin quirking his lips as he did so. it only widened as he saw how you fumbled and turned away from him, finding your reaction adorable.

he couldn't believe how captivating you were, and he knew he was in danger of losing himself to your charm.

the way your hair draped over your shoulder, only if he could wrap his fist around them and pull you flush against his back-

“pure thoughts, ken. pure thoughts,” he chided himself, his mind struggling to process the mental image it created.

he silently chastised himself for letting you slip through his fingers last time, but he knew that he couldn't ignore you any longer.

as he looked at you, he felt his heart skip a beat and he couldn't help but sigh, "sweetheart..." knowing that you were too tempting for him to resist this time.

#ken sato #ultraman #emi ultraman #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ultraman rising #ultraman rising x reader

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ikaroux · 7 months ago

Text

How are they with their pregnant partner? Neuvillette

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/companion is ecstatic. But how will he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader, NSFW.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Warning: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Neuvillette.

Note: This chapter contains Fontaine story spoilers. I advise you to finish Archon's quest before starting to read.

Ps: Sorry for my long absence, I've had a lot of health problems since the start of the 2023 school year...

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

Part 6 Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus

Part 7 Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

1. The moon was lighting up the night sky when you reached the door of Neuvillette's office. Silently, you gazed at him from the doorway, waiting patiently for him to take his eyes off his work and meet yours. Knowing that he had already noted your presence, his dragon senses being far more acute than those of mortals, you found a particular charm in watching him devote himself in earnest to the last files of the day.

"It's getting late, my love. "

At these words, Neuvillette raised his reptilian-glinted eyes to you, a tender, affectionate smile lighting up his face.

"You should have waited for me at home. I get worried when you walk alone at this hour."

Dropping his pen, he stood up and walked over to join you. Arriving at your height, he leaned over to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"I know, but... there was something very important I had to tell you. And as lately you've tended to neglect your wife for your work..."

Your words floated through the air, laden with gentle rebuke and nervous anticipation. As you spoke, Neuvillette, with obvious tenderness, gently pushed a lock of your hair back behind your ear, his gesture emphasizing the closeness and deep affection he felt for you. His attention was entirely focused on you, as if he were trying to read in your eyes the importance of what you had to reveal to him.

With a gentle gesture, you took Neuvillette's hand, guiding his palm until it lay flat on your stomach. A silence fell, heavy with anticipation, as Neuvillette watched your gesture, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Then, slowly, a flash of understanding lit up his gaze. He sensed, through the touch of his hand, the subtle but undeniable aura of a new life beginning to form within you, the existence of a little being yet to be born. A dragon.

Your husband's heart raced as he finally realized what was growing inside you. Neuvillette, usually in control, was overcome by a wave of emotions: surprise, happiness, a touch of anxiety in the face of the unknown, but above all, a deep and unconditional love for you and for this new life you were carrying.

Without a word, his other hand joined the first, as if gently but firmly enveloping the precious treasure you now shared. His gaze, filled with infinite tenderness, lifted to yours.

In this moment of shared intimacy, words seemed superfluous, replaced by tender caresses and kisses, heralding the start of a new chapter in your lives together.

2. Neuvillette's draconic nature permeated every fiber of his being, making him extremely protective and territorial, especially where you were concerned. His perception of mortals had certainly evolved after the fall of the hydro archon, but his role as supreme judge of the Fontaine court left him little room for easy trust, especially when it came to unpredictable and often cruel human nature.

Your pregnancy only exacerbated this aspect of his personality. The prospect of becoming a father, of protecting and looking after an even more vulnerable being, amplified his protective instincts. Even when you remarked to him, perhaps hoping to mitigate this tendency or channel it in a way that seemed more appropriate...

But you soon realized that it was difficult to change the profound nature of a dragon over a thousand years old...

3. The evolution of your pregnancy revealed hitherto unknown and deeply endearing aspects of Neuvillette. This new facet manifests itself in a surprising way: a soft, soothing, purring-like sound emanates from him when he looks at you or caresses you gently. This sound, unexpected from a dragon, proved to you that he was happy and at peace in your presence…

4. Neuvillette's trust in the protection of you and your child during his extended absences was a privilege he bestowed on very few people. Clorinde and Wriothesley stood out as the pillars of this trust, each with their own role and ability to look after you. Wriothesley, despite his responsibilities anchoring him to the Meropide fortress, was a devoted protector whose friendship with Neuvillette and you never wavered.

The Melusines also held a special place in Neuvillette's esteem. Their joy and zeal in protecting you and your unborn child was not only a testament to their loyalty to Neuvillette, but also a recognition of the importance of your role by his side.

5. The relationship you forged with Furina was marked by an affection and trust that transcended the past of the former archon of Fontaine. Her daily visits became special moments, when the joy of sharing sweets and laughter brightened your day. Discussions about the baby's name, possible traits, or who he or she might most resemble, were moments of pure complicity.

The arrival of Neuvillette, which often marked the end of these afternoons of sweetness and laughter, added another dimension to the family picture. His reaction to the mess left by Furina, oscillating between severity and underlying affection, reflected his deep concern for your well-being. His ability to scold Furina without raising his voice, while reminding her of the importance of your rest, demonstrated a delicate balance between authority and tenderness. To you, this was undeniable proof that Neuvillette would be an exceptional father to your child.

6. During your pregnancy, you showed worrying symptoms of depression. With Neuvillette often absent during the day and sometimes even all night, he only became aware of your condition belatedly, when he found you in tears in the kitchen. Crouched against the cupboards, overwhelmed by deep sadness, you didn't immediately notice his return.

The sight of your distress deeply affected Neuvillette, who at first thought you'd been the victim of an assault by a local seeking revenge after being tried for his crimes by the Supreme Judge. However, he soon realized that your emotional state was largely influenced by pregnancy hormones, exacerbated by the fact that you were carrying a half-human, half-dragon child.

With a heavy heart in the face of your grief, Neuvillette has vowed to stay by your side as much as possible, adjusting his schedule to be more present by your side. He has taken steps to ensure that he can spend weekends with you, actively engaging in preparations to welcome the baby into your life. "Don't cry anymore mon amour. From now on, I'll stay by your side."

7. As night fell, it became customary for you and Neuvillette to embrace tenderly on the living-room sofa. Positioned comfortably across his legs, with one of his arms warmly embracing you, Neuvillette would take pleasure in reading aloud to you one of those sentimental novels you so cherished. Neuvillette's soft, melodious voice enveloped you in a feeling of well-being, as you gently brushed your rounded belly, lulled by the sound of his reading.

Each time you dozed off against him, he cherished these moments deeply, placing kisses on your face as he whispered sweet nothings to you. Releasing his hand from the weight of the book she was holding, he gently slid it over you until it rested gently on your rounded belly. His tender, loving gestures, as he touched your skin, seemed to awaken a response in his child, who pressed himself against your belly, as if to draw closer to the warmth of his father...

8. The last few weeks of your pregnancy proved to be particularly trying, forcing you to spend most of your time in bed, suffering from intense back pain that made any movement painful. Aware of your condition, Neuvillette chose to take a few days off work to stay by your side, ensuring your well-being and safety.

The approach of childbirth was causing him growing anxiety. The idea of a human giving birth to the child of a sovereign dragon was unprecedented, and the absence of any references or testimonials to such a situation fueled his fears about the potential risks to you and the baby. This fear, which became almost palpable as the days passed, plunged him into a state of nervousness he had never experienced before.

Neuvillette had considered going to Natlan, hoping to find information or help to assist you during the birth. However, the idea of leaving you alone for several weeks was unbearable.

9. Neuvillette, faced with the unknown of this extraordinary situation, was overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. Deep inside him, a tenacious hope persisted, that fate would preserve you and the child from any misfortune. The very idea of losing you, of seeing you torn from him too soon, was unbearable. With each passing day, he watched over you with redoubled attention, doing everything in his power to ensure your comfort and safety, while trying to conceal his own fears so as not to add to your stress.

As you waited, every shared moment took on priceless value, every smile, every tender gesture turned into a treasure trove of memories to cherish.

10. Your delivery turned out to be an ordeal of an intensity and complexity you'd never imagined, your cries and tears breaking your husband's heart. The pain and loss of blood plunged you into a state of vulnerability you'd never experienced before, causing you to lose consciousness on several occasions.

"It's going to be okay , mon amour, you're strong and brave. You'll make it. Just a little more effort and our child will soon be here with us."

Despite the fear and anxiety, Neuvillette's presence by your side was an unwavering pillar of support. His hand clasping yours, he enveloped you in his love and encouragement, his voice soft and reassuring.

The intervention of Baizhu, Liyue's doctor recommended by the traveler, was crucial. Thanks to his expertise and professionalism, he managed the complications with remarkable efficiency. Neuvillette, using his hydro authority, played an equally vital role, treating life-threatening wounds and using his powers to stabilize your condition. The synergy of their efforts was the determining factor in your survival in this bitter struggle.

The birth of your child, despite the circumstances, marked a moment of pure happiness and relief. When you heard his first cries, a sense of peace and fulfillment came over you, allowing you to finally surrender to rest, your exhausted mind and body taking refuge in sleep.

11. Neuvillette had delicately placed your child beside you, gently brushing your sweat-dampened hair, while his free hand gently enveloped his baby in a peaceful sleep. His gaze was lost in the infinite tenderness he felt for you, a wave of happiness and pride emanating from his whole being. How could he ever make the whole universe understand the beauty he saw in you? The fullness he felt watching you and his child, so serenely asleep under his protection? How could he articulate the immense joy of this deeply human experience of being part of a family? He, the sovereign hydro dragon, was discovering a new and profound humanity, all thanks to... Thanks to your presence in his life.

Somewhere in your dreams, you could hear the gentle sound of a purr...

12. Neuvillette will embody the figure of a father with an exceptionally gentle approach to education. Firm only when necessary, his child will be just like him. With a calm, collected and sometimes distant temperament, the child will learn the essential lessons of dragon heritage from his father. This transmission will be carried out with subtlety and wisdom, enabling the child to understand not only the value, but also the responsibility of his ancestry.

NSFW bonus:

The moment Neuvillette crossed the threshold of the house, returning from a grueling day at court, he found you fast asleep on the sofa, a soft light illuminating the room and a book resting carelessly on your belly, which was getting rounder by the day. He immediately realized that you'd been up most of the night waiting for him to return. Heaving a weary sigh, he shed his coat, gloves and scarf, then carefully placed your book on the table before lifting you gently into his arms. However, the mere touch of your husband, his warmth, his breath, his presence, was enough to awaken your senses. Blinking against his chest, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips as your gaze met his, imbued with a gentleness and warmth that contrasted so sharply with the man he was when you first met him.

"Ah, there you are at last, my dragon..." A tender smile lit up his face, as he adjusted your position so you could throw your arms around his neck, your lips seeking his in a burst of love.

"I asked you not to wait up for me. You need to rest... Why are humans so stubborn?" Your laughter, light and joyful, invited him to silence as you placed another kiss on his lips, which he received happily.

This one was deeper, more languorous. You needed him. Now... The absence of your dragon weighed so heavily on you that it aroused extravagant thoughts. Neuvillette could feel it... Your growing excitement knotting your belly and moistening that secret place between your thighs...

A rumble vibrated Neuvillette's chest as he deposited you on your bed, lips still linked, tongues struggling against each other for dominance. Your husband's instincts were stronger than anything, and since his companion wanted him so much, then he'd give her anything she wanted...

Who'd have thought it? Beneath this cool, aloof facade lay a passionate lover, expert in the art of thrilling the senses. Neuvillette loved to prepare you for him, burying his face tenderly between your thighs, his tongue fervently caressing your most intimate parts, while your fingers lost themselves with delight in his hair, leading you to heights of voluptuousness.

Dragons, creatures whose mating rituals were rare and dictated solely by the heat cycles of their females, contrasted sharply with humans when it came to sexuality. This discrepancy had initially confused Neuvillette, who couldn't understand why his physical reaction was so spontaneous at the sight of you. Besides, the fact that you were already pregnant should, in theory, have tempered his ardor during this period, shouldn't it? Why, then, did his desire for you intensify at the sight of your round belly? Your condition triggered a deep instinctive response in him...

To demand you. To make you his, even if you were already carrying his offspring...

His ardent thoughts set him ablaze, making him more passionate. He wanted nothing more than to melt into you, claiming your body as his own. His tongue worked you ardently as his fingers explored your innermost recesses, seeking to make you shiver with pleasure. Your moans were a song to his ears, the sound of his name, his true name, slipping between your exquisite lips.

Her eager mouth seized your quivering clitoris, savoring it with exquisite sensuality, while her deft fingers guided you to ecstasy. Your pregnancy amplified your sensitivity, allowing your beloved to lead you with infinite tenderness to the gates of rapture. His phalanges guided you to the end of your orgasm, his mouth tenderly kissing the bulge of your belly. When he brushed his lips against your skin, it was with a gentleness and affection that contrasted with the real urges driving him.

"Darling, I need you... Please..."

Neuvillette, his heart pounding, took a deep breath to calm the ardors that consumed him, eager not to harm you or your child, even if this one was an unborn dragon.

With infinite gentleness, his hand lovingly caressed your body, his lips tracing a tender path from your belly to your breasts, which he covered with kisses and delicate sucks before moving up to your neck and finally your lips. His kiss, at first filled with tenderness, gradually became hot with passion. His teeth nibbled delicately at your bottom lip, begging for more, and when your mouth opened to offer him what he desired, his tongue tasted you with fervor, as if you were the most delicious food in this world.

When he finally unites with you, he takes great pleasure in contemplating you in your entirety. Although your state of pregnancy forces him to deviate from the postures he loves, he knows how to find ways of satisfying his devouring thirst for you. Often, with his back arched in a throbbing motion, he will watch with rapt attention the undulations of your body as his hips fall delicately against yours, eagerly taking in the soft moans that enchant his sensitive hearing. His silver hair cascaded gracefully over you, sublimating the beauty of your beloved dragon. They allowed you to tenderly draw him to you, once again uniting your lips in a passionate kiss.

Neuvillette, moved by a passionate ardor, didn't stay attached to your lips for long, the rhythm of his hips intensifying as your orgasm approached. It was so easy to read you, he thought, as your expressive features and burning moans betrayed the intoxication that overwhelmed you. With a movement tinged with lust, Neuvillette grabbed your thighs and wrapped them greedily around his hips, before rising with a confident gesture, his palms ardently kneading your plump buttocks to give your bodies a more sustained rhythm. His member, coiled deep inside you, caressed that special place that made you lose all composure... He was right: your pregnant state made you undeniably more receptive to his ardors, and certainly more inclined to claim his.

As your orgasm gripped you, your walls fervently embracing his fiery member buried inside you, a guttural growl erupted from Neuvillette's chest. Mating with a dragon could be brutal, and Neuvillette had to do everything in his power not to be overwhelmed. Without your pregnancy, he would have given in to his deepest impulses, sinking his teeth into the delicacy of your neck, his pelvis jerking wildly against yours in search of his climax. But he knew how to curb these impulses, contracting his jaw to better contain his desire, until it poured into you in a guttural roar.

Neuvillette was rarely satisfied with a single turn, and your embraces often dragged on until sleep overtook you. When exhaustion drove you into unconsciousness, Neuvillette would tenderly cleanse you, kissing your bruised flesh while murmuring words of apology to you and the being growing inside your womb. He'd allow himself time to admire you, his fingers grazing the soft nakedness of your body nestled against his. And as his hand caressed the surface of your abdomen, a light tap struck against his palm, tugging a smile from the supreme judge's lips.

"As stubborn as his mother..."

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette smut #genshin diluc #genshin smut #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff

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futurewdclandonorris · 1 year ago

Text

Friends Don't | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: you go out to celebrate George's home race win, not even imagining what the night will bring

Warnings: smut, drunk driving, unprotected sex

A/N: you will maybe have to necessarily read part 1 and part 2 hehe. For the sake of the plot, we'll pretend some things already happened. I've spent the whole week writing this and only got it to all click together from the third attempt. Third time's a charm, right? But at least had a blast while editing, which is a rarity. I actually enjoy writing these 'chapters' and building this world sm <3

Sundays were a day for rest and relaxation. A day for sitting down with a good book and a cup of coffee. A day for cuddling up with a loved one and watching a movie. A day for taking some time for yourself; a day to reflect and recharge.

That was, of course, unless your best friend was George Russell. And that your Sundays didn't consist of spending most weekends a year at different race tracks around the world. Not all of them, but you tried to be there for him at least once or twice a month, as much as the opportunity allowed.

That afternoon, George took the checkered flag in Silverstone in P1 and now you were in your room, preparing for tonight's celebration. The victory party was going to be wild, and you knew it. You had seen how George celebrated previous wins, and tonight was going to be no different. Especially because it was his home race.

You took a deep breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. You had dressed to impress, wearing a sparkly blue dress that fit you perfectly. Finishing your look with a pair of strappy heels and a silver necklace, you couldn't help but think about how previous events with George brought you even closer together.

Your friendship kind of became more... intimate. No pun intended. Guess you were both afraid not to lose each other over the past experiences, and that deepened your bond whether either of you wanted to admit or not. Now your only fear was that your closeness wouldn't tear you apart.

A soft knock pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned around to see George standing at the door with a sheepish grin on his face. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his hair tousled in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and husky. "Ready to party?"

Never before have you paid any mind to the nicknames he called you, but now a thrill ran down your spine. The way he looked at you made you feel like the only person in the world.

"I am," you said, smiling at him.

As you stepped out of the door, George took your hand in his and led you to the car waiting outside. The drive to the club was short, but the anticipation was high. The party was in full swing when you arrived; loud music, flashing lights, and the smell of alcohol filled the air.

George led you to the VIP section where his friends and family were already celebrating. You saw his siblings and a few of his close racing buddies. You could hear their loud cheering as they saw George walk in with you and feel the envious glares of the other women in the room.

George handed you a glass of champagne and raised his own in a toast. "To the best damn team in the world," he said, looking at you and his friends.

Everyone cheered and clinked their glasses together. You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, feeling it go down smoothly. The night was young, and the energy in the room was electric.

The party kept going on as the night deepened, and the noise of the songs blasted through the room. Glasses were filled up with drinks constantly, making it more of an effort to ignore the effects of the booze. You found yourself on the dance floor, surrounded by George and his friends. The bass of the music throbbed in your chest, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm.

Throughout the night, each person had a chance to take their turn with you on the dance floor, and eventually you were spinning around in George's arms. The heat of the club mixed with the buzz of the alcohol made your skin flush against his. You could feel his muscles flexing as he twirled you around, his hand firmly holding onto yours. The closer you danced, the more the tension between you grew.

For a moment, you forgot where you were and who was watching. You moved on him like it was just the two of you in the world, your hands moving over his body like never before, and hips swaying in perfect synchronicity. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath on your neck, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. You felt yourself getting lost in him, and something stirred inside you.

And it seemed like George caught up on your odd behavior as the song faded away. He grabbed your arm and started leading you away from the dance floor until you reached a quiet corner. But your drunken mind wasn't understanding his intentions.

You threw yourself onto him and he had to secure your hips with his hands to stop you from slipping. You let out a hazy chuckle as you started grinding against him once more before he pushed you back against the wall.

"Stop it, that's not why I brought you here."

But you didn't listen. You pulled yourself even closer, letting your lips brush against his neck. "Then why did you bring me here?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, your breath tickling his skin. "The drinks have gone to your head. I brought you here to take a break and cool off a little." he avoided telling you that you were drunk and not acting like yourself, afraid to provoke any unnecessary argument between you two.

Still, you weren't paying any attention. You were too inebriated to realize that your behavior was a little out of character, and you certainly weren't considering the consequences of your actions. You clasped your hands around his shoulders and pressed yourself against him again.

George tried to keep a respectable distance between you, pushing his hip backwards as you pushed yours forward, fighting the urge to get too close. That got you into an interesting position; you were leaning against the wall in between his arms with your shoulders as he leaned into you with his upper body. Your hand naughtily ran down his side, poking him. You knew you probably shouldn't touch him, but you couldn't stop yourself. His muscles strained as he let out a shaky breath.

"You're getting awfully close to me," he murmured, unable to bring himself to look you in the eye. His fingers slowly slid from their grip on the wall.

"Then don't push me away," you said back.

His face was just inches away now, and your lips unconsciously moved closer. The atmosphere between you two was thick with anticipation, a feeling that you currently relished in. Your lips were only a breath away from his when he spoke.

"We can't." his eyes locked with yours.

"Why?" you asked breathily.

"Because we're best friends." his voice was barely a whisper.

He hoped the reason he gave you would remind you of everything you asked from him that first time. But he didn't tell you that he feared you'd regret it when you sobered up, and that it would be his fault for not stopping it.

"And?" in the state that you were, did he really think that would stop you? He couldn't have been more wrong. You wanted to push him to feel something. Anything. "Best friends can do a lot of things." you smirked.

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still on yours. "No, they can't." he gritted, shaking his head.

"You're right." you said, the alcohol clouding your judgment. "They can't do this." and your hips finally met his.

He swallowed hard, trying to stay level headed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in desperation, his hands pressed flat on the wall behind you, trying their best not to touch you as they dangerously started slipping down.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under your palms as you glided them down his torso. "Remember how you said you can read my body language?"

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding his head.

"What is it telling you now?" you whispered against his lips.

"It's telling me we're going to be in big trouble if you don't stop this," he replied. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"Then don't fight it. Show me." you murmured.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours. Your arms snaked around his neck and fingers twined through the hair at its nape, pulling him closer. You couldn't believe that you had done all those other things, but never kissed. And when ultimately his mouth closed on yours, it was like finally locating the elusive jigsaw piece on a seemingly ordinary Tuesday while tidying up your home that you thought had been lost forever. It made you almost not want to kiss anyone else ever again — almost, because deep down you knew you shouldn't have been doing this in the first place.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his head tilted to get a better angle. The kiss was soft, tentative, like both of you were very aware of what might happen. You pressed your mouth against his more firmly, tasting him. Parting your lips slightly, you felt the silky wetness of his tongue on yours. You bit his lower lip, letting out a deep moan when he groaned in response, hands that were in his hair tugging on the strands slightly. He groaned into your mouth again, pulling you even closer against him. You had no idea how long you were kissing, but it was definitely not enough.

The kiss broke, and you leaned your face against his neck, panting heavily. He glanced down at you, his lips so close to yours that if you had merely lifted your head, they'd be touching again. The warmth emanating from your body made him want to do things he knew he shouldn’t. He placed his forehead against yours, trying desperately to get control of himself.

"We should get back." he said between breaths. Your head was spinning from the alcohol and his scent and the magical kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were no longer kissing him. You opened your eyes and met with him.

"We should, before they realize we're missing." you nodded. He frowned, but his eyes were smiling. He was relieved, but he was also worried for you and what tomorrow might bring when you sobered up.

"Lets go," he said, turning around, but kept an arm around your waist so as to not let you get lost. You looped one arm around his neck, holding onto his shoulder, and gently hit his other shoulder with your head.

The night was still young and the party was still going. Music was playing, people were dancing, and laughter filled the room. Your friends cheered when they saw you two come in together, but neither of you paid any attention to them; all that mattered was that you were here, with him. Guys grabbed drinks for the both of you from different parts of the room and put it in your hands.

You found a spot on the couch and George sat next to you, his arm around your waist protectively. The conversations flowed easily between you two, and soon enough you both forgot what had happened earlier as you joined the rest of the group in drinking, singing along with music and laughing.

He later found you on the dance floor swaying around completely out of rhythm with a drink in your hand. Your face lit up when you saw him.

"There you are, my champion." you leaned into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

"I won the race, not the championship.” he chuckled.

“Mm, don’t care. To me you are the champion.” you slurred, pouting.

“Hey, is everything alright?" he asked, supporting you.

"Mmhmm." you mumbled. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." you could hear the frown on his face. "You're drunk." he spat as he attempted to take away the half empty glass from your grasp.

"I'm not." you said, feeling yourself lose your balance a little as you swayed back and forth. He put his arm around you to help you balance.

"Yes, you are. I should've taken you home the first time around." he sighed, somehow not surprised you managed to get even drunker. You were both intoxicated for that matter, it's just that George knew how to hold his liquor. And he looked to never go over his limit in case something like this happened.

"No." you tried to pull away from him.

"I'm taking you home." he tightened his grip around you, leading you out of the party. You mumbled something in response, not quite sure what you were saying.

He helped you into his car and buckled your seat belt for you, before getting in himself. He drove slowly, carefully navigating the roads while you were almost passed out in his passenger seat. Every now and then he'd take a hand off the wheel to reach over and brush your hair away from your face or wipe away a stray tear from your cheek if one escaped your eye. As he turned into your street and parked the car, your eyes fluttered open.

"Um, could you walk me to the door?" you asked.

"I was planning on it," he said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Both of your arms wrapped around his left one, holding on for support, as he walked you to your apartment. Your little nap helped clear the haze from your head, but you were still tipsy. When you reached the entrance of your flat, you propped yourself against the door and blinked up at him.

"Do you want to come inside?" inviting your best friend into your home have never before seemed more dangerous and George should've known better than to say yes.

"Do you want anything to drink?" you asked to break an awkward silence that fell among you the moment he shut the door.

Before even waiting for his answer, you made your way towards the kitchen, but he extended his arm and grabbed your waist, preventing you from moving further.

"I think we both had enough to drink tonight," he said.

"Then what do you want to do?" you whispered.

"I want to claim my prize." he must have had a few more drinks than usual at the club to summon up the courage for that sentiment.

You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the alcohol still fogging your mind but not enough to miss the implication of his words. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. His hand still rested on your waist, his fingers tracing small circles over the fabric of your dress.

"Is that what I am, a prize?"

"No, no." he said quickly, his eyes softening. "You're so much more than that, you know that." his hand cupped the side of your face. "When I saw you looking up at me on the podium today, I realized I couldn't have done it without you. You were the one who had been cheering me on from the sidelines all this time. You've been there for me when no one else was." he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You've been my lucky charm all these years and I want to show you how much you mean to me."

The way he was looking at you made your chest heave with a mixture of emotions. You were both under the influence, and you knew this was not the best time to make decisions, but you couldn't resist him. You leaned in and attached your lips together again, only this time with more passion, more desire. You could feel his hands running through your hair as he kissed you back, his tongue playing with yours, his body pressing against yours.

He pulled away, looking at you with a hunger you had never seen before. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to say anything. His lips crashed onto yours, hungrily claiming your mouth as his own. Your body responded to his touch, your hands roaming over his chest and tangling in his hair. He lifted you up, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

He laid you down gently on the mattress, his eyes never leaving yours. Climbing on top of you, his lips trailed kisses down your neck and collarbone. You moaned softly, your hands gripping tightly onto his muscular back. He pulled his lips away from you, looking into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

You nodded, reaching up and pulling him back down. He gently kissed you again and you responded in kind, but he pulled away again.

"I'll stop if you tell me to." he whispered. "I don't want to do this unless you want to."

"I want to." you murmured. The alcohol may have distorted your judgment, but it surely helped your courage.

"Are you sure?" he asked a third time. You laughed softly, trying to push him off. He had you pinned to the mattress, still pressing you down.

"Yes, I'm sure." you said, no longer laughing.

That was all he needed to hear. He kissed you hard, his fingers lightly tracing over the fabric of your dress. He ran his hands underneath, gently resting them on your ribs, and pulled your dress upwards. You lifted your hands above your head, freeing him of the task of removing your dress as you squiggled out of it and freed yourself from the restriction that was your dress.

He kissed you again, letting his hands run over your bare skin. His lips kissed down your throat and chest, his hands undoing your bra. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, taking in the sight of you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said. You blushed, and he smiled. His lips traveled down your leg, gently caressing the outside of your thigh. "But I'm a little jealous, you know?" his lips traveled back up, his tongue tracing over the slope of your breast and hands kneading them softly. "You got to taste me, and I..."

He kissed his way down your body, his hands going over every inch of exposed skin, reminding you how skillfully he handled you that very first time. He reached your inner thigh and slid his hand underneath your underwear. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt his fingers brush against you before a long finger slid inside you. You moaned loudly, spreading your legs apart for him. He smiled against your neck, his teeth taking in your skin, his tongue leaving a trail of fire behind.

His finger slowly moved inside you, circling you before sliding in and out. His hand pulled your underwear down, you kicking them off to the side. His mouth moved down your figure, hovering over your breasts. He teased you for a moment, blowing against your nipples before drawing the tip of his tongue over one. He did the same with the other, his fingers never ceasing to move. His kisses continued further down, over your stomach until they reached your mound.

"Can I?" he asked, peeking at you.

"Please..." you tried to hide the shake in your voice.

His tongue slid between your lips, gently licking you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. He teased you, his tongue circling your clit before sliding inside you. His tongue flicked over your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart. You spread your legs even wider, your body arching up to him. He leaned in, gently sucking on your clit and you moaned loudly, his tongue moving faster. You cried out in pleasure, your hips bucking against his face.

You were nearing your end, your moans growing louder with every movement of his tongue. You could feel his lips smile against your skin, enjoying the sounds you were making. You cried out, your body tensing as you came, shaking against him. He pulled away, slowly kissing his way up to the top again. He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, not hurrying you up as you sucked in his bottom lip, squeezing out your own juices.

"Taking that trophy is the second best thing that has ever happened to me." he whispered. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, your hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "The first, of course, being you. You're my greatest reward." he continued as you trailed kisses down his neck, removing the shirt off his shoulders.

"Stop talking, George."

"Sorry," he whispered as he closed his eyes, surrendering above you.

You kissed his chest, your nails raking up and down his sides, feeling his muscles tense. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and could sense the urgency in his touch. His hardness pressed against you, begging to be liberated. You pulled away from him, reaching for his belt buckle and his eyes shot open, hands reaching for yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again. He knew if you go any further there would be no going back and some irreversible things would be done.

"Are you sure?" you asked back, smiling mischievously. "I thought this is what you wanted." your nail dangerously circled around his lower abdomen, causing his breath to hitch with every word he spoke.

"I-I do. I'm just making sure you're not doing it just because I want it." you could tell he was really struggling to hold himself back.

"I think we've already established that..." you whispered against his lips and prompted your body more to his.

"Okay," his hand moved away from yours, and you undid his belt.

His pants fell around his feet and he kicked them off. His boxers were the last thing left, and you reached for them, slowly pulling them down. His hand held the back of your head as he kissed you, his tongue twirling around yours. You moved to pull away but he held on tighter.

His boxers hit the floor and you looked up at him, his hands resting on your frame. Gently taking your hand, he placed it on his dick. You gasped, feeling it grow even more underneath your touch. He pulled away, his lips planting kisses down your neck as his hand guided yours up and down his length. You felt him shiver as you grazed the tip with your nails, his breath hitching. He removed his hand, and your eyes shot open when you felt his tip brush against your entrance.

He teased you, running it up and down your slit. You threw your head back in pleasure, your back arching against him. The more he prolonged what you needed the most, the more your neediness grew. You tried to guide him inside you but he resisted, placing a finger on your lips instead. He dragged it over them before he made you suck on it, his eyes never leaving your face as he blew a stream of air out. Your eyes widened when you felt his head brush against you again, making you gasp audibly, his name falling from your lips.

"Please," you remembered what he told you the first time he had you in his arms like this. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..." you chanted over and over again.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Hearing you beg for him made his head spin again. It was like you'd put him under a spell every time you'd utter that word and he'd not be able to deny you anything. Not that he ever wanted.

He slowly pushed inside of you, stopping at every inch to wait for you to adjust. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, your breath hitching as he began to move again. He kissed you, your nails digging into his back as he stretched you more. He was so gentle, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. This was not the normal rough, lustful sex. This was the man who loved the sight of you, the sounds of your pleasure. This was the man who wanted to make love to you, to show you what true pleasure was.

Your fingers sank into his back again, and he responded by thrusting into you harder, your moans getting louder. His lips traveled down your chest, his tongue flicking a nipple as he pushed into you again.

"Oh, god." you moaned, George's name falling from your mouth repeatedly. Your hands dug into the sheets as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"You feel so good... so damn good," he kissed your skin. "Making me feel like I don't ever want to take anybody else again."

"Don't stop, please, whatever it is that you're doing, please, just don't stop." you cried, twining your legs around him to press him deeper.

He moaned in pleasure when you did, his hands tightening their grip around you. His breathing grew heavier and faster, your bodies reacting to each other. He was so close, and he could feel you held right on the edge.

You cried out his name, your form shuddering under him. He had no intention of stopping, and he continued his movements as you kept shaking, your voice loud enough to wake up the whole apartment complex.

"You, George, only you…" you whispered into his ear as you were coming down.

You felt his whole build shake, his cock pulsing inside of you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to hear him as he climaxed. You wanted to hear the sounds he made, the sweetest song in the world.

"George… George…" you panted, your breathing coming out in jagged breaths.

He cursed, as his body trembled with pleasure. His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer as he came. You buried your face in his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. He kissed you, holding you close to him. He wanted to stay inside you forever, to feel the sight of your face as he pleased you. You did that to him. You were the one making him see another reality where only he and you existed.

But he pulled away, your eyes searching for his as you slowly came back to reality. He kissed you again, his lips landing on yours.

"That was amazing… you were amazing…" he whispered, stroking your face gently.

"So were you." you said back, playing with the bangs that fell over his forehead.

He rested his head on your chest, finding a comfortable spot, your hands moving into his hair.

"Are you going to stay?" you whispered, uncertain.

"Only if you want me to."

"Always."

He hugged you tightly and rolled over so that you were now on top of him. His fingers softly ran along your back as your body let go and fully relaxed. The peaceful sound of your heartbeats and his breath seemed to take over the room. You drew near to him, feeling the up and down movements of his chest gently rock you to sleep, matters of your friendship left for tomorrow's morning news.

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bahablastplz · 5 months ago

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All in | Chapter 1

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

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“Jungwon, stop,” you cry out. This wasn’t the first time that things had gotten rough with your boyfriend, especially as of late, but something about his gaze this time in particular, eyes narrowed and looking at you with intensity causes a pit to form in the bottom of your stomach.

His silence is eerie. Your boyfriend, when you had started dating him, was an exemplary gentleman. He was warm, charming, and polite, and you could go on for hours listing all of the traits that attracted you to him. He seemed like the picture-perfect boyfriend–he was chivalrous, he bought you flowers, and he seemed strong-willed and determined. He was also the leader of a powerful mafia clan.

Of course, you didn’t know this when you had started dating him. When he first told you, you were incredibly surprised, as well as a little bit scared. He assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of, that nothing would change, and that you would be incredibly safe with him. He had such a way with words that immediately persuaded you he was telling you the truth. This was your boyfriend, after all. Yang Jungwon, that you have come to know and love.

Should you have run that very first opportunity he had given you? You think back to the night he sat you down at his desk. For a second, you remember giggling and telling him that you felt more like you were at a doctor’s appointment than in your boyfriend’s office, and he had just given you a sweet smile before he proceeded. “Have you ever heard of ENHA?” he had asked you. Of course you had. At that point, everybody in the city had known about ENHA and SKZ, the two notorious and rival mafia groups that had control over the city. Though you didn’t know much about them, you had certainly heard of them. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’m the leader of ENHA. I want to lay all my cards out on the table for you, here and now. This is your chance–your out. If you want to leave, you can walk out that door right now and I will never contact you again.”

Two months. That’s how much time you had dedicated to your relationship with Jungwon before you found out the truth about him. You know your sister would have laughed in your face. She had told you from the very beginning that it wasn’t meant to be, that you were making a mistake with this one, but you had brushed her off. She had never liked your romantic pursuits, so what made this one any different? You didn’t listen to her. You didn’t walk out the door, and you made the decision to stay in your relationship with Jungwon. You wish you had; all of those traits that you had once admired in Jungwon had since become the downfall of your relationship. His overprotectiveness and desire for you to rely on him had caused you to become overdependent on him–and out of a job that you were actually incredibly passionate about. By the time you noticed that he was becoming more abusive, you relied on him for housing and income, and you had no way of contacting your sister even if you had wanted to. He had forced you to cut ties.

That’s how you got here, really. You were too far in. While once you imagined spending your entire life with him, now you dreamed of a life free of him. Your boyfriend, Yang Jungwon, was a walking contradiction. He had a warm exterior to most, a bright smile that charmed his way through any conversation; on the inside, he’s an indifferent, cold and murderous machine.

This is especially apparent to you now. His stoic expression contrasts scarily with the harsh words he spews at you. The intent in his eyes that bore into your skull tell you all you need to know. You’re on his shit list.

“Stop,” you repeat again, louder and with more force behind your words. You’re slotted right between his legs, no method of escape, pushed up against the brick wall outside of one of the many clubs owned by ENHA. Though the wall is scraping against your skin, it’s also bitter cold, a welcome contrast from the heat escaping your body.

You look rough. You know that you do without having to look in a mirror. Somewhere in the whole ordeal you had lost your shoes, and your mascara is currently running down your face in long wet clumps. Your hair is matted from where he had grabbed it, dragging you out of the club and caring less about your appearance. Your dress has more than one rip in it from when you had fallen onto the concrete, and your fingernails are steeped in blood from when you had tried to claw away. Thankfully, the ringing in your ears provides enough adrenaline to dull some of the pain you’re experiencing. They don’t ring enough to block out his words, though.

“You’re going to come into my club and act like some whore who doesn’t know who she belongs to? What the fuck were you thinking, getting into a bar fight at my club? People are going to think I don’t know how to control what belongs to me. Fuck, you’re unbelievable, Y/N. You make me sick to my stomach, I can’t even stand to look at you,” he says as he pushes you harder into the wall. Your skin scratches harder against the brick, leaving red bloody marks behind from the contact. Your breath hitches–Jungwon has never been this violent or demeaning to you before. His expression is blank, as if he has no remorse for what he’s doing, and that scares you even more. This wasn’t like anything you had seen in your boyfriend–this is a snap. Like a shelf that holds much more than it can carry, piling more and more on it until it starts to concave and the wood splinters in the middle, Jungwon has decided that he is not going to carry your burden anymore.

The first time he hit you, he had pushed you and shoved you around like a cold and calculating machine, no thought or purpose behind his actions. Minutes later, it was as if life had come back into his eyes. He got onto his knees and sobbed, repented for his actions and begged for your forgiveness. He reminded you of the fact that you were the only one who could ever love someone like him; nobody would be kind enough to let a mafia boss into their hearts and love them with all they had like you did. You’re all he has, he would remind you, you have to forgive him. He would get you the best medical treatment available, you would forgive him and it would be like it never happened. Until the next time, and the next.

Now, given the circumstances, you’re not sure you can defend him. Not with the way he’s speaking to you like you’re less than scum, worthless and indecent to be around. You feel belittled and small. To be the direct target of his rage, though there’s a reason for it this time, makes bile rise up in your throat, threatening to spill out. You’re beginning to see why your boyfriend isn’t to be messed with and why he’s considered one of the most dangerous men in the country. To add to it, he had been drinking and the stress of the other mafia group closing in on them was adding unwanted pressure. You were also a little bit intoxicated, which is probably what gave you the bravery to do what you had.

You were intentionally trying to rile him up. It was an innocent mistake, but you had the goal of making him a little bit jealous tonight. You were hoping things would take a different turn, after all. Your friend had told you about the time she flirted with another man in front of her boyfriend to get a rise out of him and it had worked, and he had taken her to the car and fucked the life out of her on the spot. She insisted it was the best sex she ever had.

You really should have known better; your relationship isn’t normal and you will never experience things the same way your friends do. But, you had tried it out. You started flirting with a stranger at the bar, just some light conversation and casual touches to the shoulder. At one point you had caught Jungwon’s eyes and mistook his dark gaze for jealousy, not rage, which fueled your desire to continue.

You had dragged the stranger out to the dance floor, and he was more than eager to go with you. He was much too touchy, sliding his hands up and down your hips and grinding his body into yours. That’s when his girlfriend was added to the mix–absolutely trashed, angry, and ready to start a fight she wasn’t going to win. You caused a scene, shouting expletives right back at her. You won, easily. But not before a hand was embedded in your hair and you were face to face with your very angry boyfriend. It seems like all it took was for one incident to completely change everything.

You’re scared. Empty words rise from your throat to defend yourself, to plead with him and try to change his mind, but a hand snakes around and cuts you off.

“Don’t bother coming back, bitch,” he spits. “You’re lucky if I keep you alive.” His hand tightens around your neck, leaving your vision to darken. Your hands come up around his, trying to yank his hand away to relieve some of the pressure to no avail. Your legs start to flail and kick in a last ditch effort of disparity.

“Please, Wonnie,” you choke out. He repeats your words back to you, mocking. Your hands are hitting at his and you’re gasping for breath, hot tears streaming down your face.

“Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You should’ve fucking known better! You brought unwanted attention to yourself. You deserve to be taught a lesson for acting like such a fucking slut in my club. I bet you would’ve let him fuck you too, right?” You try to shake your head, wanting to deny and explain yourself when he suddenly lets go of you. You fall to the ground, your bodyweight now completely unsupported by him.

You look up at him for a second, large doe eyes blinking away tears. He stares right back at you. One second passes by before you plant your feet into the ground, breaking into a rub. Your bare feet scrape against the concrete and you turn the corner, ready to shout but no sound comes out of your throat. Just as you make it two long strides, his lightning fast reflexes have already caught up to you. Jungwon grabs your wrist and squeezes it tight, and you feel a sharp pain along with the popping sound it creates.

With the momentum he has, he slings you to the ground. Your face meets concrete and you feel warm, wet liquid on your skin. You blink and blink to realize that your vision has gone completely dark. You’re hit, again and again, but at some point you don’t hear his words anymore. You feel like you could throw up. You wonder if you do when you feel your stomach contract around nothing. Hit after hit and wound after wound, eventually you stop registering it.

Deep down, you try to comfort yourself. He doesn’t mean it. He’ll take you back, and once he sobers up he will realize that he fucked up majorly. He’ll cry and grovel and really apologize, promising to change his ways. Sunoo will patch you up and stitch over the wounds that need it the most, just as he has before. You’ll laugh about the situation in retrospect, cry about it some, but ultimately end up in Jungwon’s bed. Where else would you even go? You have no money, no job, no way of contacting anybody, so surely, surely, he’ll accept you back. You crack a smile at the thought and wonder if you’ll have to beg him to take you back or if he’ll take you into his arms himself.

You’re not sure how long you’re on the concrete for. When you lift your head you hear a loud, pulsing sound, accompanied by a sharp pain that encourages you to put your head back down. You do, comforted knowing that Jungwon will come back, he will come back, he will come back.

Two sets of footsteps find your way to your field of view. They’re blurry, and for a second you think, those don’t look like Jungwon’s shoes, and you begin to hear muffled voices. The ringing in your ears is so loud, but their voices are louder too. Why are they speaking so loud? Are they really yelling or is it just this splitting headache? God, you don’t know, but as you open your mouth to speak and the voices get louder, it stops. Everything stops.

You have finally lost consciousness.

You recognize the sensation of being in a car, and you even smell cologne. It’s unfamiliar. You don’t fight to keep your eyes open, instead succumbing to the murmur of voices and warmth of the car that contrasts from the shockingly cold concrete, and let yourself drift off into sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you wake up, you’re propped haphazardly against a wall. Your eyes crack open, and notice a well-furnished office, complete with leather chairs and a desk that was probably hand-crafted and expensive. You’re alone in the room, and your eyes flicker to the windows, the door, and then to your beaten and bruised frame. If you looked rough before, you certainly look awful now, and you feel even worse than you look. You are definitely sobered-up now, though, enough to realize that you are not at home, and definitely not at the ENHA base.

Three figures enter the room, and you wonder if you should react or if you’re even in any imminent danger. You close your eyes again, wondering if you can get away with pretending to be asleep so you can feel out the situation.

“Hyunjin, check her pulse,” you hear. Warm breath is on yours in an instance, and you fight your heart to stop beating as fast as it is. Two fingertips press against your neck, cold yet firm.

“Good morning,” the voice whispers against your frame, loud enough for only you to hear. You don’t react outwardly, but your heart beats just a little bit faster. Is this man going to tell him that you’re awake?

“She’s fine,” the man says. “Her pulse is stronger than before. She’s lost a lot of blood but she’ll be okay.” The man’s presence leaves yours, and you rely on just your hearing to tell that he is back on the other side of the room quicker than your heartbeat. “So, what’s your angle here? I know you’re not keen on helping beaten and bloody women in alleyways too often, so I’m sure there’s some sort of play here.”

“Yang Jungwon’s girlfriend. Or, I suppose you can say ex-girlfriend, if she’s smart” a man says..

“Are you insane? You’re just trying to get on his nerves!” says the man that checked your pulse, Hyunjin.

“I suppose you could say that. Binnie and I found her about a mile from the ENHA base, beaten practically within an inch of her life. If we’re smart, I think we use her as leverage against him. We keep her, use her to piss him off. If we had the upper hand before, we definitely have it now,” he explains.

You try not to furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“You should have called me, for fucks sake! This was a major decision for you to make on our behalf and not consult me on. It’s my job.” Hyunjin is furious, evident from his rapid speech and loud tone, but he sounds professional nonetheless. “You don’t even know if he wants her back. She could be worth less than trash in his eyes, and that’s the best case scenario. He did beat her, after all. Worst case scenario? She could be bugged, or a spy! Did you think about that? Chan, this is unbelievable.” Your eyes shoot open instinctively, and you lurch forward, holding onto your stomach and fight yourself from hurling on the spot.

“Chan…” you rasp out. Your throat burns… You wonder if it was from Jungwon’s tight grasp or if you had been screaming without realizing it. Now you’ve realized the exact scenario that you’ve ended up in. Bang Christopher Chan is the leader of SKZ… the rival mafia gang. You had only heard rumors about the man since being involved with Jungwon, but they’re enough that you’re shaking involuntarily. You know he’s dangerous, and you find yourself wishing you paid more attention to mafia politics to really get a sense of what you’re getting yourself into. Chan is the one that brought you here, and now you’re defenseless, vulnerable, and in his territory.

“Easy there,” a voice calls. A stranger approaches you and puts a hefty hand on your shoulder; when you meet his gaze, you immediately flinch. The man is very well-built with broad shoulders and large biceps that counteract his shorter frame. A black compression shirt hugs his skin, showing off his muscles. You don’t know anything about the man but everything about him screams bodyguard.

Your eyes meet the man sitting in the leather chair at the desk, Bang Chan. You can tell just by the way he carries himself that he is an important man and he knows it. His gaze is intense but he smirks at you as if he’s amused. He is also fairly muscular, wearing all black but dressed nicer than the stocky bodyguard. His hair is dark brown and falls neatly around his face, parted down the middle with strands falling loosely around his ears. He is attractive like a magnet, you realize, when you know you should be experiencing repulsion.

You realize everybody is watching your every move, and you feel pressured to say something, to perform, even.

“Hey,” you say, and it comes out weaker and raspier than you would have hoped. Chan’s mouth lifts into a smile. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure.”

You rack your mind for the right words to say. “Are you… going to kill me?”

He lets out a hefty laugh, one that makes you feel stupid. You feel like it was a valid question, but let out a nervous chuckle at his response.

“If you give me a reason to. But we don’t want that, right sweetheart?” You nod in agreement, face turning red at the demeaning lilt to his words. The man finally rises from his chair and is in front of you in just two long steps. He crouches down but still towers above you, leaving you feeling even more defenseless and intimidated. His hand reaches to stroke a strand of hair behind your ear, and his thumb reaches to lift up your chin and meet his gaze. You want to look anywhere but, but you’re even more scared of the consequences. Your eyes meet, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. His expression is now devoid of any emotion, and he is dead serious.

“You almost died,” he says. He tells you this as casually as one would talk about the weather. “Jungwon almost killed you. You would have died on that sidewalk if we didn’t find you and administer emergency medicinal treatment.” His fingers tighten around your jaw, keeping your gaze locked onto his, as if to say, ‘I am the most important person and you will listen to me when I am talking to you.’

“He wouldn’t… It was an accident. He was really drunk, and I–” You’re cut off when his fingers trail lower, reaching your throat. Your breath hitches, unsure of what he’s going to do and you feel terror overwhelm you from what you know the man has the capacity to do to you. Two fingers prod at your throat, poking at what is most definitely a very nasty bruise. You cry out, hands reaching to soothe the spot that he had just touched.

“You don’t really believe that, do you? If so, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He stands, leaving your mouth agape. “You should look at yourself. You’re in really bad shape. We were able to stop some of your bleeding from that nasty head injury you got yourself, but damn. Do you even know how long you were out for? It’s been at least half a day.”

Half a day? You gawk at the man and say nothing. The other two men have decided to stay silent for the conversation, doing not much more than observing your sorry state. You decide you don’t want to speak much more on the subject, and change the topic instead. “What do you want with me?” you swallow.

“You’re going to stay here, at the SKZ base while you recover. I’m sure you heard, but you’re going to help us get the ENHA situation under control. You’re leverage.”

“You’re keeping me? So I can’t leave? Please,” you start to plead. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious,” Chan replies. “It’s not like you really want to go back, right? If you get beaten like this again, there’s probably not going to be anybody to save you. You might die,” he blinks.

“It’s not going to happen again,” you all but spit out. You decide it’s time to test your body and stand up, and though your bones and muscles ache, you manage to get onto your two feet. “It was one time, a mistake. I’m sorry, but you’re out of line, and I would really like to get back home.”

“Out of line?” Chan challenges.

“I’m sorry to say this, Y/N, but I don’t think Chan is out of line,” Hyunjin speaks. You finally get a chance to look at the man. His dark hair frames his face, resting just past his chin. At first glance he appears more delicate than the other two men, but his muscles are apparent the longer you stare at the fitted t-shirt he sports. He’s very pretty, a statement usually not used to describe someone in his profession. He has very full lips and a perfectly chiseled and angular jawline, sharp nose and long, feminine eyelashes. As he steps forward, he continues on his tangent. “Not only that, but this isn’t the first time Jungwon has hurt you, is it?”

Your breath hitches as you find the words to defend yourself. You’re cut off by the man who is very adamant about what he is about to say.

“Your record shows that you have been in the hospital two times in the last year. Are you trying to tell us that a concussion and broken wrist are just coincidences?” You stay silent as the man’s eyes scan up and down your frame. You wonder how he knows so much, as someone that was arguing minutes ago about how your presence was a mistake. He’s done his research on you for sure, and you realize it’s probably his job to know everything about everyone. That’s probably why he was arguing with Chan about not consulting him. You try not to think about what else he knows.

“If you stay here, we can guarantee your safety. We don’t even know if Jungwon has plans to try to take you back, but if he does, we are sure that this will be the safest place for you. We know you don’t have a job or a place to stay out there, but here you’ll have a room and necessities. And you will be benefiting us as we get the chance to get a rise out of their group, and the opportunity to use this advantage to put them in their place.” Chan seems sure in his decision, and you find something reassuring about the firmness in his tone and his ability to make quick decisions, knowing that his leadership abilities are one of the reasons why SKZ is the top mafia group in the country, ENHA’s rival. You step forward and wobble, and strong arms steady your frame.

“Okay,” you whisper. The decision feels wrong, like a betrayal, but you still feel dizzy and unsure, so you decide to put your safety first.

“You still need some rest. We can escort you to your new room and give you some time to patch yourself up, shower, and get a change of clothes. We definitely suggest tending to your wounds,” Chan says.

“My room? Are you sure this is okay?” The bodyguard wraps an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean on his dependable and sturdy build, and you let yourself do so.

“More than sure. Make yourself at home. You’ll be here a while.” Chan says. He finally returns to his desk and sits in his chair, hands intertwining with one another as if he’s deep in thought. “Changbin will show you the way. Don’t do anything stupid, and you and I will have a talk later tonight. Look forward to it, sweetheart. Hyunjin, call the others for a meeting. You’re dismissed.”

And with that, you and Changbin, the aforementioned bodyguard, are left to find the way to your room. You stumble but he is strong, and with his arms around you the walk to your room is not a struggle. He does stay eerily silent, which you welcome so that you can think. You arrive at your room and thank him, stepping into the space and shutting the door behind you.

The room is not huge but it’s comfortable. It’s definitely larger than any room you’ve ever lived in before, and it’s nice to finally have your own space seeing as you previously shared a room with Jungwon. The room is obviously set up to be a guest bedroom, with cream colored walls and a large bed in its center adorned with a white quilt and decorative pillows. It’s simple but you’ll certainly make-do. You look around and notice a large rattan wardrobe stocked with a variety of clothes in different styles and sizes. Some of the fabric looks like it’s large enough to swallow you while others would just barely fit. You hum, content, and pick out a clean outfit that suits your comfort levels, even if it's not the prettiest. On your way to the bathroom you're surprised to notice a small vanity, stocked with makeup. You realize this guest room is probably for guests of SKZ, maybe their family members if any of them had any that would come to visit, hence the women’s clothing. Either way, the makeup will come in handy later to cover your bruises when you need to.

And on that note, you finally allow yourself to look in the mirror, and you gasp.

You have never seen your hair so matted and disheveled, and your head is stained in your blood. A bandage covers the top left of your head, and you uncover it to observe a nasty scar that had been treated with some kind of ointment. In addition, your bottom lip is busted, and you are adorned with all sorts of scrapes and scars and bruises all over your body. Your throat is covered in nasty dark hues of purple and blue that are sure to only get worse. Your wrist had received the same treatment, sporting some nasty bruises, and you recall when it had made a noise that resembled a pop yesterday. You roll the joint, testing the waters, and groan out in pain. At best, it’s sprained. You try not to think about it, and finally get into the shower, noting the first aid kit on the counter.

The water feels nice on your skin, though it stings most of your scrapes and wounds. You welcome it nonetheless. You allow yourself a moment to cry, letting your tears mix in with the shower stream, wondering if this is the only chance you’ll be able to show how vulnerable you are. You don’t know much about SKZ and their men, and you’re sure you should tidy yourself up and do your best to pretend you’re strong, showing no weakness. When you comb through your hair you decide that’s just what you’ll do. You already look more presentable than before when you step out of the shower, as you have rid yourself of the blood, sweat, dirt and grime that littered your skin. And as you step into the new clothes you had found for yourself, you really do feel much better. You take the time to sanitize some of your worse wounds, paying special attention to your head that met the concrete last night. You cover yourself with bandages and decide to spend some of your time putting on makeup. It’s the only way to cover the bruises, you decide, and you won’t let any new members that haven’t seen your sorry-state know that you’re here because you were beaten and weak. If any one of them notices your vulnerability, there’s no telling that they won’t prey on it. So after about an hour, your skin looks close to its normal self again thanks to your expertise in color correction under your layers of foundation and concealer. You smile at your handiwork – if you weren’t looking for the bruises and scrapes, you certainly wouldn’t be able to find it. Even your makeup-covered throat and wrist, which had gotten the worst of it all, really look fine.

You leave your room at last, and it has been some hours since your previous meeting with Bang Chan and the others. You roll your shoulders back and make your way around the house. The intention here isn’t snooping, you tell yourself, but you desperately need to find food. You don’t have to look too hard, as you stumble into the kitchen.

You make direct eye contact with two men that you haven’t seen before. Their eyes flicker to you and their conversation stills, and you know you’ve interrupted them.

You’re going to be here a while, right? You suppose it’s time to introduce yourself.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: it's hereee (for real this time)! so excited to share this with you and what is to come! (if you saw me post this the other day by accident no you didn't) <3

taglist: @shuporanporang @purp13st4r @eurydiceofterabithia @heartsbyandra @thicccurls @rylea08 @the-sweetest-rose @oddracha @kapelover @goldenmellow

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hywonuka · 13 days ago

Text

every step that i take is another mistake to you | jww (intro)

Sypnosis: It's another night out for Wonwoo, except for the small dare he has been given: to win Y/N's heart in 4 months. Could he, a lame virgin who has no idea of how to talk to women, be able to fulfill the dare?

Pairing: college!wonwoo x college!fem!reader

Genre: college au, falling for a bet or dare trope, fluff, angst, smut

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of virgin wonwoo, they are all dickheads except for minghao, wonwoo is a huge loser

Word count: 623 words

A/N: hiii :) i intend to make this a series (thats why i wrote fluff, angst and smut on genres even if in the intro there is none of it)!! its my first time posting any of my english works, so i hope yall like it!! wrote this mainly cuz i had the urge to read something of this trope with ww but found nothing lmao. as i go on with the different chapters, ill write the respective warnings :3

intro | chapter 1

"No way you are asking me to do that", Wonwoo said, as he took a sip of his drink, looking at Vernon with his eyes wide open. They were at a bar, with some other of their friends, chatting and laughing until Vernon dropped the bomb.

"Yes way, or what, you don’t have the guts??" Mingyu chimed in, laughing at his friend's reaction. Hoshi looked at Wonwoo, who was still stunned at his friend’s dare.

It wasn’t weird that they would dare each other to do random stuff. In fact, it was kinda the most charming part of their hangouts, which the whole group enjoyed and laughed at. It wasn’t weird either that, as they kept drinking, the dare would turn more… interesting. But, what was weird, was that Vernon, out of everyone sat at that table, would dare Wonwoo to do that.

"Y-you seriously want me to court Y/N?", the one with glasses asked, slightly tipsy at that point, but still sober enough to comprehend his dare. "Like, h-how?"

Vernon, who is clearly drunk, and even at the verge of falling of his chair, laughed at the desperation of his friend. "I don’t know, that’s up to you!! I'm not the one that got dared".

"C’mon Wonwoo, it can’t be that bad", Mingyu says, patting his friend’s back, trying to reassure him in some sort of way. They all knew this would be actually hard for Wonwoo, but somehow makes everything more entertaining.

"Worst thing that can happen is that you finally get to touch a boob", as Vernon said that, he immediately got smacked by Minghao, who was clearly against the idea of that dare. "Hey, I’m about to fall!”

“Deserved. That dare is degrading, not only to Wonwoo but Y/N. Have you even thought of how she would feel if Wonwoo goes along with this dare?" The whole table went silent at Minghao's words, knowing he was right.

"It’s not like he is gonna pull her Hao, be honest”. Wonwoo looked at Vernon offended, but deep down he knew the drunk one was right.

“Yeah, like if a 22 year old virgin who is a huge nerd can pull Y/N", Hoshi suddenly said, immediately looking at Wonwoo. "No offence, just… stating the facts”

Minghao was at the edge of punching his friends. How could they be so stupid? The lack of emotional intelligence in men was something that truly made him mad, specially coming from his friends.

“Anyways, are you in Wonwoo?" All eyes were on him, and he knew it. He could sense the gazes of all his friends, expecting his answer. He couldn’t say no, could he? After all, if he said no, he would indirectly accepting the fact that he couldn’t pull Y/N, and that would hurt his pride, even if he knew it would be impossible for him to fulfill the dare.

"What do i get if I win?"

“100$ and me being your servant for a week”

Wonwoo looked at Vernon, reconsidering his words. "And if I don’t?”

“I’ll choose your outfits for a week”

The one with glasses looked at his friend, terrified. He wasn’t scared of Vernon’s fashion choices (even if he should), but mostly at the fact that Vernon could pick a pair of boxers and say that’s an outfit. And trust him, he knows Vernon is capable of it.

“How much time do i have?”

“4 months”

After a couple of minutes of silence, that felt like an eternity for everyone sat down at that table, Wonwoo spoke up. “Cool, I’m in”

Everyone in the table, except for Minghao, cheered the dare, and ordered a new round of drinks. Meanwhile, Minghao could only shake his head, completely disgusted to the situation.

“This is gonna end so badly…”

A/N: aaah, tysm for reading!! if you wanna be added to the taglist pls tell me!! ill try to update the next chapter asap :3

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #college au #falling for a bet or dare trope #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo is such a loser god i love him #kpop

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theealbatross · 5 months ago

Text

marry me (s.s.)

Plot | The 3 times Sebastian thought about marrying you and the 1 time he asked.

Tags | miscommunication, mentions of murder and poisonings, fluff, implied smut, dangerous idiots in love, fluff, 6k-ish words

A/N: sorry this took so long i went on a vacation! One of the funniest line about Ominis locking the two of them up was written by @/shinzhon in our discord server!

Series Masterlist - the rest of the chapters here

“Seriously Sebastian, how many times has it been this month?”

“It’s not my fault this time, I swear!”

“So, you slipped and somehow ended up in the Restricted Section? Is there some secret passage I hadn’t known about? Care to share to the class?” Ominis pinned him with a look and despite knowing his friend was blind Sebastian still raised his hands in surrender. Ominis sighed, there was no point really. When he had agreed to be friends with the troublesome boy in their first year he had signed up for this. It’s his fault for not seeing the mischievousness in those innocent brown eyes.

“I’m surprised,” Ominis continued as he started the trek back to their common room, the painful small talks he had with the headmaster in order to prevent anything getting sent to Solomon already fading as he got further away from the office. He could only imagine the absolute hell the old man would’ve sent their way if he had heard of his rendezvous in the Restricted Section. “It just isn’t like you.”

Sebastian scoffed, “To be in the Restricted Section? Where have you been the past year?”

“No, you idiot,” he hissed. “It isn’t like you to be caught.”

The falter in Sebastian’s steps had him raising an eyebrow, neck snapping back in accusation. “I’ve been caught once,” Sebastian reminded him quickly of the time Scribner first put the anti-Alohamora charm in the doors of the Restricted Section.

"I'm not finished," He’s hiding something. “It isn’t like you to be caught twice.”

He stopped on his track at the sound of Sebastian’s wince. “Okay, don’t be mad –”

“Oh no.”

“The new fifth-year needed some help to get in the restricted section because – well, I actually can’t tell you, she made me swear – and it’s bigger than the both of us and it was going so well! But Peeves caught just as we were about to –”

“Honestly, Sebastian, enough!”

He didn’t need to hear any of this.

Sebastian was right. Whatever great big mess that new kid was in the middle of was bigger than the both of them. And he has had more than enough on his plate trying to keep his friend out of trouble without the additional presence of another mysterious adrenaline junkie being thrown in the mix – one who was worryingly a magnet for big trouble. It was no wonder Sebastian was transfixed; he was looking at the damn mirror.

“Whatever fascination you have with that girl ends now,” It doesn’t escape him how much he sounded like a father getting in-between two lovers. He would’ve laughed in incredulity at the current situation he had found himself in if he wasn’t so bloody frustrated. “You get in enough trouble on your own, she doesn’t need to be sucking you up in her own problems.”

Sebastian makes a sound that doesn’t sound like a ‘yes, Ominis’ and the blond’s blood vessels nearly pop. He cannot believe this.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that. Honestly, she was brilliant! You should’ve been there; she took to the Disillusionment spell so quick that if we hadn’t let out guard down, we –”

“Oh, Merlin’s Beard, why don’t you marry the damn girl and the both of you leave me out of your tomfooleries!”

That would be ideal, he thinks. In a perfect world, he’s going to lock the two of them in a room and eat the key. There he would have no daily nuisances, won’t have to worry about sneaky Slytherins and the explosion of troubles they bring with them, and won’t need to suffer through Headmaster Black’s presence to get them out of it. A thankless job that brought nothing but headaches.

It was only when he was out of his blissful reverie that he realized his headache had stopped walking behind him seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

No.

“Sebastian … “

The other boy audibly flinched, his breath now irregular, and Ominis will bet all the galleons in the Gaunt’s vault that if he could see his old friend’s face would be as red as a Gryffindor’s arse right now.

He could almost cry, his palms producing embarrassing cold sweats at the absolute worst-case scenario unfolding in front of his unseeing eyes. “Please – I am begging you – not this one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh no, no, no.

Suddenly, the prospect of Sebastian and this troublemaker getting together was not that idyllic. In quick successions, all possible worst-case scenario popped in Ominis head. Sebastian was bad enough, if he had someone who was equally as reckless and rash as him it would be something out of his worst nightmare.

Ominis is a good person. This can’t be happening to him.

“Sebastian, listen to me –”

With only a breeze as his answer Sebastian skipped right past Ominis and up the grand staircase. Ominis could feel the heat of his face. “No time to talk. Got somewhere to be –”

“Sebastian, no!”

Why must it keep happening to him?

Sebastian was pretty sure the house in Feldcroft has not heard Anne’s laughter in a long, long time. Yet, here you were, huddled together with his sister, whispering giggle-worthy stories about him no doubt by the way your gaze kept fluttering back to him, and lifting the dreadful ooze that has monopolized the small space since his sister’s illness.

“Nice girl,” He had nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized his uncle had been sitting on the spare bed hidden by a curtain.

“Y-Yeah,” Merlin’s beard you even got his unpleasant uncle’s favor in such a short time – a miracle worker, truly. “She’s … quite something.”

Talking to him has always been awkward.

Even before Anne had gotten sick, he found it difficult to converse with the man who looked too much but was simultaneously nothing like his gentle, kind father. And maybe it was also the childish insistence that if he had let the man into his heart, he would betray his parents – his father – that he just couldn’t let him in. It would feel too much like replacing him so he just opted in letting Solomon linger at the precipice of his life and the man was more than happy to do so.

After all, if Solomon was nothing like his father, Sebastian was everything that reminded Solomon of his dead brother. And those were holes none of them could fill for each other.

“You know, your mother was the same,” Sebastian’s eyebrows raised, never hearing Solomon talk about her till now. “When she was a 7th year I was just starting in Hogwarts and let me tell you, I had little hope for that brother of mine of ever getting her attention.”

His uncle continued to stare at you like he was seeing a ghost – the good kind – not the kind he sees when he looks at him. “She was brilliant, loved by even the firmest professors. And was always willing to hold out a helping hand, even to lost first years whose ass of a brother left to go fend for himself in the confusing moving stairs of Hogwarts.”

Even Sebastian let out a chuckle at that ridiculous image. Sometimes he forgets that even his old uncle had once been a child. The thought is uncomfortable, especially looking at the man he is now. “I always told him he was out of his mind for courting your mother but did my crazy brother listen? Absolutely not.”

Where was he going with this?

Sebastian returned his eyes back to you.

Brilliant, admirable, courageous you.

With your bright smile that feeds his ego by always shining brighter with him. The recklessness that never fails to infuriate and impress on his last nerves. The kindness you innately had in you that makes him want to wrap you up in the finest silk then lock you up in an impenetrable room so nobody else may ever touch it – so nobody else may have you.

That would be best, he thinks.

“It would seem even that insanity he had passed on to you.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths so all his blood doesn’t go to his face, unable to look at the older man. “It’s not like that,” he cleared his throat, now unable to look at you. “We’re … friends.”

“A good … companionship is built upon friendship,” Sebastian’s head whipped to this uncle as if to say ‘how would you know?’ but his uncle just grunted, shrugging before standing up to busy himself in the kitchen, calling you out to assist and telling Anne to take her medicine.

A good companionship. He knows it’s a bit too early but the thought of it wasn’t as horrifying as he thought it would be. The budding interest he had in his new friend was pushed and shoved into the deepest nook of his brain – he had more pressing things to tend to, one that was more important than discerning why he could recognize the sound of her laughter in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall.

But if he really thinks about it, takes a moment to breathe and considers it … it would be nice. She’s had research interest but with her grades and skill being a renowned curse-breaker or even an auror isn’t out of the question. If he works hard, he knows he’d be able to keep up and support her and Anne – maybe even set up an apartment in the city, they can just visit his sister when they have the chance.

Of course,he will try to encourage her to settle back down in Feldcroft if Anne still lives here but Irondale is quite beautiful too, a good place to practice flying when they have a family, let his children experience a true childhood surrounded by peace and quiet – two kids would be nice. Twins run in the family so maybe he could convince her for another one if their first pair are of the same gender. He would really like a daughter who looks just like --

“I like her.”

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian jumped when he realized his twin sister was now right in front of him while he was deep in his embarrassing delusions. (When did the members of his family become so sneaky?) She grinned at him as if she knew exactly what had him so distracted. To avoid her piercing stare, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders as he guided her in the little nook of her bedroom where all the vials full of her medicines were stored.

“I knew you would. ‘s why I brought her here.”

“Oh?” Anne nonchalantly drank a disgusting-looking fluid in one gulp. “So, it wasn’t cause you wanted to monopolize her and get ahead of your competition back at Hogwarts?”

Sebastian gawked, his entire body heating up from the accusation. “What – no, it’s not – I thought she would cheer you up!”

He quickly took a quick peek at the corner, relieved that you were too busy charming his uncle off to hear such absurd allegations against him. He wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of him at all. After all, for how wondrous those visions are, he puts your friendship on a pedestal above anything else.

He thinks he’ll be more than content to be just your friend. Maybe.

“How gracious of you, brother,” Anne smirked, in this light it was almost like the old Anne.

Sebastian smirked at her, masking indifference, “I try.”

He should’ve known. Anne would be the one who might just see through all of him, even the things he likes to keep from his head. Even his most impossible dreams of cozy cottages and soft days.

“Sebastian!” The twins straightened up at your voice, both felt like they had been caught red-handed as you cheerfully rounded the corner. “Oh, was I interrupting –”

“No, not at all!” Anne pushed Sebastian firmly, making him stumble and catch himself just as he was about to crash into you. The proximity forces him to stare as your eyes crinkled when you smiled. He stops breathing.

You’ll look dazzling in white; he thinks.

“Your uncle told me your neighbor had some mint in their garden, said you could help me find it? It would go well with the juice.”

Sebastian’s eyes fell to your lips as you spoke before physically ripping his eyes out to look at your eyes, nodding, as his brain tried to keep up between his imagination and the reality of your face in front of his. You grinned, already walking towards the door. He lets out a breath, the faint traces of your perfume that he gave you wafting an enchanting trail that kept his gaze on your retreating back.

“Get on with it,” Anne pushed him again and this time he gave her his deadliest glare as he followed after you. “You can’t hide her in Feldcroft forever.”

“Zip it.”

Solomon stood next to Anne as they stared at the two sweethearts in their own worlds as they made an adventure out of the small trip. Anne couldn’t help but giggle when Sebastian tripped because he was too busy looking at you instead of the road.

“Are men always this stubborn and stupid?”

“No,” Solomon grumbled, heart aching fondly when in a blink he could almost see a different mirage of figures that were both familiar and strangers at the same time. “He’s just his father’s son.”

“It’s over.”

Sebastian turned his head, straying his eyes away from the night sky framed by the room’s glass ceiling to look at you. “It’s over.”

The two of you lay down on the floor of the room of requirement, sneaking away from the graduation party to spend the last moments of your life as a student in Hogwarts together. It wasn’t intentional, you had sneaked out for a proper goodbye to the sentient room and thanked it for everything it had provided for you but, like always, Sebastian had gotten ahold of your sneaking form before you could take two steps away from his side.

Sebastian can see that the inevitability of it all is making you emotional, a Hogwarts-shaped hole already forming in the crevices of your heart. The thought of no longer having this haven to escape the world's cruel realities makes him sigh.

“I’m terrified,” your whispered confession surprised him.

His gallant darling? Scared?

“What for?”

You smiled at him sheepishly. “It feels stupid but … I’m scared of things changing. I feel like that little girl again – 15 years old and alone in this great, big world I was thrust into.” Sebastian noticed a shudder crawl over your body. “And this time I won’t have a cheeky Slytherin lad to show me around.”

Sebastian frowned, unsure if he was more disappointed at you for thinking you would lose him that easily or at himself for not nailing that the two of you were tethered forevermore in that bright head of yours.

Instead, he took your shaking hands that you tried to hide and held on to it tight.

You smiled up at him. “Promise to stay in touch?”

He could almost scoff at such an understatement of a request. Do you know I’m never letting you go?

“You’re not getting away from me that easily,” he grinned, hoping to charm the rest of your remnant fears away. “I expect weekly letters while I’m away from training.”

You scrunched your nose, which he thinks is just adorable “What? So you can brag to your fellow trainees you have a lovesick lady waiting for you at home?”

He laughed at that, eyes crinkling and heart racing, “Maybe I should keep a photo of you plastered on my wall then, really commit to the part. A pretty face like you on my walls should make me the envy of my entire group.”

Her laugh came out nervous, her grip on his hands tightened. She’s still scared.

If only he had been sorted in Gryffindor maybe then he would’ve been daring enough to say something. To fall to his knees in this room and let his forehead kiss the ground and beg you to stay with him, run away with him, marry him. To let him spend the rest of his lowly life making sure you will never be lonely again.

But the fates were cruel and for all his pretense of confidence, the gods’ honest truth is he is a coward. A coward with no prospects.

If he wants your hand he needs to prepare, to follow the plan he had mapped out since the night he had realized he would very much like to spend the rest of his life with you or die trying. He might not be worth anything for now but he’ll make himself enough. He just needs to hold on … just two more years – it’s all he asks.

Just two years for him to establish himself, to become someone, to earn the right to ask you. He knows it will be hard, you’ll be engrossed in your own research and won’t be able to see him as he trains to be an auror. And there was always a risk of you meeting someone else but he’s already made Poppy swear to report everything to him while she accompanies you in your travels, a contingency plan for any hurdle that may put a wrench in his plans.

If all of this fails then so be it, but he won’t lose you from a lack of planning or trying.

“Why are you looking at me like that?

He didn’t realize he was staring at you while his thoughts ran wild. The dark of your eyes reflected the ceilings you had charmed with the sky of the Forbidden Forest. The dim hue of the room made you look ethereal, like a forest fairy sent to lead him to a beautiful doom. He’d follow you anywhere.

Is it too soon to tell you I love you?

Is it too late?

“Have I ever told you that you’re the only one I need?” Sebastian suddenly whispered, vulnerable.

It’s the closest thing he’ll allow himself to say for now, placating the intensity of his need to be close to you by properly laying on his side and pressing a firm hand on your cheeks as you followed his lead, your own loosely dangling on his waist.

“Don’t you think Ominis will be quite offended by that?” you teased, your fingers tracing patterns on his spine.

He couldn’t help but match your grin, “He’ll live.”

“Sebastian,” your words quiet but he moved his hand at the back of your head to pull you in closer, muffling your following words on his chest. “Promise me nothing will change?”

Sebastian’s hold on you tensed, pressing the gentlest kiss at the top of your head to silence his protests.

No, he wants to scream. Everything has to change.

He’ll change everything for you.

“I promise,” he lies.

He’s no Gryffindor, after all.

[ 5 years later ]

“I almost fucking killed you!”

You rolled your eyes, which was a bad idea considering the curse that malfunctioned in Gringott’s brought upon a gaggle of Inferis along with a mutated one that grew about ten feet tall. Before it could lunge straight at your head, Sebastian – Merlin’s beard, he was still as handsome as the day you had left Hogwarts – pulled you into him before casting a Protego followed by a Confringo, blasting the undead’s arm away.

Still his favorite after all these years.

“What? You become a bigshot Auror and forget my face?!”

With an Incendio, the rest of the Inferis were now weakened enough that Sebastian was able to finish them all in one go (bloody hell!). Giving you time to gather yourself and lash out a heavy burst of ancient magic to take care of the giant Inferi once and for all.

You wobbled from the effort but firm hands and a chest caught you. When you looked up you were greeted by a cantankerous Sebastian covered in dust and dirt.

“As if I could see your face in those ridiculous glasses you’re wearing. Is that a lizard’s eye?”

You pulled on the offending thing, turning and standing on your tiptoes to put it on him, then he could see that it helps with seeing the traps laid out around the vault. “Satisfied your inquiries, Mr. Auror?”

He pushed the glasses to the top of his head, still looking down at you with a suspicious glare. Damn him and damn the entire male race for their inability to stop growing their limbs. “I should have you arrested. Illegally breaking into Gringots? What were you thinking?”

“Please, any curse-breaker you sent this way would’ve been eaten by that curse, I barely got out with my life if not for my ancient magic.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows twitched in the familiar way when he wasn’t particularly fond of you – which usually only happens when you throw yourself in danger … like today. Old habits die hard.

“I –”

“Save it,” he raised a palm. You sucked your lips into a thin line comically – it has been half a decade since you last saw him after all, you’re not entirely quite sure If this Sebastian in front of you would hesitate in throwing his prodigal best friend into the cold stone walls of a ministry ordained prison. “You owe me.”

Before he could, you fired off a blast of ancient magic behind him, crushing the lone Inferi that was bidding its time under a rock. You smirked. “Are we even now?”

“Not even fucking close,” His face was blank, unamused. Sebastian’s patience has never been the longest but this is one of the few times his ire was aimed at you, the novelty of it would make you blush if you weren’t so guilty. “Where have you been?”

This time it was your smile that fell, eyes dropping with it in shame. Straight to it, huh.

“Sebastian … I left a lett –“

“A letter! You call that a letter?!” He guffawed, turning his back on you and started pacing just at the ledge that led to a very, very, long fall to the bottom of Gringotts. Your fingers twitched to reach out for him but you had a feeling he wasn’t particularly interested in getting mothered right now as he spiraled out the words you’re sure he had surely been holding the past years. “My dearest friend, one who fights trolls for practice and is the most wanted woman of all dark wizards in the country disappears without a trace even when I spent an entire year searching for her –”

He looked for you?

“—but oh no! All is well Sebastian, she left you a bloody note!”

You felt like a reprimanded toddler but maybe (just maybe) you deserved it. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Something in your words snapped the last of Sebastian’s nerve. The gall of you – to stand here like it was nothing. The days he had spent tracking you, dreading the moment he would be greeted by your corpse.

How dare you leave? How dare you leave him? Of all the people in this world you were the one who was supposed to stay on his side.

‘I’ll be back. I promise. I just need time’

He marched to where you were standing, cupping both of your shoulders so you can look at him. “I will be given an explanation.”

Instead, your eyes fell on his left hand. He followed your line of sight, the gold band around his finger making all your cruelest nightmares come true.

How did it come to this? You scoured your memories of your entire friendship – how had the two of you come from being unable to keep a single secret from each other to strangers that have too many unspoken grievances in between them?

Was this inevitable?

Finally, you gathered your strength. He did deserve the truth from you of all people. And you could truly never keep a secret from Sebastian even now – which is also why you left. The shame, the unjustified anger, the hurt in your chest when you looked at him – you couldn’t handle it.

“I … I heard from Leander.”

His frown deepened. What does Leander have anything to do with this?

“I was going to visit you on the last weekend of your training. Then Leander caught me in town and he said … he said that after you had finished your auror training you were planning to propose, that you were already looking for a ring.”

He is going to kill that orange blabbermouth fuc –

“I couldn’t – surely, you couldn’t be that daft. I … I loved you, Sebastian! And I know I’m your friend and I should’ve been there for you. And I really am – I am happy for you,” you took his hand, your gentle touch shakily running through the gold band around his ring finger as you tried to hold back the tears. It felt like it was mocking you, like it could burn a mark on your skin. “If anyone deserves to build a family it would be you. I just … in that moment I couldn’t be happy for you. I needed to remove myself from the situation and I couldn’t say goodbye – you wouldn’t have let me! I panicked and I was hurt and … I really am sorry. I’m so sorry, Sebastian.”

As humiliating as it was to say all the hurt that you were carrying with you as you traveled the world to escape your love for him it did make you feel lighter. Were you a coward? Maybe so. But you will not shame your past self for what she did out of hurt and fear. It was painful but necessary.

It wasn’t until Sebastian was cupping your face and wiping your cheeks with his thumb that you realized you had been crying.

“Darling, who did you think the ring was for?”

You blinked, “What?”

You could tell he was trying to lengthen his patience with you, clearly as he was the more emotionally stable one at the moment even though it looked like he was at the precipice of choking you. "Have I ever told you that I was courting anyone?”

The conversation was taking a turn you weren't expecting. “N-No, but Leander and Everett used to keep teasing you about the Ministry girls that was always at your tail so I just assumed …”

He raised his eyebrows, holding onto your cheeks tighter so you had to look at him. For the first time in your entire friendship, you couldn’t read him at all. “I assumed you became interested in one of them.”

He sighed, “No, sweetheart. I did not become interested in any of them.”

You frowned, still feeling the cold ring on your cheek. “Then who did you marry?”

“I’m … not married.” This time it was him who seemed to blush, actually breaking eye contact to chuckle. When he looked back at you it was like you were getting a peek of the boyish Sebastian you once knew. “I would have been if the beautiful witch I had been chasing did not disappear on me right when I was about to propose.”

His words sunk into you like molasses, the wrinkle in between your eyebrows disappearing as your eyes widened in realization. Surely, he doesn’t mean –

“I just wore it since I would’ve been wearing it either way if someone had said yes. And it’s a more effective way to ward off any hopefuls. A little white lie to cover up my bruised heart and spare their egos”

“Wait, wait –“you tried to push him away but one of his arms just wrapped around your back, pushing your chest to his. He wasn’t going to let you get away this time, if he has to cast a binding spell on you without your knowledge then so be it.

The past five years had been torture enough.

“I guess it’s what I deserved. Letting the love of my life wait around just because my pride wanted me to earn the right to ask for her hand. The Hero of Hogwarts, the brightest witch of our age – surely, I couldn’t just ask her, could I?”

The abundance of information threatened to drown your head in. Pieces of the grand puzzle that never seemed to fit right clicking and clacking in your head as you slowly pieced together the blanks in the history of your relationship because you didn’t bother to ask and he didn’t bother to say anything.

He means you right? He was going to propose to you? The bloody ring you’ve been having nightmares about was for you?!

But he had never … I mean sure you flirted here and there but it was nothing … official. No words were ever shared, no announcements, nor formality.

It was all very … murky and ambiguous.

“Hey, back to me, darling,” he gently pressed his thumb that was still holding on to your cheek. “I swear even when we’re together it’s like you’re still running away.” As if suddenly lost in thought himself he murmured, “Should I charm a chain on you, after all?”

You blinked and the dark glint in his eyes that you had only seen in his darkest moments in your fifth year disappeared, now replaced with a small cheeky smile.

“Sebastian, the ring was it – surely it wasn’t –”

“For you?” He was so close now that you could count all the freckles in his face, his lips running through your cheeks, even pressing a kiss on your temple. “Then riddle me this, my love – if not for you then who else would it be for? Hmm? Who else would I be begging to be my wife if not my most treasured friend? The one person who stood beside me through it all?”

Another kiss on your cheeks. “The only light in my life?”

The underside of your jaw. “The beautiful witch who had rudely stolen my heart when we were children then had the nerve to run away with it just as I was able to gather all the courage I had to ask for hers in return?”

He moved both of his hands to wrap around your waist, pulling and pulling and pulling as if he wanted to meld the two of you together. “Who else but you? There was and would’ve been nobody else but you.”

A shadow of a kiss at the edge of your lips. “You’re the only woman I have ever loved.”

Your heart threatens to explode.

“And you’re the only one I will ever love,” he whispered, but the quiet of the caves of Gringotts made his voice echo inside your overheating skull.

You had been aware of Sebastian’s charms when you were younger but now that he was using his pretty face and raspy voice at its full extent while professing his love for you in the murky caves of Gringotts and pieces of Inferi corpses scattered on the ground – you could almost feel your brain malfunctioning.

“I had resigned myself to a life of isolation if you had never come back,” he declared. “But you did. Why?”

He was not going to accept anything less than the truth. The intensity behind his eyes, the grip he has around you was so firm you were almost hanging off the ground. The unbearable weight of your guilt for almost driving this man to insanity even if it had not been your intention had you letting go of your defenses.

“Because I missed you,” you admitted, eyes looking straight at him to finally bare your soul. “And I couldn’t find anything the world could offer that could compare to you. Even if we just remained friends I –”

His chuckle cut you off.

“We could never just be friends,” he whispered, you couldn’t agree more. “We were never just friends. Darling, I’m not a religious man but if soulmates are real then yours and mine have always been tied to each other. And if whatever god is up there was cruel enough not to have done that then I would’ve knotted it myself.”

You giggle through your tears – you had played out so many fantasies of Sebastian’s confessions and yet now that you were living your wildest dreams it felt like your heart was trying to escape your chest.

“If you hadn’t come back, it would’ve done nothing short of killing me, you have to know that,” a ragged breath escapes him as if the mere memory of your escape were enough to cause him physical pain. “Because I love you and I have always loved you even back when I didn’t know what love is. Even when love was a mere flutter in my chest every time I looked at you. Even when I was a fool in a path to destruction I … I have always, always loved you.”

You nodded, almost gasping at the intensity of his words. “I love you too, Sebastian. So much. I would’ve always come back. I couldn’t – I would’ve honestly poisoned your wife if you had married another.”

A laugh exploded out of his mouth at your sudden proclamation, echoing through the eerie corners of the caves. “And I had more than enough daydreams of torturing any lovers you might’ve taken in your travels.” The sickly-sweet tone that contrasted such horrid words had you giggling.

“Think we should stick to each other then?” You roped an arm around his neck, letting him carry your dead weight. “Spare some poor suckers from poisons and murders.”

He grinned, leaning in closer and closer, “You always had been the one with bright ideas.”

You smiled just as he finally pressed his lips into yours. Even your wildest dream couldn’t compare to this. Sebastian’s greedy grip on your waist, his familiar scent, his taste – him. It wasn’t perfect – a bit too rough, too needy yet somehow never enough – it was better, a perfect amalgamation of your entire relationship.

“Marry me,” he commanded in between kisses, too desperate to separate from you for more than a second. “Tell me you’ll have me.”

“You’re mine,” You gasp when he suddenly turned you around and pressed you on the jagged wall of the cave. “Always been mine.”

You’ve never not been mine.

Suddenly, Sebastian ended your kisses, a whine slipping out of your throat which he placated with a quick peck before he haphazardly pulled a necklace of some kind around his neck, snapping it to let the pendant fall into his palms.

Only it wasn’t a pendant. It was a ring. The ring.

“Oh my, Sebastian,” your vision blurs with tears as he gently takes your shaking hand, slipping the beautiful jewelry on your ring finger where it shall sit forever. “It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to marry you.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to your temple as you continued to admire the ring on your finger.

“You keep buttering me up like this and I’ll have to kidnap the first priest I see when we get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t object to that, we’ve never been one for propriety.”

“I can’t believe we had our first kiss in Gringott’s of all places,” he muttered, the vibration of his voice tickling your chest as he buries his face in it.

“That wasn’t my first kiss.”

That had his head snapping, eyes murderous at your words. "What?”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

“Huh.”

You nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact as he tries to scour through his memories.

“Remember our fight in the Room of Requirement? About the Triwizards game?”

He winced. “I’d rather not remember that.”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You settled back, knowing him well enough to know his mind was rapidly working through his memories to figure out the cryptic declaration you had confessed.

It had been frustrating when you had remembered such important event days after it happened. All it had taken was a faint whiff of Sebastian’s shampoo in your pillow in the room of requirement before you were shooting up in your bed at the memories trickling in your brain as you tried to figure out if it had been one of your more apparent daydreams only to scream when you had realized it had happened and the two of you completely forgot about it.

You had become wary of Sebastian then, staring and studying his face at any hint that he also had the luck of remembering such bold confessions from you. You aren’t sure if you were more relieved or disappointed when he showed no inkling of gaining the curse of such knowledge like you.

But at your sudden engagement to him, you believe you have suffered enough of such vexations alone. You are to be married after all which means the two of you shall share every burden from now on -- even the most embarrassing and frustrating ones.

Sebastian’s muscles locked, pushing himself up to cage you in bed as his frantic eyes widened.

You grin. He remembers.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way.”

He slumps back down in your chest, groaning. “Are you sure you're okay with marrying a bloody idiot?”

Your body shakes with laughter. “Lucky for you, idiots are just my type.”

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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theostrophywife · 3 months ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: sunroof by nicky youre.

🤍 author’s note: wake up babe summer theo just dropped.

Step 1 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Meet Cute — : A cute, charming, or amusing first encounter between romantic partners.

Every good story starts with a meet cute. Unfortunately for Theo and Y/N, their first encounter happened when they were still both in their mother’s wombs, but I won’t let that deter me. What better way to start off the summer holiday than getting rescued from a remote airport by your knight-in-shining armor with a fresh haircut and a recently acquired driver’s license? Side note: research the credibility of the Ufficio Motorizzazione Civile because whoever granted Theodore Nott a valid license is clearly bloody mental. Regardless, those two will be riding off into the Italian sunset in a brand new baby blue convertible and it’s all thanks to me.

First Year, Hogwarts Express

On the other side of the frosted glass window, the English countryside passed by in a dizzying blur as the rain painted the landscape in a dreary haze. The train left a trail of smoke and steam behind as it journeyed along, bringing you closer and closer to Hogwarts. You shifted in your seat, nearly sliding off the red leather cushion as you trained your eyes on the horizon.

By evening, you would arrive in the Scottish Highlands to begin your education at Hogwarts. When you got on the platform at King’s Cross, you thought that the worst of your anxiety would subside, but it only grew within you like a cresting wave. Being away from home for the first time in eleven years was intimidating enough, but now you had the sorting ceremony to fret over.

Your parents were convinced that you would be sorted into Slytherin as they had when they both attended Hogwarts. Up until now, you were fairly confident in this as well, but the minute you boarded the train, doubt started to rear its ugly head.

You had to be sorted into Slytherin. Not only because you’ve had the green and silver posters hanging in your room since birth, but also because you couldn’t imagine being in any other house.

Just then, the cabin door slid open and startled you out of your thoughts. Theo plopped down next to you and stretched his legs on your lap.

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “There’s two benches in this cabin, Teddy.”

Your best friend grinned, his messy brown hair falling over those moody watercolor eyes. “Yeah, but they’re not as comfy as you.”

His cheeks were rosy from running around the train, but yours were even more flushed in comparison. Theo always had that effect on you. “I found the others, by the way. They’re in Malfoy’s cabin eating their way through a mountain of sweets. Did you want to join them?”

You shook your head, looking out the window. “Maybe later.”

Theo swung his legs over the bench and faced you. “You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question. Theo knew you well enough to read your silence.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not to anyone but me,” he said reassuringly. “You haven’t stopped twisting your ring since we left London.”

You looked down at your right hand and surely enough, you caught yourself twisting the emerald ring on your middle finger. It was a nervous habit that you weren't even aware of until Theo pointed it out a few years ago.

That was the thing about your friendship. You spent so much time together that sometimes it felt like Theo was an extension of you. His mother used to say that the two of you were destined to be best friends, given the fact that she and your mum were closer to sisters than friends after forming a lifelong friendship during their time at school.

It was one of the main reasons why the sorting ceremony worried you so much. For your entire life, you had gotten used to doing everything with Theo. The two of you had been inseparable since birth. A part of you had always wondered if you and Teddy would be friends if it weren’t for your mothers.

“What if I don’t get sorted into Slytherin?” you asked in a small voice.

Theo leaned back and tugged at the end of your scarf. “Of course you’ll get sorted into Slytherin.” He smiled, curling his finger around the cashmere material. “Did you know that when we were born, our mums put us in matching green and silver booties? I didn’t endure all that humiliation just for you to back out now.”

“I’m serious, Teddy.” You shoved your hands into your pockets and stared at your shoes. “What if we get sorted into different houses? What if you meet your housemates and decide that you’d rather be friends with them than me?

Theo’s expression softened. “Hey,” he said, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. A stupid sorting hat won’t change that. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He paused, grinning. “Unless you end up in Gryffindor.”

You smacked his arm, trying and failing to fight the smile tugging at your lips. “That’s not funny, Teddy!”

He chuckled. “I’m just winding you up, fragolina.”

For an eleven year old, you suppose that calling a freckled redhead little strawberry was peak comedy. At least Theo seemed to think so.

“Speaking of which, are you sure you’re not a long lost Weasley? Then you’d really need to worry about Godric snatching you up.”

“You are an absolute menace, Theodore Nott.”

Theo grinned. “But would an absolute menace remember to buy you candy?”

He reached into his pocket and held his palm out to you. In his hand sat a familiar purple and gold box that held the best treat in the wizarding world.

“A chocolate frog,” you said with delight. “My favorite.”

“Got it from the trolley. I figured you could use a little cheering up. Though I might’ve accidentally sat on it.”

You giggled, holding up the slightly dented box. “Thanks for the chocolate blob, Teddy.”

Theo grinned. “Any time, Y/N.

Day One, Vallara Floo Station

The phone rang and rang and rang.

You looked around helplessly at the floo station, praying to whatever gods that were listening that Pansy would pick up. Much to your dismay, you were sent straight to voicemail. Again.

“Pansy Parkinson, you better be laid out on a yacht with hot Italian witches dangling grapes into your mouth because that’s the only acceptable reason for not picking up your bloody phone. I swear to Salazar, I think I just told a man that I’d love to pet his chicken. Theo’s never going to let me hear the end of this—”

At that moment, you became convinced that the heat of the Italian countryside had melted your brain because you could’ve sworn that you recognized the familiar laughter echoing from behind you.

“I’m offended, bella. All those years of friendship and yet you’ve never offered to pet my chicken.”

You nearly dropped your phone when you whirled around and came face to face with your best friend. The Italian sunshine had been good to Theo. He looked tanner than when you last saw him, bringing out the moles and freckles that painted his olive skin like constellations. Those piercing blue eyes crinkled when he smiled and the sight of it nearly swept you off your feet.

As if reading your mind, Theo enveloped you into a bone-crushing hug. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you like a comforting hug. The hem of your gingham sundress billowed as Theo twirled you in the air. You laughed in delight, not caring one bit that the two of you were making a scene in the middle of the floo station. You hadn’t seen your best friend in two months, which was nearly an eternity for you and Theo.

After graduation, Theo had headed down to the Italian countryside to spend the summer with his nonna. Usually, you would’ve joined him, but you were busy visiting family in New York. As fun as the States were, you missed home and you missed Theo — the two of which were synonymous in your mind.

“I missed you, fragolina,” Theo murmured into your hair. You grinned, squeezing him to convey your agreement.

“Missed you too, Teddy,” you said softly. Theo set you down, giving you the chance to fully examine him. He was wearing a white linen button down and cotton shorts, his usual attire to combat the summer heat. Handsome, but in an effortless sort of way.

You cocked your head, running your fingers over his chesnut waves, which were now tinged with gold, courtesy of his constant exposure to the sun. “You cut your hair.”

Theo nodded, running a hand through his cropped cut with a self-conscious expression. “I like it,” you said decidedly. “It looks good on you.”

Satisfaction coursed through you as Theo blushed, his cheeks tinged with pink. It reminded you of the very first time he ever wore his natural waves around you. It was sometime during second year when you both got drenched from the rain at the Black Lake. You ran your hands through his hair, smiling as you told him that you quite preferred his hair that way. Since then, Theo stopped gelling his hair.

“Big changes this summer,” Theo declared with a wink. Without hesitation, he gathered your suitcases and hauled them along like they weighed nothing. To him, they probably didn’t. You could’ve used his strength when you were struggling to lug your bags through customs. “Speaking of, I finally got my license.”

Your jaw dropped. Ever since your dad took the two of you out on a joyride in his beloved vintage Mercedes — Mercy, for short — Theo had become obsessed with learning how to drive. You had no interest in it, but your best friend was absolutely adamant. When he put his mind to something, Theo was quite unstoppable. He even managed to convince your dad to give him lessons. Not on his precious Mercy of course, but on the family car.

“I have no idea why you would want to ride around on a steel trap when there’s a perfectly good tube system at home,” you chided, swatting at your best friend’s arm as he rolled his eyes at your repeated lecture. “But I am proud of you, regardless.”

“Good, cause I’m about to take you on the joy ride of your life.”

You halted as Theo bounced past the entrance, walking right up to a very expensive looking vintage sports car. The baby blue top down sparkled in the sunlight and its chrome interior shined so spotlessly that you could see your reflection staring back at you. Theo gingerly arranged your suitcases in the backseat, careful not to disturb the delicate white leather seats.

“You did not,” you gaped in disbelief.

Theo only grinned. “I did, too.”

He rounded the hood and reached over to pull the door open. You turned back, hesitation written all over your face as you surveyed the car. Despite its vintage style, you knew that it would probably be fast. Too fast for your liking.

“No offense, but are you sure they didn’t make a mistake during your driving test? Maybe they meant to give the license to someone else.”

You were proud of Theo. Truly, you were. But you had been witness to one too many driving lessons where he accidentally ran over the curb or nearly flipped the car from how fast he turned. Needless to say, it didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Your best friend huffed in indignation. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent driver. Even my examiner said so.”

“She should probably get her vision checked, then,” you murmured under your breath.

“I heard that,” Theo stated with narrowed eyes. He ushered you along, herding you into the front seat. “Your lack of confidence in me is quite frankly appalling, fragolina.”

“It’s not that I’m not confident in you,” you explained as you buckled in. “I’m just not confident that you won’t abuse the poor, defenseless curbs of your homeland.”

“I promise you, I’ve gotten much better since my last lesson. Now sit back, relax, and feel the beautiful breeze of Italia against your skin.”

You did no such thing. You spent the first few minutes white-knuckling the seat cushions. Theo, on the other hand, whistled a happy little tune as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. To his credit, his driving seemed to have improved since the last time you witnessed him get behind the wheel. Enough for you to gradually release the chokehold you had on your seat.

“So, where’s our gracious host? Too busy sipping on limoncellos with pretty stregas to pick up her best friend from the station?”

Theo’s mouth quirked. “Close. She’s trying to keep Malfoy and Riddle from tearing up the villa. They had a little disagreement about the room assignments. Draco wanted the room facing the east side of the house, for an optimal view of the sunrise.” You snorted at Theo’s overexaggerated snooty impression of your blonde friend. “Of course as soon as he expressed this, Mattheo suddenly wanted it for the same reasons. Never mind that the twat rarely wakes up before noon.”

“Another lover’s quarrel,” you said rather sarcastically. “What’s new? Hopefully they kiss and make up before we get back.”

“They’re going to have to,” Theo stated as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not spending my summer holiday listening to those two twats fighting. I did enough of that at school.”

“How strange is it that we’ve graduated? I swear, it feels just like yesterday when we first got onto the Hogwarts Express. Now you’re driving me around the Italian coast and you haven’t hit a single curb. I wonder what other miraculous things the future has in store.”

Theo snorted. “It’s me and you against the world, bella.”

“The way it’s always been and the way it’ll always be.”

The road curved around a hill, providing you with a breathtaking view of the sunny skies and clear blue water glittering below. Despite your teasing, Theo was doing a great job of maneuvering through the narrow path. He was driving slow and steady, giving you enough confidence to lean against the door and peer at the wonders of Vallara.

Villas with colorful pastel roofs painted the hillside with pops of pinks, greens, and blues, broken up by patches of yellow from the lemon trees swaying in the breeze. The air smelled like sea salt and citrus, mixed in with other delicious smells wafting from the countless restaurants lining the market square. One of them in particular, La Dolce Vita, instantly caught your eye.

“Should we say hi to nonna?”

“She’s busy prepping for dinner back at the house. As soon as nonna heard that you were coming, she insisted on making everything herself.”

“She didn’t have to do that,” you said, smiling fondly in the direction of the restaurant. You adored Theo’s grandmother. She was a strong, loud, and vibrant woman that you’ve admired since you were a little girl. Not to mention, her cooking was to die for. “Although I would kill for her cannolis.”

“There’s a fresh batch waiting for you in the fridge.”

Your mouth watered at the thought. “I’m surprised she’s letting us use the villa. I thought we were banned after Mattheo set off those fireworks in fourth year. I’ve never seen nonna that mad.”

Theo chuckled at the reminder. Thanks to the fire fiasco, the villa had become off limits. Every visit after was to the townhouse in Rome, where she could keep a closer eye on all of you. As beautiful as the city was, you missed the countryside. Life was more peaceful out here — slow and sweet. You were determined to savor every moment before the reality of adult life hit you full force.

“Pansy can be quite persuasive,” Theo replied. “Plus, she promised to wring Mattheo’s neck herself if he tries to stir up any trouble.”

“It’s not a matter of if,” you corrected as Theo pulled up to the private road that led to his family’s villa. “It’s a matter of when.”

Your best friend hummed in approval as the car slowed to a stop. Theo parked his convertible on the driveway and killed the engine as you admired his ancestral home. The quaint country house sat proudly at the top of the hillside, its regal structure looming over the village below. The terracotta roof sloped over the towers jutting out on each side of the massive structure, the seafoam green walls wrapping around the side porch, the rounded arched windows, and the romantic balcony overlooking the blooming garden at the back of the villa. It was just as charming as you remembered.

“Home sweet home,” you murmured in awe.

The wonder of this place never grew old. Theo’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, hauling your luggage over his shoulder and leading you inside. The sunbaked walls greeted you like an old friend, the sea breeze filling the entire place with the scent of salt and citrus from the large open windows. The furniture was mismatched, but in an endearing way that somehow felt like it all belonged together.

You walked between the arched columns leading into the living room, which were bracketed with wooden banisters that overlooked the entire first floor. The further you ventured, the louder the noises echoed.

The sunny kitchen seemed to be the center of activity. You peered inside, smiling instantly when you saw the familiar figure hunched over the stove. Nonna whistled as she stirred the pot, the incredible smell of her cooking hitting you with a wave of nostalgia. Her happy tune was interrupted by the bouncing boy beside her and she tutted at Mattheo as he peered over her shoulder.

“Dio mio, did I not tell you to wait in the living room?” Nonna asked with an exasperated sigh. “You’re making me dizzy with all your bouncing.”

Mattheo smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, nonna. Everything just smells so good. Are you sure you don't need me to taste test?”

“You’ll eat when the food is ready,” she huffed in response. Mattheo pouted in disappointment, his gaze darting to the fridge hungrily. “Don’t even think about touching my cannolis. I made those for Y/N especially.”

“If you’re nice, I might share.”

Nonna grinned as you walked into the kitchen with Theo trailing behind you. She pulled you into a hug, kissing both of your cheeks as you laughed. “Thank God you’re here. This one has been driving me up the wall all afternoon.” Mattheo let out an indignant huff, but nonna ignored him. “Sit, piccolina. I’m sure you’ve had quite a journey. Theo here tells me you visited the States?”

The way nonna crinkled her nose made you giggle. Like every other sensible European, she wasn’t the biggest fan of anything American. “Yes, I stayed with my cousin in New York for a few weeks. It was a fun time, but I am glad to be back home. I’m afraid their cooking isn’t up to par with yours, nonna.”

“This is why you’re my favorite,” she chides, pinching your cheeks. “You’re just in luck then. Dinner will be served soon. If you can stomach it after my grandson’s driving.”

Theo heaved in disapproval, which only made you grin. “It was actually quite a nice drive. The view was stunning and Teddy here managed to get me here in one piece.”

“I’m glad. Theodore has been talking my ear off about it the whole summer. Nonna, I can’t wait until Y/N gets here. I miss her. Do you think she misses me? I hope she likes my car. Don’t you think she’d look quite pretty in her sundress, sitting in the passenger seat?”

Mattheo snickered as Theo cleared his throat. “Alright, that’s enough. We’ll let you get back to your cooking so I can show Y/N to her room, nonna.”

Without another word, Theo wrestled you out of his grandmother’s clutches. Nonna winked at you behind his back, making you giggle. She wasn’t subtle at all about the fact that she wanted you and Theo to be together. Nonna had been hinting at it since you were thirteen.

You trailed after Theo, noting the blush on his cheeks as he climbed the stairs. “Did I live up to it, then?”

Theo scrunched his brows, pausing at the top step to allow you to catch up. His long legs always gave him a rather unfair advantage. “Live up to what?”

“Did I look pretty sitting in your passenger seat in my sundress?”

“Don’t know,” Theo quipped. “You were too busy gripping the seats for dear life to allow me to make a clear judgment.” You rolled your eyes fondly, which made him chuckle. “I’m kidding. Of course you looked pretty. You always look pretty, Y/N.”

Now it was your turn to blush. You bit back a smile as Theo ventured down the hallway.

“I’m still here you know,” you startled at Mattheo’s presence. You nearly forgot that he was following closely behind. “I swear to Merlin, the world could be falling to shit and you two would still be too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice.”

You rolled your eyes at your curly headed friend. “I’m guessing Dray got the room you wanted based on your grumpy behavior.” Mattheo swatted at your hand when you tried to pinch his cheek. “Don’t worry, Matty. There’s always room in the wine cellar.”

He stuck his tongue out in response, followed by a smirk that you knew meant nothing but trouble. “Oh, I snagged the Rose room.”

“That’s my favorite room and you know it!”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. There’s always room in the wine cellar.” You narrowed your eyes before lunging at him. Mattheo laughed maniacally, dodging your grip as he weaved through the second floor. “Guess you and Notty boy are just going to have to double up.”

The little traitor ran straight into your room — his room now apparently — and slammed the door shut. “What does that mean?” you asked Theo.

He shrugged. “Probably nothing good, knowing the twat.”

His suspicions proved to be true when you ran into Draco and Pansy. They both greeted you with hugs, though Draco seemed a little put off.

“Good, you’re finally here!” Pansy exclaimed, brushing her bangs off of her forehead.

“With no help from you, by the way. You said you were meeting me at the floo station.”

“I had to take care of a situation. Theo here jumped at the chance to show off his little baby blue convertible and offered to pick you up instead.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s been buzzing since yesterday. I swear, he doesn’t even try to hide his favoritism.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t strong arm her way into staying at my family’s villa. Not to mention conspiring with my nonna for god knows what else,” Theo added bitterly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “So dramatic, Theodore.” She pushed the door open to the main suite, revealing the enormous room.

The interior was bright and airy. A fresh coat of pastel pink covered the walls, but the ceiling remained a creamy shade of white with the exposed wooden beams giving the room a cozy and rustic feel. A four-poster bed faced the balcony doors, which provided a view of the gardens below. The salty summer breeze rustled the linen curtains, carrying the pleasing scent of honeysuckle and lavender.

Theo set down your luggage by the tufted velvet sofa. You ventured out through the balcony doors, leaning over the parapet to peer at the pops of pinks, blues, and purples dotting the property. By the poolside, Enzo and Blaise reclined on cushioned chaise lounges, sipping on spritzers and soaking in the sunset. You waved at your friends down below and they returned the gesture, raising their glasses with blissful smiles.

When you turned back around, you found Pansy fiddling with a flower arrangement. She placed it on the table closest to the balcony, smiling to herself when she finally got the bouquet to look the way she wanted. The stunning view, the luxurious vintage furniture, and the intricate fireplace all felt very romantic. After all, nonna did deem this the honeymoon suite, which made you all the more suspicious of why Pansy was suddenly bunking you up with Theo.

Before you could question the witch, she turned on her heel and crossed the suite. “I’ll give you two a moment to catch up, but don’t take too long. Dinner will be served in an hour.” Pansy lingered by the door, a dangerous glint sparkling in her eyes as she winked at the two of you. “Enjoy the honeymoon suite.”

If that wasn’t confirmation that Pansy Parkinson was up to something, then you didn’t know what was. You glared at the dark haired witch, but she seemed oblivious as she skipped off. Probably on her way to meddle in someone else’s business.

“Well, this was unexpected.”

“Tell me about it. Now I have to keep my things tidy or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“A messy room reflects a messy—”

“Mind,” Theo finished for you as his lips curved into a smile. “I’m well aware, bella. You’ve been saying it since we were ten.”

“Yet it hasn’t quite sunk in.”

“You’re just grumpy from international travel. I know what’ll make you feel better though,” Theo announced with a sunny smile as he trotted over to the bathroom. You stared longingly at the amenities, which housed a rain shower head, a tiled bench, and a heart shaped tub. “Hop on in.”

“Theodore Nott, is this your way of telling me I stink?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” your best friend said with a cheeky little smile. He plugged his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. You smacked him on the arm, which only made him grin even wider. “Will it help if I hopped in with you?”

A fierce blush crept up to the tips of your ears. “Pervert.”

“What? We used to take baths together all the time!”

“Yeah, when we were three.”

Theo shrugged. “Semantics. I promise not to steal your rubber ducky this time.”

You groaned in frustration, smacking him once more. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Are you sure? I’m a very efficient shower buddy. Just ask Mattheo.”

All the filthy thoughts filtering through your mind only served to make you flush even more. At this rate, your face probably matched your hair. “Get out, Theodore.”

Theo chuckled as you pushed him out the door. It was a feat in itself given the fact that he towered a good foot over you, but you managed to shove him through the threshold. Your best friend chuckled before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Have a good shower, fragolina,” A devious grin tugged at his lips as he paused. “Try not to think of me while you’re in there.”

You rolled your eyes, but the words had already planted a very dangerous seed in your mind. As you stepped into the shower, you were ashamed to say that you failed Theo’s challenge.

This bloody honeymoon suite would be the death of you.

A wave of nostalgia hit you full force as you made your way down the stairs. In the dining room, your friends sat around the large mahogany table chatting and drinking. You exchanged a cheek kiss with Blaise and ruffled Enzo’s hair before making your way over to your usual spot. Theo grinned up at you and patted the seat next to him.

“How was your shower?”

“Fine,” you answered robotically. “Great. Uneventful.”

Theo didn’t miss the way your eye twitched. The twat actually smirked. “I don’t know about that, bella. You sound a little tense. Should’ve taken me up on the offer. I would’ve been more than happy to throw in a complimentary massage. If you asked real nicely.”

You flushed, crossing your arms. “I’d sooner invite Mattheo to shower with me than ask you for a massage.”

Mattheo’s curly head perked up from across the table. “Oh?” Much to Theo’s annoyance, his best friend wiggled his brows and winked at you. “Finally tired of Notty boi, huh? You want a dose of Riddle, babe?”

Before you could deign to respond, Nonna swatted the back of Mattheo’s head. He protested, but she showed no signs of remorse as she took a seat at the head of the table.

“Do not ruin my appetite, Mattheo.” Nonna scolded. “Now be a dear and pass the lasagna. I didn’t slave away in the kitchen for hours just to listen to your lecherous comments.”

At Mattheo’s defeated expression, you and Theo tried and failed in keeping in your laughter. Riddle glared at the two of you, but resigned himself to following Nonna’s orders. As your friends piled pasta onto their plates, a bittersweet feeling rushed through you.

The people seated at this table had been an integral part of your life for as long as you could remember. Pansy, Blaise, Enzo, Draco, Mattheo, and Theo had always been just a couple of steps away, but now that you had all graduated, the seven of you would be scattered in different places. It made your heart ache just thinking about it.

“We still have the whole summer,” Theo whispered softly. He nudged his knee against yours under the table. The familiarity of the gesture brought you comfort. It never ceased to amaze you just how well Theo knew you.

“And the rest of your lives if I have anything to say about it,” said nonna as she filled your glass with red wine. “Smettila di fare il codardo, nipote.”

Theo groaned. You understood enough Italian to know that nonna was pushing her agenda again. “Not this again, nonna.”

“I will not stop until you get it through your thick skull, Theodore.”

As nonna launched into a full on lecture in her native language, you grinned in amusement at your best friend. Theo sulked like a child, but his expression brightened as you knocked your knee against his.

After dinner, you spent the rest of the night camped out on the terrace. The view was stunning as the sun set over the horizon, tinging the villa in technicolor. Your friends gathered around the fire pit, sipping sangria and playing games. As usual, the boys found themselves a few galleons lighter after you swindled them during wizard poker. One would think that they’d learn their lesson by now, but your friends were still determined on risking their fortune against you.

All except Theo.

Knowing that his own mother passed down her skills of deception to you, Theo knew better than to challenge you. Instead, he sat back and watched the boys lose with a smile on his face. When you claimed your winnings, he beckoned you under the blanket and handed you another glass of wine. Though you could’ve easily blamed the sudden warmth on the charmed knit throw or the fine vintage, you had a feeling that the heat had more to do with your proximity to Theo.

The scent of citrus and tobacco overwhelmed your senses as your best friend draped an arm over your shoulder. “Gonna share your prize with me, bella?”

“Seeing as you did nothing to help me, I’m inclined to say no.”

“Of course I helped. I pulled a vintage from the cellar so these idiots would keep playing even though they don’t stand a chance against you.”

You chuckled. “Wine or not, they would’ve lost to me either way.”

“Fine,” Theo said with a dramatic sigh. He pulled you to his side and kissed your temple “Keep your prize. I’ve already won anyways.”

“You’re awfully sentimental tonight, aren’t you, Teddy?”

“What can I say?” Theo mused, his blue eyes piercing into you. “This place brings it out of me. This country, this villa, it’s full of possibilities. Anything can happen here.”

The heat of his gaze seared your skin, but you didn’t look away. A charge of electricity crackled in the air as if in confirmation of your best friend’s statement.

Anything can happen here.

#the need for summer theo is reaching dangerous levels #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott imagine #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #slytherin boys

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