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ladylooch · 2 months ago

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Lexi's Most Difficult Patient - [Nico x Lexi]

A/N: Everyone say thank you to Jay (@missjomarch) for this because I told her the fate of this being posted today rested in her hands. But also it’s almost her birthday!!!!!!!! Sooo happy early birthday to my little sister. I love you! Proud of you for all you’ve grown in this last year and cannot wait to see what is next for you!

Originally from this request.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: injury- concussion, one mention of blood

The bright afternoon sun is a little confusing to Lexi Hischier as she hustles into the Prudential Center after her sister in law. Normally, she is used to coming into this arena as the sun is setting or already down, but today’s game is a matinee showdown with the Islanders. The girls drove to the game together, but arrived late due to unexpected traffic. Lexi has Lucie in her arms, her little legs bopping against her mom’s hip as her quick steps lead them down the ramp to the elevator.

It is ten more minutes before they are settled into their seats in the family section. Lexi and Emma wave to the other WAGS, then quickly focus their attention to the game.

“Bah!” Lucie points and howls down at the ice.

“Is daddy out?” Lexi wonders, pressing her lips into Lucie’s brown hair. Her green eyes scan the ice and she smiles when she sees her husband, hustling forward with the puck.

He looks good today. Nico oozes focus, dialed in to the task at hand despite the earlier game time and lack of a pre-game nap. Lexi isn’t surprised. He had an extra pep in his step this morning when he kissed his girls goodbye.

“Nico looks good.” Emma murmurs, clapping around Lio in her lap at Nico’s shot attempt.

“Mhm.” Lexi responds, chewing on her minty gum in anticipation of the next puck drop.

Things quickly take a sour turn for the Devils after the ten minute mark of the 1st period. What started off as a fast pace game, quickly turned sluggish and frustrating as they began an undisciplined march to the penalty box. Nico spends more time killing penalties than attacking the net and his annoyance is evident as he flips his stick against the boards at the period intermission.

“Is it too early to drink?” Emma jokes, leaning back in her seat. Lio turns around, asking for a snack. “Sure, bubba. Lex, do you two need anything?”

“Can you grab me some water?” Lexi asks politely. “Oh and a cookie if they have one.”

“Yes! I hope they have the ones from last game.” Emma grins. She stands up, taking Lio’s hand for their climb up the stairs.

Emma and Lio make it back just as the second period is starting with various treats, including the desired cookies. Lio carefully balances the unopened water bottle in his hands, then beams as he hands it to Lexi.

“Good job, Lee.” His aunt murmurs, then smooches his cheek as he giggles. “How is he so big?” She pouts at Emma.

“I don’t know.” Emma sighs. Lucie had been sitting in Emma’s seat while she was gone. Her aunt scoops her up, smooching at her cheek loudly. “Mwah! How are you so big too, sweet girl?” Lexi smiles, then crosses her legs, leaning forward in her seat as she claps.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get something going.”

The second period energy is anxious. Lexi spends a lot of it bitting her bottom lip with worry. Hockey is a physical game, but these hits seem on a different level. She closes her eyes as Nico is rocketed into the boards, making the plexiglass sway from the momentum. When she opens her eyes again, she feels immense relief that he is skating away with the play unscathed.

“Oof.” Emma mutters, holding Lucie tighter.

“Not loving it.” Lexi sighs, putting a hand over her mouth.

She watches as her husband goes into the opposite end corner, fighting hungrily for a puck with the Islanders defenseman. Suddenly, another Islander player comes in and obliterates Nico, bringing an elbow up to his face to follow through his check. Lexi gasps, shooting back in shock in her chair as Nico falls to the ice in obvious pain. Timo comes barreling in, grabbing the defenseman before shaking his gloves lose.

“Ugh! Timo!” Emma grumbles.

Lexi can’t worry about Timo right now. Her sole focus is on her husband who still has his face resting in his gloves. He lays flat on his chest, then slowly makes his way to his knees, face still buried. The trainer slides across the ice to him. Lexi can feel her chest moving up and down but she doesn’t really breathe. Not until he sits up on his knees. She can’t see his face from where she is, but he looks unsteady on his knees.

“Take it slow.” Lexi whispers. She brings her clasped hands up to her mouth.

Off to the side, the refs break up Timo and the Islanders defenseman. Timo skates off with a spring in his step towards the Devils locker room. It’s close to the end of the period and blood visibly drips off Timo’s knuckles onto the white surface.

When Nico finally stands up, Emma pats Lexi’s thigh encouragingly.

“That’s a good sign.”

Lexi nods absentmindedly, then runs an anxious hand through her hair. She looks up at the scoreboard, swallowing heavily as the seconds begin to tick down again. She pulls her phone out of her purse, keeping it in her hand for the next few minutes, waiting for a phone call to come through. Instead, it’s a text asking her to come downstairs to the training room.

“They want me to go down there.”

“Oh no.” Emma frowns. Usually, injured players stick around through the game and families meet up with them after the final buzzer. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for Nico right now. “Do you want me to keep her?” Emma asks about Lucie who is still content in her lap.

“No. I better grab all our stuff.” Lexi decides. She puts her purse back over her shoulders, then grabs the diaper bag before gathering up her daughter. “I’ll see you.” She murmurs to Emma.

“Text me what’s going on when you can.” Emma requests. Lexi nods.

With their daughter in hand, Lexi nervously heads down to the locker room. A team representative meets her at the elevator, then brings her back to the training room. Players flow in and out of the room, getting work done between periods. Timo and Nico are in beds next to each other. Timo’s knuckles are being tended to while Nico lays with a towel over his eyes, mostly undressed from his hockey gear, except for his undershorts.

“Hi baby.” Lexi quietly announces her presence.

“I can take, Luc.” Timo offers, grinning at his niece.

“No you can’t. You’re bleeding.” The trainer mutters to him. Lexi chuckles.

“Thanks, T. I got her. Thanks for sticking up for her dad out there too.”

“Gonna clock him again in the third.”

“No, you’re not.” Nico mutters. “Keep the team in the game.”

Lexi and Timo share a look, then she reaches for the towel to lift it from over her husband’s eyes.

“What’s the word?”

“Concussion.” He rolls his eyes. “I disagree.” Lexi’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Why?”

“Because I’m fine.” He snaps, sitting up. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “The team needs me.” He glares beyond his wife to the team doctor who seems unfazed by Nico’s outburst.

A silent conversation goes between the two of them, like they have already had this conversation out loud and both are too irritated to get into it again in front of Nico’s wife. Lexi looks away from her husband to the team doctor.

“I’ll leave.” Timo murmurs, hopping off the table and lumbering back into the locker room.

“Nico sustained a concussion.” The doctor begins when it is just the three of them. “Testing shows cognitive decline. He is having sensitivity to light and sound. He also thinks I didn’t see him sneak Excedrin from the medicine cabinet, but I did.” Nico rolls his eyes again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” The doctor says with finality. “Out for two weeks. We will monitor symptoms daily.” Nico scoffs, then throws the towel back down on his face, signaling he is done with this discussion.

“Did he lose consciousness?” Lexi asks hesitantly.

“No. Prognosis is good as long as he follows doctors orders.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to follow those, he can follow the wife’s.” The team doctor chuckles.

“I like that. Get him home and resting. He’ll be okay.” The doctor encourages Lexi then exits the room to head back with the rest of the team towards the third period.

“Nico.” Lexi murmurs. “Let’s go home.”

When Nico doesn’t respond. She sets their daughter on his chest. Nico grins, peaking out from the towel at their daughter’s smiley face. The two Hischiers play peek-a-boo with the towel as Lucie’s infections giggles fill the room with happier energy.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He sighs after a few moments. “I’m just frustrated. The team needs me.”

“So does this team.” Lexi reminds him, biting her bottom lip worriedly at his unfocused gaze. He holds her gaze as best he can, then sighs.

“I’m gonna shower quick, then we can go home.” Lexi frowns deeper.

“I don’t want you to fall over in there. Just get you dressed. We can shower together when we get home.” Nico grins excitedly. “Not like that.” She clarifies immediately. Nico scoffs, handing over Lucie so he can stand up.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he hops off the table. He sways into Lexi, stumbling and needing to grab the table for further balance. “I tripped over my feet.” Nico insists at his wife’s worried look.

Lexi watches his retreating back to the locker room. Lucie whines in her arms.

“Shhh it’s okay, baby.” Lexi murmurs, cradling her daughter’s head to her mouth.

Nico doesn’t seem phased by Lexi’s worry.

Fine.

They can do this the hard way then.

- - -

“Babe.” Nico grumbles as she runs her fingers through his hair to wake him up. He has been sleeping for two hours and it’s time for another check in.

“Mr. Hischier. Please open your eyes.” She drawls at him. He pops a curious eyeball open at her, like maybe she will finally give in to his pleading for sex. “How are you feeling?”

“If I say bad, will you help make me feel better?” He mumbles to her. He bites his bottom lip smugly at his own proposition. “Cause my biggest issue is this.” He grabs her hand, putting it on his growing arousal.

“Mmm.” She mewls to him, squeezing him for a moment. Nico shudders. “I really did want to reward you for being such a good patient today, but you’ve sucked.” She grins at his stammering as she moves away from him.

“Wh-what? I’ve done everything you asked today!” He mutters. “This isn’t fair. Suck my dick, baby. Please. Please, Lex.” He practically howls at her.

“I saw you take the garbage out.” She says, opening up Nico’s iPad to the Notes application. Inside there is seven days of symptom checks from the last week since his injury.

“Am I seriously being punished for taking out the trash?” He gapes at her like she can’t be serious. “What’s next? I get points off for helping with Lucie’s bath time tonight?”

“Your instructions were to what?” He balks, rolling his eyes then wincing at the motion. He brings a hand up, rubbing at the left side of his forehead.

“Patient showing sings of headache on the left side.” She mumbles as she types.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She says without looking up at him.

“It’s not from the concussion. It’s from my blue balls.”

Lexi giggles, a little snort coming out, which makes Nico laugh too. He groans, throwing his upper body into her lap exasperatedly.

“Not until you can get through the day headache free.” She reminds him, threading her fingers into his long hair. He pops up quickly, then closes one eye in discomfort.

“Maybe if we have sex I will have a headache free day.” He suggests.

“Okay, maybe tomorrow.” She pushes into his head with her pointer finger, forcing his head back down so he is laying in her lap.

“I miss you.” He sighs dramatically towards the apex of her thighs.

“You are going on the list of top 5 worst patients I have ever had. The newborns in the NICU listened better than you.” She teases him. He moves forward, digging his face into her belly button. Then he lifts her shirt, putting his mouth there and blowing a raspberry into her skin. She feels his teeth from his grin as her abdomen shakes with laughter. “Neeks, focus. What else are you experiencing?”

“Did you write down my blue balls?”

“No!” She explodes with laughter, holding his head to her stomach so he doesn’t shake too much.

“Um, I’m hungry for puss-“

“Enough.” Lexi says, putting a more professional tone into her voice. “This is serious. You could have longterm brain damage from this. We need to monitor what is happening to you.”

“Babe, I am fine.” He huffs, rolling out of her lap. “I have a headache, yeah. But it’s not like it was the first few days. I haven’t been dizzy.“ He shrugs. “I feel fine.”

“What about sensitivity? You seemed bothered by Lucie’s tears this morning.”

“Yeah because I hate when she cries.” He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lexi looks over Nico for further evaluation. She leans forward, grabbing a wrist to check his pulse. Its strong and steady. She climbs onto his lap, looking into his eyes at his pupils and eye movement. He does seem to be doing better, but Lexi isn’t quite ready to release him back into the world. Sure, Nico has been hurt before, but this one is different. They are parents now, with more responsibilities than ever and the thought of what happens on the ice disrupting their family life has Lexi on edge.

She sighs, carding her fingers through both sides of his long, brown hair.

“You need a trim.” She mumbles.

“Oh is that on the approved list?” Nico wonders. His hands snake around her hips, pulling her into his body tighter. He lays his head on her breasts, nuzzling his nose and cheek into the right one.

“Yeah.” She says, closing her eye and placing her mouth in the part of his hair. Tears start to sting in her eyes as she clutches Nico to her chest. Her throat begins to tighten, making it difficult to breathe fully or swallow. She sucks her cheeks in, trying to fight the emotions back. She needs to be the strong one right now to get them through this.

“Your heart is pounding.” Nico mumbles, pulling back. She opens her eyes and watches as his brown eyes turn concerned and gooey at her tears. “Baby, I’m okay.” Her bottom lip trembles. Nico runs his hands up from her hips to her back, pressing her into his chest now. Lexi shudders on her next breath.

“I just can’t stomach you not getting better.”

“I know.” He whispers quietly. “But I am getting better. You’re getting me there, sweets.” He rakes his fingers through her hair, then trails them down her spine comfortingly. “I’ll be better. I promise.” His nose digs into her scalp. “What other questions do you have for me?”

“Is that all it takes for you to listen? Tears?” She tries to lighten the mood, wiping her fingers across her wet cheeks.

“Yeah. I hate when you cry too, babe. Makes me feel helpless and sick.”

“That’s how I feel when I see you laying on the ice like you were.” Nico is quiet, not knowing what he can say to make that better. He is going to get hit. Neither of them can prevent that.

Lexi presses her palm into the middle of his chest, needing to feel his heart beat. Nico’s hand comes over hers, rubbing over the tendons of her fingers as they sit quietly together.

“I love you.” Lexi tells him then pulls away. Nico smiles tenderly at her from below. His lips plumpen, asking her for a kiss. She eagerly obliges. Their tongues meld together, lips separating to let each other in. Before Lexi knows it, she is being lifted up as Nico stands. His hands eagerly grip her ass as he walks her down the hallway leading to their bedroom.

“Nico.”

“Shh. Let me love you, baby.”

Lexi melts at his words and needy tone.

When he asks like that, how can she say no?

Read more Nico and Lexi here.

#what my world spins around au #nico Hischier x oc #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #nil fan fiction

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earlysunshines · 1 year ago

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keep me close (and never let me go)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff ; wc: 1.9k

synopsis: sana can't sleep and you can't stop practicing

warnings: not proofread

a/n: hiiii it's been a bit, finals killed me and i've been terribly busy.

a drop of sweat hits the floor once the song stops and your chest heaves up and down as you pause in your place. you let out a sharp sigh and ignore the aching in your limbs.

you’ve been practicing for who knows how long now, trying to perfect a dance for some special stage you have with a mix of various boy group idols. it’s in a month, but it’s better to get it down sooner than later.

before replaying the chorus, you take a short one-minute break before going back to practicing again, making sure that each movement is sharp and precise. a bead of sweat drips down your face, and each breath is less controlled. still, you managed to get the chorus down, but you weren’t pleased.

a frustrated groan leaves your lips before you walk over to the speaker, running a hand through your hair and gripping it tightly out of frustration.

as you do so, you hear the door open, and spot sana popping in with a small plastic grocery bag.

you look at her from the mirror, then turn to face her. “sana?”

she shrugs. “i couldn’t sleep.”

you watch her grab a blanket from the closet in the room and situate herself on the couch, laying down and pulling out her phone.

“keep going, sorry if i bothered you.” sana assures, “you weren’t at the dorm and i figured you’d be here. i didn’t know where else to go.”

“i don’t think the music will help you sleep.”

“well,” sana begins, looking away from her phone. “i always fall asleep easily around you and i like being around you anyway. just wanted to see you.”

you smile at the last part of her comment and try to fight the butterflies in your stomach. you chuckle awkwardly and clear your throat, then sana watches the corner up your lips curl up.

“i see… get comfy.”

with a small towel, you dab off any sweat on your face then replay the chorus again. you repeat the choreo of that section again, and it’s pretty acceptable during this run, which differs from the previous tries. while you dance, you notice sana from the corner of your eye. she lies down on her phone and the blanket covers her like a warm embrace, how lucky that blanket is.

you practiced the chorus two more times, singing a little on both those attempts and quickly growing tired from how vigorous all of it is. there’s a short fifteen second intermission before you go over the bridge once and then the chorus one last time before giving into your exhaustion. you decide to take a short break and wander off to the corner of the practice room. you exhale deeply as you squat down and check your phone.

click

your head perks up from the sound and the flash from the phone sana holds in her delicate hands. the two of you make eye contact and after catching the surprised look on sana’s face; you can’t help but smile in amusement.

“sorry, you looked funny on the floor like that. you kinda look like that one pokemon mina was showing us.” she giggles.

you mirror her smile and laugh with her. “wooper?”

“yes.” she responds, “you look just like it.”

“you’re so stupid.”

“and you’re so cute.” sana teases, easily making you shift your gaze elsewhere. you pull out your phone to snap a quick picture of her on the couch to call it even.

“you look funny like that too.” you say softly, then slowly get up with a low, exhausted groan. “kinda like weedle.”

“you hang out with mina too much.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, “you’re jealous.” you add, which earns a cute pout from the girl on the cushions. you walk over to the couch and plop down next to sana to give yourself a break, grabbing a small water bottle on the table in front of you and chugging it.

sana smiles and hands you a small towel before asking, “how long have you been practicing?”

“oh, um…” you checked the time on your phone, “11:14pm.” you mutter and raise your brows a bit at the sight, shocked at how you lost track of time. “two hours i guess.”

sana gets up in surprise and almost gasps, “are you serious?”

“yeah, i just needed some extra practice.” you shrug. sana motions you to sit closer to her.

“that’s a lot… have you had any breaks?” she asks. you’re quick to shake your head and scoot closer to her, setting the towel down on the table.

“it’s fine, i’m fine.” you assure quickly, but as soon as the words leave your mouth your body betrays your response. something in you shifts and you feel yourself losing balance, everything hits all at once and the timing was unfortunate. of course you started to feel the fatigue after you tried to stop her worrying. tiredly, you fall back onto the couch as your body loses all of its strength, arms falling limp by your side.

sana lets out a small breath, unhappy with your state. “you work yourself too much, i think you’re done for the night.”

for a short moment, you contemplate whether you should argue with her or not, but you’re not in any condition to argue with sana right now; you end up not going through with it. giving in, you use the last of your energy to scoot even closer and lean against her shoulder, picking up the scent of her floral fragrance—your favorite.

“i’m kind of worried about this whole special stage, the dancing style is different than a lot of our choreos.” you confess, “i just want to perfect it quickly.”

sana looks at you with creased brows and a frown, then intertwines her fingers with yours. “hey… don’t beat yourself up about this. you’re doing it well, trust me. i watched you redo the chorus even when you were tired, you did amazing.”

“you’re just saying that because-”

“i mean it y/n.” sana declares sternly, squeezing your hand tighter. you turn your head to face her and your eyes lock. she has this look in her eyes, it’s mixed with worry and determination, a mix that makes your heart break and yearn simultaneously. “y/n, you’re one of the best dancers i know, seriously. you always manage to get any choreography we’re given down so fast, and just because you’re struggling with it this time you’re second guessing yourself and i hate that. you’re capable of so much, but you’re letting a small mishap get to your mind just like before.”

“before” rings in your head, you know exactly what this “before” is. sana frowns and holds both your hands now. you stare at her with your eyes widened and try to form a response, but nothing gets past your lips.

“you’re a hard worker, and i admire that—but don’t work yourself until you collapse. i’ve known you since we were trainees and i-” she looks down and tightens her jaw, then gazes into your eyes again. “i can’t bear to see you so harsh on yourself like that again. we’re not trainees anymore, i don’t want you stressing like that again.”

“sana…” you start. still, the words you wanted to say rolled around in your throat relentlessly but never made their way out. you smile appreciatively and hold her hand tighter. without hesitation and a sudden confidence, you lean in a bit closer and sana feels a warm pair of lips on her cheek. her eyebrows raise and her pulse quickens, she’s all warm inside when you linger for a moment. you stretch your arms out and hug her after, your eyes close as you rest your head on her shoulder. “i feel better now that you’re here, thank you.”

she smiles and pushes her nose into your neck before melting into your body and muttering, “of course, i care about you more than you know.”

“me too sha.”

the two of you stay there for a bit longer, simply enjoying each other’s presence and comfort. it’s always been like this, you and sana had been close as trainees and were always there for each other. even years later—after twice’s debut and a handful of successful comebacks—sana was always there when you needed her; always by your side no matter what. it was hard to keep your admiration and feelings for her platonic.

you fell for her because she was—and still is—the sweetest, most genuine person you know. ever since you were trainees, no, ever since your first meeting with her; she’s brightened up the atmosphere just by existing. you admired her talent, her charm, and her love for others, and after realizing she was the prettiest woman on earth—inside and outside—there wasn’t going back.

falling for someone like her was inevitable, but you had to conceal your true emotions toward her no matter what. being her friend was everything to you, and you couldn’t screw up your life because of some feelings for someone you’d consider your whole world.

the two of you held onto each other in silence for a little before you pulled away first, scared that lingering too long would be too weird (sana didn’t mind, if anything; she’d cling to you forever).

“you’re being really cute right now y/n.” she giggled, grinning so hard that her eyes start to shine a little.

“you’re a tease.” you sigh, trying to mask how flustered she gets you. sana laughs again.

“i like your reactions.” she admits, “now come on, you must be tired. get some rest pretty.”

she lies down on the couch again and taps her stomach, signaling you to lay down on her. you look at her like she’s crazy, and she just smiles.

of course you wanted to accept this offer and despite this offer being a common one—it’s sana, whenever she’s with you she can’t keep her hands off—you couldn’t accept it, especially not after your two-hour practice.“i’m all gross and sweaty.” you argue, “i can’t.”

“you’re not that gross and sweaty, come on.” she insists, tugging on your sleeve. again, you fail to argue back and give in to her antics especially when she gives you those sparkly puppy eyes. slowly, you lower yourself onto her and she accepts you with open arms, eagerly pulling you closer to her. “you’re not that gross or sweaty, do you not like when i—“

“no, no.” you’re quick to dismiss her, “i like it sana, i love it.”

“good,” sana mumbles against you. “that’s what i thought.”

sana feels more of your weight push down on her as you situate yourself comfortably in her arms. you shift over one last time and your arm ends up wrapped around her waist, your head is in the crook of her neck, and sana wraps her arms around your upper back. sana feels your chest heave up and down against her own and moves her hand to massage your scalp.

as soon as sana does that you groan tiredly, making her giggle softly and it makes your heart flutter even as you start to fall asleep.

sana waits a few minutes before pausing the movement of her hand in your hair, then asks quietly, “are you asleep?”

silence follows.

she smiles and closes her own eyes, then pushes strands of hair that frame your sleeping face.

“you shouldn’t work yourself so much y/n,” she sighs. sana lifts her head up just a bit and tilts her head, then kisses your forehead softly, keeping her lips there for a few seconds before relaxing back into the couch.

“goodnight y/n, i love you always.”

#sana x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #sana fluff #sana twice #twice #twice sana #minatozaki sana #twice x reader

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turcott3 · 3 months ago

Text

nothing matters but you

kirby dach x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, mentions of blood, fluff

masterlist

you sat on your couch watching your long term boyfriend’s preseason game on the couch of your shared apartment. you were happier than ever to see him back out on the ice.

“no no what the fuck.” you gasp, seeing the hit laid on him, hitting the ice hard, and slow to get up.

your heart began to race, thumping harshly in your chest.

“no no no no, no this can’t be.” you repeat, watching the replay of the hit.

“mother fucker,” you scoff, the guy only receiving a 2 minute minor penalty as kirby is helped off the ice and into the locker room.

it’s like last season all over again. the worst deja vu you could ever ask for. you sat and watched your phone waiting for it to ring, surprisingly only lighting up with a text from your mother.

maybe it’s not bad, he would only call you if it it was bad, right?

your knee bounced up and down rapidly, waiting for intermission to be over.

“come on kirbs, please be okay.” you groan, the period about to start. as the break ended, the camera shows your boyfriend on the ice with his teammates, a huge sigh of relief exhaling from your mouth. soon after it started, he scored, looking as proud as ever, even being a little physical, further proving he was feeling better.

not that you wanted him to continue playing after that hit.

when the game was close to a close, he tossed the gloves with the man that laid a hit on him in the first period, pounding him with right hooks as he drug him to the ground, being escorted off to the locker room.

you could hardly wait for him to come home, your knee continuing to bounce until you heard the front door open. you shot up off the couch once you heard the lock turn, anxiously waiting for him to round the corner, a stern look on his face.

“hi baby.” you coo, signaling for him to come over to you, opening your arms, wrapping them around the back of his neck as he hugged you warmly.

“hi.” he replies, his voice muffled by your hair.

“you watch the game?” he asks lowly, pulling away, hands placed lightly on your waist still.

“of course i did, i wouldn’t miss it. how are you feeling? i’m worried about you.” you frown, combing his hair out of his eyes.

“i feel okay. the hit really shook me up, i was so scared.” he says.

“i know honey, i could tell.” you reply with a frown, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you hugged back onto him.

“i just didn’t want to have to deal with a concussion again, especially since im just now healthy.”

“yeah, i understand.” you reply.

“it did feel nice to whoop his ass though.” he giggles lightly.

“oh im sure, its been a while since you’ve done that.”

“no kidding, i just have a pounding headache and my knuckles are a little bloody. and i guess my lip too.” he replies.

“let’s get you all cleaned up and grab you some ibuprofen, sound good?” you offer, him taking your face lightly into his hands.

“sounds perfect my love, thank you.” he smiles, pressing a short kiss to your forehead before he followed you into the bathroom, shutting the toilet lid and sitting on top of it.

“you looked really fucking hot and badass out there you know?” you giggle, pressing cotton balls lightly soaked in alcohol to his cuts, which he hissed in response to before you pressed a short kiss to each and every cut and bruise on the boy. his smile growing with every kiss.

“well it was just for you.” he teases, rounding his arms behind your thighs and pulling you closer between his legs, the smile on your face growing wider.

“well i’m a real lucky girl.” you reply, egging him on.

“no, i’m the lucky one. don’t get it twisted.” he giggles, squeezing the back of your thighs with his hands as he smiled up at you, leaning down for a sweet kiss.

“all better?” you ask, pulling away.

“all better.” he smiles contently, picking you up off the ground as he stood up, startling you, dropping the cotton balls on the counter as he carried you to the bed, tossing you onto it.

“kirby hey, don’t throw me.” you giggle, tucking yourself under the covers.

“well you didn’t say that last night did you?” he winks, you rolling your eyes in response.

“whatever. just get in bed, and here take these for your headache.” you say grabbing the pills from your nightstand and handing them over to him.

“thank you baby.” he replies, leaning over and kissing you again before taking them, and climbing into bed with you, opening his arms for you to lay tucked up in his side, your head resting on his chest as he twirled your soft hair between his fingers in a comfortable silence.

“you really did do amazing tonight kirbs, that goal was amazing, i’m so fucking proud of you, and how far you’ve come. you’re incredible. i wish i could’ve been there” you say, your thumb lightly running back and forth over his bare chest.

“thank you sweet girl. that means a lot to me. and i wish you were to but it’s okay, i was pissed i don’t think you want to see that.” he giggles lightly, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

“you think you would’ve scared me off?”

“well, maybe?”

“nothing you could ever do would scare me off kirby, i love you, you know that.”

“and i love you, i would just hate for you to see that side of me in real time.”

“i can handle it no matter what, because you’re still mine and i’ll always support you m’love.” you say quietly.

“thank you baby, not sure how i got lucky landing you but im so glad i did.” he replies, pressing a handful of soft kisses to your lips before the both of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, wrapped up in each other just like every night, not a thing ever changing between the two of you.

just pure love.

#kirby dach #kirby dach x reader #kirby dach imagine #kirby dach fluff #nhl #nhl imagine #go habs go #montreal canadiens #turcs’ talk

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daceydeath · 7 months ago

Text

A Work Proposal - Intermission

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader Word Count: 5.1k Genre: Smut, Angst Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Conflict, Explicit Activities

You had been working with Stray Kids for a while now and after a long day at work turns into a very unexpected but intriguing proposal. Will this change your world or end your career.

You had been back in Korea for a few months now, the tour had finally ended and you were thrilled to sleep in your own bed for an extended period of time again. Although you weren't always alone in your bed these days, the kids now had a tendency to text you and either show up with dinner or just arrive with wine and end up staying the night. But as recording was due to start you saw them less giving you time to catch up on your actual job of working for them in a staff sense.

Walking into the JYP building you were already checking your emails on your phone, new albums meant new promotions and new promotions meant a world of organization. Sitting yourself at your desk and putting through your order from the usual coffee place you had about 40 minutes before you had to be in the dance studio of the Stray Kids managers meeting which was something that you had not missed while being away on the tour. Getting your notes in order you started setting up meetings with the creative teams for their inputs on what the themes would be for not only the album but the music videos, and comebacks. You needed to have at least a skeleton of a plan that you could flesh out later. The drinks order arrived at reception and you went down to collect it before making your way to the dance studio where you knew the members and managers would be.

"Morning Minho" you greeted him softly while he opened and held the door for you then took one of the trays of drinks to help out.

"Hi kitten" he almost whispered, his eyes flicking to your lips quickly.

"Coffee" Hyunjin groaned groggily from where he was laying on the floor rolling onto his side to grin at you making you shake your head already feeling the start of exasperation leaking into your mood, if they hadn't slept then they would potentially start acting like fools.

"Morning guys, not much sleep I'm guessing" you raised your eyebrows sighing through your nose.

"Nah we're good, Hyunjin is just pouty this morning" Chan teased making Hyunjin roll his eyes dramatically and flop down flat on the floor again.

"Do I need to know?" you asked slowly, giving Chan then Han their drinks before you looked around for Felix.

"You know he gets grumpy if he gets pulled away from his art before he’s ready" Han grinned toothily as a hat came flying past your vision towards him.

"Of course" you muttered, handing Felix his coffee watching his eyes light up.

"Thank you" he piped in looking around to see if there were any other staff around but realized you were the only one with them currently "Thank you Jagi".

"You're welcome Lixie" you cooed taking the cup holder back over to the counter so you could get out the tablet and your phone for when the meeting started.

"You look pretty today Angel" Jeongin added, looking you up and down carefully "Is that?...".

"The top you bought me? Yes" you nodded watching the corners of his lips quirk up making you feel the urge to tease the younger man. "I'm pretty sure I only ever look good because you treat my wardrobe like I'm a doll you can dress up whenever you like Innie".

"Hush you love it" Minho muttered, smacking you on the arse as he went to sit down.

"So recording has been going for a few days right?" You looked over to Chan for his affirmation "Do you have ideas for which song you are wanting for the comeback track?".

"Yes and no" Changbin sighed heavily. "We have another session today which might change it but it depends how it goes".

"That is fine, I just will have to start meeting with the ideas people about concepts for your album and comebacks so when you have a decision just let me know" you explained easily.

"You are already working too hard if you are up to concepts" Chan scolded lightly.

"I promise I'm not, I just like to be prepared. After all you still need to do your half of the deal and record it all" you countered winking at him for good measure and making him flush slightly.

"Are you coming to the recording studio today?" Felix asked hopefully while moving to lay on Hyunjin's legs, who was still frowning lightly.

"Probably why did you need me to do something else instead?" you furrowed your brows looking down at your tablet to pull up an email that just arrived in your inbox about several other managers being needed for other meetings leaving you with the brunt of the actual in person work for the near future.

"No, we love it if you're there" he looked at you quickly giving you his best puppy eyes.

"Well considering that I'm the only one in for the rest of the day due to meetings, yes I am coming to the studio today" you half smiled.

Recording had been running smoothly, the bts filming of the recording wasn’t happening, so you had the luxury of being able to be slightly less guarded as the process unfolded around you outside of the boys of Versachoi was in today and with him in headphones you could get away with small touches and glances. With Han coaching Jeongin and Seungmin through what he wanted the vocals on the track to sound like you sat sandwiched between Felix and Minho neither being able to keep their hands off of you. Felix was cuddled against your side with his head on your shoulder while Minho slung one of his legs over yours while one of his hands played with your hair. Neither said much, just grumbling if you needed to move or speak to the others, everytime Chan spun his chair to face you asking your opinion on how it sounded or about their schedules a knowing look would cross his face leaving you with a sense of warmth in your chest. Your phone rang and you extracted yourself for Felix’s grip and Minho’s legs moving towards the door to answer your phone.

When you stepped into the hallway you continued watching the kids through the viewing window of the studio door. You had not missed the look Versachoi gave you as you crossed the room and it made you feel a strange uneasiness creep into your stomach. You dealt easily with the few issues in rescheduling a TV taping that the kids were meant to be attending but had been changed at the last moment, moving things for the following week to accommodate the station. Continuing to type away on another email you heard the door open from your place leaning against the wall opposite it but not looking up you were surprised when it wasn’t one of the kids voices that spoke to you.

“Chan says you work too much” Choi chuckled, stepping aside and leaning against the wall out so he was no longer visible from the studio.

“That is very much the pot calling the kettle” you smiled politely finishing your email and sending it.

“Look this might be a strange question but, are you involved with Chan?” he asked suddenly, flustering you to the point you almost dropped your phone.

“I’m sorry what?” you blinked at him, perplexed as to where that would even come from, you and he had probably had four conversations in all the time you had workday for JYPE and one of them was happening currently. Most of the interactions between him and Stray Kids was with the 3Racha team and you were never present so he was almost a stranger to you.

“That wasn’t polite” he admitted, looking away from you for a moment “You just seem a lot closer than just an artist and manager that's all”.

“I am not involved with Chan, I would consider him a close friend as we work so closely and I have a great deal of respect for him, but nothing more than that” you explained hoping this was all just a misunderstanding and that you would be able to talk your way out of it.

“Hyunjin told me you weren’t with him but I wasn’t sure if he was just saying that or not” Choi nodded, still not moving from his position beside the door.

“Hyunjin was telling the truth” you continued moving to step back into the studio.

“Well if you're single maybe we could grab dinner sometime, or just a drink if your schedule is tight” he smiled flirtatiously before making his way down the hallway leaving you to walk back into the studio still feeling an odd sense of trepidation.

“You ok pretty girl?” Han asked looking at you with concern “You look pale”.

“Um, yeah, Choi just asked me out since I’m not seeing Chan” you mumbled moving to sit back on the couch.

“Well you aren’t ‘just’ seeing Chan” Felix conceded, wrapping his arms around you again.

“He said he had asked Hyunjin who told him I was single” you swallowed looking at the fluffy blond hair spilling over your shoulder from where he had leant his head.

“But you aren’t single” Seungmin continued looking from you to Hyunjin and back again.

“It wouldn’t matter, I'm not interested in Choi regardless” you shrugged “He’s nice but I don’t actually know him”.

Chan frowned, turning back to the sound board and the others all seemed to be happy to go back to their previous activities for a few minutes until you were rejoined by Versachoi and your phone rang again. Once again stepping outside of the studio you were informed that a couple of meetings had been canceled so you would be relieved from studio duty by another one of the managers who was on his way, you would then have your break and after you had eaten your lunch you were needed to meet with the promotions department to go over idea to do with photocards and album editions for this next release. Reentering the studio the feeling in the room had definitely changed it now had an undercurrent of disquiet that you didn’t really want to deal with.

“I didn’t say anything wrong, it’s the truth, that’s exactly what it is” Hyunjin snapped defensively.

“Man, you have to think about this logically” Seungmin rolled his eyes as Chan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It isn’t just your decision though it is?” Felix soothed softly, his hand squeezing his shoulder trying to calm the taller boy.

“Is everything alright?” you tilted your head after you closed the door quietly.

“Yeah, just a few lyric issues” Changbin huffed.

“I’m heading out for lunch and one of the others will be in with you for the rest of the day” you smiled tightly “If you need me just call I’m going to be with promotions so it’s not super important if something comes up down here”.

After sitting in a cafe down the street to have another, very, strong coffee and something to eat you made your way back to your desk to prepare for the promotions team, you had to go over which music shows they would make their comeback on and how many weeks they would be promoting. It was always a careful balance to give them enough air time to get the best sales and support but not so much that you oversaturated the audience and annoyed them or exhausted anyone to the point of injury. Your phone had stayed silent except for a text from Chan saying that he would like to speak to you later about the Hyunjin thing which you could understand.

Your afternoon wasn’t that productive, your mind drifting anytime you were uninterested in your work back to the look on Chan’s face and how annoyed he looked and the flippant way Hyunjin had ignored it. Something felt off but not in the way that you thought there was some disaster but more in the way that there must have been something wrong whether it be that he was still irritated from not being able to finish the art he had been working on or he was frustrated with the recording he had done so far for the album. But now that it was almost time for you to finish with your day you made your way to Chan’s studio to speak with him like he had asked you to earlier. Knocking you waited for him to let you in, your smile dropping when you took in the serious look on his face.

“Channie, what’s wrong?” you inquired sitting on the couch as he took a seat on his office chair by his desk.

“A few of us have had a few conversations this arvo” he started scratching the back of his neck “Obviously Hyunjin told Choi you were single but the rest of us don't see it that way which we realized might be a problem for you”.

“Alright, how do you see this situation then?” you countered watching his face flush slightly.

“It’s, um, a bit embarrassing actually” Chan mumbled “The agreements have always been short lived so it was exactly that a short term thing, everyone involved is single and consenting and then it ends when it ends” he explained and you nodded along remembering the conversations you had, had with him and that others regarding what was going to be expected from you and what you could expect from them. “But this agreement with you is not like the others so some of us, including myself, think of you as ours. Others think of this as a situationship, there are feelings involved but it's not definitely a dating thing and Hyunjin at least says he views you as though you are both single and consenting in a friends with benefit type relationship”.

“How much of a problem have I created?” you asked apologetically after a few moments of silence.

“You haven’t done anything” Chan assured you, smiling crookedly “It just seems some of us have caught way more feelings than the others”.

“So how does this work out then?” you sighed pragmatically, trying to keep your heart in check as much as you could “do you all need to sit down and talk it out about what you each want, or more importantly need?”.

“I think we probably do need to talk about this as a group but also once we figure this out have another conversation with you, even if it mean changing the terms of this agreement” Chan nodded seriously this crease between his brows making you feel terrible for lumping an extra helping of stress on his already burdened shoulders. You stood from the couch to move closer from him letting him decide if he was going to move his gaze to you or not. He slowly lifted his head a sad smile slipping across his handsome face, you leaned in just as slowly your lips meeting his in a far softer and more loving kiss than you had ever shared with Chan, or any of the others, as though he was reassuring you that no matter what his feelings were decided on. Leaving his studio you made your way back out to your desk to collect your things to make your way home. You guessed you also had a lot you needed to think over before the time came.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you swiftly from your thoughts as back to the present Hyunjin’s name appearing in the bubble at the top of the screen, opening the message he asked if he was able to come see you this evening so you typed back a quick yes before tucking your phone back into your bag and waiting for your station to come into view. Hyunjin was waiting for you when you got to your apartment building sitting on the wall of the walkway to the entryway door dressed in a large hoodie, cap and face mask. He would have been totally anonymous to anyone else but you knew him so well that you could recognize him from his slouched posture.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon” you admitted catching his attention and making him look up at you.

“I’m sorry, I can come back later” he sighed, almost sadly something indistinguishable swirling in his eyes.

“Don’t be silly Hyune come up” you chuckled letting him take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers together as you made your way inside together and up to your apartment. The elevator ride to your floor was silent making you worry slightly Hyunjin was always so soft and sweet with you, except when he was fucking you into the matress, so this was a distinct change for him. Ideas began popping into your head. Maybe the recording process was stressing him out, maybe he was feeling guilty about saying you were single or perhaps he had something he was hiding from you. Letting you and him into the apartment you slipped off your shoes and walked into your kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“Make yourself at home Hyunjin, I’m just going to change” you smiled watching as he pulled out a couple of mugs before making his way to the couch and flopping down on it. You pulled on some sweats and a large shirt that one of the boys had left behind wandering back into the lounge to see that he hadn’t moved his head still leaning back against the headrest with his eyes closed.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked, walking into the kitchen and making yourself some, when he didn’t answer you made him a cup too thinking you could just pour it out if he didn’t want it. You placed his mug on the table and sat at the other end of the couch waiting for him to speak, your hot cup cradled in your hand so that you could sip it when it cooled slightly. You waited sipping silently watching him breathing peacefully until you began to think he had fallen asleep.

“I need to talk to you about something” he finally said so quietly it was almost inaudible, his face looking almost grave for a moment.

“What happened Hyunjin?” you questioned wondering if there was an entirely separate issue that you were not aware of outside of what had happened at recording earlier in the day.

“I need to tell you something, I don’t want you to be angry or upset but I have to tell you I can’t hide it anymore” he almost pleaded with his eyes wide.

“Of course, you know you can always talk to me Hyunjin” you conceded, watching him intently now, you could notice the bluish purple hue that lingered below his eyes indicating it had been at least a few nights that he had not managed to get enough sleep.

“I want to stop the agreement” he blurted out, surprising you with how loud his voice was. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep telling myself you are mine when you aren’t, I want more than just this anymore and I can’t keep hurting myself anymore”. Silence surrounded you, suffocating you slowly as Hyunjin’s eyes filled with the same tears you could feel burning within your own.

“I understand Hyune” you shuddered “I never meant to hurt you”. He finally made eye contact with you pain etched so clearly on his devine features.

“Princess, you didn’t hurt me” he reassured you, taking your hand in his and letting his thumb stroke your knuckles soothingly. “I hurt myself by falling in love with you when I knew I shouldn’t”. You smiled weakly hoping that you could hide how much his confession hurt you, you cared for him so deeply that, had he been the only one in the agreement you would have told him you loved him too.

“We can go back to being friends though right? I don’t want you to shut me out Hyune” you sniffled.

“Of course, you are still my princess” he sighed, pulling you up so he could pull you into his arms and hold you tightly. “I’d kiss you goodbye but I think that will make this worse”.

“Yeah” you nodded against his chest not letting go of him yet.

“I will see you tomorrow, I’ll let myself out” Hyunjin cleared his throat untangling the pair of you and stepping away from you, you nodded again trying to smile but failing as he left your apartment the soft click of the door and the smell of his cologne on your clothes the only thing that now remained of what you were only a few minutes ago. Slumping back onto the chair you stared at the teacup on the table in front of you not really sure what to do other than cry for the man who loved you too much to be selfish, your heart broke at the realization. Hours had passed and when you finally registered that your phone was ringing you realized it was your morning alarm letting you know you had to leave for work in an hour's time. Doing the only thing you could think of in your emotional haze, you texted your manager to let him know that you were unwell and needed the day to get over whatever the bug you caught was and that you would be back the following day before you curled up under the covers to hide yourself away from the world.

At about 11 the first call from Chan came in saying he hoped you felt better, that they all missed you but you needed to rest and recover, a few minutes later another message arrived from Felix worrying that you weren’t well and that if you needed he would come over and take care of you. It continued throughout the day, each of the others messaging you to see if you were alright or needed anything. It wasn't until the ninth message that you had left on read that there was a loud knocking on your front door, dragging yourself to answer, you found yourself face to face with a worried looking Minho with an arm full of shopping bags.

“Oh kitten” he soothed stepping through your front door and placing the bags down on the hallway table to pull you against him tightly kissing your hair “my poor little kitten”.

“You have your schedule Minho, what are you doing here?” you sniffled not letting go of him to try to hide the tears that welled up again at his gentleness.

“My kitten needs someone to take care of her and apparently no one else has thought to, so here I am. I come bearing soup, ice cream, medicine and cuddles to try to help you recover?” he chuckled breathily at you clinging to him so tightly. “Let's get you sitting down and I’ll get you the soup first”.

Shuffling back into your lounge while still clinging to Minho was more difficult than you imagined but he managed to steer you around furniture and other obstacles until he could place you on the couch and escape your grip to get to the kitchen to get you utensils and a bowl. Returning to you quickly he took in your puffy red eyes, miserable expression and blotchy cheeks then frowned.

“Do you want to talk about it, kitten?” He sighed his face betraying the fact that he didn’t believe you were actually sick.

“I must have caught something from another manager I guess” you lied, looking up at him hopefully, you weren’t sure you could explain that Hyunjin had severed the agreement if he hadn’t yet told the other members without causing an issue that you didn’t yet want to fully deal with.

“Do you want to try again?I thought we trusted each other kitten?” he pushed gently pouting looking down at the food he had brought for you and busying himself with that.

“I trust you Minho, I always have” you sniffed again blinking rapidly to hold the tears back. “I just…I guess… I’m too invested in this now and I’m going to end up broken” you finally stammered hugging yourself tightly.

“Kitten, I can’t help if you don’t tell me” he hushed, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms with your head tucked under his chin rocking you gently until he could feel your hiccuping breaths refusing to stop.

“Hyunjin doesn’t want to continue with the agreement, he said it hurts him too much and he can’t do it anymore” you admitted quietly looking up at him from where he was holding you against his chest.

“I knew he was hurting, I didn’t know he was going to do this though” he sighed, squeezing you slightly. “How about you eat something and then we can get you back into bed hmm” he reasoned, moving just enough that he could pull the bowl of soup towards you. Nodding you ate albeit reluctantly, Minho always showed his care through his actions so ensuring you had eaten and felt safe was the highest form of affection from him, you knew that so you did what you could to let him help. Taking your final mouthful he took the bowl and placed it back down before scooping you up and carrying you into your room and placing you in your bed carefully. Pulling your curtains closed he climbed in beside you pulling you back into his arms cradling you against his chest while he hummed softly fingers playing with your hair to help sooth you as much as he could.

“We all love you kitten, every single one of us, all in different ways. Hyunjin just seems to have actually fallen in love with you” Minho confessed barely above a whisper, the honest openness not lost on you.

“He can’t be in love with me” you murmured back exhausted “he deserves better than me”. You shut your eyes again but instead of hearing whatever the next words out of Minho’s mouth you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat letting it lull you into the sleep you so desperately needed.

Your dreams were strange one moment you were reliving the conversation in your living room Hyunjin’s face distraught as you both wept and in the next you had your back against the cushions of the couch his lips covering your exposed skin in kisses while his hand snaked into your clothes his expert fingers finding your folds and teasing them as you arched into him. It was so vivid that you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as his deft fingers began exploring your entrance. Chuckling quietly you felt yourself shake awake only to find something entirely different.

“Dreaming of Hyunjin, kitten?” Minho smirked, sinking one of his fingers into your slick entrance, the slight stretch making you mewl “I don’t mind but you seemed so sad I thought I’d help”.

“Min” you purred, lifting your head to press your lips to his, encouraging him to continue. He brought his thumb to your clit lazily rubbing tight circles to give you just enough pleasure to make you whine “please don’t tease me Min”.

“You're so pliant when you're sleepy my kitten” he grinned wickedly slowly pushing another finger into you picking up his pace as he curled them inside you massaging your velvety walls perfectly. Pressing his lips against yours once more he kissed his way down your throat enjoying the soft gasps that continued to fall from your lips only pulling his mouth from your flesh to pull your shirt up far enough to reattach himself to your chest licking and sucking his way to your now pert nipples.

“Minho” you gasped again feeling the familiar warmth coiling in your belly.

“Shhh let me love you how I want kitten” he murmured against your skin before sucking a mark into the side of your left breast knowing it would only be seen by the pair of you. “Love covering you in my marks kitten, marking you as mine” he groaned as you moaned loudly the squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of you getting louder the wetter you got.

“I’m so close” you whined rocking your hips to meet his fingers to help fuck yourself on his digits.

“Not yet” he teased, pulling his fingers from you quickly and putting them in his mouth to suck them clean. “So sweet for me, so wet”. Pulling you up from the bed he rid you of your shirt quickly leaving you bare, your sweatpants long gone from before he even started toying with you. Effortlessly he lifted your legs to rest them on his shoulders giving his access to your arse which he started groping the soft flesh he bent forward licking a slow stripe through your now drenched folds huffing a soft laugh as you groaned loudly “Such a good kitten”.

“Minho, please” you whined, your legs now pressed to our chest, taking his cock in his hand he dragged it up and down your slit catching it against your clit and making you hiss before impaling you fully on his length.

“So fucking tight” he groaned as he began thrusting into you his deep languid thrusts letting you feel every inch of his perfect cock. His hips snapped against yours as he dropped one hand down your leg, his deft fingers circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck Minho” you whimpered feeling the coil tightening rapidly inside you, his thrusts deep enough to hit the gummy spot inside you “Fuck”.

“That’s it kitten” he growled, speeding up his thrusts as he felt your walls fluttering around you. Your vision went blank as you felt your orgasm crash over you like white hot flames, your walls clamping around him as you shook beneath him. Fucking you through your orgasm he quickly followed you over the edge thrusting into you sloppily as he emptied himself inside you.

“Mmmm” you hummed trying to catch your breath, Minho carefully pulled himself from you kissing your forehead as he reached for a few tissues to clean himself up before getting up and going into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

“Since it’s still not time for dinner, how about we get cleaned up and we go out to eat? I’ll call Chan and a few of us can all hang out” he suggested, not really waiting for an answer as he pulled you to the edge of the bed and helped you towards the shower.

“Is this just a ploy for shower sex?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“No promises kitten” he smirked ushering you into the bathroom and into the warm water.

A/N: Thank you for reading as always your likes, reblogs and comments are the light in the darkness for me my loves xx

Taglist (closed): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @symptoms-of-moonlight, @septicrebel, @ayoitschannie, @krishastumblernow, @tangerminie, @elizalabs3, @armystay89, @septemberkisses, @stay-bi, @seolarflare, @damnyouficc, @eastleighsblog, @wohaku, @bakedlilgoonie, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @spacegirlstuff, @queenmea604, @fawnpeaks, @3rachasninja, @mrsseals16, @leeknowinggg, @hyunlixsbbygirl, @obeythemasters, @tanzen-ist-gold, @freckleboilix, @junebug032 @hellothisisprincesskitty

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vampyrial · 9 months ago

Text

A World For Her Alone | Sisyphus

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

cw (chapter specific): child neglect, very vaguely implied forced prostitution, death, abuse, poisoning, suicide, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, arranged marriage, infidelity

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: we take a brief intermission from claude's suffering to examine what the fuck is wrong with reader's family

author's note: me and my husband we're sticking together🎵

Claude lingered around your parents’ manor like a ghost after you died. In the middle of the night, every night, he found his way to your bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed you’d died in, remembering the shape your body formed in the sheets. The room still smelled of your blood and sweat, though the room had been cleaned up by the maids as soon as your body was taken out of the room. Your absence was starker than your presence. After the funeral, Diana expressed that she wanted to go home, heavily implying she would leave if he came with her but Claude was no longer beholden to her wants. He had no reason to care whether she came or went.

He was wielding grief as the knife he held up to cut deeper into himself in hope that if he only suffered enough, his hands would wash clean of your blood. But in the end, he had already decided to live, if only because he could do nothing else. Morbid thoughts plagued him, swirling around his head like unquiet spirits begging him to give in. He thought perhaps he should cause his own ruination and this time, live with it. He thought he should make for certain that both of your houses are set aflame and collapsing on top of the lot of you, to bury and burn your sycophant parents, his helplessly selfish wife and even his own child. He thought that nothing should be spared from complicity. He knew not anymore if he truly believed that it would save you, or if this was what some divine terror was willing him to do even still, but he began to long for punishment. It became catharsis, the thought of being punished.

He roamed through the house you grew up in, searching for any trace of you that survived, as if some inkling of you would help him to save what had already been lost too many times. Even so, it was automatic for him at this point, no longer even really a choice. He had no direction, only frantic need pulling him toward the doomed task. He was trying to get to the dregs of a goblet of wine which never ran dry, he kept drinking until he was sick but never satisfied, never finished.

Your parents’ manor was an eerie place, he’d always thought. Wind blew in from an opened window in the hall and the house seemed to breathe, and its hollow bones creaked softly. Despite her gentle ultimatum, Diana could not actually follow up on it, she must have known that but she believed better of him at the time and thought that everywhere she went, he would follow her like a lovestruck teenager again. There were things to be done at manor that she could not neglect as its lady even if he chose to neglect his own duties. She had come into her own as a marchioness, no longer the shy and unassuming lady that lay in bed sick day in and day out. She would not leave the territory without management though he knew she desperately wanted him to come back home. She seemed dazed to return home without her husband for that purpose, for the lament of a sister she had infinitely more right to grieve so egregiously. Even after all those years, the silly girl was only just beginning to grow aware of the disparity of marriage.

Somehow he felt it was hard for her to reconcile that she wasn’t a precious young lady anymore. Even as he was mired in a pool of half catatonic grief, she dared ask him to leave with her because she truly expected he would do so if she did. Had she not grown out of the habit of expecting to be near worshiped no matter what that her parents instilled her? He remembered how she was after your funeral, when he was sitting in the dark of a guest room. She had come to him, tried to hold him, to kiss him; believing all this would be a comfort and not a further indignity. She’d had arrogance enough to look hurt as he pulled her from him and recoiled from her touch. She must have still believed she was the cure to all ills because she was once more in a house where she was always treated as though she truly were.

He found his way to the library where you’d spent much of your life, if Felix’s word was truth. He brushed his fingers along the spines of the books, looking for the one that he left his missive in, the one Diana read and did not want understand. He searched through the categories of books that contained subjects you three would have studied together as he could not remember which particular book it was, but even after pulling all the books and flipping through the pages, he couldn't find the letter. He wondered if you had ever even set eyes on it once before Diana got to. Had it been your catalyst to run away? Had you read the note and understood that the effort of trying to be happy at his side was a fool’s errand? Was he again the cause of your downfall?

As he gave himself to thought of you, he continued looking through your family’s collection of books. It was all fairly standard and even a bit utilitarian, lacking any of the fanciful novels so beloved by many young nobles. He assumed if there were any, they’d be in Diana’s room because they’d be bought for and read by her alone. But there was something that struck him as he roamed around the shelves, his eyes scanning aimlessly for a book that looked as if it had been perhaps been misshelved. It was subtly tucked into the highest shelf but it still stood out to him eventually among droll guides, needlework books and encyclopedias emblazon with gold lettering. It was hastily bound looking more like a journal and it was worn, unlike the rich and well maintained leather of the other books and it was small, leaving a wide gap between the top of the shelf and the top of the book. Its spine did not read a title.

When he pulled the book, he understood what it was. Its title read “The Princess and The Knight,” signifying it was some common, tawdry romance novella. Still, he began to read it, the absurdity of its place in a house so heavy and serious intriguing him. Could this book have belonged to you? Could it have been an escape for you who was locked firmly out of girlhood when you were only just betrothed? When he’d read the title, his mind flashed with the memory of your face as Felix’s body fell into the dirt in front of you. He remembered how fiercely Felix had protected you even in this life. The rage and grief in his voice when he came for retribution. Though he knew you were ever dutiful and if there was love between you and Felix, it was never more than courtly, maybe you had seen this book and it had reminded you of some place where it could be more.

The story revolved around the love affair of a princess from a bloodline with an affinity for magic fleeing her country at wartime and being assigned a knight from the neighboring kingdom she sought refuge in. The two began a passionate and sanguine love affair in secret, all while living under of the tension of war and the threat of both of them losing everything to their love. But when the war was won, thanks in part to the wits of the two characters, and peace spread over the kingdom, she and her knight were able to be wed and live happily ever after. He had been searching for you in the pages, interpreting the knight and the princess, looking for traces of a love you might have had once. He had been looking for you so closely in every word that he hadn’t realized the grander scale of things until the end; when he flipped over the last page to read the epilogue, on the blank side of the page he saw a sketch.

The drawing was finely, intricately done in ink and resembled…Diana. The owner of this book had drawn Diana so vividly, yet there were a few differences in the likenesses of the two. This woman had long spools of curly hair spilling over her shoulders and a mole near her gently smiling lips. She was older than Diana must have been when the book was written. She looked like the heroine that had been described in the novel. For some reason, he found himself fixated not in awe or admiration but in mind numbing shock. He could feel the love that went into each stroke of the pen and a knot formed in his stomach the longer he stared. It was uncanny in a house like this, to find anything that should mark vulnerability or simple folly. He recalled an occasion where your father had gifted her a portrait he’d made of her and their daughter. Though two different mediums, the style looked so similar. From what Claude saw, it seemed that your father seldom made art of anyone but Diana. Your father surely had not been so passionate about a throwaway romance that he had ignored his bias and poured so much love into an image of the heroine.

The only one who could be so brazen as to have a romance novel among his books wherein which they lovingly drew an almost intimate image of a woman, worn with the spine slightly bent from being handled so many times— not even properly hidden away, would be your father. Your father who paraded his illegitimate child, born from a mistress. The revelation gave him pause. What did Claude truly know about Diana? He couldn’t remember having ever asked her if she’d known her mother because she so resolutely accepted the countess as her only mother. But this woman sketched onto the page of a well loved romance, was this her mother? She looked as if she could be. Portraits of Diana hung in exposed parts of the house, he did not seem to care that the custom of having an illegitimate child was to have them separate from one’s “official” family, to not love a child born of one’s own lust so openly. Even if one had a particular love of their mistress and child, he would simply put them up in a nice mansion close enough for him to come and go but your father had your mother raising his illegitimate child. He celebrated her birthdays lavishly and even allowed her to go to the academy. He absolutely refused to hide her, to show shame in her. So why was this woman Claude presumed to be Diana’s mother who was clearly beloved by him even now, shut up in the back of a romance novella?

A thought occurred to him then, that perhaps the otherworldly force pulling him into Diana, entangling him in her was not otherworldly at all. Perhaps it had not originated in him alone as some primordial curse formed around him before there even was a him. He thought of just how besotted he was with Diana the first time he met her in each life, how the greater part of him felt foreign. He thought of your mother’s unusually devoted love for a child that wasn’t her’s, a product of her husband’s disloyalty. Something inside him thought that the answer lay at Diana’s feet. In her very blood, he was convinced, was the answer.

Such a tenderly written romance, signed with a carefully drawn illustration of the woman who could be Diana’s mother. The part of “The Princess and The Knight” which struck him so was the bit about the princess possessing capacity for magic. It was not mentioned much nor utilized greatly in the plot but it made an impression. Magic users had decreased over the years, their powers waning until they were unheard of entirely. To anyone else who read the novella, it must have given the story to a bit of fantasy but to Claude, it was almost uncanny. He could not take it for an unassuming romance. To him, the story hid some truth under its veneer, for it was no coincidence that the princess resembled Diana so and that it ended up under the same roof as her, worn with years of eager hands flipping back over the pages. The princess’ power was never described in detail but if she were based on a real woman, then perhaps she had something to do with his situation.

He might’ve gone to Diana right then for answers but he feared his body might be taken over again at any time. He did not want to see her, did not want to feel the familiar paralysis of affection reaching up through his body. He did not want to see himself bed her again while the memory stood frozen in his eyes. Each time he saw her after he’d been set free, he’d worried that it would happen again. That his body would betray his mind and he’d never find anything of substance to end the cycle of misery the two of you shared. And he was committed to the task of trying, even if he could never succeed. He was ready to succumb to the greater sense of careworn madness he found in you.

He decided to explore the unattended corners of your home further, thinking there would be— must be more. If ever Diana’s mother had lived here, someone left a trace that he intended to find. He might’ve asked your father directly but as much as he was a lickspittle, something told him that your father would be afflicted by the same paralysis of mind that he had when he belonged to Diana. Unable to share the love he held for her but unable to hide it either, culminating in a pathetic sort of half-baked defensiveness. He wasn’t likely to get anything out of that, even you hadn’t been able to get anything out of him when he was like that. Worse still, he might try to cover up all that he kept that ever indicated Diana’s mother had lived there once, that she had a name and a face. And then what?

No, it was better this way. Better to find it all before he got the chance to hide any of it.

Your parents were still in the house, seemingly without intention of asking him when he was going to leave but there was still a bit of anxiety in the air when they entered the room. He could tell that they very much wished for him to return to their daughter and make her happy again as she was destined to be. It was awkward that their son-in-law had a longer bereavement than your sister did. But still being the cowardly sycophants they were, they could not ask him to leave for her sake—only “encourage” him by tossing out little updates on Diana. “Diana and our grandchild miss you very much,” “Diana takes ill so easily when she works so hard, we should hope you’ll be well enough to go back to her soon,” “Diana sends her love and wants you to know she’s there for your sake.”

Claude wouldn’t care if Diana’s life hung by a thread and he was all that could spare her, frankly and he brushed off all responsibility in favor of giving himself to his task. It was shameless, he knew, but he’d given up everything inside of the barren, hollow shell of his self to save you. It was a task that had already and would yet again supersede death, birth and the enveloping void he fell backward into each time his life was ended. He waited until they inevitably visited Diana, likely to calm her worries with lukewarm supplications about his grief, to go searching in the other parts of the house uninhibited. For, even if the servants were to tell their lord and lady, he’d already have looked through every corner he intended before they’d have a chance to move things around to better hide them.

He started with Diana’s old room. When he walked in, he was surprised to find it was left exactly as childish as it had been when she was only a young miss. Just the scent of the air turned his stomach, heavy and cloying with a pungent smell of medicine that was still sitting on her night stand in a small white bottle. He frowned as something fell clumsily into place. It hit him like the stray sour note of a violin. He recognized the bottle. Where did he last see this bottle?

For how preoccupied he was with the revelation taking slow form, he did not realize that Felix had entered the room until he heard the distinctive sound of a sword unsheathed. He did not turn.

“Felix.”

“Lord Claude,” Felix acknowledged, his voice struggling to keep its softness. “I might’ve known you’d be here. You truly cannot help yourself, it’s like a sickness.”

“Yes, it is very much like that,” Claude agreed easily. “But I’m not here for what you imagine I am.”

“I’m not so sure it matters, my lord.” Felix’s voice was flat.

“Nor am I. But I need you to let me live just as long as it takes for me to make sense of this.”

Felix went quiet for a moment but nothing about the situation made Claude think it was because the knight was going to hesitate. On the contrary, he was sure that his sword would swing just as neatly. “Do you know where I found my lady chained up, my lord? There are places, you know, that they bring women who had no other place to turn. You must know. You were at her side every night when we brought her back, you saw what toll it took. You saw what had been done.” Felix took a shallow breath. “You’re asking me to spare you so that you can make sense of whatever it is your farce of a marriage is built on? When my lady was given no such pardon? I know you’re the head of your house now, honored knight of the crown and you must think yourself above your treatment of others but I assure you, this will be the last time you ever assume so.”

Claude held still, his voice firm even as fear raged through his body. It was not fear for his life or of Felix’s wrath, it was the fear of failing, yet again, to make any movement in saving you. “I know how you think of me, Felix. I know that I have failed my wife. I know that I deserve to die here and now but even so, I can’t.”

“That is no problem, I’ll do it for you.”

Claude smiled joylessly to himself at the devout knight’s words. How could you have been judged so harshly in that life for wanting to run away with him when he so clearly had a loyalty akin to love for you? “You don’t understand. You cannot possibly. But answer me this, do you know who Diana’s mother is?”

The question puzzled Felix but he stood resolutely, ready at any moment to fell Claude’s head. “Everyone else in this household has care for Lady Diana. My duty was to serve my lady, I was the only one and I did not ever lapse. You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Felix, I do not ask for my wife’s sake. I know how this will sound but I’m trying to find out just what exactly it is that Diana holds over me and everyone else. I’m trying to figure out what exactly she is. You have seen it, haven’t you? The disparity between how people treat my wife and how they treat your lady. Do you think it natural to love a daughter born from an affair more than one’s own?”

He heard Felix laugh bitterly. “You believe her to be a succubus? Is that your excuse?”

“No. I believe her to be something worse.” Claude laughed as well, though his was more hysterical than anything. “She rules everything, Felix. Even in death. No, especially so in death. I have lived this life many times. I have died and returned back to the day that I first met her at the tea party. And when I do, I am taken over by her. It feels like love at first, it really does. But then intrusion. And then a curse. It is a cycle of death and resurrection, for myself and for the lady.”

Felix was silent and Claude continued on. “In one such life, she ran away with you, you know. It was raining the night we found you two. You were holed up in some abandoned cottage out there in the countryside, the one with the patches of white clover in the yard and a missing shingle on the roof.”

“What are you saying?” Felix’s voice wavered with near disbelief at the picture he painted but he held firm.

“My knights killed you where you stood and took the lady back to my manor. Your betrothed visited her. She had asked to speak to the woman who had been responsible for your death. She told me you two had planned to get married once the lady and I were finally married and settled in. She could not even mourn you properly because you were compelled to run away with the lady and killed.”

It is clear that Felix still thought Claude had lost his mind but what shocked him was the truth seeded into his madness. How could he have known the intimate arrangements of their betrothal and marriage when even their families had not known the cause for delay? This was not knowledge he could send an errand boy to fetch him nor an illusion he couldn’t hope to keep up, this was lived. It was memory.

“What does that have to do with Diana?” Diana was more likely a seductress than a sorceress in Felix’s opinion. Such a thing as a time loop, how could a girl so weak and childish create something like it?

Claude turned slightly, slowly toward him. “I don’t know yet myself. That is what I seek to find out. So that I can perhaps end it, for the lady at least. I don’t need anything Felix, not Diana, not my child, not my house. All I need and want is for the lady to stop suffering. I only beg you not to hinder me. When the time comes, I swear I will die on my own.”

Felix had no idea what to make of it all. Much of what Claude said seemed stilted, frantic and half thought. Yet he could not help but feel there was a certain sincerity to be had even in the worthlessness of Claude’s promise. And in any case, he was not entirely unfamiliar with the concept that Claude explained but all that it implied, he was not ready to believe. He sheathed his sword again finally and Claude turned to face him with the medicine bottle in hand. “Have you any idea why this would be in Diana’s room? It’s medicine that the lady took before.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “It’s used to treat severe infection. It’s not supposed to be used by just anyone who gets ill. Lady Diana should not have needed that medicine, it would take effect like poison if not administered to someone battling a harsh infection. The doctor sent one of the servants to fetch it in town.”

“Yes, but this bottle is dusty, it’s mostly emptied out and the liquid inside it has congealed. It’s been sitting here for years. The medicine inside is aromatic. It has a distinct smell, doesn’t it? The lady’s room still reeks of it even with the windows opened up. Every time I went into Diana’s room when we were young, I smelled it, I tasted it. That means she was not only taking medicine she did not need but taking it regularly.” Claude said aloud, more to himself than to Felix who had bristled at the way he implied he and Diana were. “Was she…ever even sick?”

“Of course she was. Perhaps madame gave her the wrong medicine. She would not have poisoned herself, far be it from me to defend her but she did not desire to be sick. She seemed to envy the lady for her health, as she saw it.”

“…it was the lady’s mother who administered this medicine?” Claude questioned as new pieces fell together in his mind.

“I only know that the madame came to Lady Diana before bed to give her medicine. I do not know that it was that medicine, I did not see it.” Felix paused. “What is the significance, my lord?” He asked, annoyance creeping into his tone at the extensive talk of Diana.

“I intend to find out.”

He had wished to creep into the madame’s bedroom quickly and easily but the door was locked so they’d needed to fetch the key. Claude was shocked at the amount of sway he had over the servants of a house he was not a part of for the head maid simply handed over the key when he asked for it, albeit hesitantly as though she thought she might be scolded for doing so. When he took in the room, it was tidy and rather plain by aristocracy standards. The room seemed to have a chill about it, there was a draft somewhere that made it feel colder than the other rooms.

He began to pick carefully through her things, looking in every corner of the room for anything hidden. It was all mundane, droll and typical until he reached the last drawer of a dresser that was locked. Sure enough, nine bottles of unopened medicine neatly lined into rows of three. When he tried to pull the drawer out all the way and see what more he could find, it was caught on something that had been pressed against the top. Claude reached in to feel for it and pulled down what looked to be a simple leather bound, worn and yellowing journal.

Immediately he began to read. He was a bit startled at himself when he realized that he was eager to read the contents of his mother-in-law’s mind. He wanted to know how she saw you. How she justified treating you the way she did to uplift a child that was not her’s. A pitiful part of him just wanted there to be reason. He wanted cause for the rift in the relationship. He needed to believe there was a because to your suffering.

But what he read was not as he suspected. In neat, small lettering on the first page, it chronicled her life back to when she had been perhaps 19 years old but it was dated some ten years later. A reflection on her younger self written seemingly less as a journal and more a memoir.

“The princess had always been so gracious a mistress that even her tasks sounded like gifts.

When it was her time to return to her duties in her own kingdom, she resigned to it with great grace. However, she understood that the opposite would be true of her beloved knight. This fragile man only smiled in her company, protected her with wild fervor and once told her that he felt divinely guided to her. That to him, she was the symbol of god’s forgiveness and in serving her, loving her, he saw his life’s purpose. Oh, the princess lamented to me how dark a life her knight had lived, how the blood he shed as a knight haunted him with guilt. How his father had been of a violent sort in his efforts to transform his only living child into a knight of some worth to bring more prestige to their house and in his efforts to vent his own turmoil over his wife taking up with men of far more money, status and legacy than he. Her knight resembled his mother and so became the target of the ire he could not give his wife for the great protection being a mistress to such men afforded her. His mother knew what his father did, she did not care so long as it were not her. My heart came to soften for him too, the more she told me.

He had been a quiet man, shy and quite unknowingly sweet for his reputation as a ruthlessly skilled knight. He opened up to my princess like a flower toward the sun. He loved her so madly that she knew even though it was inevitable, he never intended to be where he could not protect her and stand at her side. The princess feared that their duties as princess and heir to a county respectively would give way to the knight’s devotion. She feared he’d kill himself trying to reunite with her or simply deteriorate under the burden of his own isolation but her own life was dedicated to more than just one person. It was her nation, her home of people waiting to see her return that she could not abandon. So in her stead, she asked me to stay in the kingdom and marry him. To give him a countess and to keep watch of him for anything he might do to interfere in both their duties.

It was a great honor she had given me entrusting someone so precious to me and given me a title higher than that I had been born with, I still feel that way now but I was foolish then and I did not understand the nature of what I was being asked to do. Nor would I until after it was already done.

You see (and it does, still pain me to even write such a silly thing), I did, at the time believe that I would become close to my husband. I viewed it as a matter of course, for I was far from a home I could never return to and he had no one. We were, for each other, the last traces of the princess. Though I could never think to hope for the kind of love that he gave to the princess, I believed that commonality could be nurtured into love or kinship. I wished for someone to turn to as my heart was sinking faster than a stone the longer I spent from my home. I believed it would happen. I believed he would become someone to lean on.

Though the first months of our marriage were cold, I managed to coax him into trying to have children as was our duty. I saw this as progress both in the way of our relationship as well as keeping him from the princess. I viewed even our coldness then as a sign of something beginning. It was only once, afterward, I think he worked very hard so that I would not ask him to do it again. But even so, I found that I was with child soon. I was a stupid girl then, I believed a child was what we needed to grow closer. I brought this news to him with a smile, I must have looked like an idiot.

My husband’s expression, I can never forget it. He was horrified at this revelation. He looked at me as though I’d announced a death. He looked at me as though I had wounded him. Then his beautiful eyes sparkled with unshed tears and his expression reverted to a weak, helpless smile as he said all the right things in his wavering voice.

It was then that I realized he would never love me. He was horrified at having a child with me, it was sheer terror and dread on his face when I told him. Perhaps he thought that I would not become pregnant at all, he would have preferred it that way. I hadn’t the relationship with him to truly comfort him, to know intimately what he feared about my child. I was useless in that way.

Through the following months, my apprehension was near unbearable. I kept feeling my stomach sink in dread, I kept waking up thinking that I would be home. I kept thinking that I had done something irreparable but I could think of nothing which was actually within my control. Therefore, when I finally gave birth, my relief that it was done with was greater than my joy. But that was alright with me because I had intended to deal with things in my own way."

From there, she went on to describe her rigid attention to being a diligent countess for a few droll pages. But at last, Claude came to another thing of significance. Your father had been summoned to court for political matters regarding the civil unrest which had not been quelled with the end of the war. Your mother could not follow him and leave a newborn alone so she had no choice but to simply trust in your father. She would come to regret that.

"My princess appeared like a bolt out of the blue months later. She was dressed as a peasant and had a somewhat bashful smile on her lips. Although I had missed her, all that I could think in seeing her was, "She should not be here."

But we brought her to the study so that presumably, she would tell us why she had returned when she had surely sworn that she could not. She took off her cloak and then I understood without her needing to tell me. I saw a little bump on her otherwise thin body and I was overcome. When my husband had returned to court, he had not been officially permitted to see my princess but they had met anyway and she was now with child. She had waited until she was just about to start beginning to show in order to take leave from court on the pretense of recovering from illness at her villa in the countryside.

I had been given the task of minding him but I had clearly failed. I should have gone with him no matter what. I should have taken the chance and left my child so that I could have prevented this. But my princess looked at me as faultless and took my hands in hers to assure me that she regretted nothing. She comforted my husband who apparently also knew nothing about this pregnancy until then. She knew his fears like the back of her hand, she knew exactly how to soothe them as I hadn't. He did not even have to speak. She simply knew.

Until then, I had not known that my husband dreaded having children for fear they would be cursed and afflicted with the same moral decay that his own parents had; and because he feared that having a child would bring the same thing out of him. Even if I had known, the princess was the perfect one to comfort him. She asked him if he believed a child born of her could be wicked and of course, he said no. She spun such sugary images of their child together for him with her eyes shining with joy. She told him that their child was special, that she did not fear him becoming a parent like his own because their child would change everything about being a father for him. It surely helped that my princess was glowing as she said such things, that the excitement radiating off of her grew stronger with each passing moment. He could not deny her, could not bring himself to contradict her words because he would always believe in her even if he did not believe in himself.

It went unsaid that the princess would be entrusting the child to the both of us. I had much apprehension about taking care of two babies rather than one and the secrets to be kept piling up above me but I could not complain, it had been my job for years to make everything work. I could not stop then when my princess needed me most. In any case, her presence in the manor brought life to a place that had become so eerie to me. She was the only flame in the dark and we were huddled around her, trying to preserve an ounce of warmth within ourselves. She was joyful through her pregnancy, she could not stop talking about the baby she was to have. The more she chattered, the more excited I became too as though I had any right to be. This was true of my husband too, who tentatively felt the kicks of his child and smiled, genuinely smiled as the princess did. I could see that he loved that child.

She slept in the master bedroom with him, after he left each day, I went in to help her get ready for the day. It was though I was still her maid and I suppose I wanted to be, would rather be that than a wife. But I could not bring myself to complain. I was not unlike my husband, I viewed my duties to the princess as somewhat sacred. I was as honored as I was anxious to raise the child.

On the day Diana was born, my husband was at my princess' side the entire time, as though he could protect her as her knight again. I could only marvel at him. When I had given birth, he stood at the foot of the bed stiffly and asked me what I intended to name our daughter, if I was alright and then told me that if I needed anything to have the butler prepare it at once. After Diana was born, my princess was still beautiful, perhaps even more so in her vulnerability. She held the most beautiful baby I had ever seen, close to her chest as my husband looked down at the both of them with sheer joy. It was as though all the happiness in the world existed between those three. My Diana had been born out of love and so it was easy to love her.

I left my own daughter to the maids in favor of caring for Diana when the princess rested. Her little ruby eyes and her head of soft blonde hair captivated me. Each coo or cry had my focus in a fraction of a second.

I had not yet considered the greater implications of her birth until my princess brought it to me. Diana had been born with an inordinate affinity for magic. The princess, as a member of the royal family had the capacity of a mage, it was kept secret through the death of magic that through her bloodline were those capable of miracles. I only knew after years of my proximity to the princess. This child, born in the time of civil unrest, when the queen had not yet been blessed with a child and the civil war had still bitterly divided the houses, was capable of being seen as a potential figurehead that could be used as a pawn in a new round of rebellion.

It was for me and my husband to put her above all things. Above even our own child. That, to me, went without saying for I did love Diana as my own daughter. But the princess knew that anything could happen and she used all of the strength of her magic to cast a spell over her that would be held with Diana's own great magic. My princess nearly expended all her energy to do so. Magic, she had once told me, was seen as a weak form of power because it relied so greatly upon emotion. It was the transformation of want into will. I knew not the details of the spell which bound my mistress' daughter. All my princess said was that her precious Diana would live happily, that for all the odds against her, she still had odds in her favor."

Claude felt numb as he turned the pages. He was in shock, suddenly the environment of the room felt too harsh and stimulating but he was glued to the journal. He could not dare stop reading it no matter what truths arose. So he flipped the page and read every single entry even as his hands trembled.

From then on, it was Diana, Diana, Diana. With each entry, she recorded a measurement which he assumed was the amount of medicine administered and her symptoms. She fretted over whether it was right to give her more or to give her less. She wrote about denying Diana's requests to go outside, to go to the theatre, to do much of anything besides stay in bed. It chilled him to the bone but more than that, perplexed him. He was staring at a page where your mother had seemed to write sloppily, hurried and anxious when he heard a voice.

"Lord Claude?" It was your mother, standing in the doorway.

He looked slowly up at her, at a loss for words and unable to reconcile the cold mother she was to you with her joy at being Diana's proxy mother. Unable, still, to understand why she was poisoning the daughter she loved so much.

"My lord, you should not be in here," she said softly but in her blank expression, it was apparent that she knew what he was there for. "It will look strange to others, for you to do something like this."

"You poisoned Diana," He was keenly aware of how delicately she was trying to dance around this subject but he was unwilling to indulge her.

Your mother did not even blink. "You must understand me, Lord Claude. Please understand."

"What is there to understand? You neglect your own daughter and fawn over your husband's illegitimate daughter only to poison her."

Your mother shook her head slowly as if she could not believe what he was implying. "I love that girl," she said, moving deeper into the room and shutting the door behind her. "Diana is my little princess. She is my only daughter."

A rush of rage ran up his body, carrying an unbearable desire to hurt her. "She's not your daughter at all. She's the daughter of a woman far more beloved than you."

But your mother could only smile helplessly. "Yes, but even so, she is my daughter in heart. You must trust me when I say that Diana was hopeless before."

"Hopeless?" His brow furrowed and a cold feeling creeped up his back, extinguishing his fury and replacing it with a kind of fear for the woman in front of him. "She wasn't hopeless, she was able to wed me, to live happily." He said it not as a defense of her but as an accusation.

"That poor girl. In the first place, she already had a weak constitution, because her magic was stronger than her body but it was the perfect excuse to keep inside and away from the eyes of those who would want to hurt her. But it was my eldest daughter who kept planting false hope in her. She even sent Diana before my husband to beg him to let her go to the academy because she knew very well he could not say no to her." There was venom in her voice, a sneer on her face. Claude rose to stand slowly, not knowing what he was going to do.

"He cannot say no to Diana because he loves her so, no, he loves her mother so," she sighed. "All the other one did was cause troubles. Diana had already given up but she roused such hope in the girl, false hope, cruel hope. If she had not been able to marry you...I do not know how we would have protected her. If my daughter was still alive, everything would be ruined. It was you who saved her, my lord. That is why I beg of you, don't judge me. You know that Diana is special. You must know."

"I did not want to save her, she did not need to be saved."

She remained with that pitiful smile on her face. "My husband is weak to her. He will...he will never forgive what I've done to our- his little princess. He won't understand. He will think that I have killed my princess. You know, he almost sees them as one in the same." She reached onto her desk, picking up a letter opener. "Diana will be hurt if she knows. I ask that you let the girl live her life believing as I told her. She deserves that much. I let her believe what I did because it was in her best interest. Please take care of her."

Before he could react, your mother plunged the sharp end of the letter opener into her throat.

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @coldpeachkitten @brightykitten @worstliving

#claude x reader #wmmap x reader #claude de alger x reader #claude de alger obelia x reader #wmmap fanfic

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starryevermore · 10 months ago

Text

the house of snow (8) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his.

chapter summary: sejanus crosses a line.

word count: 5,961

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: scheming sejanus, jealous!coryo, angry!coryo, arguing, threats of execution, pet name (petal), not proofread

Thank you for the invitation. Though it was signed by Coryo, I imagine that you are the one who advocated for my presence at tonight’s opera. I appreciate that you hold our friendship in such high regard. That is why I write to you now. Ma has already confirmed our attendance for tonight, but I was hoping that I might be able to speak to you in private. During intermission, please meet me—

A knock at your door startled you out of your thoughts.

“Are you nearly ready?” your father asked from the other side of your door.

“Just a moment more!” you called out, hurrying to return the letter to its envelope. You rose from your seat at the vanity, sparing a glance at your reflection to ensure nothing was out of place, before tucking the letter in your trunk at the end of your bed.

When you reached your door, you took a breath. Your father was a perceptive man. If he saw your nerves were jumbled, he would have questions and you could not handle questions at this moment.

Your father smiled as you opened the door. Then he frowned, glancing around the room behind you. “Where is your lady’s maid?”

“I dismissed her after I finished getting ready. I wanted some time to go through my correspondence.” It was perhaps best to tell the truth in that regard. What your father didn’t need to know what that you were just reading the one letter, over and over and over again, trying to surmise if it was real, if there was a trick being played against you.

“I should hope you were not writing any replies. The last thing you need is to get ink everywhere.”

“No, Papa, I was only reading them and sorting out which ones needed to be replied to first.” Well, that was a lie. But it was harmless enough. You hoped.

When you received Sejanus’s letter in the mail, it confused you. You were never the sort of friends that wrote to each other. It certainly would have been presumptuous if you had. But when you read the contents of the letter, learned of his proposed plan, it only served to confuse you further. You had spent the entire day reading the letter as your lady’s maid pinned your hair into an elaborate updo, applied your makeup, and even as you dressed. You were half sure that if you read it enough times, Sejanus himself might materialize to tell you it was all just a clever joke. That he didn’t really mean it. You knew Sejanus well enough, though, to know that he was quite serious about these sorts of things.

Your father nodded, then extended his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his arm and allowed him to guide you downstairs. He was silent for a moment while you walked, but when he reached the top of the stairs, he stopped.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked. Had he already caught on to your ruse? Would he demand to see the letters and know that there was only one? Would he tell Snow?

“I wanted to thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “I know this match was not what you hoped it to be, but I swore when you were born that I would do everything in my power to ensure that you are taken care of for life. You may not have gotten the love match you wished for, but you will be marrying into a reputable family with the resources available to provide you the best life imaginable. His Majesty will take care of you. He will be a good husband to you.”

“You cannot possibly know that.”

He sniffed, then conceded, “No, I suppose I don’t. But His Majesty was incredibly persistent. He had been asking for your hand for some time—”

“What?”

He blinked, as if he was surprised you didn’t know. But how could you? How could you have known? “When you graduated from the Academy, he asked for your hand. I suppose he hoped for you to join him on base while he served as a Peacekeeper. That certainly wouldn’t have been an appropriate life for you, so I told him no. Then when he returned, he asked again. I told him I wished to see him prove himself to be a worthy husband for you. I never imagined that he would become King, of course, but it was a pleasant surprise. A welcome one, really, all things considered. Just before the season began this year, he asked again. I had no reason to tell him no, except that I wished for him to properly court you before we reached any firm agreement.”

You did the math in your head. If what your father said was true… “I’m four and twenty. If he has been asking since I graduated, then he has wanted to marry me for five years.”

“Longer, I presume. He already had a ring when he asked for your hand the first time.” He looked down at your hand. “The same one, if memory serves well. Cleaner, though.”

That…You didn’t know what to do with that. How long had Snow been vying for your attention? Even with Sejanus’s revelation that Snow’s feelings for you had been genuine, you assumed it was a recent development. Certainly not something that extended back to your schooldays. Had the bickering always been one-sided? No, that couldn’t be…

“We hated each other in school. We tormented each other,” you said, more to yourself than your father.

But he laughed as if you spoke to him. “Sometimes, boys are mean to the girls they are interested in. Any attention is better than no attention, in their eyes.”

��I don’t know what to do with this,” you admitted.

“Know that you will be loved. I have never seen any man be so dedicated to something, someone, for it not to be done out of love.”

Downstairs, the butler announced Snow’s arrival. Snow entered the room, his blue eyes immediately finding yours. Your father moved to start down the stairs, but you remained planted firmly in place. A question nagged at your mind. If Snow had been asking for your hand for five years…

“Why did you act like I had to convince Snow to marry me when the season started? If you all but promised him my hand?”

His eyebrows raised. “My little dove, you have never done what you were told. If I said that you were to be wed to His Majesty, you would have all but runaway to avoid it.”

“But why act like it was my responsibility to get his attention? To throw myself at his feet when he already wanted to marry me?”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Finally, he settled on, “If you thought that you were serving your family by pursuing His Majesty, I had hoped that you would have seen his intentions were pure and good. It might not have been a love match in the traditional sense, but it would not have been a loveless arrangement.”

Nothing, you thought, about Snow was pure and good. “My fate was already set in stone. It didn’t matter what I did, you would have married me off regardless.”

“Don’t put it like that, little dove—”

You dropped your father’s arm, gathered your skirts, and walked down the stairs alone as Snow moved to wait for you at the bottom. A smile grew on his face as he watched you. It looked so genuine. You supposed it was.

Snow held his arm out to you as you reached the last few steps. You slipped your hand into his, letting him guide you down the final steps, before holding onto his bicep when you reached the ground floor.

“I like that color on you,” he said, eyeing the blue fabric.

“You should. It took Tigris hours to find the shade closest to your eyes.” Your mother was insistent that, as the future Queen, you should build your wardrobe to complement your future husband as much as possible.

“I shall send her my compliments then. Are you ready to leave?”

You nodded.

“Good. We shall be riding alone this evening. Will that be alright?”

It wouldn’t have mattered if it did. Everyone else in your life was making decisions for you. Choosing what was best for you without ever asking what you wanted. What you desired. But you were angry at your father. Angry at both of your parents, because you were sure your mother knew something about this, too. Angry that they both would keep this from you instead of just telling you that you were to marry the King. You might have respected their decision more if they had.

“I should kill my parents if I have to spend a moment with them tonight.”

Snow blinked. “Should I be concerned?”

“If you value your life, then you shouldn’t be.”

At that, Snow let out a huff of a laugh. “To kill the King would be treason.”

“Is a threat worth the same weight?”

“I would imagine so.”

“Then string me up at the gallows.”

He shook his head at you. He looked amused, like he didn’t take your words seriously. He probably thought you were just bickering to get on his nerves like you always did. “I would make an exception for you, petal.”

You turned your head, looking back up at your father, who still stood at the top of the stairs, dumbfounded. You turned back to Snow. “I wouldn’t kill you, for what it’s worth. As it turns out, you are the only person who has been honest with me recently.”

A frown settled on Snow’s face. “Is everything alright?”

You rolled your tongue over your teeth, contemplating whether you should tell him or not. It would be nice to vent, even to someone like Snow. But you didn’t wish to do it in front of your father, the source of your ire. And you weren’t sure you wouldn’t cry if you did talk about it. “I don’t wish to ruin my evening any further. Shall we go?”

Snow looked you over. Seeing nothing that would demand his immediate concern, he said, “We shall. But if you change your mind…”

“I will tell you if I do.”

The ride to the opera house was quiet. You weren’t sure if Snow was silent because he was giving you the space you asked for, or if he was concerned that your ire might soon turn on him. But he held your hand the entire time, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. Ordinarily, you would have been annoyed at the action. It was merely another way for Snow to exert a level of control over you. This time, however, it brought you some modicum of comfort.

“I invited the Plinths per your request,” he murmured.

That should have lifted your spirts, but it only made your stomach churn. You couldn’t let Snow know that, of course. As hard as you fought for the Plinths’ presence, he would be less than pleased if you revealed you wished he hadn’t extended the invitation. “Thank you.” You squeezed his hand, more for your comfort than his own. “I appreciate that.”

Even if you didn’t appreciate it in the moment, you probably would appreciate his willingness to abide by your wishes in the future (though, you supposed you did have to coerce him to do it).

Snow smiled and squeezed your hand back. “And I appreciate your vivaciousness. Even if it makes me want to pull my hair out.”

“That would be a shame,” you said before you could really think.

“What?”

Well, you already got this far. You might as well finish the thought. “The nicest part about you is your hair. If you pulled it all out, you wouldn’t have anything going for you.”

Snow laughed—a genuine laugh. “If my hair is the key to gaining your affections, then I shall be sure to not pull it out.”

You laughed, too. It was…odd. How light you felt with Snow now. Though you still objected to how he asked for your hand, how your father gave you no choice in this matter, it was different knowing that Snow might not be doing all of this as some way to spite you. To get back at you for all the fights you had with him over the years.

The pit in your stomach burrowed deeper. If Snow found out about Sejanus’s letter, Sejanus’s plan, you could not imagine it ending well. Any semblance of goodwill he held for you could be ruined in a matter of minutes. Would you be set up for a miserable marriage if you withheld the information from him?

“Snow, I—”

The carriage lurched to a halt. Your words died in your throat as the door opened. Snow stepped out first, then held a hand out for you to take. He helped you out of the carriage, his hands settling on your waist as you gained your footing. Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling.

As you moved to take Snow’s arm, he asked, “Would you like to wait for your parents or would you like to go our seats?”

You glanced back, seeing your family carriage in the distance. The idea of seeing your father again made you grind your teeth together. “Let’s go inside.”

Snow led you to one of the Lord’s Rooms where you would sit in the upper balcony of the opera house. It had been some years since you had been able to sit in one of the Lord’s Rooms. Since your time at the Academy, you supposed. These seats were saved for the upper echelon of the Capital’s elite. While your parents certainly were wealthy and titled, they could not quite afford such expensive seats. Truthfully, for a long time after the war ended, only the King and some dukes could afford it. It was only in recent years that marquesses, earls, and viscounts could begin sitting there again.

You took a seat front and center of the Lord’s Room, Snow taking the seat to your left. A smile tugged at his face as you tried to not let your jaw fall slack.

“Are you pleased with the seats, petal?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you admitted, because it was.

When you looked over at him, his smile had grown, his chest ever so slightly puffed out. Oh, he was proud of himself for this. You supposed he should be. If he had been vying for your attention for as long as your father insinuated, you imagined there was no limit to the lengths Snow would go to make you happy.

“Good.”

You were curious, though, to the lengths that Snow would go. “What would you have done if I was displeased?”

“Erect an opera house to your exact specifications.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. To suggest such a thing was absurd. You were an intelligent young woman to be sure, but you hardly had the education required to design an opera house that both functioned as necessary and would not topple over in a gust of wind. “Then we should be thankful I am content here or else we might have to test the limits to the royal family’s protection from liability.”

Snow waved that off, though he still smirked at you referring to yourself as part of the royal family. “I would send anyone who would even think to sue you to the gallows.”

“So protective,” you teased. There was silence, for a moment, as you looked at Snow. Conversation was flowing easily, with none of its usual bite. Perhaps talking about your conversation with your father would be nice. To at least alleviate the stress you carried in your shoulders. “I am upset with my papa because of you.”

And that, perhaps, was the worst way to begin the conversation when you saw the way Snow’s smile turned into a frown. Oh dear, he probably thought you were trying to pick a fight. “I beg your pardon?”

“What I mean to say is, at the beginning of the season, when it was announced you were seeking a bride, my papa told me that I had to do whatever it took to win you over, even sacrifice my ideals. He made it seem as if it was something I had to do for the family. I refused, of course, but that did nothing to stop you from seeking me out. I wondered why for a long while, spent a long time convinced it was because you were trying to get back at me for all our quibbles over the years. But then I remembered Sejanus had told me that you were interested in me when we were children.”

Snow’s jaw ticked at the mention of Sejanus, so you quickly continued before he could spit some vitriol about your shared friend (for now, at least).

“That made no sense to me at the time he told me, of course, but the longer we courted, it started to feel real. Then, this evening, my papa told me that you had asked for my hand three times before. That you fought with me because you liked my attention, not necessarily because you had substantial disagreement with me. And when I asked, he said he lied to me about my needing to sacrifice my ideals to win you over, because he knew that I was already going to be your bride by the end of the season. I cannot respect a man who withholds things from me.”

“I apologize if I disrespected you, but—”

“Not you, my papa. It is clear now that, as far as this season was concerned, you had always made your intentions known. I can admire that. But my papa…I don’t know if I can trust him again. Or my mama, because I am sure she knew something about it, too.”

Snow considered you for a moment, before admitting, “If I had known you were kept in the dark, I would have told you. I assumed you knew I had spoken with your father and that that was part of the reason you kept fighting me. Telling me that you would rather marry anyone else but me.”

“No, I was, for once, clueless.”

He reached over for your hand. You allowed him to take it. “Well, you can rest assured that I will not let you be clueless as long as I can help it. We are to be partners in this marriage. There is no one that I could trust more to run this kingdom and raise our family than you.”

Your stomach twisted. All of this talk of honesty…It made you feel ill. You knew you should tell Snow about Sejanus’s letter. If he ever found out, any trust he had in you would easily be broken. You imagined he would lock you away in the palace, never let you see anyone but the staff and the heirs he would have you produce. And Sejanus…You shuddered at the idea of what Snow would do to him. It would make isolation look kind, you were sure.

Knowing you had no other choice, you tried again to tell him. “Snow, I wish to tell you one more thing—”

You were cut off by the sound of Sejanus greeting you and Snow. You prayed you did not look as ill as you felt.

“You look radiant this evening,” Sejanus said to you as he came to your side. Oh, Sejanus, he should not say those sorts of things. Not in front of Snow. Not when you knew how he felt.

Snow rose to his feet, dropping your hand. It was the polite thing to do as a gentleman, but you knew it was more a power play than anything else. And, though Sejanus towered over Snow, something about the way Snow held himself made him seem like the giant. “She does, doesn’t she? It must be the pre-marital bliss.”

You ignored Snow. Well, if you couldn’t tell Snow about the letter now, you might as well make polite conversation until the next opportunity arose. “Thank you, my lord. You look quite dashing yourself. Did Tigris design your suit?”

“She did,” he beamed. Oh, Sejanus, don’t smile at you like that. “She is the only one I trust to not make me look like a fool.”

“Funny,” Snow muttered.

You looked at him, your brows furrowed together. Was he trying to suggest Sejanus was a fool? Did Snow know something you didn’t? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he somehow already know of the letter? “What is?”

Snow blinked, as if he hadn’t expected you to hear him. A smile twitched at his lips. “You had said something similar, once.”

“Ah. Well, she is the best. Many people feel quite strongly over her,” you said. You smoothed a wrinkle on your dress. All of the kind talk between you and Coryo made you feel uneasy now that Sejanus was here. “It must be infuriating to know people like Tigris while they tolerate you.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Sejanus chided as Snow’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Don’t join in on the teasing. It will only make things worse.

“But it’s so easy.”

Sejanus took the seat to your right. From the corner of your eye, you watched as Snow’s hands flexed, as if he was restraining himself from lashing out at Sejanus. Knowing that no one could see your face but Snow and Sejanus, you allowed yourself to roll your eyes. The corner of Sejanus’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. In any other circumstance, you might have been laughing with him at Snow’s expense. This all felt too confusing for you—something you would rather attempt to process in private rather than search your feelings in the moment. So you moved to the edge of your seat, propping your arm against the railing, leaning your cheek against your palm. Snow, as he sat back down, reached for your other hand, and you allowed him to take it. Jealous little thing, he was. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind.

The performance soon began with little more spoken between you, Snow, and Sejanus. Mostly talks about your upcoming nuptials, which made it feel like a knife was being twisted in your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that Sejanus was trying to be cruel. Sejanus, though, was something of an angel, and you were sure he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Perhaps that was why you were so nervous about this. You knew how Snow would read Sejanus’s actions. You knew it would be far from good.

You tried to push those thoughts away as the performers sang. It had been so long since you had been able to go to the opera, and you wanted to enjoy this moment. Snow would likely bring you to more performances, but just in case, you wanted to have fun while you could. Yet, Sejanus could not leave your mind. He felt entirely too close. It was almost suffocating. And when you dared to glance at him from the corner of your eye, and you saw the way his hand was placed on the arm of his chair, his palm face up, you felt ill.

So ill, you could not stand it.

When you dropped Snow’s hand, moving to leave the Lord’s Room, Snow rose to his feet. “Is everything alright, petal?”’

“I’m not feeling well. I just need to step outside for a moment,” you said.

Sejanus, too, stood. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, don’t do that. Don’t give Snow anymore reason to get upset or concerned.

You waved Sejanus off. “It’s too stuffy in here. I just need a moment.”

Snow watched you, his brows pinched together. You again wondered if he could read your mind, if he knew what you knew. Or perhaps he was acting as if he cared in his own weird way, trying to ascertain if he needed to go with you just in case this was something more serious. “If you wish to leave early, we can. I don’t want you to feel as if we must stay even if you are ill.”

Don’t be kind. You’re not sure you deserve it. “I don’t believe it’s that serious. Please, sit. I shall be back before you can even think to miss me.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Snow sat down. Sejanus remained standing, watching as you turned to leave. It was not until you left the Lord’s Room, sparing a glance over your shoulder, that you saw Sejanus sit down, too.

It was easier to breathe outside of the room. Not much by much, but certainly easier. Being sat between Snow and Sejanus, even if had been something of your own doing, had become something of a personal hell. Damn Sejanus. Damn him. This evening wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to have a nice evening at the opera. You were supposed to get on Snow’s nerves. You were supposed to laugh with Sejanus and not worry about his insane ideas. It was supposed to be nice, not…whatever it was about to become.

You found a somewhat secluded area of the foyer and leaned against the wall, trying to steady your heartbeat. You did not know if Snow or Sejanus or both would follow you. If they did, you worried about the other people who were invited eavesdropping on the conversation, realize that there was more than meets the eye regarding your betrothal to Snow. Oh, you would not be able to handle that scandal.

After a minute or two, the sound of the opera singer ringing in the background, you pushed yourself off the wall. It had been long enough that Snow would become concerned and come looking for you. And it was close enough to intermission that Sejanus—

“You look like you’ve seen death.”

You sucked in a breath. “You need to leave.”

Sejanus stepped closer to you. Too close. He reached out, brushing a loose curl away from your face. You fought the urge to flinch away. “We can go—”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You cannot truly believe I would leave with you, can you? Sejanus, Snow is the King. He would do everything in his power, utilize every resource at his disposal, to find us and bring us straight to the Capital. You would lose your head, and I would never see daylight again.”

“That should not matter if we love each other. We could find somewhere no one could ever find us. We could live a life all of our own, never have to worry about anything else.”

“But I don’t love you.”

“Coryo told me that you would rather marry me. That you thought I am an easy man to love. Is that not enough?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. It was so hard to look at him and not cry. Why was he making this so difficult? Why was he putting you in this position? “I might have loved you. In a different life, maybe. But I do not feel what you feel for me. I will not risk my life and yours for a maybe.”

“But you will risk a life of unhappiness with Coryo?”

Why did no one listen to you?

Why did no one care to ask you what you wanted and actually listen?

“It is not as if Snow hates me. He cares, in his own way. Even if he shows it in his strange ways. I would want for nothing with him.”

“Can you love him?” Sejanus stepped even closer to you. He cupped your face in his hands. You squeezed your eyes tighter. “Tell me you will be happy with him, and I will leave you alone. I won’t bring this up ever again. I will leave—”

Sejanus was ripped away from you before he could finish speaking. Your eyes flew open. What was happening? Why—

Oh.

Oh no.

Snow’s face was blood red, his knuckles nearly matching as he gripped Sejanus’s jacket. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he spat.

“Coryo, I—”

“You said you didn’t wish to marry her. You said you wouldn’t try to take her from me. Was that a life? Were you trying to catch me with my guard down? What happened to not wanting to hurt me?”

“Please—”

You had never seen Snow so angry in all your life. Not even when you would spend every day at the Academy arguing with him. Not even when you had told him that you considered marrying Sejanus. Was Snow going to hurt Sejanus? He looked angry enough to kill. You couldn’t let that happen.

“Snow—” you tried to say, but he did not hear you.

“I should have the Peacekeepers drag you through the streets, throw you in a cell, and let you rot. I should have you executed,” Snow hissed. “This is treason.”

“Please, Snow—” you tried again.

You tried to think. Tried to figure out something, anything, to say that could quell Snow’s anger. But you couldn’t even get through to him. It’s like he didn’t even realize you were speaking to him. Oh, what could you say?

“I should make your execution a fucking spectacle. I should make everyone watch as you are hung—”

“Coryo, stop!”

Snow’s head snapped to you. His pale blue eyes looked you up and down, as if he was trying to determine if he should direct his ire to you. He let go of Sejanus’s jacket with a push. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have made Sejanus stumble, but the sheer weight of everything brought the man tumbling down. Snow took a step towards you, his voice dangerously low as he asked, “Why should I?”

“I was telling him no. I don’t want to go with him,” you said, careful not to say Sejanus’s name. Saying his name in ordinary circumstances drove Snow insane. You hated to imagine what he might do if you did so now. He might just kill Sejanus with his bare hands. His hands. You glanced down, then reached for one of Snow’s hands. It was clenched into a fist, but he allowed you to open his hand, intertwine your fingers with his own. “I want to marry you, Coryo. I want to be your wife.”

Snow stared at your connected hands. He squeezed your hand. It looked like he couldn’t believe this was real. “He followed you out here. Were you planning to run away?”

You couldn’t lie to him. Not now. “He sent a letter this morning. He wanted to run away at intermission, when it was easy to disappear in a crowd. I…I tried to tell you, before he arrived this evening. I never intended to go with him.”

“He followed you.”

I didn’t ask him to, you wanted to say. But you knew that wouldn’t do anything to diminish Snow’s anger. Instead, you said, “I wish you followed me instead.”

When Snow looked at you, you could see his eyes softened ever so slightly. “I thought you might want some space.”

Though you did not wholly believe in what you were saying, you knew it was working to calm him down. “All I want is you, Coryo.”

For a second, a smile began to tug at Snow’s lips. But it vanished all too quick as he heard Sejanus begin to rise to his feet. “He needs to be punished.”

“Don’t have him killed.” When Snow’s eyes narrowed, you quickly added, “I don’t want the death of your friend, your best friend, to weigh heavily on your conscious. I-I know you’re upset now, rightfully so, but that should not mean you send him to the gallows.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he weighed your words. “Then what do you suggest I do? If we are to be partners in life, you shall have a say in carrying out punishments.”

Oh, he was being cruel. Perhaps rightfully so. Snow would not harm you physically, but he would not be so above hurting you emotionally. You had not told him about the letter, and in his eyes, you were sure that put you on a similar level of treason as Sejanus’s actions.

You fought the urge to look at Sejanus. “He shall enlist in the Peacekeepers,” you decided. “You can ensure he has an assignment far away from the Capital. Give him time to consider his betrayal.”

Snow said nothing. You worried he would dismiss your suggestion and call for the Peacekeepers anyways. That he would force you to watch as Sejanus was hung. You stepped closer, pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Please, Coryo?”

When you pulled away, Snow was blinking a mile a minute. You prayed that was enough to convince him, to show him that you were loyal to him. To spare Sejanus’s life.

“Go,” Snow spat at Sejanus.

Sejanus gave a shaky nod. He dared to look at you, his mouth beginning to open. Whatever he intended to say, though, was lost.

“If you are going to say anything, it should be to express your gratitude to her for sparing you from an execution.”

Sejanus swallowed. “Thank you.”

“If I learn that you have not enlisted by morning, however, I will follow through with stringing you up at the gallows.”

Sejanus nodded again and quickly left before more could be said. For his sake, you prayed he went straight to the enlistment offices. You weren’t sure if they were open at this time of night, but if he went now, he might be able to enlist first thing in the morning when they did open.

You let your head fall against Snow’s chest. His heart thump’d, thump’d, thump’d quickly. You wound your arms around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. And as he hugged you back, you added, “And I apologize for not telling you of his plans. I…I didn’t think he would be so foolish to try to follow through on them. Or, I suppose, I hoped he wouldn’t.”

“You truly wouldn’t have left with him?”

“I only want a life with you, Coryo. You…may not be an easy man to love, but that does not mean I cannot love you.” Maybe if you said it enough times, you mused, it would become true.

Snow pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “I want to move up the wedding date.”

You shut your eyes. “You’ll work poor Tigris to the bone trying to finish my gown in time,” you tried to tease. Your heart wasn’t quite in it.

“You could show up at the altar in a dressing gown for all I care. I don’t want anyone else trying to steal you away before I can make you mine.”

If this was the sort of anger you would have to grapple with should anyone else try— “Nor do I.” You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. A print of your lipstick left behind a stain. “I truly am sorry, Coryo.”

Maybe if you called him by his pet name enough times, he would forget this ever happen.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

As you stood there in his tight embrace, people began spilling out into the foyer. Intermission, it seemed, had arrived. And not a single one of them were aware of events that just transpired.

How lucky they were.

#the house of snow: a royal coryo au #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x female reader #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fan fiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fan fic #coriolanus snow fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

Text

RENDEZVOUS

— a steamy flashback from the dadrry universe about harry as your fiancé 💍

——

After another shot of vodka went down the hatch, you still didn't qualify yourself as drunk. Tipsy was the more accurate feeling since every shot you had taken in the last ten minutes hadn't quite affected your bloodstream yet. The fifth one was being poured already. Or maybe the sixth. It didn't really matter since letting loose was what bachelorette parties were made for.

The event was being held in a small theater in downtown San Francisco, occupied by you and your friends, to celebrate the last few weeks before you officially became a married woman. A drag show was the extravaganza for the evening, and it was currently the intermission, so everyone was out of their seats drinking and catching up with each other.

You and Harry had needed a getaway amid the final phase of wedding planning. The both of you were staying at the Ritz-Carlton for the weekend, and it was nice to take a breather from the stress of the big day coming up. In the weeks leading up to the mini vacation, you had decided it would be perfect to have your bachelorette party in the scenic city. Most of your friends lived in surrounding areas, so you sent the invites out and hoped everything worked out. It clearly did because everyone was buzzed and having the time of their lives.

Your throat hurt from loudly cheering on the drag queens who had just performed. The tiara on your head with a tiny veil attached was slipping off, and the bride-to-be sash across your body was getting wrinkled, but you couldn't care less. Happiness and love exuded from your friends who had come to carouse with you.

Harry had proposed a little over a year ago after he cooked a fancy New Year's Eve dinner and led you to the backyard at midnight to get down on one knee, popping the question with shaky hands and watery eyes. You were incredibly thankful it hadn't been a grand display in public. It had been just you and him at home under the string lights, with butterflies breaking loose in your stomach.

In planning the wedding, you had vowed to him that you wouldn't be a bridezilla. You'd allow him to have equal insight and let him completely take the reins regarding the food that will be served since it's his forte. Overall, the process hadn't been too draining. You worked well as a team, and he was always open to suggestions and last-minute changes of plans. The final touches would be put together once you came home from the trip. Then, it would finally be time to marry him.

"Did you leave Harry alone in the hotel room?" asked your friend, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he'll find something to do," you said. "He can never sit still for too long."

She carefully fixed your tiara. "When's his bachelor party?"

"Next weekend. He's having it at the restaurant he works at."

"Not at the strip club?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laughed. "He's mature enough to understand that I find it suspicious when guys go there for their bachelor party. Some call it their last night of freedom. How weird is that?"

You had nothing against strippers, but you thought it was reasonable that you'd rather have Harry spend his night somewhere else to celebrate his, you know, commitment to you.

"You're marrying such a gentleman. It makes me jealous," she said with a playful nudge. She wasn't wrong, so you just shrugged smugly and sipped your fruity cocktail.

Gasps and excited clapping suddenly stole your attention. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the stage, watching the red velvet curtains draw back once again. Shuffling to your table, you smoothed down the back of your dress and sat.

The lights dimmed as people who worked at the venue began rolling a black piano onto the stage. You wondered what it would be used for since the drag queens earlier had strictly danced and lip-synced to music booming from the speakers. Other instruments were also being brought out—guitars, drums, and even a saxophone.

Growing more confused by the second, you turned around and stared at your friends around the room to see if they knew what was happening. All you received were mischievous smiles.

Before you could ask questions, you were abruptly pulled out of your seat and led to the front of the stage as people situated themselves by their respective instruments. You leaned into your friend and asked, "What's going on? This doesn't look like a drag show is about to happen."

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Let's find out."

You didn't reply because the band started playing jazzy music as the stage lights turned on, revealing quite a modern setup for what you knew was definitely not a drag performance. A spotlight shone, and it began to move toward the left wings, where a silhouette of someone was waiting.

"Please give a warm welcome to Harry Styles!" introduced the saxophonist.

You just about choked on your Mai Tai.

Your vision finally focused on Harry as he strutted out wearing yellow trousers and a button-up under a suit jacket. A tiny microphone was clipped to his collar, and you couldn't even begin to guess what he had planned tonight. He gave you no inclination that he'd be here. No subtle hints had been dropped in conversations with him, and no sneaky clues had been given by your friends. It was actually shocking, considering he was usually awful at keeping secrets.

Everyone cheered for him; whistles and encouraging hollers were thrown his way as he held his arms out and walked toward center stage. You were too taken aback to join in as you watched him cut the band off with a gesture before facing the room with his hands behind his back.

Was his hair parted down the middle?

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said with a bow, his deep voice echoing throughout the theater. "It is so great to be here hosting a bachelorette party for the first time."

Wow. He had jokes up his sleeve, apparently. Was he about to do a stand-up routine?

The applause and praise continued as you shook your head in disbelief, letting a huge smile take over your face at the unexpected surprise.

"This is new territory for me," he said. I'm very excited to step back from my chef duties and do some comedy tonight."

There was no way he was going to do a comedy bit. You couldn't believe he crashed your party with a fancy suit and a routine ready to go. He was talking to your friend group in the audience like he was giving a Saturday Night Live monologue. You were going to lose it if he started playing the piano.

"You see, my fiancée and I go way back. We met about three years ago at a bar." He finally looked at you. "I ordered a lemon drop martini, and she ordered a strawberry margarita."

A stagehand brought out a clear martini and set it on the piano, and another one came down the stairs and placed a pink-colored margarita on your table. Your face heated at the simple yet thoughtful act.

"We talked for hours until I drunkenly asked her on a date. You know what she told me?" A plethora of whats were screamed from the crowd. "She said, 'Ask me again when you're sober!'"

Everyone laughed, and you hid your face in your hands. That wasn't even a joke; you had genuinely said that to him. You were blown away that he remembered such a tiny detail.

"Ultimately, I'm a very serious partner," Harry continued as he began sauntering toward the piano, "and nothing says serious partner like learning how to play the piano to impress my fiancée."

Taking a sip of your margarita, you glanced behind you. Some of your friends were recording him with their phones, and you were glad this could be something you could watch repeatedly.

Harry sat on the bench and exhaled. "Ooh, that feels good."

You had to wave one of the fans the drag queens gave out to cool down. He looked unfairly handsome, he was playing the goddamn piano, and he kept giving you secret looks that made you sweat.

"Now... I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not a boyfriend anymore." He stared straight at you. "I'm a fiancé now." Whistles from your friends caused him to proudly smile. "I'm also going to be dad," he casually blurted. "We're going to have a baby."

The entire room gasped, and you gaped at him with wide eyes. "We're not," Harry added after a short pause. "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were, though?" Your friends were now shaking you and battering you with questions. Harry smiled before his face dropped comically. "We're not."

He teasingly raised eyebrows and smirked at you as if to signify that you were actually pregnant, although you were drinking alcohol. Hopefully, everyone knew that you'd never be that stupid.

The girls were gawking at you, but Harry rolled his lips in and shook his head to remove the confusion. He continued playing the piano, and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He was doing such a great job, and you were genuinely trying to figure out how he had pulled all of this off.

"I love my fiancée; she's my best friend," he said smoothly. "She's hilarious, honest, caring, fuckin' beautiful"—he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows—"and, uh... good in bed." You rolled your eyes as he puckered his lips at you, more cheers filling the room.

"Yeah, that's right." He blew out a relieved breath. "I'm so grateful she doesn't live with her mother anymore."

"Oh my God, Harry!" you yelled with a surprised laugh.

It was a more private joke that no one understood fully, but it was funny nonetheless. You had used to live with your mother when you started dating Harry, and you always had to be quiet when he'd come over because, in his early twenties, testosterone needed to be having sex with you at the most inconvenient of times.

He winked at you before resuming. "However, for me, it's not about how my fiancée is in bed, even though I'd consider myself very lucky in that department. It's about her soul and her heart. And in all seriousness," he added as the laughter died, "I truly believe her soul is my love language."

Coos and squeals echoed at his statement, and you shyly smiled. You were the one who had taught him about all the different love languages; he had told you once that he thought your entire soul was what his was.

"Maybe some of you aren't convinced I'm a serious partner. You may be asking yourself: Did he really take secret piano lessons to do this? Well, if in doubt, just ask the maid of honor."

Your head whipped toward your maid of honor, sitting at a table behind you. She waved with a proud smile, and you gasped when you realized he must've done piano lessons with her since you knew she had played the instrument for several years.

Harry hummed loudly while closing his eyes, bringing your attention back to him. "I love being here in San Francisco. So much history."

The band behind him cheered as Harry dramatically sipped his martini. You'd never seen him so in his element with something besides his job. The confidence in the delivery of his jokes, the comedic timing, the professional stage setup—it was something you'd never forget.

"I've learned so much this week. Here's a few secrets about the hotel we're staying at," he said gaily. "Did you know they gave us the haunted room because of how pale I am?" He shook his head with a boyish smile. "That is funny."

You chuckled at the awful joke because he was actually paler than usual. It was the end of January, and he hadn't gone outside much since it'd been cold and gloomy by the coast where both of you lived.

"The bed in there is so creaky that it sounded like that one night in Mexico!"

Shocked gasps and bursts of laughter rippled throughout your friends in the audience. It was a harmless joke about how you had all gone on a couples trip a while ago, and your friends had heard you and Harry getting down with it in the hotel room. It had been terribly embarrassing.

Harry laughed. "Everybody thinks we're a couple that has a lot of sex. We don't; that's why she sleeps in a different bed than me at home."

Okay, now that wasn't true.

"Except tonight!" he shouted cheekily while pointing at you. "I mean, I think I'm just about ready to take her home with how she looks right now."

The girls at your table nudged you, and you began to get flustered. He was giving you that look again.

Harry cleared his throat and stopped playing the piano. "All jokes aside, thank you so much to everyone for celebrating with her tonight. You've all been wonderful friends over the years, and I can't wait to see you all at the wedding. It'll be terrifying, but I'm so ready. Also, thank you for bearing with my terrible jokes. Have a good rest of the night!"

You applauded along with your friends, some of them throwing leftover confetti from the drag performance earlier toward him. He brought his hands together and bowed politely as the band played a closing song.

Harry's cheeks were as pink as your strawberry margarita when he walked down the stairs with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his suit jacket. He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile. Everyone stood from their seats to greet him, and the band came down holding bouquets of white iris flowers, passing them out to each of your friends.

You met Harry halfway and instantly wrapped your arms around his waist as he tilted your head up for a messy kiss on the lips. He coaxed and smacked kiss after kiss out of you until your friends started making fake gagging noises from behind. He eventually pulled away and removed his hand behind his back to hold out a bountiful bouquet of red roses that matched the color of your dress.

"For my lovely fiancée." He gave you the bouquet and then turned your head so his mouth was by your ear. "I've got a taxi picking you up after this is done."

You nodded and ran your fingers across his stomach. "Sounds perfect. That was so incredible, Harry. And the piano? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, shyly rubbing a knuckle under his eyebrow. "I didn't know if you'd appreciate me crashing your girls night."

"Are you kidding? That was the best thing I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you."

Harry blushed, and you lovingly pinched his cheek. "Thanks. I was nervous because your friends always make fun of my jokes. I thought they wouldn't laugh."

"We were cracking up. You did so good," you complimented. "How did you keep it a secret from me? I had no idea."

"I'll never tell," he said with a cute shrug.

You lightly slapped his chest. "I'll get it out of you one day. Are you staying for the rest of the show?"

"It's your night, baby. Go enjoy it with your friends," he said. "I'll be waiting in the hotel room. You should stop by for a little rendezvous."

Your tipsy mind missed his attempt at a joke entirely. "We're staying in the same room, though."

"Bloody hell," he said with a laugh. "How much alcohol have you had?"

"Excuse me, not even a lot. Mind your business. I'm having a great time."

"I'm glad you're having fun. That makes me happy." Harry adjusted your tiara and then softly pecked the corner of your mouth three times. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

"For our rendezvous?"

"Our top secret rendezvous," he murmured against your temple. "Don't go around telling anyone, all right?"

"Sure thing," you replied while squeezing his sides. "You can go now."

An offended scoff escaped him, and he cradled the back of your head and leaned in. "Watch your mouth. I expect you to behave when you get back."

You puckered your lips and hummed contemplatively. "But it's my special day; you said so yourself. I can say whatever I—"

Harry cut you off by pressing his lips to your bottom one, biting it with his teeth before pulling back. "I love you so much, but that attitude isn't going to fly with me tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad."

"I'm leaving before this gets weird," he said with a smile. "Be safe, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

"Now you literally sound like a dad."

"Shush," he said. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

You pecked his lips one last time, tasting the sour lemon residue from his martini. "Love you."

"Have fun, ladies," he called out to your friends. "Take care of her, yeah?"

They all nodded, and Harry hugged you before heading to the stage to shake hands with the band. Soon after he was gone, the lights in the theater dimmed again, and the curtains opened for the final portion of the show. You headed back to your seat, feeling exceptionally giddy.

The rest of the party went by in a flash. Wigs, pop songs, and glitter invaded your brain, and now you were ready to return to the hotel. The tone he'd used earlier had made a shiver run down your spine. Low, insinuative, and almost impatient.

It was a tone that suggested you were in for a treat when you got back.

——

The key card swiftly slid into the slot. Two chirp-like beeps sounded, indicating that it was unlocked. Opening the heavy door, you stumbled inside the hotel room in the black heels you had already started to unclasp in the back of the taxi. There was confetti stuck to the bottom of them, and it nearly made you slip on the hardwood floors. That, and there was also a trail of rose petals and tea light candles weaving throughout the presidential suite that you didn't remember seeing when you had left earlier.

You giggled to yourself as you followed the trail to the bedroom. Oh, Harry. You had almost forgotten he was here.

When you walked through the doorway, the king-size bed came into view. So did your fiancé. Harry was sitting pretty on the silk sheets with a flute of champagne in his left hand as he looked out the window at the San Francisco skyline. He was wearing the same outfit from his surprise act not too long ago, but his hair had become messier, and his eyes were glassy from the bubbly liquid you noticed was already half gone from the bottle on the nightstand.

You crawled toward him on the bed, setting your bouquet down. "Hi. I'm back."

His gaze was focused on you. He granted no response as his lips took a sip of the pale and fizzy drink he held so delicately, the gold engagement band on his ring finger gleaming from the moonlight illuminating the room. A low groan escaped his mouth when you straddled his thighs and applied pressure to his already hard cock. He wasn't saying anything, but you knew exactly what would get him to speak.

"What's got you so hard, baby?" you asked softly, tutting. "Were you thinking about me?"

His lips twitched as he finished the champagne and set it on the ground beside the bed. "Like you don't fuckin' know. Look at yourself, darling. It's honestly a shock that I wasn't on my knees for you at the theater."

Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs. "I had a feeling you'd like this little number."

It had been a struggle to get through the door to leave since his touch had been all over you the second you put on the red satin slip dress.

"What about me? Do you like my outfit?"

Such a narcissist, you thought to yourself. You ground against him, and he let out a breathy moan. "I do. Apparently, no boxers are part of the get-up."

Harry closed his eyes and smirked. "I might have no boxers on, but there's something else you might find. I went and did some quick shopping while you were gone."

Your slowed thoughts tried to catch up to what he could have been hinting at. "Shopping, huh? What did you buy?"

His large hands kneaded your ass. "Take a look."

He leaned forward and guided your hand to the button of his trousers. You quickly flicked it undone as he removed his suit jacket and began undoing the button-up. His body lifted on the bed so you could slide the garment off easier, and he hissed when it brushed past his cock.

Slowly but surely, his legs underneath were revealed, and your face heated to a thousand degrees. Fishnet tights. His leg hair and tiger tattoo peeked out from under the crosshatch material stretched tight against his skin. The redness of his cock looked painful from its restraint under them.

"I might've bought a little something too," you admitted as you scratched his skin through the thin fabric.

"Yeah?" He jerked his hips when your fingers grazed the head of his cock. "Show me, then. Go on."

You sat on your knees and lifted your dress to reveal the baby pink garter around your upper thigh. "It's your favorite color."

Harry licked his lips as his fingers delicately rubbed the lace. "I see that, sweetheart. Anyone particular on your mind when you bought it?"

"Was there anyone on your mind"—you snapped the waistband of his fishnets—"when you bought these?"

He bit his lip. "You're the only one I think of. The only one I would wear these for. I would crawl on my knees to you wearing them if that's what you wanted."

"Is that so? Quite the visual."

"I'll do it if you want me to." He paused, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "We can practice the garter toss for our wedding."

You made a noise of protest. "We are absolutely not doing that in front of our families. It'll be so humiliating."

"Don't have to, because we can do it right now," he suggested. A nip was given to your neck before he climbed off the bed and grabbed a chair.

Your eyebrows arched. "What are you doing?"

"We're doing this the traditional way," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I have to go under your dress and take it off."

"Will you be nice, or will you tease me?"

"Which do you prefer?"

You swung your legs over the bed and sat in the chair. "I prefer the way that gets you inside me as soon as possible."

"Well, I'll let you know once I'm between your thighs," he said, kneeling on the carpeted floor and waving his hands for you to spread open for him.

"No tickling, or I'm staying in another room," you warned as you slid off your heels and parted your legs.

Harry started crawling toward you with his tousled hair and day-old stubble, only wearing his fishnets and unbuttoned dress shirt. He never broke eye contact with you until he reached where you were sitting.

Your satin dress was then lifted over his head. You could instantly feel his hot breath against your legs, his lips grazing every patch of skin he could find. He left an open-mouthed kiss over your underwear that was already damp, and you moaned when his facial hair rubbed against your inner thigh.

You suddenly felt his teeth grab the garter as he pulled it down to your ankle. He took it off the rest of the way with his hand, bringing it over your shoe and moving out from under your dress. He stuck it between his teeth again and removed his button-up. Green eyes stared at you, and you clenched your legs under his intense stare. His tattooed torso was on full display. He was so, so beautiful.

Harry grabbed the garter and slid it on his bicep before saying, "Stand up."

You got up and switched spots with him, standing in front of him while he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs, his thighs thickening even more under the fishnets. You walked over and parted them so you could straddle him. The chair was thankfully wide enough to fit both of your knees on either side of him. You could almost feel his cock throb as you started desperately grinding against him to offer relief.

"Baby, slow down. Shit, slow down," he said quickly, his hands gripping your waist. "I need to last. You'll make me come right now if you keep doing that."

Slowing down, you took your time with each grind on his thigh. The pressure of the muscle felt like heaven as your core clenched around nothing. "Is that better?" you asked, raising your dress to see how his body reacted underneath you.

"Yes," he choked out, his neck straining. "I need to be inside you so bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad. I'm fuckin' throbbing for you. Please get on the bed."

You squeezed one of his balls through the fishnets, his hips bucking. "Where does it ache? Tell me how to make it better."

"Get on the bed," he gritted. "I'm not going to ask again."

There was the dominance you wanted. You nipped his earlobe and crawled off his legs. He immediately stood, hissing as he palmed himself through his tights. You helped him take them off.

"Top or bottom?" he asked while closing the curtains. "My fiancée's choice."

"Neither. I want it from behind."

"Say less." He turned around, gripping his cock and squeezing it once. "On the bed. Now."

You quickly slipped your dress and underwear off and knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Harry got in position behind you, his cock resting on your lower back. He moved your hair to one side and whispered, "On all fours."

You placed your forearms on the bed and arched your back so he had a good angle. "Open your mouth," he commanded. You tilted your head up and to the side as he leaned in to spit in your awaiting mouth. His saliva pooled on your tongue, and you swallowed it down willingly. "Good girl."

Harry then reached his arm out to hold onto the headboard. The engagement ring on his finger caught your eye, as did his veiny hand that tightly gripped the burgundy wood.

The first thrust was divine. Searing pressure filled your walls, and Harry whimpered into your neck at your instant clench around his cock. He continued deeply thrusting into you as he took the garter off his arm and put it around your wrists so that they were restrained in front of you. Your hips burned. Harry's other hand squeezed your breast.

"Go faster," you said as his hand trailed down to your stomach, his long middle finger lightly grazing your clit.

He pounded harder, his skin slapping as the headboard creaked from the force. He was hitting all the deep spots, his pelvis meeting your ass each time. Your hands gripped the sheets when he glided his fingers up and down your dripping core. His head was nestled in your neck, muffled groans and pants leaving him when you pushed up your hips with each new thrust.

He removed his fingers that were coated with your arousal and spread his palm on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me there?"

You nodded fervently, crying out when a deep trust had you literally feeling him in your stomach. "Holy shit, Harry. I feel you. Please don't stop."

He pressed down and rubbed your stomach, the knot from your orgasm growing and bubbling up quickly. In one swift movement, he brought you to a sitting position as his cock continued stretching your wet walls. His thighs were touching yours, and you could feel them tense and tremble as you got closer, clenching hard around him.

"I'm going to get your name tattooed on my thigh right here," he said, taking the garter off your wrists and moving one of your hands to touch his right thigh.

You were too submerged in ecstasy to reply to his random confession. A couple more thrusts had you blindly reaching back to grab his hand so you could come. He held it tightly as you unraveled, arching against him from the pleasure leaving you.

"That's my girl," he said in your ear. "My love, my love, my love. So gorgeous, coming for me like this."

Your ears were ringing, and Harry eventually spilled inside you while you still clenched from your remaining orgasm. You felt his warm release shoot inside you, his hand still holding yours and his body falling on top of you as he groaned hotly against your cheek. Heavy breathing was coming from both of you. Harry finished coming but kept his cock inside you, with throbs and twitches happening every so often.

"If we weren't engaged already," he started, "I'd propose to you right now because that was the best I've ever felt. Wow. My body feels all tingly."

You groaned, his dead weight on top of you making it hard to breathe. "Get off me. You're sweaty."

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped on his stomach. The dim light illuminating the room and the perspiration glistening on his skin accentuated the carved outline of his abs, and you couldn't help but trace them with your fingertips.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Please."

He got up and carried you toward the bathroom. Everything in there was white marble, and the brightness hurt your eyes. The shower was small but comfortable enough to fit both of you. You already took one in the morning, but it would feel nice after a long, eventful night. It would also help you sober up as much as possible so you don't suffer through a terrible hangover tomorrow.

After laying down a towel and setting you atop the sink, Harry turned on the shower. He took off both of your engagement rings and then stood in front of the mirror. He inspected his stubble while he waited for the water to heat up.

"Should I shave?"

"Why?" you asked with a sharp tone that had him immediately raising his hands in surrender.

"All right," he mumbled with a teasing smile. "Blimey, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"What are you even saying?" you asked languidly. "I hate it when you speak old-timey British to me."

"Are you cheesed off at me now?"

"You're literally speaking gibberish." You hopped off the counter. "I'm getting in the shower. Goodbye."

Harry followed you and dove under the hot water, trapping you in a hug from behind. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" The soft skin of his stomach against your back had you melting into him.

"I don't want you to divorce me before we get married," he explained, kissing your jaw. "I'm just playing it safe."

"Harry, you're the only person who can annoy me and make me endeared at the same time."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," you replied, picking up the shampoo bottle you brought and handing it to him. "It makes me want to marry you right now."

He spurted a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into your scalp with gentle and soothing motions. "I can't wait to marry you, either. Gonna treat you like a gentleman."

You lulled your head back, resting it on his collarbone. "You already do."

"I'll do it even more when I'm your husband, though. Make dinner for you every night and take you out on the town." He gravitated one hand toward your stomach. "Give you so many babies."

"Not so fast," you interjected with a dreamlike smile. "No babies anytime soon."

Harry filled the shower cup with water and poured it over your sudsy hair. "I hear you. Just know that I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's get married first. I want you all to myself for a while."

"You always have me. That'll never change."

You turned him around so you could wash his hair next, opting for the same shampoo since he liked to steal it for himself anyway. After a prolonged yet comfortable silence, you asked, "Were you serious about tattooing my name on your thigh?"

"I'm dead serious," he replied. "I might even do it at my bachelor party. I work with a guy who's coming, and he does tattoos in his free time."

"But why on your thigh? It seems like a risqué place for it."

Harry turned his head and gave you a blank stare. "Would you rather me get it in a corny place like over my heart?"

You laughed, lathering shampoo in his curly hair. "No, not really. I guess you're right. It's kind of a secret spot for only us to know."

"Not unless I wear shorts all the time."

"Yeah, but thankfully, you wear pants every day at work. I don't want your coworkers to see that."

"Why not? I can't show you off anymore?" he teased, reaching back to pinch your side. "Wow, you propose to a woman, and suddenly she wants to be anonymous."

"Shut up," you muttered through a smile. "I honestly don't care. Just please don't get it inked in an ugly font."

Harry moved under the shower head, closing his eyes and slicking his hair back. "Well, it's a good thing I was going to ask if you'd write it out for me."

"Seriously?"

"No," he said in a deadpan manner, spitting out some water that had gotten in his mouth. "I'm thinking Comic Sans."

Poking the soft skin under his belly button, you said, "You think you're so funny now because you did a five-minute comedy routine."

He didn't provide a retort, but you saw him grin as he washed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. His nose was scrunched while he scratched his scalp and cleaned the foamy residue off his face.

After a peaceful moment of nothing but the sound of the shower water beating down, Harry opened his arms and brought you in for a hug. "I love you. You know that?"

You kissed his collarbone. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and cradled your head with his hands. "It hit me that we're getting married in a month."

It had been hitting you as well. You'd been waiting so patiently for the special day to arrive. "I love you," you said quietly. Thank you for tonight and every night. You make life worth living."

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

It fell silent as you stared longingly at each other with growing smiles. Harry slowly started getting closer to your face, his dimples carving deeper until his eyes crossed from how near he was. His forehead dropped against yours, and you rolled your lips in when he attempted to steal a kiss from you.

"How about another rendezvous, but this time we get in bed and fall asleep?" you suggested, reaching around him and shutting the shower off. Sporadic drips and exiting warmth greeted you.

He pouted. "Only if you kiss me."

"We've done enough of that today."

"You're really not going to kiss your fiancé after I just told you I'd give you babies? That's dire."

You laughed and admired a water droplet cascading from his pointed nose. "If you blow dry my hair for me, I'll reconsider."

Flinging the shower curtain open, Harry yanked a fluffy towel from the hook on the wall, then gently wrapped it around your body before grabbing one for himself and tying it low on his hips. The blow dryer next to the mirror didn't have a long cord, so you sat on the counter for easier access and squeezed any remaining wetness from your hair into the sink. Meanwhile, Harry covered the top of his head with a towel. He looked like the Virgin Mary.

You gave him a comb, and he took the blow dryer with his other hand, turning it on and gesturing at you to ensure it wasn't too hot on your skin. For the next ten minutes, the sound of the loud dryer filled the space. It would have been a stressful sound in any other situation—trying to dry soaking wet hair from the pool before dinner reservations or untangling knots from yesterday's sleep. This time, it was relaxing. Domestic. A moment in time.

The soothing scratches Harry gave to your head as he combed through every citrus-scented strand could have put you to sleep. The hotel room's air conditioner was cold and crisp, but occasionally, he'd lower the dryer so it blew warm air on your arms.

Before you knew it, the dryer clicked off, and peaceful quietness surrounded you. Harry's hair dried much quicker than yours, so he took off the towel on his head and tied some of his damp curls up in a ponytail for the night.

His hands planted themselves on either side of your legs. "Kiss time," he whispered, his arms taut.

You slid off the counter, finding yourself trapped by his body—not that you minded. Grabbing his left hand, you raised it to your lips to kiss his ring finger, then put his gold engagement band back on.

"My mouth is up here."

You grinned. "And? What about it?" Harry annoyingly pushed his forehead into your cheek, grumbling something incoherently. You pushed it away and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I think I'll die if you don't kiss me," he repeated dramatically.

"What kind of kiss do you want?"

He once told you that he had favorites for different situations: a nip, tug, peck, tongue, or the type where you both smile so big that the kisses become messy and mixed with giggles. The latter was your personal favorite.

He hummed, his nose wrinkling as he pondered. "The one where you do all the work."

You laughed softly. It wasn't necessarily a joke he was making; he genuinely enjoyed it when your lips moved against his. Sometimes, he just wanted to be kissed silly. It was never awkward, nor did it feel like a chore. He was the most kissable person to roam the earth, so resisting was hard.

"Okay," you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Only for a little bit, though. I'm exhausted."

Harry nodded and lifted you, setting you on the counter again. Your legs circled around his hips. "I'll return the favor tomorrow," he said.

The towel on his waist was hanging on for dear life. His eyelids were lazily drooping from tiredness, and his skin was flushed from the steam. How could someone look so pretty in hotel bathroom lighting?

Your hand on his cheek gently guided him to your mouth. His lips were damp and plush from the shower, parting naturally with each of your doting kisses. With his nose nudged against yours, pleased hums came from his throat as you alternated between his top and bottom lips. Kissing him never gets old. It could be soft or rough, long or short, brought about by love or annoyance. It was a cure all the same.

After a slow and innocent onslaught of kisses, you pulled away before you ended up making out with him until morning. Bruised, aching lips could wait.

Harry whined in protest. "That was only, like, five seconds."

"Guess what?" You trailed your fingertips along his neck. "You have the rest of your life to kiss me."

He yawned while shaking his head. "That's not enough time. Give me forever."

"I'll try," you said fondly, sliding your engagement ring back on.

You would until children of your own were born, which required you to share that love. Until your children's children withdrew even more of it. Yet, despite that, Harry would always be the first person you had given your heart to completely. He had never taken advantage of it. He had never made you doubt his love for you. It was the kind of love that was immortal. It would never die out and would remain the greatest feeling you'd ever felt in this life and the next.

If evermore was attainable, you liked to believe it was made possible by loving him.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles #rendezvous #adore-laur

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sl-vega · 4 months ago

Text

♫ 8.5; ↠ ENEMIES TO ???

↳ my heart beats for you-a scaramouche smau

Off key chords. Employees running around the live house holding speakers, cables, mic stands and several other appliances that Scaramouche managed recognize from his years of playing with 5WIRL.

It was nice, the atmosphere that the place radiated all the time. It was familiar, cozy, safe. He had grown quite fond of it. It felt like home to him.

Well, more like how he assumed other's would describe their home, his house life was practically worlds apart from the bliss that Favonius gave to him.

So, perhaps home wasn't the right word to describe the place. Haven, yes, a safe haven for him, that was a much better term. A get away, a paradise that he could always go to, but never quite own. Company that he could always count on but never keep.

Such thoughts always plagued his conscious when left to his own devices without interruption. Happiness was present in the moment yet his own thinking seemed to pollute the so-called joy he was supposed to be lavishing in, the joy he should have been savouring.

Because one day, it would all be gone.

One day, they'd all leave, out of sight, yet fresh in his mind.

One day, he'd be alone again.

Suddenly Scaramouche felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to the current scene. Friendly deep gold eyes met his dead indigo one's.

Aether.

Right, he was in the live house, surrounded by his bandmates. Not alone. He had company. He had other's to spend time with. He had friends.

"Hey."

He simply said, nonchalantly, though he spared Aether from the usual glare that sat on his grumpy, albeit gentle, face.

"You good? You were staring off into space again."

Aether gave him a quizzical and concerned look, they have had this conversation countless times. Always the same scenario, always the same response between the two.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Lies.

His friend didn't look convinced. He never did. Yet he never pushed it further than that, Scaramouche liked that about Aether, he knew that insisting that he wasn't okay would only make him feel worse. Aether's expression quickly shifted into a gentle smile, clearly fake, clearly strained.

"I'm gonna go on a snack run, wanna come with?"

The blonde asked, gesturing to the front door of the live house.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing a soundcheck with Sucrose and Mika?"

Scaramouche deadpanned in response. He loved spending one on one time with Aether, he really did, but he didn't want to screw up tonight just because of that.

"Nah don't worry about it, Xiao told me he'd do the rest of the checks with them."

Aether explained, of course Xiao agreed to do it for him, the guy basically followed him around like a dog, not to mention acted like one. Scaramouche supposed he admired the dedication. He'd make a good boyfriend for someone if he wasn't so attached to Aether.

"Fine."

He muttered in response. On the inside, he was practically jumping for joy though.

Aether led the two of them out the door, and they headed to the local convenience store using the all too familiar route that Scaramouche had memorized from his time spent with the band.

They finally arrived at the store itself, Aether opening the door for Scaramouche, allowing him to head inside first.

"Ever the gentleman I see."

"You know it."

After him, Aether shortly followed, allowing the door to gently swing shut as the soft cling of the door chimes sounded and rang throughout the shop.

A brief intermission of silence shortly followed after the two began to examine the shelves for snacks. Aether gently pushing boxes and bags aside while Scaramouche had settled for rummaging through the aisles. He always made sure to put everything back in it's place though. He wasn't that much of a jackass.

Him and Aether eventually reconvened at the candy aisle together. Scaramouche holding two bags of chips for himself, and Aether holding a small basket full of snacks.

The began browsing the sweets section together, and thankfully, Aether broke the silence.

"So, other than her, did ya' invite anyone else?"

Aether asked him, back turned as he checked the price tag for some chocolate bar.

Scaramouche didn't know how to feel about the fact the he immediately knew that Aether was talking about you, even if he didn't mention your name.

He shrugged, picking up some dark chocolate in the process. "Yeah I only directly invited her, but she probably asked your sister to come or somethin'..."

He placed the bitter candy back on the shelf. He didn't care much for candy, even if some fit his flavour profile.

"Why did you invite her anyways?" Aether inquired.

"Cuz you told me I should."

He replied, without missing a beat. He seemed to repeat the same mantra over and over. Yeah, he's only doing this for Aether, he's doing this for Aether, for the sake of his friend.

That's all.

"I told you to try being nicer to her, not invite her to one of our gigs."

His friend turned around to face him, smirking.

"I've never seen you put this much effort into someone you claim to 'hate' Scara~ Maybe you care more than your willing to let on."

He teased, playfully poking his shoulder. Scaramouche simply let out a dry chuckle and swatted Aether's hand away.

"Yeah right..."

Sure, maybe he didn't hate you, maybe he never even disliked you in the first place, but it wasn't like he liked you, or was fond of you by any means. And he certainly wasn't in love-

He wasn't.

He couldn't.

At most he admired you as a musician. He'd never say it out loud, but he certainly admired you.

Admiration and actually having feelings for someone are two completely different things that way too many people confuse for one another.

"Well I'm gonna go pay for everything now, you can wait for me outside, I'll be there in a sec."

"Hm? Oh, yeah thanks..."

Scaramouche handed Aether his snacks and some cash that would cover the stuff he wanted before promptly turning his heel and exiting the store.

Why was he even thinking about this right now? Why was he even thinking about you right now.

Sure, he'd been following your musical career for longer than he'd like to admit, and part of him envied the passion you had for the art. But that didn't mean he had to like you in that sense.

Liking you in that sense would make things weird. You made it abundantly clear that you disliked him. You were stubborn, and brash, and incredibly irritating.

Liking you in that sense meant that things between him and Aether would be weird. And that was the last thing that he wanted.

Hurting Aether was the last thing he wanted.

"Scara! I finished paying for everything-"

His friend placed his hand on his shoulder once more, causing him to flinch, clearly catching Aether off guard.

"You good?-"

"I'm fine. Really. You just started me a bit."

Scaramouche insisted, lifting the blonde's hand off him, and taking the plastic bag full of their purchases from Aether's arms and into his own.

"We're heading back now yeah?"

He tilted his head in the direction of Favonius, taking a few steps forward as he waited for Aether to scurry along.

"Yeah! Thanks for coming with me Scara."

"No problem."

He wasn't gonna hurt Aether, no matter how he felt about you.

But surely, getting just a little bit closer to you wouldn't hurt anyone,

...Right?

additional notes:

denial is a river in egypt for $400

also if you thought you saw a different chapter instead

you are sorely mistaken

idk what you're talking about :D

ALSO HEAR ME OUT

y/n is Alexander, and scara and aether are eliza/Angelica (those roles are interchangeable between the two of them tbh)

anyways ty again for reading!

love y'all <3

masterlist

MY HEART BEATS FOR YOU

Pairing: [BASSIST!] Scaramouche x [GUITARIST!] Reader

Genre: rivals/enemies to lovers, rivals to friends to lovers, fluff, crack (?), comedy, angst (?), slowburn, high school au, band au, modern au, social media au, smau

Synopsis: You're the lead guitarist for your band, C✧LESTIA and Scaramouche is the bassist of 5WIRL. The two of your bands have a friendly rivalry, but you and Scaramouche don't. On top of being academic rivals, you and him have never been on good terms. Always one-upping each other in grades and in music. Even your bandmates have grown tired of your constant bickering with each other. But when your usual practice hub gets flooded, you and the rest of C✧LESTIA are forced to find a new place to rehearse. So when 5WIRL offers to share their studio with you who are you to refuse? Of course, this forces you to spend time with your sworn rival whether you like it or not. But maybe the two of you can overcome your differences and actually be friends?

Or maybe even more?

(CLOSED) TAGLIST: @featuredtofu @levianamor @danfelions, @thatoneswordgirl, @lolmeowing, @bananasquash, @xiaosantenna, @twilightclouds, @kaitfae, @mujiwuji, @zestyseggsydaddy69, @peaceindreams, @freyao7, @rinquin, @justpeachyteastea, @seafumes, @b2ne, @skyoverkill1, @scaradooche, @morallyrainyday, @adres-tia, @justadvena6, @agaygothicmushroom, @aiher, @seaofdata, @kyon-cherri, @aether-darling, @ukinya, @sketcheeee, @ibawa, @shutingstar, @eutopiastar, @kunimix, @wonderful-worlds, @ectomotive, @yourfavoritefreakyhan, @b4tm4nn, @animegirl-12s-world, @h3xi2g0n3, @lalaloveallmydays, @st4xs-3, @valentinasgirly, @kazuieee, @hikoiaa, @princess-peachys, @feikyuu, @dainsleif-when-playable, @animeobsessed56, @useless-potahto

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #scaramouche smau #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x y/n #wanderer #wanderer smau #hat guy #aether #5wirl #6reeze

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megumishousewife · 3 months ago

Text

Megumi x Chubby! Streamer Part 2

A/N: I'm so sorry I kept yall waiting for part two, college life was kicking my butt but (double butt) please enjoy bae🫶🏽

It wasn’t even a full 24 hours and you were trending on Twitter overnight. You saw that you had gained at least half a million subscribers on all of your platforms, not to mention how you were tagged in many videos about Megumi. Ignoring your growing fame, you opened your Twitter page and saw the poll that you had uploaded last night to see that over 95% of voters wanted you to meet your favorite streamer. You were shocked by how many people were so engrossed with your little crush that it caused you to laugh.

“Wow, it’s 10 AM and Twitter is losing their mind,” You mumbled to yourself.

You knew that you were not exactly ready to meet Megs in person because you already know with no established meeting of any kind is just bound to cause an awkward interaction. You thought about another solution while you handled the business portion of your day, responding to emails and accepting sponsors. While answering after answering an email from an Indie horror game creator, you stumbled upon a message in your inbox that you were not expecting. The sender read Megumi Fushiguro with the subject topic being “possible collab?”. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. The feeling of the world closing in on you was prevalent in this moment. Your YouTube crush….WANTS TO COLLAB?! You took the time to thank your fans in your head as you read the email, trying to contain your need to burst into tears of joy. The email reads:

Dear Y/N,

I’m pleased to see that our fans are interested in us growing a bond with each other. I, as well, was interested in you and your content so I wanted to ask if you were interested if you would like to do a video together. Let me know your answer and please follow up with ideas. Thank you for your time!

Sincerely,

Megumi Fushiguro

You tried your hardest to not squeal in excitement. You read the entire email all over again, just imagining it in his voice and you gushed about how cute he would probably sound trying to be serious. You took a moment to respond, gather your thoughts and try to be as professional as possible.

Dear Mr. Fushiguro,

Sorry for being so formal, but I would love to do a collab with you! I’m sorry for the social media uproar, I bet you're not used to THIS kind of attention. I would like to play “It Takes Two” since it’s more of a duo game anyways. If you could tell me a day that is good with you, I can clear my schedule. Thanks!

Sincerely,

Y/N

You flopped on your bed and kicked your feet giddily for a split second. You looked at your clock and decided to do an early morning stream to thank your audience and tell them your surprise (you couldn’t wait because you would have tweeted that you're doing a video with your crush). Getting back into influencer mode, you started setting up your lighting for your stream as the intermission screen was on for your viewers so they couldn’t see you and your nervous jitters. Sitting down, you took a quick breather before clicking your fans over to see your facecam.

“Hi guys! There’s about 5,000 of you guys here. I know I just saw you guys yesterday but I missed you all! Welcome back, welcome back. As you can tell by the title of this stream, I have a special announcement for all of you! Let’s allow a few more people to come in and I will make my announcement.

While you and your fans waited, you said hello to a few people, some asked you how your morning has been so far. Others asked about your Youtube content and you replied holding a finger over your lips, smiling. After ten minutes of friendly chatting, you decided to drop the bomb.

You began, “Before I tell you my announcement, I just wanted to thank you guys for even making this possible. For all your hashtags and tweets to bring attention to little ole me, I thank you all. Sooo, yo get to the point for you guys… I am currently working on collabing with Megs and I can’t wait to start filming for it!”

You saw your chat blow up with “Let’s go” or “you finna get your manz” and all you could do was giggle at how supportive your fans were.

“Guys, relax. All we are doing is playing a game and no, you won’t find out until I release the video.”

You got an email notification and saw that it was from Megumi and it said: “Open it on stream ;)”. Your mouth dropped open and you looked at your webcam.

“Megs wants you guys to see his recent email.”

Your chat was going crazy, asking if you read it yet or just straight up telling you to read it.

“No, I have not read the email yet. We can all read it together.”

You shared your screen with your chat and began reading the email to them. It reads:

Y/N, I’m pleased to work and get closer to you in the future. When you’re done with your stream, send me an email with your number so I can call you.

~Megs

All you could do was scream in the mic while your fans spammed W’s in the chat, probably having the same reaction as you.

--------------------------------------------------------

Nobara smiled hard at the screen watching your priceless reaction.

She said, “My god, Yuji, I think you made this girl lose her mind over Megumi. Gosh, she’s so cute.”

Behind her, Megumi had Yuji in a chokehold while Yuji tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look, Megumi,” Yuji said, “She’s happy about the email and you’re overreacting! Don’t get mad at me because I tried to add a little rizz to your emails.”

Megumi released Yuji, “ I was trying to be professional and you-”. Megumi’s face was turned by Yuji, forcing him to continue to look at your blushing face on stream as you spoke highly about him with a smile on your face, admiring your chubby face radiating on his big screen. He slapped Yuji’s hands away and walked towards his kitchen, blushing.

Nobara high-fived Yuji and whispered, “Good job, Cupid!”

taglist!: @definitely-notalissa (as promised babes🤞🏽)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #megumi x chubby reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi fluff

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honorarysimp · 6 months ago

Text

Intermission: Harbinger Print

series masterlist

The car rumbles down the highway, the hum of the engine filling the tense atmosphere. The sun is low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road.

You sit in shotgun, flipping through the pages of the ominous book. You study each page intently, absorbing every detail you could. Tara grips the wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white with tension.

As your eyes scan the pages, your mind races as you filter through the wealth of information. "This..." you mutter, voice laced with a mixture of trepidation and frustration, "this could've saved so many lives if we'd had it sooner."

You flip to another page, and immediately Tara’s tension spikes. As if the more you read, the more upset she got.

The silence between you since you’d left Randy’s was palpable, the weight of the situation hanging over the both of you like a dark cloud. Your fingers pause on a particularly interesting page, eyes widening as you read the words scrawled there.

“Holy shit, Tara, listen to this-“

The car abruptly screeched to a halt, jolting you both forward in your seats. You’re caught off guard, the book slipping from your grip and landing on the floorboard of the car with a thud.

"What-" you began, but before you can finish, Tara is unbuckling her seatbelt and flinging the door open. She steps out of the car, leaving the engine running, her movements sharp and urgent.

You scramble out of the car after her, book forgotten. "Tara!" You call after her, confusion and concern etched on your face.

She continues to walk away, her back stiff and her stride purposeful. You quickly catch up to her, grabbing her arm to stop her. "What's going on?" You ask, voice laced with worry.

She spun around, anger and fear warring in her eyes. "Did you forget the part where Randy said the more you read, the more of a threat you become to it?" she snaps, her voice shaking. "You're playing with fire here. That book isn't something we should mess with. You have no idea what it's capable of."

You recoil at her outburst, taken aback by the intensity of her anger. But you press on, determined to understand. "But we need it," you protest, “it’s the first tangible documentation on this thing that’s actually helpful-“

She begins to pace, her voice growing more frantic. "This was a mistake," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "You should've never taken that damn book from him. We're playing with dark forces here, things we don't understand."

Her hands tremble as she rakes them through her hair, her fear and anger growing with each passing moment.

You put your hands up in a pacifying gesture, trying to calm her down. "Hey, listen to me-" you begin, but she cuts you off with a fierce shove.

"No, you listen for once!" she yells, her voice cracking with emotion as you stumble back a step. "You don't get to keep acting like the hero here, like you're the only one who knows what's best."

You’re taken aback by her outburst, and the realization dawns on you. This wasn't just about the book. There is something deeper at play here.

The tension between you is palpable, crackling in the air like an impending thunderstorm. You knew you both have been avoiding this conversation, dancing around the elephant in the room. It’s been there for months, growing like a slow-burning fire, but you’ve been too focused on other things to address it.

You look at her, expression softening. "Is that what this is about?" you ask gently. "Is this about us?"

She turns her back to you, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back her emotions. But her anger and sadness are too strong, and she whirled back around, shoving you again with all her might.

"It's not fair!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Why does it have to be you? Why does it have to be you who risks your life?"

You stagger back, heart twisting at the pain in her voice. You reach out to her, but she swats your hand away.

"I can't keep doing this," she continues, her voice trembling. "I can't keep watching you throw yourself into danger like you have nothing to lose. I care about you— goddamn it, I care too much about you."

You watch as her breaths came faster and faster, a panicked look creeping into her eyes. "Tara," you say, taking a step towards her "shit, is it your-"

She shook her head, gasping for air. "Inhaler," she manages to gasp out. "In my bag—in the car."

You immediately dive into the car, rifling through her bag in a panic. You pull out the inhaler, the plastic tube feeling heavy in your hand.

You slam the door shut and hurry back to her, heart racing. She’s leaning against the hood of the car, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to breathe. Without a word, you hand her the inhaler. She takes it gratefully, bringing it to her mouth and took several deep puffs.

After a few moments, her breathing began to steady, her gasps turning into deep, ragged breaths. The panic in her eyes slowly fades, replaced by a look of exhaustion.

You watch her, concern etched on your face. "Are you okay?" you ask softly, reaching out to touch her arm once more.

She nods, still taking deep breaths as she tries to steady herself. "Yeah," she manages to say. "I'm okay. Just... got a little worked up."

She glances up at you, her gaze searching your face. The anger and fear from before had faded, replaced by vulnerability.

The world seemed to slow down around you, the air thick and heavy with the weight of emotions. The car hums as it stays parked hastily on the side of the empty road, the sound of crickets and the rustle of leaves the only other sounds breaking the silence.

The two stood facing each other, breaths mingling in the evening air. The moment is charged with tension and raw feeling, caught in this bubble of stilled time, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.

You study her face, the tension between you palpable. You see the exhaustion in her eyes, the lingering fear and pain.

You take a cautious step towards her, closing the distance between you. "We have to talk about this," you say softly, voice breaking the silence.

She looks up at you, her eyes welling up with tears again. "Not now," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Not when I don't know if you're going to make it out alive."

Hesitantly, she reaches up, her hand trembling as she touches your face. Her fingers trace a gentle path down your cheek, the contact sending a shiver down your spine.

You feel the turmoil in her touch, the fear and worry that had been consuming her for so long. You reach up and covered her hand with yours, holding it against your face.

"Hey," you say, voice gentle yet firm. "Look at me."

She looks up at you, her eyes meeting yours. They’re filled with a mixture of fear and hope, pain and longing. You took a deep breath, gathering all your courage.

"I swear to you," you say, voice sincere. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it back to you, okay? No matter what."

Your grip on her hand tightens, gaze unwavering. "I promised you, remember?" You say, voice steady. "I promised you I would never leave you."

You reach up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "And I meant it. I will always come back to you, no matter what happens."

The tension teeters like glass on a counter edge, the air thick with unspoken words and tangled emotions. Every beat of your hearts seemed magnified, every breath held in anticipation.

You both stood there, locked in an intense gaze, the world around you fading away into nothingness. The vulnerability in her eyes mirrored the fierce protectiveness in yours. It was a moment of raw emotion, of unexpressed feelings being laid bare.

You lean in, closing the small gap between you. You gently rest your forehead against hers, and she lets you, eyes closing as you both revel in the intimate contact.

Her breath mingles with yours, the warm puffs of air a gentle reminder of the closeness. For a moment, everything else fades away. There is only the two of you, no harbinger print with the threat of an unavoidable death, rather the promise of something more.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting hers. Her expression was a mixture of defiance and longing. Her voice, a mere whisper, broke the silence.

"Don't you dare kiss me right now," she says, a hint of a challenge in her tone. But her words were belied by the flutter of her lashes and the way she leans into you, the heat between you undeniable.

You laugh softly, the sound low and sweet. "Or what?" you tease, voice filled with a mix of playful adoration.

You inch closer, your hand coming up to gently cup her face. "You'll punch me if I do?"

Her eyes meet yours again, filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. She shook her head, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips.

With a sudden movement, she grabs the front of your shirt, pulling you towards her. She kisses you with an intensity that takes your breath away, the initial connecting of your lips a poignant mingling of fear, passion, and desperation.

Your lips meet again in a collision, a clash of emotions and unspoken words. The kiss is hungry, filled with a mixture of trepidation and longing. You cling to each other desperately, bodies pressing together as if you could shield one another from the uncertainties of the future.

The heat between you is electrifying, the salty tang from tears mixing in the space between your mouths. It is a kiss filled with a burning need, a silent plea for reassurance in the midst of chaos.

The kiss slows, lips parting as you both struggle to catch your breath. You both linger in the moment, faces still close, bodies molded.

Her forehead rests against yours this time, eyes still closed as if savoring the sensations coursing through her. Your breathing is ragged, heart hammering in your chest. You can feel her own shaky breaths against your mouth, her fingers clenched tightly in the material of your shirt.

Her grip eventually loosens, her fingers slowly uncurling from the fabric. They hover in the air for a moment before gently lying on your chest, her palm feeling the beat of your ever racing heart.

She looks up at you, her eyes pleading as they flicker between yours, tears again glinting in the soft light of the evening sun that is slowly sinking below the treeline. "You're not allowed to die now," she whispers, her voice raw and trembling. "You cannot die now. Not when I'm finally allowing myself to hope."

Your hand comes up to cover hers, fingers wrapping around her wrist. You can feel the rapid thudding of her pulse beneath your touch, a mirror of your own.

"I won't," you promise, voice filled with a fierce determination. "I have you, remember? It’s your job to keep idiots like me from dying.”

She can’t hold back the watery laugh that escapes her chest, the sound low and filled with affection. And before she can respond, you cup her face and claim her lips in another kiss. This one just as intense, just as full of need, but with a hint of tenderness beneath the urgency.

The kiss is a mingle of comfort and pleading, a desperate attempt to hold onto one another in the face of the unknown.

Finally, you both pull back, searching each other's eyes.

It was a moment of silent understanding, a bittersweet apology and a promise of hope in the same breath.

____________________________________________

“So, what does it say?”

You flip to the next page, the car rumbling as it cruises down the backroad paving the way to town. You’ve been keeping track of how far out from town you are, maybe about fifty miles left or so.

“Basically it is a being that’s been around longer than any known timescale, whoever put this together wrote that it’s ’made one with the land’ and ‘unmovable’. Whatever that means” you read off, clicking your tongue against the top of your mouth as you continue reading.

“I didn’t hear unstoppable” Tara says with a slight tilt of her head, casting you a side glance.

You flip through a few more pages, details on water being its source of connectedness to the land. That it can take a physical and tangible form when it chooses. Fog is like a traveling current for it, it somehow channels it like a river to move through. Something about being reborn, but some words dissipated from the pages having gotten wet at some point. How it feeds in order to extend its lifespan, nothing on a way to get rid of it.

Which isn’t surprising, or else it would’ve been rid of a long time ago.

“This is fucking ridiculous-“ you stop as one page catches your eye, making you sit up in your seat.

Tara glances over, instantly catching the shift in your demeanor “what? What’s it say?”

“There’s a way to put it to sleep” you mutter, brow furrowed as you look to her with an uneasy expression “you’re not gonna like where and how it’s done.”

You see her hands clench the wheel, she takes a deep breath and keeps her eyes on the road ahead.

“Do I even want to ask?”

A pause of silence.

“It doesn’t say what kind of sacrifice, but-“

Tara groans, throwing her hands up in exasperation which has you yelp when the car swerves. You quickly reach over to grab the steering wheel and stabilize the car.

“I’m getting sick and fucking tired of this shit, I mean are you kidding me? A sacrifice? Of course. That literally goes against every single reason we’re trying to stop this thing. Unfuckingbelievable. Just fucking burn the goddamn town to the ground, dry up the water, dynamite the asshole-“

“Tara, breathe” you cut her rant off, she meets your gaze and glares hard but reluctantly takes the wheel once again.

“The method is unorthodox, yes it’s a blood sacrifice but it doesn’t say what kind-“

“Killing an innocent animal is just as bad” Tara butts in, her elbow resting on the side of the car door as she absently rubs at her temples, irritated.

“It’s a solution” you say pointedly, readjusting the book in your lap, it doesn’t feel as heavy as it did before.

You haven’t decided if that’s good or bad yet.

“What else does it say?” Tara says after another gap in conversation, “you’re already halfway through that thing, there has to be something else.”

“A lot of it is jumbled, the ink is fucked from weathering” you sigh out, fingers trailing along the worn yellow pages, black smudges where words should be here and there.

You think back on what Randy called it, smudging. You haven’t felt any different minus the initial foreboding energy that had washed over you the moment you’d taken the book.

But then again, you’re still a bit a ways from town, that could change at any time.

“If we try this, the book says it must be done in the source of its power” you continue, glancing over at her, only to find Tara looking at you with an uneasiness in her eyes.

“The lake?”

“The lake.”

previous, next

#tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n

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guitarstringed-scars · 6 months ago

Text

on stage- s. hinata

act two, scene two: hell week

masterlist

you slam open the door to the auditorium, students already rushing about. the stage is being set up with set pieces, and you wave to kenma in the lighting booth. you spot keiji as you walk in. he stands addressing a group of actors as you approach him.

“ready for the first dress rehearsal?” he asks you, smiling weakly.

“never been more ready!” you turn to the gathering of actors, “you should all head to the costume closet and get ready, yachi should be ready down there.”

they nod and head out. it isn’t until a few minutes later that shoyo shows up, coffee in hand. he rushes up to you grinning.

“hi!” he says, a little breathlessly.

“hi!” you smile as he catches his breath.

“this is for you!” he says, handing the coffee to you, “i think its what you like, but i’m not 100% sure.”

“oh! thanks so much sho!” you take a sip, it’s your favorite. “it’s perfect!”

you both stand for a second staring at each other smiling. keiji clears his throat.

“oh, you should head down to the costume closet to get ready.” you say, keiji bringing you back to earth. shoyo nods and rushes off.

“seems like you two are back to normal.” says keiji.

“ugh he’s too perfect.” ”don’t get too distracted.” keiji finishes.

there is no way to get distracted when just a short 15 minutes later you are starting a full run through of the show. you and keiji sit in the audience, and you sip your drink as you take notes. at intermission you take a quick break to give notes. you stand on the stage in front of everyone. ”hm…kenma, lights looked great for the first half, just a few wonky cues. sound was great, costume changes were good, and for the cast… over all, the first act was okay. lines need to be picked up wayyyy quicker, and i need more energy. shoyo and toru should be the bar to meet on energy, especially shoyo. hope to see improvement in the second half!” you finish, handing it over to keiji.

as he speaks, you can’t help but zone out a bit. it’s already 9 pm, and you have all of act 2 and clean up to do. this coffee is the only thing keeping you up. as keiji wraps it up, you two head back to the audience. shoyo approaches you again. ”do you think you could give me some more personal notes before act 2?” he asks, looking genuinely interested, “i just really trust what you have to say.”

“sure.” you smile, “i think that you are doing a really great job with everything except for picking up the lines quickly. i’d be willing to help you run lines for a bit after the dress rehearsal today if you wanted?” you offer.

shoyo doesn’t answer for a second.

“sorry, was that too harsh? i’m not trying to be me-” you start. he cuts you off. ”no, it’s okay! i’d love to run lines tonight with you! thanks!” he smiles, and rushes off stage.

“you are down bad.” keiji says beside you.

“shut up.”

and he does, only because the lights are up for act two.

the second act of the show is much shorter than the first, so it goes by quickly. the whole time you are slightly distracted by the thought of running lines with shoyo afterward. once it finishes, you send everyone to get out of costume and clean up. you decide to save the notes for tomorrow, and wave goodbye to the actors. you know the tech people will stay a bit later perfecting everything for tomorrow. shoyo comes up to you, swinging his bag on his shoulder.

“where should we go run lines?” he asks cheerfully.

“let’s just go outside, i need to lock up behind the tech people so i don’t want to go too far.” you say, leading him to the front steps of the building. you pull out your script, and start to practice with shoyo. he paces back and forth in front of you, and really his line delivery isn’t bad, he just isn’t very confident in himself.

“i think you are a really great actor.” you say.

“…wait! what scene is that? i don’t kno-”

“no, like you shoyo. i think you are a really great actor.” ”ohhhh. i get it now. you had me stressed!” he says, looking relieved.

you both laugh.

“i’m surprised you never joined theater sooner, you sure have the personality for it.” you say.

“i’ve always been more focused on volleyball, but i’m having a lot of fun!” he finally sits down next to you.

“it’s getting late, i should kick tech out.” you say, looking up at the stars.

“i’ll walk you home?” he offers.

“sure, i’d like that.” you say. the both of you walk in to lock up the doors, and start your trek back home.

you figured the walk would be awkward, due to whatever clouded relationship you and shoyo currently have, but it’s actually not bad. you make decent conversation, and you attribute this to his outgoing and kind personality. as you reach your door, neither of you really know what to do, having flashbacks to the last time the two of you stood in these very spots. you give him an awkward wave. ”alright… uh, bye.” you say, unlocking your door.

“goodnight y/n!” he smiles, before turning and leaving.

you sigh.

another late night of rehearsal. it’ll be okay this time. you go through the run through again, and give your notes again, and shoyo asks you to run lines again, and you tell him yes again, even though he doesn’t need to because he’s doing absolutely perfectly. so thats where you find yourself, sitting on the front steps of the theater building, this time all of the tech crew gone.

shoyo slumps down on the stairs next to you. ”i want this to be perfect.” he says.

“you will be.” you assure him.

“i don’t know, i’ve never done this before.” ”well i have, and i know you’ll be perfect.” you say.

“will you hate me if i’m not?” he asks.

“what?” you look at him. he has a look of genuine concern on his face. “i could never hate you shoyo. i don’t think anyone could ever hate you.” you say.

“i don’t want to mess up your play when you’ve worked so hard.”

“you wont. i promise.”

“okay. i’m going to try my hardest!” he says.

“i know you will.” you smile at him.

“i really like you y/n.” he says. your smile falters.

“i really like you too shoyo, but-”

“i know, just wait one more week. i will!” he says, standing up. “i’ll walk you home.”

and he does.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu smau #shoyo hinata #shoyo hinata x reader #haikyuu x reader smau #hinata shoyo #hinata x reader

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sebastianswallows · 7 months ago

Text

The English Client — Nineteen

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff, smut, dubcon, manipulative Tom, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, light choking, hair pulling, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, cuddles

— WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

“So, what did you think of it?” asked Tom.

They had a bit of champagne both during the intermission and after the opera was over and then decided to luxuriate in another cab ride to get home. She hadn’t said much since, although on her face Tom could read traces of exertion that he could not attribute to mere tiredness.

“It was… quite sad. And beautiful. And tragic, so tragic, oh I hate it. Thank you for taking me.”

Tom smiled brightly and placed a hand on her lap, feeling her leg beneath the silky dress. “How do you mean?” he asked.

She looked at him briefly from the corner of her eye with something that Tom recognised as suspicion.

“You bought tickets to it on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he grinned.

She shifted her leg out of his grasp and looked away, out of the window. She’d been quiet all night and Tom had the growing sense she was upset with him. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she understood exactly what he wanted her to. The car stopped at her street. She got out while Tom leaned over to pay the fare — not with “real” money this time, he’d spent enough of that — before hurrying after her.

“May I come upstairs with you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then come over to my flat.”

“No.”

“Please?”

Whether it was the tone of his voice or just that one magic word, her resolve faltered.

“On one condition,” she said with her arms crossed, her coat puffed up around her like an owl.

“Alright,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets smugly.

“Apologise to me.”

“For what?”

“For not calling me beautiful.”

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Any number of men there would’ve been only glad to,” she frowned, “and some would have, if you hadn’t scared them away.”

“Of course I had to ‘scare them away’. You’re mine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.”

“Why does this matter so much?” he asked with a cocked brow. “It’s self-evident, you don’t need to hear it.”

“Then I don’t need to go home with you,” she said and turned around.

Tom sighed and gripped her arm and waist at once, pulling her into a smouldering rush of kisses between which he mumbled that yes, she was beautiful, he knew she was beautiful.

He didn’t really like the idea of her being in his home, but he invited her with a purpose tonight. The opera and this all tied together in his attempt to draw her into the idea of running off with him, of leaving everything behind, of trusting him… Tom threw her coat on top of his over the chair by the entrance, letting the garments entangle. He kissed her again, his lips slow and patient this time, and held both her hands to pull her further in. Her hands moved to his waist as he gripped her face, holding her still for him to keep on kissing while he pulled her backwards, through the open door, into his bedroom.

“I’m still —” she started, only for her complaint to be swallowed up by him, “— still angry with you.”

“Hmm… Why?” asked Tom, smiling against the corner of her mouth.

“Because you picked it on purpose, that’s why.”

He looked into her eyes. Only the light of quiet night reflected in them from the street outside and drank in her anger, her sadness, and her naked love for him.

“Tell me what made you think so,” he whispered, bringing one of her hands up to his lips.

“So you don’t deny it.”

“Tell me. I want to hear the accusations right out of your pretty mouth.”

Her fingers, tipped with claws, sunk into the sides of his suit and scraped against the velvet.

“It was a story of betrayal.”

“Yes,” he said, dipping toward the cup that held her breast.

“And love.”

“So true…”

“And the virtues of elopement.”

He trailed the tops of her soft flesh down to the valley between her breasts then tugged her dress a little lower, unpacking her like a gift. His other hand circled her waist, moving behind her as she spoke, searching for the place from which he could undo her.

“You’re missing one aspect which, as far as I’m concerned, was the most appealing,” he said with a little smile. He found the row of buttons that stretched along her spine and started playing with them. “It breaks my heart a little that you didn’t notice, in fact.”

She looked at him with doubt but indulged him. “What?”

“The scenery. The vastness, the swaths of green and grey, the vales of Scotland…”

Her head tilted back into a cheerful laugh and Tom took the opportunity to kiss her throat. She tasted sweet as she always did, her flesh warm and welcoming like the home he never had. Mellowed citric scent and dewy moss and powdered sugar, she was the most luxurious thing he’d ever allowed himself to have. He sucked the taste of everything about her deep into his mouth.

“I never took you for a mountain man,” she said, the purr of her voice sinking into his lips.

“You thought I prefer long walks on the beach?”

“No,” she giggled, “more of a swamp creature.”

“Insults now, I see…”

“Or something of a heartless desert.”

“I think you would enjoy Scotland,” he continued, moving his kisses down her neck while at her back he began unbuttoning her dress.

Her feet were steady but her hands shivered as she slinked his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

“It has quite a special place in my heart,” said Tom.

“Why?”

“Why do I like it?” he mused, letting his lips play across her clavicles. “Because it’s wild, I suppose, and open, and still filled with secret places. And perhaps because that’s where I went to school.”

She hummed and rubbed her cheek against the top of his head. “You never mentioned that before… And here I thought you went somewhere warm with lush green fields.”

“Somewhere in the Midlands?” he chuckled. “There’s nothing mid about me, sweetheart.”

She laughed and hit his shoulder, shaking her head chastisingly.

“So you want to take me there?” she asked, pulling back to look at him.

“Why? Do you want to go?”

She levelled a slitted gaze his way but her lips were still smiling.

Tom looked into her eyes as his fingers finished unbuttoning her dress, as he pushed it down her body, as it fell around her feet... When he cupped her waist he could feel her tense through the opaline shift she had beneath. His hands travelled a little higher to her ribs, her breasts, her neck, feeling all those little details that he couldn’t see. With a gentle caress of either side of her face, he unhooked her earrings and let them fall among the folds of her discarded dress. His fingers went upward further to her hair and there he played in its curls until he found the pins that held it all together. She clung to his stiff white shirt, pulling it taut around his torso. Her lips were caught somewhere between a smile and a plaintive, frightened frown.

“You’ll let me?” he asked in a whisper as if he wanted to keep their most intimate exchanges secret even from the shadows in the room.

“Let you what?”

Tom smiled, his fingers playing in her hair, loosening it further until it fell messy and free in a cascade around her shoulders. Without answering her he fell to his knees. There were many things he saw her as, depending on her uses, but in small moments like this when the world was far and all the doors and windows locked he could see her as a person, even if he knew she was a muggle. She could be an enviously lovely thing to behold. Troubled, besotted, clueless, pure… Oh, how he wished she was a witch. And how he dreaded the inevitable moment — which was perhaps the only thing his mother taught him — when she’d learn he was a wizard, more real and terrifying than pretenders like the Baron and his friends, and left him. The only choice he had, the only real choice, was to leave her first. But he could not do it before convincing her to help him get the book, and with her his only ally, he was trapped in this illusion of a choice.

Tom resented being trapped.

She looked down at him with eyes that smouldered in the dark. Tom leaned forward and planted a kiss over her tummy and felt it tighten underneath.

“Tell me, Tom,” she commanded, which should have had less of an effect with her voice trembling. “Let you do what?”

“Let me do everything,” he said, looking up into her eyes as he rested his lips above her womb. His bowtie bobbed as he swallowed the knot in his throat. He needed to play her right tonight, to make her feel desired, wanted, hunted, make her believe she was the thing he was really after.

Tom lowered his face to nuzzle the sweet-smelling flesh, the perfume that lingered on her clothes and the hints of evening sweat that dripped beneath. His hands played around her hips and he pulled the slip a little higher, inching it up her thighs to reveal her. With a smile, he nibbled at her flesh, moving his attentions lower and lower. She stood above him, breathless, and threaded her hands through his hair to tangle there and hold him. With a chuckle, Tom opened his mouth and slid his tongue out to taste the sweet edge of her lips still wrapped in silk and lace. Her hips canted toward him even as she wavered on her feet, moaning low and pleasured. With his thumbs, he eased her panties lower and pulled her flesh apart. He felt her fingers fist into his hair and pull, messing up the curls that he had spent an hour taming. He traced her opening and dragged his tongue across it, gathering her slick and licking upward until his tongue met her clit and curled to hold it. He pressed his lips to it, kissing it at first then suckling it, coaxing the shy button out to meet the warm wetness of his mouth.

“Tom!” she gasped, and he felt her thighs tense around his face, “I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up,” he growled into her folds. “You can. Stop denying me everything.”

She mewled but let him drink his fill. Tom hugged her legs to steady her, and to the tune of her plaintive moans, he buried his face in her softest flesh and sipped from the cup of her pleasure. After a few more suckling kisses her clit pebbled on his tongue, and as he flicked it up and down he couldn’t help but grin at how loudly she moaned.

“You’re good with your mouth in so many ways,” she giggled distractedly, her head falling back in a daze.

“And I certainly know which of your lips I prefer,” he said with a smirk. “Ow!” She’d gripped his hair harder and pulled in revenge. “If only you knew who you were dealing with,” Tom mumbled.

“A brat and an upstart,” she smirked, petting his curls and easing his face back between her legs once more.

He smirked and placed soft kisses on her throbbing hole, teasing wetness out of her just loud and messily enough that she could hear. As if caught in a storm she wavered on unsteady legs but Tom held her, wrapped his arms around her legs, and held her bottom in his hands as he drank her. She was hot against his mouth and swollen, and Tom worked the pleasure out of her as if he couldn’t get enough. And then he stopped. She was shaking on her feet when he stood up. She clung to him while he rubbed up and down her arms, waiting until she caught her breath. Her lips, beautiful and bitten bloody, were parted with her gasps and standing close to her as he was he could even hear how fast her heart was beating. His own just about matched its pace, but Tom was far better at pretending to be calm.

“Why did you stop?” she complained. “I was so close —”

“You told me you couldn’t go through with it, didn’t you?” he asked with a cocked brow.

She whimpered, too dazed to be angry, but her hands, warm and deceitfully soft, travelled to his throat. She was so different during these intimate moments when she reached her peak by his fingers or his tongue or got close enough to taste the heights her heart could reach before it all came crashing down. Here, alone with him, she was neither afraid nor tired and focused on work, but vaporous and clear like a moonlight beam across a lake with quiet sighs and wounded moans and sweet fragrance in the air. Tom’s hands of their own will held her gently by the shoulders and pulled her close into a hug that was as comforting as it was possessive. He closed his eyes and smiled at the feeling of her clinging to him, her heart still thundering, her breathing stilted. He loved these signs of how much she was his…

“Sit down on the bed,” he whispered with a kiss to the shell of her ear.

“If I do, what then?”

“That’s up to you and how bratty you get.”

Her hands fisted in his shirt but after what he’d done to her she didn’t have the strength to deny him anymore. She untangled her feet from the pool of the dress on the floor and stepped back but stopped with a sudden gasp.

“Ow! Damn it…”

She’d stepped on her earring. Tom cursed silently and lifted her quickly in his arms to carry her to bed. Sapless and smiling she leaned back on her elbows to look at him while Tom undid his cuffs.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re just so beautiful,” she said. Her voice had steadied but her eyes still had that mellow, sultry look to them. “Not just handsome the way men sometimes are, but truly beautiful…”

He tried to smile but something in him faltered. “I’ve never really appreciated that,” he admitted with a shrug as he threw the cufflinks back onto her dress.

“That’s a shame. I wish it brought you as much happiness as it does me. Just the sight of you can make me smile for hours…”

Tom paused as his fingers were loosening his bowtie. He’d been confronted by such flattery before, some far better worded and ardent, and whenever he had something to gain he responded in kind. But for some reason, he couldn’t get himself to do it now. No more than he could do it earlier that evening… He did think her beautiful, somewhere underneath the layers of his resentment of her muggle blood, but the knowledge was tainted by too much for him to say so. Not even the prospect of her aiding him get the Delomelanicon could sway him. He finished pulling loose the tie and threw it behind him then kneeled on the bed beside her. With his free hand, he trailed a path up her leg and pushed it gently to the side, forcing her to hold him between her thighs.

“Still dripping for me, are you?” he grinned as his fingers reached her core again. He smiled as he rested his head on her chest.

“I can’t believe you, Tom,” she sighed, pretending to be tired. “First you toy with me, then you ask for more...”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop denying me everything?” he whispered, closing his teeth around the curve of her clavicle.

He eased a finger gently through her folds, gathering her slick, then pushed it up into her tight warm hole. Her back arched as she gasped, writhing beneath him. Tom bent to close his lips around her nipple while with his free hand, he gripped her waist and pushed her higher on the bed to rest atop the pillows. His bed was even smaller than her own, the mattress harder, the pillow far less soft, but she didn’t seem to mind or notice. His finger slowed and curled inside her, pulling from her a long, low wail and snake-like squirming.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“‘s good,” she whispered, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

“Oooh… So all that soreness is gone, is it?”

“You’re horrible, Tom,” she purred and spread her legs a little wider.

He chuckled and nibbled at her ear. “What’s so good then? Tell me…”

“You,” she sighed, canting her hips into his gentle thrusts. “Your flesh… inside me…”

He let himself lay just a bit more heavily atop her while he peppered kisses up and down her throat and back to her puckered nipples. He added another finger inside of her and moved them at a slow and soothing pace while he settled himself atop her. He straddled her thigh and rubbed himself against it, cock straining at his trousers. He moved from one breast to the other while the hand between her legs pressed deeper, fingers flexing against that spongy spot that made her sound like she was crying. With a twitch of her whole body as if something tried to pull her up out of her flesh she shivered in a sudden orgasm.

“Aaah! Tom!”

“I’m right here,” he whispered, lips hovering over her skin. “I have you. You can let go, I have you…”

She covered her mouth with a shaky hand but it did little to muffle her whining. Her whole body arched as if she was ready to snap while Tom gently worked her through it.

“What is it, sweetheart, hmm? It’s good, isn’t it?”

She bit her lip and nodded in a drunk, disjointed way. He smirked and kissed her, coming up to cover her with his whole body.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, chest heaving as pleasure slowly left her behind, sated, happy, in his arms.

“And you,” he whispered as he shifted quietly, “are so sweet.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him from lazy slitted eyes, her head lolling on her shoulder.

He undid his shirt as quickly as he could and unbuttoned his trousers next, slowly and methodically taking everything off and throwing it down to the floor.

“You’re not already tired are you?” he smirked. “I have you now,” he whispered, leaning down to nibble at her neck, “if only for a little while. And I intend to take you.”

He kissed every inch of her skin he could reach while he worked the slip off her and sighed with satisfaction when their bodies brushed their nakedness together. With slow and careful movements he eased her legs around his hips and covered her again, kissing her lips in the dark as he brought his cock up to her centre. He swallowed her gasp when he entered her. She huffed petulantly and turned her head away, and all around him Tom could feel her body closing up. He brought a hand up to grab her arms and pulled them away from him pinning them down by the wrist together while the other gripped her neck. He felt her moan beneath his palm, felt her legs go lax around him, and like a flower plucked in just the right way she opened up beneath him.

“You’re getting wetter,” he grinned, pressing deeper into her soft embrace. “Do you like this, hmm? You enjoy not having a choice?”

She bit her lip and looked up at him dizzily. Her hair was a tangled mess and there was a dusting of colour on her cheeks — shyness, or anger perhaps — but her eyes were glazed with pleasure. Tom let his weight down onto her and pressed his feet against the bed to reach further into her until he felt his tip press right against the end of her.

“Tom, please,” she whispered, “I don’t want any more…”

“But I do, I want everything. You know I always do. I thought you’d understand,” he whispered, pushing a little deeper, stuffing her full. She whined and arched her nack, her naked breasts rubbing up against his chest. Tom shivered and nuzzled her cheek and swallowed back his moans. “You’ve never gotten what you thought you should have, did you?” he hissed against her blushing skin. “Not even as a child… Especially as a child.”

She didn’t like that, but there was nothing she could do about it except try to bite his neck. Tom moved away from her attempt and laughed, his hips jolting hard enough to make her gasp and forget what she was doing. It took hardly any of his strength to hold her down, even though he wasn’t exactly built like a Quidditch player. And, to a certain extent, he thought she wanted to be held like that. To be pressed down and covered, every part of her body touched somehow from the sweaty grip around her wrists to her legs around his waist, her sweet insides forced to open on his cock, her heart beating next to his.

“Why say something like that?” she breathed through bitter tears.

“I’ve given you a lot of pleasure tonight. And now I’ll give you a bit of pain as well… Give you that bit of everything that nobody’s cared to give you before, hmm?”

Her body jerked in little struggles but he pacified her with his thrusts. He angled his hips back, then forth, and pushed languidly up into her in a steady, soothing rhythm as if rocking her to sleep. It took everything from Tom to keep his noises down, to not moan too loudly at the intensity of the feeling. Her head fell back into the pillows, into the soft crown of her hair, and her breathing stuttered with muted sobs. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and finally let go of her wrists to trace a hot path down her body again. He cupped her breast and played with it, plucking at her nipple until he felt it harden again, then held still for his hand to slip between the two of them, searching for that spot of hers he knew so well.

“Aaah! You t-tease…”

“Is this better?” he smiled, pressing slowly in and settling deep while he flicked her clit.

“M-maybe… mmm…”

He chuckled and licked across her lips, lapping them until they opened. All around him he could feel her melting, her body losing its fight, playing to the tune he set. She looked dazed in the half-light, drunk on him and floating, half in the world of the living, half elsewhere in her head… His hips began a steady pumping in and out of her, skin against soft skin, their most fragile parts dragging wetly against one another, pulsing hot and steady like their hearts. He reached up to hold her head, fingers threading through her hair as his hips kept their hungry pace, moving hard and deep, chasing immortality inside her body. With a sigh, Tom closed his eyes and breathed her, filling up his senses with the hot slick of her skin, the softness of her lingering perfume, and her sparse sweet breaths of ecstasy. Her arms came up to rest around Tom’s shoulders, pulling him in closer as if she hadn’t fought him at every step that night. He nibbled at her ear and angled his hips sharper, shoving into her as if to punish but managing only to please. His body rocked her own beneath him, swaying as if in a dance.

“Oooh… Tom!,” she moaned, voice muffled by his flesh.

“Yes, yes, I have you… Fuck, oh fuck, I —”

He didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he felt it. Every part of him was focused on her, and was happy, and felt like it belonged.

“Tom,” she whispered, her back arching in a way that made her tighten impossibly around him. “Tom… inside me, please…”

“That’s dangerous, my love,” he grinned — although he knew there wasn’t any real risk so long as he remembered to cast the spell once they were done.

“Please…” she whimpered, wrapping a leg around his waist to pull him closer.

He kissed her cheek in submission and gripped her hip to hold her still. Her channel clung to him and he felt his cock being sucked on until he could barely move.

“Oh f— there you go, darling,” he moaned, his body trembling with a lick of flame crawling all over his skin.

“Tom,” she gasped, “I’m close… touch me more, please…”

He obeyed. Tom removed his sweaty palm from her hip and brought it to her clit again. “Is this where you want it?”

“Yes! There, right there…”

He flicked her nub the way she liked it, in that playful and punishing way that always made her cum, while he started pumping her with all he had until she started shaking. She whined and clung to him, nails digging into his back, her body arching, and around his cock he felt her cloying drips of pleasure leaking out.

“That’s it, good girl,” he groaned, teeth braced against her neck, fist growing tighter in her hair.

To the sound of his name whispered by her on and on, his hips shoved his cock in her until a fire burst beneath his skin and his sac pulsed. His mouth was restless at her neck, her chest, laying fast and heavy kisses on her hardened nipples. He soothed himself with suckling just as her core did when it pulled his seed out of him in greedy little clenches. He pressed deep, to the very end of her, and stopped there. Her voice sounded broken and lost but her body took him, took every drop he spilt right at the entrance to her womb.

“Tom,” she cried, her body trembling, muscles going soft.

He kept sucking on her nipple as he finally finished spilling, nibbling it a little harder than he should. He could feel his cum pooling all around her cervix, around the head of his cock, covering him in his own hot and sticky mess then slowly dripping out to dirty both their thighs. He shivered at the feeling.

Everything felt even better now than the first time they’d made love, and if Tom were thinking clearly, he’d be worried. It was close, too close to how he’d felt when his soul was splitting… Only this time it wasn’t to bind his soul onto an object, but to cleave it together with her own.

“Oh, no… please, don’t stop, don’t, I haven’t —”

“Stay tight like that for me,” he breathed. “Just like that… Forever…”

She dug her nails into his skin, not really listening. Her heart was high up with her airy moans until her pulse had settled and her core closed up around him, yearning silently for more. Her panting breaths ruffled his hair, tickled his ear, cooled his sweat. Tom nearly giggled. He pulled himself up but stayed inside her and was almost too afraid to look — too afraid of what it would mean to feel as if he was in love with her. He could barely see her through the dark but he knew that she was at her most beautiful just then. He was still dizzy with her, the sight and the sound and the taste, and the feeling of her rushed through his body as if she had slipped into his blood. Her eyes were closed and tears were beading at the corners. Tom kissed her tears away, kissed her lips, and brushed the hair off of her forehead. Then, with a low groan that was almost a purr, he gently pulled himself out of her body and fell to the side.

“N-no, not yet,” she whined, reaching for him lazily.

She was already starting to shiver as her body cooled. Tom smiled and manoeuvred her into his embrace, pulling her leg over his hips before bending to drag the duvet over them from where it lay bundled up at the edge. There would hardly be enough space in his bed for both of them to sleep if they weren’t somewhat laying one on top of the other, but this suited him just fine.

“Is this close enough, my little brat?”

“Close enough.”

Tom chuckled, and right above his heart he felt her smiling.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #Tom Riddle smut #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient #my notes for this included ''shorten this considerably''#I did not manage it

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