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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

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Arranged Marriage — Hoshi x Reader

— Synopsis: In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple. — WC: 10k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, fingering, oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, choking, one single slap on the ass, hair pulling, aftercare, whipped!hoshi, hoshi teases reader until she almost cries for dick, mentions of alcohol, mentions of body fluids (cum, sweat), DIRTY TALK—prob the nastiest dirty talk i've written.

You knew this day would come.

Growing up in a world where luxury, money, stock exchange, and business were the pillars of existence, arranged marriages were just another part of the cycle. Two patrimonies merging into one for the benefit of both families—it was a tradition as old as time.

Some couples embraced the spotlight, showcasing their unity to the world. Others barely tolerated each other, living in separate homes to maintain a fake image. There were also those whose mutual disdain led to chaos both in their personal lives and in the family businesses.

When you saw Soonyoung in your home, dressed in a suit that clearly wasn’t his style, you felt a hurricane of emotions. His usual vibrant, carefree energy seemed stifled under the weight of the tailored fabric. You greeted him and his family alongside your parents, both of you a shy mess, but something in his eyes told you things might not be as bad as you feared.

“Hey,” Soonyoung murmured as you both found a moment away from the adults’ formal discussions. “This suit is killing me.”

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of relief. “You look... different.”

“Yeah, definitely not my usual style, you know me” he grinned, loosening his tie. “But I guess we’re both out of our comfort zones today.”

You nodded, memories flooding back of the two of you playing outside when kids, during business congresses, your parents inside discussing mergers and acquisitions while you and Soonyoung chased each other around the gardens. “Do you remember those days?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up with nostalgia. “We had our own little world, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you replied. “And now, here we are.”

“So, how do you feel about this?” he asked, shy, looking at your expensive dress, clearly set for tonight. “About us... getting married?”

“I’ve been preparing for it my whole life, I guess,” you said honestly. “But with you... it feels different. Less intimidating."

“I feel the same,” Soonyoung admitted. “I mean, if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can make this work. Find a balance between our lifes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We can create something new, something that’s ours.”

You looked at him, seeing not just the boy you grew up with, but a partner. Someone who understood the complexities of your world and was willing to navigate them with you.

You looked around your house, taking in the scene. Soonyoung’s family mingled with yours, coworkers from your parents’ firms exchanged polite conversation, and your and Soonyoung’s nephews were playing circles around the couch.

The weight of the day pressed on your shoulders, a burden that didn’t match the elegance of the dress you were wearing for the marriage proposal.

Soonyoung’s eyes met yours, noticing your tense posture. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, sulking, and he recognized the same expression you had when you were eight.

He leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but I brought a bottle of tequila. It’s in my trunk. Would you like some to relax?”

You stared at him in silence before nodding with an exasperated look, feeling like it was exactly what you needed.

“Did you bring a shot cup?” you asked, following him outside.

He stopped, bottle in hand, and you both laughed. Taking the bottle from him, you leaned against his car, opened the cap, and poured a generous shot—maybe a little more—straight into your mouth. Soonyoung watched, his mouth wide open in surprise. You handed the bottle back to him.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking a swig himself, looking comically exaggerated as he did. “I’m the one who has to kneel and propose today. My heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

You both laughed like teenagers getting away with something forbidden, hiding behind his car.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you broke it. “Do you have the ring here?”

He looked at you and nodded.

“Can I see it?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as if he had a rare Pokémon card.

“Is that right?” he teased.

You made doe eyes and asked, “Pretty please?”

He smiled, pulling a small black box from his pocket and opening it for you.

The diamond ring sparkled in your eyes, its brilliance captivating. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Soonyoung nodded, grinning. “My sister helped me choose it. I originally wanted a diamond shaped like a cat, but she said that wasn’t appropriate.”

You laughed, the image of a cat-shaped diamond making you smile. “It’s beautiful, but a kitten-shaped ring sounds adorable. I would’ve loved that too.”

His grin widened, a small, proud smile lighting up his face as you both admired the ring.

Your moment was interrupted by Soonyoung’s mom's voice, echoing from the house. “Oh my god, are you already proposing?”

Soonyoung choked on his own saliva, his eyes wide with panic. The best thing to do now? Say no and face his mother’s scolding for showing the ring prematurely, or actually propose right then and there?

Before he could think it through, he found himself on one knee on the sidewalk, his heart pounding. You quickly hid the tequila bottle behind your back.

“Soonyoung, what are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I... I’m improvising,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

The spontaneity of it all, made you laugh and cry at the same time, you needed to pretend you were actually emotional. “Yes, Soonyoung. Yes, I will.”

You barely noticed the sudden crowd that had gathered around you, they'd appeared out of nowhere, all eyes on the two of you. Soonyoung’s hand trembled slightly as he slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of his touch.

You smiled nervously at him, teeth gritted. “Hug me,” you whispered urgently, your eyes darting to the tequila bottle that was precariously wedged behind your back. “Please, put the tequila bottle inside your car. It's practically shoved inside my ass.”

Soonyoung blinked, processing your words before a grin spread across his face. He pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that felt both reassuring and grounding. As he embraced you, he expertly reached behind you, his fingers brushing against the bottle.

You could feel his body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

“Hang on,” he whispered back.

He managed to grab the bottle and discreetly slid it out from behind you. Still holding you close, he took a step back towards the car, opening the door with one hand and slipping the bottle inside. The whole maneuver was so smooth that you doubted anyone noticed the clandestine operation.

That moment eased the tension of the night, but the tequila hadn’t taken effect yet, and you knew you had to keep an eye on Soonyoung. His alcohol tolerance was notoriously low, and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself—or worse, get into trouble.

As the night wound down and Soonyoung’s dad started to lead him to the car, Soonyoung sulked, trying to resist. “I want to talk a bit more to my bride,” he protested, his voice slightly slurred. His words elicited good-natured laughter from both families, who were enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

You walked over to him, giving him a warm hug and patting his head affectionately. “It’s time to go home, Soonyoung,” you said gently.

He looked at you with wide, earnest eyes, the warmth in his gaze reminding you of why you felt less nervous than you should. Soonyoung had always been warm-hearted, and maybe that’s why you felt a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

As you pulled back from the hug, Soonyoung’s hand lingered in yours for a moment longer. “Promise you’ll call me tomorrow?” he asked, his tone earnest despite his tipsiness.

“Promise,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

With one last affectionate look, Soonyoung allowed his dad to guide him into the car. You watched as the vehicle pulled away. Your parents approached, their expressions a blend of amusement and expectation.

“Well, that was quite a night,” your mom said, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed, glancing at your dad, who nodded in approval.

“You two make a good pair,” your dad said, his tone warm. “I’m glad to see you both getting along so well.”

Your parents were now expectant, believing you and Soonyoung were truly becoming a couple. And in a way, you were—just not in the conventional sense they imagined.

The next day, even though it was a promise to a drunk boy, you called Soonyoung in the morning. Like any typical business wedding, the preparations started swiftly, aiming to have the wedding happen as soon as possible. Today, you were going to choose the food and drinks for the event.

When Soonyoung arrived, he was all tidied up, but his face was clearly tired. You laughed a bit, “You look…”

He completed for you, “Fucked?”

You chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Long night,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m here.”

“Good, because we have a lot to decide,” you replied, glancing at the event agent who was discussing the dessert options.

As you both looked at the event agent, who insisted on adding superfluous things to the sweets—like a layer of gold—you exchanged amused glances. The agent was enthusiastically explaining the virtues of gold-leaf-covered desserts.

“Gold? For us to... poop?” Soonyoung murmured incredulously.

You stifled a laugh and leaned closer to him. “Can’t it be something more tasty?”

The agent looked slightly taken aback. “Gold leaf is quite a statement piece.”

Soonyoung nodded, trying to be polite. “But we were thinking of something simpler.”

“How about churros?” you suggest.

The agent blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Churros? For a wedding?”

“Why not?” you said with a grin. “They’re delicious, and everyone loves them.”

“But they don’t exactly scream luxury,” the agent protested.

“They scream fun,” Soonyoung countered. “And isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be?”

The agent sighed, making a note. “Alright, churros it is. Anything else?”

“Maybe some street-style tacos?” he added, enjoying the agent’s bewildered expression.

“Tacos?” the agent repeated, as if the word was foreign.

“Yeah, why not?” Soonyoung agreed. “Let’s keep it simple and tasty.”

The agent finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Honestly, days flew by with Soonyoung by your side. Planning every little detail of the wedding together brought both fun and challenges, especially when your tastes didn’t always align. It was a bit complicated at first, like when you two were choosing the destination for your honeymoon.

Soonyoung wanted an adventure-packed trip to the Amazon rainforest, while you preferred a relaxing beach resort in the Maldives. The negotiations were intense, but you eventually settled on a compromise.

Choosing Soonyoung’s suit also proved to be a task. He insisted on wearing a tie with a tiger print, a nod to his childhood love for tigers. You were surprised that his fascination with the big cats had persisted, but you drew the line at a tiger tie. “Absolutely not,” you told him firmly, trying to imagine the looks you’d get. “A tiger tie is a no from me, and I think a lot of people would agree.”

“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh, but you could tell he was already thinking about how to sneak a little tiger motif into his outfit.

When it came to choosing your dress, you were accompanied by your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister.

Soonyoung, the only man in the group, tagged along as well. The other brides at the boutique initially assumed he was either your brother or your stylist.

Their jaws nearly dropped when they overheard he was actually the groom.

One of the brides, adjusting her veil in front of a mirror, turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, he’s your husband-to-be?”

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed with a smile, watching Soonyoung fuss over a lace detail on one of the dresses.

Another bride laughed softly. “Lucky you! He’s so involved.”

“He’s been amazing,” you said. “Except for his obsession with tiger prints.”

Soonyoung, overhearing, grinned and walked over. “What can I say? Tigers are cool.”

“Soonyoung, you’re a unique groom,” his sister teased, shaking her head.

As you tried on dresses, Soonyoung offered his opinions with surprising thoughtfulness, balancing out his more quirky suggestions. He was genuinely invested in making sure you felt beautiful and confident in your choice.

You’d tried on everything: the biggest gowns, the tightest silhouettes, dresses with endless layers of skirts, and others that hugged your hips so closely it felt like they were molded to your skin.

There were corsets that took your breath away—literally—and fabrics that shimmered under the boutique lights.

But this time, when you left the dressing room, you were wearing a veil.

Soonyoung’s eyes didn’t lie for a second. He liked this one very much. The women around you—your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister—fussed over the dress, adjusting it here and there, offering compliments. But Soonyoung was speechless.

If Soonyoung were to be completely honest, up until this moment, he had always seen you as his friend, the girl he was going to marry because of an arrangement. You were the same girl who used to run around the events, eluding the security guards with your mischievous giggles.

But now, you were different. You were a woman. His woman. And you looked stunning.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. The transformation was breathtaking. You stood there, looking radiant in your wedding dress, and for the first time, the reality of the situation hit him. You weren’t just a friend anymore; you were about to become his partner, his wife.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t realize he was gawking until you and the women turned to him, waiting for his response. He blinked, snapping back to reality, and managed to find his voice.

“You look...” he started, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks flushed at his earnest compliment. “You really think so?”

Soonyoung nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

His sister grinned, nudging him playfully. “Told you she’d find the perfect dress.”

Your mom wiped away a tear, “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

Soonyoung’s mom stepped forward, adjusting a tiny detail on the veil. “This is the one. It’s perfect.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Yes, this is the one,” you said, smiling at the reflection and then at the people around you who made this moment even more special.

[...]

The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of activity. Every day brought something new to choose, and your creativity was running dry. You were worn out, and Soonyoung knew it. Today had been particularly exhausting.

As the realtor showed you yet another option for apartments in the Metropole, you responded with short answers, your enthusiasm long gone after visiting sixteen places that day alone.

“So, what do you think?” the realtor asked.

Soonyoung noticed your hesitation. “Can I talk with my wife for a sec?” he asked.

The realtor nodded and walked off, giving you space.

“Y/N-nie... are you okay?” Soonyoung asked softly, looking at you through his lashes.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’m so tired,” you confessed.

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You breathed out heavily. “My family is putting a lot of pressure on me, and I’m working relentlessly at the company. I can’t wait for us to get married…”

Soonyoung’s heart sank a little. “You want to get married just to get free from it?”

“No, it’s not just that. It’s everything. The wedding preparations, the constant decisions, the endless work... I feel like I’m drowning.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand. “We don’t have to rush this, you know. We can take our time.”

“But everyone’s expecting so much from us,” you replied, feeling the weight of expectations.

“Let them expect,” he said firmly. “And I want this to be as much about you as it is about us.”

“I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” you admitted.

“You won’t,” Soonyoung assured you. “You’ve already done so much. It’s okay to take a step back and breathe.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Alright. Let’s look at this apartment one more time.”

Soonyoung nodded, giving you an encouraging smile. “And if it’s not the one, we’ll keep looking until we find the perfect place for us.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “You always know how to make things better.”

“Just doing my job as your soon-to-be husband,” he said playfully.

Soonyoung was doing an incredible job.

From what you’d heard from friends who had gone through the same situation, they didn’t have partners like Soonyoung. You felt proud of him.

He was your rock, making sure you took a breath when you were overwhelmed by the slightest things. He even insisted you didn't move a finger during brunch, making you so relaxed that you found the apartment you’d been searching for on the very same day.

The drive home was quiet, the car enveloped in a peaceful silence that allowed you a moment to rest. You laid your head back as he drove, appreciating the tranquility. Once you arrived, you stayed seated for a bit, soaking in the comfort of the quiet.

Soonyoung looked at you, waiting patiently. When you finally looked up, he gave you a gentle smile. “Ready to go in?”

You nodded, feeling a bit more refreshed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He stepped out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door for you. “Take your time,” he said softly.

You appreciated his patience as you slowly got out of the car. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the house. “I’m just doing what any good partner would do.”

You leaned into him, feeling grateful for his support. “I don’t think everyone is as lucky as I am.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I’m pretty lucky too, you know.”

As you entered the house, you felt a sense of relief. The apartment search was over, and you had found the perfect place. More importantly, you had Soonyoung by your side, making every step of this journey easier.

“So, what’s next on our list?” he asked, guiding you to the living room.

You sank into the couch, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. “I think a nap is next on my list.”

He laughed, sitting beside you. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders. “Wake me up in an hour?”

[...]

The days flew by in a blur with the whirlwind of wedding preparations. It felt like only moments ago you were choosing flowers, tasting cakes, and finalizing guest lists.

Now, as you stood at the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in front of Soonyoung, the reality of the moment hit you with full force.

The weight of the dress and the pressure of looking perfect made your hands sweat like never before. You felt like a porcelain doll, perfectly polished and poised.

Soonyoung stood there, his eyes fixed on you with pride. He couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Here you were, a perfect woman by his side, and even better, an old friend he'd known for years.

The familiarity of your presence brought him comfort. Despite the fact that you hadn’t really dated, the idea of having someone as pretty and cool as you with him every day made him feel at ease about the whole situation.

As you walked down the aisle, your eyes met his, and a small, reassuring smile played on his lips. He looked stunning in his suit, and the way he stood tall, waiting for you, made your heart flutter.

You could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes, mirroring your own, but there was also a calmness there, a silent promise that everything would be alright.

When you finally reached him, he extended his hand towards you. He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “You look amazing.”

You blushed, your nerves momentarily forgotten. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

The vows were sincere, filled with heartfelt words that spoke more to your shared friendship than any romantic notion. Both of you couldn’t help but giggle as you remembered all the crazy things you’d done together as kids.

Your minds flashed to the time you stole sweets from an event or when you both jumped into a water fountain during an important dinner with company directors.

As the officiant declared you husband and wife, all of these memories became a sweet reverie. You leaned in and whispered with a playful glint in your eye, “Are you going to kiss my lips or my cheek?”

Soonyoung blushed, clearly caught off guard by the question. A kiss on the cheek was typical in such moments since most arranged couples didn’t share a romantic bond. He stammered for a moment, his face flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Well… uh… I suppose the cheek would be safe,” he mumbled, eyes darting nervously.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, leaning closer. “But where’s the fun in that, Soonyoung?”

He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly. The playful challenge in your gaze gave him the courage he needed. With a deep breath, he moved in, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I think I’ll go for the lips,” he whispered back, his voice steadying.

The crowd held its breath as Soonyoung leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a simple kiss, not passionate, but filled with the warmth of years of friendship and the promise of a shared future. The applause that followed was thunderous, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips against yours.

As you pulled away, you both wore matching grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you teased,

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not bad at all. Actually, it was kind of nice.”

You linked arms, turning to face the crowd together. Your parents looked relieved and proud, while your friends were cheering loudly, clearly entertained by the spectacle. Soonyoung’s eyes met yours again, and there was a newfound spark there, full of possibilities.

As you both shared champagne with your parents, Soonyoung playfully asked, "No tequila tonight?" You were about to respond when his mom's voice cut in, "Tequila?"

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his mouth twisted into a frown as he tried to suppress his laughter. You quickly improvised, "Huh, h-he meant... tacos! We had tacos with tequila last time, remember?" You forced a smile, hoping it sounded convincing enough. His mom seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding along.

After mingling with guests—aka talking with people from work about the next meeting—you finally found a moment to escape the spotlight. You and Soonyoung crouched behind the kitchen, hiding from the crowd. The chefs chuckled at the sight of the newlyweds sneaking bites of food, but they made sure to hand you the best eats, knowing how overwhelming the day could be.

Soonyoung grinned, playfully nudging you. "We're so used to doing this at parties that we're practically pros now."

You nodded in agreement, a mischievous smile on your face. "Even though it's our own wedding party," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, looking at the gold ring on your finger with a sense of wonder. "Our wedding... I still can't believe it. Oh my god, we're grown adults now."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pat his head mockingly. "We've been grown adults for... kind of a long time already," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then leaned in closer, his voice softening. "Yeah, but it feels different now. Like, we're really starting something new."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. The reality of your situation was sinking in, but in a way, it felt comforting. You had each other, and that made everything seem a little less daunting. As you sat there, hidden away from the chaos of the celebration, it struck you how much you appreciated this moment—just the two of you, stealing away for a breather.

“Shall we follow tradition?” Soonyoung asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You frown, confused, as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of tequila.

“Should tequila be kept in the fridge?” you ask, laughing at the sight.

“I hope so,” he replies, pouring the liquid into a cup. “This one is expensive.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking the cup from him. “The cheapest has the same effect,” you say, waiting for him to pour his own.

He chuckles, raising his glass. “But today’s a special day. We deserve the good stuff.”

You laugh it off, crossing your arms before taking the shot together. The familiar burn makes you both scrunch up your faces.

The wedding party was truly one of a kind. You and Soonyoung were a bit too excited, turning the waltz space into a wild dance floor.

At first, your parents were too embarrassed to join, especially at the sight of Soonyoung twerking on you. But soon, even the directors and business partners were on the dance floor, dancing and drinking extravagantly.

[...]

The next morning, you and Soonyoung were woken up by the buzzing of your phones.

Your makeup was smudged and stamped on the pillow, and you were still in your wedding dress. You scratched your scalp, feeling the bobby pins still tangled in your hair.

Soonyoung was no better; his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly button, his tie was loosened around his neck, and his hair looked like a bird's nest. He scratched his forehead groggily. Despite sharing the same bed, you both seemed unbothered by it.

You grabbed your phone and saw the company group chat flooded with messages:

“Wow, last night was incredible! Congrats to the newlyweds!”

“I can't believe we all danced that much! My feet are killing me. :')”

“Best wedding party ever! So happy for you guys!”

“My head is pounding, but it was totally worth it. ^^ Cheers to you both!”

“I’m still recovering from all that dancing. What a party!”

“Never thought I’d see the CEO breakdancing. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”

You couldn't help but smile at the messages, as Soonyoung peeked over your shoulder, a sleepy grin spreading across his face.

“My head hurts,” Soonyoung complains, rubbing his temples.

You adjust the corset of your dress, feeling the tightness around your ribs. "My ribs are squeezed," you grumble, wincing as you try to get comfortable. "I can't believe I slept in this."

He yawns, glancing down at your leg. "You even kept the garter on," he points out, noticing the delicate band still around your thigh.

You crack your neck, feeling the weight of the long night. "Your sister gave it to me, so I put it on," you explain, lifting the voluminous skirt to reveal the bridal garter.

His eyes widen comically. "My sister?! Is there something I don't know?"

You frown at him, a bit confused. "You don’t know about the tradition?"

Soonyoung looks a bit lost, scratching his head. "I mean, it’s my first time getting married."

You sigh, laying back down. "Traditionally, the groom is supposed to take it off when... taking the virginity," you explain, watching his face turn a shade of pink.

His eyes dart around nervously, processing the information. "So... my sister thought I was... a virgin?"

You shrug, teasing, "Probably. Are you?"

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Definitely not. And you?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Nope. Sorry to disappoint."

He chuckles, finally relaxing. "Good to know. Not that it matters, but... it's funny to think about how everyone just assumes stuff."

“Are you going to take it off?” you tease, stretching your leg up and wiggling your foot playfully. Your eyes glint mischievously as you watch Soonyoung’s reaction.

He scoffs, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “What, you mean right now?” His eyes flicker to your thigh, then quickly back up to your face, trying to gauge if you’re serious or just messing with him.

You arch an eyebrow, maintaining your playful expression. “Why not? It’s tradition, right? Don’t you want to fulfill your husbandly duties?” You stretch your leg out further, making the garter more visible.

Soonyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s a sparkle of joy in his eyes. He reaches out hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your thigh. The touch sends a shiver to your skin, and you can’t help but giggle.

“What’s the matter?” you prod, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Not at all,”

You bute your lip as his fingers graze the lacy fabric of the garter. His touch is feather-light, almost ticklish, and you squirm a bit under his hand.

Soonyoung smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re squirming,” he notes, his voice low and teasing. “Does that mean you’re nervous?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Me? Nervous? Please,” you retort, trying to sound confident despite the rapid beating of your heart. “I’m just surprised you’re taking so long. I thought you’d be an expert at this.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand a bit higher up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “Oh, I am,” he replies smoothly. “Just savoring the moment.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” you murmur, your voice softening slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on any other wedding traditions.”

Soonyoung grins, his fingers hooking under the garter. “Right, can’t forget those,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of naughtiness.

He gently tugs on the garter, slowly sliding it down your leg, his eyes never leaving yours.

As he finally slips the garter off, he holds it up triumphantly, a goofy grin on his face. “There, tradition fulfilled,” he declares, waving the garter like a trophy.

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Congratulations,” you say, clapping mockingly. “You’ve successfully removed a piece of elastic lace. Truly, a remarkable achievement.”

He bows dramatically, playing along. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.”

You can’t help but laugh, the light-hearted banter making the moment feel even more special. Soonyoung’s hand lingers on your leg for a moment longer before he finally lets go.

As Soonyoung gets up, stretching his arms with a yawn, he announces, "I'm going to take a bath." He heads towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You sit up, still feeling the effects of last night's festivities, and shout after him, “Ya! Ladies first!”

From behind the closed door, you hear Soonyoung's laughter echo in the bathroom. “Sorry, didn’t hear you over the sound of me already starting the water!” he calls back, his voice filled with playful defiance.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. It’s these little moments that make everything feel so natural and easy with him. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of running water stop, and Soonyoung emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“All yours,” he says, grinning. “I left some hot water for you, too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, grabbing your toiletries and heading into the bathroom. The warm water is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of makeup and the night's events. After a quick shower, you step out feeling slightly more human, though the hangover still lingers.

As you both finish getting ready, the thought of breakfast crosses your mind. However, just the idea of food makes your stomach churn. The hotel's breakfast spread is typically lavish, but today, the thought of greasy bacon and pastries is anything but appetizing.

Soonyoung, dressed in a casual outfit, catches your expression as you look at the food options. “Yeah, not feeling it either,” he says, rubbing his temple. “Let's skip it.”

You nod in agreement, both of you opting for just a coffee to stave off the worst of the hangover. With minimal conversation, you gather your belongings, checking out of the hotel and heading straight to the airport.

But one thing you definitely didn’t expect was Soonyoung falling asleep on your shoulder within the first thirty minutes of the flight. His head rested heavily against you, and his hand, seemingly by accident, was placed on your thigh.

As he softly snored, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how comfortable he looked. Anyone passing by would probably think you two were an old married couple, so naturally attuned to each other.

His head's weight pressed down on your shoulder, a constant reminder of his presence. Every now and then, you felt him subconsciously moisturizing his lips, a small, almost imperceptible movement that somehow made the moment even more cute.

You glanced at the small TV screen in front of you, trying to focus on the movie playing. It was a romance novel adaptation, the kind with sweeping gestures and grand declarations of love.

Normally, you might have rolled your eyes at the cliché, but with Soonyoung sleeping peacefully beside you, it felt oddly fitting.

As the plane cruised through the sky, you found yourself getting lost in the storyline, occasionally glancing at Soonyoung. His breathing was steady, a gentle rhythm that added to the soothing hum of the plane.

You shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable without disturbing him, but his hand tightened instinctively on your thigh, holding you in place. It was a small, protective gesture that made your heart flutter.

What you loved the most was when Soonyoung finally woke up, blinking sleepily and then immediately apologizing. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his face flushed with embarrassment. You chuckled, assuring him it was okay, that he had every right to rest. He seemed genuinely mortified, even offering, “You can sleep on my shoulder too, I promise.”

You smiled at his earnestness, brushing it off with a light, “Maybe on the way back, then,” as the announcement came that you were about to land.

Once you arrived, Soonyoung was quick to grab the suitcases from the taxi, his efficiency a comfort as you made your way to the hotel's check-in counter.

The concierge’s eyes seemed to linger on you a little too long, his gaze sliding over your sundress and perhaps admiring more than just the attire.

As you waited for the receptionist, the concierge leaned casually on the counter, offering a friendly, yet slightly flirtatious, smile.

“First time here, ma’am?” he asked, his tone smooth and inviting.

“Well, yes...” you replied, keeping your voice polite but detached. You could feel the weight of his attention and tried to subtly stretch your hand, making sure the gold ring on your finger was clearly visible.

The concierge didn’t seem to get the hint, or perhaps he chose to ignore it. “You’re in for a treat. We’ve got some wonderful spots for—”

Before he could continue, you felt Soonyoung's presence behind you, a comforting warmth at your back. His body pressed lightly against yours, a subtle yet possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. His hand slipped around your waist, resting just below your belly, the touch gentle but unmistakably protective.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Everything alright?” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and a subtle edge.

You could almost feel the shift in the air. The concierge straightened up, his expression flickering between surprise and a polite smile. “Oh, just making sure your stay is perfect,” he said, his tone now more professional, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung replied, his voice steady. His hand didn’t move from its spot on your belly, and the slight squeeze he gave was enough to send a clear message. You leaned back into him, feeling a rush of warmth at his silent claim.

The receptionist finally returned with your room keys, handing them over with a bright, “Welcome to our hotel! We hope you enjoy your stay.” With the keys in hand, you and Soonyoung made your way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, sealing you both from the world outside, you turned to Soonyoung with a smirk. “Looks like someone’s a little possessive.”

He grinned back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

You tease him back with a playful smirk. “Well, it’s just a business marriage. You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that,” you say, your tone light and slightly mocking.

Soonyoung scoffs, turning his gaze to the side with a dramatic sigh. “You’re such an idiot,” he mocks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“An idiot, hm?” you counter, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Well, I’m an idiot you agreed to marry, so I guess that makes you twice the fool.”

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Sharp tongue of yours, huh?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I’ve had years of practice.”

Soonyoung leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, it’s a shame. I was really looking forward to giving you something special once we got to our hotel room.”

Your curiosity piques immediately. “Something special? Like what?”

He grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, just something that’ll make you remember tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge his meaning. “Something that’ll make me remember tonight, huh? Care to elaborate?”

Soonyoung chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I think you already know what I’m talking about.”

You narrow your eyes, playfully challenging him. “Do I? Because you’re being awfully vague.”

He leans back, enjoying the game. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The teasing glint in his eyes only fuels your curiosity further. You know exactly what he’s implying, but you play along, eager to hear him say it outright.

“So,” you press, “what is it? Can you give me a hint?”

Soonyoung’s grin widens, clearly relishing the moment. “Let’s just say it’s something that’ll make you very excited. And not just because of the hotel’s decor.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re being all mysterious.”

You sulk, trailing behind Soonyoung as he walks down the hallway toward your room. “Tell me, pleeeease,” you plead.

Soonyoung glances back at you with a mischievous smile. “Nope, not telling,” he says, his grin widening as he enjoys your insistence.

When you reach the door, Soonyoung unlocks it and pushes it open, gesturing for you to enter. You walk in, your eyes scanning the room briefly, but your focus quickly returns to Soonyoung. He places the suitcases by the door and then hops onto the bed, sprawling out with a relaxed sigh.

You stay standing by the door, your arms crossed over your chest, giving him a sulky, upset look.

“So,” Soonyoung says with a defiant glare, “am I forgetting something?”

You pout, trying to look as curious and frustrated as possible. “You’ve got me curious,” you admit, your eyes wide.

He laughs, brushing his hand through his hair with a playful sigh. “You’re almost throwing a tantrum over this?”

Soonyoung slides his hand down his abdomen slowly, getting lower and lower, until he's wrapping his fingers around his cock through his white shorts. The outline is clear, thick, and perfectly defined against the fabric.

He gives it a little shake, a sly smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

You stare at him in shock, your knees almost giving way as you take in the sight. Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as you struggle to process what you're seeing.

Soonyoung’s smile widens, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Well, I figured it was time to give you a little hint,” he says, his hand still resting casually on his bulge. “So, do you think you’re ready to find out what else I have in store for tonight?”

You stammer, unable to look away from the outline of his cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. “Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

Soonyoung licks his lips, his gaze never leaving you. “Oh,” he drawls, “but you have to walk properly tonight, so we can go to the restaurant.”

Your eyes darken, a fire igniting within you. “You think I can’t handle all of this inside?”

He raises an eyebrows. “You shouldn’t,” he says, his voice dripping with devilishness. “It’s just a business wedding, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Just a business wedding, huh? You really want to test me?”

Soonyoung chuckles, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “That’s right. Let’s see if you can keep your composure while we enjoy a nice dinner.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Challenge accepted,”

You’ve never been so turned on by someone’s mere presence before. The entire city tour was a cruel game of torture, all at Soonyoung’s hands.

In the taxi, his hand had wandered to your nude thigh, brushing against your skin like a feather. The way his fingers lightly caressed your inner leg made your heart race and your breath catch.

At the restaurant, the casual caresses continued. His leg pressed against yours under the table, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the way he would occasionally let his knee slide up your thigh—each movement was like an electric current surging through you, leaving you squirming in your seat.

Walking through the jewelry fair was an exercise in restraint. As you admired the sparkling displays, Soonyoung’s hands kept drifting to the exposed skin of your back. His touch was light, almost playful, but each graze against your bare skin made you shiver with need.

You could barely focus on the dazzling jewels in front of you; your mind was consumed with the need for him.

By the time you were back in the elevator, you felt like you were on the edge of losing control. You could feel his eyes on you, sharp and hungry, as you pressed yourself against the wall.

You turned your face away, but you couldn’t hide the truth from him. Your nipples, straining against your dress, betrayed your arousal. Your legs, pressed tightly together, were a clear sign of your desperation. Even your unsteady breaths gave you away.

When you finally arrived at the hotel room, you barely made it inside before your desperation took over.

You throw him against the wall, hands planted firmly on his chest. The sound reverberates through the room, probably making the neighbors wonder what the hell is going on. His usually small eyes are wide, staring at you flaggerblasted.

Your breath mingles with his as you lean in, letting your lips barely graze his. Your voice comes out breathy, almost desperate, “Please. Stop teasing me.”

For a moment, he's stunned, caught off guard by the whininess in your voice and the look on your face—like you might break if he doesn't give you what you need right now.

It's a twisted scenario, considering you're his childhood friend turned wife is standing before him with an expression that borders on agony—an agony only he can alleviate.

For a moment, he looks like he might laugh, but he knows he's on the verge of losing all sense of control, but a part of him relishes the idea.

“Say it again,” he murmurs. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't resist the thrill. His lips barely brush against yours, teasing, taunting.

“Soonyoung, I'm going to fucking cry if you don't—”

“Hold it,” he commands,you shudder, your breath hitching as he lifts your dress. And you comply, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep it out of the way.

His hand slides down the front of your panties, and your head falls back.

Soonyoung leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re so fucking impatient,” he growls.

His fingers slide through your slick folds, finding you wet and wanting, throbbing everytime he rubs his fat fingers on you. “You’ve never even tasted my cock, and you’re already obsessed, huh?” He presses his thumb against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand. You can barely think straight. “Please, Soonyoung,” you beg again, your voice cracking.

He chuckles darkly, clearly relishing your desperation. “You want my cock so bad, don't you?” His fingers slide inside you, curling just right, and you cry out. “You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you scream my name?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. The words spill out of you, unfiltered and raw. “I want you to ruin me.”

“You’ve never had anyone fill you up like I will,” he says. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good, baby. You’ll be begging for more, even when you can’t take it.”

The dirty talk, the sheer vulgarity of his words, makes you even wetter. You feel like you're on the verge of losing control, and it's rousing.

Soonyoung's fingers pump in and out of you, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His thumb rubs relentless circles on your clit, and you can feel the tension building, winding tighter and tighter.

“You’re gonna cum on my fingers first,” he whispers. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for days. Is that what you want, baby? To be fucked so good, you can’t even think about anything else?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you pant, your voice high and desperate. You can feel the orgasm building, Soonyoung's touch is all-consuming, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.“So eager to please. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Here and there, Soonyoung is driving you insane with his body affixed to the wall, one strong arm holding your leg up. His wrist swiveling to match his fingers as they explore your weeping cunt and his repetitive rubbing of the areas that cause you to roll your eyes.

You cry out, gasping as you roll your hips onto his fingers, the orgasm making you forget what would be appropriate at the time. Soonyoung's fingers work you through it, drawing out every last drop of you.

As you come down from the high, you realize you're still clinging to him, fingers deep on his muscular shoulders, your breaths coming in hiccups. Soonyoung pulls his fingers out of you, and you feel a pang of loss.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you can barely stand. Soonyoung catches you, pulling you close.

Soonyoung's eyes rake over you, his smirk widening as he takes in the sight of your trembling legs. “You're trembling,” he chuckle. His gaze drops to the slick mess between your thighs, and he bites his lip, clearly reveling in the sight. “Better than this... you're literally dripping,” appreciating.

He lets your leg down, holding you firmly as he guides you back onto the bed. The plush mattress sinks under your weight.

“God forgive me,” he continues, “but if our mothers weren't in that dressing room that day, I would've fucked you right there in the store. With that princess veil of yours... I would've pinned you against the mirror and made you scream my name.”

Your mouth falls open. The image of him taking you into that bridal shop, surrounded by white lace and satin, hitting you like a punch to the gut.

You're not sure what shocks you more: his bold declaration or the way your body reacts to it, growing wetter with every word.

He smirks at your reaction.

“What's the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?" He teases. His fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. “Or are you just too turned on to speak?"

He's right; you're completely at his mercy, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

He strips off his shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, then shucks off his shorts. His erection strains against the fabric of his boxers, and he groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he palms himself.

“I could've fucked you on that altar,” he visualize. "In front of all those guests. Just to show everyone that no matter how arranged this marriage was, you're mine. No one else's.”

He opens his eyes, locking onto yours. “I would've spread you open right there, had you screaming my name, showing them all who you belong to."

His dirty words, the way he claims you with every syllable, makes your head spin.

Soonyoung's hand moves over his bulge, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don't even know how much I've wanted you,” he hisses. “How much I want to fuck you senseless, make you mine in every way.”

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “And tonight, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget about everyone else. Just me, and this cock inside you, filling you up until you can't think straight.”

You squirm, your body responding to his filthy promises. You can't tear your eyes away from him, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the night holds.

Soonyoung's fingers brush against the hem of your dress, and you shudder at the contact. “Take it off,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want you naked, spread out on this bed, ready for me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you know he's not just asking—he's demanding.

You slip your dress over your head, tossing it aside as you finally catch sight of Soonyoung completely naked. His hand moves over his erection, the cockhead glistening with precum. The sight makes you lick your lips.

“Can you—” he starts to ask, but you cut him off, not needing him to finish.

“Yes!” you nearly moan. His eyes darken, a smirk playing on his lips as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You take a moment to appreciate the sight before you. His cock is thick and veined, the head an angry red, glossy with precum. You can almost taste it just from looking.

Tentatively, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. It's musky and slightly bitter, but it makes you want to choke on this cock. You swirl your tongue around the head, savoring the taste and the way his breath hitches above you.

Soonyoung's hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer. “Yes, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with need. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. The texture of his cock is smooth yet rigid, the veins pulsating against your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you bob your head, taking more of him with each movement.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and you hear a strangled moan escape his lips. “Shit, that feels so good,” he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The sight of him looking down at you, his face twisted in pleasure, spurs you on.

You slide your hand up his thigh, wrapping it around the base of his cock to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. Your other hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you continue to suck him.

You hum around his length, sending vibrations through him. He shudders, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “You're so fucking good at this,” he praises, his voice breathless. “So eager, so perfect.”

You moan around his cock at the praise. You take him deeper, pushing your limits as you feel him hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but push through, wanting to please him, wanting to show him how much you want this.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his hips bucking forward again. “You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that.”His voice is strained, you don't know if he's warning you or if he's desperate.

You don't let up, doubling your efforts. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head every time you pull back. Your hand continues to pump the base of his cock, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You can feel him throbbing, his cock pulsing with need.

Soonyoung's moans grow louder, more desperate. His breaths come in uneven pants, his body tense with the need for release. “Fuck, Y/N, I'm so close,” he warns, his voice breaking.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you take him even deeper. You want to see him come undone, to watch him lose control because of you. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, and with one last swirl of your tongue, he lets out a choked moan.

He comes hard, his hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. The taste of his release floods your senses, warm and salty. You swallow every drop, savoring the way he trembles above you. His hand in your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out his orgasm.

His hand gently strokes your hair after, a contrast to the rough grip from moments before. You pull back, licking your lips and savoring the last taste of him.

He lifts you up effortlessly, his lips crashing into yours. He doesn't care that his cock was just in your mouth seconds ago or that his cum lingers on your tongue. The taste of himself on your lips makes him moan, the sound vibrating between you.

After a moment, he pulls back, one hand wrapping around your throat, not tight but firm enough to make you feel his presence. His eyes bore into yours, as he licks his sensitive lips.

“You were sucking me so good,” he rasps, “that I almost said ‘I love you’.”

A laugh bursts out of you, hearty and genuine, and he watches you with a smirk.

“I swear,” he continues, his tone playful. “if I'd known marrying you would come with benefits like this, I would've done it way sooner.” “I feel like I owe you something after that blowjob,” he says, his voice dropping into a deeper, more sultry tone.

You bite your lip, a dirty thought flashing through your mind, and Soonyoung picks up on it immediately. Soonyoung's gaze narrows, reading the filth in your expression

“What is it? What do you want?” he asks excitedly.

“Can you fuck me… doggy style?” you ask.

“Yes, I can,” The corners of his mouth twitch, barely holding back a grin.

You look up, pretending to be lost in thought, then say, “Can you fuck me in missionary?”

He nods again, biting his lip, his grip on your throat tightening just a little.

“Can you fuck me inside… the shower?”

He presses you tightly against him, his hand gripping your waist possessively, but your gaze still eating him whole.

“I can fuck you upside down, sideways, any way you want, baby,” he answers, his voice steady and confident. “Just say the word, and I'll make it happen.”

You moan in response. Too early to say that you're already dumb for his cock?

“Get on all fours and lift that pretty ass for me.”

As you crawl up the bed, you make sure to put on a show. You arch your back, lifting your ass higher, giving Soonyoung the view he wants. You wiggle it a little, teasing him.

The motion makes your pussy lips part slightly, already slick and ready for him. You can feel his eyes on you, burning with thirst. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp. You let out a yelp. You know that mark will be there tomorrow, like a postmark, like a stamp, like a reminder of this moment, and the thought makes you even wetter.

He moves behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. You feel his hands on your hips, gripping you firmly as he positions himself. You can't help but push back against him, seeking more contact.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, running his hands over the curves of your ass, squeezing the flesh and kneading it roughly. He spreads you open, taking in the sight of your wetness. “Look at how ready you are for me. You're dripping, baby.”

You moan, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “Please, Soonyoung, I need you.”

“Fuck, you sound so desperate,” he taunts, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides against your folds, teasing you, making you whimper. “Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

“Please, Soonyoung, fuck me,” you whine. “I need your cock inside me, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

He doesn't tease, doesn't make you wait any longer. He thrusts in with one hard, deep stroke, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion makes you cry out, a slight discomfort as your walls stretch around him. But it makes your toes curl.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, gripping your hips as he starts to move. “So fucking tight and wet for me. You feel that? That’s my cock stretching your pussy.”

You moan loudly, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Yes, Soonyoung, I feel it. It feels so good. Fuck me harder.”

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. The sudden burst of pleasure makes you gasp, your body jolting.

He pulls back slowly, only to slam back in, setting a rough, punishing rhythm, making you roll your eyes back.

He's so deep, hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Each thrust makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan loudly, not caring if the entire hotel hears you. The stretch, the fullness, it's all so overwhelming, so fucking good.

“Come on,” he urges, voice a low growl. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you squeeze this cock.”

It's all too much. The feel of his cock, his fingers on your clit, the dirty words spilling from his lips—it all sends you over the edge. The second orgasm of the night making you feel already exhausted. Your voice hoarse, as you feel yourself sloppier between your legs.

There's no mercy in his movements; he's fucking you through your high, pushing you beyond your limits. Each time he hits your cervix, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain ripples through you, making your arms tremble uncontrollably.

You try to hold yourself up, but your strength falters. With a soft cry, your arms give out, and your chest falls against the bed. Soonyoung lets out a low chuckle, a smug grin spreading across his face as he watches you crumble beneath him. Even with your body slack, you're impossibly tight around him, your pussy squeezing him like a vice.

Soonyoung’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continues to pound into you from behind. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you, making your walls clench involuntarily around him.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the pride in his voice as he coos, “Aww, look at you. So fucking helpless, so fucking wrecked. You can’t even hold yourself up, can you?”

You can barely muster a response, a breathy whimper escaping your lips as you feel the tears start to stream down your cheeks. It’s an almost incredulous feeling, the tears mixing with the sweat on your face.

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never been pushed to the brink and then beyond, your body betraying you as it trembles under his control. It’s a raw, visceral experience that leaves you gasping for air, your mind a hazy blur of feel.

Soonyoung notices the tears, and his smirk grows wider. “Look at you, crying for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Is it too much, baby? Too fucking good? Love being fucked so hard you can’t even think straight?”

His hand moves from your hip to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your back even more. The angle shifts, and he hits that perfect spot inside you, making you moan loudly, your voice cracking with the intensity of it all.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips snapping forward with even more force. “God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard. It’s like your pussy doesn’t want to let me go.” He punctuates his words with deep, hard thrusts that leave you reeling, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body.

“So pretty when you cry,” he continues, his tone almost taunting. “I could do this all day, just watch you fall apart on my cock” His words are filthy, degrading, but they ignite something inside you, a desperate need for more.

The way he speaks to you, the way he claims you with each word and each thrust, is addictive.

You can’t hold back your sobs. “Please,” you manage to choke out, not even sure what you’re begging for anymore.

More, less, anything—just something to ease the dizzying sensation coursing through you.

He laughs softly, a dark, knowing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Please what, baby? You want me to stop? You want me to fuck you harder?”

He pulls out almost completely, the emptiness leaving you gasping, and then slams back in with a force that makes your whole body jolt.

“You’re so fucking greedy. Can’t get enough, can you? You want this cock to ruin you, want me to fuck you so good you’ll feel it for days.”

All you can do is moan and sob, your body shuddering with each thrust as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, it’s dirty, raw, and utterly nasty.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise.

And as you feel the tension building inside you again, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your belly—you know he’s right.

He lays you gently on the bed, your back sinking into the mattress. Your face, flushed and glistening with sweat, looks completely wrecked, completely exhausted. Soonyoung feels a brief flicker of pity, but it quickly dissipates as you babble out your dirty words, barely coherent but dripping with need. “Please... Soonyoung... more, need you so bad... fuck…”

He smirks, spreading your wobbly legs apart, exposing the slick, swollen mess between them. “You can barely form a sentence, and yet you still want more.”

He slides his cock back inside you, stretching you open once more.

Soonyoung's thumb finds your clit again, and he begins to work it in slow, light-touch circles. The sensation is maddening, a delicious contrast to the deep, methodical thrusts of his cock.

He watches your face intently, drinking in every expression, every gasp and whimper."That's it, baby," he coos. “Let me see that pretty face when you cum.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body overly sensitive from the previous orgasms, but he doesn't let up.

His other hand moves to your chest, fondling your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple before sliding up to wrap around your throat. This time, the grip is firm, real, and you can feel the delicious pressure as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin.

He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer as if you could merge with him, become one. The scent of sweat and skin mingling in the air—it all consumes you.

Your body is trembling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, a white-hot band of pressure that threatens to snap. Soonyoung's moans are louder now, but they seem distant, like they're coming from underwater, muffled by the roaring in your ears.

His pace quickens, and you feel yourself losing control, your mind slipping away from the physical world. The room, the bed, even Soonyoung—all of it fades into the background.

There's only the blinding, all-encompassing pleasure that fills every nerve, every cell in your body. It's like being pulled under a wave, the sensation crashing over you with a force that's almost violent.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, and you can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, the buildup to your orgasm reaching its peak.

And then, it hits. The climax rips through you, a white-hot explosion that leaves you gasping, the world narrowing down to the blinding sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Your back arches off the bed, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your vision goes white. The intensity is mind-numbing, erasing everything else from your mind except the overwhelming euphoria that pulses through you.

Your body shakes with the force of it, your legs quivering, toes curling as the pleasure radiates outward from your core. You can feel the slickness between your thighs, the way your walls flutter and squeeze around Soonyoung, pulling him deeper inside you.

Soonyoung's name falls from your lips in a choked sob, your voice hoarse and trembling.

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the weight of Soonyoung's body on top of you, his cum warm and sticky between your bellies.

Soonyoung pants loudly, trying to catch his breath. He lifts his head slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes despite the satisfied smile on his lips. “You okay, wifey?” he asks.

You manage a weak smile, still feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. “I’m okay, hubby,”

His smile widens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmurs. “You were amazing.”

You chuckle softly, the sound a bit strained. “You weren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, your hand coming up to rest on his back, feeling the muscles still taut from effort.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your own. “Glad I could satisfy my wife on our first night together,”

“Think we should clean up?” Soonyoung asks after a while.

“Probably,” you agree, though neither of you makes a move to get up just yet. You’re too content, too wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Soonyoung shifts, carefully pulling away from you. The cool air hits your skin, making you shiver slightly. He helps you sit up, his hands gentle and supportive as you both make your way to the bathroom.

The weight of the wedding ring on your finger feels heavier now, more symbolic than ever. It’s not just a piece of jewelry; it’s a constant reminder of the commitment you’ve made and the life you’re building together.

Soonyoung, despite his own exhaustion, is kneeling beside the tub, gently washing you. His focused expression as he works to make sure you’re clean and comfortable. The sight of him, so dedicated and caring, makes your heart swell.

You feel a pang of guilt as you see the tiredness etched on his face, a reminder of how much he’s given for you, both physically and emotionally. Your legs, still trembling from the aftermath of the passion, had given up on you, leaving you reliant on him. The thought of him taking care of you, even in his weariness, makes you feel both grateful and a bit ashamed.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage on my own.”

Soonyoung looks up at you, his eyes softening as he smiles. “I want to,” he says quietly. “You took care of me earlier, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. Besides, it’s kind of nice, being able to do this for you.”

You look him in the eye and sense the truth in his words. His warm, comforting smile belies the weariness that is evident in the lines on his face.

[...]

As you and Soonyoung lie together in bed, the room is quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from either of you. The memories of what just happened still lingers in the air, making both of you feel a bit shy and stunned.

As Soonyoung lays his head on your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He sighs contentedly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns around your breast.

“So,” he begins, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of playfulness, “when I hinted at what I wanted, I honestly didn’t think you'd go for it. I was kind of... hoping, but also preparing for a rejection.”

You chuckle softly, your fingers running through his hair. “Oh really? And why not?”

“Well, for one, you’re ridiculously hot. I didn’t think you’d be that into it right off the bat.”

You giggle, feeling a rush of confidence. “Oh, come on. Why wouldn’t I? You’re hot, and let’s be honest, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Damn, so you think I’m hot, huh? And here I was thinking I’d have to put in a little more effort.” He rises to look at you, but you make him lay again, your cheeks flushed.

“I can’t believe we managed to go from ‘I do’ to ‘Let’s fuck’ in just a few days. We really don’t waste any time, do we?” You say, grinning.

“Yeah, I guess I underestimated how much I’d resist you, but I knew I was in trouble from the moment we got married… I thought I’d be a strong soldier, holding out a bit longer.”

He hums thinking.

“I’m surprised I managed to hold out for as long as I did.” he finishes.

You raise an eyebrow, a naughty smile playing on your lips. "Well, I guess you’re not as disciplined as you thought. Seems like you fell for me quicker than you’d like to admit.”

Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle. “You’ve got me completely hooked.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, your hand resting on his cheek. “Poor soldier. Captured by the enemy and all. What will you do now?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. "I guess I’ll just have to surrender to you completely.”

“Even the strongest can fall. And let’s be real, I’m pretty good at making sure my soldiers surrender.” You shrugged, smirking.

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, you really know how to make a guy feel like a total pushover.”

“I plan on keeping you hooked, you know—well, at least until the next time we have a ‘conversation’ like tonight."

“Well, if this is what marriage looks like, I think I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

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theresascove · 30 days ago

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put it down on me ₊ ⊹

farmhand!ellie williams x f!reader

ellie can’t help herself watching you look back at her while you twirl your hips on the dance floor at your local country club

tw: not proofread, STRAIGHT FILTHY SMUT, r can line dance, sexual tension, one night stand, fingering (r receiving), strap (r receiving), oral (e receiving), ROUGH CAR SEX, Ellie is packing in this, strap’s called Ellie’s dick, hair pulling, grinding, hot sex rly, Ellie calls reader miss

wc ✎ 2k

There was something about line dancing that was freeing. When you and your friends went out every weekend, you knew it would be a good night. Doing it since you were six, it’s like walking—it comes easily. The second you smell the leather, see the bodies around you, and feel the music blast in your bones—you felt like you were home. The collective slap of the boots hitting the wooden floor, seeing everyone turn on beat to the music—it just was freeing. You felt you could blend into the crowd and spin around and round until you were left dizzy with a wide smile on your face.

You couldn’t completely blend into the crowd sometimes. There were moments others noticed you. You usually shrugged it off or glared, not paying any mind—but this time, you noticed them the second you stepped in. Standing by the bar, leaning against the table—that’s where she was. The farmhand for your neighbors.

You’ve met before, only briefly though. Curt and friendly hellos. Now in this crowded room, you exchange the same friendly smile but don’t make a move to talk. You stick with your friends, and she does the same with hers.

Turns out the pair of eyes you felt on you was her. You spun to face the other wall and she wasn’t even trying to hide the way she was eyeing you up and down. Usually you ignored it—usually—but this time something arose in you, filling you with more confidence than normal.

You matched the steps of those around you, swinging side to side. It started out with short glances, checking and seeing if she was still looking. Quickly it transition to lengthened stares, eyes lidded and heavy. You were intentional with your movements, emphasizing a few more than others—like when you had to circle your hips.

Maybe an hour or two slid by. Your face started to feel sore with how you were smiling, laughing time to time when you watched a friend stumble on a step and forget a move. The final dance for the session rolled around, and the crowd had thickened since—more people wishing to join before the break started.

Maybe you’re dramatic, but your heart dropped when the crowd broke after the last dance and the auburn farmer wasn’t standing there any longer. You breathed deep, almost signing and spinning to find your friends. A loose blouse was came snapping into your view then, hands reaching to steady you.

“The fuck are you going?”

You backed up, hands pressing on her chest, “so sorry. I’m looking for my friends.”

“They’re behind you,” she says, eyes focused on you turn around to check for them, “I have a feeling you were looking elsewhere though.”

You look back to her, eyes wide, “what?”

“Am I wrong?”

The shock from her scaring you wares off and the adrenaline and attention from before comes back in waves. You’ve known her for sometime now, she’s not a stranger. But now with where you stand, you feel you’re seeing her in a different light.

“No,” you say, voice hushed, “no you’re not wrong.”

She grins with cockiness, “k. You into dancing?”

“Yeah, been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

You lean closer, “how could you tell?”

“What’re you up to?”

Her eyes are flicking around your face—and in that moment your mind decided that her grin was contagious and it ended up on your face. Everything she was doing, you were matching her energy, giving it right back at her.

“What do you feel I’m up to?”

You’re not completely sure, but when she corners you on the wall with her lips moving on yours—it feels so right you’re sure it’s what you were chasing. She had your hand in hers as she walked you two out of the club, out towards her car parked behind the establishment. Her iconic dusty and muddy car—it sat at the back, lights flickering on as you get close. She had you pressed against it first, hands sliding over your body.

You hum, leaning closer against her, “what do you have in mind?”

Her lips slide up your neck in a quick succession, hands moving the opposite way to grip at your hips and tug you closer, “get in the car.”

She opens the door, closing it once the two of you clamber into her tight back seat. You laugh as she crawls on top, arms flexing as they hold her body over yours. To have you, someone she’s been eyeing for a while, strip in the back of her car—it felt unreal.

You were beautiful. The low light from the street lamp shining through her car’s windows and highlighting the way your tits looked. Ellie had tore your shirt off, mouth almost dropping at what was under. You slide your hand behind you, smiling at her while you snap it off.

“Take it off, Els.”

And fuck she does, lips kissing at your collar bone and trailing down as she slides it off. You shiver when she kisses at your nipple, lips cold as a contrast to your warm skin. Shirts, bras, pants, then all final under garments—and she had you naked under her all the while she was still fully dressed above you. Her hands slid over you, moaning from time to time just from how you felt.

Her hands dug into your thighs before she jerked you—pretty much manhandling you further below her and forcing your legs to wrap around her hips so she could grind her core against yours. Her ego inflated when she noticed the way your eyebrows furrow at the feeling.

“Els—wait, are you?”

She hums, leaning to kiss you again. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to that information. A string of quiet gasps left you each time her jeans caught on the spot that made you see stars.

“Shit, please—“

Her fingers, now hot to the touch, slid down your body and one pushed into you. Her eyes had connected with yours before hand just so she could monitor your reactions. She moved quick, adding a finger every few thrusts—barely letting you adjust. With three now pushing into you, grinding up to your spot—you squirmed under her, eyes fighting to shut close from the feeling.

“Please,” you reach to dig onto her back, “please fuck me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she makes work with one hand snapping her pants open. You breathe deep, soaking her car seat beneath you with how much you were awaiting. Your mind’s a dazed mess, vision blurred from her. Nothing embarrassed you, not when how you were looking at her with need—legs spreading.

She kissed you with aggression, head pushed back against the door just as she also started to slide into you. You gasp, and she takes the moment to bite your bottom lip.

“Fuck Els,” you melt, hand gripping onto something behind your head. When she pushed back in, you moaned like some woman in a cheesy film titled, “big dick Brian.” She snapped her hips, setting a pace that drove you to the brink almost. She kept the same pace going, hips meeting yours in quick recessions.

You cried, lips brushing hers from how close your faces were. Her eyes were just as they were in the bar—pupils blown wide, lidded. This time you didn’t fight it when your eyelids closed. With the sight removed all you could focus on was how she was making you feel.

The feeling of her car’s fabric sliding as she brings you back onto her length, her pants and moans in your ear, how she opens you wide, the sounds it makes when her hips collide with yours. And fuck the sounds you’re making—higher pitched whines and cries. You ground your hips into here, voice heaving when it hits that spot. It almost hurts.

To have her like this, fucking into you with fever—hair falling onto your forehead. It was hot, you were sweating under her. You hiss when she pushes particularly deep, the feeling a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Shit, you taking this dick so well, here,” she sits back, pulling you with her.

“Pleasepleade don’t stop, please don’t—please.”

It’s so cute, how you get worried thinking she was stopping. She shushes you, putting a finger past your lips and pulling it down, “ride me.”

She has to help you at first, lifting your hips with her hands and shoving you back down on her. You gasp, head tilting back as you get use to the pace she sets. She spanks your ass, “what’d I just fucking say to do?”

You attempt to, but your pace is definitely slower and shakier than her assisted pace. It’s pathetic really, how you can’t even keep a consistent pace going to get you off.

“Ellie just fuck me,” you say into the hot air in her car, “please.”

She rolls her eyes, not putting you back to the position earlier—instead she hooks her arms around you and rests her feet on the floor to thrust into you. Her embrace, your moans, the feeling of her length splitting you even wider from this angle—fuck it drove you over the edge. You had reached a hand down, jolting at the overstimulation at first before pressing down on your clit. Your bottom lip fell in a silent sob, tears showing in your eyes from the sheer pleasure that wracked your body.

Ellie stopped, pulling you off of her to sit on the other side of the back seat. You looked to her with clouded vision, a need for her growing.

“Ellie,” you exclaim, moving towards her but she pushes you back.

“Hold on,” she huffs, pulling the strap off and dragging her pants down after.

Once they’re removed and slid onto the ground, she’s reaching to grab onto your hair—jerking you towards her. You get the signal, crouching down with your ass up to lick her from her hole to her clit over her underwear. She groans, hips jerking closer to your tongue. You laugh, the sound coming off slightly weird from how you were sucking onto her from over the garment still.

“You—“ she starts, pulling you back to remove the last article of clothing off, “come on.”

You eat her out right this time, flicking your tongue on her clit in such a way that makes her writhe. She looks close already, no doubt what happened earlier helped her sexual need rise. She holds you there, not letting you bring your head back too far from her dripping cunt.

“Yeah, yeah, like that. Shit.”

You go to moan just as she does, tasting her even more with how much she leaks after coming. You continue to until she’s had enough and pulls you off of her. You smile at her, reaching a hand up to brush at her hair that’s sticking to her face. She looks beautiful even after sex it just helped her even more. A shein layer of sweat on her body, making her glisten. The way she’s looking at you, and especially how she was when you ate her out just a second ago. Her fingers, tattoo—

“What’s your tattoo mean?”

She pulls you closer on top of her, exhaling, “I’ll explain the whole story later, might just have to stop by your place for some tea.”

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seaglassdinosaur · 2 years ago

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Here’s the thing, people tend to ask, why is Marcus so mean to Leo, why doesn’t he try to make nice and trick him too?

I think the issue is that we don’t actually see the first time they meet him. The audience is dropped into: Leo can’t stand him but the Rats love the guy. It’s funny, but initial introduction would help, like did Leo see him acting shifty from day one?

In my mind, Leo just got a gut instinct about Marcus. He met the guy and knew instinctively, in that weird subconscious way you do, that something was wrong with Marcus and they ought to stay away from him. It would justify all his antagonism toward Marcus even though he doesn’t know anything about the evil plan. He sees Marcus, gets an ‘ick’ feeling in his stomach, and decides to roll with it, and even put up with Marcus if it means backing his family.

#marcus probably did try playing nice w Leo at first too #assuming the plan wasn’t isolation right?#so he plays nice w Leo and seeing that Leo isn’t going to play nice w him #marcus matches the hostile energy and fucks with Leo every chance he gets and tries to push him out of the way #(weird enough in my mind I feel that Marcus he acted as when around Leo was one of the realest versions of himself #and I don’t mean when they were actively trying to kill each other I mean in like #that scene where Leo’s reading the magazine quiz to do together and Marcus is answering #maybe he’s posturing but tbh he doesn’t gain much from it. marcus has no goal right there and no face to put on #he just gets to fuck around with this kid he doesn’t like but can’t hurt #w everyone else Marcus is kinda being someone else. playing the dutiful son for Douglas—though Marcus does snark at him #and pretending to be the friend of the Rats #but Leo? the kids already scared of him so what’s the end game in those passive scenes?#nothing really. that’s why I feel that at least for s1 and 2 the person Marcus was with Leo was the realest version of him)#I’m insane typing this all out in the tags!#lab rats #my post

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buckys-robot-arm · 2 years ago

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My tinder did the most insanely hilarious thing in the fucking world, one almost after another I see the profiles of two of my board members, neither of which I would’ve ever thought to use tinder

#J and Z you naughty boys 🤭🤭🤭 I started howling seeing Z cause I remembered one of his friends told him to set up an account #not sure if he does use it. but LICHERALLY not even two swipes later do I see J’s profile. the hardest I’ve laughed in a bit #I NEVER would’ve thought that guy would use tinder and it’s all so very sillie and funnie to me eeheeheehee #Z’s your average ambiguous neurodivergent kid. like he definitely has adhd but probably has comorbidities #in terms of romance and the like. J reminds me a bit of CJ. like mentally. I simply cannot picture J as any sort of romantic #perhaps I haven’t seen a straight girl as um. as unhinged. impulsive. and handy as him #he wouldn’t want to stab you with his chef knife because it would fuck up the tip. J wouldn’t do anything but he probably knows how to kill #scratch that one of those serial killer podcast girlies can match his energy. I don’t want to see any of that haha

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yuwuta · 9 months ago

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YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You’re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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crescenthistory · 20 days ago

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hi angel!!!! absolutely adore your blog and especially the way you write for regulus 🥹🥹 makes my heart so happy, like that’s baby boy!!!! thank you so much for sharing with us!!! i have a prompt request but only if you feel so inclined!!! number d8 “where is she?" with regulus, pretty please, like maybe something happens to reader and he is the last to find out (busy w quidditch or prefer things) so when someone finally tracks him down being like your girl needs you, his composure is for once non existent and he is panicking!!!! ughhh hurt/comfort with reg is everything!!! anyway only if you feel my up to my love no pressure ever - love your blog regardless 💗💗💗

hi my love<33 this is hands down the sweetest request i have received, thank you so much for being so kind 🤍🤍 i genuinely appreciate your words so much! as for the request, i adore some hurt/comfort with reg, and this is an idea i've had for a while, so it was so fun to write

Prompt: D.8 "Where is she?"

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, severe injury (happens off screen, explained and treated on screen), lacerations, typical regulus anxiety (overworked), best friends to lovers, pomfrey being a badass, snape is a villain, animal abuse (technically), background marlene, rosekiller, etc.

It was common knowledge that Slytherin quidditch practice was never to be disturbed, especially this close to the final match of the season against Gryffindor.

This was Regulus’ first year as captain and he was determined for it to be written in the history books as a victorious one, to make himself deserving of the title. Playing opposite his brother and his best friends didn’t lessen the pressure much, either.

He knew he had been pushing the team quite hard, but he also knew that if anyone could handle it, it was them. Evan and Barty funnelled all their chaotic energy into quidditch once they realised just how much it mattered for their mate, and Dorcas had just as much to gain from winning against Marlene as Regulus had against Sirius. Fenwick had had his skull bashed in by enough bludgers in his career to not be able to formulate any complaints, even if he had them. The rest of the team were relatively young players, a risk most others had chastised Regulus for taking, but one that was playing off beautifully – and with those rumours, they wanted to prove themselves, too.

There really was little problem with this arrangement, he told himself, other than the fact that he was perhaps wearing himself a bit thin when balancing it all with his prefect duties and exams.

And, more importantly, missing you.

You had been the best friend he could have asked for during this hectic year of his, always standing by his side, just as much of a loyal team-player as those on his actual sports team. That unwavering dedication you had shown him over the years that taught him that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being loved – and most definitely of loving, because Regulus would be damned if he didn’t admit that that was the only appropriate word for how he felt about you.

Not that he had told you that yet, though, and neither had you. It was never the right time, and you both knew, at least to some degree. For now, it was enough. You had each other, always, and it was enough. He told himself as much, at least.

Regulus was trying to zero his thoughts back on his team running through their plays off-broom on the ground, looking for any weakness in their formation, when the cardinal rule of not disturbing practice was broken.

“Black!” A voice shouted as it ran across the pitch from the school.

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the pestering fourth year away, one of those who just seemed to always be there, nameless and bothersome. It was to little avail, though, judging by the sounds of his heavy steps hitting the still somewhat moist dirt on the field.

“Black, I have to–”

“We are in the middle of a practice!” Regulus cut the kid off, letting his nerves get the better of him as he saw most of his players stop in the midst of what had been their best run-through so far. “Unless someone has died, it can wait.”

“But–”

“Has someone died?” Regulus had his hands on his hips, half aware that he looked way too much like his older brother as he regarded the student-shaped owl in front of him with derision.

“No, but–”

“Are someone in the midst of dying? Like within the hour?”

“N– no.”

“Then you may leave.” The student looked thoroughly confused, clearly not having been properly warned by whoever sent him as a make-shift owl that this was the only response he would be getting from Regulus. He could vaguely hear you whispering poor boy in his mind, always advocating for Regulus’ softer side, but right now he pushed it away as he turned back to his teammates. “Whatever it is will still be there when we are finished up here.”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to go before he began to pretend he was air, attention fully on his team once more.

Barty snickered as he tried to lean his chin on Evan’s shoulder, only to have the taller boy fully shove him off. Regulus shook his head, ignoring the crestfallen student beside him as he tried to increase his energy levels back to where they needed to be.

“Okay, that last round was getting closer to where we want to be. Ready to take to the sky for the last few minutes?”

When he finally stepped foot inside the quidditch locker rooms, Regulus sped through his shower routine. He was eager to get out of there and back to the dorms quick enough to have sufficient time to spend with you before going to sleep. He had half a mind to ask you to sleep in his bed tonight, but he wondered if that might be pushing it since you just did that a few nights ago. Nothing ever happened, of course, you were just the best of friends – and even if you had been something more, it was hard for anything to happen with Evan and Barty in the same room.

You just brought him a sense of peace he found himself craving more day by day. He wished to squeeze out every ounce of it he possibly could.

His hair was still wet, bag thrown about as haphazardly over his shoulder as he could allow himself to without spiralling – which is to say, he still looked perfectly polished to anyone but him. He turned to give the team lingering behind an attempt at an emphatic great work today that ended up falling a bit short from his hoarse voice. Thankfully, everyone else seemed tired enough to accept it without reservation, and Regulus could exit the changing room before all but running towards the Slytherin dorms.

On his way there, he passed through the Great Hall, attempting to slow his stride to look a bit more composed, but quite ready to throw all of it away for the night just to curl up with you.

“Re- Regulus?!”

Sirius’ incredulous voice sounded behind him, and though Regulus loved his brother dearly, he took a deep sigh at the disturbance, knowing that, with him, it would likely not be a short one.

“That would be me.” Regulus turned around with a sarcastic half-smile, only for it to waver when he saw the expression on Sirius’ face.

There was an evident tension in his face when he looked Regulus up and down, as if trying to figure him out while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Sirius’ lips were pressed tight, as if holding back a severe frown and his eyes were decidedly clouded with worry.

“Reg, what are you doing here?” His voice conveyed more confusion than upset, but both were woven into his tone.

“I’m… on my way to Slytherin? We just finished practice.”

It was as if Sirius found an answer to his confusion as his face settled into a form of defeat. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Regulus stared his brother down, heart speeding up in his chest, but he could feel it in his whole body. “What is it, Siri?”

“James sent someone to tell you,” Sirius says, speaking more to himself.

“Tell me what?” Regulus’ patience was worn thin by his pulse straining his skin.

“Uh, it’s Y/N.” Pangs shot through his body, pulling every vein taut. “She– she will be fine, don’t worry, but–”

“Where is she?”

Regulus struggled to make out where Sirius stood in front of him as the world seemed to tunnel around him and his mind was immediately elsewhere, immediately with his best girl, imagining any possible horror that might have overcome you. Had it not been for Sirius’ delivery of the news and the way he looked at Regulus, he might have felt more calm. But he had always known his big brother to be more composed than this.

“The infirmary–”

He didn’t need to hear more before he was running at full speed down the hallway.

Little to nothing registered with Regulus on the way to the infirmary, that he for the first time in his life realised was located painfully far away from the Great Hall. Illogical, given how many students go through there throughout their days.

He felt lighter than ever as he was entirely certain he had never run this quickly in his life, simultaneously as every limb felt heavy with worry.

She will be fine is only reassuring if he was concerned you had died – in every other scenario it is the worst thing to hear, because it confidently means you are not fine right now.

Regulus is half aware that he has run through two ghosts, into one student and past a professor – he thinks maybe Flitwick? – but he paid none of them any mind, willing to take the point deductions or even detentions, if only they don’t slow him down. He can deal with everything and anything else later.

When he finally reached the door to the infirmary, it took everything in him to come to a halt.

He all but crashed into the door, catching himself with one hand on the doorframe as he breathed heavy, giving himself but two seconds to collect himself, lest he be banned from the infirmary by life by Madam Pomfrey. That was not something he could afford right now.

Still heaving, he opened the door and took two steps inside – before his vision became entirely swamped by that very same woman, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Is she here?” He tried to get out before she could say anything.

“No visitors at the moment,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

“Please, is she here?” Regulus couldn’t even think to say your name, but the look on the matron’s face told him she knew.

“She is, and she is alright, but there will be no visitors at the moment.” Her voice was a bit softer now, but she was not relenting and she was not moving.

Regulus’ breath picked back up, and he didn’t register the tears that were forming in his eyes. A choked please was forming on his tongue when–

“Please.”

You beat him to it. Your meek voice sounded from a few curtains down behind Madam Pomfrey. Regulus didn’t hear the noise that escaped him when he heard the soft pain in your usually chipper voice, but the matron did. Still, it seemed to be on your account and not the lovestruck, fear-sickened boy in front of her, that she took a step to the side.

“Only you, and it must be brief.”

Her words were mostly caught by the air that Regulus left in his wake the moment she moved to the side, because as soon as he could he was by the curtain he had heard you speak from behind, ever so gently pulling it to the side.

“Oh, mon amour.”

The sight he was faced with both mended and broke his heart – because you were there, awake and already looking at him, but your forehead and right arms were bandaged and your face bore telltale signs of pain. He could see tear tracks down your delicate cheeks, mascara smudging just barely beneath your eyes. You looked happy to see him, he could see your chest heave a breath of relief, but that was about the only positive thing he could decipher in you at the moment.

At last, his movements were measured and careful again, but for once not for the sake of how he was perceived, but rather to not disturb the space around you, as if that could lessen your pain. He barely managed to close the curtain behind him with trembling hands, giving you a semblance of privacy, even in this infirmary that he had no idea hosted how many others.

There was enough space on the left side of the bed beside you for Regulus to take his rightful place by your side, as close as he dared. His eyes kept jumping all over your body and face, breath hitched.

Your name escaped his lips in a small breath as his eyes widely roamed your form.

He didn’t realise his hand was hovering between you before you reached up to him with your left hand and took it in yours. Your grip was weak and the tips of your fingers cold, but it was still the smooth skin he was used to feeling on his.

Upon your touch, he seemed to be brought back down to earth and the welling tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Reggie,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”

“My poor love,” he whispered back, letting his free hand move up to lightly caress your cheek, brushing some damp hair away. It must have gotten wet when Pomfrey tended to whatever wound was bandaged on your upper forehead. “What happened to you, amour?”

Regulus often referred to you with terms of endearment, you knew you were each other’s person, but the absolute softness of them now broke your heart a little.

“It was…” you trailed off, wincing as you scrunched your brows in confusion and consequently pulled on your bandage. “It was an accident.” The sound that escaped you was almost a laugh, but it was too wet and strangled to truly be classified as such.

“What happened?” Regulus’ voice urged, more desperate than before. He held your hand tighter, bringing it closer to his chest, as if to protect it.

“We were helping Kettleburn – unwillingly mind you –”

“Who are we?” Regulus cuts you off, still seeming rather feverish in his desperation to know what was wrong. You squeezed his hand and smiled at him to calm him down.

“An unfortunate bunch of us who happened to be enjoying the fresh air by the benches. Me, Lily, Marlene, Snape, Avery and some others we don’t really know too well, mostly fourth years.”

Regulus scowled at the mention of Snape and Avery, but nodded, as if encouraging you to continue.

“Kettleburn needed some help preparing bait. He believed there was a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest that he wanted to draw out. It worked a bit too well, a bit too well.”

His brows scrunched at that. “But hippogriffs are mainly peaceful unless you disturb them?” Unease was growing in his stomach.

“Yes, that’s what I said as well,” you feel a bout of dizziness come over you, but try and speak through it. “We were down, probably a bit too close to the forest when it came out. I tried to push the bait towards it carefully, keeping my distance. It just wanted food, you know.”

“But?”

“But Snape and Avery freaked. When it took a step closer, just to eat – they let curses fly, kneejerk self defence reaction they said.”

Regulus had to be mindful to not hurt your hand as his fists clenched on reflex. He settled for holding the sheets beside him disturbingly hard instead – he had already pieced together what happened. “You were still in the line of fire,” he concluded, eyes darkening.

“Yes,” you whispered weakly. “It would have been fine, if it had only been a stupefy or something, but Snape shouted something else, some freak hex. It was like being slashed with a knife all over.”

Regulus’ breath hitched as he let his eyes travel from gauze to gauze. His fingers came up to linger near a particularly large bandage that travelled from your shoulder in under your hospital gown. “All over?” His voice was a mere whisper before he finally looked in your eyes again. He found them teary, and his heart clenched painfully.

“Yeah, I– The biggest one is across my stomach. Pomfrey has patched me up nicely, but it was, uh, it wasn’t good.”

He can’t fight the new tears that spill as he whispers my girl before carefully shuffling closer to you to give you a hug, or at least as close to one you could get right now. His cheek is pressed into yours, his hand on the back of your head, and you can hear him cry directly into your ear, drawing tears from you as well. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into you. “So sorry, amour.”

“Reggie, there was nothing you could do,” you try to look at him, but his grip on your head remains steadfast.

“No, I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your upper cheek, and his lips are wet. “I should’ve been there.”

“Reg, there was no way anyone could have known.”

He pulls back slightly, looking you over to see if he was hurting you before settling in with his forehead against yours – making sure to avoid the wound in the top left. When his eyes look into yours, you feel a sense of calm finally wash over your body that had been riddled by the shock of being torn open. A grey safe haven.

“I’m sorry, amour.” He keeps saying it like a prayer.

You try to shake your head, but wince at the action. His hand immediately shoots up to your jaw, to still your head. Protecting you, even from yourself. “You’re not allowed to be sorry, Reg, you didn’t do anything. You can only feel sorry for me, which isn’t quite that hard. I look pathetic right now.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humour doesn’t seem to drag him from his despair as his eyes keep searching your face, flitting from the tears to the deviating makeup. His thumb, ever so carefully, drags under your eye to wipe away some of the mascara there. You lean into his touch.

“They tried to tell me, but I– I didn’t know, so I didn’t listen and–”

“You were at quidditch practice,” you cut him off. “Everyone knows you can’t be disturbed then.”

Regulus looked at you incredulously. “This is disturb-worthy, you – anything with you is always the biggest priority. I’m sorry.”

“One girl versus preparing for the match of your life? Hm, I think it’s good you weren’t distracted.” You are determined to lighten his mood, the sinch of his eyebrows and worry in his eyes were beginning to make you feel sick for him.

“But you’re my girl,” he says in a low voice, stressing the words as if to pour additional meaning. “You’re my best friend, my everything. Y/N, you are everything.”

You struggle to come up with a response to that. Any mask Regulus switches between is completely discarded in this small infirmary section with you. When he holds your face and looks at you, you know what it is.

Unable to speak over the lump in your throat, you just drag his face closer to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, as always.

Except this time, while your lips linger on his cheek, Regulus uses his hand still on your jaw to angle your face towards his. With your lips millimetres apart, he looks from them to your eyes, searching for something, and then back down. He whispers another soft everything before pressing his lips to yours.

For all the times you had thought of kissing Regulus, nothing compared. You never expected there to be salty from tears, you never imagined his scent in your nose to be swirled with the disinfectant covering everything around you – but he was right, it was everything. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, even as he pushed himself even closer to you, as if he needed you underneath his skin, not just on top of it. The pinky underneath your jaw digs into your skin, and you can feel your pulse beat against his finger.

When Regulus pulls away, your mouths are still essentially connected, slightly parted, just breathing into each other. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with nothing short of love.

“I–”

“I love you.” You cut him off, smiling a bit as he half feigns indignance before it turns soft once more.

“I love you, belle fille.”

“I know.”

Finally, finally he gives you a genuine smile. It eases your nerves more than even his eyes could, and you feel yourself melting back into your pillow. Unfortunately, comfort makes you even more aware of the pain and soreness in your body, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, mostly to himself it seems.

“I won’t allow that.” You tug your intertwined hands closer to you, wanting to share the comfort with him. “I’m alright, Reggie.”

“You’re wounded and bandaged.”

“And I’m perfectly okay.”

He gives you an as if look, but it’s good enough for you, for now. Then his face twisted into something darker and you saw the same desperation from earlier bubbling to the surface.

“What happened to Snape? And Avery?” His hold on you is still soft and caring, but the rest of his body has grown stiff, mind racing with imagined visions of what went down and of what he would do with them in return.

“Nothing yet,” you said with a careful, measured voice. “Kettleburn wanted to ease the situation first, but since it was technically his fault for bringing us along unprompted, I’m not sure what would be done. Detention maybe?”

“Yeah, Kettleburn’s an idiot for that, but Snape was the one who used an unorthodox and probably dark hex. He has to be dealt with.”

Though you don’t condone how fast some of your friends resorted to revenge and violence, even you had to admit that the idea of Snape knowing magic like that didn’t sit right with you either. There was no situation you could imagine where a slasher spell like that would be moral in combat.

“I’m sure they will deal with him tomorrow,” you settle on. “Tonight the main priority seemed to be making sure I don’t bleed out on the grounds.”

Regulus’ look was pained as he pressed his lips together. “How did you get in after that anyway?”

“I don’t remember too well.” You truly didn’t, and the flashes that went through your mind were not ones Regulus would be better off knowing about. “Kettleburn shushed the Hippogriff back into the forest – it thankfully didn’t get severely injured it seemed – while everyone else panicked. Lily and Marlene were the first ones by my side.”

You both smile absentmindedly at that. When you first befriended Lily through your study sessions at the library, Regulus had been unsure of how to approach your joint integration into his brother’s friend group, but the girls had turned out to be some of the best friends you could have asked for.

“Oh!” you exclaim, almost straddling Regulus. “Almost forgot, but you’ll be happy to know that Marlene suckerpunched Snape before they brought me inside with a levitation spell. Pretty gnarly punch, too.”

Regulus’ smiled seemed to be less from gratification and more from endearment from you. “I think I’d like to see Snape get a little more than a punch for what he did to you. But that’s a great start, darling.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “It’s a start. And again, we can deal with all of that tomorrow. I don’t have the energy today.”

“No, no, you are the only priority right now, amour.” Any mirth slipped from his face as he studied you concernedly once more.

“I know you’re “alright”, but you’re not alright” he started. “Could you tell me where it hurt the most?” He looks over you again, as if he can map you out and fight your pain off, spot by spot.

“My stomach and chest got it worst,” you admit. “It’s growing more sore, but Madam said I could get more pain relief in just a little while.”

“Well, she also said I could only stay here for a short while,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking towards the curtain as if he expected it to be ripped back any minute. “Pretty sure we’re way past that.”

“Maybe she heard us crying like babies over a non-fatal injury and figured it was less of a hassle to leave us to it.” You squeeze Regulus’ thigh with a grin and he bites back a yelp.

“She would be wise to do so. Especially because there’s no bloody way I’m leaving.”

You don’t say much to that because you really, really don’t want him to either. You know you are fine, and for his sake you try and seem even more assured of it, but the white panic that soared through your veins those first few minutes is hard to shake. Even though you don’t want him to hold his absence against himself, you don’t like the thought of him leaving now that he was there.

“Has she said anything about a treatment plan? How long you’ll be here? She said you’re fine, so it shouldn’t be too long right?” Though Regulus looks at you as he asks his questions, you know he is already trying to piece together probable answers in his head.

“Most of our first conversation was her narrating what she was doing while I was moaning and not listening.” Your comment was off-handed, but Regulus seemed to wince at the image it painted in his head. “Sorry,” you mumbled bashfully, but he just gave you a smile.”

“Good thing I have the memory of an elephant, then.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice sounded just seconds before she ripped the curtain back and stepped into your little bubble.

Regulus went straight into autopilot, rightening his posture and schooling his expression. You squeezed his hand tighter, so that he couldn’t pull away, but that had not even been any option in his mind. Pomfrey went through the station beside you at the speed of light, way too familiar and comfortable with these procedures.

“Miss L/N had 5 deep lacerations and several shallow ones,” she begins to recite and Regulus hangs onto every word. “The shallow wounds are almost entirely gone from the treatment already, but the more severe ones will need time to recover. She will have to stay in the infirmary overnight today and tomorrow for observation and continue to receive some medication. Among those are pain potions and salves for the wounds. Rebandage every 10 hours and apply new salves.”

“How will that affect her?” Regulus asked, probably pushing his luck with the matron.

“The pain potions will make her a bit slow and groggy, but she will still be awake. Though she should sleep.” At that she gives you a curt look over her shoulder. “The healing process for the wounds will likely be itchy and uncomfortable and she may develop a fever. We will pay particularly close attention to the stomach wounds in case she develops any infections there.”

“What are the symptoms of infections like that?”

You try and pat Regulus’ leg to say down, boy, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, instead focusing fully on any and all information the matron is willing to share with him. You had half a mind to joke that this was private medical information, but let it be.

Madam Pomfrey turns to Regulus at his fourth question, putting her hands on her hips as she measured him closely. It seemed like she decided on something and the next second she exited through the curtains again. You and Regulus barely had time to exchange a glance before she came back and threw a white coat at Regulus who catched it bewilderedly.

“Seems like I’ve got myself an assistant for the remainder of her stay, haven’t I, Mr. Black?”

A slow smile spreads across Regulus’ face before he hurries on the coat. “Yes, Madam.”

Pomfrey talks you – and now, Regulus – through the new pain potion she is about to give you, giving brief background on the ingredients, application and effect when the door to the infirmary slams open, decidedly louder than when Regulus entered earlier. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if pained by the disrespect and incredulity of students, but finished giving you the potion.

“That is no way to enter an infirmary, Mr. Crouch,” she says through half-gritted teeth as she works. She waves at Regulus to open the curtain to your bed, revealing Barty, Evan and Dorcas, all heaving as if they have been running too. “You seem to be particularly loved, Miss L/N. Please never get injured again, it disturbs my workspace.”

Your friends’ eyes are wide as they take in your form where you lay, still rather pathetically, in your bed.

“Merlin’s tits, what happened?” Dorcas asks.

At the same time Barty’s gaze flits between you and Regulus. “Who?” he asks, while looking at you.

“I–” you start, but that was clearly the wrong answer because he then immediately turns to Regulus instead.

“Who?”

There is no hesitation in Regulus’ voice. “Snape.”

Barty’s face morphs from shock and concern into pure determination. He stalks over to you in three wide steps, pressing a quick kiss to the safe side of your forehead, whispering a quiet take care, Treasure, before turning around and dragging Evan out of the infirmary. The other boy’s jaw was ticked shut and went more than willingly.

Even you felt a bit bad for Snape in that moment.

Madam Pomfrey, however, only breathed a sigh of relief that they left so quickly.

Dorcas comes up between you and Regulus, sitting on the very edge of your bed. Pomfrey, with Regulus’ assistance return to the work on your bedside station, though his eyes are on you almost the whole time. He has that furrow between his brows that shows up whenever he focuses intently, and you are torn between wanting to kiss it and draw it.

“We met Marls and Lily in the hallway,” Dorcas explains. “They got halfway through their story before Junior took off with us on leash behind us.”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh, trying to hide how the rumble hurts you. “But really, I’m totally fine. Or, I’m relatively good, and will soon be alright.”

“Yeah, especially when you’ve got two nurses to tend to you,” Dorcas teases, casting Regulus a knowing sideways glance.

“Pardon you, Miss Meadows; I am a Healer.”

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Despite never wanting to return to this infirmary, you had grown quite fond of the Madam.

“My deepest apologies, Madam,” Dorcas offered with a gleam in her eyes. You could have sworn you saw Pomfrey smile ever so slightly.

“But yeah, Dorc, I’m well taken care of. I’ll be fine.”

“Firstly, just because you’re wounded does not mean you can get away with calling me that.” You laugh once more, happy to not be treated like a dying animal even in such a grave hour. “Secondly, I’m glad. You deserve it, and it was about damn time.”

You pretend to not understand what the last part referred to, but you knew she got you all figured out. You squeeze her leg in a sign of admiration and, perhaps, defeat.

“Thirdly,” Regulus interjects. “You need to either not make her laugh or leave.”

Pomfrey nodded emphatically.

“Not my fault your girl just finds me absolutely hilarious, Black.” Dorcas winks at you.

“Speaking of someone’s girl,” you drawl, trying to even the playing field, which worked, if Dorcas’ light blush was anything to go off of. “Please tell Marlene I say thank you. I don’t think I got to in the whirl of everything and then everyone was thrown out.”

Dorcas’ smile softens. “I will, babe, but you don’t have to thank her. She’s still a bit worried though, so I’ll tell everyone you’re doing fine.”

“Thanks,” you whisper through a smile, accepting Dorcas’ half-hug before she slips out of the infirmary, which finally returns to its prior quietude.

“That’s enough visitors for today!” Pomfrey explains, clapping her hands together as she is done. “Only staff and patients for the rest of the night.” She shoots Regulus and his white coat a knowing glance.

“Does that mean I can sleep?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so meek, but the pain potion is starting to work, and the more your body relaxes, the more exhausted you realise you are.

Regulus makes a soft cooing sign, coming back to sit on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his and drawing comforting circles on its back. “Yes, amour. We have prepared the station for when we have to wake you in a few hours for reapplication.”

You groan a bit at the thought of being woken, and both your matron and her assistant laugh a bit at you.

“Better that than affection, Miss L/N.”

“Yes, of course,” you relent, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. For all of it.”

Pomfrey merely nods before gathering her things and exiting into the rest of the infirmary, pulling your curtain shut behind you. You expect that is the closest she usually gets to a you’re welcome and you accept it heartily.

Regulus shifts into a more comfortable position beside you, back against your headboard, ensuring you are as comfortable and pain-free as possible. He brings your intertwined fingers up to his lips to press delicate butterfly kisses to them. The softness of it all makes you almost want to cry again, but you bite it back, purely because you can’t stand seeing Regulus cry again tonight, and you knew he would.

“Congratulations on your promotion.” Your tire does not hide the coyness of your tone and he smiles fondly at you.

“Thank you. Think she figured it was easier that way – and I have always been a top student.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your OWLs.” You turn your head more towards him, smiling. “Such a nerd.”

“I reckon you like that about me.”

“I reckon the same.”

You lean forward and he meets you halfway for a slow kiss. The casualness of it makes it feel all the more important, especially when the past few hours of your life has been anything but.

He leans his head onto yours, drawing you as close as he can with your current circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers again and you shake your head beneath his. Before you can tell him no, he continues. “Not just for what happened to you or not being there. Just, I don’t know. Being slow.”

“Didn’t we just agree you were bright?” you tease, but when you turn to see the sincerity in his eyes, you soften. “It’s okay, Regulus. We were both slow.”

Neither of you feel compelled to delve into the details of it, and it makes you feel more at ease. Even with everything, this was just how it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad I have you.” It is the best way to summarise it; it was enough. He smiles warmly at you.

“And I you.”

You ignore the strain of some of your bandages as you lean closer to kiss him again, where he meets you enthusiastically – it was worth it.

“Go to sleep now, amour. I’ll be here to ease you awake when the time comes. I’ll always be here.”

And he was.

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theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter · 21 days ago

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Lucky Charm 🍀

Alexia Putellas x Reader

warning : fluffy 💗💭

summary :

Alexia needs her lucky charm before her match.

The locker room was buzzing with pre-match energy, and you could feel the nervous excitement in the air. Alexia was lacing up her boots, focused, but her eyes kept darting to where you were leaning against the wall. It was a big game tonight, and everyone could sense the pressure. The team was ready, but Alexia… well, she still needed her lucky charm.

You caught her gaze, and she gave you a small, almost shy smile, a complete contrast to her usual confident demeanor on the pitch. You smiled back, knowing exactly what she needed. It was your little ritual, something that had started as a joke, but soon became something she depended on.

You waited until she finished tying her boots before making your way over, weaving between the bustling players and staff. When you reached her, she immediately stood up, looking down at you with that familiar mix of determination and nervousness.

“Hey, you got this,” you said, softly but firmly, as you placed a hand on her cheek. Her face relaxed at your touch, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

She needed to hear it.

“Babe, you know I can’t go out there unless you say it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid the others might hear.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart warmed at how much it meant to her. Leaning in closer, so that only she could hear, you said, “I love you, Alexia. Now go out there and show them why you’re the best.”

Alexia’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and a smile spread across her face, bright enough to light up the entire room. She gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you in for a quick, soft kiss. When she pulled back, there was a fire in her eyes, the kind that always meant she was ready to conquer anything.

“Now, we’re gonna win,” she said, her confidence fully restored.

“You better, or I’m taking it back,” you teased, earning a laugh from her.

The rest of the team was starting to gather, and you knew it was almost time for her to head out onto the pitch. As she joined her teammates, she turned back one more time, her eyes finding yours amidst the chaos.

“See you after the game, lucky charm,” she called out, giving you a wink.

You watched her walk out, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. It was silly, maybe even superstitious, but if saying three little words could help her feel like she could take on the world, then you’d say it a million times over.

The final whistle blew, and the stadium erupted into cheers. Barça had won, and Alexia had been incredible, just like always. You rushed down to the field, weaving through the crowd until you finally spotted her, celebrating with her teammates.

She saw you coming and immediately broke away from the group, running straight towards you. She scooped you up into her arms, spinning you around, both of you laughing like kids. When she set you back down, she pressed her forehead against yours, still catching her breath.

“Told you it works,” she said, breathless but grinning from ear to ear.

“Guess I’m your lucky charm after all,” you replied, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Always,” she said, before kissing you again, not caring who was watching.

You knew you’d be saying those three words before every match, as long as she needed to hear them.

#woso x reader #barca femini x reader #barca x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #fc barca #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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pain-is-too-tired · 2 months ago

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I hate,especially in the pjo fandom, when people cut characters down to 1 trait. Sometimes it's a trait that isn't even one they have!

Like Percy, Will and Leo being seen as dumb erks me to no end. Especially Leo.

I know they're incorrect quotes but I saw one where they used the "7x7" "stuff she knows!" audio with leo and I'm just-

He knew collage level math at 8!!! What you mean he wouldn't know 7x7.

He could probably recite 100+ digits of pi. He built a whole ship!!

Same with Percy and Will. Like Percy is not dumb, he's just someone who thinks on his feet and isn't book smart like Annabeth.

Will runs an infirmary and cabin by himself by 13. He immediately finds a way to check on Nico's condition and chides him for risking his health. He's working with no weapon as a field medic, he has to be smart enough to avoid attacks.

Nico isn't just the emo sad kid. He is quick to make friends with those people tend to be wary of. He's just getting use to people again after being on his own for so long.

Jason isn't just some boring/ lesser version of Percy. He has a detailed past and motives even without most of his memories.

Michael isn't just attitude and starting fights. The only fellow camper he actually fights with is Clarisse and he's pretty chill for the rest of the book other then just being sassy sometimes. He's usually just matching energy.

Stolls aren't all stupid either, they were 12-13 when they became hcs of the largest cabin at a camp. A cabin, mind you, that was recently ran by a 19-almost 20 year old. They're poster children for younger siblings suddenly forced to mature.

Maybe it's just me and my love for psychoanalyizing characters, but really like most people forget how 3 dimensional these characters are.

Do not get me started on characters like Drew and Octavian or how many of y'all forget Annabeth(and every demigod other than frank) also is dyslexic and not just the ones the fandom deems as "dumb".

#mine #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pain rambles #percy jackson #annabeth chase #leo valdez #jason grace #nico di angelo #the stoll brothers #travis stoll #connor stoll #seriously tho #you're telling me there was no one who was older than them?#or did everyone else not want to take the mantle cause of Luke leaving?#if so that's even more messed up #their oldest brother betrays them than their other older siblings refuse to step up and leave them to deal with the mess?#think they deserve a lil hyjinks for that

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just-a-ghost00 · 5 months ago

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Your future spouse : Who? Where? When?

Group 1 - Van Gogh

Letters : E M D E R U O E P W T Y

Words/signs/names : deputy, Rudy, Emery, Roy, power, true, Morty, drum, poetry, proud, meet, WED, route, pure, Tower, remedy, dom, prom, word, rude, drop, rope, dye, eye, TUE, wet, pet, pouty, muted, dope, prude

Recommended songs : Fly me to the moon Frank Sinatra, Sweater weather The Neighborhood, Snooze AGUSTD, MIA Bad Bunny ft Drake

WHO? - White Numen / Ask body / Magnesite : get your mind right.

Oh this person is powerful and stubborn AF. The bull and the panther may be spirit animals of this person. If not, they like these animals or their personality matches those. In terms of astrological placements, we have Taurus and Aquarius, as well as Earth signs in general (Taurus Virgo Capricorn). They are a boss ass B. They are masculine. Like reaaaallyyyy masculine. They have BIG DADDY energy. Jupiter might be very well aspected in their chart or the sign in which Jupiter is in their chart matches well with the energy of Jupiter. That would be Sagittarius, Pisces and Cancer. This person is a creator and a good manifestor. They think a lot. They are cerebral. They may strugg with overthinking but their mind reminds their best asset. They are the epitome of brains are sexy. This person would know everything from ancient languages and art skills to the newest knowledge in technology and medicine. They can do anything and everything they set their mind to. In terms of their looks, they are definitely tall. They would tower over you and lift you up like you were a feather. They are strong in all aspects. Their torso is bigger than the lower part of their body. They have broad shoulders, big hands, big forehead and nose, prominent jawline, regardless of their gender. Maybe for the women identifying people the bum and chest would be bigger than other features of their body. And for the men identifying people, the pectorals would be juicy. With the ask body card, this tells me this person works out a lot. They are also very spiritual. They give off a lone wolf energy when really this person has a lot of love to give they just know what they want and they have strong boundaries. So they would never let themselves be walked over or let in people who would bring more BS than anything. This person would keep you on your toes for sure. I feel like they would have a bold fashion style. Something that stands out from current trends or that is unusual for people who are like them. For instance, let’s say this person is quite old, maybe you’d expect them to wear suits and fancy watches. But instead this person has a very casual look or dresses like the younger people. They could be your boss or at least someone who has a higher status than yours. It wouldn’t surprise me if they already had kids. They are well established.

WHEN? - Page of pentacles / Higher perspective / Bismuth : rewrite your code with rainbows.

In terms of timing, the page of pentacles represents several months. Now if we look at the meaning of the page of pentacles, it talks about education. The page is a learner, a student in matters of material aspects. Combined with the Higher perspective card, this definitely gives me the feeling of going back to college. Or getting a training in something very specific. Potentially something involving spirituality. Like taking reiki courses or tarot reading lessons. So I feel this person is a teacher or a mentor to you. With the Bismuth card, I feel like this person will be opening doors for you. And that could be litteral because the door of my room opened out of nowhere as I was trying to get more information from the card. Higher perspective is related to Ether. This means to me that you will meet at a point in your life when you wish to evolve, to embody a better version of yourself and seek to gain knowledge or power.

WHERE? - King of cups / The Explorer / Malachite : claim your success.

We already had kind of a hint with the previous section. And I feel like it’s further confirmed by these cards, especially the Malachite card. Now if we talk about geographical indicators, water seems to be relevant. Also on the Explorer card there’s a compass. So it tells me that where you meet them, there is either a plan or something related to navigation or orientation. Also when looking at this card I heard "you already know where to find them". So it gives me the strong feeling that many of you already know this person and already met them. It’s just that you didn’t consider them your FS. Also the malachite card mentions the workspace. So you could work together. Or you’re doing the same job and you go to them for advice. Also the king of cups card depicts a man sitting on a thrown spilling water in an ocean of sharks. So this also tells me there’s a lot of competition where you meet. And it’s like this person is trying to educate or heal the sharks somehow.

Group 2 - Monet

Disclaimer : I kept confusing you with group 1 and there were cards of group 1 that kept wanting to come into your reading so you might want to check group 1 as well. I think there are two people that have the potential of being your future spouse.

Letters : L I S G E S T M S I E K

Words / signs / names : Selim, time, lies, mess, Tess, seek, kisses, misses, meets, lists, sees, skies, ski, Mike, miles, gems, glee, mist, melt, GSM, kit, leek, miel (French for honey), TMI, MIT, Stiles, geek

Recommended songs : Easy Camilla Cabello, Life goes on AGUSTD , Hall of fame Stray Kids

WHO? - Ace of pentacles / The Seeker / Aragonite : find your center.

Earth signs are being shown here. On the ace of pentacles card there are 8 hands reaching for the pentacle. So your person is wanted by many. They feel younger than you. They are possibly a student or a young active. With the Seeker card I feel like this person hasn’t found their true calling yet. They feel lost and out of balance. Maybe they got a job that doesn’t make them happy or their studies aren’t as fulfilling as they thought. They are super shy and reserved. They may appear as cold when they are just a softy. They have trust issues. They feel really cute to be honest. But also they are lonely. It’s like they keep searching for the one, when they have so many prospects. I feel like they have a lot of high standards and they know that other people don’t match the vibe they’re going for. I feel like this person only has eyes for you but you don’t see them. Again, this group knows their FS already. In terms of physical traits, I feel like this person has good hands. But their body might look out of shape a little. They’re more on the chubby side. They look comforting. Like the type of person that would give the best hugs. Their gaze is really soft. Like a puppy. They feel pretty needy tbh. But not the suffocating type of needy. They just want to be loved and crave for connection. Someone that will share their interests and values. Who will match their crazy and feel safe in their presence. I feel like this person has faced a lot of rejection in the past and they kinda are stuck with this idea that no one wants them. They are an introvert. They like to isolate and be in their bubble. I feel like people have an idea of them that is completely false. Like maybe they think this person is a flirt and parties all night when in truth they’re a couch potato and a gym rat. They only go out of truly needed and they would rather be alone than surrounded by tons of people they barely know. This person wants a family of their own so bad. Like a big family with the white dog and pretty little house. They’re a hopeless romantic and an idealist.

WHEN? - 2 of pentacles / Reclaim / Scolecite : dive into your dreams.

On the 2nd of a month, two months from now. It feels like you may be going back and forth with this person before fully knowing them or being close to them. There’s a chase and run type of energy to this connection. You’ll meet them when you or they are reclaiming your/their power and changing something in your life. So moving houses, changing jobs or getting back to studying. When you start chasing your dreams. Also you could meet them in your dreams before meeting them in person. During any earth sign season.

WHERE? - Queen of pentacles / Power / Amethyst : get drunk on your highest self.

In a places of power or worship such as Cathedrals and Churches, Mosques, temples, town halls, or in a place of education. Also monuments came to mind. Like the Eiffel Tower, the leaning tower of Pisa. There were many stars on the Queen of pentacles’s dress so Europe came to mind. The US and the UK as well. Other places include : Siberia, the Far East, Brazil, Uruguay, Sri Lanka, South Africa, Mexico, Australia, South Korea, India, Austria, Germany, Italy, Canada.

Group 3 - Hokusai

Letters : C Q T E C S L I G A L I

Words/signs/names : Ali, Alice, Alicia, Cecilia, Scilla, Giles, Gael, Gaelic, sigil, sea, sail, Lisa, aigle (French for eagle), Elisa, Elias, Cali, cast, list, tails, IQ, Tesla, sage, Isac, Lila, lilac, cis, alt, ciel (French for sky), call, site, Lise, teal, lace, acts, sell

Recommended songs : Mon amour GEMINI , 3:00 AM Finding hope , Dark on me Starset

WHO? - 6 of pentacles / The Revolutionary / Honey calcite : break through your limits.

First of all, your person might have a white dog. Second of all, they have tanned skin. Thirdly, they could work in law enforcement or they are studying at Law school. They could be doing humanitarian work. They are balanced and grounded. Both in their attitude as well as their personality. They know when to give and when to take, when to talk and when to listen, when to act and when to observe. With the revolutionary card, this tells me that they are pretty determined and ambitious. This person likes to stand for greater causes. So you’d bet that they advocate for children and women rights, for the LGBTQIA+ community, for the respect of nature and animals as well as the end of wars. The signs of Taurus, Aries, Sagittarius and Leo are significant. This person is very sweet. Almost to the point where sometimes they put others needs before their own. Especially if it’s about being fair and giving retribution for wrongs caused by previous generations. This person feels like they have a debt they need to pay. Also they might have suffered abuse in the past so they want to have retribution for them but also for the people who were wronged like they were. In terms of physical traits, their body is harmonious. So for female presenting individuals, they would have kind of an hour glass body type. Same for male presenting individuals. This person feels gender fluid. They are a minimalist. They like to keep things simple when it comes to the way they look. Honestly if they could be naked on a daily basis they would be. They’re in touch with nature. Animals love them. They have a very comforting aura. This person really is as sweet as honey. They could be a creator, a designer, a public speaker. They like to use their voice and their status to raise awareness about things they care about and value. They could be a teacher as well or someone that works with kids.

WHEN ? Page of swords / Paradox / Hematite : align with your wholeness.

When stars align. When you finally let your guards down. When you align with your calling, your soul mission. During any air sign season. Within a few weeks from now. When you’re on your period. When you let go of your old beliefs on love or when you move on from a past love, an unrequited love or a crush that would never have evolved into anything more than friendship. When your spiritual beliefs change drastically (i.e. you decide to convert to a new faith, you no longer believe in God, you choose to follow a spiritual path).

WHERE? - Queen of swords / Get wild / Emerald : point your heart toward grace.

In terms of countries, we have : Colombia, Brazil, Zambia, Zimbabwe, USA, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, Australia. Now, in terms of where you could meet, I'm not getting much from these cards. It's like your FS wants to play hide and seek. They're not really comfortable sharing where they are. The only thing I'm picking up on is somewhere where the law is involved. So it could be an administration, a police station, law school, a lawyer's office, a prison. With the get wild card, the only hint I can get is that it can get intense. I asked for a card to clarify the Queen of swords and I got the 9 of pentacles. So law and money are involved. So maybe a bank or an insurance company. Or somewhere businesses and entrepreneurs go to get advice on how to invest their money or know if something they intend to do is legal or not.

#pick a card #pac reading #love pac #spiritual pac #spiritual guidance #tarot #oracle cards

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 9 days ago

Text

SKZ being whipped for you

Genre: lots of fluff

A/N: First SKZ reaction!

Chan

He expected this. He expected to be mercilessly made fun of by his members the moment he admitted being into someone. Still, it doesn’t keep him from flushing bright red and finding the nearest hiding spot. And oh man, if they do this while you’re in earshot, he’ll wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Be nice and reassure him, and maybe even defend him against his group members for good measure.

Minho

Deny, deny, deny. You could not be dating at all yet or be together for a decade and he’ll still brush off any commentary about how he acts around you. It might even be so convincing that you sometimes forget all the little things that he does for you. But his members won’t. They’ll rage about the privileges he gives you. He’ll roll his eyes and say, “Are you kidding? I did that for you yesterday.” Sometimes you think it’s just so he can watch his friend’s head explode, because he most certainly did Not do that thing yesterday. In quiet, private moments though, he’ll remind you that you do, in fact, have all of the privileges.

Changbin

Unashamed. Did you think he’d be embarrassed by how into you he is? Absolutely not. Couldn’t fathom it. At least - not when his members comment on it. He’ll say, “Duh. Of course, I am. Have you seen them? Have you met them?” It’s a brag for him in a lot of ways. However! If you tease him about it, he might get a little shy in the early stages of whatever is going on with you two. Expect that to wear off, because one day soon he’ll have no shame about nodding his head and agreeing with your observations with a smile.

Hyunjin

This might be subtle, but it will be the little things. Like, your text always gets opened and responded to promptly, even if he should really be doing something else. Or your his first call when he has a rare day off and wants to do something. Or heaven forbid someone take a peek at his sketch book because it often features you. He might be a little secretive about his feelings, if only to spare himself the teasing he might get if he makes it too obvious. But if you call him out on it, he’ll freely admit it.

Jisung

Does NOT know what to do with himself. Totally overwhelmed by it sometimes. It’s painfully obvious even to you, because you can just be existing in the same room and he’s fixated on you with heart eyes. I can actually see this as being something that he might be kind of self-conscious about if only because he wants to be more poised or more thoughtful in expressing his feelings. Match. His. Energy! Let them make fun of both of you!!!

Felix

Sickeningly, tooth-rottingly sweet. I don’t know that many of his members would really even tease him very much about it because it’s just too heart-warming. When he’s whipped, it’s just too easy to get swept up in the romance if you’re on the receiving end of it. Honestly, they might beg him to tone it down a little - which he will not. Not as long as you like it, anyway.

Seungmin

You’ll get partner privileges here too, but that might be the only sign. And he will not give you those partner privileges easily. You ask him to hang out and he says, “You can’t stand to be away from me,” like he wasn’t rushing to put on shoes. You call and he answers in a split second, but asks what you could possibly want because he’s busy (even though he is already thinking of a way to get out of whatever he's doing). He buys coffee or a snack and when you thank him, he’ll say, “Yeah, yeah, you’re so needy”. He might even act so put out that he’ll get scolded by some of his members to be nicer. But the thing is… it’s all a ruse!!! Agree when he says these things to throw him off his game!!

Jeongin

CASUAL. Yeah, he’s into you. Yeah, he wants to spend all his time with you. Yeah, he bought you a little gift again for the third time this week. Your point? It sucks allllll of the fun out of teasing him, the baby of the group, because he’s so unbothered and he’ll continue to do what he wants. It’ll actually make YOU whipped if only because of how unabashedly he admits it.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #felix #han jisung #seungmin #i.n.

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writingwithciara · 5 months ago

Text

married in vegas -quinn hughes-

summary: on a trip to vegas one summer, y/n and quinn are forced to share a room. after a night at the casino, the two of them wake up with rings and matching tattoos, leaving them to question what their relationship really means

word count: 6.9k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

notes & warnings: lowercase intentional. kinda based off ‘stupid in love’ by MAX. wanted to write a little frenemies-to-lovers fic & was pleasantly surprised with the result. hope you guys like it. there will be a part 2 😊 w: language, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex but no smut

masterlist

“why are you two idiots looking at me like that?” y/n set her suitcase down outside the door and glanced between her best friend and his brother. “jack, please tell me why you guys keep exchanging that look.”

“promise you won’t kill me. or luke.”

“fine. just get on with it.”

“you’re gonna be sharing the room with quinn for the week.”

“okay now you’re just joking. please tell me you’re joking.” she let out a soft chuckle but when she noticed how their looks stayed serious, she stopped. “no. this can’t be happening.”

“i’m sorry but we used a random name picker to determine the room sharing situation.”

“that’s a ridiculous way to choose a roommate. i call a do over.”

“there’s no point in trying, y/n. i already tried to get them to change their minds but those two idiots are dead set on making us miserable all week.” quinn leaned against the doorframe and looked at the three people before him. “oh, want to know the most interesting part?” his voice was laced with sarcasm but y/n easily caught on.

“oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” she pushed past him and stopped in her tracks when she saw the room. “one damn bed? come on, jack. what did i ever do to you guys?”

“oh relax. you act like sharing a room with me is the end of the world.”

“10 minutes ago, the idea was tolerable at best. but now, it’s torturous.”

“ouch.” quinn feigned heartbreak and chuckled. “if i cared, that probably would’ve hurt. but seeing as how i don’t care, i’m gonna move on with my life. feel free to sleep on the chair if you don’t want to share with me.”

“you’re insufferable.” y/n rolled her eyes and went to grab her bag.

“no. allow me.” jack was quick to grab it for her and discard it in the room. “i promise to make this whole thing up to you when we get home.”

“i’ll hold you to that.” y/n sighed and waited for quinn to claim the bed. when he took a little longer in the hallway with his brothers, y/n took the opportunity to lay down. just as she was about to close her eyes, the door opened and quinn walked in. he noticed her laying on the bed and got down to where he could be at eye level with the near-sleeping girl.

“uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

“shhh. trying to nap.” she reached her finger out and dragged it down his face. quinn swatted her hand away in response.

“fine. but move over. i want to sleep too. need the energy for dinner tonight.”

“insufferable i say.” y/n mumbled and scooted to the edge of the bed. quinn walked around it and climbed in.

this was going to be a long week.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

dinner should’ve been easier but for y/n, it was more uncomfortable than the nap she attempted to take a few hours earlier.

“what do you think he’s even doing over there? the waitress is way out of his league.” quinn watched as jack chatted with the waitress up at the hostess podium.

“first of all, if anything, jack is out of her league. he’s too good for anyone. and second, why do you care what he’s doing? at least he’s having fun.” y/n shoved her fork into her desert and nibbled at it.

“i’m starting to think you have a little crush on jack.” quinn smirked, knowing that that’s exactly what was going on.

“what? i do not.” y/n shook her head and went to kick him under the table.

“ouch.” luke winced and rubbed his shin.

“oops. sorry luke. i was aiming for the idiot beside you.” she shot quinn a look and he quickly returned it. “you never told me why you cared so much that he was flirting with the waitress.”

“it doesn’t matter and even if it did, you don’t need to know. it’s none of your business.” quinn’s voice raised a little, causing y/n to shrink back in her seat a bit.

“y-you’re right. it was a stupid question.” she returned her attention to her nearly empty plate.

even though she and quinn weren’t exactly friends, she had never been on the receiving end of one of his rare angry outbursts. she hated to admit it but it stung a little bit.

“do you guys mind if i head back up to the room? i’m exhausted.”

“yeah sure. no problem.” luke looked at his friend and smiled sympathetically. he could tell what quinn said had effected her.

“i’ll be up later.” quinn didn’t even bother to look up as y/n stood up and walked out. and when jack returned to the table, luke told him what happened.

quinn felt bad when he heard luke recall the events he was a part of not even 5 minutes ago. he never intended to hurt y/n.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

the next 3 days, y/n avoided quinn as much as she could. it was difficult when they shared a room and they were both there to spend time with luke and jack.

during group outings, y/n would excuse herself and she would never return, instilling panic in the three brothers. but at night, when quinn would get back to their shared room, he would catch sight of how peaceful the girl looked when she slept.

the first few nights, quinn didn’t want to disturb her so he ended up on the chair in the corner. but on the 4th night, quinn was unable to sleep.

y/n had been tossing and turning for almost an hour before her body sat upright and she started bawling. something bothered her and she searched the room for another presence. her eyes landed on quinn as he rushed over to her.

“hey. what’s wrong?”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you. p-please go back to sleep, quinn.”

“not until you tell me what you were just dreaming of.” he carefully reached up to wipe her tears off her cheeks, silently urging her to tell him what was on her mind.

30 minutes later and every significant detail of her nightmare had been explained. she feared that jack was growing tired of her friendship and wanted to end it with her.

and even though it was just a dream, quinn felt the urge to make sure his brother would never leave her. he wanted to use any means necessary to make sure if it.

but he knew jack would never do that. he loved y/n tremendously.

just as quinn stood back up and headed for the chair again, y/n stopped him.

“hey, thanks again for listening to my nonsense.”

“it’s not a problem. and it wasn’t nonsense. it was a legitimate fear of yours and i’m glad you felt comfortable enough to share it with me.”

“believe it or not, i’m always comfortable with you, quinn.”

“that’s not what you were saying the first day we got here.” he chuckled.

“that version of me is the old y/n. i’ve matured since then.”

“maybe just a little.” he sat on the chair and tried to get comfortable again. “good night, y/n.”

“quinn, would you mind coming over here to share the bed?” y/n had her back to him so she couldn’t see his eyes widen at the question & he couldn’t see the way her face scrunched up when the words flew out of her mouth. she opened her mouth to take it back but quinn smiled.

“of course i wouldn’t mind sharing tonight.”

“yay.” she laid on her back and stared at the ceiling. her fingers drummed lightly on her stomach and quinn glanced over at her.

“how are you doing now?”

“better. thanks again. jacks usually the person i run to when i have a nightmare, even if he’s involved. but this one would’ve been harder to explain without telling him how i feel.”

“so, you do have feelings for him?” quinn raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her.

“of course i do!” y/n rubbed her face slowly. “i’d be an idiot not to. god, he’s perfect.”

something about the way she talked about jack, stirred something in quinn that he did not recognize.

“yeah. i suppose he is. everyone else thinks so. it was only a matter of time before you thought so too.”

“you sound a little bitter about it, quinny.” y/n glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at her.

“i’m not bitter, per say. but maybe just once, i would liked to be picked over jack or luke.”

“hey,” y/n turned on her side to get a better look at the oldest hughes. “the day is gonna come when you meet someone who prefers you over your brothers. and she’s going to love you so much that what’s happening now won’t even matter to you. because she’s going to be the only thing you think about. she’s going to consume your every thought and soon enough, you’ll have what you’ve always wanted. someone who picks you first every time.”

“you really think so?”

“yes of course. you’re pretty special, quinn.” y/n offered him a kind smile, which he returned. “i can’t believe i’m being nice right now.”

“yeah i know. it’s weird.” quinn shook his head and chuckled. “but thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” she smiled again and instead of returning to her position on her back, she stayed facing him. “thank you as well.”

“for what?”

“being here. you know, letting me talk to you about my nightmare. even if it was stupid.” she fiddled with her fingers and quinn reached out to stop it.

“it was not stupid. i told you like 20 minutes ago that it was alright.”

“oh. did you?” she glanced down at where quinn’s hands entrapped her own. “i’m sorry for repeating myself then. sometimes the anxiety is bad.”

“hey, you never have to apologize to me. okay?”

“okay.” she looked at him and smiled. suddenly, the atmosphere was different. almost like the both of them were aware of the tension in the room.

quinn opened his mouth to say something but y/n yawned.

“i’m tired, but i don’t want this rare moment to be over.”

“get some sleep. i’m not leaving. i’ll be here when you wake up, alright?” he cautiously reached up to move a piece of her hair out of her face.

“okay. good night quinn.” she closed her eyes and mere seconds later, her breathing evened out and light snores came from her. quinn let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and fell asleep too.

the whole night, he never let go of her hands.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

when y/n woke up the next morning and noticed the grip quinn had on her hands, she couldn’t help but smile.

sure she had feelings for jack but there was no denying how attractive quinn was, not only on the outside, but the inside as well.

y/n spent the next 5 minutes just admiring his face before he started to stir. she closed her eyes as if to pretend she hadn’t been looking at him, but quinn caught on.

part of him felt her eyes on him & he couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. when she opened her eyes again, quinn smiled.

“good morning.”

“good morning, quinn.”

“how did you sleep?”

“if i’m being honest, better last night than the entire week so far.”

“really?”

“yeah. it’s almost like there was a calming presence nearby that helped me sleep better.”

“yeah i know what you mean.” he chuckled and reluctantly let go of her hands. his own hands felt colder as he let her stretch her body out.

“do the boys have anything planned today?”

“i think the only thing we were gonna do was go to the casino later tonight.”

“oh that sounds fun.” she smiled and looked over at quinn. “and what time was that supposed to take place tonight?”

“not until after dark i believe.”

“good. because i really don’t want to get out of bed right now.”

“yeah. me either.” he closed his eyes and for the first time all week, he was happy to be this close to y/n.

the two of them enjoyed their five minutes of peace, happily enjoying the moment.

however, the moment was interrupted when jack knocked on the door. quinn hopped off the bed and answered it.

“good morning. glad to see you two haven’t killed each other yet.” he chuckled and looked behind quinn as y/n approached the door.

“might have to kill you for ruining my beauty sleep, asshole.”

“oh come on. you don’t need it anyway.” jack smiled, causing y/n to turn her head so he couldn’t notice the way her cheeks brightened.

quinn caught it though and he felt his heart drop. he had hoped their moment, however short it might’ve been, would’ve changed how she felt about jack.

but he was just a fool. she was too good for him. too good for jack too. but he would never admit it.

“anyway, you guys up for getting some breakfast?”

“i could eat.” y/n quickly turned her attention to quinn. “how about you, quinny?”

“food sounds delicious.” he painted on a smile as his younger brothers eyes never left y/n.

“perfect. get dressed and meet us down in the lobby in 30 minutes?”

“see you then.” y/n shut the door and headed over to her bag.

“so i noticed something just now.”

“and what could that be?” y/n walked into the bathroom with her clothes. she shut the door and turned on the shower.

“jack might be into you.”

the bathroom door flew open and y/n eyed quinn suspiciously. “you’re lying.”

“his attention never left you. he had him captivated from the moment you appeared behind me. it was like i wasn’t even there.”

“nonsense, quinn.” she walked over to him. “jack doesn’t like me.”

“say what you want, but i could tell.” he watched as y/n grabbed her hairbrush and returned to the bathroom.

after her shower, quinn got in and did what he had to do. when he walked out, y/n was attempting to put her necklace on.

her eyes met quinn’s through the mirror. she didn’t have to say anything to him. he walked up and clasped the necklace together behind her neck and smiled.

“thank you. i was about to lose my mind there.”

“now, don’t do that.” he chuckled and unplugged his phone. “let’s go.”

the two of them walked out to meet the boys in the lobby.

breakfast should be interesting.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

although luke wasn’t old enough to actually gamble in the casino, they still allowed him to sit back and watch as everyone else lost money. he stuck with quinn while jack was with y/n.

quinn watched his brother and y/n exchange looks while they sat at the blackjack table. their laughs echoed in quinn’s ears and he turned his attention back to his youngest brother.

“quinn, can i ask you something?”

“sure, luke. what’s up?”

“you and y/n? has that happened yet or are you still hiding your feelings from her?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” quinn sipped his drink and looked around.

“i’m young, not stupid.” luke rolled his eyes. “you’ve been getting increasingly worried about her all week and you can barely take your eyes off of her. you’re also holding your drink so tight that your knuckles are turning white. is everything okay?”

“yeah. just think she could do better than jack. she’s too good for him.”

“are you hoping she realizes she’s in love with you, and not jack? because i honestly don’t think she has the same feelings for jack that you think she does.”

“she told me last night how she felt about jack. i can tell when she’s lying and she was definitely telling the truth. she thinks he’s perfect.”

“but doesn’t everybody? you know it doesn’t necessarily mean she has feelings for him just because she shares the same opinion as everyone else in the world.” luke eyed his brother. “and i’m sure if you told her how you felt, you’d have a decent chance.”

“whatever, luke.” quinn waves his brother away and watched as he joined jack at the blackjack table.

y/n excused herself from the brothers and made her way to where quinn was sitting at another table.

“so, luke tells me you’ve been losing a bit of money over here.”

“don’t believe a thing he says.” quinn finished his drink and chuckled. “kid is a liar.”

“are you sure about that? because your chip pile is looking pretty low there, quinn.”

“it’s just a small hiccup in the road. i’ll figure it out.” he placed a chip on the the number 22, her favorite number, and waited.

“whatever you say. i’m gonna go try my luck at the slots or something.” y/n patted his shoulder and went to walk away but quinn stopped her.

“wait hold on.” he pointed to the table, more specifically at the roulette wheel where the ball had stopped on the 22 spot. “i want to test something. pick a number.”

“um, 19.” y/n watched as quinn placed half his chips on the number 19. “what are you doing? are you insane?”

“just trust me on this.” he held her wrist gently and together they watched the ball spin around the wheel and when it stopped, y/n’s eyes widened. the ball had landed in the 19 spot. quinn looked up at her. “want to try again?”

“let’s go with 6.” she slid some chips over and they waited. again, the ball landed where they needed it to and the chips multiplied.

“i’m starting to believe you’re a lucky charm.”

“i’m sure that’s all you, quinn.” she rested her hand on his shoulder gently. despite not believing she was a lucky charm, she stuck around quinn for the rest of the night. he kept winning with every number she picked, even if she picked the same number twice in a row. that was highly unlikely but it happened.

after roulette, they went around the place to every game and continued winning each time.

by the time jack and luke informed them they were heading to bed, quinn had nearly quadrupled what he started with. although they wanted to stay and be happy for their brother, sleep crept in on both of them. they said their good nights and went up to their room.

but the night was far from over for y/n and quinn.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

y/n didn’t remember getting back to the room last night but when she woke up, she felt something on her finger and there was a sharp pain on her left shoulder. she looked at her hand and her eyes widened.

her gaze went down to a sleeping quinn and she looked at his finger too, just for good measure. he had a ring on his finger too.

“quinn, wake up!”

“what do you want?”

“look at your ring finger.” y/n sighed. quinn glanced at his right hand and rolled his eyes.

“there’s nothing there.”

“the other finger, idiot.”

quinn pulled his hand into his lines of sight and gasped. “do you-“

“yup. bright and shiny.”

“oh please tell me we didn’t get married last night.” he rubbed his eyes roughly, as if trying to clear the image from his mind. “how much did we drink last night?”

“i don’t remember.” y/n glanced down and noticed how little clothing she had on. “quinn, i have a question.”

“what now?”

“do you by any chance have any clothes on?”

“um,” he lifted the comforter and set it back down. “no i do not.”

“crap.” y/n quickly grabbed her clothes and threw them on. she was about to pull the shirt over her head when quinn stopped her.

“when did you get that?”

“get what?”

“the tattoo.”he pointed to her left shoulder. “it’s cute.”

“i don’t know.” she sighed again and looked at quinn. “you got one too. it’s a moon.”

“do you suppose we got so drunk last night that we got matching tattoos and then got married?”

“and then came back and...you know? yeah i think that’s exactly what happened. but who let us drink that much and why can’t we remember anything?”

“i don’t know. maybe luke and jack know more than we do.”

“highly unlikely, seeing as how they went to bed way before us.”

“good point.” quinn scratched his beard and looked at his hand. “i’m really sorry.”

“for what?”

“i feel like this is all my fault.”

“what do you mean?”

“i made you stay with me all night because my luck turned around when you joined me at the roulette table. if i hadn’t done that, we wouldn’t have tattoos and we wouldn’t be married.”

“while that may be true, think about it. would you rather be married to your brothers best friend or a complete stranger? because that could’ve happened too.”

“you. definitely you.” he chuckled and looked at her. she was already staring at him. “what?”

“you should see your back.” y/n shook her head. “what the fuck happened last night?”

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

quinn and y/n spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding the boys and trying to find out what occurred last night.

they went to the casino and decided to go to the dealer at the blackjack table, as it was the last place they remember being.

he informed them that after they were served a few drinks, quinn had the bright idea to go get some more. he apparently returned with a tray full of shots, unaware just how strong they were.

“you guys downed the shots no problem then left. sorry i couldn’t be more helpful.”

they walked away slowly and when they were outside the building, they looked down the street.

“which place do you think we got hitched?”

“i don’t know. there’s so many chapels here.” quinn sighed. he was clearly frustrated that he didn’t have the whole story. “it’s not like we can go around asking every chapel.”

“we could but that would be too time consuming.” y/n thought for a moment. “wait. i remember running into some korean elvis impersonator. we could ask about that. someone’s gotta know where he is.”

“worth a shot.” quinn shrugged and followed his wife down the street.

after hours of searching, they were about to give up hope.

“why are we trying to find out the story behind our wedding instead of getting it annulled?”

“that’s a good point.” quinn looked at her. “do you not like being married to me or something though?”

“quinn, we’re 24 years old and we got hitched. we’re not dating and it wasn’t planned. besides, when i told your mom i would marry one of her sons, i promised she could be there. she’d be crushed to know i did it without her. i also didn’t expect to marry you. always thought it would be jack.”

“we have one more day in vegas before we head our separate ways. why don’t we take the rest of tonight to let it sink in and if we feel an annulment is needed in the morning, we can do that.”

“i still can’t believe we got married.”

“don’t forget the tattoos.”

“or the consummation of our marriage.” y/n didn’t feel disgusted about hooking up with quinn. part of her felt like they were meant to end up together, no matter how much she liked jack.

y/n thought dinner that night would be a little difficult.

while they were getting ready, y/n’s ring got stuck. quinn tried to get it off but it wouldn’t budge. he had originally taken his off but when they determined y/n would have to keep hers on, he slid his back onto his finger. if the boys asked questions, they would give them answers.

luckily, neither of them noticed. well if they did, neither of them said anything about it.

back in the hotel room later that night, while y/n and quinn were getting ready for bed, there was a knock on the door. quinn got up to answer it while y/n peaked her head out of the bathroom.

“good evening, mr and mrs hughes. we have some complimentary champagne for the newlyweds.” the man in the hallway pushed a cart into the room and stared at them. “we also have this special dessert for you two and if you would like, we could upgrade you to the honeymoon suite. it’s much larger.”

“thank you, but-“ quinn started but he was quickly interrupted.

“thanks for the champagne and dessert. we will let you know about the room upgrade.” y/n ushered the man out and when she was sure he was gone, she let out a sigh of relief. “okay how many people knew we got married?”

“i have no idea. but why didn’t you tell him we aren’t married?”

“free dessert, duh. oh and champagne.” she picked up the bottle and grabbed two glasses before making her way to the bed. “do you want some?”

“yeah sure.”

the two of them sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other as y/n poured them each a glass. she handed one to quinn and smiled.

“to....i don’t know what to toast about.”

“let’s toast to us.” quinn suggested. “after all, our marriage is the reason we got this in the first place.”

“okay great idea. to us.” y/n clinked her glass with quinn’s and downed the first glass quickly. “that was delicious.”

“i agree.” quinn poured the next two glasses and about 4 more after that. “being married is fun. why didn’t i think of this sooner?”

“maybe because we’re idiots and it’s not actually real.”

“but it could be, right?”

“you’re drunk. i think it’s time for bed, quinny.” y/n grabbed his empty glass and set them both on the nightstand before getting off the bed. quinn reaches out to grab her hand before she got too far.

“can we share the bed tonight?”

“i guess.” y/n looked at him and climbed under the covers with quinn.

“maybe one day, i’ll find someone like you. someone who’s too good for the world and way out of my league. hopefully she’ll love me because i feel like i deserve it, you know. maybe someday, i can find someone who loves me the way you love jack.”

“i do not love jack. it’s just a small thing. a crush at best.” y/n looked at quinn and sighed heavily. “but i understand what you mean. hopefully i’ll also find someone who loves me the way i deserve.”

“oh you for sure will.” quinn moves hair out of y/n’s face and let his fingers gently graze her cheek before bringing his hand back to rest under his head. “jack is an idiot, you know.”

“i’m sure you’re right, but why?”

“he just is.”

“come on, quinny. humor me.”

“jacks an idiot because he could’ve had you this entire time but instead, he fumbled his chance. and for what? a snooty blonde who’s only nice when she wants something? a bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone? a girl who thinks she’s the most beautiful person on the earth? no. he should’ve opened his eyes so he could see that the most beautiful human being was always right in front of him. and not just on the outside, but the inside too. you’re the only girl in jack’s life that cares not just about him, but his family and friends too. you put everyone else’s happiness before your own and every day that i know you, it just makes me love you. so much.”

“quinn, i don’t-“

“i know i’m a little drunk but i really wish this marriage was real.”

and before y/n could respond to the confession, quinn was fast asleep.

🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒❤️🏒

y/n couldn’t sleep. she tried and was almost there but somewhere around 1:30, quinn wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest, whispering that he’d protect her, into her ear.

6:30 rolled around and she slowly got out of bed. she went into the bathroom to get a glass of water and some advil for quinn before doing the same for herself.

she took a seat in the chair and looked at quinn as he slept.

was his confession last night only because he was drunk? or did he mean it?

when quinn started to stir, he opened his eyes and noticed the water. he let out a chuckle and smiled.

“she really is perfect.” he sat up and that’s when he noticed y/n in the chair. “oh. i didn't see you there. good morning.”

“good morning, quinn. how are you feeling?”

“i’m actually feeling great. um, how are you?” he took the advil and sipped his water.

"i'm good." she fiddled with her fingers in her lap. quinn noticed she was nervous about something so he got up and knelt down to her level.

"hey, what's wrong? you know you can talk to me."

"do you remember anything from last night?"

"i remember a lot of champagne. that's about it. why?"

"you kind of told me you loved me and that you wished the marriage was real. and right before i could say anything, you fell asleep."

"oh. so that wasn't a dream then?" he chuckled awkwardly.

"nope." she shook her head and avoided eye contact with quinn.

"well, in my defense, i was drunk. sometimes i just say things."

"yeah, right." y/n smiled and finally made eye contact with him. "glad we could get that cleared up."

"yeah me too." quinn smiled. "so i take it you want to go get this marriage thing erased, right?"

"yeah. totally." y/n didn't want the marriage to end and as she looked at quinn, she was more sure than ever that jack was the wrong brother. it's always been quinn.

"let's go then."

y/n and quinn went to walk out the door and they bumped into jack & luke on the way out.

"hey. you guys want to go get breakfast?" luke asked.

"sure. but then after that, we have to go our marriage annulled."

"marriage? when did that happen?"

"i knew you two would get together." luke smiled as he and jack followed their brother.

"it was a mistake. we were drunk and obviously it was stupid." y/n turned to look at the boys, as if trying to gauge a reaction from jack. he avoided her gaze as he walked. quinn did the same thing. "right quinn?"

"yeah, right." he nodded and continued to walk. y/n stayed back with luke and sighed.

"i'm an idiot, luke."

"i'm sure you're right, but why?"

"two days ago, i was so sure i liked jack. but ever since finding out i married quinn, it feels right. but i'm an idiot because he doesn't want to be married. that's why we're getting it erased.

"but i finally had a sister." luke pouted. "look, you and jack could've worked if he wasn't a bigger idiot than you are"

"hey!"

"sorry. but it's true. and then there's you & quinn."

"there is no me and quinn."

"yes there is. and this brings me back to the point of you being an idiot. how can neither of you see that you have feelings for each other and that neither of you want the marriage to end?"

"because we were drunk, luke. it was a-"

"you keep saying it was a mistake but it's not. you two were made for each other. why do you think i rigged the room sharing situation? i knew that if you guys had some moments alone, you could get something from the whole thing. and look at that. you got married. now if you had ended up sharing a room with me, you wouldn't be on your way to an annulment. what a story you have here."

"hold on. did you jsut say you rigged the room thing?"

"not important. what is important now is that you tell quinn how you feel."

"come on you guys. i'm starving." jack called from the other end of the hallway. y/n rolled her eyes and the 4 of them walked into the restaurant.

all throughout breakfast, y/n avoided the looks she was receiving from luke and quinn. instead she focused on the conversation with jack. she told him the details surrounding how she got married to quinn, what little information she had.

when the last bite was swallowed and the plates were taken away, y/n and quinn stood up.

"alright. this shouldn't take long. we'll meet you guys back here in about an hour. sound good?"

"yeah. hope it goes smoothly." jack and luke waved goodbye and the 4 of them went their separate ways.

🏒❤🏒❤🏒❤🏒

while y/n and quinn waited for their names to be called into the office, quinn looked around the room and y/n played with the string of her hoodie.

"what are you thinking about?" quinn asked when he noticed she was fidgeting.

"just life and all the decisions i've made to get me where i am today."

"lots of mistakes?"

"yeah. for sure." y/n sighed. "wanna know my biggest mistake?"

"was it this marriage?"

"what? no, of course not." y/n looked at him. "why? do you think it was a mistake?"

"getting off topic. what was your biggest mistake?"

"danny marcel."

"oh no. i forgot about him. he was terrible. always wanted to punch his face in whenever he was around. he always said the rudest things to you. how did you deal with it for so long?"

"you don't want to know." she shook her head, causing quinn to chuckle. "why did you want to punch him in the face?"

"he wasn't a nice person and maybe because i cared about you."

"you did?"

"of course i did. i mean, i still care about you. and i know i'm not the best at showing it but-"

"y/n & quinn?" the receptionist moved from behind the desk and guided them into another room. a kind looking older man sat at the desk. he offered them a smile when they entered.

"it's nice to meet you both & i hope i can get you what you came here for."

"we would appreciate that, sir. thank you."

"great. now before we go through with this, i want to make sure that this is something you'll both want. and seeing as how mr hughes has all the assets, i gotta know that you guys have already discussed that."

"we haven't yet, sir. but i don't want anything." y/n looked at quinn.

"excellent." he looked down at the papers in front of him and smiled. "so are you both sure this is what you want?"

"yes sir." they said at the same time wile sharing a look. the man slid a pen and the papers across his desk.

"great. now i'm just gonna need you to both sign this line here." he tapped the page with the pen and handed it to y/n. just as she was about to sign it, quinn put his hand over hers.

"wait." he removed his hand before looking at y/n. "i'm not sure i want this to be over."

"but i thought-"

"i thought so too. but after the champagne last night, and my stupid confession, i thought more about it."

"okay and?"

"and i've come to the conclusion that marrying you, whether i was drunk or sober, was the best decision i have ever made. you are the most perfect person i know and maybe i'm too late to admit this and maybe you want to get this annulled. and if that's what you really truly want, i will sign those papers to make you happy. but i couldn't let you sign without telling you how i felt." quinn sighed.

"so, mrs hughes. what do you want to do?" the man at the desk looked at her as she contemplated for a moment. she looked at quinn and smiled.

"i don't want to sign the papers." she turned to the man. "we are so sorry for wasting your time."

"not a problem. i'm just glad you two figured this out before you followed through with it. good luck on a long & happy marriage."

"thank you." quinn walked out of the office first. y/n followed slowly behind him but stopped.

"quinn, can i ask you something?"

"of course." he stopped and turned to face her.

"never mind. let's talk when we get back to our room." y/n kept walking and eventually made it back to the room. quinn waited patiently for y/n to say something. when she didn't say anything, he sat on the bed and watched her pace back and forth.

"y/n, whats up? what did you want to say to me earlier?" he sighed. "please say something. the silence is worrying me."

"last night when you told me you loved me, did you actually mean it?" she stopped abruptly and turned to face him. under his gaze, she suddenly felt nervous.

and of course, quinn being who he was, picked up on the sudden shift in behavior and was quick to walk to her. he held her hands with one of his own while the other reached under her chin. he tilted her head so she was looking right at him.

"yes i meant it. every last word that came out of my mouth last night was nothing but honesty. i may have been drunk but for the last 2 years, thinking of you became like a second nature. never have i second guessed how i felt about you. and i can assure you that it's never going to change. so if you don't feel the same way, that's okay. i just need to know."

y/n blinked quickly before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. he stumbled back a little bit as their lips collided but he easily steadied them.

quinn's hands went from her chin to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer as the kiss grew more intense with each passing second.

"so, i take it you love me too?"

"of course, you idiot." y/n smiled and caressed his cheek. "you are so perfect in my eyes and i wish i would've noticed it sooner. but no. instead, i was so focused on jack. that was a stupid decision on my part."

"yes it was." quinn chuckled and held y/n closer. "you are so beautiful and you could have anyone you wanted. why do you love me?"

"are you seriously asking me that now?" y/n smiled. "you are the sweetest person i know. you have so much talent and you never give yourself the credit you deserve. you're funny, smart and so incredibly sexy, it blows my mind. you're perfect in every way to me and i couldn't picture myself loving anybody else."

"you think i'm sexy, huh?" quinn raised his eyebrow and smirked. y/n slapped his chest playfully and smiled.

"no. i think you're like, really ugly." y/n rolled her eyes. "you're lucky i love you."

"i love you too. and since we're married, you're stuck with me for life."

"i suppose so." y/n smiled and reached for her phone. "i gotta call your mom."

"why?"

"she needs to know we got married. and maybe she'll help us throw a party to celebrate. we can invite your family and have it be like a real wedding reception."

"you're right. if anyone deserves to know, it's definitely mom."

"so then it's settled?"

"i guess it is." quinn chuckled. "we can tell her when we get home tomorrow."

"sounds like a plan." y/n set her phone down and looked at quinn. "how has nobody seen the perfection in you before? don't get me wrong. i'm glad they didn't because we wouldn't be here if they had. but, how?"

"i don't know. but i was wondering the same thing about you just now. i mean, you dated some losers but i thought at least one of them would've realized how amazing you are."

"they were all blind and stupid, quinn. even your ex-girlfriends. of course they couldn't see how perfect we are."

"you got that right." quinn placed a gently kiss to the tip of her nose and smiled. "so, how does it feel to be mrs hughes?"

"it feels amazing. always dreamed of marrying into the family one day. just always pictured it being jack."

"i know. but aren't you glad you got the better hughes brother?"

"but i didn't marry luke." y/n replied, causing quinn to gasp. she smirked and began to giggle as quinn kissed all over her face. "quinn, you're crazy."

"crazy for you."

"and cheesy. can't forget cheesy." she playfully rolled her eyes as the two of them collapsed on the bed. "you are the better brother. and for so many reasons. i love you, quinn."

"i love you too, y/n." he kissed her and it felt like time had stopped. for them, it felt as if they were the only 2 left in the world. but neither of them could complain.

they were in love and so thankful they were finally able to admit it.

#nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl #jack hughes #luke hughes

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