#and her parents do not know what to do with the fact that their golden child is a hedonistic con artist and public menace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamersparacosm · 10 days ago

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jeon jungkook - loves me, loves me not (part two)

warnings ; alcohol consumption, oral (f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex

request ; linked here

prompt ; in which two childhood best friends fake a relationship for the public eye, but after one rule-breaking kiss, neither of them can pretend anymore.

note ; eeeeek part two!!! i love this duo sm so sad to see them go but this part was so fun to write, enjoy my loves!

part one

You’re not entirely sure when the liquor started betraying you this bad. When you were 20, during a night where apple soju tasted like water, you had hooked up with a friend just for the plot. When you were 22, tipsy off wine that only your parents could afford, you made out with one of your other friends to prove that you could. Now… well, now, the champagne you’re sporting has you lowering all your inhibitions and every last shred of dignity. The night continues in a haze of bubbles and warm laughter, the glow of the gala casting everything in golden light. You should be at ease—your parents are beaming, the public adores you and Jungkook together, and everything is going exactly as planned.

Except for the fact that his hand has been on you all night, and you’re not handling it as well as you should.

At first, it was subtle—his fingers grazing the back of your palm as he handed you a glass of wine, the press of his knee against yours under the table. But then he started running his palm down the curve of your spine absentmindedly, his touch featherlight yet burning, his fingertips tracing slow, lazy circles on your lower back as he spoke to his father. And you? You were fighting for your life trying to act unaffected.

“You know,” you murmur as you lean into his side, fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm, “you’re actually pretty decent at this whole ‘pretend boyfriend’ thing.”

Jungkook chuckles, low and smooth, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Decent?” he repeats, feigning offense. “I’d say I’m excelling. You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me all night.”

You scoff, but your grip on his bicep betrays you. “That’s the champagne talking.”

“Mm.” He hums in amusement, his free hand landing on the small of your back, fingers barely pressing against the fabric of your gown. “Or maybe you just like touching me.”

You shoot him a glare, but the warmth pooling in your stomach tells another story.

Before you can formulate a sharp retort, the sound of a spoon clinking against glass silences the room. All eyes turn toward your parents, standing at the front of the ballroom with glowing smiles.

Your mother beams. “We just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for being here tonight. It means the world to us to see so many familiar faces supporting such a wonderful cause.”

Your father nods, lifting his glass. “And, of course, we can’t let the night go by without acknowledging how proud we are of our daughter and her soon-to-be—” He pauses for dramatic effect, eyes twinkling. “Well, let’s just say, we couldn’t be happier.”

Your stomach drops.

Jungkook stiffens beside you, his fingers flexing against your back. You freeze, heat rushing to your face. Soon-to-be what? No, no, no. They can’t be implying—

“Oh?” Jungkook murmurs, clearly entertained. His voice is teasing, but there’s something beneath it, something quieter. “Didn’t realize we were making things official-official.”

You force a laugh, heart hammering. “They’re just getting ahead of themselves.”

“Right,” he drawls, but he doesn’t let go of you. In fact, he tugs you closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispers, “You’re not running, though.”

You should be. You should be laughing this off, shoving him away, rolling your eyes like you always do. But you don’t. You can’t. Because some ridiculous, champagne-drunk part of you isn’t completely horrified at the idea.

And the worst part? Jungkook doesn’t look horrified either. In fact, he looks like he finds this quite comical.

He turns his head slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in. “Didn’t realize you wanted to marry me so bad,” he murmurs, his voice all teasing silk.

You turn to glare at him, ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

He grins, entirely too pleased with himself, but the way he’s holding you feels different now—less for show, more like he’s testing the waters. He doesn’t let go, even as the evening carries on, even as you find yourself more hyper-aware of every touch, every brush of his fingers, every lingering glance.

At some point, it becomes too much. You need air.

You excuse yourself quietly, slipping away from the ballroom and stepping onto the terrace, where the cool night air greets you in a much-needed embrace. You rest your hands on the railing, inhaling deeply, willing your heartbeat to settle.

“Running away from me?”

You close your eyes briefly before turning to find Jungkook leaning against the doorway, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. He’s loosened his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white button down, showing off his array of tattoos (which you swear he’s doing on purpose.)

“Just needed a moment,” you reply.

He steps closer, and you don’t move away. “Big night,” he muses. “Lots of champagne.”

“And unwanted proposals, apparently.”

He smirks. “Come on, you’re not completely horrified by the idea.”

You scoff. “Oh, I absolutely am.”

Jungkook tilts his head, his smirk widening as he takes another step toward you. “Then why are you blushing?”

You open your mouth to retort, but he lifts a hand before you can, brushing his fingers against your shoulder. His touch is featherlight as he fixes the strap of your dress that had slipped slightly, his gaze flickering to yours as he smooths it back into place.

The air between you shifts, thickening with something you’re not ready to name.

You should step back. You should break the moment before it spirals. But you don’t.

Instead, you watch him, heart in your throat, as his fingers linger just a second too long, his eyes searching yours for something. And for the first time, you don’t know if you’d stop him if he decided to close the distance between you.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he lets his hand drop, exhaling a quiet chuckle. “Better?”

You swallow hard. “Fine.”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers over your face, as if committing this moment to memory. And then, finally, he steps back.

“Good,” he says. But the way he looks at you before he turns to head back inside tells you this is far from over.

You watch his silhouette disappear back into the ballroom, and an exhale you didn’t know you were holding frees itself from your mouth. Normally, you’re the composed one, the golden child, the girl boss. Now you’ve just dwindled yourself down to some lovesick girl who can’t even handle a simple fixing of a dress strap. It’s all too much, really.

All this to say: you need another drink.

You waltz back inside, beelining. You don’t even look for Jungkook, no use in continuing your torture for the night. Maybe a break is what you need, you’re entitled to one.

It’s no surprise to anyone you get approached by some man within a few minutes, who under normal circumstances, you would say is your type. You’re standing near the bar, champagne glass in hand, listening—at least trying to listen—to whatever the man in front of you is saying. He’s charming, effortlessly smooth, the kind of man your mother would nudge you toward with an encouraging smile. But you’re barely hearing a word.

Because once you finally do a quick scan across the room, Jungkook is smiling at her.

Ara.

She’s always been around, floating within your circles like a perfectly poised ghost. She’s beautiful in that effortless, delicate way, the kind that makes men want to lean in, to hear her every word. She’s got a hand on Jungkook’s arm, her perfectly manicured nails resting there like they belong, and worst of all—he isn’t pulling away.

Your grip tightens around the stem of your glass, your nails pressing into your palm.

You’ve seen him with girls before. You’ve watched him charm, flirt, entertain. And it never mattered. It never made your stomach curl like this, never made your skin prickle with something dangerous and hot.

But this?

You take a sip of your champagne, trying to drown out the feeling, trying to focus on the conversation in front of you. The man—Seojun, maybe?—says something that makes you laugh politely, and yet, even as you force the sound out, your gaze flickers back to Jungkook like a magnet.

And that’s when it happens.

Ara tilts her head, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she leans in closer. Jungkook says something that makes her laugh, and then—then she touches him, a light, lingering brush over his forearm.

Your stomach drops.

It’s irrational. You know it is. This isn’t real. None of it is real. And yet your body betrays you, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape the confines of your ribs.

"Are you even listening to me?" Seojun—yes, that’s his name—tilts his head at you, amused.

You blink, pulling yourself back into the present, forcing a practiced smile. "Of course," you lie.

But your eyes betray you, flickering back to Jungkook.

And that’s when you catch him looking.

He isn’t focused on Ara anymore. No, his gaze is locked onto you, his expression unreadable, his grip tightening around the drink in his hand.

You swallow.

He knows.

And the worst part?

He smirks.

Your champagne glass is empty before you even realize it. The bubbles fizz down your throat, but they do nothing to cool the simmering heat curling in your stomach.

You barely hear Seojun’s next words. You barely feel the polite, empty smile you throw in his direction. All you can focus on is Jungkook and the way he’s still standing there with Ara, letting her touch him, letting her laugh in that perfectly practiced way that’s just a little too sweet.

And that smirk. That damn smirk he gave you when he caught you staring.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you set your empty glass down on the nearest table, murmur something that vaguely sounds like an excuse to Seojun, and turn on your heel. Your steps aren’t exactly steady—whether from the champagne or the heat in your veins, you’re not sure—but you don’t care.

Because Jungkook needs to be reminded of something.

He is yours. Even if it’s pretend. Even if it’s temporary. Even if it’s just for the public.

You reach them just as Ara tilts her chin, her glossy lips parting, ready to say something that you really don’t care to hear. But she never gets the chance.

Because you step between them, seamlessly sliding into Jungkook’s space as if you belong there—which, you do. Your hands find his lapels, smoothing over the fabric of his suit with a familiarity that feels as natural as breathing. Your body presses against his side, your fingers sliding down his chest like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

Jungkook tenses slightly, his hand instinctively coming to rest on your waist.

“Baby,” you purr, loud enough for Ara to hear, your voice dripping with lazy affection. “Are you done entertaining?”

Jungkook blinks, startled, before his lips curl into something amused. You can feel the chuckle rumble in his chest before he even speaks. “Was I entertaining?”

You tilt your head, fingers idly playing with the collar of his shirt. “Not really,” you say, scrunching your nose. “It was getting boring, so I came to save you.”

Ara shifts beside you, her gaze flickering between you and Jungkook. “I was just catching up with—”

“Hmm?” You hum distractedly, finally turning your gaze to her, blinking like you hadn’t noticed her standing there this whole time. “Oh. Sorry, Ara, what were you saying?”

Ara falters, eyes narrowing slightly, but you’re already nuzzling your cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder, a deliberate, intimate movement that makes his grip on your waist tighten.

“Nothing important,” Ara finally says, her voice a touch too tight.

“Didn’t think so,” you say sweetly, letting your fingers trail down Jungkook’s arm before lacing them with his.

“Anyway, we should go. Right, baby?” You blink up at him through your lashes, giving his fingers a light squeeze.

Jungkook is silent for a moment, as if processing what the hell just happened. And then, to your surprise, his smirk softens into something darker, something more interested. He looks down at you, his grip on your waist tightening for just a second before his free hand lifts, his knuckles brushing along your jaw in a way that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, meant only for you.

Your breath hitches. Just for a second. Just enough for his smirk to return.

Ara clears her throat, clearly unimpressed. “Well. It was nice seeing you, Jungkook.”

“You too,” he says absently, but his gaze never leaves yours.

You tug at his hand, ready to make a grand exit, but Jungkook resists just long enough to lean in and murmur against the shell of your ear, “That was hot.”

You scoff, ignoring the way your stomach flips at the warmth of his breath. “Shut up.”

He chuckles, following you without hesitation. “Jealousy looks good on you.”

“I was not jealous.”

“Sure, sweetheart.” His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, a little too soft, a little too real. “Whatever you say.”

You should let go. You should be irritated. But you don’t.

And he definitely notices.

You shake off the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s touch, pushing away the ridiculous notion that you had anything to be jealous about. This isn’t real. It never was. And if he wants to flirt with Ara, or any other perfectly poised socialite, then what does it matter to you?

“Come on,” you say briskly, tugging at his wrist as you weave through the ballroom. “We have a reputation to maintain.”

Jungkook allows himself to be dragged, a lazy smirk playing at his lips. “Oh? So now you care about appearances?”

You ignore him, leading him toward the grander part of the hall where familiar laughter rings out. And then, just as you expected, you stumble upon your family members—drunk, loud, and far too comfortable in the lavish setting. Some elders are seated, glasses of wine half-empty, while a few uncles and aunts chatter excitedly, their faces flushed with warmth and liquor.

“Ah! Look who it is!” your uncle exclaims, eyes twinkling as he waves you over. “Our beautiful couple. The stars of the night.”

You offer a polite smile, but Jungkook, ever the charmer, leans in and bows his head slightly. “Always a pleasure.”

One of the elders, an older gentleman with decades of power woven into the deep lines of his face, chuckles as he swirls his drink. “You two certainly look the part,” he muses, raising a brow. “But tell me, have any of us actually seen you kiss?”

The air shifts.

You feel it immediately, the way Jungkook stiffens beside you, the way your breath catches mid-inhale. A sudden, sinking feeling pools in your stomach, a flush creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Oh, we don’t—” you start, forcing out a laugh, but your aunt cuts you off with a wave of her hand.

“Ah, come now, it’s just a little kiss! Nothing we haven’t all done in our youth,” she teases, nudging the woman beside her. “You two are in love, aren’t you?”

Jungkook clears his throat, his fingers tightening slightly where they rest at your lower back. “Of course,” he says smoothly, his voice composed, but you can feel the tension humming beneath it. “But you know how it is—she’s a little shy.”

Your head whips toward him, eyes narrowing. Shy?

The elders laugh, clearly entertained. “A little kiss won’t hurt, dear,” one of the women chimes in. “Give the people what they want!”

Your palms grow clammy. The entire table is watching, eyes alight with expectation, and your heartbeat drums a frantic rhythm against your ribs. This was never part of the deal. A public kiss? In front of your entire family?

Jungkook turns to you slightly, reading your expression in an instant. And for once, he doesn’t tease. He doesn’t smirk or provoke. Instead, he leans in ever so slightly, dropping his voice so that only you can hear.

“We don’t have to,” he murmurs. “Just say the word.”

The warmth of his breath ghosts over your cheek, and suddenly, you’re aware of how close he is, how his fingers are still splayed protectively along your spine. It’s the gentleness in his voice that almost undoes you, the unspoken question lingering between you.

You swallow hard, mind racing for an escape. Then, in a last-ditch effort, you tilt your chin, feigning exasperation as you lightly pat his chest. “Please. If they want a show, they’re going to have to wait until we’re somewhere more private.”

And when you dare to glance up at him, his gaze is already on you, something lurking, simmering behind those dark eyes.

You don’t know what’s worse—the fact that you almost let him kiss you, or the fact that, for a split second, you wanted him to.

The table erupts in hoots and laughter, satisfied with your answer, taking it as a cheeky refusal rather than outright rejection.

Jungkook chuckles, playing along effortlessly. “You heard her,” he drawls, eyes dancing with amusement. “Guess you’ll just have to keep wondering.”

The laughter at the table settles, but the teasing doesn’t.

“Come on now, just one little kiss,” an older woman coos, her wine glass swaying in her hand. “We’re old, humor us.”

“Exactly,” your uncle chimes in, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “A quick peck, and we’ll let you two lovebirds go.”

You feel your stomach twist, your fingers clenching against the fabric of your dress. The whole table is watching, waiting, their amused smiles only making your pulse quicken. You glance at Jungkook, hoping he’ll throw out another clever remark to dodge the situation, but to your horror—

He turns to you.

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand, warm and steady, slides from your back to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. Your heart is hammering now, and you barely have time to process what’s happening before his lips press against yours.

It’s soft at first. Barely there. A gentle, careful touch, like he’s giving you time to pull away. But you don’t.

You can’t.

Because the second your body realizes what’s happening, a spark ignites, and everything tilts. The warmth of his mouth melts into yours, his fingers tightening slightly at your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek as he deepens the kiss just enough to make the world around you disappear.

Your breath stutters, and for a split second, you let yourself lean in. You let yourself taste the champagne on his lips, let yourself drown in the scent of him—warm spice and something inherently Jungkook.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulls away.

The entire table erupts in cheers and teasing whistles, but you barely hear them over the roaring in your ears. Your lips still tingle, your breath uneven, your entire body still caught in the aftershocks of what just happened.

Jungkook, meanwhile, is completely unbothered.

He leans back into his chair, stretching one arm over the backrest, a smug, lazy smile curving his lips. “Happy now?” he drawls, glancing at the elders, who are positively delighted.

You can barely look at him. Your thoughts are a tangled mess, your heart still racing in your chest. Rule number one—no kissing—just shattered like glass, and he’s sitting there looking as if he didn’t just turn your entire world upside down.

You grab your glass of champagne and down the rest in one go, ignoring the way Jungkook chuckles beside you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” he murmurs, just low enough for you to hear.

You turn to him sharply, your voice quieter but sharp. “What the hell was that?”

He raises a brow, feigning innocence. “What? They asked for a kiss.”

“That was not just a kiss,” you hiss, leaning in slightly, your hands gripping your dress so hard it might tear. “You—”

“Relax.” His fingers toy with the stem of his wine glass, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “It’s all for show, right?”

You hate him. You hate him so much.

And worse, you hate how badly you want to kiss him again.

The night drags on, an endless cycle of goodbyes, firm handshakes, and air kisses. You stand near the grand entrance of the venue, your parents beside you, Jungkook effortlessly charming the last lingering guests. His hand is in his pocket, his posture relaxed, but you know him well enough to notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers drum idly against his thigh.

You haven't spoken since the kiss.

The moment lingers in your mind like a brand, burning at the edges of your composure. Every time you glance at Jungkook, your lips tingle with the phantom memory of his, and it infuriates you. Because this was never supposed to happen. Because he’s acting like it wasn’t a big deal.

Finally, the last of the guests trickle out. Your parents squeeze your shoulder, still beaming, oblivious to the storm raging beneath your skin. Then, at last, you and Jungkook step outside, your car already waiting.

The ride is silent.

The chauffeur drives smoothly through the dimly lit streets of Seoul, but neither of you speaks. There’s no teasing remark from Jungkook, no smug grin, no sideways glances. He’s staring straight ahead, his fingers tapping idly against his knee.

You should let it go. You should leave it be.

But you can’t.

“You broke rule number one.”

Your voice is quiet but firm, slicing through the stillness.

Jungkook’s head tilts slightly in your direction, his brows raising. “Excuse me?”

You grip the edge of your dress, forcing yourself to keep your tone steady. “Rule number one,” you repeat. “No kissing. And you—”

You exhale sharply, staring out the window, shaking your head. “You just did it, like it was nothing.”

Jungkook shifts slightly, turning his body toward you. “What else was I supposed to do?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something unreadable in his tone. “They weren’t going to let it go. It was the easiest way out.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Anything but that.”

Jungkook frowns, clearly not understanding your reaction. “Why does it matter? It was just a kiss.”

Your heart twists violently in your chest. Just a kiss.

“It wasn’t part of the contract,” you snap, finally turning to face him. “We had rules. We agreed on them. And you—”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “You don’t get to just change them whenever you feel like it.”

His jaw tightens, his eyes darkening slightly. “You’re overthinking this.”

You let out a humorless laugh, your fingers curling into fists on your lap. “Overthinking?”

“Yes,” he says, exasperation creeping into his voice now. “It was one kiss, in front of a crowd, to keep up appearances. You’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be.”

Something inside you snaps.

“Stop it,” you burst out, your voice cracking slightly. “Stop acting like this is nothing. Stop acting like we can just go back to how things were before.”

Jungkook stares at you, caught off guard. The air between you is thick, heavy, pulsing with something unsaid, something neither of you are willing to dissect.

Two weeks. That’s all that’s left. Two weeks before this ends, before you both walk away, before everything you’ve built—fake or not—disappears.

And it’s killing you.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to look away. “Just—” Your voice lowers, shoulders sagging slightly. “Just stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Doesn’t fight back. He only watches you, his expression unreadable, his hands curling into fists against his lap.

The car slows to a stop in front of his house. Without another word, you unlock the door, waiting.

Jungkook hesitates for just a moment. Then, with a slow exhale, he steps out.

The second the door closes behind him, you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your fingers against your temples. Your heart is still racing, your skin still burning.

Rule number one is broken. And you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fallout.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next two weeks pass in a blur of long workdays and sleepless nights. You throw yourself into your job, burying yourself in meetings, in paperwork, in anything that keeps your mind from wandering back to him. You ignore his texts, let his calls go to voicemail, pretend you don’t notice when he lingers outside family events you used to attend together.

But no matter how much distance you try to put between you, it doesn’t change the fact that the stupid kiss is all you can think about. It’s there when you wake up, a phantom sensation lingering on your lips. It’s there when you try to eat, when you push food around your plate without appetite. It’s there when you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, exhausted but unable to sleep because every time you close your eyes, you see him. The way he looked at you right before he kissed you. The way he played it off like it was nothing.

And then, just like that, you get your wish.

You’re standing in Jungkook’s mother’s office, the air thick with finality. Your parents are there, seated beside you, their expressions unreadable. Across from you, Jungkook sits with his back straight, his hands clasped together as he listens. He looks composed—calm, even—but you know him well enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitch slightly against his knee.

His mother folds her hands neatly on the desk, her expression warm but firm. “[Y/N], thank you so much, darling. You both did great. And honestly, these three months flew by. The press reaction from this was pristine, both of you sold it,” she praises, her voice smooth, unwavering. “Effective immediately, you’re both free.”

Free.

The word lands like a stone in your stomach.

Your wish has been granted. The contract is voided. No more appearances, no more pretending.

You should feel relieved. You should feel victorious.

So why does it feel like the ground has just disappeared beneath your feet?

Jungkook is silent beside you, staring straight ahead. He doesn’t say a word. Not when your mother thanks his. Not when the papers are slid across the desk. Not when the pens are handed to you both, waiting for signatures to make it official.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you take the pen, hovering over the paper. This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for.

Then why do you feel like you’re about to sign away something you can’t ever get back?

The moment the ink dries on the contract, you push back your chair and stand. The silence in the room is suffocating, pressing down on your chest, on your throat, making it impossible to breathe. Your heart is pounding, your hands feel cold, and you hate it—hate that this feels more like a loss than a victory.

“Thank god,” you mutter, voice sharp, controlled. Then, without another glance, you turn on your heel and walk out.

No one stops you. Not your parents. Not Jungkook’s mother. Not Jungkook.

You don’t slow down until you reach the crisp night air. It bites at your skin, cool and fresh, grounding you just enough to keep your expression neutral. You march toward your car, heels clicking against the pavement, jaw locked so tightly you might break it.

This is good. This is what you wanted.

So why does it feel like you’re falling apart, like your body is crumbling into itty bitty pieces, and someone will have to come pick up your residue tomorrow?

Your fingers fumble with the car keys, desperate to get inside before anyone can question the way your breath is unsteady, the way your chest is too tight, the way everything—everything—feels wrong.

But before you can open the door, you hear it—

“Wait.”

Jungkook.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a fraction of a second before turning around. He’s jogging toward you, his shirt slightly rumpled, his expression unreadable but determined.

“What?” you say, forcing a sigh, keeping your voice cold, distant.

He stops just a few feet away, staring at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in weeks. His chest rises and falls with the weight of whatever he’s about to say, and you hate that you already know it’s going to hurt.

“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” His voice isn’t accusing—it’s raw, strained, almost desperate. “You cut me off like I was nothing. I—I don’t understand.”

You clench your jaw, turning back to your car. “There was nothing left to say.”

Jungkook takes a step closer. “Bullshit.”

You flinch. He never speaks to you like that.

“I miss you,” he says, voice lower now, like it’s a confession. “I miss my best friend. I miss you calling me at midnight just to complain about a meeting you have the next day. I miss you showing up at my house and stealing my food like you own the place. I miss you annoying me, because even when you were driving me insane, you were still there.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry about the kiss. If that’s what ruined this, then—I don’t know—let’s just forget it happened. I’ll do anything to go back.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him, your hands gripping the door handle like it’s the only thing keeping you standing. And then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, like vomit that splatters on the driveway. You know it’s coming out before you can even halt it.

“It’s not the kiss.”

Jungkook’s brows knit together. “Then what is it?”

You exhale shakily, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s me.”

Confusion flickers across his face. “What?”

“I’m losing my mind,” you admit, shaking your head, a breathless laugh escaping your lips.

“At some point along the way, something changed, and I didn’t even realize it until it was too late.” You swallow hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. “I wanted it to be real.”

The words hang between you, heavy, irreversible. Jungkook’s lips part slightly, but no words come out. And that silence—that hesitation—it’s all the confirmation you need.

You let out a quiet, bitter chuckle, dropping your gaze. “But you don’t. And I already knew that.”

Jungkook’s breath hitches, his jaw clenching, but he says nothing.

So you nod once, as if settling something within yourself. Like telling yourself it’s done, that’s enough now. Then you turn, open the car door, and slide inside.

And this time, he doesn’t stop you.

The moment you step inside your apartment, the weight of everything crashes down on you like a tidal wave. You barely make it past the front door before your vision blurs, your breath hitching as the sobs come hard and fast.

You don’t cry over guys. You never have. You’re the one who walks away first, the one who keeps her heart locked away behind sharp wit and an untouchable exterior. You make men cry, not the other way around.

But this—this is different.

Because it’s Jungkook. And somewhere along the way, between fake dates and stolen moments, between the teasing smirks and the way he looked at you when no one else was watching, you fell. Hard.

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to will away the ache in your chest, but it’s no use. The tears won’t stop. They pour down your cheeks, silent and unrelenting, until your shoulders shake and your knees threaten to give out beneath you.

Desperate for anything to calm yourself, you stumble into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of wine. Your hands are trembling so badly that some of it spills onto the counter, but you don’t care. You take a deep sip, your throat burning, but the warmth does nothing to dull the pain lodged deep in your ribs.

A choked sob slips from your lips as you sink onto the couch, curling in on yourself, your glass clutched between shaking fingers. The world outside is quiet, but inside, your heart is a storm, unraveling piece by piece.

And then—

A knock at the door.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you consider ignoring it. Maybe it’s your neighbor, maybe they heard you, maybe—

Another knock, louder this time.

You groan, wiping at your damp cheeks with the back of your hand before stumbling toward the door. You swing it open, expecting concern, expecting pity—

But instead, you find Jungkook.

He’s breathless, his chest rising and falling like he just ran all the way from his parents’ house to your apartment. Sweat beads at his forehead, shirt sleeves crumpled, his hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes—god, his eyes—are filled with something you don’t have the strength to decipher.

Your heart lurches, but you shove the feeling down, force the pain into anger.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse, uneven, but you steel yourself, gripping the edge of the door, ready to slam it shut.

Jungkook doesn’t flinch. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering, and just as you move to close the door, his hand flies out, palm flat against the wood, stopping you.

“Do you really think this was ever fake for me?”

The air between you shifts, crackling like a live wire.

Your fingers tighten around the doorframe. Your throat feels impossibly tight.

“What?” you whisper.

Jungkook swallows hard, his jaw clenching for a brief moment before he exhales sharply.

“Tell me you didn’t feel it, too,” he says, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me you didn’t fall for this—for us— just as hard as I did.”

You stand there, frozen in the doorway, Jungkook’s words ringing in your ears like a deafening echo.

Do you really think this was ever fake for me?

Your grip on the doorframe tightens, knuckles white. Your breath is uneven, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. But you don’t move, and neither does he. He just stares at you, eyes burning with something that makes your stomach twist painfully.

Finally, you find your voice. “Don’t do this, Jungkook.”

His brows furrow. “Do what?”

You shake your head, stepping back. “Say things you don’t mean. Try to make this something it’s not.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Are you serious? You think I don’t mean it?”

His voice is taut, disbelief etched into every syllable. “You think I came all the way here just to lie to you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is too big, too terrifying.

Jungkook steps forward, into your space, refusing to let you shut him out. “I meant it,” he says, voice lower now, steadier. “Every second of it. Every touch, every look. It wasn’t fake for me. It was never fake.”

Your breath shudders, hands trembling at your sides. “That’s not fair.”

His eyes search yours, desperate. “What’s not fair?”

“That you get to say this now,” you whisper, the words raw and broken. “After everything. After I’ve spent weeks convincing myself that you never felt the same.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “That’s bullshit. You know I felt it. You know I wanted this just as much as you did.”

You let out a sharp laugh, but it’s laced with something heart-wrenching. “If you wanted this, Jungkook, you wouldn’t have played it off like it was nothing. You wouldn’t have acted like that kiss meant nothing to you.”

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. And god, it hurts.

“I was scared,” he admits, voice quiet now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I made it a joke, it would be easier. That maybe if I didn’t acknowledge it, you wouldn’t walk away.”

Your throat tightens. “I had to walk away.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with everything unsaid. The space between you is small, but it feels like an entire universe.

Jungkook reaches for you then, his fingers grazing your wrist, hesitant but wanting. “I miss you,” he murmurs, like it’s the only thing he knows for sure. “I miss you so much, and I don’t know how to fix this.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting the tears that threaten to spill. “You can’t.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, his grip tightening slightly. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t know how to go back to being just your best friend.

His breath hitches. And then, so softly, like he’s afraid of breaking you completely—

“What if we don’t… go back to that?”

Your eyes snap open, your pulse skittering wildly. But Jungkook is just looking at you, waiting, his heart in his hands, waiting to see if you’ll take it.

Jungkook pushes past you before you can stop him, stepping inside your apartment with a forcefulness you’re not used to. You barely register the door closing behind you, your fingers tightening around your wine glass as you turn to face him, heart pounding.

“You don’t get to just walk in here like you own the place,” you snap, voice sharp to mask the tremor beneath.

He turns, his expression wild with frustration, his chest still rising and falling from the run. “I don’t? I don’t get to fight for you? Because that’s what I’m doing, in case you haven’t noticed.

Your pulse stutters. “Fight for what, Jungkook? A fantasy? We’re being delusional. You and me—we’ll never work.”

His jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Why the hell not?”

“Because we’re different.” You take a step back, gesturing vaguely, as if that could encompass all the reasons why this is impossible. “Because I have my life figured out. Because I have a career, responsibilities—”

“And what?” Jungkook cuts you off, stepping closer. “I don’t? Just because I’m not working twenty-hour days, just because I don’t run around like I have to control everything? That means I don’t have my life together?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then say what you mean,” he challenges, voice lower now, rougher.

You swallow, looking away. “You don’t take things seriously. You never have.”

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “That’s bullshit. You think I don’t take this seriously?”

He gestures between you, eyes burning. “You think I don’t—” He exhales, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you, raw and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. “You want to know when I fell in love with you?”

You freeze.

“I was eleven,” he continues, voice softer now, but no less intense. “We were at some stupid family event. I was the only other kid there, and I remember looking at you—this girl who was already so sure of herself. And I asked who you were, ready to say something cocky, and you just looked at me and said, ‘Your worst nightmare if you get in my way.’” He lets out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it—just something aching, something real. “And I thought, God, I’m done for.”

Your fingers tremble around the stem of your wine glass. You remember that day, vaguely. You remember thinking Jungkook was annoying, arrogant, that he talked too much. Even at his young age, he was pissing you off. You never thought that, all this time, that moment meant something to him. That you meant something to him.

“I’ve loved you since then,” he admits, voice raw. “I accepted being your best friend just to have you in my life. Even when it killed me. Even when I had to watch you pretend like none of this mattered.”

He shakes his head, his throat working. “But it does. You do.”

The silence between you is suffocating. Your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, the weight of his words pressing down on you like an avalanche.

“You act like I’m some reckless idiot who doesn’t care,” Jungkook continues, voice quieter now. “Like I don’t think about the future, about where I fit into your life. But the truth is, I’ve been fitting myself into your life since the day I met you. I’ve been waiting. Hoping. And maybe that was stupid of me.”

Your heart twists painfully, your walls cracking in a way you never thought possible. He’s right. He’s always been there, no matter what. He let you push him away, let you pull him back, let you dictate the terms of your relationship because he thought that’s all you would give him.

But that’s not true. That’s never been true.

You set your wine glass down on the counter with a shaky breath. “I put you in my life because I want you in it.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap to yours, something unreadable flashing through them.

You take a step toward him, voice steady despite the storm inside you. “Fine, maybe I haven’t always been in love with you. Maybe I didn’t wake up one day knowing like you did. But you’ve changed. You’ve grown up. And I don’t know if it’s because of me or not, but I love who you are growing into.”

His breath stutters.

“And I love you,” you say, barely more than a whisper. “I love you, Jungkook.”

For the first time since this argument started, the fight leaves his body. His shoulders sag, his breath shudders, and then suddenly—

He’s kissing you.

Not tentative, not hesitant—desperate. A collision of everything left unsaid, of years of wanting and waiting, of stubbornness and frustration and aching affection. His hands cup your face, his fingers threading through your hair, and you melt into him, your hands clutching at his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

But he won’t. Not anymore.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmurs, “Say it again.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “I love you.”

Jungkook kisses you again like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s spent years holding himself back and now he never wants to stop. His pink, luscious lips are firm and urgent, his hands threading into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You lose yourself in it, in him, in the way he tastes like longing and desperation and something entirely his.

And then, between breathless kisses, he murmurs, “Jump.”

Your eyes flutter open, breath hitching. “What?”

His smirk is pure mischief, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips like a promise. “Jump,” he repeats, voice low and rough. “I’ve got you.”

There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. You push up on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and as soon as you do, his strong hands lift you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. He holds you up like you weigh nothing, his grip firm and unshaking.

“Damn,” you murmur against his jaw, letting your lips trail along his skin. “Since when did you get so strong?”

Jungkook chuckles, shifting his hold on you as he starts walking, each step confident, controlled. “Have you seen me?” he teases. “I practically live in the gym.”

You hum, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Mmm. So you’ve been working out just to impress me?”

He scoffs, turning the corner toward your bedroom with ease. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to impress you, I’d be carrying you with one arm.”

You laugh, breathless, pressing a teasing kiss to the shell of his ear. “Show off.”

Jungkook grins, his fingers flexing against your thighs as he kicks open the bedroom door. “Only for you.”

The air shifts when he steps inside, the teasing moment fading into something deeper, heavier. He lowers you gently onto the bed, his body following, hovering above you. His gaze is dark, his hands framing your face, and for the first time tonight, he hesitates, as if soaking in the moment, as if memorizing every detail of you beneath him.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, voice soft but certain.

“Am I?” You tease, and he gives you a look that makes you squirm and regret your words.

Before he can say anything, you press your lips to his again, pulling him in as much as you physically can. His hands frame your body, propping himself up. You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to feel as much of him as you need, ache for.

With his body pressing into yours, heat radiating from him like a fire you never want to put out, you’re on cloud nine. His fingers move down and grip your waist, firm and possessive, as if grounding himself in the reality of this moment, as if afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough, desperate. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You barely have time to respond before his lips trail down your jaw, your neck, leaving a searing path of heat in their wake. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groans—a low, deep sound that sends a shiver straight through you.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, your head tilting back as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, his hands roaming, exploring, claiming.

He pushes your body back, lets your head rest on the pillows. He figures he’ll need it for what he’s about to do to you. He reaches up, sits you up a little so he can take off your top. His eyes rest on your chest for a few good seconds, mesmerized by it, by the fact he’s seeing you, all of you. “Are you just gonna stare all night?” You taunt him.

He narrows his eyes at you before diving back in, kissing down your neck, to your collarbones, in between the valley of your breasts, unclipping your bra with one hand as the other reaches up to knead your tit. A low whimper exits you, and you’re almost embarrassed at how open, how willing you are for his touch. The bra gets flung somewhere in the room; you don’t even care.

Jungkook cups your breasts together, groans into your warm skin, smells so angelic and divine and unreal. You can feel his erection grind against your thigh. The idea that he’s craving you the way you’ve been craving him as your legs shaking in anticipation, mouth watering for him.

His lips move down your stomach, peppering light kisses. You barely have time to realize where he’s going before your pants are getting unzipped, thrown across the room hastily, revealing your light pink panties that have a bow on it. He’s sure this must be his present. You prop your elbows up to look at him, to watch his next move, his eyes glazed over with something you can’t recognize.

He presses a light kiss to your core, and you bite your lip to suppress some pathetic noise that threatens to leave you. “Tell me what you want,” He whispers against you, breath hot against your soaking wet cunt, waiting, begging for you.

“You,” Your voice is submissive. It almost makes him cream his pants. “Please, Kook. Your mouth..”

He does not have to be told twice. In fact, he barely needed to be told once. The panties are ripped off your body, and you gasp at the force but you barely have time to register it before he’s on you in seconds.

His tongue flattens out against your folds, and it has you jolting up, your hands reaching out to clutch onto his dark hair. He doesn’t move much, just lets his tongue roam around, lets you get a taste of what’s to come.

You writher underneath him, needing, craving more. His arms come around your thighs, spreading your legs widely in front of him, hands snugly holding on.

He becomes a man who’s starving, like he hasn’t eaten in days and this is his first meal. His tongue runs over your clit, flicks up and down repeatedly with a level of expertise you know is from his partying days. It has you screaming, moaning, nearly convulsing into him.

“Fuck—ah, Jungkook!” Your head lulls back, eyes squeezed so tight, as he continues with the same consistency. He pulls back for a moment, looks up at you, but you’re already looking down at him as if to question why he stopped. And when you look at him, really look at him, and see your juices on him, the way his lips are coated with your slick, you feel weak.

Maintaining eye contact, he inserts two fingers, letting the wetness get all around you. You feel it everywhere, dripping down your legs onto the bed. “Baby, you are so wet, god,” He’s in disbelief, like he can’t believe you’re this needy for him.

“Yeah?” Is all you can gather as his fingers pump in and out of you. There’s not many coherent thoughts you can muster right now.

“Been wanting this for years,” He murmurs, dangerously close again to your clit, like he’s speaking to it. “Been needing you.”

His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, sucking and slurping and it’s all too much for you. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and you want to scream at whoever has had him like this before you. You hear your pussy squelch with each movement of his fingers, his tongue there to collect every last drop. You feel it lingering, feel your impending orgasm. You’re tugging on his hair so hard you’re certain you are going to pull it clean off, moving your hips in line with his mouth, riding him just a tad. “F-fuck, oh, just like that, I’m so fucking close, ah,” And you’re really just a mess of words.

Desperation washes over you, legs shaking in his firm grasp, hand running through his hair and grinding your hips up against his mouth. His eyes are hazy as he looks up at you and moans around your clit, the vibration alone enough to push you over.

He’s never seen you like this, the composed businesswoman who never lets herself falter for more than two seconds. And now you’re here, in front of him, crumbling piece by piece. “Want you to cum for me,” He replaces his mouth with his other hand rubbing circles on your clit.

“Want to taste you when you finish,” He’s looking up at you with a gaze that makes you nearly cream yourself.

“You gonna clean up my mess?” You ask, bottom lip tucked under your top teeth, biting so hard you think you’re bleeding.

“Fuck, gonna lick you clean, baby,” He curls his fingers up inside you, and that just about triggers the floodgates and you’re convulsing, moaning, tugging his hair, screaming his name over and over like you don’t know how to say anything else.

His fingers slow, feeling your walls clench around him. His cock is so hard in his pants he thinks he might combust. And you knew he would be good, but not this good. You’re still recovering, still trying to stop breathing manually, while he removes his fingers from you and replaces it with his tongue to swallow your cum.

“Oh!—ah,” You lay your head on the pillows, chest heaving. You need him inside of you so bad it’s not even a question. But he seems to have the same thought as you, rushing to unzip his pants, fling his shirt across the room.

You look up at him, hazy, as you watch him pump his cock a few times, dangerously close to your entrance. You’re a bit in awe of what you see, of how big he really is, and it makes so much sense why he’s so cocky. “I need you inside of me right now,” You whine.

“I know, baby,” He moves on top of you, hovering, his bicep flexing. You run a hand down his chest, feel his abs that you’ve seen before once or twice.

“Please, Kook,” The nickname you called him since you were 11 rolls off your tongue with ease. “Please fill me up.”

And he does just that — his cock slides into you with such ease it’s laughable. There’s a collective gasp from both of you, him reacting to the feeling of your tight, warm walls, and you feeling like you’re being split in half. You feel every inch, every vein stretch you out, and for a second you think you’ll have to tap out, still stimulated from your orgasm. “You’re so big—ah!—feels so fucking good, Kook.”

Your moans are obnoxious, breathy. You’re taking him so well, better than he thought, with the lubrication from your slick covering his cock from the base to his tip. He buries himself in you, trying to feel every crevice, every wall sucking him in.

“Taking me so well, baby,” He kisses your forehead, then your lips, “Look at me.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were closed, so focused on regaining your strength. When you open them, you look right into his dark brown eyes, catch his gaze. He thrusts, slowly, agonizingly slow, in and out of you, feeling every inch of him before he slides back in. Your hands latch onto his biceps, gripping the flex of his muscle. “So fucking big,” You moan out.

“God, you are so tight,” His hand moves down to push your leg back higher, loop it around his waist. “When’s the last time you’ve been fucked?”

“N-not since before we started t-the contract,” You look up at him, struggling to keep it together as your fingernails dig into his bicep. “Haven’t wanted anyone but you.”

“Gonna cum so quick with the way you feel,” He mutters, probably mostly to himself but it sends a shiver down your spine. He starts to pick it up, starts to push your leg even higher.

“Right there,” You say, hand traveling down to play with your clit, just a mess of him and you. You can’t stop looking at him, making eye contact as he fucks you so good, so well, enough to make you forget your name, just that you’re his.

“Never gonna let you fuck anyone else again,” He babbles, clearly pussydrunk. “Fuck, this is all mine.”

And you have nothing else to really say to that besides yesyesyesbabyplease, because before you know it, he’s propping one of your legs in his shoulder and the stretch has you screaming so loud your neighbors are going to call the police. The headboard slams repeatedly against the wall, bed creaking with each thrust. He throws his head back, and you watch as he lets out an animalistic moan, “Feels so good, so fucking good,” His thrusts are speeding up even more, chasing a release he’s been waiting on for so long.

“Yeah?” You ask, fingernails scratching down his arms as your walls familiarly begin to clench around with him, stomach coiling and heat bubbles within you.

Just when you think it can’t get any better, can’t feel any better, he props your other leg on his shoulder, holding them tight to his broad chest, and at that point you’re really just putty in his hands. “O-ohmygod, yes,” You claw at the bedsheets, feel him so deep in your stomach you think he might be fucking your lungs.

“So close, baby,” His breaths are coming out fast, body shaking a little. “Where can I cum?”

You’re not even thinking when you’re speaking, just words tumbling, trying to sound coherent, “Fuck, cum inside of me, baby, pleaseplease, need you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” He asks, “That’s what you need?”

“Please,” You look up at him, pleading, begging for all of it and that’s all it really takes for him.

And when you fall, he’s right there with you, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer, his seed coating your walls, his own breathless curses mingling with yours in the dimly lit room.

Afterward, he doesn’t let go. He keeps you pressed against him, his fingers drawing slow, lazy circles on your back, his lips pressing lingering kisses to your temple.

The room is draped in the golden hush of post-midnight, the air thick with the remnants of heat and whispers. You lie tangled in the sheets, your body still thrumming from him, from the way he knows you now in ways no one else ever has. His fingertips trace lines on your body, the warmth of his touch lulling you into a blissful haze.

“You know,” Jungkook muses, his voice low and teasing, “you really stood no chance after that kiss at the charity gala.”

You scoff softly, dragging your fingers along the hard planes of his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palm. “Oh, please. If I recall, you were the one looking at me like I hung the stars that night.”

His laugh is quiet but rich, the sound vibrating beneath your touch. “I looked at you like that because I’ve always looked at you like that.”

Your breath catches slightly, but you mask it with a smirk, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “So what you’re saying is, you were down bad for me way before I even noticed?”

Jungkook grins, flipping onto his side so he can properly look at you, his fingers never ceasing their movement on your skin. “Down horrendously,” he admits, no hesitation. “It was honestly kind of tragic.”

You laugh, the sound warm and free, tracing slow, deliberate patterns across his collarbone. “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you murmur, letting your nails lightly scratch his skin, “I think I fell for you somewhere along the way, too.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens slightly, his smirk shifting into something deeper, something laced with promise. “Somewhere along the way?” he echoes. “Not when I kissed you breathless in front of all of our elders?”

You hum, feigning thoughtfulness. “That was… persuasive, I’ll admit.”

His fingers dip lower, trailing along the curve of your spine, and your breath stutters just slightly. “Persuasive enough to make you fall in love with me?”

You tilt your chin up defiantly, but your voice is softer now, your body already reacting to him. “Maybe.”

Jungkook leans in, lips ghosting along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. “I think I can be more persuasive,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mischief and intent.

You shiver, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his. “Is that so?”

His fingers tighten slightly on your waist as he shifts above you, a smirk playing at his lips. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

In this moment, with his warmth pressed against you, his fingers (and mouth) traveling down to where you need him most, you have never felt lighter. None of the accolades, the titles, the deals sealed in glass towers ever felt this monumental. For years, you built a life of power, of accomplishment, of certainty—but none of it ever made your heart feel like this. Full. Whole. Right. Your stupid heart had been right all along. And for the first time, you surrender to it completely.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

epilogue!

You never thought loving Jungkook would feel this easy, this effortless, like something you were always meant to do. He is a fire and a comfort all at once—challenging you in ways no one else can while grounding you in the kind of love that feels like home. And God, does he know how to pleasure a woman. He worships you in ways you never even knew you needed, unraveling you with his hands, his lips, the hushed words he murmurs against your skin late into the night. You had always been in control, always the one calling the shots, but with him, you find yourself melting, yielding, letting go in the best way possible.

But, sometimes, under all his nonchalance, he really is exactly like you.

Jungkook is pacing. Pacing. Like a man about to face a firing squad. You sit on the couch, watching him with mild amusement, sipping your coffee as he mutters to himself, hands running through his already-messy hair.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbles. “This is insane. They’re going to kill me. Your dad’s probably got a security team on standby.”

You snort. “My dad loves you.”

“That’s because he thinks I’m your best friend,” Jungkook hisses, spinning on his heel to face you. “This is different. This is me telling him that I’ve been secretly in love with his daughter since I was a kid and that I have, in fact, touched her in very non-friendly ways.”

You raise a brow. “Wow. That’s a way to phrase it.”

He groans, throwing himself down onto the couch beside you, burying his face in his hands. “I’m doomed.”

You roll your eyes, setting your coffee down. “Jungkook, you are not doomed. Our parents are going to be thrilled.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Actually, I do.”

And you do. Because, thirty minutes later, when you both sit across from both of your parents in the grand dining room, hands intertwined under the table, your mother and his mother barely let you finish saying we’re dating before they clap their hands together in delight, hugging each other.

“Well, finally,” your mother sighs, sipping her wine. “I was wondering when you two would get it together.”

Jungkook blinks. “Excuse me?”

Your father chuckles, shaking his head. “We knew this would happen eventually.”

Jungkook’s mouth falls open slightly. “You—what?”

Your mother waves a hand. “Oh, sweetheart, please. We planned this since you were eleven.”

There is a beat of stunned silence. Jungkook looks at you, then back at them, completely shell-shocked. “You what?!”

His father leans back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, not planned exactly. But we knew.”

Your mother nods sagely. “It was inevitable.”

Jungkook lets out a strangled noise, and you—oh, you are relishing this. You squeeze his hand under the table, biting back a grin.

“So let me get this straight,” Jungkook says slowly. “This whole time I’ve been agonizing over how to tell you, how to break the news, and you already knew?”

His father pats his shoulder. “We were just waiting for you to catch up, son.”

Jungkook groans, dragging a hand down his face, while you dissolve into laughter beside him. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite in his words. Just the kind of exasperated acceptance that comes with realizing his fate had been sealed long before he even knew it.

And when you lean over to press a kiss to his cheek, whispering, “Told you so,” he simply sighs, defeated. But there’s a smile tugging at his lips, because as much as he protests—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 3 months ago

Text

Twelve Days

After her fiance broke up their engagement Y/N has been isolating for months, but now it's the holidays and she must show up to spend it with her family. Fearful that her failure of a love life would be the main topic of discussion, she's prepared to have the worst time. That is until her brother in law, Harry, reveals an even bigger problem than her own.

Warnings: infidelity, break ups, mentions of depression and anxiety and their symptoms, mentions of alcohol and drugs, description of masturbation (male), voyeurism, implied inappropriate relationship

WC: 11.5K

Day One:

“You can do hard things.” You whispered to yourself as you drove down the street as you looked out for your parents’s car in a driveway.

You hadn’t spent the holidays with your family for the past three years. You just had a lot of things going on and lived across the country for the first year away. And then traveled the following year with your significant other and then this last year you’d spent the holidays with them and their family since you’d gotten engaged.

However, earlier in the year after nearly a year engaged, your fiancé backed out of the engagement and ended things with you. It had been the greatest humiliation and heartbreak of your life! After breaking the news to your parents over the phone followed by a “so I’m gonna need some space”, you’d successfully avoided every one from your family for the last several months, until now. You were mostly nervous to see your aunt and older sister. They were the most judgmental out of everyone and you hadn’t been in a place to hear their negativity. But now you were gonna be stuck with them all for twelve days.

Twelve days in Palm Springs and you were sure that you weren’t going to enjoy at least 70% of it with their probing and commentary on what you did wrong or should have done. Your dad was great about placating his younger sister, but not so much your own sister. She was definitely the golden child out of you both, so your parents were never all that hard on her, nor did they challenge her too much. You believed that she never meant to be malicious towards you but sometimes you did question if she just liked to feel like she was better than you. This particular situation made you feel a bit uneasy because it felt like an opportunity for her to rub your nose in it because she was happily married to one of the best guys you’d ever met and they had a perfect life together. She honestly did not need to do anything more to remind you that she in fact was far better off than you were in this particular area of your life.

“Fuck me…” you muttered as you saw your mom, aunt, and sister unloading grocery bags from the car parked in the wide open garage of the house. You saw your sister point as the older women turned in your direction and smiled. You smiled as well and waved briefly before focusing on parking your car in the final space, beside your mom’s. You exhaled and then stepped out, already feeling that sinking feeling in your stomach growing with each step you took towards them. You could already hear their excited greetings to you.

“Hey.” You chuckled as your mother enveloped you in a big hug and squeezed.

“Te extrañe, hijita.” She hummed lowly. You felt warm inside for a few seconds. It gave you sense of comfort knowing that she had missed you.

“Yo también.” You mumbled but ended the hug quickly because after what had happened to you, you truly needed a hug from your mom and it was going to make you cry.

“Hi mija! How are you holding up?” Your aunt, Claudia, asked as she hugged you next and you semi-smiled.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Are you sure?” She pressed as she pulled back and looked in your eyes in concern and you nodded quickly.

“Okay. You know, whatever you need-”

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded with a smile as she moved aside to let you greet your sister.

“Hey.” You smiled as she opened her arms and you hugged. You weren’t all that affectionate with each other so feeling her squeeze you closer felt a little unfamiliar but you just let it go on until she pulled back and placed her hands on your shoulders.

“You look good.” She complimented you. “That’s good. Show that loser what he walked out on.” She said with a smirk and you just nodded.

You felt your irritation towards her prick up your body. You hated that she attributed you looking after yourself to some revenge plot towards your ex. You had always been the kind of person to keep up with your appearance. You definitely kept things on the lighter more natural side for day to day, but you always had some makeup on. You dressed well and with thought behind your look. And you did all these things because it just made you feel good about yourself, it gave you that added little confidence boost that we all need. It was something that mattered to you and you didn’t do so for the male gaze. You felt like that was a slight dig, but you knew that she hadn’t meant it as such. You were quite sensitive though, so you always checked yourself before committing to the feeling that she wanted to piss you off.

“Can I help you guys with the groceries?” You offered.

“You need to unpack.” Your mom reminded you and you smiled.

“Right.” You said and they continued with their task while you turned to your car. You lifted the trunk open and pulled out your shoes duffle and then reached for the handle of your large rolling suitcase. You tugged hard and then felt some resistance. “Shit.” You cursed to your self when you saw that it had gotten caught on something from the top of the trunk. You had filled that baby to brim and admittedly it was resting on a decently high bed of garbage bags filled with clothes that you’d been meaning to drop off at a thrift store near your work for a couple months now.

“Need a hand?” You heard and jumped in fear as your brother-in-law’s voice coming from behind you shocked you.

“Fuck, Harry! You scared me!” You laughed, despite your creased features.

“I’m so sorry.” He chuckled. Your lips started turning up as you took in his toothy grin and crinkled eyes.

“It’s fine. I think it got caught on something. I’ve got so much shit in there.” You explained and he went over to you as you moved aside to let him inspect the issue. Moments later he was pulling your suitcase out of the trunk successfully.

“You’re gonna need a new one. It tore the fabric beside the zipper.” He notified you and you huffed.

“Of course it did…”

“I saw a roll of duct tape when I was snooping through the drawers in the pool house.” He shared, “We can put a little patch of it over the torn bit so that you can give’er, her final trip before you toss her out.” He suggested unironically and you smirked.

“How do you know it’s a her?” You asked and he smiled.

“I heard you refer to her as Jenna Rink once.”

“What? When?! Like 4 years ago? Because I haven’t seen you in ages…” You laughed.

“Yeah, actually.” He said pensively, his brows creasing deep for a few seconds as he thought about it and then he smiled. "It was when we were helping you pack for Connecticut.” He recalled and you smiled.

“Wow…great memory.” You complimented and he shrugged.

“Guess so!”

“I just have these two if you need help bringing anything else in.” You said as you closed your trunk and watched him reach into the trunk of your mom’s BMW X4. It was her current pride and joy and had been her and your dad’s 36th anniversary splurge.

“No, it’s just three more bags.” He assured you, “Just close it for me?”

“Yeah, go on.” You assured him and reached up to close the trunk before following behind him, you could hear the commotion inside as you approached the garage door. And when you walked in you were overpowered by the delicious scent of some sort of breakfast sweet treat and bacon.

“Look how sweet these men are! They made us brunch!” Your sister, Julie, exclaimed as you walked in.

“Wow!” You smiled as you saw your dad checking on the French toast cooking on a griddle.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed happily and left his task to hug you tight. He kissed your cheek and you chuckled as he told you that he missed you and was so happy to see you.

“Thanks, dad.” You hummed.

“Need help?” He asked you.

“I got it.” You assured, “Just need to know where to go.” You smiled.

“Harry, give Y/N the tour so we can set everything up!” Your sister cut in.

“Okay, just watch the bacon f’me.” He request as he set the grocery bags down. He then turned to you and grabbed the side of the suitcase handle, “I’ve got this.” He assured you.

“Thanks.” You smiled and he nodded before guiding you towards the living room.

“Let me show you what’s available.” He glanced back and you nodded. You went towards the main entrance and then turned right at the corner of the wall.

“There’s one down here. It’s the door on your left.” He said nodding towards the end of the short hallway and you slipped past him to get a look at the bedroom.

“Why didn’t it get claimed?” You asked Harry.

“Because your parents’ bathroom is on the other side of that wall.” He said and you huffed.

Your father was a notorious YouTube addict. He loved to watch videos about the news and world events but at full volume at all times, it was annoying to say the least.

“Your aunt chose the corner room.” He said and you nodded.

“I take it you and Julie took the pool house?”

“Yep.” He said and you huffed.

“The bedroom furthest from ours is free too.”

“And why is that one free?”

“Because of the potential for noise, it’s behind the kitchen and shares a wall with the laundry room.”

“God, was it designed as a servant’s quarter?” You scoffed and he chuckled, “What are the other options?”

“Then there’s the room beside it, but it’s a jack-and-jill bathroom with the servant’s quarter room, so there’s no counter space.” He explained and you groaned. “And then the room at the very end has a queen bed and it’s own bathroom-”

“But?” You asked.

“It’s only like 10 feet from the pool house.” He said.

“Oh…” you groaned, “Just keep the sex volume to a minimum, please.” You said with a grimace and he chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Right…” He said sarcastically and you shrugged.

“Just have to put it out there.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to witness any of that.” He emphasized.

“Perfect.” You hummed. He proceeded to guide you back through the kitchen where your family was urging you to hurry so that you could all eat. “I’ve got the door.” You said as you slipped past him and hurried to the end of the narrow hall.

“Thanks.” He said as he wheeled your suitcase into the bedroom. The natural light was lovely. You looked around while you dropped your duffle bag of shoes onto the ground.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a tiny patio.” He said optimistically.

“Well that’ll come in handy!” You chirped.

“Why’s that?” He asked as he left your suitcase right beside the closet door.

“I smoke a bit before I eat and before bed if I need it.” You explained, “After…everything I’ve been a bit down and it’s impacted my sleep and appetite.” You explained as you started out the small sliding glass door that led out to the small patio.

“Sounds like depression…” he said and you sighed.

“Yeah…I see a therapist, don’t worry.” You assured him.

“Yeah?” He asked and you turned and nodded when you saw him waiting expectantly for your answer. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m not as bad as I was like a month ago. S’why I decided to come but now I’m just nervous about what they’re gonna tell me about it.” You admitted to him and he hummed in understanding.

Harry had always been extremely easy to talk to. You didn’t talk regularly but would randomly send memes, recipes, OOTD’s, and little check-in’s every now and again. You’d say that you had a good relationship with him as his sister-in-law. You got along, you had good boundaries, and most importantly, you both wanted what was best for Julie.

“Well if it helps, your mum reminded everyone to not bring it up over dinner when we got here.”

“Lovely…” you chuckled and he smiled. “And how are you doing?” You asked as you sat on the mattress.

“Well-”

“Harry! Y/N! Hurry up, we’re hungry!” Your sister shouted from the kitchen.

“Rain check.” You said and he nodded once, “Let me wash my hands and I’ll be right out.” You said and he nodded again before heading out of the bedroom.

Thankfully, brunch was going alright. No one had brought up your failed engagement yet, Julie was just talking a lot about an important work project she’d been assigned to for the last several months. She seemed a little flustered as she spoke about the project and Harry seemed a bit annoyed with this topic of conversation. Julie’s work had caused some issues between them in the past when they were dating. She was an overachiever and tended to overcommit herself, leading to her neglecting several other areas of her life.

This had likely happened again and if Harry was upset about it, then it was probably pretty bad because it took a lot for him to be upset to the point that he’d externalize it. Other than that little bit of tension, everything had gone well and you were now digging through your suitcase for the bathing suit you were certain you had packed. After giving up on trying to keep everything folded, you just dumped the contents out onto the bed and huffed when you realized that you had not actually packed the swimming suit.

“Julie, do you have a bathing suit I can borrow? I forgot to pack mine!” You called from the door to the back yard.

“Yeah, but don’t grab my bikinis! Grab the other one.” She instructed.

“Is it ugly?” You asked.

“No, but it’s my least favorite of the two.” She said with a slightly apologetic smile from the jacuzzi.

“Okay.” You assured her.

“It should be in the top left drawer.” She called to you and you nodded, “Just go in through the main door, not the sliding doors. I think Harry’s napping!” She informed you and you gave her a thumbs up as you made your way out into the backyard and to the pool house. You quietly opened up the door and slipped inside, you heard the shower running and immediately felt a little embarrassed for intruding but then you heard something else… A gravelly grunt in a consistently rhythmic interval. You had to get out now! But then you heard him speak.

“Fuck, baby… you’re so fucking good.” You heard him mutter and then thought that maybe he’d snuck some bitch in! With rage building in your body, you swiftly but quietly made your way over to the bathroom door that was only half closed and you peeked in only to see Harry alone in the shower. He was facing the shower head so that thankfully saved you the embarrassment of seeing all of him.

You felt relief upon confirming that he was alone but then the realization set in that he was getting himself off. You knew it was wrong to stay but still allowed yourself one more moment to ogle him. Your eyes raked across the broad expanse of his shoulders and then moved on to admire his gorgeous back. He had muscle outlines in places you’d never seen on another person before and his ass was tight and perky. As your gaze traveled down, you honed in on his thick thighs and it made you bite your lower lip. You briefly thought about how it might feel to sit on his lap. And then you felt your stomach sink as you realized that you were doing something really fucked up right now. The feeling sobered up your lust-hazed mind and you blinked away the imagine of his dripping wet, naked body from your memory.

“Fuuuck…Fuck!” he groaned and your heart stopped as your eyes flew back over to his frame. You could see his right arm moved back and forth with the pace of his pumping fist over his cock and seconds later he was gasping for air as he came undone.

You took a few steps back, still in complete disbelief at what you had just witnessed. You could feel your walls pulsing steadily with arousal. You needed to get what you needed and get out! You dashed to the dresser and pulled open the drawer your sister instructed and saw her two weeks worth of underwear and work-out clothes in there. Just then you heard the shower shut off. Your heart started pounding hard as you started digging through the drawer frantically and you hadn’t found anything! Then the shower door creaked open. You pulled open the next drawer down and saw an array of tops and pants and you groaned quietly and slammed it closed in frustration.

“Jules?” You heard Harry’s voice call out and you felt your entire world start to crumble. You were trying to speak up but no words were able to come out of your mouth. You started to back away but right before you made it around the corner to the main entrance you heard Harry sigh, “Y/N, shit…”

You twirled around to see him half naked, bottom half wrapped in a towel. You were so terrified in that moment. Getting pulverized by a meteor would be the best outcome right about now.

“D-did you-”

“Yeah.” You confirmed quietly before he could finish his question.

“Fuck…look ummm, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He apologized, “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking…” he shook his head nervously, “It’s a fucking family holiday.” He muttered and you sighed.

“No, I get it! You thought you were alone, it’s fine. Let’s just forget it.” You reassured.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized once more and you offered a small, sympathetic smile.

“I know.”

“What are you even doing in here?” He asked.

“Julie’s letting me borrow a bathing suit but I can’t find them.” You explained.

“Oh, she put those all the way at the bottom drawer with all her cover ups.” He informed and you huffed.

“Her stupid ass told me they were in the top drawer.” You mumbled and he chuckled as you headed over and opened the drawer Harry had said and sure enough, there were the extra bathing suits.

You reached for the bathing suit that she was obviously letting you borrow. It was obvious because it was a rust brown color and not some cute little pattern. It was a one-shouldered, cutout one piece bathing suit with a ribbed textured fabric that you knew you’d love gliding your freshly done nails over just to feel them slightly catch over each little ridge. You thought it was actually quite cute, but could see how your sister wouldn’t really like it as much as she initially thought.

“Well I’ll uhhh, get out of here. S-sorry again for ummm…eaves dropping.” You said as you fluttered your gaze away from his nervously. Harry chuckled a bit and you glanced to him again, happy that he had taken it lightly.

“Sorry for the literal sexual harassment!” He said with a painfully embarrassed expression on his face.

“If anyone here harassed anybody, it was me! Coming into an obviously…intimate moment and sneaking a peek!” You said to him comfortingly.

“Wait. You watched?!” He asked through a disbelieving laugh, “You just finished saying it was an 'eaves drop’!” He exclaimed and you groaned in embarrassment as you gave yourself up.

“I’m sorry!” You cried in embarrassment.

“Don’t be.” He chuckled with a careless shrug and you frowned a bit, “Not like that! I mean that you shouldn’t feel sorry f-for coming into this. I shouldn’t have been…you know? Especially with the door open. Like anyone could’ve come in, you know?”

“Sounds like we both fucked up a pretty equal amount.” You said and he nodded in agreement, “Let’s just… pretend that you were napping like everyone thinks you are and that I just grabbed what I needed and hurried out. Cool?” You asked and he nodded.

“Cool.”

“Alright, see you out there.”

“Yeah.” He said before you rushed out quickly.

“Y/N, can you wake H up? Tell him to join us!” Your sister called out and you nodded and opened the door back up and headed inside to find Harry with his face in his hands,

“She wants you out there.” You said and he nodded.

“I heard.” He said and you could hear that he was crying.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I told you that we’re good!” You assured him with a deep frown and he exhaled and shook his head.

“It’s nothing to do with you, I promise. Just go.” He asserted.

“No, no, no… if it’s nothing to do with me, then what is it?” You pressed and he sighed.

“Look Y/N, I just need some space, okay? Please get out.” He resisted and you nodded.

“Okay. Just ummm, get out there.” You said and he nodded again before you left.

You assured your sister that Harry was awake but you swore that it felt like an out of body experience. You could feel the steady beat of your heart at the base of your throat. You were also extremely turned on and you were concerned that the image of Harry’s solo session was practically burned into your longterm memory. The way he sounded and the things he said…they were on a loop in your brain but doing anything about it felt wrong. And as you dressed down you started to wonder if he had gone as far as carrying out any fantasies he had involving other people. Maybe he felt guilty for being caught but also for other things he had done? You didn’t want your mind to wander too far so you just took a deep breath and headed outside with everyone else.

When Harry joined in he just stayed on one of the lounges that were built into the pool, which was unusual for him. He was typically very active and playful but he had his headphones in and a book about social policy in hand. You couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses but when you attempted to, he glanced away, meaning you had successfully made eye contact with him somehow.

“Is Harry alright? He seems…off?” You said to your sister and she nodded.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just a little moody over a disagreement we had about something.” She said and you hummed.

“Are you alright?” You asked next. Trying to fish out more information.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s him who has the issue.” She said with a slight scoff and you hummed. “Are you fine?” She asked and you shrugged.

“So-so.” You said and she hummed.

“I know that you’re sad about this right now but trust me, there’s nothing worse than committing your life to the wrong person.” She said and you frowned before glancing back to her.

“Are you just saying that or speaking from experience?”

“From experience! I married a really wonderful man!” She said a bit defensively, “That’s how I know I made a great decision. There were other men that I was so infatuated with but were not able to give me what I wanted or needed. Like-”

“We don’t have to say his name.” You cut in and she nodded.

“Harry is…the ideal partner.” Julie said with a shrug. “And you know, I never told you this, but he stepped up at the 11th hour. I felt like maybe I was never going to get married because of how much I work and all but he…he understands and supports me.” She said and you nodded.

“That’s really good.” You offered a small smile and she nodded.

“Now, what is taking Claudia so long? She’s supposedly making us all some Palomas.” She said as she turned towards the main house to try and get a look inside.

“She wasn’t in the kitchen when I came out. Maybe she’s in the bathroom?” You said and she hummed. But then you started thinking about the bathroom and Harry in the bathroom having a steamy shower. Your face started to heat with a blush and you just fanned at your face for a moment.

“It’s wild that it’s basically 80 degrees in December isn’t it?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, but it’s nicer than being snowed in.” You said, “I did miss the weather the most.” You said, “I’m glad to be back.”

“Missed that more than us?” Your sister asked with a small smile.

“You know what I mean…” you mumbled and she smirked.

“We’re glad you’re back too.” She said and you smiled.

“Thanks.” You hummed.

Day Two:

When you woke up the following morning it was because the door to the pool house closed loudly. You sighed and rubbed your eyes before grabbing your phone to look at the time. It was barely 6:30 on Sunday morning and you were a little annoyed that your sleep time had been cut short. You were surprised by how easily you had been able to fall asleep and most importantly, you had stayed asleep through the whole night.

You laid there for a few minutes, staring at the designs of your ceiling from the light peeking through the blocks used to section off your little patio. You had committed to morning walks as part of your healing journey and intended on taking one later on but as you considered how much hotter it could get later on you decided to just wash up and go now, you were up anyway.

The neighborhood this AirBnb was in was gated and it only kept these vacation homes. You did see a few of them were rented out but most of them were desolate. When you finally started to circle back around you saw Julie walking down the corner of the street before your house. She walked down to the first house on that side street and then twirled around. When you were close enough to be within her line of sight you raised your hand to wave and she looked a bit startled at first and then put on a smile as she spoke quickly and waved with her other hand as she made her way back towards the corner of the main street. She hung up the phone as you crossed the street to reach her.

“Morning.” You greeted.

“Good morning.” She responded quickly.

“You didn’t have to hang up your call. I’m desperate to get back and have a shower. It’s already warming up.” You said.

“It’s fine…I shouldn’t have even been on the call while we’re here.” She explained.

“Work?” You asked and she hummed.

“Well, pick up where you left off.” you assured her.

“Thanks. I won’t be long.”

“Of course. See you back there.”

“Yeah, see ya’.” Julie hummed and you hurried past the next two houses until your reached your rental.

When you made it inside, much to your surprise, Harry was already in the kitchen, he seemed upset from how quiet he was as he cut up some fruits silently.

“Good morning.” You greeted him.

“Hey.” He responded as he spared you a glance before continuing with his task. “Did you run into your sister by any chance?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, she’s still on her call.” You said cooly and he glanced up at you.

“Was she?” Harry asked and you nodded.

“You know, I get that she’s a workaholic and all but I think you need to ease up on her about that. I know it was an issue before but I mean, you knew how she was with this stuff from the start. Like, I get why you’d be upset when she does work stuff while on vacation, but it’s just who she is, you know? It’d almost be expected, I’d say.” You explained.

“Guess you’re right.” He mumbled as he continued doing what he was doing.

“Exactly. So stop brooding over things you have no control over. You’re just going to spoil your own time.” You advised.

“Okay… whatever.” He mumbled and you smiled and playfully punched his arm as you walked by and headed towards your room to get showered.

***********

Harry was already in a bad mood and after what you’d mentioned to him, he was even more upset. There was something that had been weighing on his chest for the last year. Something that he had hoped to talk to you about but with everything going on with your ex, he didn’t want to overburden you with his issues with Julie.

It was Valentine’s Day when he got an anonymous call from a private number saying that Julie was cheating on him, it had been left as a voicemail since he did not pick up the call. But even then, the voice had like an automated filter over it, so he paid no mind to it. But then, a few weeks later he’d picked up her phone because she kept receiving tons of texts and they were from a guy, a guy that he already knew.

Joseph was a friend of Julie’s from grad school who had landed the same internship site as her and they ended up getting hired at the same hospital in the accounting department. Apparently, they’d had a friends with benefits things going for a while before she started dating Harry. When he had asked if she had feelings for Joseph she admitted that while she liked him a bit more than she ought to, she knew that he would never commit to her, he wasn’t that kind of guy. And she assured Harry that she liked him a lot more. More enough to end things with Joe so that they could give it an honest try. It had been about five or six months of them being together when he caught her making out with Joe at a co-workers’s wedding. He ended things on the spot because he knew that there was history there. But when Julie came to him after a few days, pleading and begging for forgiveness, the love he had developed for her broke him down and he accepted her apology. She promised that it would never ever happen again and he believed her. And to his knowledge, it hadn’t happened until he discovered that it had happened again. By the looks of it, it had been happening for nearly six months already.

Of course, he confronted Julie about it and once again, she promised she’d stop but this time, he insisted they go to couples counseling to fix whatever was causing her to cheat and that she would need to allow him to look through her phone when he felt suspicious of her. Not forever, but just until he was able to trust her again. But during that time she’d also accepted a new job for a development firm, meaning no more Joe at work. So the counseling had been deprioritized by them both and whenever he’d ask to look through her phone it was never an issue and she always complied, so this made him feel even more trust towards her.

And over the last few months he’d felt suspicious over a work trip she went on but found nothing and now she had been assigned to doing the budgeting and accounting for a big new project with a client from France which had her working longer or strange hours. But sometimes her stories wouldn’t add up. So last month when she told him she was working late he showed up at her office before the end of the day and sure enough, she left right on time but drove to the nearest suburb where he saw her meet up with Joe. It was happening again and he was just collecting evidence this time around. He knew that this phone call wasn’t for work, it was Joseph.

All day Harry was brooding, waiting for the opportune moment to confront her. Eventually, he found the alone time and he was looking in her eyes asking her to please just be honest with him.

“Harry, you’re acting insane!” Julie threw her hands up in defeat as she finally exploded.

“I’m not! I know what you’ve been doing!” He shouted.

“What?! You’ve seen my phone every time you’ve asked, there hasn’t been anything.” She insisted.

“I followed you one night, after you said you were working late.” He said and he saw her starting to tense in rage.

“What the fuck, Harry?! How could you do that to me?” She shouted.

“Because I don’t fucking trust you!” He shouted back, “I cannot trust you.” He emphasized and she shook her head. “Please, don’t try to fucking gaslight me. Just say it. Say it.”

“Harry…”

“I need to know. If you even have a shred of love or respect for me, you need to be honest.” He begged and she sighed.

“Fine…I’ve been seeing him again.” Julie admitted and Harry nodded with a sad smile on his face. His gaze drifted past her and focused onto the wall across from him as he just let the reality sink in.

“How long?” He asked monotonously.

“Just a few months.” She said. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck…” he sighed sadly.

**********

Your day was slowly going to shit. After you showered you picked up your phone and when you saw the memory it prompted you to view, you felt your heart sink. It was from your last Valentine’s day. That led you down memory lane and all day you were thinking about your failed relationship in some way or another. After lunch your parents and aunt went out to some market and you decided to just take a nap. You were startled awake a couple hours later because your phone started ringing. You huffed at the spammer who called and settled into the silence. That’s when you heard the shouting from the pool house. You sat up as it quieted it down for a few seconds before your sister was shouting louder than before. You still couldn’t make out what was being said but you hurried out of bed and decided to go break it up. You rushed out through your patio and hurried to the sliding doors, getting ready to knock when you heard Harry shouting angrily…

“I want to get divorced because you keep cheating on me!” There was silence and once again you found yourself overstaying your welcome to listen in. “I’m not just saying it like it’s nothing. Yes, I realize that it’s a serious step to take but this has gone on for long enough, Julie. I’m not going to continue to be committed to you when you’re not committed to me in the same way.” He said more calmly. When your sister started to cry you backed away and hurried back to your bedroom.

You were in complete shock that your sister was cheating on Harry. It seemed like the least likely scenario to ever happen to them. Especially for that to be something that your sister did! It didn’t make any sense! Even the day before, she had told you that Harry was the best decision she had ever made. However, that would explain why Harry was acting strange. If he already had suspicions and then you mentioned she was outside taking a call, you could see how his mind would go in that direction. More so when it was something that had happened before. You also felt really guilty now because you had quite literally just disappeared from everyone’s lives because of your own issues without really thinking that they might be going through their own challenges. To be fair, your sister didn’t ever like to show any vulnerability, so you’d never know that something was actually wrong unless you caught her at the perfect moment, but still. You could’ve at least asked her or even Harry!

“We’re back!” You heard your aunt announce as soon as you’d made it back into your bedroom. To prevent them from hurrying off to find Julie and Harry you hurried out of the room.

“How was it?” You asked your aunt and parents as they congregated in the kitchen.

“It was nice!” She smiled and then your mom and aunt proceeded to show you the little knick knacks they had picked up at the outdoor market.

“We should get started on dinner. Can you get your sister and Harry, they were going to be in charge of dinner tonight.” Your mother informed and you nodded and made your way over to the pool house.

Thankfully, they weren’t shouting anymore, but when you knocked and Harry opened the door you felt the tension escaping from the room in gargantuan waves. While his eyes were a little blood shot he looked relieved to see you.

“Ummm, they said you guys were in charge of dinner tonight?” You informed.

“Right…ummm, Julie’s got a bad headache so she’s gonna try and sleep it off for a bit. Do you mind helping me?” He asked you.

“Not at all.” You assured.

“Thanks. I’ll be over there in a bit.” He said and you nodded and hurried back inside.

There was almost an unspoken rule that you were not to cook for your family except on their birthdays if they asked or on a holiday. You did it for a living, you were a private chef, so you cooked for people every single day for hours and hours. But this time, you were inclined to make an exception to stand in for Julie. While everyone else got showered and ready for dinner, you and Harry were in there preparing everyone’s meal. You were melting the butter down and getting it all aromatic with the rosemary and garlic while the filets marinated in their dry rub of seasoning that Harry had mixed up earlier. He had moved on to peeling potatoes he had boiled earlier in they day as well and he seemed to be very entranced with his task. You kept stealing glances of him to ensure he was okay and were dying to ask him if he was but didn’t want to risk upsetting him for eaves dropping once again.

“What’s wrong?” He asked without looking away from the final potato he was peeling and you sighed.

“I…heard you guys fighting.” You admitted and he glanced up quickly.

“Oh…all of it?” He asked and you shrugged.

“Basically and well, the most…important bit.” You confessed and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just going to try and deescalate the argument because it was really heated. I’m so sorry!” You apologized.

“It’s alright. I’m glad that someone else knows now. I’ve been carrying this around for months at this point.” He explained and you frowned upon hearing this.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. Are you alright?”

“I will be once your sister agrees to a divorce.” He explained lowly.

“Why won’t she?” You asked and he shrugged.

“We can talk more about this later if that’s alright with you? I just ummm…I don’t want to risk someone else coming out and hearing this.” He explained.

“Oh, of course!” You assured him and he nodded before you just got back to your respective tasks.

Harry was very in his head and it made you feel sad for him because he genuinely looked concerned and sad. When you finished setting the rest of the vegetables to steam you excused yourself to get cleaned up for dinner. He thanked you for your help and let you know that he’d cook the steaks once everyone was at the table so that they could be cooked how each person preferred.

Once dinner came around Julie was acting completely fine. She looked extremely put together and refreshed. Her ability to just pretend like everything was fine made you feel a bit upset at her. What more could she be hiding behind that nonchalant facade? You were trying your best not to judge her too harshly but surface level you saw no reason for why she would cheat on Harry. A small and very petty part of you was satisfied that your sister’s life was not as perfect as she made it out to be, but you still felt sad for her and for Harry.

After dinner you all decided on watching a movie because Harry and Julie were going to go “get drinks”. They probably just needed to go somewhere private to yell at each other. Even after you headed to your bedroom after the movie, you waited up to see if you’d hear them come back or if Harry would try and talk to you. But before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Day Three:

You suddenly woke up from your sleep and felt in real time as your slumber started escaping you immediately. You sighed because it was just your luck that after having one really good night of sleep the insomnia would kick in. You were laying in bed for a few minutes scrolling through your Calm app in order to find some sort of relaxing sounds or even just do a meditation, but then you heard some foot steps and then the slight squeak of a door down the hall before you heard it being shut very gently. After a few moments, your phone lit up with an incoming text from Harry asking if you were struggling to sleep to which you replied “Yes.” And moments later he was peeking into your room. You glanced over to him and offered a sympathetic look.

“Are you alright?” You whispered your question and he nodded as he quietly walked in.

“Just…sad, tired, angry…” he mumbled as he sat at the edge of your bed.

“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want.” You reminded him.

“Thanks.” He hummed, “Wanna get my mind off of it.” He exhaled.

“Do you wanna watch TV or something?” You asked.

“Actually, I have a collection of memes that I wanted to share with you but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to when you had asked for space and I’ve been saving them this whole time! I need to show you.” He said and you found yourself smiling from ear to ear.

“I would love nothing more than for you to show me that treasure trove.” You assured him and he nearly squealed before he hurried out of the room to get his phone.

When Harry returned it was with the blanket from his new bedroom and he sat across from you, criss-cross style, and you mirrored his position as you waited eagerly for the memes. Image after image and clip after clip you were nonstop laughing and hyperventilating into a pillow. If there was one thing you appreciated about Harry the most, it was his sense of humor. You were both into very stupid humor about banal things. It often irritated your sister because you two would make jokes out of the most random things, everything had the potential to be unserious when you were around each other.

“Oh god…those were soooo good!” You laughed breathily. You were struggling to keep it quiet and Harry was very pleased with himself.

“I knew you’d appreciate them.” He smiled as he set his phone down on the bed. He suddenly noticed that you had gone quiet. So he looked over at you and saw you slightly smiling. “What is it?” He asked curiously and your gaze flickered up to his.

“Nothing, I just…I haven’t felt joy like that in a long time. It feels really great to laugh. Like really laugh. You know?” You asked and then glanced away when you realized how vulnerable you’d just been. You suddenly wanted to throw up.

“Hey…” he said as he gently squeezed your knee and you glanced up to him again, “I do know.” He affirmed sincerely before pulling his hand away. When he pulled his hand back you missed the warmth of it.

“Why don’t you leave her?” You asked him of your sister.

“I’m scared.” He said simply and you nodded in understanding.

“What happened with…?” Harry trailed off before speaking your exe’s name.

“Just came in one day saying they had doubts and were feeling unready to take the next step and that was that.” You shrugged.

“I’m sorry.” He frowned.

“I’m not…like it’s been really hard but I’d rather this than for them to feel obligated to go through with it and then we’re both miserable until someone has the guts to do something about it.” You explained and then frowned, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a dig at you. I think that realistically I would cling to whatever I could…it’s my fear that makes me pretend that I’m callous.” You explained.

“Wow…Therapy is working wonders for you.” he said with a grin and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut the fuck up…”

“I’m not saying it to tease you! I’m happy that you’re getting to know yourself! And to know your worth and your vulnerabilities. It’s admirable.” He said and you smiled softly.

“Thanks.” You hummed and he nodded. “Are you in therapy?”

“No. We did counseling together for a bit, Jules and I. But it didn’t really help. She was too busy with work to do the therapeutic work.” He explained and you hummed in understanding. “I’m really glad you decided to come for this.” Harry added after a few moments of silence between you two.

“Well, thanks. I’m not regretting it yet…” you said with a soft smile.

“A win is a win.” He chuckled and you nodded.

“Exactly.” You hummed.

“Well, I’m going to try and let you sleep. If you need anything ummm, I’m going to be staying in the next room over.”

“For the rest of the time?” You asked and he nodded.

“It’s that bad.” He explained lowly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, I’m really sorry that everything’s going to shit right now.”

“Thank you. And thanks for holding space for me or whatever they say.” He smiled as he clambered off of your bed, “At least we don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Right.” You smiled.

“Get some sleep. We have plans tomorrow.” He said and you groaned and let yourself fall against your pillows. You heard Harry snigger a bit as your door closed quietly.

Day Four:

Despite Harry’s warning to get some rest and your efforts to do just that, you’d had maybe another hour, if that, after he’d gone. At 8am sharp you heard movement in the kitchen and then some knocks at your door.

“Yeah?” You called out and the door creaked open and you saw your mom peek in.

“Hi, hijita. We have plans for today, will you join us?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go.” You assured her and she smiled.

“Bien. We’re leaving at 9:30.” She informed and you nodded in understanding before she left.

After lazing around for a few more minutes you took a quick body shower before getting on some light make up. You got dressed and then headed out to get something to eat with everyone. You greeted your dad and aunt as they helped your mom with breakfast. You were making small talk with them as you moved around them to prepare yourself a cup of coffee.

“Harry! Good morning!” Your aunt exclaimed energetically and you glanced back to see Harry coming in through the sliding doors.

“Morning, everyone!” He greeted with a smile. He was portraying high energy but he still looked tired. His eyes then met yours and lingered for a moment before you got a little nervous and turned back around to finish making your coffee.

“Julie is awake, right?” Your dad asked and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, but actually, she said she’s feeling bad again and is going to stay behind and rest.” He explained.

“By herself?” Your aunt asked and Harry shrugged.

“I told her I’d stay but she insisted we all go. I think she just needs some alone time.” He explained. “But I think she’d appreciate if we check on her before we go.” He said and your mom nodded.

Sure enough, even when your mother had gone over to check on her, Julie declined going on the planned family outing and declined your mom staying to look after her since she was the one who had planned these excursions. So your aunt offered to stay with Julie because was afraid of heights and didn’t want to go on the tram and expressed that she also had no interest in the zoo, unsurprisingly, your sister accepted. So once that was settled the rest of you packed into your parents’ car. You buckled up and then glanced over to Harry who offered a half-smile to you before pulling out his phone. Moments later your phone buzzed and you saw it was a text from him.

Harry: The guy your sister is seeing came here yesterday to meet her.

You glanced over to him with a frown and he smiled slightly.

Y/N: Is that why she stayed behind?

Harry: Yeah. I think she was hoping to get some alone time to see him. She “didn’t know he was going to drive out”. I think that’s who she was talking to when you saw her on the phone.

Y/N: Fuck. Well, lets just have fun today. I’m sure we’ll be able to get our minds off of things!

Harry: I think so too:)

The zoo had been pretty cool. Your mom had been dying to feed the giraffes so when your reservation time came up she was the first one to approach the animals. In truth, it was a very awesome experience. It was certainly something you never thought you’d do in your life, but you were so happy that you experienced it. After a stop for lunch you guys were on your way to the aerial tramway. You were looking forward to seeing the valley from up there. The drive up was beautiful and soon enough you were getting on the bus that would take you to the tram.

“Wow…” you whispered to yourself in awe as you slowly went past the tree line and saw the crazy formations of rocks littering the mountainside. Your mom and dad were cozied up beside each other on the other side of the tram. The slow rotation of the inside floor allowed you to see all of your surroundings. But then your attention veered from the scenery as Harry’s familiar scent invaded your personal space. You glanced to your side and there he was, standing right beside you. He looked a little apprehensive.

“Sorry for the proximity. Heights make me a little nervous and I get a little vertigo if I look down. I wasn’t about to go brush up against either of your parents for comfort, you know?” He explained lowly and you giggled.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Thanks.” He hummed as he scooted just a bit closer. Close enough that his arm was brushing against yours. “You seem to be enjoying this.”

“I am.” You smiled.

“You don’t worry that the cable might snap or something and we all just… you know?” He asked and you turned to him with a furrowed brow.

“Jesus…that’s fucking dark…” You scoffed through a laugh and he chuckled a bit.

“It’s a real anxious thought I have!” He defended.

“I’m not judging. Believe me, I know about dark.” You said as the smile faded from your lips.

“I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.” He said when he felt your mood shift.

“It’s alright, it wasn’t you. It was my brain. It’ll pass.” You assured him with a small smile.

You saw Harry reach for the handrail and squeeze around it and glance up to see him squeeze his eyes closed for a moment.

“You alright?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah, I just ummm looked down for a second there.” He explained and then opened his eyes again. “I just wanted to see the view, it is breathtaking.” He said as he just kept his eye line level as he glanced around.

“It is. But I’m sure it doesn’t help that this thing is rotating.” You said and he groaned.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbled through a smile.

“Well, we’re almost to the top.” You reassured him.

“Thank fuck.” He hummed lowly. “Your mom picked a good time, we’re gonna get to see the sunset from the top.” He said.

“Do you wish my sister were here?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Yes and no.” he said, “Yes, because I’d have someone’s hand to hold on this tram. And no, because I know she’d rather be here with someone else.” He said and you frowned. It was instinctive when you reached out and placed your hand over his on the rail. You gave him a reassuring squeeze before letting go and sliding it back in front of your own body. Your grip tightened as a nervous feeling made your stomach feel like it was swirling.

“Sorry.” You said quickly as your eyes met his.

“Don’t be.” He assured you and moments later you felt the warmth of his hand right beside yours as he closed the gap on the railing between your hands. You glanced down at the sides of your hands pressed together and then up at him. His eyes were already prepared to meet your gaze and when they did, you felt that swirling in your tummy again. Those butterflies starting to stir awake. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.” He assured and you nodded and quickly looked away.

Were you? In a way, yes, you wanted to comfort him because he too was going through a hardship. But at the same time you felt nervous about it. You couldn’t say that you didn’t find Harry attractive or charming. You were afraid that you were suddenly noticing this more than usual because of your current romantic turmoil. His immediate instinct to check in on you, to notice and care about your feelings. To be vulnerable with you and provide you the safety to be able to do the same. And then what you walked in on, on that first day at the house…that was definitely a contributing factor to why you were suddenly more aware of him as a person. As a man…

You were more than grateful when the tram ride came to an end just seconds later. You quickly got out and he followed behind you until you went up to the edge of the observation deck, that was just a little too out of his comfort zone so he hung back. You put your hands on the railing and just took a slow but shaky inhale. It was significantly colder at this peak of the mountain so it kind of burned your throat to breathe that deeply but that sobered up your mind that was all fuzzy from Harry’s scent and words and existence in general. Your heard your mother approaching with your dad following behind, telling her to slow down.

“Are you okay?” She asked you as she came up beside you and you nodded and smiled.

“Yeah, I was just admiring the view. It’s incredible. Thank you for planning this.” You said to her with a smile before turning back to see the valley before you. You then went into the museum and ate away at your time there with photos and the gift shop until it was nearing dinner time.

The sun was setting beautifully and you just needed to get back to the viewing deck and take it all in. Despite the overarching theme of tragedy in your life for the last several months, in that very moment you realized how insignificant you and your problems were in the grand scheme of things. Things could be much worse. You had what you needed; your life, your health, your family and friends. After getting a few pictures taken with your parents by Harry from a comfortable distance you were all heading inside to the restaurant for your dinner reservation.

You were doing what you could to avoid having to focus too much of your attention on Harry but it was difficult. He was practically spellbinding. He was charming and funny and a gesticulative story teller so it was hard to not engage with him. But every time you looked in his eyes there they were again, those pesky little butterflies, some good and other not so good. They were a reminder that despite the excitement of being with someone that you got along with after so much time alone, you weren’t ready. The proof was in the fact that you were fighting off a crush on your brother in law! How much more twisted and pathetic could a person be? You were on your second cocktail by the time the appetizer showed up and your lack of appetite throughout the day was starting to pay off. You had gotten to the point where your lips felt tingly and your worries were soon to float away.

Making eye contact with Harry wasn’t as scary any more. Because it was just the four of you, you could get away with constantly looking at each other. You weren’t even being flirtatious about it, you were just admiring him. You admired how good he was at masking everything. All of the hurt he was in. All of the anger and disappointment that you knew were weighing over him like a ton of bricks.

Your phone chiming loudly from your purse broke you out of your spell of admiration. And then it went off again. And again. And again. And again. Your family and the patrons at the neighboring tables all honed in on you as you frantically reached for your purse while giving apologetic glances to the strangers.

“Sorry.” You muttered to your family with a smile. You had a strict “no phones allowed” rule when eating out together. You had every intention of just putting it on silent and just checking the texts later, you were just really enjoying yourself! But when you saw your ex’s name on the screen, the rose tinted haze that you’d been seeing things with for the past fifteen minutes instantly vanished. Your stomach did a nasty flip that had you wishing you’d slowed down. You needed to open your phone to see what he said, not being able to see it had your anxiety through the roof. Then your phone pinged again with a sixth message and you just stood up and hurried out to the viewing deck.

*** Harry’s POV ***

Harry could not stop thinking about you. Admittedly, the thoughts had started when he saw your profile on a dating app. Not on his phone, on a friend’s phone, he recognized her from his and Julie’s wedding party and had asked if it really was her. He looked through it and was smiling by the end of it. If he ever ran into your ex he would kick their ass for leaving you hanging like that. He had truly hoped that you would come for Christmas and was so happy that you had in fact shown up.

You were gorgeous, you’d always been. And maybe it was because of his emotional distance from Julie over the last several months that he just decided to lean into the attraction he felt towards you. Admittedly, it was stupid of him to have a wank without fully closing the bathroom door but he couldn’t help but be a little thrilled that you had crashed it. To him it felt like this little secret you shared now had you on a new level of comfort and trust.

Today, when you touched his hand on the tram he felt that long forgotten zap of excitement electrifying him. Julie wanted nothing to do with him, she was in love with another man for their entire relationship, so he didn’t feel too bad of indulging in a little betrayal himself. He could see that you viewed him in another way too but you were fighting it. He saw how it scared you and quite frankly, it scared him too. But feeling the things and actually doing something about the feelings were two very different things. In this situation there was a double safety. His flirting was safe because he wouldn’t do more than that and your acceptance of his minor flirtations was also safe because he knew that you wouldn’t act on it. Once you were a little more loose from your drinks your fear eluded you and he was very much enjoying that and then your phone interrupted everything. It had been nearly ten minutes since you’d left with your phone and he and your parents were feeling a little worried. The food would come any minute.

“I think it’s time I go check on her. Make sure she’s okay.” Harry said. Your dad nodded and he rushed out onto the viewing deck. He looked around and then heard your voice from somewhere. He glanced up and saw that there was another level. He hurried up and then heard you speaking angrily into your phone before hanging up. You were standing right up against the railing, it was freezing outside so there wasn’t anyone up there with you. He quietly made his way over but the closer he got to the railing the harder his heart would pound. He hesitated but the sound of you sobbing gave him the courage to walk the rest of the distance to you.

*** Y/N’s POV ***

“How fucking dare you!? You can’t just call me and tell me that after everything I endured! You don’t deserve me.” You seethed as hot tears ran down your face. You were practically trembling from how angry you felt. “Fuck you, Ash! Never, ever fucking call me again! Bye!” You shouted before hanging up and blocking the number. Your chest was heaving from how hard you were breathing. And when the adrenaline wore off you felt so fucking heavy and just started to sob quietly at first, but soon it just came out of you. You were afraid that maybe you’d made a huge mistake, maybe reconciliation was possible…and just when you were about to unblock Ash’s number…

“Y/N?” Harry called and you gasped as you whipped around quickly. Your fright dispersed when you saw his familiar frame approaching.

“It was Ash.” You explained as he stopped before you. “Just drunk and trying to get me back after all this time…The fucking gall to ask if we can start over!” you exclaimed angrily through your tears. Your head was shaking in disbelief.

“Jesus.” He sighed and you sniffled and nodded.

“Right? Like what the fuck?!” You scoffed and then exhaled sharply. He saw you shivering and pulled off his jacket to drape over you. “You don’t have to. It’s freezing up here.” You assured him.

“I’m alright.” He reassured you. “C’mere.” He instructed and he opened his arms for you. You easily stepped forward into his space to allow him to hug you, “Fuck that loser. Doesn’t deserve you.” He comforted you.

“I know.” You said quietly as you allowed your head to lay against his chest.

“Good.” He said supportively as he slowly rubbed over your back. When he looked up he realized that he was on the ledge of of the viewing deck and the view was completely breathtaking. It was even more magical now that the sun was nearly gone. The lights from the cities in the valley were shimmering enticingly in the distance. “Look how beautiful that is.” He said to you and you moved your head to look ahead of you and hummed. “Makes me wish I could fly.” He said lowly and you smiled.

“It really does…” you agreed. “I’m surprised you came up to the edge.” You added teasingly. He smiled and squeezed you just a bit.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” He explained softly and you slowly pulled away.

“Thank you.” You expressed as you glanced up at him.

“Of course.” He smiled at you.

“It’s just… hard to talk about all of this with my family because they start to interject and give their opinions on what could’ve been done better and ugh…sometimes people are just shitty, you know? Regardless of what you do, nothing will change that!” You huffed in exasperation. Just thinking about the typical responses they would give you had you feeling a little heated. “Anyway…” you mumbled with a slightly flustered smile from your little outburst, but Harry was just smirking at you. It made your heart start pounding harder as you held the eye contact between you two for a few seconds. “We should get back inside.”

“Yeah, the food was just about to come.” He informed and you nodded and followed him back into the building.

The food and the company were both excellent. You were more than grateful that your parents didn’t try and question you about anything. You were huddled up against your parents for the tram ride down because it was freezing cold, though you really wanted to be huddled up against Harry. You knew that he’d allow it and that made you feel really pleased with yourself. The whole way back to the Airbnb you two were texting nonstop, exchanging glances every now and again, to the point where the tension was building. You weren’t even talking about anything inappropriate, it was just the energy of the quick closeness that had grown between you two. Upon arriving at the house Harry went and “checked on Julie”, which really was to shower and get ready for bed before heading to the main house to sleep. You expected to hear them argue or something but there was complete silence.

You plopped onto the center of the bed and pulled out your phone to waste time on Instagram and saw that your sister had recently posted a story. When you clicked on it you saw three cocktails clinking, your aunt was tagged and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. Seconds later Harry texted you to tell you that she was gone and you told him to check instagram and didn’t hear back for a while until there were soft knocks on your door. By then you were cuddled up in bed, propped up on the pillows, and watching Home Alone on the TV.

“Come in!” You spoke towards the door and when it creaked open you saw it was Harry.

“Would you mind some company?” He asked and you smiled.

“Absolutely not.” You assured and he hurried in, closing the door behind him before sliding into the empty side of the bed. As he was getting comfy he yelped when his foot accidentally touched yours.

“Jesus! So fucking cold!” He chuckled.

“Feel my hands.” You said as you reached over blindly because he was under the covers after all. Your hand found his and he gasped.

“Like a fucking corpse…” he grumbled and you chuckled and glanced at him briefly before turning back to the TV. But soon your attention was drawn back to Harry as he brought your hand up to his mouth and gently blew his warm breath over your open palm and then clasped it between his hands. “Giving you some warmth.” He explained, “Is that okay?” He asked and you nodded silently.

There it was again, that tension, building up some more. And like air in a balloon, it could only hold so much before it had to burst. His eyes glanced down to your mouth and you did the same to his. If he went for it right in this moment, you’d let him kiss you. Easily. You were covered in goosebumps from the anticipation. And then your eyes met again and you saw the conflict in them. That also made you hesitate and slowly, the burning in you started to fizzle.

“Sorry. Ummm…”

“Don’t be. You’re right to doubt! This could be so fucking messy. It’s stupid to even…like, no! We’re fucking stupid for this, Harry.” You chuckled through your disbelief at what you were about to do.

“I know…but that doesn’t take away the desire to.” He said and you sighed.

“I know! But we need to fucking…find it because I don’t want to lose you.” You explained with a hint of desperation in your tone and an earnest look in your eyes. Harry didn’t want to lose you either, so he just nodded and turned his focus to the TV. Your hand was still in his, being kept warm as he’d said. And you did feel warm with him. So fucking warm…

“Thanks.” You whispered to him and he turned and smiled before focusing back on the TV.

Part Two...

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serafilms · 9 months ago

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FIRST DATE, KINDA NERVOUS

part 2 of the golden quartet

art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader

summary: the story of your first kiss with art donaldson in a hotel room, and your first date in a diner. cute, fluffy, healthy, a tiny bit suggestive but not really. group polyamory dynamics hinted at. (play: so high school by taylor swift). wc: 3.5k

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “They’re cute, they seem nice, and your backhand is like, a million times stronger than theirs, so I reckon you could take them in a fight.”

“What, you wouldn’t help?”

“Please. I’m too weak for that,” you said, shaking your wrist limply in Tashi’s face.

She rolled her eyes at you and pushed it out of the way. “Whatever, fine. We’re going.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. After showering, the straight hair from the party had disappeared, giving way to her natural waves. You always thought she looked prettier this way. Softer, somehow.

“Yay,” you said simply. “But just remember that my parents placed my safety and care in your hands, so if we get, like, murdered or something—”

“Oh, shut up,” Tashi groaned, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth, “you were just endorsing them.”

“Yeah, well. I’m indecisive.”

The smile that slowly spread across Tashi’s face told you all you needed to know. Ten seconds later you had grabbed and shrugged on your jacket and the two of you were climbing your way out of her bedroom window.

Now, you’re sitting on the floor of a hotel room, Tashi on your left and Art on your right, Patrick laying comfortably across from you, propped up by his elbows.

The beer in your hand is pretty shitty, which is a fact you find odd considering you can only assume it was either stolen from one of their parents, or paid for using a bribe, and in both of those cases, wouldn’t the beer be better?

But maybe that’s not what you should be focusing on right now, you think, as Patrick leans forwards to take it from your hand. His fingers brush yours as the can crosses over. For the last hour or so, the four of you have gone through eleven cans of beer, each consumed one at a time, being passed around like a bong.

Your eyes linger on the way Patrick’s mouth engulfs the opening of the can, right where yours had just been, and the way he passes it right to Tashi, who does the same as she takes a sip. The flush of heat in your face and belly are hard to ignore, and you’re not too sure how much of it can be attributed to the alcohol.

There’s a stutter in your chest as Art nudges you with his elbow. “So what are you planning on majoring in?”

His cheeks and ears also look flushed, but you think that might just be a consequence of the story Patrick told earlier. It was a sweet story; you assured the boy next to you of that when he’d buried his face in his hands, but he still seemed a little perturbed.

It was a sweet story though, you muse. Tashi said that they seemed like brothers, but you thought they seemed like they were an old married couple.

You’re brought back out of your thoughts as Tashi hands you the beer. “Oh, um. I’m not too set on anything yet, but I think maybe journalism.”

Patrick lets out a whistle. “What, not physiotherapy or sports medicine?”

You shrug, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Just because I was a tennis player doesn’t mean it’s my whole personality.”

Immediately, you wince. Wrong place, wrong time. You steal a quick glance at Tashi, but she seems unaffected. Right. It’s Tashi. The last thing she feels is insecure. She simply looks at you.

But for good measure, you add, “I mean, I can still do sports news, or something.”

Against the better judgement of your burning stomach and your sluggish thoughts, you take another swig and then pass the can to Art.

“Journalism suits you,” he comments quietly as he takes it. You give him a small smile. He takes a small sip of the beer, and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he swallows.

“I need some ice,” announces Tashi. She rises from her position on the floor.

Patrick wastes no time in scrambling up too. “I’ll come with!”

Tashi gives you a look like she’s exasperated, but you know better from the way she waits for Patrick to grab his key and open the door for her. She doesn’t look back as she walks out, but Patrick calls out a teasing, “See you guys later,” before the door closes fully.

When you turn your head towards Art, you see that he’s looking right at you.

“You sure do that a lot,” you mumble.

He smiles in a way that seems endeared and a little confused. “What?”

“Stare.”

“Sorry, I just—”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice. I- I, uh.” Your thoughts are racing, everywhere and nowhere all at once, as you struggle to find the words. The way Art looks at you sends a buzz of something in your abdomen, and your mind becomes all the more scrambled. “I need to stand up.”

You stand quickly, maybe too quickly, and immediately stumble.

“Whoa, you okay?” Art’s quick to jump to his feet. His hands find their place on either side of your waist to steady you. Now you really can’t focus.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “I think I should sit down instead.”

You’re very aware of the fact that his hand stays on your waist as you bumble over to the edge of the bed and take a seat.

There’s a pang of disappointment when his hand leaves your waist, and another when he stands unsurely in front of you. You pat the spot next to you.

“Sit. Please.”

He complies. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, he’s much closer than when you were sitting on the floor together. You fiddle with your hands and steal glances at him every now and then.

“I wanted to ask you,” Art breaks the silence, “do you ever miss it?”

You don’t need to ask what he means by ‘it.’

There’s a moment where you gaze off, eyes wandering towards the door, before they return to the boy next to you and you shake your head.

“I don’t, not really.” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought. “It was fun for a while, and I liked being good at something, but I think I just fell out of love with it after a while. Like my whole life became just tennis, and thinking about a future in tennis. If I’m being honest, the injury was like a miracle to me.”

Art looks thoughtful at that. “What’s so wrong with a life of tennis?”

“Well. I mean, nothing, I guess. It just took a lot more time and effort than I would’ve liked. And there’s all the things I had to give up for it.”

He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue, so you do. “Cheeseburgers, sleeping in. Love.”

The bed dips closer to you as he shuffles a little closer. It prompts you to look back up at him.

The curls on his forehead hang low, just over his eyes. His hand rests just next to your thigh, and he rests his weight on it to lean just a bit closer. “You don’t think you can be in love and play tennis at the same time?”

Art’s presence has a magnetic effect on you. There’s a gravitational pull that has you angling your body towards him and moving ever so slightly closer to him.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

His eyes dart down to your lips. It’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you do the same. You can almost feel the warmth of his exhale as your faces draw closer and closer.

“Can I?” Art whispers.

“Please,” you respond.

His hand comes off the bed to rest on your cheek, and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, gentle, but there’s an urgency in the way his tongue teases the entrance of your lips, and the way he moves even closer towards you, almost as if he’s chasing you.

Your hands find themselves at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand moves to rest on your waist. Then your thigh. You let out a hum as your stomach does a little leap. Then, he pulls away for a fraction of a second to take you in, before his lips are on yours again. It’s electric, when he tilts his head slightly to the other side, when the hand on your cheek slides down to your jaw to bring you closer, when you hear a low groan in the base of his throat as his hand slides to the inner part of your thigh.

Then you hear the key at the door, and you both jump apart.

Tashi has a cup of ice water in her hand when she surveys the scene in front of her.

Your bodies are still angled suspiciously towards each other and your hands both rest awkwardly in your laps. Little is left to the imagination. You can still feel the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart when Patrick raises his eyebrows at the two of you, a grin on his face.

“So,” he begins, “what have you guys been up to?”

Art and you speak at the same time. “Oh, you know, nothing much.” “Just chilling.”

Tashi’s face is thoughtful, as she looks at you and her lips quirk up in a smile. She nods her head to the door behind her. “Well, it’s late. We should go.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between the three people in the room. Slowly, you stand, giving Art an awkward kind of smile as you brush past him.

“Wait,” Patrick exclaims, “can I get your phone number?”

She shrugs back at him, holding the door open. “Play some real tennis tomorrow, and then I’ll give you my number.”

“So like, if I win?”

“You don’t have to win to play well.”

You’re not sure where this leaves you and Art in the mix, but Tashi is looking at you expectantly from the doorway, and you fear you don’t have the time to decide now. With an apologetic look and a wave, you mutter, “See you guys,” and then you’re out the door.

In the end, Patrick does win. He gives a flourishing bow as Tashi shrugs and applauds him. She turns to whisper something in your ear, but the words make no contact with your thoughts. As Art looks dejectedly at his racket, then at his best friend across the court, you stand abruptly. Tashi looks at you, bewildered.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, I was—”

Whatever her next words are, they die in her throat as she sighs and watches you thread your way through the stands and go down the stairs to the side of the court.

“Hey!” you call out. Art’s head perks up and his eyes search for the source of the sound until they land on you. He jogs to meet you.

“Hi.”

“Um,” you say, feeling suddenly like your foot has been shoved into your mouth, “you did really well.”

Art looks at you deadpan, but a smile starts to show in his eyes. “I lost.”

“Still, you were really good.” Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you start to regret coming over so hastily without planning what to say.

“Well, thanks. Really. It means a lot coming from you.” Looking back up, you see him scratching the back of his head nervously. It’s an odd look, considering he’s also drenched in sweat, and his glistening skin makes him look even more nervous than he is. “Look, uh. I know we didn’t make a deal or anything, but do you think I could get your number?”

Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake. “Yeah, I think I could make that happen.”

SIX WEEKS LATER.

God, you’re stressed right now. The hem of your top has fallen victim to your incessant fiddling as you tug at it, scrunch it up, release it and repeat.

“You’re acting like it’s your first date ever,” Tashi says, rolling her eyes. There’s a smile playing at her lips that tells you she isn’t trying to be as mean as she sounds.

“He’s cute, okay? I’m nervous.”

Tashi comes up behind you and you meet her eyes in the mirror. A shiver runs down your spine as she tugs at the collar of your jacket, knuckles brushing your neck in the process.

“You should take this off.”

“What? Why?” You stare at her reflection. “I know it’s still summer, but it’s nighttime, so like…” Her deadpan expression has you trailing off. “What?”

“You can wear his jacket instead.”

There’s a hollow silence as your mouth forms an ‘o’. Your fingers move to tug at the sleeves of the jacket, gaze averted from hers for a moment.

“You think he’ll offer?”

Another eye roll. “The guy’s like, obsessed with you. Of course he’ll offer. Doesn’t hurt to throw in a little shiver either.”

“What if he’s not wearing a jacket?”

“Oh, he’s wearing a jacket.” She waves her cell phone in your face. “Patrick texted me an update.”

You grin and shrug off the jacket as you turn to face her. “Who knew Tashi Duncan was such a sucker for clichés?”

“I’m just trying to make sure your date goes well,” Tashi scoffs as she snatches the jacket from your hands. “You’re the one who swoons every time you watch a romcom.”

She’s right about that one.

Tashi smacks her lips as she hangs your jacket back up in your closet. “I still don’t get why you’re so nervous. I thought we broke all the ice at the hotel.”

“Well, I can still be nervous. Just because you and Patrick had sex two weeks ago doesn’t mean I have to be as confident.”

She sighs because you’re right. Tonight is your first date. With Art. Not your first date ever. But you sure do feel nervous enough to pretend it is.

You and Art have been texting nonstop for the last six weeks, but between the odd part time jobs you’ve picked up over the summer and his tennis training, you haven’t had any time to hang out, unless your best friends who managed to squeeze in their first date, first time and first sleepover together all in one go. But Tashi and Patrick are much more go getter than you.

Tashi didn’t give you shit for your lack of fervour in pursuing whatever relationship you and Art had, but you still felt a little perturbed when she called you the day after her night with Patrick, and told you that he’d asked about you guys.

(“Does he not talk to Art about it?” you asked.

“He said Art’s happy, but he wanted to know how things were going on your end. Since you guys have only been texting.”)

So now you feel pressured. Like somehow your relationship is linked to Patrick and Tashi. Like they’re waiting for you guys to catch up.

But you don’t say any of that. Because you want things to go at your own pace, you keep quiet. Because you don’t want to speak it into existence, even if Tashi will roll her eyes and call you ridiculous for it because she knows your life is yours and hers is hers, despite the way she keeps trying to push you in certain directions.

When the doorbell inevitably rings, you and Tashi exchange looks. She gives you a nod. It’s more firm than comforting, like she’s sending you off to play at Wimbledon and she knows you’re going to win.

Your parents aren’t home for the next few days, which is why you strategically planned your date for tonight, because God forbid they use their last few weeks with you living under their roof to embarrass you in front of a guy. You almost expect Tashi to answer the door for you as if she’s your mother, but instead, she shoves your bag in your chest, says, “I’m using your shampoo and eating all your snacks,” and pushes you out of the bedroom door, then closes it.

One last check in the nearest reflective surface, and you’re ready.

Art is dressed casually, like you, in jeans and a polo. Tashi was right in saying that he would wear a jacket. In the light of your front porch, he looks especially gentle, the warm light threading through his hair like a halo.

The smile that lights up his face when you open the door has the potential to end your whole bloodline, you swear. The way your heart rate picks up feels like some kind of fight or flight response, but you’re willing to ignore it all for him.

“Hey,” he says. His voice has a comforting cadence, you think. It’s been six weeks since you’ve last heard it, since you were always too scared to call him. But it’s a sound like coming home.

“Hi,” you speak softly.

There’s a bouquet in his hands, which he holds out to you, one hand tucked in his jeans. “I brought these for you.”

You take them gingerly, trying to fight the grin that threatens to split your face in half. He’s so cute. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

You put them on the table just inside. Tashi will eventually make her way downstairs and put them in some water for you. Closing the door, you turn back to Art, who holds his hand out to you. It’s such a strangely innocent gesture that you almost catch yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Shall we?”

You take it, grinning like a madman. “We shall.”

“I never got to hear what you want to major in.” The fry in your hand is currently being waved around as though you’re conducting an orchestra.

“Oh. I don’t know,” Art averts his eyes to his plate. “I haven’t thought about it much.”

“I won’t judge,” you prompt gently.

He looks contemplative, and wets his bottom lip with his tongue briefly before looking up at you. “Okay.”

“Okay…” You gesture your fry towards him.

“You promise you won’t judge?” He asks, bobbing his head questioningly at you

You lean towards the table with your hand over your heart. “I swear it.”

“Physics. Or engineering.”

Sitting back in your seat, you survey him.

“That suits you,” you say genuinely. After you’ve said the words, you’re reminded all too well of the night in the hotel room again, and your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” Art says, gazing at you. “Patrick says that too, before he calls me a loser.”

“I’m guessing you’re more studious than he is.”

“You’d be right.”

Another sip of your milkshake. “I think it’s cool. Maybe we’ll even have some classes together.”

Art smiles his eye-crinkling smile across the table. “Yeah, maybe we will.”

You don’t even need to pretend to shiver. The second you’ve stepped out of the restaurant, Art’s jacket is slipped onto your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells faintly like sandalwood mixed with laundry detergent. You resist the urge to inhale the collar. Instead you smile shyly, and take his hand. There’s a knot forming in your chest at the thought of the night being over, but when the two of you reach his car, Art doesn’t take out his keys. He turns and leans against the side of his car, hand still entwined with your own.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says simply.

Your lips quirk up in amusement. “So did I.”

He hums. Your hands are swung from side to side as he looks down at them. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you step closer.

“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. You know what he’s thinking about.

He looks down at you, and does a one shoulder shrug. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”

Your heart stops and gets jumpstarted again in the span of about six milliseconds. God. You knew it was coming, but you still couldn’t prepare yourself.

“Not asking anymore, are we?” You grin, chest thumping like crazy.

“Oh, come on.” With a tug on your hand, you’re pulled flush against him, chest to chest.

Art leans in to your ear, and whispers as if divulging a well-kept secret. “May I please kiss you?”

The tickle of his breath over your jaw sends a zap of electricity through every single nerve in your body. Your breath hitches. “You may.”

You’re not sure you’ll ever get sick of Art Donaldson’s smile. The curve of his mouth as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours before your lips meet.

Your computer pings.

Patrick Zweig sent you a friend request.

You raise an eyebrow and hit ‘accept.’

A minute later, there’s another notification.

Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. “Congratulations on a successful first date with @Art Donaldson! 😘”.

#challengers #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers imagines #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #mike faist #josh o'connor #zendaya #written works !

1K notes · View notes

qierxing · 10 months ago

Text

Head empty just yandere Heartslabyul as your imperial harem members

yan!poly!Heartslabyul x Reader

tw/cw: dub//con, gender-neutral reader but referred with masculine terms, drugging, manipulation, implied somnophilia, political machinations

—

you were raised with the expectation that you would shoulder the crown and rule over your people, justly and fairly. because of that, by the time you were crowned, your mindset compared to others your age was mature beyond what was considered normal.

you would be lying if you weren't bitter. Although you've long accepted that no one else could be trusted to rule this land and its people, you often wondered what your life would be like if there were no etiquette lessons and sword practices consuming your childhood.

In the end, it's all foolish dreams. You sit on your glittering golden throne and watch apathetically as the imperial court cheers and raises a toast to the new royal blood.

You were prepared for the responsibilities of a monarch, but what you weren't prepared for was your vassals' obnoxious nagging.

Your kingdom's tradition and laws have long allowed for polygamy, and your previous ancestors were known for their large harems. That day, you finally learned why: to ensure that royal blood would still be carried on, no matter what.

it's distasteful to you. you try to ignore your vassals all talking your ears off about potential consorts and lovers. but it's only so long before you crack.

Riddle Rosehearts was the first one to be by your side.

Not by choice. Duchess Rosehearts was the one who brought up her darling son to your vassals first, who then presented him to you. You would've turned them away, if not for the boy's eyes. Something in those stormy gray eyes makes your heart ache. His mother clutches her son's shoulder in a vice like grip that goes far beyond parental worry. Perhaps he too knows what it feels like to have no control over his life.

And so reluctantly, you let him join you as a consort.

It's not bad. Rather, he's so intelligent and diligent that you often ask him for help and advice on the kingdom's affairs, knowing that his strictness with himself and others provides a valuable impartial view that you can hardly find anywhere else. Besides, even if he is too stiff and formal at times, you appreciate his aid in paperwork that threatens to drown you.

in fact, he's so dedicated to carrying out his duty, that you find him nearly unrobed on your bed. Seven above, that nearly gave you heart palpitations. As attractive as he is, you have no intention of forcing the boy to give up his virginity against his will, even if he is married to you.

you explain this to him as patiently as you can, even when his face scrunches up in hurt and confusion, asking if he wasn't enough–but you shut that down immediately. He is more than enough, and he isn't obligated to do anything he doesn't want to, even if his mother taught him otherwise. the revelation shakes his mind, causing his walls and views to crumble before him in the following days. you would like to think he became less stiff as he realized his true worth.

That is when an unexpected addition to your harem happened.

Actually, it was completely by accident. Your servants had often brought you various snacks and sweets during your work, as you were infamous for being extremely cranky without the motivation of good food. When Riddle, of all people, brings you a strawberry tart while you’re in the middle of some particularly grueling financial budget papers, it gives you pause.

It's not that you didn't trust him. It’s just…this is the boy who refused to eat more than the healthy amount of sugar. Even if you offered him various pastries and cookies, he always shunned them, saying it wouldn’t be right for him to consume them.

So you spear a fork into the tart and bring it up to your mouth. When the bite meets your tongue, you swear your soul ascends to heaven. The taste is absolutely indescribable: the crust was flaky and light and the filling was sweet and creamy. This has got to be the best dessert you’ve ever tasted in your short life.

When you inquire Riddle about where he had gotten his hands on the tart, he shyly looks away from you and mumbles something under his breath. Not wanting to pressure him, you decide to let it go with a request to send your highest compliments to the patisserie.

Since then, he is the one bringing you various treats, all unbelievably delicious tasting, each time you’re stuck among paperwork and meetings. You’re grateful, even if it does make you wonder who this mysterious patisserie is. You’re not particularly familiar with every kitchen staff member, but you would think that you would be aware of such talent residing in your walls.

The truth finally comes to light when Riddle bursts into your office one day, in tears and hyperventilating, as he collapses in your arms. Alarmed, you quickly try to make sense of his babbling words.

It turns out that the very patisserie wasn’t in your kitchens, as you thought. No, they were humble commoner folk who ran a modest bakery in the shopping district. Riddle had been secretly visiting the bakery whenever he had the time to buy their desserts and to visit his friend, the owner’s son. Problem is, his mother had found out and was furious that her son would debase himself and his reputation like that.

Trey Clover stands behind his parents with wide, frightened eyes as Duchess Rosehearts shrieks on about how she’ll shut down the establishment herself for daring to corrupt her son and so forth. It’s rather annoying that she would go this far in the name of parental love–thankfully she stops screaming once she catches sight of you.

For once, you’re thankful for the absolute authority of imperial power. Duchess Rosehearts begrudgingly draws back when you block her attempt to defame the bakery. With a disappointed glare searing over the rest of you, she storms out of the bakery, door slamming shut behind her with a deafening crack.

You watch with mild interest as Riddle rushes forward and envelopes Trey in a tight hug that nearly knocks the tall man over. Despite the fact that Trey should be the one more distraught, he comforts Riddle with an ease that is almost suspiciously, dare you say, reminiscent of fondness. You look away before your thoughts dwell on it for too long.

Of course, it’s not all over. Trey’s parents kowtow at your feet with desperate gratitude, even if you beg them to stand up and raise their heads. As you glance over at Riddle in Trey’s arms, thoughts begin to arrange themselves into a proposal.

You and Riddle both know that Duchess Rosehearts would not stop here. Your presence was only a mere temporary hurdle in her plans to bring down Clover Patisserie, and there was no telling what she would do next. So, you propose something nearly unheard of to them.

Your vassals will throw an absolute fit if you openly sponsor their bakery and provide protection without something in exchange. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but this is the only way that Trey and his family would be safe.

Surprisingly, he accepts the proposal with grace, becoming the second consort of your harem that very day.

He inquires if there’s anything he should be aware of for his duties, making you laugh raucously and Riddle blush to the roots of his strawberry hair. You wave him off, telling him he only needs to do the things he loves and to bring you more of those tarts that cured your stress during your work times. The smile he gives is radiant and you wonder how it is that Riddle managed to find someone who makes the sun pale in comparison.

The next day, Riddle tells you between paperwork that he gifted Trey his own kitchen to bake and cook, and you nod in approval. It’s too easy to tease him over his obvious favoritism toward the baker, and it only makes you want to bully him more when his face becomes tomato red.

The annual royal banquet comes up and it dawns on both you and Riddle that Trey will have to present himself to the feral noble masses who are itching to know who this new addition is. The three of you are thrown into a hurricane of preparations, not just for the banquet, but to prepare poor Trey, who has never attended such an elite event, for the troubles ahead.

It’s certainly not for naught, you think, as you rake your eyes over your consorts. Their beauty outshines everything, in your personal opinion. When you make the introductory speech, you’re well aware that the audience in front of you is not just dazzled by you, but rather the two handsome men dutifully hovering behind you.

You hope that Riddle is enough of a buffer when the nobles inevitably swarm them with excited and curious eyes. As much as you would like to help, you were stuck with your own battles of greeting various guests and entertaining those who were trying to butter you up.

The Diamond family catches your eye first.

It wasn't something positive, per say. But it is quite hilarious as the Marquis introduces you to his family: his wife, his two elder daughters and his only heir and son–only to find the aforementioned son missing. He’s left stuttering in shame even if you don’t particularly mind. It would’ve just been another boring greeting, but at that moment, his eyes dilates in fear, and when you follow his gaze, you see why.

Cater Diamond is currently flirting with Trey. And very openly, at that.

The sight should make you furious, and yet you nearly burst out laughing. How could there be anyone this daring? Surely the young man would know better than to try hitting on an imperial escort–if he was aware that is, of the man being one.

You decide to be the merciful mediator, because Riddle is nearly about to blow a gasket by Trey’s side and Trey looks like he’s too flustered to appropriately reject the advances of the eldest Diamond son.

“Lord Diamond, I do believe your father is looking for you.” His face is full of surprise at the image of you grinning at him in amusement when you gently break the awkward atmosphere.

After he leaves in a hurry, your two consorts apologize profusely for letting the flirtations happen. You reassure them that it was fine, that whatever they liked to do was not meant to be dictated under your actions. However, their faces still remain guilty and dismayed, as though you had reprimanded them instead.

The encounter remains in your mind as an entertaining memory. So much so, that when your vassals pester you again on adding another member to your harem, your mind immediately goes to sparkling jade green eyes and vivid orange hair.

If anything it was on a whim. Of course, you consulted both Trey and Riddle before sending the invitation, and they both agreed, even if Riddle looked much grumpier than usual. You hardly believed that the proposal would be answered favorably; after all, you’ve learned from recent gossip that Cater Diamond was a rather well known playboy. You doubt that kind of man would enjoy being tied to an imperial harem, even if it was under your lax control.

Perhaps that is why it’s so surprising that when he finally is in front of you, he acquiesces to your proposal with no hesitation at all. You ask in disbelief if he was sure of his decision, and he affirms it with no distaste in his voice. He notes your incredulous face, giving a cheeky grin in response.

Apparently he's been wanting to separate himself from his family for a while. The reason for his scandalous affairs were only attempts at getting his family to send him away, but he never succeeded. He says that your proposition finally gave him the freedom to be away from his family. While you don't want to pry further, it confuses you on how the Diamond family managed to raise such an eccentric young man.

Regardless, he becomes the third member of your harem. There were some small tensions between him and Riddle, but thankfully they resolved rather quicker than you expected–it seems that although Cater acted rather laid back, he has skills in organization and networking that even Riddle had to begrudgingly acknowledge. Ask him on the most recent gossip on the nobles and he's sure to provide you a list alphabetized on the latest trends around the capitol. Besides, it seems him and Trey get along quite well—too well, in a way. You don’t think you’ve seen a pair more prone to exchanging sensual, fleeting touches. Well, that’s not your problem.

You pray that nothing more eventful comes up in the meantime. Trey could only supply you with so much cake and cookies before you simply keeled over from sugar intake.

It seems the Seven were not on your side.

The Knights' jousting tournament was something that slipped your mind. When it gets brought up on the agenda in a meeting you silently curse. In the racket of you ascending to the throne and tending to your harem, you had neglected a big aspect to your royal life.

Personal guards. Normally, you should've had personally assigned soldiers that would accompany you for protection, but you've kept putting it off since you were able to protect yourself just fine with your abilities. And hiring new people, for any reason, was always going to be a long chore of vetting, paperwork, and tests.

The worst part is that Riddle and Trey joined in on the nagging. Going on about how they worried for your safety as if you weren't already trained in self defense and swordplay since your childhood days. Cater just shrugs when you look at him desperately for help and winks while running off to who knows where. Traitor.

Whatever. The sooner you pick, the sooner they'll get off your back.

Somehow this year's tournament is rather disappointing. Your three consorts give commentary throughout the matches, but it cannot stop the boredom starting to overtake you. Trey discreetly offers you a cup of wine and you take it gratefully.

The announcer signals the start of a match, with Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade taking a stand against each other. You hear Riddle faintly murmuring to your side about how they look rather young to be in a tournament like this. But you're rather absorbed in their intense fight, to the point where Cater teases you, asking if your taste included younger men. you roll your eyes and tell him to be quiet.

The fight ends in a spine tingling draw. Both men have their swords knocked out of their hands, but they’re still glaring at each other with such raw passion, that it’s fascinating. You know you will hardly meet any others that could catch your attention.

The end of the tournament ends with the roar of the crowd shaking the colosseum and the boisterous victory announcement. The two of them weren’t finalists, but that matters little to you. The victor was impressive. But they weren’t what you wanted.

“Ace Trappola, at your service, your majesty.”

“Deuce Spade, at your command, your majesty!”

The two greet you with enthusiastic fervor that has you chuckling in amusement. They are just the breath of fresh air you need.

“Starting from today, you two will be my personal guards.”

They’re left with gaping mouths at your bold statement. Your consorts, too, are sputtering at your side. Riddle is already trying to convince you to reconsider. Trey is gently trying to ask if you’re really sure about this. Even Cater, for all his light-hearted banter, chokes an incredulous scoff, covering his mouth with a fist.

Yes, there’s always the threat of treason, and they might be slackers, but if you were going to have to employ someone, you’d rather it be someone entertaining.

Regardless, the two are knighted and become your guards in record time.

For several days, a persistent headache haunts you with how much Ace loved riling up Riddle for no reason, or Deuce somehow managing to blunder his way into destroying several pieces of priceless antique furniture. It takes only two days for Riddle to kneel at your side, begging you to please just switch guards, these two were ridiculously incompetent and not worthy to serve under you, but you only pat his head and send him off back to his chambers to rest.

Trey and Cater were arguably more agreeable, but you don’t miss their tired looks whenever they had to clean up after Ace pissing off a passing noble or Deuce somehow causing a fire when tripping over an iron poker. It makes you feel guilty, of course, but you still cling on. Call it stubbornness but you didn’t want to let go of the two. It was selfish, you know, and monarchs could never afford to be selfish, but was it so wrong for you to indulge in the only pair who seemed to disregard your status?

The answer came one hot summer evening, when you’re on your balcony trying to unwind. Tonight was the usual designated night to share a bed with your consorts, but you deigned to postpone it since you weren’t in the mood nor did you want to force the other three to deal with your sour attitude. It’s halfway through your third glass of wine that you were a rustle, then after starting your fourth, you hear footsteps, to which you turn and just narrowly miss a dagger aiming for your heart. The blade instead rips a gash through your left shoulder, causing you to grunt in pain, alcohol thankfully dulling most of the throbbing sensations. Unfortunately, your mind is hardly clear enough to have a steady stance to fight back properly, let alone see the assassin’s face.

You can’t believe you were going to die pathetically like this. If this was going to happen anyway, you should’ve at least finished your glass of wine—

Shouts, then sounds of clanging steel, and a blur rushed into your sight, tackling the hooded assassin and knocking him down. Deuce’s familiar blue hair registers in your blurry vision, holding down the assassin, while Ace’s flaming hair and eyes come closer in view, shouting something that keeps fizzling out to nothing. Your world tilts to its side suddenly, a loud buzzing in your ears, and everything goes black.

When you come to, you find Riddle with swollen, tear-crusted eyes hugging your bedsheets, while Trey exhaustedly sits behind him next to a wash basin and several empty vials. Cater was out cold on the chaise beside him, several papers littering his body. It seems that the assassin was quite thorough, as they made sure that if their sharp blade didn’t manage to end your life, then the quick acting poison laced upon the steel would. Ironically, according to the herbalist and doctor, because you drank a whole wine bottle, the alcohol managed to slow it down somehow just long enough for you to get treatment. A miracle, indeed.

For once, the room is no longer filled with tension with all five of the men together, but a genuine sense of relief. You give the two of your knights soft smiles and a sincere thank you which makes their faces flush like a ripe strawberry. Your escorts don’t protest, mirroring the same gratefulness in their faces.

Something changes after that night.

Of course, you’re extremely glad that Riddle is no longer blowing his top off after Ace goads him about being a stick in the mud, but since when did Ace get into pet names with Riddle? Rosebud? The nickname makes you gag internally at how corny it is. Not to mention that Riddle…doesn’t mind being called that?! You watch in disbelief as he preens at the compliment from your knight, trying not to give away your incredulousness.

Okay…whatever, at least they’re getting along?

Deuce shows up with your slice of cake with a beaming glow that has you taken aback as you accept the offering. Ace mutters about how Trey must’ve spoiled him again behind you and it takes everything inside you to not spit out your cake mid-bite. Again? Trey was kind, you’ll give him that, and he did tend to baby Riddle and you but—

On second thought, perhaps this wasn’t out of left field.

Cater titters knowingly when you slump in bonelessly into the lounge next to him trying on new earrings and bangles.

“And what ails my dearly beloved king?” You choke on your spit before glaring at him. He giggles, dangly silver drops chiming in tune with the laughter.

“Not you too…” It felt like the whole day you felt like you were background to some of the most insufferable flirting, and with your escorts and knights, no less. You raise an eyebrow at the shiny, glittering jewelry scattered on the vanity in front of the man. All imperial escorts did have an allowance, but you don’t remember Cater buying anything like this nor gifting him such things. When you inquire about it, Cater gives you a smirk and a wink.

”Rido and the younger ones have been quite sweet lately.” The sentence makes you nearly fall off the lounge. He chortles and blows you a mock kiss with no shame as you sear him with another heated glare.

The way they started interacting starts making you feel self-conscious and…embarrassingly enough, left out. Which is such a foolish thought. Of course, who would in their right mind love the person who tied their lives to them, romantically and sexually? And even though they were in such a situation, the fact they all loved each other was a blessing, wasn’t it? How many history lessons did you have where the monarch’s harem wasn’t full of in-fighting? That meant more prosperity and stability political wise, and there wouldn’t be any trouble between you…

Yet, your heart clenches at the thought of Trey’s smile directed at Cater, of Riddle gently caressing Deuce’s head, and Ace slinging an arm around Deuce…none of that affection could ever be for you.

And it’s best that way. Your father’s voice echoes distantly in your mind. You watched him solemnly on his deathbed as he implored you to not make the same mistakes he did, before his breathing stilled, and his hand lay limp in yours.

Yes, perhaps it was better this way.

Still, your thoughts are still wandering that you barely jolt back to present to a cabinet meeting looking expectantly at you.

“Pardon, could you repeat that?”

Riddle watches in worry as a dark shadow crosses your face as the demand for your harem to grow is conveyed. He coughs, causing the members to turn to him instead.

”If that’s the case,” he states with no hesitation, “then I might have some candidates in mind.”

You turn to him with the same expression as the other cabinet members. It drops to shock at Riddle’s suggestion.

As much as you wanted to oppose it, there wasn’t really a good reason to. You sat with your arms crossed as Riddle explained the proposal to your very two personal knights. Ace and Deuce exchange looks, and something between them is communicated before they turn to you and accept, despite your hope they wouldn’t.

And so, your harem became five.

You put your foot down after that. It was already enough to have your heart cracked into pieces with the knowledge you could never have their love. You don’t think it could handle another.

So you tuck your heart away as you smile with them over dinner, bantering over whether flamingos can play croquet or dancing with them at various balls, heart racing as the chandelier lit their face with a warmth you’ve never seen before. If it means you won’t get hurt or distracted, then that’s all you could ask for.

One fateful day, a letter out of numerous piles is hand delivered by Cater and changes your entire world.

It’s sealed with the crest of the fairest queen in the seven realms, meaning only one person could have sent this—Vil Schoenheit. Inside the elegant letter details a marriage proposal that listed all the benefits of taking him as a spouse. With all the pros listed out so cleanly, it was clear that the queen already knew that you couldn’t reject it so quickly.

But you must dissolve your harem. I do not take kindly to those who are not loyal to me and me only.

Something in your heart cracks at reading the condition. You should feel elated, somewhat, that you no longer had to drag around escorts for formality. And for the others, it meant being freed from a duty they were all forced into. But tears threaten to bubble over your eyelashes, and when Riddle asks you if you’re alright, one manages to overflow and trail down your cheek like a traitorous banner.

You don’t want to let them go.

Trey asks for the nth time if you’re sure you don’t want him to be with you or if you want some tea before you shoo him away. Ace and Deuce were meant to guard your chambers, but you wave them off too, saying you’ll find stand-ins for their places. Riddle and Cater were harder to shake off, but even they, too, were finally shut out when you closed your bedroom doors in their worried faces.

In the end, like a coward, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them what that letter was, despite them asking nonstop about it. You’re not sure what to tell them either—that they were being discarded of their positions, no longer needed, but it wasn’t out of maliciousness—oh, who would even believe you?

When Vil graces your halls, the looks your escorts give you is enough to fill you with burning hot shame.

Cater doesn’t have his usual mischievous smile when he greets the queen, his emerald eyes sharpening to pin pricks whenever Vil speaks. You should’ve scolded him, reigned him back, but the guilt eating away at you made you hesitate. It didn’t help that Riddle, for all his perfect etiquette, suddenly seemed to forget what formalities and niceties were around the queen. The regal queen gives you a strange look as Trey sets down a plate of pastries a little too hard in front of him. Your gaze darts away as you sip the tea in front of you nervously, flanked by Ace and Deuce, their scowling faces too apparent.

They’re not dumb. Royals don’t visit other realms willy-nilly often. And it’s clear what Vil is here for.

The next day leaves you lethargic and sluggish, but you try to pull through, if only for appearances. While you stroll through the gardens with Vil, you try to avoid the burning stares of your guards behind you, no doubt dissecting each and every bit of your conversation with the queen. They pull you away as soon as the clock hits the afternoon hour, stating you had duties to attend to and so on and so forth. You excuse yourself and hope you don’t look like a mess to Vil, whose appearance is still immaculate despite the heavy winds and hot sun.

You try to focus on the stack of papers in front of you, despite the edges of your vision blurring and your head spinning. Taking the last sip of what remained of your tea, you squint uselessly at the words as Riddle murmurs something to your right about dinner and farewell banquets. The last thing you remember is the smell of chamomile and poppy flowers and the last document regarding international treaties.

By the time you wake up from your ill-timed nap, it was midnight and it had been decided that you were too unwell to properly receive the fairest queen, and thus Vil would be sent back, to come back another time. Cater explains with a tight smile while Riddle nods along. Behind them, Trey pours another cup of warm milk and offers it to you with a sympathetic smile. You take it, despite the guilt threatening to swallow you alive.

The days following are a haze of routines that you thought you once knew but couldn’t process. Nothing had changed, right? It seemed like you couldn’t recall what Trey made for you for yesterday’s tea, nor whenever Cater asked you for an opinion on his outfit. Before, you remembered the guards’ shifts to the letter, and yet, you completely forgot when Ace took over to guard you. Riddle smiles at you like usual, helping you with paperwork as usual, and yet…why couldn’t you remember what you had signed yourself?

Some nights you wake up to Trey or Cater, running their hands over you, despite the fact that they weren’t there before when you went to bed. Sometimes, it would be Ace and Deuce, bickering in hushed whispers before they shut up seeing you awake. And every time morning came and soreness set in your body, Riddle would greet your groggy face warmly, wiping away sweat and a strange stickiness that clung to your skin.

The thought of marriage is erased from your mind, and slowly, but surely, you can’t remember why you thought of breaking apart the men who treated you so fondly.

Perhaps you should have heeded the tales of those who ended up being puppet kings.

#yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #yandere reader insert #a wip i had in storage forever and didn't think i would ever get to finishing but here we are babeyyyyy #i am projecting har dbu talso mmmmmmmmmmmmheartslabyul rights

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hiddenreamers · 4 months ago

Text

Unlikely pair

SUMMARY: Where Oscar is dating a musician known for strictness and harsh comments on survival shows. To everyone's surprise, the unlikely pair is nothing short of perfect.

yntheone made a new post:

Close your eyes, take my time Let's remember this moment

Photograph (prod. Offonoff) is out on Thursday

Comments:

user1: WHATTT

user2: this is not a drill I repeat this is not a drill

user3: girl you can't just drop this on us and bail 💀

user4: is this real or is this my ambien

user5: i see the saga of blurry pictures continues

↳ user6: it's a vibe, you hater 😤

user7: omg is this the song realoffonoff played on his live the other day??

user8: who is this and why is it not me 😩

user9: she destroyed everyone on Don Mills Daebak remix just to turn around and do cute rnb songs 😭 queen shit 👑👑

oscarpiastri: can't wait ❤️ liked by yntheone

↳ yntheone: ❤️❤️ ↳ user10: the last person I expected to see here ↳ user11: 🤨🤨 well that's suspicious

user12: You need to do an entire album with realoffonoff !! Cigarette was amazing 😍

↳ user13: oh my godddd do you think cigarette was about the same guy? ↳ user14: definitely ?? i mean how can you listen to yntheone sing she wants you to be addicted to her like cigarettes and go "nah I'll pass" ?? brain damage ahh behaviour

yntheone tagged oscarpiastri in a post:

Do you really think you're that good??

(He is.)

Comments:

user15: babe wake up new roman empire just dropped

user16: not the caption 💀💀 quoting herself like the queen she is

↳ user17: giving trainees war flashbacks lmao

user18: he better know how to fight 😤😤 im throwing hands

user19: this can't be the same person who tore apart trainees on live tv 😐 since when is she all lovey dovey

↳ user20: if you had Oscar Piastri smiling at you, you'd be lovey dovey too

user21: out of all the people I suspected to be the guy from a blurry picture, this man wasn't even on the list ??? there's opposites and then there's THIS

↳ user22: ya I'm genuinely surprised someone as calm as him can keep up with her ↳ user23: yall are forgetting he's keeping up with Lando Norris

oscarpiastri: I really am liked by yntheone

landonorris: he's not as good as me but I guess he's still kind of ok

↳ danielricciardo: you might want to rethink that mate ↳ landonorris: blocked

user24: I'll just assume every love song she's done has been about him

↳ user25: Cigarette?? Moon?? Photograph?? Make the Move?? He better know the poetry that she's written about him or he gon catch these hands ↳ oscarpiastri: I do know and I appreciate every word

user25: finally Mclaren found someone who can actually pull off the papaya and not look silly

user26: yntheone is taken?? worst day of my life tbh

user27: imagine all the contestants on survival shows that will come in mclaren merch 💀💀 we're about to unlock a new level of embarrassment that shouldn't be possible

user28: this is the best golden retriever black cat couple, everyone else can go home

user29: for his own sake, I hope he knows what he's gotten himself into 😩😩

↳ user30: no better racing motivation than remembering your girlfriend is famous for roasting people in front of the entire nation

f1fans_official made a new post:

oscarpiastri and yntheone on their little New York trip 🥺🥺

Comments:

user31: yes I watch f1 for the rivalry and driving

↳ user32: these two are the main plot

user33: am I the only one bothered by the fact that she's a rude bitch??

↳ user34: yes sis you're the only one who can't tell between a rude bitch and a professional realistically evaluating wanna-be artists

user35: no thoughts head empty thinking about my favourite paddock couple

user36: i can't even be mad she's taken my man 😞😞 they look cute together

user37: hope they don't break up I can't take going through my parents' divorce twice

user38: if Lando and yntheone become friends we're going to see the most iconic duo of all time

↳ user39: the Lando slander is about to get serious 💀 ↳ user40: Oscar is gonna be bald by the end of the year because of them lmao

oscarpiastri tagged yntheone in a post:

Resting and recharging before the next race weekend

Comments:

user41: it's giving he asked for no pickles

yntheone: no need to thank me, I know I'm the only thing you need 😴 liked by oscarpiastri

↳ oscarpiastri: wouldn't have it any other way ❤️

user42: forget guard dog boyfriend, Oscar's got a guard dog girlfriend and I'm here for it

↳ user44: feminism

landonorris: guys help me she's scary

↳ yntheone: I know where you live 🥰🥰 ↳ oscarpiastri: yntheone I'll hold your bag baby ↳ user43: forget the office this is the sitcom i'd watch ↳ georgerussell63: the bigger the distance from angry yntheone the funnier it is

user45: honestly why would he go for a manly rude bitch?? there are so many better women out there, just sad

↳ user46: have you considered the fact that men are not a monolith and have, in fact, individual preferences? or is your IQ too low to comprehend that?

user47: I will tell my children this is the royal pair

user48: can't wait for her the sample Oscar and add him to a beat 🔥🔥

user49: ok now I get why she wrote absolute bangers about him 😍

user50: if she's in the stands cheering him on, FIA should give Oscar a penalty for unfair advantage 😤😤

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one #formula 1 smau #formula 1 social media #formula one smau #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fic #op81 #op81 x you

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beegomess · 7 months ago

Text

What is your relationship like? || Slytherin boys

Summary: We saw how other people see you in the previous chapter. Here we will see how things really are.

Warnings: A little spicy on some topics, but nothing so explicit.

Requests are open!

masterlist here

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

Blaise Zabini

Your relationship with Blaise is really amazing, he is almost the perfect boyfriend;

You've known each other forever, but love only flowed when you got closer in recent years at Hogwarts;

Dating Blaise is knowing that he thinks about marrying you;

He's the kind of boy who plans to have a family with you;

His family has always loved you, and your parents love you as a child;

Of course, he has his flaws. Sometimes he can be a little anxious about the things he wants to do with you;

Never, ever disrespected you in any way;

He would understand if you chose to wait to have any physical intimacy after getting married;

At the beginning of the relationship you were the type who were always together, but over time you were respecting each other's individuality;

He will always be a gentleman with you;

You never had to worry about anything in relation to fidelity, Zabini never left doubts that he loves you more than anything;

He always imposes limits when a girl gets too close. Having colleagues is fine, but it won't get past it;

Blaise is not ashamed that others see how much he loves you;

He is the boy of every girl's dreams, as if he had come out of a romance book.

Draco Malfoy

His problems with Lúcios would certainly splash on you at one time or another;

You would certainly support him in facing his father if necessary;

Draco grew up with you, he has always seen you as a safe haven;

There is no doubt that he loves you, but his insecurity sometimes affects you;

Somewhat possessive when it comes to any Gryffinory;

Although he admires his kindness, he prefers not to exercise his. Something you can't change, but you certainly repudiate;

Narcisa loves you, always praising you and thanking Merlin for her son having found someone so good;

Draco tends to be stubborn, which is sometimes stressful for you;

He would buy you gifts whenever he wanted to apologize;

The fact that he has a slight shame in showing his love for you in public is something that bothers you a little;

Sometimes he exaggerates the jokes in front of his friends, but when you turn back, he stays in a continuous silence until the end of the conversation;

However, he loves to show that you are his when he feels minimally threatened;

You were surprised when you saw that he liked you to guide him during sex;

The golden trio just doesn't like you, even if you didn't do anything to them;

There is no way to blame them, even if you give a sermon on Draco whenever you learn of your insults to others.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Enzo was a sensitive boy, which made him listen to you as much as you needed;

His kindness certainly captivated you;

However, he tends to be too kind to some people in his opinion;

The girls didn't seem to mind flirting with him, it was as if he left them;

He certainly wouldn't betray you, but it was quite easy to put him in some frame like this;

His family didn't like him so much, always very demanding, they wanted someone like Malfoy or Nott;

Too romantic in your mother's opinion;

He was not jealous of anything, or anyone;

We need to tell the truth here, the total absence of jealousy was something you didn't like so much;

He was your best friend;

He certainly wouldn't yell at you, nor would he offend you;

Enzo was not ashamed to shout to the four winds that he loved you;

He has always been completely yours.

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo approached you little by little. Being the sister of one of his best friends didn't make things easier for him;

Discussions were quite common, almost always resolved in sex;

Jealousy definitely existed on both sides;

A lot of jokes, you would create wrinkles from laughing so much at the silly things he says;

Always protecting you from his family as much as I could;

Your parents are definitely not Mattheo fans, but that just made everything more fun for you;

Mattheo was intelligent, he just didn't try very hard;

You encourage him to do the lessons of the class correctly;

The parties were definitely more fun with him;

The language of his love was certainly a physical touch;

He loved your body, it was as if nothing was more beautiful than you;

Even if other girls risked flirting with him, it was all in vain, Riddle never cared to look at them back;

His love for you was incalculable, completely devout;

If you wanted and were of this kind of person, you could manipulate your boyfriend easily, he believed in you a lot;

Flitting with you was completely out of the question for other boys, Mattheo was aware of that;

He takes care of you when you cross the line with alcohol;

The first time you had sex was in a broom closet, it was definitely not romantic, but it was wonderfully pleasurable;

Quickies were very common.

Theodore Nott

He saw you for the first time when they were still children. You ran away to the Nott Mansion library during a very boring dinner between your families;

They grew up together, he was always in love with you;

Completely devoted to your relationship;

Prefer to spend the nights with you than to go to noisy parties;

When you go to parties, it was always with you by the side. Never alone;

You admire him so much, all the things he did were great;

Theodore used to help you with schoolwork, always very focused on classes;

Not ironically, the first cigarette he smoked was with you in the astronomy tower;

Your families already had everything planned for their future, but you only thought about what it would be like to escape and travel together;

Formal dinners during the holidays suddenly became more interesting;

His mother would certainly be proud of who he became;

Theo's face was almost always expressionless, but with you he was almost always smiling;

The gifts he gave you were always significant;

He was jealous, even if he didn't show so much not to seem too possessive;

He may seem quiet, but make no mistake, the sex was definitely hot;

Nicknames in Italian always melted his heart;

Provocations were quite common, but very discreet.

Tom Riddle

You had more in common than it seemed;

Tom was quite obstinate in what he wanted, he wouldn't let anyone get in his way;

He didn't use to demonstrate in public, that was a fact, but he wasn't a completely cold boy either;

His favorite moments were when he lay down on his body and heard his heart beat at a comforting pace;

His family loved him from the beginning. He knew how to be polite and charismatic when he needed to;

He seemed so respectful of you in front of his parents, they barely knew that you had already been completely corrupted;

Teachers used to keep an eye on you and your interests;

He was the darling of the teachers for his apparently interested and innocent way, but some teachers did not let themselves be fooled by this manipulation, distrusting him and you;

Tom was determined to take you with him wherever he went;

Even if people didn't gossip clearly about you, there were buzz about what it would be like;

What attracted Tom to you was how he saw himself in you;

You weren't as innocent as you seemed to be, and he loved it;

There were only two things he would never give up in life: Power and you.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

A/N: Guys, I'm running out of ideas, please send me ideas for imagines or headcanons. 😭😭

xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼

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poetic-vulgarity · 1 month ago

Text

ᎮᎥᏖᎩ ᎮᏗᏒᏖᎩ II- Kim Minjeong x Reader

Word Count: ~7K

Prompt: When Minjeong transferred to an elite school, she didn't expect to catch the attention of Y/N, the golden girl. Then again, she also didn't expect Y/N to be the root of all her misery.

Tags: slow burn; angst; drama; high school! AU; richgirl!Y/N; happy ending (?)

Part I, Part II, Part III

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Minjeong was ignoring Y/N.

That much was clear.

It started happening after the night Y/N confessed to her.

There were texts left on read. Calls unanswered. When Y/N called for Minjeong in the school hallways, the short-haired girl just walked faster and disappeared. When Y/N tried talking to Minjeong before or after classes, the other girl put her headphones on and focused on her exercises.

Y/N thought she hadn't ruined anything with her confession.

She thought she and Minjeong could work things out with patience.

"Maybe I thought wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Aeri frowned, her arm wrapped around Y/N's shoulder as the two walked along the hallways. "From what you've told me, you've been nothing but lovely to her."

"Well, clearly, something went wrong." Y/N shook her head. "She seemed fine when we were at my house. We even went to a convenience store, and I walked her home. I-why would she just start ignoring me?"

Aeri stayed silent, not really knowing how to answer. Her best friend had been the happiest she'd seen her in a while. It didn't make sense that Minjeong would just ignore Y/N for no reason after that.

The only possibility Aeri could think of was that Minjeong had realized dating Y/N wasn't going to work and had decided to break it off.

The problem was that ignoring Y/N instead of talking about it was a pretty poor way to-

Aeri tilted her head, an idea suddenly crossing her mind. "Didn't you say she's friends with Jimin?"

"Yeah, so-" Y/N turned to Aeri, her eyes widening ever so slightly. "You think she told her about my father?"

"I mean," Aeri hesitated, "Jimin did tell Ning that she regretted breaking up with you... and she always goes after what she wants."

Y/N took her time to think her options through.

It was ridiculous.

Jimin was the one who broke up with her. She was the one who let their parents' business get in the way of their relationship. Two years down the drain because Y/N's father was elected as mayor and not Jimin's.

And now she was ruining her relationship with Minjeong?

Y/N shook her head, looking down at her hands, picking at a few loose skins. "Jimin wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't she?" Aeri suddenly halted in her tracks, and Y/N turned to her in confusion.

She followed her gaze and felt her jaw clench in anger.

Walking right towards them were Jimin and her group-Yunjin, Ning, and Minjeong. Y/N felt a little sick to her stomach.

The group moved to walk right past her, but Y/N reached for Minjeong, her hand suddenly trembling.

"Hey." She tried to meet Minjeong's eyes, but the other girl refused.

Minjeong could feel Y/N's grasp on her arm but refused to meet her gaze. Her heart was beating out of control in her chest, a mix of emotions washing over her.

She didn't want to see Y/N.

She didn't want to talk to Y/N or get close to Y/N or get to know Y/N.

In fact, all she wanted was to forget her.

Because if she got close to Y/N, she'd only come to care for her more.

She'd only come to care about a girl who had done nothing but lie to her. A girl whose father had completely ruined her life.

"Can we talk... alone?" Y/N's voice was as calm as ever, but one look at her face told everyone that she wasn't very happy with the situation she found herself in.

"Actually, I need to get to class, sorry," Minjeong mumbled.

Minjeong felt bad about the way Y/N's face fell at her response, but she had a hard time caring about it at the moment.

All she wanted to do was get out of the situation and clear her mind.

Y/N's hand tightened around her arm. "Minjeong, please. I just need a minute."

"Didn't you hear her?" Jimin spoke up, wrapping an arm around Minjeong's shoulder. "She doesn't wanna talk to you."

Y/N clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening as she turned to finally look at Jimin. "What did you tell her?"

"Only the truth," Jimin replied calmly, her eyes never leaving Y/N.

Minjeong just stood there, frozen, as the two stared at each other. She was aware of her friends worriedly glancing at her, unsure of what to do with their situation.

"You had the chance to tell her everything on your own. You didn't, so I did."

"I was going to." Y/N's eyes fell on Minjeong. "Minjeong, I swear-"

Minjeong shook her head. "You had plenty of chances to tell me. You chose not to."

She stared at Y/N for just a little while longer as hurt filled up in her chest. "It's too late now," she finally said simply.

When the bell rang later that day, she pushed the door open and walked into class, ignoring the looks Y/N was giving her.

Their teacher was always late, so students were walking around the room, chatting with each other.

Minjeong settled down in her spot and pulled out her notebook. Her eyes instinctively rolled back when she caught a familiar figure approaching her from the corner of her eye.

"Will you, please, just hear me out?"

Minjeong tensed as Y/N took the seat next to her.

"Minjeong-" Y/N began.

"Don't." Minjeong found her voice again, her eyes glued to her notebook.

The last thing she wanted was to hear Y/N making up excuses, so she steeled herself and refused to look up.

"Look, my father did build your old school, and I knew who you were from the minute you set foot inside this school." Y/N decided she'd be honest and make herself heard. "I was friendly with you because I wanted to make myself feel better for my father's actions. I'm sorry. I promise you that everything I told you when I confessed to you was true. I really do-"

The room seemed to freeze as Y/N's head snapped to the side on impact.

Minjeong's hand stung as it left Y/N's cheek, the sound of the slap resounding through the room, and everything came to a standstill.

Minjeong could feel all the eyes on them, but all she could focus on was the wide-eyed, hurt look on Y/N's face.

Minjeong forced the words out of her throat, her breaths coming up shallow against the weight of the emotions in her chest. "You need to shut up and leave me the fuck alone."

She held Y/N's eyes for a second, taking in her wide-eyed expression. There was hurt in the other girl's eyes, the look nearly making Minjeong feel bad.

The moment didn't last. Once the door opened behind them and they heard the teacher's footsteps approach, Minjeong turned to the front of the room again.

Y/N looked down in embarrassment and shame. She stood up from her seat and wiped away the stream of blood in the corner of her mouth.

The slap had made her accidentally bite herself.

She moved back to her seat, ignoring everyone's eyes on her.

Minjeong tried her best to focus on the teacher and write down as many notes as she could. She had to keep her mind on something, and if writing down notes would help, she'd do it.

At one point during the lesson, she felt a pair of eyes on the back of her head.

It was a familiar feeling, similar to the one she had felt when she walked down school hallway earlier that morning.

Minjeong grit her teeth against the memory, refusing to take another look over her shoulder.

Y/N took the clue immediately.

It took her a slap to understand, but she did. She distanced herself from Minjeong. She didn't look her in the eyes anymore; she didn't try to talk to her or reach out for her.

Their friendship/relationship came to a complete halt...

For a full two days.

"Good afternoon!"

Minjeong's breath hitched at the familiar voice. It was Saturday. Why was she hearing this voice on a Saturday?

The short-haired girl looked up from her phone, and her eyes found Y/N standing there in her family's restaurant.

Minjeong almost dropped her phone in surprise.

She could feel goosebumps trailing down her arms as she stared at Y/N. The girl stood there waiting, an expectant look on her face, as if she expected her to say something.

Minjeong opened her mouth to speak-she wasn't even sure what-but her mother's voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Minjeong, you have a customer."

The girl swallowed nervously. Her phone went back into the pocket of her coat. She straightened her back and moved from her spot, making her way to where Y/N stood by the counter with her hands stuffed into her pockets.

The moment she came to a stop, a heavy silence fell over them.

Minjeong was sure she saw some bruising on Y/N's cheek and on the corner of the girl's lips.

Still, Y/N smiled gently at her and raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for her to talk.

The short-haired girl's eyes were drawn to the bruising under Y/N's eye and on her lips. Her fingers twitched before she forced them into stillness.

"What are you doing here?" Her words came out harsher than she had intended.

If Y/N was taken aback by her harshness, she didn't show it. "I'm hungry."

Minjeong couldn't help but scoff. "And you decided to come here?"

Y/N stopped, looking around the place.

It was a restaurant, wasn't it?

"Is that okay?"

Minjeong's eyes narrowed, unsure whether Y/N was trying to mess with her head.

"There are other restaurants, you kn-"

A slap was delivered to the back of Minjeong's head. Her mouth fell open, and she turned to find her mother glaring at her. "Minjeong, why are you denying service to such a-"

The older woman turned to look at Y/N, and the latter put her most charming smile on display.

"-pretty customer?"

Minjeong's frown deepened as she watched her mother fall for Y/N's charm.

It was ridiculous.

Her eyes turned back to Y/N, who was looking at her with a hopeful gaze.

Minjeong clenched her jaw against the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her again. "What do you want to eat?"

Another slap. "Let her sit and get accommodated first," her mother hissed, turning to Y/N with a wide smile. "Sit wherever you want, sweetie. Minjeong will be with you shortly."

Y/N bowed her head thankfully, smile still there. "Thank you, Ma'am. It's a pleasure to finally meet Minjeong's mom."

The woman was surprised. "Oh, you two know each other?"

Minjeong opened her mouth to disagree, but Y/N beat her to it. "I'm courting your daughter. I was actually hoping to get your blessing."

She's what-?

Minjeong's face flushed with embarrassment, and all she could do was stare, mouth half-open.

Her mother didn't notice. Her eyes were wide, cheeks tinged pink as she looked at the beautiful girl in front of her.

"Oh, really?" Her mother glanced between them, her expression growing giddy. "Yes, of course, sweetie. Minjeong is a lovely girl-she can just be a little grouchy sometimes."

Minjeong's hands clenched into fists at the look on her mother's face.

Of course, she was completely smitten.

Her mother had always harbored an adoration for the wealthy and powerful, especially when it came to Minjeong's future partner. It was something Minjeong had grown used to, but it never failed to leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her mother ushered Y/N toward a booth and then turned back to her. "I knew sending you to that school was a good idea! Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?!"

Minjeong resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her mother gripped her arms, giddy beyond reason.

"I'm not seeing anyone. Y/N is an awf-"

Her mother cut her off, nudging her toward the booth. "I like her! Don't leave her waiting, come on!"

Minjeong gritted her teeth but gave in.

Her mom beamed as she walked away, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing in her daughter's chest.

Minjeong reached Y/N's table and forced herself to take a deep breath.

Y/N's eyes followed her every step, watching her closely, completely entranced. She couldn't stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

"What do you want to eat?" Minjeong asked again, gritting her teeth against the urge to throw this girl out of her family's restaurant.

Y/N snapped out of her reverie, eyes widening as she cleared her throat.

This was a restaurant of what, exactly?

"I-uhh-" She looked around, trying to see what the other customers were eating, but she couldn't make anything out. "What-what do you have?"

Minjeong's eye twitched. The menu was right in front of her. Y/N was just too busy staring to notice.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Minjeong pointed at the stupid thing, her jaw clenching as the taller girl leaned in to look.

She could see her mom eyeing them from across the room, not being discreet in the slightest.

Minjeong wanted to be six feet under.

Y/N skimmed through the menu, eyes moving quickly over the selection.

"I think I'll have the dwaeji gukbap."

Minjeong nodded, ready to grab the menu and leave, but Y/N wasn't done.

"Also, the milmyeon, godeungeo-gui, agujjim, and eomuk, please. Oh! And can I get the dongnae pajeon and the guljeon?"

Minjeong rolled her eyes and yanked the menu away before Y/N could order anything else.

"What are you doing?"

Y/N looked confused. "I was... ordering."

Minjeong wanted to slap her. Again.

"What, you couldn't personally shower me in your money anymore, so you came to do that at my family's restaurant? Can't you be a decent person for once in your life and just leave me the fuck alone?"

Y/N just smiled. "Dinner's on me tonight. My parents are in town, and they brought a few friends over."

Minjeong clenched her jaw.

She hated how unbothered Y/N looked, how effortlessly she wormed her way into her life again.

If she had any shame, she'd just go home.

But no. She was there, flashing her money and privilege like always, getting exactly what she wanted.

Minjeong wanted to deny her service-kick her out, ban her from ever stepping foot inside again.

But the amount of food Y/N had just ordered... meant rent was covered for the month.

Minjeong hated her. More and more.

She was about to make that very clear when Y/N suddenly stood up and bowed, looking past her shoulder.

Minjeong turned to see her father approaching with a warm smile.

"Oh, fuck me."

Her father wiped his hands on the black apron tied around his waist as he reached their table. Slowly, almost carefully, he extended his hand for Y/N to shake.

"My wife told me to come meet my daughter's girlfriend."

Minjeong wanted to die.

"Hopefully in the future, sir." Y/N chuckled softly-a sound that tickled Minjeong's brain just right. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She reached out, clasping his hand with practiced ease, bowing just enough to be respectful.

She just had to be perfect at everything, didn't she?

Minjeong's father was immediately taken in by her manners, her gentle touch.

Minjeong wanted to scream.

She wanted to tell him about the lies.

She wanted to tell him about the secrets hiding behind that polite, practiced smile.

But she couldn't.

The amount of money Y/N was about to spend-the dinner her parents and their friends were about to have-would keep her family afloat for another month.

And Minjeong couldn't take that away from her parents.

It all felt like a cruel game.

Her chest tightened as she watched her father and Y/N exchange a few words. His eyes gleamed with admiration as he looked at Y/N, and Minjeong felt the sudden urge to throw up.

She kept her gaze fixed on the table, doing her best to block out the conversation.

Once her father left-after shooting her an approving nod-Y/N sat back down, looking entirely too satisfied with herself.

"You're a manipulative liar," Minjeong tried again, her voice firmer this time.

Y/N didn't budge. "A manipulative liar who's in love."

Minjeong's jaw clenched at the words.

In love?

The audacity of this girl to even say that.

Her fingers curled into fists.

How could one person be so infuriating?

She turned sharply, stalking back to the counter to put the order into the register-only to catch her mother watching their every move, a pleased smile on her face.

That was it.

As soon as her shift was over, Minjeong was going to off herself.

Meanwhile, Y/N simply watched her go, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Why was it so easy to get under Minjeong's skin?

She dragged out her time at the restaurant as much as she could.

As long as she was there, she was fine.

She got to see Minjeong. She got to talk to Minjeong's lovely parents. She got to not be at home with her parents.

It was perfect.

Unfortunately, Mr. Kim had other plans. He worked as quickly as possible, insisting that Y/N and her parents shouldn't have to wait long for their food.

So, far too soon, Y/N found herself stepping back inside her house, dinner in hand.

"What took you so long?" her father asked from the living room, seated among his colleagues.

"I was quick." She replied shortly, carrying the bags into the kitchen.

Grabbing a plate for herself, she made her way upstairs, wanting nothing to do with the circus unfolding downstairs.

The following days were the same.

Y/N would come, order a ridiculous amount of food, and leave-only to come back again the next day.

Minjeong's parents were absolutely thrilled by her presence.

And Minjeong?

Minjeong hated it.

The anger, the frustration, the sheer distaste burned through her chest every time Y/N walked through that door.

But after two weeks of the same thing, the fight had drained out of her.

She didn't yell. She didn't snap. She didn't even glare anymore.

She merely stood behind the counter, arms crossed, waiting while Y/N placed her order.

"Food will take around thirty minutes to prepare. You can sit while you wait." Minjeong's voice came out flat, her expression unreadable as she turned away.

She walked to the kitchen, relaying the order to her father.

"She here yet?" he asked with a grin.

Minjeong let out a slow, controlled breath, doing everything she could to hold onto what little patience she had left.

"She's here," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Her father's smile widened. "Good! Take care of her for me."

Minjeong's mother perked up from where she was wiping down the counter, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Let me go say hi to her."

Ten minutes later, when Minjeong stepped out of the kitchen, she nearly dropped the tray she was holding.

There, sitting comfortably at one of the booths, was her mother. And across from her, whipping the tables, was Y/N.

Minjeong froze.

Y/N-cleaning?

Her mother sat there like she hadn't just handed off one of her responsibilities to a paying customer, chatting away with a warm smile on her face.

Minjeong's fingers twitched against the tray.

What the hell was going on?

She stormed over, trying not to trip over her own frustration. "What are you doing?"

Y/N looked up, unbothered, a rag in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. "Helping."

Minjeong turned to her mother, expecting an explanation, but the older woman only beamed. "Such a sweet girl," her mom sighed dreamily. "She insisted, Minjeong! Said she wanted to help out since she's always here."

Minjeong clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm.

This was ridiculous.

She hated it.

She hated how easily Y/N charmed her parents.

She hated that Y/N was still here-in her space, in her life.

She hated that a small, stupid, buried part of her chest felt warm at the sight of Y/N helping out.

She exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away.

"Go sit down," she snapped, yanking the spray bottle from Y/N's hand.

Y/N grinned. "You're worried about me?"

"I'm worried about my restaurant looking like a joke," Minjeong shot back.

Her mother gasped. "Minjeong! Don't be rude!"

But Y/N just laughed, wiping her hands on her pants. "I'm just waiting for my food," she said casually. "Might as well make myself useful."

Minjeong turned away before her mother could see the glare she was sending Y/N's way.

She had to endure this.

At least until Y/N got bored and finally, finally left her alone.

Easier said than done.

Y/N was persistent.

At school, it had been fine. They didn't have every class together, and Minjeong could simply ignore her when she approached. But now Y/N was at her restaurant, invading her space, and it was getting to be too much.

The frustration built and built, day after day, until it finally snapped. It happened in gym class.

The basketball ball hit Y/N's cheek with a loud smack, and she went down.

Hard.

The gym fell silent.

Minjeong's eyes widened in shock, regret washing over her.

It wasn't a light hit. It was a ball thrown with strength, purpose, and precision.

Y/N didn't even remember hitting the ground-just opening her eyes to see the teacher and several classmates hovering over her.

Fuck.

Minjeong looked around as the commotion grew. The coach knelt beside Y/N, checking on her, while the rest of the class murmured among themselves.

Her gaze met Aeri's and Chaewon's, who just so happened to be in that class as well. Their jaws were slack as they looked between her and their best friend.

Chaewon was never known for having the best temper. So it wasn't a surprise when she stormed over, shoving Minjeong back with enough force to make her stumble.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Chaewon's voice echoed through the gym, filled with unrestrained fury.

"Stop it, Chae." Aeri tried to intervene, wrapping an arm around Chaewon's waist to keep her from doing something she'd regret. She was angry too-they both were-but getting Chaewon expelled wouldn't help anyone.

Minjeong's head snapped toward them, her mouth opening to respond, but no sound came out.

Her eyes darted back to the group surrounding Y/N. Her stomach churned at the way everyone was looking at her-at the frowns on familiar faces, at the unspoken accusations in their stares.

"Girls, that's enough."

The teacher's voice cut through the tension as he knelt beside Y/N, helping her sit up.

"Chaewon, Aeri, take Y/N to the infirmary. Minjeong, stay behind after class. Everyone else, disperse! Class isn't over for another fifteen minutes!"

Minjeong's heart sank.

She had never gotten detention before.

And now, because she let her emotions take control, she had made a fool of herself in front of everyone.

She stood frozen, watching as Chaewon and Aeri carefully helped Y/N off the ground. Even from a distance, she swore she could see the glares they both sent her.

Detention it was.

Minjeong tried to see the bright side of things.

At least now, Y/N hated her. She would finally leave her alone. She would stop showing up at the resta-

Minjeong blinked.

There she stood, in front of the counter, completely soaked.

There was a storm outside. The restaurant was practically empty.

What the hell was Y/N doing there?

"Hi." The taller girl let out, the corner of her bruised lips tilting into a soft smile.

A loud crash of thunder boomed in the background, and heavy rain pelted against the windows.

But Minjeong wasn't paying attention to the storm. Her focus was solely on Y/N. On the dark purple bruise marring her left cheek-a clear, undeniable reminder of what had happened just a day ago.

And yet, she had the audacity to smile at her.

Minjeong didn't know how to respond. Thankfully, she didn't have to. A loud gasp surged from behind her, and she stiffened as her mother rushed forward.

"What happened to you?" Minjeong tensed as her mother gently cupped Y/N's face in her hands, tilting it up to assess the damage. She expected Y/N to back away, to flinch under her mother's touch. But she didn't. She just stood there, smiling, like a complete fool.

"It's been raining so much these days," Y/N said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I slipped and fell."

Minjeong's breath caught in her throat.

Did she just lie?

Y/N could have easily exposed her.

She could have ruined her right then and there, could have held it over her head like a trophy.

Minjeong had expected her to lash out, to finally snap and make her life miserable.

But she didn't.

She just stood there, soaking wet, a bruise on her face, and a stupid smile lingering on her lips.

Why?

Minjeong already knew her secret. She knew who Y/N really was and why she had approached her on that first day. She knew how rotten Y/N and her intentions were.

So why?

"You're completely soaked too."

Minjeong's mother turned toward her. "Minjeong, get her a towel and an ice pack, please."

Minjeong froze.

Her mother turned back to Y/N and ushered her toward a table. "You need to take care of yourself! Look at that pretty face of yours! And what if you get sick?"

Y/N chuckled lightly. "I'll be fine, Miss Kim. I was more worried about you, though. How's your leg?"

Minjeong stiffened.

Her mother had injured herself years ago-she had slipped during a storm, just like this one, and broken her leg. Even now, on cold nights, the pain lingered.

But how the hell did Y/N know about that?

Why did she care?

Minjeong's heart fluttered, just for a second. She gulped, pushing away the feeling, and stepped away to grab the towel and ice pack.

Her fingers gripped the fabric tightly as she glanced back at Y/N, who was still sitting, listening intently to her mother.

A nagging thought scratched at the back of Minjeong's mind, urging her to give in to this strange, persistent kindness.

She shoved it away.

"Here," Minjeong muttered, placing the towel beside Y/N and setting the ice pack down on the table.

She turned to leave- a hand wrapped around her wrist.

Minjeong's breath hitched. She looked down, expecting Y/N, but it was her mother.

"Hold the ice up for her, will you? I'm going to get her some soup to warm up."

Minjeong's jaw nearly dropped.

She could not believe what she was hearing.

It was pure karma.

She opened her mouth to protest, but her mother was already walking off toward the kitchen, leaving her alone.

With her.

Minjeong turned back to Y/N, who was still sitting, head tilted slightly, studying her with that same infuriating curiosity.

She sighed and reached for the ice pack.

A soft chuckle stopped her.

Minjeong's gaze flickered up.

Y/N was smiling-lips curled just slightly, dimples barely visible. She pulled the towel from her shoulders, setting it aside.

The sound of rain against the windows filled the silence between them.

"You don't have to do that," Y/N said, voice softer than usual.

Minjeong frowned.

"Just keep me company for a little while, please. I miss talking to you."

Minjeong felt it again. That stupid flutter in her chest.

Y/N had to be faking it. She had to. But the look in her eyes-

It wasn't the same glimmer she gave her friends, the playful twinkle that Minjeong had grown used to seeing.

This was different. It was softer. Gentler.

Minjeong swallowed, pressing the ice pack against Y/N's bruised cheek.

Y/N winced slightly at the cold but didn't move away. Instead, she smiled, shifting slightly to make space beside her in the booth.

Minjeong hesitated. Then, slowly, she sat down. Silence settled between them, but Y/N didn't let it linger."I'm sorry about Chaewon," she said, voice quiet. "She's... protective."

Minjeong tensed. It wasn't like she could disagree.

Chaewon was protective. But she was also right.

Minjeong had hurt her friend.

Her grip tightened slightly on the ice pack as she kept it in place.

"She had every right to be," Minjeong said, her tone cold. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard."

Y/N only smiled, leaning into the touch.

Minjeong's breath caught, her jaw clenched at the closeness.

How could someone she hated be so damn comfortable around her?

Minjeong wanted Y/N to get angry-to yell, to scream.

Not sit there and be friendly.

She clenched her jaw as Y/N smiled, "So you did mean to hit me."

Minjeong couldn't deny it. She stayed silent.

The rain outside filled the quiet that settled between them.

She could hear her mother moving around the kitchen, the clatter of pots and soft humming mixing with the sound of thunder in the distance.

Minjeong wanted to say something-anything. Even an insult would do. But her mind was blank.

The ice pack had started to warm against her fingers. She adjusted it against Y/N's cheek, pressing it gently into place.

"I still don't like you," she huffed, more to fill the silence than anything. "I'm not falling for your lies again."

Y/N exhaled, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

"I didn't lie about wanting to be your friend. Or liking you," she said softly. "I just... didn't approach you with the right intentions. I'm sorry. My dad-he's not the best person. I barely know him. But I knew that he hurt you. And I wanted to make it better somehow."

Minjeong's throat tightened.

She didn't want to hear that.

She nudged Y/N's shoulder instead, scowling. "Just shut up and keep drying yourself. You're soaking the sofa."

Y/N smiled.

It wasn't much but it was a start and she was patient.

So she kept showing up at the restaurant.

She kept talking to Minjeong at school.

Interaction by interaction.

Brick by brick.

Until, somehow, impossibly-Minjeong let her back in.

Things got better.

So much better, in fact, that on Christmas Eve, Y/N found herself standing in front of Minjeong's house, clutching bags of gifts and food in her hands.

When the door opened, Minjeong just stared.

Her voice caught in her throat, countless thoughts racing through her mind.

"Y/N-what are you doing here?"

Y/N hesitated for only a second before raising the bags slightly, a small, lopsided smile on her face.

"I promised, didn't I?"

Minjeong blinked.

If anyone had told her that Y/N would actually show up, she would've laughed and told them to get their head checked.

She hadn't even expected Y/N to remember. The words had been brushed off as a joke, an empty promise at best.

But she was there.

With food. With gifts.

Minjeong's chest fluttered painfully as she took in the sight of her.

The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected in Y/N's eyes, and the crinkle at the corners of her smile made her stomach twist.

"You're crazy," Minjeong mumbled, before sighing and stepping forward, pulling Y/N into a small hug. "Y/N, you didn't have to."

"It's nothing." Y/N shrugged, stepping inside when Minjeong opened the door wider for her.

And if Minjeong had thought her parents were easily charmed by Y/N, her siblings proved her wrong.

Y/N didn't even have to say anything to win them over.

The moment they saw her step inside, looking like Santa Claus himself with all those gifts, their eyes lit up.

Minjeong watched from the side as her siblings swarmed Y/N with excitement, admiring the gifts all for themselves.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a chuckle, but still startled slightly when her mother suddenly gasped.

"YOU CAME!"

Before Y/N could even react, Minjeong's mother had grabbed her arm and dragged her straight to the kitchen. "Come try my kimchi! You like spice, right? I made it extra spicy this year!"

Minjeong couldn't help but soften as she watched her mother pull Y/N into the bustling house, filled with the laughter and chatter of her family.

The sight of her siblings holding their new toys, excitedly showing Y/N their favorite things about the gifts, made her heart swell.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she slowly made her way into the living room.

But even as she sat down, her eyes never left Y/N.

The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she fit so effortlessly into her world.

It took a while, but eventually, Y/N stepped back into the living room, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Y/N gave her a small smile. "Your family is lovely."

Minjeong stood from the couch, reaching for her hand without thinking. "They keep hogging you," she muttered, tugging her gently" "Let's run away."

Y/N laughed but didn't hesitate to hold Minjeong's hand. She smiled, glancing around as the other girl led her to her bedroom. The house was small, but filled with warmth and comfort. Y/N couldn't help but envy it a little.

"Thank you for all the gifts," Minjeong murmured, closing the door behind them. "You really didn't have to."

The silence was a welcome change, but it didn't last long.

Somehow, they ended up lying on Minjeong's small bed, facing each other, when Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box.

"I didn't know what to get you," she admitted, "I'm sorry."

Minjeong let out a soft laugh, her fingers moving to gently take the box from Y/N's hands.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Y/N. But whatever this is-it's perfect."

The gift was small, wrapped a little messily, but Minjeong didn't care.

She was too focused on the way Y/N was watching her.

Nervously, yet eagerly.

She unwrapped the box, tilting her head when she found a guitar pick inside. It was gorgeous-an ivory color with the initials K.M. engraved on each side.

Minjeong ran her thumb across the engraving, feeling the smoothness of it.

She couldn't believe what she was holding.

"The guitar should be arriving tomorrow."

Minjeong's eyes snapped up at Y/N's words, her grip on the pick tightening.

Her brain barely registered what she just heard.

'The guitar should be arriving tomorrow.'

The words repeated in her head, over and over, as she just stared at Y/N, her mouth slightly open.

A million thoughts, emotions, words-nothing could properly form.

Y/N was crazy.

No-this was insane.

There was no way Y/N actually bought her a guitar.

Just the thought of it made her feel lightheaded.

"Do you like it?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Minjeong was still staring at the guitar pick in her hands, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"I heard you tell a client you were saving up to buy one," Y/N continued, pulling out her phone and sitting up to show Minjeong a few pictures. "It's this one. I talked to a guy, and he said this one is good for beginners."

Minjeong's breath hitched as she looked at the screen.

The guitar was beautiful.

Glossy black, brand new strings, shining under the store lights.

She swallowed thickly, looking up at Y/N again-who was just watching her, waiting.

Patient.

The gift was expensive and gorgeous and thoughtful.

Minjeong's heart swelled, her chest tightening with an emotion she couldn't name.

So she did the only thing she could.

She threw her arms around Y/N's neck, hugging her tightly.

Y/N froze for a moment at the sudden warmth engulfing her-but then she melted. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Minjeong's waist, pulling her close.

Her heart skipped at the unexpected affection, her cheeks burning.

She closed her eyes and smiled, taking in Minjeong's warmth, the way she felt against her-her scent, her presence.

"I'm glad you like it."

Minjeong couldn't stop herself.

Her grip on Y/N tightened as she buried her face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent.

It was warm.

Comforting.

She sighed, her heart pounding as she closed her eyes.

"I love it."

Her voice was soft, muffled against Y/N's embrace.

She slowly pulled away, her face burning as she looked down at her hands.

"I also got you something," she mumbled, "but it feels useless compared to your gift."

Y/N frowned slightly at that.

Minjeong shouldn't compare gifts. That wasn't what this was about.

Before she could say anything, Minjeong stood up and walked toward her closet, pulling out a small box covered in reindeer-patterned wrapping paper.

Y/N's heart quickened at the sight.

She could see the effort Minjeong had put into wrapping it-the way the corners were neatly tucked, the way a tiny ribbon sat perfectly tied on top.

Her eyes flickered up to Minjeong, who was now holding the gift out for her. She reached over and took it carefully, her fingers running across the smooth wrapping.

The box was light and small in her hands. "Can I open it?"

Minjeong nodded.

Y/N smiled softly, taking her time untying the ribbon, making sure not to tear the paper as she lifted the lid off the box.

Inside, there was a layer of tissue paper.

She gently pulled it back and her breath hitched.

A blue jewelry box sat inside.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted it, flipping the lid open.

Inside, nestled against the soft velvet lining, was a golden necklace.

Y/N carefully picked it up, turning it over in her hands-

-and a small chuckle escaped her lips.

Dangling from the chain was a tiny, detailed basketball ball charm.

She swallowed thickly, her throat tight. It was so simple, yet it meant everything.

"You couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Minjeong smiled as she watched Y/N admiring the present.

Her heart squeezed gently as Y/N laughed and carefully lifted the necklace from the jewelry box.

Minjeong knew her gift was nothing compared to what Y/N had gotten for her. But seeing her like this-her face so soft, eyes full of warmth-made her more than happy.

The two stayed in Minjeong's room for as long as they could.

Which wasn't very long-because soon enough, her siblings and parents were calling them downstairs.

Y/N didn't linger much after that.

Christmas was about family, after all. The last thing she wanted to do was overstep.

So, despite Minjeong's mother asking her to stay for the twentieth time, she gently refused, saying she needed to get home before the snow started falling.

Minjeong walked her to the door, feeling a little sad to see her leave but too too shy to ask her to stay.

"Thanks for coming."

Y/N nodded, her chest feeling impossibly full. Minjeong had no idea how much tonight had meant to her.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Minjeong's cheek. "Thanks for having me."

Minjeong felt her breath catch in her lungs.

The touch was gentle. Warm.

The spot where Y/N's lips had been tingled, heat rushing to her face.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, trying to memorize the feeling-burn it into her mind.

But before she could process it, Y/N was already pulling away.

"Drive safely," Minjeong managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the cold, pulling on her jacket.

Minjeong stayed by the doorway, watching as she got into her car.

And only when the car finally disappeared down the street did she allow herself to breathe again.

Time went on and Christmas break soon ended. Y/N was ecstatic to return to school after the break.

She couldn't wait to see Minjeong again.

As she walked through the hallways with her friends, there was an extra bounce in her step, a lightness in her chest.

They made their way outside for lunch, hoping the sun would warm them up.

"I don't know, I still don't like her."

Y/N paused mid-step at Chaewon's grumble.

She quickly exchanged an exasperated glance with Niki and Aeri before sighing. "Give it a rest, Chaewon."

"Give it a rest?" Chaewon scoffed. "Did you see the way she threw that ball at you, Y/N? That girl is dangerous, I'm telling you! What if she gets angry and throws another ball at you? It's psychotic. You were knocked out!"

Y/N shrugged, thanking Niki as he held the door open for her.

They stepped out into the school's wide garden, where the winter sun was shining brightly.

"She's got a strong personality, so what?" Y/N said easily. "Plus, she didn't mean to hit me that hard. And-" she grinned, holding up the charm hanging from her neck, "-she got me a necklace for Christmas!"

Chaewon snorted at that.

"A strong personality? She sounds like a psycho to me."

They reached an empty bench, settling into the sunlight.

Aeri gently nudged Y/N. "Just ignore her. She's just petty she's single."

Chaewon went on to argue that, but Y/N didn't mind them.

She knew her friend was just being protective-and she was thankful for that.

But at the same time, she was sure of one thing.

"Chae, Minjeong would never do anything to hurt me again. Trust me, she's-"

The words died in Y/N's throat.

Her chest tightened, breath catching as her gaze landed on a new sight.

It felt like the air had been stolen from her lungs.

Minjeong was leaning against a tree-not too far away.

And standing in front of her, with one hand gently placed on her waist and the other tangled in her hair, was Jimin.

Y/N watched, frozen in place, as Jimin tilted her head down and kissed Minjeong.

Minjeong tilted her head up to meet her, their lips pressing softly together.

Y/N could see everything, the way Jimin pulled away gently, the way Minjeong's lips curved slightly in response.

Her heart plummeted into her stomach.

The world around her blurred, sounds faded into nothing-her ears were ringing, her pulse pounding in her head.

She hadn't even realized that she'd stopped breathing.

Her lungs screamed for air but she couldn't breathe in.

For a split second, the urge to step forward burned inside her. To pull them apart. To rip Jimin's hand away from Minjeong.

But time had frozen around her.

And in that moment, Y/N was done.

#aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #winter x reader #kim minjeong x reader #aespa minjeong #aespa #winter imagines #kim minjeong imagines #minjeong x reader #winter scenarios #winter x y/n #winter x you #minjeong x you #kim minjeong #aespa winter

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slytherizz · 1 year ago

Text

Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest.

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?"

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly.

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin.

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged.

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?”

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest.

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges.

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams.

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight.

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical.

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly.

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom.

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs.

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was.

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand.

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach.

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat?

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work.

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been.

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm.

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?"

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears.

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race.

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder.

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath.

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed.

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes.

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned.

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect.

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success.

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they.

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her.

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four.

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat.

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child.

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled.

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for.

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other reasons it appeals to me.”

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him.

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle.

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity.

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl.

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment.

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed.

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall.

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently.

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs.

“Sebastian - please,” she whined.

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke.

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers.

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree.

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach.

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian.

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress.

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation.

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh.

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress.

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips.

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock.

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft.

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach.

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust.

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out.

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined.

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.”

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear.

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her.

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke.

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard.

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock.

Willing it to take root.

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take.

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away.

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one.

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her.

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval.

“Care to test the theory?”

#i headcannon dadbod seb so hard #daddy!seb #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #slytherizz fic

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cloveroctobers · 9 months ago

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HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL — RIO [Summer Prompts]

A/N: I was debating between making this Rio or Manny based and usually I like to alternate but for this prompt it felt more Rio like 😂 so hopefully for my October prompts if I write for Mayans again I’ll probably write for Manny. Anyways! Hope you guys get a kick out of this as much as I did writing it.

WARNINGS: language & things actually got a little 🌶️ towards the end which isn’t normally my thing but I guess I got inspired 😈 Enjoy!

SYNOPSIS: Rio’s so productive he hardly gets a day where he can get enough rest in…what happens when you disrupt that over something so irrational? He swears he loves you but he’s also not putting up with your shit.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-"

<- check out my previous summer anthology writings here.

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Rio preferred it cold.

It just made sense for the weather to be cold or cool rather than as hot as Diablo’s breath. He wasn’t made for hot weather and he couldn’t get away with his dark attire in the hotter months either. That’s where you two deferred, you loved the heat over the cold any day so as soon as the first day of summer hit…you seemed to glow more even when it wasn't golden hour.

You were outside way before the official day of summer hit because the warm weather was actually sticking around in Detroit and usually Rio was down for whatever, in fact he already booked a trip to Grenada in August (which his skin would probably regret as soon as y’all touched down in the West Indies), but for this particular outing felt like a waste of a time. A older Australian couple that the two of you became acquainted with when the two of you picked up the sport of pickleball—Rio still liked tennis better—invited you two to celebrate their furbaby’s (a Chinese Crested) birthday.

Thats right a whole ass birthday party for a dog who was now widowed, you two attended the wedding just last year and the Chinese Crested, Harlowe was still dealing with the loss of their loved one so the couple thought a party would uplift his spirits. It was ridiculous what rich people got up to but you liked to entertain it sometimes.

For Rio? It was all about networking considering that the wife of the pair was a retired attorney and her husband owned a billionaire company. You knew it wasn’t really a genuine friendship (more so out of convenience) they were the couple you mainly chatted with just to past the time when you all appeared at the same events. So the both of you didn’t appear that disappointed when the husband called Rio up just fifteen minutes before the both of you were getting ready to leave telling you that they, “regretfully want to inform that their beloved Harlowe was not up for a party and rather a intimate gathering with just his parents.”

“Do you think they’re still having something but much smaller and we got uninvited?” You asked, already stepping out of your heels when Rio came back into the bedroom to tell you the news.

Rio lifted his shoulders, “we’ll find out if they did but I didn’t want to go no way.”

“I know you didn’t,” you laugh as you spin around motioning for Rio to help you out of your dress, thanks to a old shoulder injury that had you attending PT from time to time.

He pauses with his fingertips brushing against the nape of your neck, “whatchu getting undressed for? You don’t want to find other plans for tonight?”

This wasn’t shocking, usually when plans got dropped the both of you always found something else to get into. It was rare for either of you to just take cancelled plans for what they were since the both of you stayed busy as a couple and separately.

“Nope…we can stay in. We’re hitting the gym in the morning anyway right?”

“I did say that didn’t I?” Rio sighed while you laughed to yourself, knowing he would prefer doing his own workout at the park or even in the backyard of your contemporary colonial—when you were with him—rather than at the gym.

He already had to put a few people in check for looking at you too long or even turning a friendly conversation into flirtations. Of course you loved Rio letting his protectiveness come out but you drew the line at him causing a few to lose their jobs when it was never that serious (to you). In this economy?! He even tried to persuade you into another gym—which was about an hour AND thirty minutes away from home but you liked the set up of your current gym and already made a few friends there as well.

Which is why he was putting in that work to get ownership over the building these past few months (which went from professional to lethal) but that was a need to know basis for you.

“Uh huh,” you nodded holding the front of the now slumped cowl silk aqua dress, “I know you can’t hang with me, so I’ll let it slide and you can enjoy your PTO.”

“Thank you for your permission, mama.” Rio rolled his eyes playfully, which then proceeded to follow you as you disappeared into the closet by the bedroom door.

Rio leans against the doorway just watching you as you shoved into some loungewear.

“I think I washed these on the wrong setting, ain’t no way these shrunk after only having them for a month.” You stated, pulling at the ends of your plaid boxer shorts with a huff.

Rio hummed, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth while he viewed the length of your legs in those shorts, “nah…that ass is growing and it’s giving me and those shorts something more to eat.”

Throwing your head back with a shake of your head you sharply exhale through your nostrils in warning, “behave.”

“It’s kinda hard to when you look like that.” He licked his lips, tempted to pounce.

“Please, I’ll put you to sleep as soon as you get up in it.” You tease as you step to cradle your husband’s face, “get some rest first honey and then we’ll talk.”

Patting his cheek, you went to squeeze by him but Rio caught your wrist to gain your attention once more. Peering up at him, Rio let his eyelashes flutter as he took his time analyzing the shape of you which was part of the many reasons he loved you, “you’re lucky I could use a few hours.”

You just smile at the heaviness in his raspy tone, leaning forward to press a kiss right to his plump and always moisturized lips. “I’ll be downstairs deciding on bourbon chicken or honey pineapple salmon for dinner.”

Rio kept a straight face as he fought back a yawn but still nodded his head at your retreating form. It felt like as soon as you told him to take his rest, his body was underneath your spell and normally he liked having that effect on you more so but he’ll fight you on it later.

What he hoped you didnt fight him on was taking a spot right on the couch to get these much needed hours in. He couldn’t exactly hide it as the kitchen and living room were basically side by side in an open floor plan but once you got on the phone with your girlfriends…that Kiking was unstoppable and lengthy. Moments later it only took you placing the fillets into the oven, sides done and covered to keep warm, with you getting off the phone and finally glancing to your right to notice the lanky frame of your husband snoring on the sofa. His limbs were always too long for the couch in the living room, which is why majority of the time he spent time on the 2-piece sectional downstairs.

Thankfully Rio wasn’t much of a snorer but sometimes when that sleep really hit? It came out and you knew he needed it. Rio was always sitting on ready regardless of his laidback but cardinial personality but you knew his profession as a, “businessman,” was anything but sweet—unless it came to counting the bag that is. You didn’t get much into his business, always being the one to turn the other cheek until necessary.

The both of you shared words a few times at the start of your relationship when you became serious and found out that Rio had people (before Mick) following you. You were an artist with a successful art gallery, which contained half of your artwork along with other local artists, new and young, and you even had some imported from all over the world. Rio tried it with the import portion of your gallery once before but you shut that shit down and the both of you didn’t speak for at least a week—almost two until the gym became his second focus—after making things right with you. Take that how you will. At the beginning you didn’t appreciate being followed and figuring out that Christopher had something to do with it after pulling out your own piece—something you hated to do but you knew how to handle your own business—Rio tried to persuade you later on that it gave him comfort knowing that his men can keep a eye on you when he can’t.

Some may have felt like that was a red flag (half of your girlfriend’s being the “some,” but one of them always had something negative to say about anything you had going on…which is why you weren’t friends at this point in time) but with a love so immense? And a career like Rio’s? You grew to accept it as a source of another security blanket since you didn’t like to get your hands dirty. Having that kind of power where someone could do that for you? Was indescribable. Sure Rio’s methods of getting to the money may require things you didn’t really agree with, you kept your own business clean just how you wanted but the way you felt about Rio was not something that could just vanish. You knew what his business entailed but you didn’t need to see the grit of it.

So maybe you did get off just a little at your man having that kind of pull on these streets.

Somebody should sue oh wait…they tried that and were part of a missing person’s report but that case was closed back in January.

You leaned against the white marble countertops, another small smile playing on your lips as it was your turn to watch your lightly snoring of a husband on the couch. He didn’t even get the chance to turn the tv on to fall asleep to, another opposite of your relationship, he needed some noise while you preferred it quiet and no light. His ankles hung off the sofa, one hand crossed over his chest as he held onto his shoulder in slumber. It wasn’t until you noticed the bright colored fiesta floral blanket pulled up and slanted underneath his chin that had you entering the living space.

You almost stopped your actions as you stared down at him in peace. You hated him watching you sleep and here you were doing the same but that didn’t last long as you shifted the spatula in your hand.

SLAP!

The stinging Rio felt against his forehead jolted him awake. His lengthy lashes popped open, making him sit up some as he tried to figure out what and who just assaulted him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus his vision before he shifted his view to you and that teal silicone spatula.

A furrow appeared seconds later, hand going from his shoulder to rub at the spot in between his thick brows. “What’s goin’ on?”

His voice is groggy and you almost felt bad for slapping the mess out of him. Yet he should be thankful that you didn’t slap the eagle tattoo right off the skin of his throat. The blood rushed to that spot on the center of his forehead but him rubbing at it only made it worse.

“I can ask you the same thing, why are you cuddled up with that blanket?” You motioned to the item with the cooking utensil.

Rio licked his lips, glancing down at the peach, orange, yellow, green, and navy blue blanket. He clears his throat, “Whatchu mean? I’m sleeping and the air’s on.”

Not Mr. Cool needing a blanket when he’s the one who loved having the house set on: icebox where his heart used to be, Omarion needs to slide glide and collect his boy real talk.

“Whose fault is that? I told you it didn’t need to be lower than seventy.”

Rio side eyed you a bit and proceeded to close his eyes again, ready to check out but you kicked at the cushion he laid against. Which made him sit up on his elbows, pinching the space in between his brows, “what’s good wit you? You think that makes sense to have the thermostat set on seventy when it’s damn near ninety out that front door?”

“Yes. It’s all about comfort.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do with this blanket, thank you.” He went to plop back down, ready to pull the fallen object back over his shoulders.

You snatch it right off his body, “this blanket isn’t for you to get your drool on.”

“I don’t drool and wait a minute…did you hit me with that? A used spatula? You’re about to mess up my skincare and that’s feelin’ a little disrespectful to me.”

You scoff as you proceed to fold the blanket how you previously had it tossed along the couch, “No it wasn’t used! You know me better than that and I know you take pride in self care. I wouldn’t do you like that but it’s clear you’re disrespecting me by using this blanket that abuela gave to me.”

Rio felt his eye twitch as he exhaled his rising nerves, “…what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?”

“It’s for show!” You exasperated as you finished brushing over the fur of the oversized blanket.

Rio snorted, “oh for the love of almighty!”

You huffed with your hands on your hips, pulling your attention away from the blanket that was back to the way it was, “What?”

“Be real with me.” Rio jabbed a thumb at the direction of the blanket, “you want me to believe that you’re being this extra over a blanket my abuela got you from fucking Marshall’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “oh no you didn’t, not you being uppity Mr. Serena & Lily.”

“I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“Now you’re disrespecting Abuela!” You pointed at him accusing, “Just wait until she hears about this!”

“Nah you’re not telling her nothing!” Rio latched onto the waistband of your shorts, yanking you right on the couch as you squealed feeling the air hit your lower back.

You elbowed him as you collapsed right on his lap, “are you trying to get me to moon you? What’s wrong with you?!”

He shushed you with a smirk, “Thanks for confirming just what I needed to hear…” his hands slip down your sides and towards your bare hips beneath the fabric, squeezing the sides of your ass.

“No, we have beef now you pervert.” Your attempt to get off his lap was not working for you, at all.

His lips are at the space beneath your earlobe and the way he’s sucking on the skin is definitely leaving some tingles all over your body. Rio chuckles as he feels you shudder in his lap, “what beef? I think we should talk it out, don’t you?”

He moves one hand from the side of your ass to travel up the valley in between your breasts, grabbing a hand full of the one on the left and his right. Your breathing is picking up now as Rio settles you both back against the couch and it isn’t until you feel the plush of the blanket against your shoulder that you come back to your senses.

You pull yourself from Rio’s hold, snatching the spatula back to aim right at him in defense, “that wasn’t talking.”

“Well I disagree and thought it was until you rudely interrupted me.” Rio briefly rests his elbows against his knees as he sizes you up while you cautiously step back towards the kitchen, “you clearly don’t want me getting in that overtime of sleep anymore so I guess I’m well rested enough to spend quality time with my wife.”

Rio has his eyes set only on you and he can visibly see you gulp at the distance you put between you. That feeds his ego enough, he sniffs as he pushes himself to his feet, stalking over you to pluck the spatula out of your hand and to slide it against the counters towards the deep sink. Rio towers over you, using his fingertips to grip your jaw firm enough to get your sight back on him. Quickly he latches onto your thighs, lifting you against the counter and making space for himself right in between.

His forehead is pressed against yours breathing you in as he yanks you right to the edge of the counter, his hands caressing the warmth of your upper thighs, “you care about that damn blanket so much, I want your eyes to stay only on it while I sample my appetizer, you got that?”

A finger ran over your clothed center and you pushed your moan back down your vocal cords. The both of you were famous for your poker faces but eventually one of you would take it off of the other.

Your heart was pounding against your chest along with the adrenaline also running wild at the way Rio was looking at you, seeking to devour you while biting down on his bottom lip as he fought to keep his eyes on you and not on the increased rise and fall of your chest.

His hand snakes up to your throat, squeezing just enough to let you know what time it was, “I said, do you got that?”

You sucked your teeth, “I heard you—

You started just for Rio to push you by the throat with the swiftness against the counter, other hand flying behind your head just in time to protect the back of it while your thighs instantly latched around his hips in alert.

He laughs a bit, “yeah I knew you’d like that shit,” as he lets go of your throat after turning your head to face the living room, right where your blanket sat then using both of his hands to nudge your thighs apart so he can leave you bare from your shorts.

Curiosity got the best of you as you tried to take a peek to see what your husband was up to. Usually he was the light sleeper but you didn’t miss the sound of the pop of his lips, making you turn your head to see two damp digits.

“What did I say?”

Quickly shutting your eyes, you shielded them with a free hand trying to fight back a smile and still holding your “innocence,” as you waited to open your eyes again.

“Wait!” You called out, just knowing what was to come, “…check the timer for the salmon.”

Rio barely let the annoyance hit as he gazed over his shoulder to the clock on the stove, “ten minutes left. That’s all I need for right now…desserts a different story.”

And with that being said you let his touch be felt in the most pleasing of ways, folding at the way Rio knew just what to do to set you right.

Sitting in the dining room, since you refused to sit at the island—which Rio found humorous and promised he would clean—you can’t be eating at everybody’s house y’all—the both of you sat face to face with you on the bench and Rio in the navy chair across from you.

He chewed on his last piece of fillet, hand underneath his chin as he stared at you slouched over a bit. His long limbs tapped against you underneath the table, watching you flinch as you pushed your shoulders back, which added to more of Rio’s amusement.

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his dark eyes can’t help but to falter down to your white tank top, “you look cold and might need a blanket? There’s one not far from us actually.”

You scowled while he laughed grinning at you, “you’re such a dick!”

“And you took it so well.”

A gasp fell from your lips while you tossed a folding napkin right towards Rio’s smug face, who snatched it before it could touch him. Leaving him to mockingly kiss his lips at you, “it’s all love.”

“We’ll see.” You chewed back a smirk but Rio can read you just by looking into your eyes.

Rio raised his brows, “That a challenge? I can guarantee you we can make it happen.”

Rio loves leaving you a crying mess and talking you down from your high. His drive was hardly ever low but he thought it was respectable for the both of you to get some nutrients in before the full rounds started.

You held up a finger, grabbing your glass to chug the rest of the water, making Rio rest his cheek into the knuckles of his hand with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you exhale, “but it’s my time to set it off.”

Rio nodded his head ready for whatever you had in mind although he’s envisioning reverse cowgirl, “cool, no complaints on my end.”

“I bet,” you raise a foot to caress his lap, “Can help you back to sleep in some blankets that are actually meant for sleeping with.”

Rio groaned for two separate reasons of course, reaching one hand down to grip your ankle, “lead the way, mama.”

“Not until you do the dishes and clean the counter. I know how much you hate going to bed with a dirty kitchen and we ain’t got shit to do so…get to it. I’ll be waiting.” It was your turn for some small payback as you hopped up from the bench, a glare crossing Rio’s features.

You laughed as you gripped his shoulders, leaning down to press your lips against his. The both of you tilted your heads just right as your lips battled against each other soon before you slipped your tongue against Rio’s. It was getting nasty again and he was ready to pull you right in his lap and let you do your thing right there but you pulled back with a bit of saliva between your lips.

“Hurry up, I’ll be ready to take my own nap myself soon.” You wink at him before you quickly pulled yourself from his grasp.

Rio swallowed his own breathing down, hands rubbing at his wet lips first and then the tension in his jaw all while feeling the twitch below again. Looking at the dishes and feeling the pull towards you was another battle within itself. Usually he wasn’t the clean up crew, he had people for that professionally and personally and as he started cleaning one dish he checked his own pocket to book a cleaning service for the morning. However he did take his time cleaning down the island, he wasn’t that cruel.

And who needed the gym anyway when you had his heart pumping enough?

He didn’t have to cancel that too.

Rio always ran shit.

The gym was just as much as his now as you are.

Just how he liked it.

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Continue with my summer anthology prompts & writings here.

#Spotify #queued #good girls nbc #good girls rio #good girls Rio x reader #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #manny montana #summer prompts #summer writings

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months ago

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"Stillborn? No, no, still born." -- DPXDC AU

Based off a comment I saw where Bruce knew about Talia's pregnancy in the earlier comivs, and was ecstatic to be a father. So much so that Talia feared he'd give up being Batman for it, so when she gave birth she put the baby (Damian) on a doorstep and (seemingly) told Bruce that the baby was stillborn.

Instead of Damian, that baby was Danny! Meet Daniel Brown, the 14 year old foster kid whose been living with the Fenton family for the last two years. He's about two years older than Damian.

His last name, "Brown", was a generic surname given to him because the note he came with didn't have one on it. It just had the name "Danyal" on it, but albeit 'Daniel' was the one that had been put into the system for, I'll be totally frank here, racism reasons.

(I looked it up to make sure, and it's generally not permissible for foster parents to change the names of their foster kids even if it's a permanent residency, and for that reason Danny doesn't have the last name "Fenton".)

Danny's got ✨~issues!~✨ He's been through a handful of homes growing up, most of them terrible for a variety of reasons. Which has, as a result, left lasting scars. He's generally a very sweet kid, just very distrustful and jumpy. He's got the signs of a kid suffering from PTSD, and a handful of other issues including attachment and insomnia. His inferiority complex could rival Damian's, and that's going to make for an interesting mutual hatred for when they finally meet.

(something I'll get into later)

He still has the blanket he was found in. It's made of a very high quality material and is a beautiful emerald green with little golden thread accents, it's high quality as a result has Danny clinging onto a desperate hope that his bio family might be out there, and the only reason they gave him up was because of some outside factor. It's been taken a few times in old foster homes, and he's flipped out each time.

While he still calls Jack and Maddie by their names, he likes them well enough. The bar isn't that high though, and while they're some of the better foster parents he's had, "better" doesn't equal "safest". Their laboratory malpractice. Basically, C- Fenton Parents. They're negligent by virtue of being engrossed in their work, but they do care equally about Jazz and Danny. So he doesn't hold it against them that much.

He kinda prefers it that way, their loud affection is overwhelming and Danny doesn't know what to do with their attention, even if he craves it. It's a bit of a complicated situation.

They took in Danny because they genuinely wanted another child, but didn't want a big age gap between them and Jazz. It was actually Jack's idea to foster, and they discussed it with Jazz beforehand. She was all for the idea. Thus, a handful of weeks later, a ton of paperwork, and inspection later, and Daniel Brown entered their household with a trash bag in one hand and eyes like shards of stained glass.

His relationship with Jazz is kinda strained, but that's by virtue of her constant psychoanalyzing and helicoptering. Like with the parents, Danny's overwhelmed by the attention and also just, straight up doesn't like the fact that she's telling him that there's something wrong with him. He knows that, thank you. He pushes her away when she does this.

Other than that though? When Jazz isn't smothering him and is acting like an actual sibling and not a third parent, they're pretty close, and Danny really likes her. They've hung out a few times on their own volition, and Jazz showed him how to take better care of his long hair.

His school situation,, pretty similar to canon with the bullying, albeit with a few more instances of him blowing a fuse and lashing out against his attackers. He's a rather angry kid, but it's quiet. It builds up, piles on top of itself, until eventually, like a volcano, it erupts and burns everyone within radius.

Danny's got a fire core, not an ice core. Phantom's hair is made of white magma; thick and heavy, setting itself on fire when his anger runs hot. When he gets angry, his skin begins to char and split open to reveal pulsating lava underneath, and he crackles and pops like a raging forest fire.

I haven't decided yet on how he meets the batfam -- i've got two ideas but they're both in opposition to each other, and drastically alter how the rest of the plot goes. But I do know that him and Damian hate each other in the beginning. And it has nothing to do with inheritance or "being the blood son" -- although their blood relation absolutely plays the major role in their disdain for each other.

Simply put, they're jealous of each other for the same thing: thinking that the other was wanted.

Damian hates Danny because, unlike Damian, Bruce knew about Danny since conception and wanted him from the moment he heard about him. He had a whole nursery set up, and still does. He never took it down -- just locked the door. Damian was thrust upon Bruce without warning, and he feels like he forced himself into the family. And while on some level Damian knows and understands that Bruce wants him and loves him as much as his other children, that doubt and feeling of inferiority still remains. He looks at Danny and sees him with what Damian always feels he needs reaffirmed.

Meanwhile, Danny hates Damian because he looks at him and sees him with everything Danny's ever wanted. He hates him because Damian grew up knowing both of their parents, with one of them for most of his life, and then moved over to the other. There was never a moment where Damian was (seemingly) left to doubt his place within the family. Damian was raised with the very same woman who left Danny on a doorstep, with no clue to his identity beyond a little green blanket and a note with only a first name. Damian was wanted everywhere, and Danny was wanted nowhere. Damian is Danny's replacement in his eyes.

(It's the little revelation that Damian grew up with their mother that elevates Danny from being quietly envious of Damian to downright despising him. What did Damian do, that Danny didn't? He could live with Damian living with Bruce -- Bruce didn't know Danny was even alive. But him living with their mom? Are you fucking kidding him?)

Damian never outright attacks Danny physically, but it's not like he hides that he didn't like Danny. Meanwhile, Danny, in all his repressive anger, quietly despised him from a distance until finally one wrong snide side-comment has him blowing up and it becomes a screaming match. They're both just enough similar to each other that when they look at each other they really just see a mirror.

They'll work it out together, eventually. But it'll be ugly and cruel and explosive, and they'll start mending the bridge to become brothers in more than just blood relation in the end.

But yeah, stillborn Danny has... a lot going for him.

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #danyal al ghul #dpxdc prompt #additions. opinions and brainstorming are encouraged!! i'd love to hear what other people's thoughts on this are and brainstorm with them.#the brainstorming is the best part.#stillborn? no still born au #poc danny fenton #stillborn au #long haired danny fenton #danny isn't surprised by the fact that the fentons were greenlit for foster parenting considering some of the foster parents HE'S had #those two ideas differed in who found out about who first. Whether it be Bruce or Danny. bruce finding out about danny first results in #Bruce seeking him out first and being able to explain his side of the story first without misunderstandings. this is the Happy Version #Danny finding out about Bruce first results in him getting an official DNA test done and intentionally seeking him out to introduce himself #except when he finds out about damian's existence his shit self worth results in him jumping to the conclusion that his bio family never #wanted him in the first place. that they weren't looking for him and instead just up and replaced him. This is the Fucking SAD Version #and includes a conversation where Danny looks Batman dead in the eyes and tells him that he was 'daddy dearest's fucking reject'#danny completely unaware that batman = bruce wayne btw. for the extra angst. bruce has to stand there and take it. rip #this poor boy needs antidepressants. therapy. and rehab. probably. i've thought about him having an old addiction that he was recovering #from prior to the fentons. but its not confirmed yet. if i go through with it its either gonna be nicotine or like painkillers. i need to #wait and think about it when i'm not on the angst train. i have a tendency to go overboard when i am. its the endorphin high #Danny calls Damian his 'fucking replacement' and Damian tackles him.#starry makes another angsty au

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unholyhelbig · 2 months ago

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pls do Kiramman x femme reader I am BEGGING

Title: The Archivist

Ship: Female!Reader x Caitlyn Kiramman

Wordcount:2783

Summary: After becoming the Sheriff of Piltover Caitlyn simply has too many messes to clean up. The Archivist in the basement that Marcus hired is the furthest down on her list. She certainly didn't expect you.

Dt: The amazing @ittynyte ❤️

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of ownership, contracts, enforcers being enforcers, alcohol, vomit ,an unhealthy amount of italics, horrible grammar because I don't beta,(let me know if I missed anything pls)

[A/n: This got away from me. Full disclaimer it was supposed to be absolutely filthy and it turned into Caitlyn being kind of soft but uh, anyone one up for some buddy-enforcer-fucked-nasty stuff later? I can provide that! Seemed wrong for the tone. Depends on the response!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Caitlyn Kiramman expected the dead stored away in the archives to remain tight lipped. She certainly didn’t anticipate the soft crooning of a jazz singer over a shrill trumpet, screaming over a muted piano. Nor did she expect the sullen scent of dust when she knew very well that she pressed the golden nib of a fountain pen to a check to prevent just that sort of decay.

Very rarely, if ever, did Caitlyn find herself in the vast archives of the station. She was much too interested in solving the constant rotation of files that seemed to pedal across her desk, the instances that were deemed much too important for those that wore their badges on their hip and not around their throats, not close enough to limit their air.

What use was a sheriff down here? All the files in these boxes were solved. They had been stamped to satisfaction and were intended to be kept clean and guarded just like the rest of the station. Though the pungent mildew scent that any basement had was sure to be unavoidable, she supposed.

It was dark and damp and endless. The only sound that cut through the copy boxes was a fluttering of music that Caitlyn followed like a dog sniffing out the vaguest hint of a bone. She did so with poise, eyes running across the names listed on the boxes as she did so: Fortune, Crownguard, Du Couteau, Vayne.

Most of the boxes were simply legend to Caitlyn, far beyond her time. She vaguely recalls mention of a few surnames during boisterous dinners with her parents, Sheriff Grayson in attendance. But the warmth of the fire and the flow of alcohol often dims her memory.

A flicker of golden light at the end of the tunnel calls to her. She slows her step, suddenly wary of startling the keeper of a wealth of knowledge. A courtesy she does not afford many, certainly not strangers.

You were simply a perk of the station, a deal that was in a bi-clause of a bi-clause. Caitlyn highlighted it when she first became the official sheriff of Piltover and thrust it into Mel’s face in the lamplight. She had just chuckled, leaned close and taken a sip of her bourbon.

“Her? No. Come on Cait, leave it be. Marcus won the poor kid off Madam Margot in a poker game.”

“A Chem Baron? The mere statement had been incredulous enough that Caitlyn had choked on her own drink, nearly tainting the contract she’d worked so hard to scour over the past month before even accepting the position. “Give me one reason not to send her back to the lanes, then?”

Mel had taken another tentative sip from her drink and let Caitlyn’s question simmer. There were a million reasons not to trust you, but the simple fact remained. You’d been taken from one cage and shoved into another. If you were going to pull something, you would have by now.

In truth, Caitlyn had put a question mark in red ink next to your name and swore to come back to the annotation later but never had. She’d moved to the enforcers that she needed to retrain. The ones she needed to rip from their families for placing the metal of a rifle up against the temples of those who were nothing but innocent. The ones who had accepted bribes openly from Marcus himself. She needed to heal the station, and you were below all of that, miles underground.

So, admittedly, Caitlyn forgot about you and signed your checks and scrunched her nose up at your name, but you had stayed quiet and strangely loyal in your cave of darkness. She’d never seen you. Never met you. Figured you were on a different schedule. Money was withdrawn and files were organized, and your name was uttered simply as The Archivist, and it had stayed blissfully that for years.

A cage of sorts was at the end of Caitlyn’s journey. Something that divided you from the rest of the archives, though it was nothing more than what one would find in a gymnasium to store away sensitive equipment.

More shelves that lined the perimeter of the space with boxes that were decidedly not stamped with a completion date and a small desk that was shoved into the corner, a kerosene lamp that was the source of the low lamplight pulsing at its edge.

There was a bed, more like a cot, covered in an enforcer issued blanket and a pillow that was much too flat. Two books that looked to be busted at the seams. They were worn to hell and back. A record player that was the culprit of the hazy jazz music.

And there you sat: Back pressed to the edge of the bed with your legs crossed and arms dangling lazy over them. Strands of hair fell into your concentrated gaze. They were hidden brilliantly behind a pair of glasses but still squinting as if the prescription hadn’t been updated in decades. A wooden pencil was between your lips, but the yellow paint had been chewed off, exposing the soft underbelly.

You hadn’t seemed to notice the Sheriff, but by God, had she noticed you. The curve of your arms and the ink that was etched into them. The slope of your jaw and the easy way your button down hugged your frame. You were impeccably well kept for someone who seemed to be living down here.

She studied you for moments more, chest tugging impossibly at a marking that stood out to her above them all. An intricate ‘H’ that was inked just behind the earlobe. Her breath caught silently. Not as if she had doubted Mel’s words. But her chest ached quietly for you, for Margot’s claim.

Your delicate fingers came up to brush against the blackened symbol as if sensing Caitlyn’s eyes on you and in the same stippled breath you had noticed her presence. All the warmth you’d created in your sanctuary was sucked out at the intrusion.

“Fuck!”

You clearly didn’t register who the intruder was, just that there was one. Papers had been scattered in front of you neatly from a copy box and now your socked feet were pushing them this way and that as she scrambled to right yourself. It was a comical scene-really. Caitlyn lifted a sculpted brow.

You slid once more, nearly into a quick split before finally planting both of your feet onto solid ground and blinking dazedly at Caitlyn. Your eyes, they were quite different. Clearly you were Zaun. The thought startled Caitlyn, but only for a moment. The slightest rim of pink echoed around your iris, but it was barely noticeable. Hardly even there.

“Hi,”

Caitlyn lifted her chin. Odd. That was no way to address her. You were slouched and unkempt and there was a scent of old paper to you. She supposed she’d fallen into her ways of demanding respect but, it was quite possible that you didn’t know how to give it to her.

“Um” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Who are you? Did… If Marcus sent you to fetch me then please just, give me one moment.” Suddenly there was insurmountable fear in your eyes as you glanced back at the record player. “There’s this song, it’s Dean Martin, it’s coming on in a few clicks and I know you don’t owe me anything but if I could just hear Volare one more time.”

Caitlyn’s mouth propped itself open, her lips making a dry popping sound. When she was a child and they’d visited Northan Ionia, her parents had rented a cabin that had a lake within stones throw. She’d fallen through after the sickening, reverb of the ice cracking. That feeling of being dunked under water that was below freezing filled her now.

“You’ve never heard Dean Martin, then?” You were trying a different tactic now, a nervous attempt to fill the near silence, hands shoved in the pockets of your pants. “Gods, well, you’re missing out. Stay and listen. Just for a bit? Then you can take me to him. I’ll go without a fight. Swear to it.”

“No!”

You flinched and Caitlyn raised her hands up. Fuck. She wasn’t a rookie. She knew how to talk a man off a ledge and now suddenly she was feeling just how cold the archives were. How dank and musty and her stomach was roiling. She had to focus on this here and now.

Caitlyn tried a softer, warmer, tone “No, I mean, I’m not taking you anywhere.”

That was the wrong thing to say too, but it was enough for now. Your shoulders visibly relaxed and the coil in your spine seemed to unwind, if not minutely. Again, your fingers brushed absently against the marking that she knew was there.

She swallowed the dryness in her throat. You were peering at her like a lost puppy, glazed eyes that threatened to spill over as if she were the one who came to finish you off herself. It dawned on Caitlyn that she might be the only other enforcer that you’d ever seen, and she wore the regulated revolver all the same. She’d been through this before.

The basics, she’d start with the basics, just like she’d done with Vi. “I’m Sheriff Kiramman.”

“The secretary?”

“Pardon me?”

She must have sounded incredulous because you smiled dazzlingly and let the rest of the tension drop from your shoulders. You’d completely ignored the title in front of her name. She felt the heat bloom on her cheeks and her nose scrunch up. “I just figured, you know? Hadn’t seen Marcus in awhile and then the checks that I was getting were signed by you.”

You moved as if you were about to collect the scattered papers across the floor but plopped down on the creaky bed instead, suddenly exhausted from the scare of Caitlyn’s presence. She was rigid at the entrance of your space, watching you carefully. Harmless. She decided. Scared.

“Sheriff,” Caitlyn reiterated, taking the plunge and stepping over the threshold of your room. You stiffened for just a moment before relaxing.

You remained silent for a long moment. Caitlyn let you process the word, mull it over in your head. It was just two syllables, but they were heavy ones. She scanned the boxes with names she didn’t’ recognize. They were anything but dusty, and they piqued her interest but not as much as you.

“There’s only one of those, unless the bylaws have changed.”

Caitlyn turned and watched you. There was a thickness to the way you swallowed. Your knuckles had tightened around the thin mattress and your legs had locked as if you were about to spring up. She recognized the green pigment to your skin in an instant, the sudden paleness of your complexion.

The sheriff grabbed the wastebasket from under the pitiful desk and shoved it into your hands, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. The heat that rolled from your clammy skin was worrisome at best and alarming at worst. You retched into the trashcan, and she didn’t hesitate to touch you this time, rubbing her hand down your spine.

You coughed, something that sounded painful and wet. Caitlyn carefully slid your glasses from the tip of your nose before they fell into the bin and hooked them on the collar of her shirt. This was normal, or at least she told herself as much.

“Easy, easy” She dragged cool fingers across damp skin at the nave of your neck. “Deep breaths.”

Nodding frantically, you swallowed back the sour taste in your mouth, finally satisfied that you’d emptied the nauseous feeling in your stomach, setting the trashcan as far away as you could. Your hands were shaking, your leg pressed next to the Sheriffs. She saw the sudden urge to bolt reflected in your almost magenta stare.

“I suppose you own me, then.”

The words made her eye twitch involuntarily. She stiffened. Caitlyn preferred not to be dunked under cold water twice in one day, much less at all. You were slumped and tired and smelling of bile. Though the thought appealed to her in consensual settings this was much too anger inducing to consider.

She wanted to pull Marcus’s mangled body from the grave just to mangle it further with her own teeth. As unladylike as it seemed the fact that he hadn’t been maimed by her own hands to begin with made them itch unbearably. If she were to lean into mutilation when her Kiramman blood flared with lust, it may as well be used for good.

“That’s how the contract works, Sheriff Kiramman.” You fought to save the silence once more. “Marcus won me in a poker game, which I’m certain he cheated in, the bastard. My father drafted the contract himself with Madame Margot in front of me. Assuming Marcus signed me over then, I’m all yours.”

“And if Marcus died?”

Your brows furrowed; breath caught in your throat. The jazz record that you had put on had reached its natural end and given way to a constant static, the needle tracing the edge as if it were the skilled skater that Caitlyn was not. Someone who knew how to test the density of ice.

“Well, then I suppose I don’t have to stay in this basement working on unsolved cases.”

“Unsolved?”

Again, you gave her that soft confused look that she was coming to know as a buffer. One you used when you didn’t want to upset the dust in the room. As if one wrong move would have you collared with another mark inked into your skin. “Well, yeah. I have to occupy myself when I’m not sneaking food from the breakroom upstairs.”

“We don’t have Unsolved cases, I would know about them.”

There was a glint in your stare now, one of genuine interest as you got up, still a little shaky. You needed something proper to eat and drink. Caitlyn knew that. She was determined to pull you from here and take you to a full meal at the greasiest establishment that Piltover had to offer, which wasn’t anything much.

“At least a dozen, alphabetized. I haven’t seen any in over a year and it’s pretty hard to crack any of them just based on the reports in the boxes. Marcus would dump them down here and tell me not to touch them. He stopped coming after awhile and I just stopped listening. I wouldn’t be shocked if he never had them listed.”

It would be entirely plausible. Caitlyn could feel the annoyance building in her lungs, suffocating her. Of course, the man hadn’t only hidden an entire person, but the chance of closure for families that were longing desperately for it.

Caitlyn picked up one of the papers on the floor, running her fingers over the faded ink. A John Doe that was fished from the waters under the Bridge of Progress. Certainly not very progressive of them. It would have been horrible for the city’s image.

You were watching her carefully. Caitlyn glanced down, pulling your glasses from the clipped spot on her shirt and passing them to you as a peace offering. She nearly jolted when your warm fingers brushed hers. Extremely soft and delicate despite the circumstances. Guilt gnawed impossibly at her.

She’d forgotten you along with the red annotations at the bottom of a legal document. A John doe that could have been at the bottom of the river if he had been weighted down properly enough. A woman that was behind the bars of Stillwater to this day of Caitlyn had turned a blind eye. It was all about instinct, she supposed. Guilt. Obligation.

“Where will you go?”

You scoffed. “A firing and an eviction. Sure you don’t want to redraft that contract, Sheriff Kiramman? I’m quite useful.”

When Caitlyn stood toe to toe with you she was taller. If she stretched her arm she could touch the top of the chain link and lift herself up into a standard pull-up. Of course, she wouldn’t. Instead, she stared down at you, tilting her head to the side, entirely too smitten with a near-stranger.

“I have no doubt. We’re going to solve these. You are not going to live in a basement like some type of vermin. When was the last time you saw sunlight Miss y/l/n?”

The slight hesitation was enough for her.

“Exactly.” She used her cool finger to lift your eyes to hers, steely and impossibly blue, leaving no room for objection. “Time to reintroduce you to society, little archivist.”

#Caitlyn Kiramman #Caitlyn Kiramman x reader #Caitlyn Kiramman x y/n #Caitlyn Kiramman x femme Reader #Arcane #arcane league of lesbians #arcane league of legends

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