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chrisisvbun · 1 month ago

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guilty as sin. logan howlett x bunny!femreader

synopsis: after realizing that Jean wasn't really the best option, Logan decides it's time for him to forget about dating and shit and try to put his libido on being an xmen (tho he'll never confess it). That until, in a mission, they find the most dangerous mutant... a bunny mutant.

cw: age gap (logan is 35-40, reader is 25-30); a bit of chasing game; dom!Logan; mention of prostitution, killing, poison, seizures, non-con and neglection; brat!reader but also really submissive; reader goes by she/her, afab terms used top; animalistic stuff like heats, and scents and shit; logan's wolf side is exaggerated; reader is much smaller than Logan; albin!reader and her appearence its described; smut, creampie, praise kink, really animalistic, slight fingering, unprotected p in v. red coded character bcs logan has a type, obviously. A bit of ooc!Logan sorry.

words: 4.3k

second.

☆☆☆

"Show yourself!" Scott's shout echoed in the big house.

"Sure, now they're gonna show themselves, of course." Logan teased, which only earned him a dirty look from Cyclops. "Relax, glasses, I'm sure t-"

Whatever tease was about to come out from Logan's lips was interrupted by the sound of wood cracking. Scott, Jean, Ororo and him looked around, but the first three moved their eyes to Logan, who was the one with sharp audition.

The mission requires the four best mutants of Xavier. The mutant they were chasing was, apparently, the most dangerous mutant around at that time, nobody knew how they looked like, because they were really quiet when killing with some type of poison. The four heroes were expecting any type of lizard or reptile, or a mutant that had poison abilities, so they tried to be as cautious as possible.

Logan looked at began sniffing around, too. I have smelled prey. It was a scent that he had smelled back when he was in the mountains, but never again until that second. He frowned, confused, and wrinkled his nose more like that would help distinguish the source.

"What is it—" Scott asked.

"Sh."

"What is it, Logan?" Jean asked.

Logan sniffed a bit more before answering. "Meat."

"Huh?" Storm said. "Meat?"

Another creek.

Everyone turned their head to try finding the source of the sound. Logan seemed to find it and began approaching slowly to the pile of wood in the corner of the house.

"You can come out."

No answer.

"Come out." He ordered. But still no answer.

It is public knowledge that Logan was not a man of much patience, he snaps quickly, just like now. He dumped the pile of wood away with his claws, to expose the creature behind it.

Everything they expected: a lizard, a reptile, a poison mutant, everything evaporated in the mere thought when Logan saw those long, white, fluffy, bunny ears falling on the sides of your pale face.

Logan frowned, confused. "This is the most dangerous mutant?" He chuckled as he retracted his claws.

You, a bunny mutant, were shaking in tour place, wrapped around yourself while you looked at Logan with eyes bright with fear.

Yeah, a bunny mutant, that's why he smelled meat, why he smelled prey.

"Don't worry, bub. 'not gonna hurt you." He said, looking at you up and down. He reached his forearm for you to grab like he was to scared to put his hands on you in case he would break you. You sniffed at his arm a bit, your flat pink nose moving up and down quickly as you took in his scent.

Shyly, you put your small pale hands on his big forearm and lifted yourself.

Logan didn't miss a chance to check your appearance. You had pale skin, a pinkish hue in your elbows, shoulders, nose, and cheeks, your eyes were big and red, bright as two rubies, your hands were small, you were small in general, and your body was so tiny in comparison to his. So delicate, like porcelain. Like it's been mentioned before, you had a flat, pink nose that wrinkled whenever you began sniffing something, and your pale face was between two long, fluffy, white bunny ears. Logan also noticed how your arms, legs, neck, face, and whole body were covered in a white, soft fur. When you turned around to see the rest of the team, Logan saw your round, fluffy, white bunny tail lifting the back of your short dress.

Wait, a short, slik dress? In a house like this?

Logan instantly frowned, glancing at his team with you still gripping at his forearm.

"Logan, careful." Scott stood in front of Jean, trying to protect her.

"You want to protect her from this?" Logan chuckled, pointing at you. "Sure thing, bub."

"Charles said we were going to meet the most dangerous mutant around..." Jean said.

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't look that dangerous..." Storm crossed her arms, looking at you, smiling at the sight of your white curly hair falling messigly through your shy, scared eyes.

"Why would they say she is dangerous when she looks like this?" Scott put his hands in his waist.

"I don't know, but they seem harmless to me too" Jean peeked through Scott's figure.

"More like a scared little creature rather than a dangerous mutant, yeah" Storm kneeled a bit.

While they talked, Logan was looking at your tail. Yeah, he was almost ignoring your round, fat ass, just looking at your puffy tail. Out of instinct, he moved his hand to touch it, grabbing it in his hand and squeezing a bit, gently.

"Soft..." He mumbled.

Yeah. He better have enjoyed it, because in the second you felt a strange hand from someone who smelled like a predator grabbing your tail from behind, you sank your nails in his chest, the red poison getting in his system for long enough to make Logan faint , but not enough to kill him, just because Scott managed to shoot some tranquilizer in your neck.

(...)

Logan woke up in the nurse bed of the mansion. Because it was a familiar situation, he just stood up, plugged the wires off and walked out, grabbing his white top that was on the chair.

As soon as he had his shirt on, his searched for the team until he found them at Charles office, where he barged in.

"What a pleasant entrance" Scott said in a mumbled, which made Logan roll his eyes.

"What the hell happened and where the fuck is that bunny bitch?" Logan frowned.

"Relax, Logan, we will explain everything" Charles said.

The explanation had a bit of a lore. You were victims of a group of men that experimented with babies to turn them into mutants. But these weren't any men, and they didn't want any mutants. We are talking about pimps indeed, and they decided, after investigating the porn industry for a long time, to create women that had everything a nasty, kinky man would want, they created a mutant for every fetish a man could imagine. For example, a bunny woman. Of course, they also took their time to perfect this and made them age slower, so even though you were close to thirty, you hardly looked twenty. And obviously, they didn't do it for the hell of it, clients paid big amounts of money to have a scent of you. Men took their time to praise you before taking you over and over again. You were desired and you hated it.

This went through since you were fifteen, of course in this type of industry, age was the last thing they cared about. And they had you in the worst conditions ever, not just you, because it wasn't just you. There were too many women in those conditions, in that situation. To say a number, you once counted fifty in one room, and there were more than forty rooms, you do the math. all stacked, one over the other in not enough beds, crying, suffering, your bodies bruised, dirty, abused.

Logan couldn't help but feel bad. Bad is an understatement. Awful. Because how such a delicate, pure thing like you could have gone through that? He was furious.

The end of the story is that the tools those men used to turn you into a mutant had... imperfections, which caused your defensive ability. You had a chemical that they've used on the creation of your mutation running through your blood and you were able to expulse it through your fingertips, so when you sank your nails into someone's flesh, the poison went through your nails to get to that person's system, causing a seizure that led them to death, of course.

Thanks to Logan's healing abilities, that didn't happen, but Logan noticed how you were determined to do it, to kill him, how scared you were of, not him, but every single man that laid his hands on you without your consent.

The reason why you were in that silk, dark green dress, that covered your body till half way of your thigh, was that that was the last 'meeting' you had with a man. You had been convocated to get to that cabin with another woman, before that happened, the pimps were already suspecting that you were the one that was killing all of their clients, and you suspected that you weren't gonna go home after that 'meeting' in the cabin with a regular.

Thinking about it, you didn't mind the sex. The clients were usually handsome men, and because you were 'the bunny girl' they've always praised you over and over again, you were the pretty bunny, you were a delicate feather, they didn't want to break you, even the ones that had a corruption kink. You were the premium meat, that's what they used to call you when selling you, you were available for the best and only the best clients. You were the luckiest, and the one that worked harder, because you would've gotten touched and fucked at least two times a day. The thing that made you sick was the context, you knew that you would love to fuck those men if you would've done it willingly, but the mere thought of someone paying to have the freedom to use you made you sick. Why? You didn't understand, they were handsome men, and they could've found a pretty woman like you in a bar if they wanted. But no, why? Because they wanted the bunny. The fat prize.

But when the pimps began suspecting, the type of men that you were given to began to be worse, not because they were ugly, but because they were less kind. This last client was one of those, and for your luck, this girl that came with you was one of your closest friends, a girl that was also a hybrid, an orange cat hybrid. And the mess started.

The second the client began to get violent, you sank your claws into his shoulders and watched him faint above you. In that second, the security of the pimps walked in and tried to get rid of you, making a mess in the house till you managed to get rid of all. You were punched and bruised, fortunately, no open wounds, but you were exhausted. Your friend got rid of the bodies and said they were going to find help, but never came back. You thought she got caught, and that's why she never came back, but a part of you feared that maybe she just ran away and left you there.

Anyway, that's how you ended up there, in that dress, covered in that mess of a house. Logan couldn't believe what he was hearing, the team always thought they could avoid all of the mutants' pain, but they didn't know half of them to even start thinking about saving them.

"She is going to stay, of course. Not only for her safety but also because we have to get as much information as we can of this sick business" Charles explained.

And that's what happened. Logan stepped in the kitchen where you were sitting peacefully, with a bowl of cereal, binging at it like it was your last meal. The second your gazes connected, you couldn't help to get embarrassed and put the bowl down, sitting straight as looking at him. "Hi." You mumbled shyly.

"Hi there, bun." He smiled. Not just you but everyone was surprised that he wasn't mad at you.

"I'm sorry... that I tried killing you... you scared me" You said, playing with your spoon.

Logan chuckled. "That's okay, bunny, it's in the past." He leaned on the counter, you had a grey jumper with the school logo, and grey sweatpants and you were barefoot, your toes didn't even reach the floor. "That jumper suites you."

"You think I'm a prey." You talked on top of him. A silence built between you two, and you broke it. "You are a wolf, aren't you?"

"Yes and no, sweetheart." He sighed. "You do smell like a good piece of meat, tho"

You frowned a bit. "A piece of meat?"

Logan pressed his lips in a line. "Yeah, that didn't sound pretty well, did it?"

"Surely didn't" You put your plate on the sink next to him, and he took his time to see your tail peeking between your jumper and your sweatpants.

"It was soft, you know?" He cleared his throat.

"I live with it 24/7" You said, putting your clean plate in the dryer before looking at him. "Of course I know it's soft."

Logan chuckled. "Careful with your tone, rabbit".

You raised an eyebrow, not really enjoying the tease. "Dumb wolf." You muttered before walking to your room.

You didn't like him, yeah. But he? Oh, he craved you.

(...)

Slowly, you began to adapt to your new life. It was hard, you went through a life in which you were neglected and abused, to one where you had anything you could ask for.

Months came by, and Xavier asked you to coordinate the art club, which you gladly did since you loved art.

You hung out a lot with Ororo, Kurt, surprisingly Logan (more like joking, teasing and mocking you until you git comfortable enough to through them back at him), and the kids, you didn't avoid the rest, but you were pretty shy, so you didn't approach them.

But of course, you couldn't ignore the times were Logan stood in the doorframe of your classroom and watched you teach the kids, your apron covered in paint as you tried to help the teens and the little ones to paint on their canvases. You also couldn't ignore the way he smiled at you, always saying that he is just checking that Rouge is having a good time.

You also noticed how mad he would get whenever you spoke to Kurt in the library, how would you look up at him, accommodating your white hair behind your ear as you smiled. He could get so pissed with just that, so furious because he wanted those smiles, he wanted to see your skin wrinkle around your red eyes standing in front of you, looking at you, having you looking at him.

Having you.

Gosh, what was wrong with him?

It was something primal that got him whenever he saw your white body hair, or whenever he saw you in the living your, cutting your dresses so you could accommodate your pompom tail, or whenever you watched television with Ororo in the TV room, surrounded by the kids, wearing some cozy pajamas.

He didn't put a single finger on you, tho. He has never touched that hairy skin of your, tho he craved it.

He couldn't understand if he sexually wanted you or if he was just so desperate for your attention. Maybe both. Maybe none... no, definitely both, yeah.

He could dream about you for a week, about having you in his arms, sometimes not doing anything, just running his hands through your fur up and down slowly, petting you, showing you how much of him you had. Other nights, he was just fantazising about parting your wet cunt in half with his cock.

He is not guilty, he thinks, it's normal. Although, he was indeed thinking like a teen.

One of sleepover nights, he was drinking a coke with Bobby in the kitchen, hearing you laugh and chat with Ororo and the rest of the kids until he just heard your voice and Rouge's. Both boys stood up and peeked through the living room, seeing all the kids and Ororo sleeping, one girl had her head in your lap as you caressed her ginger hair softly. When both of you heard them approach, you turn to them and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Bobby asked Rouge.

"Nothing, nothing" she giggled, looking at the white-haired one.

"Wolf, help me get the kids to bed" you said, passing right by him with a girl in your hands.

Logan sighed, pressing his tongue in the inside of his bottom lip. "Yes, ma'am" he said, and grabbed one kid in his arms.

"Bobby, Marie, you too. Go to sleep, come on." You said, both kids sighed and nodded.

When everyone was all tucked in at their rooms (including Ororo) you began climbing upstairs.

"Bunny."

You flipped around, looking at him with those big eyes he loved so bad.

"Hm..."

Some way, you were sitting on the counter, him in a chair of the kitchen table, both drinking from your cola bottles silently. He couldn't take his eyes from you, you are wearing a red silk pajama, thin straps held your breasts from peeking out from that thin fabric, and the scent of your exposed skin was driving him mad. He was about to get feral, that a sure thing. And seeing your white-haired thighs brushing against each other as you bounced your lega in the counter wasn't helping him either.

"So..." He started, trying to distract himself. "You adapted pretty well" he took a sip.

"Uh-hum." You said, playing with the straw of your bottle. "Ororo and Kurt helped a lot."

Logan grumbled at the mention of the German. "Yeah, Kurt..."

"Yeah, Kurt." You repeated with a giggle at his disgusted tone. "What's the matter with him?"

"Nothing, nothing, he is just a weirdo".

"We are all weirdos here, Logan" You laughed, taking a sip.

"He is just a guy with weird eyes and fur, no big deal." He rolled his eyes.

You raised your eyebrows. "What am I then?" You crossed your legs.

Logan looked at you, the white fur in your bare legs and your red big eyes, and he chuckled.

"You don't want me to answer that, bunny." he drank the whole bottle.

"No, please, illuminate me, wolf." You crossed your arms too. "Because last time I checked I also have a strange eye color and fur all over. What am I?" You got off the counter, still crossing your arms as you looked at him cleaning the glass bottle.

He put it on the counter with a dry noise, looking down at you with a small smirk.

"You are a beautiful, small, vulnerable, delicious bunny with gorgeous ruby eyes and fucking cutest fur i've ever seen" He smiled as biting his lip, looking down at you, taking long steps to approach to you, as you stepped back. "You happy?"

"What makes you think I'm delicious?" You asked, stepping into the wall.

Logan chuckled dryly again. "Out of all the things I said, you kept that?" He laughed. "Damn rabbit, you know well that I can smell how sweet you are."

"I don't." You stepped firm, crossing your arms, looking at him. You tried to stay firm but as you could smell him, he obviously could scent your arousal. He was laughing at you.

He sighed exaggerating, looking at you up and down. "You smell really good, bunny, and you are so tiny too, you know how much I'm restraining myself to not scoop you up?" He kept teasing you, loving how, with every word, you were squeezing harder against nothing.

He got closer, one hand on the wall and the other moving up your thigh, not touching you. You looked confused and he looked up at you, pausing everything.

"May I?" He asked, your felt your breath hitch in your throat as you nodded, you could've came right there. God, he was doing the bare minimum and he was so hot while that.

"Yeah..." You answered in a nod.

His hand pressed against your thigh, his fingertips squeezed around the white hair of your leg, he smiled at the feeling. "So soft, such a soft flesh, bunny. I could devour you."

God, please do. You didn't know why or when Logan became so hot, maybe all the teasing, all the mocking, and all the jokes were a way for you guys to mate. You don't really care now, your throbbing pussy either. You don't remember if you got this wet when he asked to touch you, when he called you delicious, when he asked you to have a drink with him in the kitchen or when he peeked through the living room wearing that tight white top that showed his huge tanned shoulders so perfectly. Definitely the last one, yeah.

His hand began to climb up, your hands gripped his shoulders as your breath got heavier. His touch was gentle and soft, like you were made out of porcelain. His hands touched your center, that point were your lips touched against each other again in your juicy pussy, he chuckled in a mocking tongue. "What got you so wet, bub? I didn't even started" He said in your mouth, laughing on top of your lips.

Your body began to warm up, your whole body began to get so hot and sweaty as his fingers bullied your clothed entrance. "That's it, that's a good bunny. 'M getting you all ready for me, I don't need you wet for this, I need you dripping" He was teasing you so bad, mocking your reactions at his fingers in your most sensitive part. When you frowned, he did the same, when you opened your mouth to moan, he would imitate you too. "Such a pretty little thing, getting all wet for your mate."

"Logan, please..."

"Please what, rabbit?" He pushed the clothes covering your heat.

"Please! I need..." You tried to talk, but moaned loudly.

"You need what, bunny? Use that pretty mouth of yours." He used his free hand to squeeze your cheeks until your mouth was opened. "Gosh, one day I'm gonna fill that mouth of yours. I want this beautiful lips around some good stuff, but not now, sweetheart, I need to show you what you are here for, bun'".

(...)

Your face was pressed on the cold counter of the kitchen, your mouth drooled your saliva as you tried to speak, only being able to babble some incoherent words. Your saliva was mixing with your pleasure and pain tears, because Logan was gripping your bunny ears tight from behind as he thrusts against your wet, tight pussy. His free hand us pressing your middle back, making you arch your spine, giving him the best angle ever as you cried and moaned.

His tip was hitting your cervix perfectly, your velvety insides were squeezing him tight, almost sucking him in. He groaned every time he thrusted his hips against your ass, the kitchen getting filled with the wet noises of his balls against your skin. He looked down to the spot where his cock disappeared inside of you, the ring of precum mixed with your slick in his base.

Your toes hurt as you were on your tiptoes and your nails scratched the marble of the counter in desperation as he quicked his pace.

"Gosh, bunny, so freaking tight..." He growled under his breath. Even though you had been fucked a lot, you were still so tight inside, and he was going nuts about it.

He moved the hand that he had in your back to your low stomach, caressing your womb and almost moaning at the feeling of his tip pressing against it.

"Taking me so freaking well, gosh." He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he kept fucking you.

You were so cock drunk from him, you had a very sexual life but no cock had opened you so well like Logan's did. Not only it was huge, but also it was so warm that almost felt like a cuddle for your insides. From now on, you are sure that you'll get wet with just the thought of his warm, fat cock inside of you.

"Please..." you cried and drooled, Logan chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"Please what, rabbit?" He teased.

You moved your hips in circles and he pulled your ears more, making you lift your head from the counter.

"Words." He ordered.

" 'm gonna come..." You managed to say, hissing in a beautiful pain. "M-may I?"

So fucking polite, he thought.

"I couldn't deny you that, no when you asked so nicely, bun'" He smiled widely and bit his lip, starting to fuck you almost brutally. "Come on my cock, be a good bunny."

You screamed at his new pace, your hands gripping the edge of the counter, crying pathetically when his cock began hitting your sweet point.

He was looking for your pleasure desperately, he wanted you to feel so good, so drunk in him. And god he was being successful, you had never been so well fucked, he was taking great care of you.

It didn't take you much longer to come in his cock, your body shivering as saliva dripped on the counter with your tears, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you tensed your body and your pussy began dripping your release.

You didn't notice you were about to wall in the ground until Logan hugged your waist and flush you against him completely, filling you with his seed, you swear you heard him moan in your ear as he did, even though he is sure he doesn't moan.

He leaned against the table for a second, still hugging you and panting heavily. His hand caressed your belly with lazy patterns.

"Too rough?" He asked. You denied.

"Just perfect." You answered breathlessly, he huffed a smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime, bunny."

"I have a name, you know?" You chucked a bit.

"Bunny suits you better." He kissed your shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can rest that pretty ass for yours." You laughed as he lifted you, grabbing your princess style to walk you to your room.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem reader #x men #Spotify #wolverine fanart #james logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman wolverine #x men wolverine #logan x reader

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calcifiedunderland · 9 months ago

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Pride and Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

The Keeper of the Underworld: I. Shroud

Introduction, or Pick another route!

Idia x GN Reader (they/them)

Warnings: P&P-level angst and miscommunication, some cringe dialogue, parties, possibly ooc Idia, I wrote this before playing Book 6 so I apologize if there’s any inconsistencies

Notes: The level of overthinking I put into these fics is unreal 💀 First and foremost, thank you all for your patience!! Idia was hard to write, but I hope you enjoy, shrimpies~

———

Well this is certainly something, you thought. Of all the things you’d witnessed at NRC, (even overblots), you didn’t think you’d ever see Idia Shroud at one of Kalim’s parties.

You sipped on your drink when a shock of bright blue flames came in the corner of your eye, contrasting the orange-red of Scarabia. Kalim lead Idia into the dorm, bright and sunny, compared to the look on Idia’s face. Poor guy couldn’t even escape, because Cater and Rook ambled in behind him, chatting happily.

It was like the beginning of a joke: A sultan, a card soldier, a huntsman, and a blue flame-headed gamer walk into a room.

Kalim spotted you and grinned, grabbing Idia’s hoodie sleeve and dragging him over too. “Hey (name)! I’m glad you could make it!”

You smiled at the Scarabia Housewarden, “Thanks Kalim! I-“ At that moment, Jamil reached him to drag him away, mumbling exasperatedly to Kalim about being careful. Kalim laughed Jamil off, “sorry (name)! I’ll see you later, okay?” “Alright then…” you trailed off and turned to Idia, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“So…” you rocked on your heels. To be honest, you didn’t know how to approach him sometimes. Sure, you’d gamed with him a few times (with heavy insistence from Ortho) and you weren’t on his ‘avoid at all costs’ ranking list, but Idia did have his odd moments. Some days, you two would get along like a house on fire. Other times, it was like Idia hated you - avoiding you even in tablet-mode, and ghosting your chats.

You’d like to think that your more friendly moments were the ones that Idia counted, but sometimes it was hard to get a read on the guy.

“I didn’t know that you’d be at Kalim’s party today. I thought Ortho said there was an event in… um…?” You finished, cringing at your vagueness. You might not have known much about the game he played, even though he’d made you play it when you came over to Ignihyde, but you knew he probably didn’t want to be here of all places.

Idia’s hair flared a bit, and he looked resigned and moody. He pulled out his tablet. Ya, the event dropped today but I got mobbed by kalim + the extroverts. “That sucks,” you said, “I got dragged here by Ace. Still, it’s nice to see you.” In the oil lamp lighting, you could’ve sworn Idia’s hair turned a bit pink.

You were both silent, and you opened your mouth to speak when Lilia yelled out from the front, “let’s get this party started!” Kalim started drumming wildly, and then electric guitar swelled. Lilia began screaming heavy-metal-style into the mic. Around you, everyone started dancing, and even you found yourself moving to the rhythm.

You glanced at Idia every now and again, but he looked vaguely annoyed and tired despite the liveliness. He looks so over it, you thought. Probably since Kalim maybe dragged him here. You looked around, biting your lip when you noticed your friends having a grand old time on the dance floor, and kind of wanted to go too. Still, it wasn’t every day you saw Idia, and you wanted to do something with him. Especially since he was… well, here.

“So, Idia…” Idia’s eyes snapped to yours, dull. You rocked back on your feet, “do you dance?” Idia rolled his eyes, and you felt your heart sink, for some reason. Obvi not, id probs distract everyone anyway. And also id just rather not if I can help it. Your smile wavered, “c’mon Idia, anyone can dance, even if it’s not good!” Idia typed rapidly into the tablet, i mean ur not wrong. Like literally anyone can dance but ppl only do it bc its wat normies do.

You opened your mouth, then squared your shoulders, words failing you. Idia shoved a hand into his pockets and opened an app on the tablet, scrolling. You swayed for a bit, feeling awkward while Idia kept his eyes glued to the screen, a frown creasing his brows. Finally you shrugged your shoulders, trying to shake that sinking-feeling off.

You stepped into the crowd of dancing people, swaying to the music and trying not to look over at the blue flames swaying in the corner. Unknowing to you, Idia glanced up from his tablet every few minutes, trying to catch a glimpse of you, before trudging back to the cold chrome of Ignihyde, back to his dorm.

———

Ugh, could this get any worse?

Idia flopped onto his bed, shoving his headphones on and opening the mobile game on his phone. Not only did he get a late start on the game event, but he flubbed a chance to talk to you. Even if you did want to dance like all the other non-introverts at Scarabia. Thank Sevens Ortho didn’t know he missed his chance, otherwise the little robot would’ve torn Idia apart.

Idia shut his eyes and went over the details. Doing this IRL was trash-tier. Why couldn’t this just be a good-old-fashioned otome game, or romance anime? First you meet the love interest, then you find things they’re into, then you talk to them more. Then finally you confess, and cue the outro. He’d watched countless shojo and romance anime’s, and that was the basic outline. Eventually, the ethereal, gorgeous, smart, kind protagonist (aka you) would fall in love with their love interest (aka him) and it would all work out. Boom. Happily ever after.

Ah, yes. He could see it now.

Cherry blossom petals rained around both of you. Where are they coming from, this campus doesn’t grow cherry blossoms? Whatever, don’t question it. Anyway, the petals fluttered past your beautiful, sparkling eyes as you stared up at Idia with adoration and love. Idia stared down at you with full-rizz, kabedoning you against the wall.

“Oh, Idia-senpai!” You’d cry, eyes turning into hearts as sparkles and pink flower petals surround you both. “You’re so cool and not cringe at all! I could never want one of those normies! You’re the only one for me! Please date me!” And then Ortho would set off the heart-shaped fireworks and you two would finally kiss-kiss-fall-in-love, just like the popular anime Our High School Has A Host Club And The Leader Falls In Love With Me?!

“Whee hee hee…” Idia stared off into the distance, giggling ominously to himself and hair turning pink at the ends. His character on the screen went into idle mode, and he didn’t even hear when Ortho floated into the room. “Big brother?” Ortho gently tapped him on the shoulder, yanking him from his shojo daydream. Idia jumped, hair flaring. “AAAIIIIEEEE-“ Ortho jumped back, eyes wide but not detecting any signs of injury on Idia.

Idia breathed heavily, wide-eyed. “Ortho! Wh-when did-? I wasn’t-!” Ortho analyzed his heart beat, noting that Idia had traces of blush on his cheeks and his erratic behavior pointed to- “Were you thinking about (name) (last name)?” Ortho asked innocently, his theory proven when Idia flushed and went pinker. The younger boy suddenly got an idea.

“You know, (Name)’s heart rate goes up when they interact with you,” Ortho watched his brother’s eyes widen, “even when you’re not there, when you’re mentioned, their heart rate increases by 45% and they are more likely to be in a positive mood. 82% of the time, they regard you in a positive way.” His eyes lit up happily with realization, “If my calculations are correct, they have feelings for you!”

Idia sat there, thinking. What were the odds you would like him back? Sure, you made him happy, and more importantly made Ortho happy. And it was actually nice talking to you. And he never felt exhausted after interacting with you. And maybe you did enjoy the artificial light of Ignihyde to the spring sun above, and maybe you would like being with dreary, nerdy him.

Ortho could see his brother lost in thought, noting that Idia’s heart rate spiked when he mentioned you. “I also overheard them telling Grim about finding a partner,” he said casually, omitting that you’d been wanting a partner in Alchemy, and not necessarily a romantic partner.

That seemed to fire Idia up. Ortho could see the metaphorical cogs in Idia’s brain turning, an entire blueprint of a plan being made in his mind. At last, a wide cunning grin spread on his face, and he opened his arms, “well, who else but a genius could be partners with the MC?” He said arrogantly, “it’s not like just anybody can woo the protagonist!”

Ortho beamed, cheering, “all you need to do now is confess!” Idia immediately began sweating, freezing up. “H-huh?!”

——

You frowned at your textbook, rubbing your temples as you read through the alchemy procedure. Ugh, this couldn’t get any more confusing.

As you turned to begin writing, the door burst open. You flinched and immediately locked eyes with a frazzled Idia. His golden eyes were wide, and he was panting - he even looked sweaty. Somehow his blue fire hair seemed just as frazzled as him, looking pale-blue in shock. Could flames somehow look poofy?

“Prefect!” He squeaked. “Idia?” You questioned, what’s he doing here? It was odd that he’d be out of his room at six in the afternoon, not to mention he looked afraid of you. It wasn’t like you were a stranger, even though as of late, he treated you like one.

He stared at you from the door for an uncomfortable amount of time, then sped-walked to stand in front of you. You looked up at him from your seat, tapping your fingers. You awkwardly asked “do you wanna sit down?” He shook his head quickly, the ends of his hair were turning pink. You frowned, “…dude, are you okay?”

Idia flinched. He pivoted on his heel, “no, no, can’t do it, not today-“ he scuttled out of the room and slammed the door, screeching to himself and pulling his hood over his head. You stared at the door, vaguely hearing Idia freaking out to… was that Ortho? You heard the little robot boy’s voice through the door, probably calming Idia down, along with an odd spraying sound.

It went quiet and you assumed they’d left. Whatever, weirder things have happened at NRC. As you went back to writing, the door slammed open again. You jumped, heart beating wildly. Idia stormed over to you, hair blazing a trail behind him. He slammed his hands down on the desk, and your eyes watered with the scent of overpowering cologne bodyspray.

“Prefect! I need to tell you something!” Idia’s eyes steeled in determination, and he looked you dead in the eye. He was breathing heavily, and his flamed hair blazed and curled more than usual, turning deep pinkish-red near the ends. The last time you saw his hair similar to that, was when he was rage-playing during one of your gaming sessions. How pissed is he? You felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Idia,” you began, freaked out, “I think you should sit down-“ Idia blazed on, “this is honestly a horrible decision for you and definitely for me. I don’t even want to think about what Mother and Father would say, not to mention how this’d affect Styx.” He was tunnel visioning now. “Plus you don’t even have magic and this might not even work out anyway ‘cause I don’t see us working out TBH…” Slowly his hair began fizzling out, voice getting quieter and quieter as he mumbled to himself.

This was a terrible idea, Idia realized. After everything that had happened with Styx, not to mention everything you had to deal with personally, it wouldn’t be good to get involved with him. You could be in danger, especially as a non-magic user. No, it would be selfish of him to ask you to be with him. Why would you, anyway? There were other guys at NRC, not to mention the entire Sage’s Island, who would be a better fit for not. Especially ones who didn’t kidnap your friends and Grim. Especially someone like Idia.

No, he concluded. He shouldn’t have come.

You frowned deeply. “Idia, what…?” Your alchemy work definitely wasn’t done yet and Idia was making zero sense. He sighed, as if tired all of a sudden. “Nope, no… this isn’t going to work.” He stood abruptly and sped-walked out the door, brushing past Ortho. You overheard the boy try to get his brother to come back, but Idia didn’t stop. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. So that’s what this is about? Idia didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? All because you weren’t… what? A tech whiz? Good at gaming? Magical? Your heart dropped. Because you were just too different from him? So you weren’t good enough to be even friends with him?

Your eyes stung at the thought. Fine. If Idia wanted to be that way, then fine. You shoved your books into you bag and headed back to Ramshackle. You doubted you’d be able to focus, anyway.

———

Poor Ortho was confused.

After running simulation after simulation, scouring the Internet for any clues, and piecing together what Idia said after running out of the classroom, he just couldn’t understand what happened. That was a first, considering it was Ortho.

Idia had ran out of the room in a hurry, mumbling incoherently. “Brother! What’s happening?” Ortho flew to him, scanning his vitals. Idia seemed to be ok, but his brother seemed… strangely melancholic. “Ortho, it won’t work out,” he said dejectedly, not wanting to talk about it.

Ortho called after him, trailing behind “What did (name) (last name) say? There was a high probability they’d accept your-” Idia sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. “It won’t work. I should’ve never left the dorm…” As Idia trudged back to Ignihyde, Ortho was left with more questions.

He hovered for a moment, before heading back to the alchemy room for you, only to not find you there. Ortho thought hard, thinking back to what Idia said. ‘It won’t work out,’ was what he said - not a flat-out rejection from you. So that meant…

He began floating back to Ignihyde, determined. I can still save this!

———

You were taking overthinking to a new level.

You bit your lip, staring at the game’s chatbox in front of you. Idia was online, and probably didn’t realize you were too. You leaned against the Heartslabyul common room couch (curse Ramshackle’s lack of internet!), and hit send.

Hey is everything ok??

You watched Idia’s game icon immediately switch to “online less than 1 minute ago,” and groaned.

Cater exited the kitchens, leaning over the couch back. “Hey~ what’s got my fave frosh so worked up?” He chirped, looking at your phone. “Ohh, isn’t that the popular game that’s been trending? Wait, didn’t you say Idia got you into it?” Cater immediately had his phone in hand, “that’s supes adorable, playing with friends is so fun-“

You cut him off, throwing your hands up, “that’s it! Idia just doesn’t want to talk to me! He- he just-!” You grabbed a throw pillow and smashed your face into it, groaning. Cater patted your shoulder sympathetically, “well, we’re playing at another one of Kalim’s parties tonight, you want in?” You sniffed dramatically, thinking. “Well, I guess. Sure, why not?”

Later that evening, you stepped into the Scarabia mirror. You and Cater made your way to the food table. As you both munched on Jamil’s cooking (damn, the guy made a good curry), you watched everyone dancing. “Y’know, it was weird seeing Idia at a party,” you commented, while Cater nodded. “Yeah! We decided to bring him along that day, it was fun seeing him.”

You sighed, “yeah, it was, but… it’s not really often that we can hang out in person. I kinda wanted to dance with him last time, but he sort of… blew me off? I guess maybe it wasn’t the best idea.” You winced, while Cater’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t tell me that. So, he did that and also told you he didn’t want to be friends?” You nodded, frustration flooding back, “Yeah! And I just don’t understand how he can be so conceited about him being so high and smart, and not like me because I don’t-“

“Prefect,” Cater cleared his throat. You looked up mid-rant, meeting Ortho’s eyes, and jumped. He just snuck up on you both like it was nothing. Did he hear you? Hopefully he wouldn’t be mad. In your mind, Idia started it.

“Hello (name) (last name)!” Ortho said pleasantly, so you assumed he hadn’t heard you. Great. “I didn’t know you’d be here! What a coincidence!” That was a lie, Ortho overheard you and Cater talking about the party when you were walking to Scarabia. He absolutely knew. And he dragged Idia here because of it.

“Yep,” you smiled at Ortho, “it’s nice to see you.” Ortho mentally readied himself and remembered every bit of acting advice Vil gave him. “I almost forgot!” His eyes widened, while your eyes narrowed. Ortho was a robot. He didn’t forget shit. “Big brother is here, and he wanted to ask you to dance!” What? Your neck snapped around, looking for Idia’s bright blue hair. Cater elbowed you, bringing you back to reality.

“I-well, I- had not-“ you stammered, fumbling for an excuse. Ortho’s eyes shone at you like puppy eyes, and your anger at Idia cracked. “…yeah, sure,” you watched Ortho rise a bit in the air happily, “Yippee! I’ll go get him!” He zipped off, and you rubbed your temples. Cater twisted a strand of his hair, eyes wide. “Yikes…” “tell me about it,” you groaned.

A few minutes later, you both looked up when Kalim tapped the mic. You didn’t miss Ortho hovering a ways behind Kalim. “Hey everyone! Thanks for coming!” When the cheering died down, Kalim continued, “We’re gonna try something different! Everyone, find a partner and join the dance floor!”

Cater glanced at you, mischievous. “Welp, I can’t leave them hanging~ TTYL, Prefect!” And he left faster than you could say ‘Magicam.’ Sweet.

You hesitantly stepped to the dance floor, half expecting Ortho to float up to you and sheepishly tell you Idia left. Your mind drifted back to that day in the alchemy room. I guess it wouldn’t work, anyway.

To your surprise, a finger tapped your shoulder. You turned, seeing Idia with a with a flushed expression, wearing a casual-but-chic blazer. His hair looked a bit tamer than normal, and cascaded down his back in a low ponytail, bangs flickering over his forehead. Undoubtedly, this was the work of Ortho, who definitely got pointers from Vil.

You both stared at each other, unmoving, until slow music began playing. You averted your eyes. Idia gulped, eyes widening until waving caught his eye. Ortho was flying upwards a little ways away from the slowly-crowding dance floor, gesturing wildly at you. As if that wasn’t enough, he projected words above his head: DANCE WITH THEM!

Idia was lucky that everyone else was more interested in dancing with their partner than Ortho. His eyes snapped back to you, “s-so I guess you wanna-“ he swallowed thickly, eyes shifting to the dance floor. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance and looked ahead. Idia looked back at Ortho, who was pointing wildly at the words. He thought to himself, this is fine. It’s just the mandatory side quest. It’s not fighting the boss. It’s…

It’s charming the love interest. It’s solidifying your route!

Idia steeled himself and forced your hand into his. Your eyes shot to his in surprise, and he walked stiffly to the dance floor. Your hand clasped his, and you both swayed gently to the soft rock from the stage. Your brows furrowed, but Idia locked his gaze onto you, focusing only on you.

Yes, he thought. This is just the player’s pov on the screen, and he was only focusing on the love interest. The other waltzers didn’t exist. The party didn’t exist. It was just you and him.

Meanwhile, you were at a loss for words. While Idia seemed taciturn, you glanced up at the stage. Cater, Kalim, and Lilia were in their own little bubble jamming out, so that wasn’t a lifeline. After a little while of swaying with Idia, you hummed, “I haven’t seen you in a while. Since that day.” Idia’s hands felt clammy, and in the dimmed lights you saw a small pink dusting Idia’s cheeks. You saw him swallow heavily, but he didn’t say a word.

The tension grew between you two, and despite feeling hurt, you felt a little bad. Still, you wanted some answers out of Idia, after the incident in the alchemy room. “Y’know, you never used to be this… odd around me.” Was it the crowd that made him quiet, or… You felt a lump in your throat. Was it you?

Idia’s eyebrows shot up, thinking fast on what to say. Why can't conversations irl have ready-made dialogue?! “I… we c-can talk about wh-whatever you want? I guess?” He tried, kicking himself internally for leaving his tablet with Ortho. You bit the inside of your cheek as you stepped with him, that’ll do for now. “Scarabia parties are a little much, but they’re more pleasant than the Pomefiore mock balls,” you tried “wouldn’t you say?” After an uncomfortable pause, expecting a reply, you mumbled to yourself, “I guess we can stop talking now.”

“...is it like a rule for normies to chat while dancing? Isn’t the act of moving enough?” Idia mumbled in exasperation, hand tightening a little on your own. You bit your lip, your eyes burning. “No, I prefer to not talk to my friends at all and tell them we can’t be friends. It’s so much fun, right?” Idia’s eyes widened, and he scrambled for words, “I- I didn’t mean…” You stopped swaying abruptly, both of your clasped hands in the air. “Why are you here, Idia?”

A chill went through Idia. “T-To be honest, I didn’t even want to come to this stupid IRL dance,” he rushed out, “TBH Ortho had to make me come ‘cause he told me you’d be here-“ “You didn’t want…?” You cut Idia off, heart dropping. The other dancing couples swirled around you, but all the commotion around you felt like nothing more than idle chatter. Hurt flashed in your eyes, and Idia seemed shocked, which made you angry.

“I guess you wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who’s magicless, especially since you have STYX right?”

Idia’s eyes were wider than the Heartslabyul tea saucers. For once, he didn’t have a smart-ass reply. “Um, what? Obvi, I’m kind of stuck with STYX-” You let go of his hand and took a step back, almost bumping into a waltzing couple. “Yeah, wouldn’t want me to mess things up. Make any bad decisions and all that, right?” You felt your eyes water, despite yourself.

Furiously balling a fist and wiping your eyes, “Since you said we wouldnt work out n’stuff.” Idia suddenly remembered everything he’d muttered to himself, from the moment he’d stormed into the room to when he’d left dejectedly. When he’d made his choice and left before you could even get your word in.

Like a coward.

Idia’s heart pounded but shakingly, he reached a hand out to you. “P-prefect, I-I-!” You dodged the crowd, and ran out of Scarabia. You didn’t look back until you crashed through Ramshackle’s door, raced up the stairs, and fell onto your bed, Grim yelping in surprise as you tried your darndest to forget everything that just happened.

Back in Scarabia, Idia somehow stumbled off the dance floor, staggering to a table and breathing heavily. Mentally he replayed everything that just happened. Ortho floated over to him, “Brother? I don’t understand, why would (name) (last name) not accept your feelings?” Ortho went over the footage when he was observing you both dancing, and frowned.

“My senses indicate that based on their body language, they were upset with you. What happened?” Idia swallowed heavily, “I-I said it wouldn’t work out between us c-cuz they don’t have magic,” he stammered, eyes wide, “a-and STYX and-...” Ortho’s eyes widened, then narrowed, “That shouldn’t be a problem! You know that!”

“I meant for them, Ortho.” Idia sighed heavily, sinking into the chair. “I don’t want them to get hurt. Not when…” his mind wandered to Ortho, before NRC. He fell into deep thought. “In the end, I couldn’t even tell them...” He frowned deeply.

Ortho fell quiet, computing. Idia stared at the table, dejected, until Ortho spoke. “You know (Name) (lastname) doesn’t back down easily from a challenge.” That’s true. From playing games with Idia to taking down overblots, you weren’t someone who ran away when it mattered. Maybe that’s why Idia liked you - you were like the protagonists in animes, who found a way to make the world their own.

“You shouldn’t make (name) (last name)’s decision for them.” Idia looked up at his brother. Ortho continued, head angling to the side, Idia shook his head dejectedly, “it won’t work-”

“Your lil’ bro is right, y’know,” Cater walked over, shaking his hair out with his guitar slung over his shoulder. “Sry, I overheard you two,” Cater could piece together what happened. He did see you blow up at Idia (although he couldn’t hear you), and after spamming your phone with no reply after you ran out, now he had an idea of what was going on. “Y’know, if you didn’t tell them how you felt, then how could you know you were making the right choice?”

Idia looked down. Ortho piped up, “Cater Diamond is right.” Idia shut his eyes, then stood up, hands tightening into fists. Cater jumped back as Idia’s hair flared up bright blue, and the Ignihyde housewarden headed straight to the exit. Ortho called out, “thank you, Cater Diamond!” and floated after Idia, “Brother! Wait!”

“Lets go, Ortho,” Idia’s golden eyes steeled in determination, “I can fix this.”

—----

A knock on the door jolted you from your reading of Prejudice and Pride.

It was early morning. Somehow, even though it was the weekend and you’d stayed up all night, you still woke up at an ungodly early hour. After being unable to fall asleep (totally not because of Grim’s snoring and sleep-munching) you decided to go to your living room and read. You were sure that you didn’t have a guest coming, so why would…?

You got up and opened the door, expecting Ace or Deuce or something. The annoyed look on your face turned to shock when you saw Idia standing on your porch. In one hand, he held a bouquet of pomegranate-red roses and some flowers you recognized to be asphodel.

You both stared at each other, unwilling to move. “Idia,” you breathed, “why are you here?” Idia shuffled awkwardly, “I wanted to see you.” You crossed your arms, looking around. “Where’s Ortho?” You were sure the little robot boy made his brother come. Otherwise, why would Idia be here? Idia rubbed the back of his neck, “Ortho isn’t here. I… I wanted to see you,” he repeated.

Wordlessly, he thrust the flowers into your arms, and you wrapped your arm around it instinctively. “I- um,” you looked everywhere but Idia, who was staring at the Ramshackle doorway. “Idia,” you cleared your throat, “about what happened-” “Prefect, I… I wanted to apologize.” Your eyes widened, but Idia continued.

“I… I didn’t mean what I said that day.” Idia looked bashful, face turning pink and the ends of his hair turning a deep blush. He kept talking, rambling on and fighting he urge to grab his tablet and let the device speak for him. “I… really like being friends with you.” The words came out quietly from him, and even though he looked like he wanted to sink into his hoodie, Idia didn’t shirk away.

A lump rose in your throat as you didn’t make eye contact with him, instead playing with the flower bouquet, “I like being friends with you too,” you bit your lip, rubbing an asphodel petal, “I like you, Idia.”

Idia’s eyes widened and went rigid. Both his face and his hair went deep pink. Your own eyes widened at the color, and you felt your face grow hot. So that’s what it meant…? Not anger…?Wordlessly, without thinking, you dropped the bouquet. Your body moved on its own, and you flung yourself at Idia, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut.

Idia staggered back from the momentum with a squeak, but wrapped his arms around your torso with an iron grip. You gripped his hoodie tightly, finally understanding what had gone on for so long. Your cheek was pressed against his, and despite the early morning chill, you both felt warm.

High above, Ortho hovered in the distance over the tree canopies from afar. He zoomed in on you and Idia, and behind his face mask, he beamed. In midair, he did a heart-shaped loop-de-loop in happiness, and hovered back to Ignihyde.

After a few minutes, you leaned back in Idia’s arms, the both of you chuckling in happy disbelief. You looked up and saw a little blue streak leaving a smoke trail of a heart, and laughed to yourself. Idia turned around, seeing his brother above, a soft reminiscent look on his face.

“…guess Ortho was right.”

~END

——-

Fun fact: the beginning is inspired by idia’s school uniform vignette!!!

Me, while writing this: wow Idia and Cater’s dialogue are unique, they’d be hard to write

Also me: *puts both of them in this fic and suffers*

Writing Idia was SO HARD but I hope I managed to get him right-ish. Trying to balance his reactions with the dialogue was hard 😭

anyway thanks for reading~ please leave a comment/reblog!! <3

Taglist: @cerisescherries, @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee, @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound, @sad-sie, @moyo5653

(If your user is in bold, I wasn’t able to tag you properly)

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst idia #idia shroud #ortho shroud #twst idia shroud #idia x reader #twst Pride and Prejudice AU #ignihyde #calcified writing

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emry-stars-art · 1 year ago

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Aaaaaaaa I honestly need to know absolutely everything about the royal au!!! I don’t even have a specific question I just would love to hear any of your thoughts on everything. Also I love your art so much!! I might make fanart :p (that’s a big maybe I’ve got massive art block right now but if my brain functions correctly I absolutely will.) 🧡🧡🧡

Hello hi I DO have more :D I have a little pocket notebook that’s been my brainstorming and planning book that I’ve put all the ideas for this au in so far and I’m sure I’ve missed a few points so

There is art in this post, it’s Abram post-Evermore with a knife and very little control of his actions so I’ll stick it under the cut, at the end with some more angst 🙏 ANYWAY let’s see what we got

I haven’t colored it so you can’t tell but the twins frequently wear all white with silver embellishments as official/fancy outfits. They look ethereal. That’s all, next point

Most of them are still bi/multilingual but once again only some of their languages overlap. (I’m going to be keeping all the languages real/ones used in canon for clarities sake but who knows what they actually are in this universe.) Day and Abram can speak some Japanese, Abram doesn’t know a ton, but they only use it if they really really need privacy. Neither of them like using it. They also know some French (again, Abram not as much as Day) and Wymack knows some too (bc diplomacy or smth) and the twins and Nicky (Nicholas?) still know German. I also want Abram to start out knowing a fair amount of Russian (maybe from another ‘coworker’) just because I think it’d be fun, I dunno if that’ll change. These combinations can be used in any amount of fun ways I think

So there’s the obvious rule of ‘don’t get too close to the royal family’ right. Just the basic safety thing. But there’s that rule and then there’s the rule for Prince Andrew, where EVERYONE knows you do not touch the prince. With the king or queen or Duke Nicholas someone could always come forward, pay their respects, or even ask for a dance or something, I’ve decided they’re pretty lax about that kind of thing. But with the prince you can only offer your hand or something and he might just decide Not to shake your hand or whatever. And RIP to whoever tries to touch him without permission. So basically canon. When early story Abram first becomes familiar with this - while he’s still under Day’s supervision - he kind of looks at his arms-length perception of the prince and assumes it’s a ‘holier-than-thou’ bit, that the prince doesn’t want to touch the unwashed masses. One time Abram - Nathaniel at the time - approaches him too quickly too close (for some reason idk) and all Andrew can remember is Day’s heavy warning that no one get too close to Nathaniel without being accompanied and yeah, thinking back to their meeting that sounds about right, so Andrew immediately takes out one of his own hidden blades and stabs it into the table between them. Nathaniel stops short. Andrew says, “I am so clear, and yet people like you must think I’m lying. I don’t like being touched, Wesninski, and I’ll appreciate you to keep your distance.” And EVEN THEN Abram doesn’t realize exactly what that means but he’s a lot more careful after that.

Speaking of: what does make it clear is much later, maybe after Abram becomes officially Abram, they’re out in a parade or at a bazaar or something similar and the prince is in immediate danger, like something-is-falling-and-Andrew’s-gonna-get-crushed type thing, so Abram pulls him to safety. But they’ve been out in public where it’s loud and there’s too many people for long enough that Andrew can’t really help his harsh reaction, and it’s raw enough that Abram realizes “oh he’s serious serious.” So after that he adds ‘don’t let people get too close to or surprise the prince’ to his list of duties.

Okay okay not only does Abram wear a corset but the prince also frequently wears lace up/corset vests to parties and stuff (it’s probably what gives him the idea for Abram’s outfit). But yeah eventually instead of like Aaron or someone else trusted doing it up Andrew asks if Abram will help and pretends to be annoyed when Abram asks twice that it’s really okay, but as we all know he appreciates it and even secretly lets Abram decide for him; (“how much tighter, Your Highness?” “How does it look?” “”Hm. …I do rather think you look ball-worthy more often than not. Still - a little more?”) And then later when Abram gets his gifted outfit he expresses its convenient, but rather a shame it laces from the front, and then can only smile when Andrew tells him it is in fact wearable either way.

And yes. Confident no-need-to-hide-his-personality Abram accidentally flirts like A Lot (because why would he hide his opinion, he does think the prince looks good (just not for the purely aesthetic reasons he thinks it is past a point ya know 👀)) and Andrew is so frustrated because it’s an accident until one day it isn’t. Rip Your Highness

WAIT BACK TO NICKY. idk what to call him here, the twins can still call him Nicky but he’s probably formally/publicly known as Nicholas or Nick. Since the world is a little less heteronormative, Luther does not have an issue with Nicky’s sexuality but he is livid that Nicky is trying to get with a commoner. Specifically a cute baker from the next town over that sometimes comes to do the medieval equivalent of catering at the castle for events or something idk. BUT as soon as Luther’s out of the picture for whatever reason Aaron and Andrew have no issue letting their cousin be “abroad” or “off on business” in about as vague of terms for like. A long while at a time. How official and professional of Duke Nicholas. Mhm. No, they will not be taking any more questions

In this au Abram and Aaron are neither friends nor enemies, Aaron would just really love to associate with Abram as little as possible and Abram’s totally fine with that. Absolute masters of staying in their lanes. But when Katelyn gets a little too drunk at a party and wanders away from Aaron and Wilds, for way too long, and Aaron starts getting worried - where is my wife I hope she’s okay - Abram’s found her and has been watching her. Wilds can see Aaron’s relief when he realizes that, because yeah they’re not friends but Aaron knows for a fact that Abram will take as good care of Katelyn as he ever does of Andrew, maybe even more so. That Does Not Mean he likes him any more than he does currently tho. (This becomes a frequent occurrence. Party Queen, Her Majesty Katelyn Minyard)

The prince asks, “When do you relax, Abram.” “Occasionally when I am off duty.” “Are you not off duty now?” Abram smiles. “I am off duty when the only person’s safety in my hands is my own, Your Highness.” (Where does this go? Completely up to you, have a blast)

Okay moving onto the angst.

Abram cannot outrun his past forever, especially since he’s not running at all. And not just from the Moriyamas. I don’t know how, but maybe someone in the general castle ranks figures out where Abram comes from and is (rightfully, unfortunately) immediately on edge. It ends in a mob of castle workers/knights/etc finding Abram and bringing him to the king, queen, and prince, announcing that this man comes from Evermore, he must be a spy, he must be just waiting for an opportunity to cause the royal family harm. He’s stolen into the prince’s good graces with the worst of intentions. And the issue is: I don’t think Day ever told the family he knew this. He kept it hushed for a while as to not cause a panic (part of the reason he was ever lenient and gave Abram a chance was obviously because he himself was in almost the exact same position). And then when Abram proved himself trustworthy he didn’t want to ruin Abram’s chances at having a fresh start. So as far as Aaron and Andrew are aware, the mob is right. That doesn’t make it easier for them - they all trust Abram as much as Day does, they suspect now that Day might have known given his initial reaction to Abram, but what does that matter when Abram’s proven his loyalty so many times - and in the confusion, Andrew has no damn idea what to do. He can hear Aaron whisper beside him, “Andrew,” but even if the mob is right Andrew can’t bring himself to be the one to execute any sort of judgement. He returns, “this is your jurisdiction. Tell me your decision once you’ve made it.” And he can’t stay there any longer. Abram watches him leave silently from the center of the mob.

But Aaron doesn’t want Abram hurt either. He’s sure there must be some misunderstanding, he needs to talk this over with his advisors. So he does nothing more rash than send them all to leave Abram in a holding cell until they can figure it out. When Andrew hears about this, he gives himself the full day to make sure he’s got his head in order before going down to the basement. Abram hardly moves from his place in the corner of the cell. Andrew asks for an explanation and for once, Abram has nothing to say. Nothing more than Andrew’s heard already, he says. Once again, Abram waits to be served a death warrant. And again it is refused him. After it’s more or less cleared up, the biggest issue is getting the general public to even begin to trust their prince’s closest servant again.

(Read a snippet of their conversation in the cell here since this is already so long lol)

Lastly. It’s a good thing, I think, that Day put himself in charge of Abram immediately once he’s back from Evermore. Not for Andrew’s sake this time, though that’s still certainly the case, but I kind of think Abram would have come out worse on the other side even despite Andrew’s best intentions and efforts. And the issue would be that Andrew is too patient and careful with his words. Because while he’s recovering (specifically his sight) Abram is a danger to both himself and the people around him. Like this.

Neither Day nor Andrew are afraid to get a few cuts or bruises; the difference is Andrew would have tried to hold him too gently, just take the blade by force and it probably would have ended with more superficial wounds on them both than Day’s approach. Meanwhile Day isn’t afraid to do what he needs to do to get results. Once he realizes the extent of the trauma around ‘if you are like a dog you will be as obedient and loyal as one’, he can use that. Instead of trying to take the knife by force here, all Day has to do is say “Nathaniel, drop it,” sharply enough, and Abram’s muscles react before his head can. I don’t know how long it would take for Andrew to resort to the same thing. If that makes sense, anyway, I might be wrong on this one. (It’s one of the things I’d have to put a lot of thought and maybe even writing into to be sure of.) Anyway if Andrew heard this happen he’d be incredibly angry, but Day never uses it without very, very good reason. It keeps Abram from hurting himself too much.

So that’s like all the extra random points I had in my book :D once again, no idea where they fit in a timeline but they’re here in my head floating freely around on colorful inner tubes, occasionally bumping into each other. I really appreciate you enjoying this so much, I hope it is everything you wished and more 🥰 also omg… if you make art I’d DIE to see it, I’d be so honored 🥹

#doing the tiniest little dance in my chair at being able to talk about them more #I even have another ask I’m really excited to get to but I want to draw something for it first 👀#hope everyone’s having a good week!#fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #my writing #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #aaron minyard #Katelyn #nicky hemmick #asks #royal au

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houseofhyde · 2 years ago

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Hello there amazing writer 🙋🏻‍♀️! I hope you are feeling well and are finding the fandom pleasant 🤗.

I thought I'd share an idea that's been festering in my head if you'd like to give it a try (but first allow me to commend your sharply pellucid guidelines for requesting, you have seriously inspired me to refine my own 🥂)

I was thinking of something where Daemon has been chasing a noblewoman, interest kindled by her prideful rejection to become his latest muse; then one night she goes to his chamber, dejected and teary, indignantly asking for company. Then something like the beach scene from Drfitmark where he's far gentler than he thought he would be.

Thank you for hearing me out, have a lovely day 💐

but only for tonight.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader. synopsis. to most, the rogue prince is an untamable beast, with the fury of a thousand men and mind more stubborn than a mule. to you, he's a nuisance in expensive clothing, prone to run away with his tail tucked between his legs each time you reassure him you're still not interested in entertaining his company. till disaster strikes and the only corner of the keep your legs seem to carry you is his chamber doors. warnings. young!daemon (early 20s), enemies to lovers to strangers, kinda softer than usual daemon (he's young and not completely cynical yet), smut (porn with plot, p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, daemon lowkey has a praise kink, dubcon bc daemon is high on life aka the milk of the poppy). word count. 13.1k (this was only meant to be 5k max 🧍‍♂️) hyde's input. thank you so much to @nyctophilic0vitnir for your kind words, your request, and, most importantly, your patience <3 this took me far too long to write and i hope the wait was worth it for you. it pains me to age daemon down (as, personally, i'm a toxic bitch that loves to see daemon be notably older than the reader, since i feel it adds that extra layer of questionable morality to his character and his actions) but it was the only way i felt i could stay true to my personal characterisation of him whilst sticking to the original request. since i view daemon as someone hardened by things in life that only come with age (which, in turn, affects his approach to love/courting), it only felt believable to me that he'd chase after someone in his younger days. obviously not everyone has to agree since, again, this is my personal characterisation of him! i'm rambling so i'll shut up now, enjoy! read on ao3 !

between the blinding shine of the sun and the hateful looks from the ladies seated all around you, you’re shocked to the core that you’ve yet to melt away into nothingness.

the scene is as follows: an arena surrounded by crowds filled with cheering lords and fawning ladies, dressed in their finest of robes and garbs, and with their mouths opened to yell out each time sticks collide or a rider is thrown from his horse; within the arena stand two horses- one so white it offends the eyes and the other blacker than a night’s sky- and, upon their saddles, two men. the first is a man of honour, regal of house and true of heart. he sits like royalty and smiles like a dashing knight, urging his mount towards the stands, no doubt awaiting the gift of the flowered wreath you’d kept yourself awake into the small hours to make. the other man? a fool made of over-the-top armor, a glistening of dark metals and a feathered helmet that, combined with the smug look he sports, has the same effect as simply writing cunt across his forehead.

it is, to your own displeasure, that the second man is who holds his lance out to you first.

“well,” that cocky tone of voice grates you, like the screech of a crying babe, and you fight back the urge to cover your ears, if only by reminding yourself of how his crown-bearing brother is watching from his own seat amongst the crowd. “get on with it.”

“oh, my!” the women in your vicinity swoon, as if the man has just recited a poem of utmost beauty and grace in your direction.

seemingly foolish? most definitely.

but, truly foolish? not one bit, each of them strategic in their behaviour towards the unwed prince, hopeful that someday, should they work hard enough, they’ll be on the receiving end both of his affection and wealth.

you can not mock them- wholeheartedly, at least- for you would be behaving the very same were he any other prince.

“lady cantebury, if you’ll excuse me, i suddenly feel my lunch coming back up.” though you address the woman to the left of you- who, quite frankly, you’ve been ignoring for the better half of the tournament- your words and feigned smile are directed to the man of your ire.

“yes, excuse her, lady cantebitchy,” despite the prince- purposefully, you assume- misspeaking her name, she seems a little too excited that he’s taken notice of her to care. “it takes those northerners a while to adjust to eating something other than half-frozen crops. three moons south and my lady has yet to get used to it.”

“your lady?” you scoff, and quickly scowl, cursing yourself for giving him what he wants: your attention. too late now, you challenge him and lean forward against the railings. “is she with us now, this lady of yours? i should like to pay my respects to her no-doubt deceased sanity.”

“it pains me deeply when you speak so dully of yourself, my lady.” the gaul of this man! to speak such words, to mimic affectionate sentiments and pains in his heart through the clutching of his chest!

and, to make matters worse, to put on this act before the very man you’ve been courting!

the tyrell boy is smiling when your eyes finds his own, but the grip he has on the reigns of the white horse speaks true to the anger that hides beneath the petal-covered surface. you return his smile, and ignore whatever the prince mutters under his breath (something adjacent to greeting that priss of a man, with words more foul and tone heavy on the disgust).

aiming to beckon over the man who should truly receive the gift of your favour, a faint tug on the skirts of your summer’s gown derail your line of thoughts. first, you look to your left, accusing eyes looking upon lady canteburry as if to say she was the one to call for your attention. another tug has your head darting to the right, and there you see her.

the princess is small, in age and height and all else, but she makes up for what she lacks with her overgrown personality and swollen confidence. she’s merely a girl of six, yet she stands as tall as her stature allows, head tilted up to look you in the eye.

“my uncle,” little rhaenyra’s words echo for all to hear, silencing even the most brutishly rude lords as all stand to listen to her sweet voice. “he wants your favour. i think he’s just nervous and forgot to ask for it.”

the last of her words are whispered, loud enough for several women and the prince himself to hear. you shoot him a look as you both scoff over a laugh, him with indiganance and you with disbelief.

blessed be the hearts of children, too pure to know the wrongs of man.

“is that so, princess?” the girl’s nose wrinkles, a sign of her distaste towards hearing you address her by title (“i can not call you ‘nyra in public, sweet child.” you’d told her many a times, hands brushing over her pale hair or accompanying her through strolls in the gardens or helping her escape the boring hours of needle work. “you are a princess, and as one of your ladies it is my duty to address you as such.”)

the girl nods and you spy the way her hair is slowly slipping out of its braid. the actions serves as a reminder, to not just yourself but the gathered crowd of women, of the unfair yet captivating traits of the dragon-riders. fair hair, lilac eyes, unblemished skin.

he wears them differently to the rest of his house.

“listen to the child,” he speaks as if on queue, in tune with your thoughts. “she’s wiser than most her age.”

“unlike you.” you believe yourself to mutter beneath your breath.

the stifled laughter of the queen herself, aemma targaryen, tells you otherwise.

“ao jorrāelagon naejot sagon tolī sȳz, kepus!” you need to be more kind, uncle! another part of the targaryen culture you’ve grown to envy as much as you distaste: their ancestral tongue. which the princess has been improving upon with each passing day since your arrival at the capital, adding yet another person to your list of targaryens who insist on speaking it around you, with no regard to the fact you have no clue of what words they speak. if anything, the prince seems to enjoy it when you storm off, antagonised to the point of despair by his incomprehensible ramblings in his mother tongue. “iā hembar jēda kesan daor tepagon se dohaeragon ao jaelagon naejot gain se riña’s prūmia lēda.” or next time i will not give the help you wish to gain the lady’s heart with.

whatever she says, it’s enough to irritate the prince, if the roll of his eyes are anything go by.

“lykemagon, riña, iā kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot ȳdragon hen aōha bantis zaldrīzes kipagon naejot aōha kepa.” silence, child, or i will not forget to speak of your nightly dragon rides to your father. you may not speak the language, but you’re fluent in context, and so there’s no doubt in your mind that the two are exchanging threats, each wearing that signature look of stubborn challenging you’re more than certain the king grew to despise the moment he realised he’d no longer just face it from his own brother, but his precious daughter too.

when the moment passes, the princess is facing you again, sticky hands plucking upwards to grab onto whatever part of you she can reach and guide you- shove you, if she were stronger than her age allows- closer to the knight in offensive armour.

“uncle, tell the lady what you desire.” the gods were cruel when they chose to favour men over women, tearing away the chance of this poised young girl of ever ruling upon the iron throne, for not even the strongest of men- nor the most foolish, either- would dare to speak to the rogue prince in such a demanding tone.

“to be drowning in whores and wine.” you’re too slow to cover rhaenyra’s ears from the man’s offensive wording.

you suppose she’s heard far worse.

“uncle!”

“fine, fine,” a clearing of a throat, a straightening of a spine and a lunge of a jousting stick in your direction. the horse he sits upon canters a few steps closer and releases the heavy sigh you wish you could. “my lady,” there’s a point to be made with how your eyes drift anywhere but his own as he speaks such blasphemy, a silent scream that you are most definitely, not under any circumstances nor at any point in time, his lady. you’re barely a tolerant of the man! “would you do me the honour of gifting me with your favour, so that i may wear it on the handle of my lance as i shove the other end up this pretty boy’s arse?”

there’s a cacophony of laughter, prompted only after the king himself fails to contain a burst of belly-born rumbles, and then the sweet interjection of ‘nyra once more, voice whiny in a way that reminds you you’ve been cursed with your moonsblood for longer than she’s been alive- even despite your supposed late blossoming!

“kepus! konir sagon daor skorkydoso īlon kȳvanon syt ao epagon zirȳla!” uncle! that is not how we planned for you to ask her!

the prince ignores his niece, eyes spying only upon you and your unimpressed, unmoving, unchanging facial expressions. the frowning lips, the pinched brows, the disdain in your eyes are all marks of something that would- should- send any other man running for the hills, in pursuit of some other lady.

in daemon, it is the pilar of his desire.

“are you going to make me wait all evening?” the teasing smirk and the raise of an eyebrow have become the prince’s signature look around you, from the moment you’d stumbled upon him, hands tangled up the skirts of a serving girl and lips stained in the bloodied red of southern wine. “because i must admit, while i’m not against performing in front of a crowd, i’d rather hoped our first evening together would be a little more intimate than this.”

you bite the insides of your cheek with a force you hope is strong enough to rid you of that grating feeling roused by none other than your greatest enemy: the prince.

by all means, you want to deny him, send him off to pester some other lady for her favour- of which you’re sure he’ll stumble upon an abudance of them who receive him more willingly than you. the crown of pointed thorns and decaying petals and twisted vines is one you’d intended to gift to the rose boy, not the dragon prince.

yet rhaenyra’s little hands and excited smile convinces you to go against your better judgement.

the crowd bursts back to life with cheers and applause as you drop your wreath down the expanse of his lance.

“cherish it, prince daemon,” you call over the crowd, voice drowning out in the masses yet reaching its intended, daemon’s eyes delighting with the attention you give him. “for i just forfeited my chance to be named queen of love and beauty.”

hours later, when the moon sits atop the sky and the king’s guests have had their fair share of feast and drink, you brush off yet another congratulations.

“to our queen of love and beauty!” they cheer, cups to the sky and smiles made of mockery. “our prince sure did pick a fine lady.”

to roll your eyes is your only hope to halt yourselves from chastising the garish men and their claims, a whole rant to throw at them off the cuff of how the only thing their prince has done is place a scarlet letter upon you and slice a dagger through the already fragile relationship you’ve spent your recent days crafting with the stone-faced lady tyrell, who’s spent the past hours staring you down from across the hall and whispering every so often to her husband.

the hand in your own- smaller and distinctly sticky in a way only a child’s hand ever seems to be- tugs and squeezes you along, venturing deeper into the pit of dancing bods, the tuffs of blonde and the poofs of red the only part of the princess you manage to make out as she guides you.

she stops, eventually, when she finds a spot she deems spacious enough and- unbeknownst to you- in the perfect line of view for all that sit the royal table, be they a king, or a queen, or a prince, to witness you both joining in dance, a unique pair among the many couples.

“you know,” the girl ponders alloud, a cheeky grin on her face as her small frame easily twirls beneath your raised arm. “if you married my uncle, you and i would be family.”

“is that so, huh?” she must count her blessings that she remains a child, for were she any older to know better, she’d be tasting the wrath delivered upon any other who’d dare insinuate- much less so boldly propose the idea of- the unification of yourself and the rogue prince. “are you sure you’d be able to handle me as your evil aunt?”

the young girl nods enthusiastically, a silly grin decorating her features and forcing one on to your own down-trodden face, something so infectious in her smile.

when you’d first met the princess, you’d been certain that you’d never warm to her. it wasn’t that she was spoiled or particularly difficult but, rather, you’d never had a child around back home. moving to the capital- under the guise of becoming a lady in waiting to the little princess while truly being an excuse for your father to find you a husband- you’d been unsure what to expect once you arrived. your friendship with the dragon princess was a happy accident.

an accident that’s made adjusting to the capital far easier, sure, but an accident nonetheless.

“uncle!” her recent interest in your courting life and the need to intertwine it with your arch-nemesis’, however, has you rethinking this friendship.

the princess is the one to let go first, ducking out of your hold to crash straight into the prince’s leg, attaching herself onto it like a leech sticks to the skin of a dying man. daemon, seemingly engaged in conversation- with a girl you believe to be part of the lannister house- prior to the appearance of rhaenyra, dismisses the company in favour of his niece, hand clasping itself upon the top of her head and giving several scuffs, messing her hair till it stands in all directions.

and, be it the copious drinks or the immature she-devil who harbours within the depths of your soul, you condemn yourself to approaching the prince.

“stop that!” the words are a hiss as your hands shove away his own and work at smoothing back down the strands of pale blonde. “it took me near an hour to get her to sit still for me while i done her hair, and now you’ve gone and messed my work!”

“then do better next time, perhaps tie it more securely.” never has daemon targaryen had a face so worthy of a slap.

but, as slapping the king’s brother would likely land you straight in a cellar, you settle for something far more childish.

“oh, my bad,” the stretch to reach the top of his head is lessened by the heeled shoes you wear, allowing you to retaliate the treatment he’d given to the princess’ head. “perhaps you should try tying your hair more securely next time!”

it’s a marvellous kind of satisfaction that overcomes you as you gaze upon your masterpiece, the prince now wearing a hardened expression and standing with something akin to a bird’s nest in place of his once perfectly groomed locks.

“i think you’ve been spending too much time with rhaenyra,” he grumbles, attempting to sooth down the mop on his head while trying to maintain an air of collectedness about him as the surrounding guests hide their snickers behind their hands. meanwhile, the princess radiates joy, no fear holding her back from laughing at her uncle. “you’re behaving as if you were her age.”

it’s a struggle to not stick your tongue out, but you fear that would only serve to prove his- likely true- point.

“i’m tired,” rhaenyra, ever the conniving little actress, throws in a fake yawn and stretches her little limbs out as she untangles herself from the prince, staring up at him. the two have always shared a rather queer bond, as though they were cut from the very same cloth, little needing said for them both to understand one another. being aware of this, however, does not make it any easier to accept when they speak of you as though you’re not there. “would you promise to keep my friend company? there’s a lot of strangers at this feast and i don’t want one of them to harm her.”

“i’d say the strangers are the ones who need protecting, princess,” he’s doubled over, moving down to the height of his niece but his focus is all on you and the urge to squirm under his penatrive gaze is stronger than ever. “them northerners can be savages!”

with much protest from you and a shooing motion from the rogue prince, young rhaenyra scurries off towards her septa, eventually leaving the hall intwined with the daughter of her father’s hand, alicent hightower, the pair having been near inseparable since before you’d even arrived in the capital.

you last only four denied dances, three of them which are proposed by the heartbreak prince himself, the only other man bold enough to approach you with your frowning sworn-guard for the night being a lowly lord from the southern isles, kind enough in the eyes yet sporting a few too many wrinkles and grey hairs for you to consider a suitable suitor. and, at last, it becomes time you take your leave, making one last stop before the two royals, once more congratulating the pair on the early stages of the queen’s pregnancy- the first to make it through the initial trimester since the birth of rhaenyra and the sole reason you’ve all gathered, to celebrate the future heir king viserys targaryen claims grows within his wife’s womb- before making your way out into the much quieter, more solitary and notably cooler hallways of the red keep, the noise of the continued festivities drowning out into muffled cheers as the heavy doors slam shut, locking you out.

you breathe easily for what feels like the first time in hours.

ever the fool, daemon seems either incapable of taking a hint or wilfully going to any length to aggravate you, for he matches your steps and follows you out. he’s oblivious to the stare of despair and the roll of your eyes, wishing the man would drop his literal- and figurative- pursuit of you once and for all.

“you’ve been here, what, near four moons?” his voice rising above the stillness of the night captures your attention, widened eyes blossoming with surprise shooting up from facing the ground beneath your feet. “how are you finding your stay? i should hope my brother’s fitted you with comfortable quarters.”

“i, well,” you start, and you mean to finish, you really do. but there’s a loss of connection between your mind and your mouth, one running with a thousand thoughts that fight to reach the forefront and the other parting it’s lips in a broken exhale.

“what, surprised to see i am capable of niceties?” the prince flashes what you imagine most would describe as a charming smile.

“yes. no, actually,” you correct both your words and your posture, unknowingly relaxing that tense feeling that had danced upon the tip of your back and the expanse of your shoulder from the moment you’d found yourself alone with the man walking at your side. “more surprised to see you’re capable of not turning everything into a sexual pass, i suppose.”

“well, you never let me reach the part where i request to see just how comfortable your quarters are.”

that same she-devil who convinced you to mess with his hair perks up her voice once more, seductive whispers encouraging you to cross the space that separates you from the prince and place a hand upon his leather-bound chest, shoving him with less hostility either of you had expected.

“you’re insufferable!” at the very least, you retain the ability to criticise him verbally, though with far more interruptions of failed-to-conceal laughter and less sharpness in your tone.

“i believe it’s pronounced irrefutable.”

“i’m impressed,” you nod along to your own exclamation, vaguely aware of the fact you’ve twisted your feet around till you face the man completely. “that’s a big word for someone with the vocabulary of a foul-mouthed child!”

“if big things impress you, rest assured i’m well endowed.”

“like i said, insufferable!”

when your exacerbated sighs and his teasing chortles fade away into the air of the night, a calm quiet settles over you both, like fog over mountain tops. the rare abscense of the wandering eyes and judgemental snickers and the gossiping whispers exchanged through the courtiers has made way for an unexpected tolerance of the prince’s company, one that leads you astray from your usual disgust and further towards the walking disaster-child that is daemon targaryen.

“come,” it’s a demand, not a request, the talons of your hands digging into the arm of his coat admittedly harder than necessary, a sick depravation found in the firmness of his biceps. you find he gives no protest to the way your arm locks itself around his own. “walk me to my chambers, oh mighty knight!”

“is this your way of accepting my offer to see how comfortable your ch-”

“daemon, so help the seven, if you finish that sentence, it’ll be i who shoves a lance up your arse.”

silence returns like an old friend: with open arms and the promise of a story to be told.

the pair of you traverse through the winding halls of the castle together, arms linked and feet synced- the prince puts a great effort into shortening the length of his steps. to outsiders looking in, you’d almost appear to be nothing more than another couple in the early days of courtship, smiling off to the sides and capable of looking anywhere but each other. the reality that this very man has put your true intended betrothal at risk becomes buried deep beneath the surface of your thoughts, uneager to remind yourself of how you’d last seen the tyrell boy rising from the dirt of the arena, face frowning as the prince called out your name, thanking you for you favour.

“you never answered.” he speaks carefully, voice a gentle timbre as though he’s attempting to coax a wounded fawn out of its hiding place.

“hmm?”

“my question, about your stay. how are you finding it?”

you can not seem to answer him. it isn’t that you don’t want to answer- trust there is another world out there where you easily list off every reason he’s made your time in the capital feel something comparable to torturous and arduous work- but, rather, that you do not have an answer. because not a single person, from your own father all the way to little rhaenyra herself, has dared to ask you before.

no individual has cared to know, yet here the prince stands- walks by your side, more accurately said- and inquires on it.

it jars you so severely you feel the beginnings of an ache in your head.

“oh, well, it’s been... good, i suppose.” both of you share a common disbelief towards the words you speak, yours evident in the way your grip tightens around his arm and his making itself known in a dismissive grunt. “the keep is beautiful, and my chambers are beyond any level of comfort my own house could afford, and the weather is admiteddly nicer. it’s just...”

“lonely,” the man finishes what you started, the hand on his free arm at some point raising itself to rest upon your own. it’s only reflex for your fingers to relax, untense the vice grip you’ve dug into him. “this city is somehow the busiest yet loneliest place in the whole of westeros.”

“don’t get sentimental on me, prince daemon.” to dismiss the mellowness settling in between you with a jovial tone and a pointed look is all you can think to do, far too unprepared to be confronted with the possibility of the rogue prince possessing anything beyond the sheer audacity he displays on the daily. “we would not want someone to overhear and assume you’re soft-hearted.”

the man swallows back a comment of how, while his heart may falter, another of his organs would not fail to remain hardened, and simply gives a noise of agreement. you arrive at yet another flight of stairs, this one so narrow it requires you to walk ahead of the prince, the grasp you have on him never faltering as it slides down the expanse of his arm and reanchors itself on his wrist.

you make it not even a quarter of the way up before your dress proves itself to be a nusance, catching on your feet and sending you crashing forwards, saved from bruising your skin and breaking your bones on the solid stone below by daemon, who effortletsly catches you by the waist.

“i wasn’t aware the king placed you in the highest tower of the keep,” the prince, a known hypochondriac, quips on the amount of stairs the travels to your chambers entails.

“must be to keep scoundrels like his brother from trying to reach me.” a joke it may be, given you both laugh, but there’s certainly an element of truth behind it.

pray, you will, that you’re never enquired on how often a scoundrel has taken it upon himself to lift the ends of a woman’s dress for no reasons other than aiding her to climb up steps without the fear of her feet catching on the ends of it.

he follows you up closely, closer than he’d been before, and drops the material only after you’ve reached the top. the pair of you move in sync to reform your previous positions, arms intertwining with ease.

“what,” it’s criminal, you think, that it’s taken you all this time to experience how soft the prince’s voice can be once he’s rid it of all that ego and peacoking energy he barks around the courts with. meanwhile, he’s doing everything he can think of to slow your inevitable approach towards your chambers door. “do you have planned tomorrow morning?”

“tomorrow morning?” the question prompts you to look at him. seeing his face closer than it’s ever been before, you see the little details, like the flecks of deep purple that accentuate the lilac eyes, or the small scab on his chin where a shaving knife must have sliced it, or the subtle indent of frown-lines on his forehead that you think a man of his age is far too young to possess. “usually my mornings are spent with the other maidens who reside in the keep, before rhaenyra comes searching for me after she’s broken her fast.”

you don’t mention the way the young girl never fails to bring something tucked beneath her skirts- an apple, a buttered roll, a slice of meat- and forces it upon you, demanding you eat the breakfast you so often forget to take.

“how likely is it that your absence would be noted, say, if you were to go one daybreak not with those wenches?” you wrinkle your nose at the choice of words and he chuckles, mentally notting the distaste you harbour for wenches and reminding himself to use it against you at some point in the future. “my brother says the she-beast they call vhagar laid a clutch.”

“how ominous. haven’t you dragonriders taken enough dragons beneath your wings?” it’s meant to be naught more than a silly comment, a clever play on words to rouse a tired eyeroll from prince daemon. it isn’t, however, supposed to pull a pointed look and a sigh of defeat from the dragonless targaryen. “i’m sorry... i didn’t mean to offend.”

“no, no, it’s fine. just never speak such a stupid pun again.” he juts his arm out, playfully stabbing the point of his elbow into your side and rousing a smile back onto your face, unease slipping out with your next exhale. “it’s for the queen’s babe. my brother demanded i collect the eggs and bring them to-”

“there you are, my love! i’ve been looking for you all evening.”

like a pair of children caught with their hands down a cookie jar, daemon and you jump apart with haste, eyes no longer focused on one another and, instead, on the figure stood at the very end of the hall.

he still wears the armour which he’d been defeated by the prince in.

“laurel!” while your tone may read as elated, it’s filled only with disappointed surprise. “what are- why- what brings you here, at this hour?”

the prince seems to instinctively step closer to you as the tyrell boy begins to approach, leaving his post outside your door. he’s stern, brows furrowed and nothing remains of the man who’d been making you laugh a mere ten paces back.

“i was looking, for you,”

“clearly not hard enough.” you wonder if the tyrell boy catches daemon’s muttered words and, the part of you that agrees with them wishes he did.

you’d been at the feast all evening, with just about every other person of status in the city. if he’d wanted to find you, he’d have been best to make an appearance at the event rather than camping outside your apartments.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the gardens,” the rose speaks as though his idea is not preprostous, inviting a maiden out into the darkened greenery at such a late hour.

passing by the prince, laurel tyrell spares him no attention, as though the man is not even there, and simply makes his way towards the stairway, turning back only when the notion that you stand frozen in your spot kicks in.

“come along, my lady!” my lady. those two words feel tainted from hearing them fall from between the prince’s lips, the tyrell’s voice prickling your skin with it. “i promise i shant keep you late.”

your eyes find the prince.

he nods, once and then a second time.

“go,” he urges verbally, when his actions don’t speak loud enough. “fleabottom’s been calling my name all evening, and i intend to answer it.”

with a twist in your gut and a wretch in your heart, you shuffle your way over to laurel tyrell’s open palm, letting him drag you back down into the night.

this is a decision you come to regret, no later than four sleeps.

because the man's words follow you, no matter how quickly you run through halls and creep up stairwells. they turn every corner you take and pause with every rush of breath you stop to heave into your screaming lungs. you pass doorways and sleeping guards, and they pass them with you too.

this nonsense best prove it's worth once i bed her.

there's anger in the clutches of your hands, clenched into fists of pointed knuckles and skin-digging nails, and sadness caught between the lashes of your eye, drops of liquid heartbreak threatening to stain your skin if you so much as blink.

the halfwit doesn't notice when i focus on her tits instead of her eyes.

the poetic words, the strolls through the gardens, the nights of dancing, the stolen smiles and fleeting looks across crowded rooms, all for nothing.

least she be a maiden. i've heard the feel of breaking one of them in is unmatched.

all for laurel tyrell to be another man who sees only the shape of what you hide beneath your clothing.

you want to hate him, curse him, tell all you meet of his crude words, but, instead, the thought of their reactions leaves you despising yourself, for ever thinking a man could think with more than what sat between his legs.

it is not even an option to contact your father, you lament while climbing yet another winding stairwell, for he’d merely remind you of a woman’s duty, which serves only her house until she takes a husband and, then, serves only him.

if the tyrell boy wishes to bed a maiden, your father’s voice plays in your thoughts as though he were stood before you this very instant, best it be you.

his words, the thoughts and your footsteps all come to a halt at the same time. like reentering your body, or awakening from a nap, you find yourself disorientated, gazing upon a chamber door you register not as your own. no, this door is more akin to the level of gradiose you face each day that you visit the young princess’ room, dragged away by her small hands as she works to avoid yet another one of the classes that she views as a bore.

yet, this is not her door.

sure, it carries similar markings and engraves in the wood, and sports that very same rich colour and shine to it. but something, subtle as it may be, is askew. the princess’ door has silver handles, this one has gold. the princess sleeps in the east wing of this part of the keep and you’re certain you’d marched west, away from the voice of your betrothed. a guard stands by the princess’ door, no one sits outside this one.

bile rises in tune with your hand, staining the back of your throat with anxious thoughts as you hesitantly knock.

you pause and wait.

minutes pass before you’re knocking again, this time with a little more anger behind the way your knuckles hit against the cold oak. it’ll be a wonder if you do not awake to swirls of purple and twists of blue painted across your skin come sunrise.

the tenant of these apartments still does not open their doors.

you hit a little harder, replacing knocks with a forceful, full-handed slap against the door. and then another, and another, and another, and-

your hand meets flesh that prickles with stubble and points with it’s cheekbones.

“what in the seven hells merits such behaviour at this hour?!”

the prince, for the life of him, has barely managed to open his eyes fully, rejecting the bright lights that burn in the hall. behind him is a sea of black, whatever treasures or prisoners he hides within his quarters lost into the darkness. he’s frowning, hair a mess, clothes foregone hours ago, and a distinctly red hand print slowly searing itself into the left side of his face.

the sight brings you more relief than you’d ever thought him capable of.

you’ve always been rational. it’s a badge you wear with honour, basking in the glory anytime one of your siblings met the angrier side of your father that never failed to reprimand them for being less like you, for being incapable of thinking before acting like you, for never weighing consequences until after a deed was done.

till the day you die, you will never find the words to describe what leads you astray from this level-headedness in the small hours of this evening.

you crash into the prince less gracefully than you’d prefer, lips barely meeting the bottom of his and pressing themselves half on his chin as you dive in for a kiss.

a kiss that daemon does not reciprocate.

in fact, he doesn’t even attempt to move, body frozen in place. pulling back to find the sheer unfazed, almost bored look that occupies the features of his face, floods your soul with a horrible, thick, heavy feeling, that stains every part of you it touches.

you’re ashamed.

and mortified.

and disgusted.

and embarrassed.

and reaching for his lips again.

this time your mouths collide in perfect level, no unwanted chin in the way. wanting- needing something to anchor you down, your hands shoot out to grasp at where a tunic would usually be. instead, you’re met with nothing but the solid, heaving, sweating mass that makes up the prince’s naked chest.

daemon remains stoic.

“i,” you breathe a shaky exhale, a sting nagging away at your reopened eyes as the previous tears reappear. with a nod, and a sniffle, you step back from the man. the nervous tremble in your hands forces you to grab at the fabrics of your skirt, grasping at anything to distract your mind. “that- this was a mistake.”

this entails so much. kissing him, knocking on his door, walking to his chambers, moving to king’s landing, courting with the tyrell boy, letting the prince get in your head and, all over what? a single experience where the two of your were capable of coexisting without tearing one another’s hair out?

it is all one big mistake, the kind that one can’t hope to fix if all they do is turn and run from the danger it exudes.

knowing this won’t stop you from trying, however.

you twist so quick you worry you may snap your spine or strain a muscle, body kicking into action in an attempt to get as far away from the prince as you’d once desired to be from the tyrell boy. not even a full step, do you make it, until an unmovable force clamps down on your arm.

daemon imposes on you this time, leaning down and crashing his lips against yours. his mouth is warm, with lips of honey and hands of stone that grab and pull and tug at the parts of you they blindly reach for.

the prince is not the first man you’ve kissed- nor do you imagine a life where he’ll be the last- but there’s something behind the way his tongue burrows itself into your mouth, his presence so tangible and all consuming.

you pull back, if only to catch your breath, but he follows, taking ownership over your senses.

stumbling backwards and crossing the threshold into the prince’s chambers, darkness takes ahold of you both, bathing you in nothing but the light of a distant moon. you barely register how one of you reaches for the door behind you, only the slamming of it alerting you to the fact it’s been closed. a lightheaded feeling overcomes you, forcing you to pull apart when your lungs scream for air.

“i’m starting to understand,” daemon’s voice is full of rasp, dry and cracking and far too grating on the ears for you to genuinely be finding yourself attracted to it. “why my brother swears by the milk of the poppy.”

a horrible feeling floods your soul, bile burning its way up your throat.

“oh, oh my god,” your hands are at the level of your eyes, pulling at strands of your own hair. “i completely forgot... you- you’re on bedrest, i can, i’ll just leave-”

the prince’s injury had been the talk of the town since it had occurred: a near-deadly run in with a frightened stag amidst a hunting tourney. the horned animal had spooked his horse, throwing the man off its saddle as it reared and ran off, leaving him to face the male deer. the truth of what had entailed, few would ever know, all that was said was that the prince returned to camp dragging the slaughtered animal by it’s horns with a blood staining the clothing surrounding his left shoulder.

“no, you won’t, heathen!” in rare occasions, daemon would be the only one to pull a smile from you all day. how fortunate that this is one of those occasions, the scowl on his brows contradicting the subtle upward quirk of his thin lips. “you can not dangle a piece of meat before a dragon and then refuse to feed it.”

were you in any state to think rationally, you’d dig more into the fact he’d just referred to you as a piece of meat.

but, then, if you were thinking rationally, you’d never have wound up at his door.

the second kiss is less forceful. no rush enlaced with every touch, no desperation tickling at both your senses, no desire to stray too far from one another.

you find yourself trusting the prince more than you’d like to when he starts to guide you backwards, a gentle pressure on your hips building while his mouth travels over your jaw and reaches the top of your neck. you walk, and stumble, and shuffle wherever the man directs you and, then, you fall.

any frightful scream you would have let out is quickly replaced with a squeal and a giggle of delight, back meeting what you’re confident in naming the softest bed you’ve ever laid upon.

at last, the shine of the moon allows you to see the man hell-bent on attacking you with his mouth.

“what is the meaning of this, hmm?” the condescension in his tone usually grates you. now, it excites you, arouses you, leaves you wondering of what pleasures he could speak with it. “why’re you suddenly at my door, behaving like some wanton whore?”

oh, you think, who knew such crass could prickle your skin with desire?

the shadow of the prince casts down on you, bathing you in an exagirated enlarged image of him, as if the fates wish to remind you of how big a shadow he looms over your own existence. it scares you.

his eyes scare you more.

they’re usually wider, observing every move, full of that mischievous nature the prince is known for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then daemon’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand that circles a grip around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, silver hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“do you know how hard it is to get you alone? always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid feasts i had to attend to finally get some time with you?” daemon pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, sweet girl? or are you lost in that pretty little head of yours?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with a new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want me to say.”

if it’s the wrong or right answer, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced man releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting jasmine that reminds you of how alluring yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answer to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm of your lips is a mismatch of beats, where one moment you are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down, down, down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you’ve succumb to daemon’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he has in his possession and currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to repeat his previous seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand suddenly finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips ruck up the fabric that safeguards the last of your modesty and meet the ends of your sleep-gown, you’re wishing you’d never slipped it on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over your near shear dress occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like visenya and vhagar at the unstormable vale, daemon parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s pulsating core.

“have you figured out what i want yet?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual smite-filed, almost spat-out-words tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the man. right now, there’s no trace of sardonic undertones in the thick rasp and there’s no time for an exchange of childish insults while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you desire, rather than what the stranger incarnate looming over you wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows no longer furrowed and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. the prince, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he’d stopped you from fleeing at his door.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, till a mere inhale is enough to have your chest pressing into him.

the prince’s descent to the floor is graceful, his figure made of solid muscle and unclothed skin lowering till his knees hit the ground and it becomes you who stare down at him, your hands clutching at the silk sheets his bed has been dressed with in an effort to replace the desire to touch him instead.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of his eyes on you, or the sheer visual strength depicted in the straining muscles of his thighs, you instead focus on the way his lips have trailed away from yours and are beginning to make their way towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your flimsy night-dress, successfully manoeuvring the cotton material till it pools around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the night.

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a laugh.

his laughter.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your dress with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, fabric digging into the rapidly heating skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how beautiful your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, not unlike the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” one hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder- the shoulder that does not possess gauze wrapped around it, that is- and grasps it in a vice grip, the fear of melting off the bed and directly onto the concrete floor all too prevalent as you gain enough confidence to let the other hand slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the silver locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked to drink from your cunt?”

you nearly choke on your own shock.

“i suppose that’s another honourable title for me to wear.” daemon is beginning to give you whiplash, with all this switching between being unusually receptive to your presence and the man that minutes before was making poetic profanities out of the beauty of your bared chest. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting once more to make out your figure in the darkness. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting before you, knees pressing into the ground in a mockery of a bow, some crevice deep within your soul sparks up a fire that burns on the belief that perhaps you’ve been wrong about the prince all along, judging only on what people say and not on how he behaves. then, he reopens his mouth and dampens the flame. “now, do i have to tear you out of your skirts or will you stand up and let me slide it off?”

this time, its your laugh that echoes in the air.

“you think i jest!” he seems to whine his way through his exclaim, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is both influenced by the milk of the poppy that flows through his bloodstream, and is going to drive you insane. “i can not go on another moment like this, you sitting there like something akin to the most mouthwatering summer’s peach, without spending my seed. and, while i’d much prefer to do so inches deep inside you, i’ll settle for a mouth full of cunt.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture the prince’s essence. “okay, okay, i’ll umm... just stand up and-” the shriek of fabric tearing rips through the space between you. “hey!”

“i’d apologise but, well,” daemon’s dazed smile should not be this gentle, not when it is proceeded with his hands returning to your now bare thighs. “you were trying my patience.”

his hold on you is strong- both the grip he has on your legs and the control he harbours over your mind-, and he plays it to his advantage, laying one palm flat over your torso and forcing you backwards, till your back meets the mattress and your eyes find themselves staring up at the images carved into the roof of the wooden bedpost, details indistinguishable in the darkened room.

from the floor, the prince is grabbing and pulling and maneuvering you down the length of the mattress, finding the backs of your knees and bending them, spreading your legs to a width wide enough for his broad shoulders to sit between.

“need you closer, my tongue’s not that long.” the prince mutters, half to himself, as your arse meets the edge of the bed, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. your hands return to fisting at the sheets beneath you, digging and searching and reaching for a way to keep yourself grounded through the maddening thoughts of the prince and the current position you find yourself in, and ignoring the anxious ridden vipers inside your mind that spit their venom and hiss their tongues in commands that entail you gathering the remaining fabrics of your tattered clothing and running out these chambers, out the keep, out the damned capital, out the clutches of the man on his knees. though, with the way his fingers squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’d make it as far as even a single step. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the ladies in the seven kingdoms that would die to be in your position, and you choose to say that?” he tisks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on those words, next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your aching bud.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch upward momentarily, back arching off the bed and mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your buzzing centre and up your pubic bone. “you smell sweet as sin, you know? enough to make any man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when the prince makes his way back down to your pearl and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow more sodden, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- which slips and slides its way down to the crack of your arse, dribbling over your puckered hole- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your womanhood. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head forces itself into the grip you have in his hair while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he slurs over the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while the prince is simply watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your cunt clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

the rogue prince takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why did you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced peak you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your pearl is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. daemon hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged bud. “the goal is to make you cum on my tongue, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your pearl, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“would you ever stop?” your whining tone is reminiscent of a spoiled babe, crying and fussing over the need to be fed milk from it’s mother’s teat.

“‘tis you who’s becoming insufferable now, my lady.” the prince, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your centre and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between daemon’s and your own.

“you can move.” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your pearl and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, sweetling.”

and, really, who are you to deny a prince?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you watched the flowered wreath slip down his lance. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and daemon’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and dropping your legs over his shoulders, mouth pressing right up against you with his tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, else all the old gods and the new be damned.

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time on the spare pillows that line your own bed, in the hours where the moon sits high within the sky and not a creature stirs nearby to witness your self-pleasing sins. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man below you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “oh, there, right there, daemon! yes, i’m going to-.”

the prince pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his mouth. he’s getting everything he’s imagined since he’d watched you first step foot into the keep, your naked body a mess before him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your breast.

he watches how the white tips of your nails clash with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you peak, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you fidget and kick away from him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of your essence he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he lets you move him, mouth switching to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something similar to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“you sound as though you enjoyed yourself.” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, mouth agape as you drag and drop the air through your lungs, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

“do you ever...” despite your efforts to sit yourself up, against his sheets you remain with limbs melted into puddles jelly and eyes staring wide at the heavens above, a tremble still present in your thighs as you subconsciously feel the patterns his hands dance over them. “shut up?”

“only when my mouth is otherwise occupied.”

silence prevails alongside the ticking of time. some part of you registers the return of your feet to the cold floor and the departure of the man from between your legs. he doesn’t stray far, hands clamping down on your hips, a gentle squeeze or two his own way of searching for your presence, urging your eyes to meet his.

they remain looking upwards.

undeterred, the prince is, bending himself at the waist and resting both hands on either side of your head, holding his own weight up as his face obstructs your view above. life enters you once more, eyes focusing at last on him and his upturned mouth and the remnants of your sexual indiscretions drying into his skin.

“for someone who hates it so much, you sure do know how to stroke my ego.” he must be on a mission, you think, to remind you of why you’ve spent your days avoiding interactions with him instead of tangling yourself within his arms. “i’ve got something much bigger for you to stroke though, once you regain your senses.”

this something bumps against your skin, solid as a rock and spluttering a spit of fluids onto you, warm and sticky. sneaking a quick glance is not enough to fully encapsulate the details that make up this fierce looking appendage, with it’s red-angered tip and its decorative bush of hair and the peak of his stones that sit just past its base, yet it’s all you allow yourself under the scrutiny of his eyes.

“perhaps it’s time you to choose your words more wisely, prince daemon,” your voice is breathy, chest heavy still. you try distract him away from noticing such a feat, hand dancing down the expanse of his bare back till it meets the globe of his arse, nail digging in so deep they’re bound to leave marks, if not draw blood too. “it would be far too easy to punch you in the cock from this position.”

he swallows back a demand for you to speak more about his cock.

clarity bestows itself upon your mind, as your memory serves you a cruel reminder of the words you’d overheard and the voice you’d been running from, dread burning its way up your throat in a sickening twist of guts. the prince must notice the shift in the air, perhaps the way your face has grown a little paler or your pupils dilate as you venture off into the hellscape of your mind, for he’s quick to return you to his hold, heavy body pressing down on you as the prince’s mouth meets yours.

there’s a tangy, sticky sweetness to his kiss, a taste of your self that he gifts you with bitten lips and languid tongue, delving deep into your mouth as if in search of some hidden treasure.

it’s clear now, to the both of you, that your reasons for being here- in his chambers, upon his bed, beneath his body- are nothing if not driven by something deeper, darker, more dangerous than simple ardent lust. months you’d been within reach. months he’d been vocal of his desires towards you. days you’d been betrothed to another man.

but the prince never asks, and so you never answer, letting yourselves indulge in the arts of pleasure and pain.

he pulls on your lip, you pull on his hair. he drags his nails down your body, you dig yours into his rear. he drives you deeper up the bed, you drive him deeper between your legs. he rolls his hips into you, you roll your eyes back into your skull.

“this is a dream. you’re a dream,” perhaps your rational thinking has devolved to naught but hedonistic intentions, for you’re almost certain the mighty rogue has something familiar to wonder intertwined with his breathless voice. the dilation of his pupils, eyes more black than targaryen-lilac, is a mystery you ponder over, wondering if it’s driven more by lust or sedative. “and tomorrow i’ll awake to an empty bed and the reality where you tolerate a rat more than me.”

it’s unclear if he speaks literal of the long-tailed rodent, or if it’s simply a new name for the ever-growing list of things he calls your betrothed.

“do you say that to all the whores you fuck?” your words carry a bite, one your own destructive nature hopes will drive him away from you.

“we don’t speak,” he does the opposite, sinking further into you. you become all too aware of the heat returning to your core when he ruts the length of his cock up your folds, coating himself in a thin layer of your lubricant. “sounding like you, they can never achieve it. they can look like you, from the back, at least.”

believing his words to be a lie feels easier than accepting them as truth. the rogue prince has been nothing if not a menace to the streets of silk since the dawn of his sexual maturity, and there is not an inch of you that can fathom him using these vices as a means to quench the desire for you, seeking out your form in faceless, nameless and, apparently, voiceless cunts.

there’s no great lead up to the breaching of your walls, simply another two rolls of his length along your soaked core and a ghost of a kiss against your forehead before the prince is lining himself up and impaling you with his cock.

you’d been warned all about the ache that would come with the breaking of your maidenhead, traumatised at the young ages of four, five, six and onwards of how, someday, your husband would tear you open and leave you a bloodied mess. and, yet, here you lay, a dull ache burning within you, the feel of a pop and the heavy slap of his stones meeting your skin.

“it hurts, i know,” he hushes you when, at last, a pained whimper breaks the surface of your silence, hips stilled and keeping him buried deep in your walls that fight and squeeze and tighten around the intruder. his face, from the little you see of it past the wall of tears building within your eyes, is scrunched up in discomfort, fighting back the instincts that tell him to pull back and fuck himself into you over and over. “but you’re good, and you’re strong, and you can take it. you know you can, just relax.”

you do as your told, far easier than either of you had expected, and find rhythm in his own heavy breathing, matching each inhale and exhale till the soothing of hands over your thighs relaxes the muscles and you manage to retract the nails that dig deep into his back.

the prince moves only once your legs tangle themselves around his waist, spreading you wider and holding him closer.

from there, a symphony ensues, except where normally one would find the melody of a guitar or the blowing of a flute or the beating of a drum, this one is made of skin slapping, mouth kissing, moan singing. the ache builds and builds till it collapses into a pit of delirious pleasure, the kind that opens your eyes as to why it’s so easy for men and women to succumb to the sins of flesh.

“look at you,” his words are rough while his touch is soft, hand gliding over your breasts once more, pinching and pulling at your aching nipples as he puts strength into gazing down at you, intoxicating himself with the way your bodies join at the hip, his cock disappearing into your walls and reemerging coated in your arousal, glimmering beneath the moonlight. “taking me so fucking well. letting me carve out a home for myself in your cunt, huh? gonna let me stay inside you forever?”

he’s manic, and crazed, and spewing out things that you know should make you cringe and roll over in disgust. but you’re just as far gone, mind no longer vacant in your body as you chase that special feeling only the repeated hammering of his tip against your womb can bring.

“let me cum inside, sweetling,” is it more plea or demand? it’s hard to tell, and hard to care, arms circling round the back of his neck and back arching to press chest to chest. the prince ceases his senseless rambling only to lay kisses down your sweat-covered face, neck, chest, each carrying the weight of his desperation to feel you real and breathing beneath him. “stake my claim over this tight little cunt, leave you dripping from how full i make you.”

waves of pleasure crash over you in tandem, unintelligible groans and gasps all that play through the air as hands clamp down and teeth bite skin. your walls spasm around his cock while it twitches within you, both of your peaks painting your bodies in liquid arousal. warmth fills your cunt and trickles out of you, catching on the dark mass of hair that sits above his appendage, the stark white of his cum sickeningly reminding you to the first time you’d seen snow as a child and arousing the same response from you: a desire to taste it.

he collapses down onto you before you get the chance, however, and the exchange of body heat and shallow breaths lulls you both through your states of ecstasy, slipping into a quiet comfort.

the prince moves slowly, as if not to disturb either of you, and shushes you with kisses when you whine at the loss of him from your cunt, softening cock slapping down against your leg. a few moments pass before he’s moving again, this time with you in tow, dragging at the sheets beneath and working them over you both just as you begin to register how cold the chill in the room is. never mind, the dragon keeps you warm against him, limbs tangling as you make a pillow out of his chest.

“my betrothed.” you take the lead this time in breaking the comfortable cloud of silence which had settled itself above your tired bods. the prince merely grunts, disliking the sound of those two words as much as you dislike the taste of them. “i overheard him conversing with an adviser of his.”

“whatever he said, i’ll cut his tongue out and feed him it.” his vulgar threat drags an airy laugh out of you as he mumbles it into the top of your head.

“my maidenhood, that’s what lead him to offering me his hand.” you laugh again, though there is no trace of humour as it devolves into something of a broken, heart-wrenching sob. “gods, i must be so stupid for thinking a man like him could fall in love with me.”

the silence is unnerving, weighs down on your chest with every breath that ebbs and flows between you both. you’re waiting on it, anxiously anticipating the moment laughter breaks out his ribs and shakes his whole body in amusement at your sheer ridiculous expectations, mocking you for giving away your maidenhood in an act so childish as simply not giving your betrothed the satisfaction of taking it.

marriage is politics, you can picture him saying, love is merely a made up tale to entertain children.

daemon never quite has been one for following expectations.

“i could fall in love with you.”

so it is you who winds up laughing, a repeat of that fractured chuckle that dissipates into something more painful and stings at the cracks in your heart.

“you’re not in love with me, daemon,” it feels obvious to say, yet you’re graced with a disagreeing look upon his face. “you’re obsessed with me, there’s a difference.”

“i beg to differ.”

“you see me as nothing but a lady who doesn’t fall at her feet for you, and it excites you. it’s okay, i understand, but i won’t let you delude yourself nor i into believing its love.”

he has no reply to give, not one that could change your mind.

and so there you lay, naked bod pressed to naked bod, sweat and spit and other bodily fluids becoming the glue that hold you together, with limbs entangled and eyes locked. you see peace in his smile and he watches as sleep slowly whisks you away into its warmth.

little does the prince know your eyes will not meet his own again for many years to come.

not days later, as he stands amongst the crowd of folk bearing witness to the exchanging of vows between the tyrell boy and you, nor several years after, as you return to the great hall of the red keep to see the announcement of prince aegon's birth, your own child stood at your side and grasping your hand, the silver-moon upon her head no match to the straw blonde of your husband.

#daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon smut

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lucassinclaer-archive · 9 months ago

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i only need super minimal encouragement to talk about this soooooo ty @freetobeeyouandme lmao. been thinking about stranger things heist au again. and it got long into brainstorming territory so just... (waves hand vaguely) thoughts continue under the cut.

legacy families like the byers who never pulled high-end jobs, content in their little pond being small-time crooks incapable of understanding why jonathan, with all his flawless lifts and situational awareness, would try to reach above and start in on the big jobs.

joyce who met lonnie on a job and joyce and jonathan who protect will from lonnie's frustration when will turns out to be an awful thief who doesn't enjoy crime the littlest bit. (he does turn out to be quite the forger when the time comes, though.)

contrast with that the wheelers who are an all-american halfway happy law-abiding family whose eldest, nancy, walks eyes front into a life of crime to protect her friend and finds that it becomes inevitable, a sort of ceaseless need to keep going. who never wanted her little brother involved.

but apparently the wheeler siblings have some sort of crime beacon on them because of course nancy quite literally crashes into her brother trying to take down the same scumbag two towns over she is, although he looks at her like she's crazy when she lays out her plan and man, what her little brother has planned is actually pretty clever and much more subtle than the approach she was gonna take. they have ground rules, but she doesn't try to keep him from pulling jobs. she knows it'd be useless.

dustin is an incredibly bright kid with what may be a slight tendency to go overboard in the name of Science. he loves blowing stuff up every now and again, okay?! and also it's just criminal (heh) what some pharma companies do so he might be breaking into their headquarters and screwing with their formulas and contaminating their experiments until he figures out how to take them down permanently. sue him! (but please don't actually sue him, he hasn't found a great lawyer yet.)

lucas on the other hand was dragged into crime kicking and screaming. not something he ever wanted to do. (will will understand but then lucas kind of loses him when he did it anyway.) mike and dustin sort of kidnapped him into it, basically, when they were all still strangers, dustin and mike barely partners on this one con, and they'd needed a patsy who worked for the corporation they're stealing from. unfortunately they were still young and dumb enough to pick someone actually smart who trapped them in an office until they copped to their scheme at which point lucas demanded proof of their accusations which coincidentally was exactly what mike anf dustin were after. after that they can’t really seem to separate. he's turned into a jack of all trades, lucas sinclair - grifter, thief, hitter... even the occasional hacker. not the greatest at any, but good at all.

(we don't talk about erica who will one day give him a heart attack blowing up his whole carefully crafted alibi.)

steve, the getaway driver who hates his fucking job and is in it only bc there was p much nothing else to do until he finds people who show him there's a way to do it that brings him joy, when he knows what he's fighting for.

robin's a strange sort of grifter, not someone who immediately charms everyone in a room, but who knows how to make herself either invaluable or severely underestimated. she speaks like every language under the sun. like steve she has a certain aimlessness at first but unlike steve it's not due to having no ideas but more of a thing of having no options. until they're offered to her. then she's unstoppable.

max is out there somewhere being a thief different from jonathan, self-made and scared and on the west coast. but if they were to meet jonathan would recognize those gritted teeth and the hard work. it's not natural talent that made her so good at what she does but pure stubbornness.

el, on the other hand, is all raw talent and exploited for it for a long time when she's a kid. it's will who meets her first, who gives her an out, but when it lands him in trouble it's the other criminals who help her get him out. joyce, mike and jonathan develop an instantaneous protective streak for her. lucas isn't sold and dustin is mostly in love with her demolitions capabilities and nancy is hungry for the dirt she has on various government agencies.

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dolliedarlin · 4 years ago

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i m p l i c i t ⏤katsuki b.

p a i r i n g : bakugou x f.reader

s u m m a r y : ever since you were young, you were forced to meet with the person dubbed as your finance, Katsuki Bakugou, a Baron’s son who had quite the temper but peaks your interest in every way possible

l e n g t h : 1.9k

g e n r e : olden days au ; fantasy au ; arranged marriage au ; Bakugou is a tsundere ; and we love him for it ; reader is an amazing bean that can keep up with him ; kirishima is your brother ; best brother ever ; rumours are toxic ; never base your opinions on someone solely on rumours ; you attract a stalker ; it’s not your fault ; he just as a twisted yandere mind ; Katsuki is your hero ; he makes your heart flutter ; and he makes your knees weak ; i really want someone to protect me and say what he said at the end of this

w a r n i n g s : swearing from our lovable explosion murder king ; acts of stalker/yandere ; sword fighting

a / n : i didn’t plan on posting this but mother nature decided to pay me a visit today so i basically lazed around in my bed groaning in pain and half starving bc it was too painful to get out at times for food. instead i started writing this imagine again that i had began months ago. this is inspired by Ranma 1/2, which is an anime that i loved watching when i was much younger, it’s not well edited because i’m kinda dizzy rn but i hope you enjoy it!

— first of all, before either you or Katsuki were born, the arrangement for your marriage to each other was already settled by your parents, hence why you were immediately introduced when you were children

— neither of you knew what marriage or engagement meant but you both associated it with seeing each other

— it wasn’t something Katsuki liked but you didn’t quite mind it, he always gave you really interesting reactions that you quickly came to like

— as the two of you grew up together, you always tried your best to get close to him but Katsuki was adamant at pushing you away and keeping you at arms length at all times

— despite all that, you wanted to catch his attention, which meant that you took interest in all the things that he found interesting too. that included: sword fighting, horse riding, duelling ; spicy foods ; battle tactics ; magic etc

— Katsuki always tried to ignore you but secretly appreciated how skilled you had become over the years. you were still nothing compared to him but you were able to battle against a majority of qualified knights and still be the last one standing

— he only scoffed at you because your talents were wasted; you’re too kindhearted to ever use your honed skills properly - it irritates him that other women push you to conform to etiquette, tea parties and high society when you were better than that

— you’re better than shallow conversations about the latest fashion, or the art of sipping tea, calligraphy and painting because he knows how much you train and how much effort you put into your education outside of such insignificant things

— Katsuki knows that you can handle yourself better than any other nobleman he knows of, he’s seen you help your father with his business and vigorously train with your dukedom’s knights

— what’s the point of all that effort if you weren’t going to show anything for it?

— because of that Katsuki always acted like he hated having you as his fiancée despite your optimism about him, as well as your patience and understanding of his unique way of expressing himself

— because the two of you are forced to spend a lot of time together by your parents, you’ve has been able to understand Katsuki and his mannerisms better than anyone else as your mother has always taught you to be openminded - she’s never been like the other noble ladies of society, hence why your father married her

— now, you were following in her footsteps. there’s been much gossip about your unladylike behaviour but you didn’t care, all you needed were your parents’ love and the love of Katsuki. he still needed some more time to come around but you’re positive you’ll get to him soon enough

— you’re positive there’s a different gleam in his eyes whenever he looks towards you now. it had always been one of hatred when you were much younger but his expressions frequently soften around you nowadays.

— no matter how subtle it may be, you always notice

— many rumours circulated about you the first time you had shown your skills openly amongst the knighthood. it had first started with your knights who praised you highly but, as soon as those whisperings reached outside the dukedom, many noble ladies started to gossip about your misdemeanour.

— surprisingly, those rumours were shut down in under a week and you didn’t know why; usually such good gossip material stayed for months and only faded with the years so it was peculiar to have it die down so quickly

— what was suspicious was that, as soon as your rumours died down, stories about Katsuki surged forward.

— when you conversed with other people, they would say how horrible they feel for you having to marry such an aggressive and dislikable fiancee. they would then over-exaggerate all the belligerent and misunderstood characteristics of Bakugou, even making up disgusting rumours that painted him to be more villainous than he actually was.

— “how shameful,” you spat with disgust, glowering down at the noble ladies frozen in their seats, “how dare you openly gossip about my fiancee right in front of me, the nerve! you should know better than to act like such children. if you have nothing better to do then i suggest you leave the kirishima estate immediately and never expect to be invited back,”

— they tried to beg you for forgiveness, seeing as your father held such power in high society, being one of the four noble dukes of the kingdom serving directly under the king as they all had noble blood.

— nobody expected your father to marry you to a Baron’s son. Katsuki didn’t have a higher title than you but your fathers had gone to war together and remained loyal friends ever since, Baron Bakugou went on to acquire his title of Braon after his service in the war but many people still looked down on him from his commoner origins. to think that such educated ladies of high society would use that as leverage to gossip however they wished.

— word of your actions on behalf of Bakugou spread quickly and the two of you became a couple that shouldn’t be trifled with.

— after that day, you always defend Katsuki and never miss the opportunity to express how much you admire him and care for him even if he doesn’t tend to reciprocate it

— you do this when Katsuki’s friends make an appearance, they consisted of your brother, Eijiro, Denki of house Kaminari (son of Marquis Kaminari) and Hanta of house Sero (son of Marquis Sero).

— they usually don’t visit the estate but this time they decided to utilise the knights training grounds for extra duelling practice and happened to catch you just as you were walking out, having finished your own training

— as soon as introductions and polite greetings were exchanged, came the jokes and jives.

— “I wouldn’t blame you if you eloped with someone else on your wedding day, Lady (Y/N), knowing this guy’s attitude,” Denki snickers as he points his thumb at your fiancé, who growled lowly in return.

— “i wouldn’t dare do something like that because, even if this is an arranged marriage, Katsuki will be the only man for me” Katsuki didn’t expect you to be so forward and couldn’t help the blush that coated his cheeks from your response

— Denki whistled in a mix of astonishment and amusement, “Katsuki’s a lucky guy!”

— “he looks really happy to hear you say that too, sis,” Eijiro teased as Hanta grinned from beside him.

— “shut up! we came here to train so let's train already, you dumbasses!”

— the days go by and life is good; the quicker your wedding day approaches the kinder and gentler Katsuki treats you. it wasn’t until the kindness you practiced with everyone you met, no matter their status, became something more in the twisted mind of an unknown individual that you encountered within city streets, while out shopping

— one act of kindness made the stranger crave for your touch and sought you out in the most deviant method. he sent constant letters multiple times a day and even mailed one with his most intimate item of clothing, not only that but he always stood at the gates of your estate, waiting for it to be opened just to slip in and try to meet you again

— of course, he didn’t get far because of the security brought on by your dukedom’s talented knights stopped him at every devious attempt. each incident was reported directly to your brother, who was training to inherit the duchy as soon as your father retired

— Eijiro was having none of it and devised the best plan of action he could, knowing that his image as the heir of the dukedom needed to be thought of so that his people wouldn’t be against him when he took over his capable father’s place. he resisted the urge for an immediate confrontation to plan with you, about how you wanted to defuse the situation

— however, as soon as word got to Bakugou, he ran over on foot to confront the man at your estate, just as Eijiro came down with a squadron of knights and you at his side

— lost in his own world, your stalker immediately reached out for you the instant he caught sight of your figure. on his face, he had a twisted smile and manic eyes, his breathing became heavy as if to savour the same air you breathed not too far away from him. it was frighting and chilling to see such an unhinged man. he was so deranged, he didn’t mind the swords and pointed glares directed at him by all that were present and Katsuki, who was fast approaching from behind

— “Get. Away. From. Her!” Katsuki shouted in anger as he drew his sword and slashed at the young man, making you jump back with a gasp.

— “Bakugou!” Kirishima warned as he pulled you into his chest for protection from the clashing of swords

— “Katsuki, be careful!” you cried. confronting someone with such an unstable mind could go horribly wrong and no matter how skilled your fiancee was, you couldn’t help but worry

— Even though this was the first time Katsuki ever showed his feelings for you in such a dramatic gesture, the worry you had for him consumed your joy as his opponent drew out his own sword and started lashing out with worse coordination than your junior knights.

— what he lacked with technique, however, he made up for in agility as well as his own unpredictability. it made it hard for Katsuki to predict the path of his opponent’s sword so for a time, he was constantly dodging his blade. it didn’t take long, however, for the game of endurance and stamina to come into play and slow down his opponent enough for him to fight back with more accuracy.

— “you revolting rat!” Katsuki growled swinging his sword with might only to grind his teeth when his sword is narrowly dodged. not one to give up, however, he goes in once again and finally lands a hit that forces your stalker to crumble to his knees, “you try and pull that shit with (Y/N) again and I’ll be doing more than just beating you to the ground,” it was an obvious win for the blonde.

— “And what would that be?” your stalker still had fight in him that came off as more irritating than anything else Bakugou had ever encountered in his life of servitude as a royal knight and baron’s son.

— just to prove his point, whatever it may be, Katsuki goes to stand beside you and pull you into his chest with his large hand at your waist

— “landing your ugly, disgusting ass in a fucking coffin!” the venom in his voice was evident and it made you shudder, curling up into his chest for comfort, not knowing that the next words he’d shout would have your knees weaker than any training could ever do, “(Y/N) is MY Fiancee! you touch her and I’ll kill you!”

n a v i . | bnha mlist

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #bnha olden days au #bnha fantasy au

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cloudy-leonhart · 4 years ago

Note

hiii!! i’ve recently found your writing and i am honest to god in love!! i was wondering if you could write a poly!veterans fic where the reader is a titan shifter (the vets don’t know), and during a really rough expedition she has no choice but to transform and help out?

NO BC I LOVE PPL WHO ASK FOR POLY VETS REQUESTS—

I’ll also just add another titan to the nine titans- kinda like annie’s :P

guys don’t be shy to request anything! I’m fine with anything sfw :33!!

———

Save My Home. (Poly!Vets x Reader)

Summary: Reader and the Vets were in a losing situation, if Reader didn’t make a choice, her lovers will perish, she didn’t realize her feelings had made the choice for her

female reader.

Recommended Song: Ballad of Mona Lisa - Panic At The Disco.

Theme: Angst/Fluff?? Canonverse.

TW: Near death experience, injury, swearing, blood(?).

“Captain!” A voice shouted out, you scowled swinging around the tall trees, an expedition had gone so wrong. Bodies pooled the forest floor, you tried your best to get the metallic stench out of your nose, large footsteps followed your every move. “Johann!” You pulled on your trigger, saving your only remaining member of your squad.

Your fingers clutched tightly against his waist, hoping that you’ll have enough gas to pull yourself and Johann to a safe spot. “Captain, I don’t think we’ll make it.” Johann grimly stated. He was in pain and he could see you were running out of gas to get you back near Commander Erwin’s base.

“Shut it, Johann! We’ll get there, you hear me!?” You did your best trying to convince Johann and yourself that you will live to be out that forest. Damn it, why did so many titans come out from nowhere? You felt angered and stopped at a high branch.

“Johann, I’ll bring more gas, alright? Try your best to stay alive, that’s an order.” You had placed Johann against the tree, checking your gas canister. He tugged on your uniform, afraid. “I’ll come back, I promise.” You reassured him, tying your jacket around his bleeding leg as a tourniquet.

You flung around the forest, a determination to find at least some kind of supplies to keep you guys going just until you were out the forest, you had already stolen a gas canister from a dead soldier, your blades were close to blunting. You were on your last string.

It felt like hours you’ve been swinging around, ‘damn it, where are they?’ You swung on one more tree branch, before hearing a yell.

You used your gear to swing towards the sound, titans were everywhere, reaching and grabbing for you.

“Reader!” A voice called out, a deserted Hange stood on a tree branch, waving frantically. With them, held an injured Nanaba, and beside them stood Levi, Erwin and Miche, who looked like they were arguing. You landed on a tree branch that was a bit higher than them.

“What the hell’s going on?!” You exclaimed, making all five of them stop their squirming and their childish screeching. “Reader! Have you seen a cart anywhere?” Erwin yelled up at you, you winced, grappling your hook onto their tree branch and jumping on.

“There’s no cart anywhere, where I came from. Don’t tell me,” You sighed, “we lost the supply cart?” your lovers looked at each other with a guilty expression, “No worries, we can just-” The tree branch shook. Everyone stopped their movements, checking around, seeing what was happening.

“Guys, get off the branch! A fifteen meter got on, it’s about to break!” Levi warned and jumped off the branch, hooking himself to the bark of a tree so he could land down on the ground safely.

“Hange, go! I’ll carry Nanaba.” You ordered, grabbing Nanaba from their arms, Your blonde lover groaned in your arms, clutching her side more tightly.

“It’s okay, Nanaba, I got you.” You comforted her before landing on the ground safely with your other lovers. Miche came towards you, helping you with Nanaba before greeting you with a kiss on the cheek, as a way to say he was glad that you were safe.

“Levi, have you got no blades left?” You asked, staring at his empty blade holster. “Yeah, I spent it on the last few, everybody else is just stuck on gas.” You internally groaned. “Alright how about this-” You could hear a loud roar from the female titan, your eyes widened.

‘Is she calling in more titans?!’ you had thought gripping your gear’s handles tightly, your mind raced on how your lovers were going to survive another wave of titans.

“Reader? What’s wrong?” Hange asked you, their hand littered on your shoulder, rubbing it in comforting circles as you stay internally panicking at the female titan’s screech.

“Hange- I need you to take my gas canister and reconnect it to you. It’s got enough for you to grapple on a tree branch and bring the others on there.” Hange stood speechless, what were you thinking of doing?

“Reader, what are you talking about?” Hange asked as you frantically unbuckled your ODM gear, thrusting the canister into their arms. You pulled your hunting knife from out of your boot, holding onto it for dear life. “Reader, you’re not going to survive with just a-” Hange held your hand, stopping you from moving further.

“Hange, just go!” You yelled at them, out of a state of panic. Hange pulled back, a bit shocked on how shaken you are with just hearing a titan’s roar. Levi could overhear the arguing, he looked over to you and Hange who just seemingly nodded and grabbed hold of Levi’s waist.

An unreadable expression painted Hange’s face, as they flew onto a high enough tree branch. “Hange, what-” Levi started, not even finishing his question as they turned back with Miche and Nanaba. Erwin being the last one on the branch.

“Reader? What about her?” Nanaba’s coarse voice cut through the tension, “She just said to bring you guys up here, not to come back for her.” Hange explained, further tending to Nanaba’s wounds. Levi’s eyes widened, even twitching before grabbing hold of Hange’s cape.

“You left Reader there to die?” He spat angrily, as Hange grunted pulling against him. “She said to!” Levi shook them by the cape, “And you agreed to it!?” Hange started to fight with Levi, “I didn’t want to, alright?!” Their fight was soon interrupted by a loud thunderclap.

A yellow bolt of lightning had struck where you once stood, a titan’s shape started to appear from where you were, starting from the nape, and it’s muscles forming lastly from the foot. A loud roar which shook the forest came out from the titan’s mouth.

Your lovers stood on the branch speechless and flabbergasted, their hearts started to beat erratically. Erwin started to speak, “That..That’s not her, right?” Your body was covered with steaming hot muscles, your eyes glanced at the still group on the branch, who stared at you with bewilderment, almost even amazement by Hange.

A screech had erupted from your side, a twenty-meter mindless titan held onto you, gnawing on your skin. Your skin hardened in a matter of seconds, your first turned to crystal, punching through the titan’s neck, cutting the titan’s head clean off.

You were still trying to control your titan and a bad side effect of that, was your lack of capability in controlling your titan, you started to black out, starting to rampage with the titans called in by the female titan, your eyes started to get clouded, more and more titans had toppled over you, starting to consider that you were a threat.

You had fallen to the ground, you turned over to the where your lovers resided, seeing a bunch of soldiers replacing their gas tanks, symbolizing that they were safe and had enough to get out of the situation, you could see a figure approach you as your vision blacked out.

You felt tired, closing your eyes, almost accepting your fate that you might get eaten.

---

Your body twitched, suddenly, you awoke, too fast for your liking, since as soon as your eyes refocused on what you saw, a headache came crashing down on you, a wince had left your lips, as you clutched your hands around your head, feeling a thick layer of gauze. “What..is going on?” You grunted, turning over to the side of the bed, your feet dangled off the medical bed as you pulled away the thin covers.

“Oh jeez, please don’t move, you’re going to further damage or maybe even re-open your wounds,” your nurse called out, urging you to lay back down. “Thank the walls you’re still okay, Captain Reader!” She chirped, helping you drink water, knowing how dry your throat probably was.

You were about to speak when you saw a group lay on the ground, sleeping. The nurse noticed your gaze on the sleeping group. “They’ve been there since you were admitted a few days ago, except one of course, she lays on the bed beside you, still taking a nap..” She whispered, careful not to wake your lovers who slept like little babies.

You stared in amazement as you even saw Levi leaning against the wall, soft snores leaving his mouth, indicating that he was dead asleep. You looked behind you, Nanaba sleeping in the bed beside yours, so soundlessly. You could feel your lips lift a little, making a little smile appear on your face.

“I’ll get you some food, alright? I’ll be right back.” The nurse gave you a smile before leaving the room, the door closing alerting Nanaba awake. She woke up, a pained whine leaving her lips as she clutched her side, you laughed silently.

“Careful, you might re-open your stitches.” You mumbled out, as you watched Nanaba freeze as her face went through five stages of confusion. “wait a min- Holy shit! You’re awake, Reader!” She yelled out, spooking the group. You winced at the loud tone of her voice, as she yelled out a pitchy screech leaving her bed to jump at you.

A yelp left your mouth, as you caught Nanaba’s fast-approaching lunge in your arms, laughing at her. Hange was the second to be up and running. “Reader! You’re awake!” They chirped as they too, joined in on the hug you and Nanaba were sharing.

“Oi brat, you try and do that shit again, I’ll never forgive you.” Levi’s voice cut through your laughs, you stopped for a second before going back to laughing and whining as Levi ruffled your hair.

“You never told me you could shift into a titan like the Jaeger kid.” Levi said, as they were all huddled onto your bed. Miche had sat behind you so you could lay on his chest as Nanaba and Hange cuddled each other between your legs, leaving Erwin on a chair at the side of your bed, and Levi sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to.” You confessed, playing with Hange’s hair. “I’m not even supposed to be alive right now,” You mumbled, starting to space out. Levi and Erwin’s eyes widened at your statement, you continued, not giving them a chance to talk. “Well! I’m still here though! So, I’m not done annoying you all just yet!” A laugh left your mouth.

Levi and Erwin looked at each other with a questioning glance. Both of them didn’t bother to ask, setting it aside for later, as they both wanted to spend time with you after you had stayed in bed for more than two days. Both watched you laugh, a question on their minds.

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jishyucks · 4 years ago

Text

Eight Count ‣ lmh

‣ genre: fluff, enemies-to-lovers, hogwarts!au, I think it's a slow burn

‣ wc: 10.8k

‣ summary: "There's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." ; in which fate decides to be an ass and make you and Minho dance partners

‣ an: I'm sosososo sorry @ whoever requested this bc of how long it took. I didn't mean for it to be so long but it kept going and uni is to blame bc all of the work :(( but anyways enjoy !!

You feel the beat of your heart quicken as you maneuver through the maze of corridors that you had begun to approach. Time was ticking. The first classes of the day had already started about half an hour ago, and here you were, racing down the stone hallways, tardy and a bit dazed.

It had only been a mere five minutes since you had woken up in the dormitories in pure panic, the realization that everyone had left and you were still cuddled up against one of the pillows in your bed driving you to act quick. You could accuse your housemates of not even bothering to check if you were alive, but you soon decided to place the blame on your body's restlessness and inability to go to sleep when you wished. You wouldn't call it insomnia, but your sleeping patterns weren't normal either.

Approaching the dance room with a quiet sigh of relief, you tug at the wooden door and peek in, hoping that you weren't barging in at such a humiliating time.

Scattered around the rather room, students were paired in twos. Each couple's bodies had been facing each other, hands sitting awkwardly in the other's while their faces were turned towards the dance instructors, Professor Shin and Professor Na. By the look on Professor Shin's face, it was evident that she was about to continue speaking, but the door swinging open had caught her attention.

"Ahh Y/N, nice of you to finally join us," she clasped her hands in genuine excitement, passion towards dance obviously bubbling up inside of her.

You grinned crudely and bowed your head, "W-what should I do, Professor?" Spotting your best friend Felix within the group of students, he tried his best to send you a look of 'we were supposed to be partners'. You shot him an apologetic expression back before turning your attention back to both professors.

After a brief pause in thought, Professor Na's face lit up, "Ah yes! Lee Minho lacks a partner as of now!" Following the eyes of your teacher, they brought your line of sight to the far corner of the room where Minho had been sitting. At the mention of his name, he raised his head to see that everyone had been gaping back at him in what seemed like total silence.

A sharp intake of air through your nose had replicated a gasp, eyes growing wide, "P-pardon?" Out of all the boys in the class, an amount you couldn't keep track of with your fingers, you had to end up with Lee Minho? The human embodiment of a wet sock?

Minho was… unbearable, to say the least. It wasn't that he had done something for you to hate him, which made you seem like a bad person, but in all honesty, your guys' personalities didn't seem to match. He was too arrogant, in your opinion. He has this energy that he carries that really didn't sit well with you, and by the looks of it, the feeling was mutual. It was as if you both ended up on the opposite bc end of everything.

It really doesn't help that you're a Hufflepuff, and he's a Slytherin. For some unknown reason, they always loved teasing the people from your house, though Hufflepuffs chose not to return their actions.

"Mr. Lee is the only student remaining with no partner."

You gulped and slowly approached him, only because your professors had motioned you over to him. If you could protest, you would, but what was holding you back was the attention given by the entire class and the teacher's who seemed too excited for their own good.

Minho pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, eyes lighting up in wrongly-fueled happiness. He hopped from the upper bench and down across from you. You blinked back at him dryly, maintaining calm yet trying to speak to him with your eyes.

Crossing his arms, he leaned forward and smirked, "Why the bitter face? You should relish in your luck for ending up with me."

"Stop talking, dead cells are coming out of your mouth… Luck my as–"

"Now! That everyone has a partner, I'd like you all to stick with these individuals until these classes are finished," Professor Shin had announced. It was quickly followed by groans and whining from many of your classmates. Though you hated your partner and wished you had arrived earlier and paired with Felix, you stood quiet, isolating the anger within your chest.

"And before we begin once again," Professor Na added, "I'd like to point out that this is still a class. We will be holding a class particularly focused on evaluation and your grade will be heavily based on participation over the length of this course." Once again, a chorus of grumbles had flooded the room.

You hear Minho curse under his breath, only because he was now two steps too far into your bubble, "This is utter bullshit."

This time it was your turn to taunt, "Why? Are you scared or something? Can't dance? Can't keep up with everyone?"

Narrowing his eyes, he scoffs, "Oh, shut your mouth, bumblebee. Just wait and see."

ii.

"Get up!" Felix tugged at your arm, voice sounding louder than it actually was. When you hadn't shifted at all in your bed, he sighed and tugged once more, "Y/N!"

"Wha– Felix you're not allowed in here!" You kicked at your blanket and sat up.

"We need to get to dance class," he clicked his tongue, "Let's go~"

"I really don't want to go," you whined, "I'd rather fail a class than hold hands with Lee Minho for an hour and a half." Felix dragged you out of your bed to see that you were already dressed in your robe, only your yellow and black tie had been carelessly tied.

"Wait, did you not change out your clothes from yesterday?" Felix jumped back in exaggeration, alarmed and slightly grossed out. His nose scrunched while he judged you through his eyes.

You glared at him and scoff, "Of course I did, you idiot. And don't act like you haven't done that." You take this as your victory as it was true, Felix had gone two days without changing, and it was a bit nasty considering all the places he's gone to in a day.

This time it was his turn to glare at you, "You shut your mouth! Now let's leave before Snape sees us roaming the halls once class starts."

Minho winced slightly, trying not to let your feet ruin the simple waltz routine that the class had finally run through, "If you step on my foot one more time, I'm shoving yours up your arse." His teeth were gritted in frustration, looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

"Then stop stepping on my feet," you muttered back, hoping that no one else, especially the professors, were hearing you two bicker.

It had only been about two lessons into the class and that amount of times that Minho had purposefully disrupted the routine… as if it were good, to begin with.

The two of you found it difficult to fall in sync with each other. It was always either going too fast or too slow, someone making an 'accidental' mistake, and Minho's favourite, holding your hand and hip with a tight and stubborn grip. It wasn't evident whether he was doing it on purpose, either, but you had pointed it out plenty of times, and he never seemed to loosen them.

"I'm not stepping on them," he pushed you back a little too early in the dance, causing you to stumble on your own feet. This caught the attention of those around you, though they carried on almost immediately after.

"Tell that to my bruised toe," you argued back.

As if you were being blessed, the music had finally come to an end. You promptly retracting your arms and to your body and taking a step back from Minho. He had done the same, going an extra mile to turn away from you and to the professors.

"Perfect! Perfect!" Professor Na's face lit up from excitement, "Now that we have learned this simple routine, next class we are moving on to one of the actual dances done in the Yule Ball as tradition. I hope you all are excited as I am!" Very few students had taken time to let out a "whoop" while everyone else, including you, chose to retrieve their books at the seats.

Felix approached you with a pitiful smile. He already knew what you were going to say, patting your back gently, "So how was it?"

Exhausted, you just shook your head and shrugged. Being partners with Minho honestly had been completely draining for you, mentally and physically, which was unusual as you could often live through such situations without feeling the need to scream.

"What else do you think?"

Felix nodded apologetically and puffed out his cheeks, "Is it as bad as the potions exam we had in fourth year?" He shuddered subtly and led you out of the classroom. Just thinking about that exam made Felix want to claw at his brain. If there was a way to take a particular memory and make it disappear from the chamber of long term memories, he would. Maybe then he'd be able to get a few more hours of sleep.

"Yes," you replied simply. The test was equally as horrible for you, but a test didn't force you to 'create chemistry' with a certain Slytherin.

"You're lying… can't be that bad," Felix laughed lightly.

"Easy for you to say," you sighed.

From behind, you feel someone bump your shoulder and pass by you, "Oops," he snickered, walking backwards to watch your reaction. The only thing he was missing was popcorn.

You turned to see Minho and rolled your eyes, "Ha-Ha, you're so funny, Lee Minho." Such a childish joke and you guys were almost leaving Hogwarts.

Though your reply had been dripping in sarcasm, Minho's wit had dodged it entirely, "Well thank you very much," he bowed, more like a manly curtsy, before he ran off, leaving Felix slightly puzzled at what just happened.

"Don't you see how much of a dingbat he is? He constantly chooses to pick on me just to get a reaction out of me," you utter, "He should be glad I was raised to be patient, if not I'd be hexing him like the world was near its end."

"I see a pattern," Felix hummed. The expression on his face looked as if he had come to an incredible epiphany.

Making a face, you click your tongue, "What do you even mean by that?" What pattern? Green, white, green, white? Minho and his constant need to be the crow to your crops?

Felix patted your head, "You're slow sometimes, you know that right?" He puffed his cheeks up and raised his brows as he looked down at you as if you were a kid.

"Can you just spit it out?" you narrowed your eyes at him before you physically pried his hand off your head.

"Minho does all of that just to get a reaction out of you," Felix presses his lips into a thin line, slowly forming a smile.

Finally arriving at the next classroom, you groaned, "You basically repeated what I said earlier…"

"If you didn't know this already, boys love getting attention from someone they are attracted to," Felix plopped into his seat. You followed right after, "I should know… I'm a boy."

You almost laugh at the tone of his voice. The confidence and the look he gave you to emphasize his statement; was all too funny, "So what you're saying is… Lee Minho has a – and god forbid– crush on me?" Felix nods like a young child, with eyes wide and a tight-lipped smile.

"Bollocks," You burst out laughing, "Felix, I love you, don't get me wrong, but you've never said anything more rubbish in the years I've known you."

"The chances are never zero," Felix put his index finger as if he were saying it in 'a matter of fact'.

You lean forward and sit your chin at your folded forearms. You eyed the teacher as she made her way into the room, "You're right there, Lix, but there's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." You locked that statement in, feeling your words and emotions contradict.

Right?

iii.

"And then Y/N had the audacity to step on my foot," Minho kicked at the bench across from him, frustration released after what seemed to Seungmin was years of ranting. He didn't mind though, in years of being in the same house as him, he learned how to block him out yet still know what was going on when Minho asked for some sort of reply.

Minho tapped the end of his pencil against his textbook, eyes drifting off elsewhere in the grand hall. Students were clumped at their respective tables, studying for whatever class they had. Minho was trying to do the same, but his state of mind was not in the mood. But he was trying, he was pushing himself, that's what mattered in his opinion.

Turning his attention to Seungmin, who was seated next to him, he jumped, seeing that Seungmin's eyes were wide and directed at him, "What the hell!?"

"What?" Seungmin shifted back forward, facing his own books. In a sense, the scene was hysterical. He acted as if he hadn't done anything wrong or out of the ordinary, but Minho still tried to push an explanation out of him through looks.

"What do you mean what? Why were you looking at me like that?" Minho put his pencil down and closed his book on it.

"I was trying to see something," the boy shrugged and got back to his own work.

Again, Minho furrowed his brows at Seungmin's lack of detail in his response. What in the world was he even trying to do? "Trying to see what? If you don't answer me properly–"

"Okay! Okay!" Seungmin exclaimed a little too loudly, earning looks from other wizards in the room, "You know that saying that if you're in love, you start to glow?"

"No? What type of nonsense are you saying?" Minho scoffed, "Love? Are you sick or something?" Roughly, Minho brought the back of his hand to Seungmin's forehead, which Seungmin had thrown off almost right away.

"You've been talking about Y/N this entire period, you haven't stopped until moments ago," wiggling his eyebrows, Seungmin whispered his reply to Minho, making sure no one would be able to hear him this time.

Minho's face had contorted into one of disgust and confusion, "And?" Where was Seungmin even going with this? He was just relieving stress. It's not that deep.

"My point is that they're the only thing you've been talking about lately," Seungmin scribbles his pen at the top of his paper to get it to work, "Even if I start the conversation, it somehow just shifts to Y/N. Normally I'd be mad, but since you're in love, I'll let it pass."

"In love?" Minho's jaw dropped, a mixture of emotions swimming around inside of him, "In love!?" Trying to find words to perfectly reflect what he was saying, he fails, shoving Seungmin off the bench. Actions spoke louder than words, right?

Seungmin smirked and chuckled, unfazed, "What? Cat got your tongue?" He gets up, dusting his robe off before sitting back down, "It's because I'm right, aren't I?"

Minho gulps, "Will you quit it? You're…"

"I'm…?"

"You're confusing me. Quit it," Minho huffs, gathering all his things as he was planning to return to the dormitories. This was a different way of playing with emotions. There was a zero per cent chance that he liked you, or worse, loved you. That word was way too strong, dangerous like amortentia.

"I take that as a yes!" Seungmin stood his ground, just letting out a genuine laugh.

Minho held a finger up at Seungmin, who still laughed, unbothered. He didn't like you. And if he did, it wasn't wrong to do so. It was an ordinary mortal thing to have feelings. But that didn't matter right now because he didn't like you, not even a tiny crush.

But that slight state of unfamiliar panic in his heart says otherwise.

iv.

The muscles in your arm were aching from the horrible fact that Minho had been purposefully letting his arm go limp while he was holding your hand, which somehow led to you holding up his arm with your arm. You frowned at him, tempted to let your arm fall in the middle of the routine.

"Can you actually put in some effort?" you whispered through gritted teeth. Squeezing Minnho's hand, you directed a look of annoyance that only returned with an amused look. Underneath his robe, you could tell he had been intentionally dragging his feet, causing the both of you to slowly hold those partnerships behind you up.

"I'm not wasting energy on this," he shrugs quietly, "It's ridiculous."

"What don't you find ridiculous?" you rolled your eyes, "You Slytherins and the lack of interest in anything but yourselves. Where's the excitement in that?" No, you didn't want to generalize the entire Slytherin population, especially since you had family members from that house, but you knew exactly how to rev up Minho's engine. Just by the way his face twisted, you knew damn well you hit the right spot.

"Shut your mouth before I spin you a little too hard…" he said a little bit louder, "I don't find it ridiculous, I just find that us being partners is ridiculous… who in this entire school would want to be partners with you?" Before you could even reply, he had caught you, "That's not from your house."

"Jokes on you, I know plenty of people who would be partners with me," you scoffed, and it was true. There was Jisung who had somehow been sorted into Gryffindor, Hyunjin and their seniors, Bang Chan and Changbin. And there was Jeongin, who was a Ravenclaw. You could list a handful more, but that's beside the point.

"Silence is deadly," he stifled a laugh which had driven you to 'accidentally' stumble over your own feet. This caused him to stumble himself, only he wasn't prepared for it, "I'm blaming you for ending up being my partner. I was hoping someone else would've entered the room. But no, it had to be you."

"You're blaming me? For this?" You shake your head out of disbelief, not noticing that your voice had gone louder. You were catching the attention of those around you and the professors at the front of the room, "You could have found a partner you wanted in the first place but you probably decided to stay back and wait for someone to go up to you. No one wanted to be partners with you, which is why you ended up alone in the first place."

Minho's eyebrows furrowed, eyes almost on fire at what you had just said, "You know what?!"

Before he had been able to continue the banter, Professor Shin had cleared her throat. The glares that they both were sending your way had caused the both of you to stop with the squabbling, "Y/N, Minho, I know we've never talked to the two of you about your constant bickering, but it is simply interrupting the atmosphere of my classroom."

Taken aback, the both of you had stumbled over each other's feet, falling to the ground and causing a domino effect among the rest of the students.

Flustered, you turn to Minho, "That was all your fault, Lee Minho." You huffed and attempted to get up, failing once you noticed that Minho was practically lying on your leg.

"Oh be quiet," he rolled his eyes and dusted himself off, "That was all you! You and your two left feet." The rest of the room was silent, regardless of the incident. All ears and eyes were on the 'love birds,' not entirely sure whether or not they should blame you both on what had just happened.

Sliding out from underneath him, you scoffed, "Don't speak so highly of yourself, Minho."

Minho cackled, "Highly? Of myself?!"

"Stop this instant!" Professor Na had finally mustered up the courage to intervene, anger bubbling in his stomach, "Enough!" The two professors began helping the students up, scolding both of you as they did.

"Five points deducted from your respective houses," Professor Shin said sharply, "And you both are now in charge of polishing the floor every Friday for the following three weeks."

"But professor–"

Minho was cut off, "That, or ten points off for your houses…" And without another word, you both chose to polish the floors after all classes were done for the day.

Day one of polishing the floors was practically the most difficult. Not only did the professors restrict using magic to finish the chore, but the overall idea of doing something alongside Minho aggravated you, which was why you hated dancing with him so much. The comments he'd make, the taunting looks he'd give you, the jokes that were obviously uncalled for, they all were honestly bringing you to the point of near insanity.

At first, both of you had decided to start off on the same side, almost the same corner. But the moment you noticed Minho constantly glancing your way in the corner of your eye, you decided against it, "How about I start at that end."

"Whatever floats your boat," he mumbles, "I don't care."

The tone in his voice hadn't matched yours, which you assumed was polite enough not to spark some type of that energy in him, but it did.

"Whatever," you make your way to the other end, sliding your robe off on the way. You let it hang off one of the benches, making sure it wasn't touching the floor. You rolled up your sleeves and started polishing the further end of the room, a bit relieved that Minho wasn't hovering anywhere within your line of sight. It was better that way.

The second day, you were hoping that you could get through a period of cleaning without hearing Minho's ungodly voice. He had been moving back and forth from one corner to the other, feet squeaking seemingly endlessly against the floor. You wished that the volume of the music could be turned up louder.

"I'm doing more than you are," Minho pointed out. You turned to find that he was standing in the middle of the room, hair messy and beads of sweat lining his hairline. His collar was out of place, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows just as yours were. Did he, for some reason, look attractive, or was it the lack of light in the room? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean you're doing more than I am?" you feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, "I'm doing the same amount of work as you." And you were, but you were working just a bit slower than he was. He had probably sped through his area with the idea that the sooner you both finished, the sooner you were able to leave.

"Just hurry up," he groaned. Minho dragged his feet over to a lone stool, pushing it against the wall before plopping into it. The music continued to play, drowning out the shuffle noises of his feet.

"No," you replied, keeping your speed consistent. It wasn't like you wanted to stay longer. It was the fact that Minho couldn't leave until you were finished that was making you act this way. Maybe if he did his job well, he wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing.

Tile by tile, you continued to carry out the chore given to you, not paying mind to the pair of eyes that were burning holes into your back. You ensured that the areas you had worked on were basically spotless, reflection or not, you assumed that shiny meant clean.

Minho had been humming along to the somewhat catchy tune, foot tapping to pass the precious time he believed you were wasting. Nonetheless, he leaned back and sighed, hoping you could finish in time, so he had time to nap before dinner.

"Why do they even need classes for dancing?" He sighed out. At first, you weren't quite sure if he was speaking to you or if he was just thinking out loud, "I feel like we'd be fine either way…" You turn to look at him, seeing that he was already staring at you down.

"I mean it's going to look nice at the Yule Ball,"

You replied.

"Yeah but not everyone's going… it's a waste of time," Minho had a point, yet you still found it somewhat amusing that the school would want to organize such things.

"I don't see why you don't just skip class if you find it a waste of time," you moved onto another spot and sighed, "No one's stopping you."

"Yeah but who'd be your partner then?"

Not knowing how to react to his question, you keep quiet. Minho decided not to follow up on the problem, thinking that he had said something out of the ordinary.

The sun had reached the horizon when you finished your portion of the room. You stood up to stretch, hearing the joints of your knees and back pop out of exhaustion. It was satisfying to see the difference between the used, scruffy floor and the clean, polished floor.

"Okay Lee Minho I'm finished," without taking a glance at the boy, you made your way over to the record player. You lifted the needle off and picked the record up, slipping it into its sleeve. It didn't occur to you that Minho hadn't shifted in the past thirty minutes, silence filling the room because you turned the music off.

"Minho?" Finally turning to him, you found him sleeping with his head sat back against the wall. His mouth was wide open, practically becoming a makeshift trap for bugs that happened to be flying around. The rest of his body was limp, legs spread out beneath him. It was surprising that he hadn't fallen off yet.

You walked up to his sleeping figure and laughed lightly, wishing you had a camera to capture this moment. It would've been great blackmail. Maybe then he'd start being nice to you. Naturally, your eyes followed the slope of his nose, then to the two front teeth that stuck out from underneath his top lip.

He had bunny-like features, and you didn't mean that in a wrong way. His face was still sculpted nonetheless. Anyone with eyes would have to admit that he was attractive.

"Done staring at me yet?"

You screamed and jumped back, pressing your hand up to your chest as if to calm you down. Looking back at Minho, you find that his eyes were still closed, yet a smirk had replaced his gaping mouth. The number of curse words that threatened to leave your mouth was countless, the embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks. He finally lifted his head to look at you, eyes still a bit droopy from his nap.

"I-I wasn't staring at you," you denied, shaking your head a bit too aggressively, "Well I was… but because I was laughing at how foolish you just looked."

An offended look surfaced Minho's face, scowling at you as he stood, "I have this feeling that you're lying, bumblebee… Anyways, this is where I leave. Finally, after years." He shook his rolled-up sleeves so that the cuffs slid back to his wrists. You let him leave without another word from the two of you, still in a bit of shock at what just happened. You knew he was never going to let you forget that.

You slumped next to Felix as dinner was being served, an expression almost as heavy as your posture. He looked down at you, debating whether or not he should interrupt the mini montage you were probably playing through your head.

"I want to ask you how the cleaning today was but I think I already know just by looking at you," he stated, sliding a piece of roasted chicken your way, "Unless you do want to speak about it. Just eat and the day's over."

You gave him a grateful smile and gestured for him to eat too, eyes lighting up slightly, "I'm actually not tired from cleaning that stupid dance room, but it's just… this thing that happened. It was beyond embarrassing."

Felix snorts and stuffs his cheeks with food. His words came out muffled as he still chose to reply with a full mouth, "What happened this time?"

You glanced towards the Slytherin table, eyes scanning it quickly to get one quick look at Minho before you whispered, "Minho fell asleep waiting for me to finish cleaning. He looked idiotic as he did so I sorta just—how do I say this— stared at him? But it wasn't like I was admiring him, it was more like I didn't want that stupid look on his face to go away. It was amusing."

"And?"

"In the middle of that he went, 'are you done staring yet?' It was like he had a sixth sense or something," you muttered, "Now I feel like he's making fun of me."

"Doesn't he always make fun of you," Felix had yet again stuffed his mouth, so his words were still muffled, "Why does it matter this time?"

"It's different. It's not some useless situation… it was genuinely embarrassing," you poke the food before taking a bite of your own, "He's going to it against me, I already know."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure he'll forget it sooner than you will."

"Hey remember when I caught you staring at me?" Minho's voice echoed faintly throughout the room. He stood up to stretch before he crouched back down.

"I never stared at you," you sneered, "And why are you talking about that as if it happened years ago. That was literally last week."

"That's long enough in my book," he retorted, "Good times." A small reminiscing type smile appearing on his lips.

"Can you not start? I sorta want today to be stress-free and you're literally ruining it," you roll your eyes and move onto the next tile on your side. Minho had decided to choose a different record to play today, one the professors had never played in class. It had been hidden behind all the other records being used, and it took Minho a good five minutes to rake through all of them just to get to it.

The songs were more upbeat than the waltz music you were forced to listen to, which was actually much more perfect for cleaning to. It made it a bit more bearable than the last two times you had to clean.

Minho didn't reply, though you didn't see how he switched glances between you and the mechanical polisher in hand. The track had shifted into a faster song, something that was easy to dance to. From where he stood, he could see your knitted eyebrows, eyes dropping from the slight fatigue blanketing over you after a long school day.

Upon awareness that his shoulders were slumped, he straightened himself and sighed. This week had indeed been a long week, and it was evident in some way in both of you. This was the last of the week's labour before he could go and relax while mindlessly saving his homework for Sunday.

The music had been tempting to let go earlier than he should for the week, the steady beat and the catchy melody filling the room.

Putting the polisher and the rag down, he took a few steps towards you, still contemplating whether he should do what he was thinking or not. He was unsure whether it was bizarre for him to pull such a thing. But you did say you wanted a stress-free day, so he thought he should switch up a bit.

He started moving his body to the rhythm of the music, head bobbing as it took over him naturally. It was easier dancing alone than with a partner, that's for sure, but he wanted to invite you.

"Y/N!" He was freestyling, arms flailing and legs bringing him across the room with a swift movement.

You sighed, "What now?" Turning to Minho, you find him in the middle of the dance room, doing what the room was made for. He had a foreign smile on his face, not the usual smirk you'd find him sporting.

"What the–"

"Join me!"

You went through several different emotions in seconds, confusion, amusement, joy, contemplation… how were you supposed to react to a goofy Minho?

"Join me!" He repeated. This time he approached you, hands out in invitation, "C'mon it's fun!"

"Minho, we have to finish this so we can leave, remember?" You tried to keep a stern look on your face, yet you couldn't hold back the smile that had been forcing itself out. Minho suited this look; It was happier and carefree. You didn't know that his eyes would light up when he smiled a somewhat gummy smile.

"I know, but let's take a break," being the impatient boy he was, he took hold of your hands and pulled you up. He led you in a dance that probably wasn't considered a partner dance. He just pushed your arms back and forth like those scenes in the movies.

"Minho!" You finally let out a laugh, feet unable to keep up with his. He was sidestepping left, then sidestepping right, then back and forth, all unplanned. You stumbled, letting out joyful laughter that was rare around Minho. He laughed along with you, eyes disappearing the bigger his smile got.

When your legs had gotten worn out from constant movement, you tripped over one of them, sending you and your dance partner to the ground. Instead of erupting anger that would have usually washed over you, fits of laughter fell in its place, echoing throughout the room.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you hear footsteps enter the room, a confused Professor Shin staring the both of you down, "What are you two doing?! This is not polishing the floors!" The exasperation changed the normal hue of her skin into a shade of crimson.

Quickly apologizing, you get up and return to your so-called 'stations,' not being able to say another word about what had just happened to each other.

You wouldn't admit it out loud, not in front of Minho at least… but that was the most fun you've had in weeks.

Little did you know, Minho felt the same way.

There was a part of you who had gotten used to Minho's horrible dancing after two weeks of dancing classes. After what happened last week, there was a tiny sliver of toleration that had surfaced from both of you. It was mutual. But obviously, neither of you were going to admit it.

Though Minho was starting to get somewhat bearable, there were still days when he'd begin to act up, smirk pinned tightly on his lips while he mischievously pranced about in the dance room. Today was one of those days.

When Professor had slipped the record onto the play, dropping the needle onto the very edge and starting it, Minho had chosen to let his body go heavy, relying on you to haul him around like a giant, weighted ragdoll. You knew he wasn't tired, just judging by the look in his eyes.

"Give it up," you tugged him roughly in one direction, then again towards another, feet hardly following the steps the class was taught the past few weeks. If Minho let his body grow just a bit limper than it already was, his head would have fallen directly onto your shoulder. If you were being honest, you didn't want any attention from anyone else in the room, "Lee Minho, I'm not in the mood for this today, okay?"

Minho's ears perked at the foreign tone that had slipped from your lips, sensing that you were being serious. You would tell him to quit it most days, but never with that tone; It was no fun if you weren't fighting back. Sighing quietly, he had picked his body up and started to follow the eight-count that Professor Shin was practically yelling out.

This minor change didn't go unnoticed by you, feeling his body grow lighter just moments after you'd ask him to quit it. Did he just…?

Other students in the room were surprised that you two were going more than thirty seconds without arguing like a married couple. Many sets of eyes didn't bother leaving the both of you, watching what would happen next in the twist of events.

Minho's feet carried his body swiftly; for the first time, he was guiding you like he was supposed to, but his eyes were glued to his feet, not wanting it to become weird if he were to make accidental eye contact with you. He didn't like how quiet it was between the both of you. The music didn't even do its purpose by filling the silence.

"Are you going to the Yule Ball?" Minho asked awkwardly. He twirled you as part of the dance. He recognized that look on your face which was basically a wordless reply, "That was probably a dumb question." Shaking his head, Minho mentally slapped himself. Never in his life did he fail with words.

"Of course I'm going," you replied rather expressionless, "Why would I not?" You were almost as confused as earlier. Minho trying to make a civilized conversation. Who the fuck was this? It wasn't Minho.

He shrugs, "I don't know… I guess you have a date…?" Minho, what the fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut as if the stone floor would swallow him wholly to take him away from this situation.

As puzzled as you were, you still decided to keep the conversation as it was, "Nope… I think I'm just going with Felix for fun." You tried to keep your tone calm when really you were freaking out. The only thing was you had no idea why you were freaking out, "Y-you?" Facepalm.

"No one."

None of you chose to speak after, not knowing where the conversation was going. The song was slowly reaching the end, which you had wished came sooner. Minho's hands were growing sweaty, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe your hand off. It was getting hot in the room too. Your collar was growing tight, throat itching for water.

Minho's heart was beating a bit too fast for his liking, but it was probably because he was growing tired from the moving. He wondered if you could feel how sweaty his hands were getting. Embarrassing.

"Final counts!" Professor Na called out before the static of the record player replaced the music. The two of the professors had clapped in adoration, overlooking all the students in the room.

Professor Shin had a broad smile on her face, "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Best one so far!" She twirled in place, "Thank you everyone! The Yule ball is in two weeks so I am very pleased with the effort you all are putting into this class! Remember we still have the final class in which you are graded, which I'm sure you all will ace."

"I couldn't care less," Minho mumbled, only so you could hear.

You turn to him, squinting your eyes and tilting your head to express your slight frustration, "You know I'm your partner right?"

"Oh no~ really?," he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "And?"

"And? I don't want to fail this class, even though I'm forced to dance with you," you stated, "So don't you fucking dare fail us both." That tone in your voice was evident once again, catching Minho off guard. The only reason that it had this effect on him was that he was so used to you choosing to fight back. It was like some sort of reminder that everyone around him was getting old, and soon all those around him were expected to be serious.

Nevertheless, Minho shrugs to annoy you, "Whatever."

Instead of answering, you eyed him once more. Your dancing just a few moments ago says otherwise.

You had practically sighed out the total capacity of your lungs as you hung onto Felix's arms on the way out the door.

"What are you sighing about?" He chuckled.

"You already know," you elbowed him.

Felix rolled his eyes and sang, "I saw you guys dancing earlier~."

You pushed him away gently, shock littering your face and posture, "What the bloody hell are you on about now, Lee?"

"You guys actually look cute together when you aren't babbling and all," he grinned innocently. Your heart had the audacity to skip a beat, startling you just as much as Felix did.

"Cute?" You scoffed, "First you said you think he liked me, now this? Are you his wingman or something? Are you trying to get me to like him?"

Felix skipped in his step, "I don't even talk to Minho, Y/N, don't be ridiculous… wait… did you basically just say you're starting to like him?" He gasped, hand slapping over his mouth, which had fallen in shock.

"No," you say flatly.

"Liar," Felix poked at your rib, "Liar. At least confess that you find him less bad."

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, Felix."

When you had fallen out of Felix's line of sight, you let the corner of your mouths turn up slightly. He said we looked cute, you think, only followed by you flicking yourself in the temple.

"I thought you were staying here until it closed?" you frown at Felix, who started gathering his stuff. You both had planned on cramming everything in for a test the next day, but plans didn't go as planned when Felix was eager to go back to the dormitories to sleep until the morning.

"My eyes are going to fall out of their sockets if I don't go and sleep, Y/N," he pats your head as if he were talking to a young child, "You can stay if you want. I know how much you hate studying in the common room." He double-checks his area to ensure he hadn't forgotten any of his belongings before patting your head once more. He grins and turns towards the door of the library, leaving you sitting alone at the table.

"Felix ~" You called out quietly, only for him to wave with his back facing you. You sighed and slumped back in your chair, resting your arms on the handles. Libraries were so much better when you had company.

The words in the textbook were starting to turn into blobs of ink, and for a second, you were thinking about following in Felix's footsteps. After moments of consideration, you shook your head and sat up. You'll stay, even if it was against the will of your fatigue self that had been prompting you to leave. This was all your fault anyway. Procrastination was a cruel thing.

Hunching forward, you let your eyes trace over the words, trying to process the information. You rewrote the info you wished to remember carelessly. Your notes resembled chicken scratch, but at this point, you didn't care because it was simply supplementary to your studying. The sun was close to its horizon, and the library was close to empty. It was somewhat more motivating.

Slowly the information had started to get more interesting. It was easier to run through the key terms and ideas listed in the textbook, and you could feel the exhaustion simply leaving your body. I'll finish this one last chapter and then save the rest for lunch tomorrow.

Your focus on the book had hindered your peripheral vision that the presence of another wizard floating over your shoulder went unnoticed. It was only until they had sat down next to you when you finally noticed.

You jumped in your seat, eyes growing wide. You had luckily suppressed your scream with your hand, which you had, out of defense, swung forward, slapping the person in the chest.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You don't sneak up on people like that, Minho," you rolled your eyes at the Slytherin, shifting away from him before turning your attention back towards the textbook. He scooches closer with intentions of irritating you, pushing his face towards your book, "What are you doing?"

You push him away and stick one of the thicker books between you both, "What does it look like?"

"Studying?"

"You're smarter than I thought, Lee Minho," sarcasm dripped from your voice as you glared at him. Attempting to continue with the final chapter, you miserably fail when Minho interrupts your concentration by tapping his fingers loudly against the wooden table.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you say numbly, voice muffled by your robe, "I was literally just sitting here and you decide to do this."

Minho shrugs and uses his arms as a makeshift pillow, "I was bored, saw you, here I am, I'm here to stay."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the fact that Minho decided to 'spend time with you upon seeing you. You had no idea whether to feel flattered or irritated, but you knew you were confused. He could've just gone back to the Slytherin dungeons to sit with his housemates, but he saw you and decided to sit with you.

Staring blankly at the bookshelves across from you, you huffed out the corner of your mouth, blowing a stray strand of hair by your cheek. You did say you wanted company. You just weren't sure if it was Minho's company that you wanted. Glancing down briefly at him, and looked back up to the bookshelves.

"Fine," you say after pondering about the idea.

Minho's ears perked up, raising his brows, "Fine?"

"Just don't be loud."

Minho's head tilts in confusion, though he still complies, sitting next to you patiently. You continued to read through the final chapter, which you had underestimated in length. The chapter was a good half a centimetre in thickness. Though it didn't seem as much at first glance, the pages were practically dipped in ink, words covering it from one corner to the other.

You could feel your eyes grow heavy as you delve deeper into the chapter. Your bed was calling for you, but there was no way you were going to give. Not until this chapter was finished.

The library had been silent except for the occasional click of the pen from the librarian's desk. You had been mentally counting down the number of pages left to skim over, eager to feel that feeling of satisfaction you usually get once you finish a task. It was the same feeling as crossing or checking off a chore on a to-do list.

Minho had settled his eyes on the centre of your book, keeping them steady even as you flipped the pages. He felt the lids of eyes gradually get heavier as each page went by, and by the time you shut the book in delight, he had fallen asleep.

"Again?" You furrowed your eyebrows, remembering the last time he had fallen asleep in your presence. You darted your eyes away from his dormant figure, not making that same mistake twice, "Minho, wake up."

He stirs right away, head rising from his arms. This time he says nothing, pushing himself off of the library's chair before stumbling over his own feet as he makes his way to your side. He looked like a toddler, and it was admittedly adorable.

"Why didn't you just go straight to the dorms if you were tired," you snorted at his dumbassery. Some students still littered the halls even if curfew was nearing. Instead of parting from your side at the library's entrance, Minho stuck by your side.

"I wanted to spend time with you outside of class," he grumbles. He blinks at the long corridor in front of you two, eyes barely staying open from exhaustion.

Feeling your heart skip a beat, you tried to pick out if he was joking or not, but his tone screamed, 'I'm tired.' Any other emotion was hard to comb out, so you sighed and shook your head, pressing your lips into a smile, "Sleep that cheesiness off, Lee Minho."

Minho continued to walk next to you, silent and confused about what you just had said. It wasn't like he was drunk. He was well aware of what he just said. Nonetheless, he subtly walked you to the kitchen corridor, parting ways with you with an uttered 'goodbye.'

vi.

Sitting against the stone wall, you watched the rest of the class carry out the dance routine, formation changes and all. You ran through it with them, only mentally as your partner was nowhere to be found, and the class was halfway done.

There were barely any classes left before the final graded run through, and Minho really thought it'd be funny to skip? You would have let it pass if you guys weren't the worst duo in the room, but you guys are the worst duo in the room, which made the situation different.

"Professor Na," You asked quietly, "Has Lee Minho been excused from today's class. Is he ill?" You didn't want to jump to conclusions, keeping in mind that people did have their own reasons. Maybe he had caught a cold or was doing a missed exam that was far more important than dancing.

"No word from Minho, Y/N," the professor hummed back.

You frowned and thanked him, turning back to the main dance floor, students moving in sync. Where was he?

Just as you had finished your train of thought, the door had swung open just like it probably did on the first day of class. Minho stumbled in, hair a mess and a rather sheepish smile stamped on his lips.

"I apologize Professors," he bowed deeply, following the perimeter of the room. He bowed again as he reached the two instructors at the front of the room.

Professor Shin stopped her counting, "No need to apologize to us, apologize to your partner." She gestured towards you, already looking back. Minho nodded and approached you, though when he did reach you, he didn't apologize.

"And?"

"And what?" Minho ridiculed.

"Aren't you going to apologize like what the Professor asked?" You tried not to laugh at how Minho had been acting.

Minho let out a cackle, “No? Why should I? Can you stand up so we can start dancing or something?" His hand was itching to reach out for yours, feeling like he should pull you towards him, but he hindered himself from doing so, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Instead of pushing the apology out of him, you decided against it, not wanting to waste any of your time, "Why are you even late?"

The two of you followed the crowd, joining in at the perfect time. Minho smirked, "Worried about me or something? I know I'm in your head twenty-four seven, but I didn't expect you to be so obvious about it."

Tightening your grip around his hand, you gritted your teeth, "I wasn't worried about you, nitwit."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because you made me sit, doing nothing for nearly forty-five minutes?" You reply as if you were pointing out the obvious, "So why are you late and coming to class looking like a mountain troll?"

"Wow, ouch," he sighed, "I slept in. Am I going to hell for doing so? Because I can recall you did the same the first day and got us into this mess."

"This is about you, not me," you applied pressure onto his hands, causing him to stumble back slightly, ruining the rhythm he had built up. He furrowed his brows at you and did the same, only you were somehow ready for it.

"Oh please," Minho rolls his eyes, "You've done the same so you shouldn't even be mad at me."

"I'm only frustrated, not mad, there's a difference," you point out, "And I'm frustrated because we have that graded dance next week. If we fail, it's going to be your fault."

"It takes two to tango," he quoted, "And you already know where I stand on that. I don't ca-"

"Shut up, the professors are looking," you warned, flashbacks to the three weeks you had to polish the floors.

Minho laughed slightly, letting air blow out of his nose. He let his eyes drift down at you, keeping them there for a little too long.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, spinning you along with the other students, "You just looked way too terrified." The next move had the two of you closer than the initial space between you.

"I don't want to be spending an extra three hours with you after classes polishing the floor," you retort sharply. Instead of holding eye contact with him, you stared at the Slytherin crest on his uniform.

"I know you liked spending time with me, don't lie," he rolled his eyes teasingly.

"I'm not lying."

"You staring at me says otherwise."

"Oh hush about that already, I literally told you that I wasn't staring at you," Inwardly cringing, you felt relief once the music had stopped. You stepped back and eyed down the boy in front of you, "Why do keep bringing that up?"

Before Minho could give reasoning, Professor Na had spoken up from across the room, reminding everyone that the next class was the graded class. Though they wouldn't be strict with grading, he still wanted to see the students' effort 'flowing'. After a chorus of groans, class ended, allowing you to avoid Minho and find your way to Felix.

Someone tapping your shoulder had woken you up, head jolting up as if you were frightened.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Chaeryeong gasped sheepishly. She was hovering over you slightly, eyes wide. She was changed into her nightwear.

You sat up, only now realizing you had fallen asleep in the common room, "It's alright. What time is it?" You didn't even remember how you fell asleep, but you sure did have a good sleep.

"It's almost midnight," she replied, "I needed to grab water from the kitchen, then I saw you here and figured it'd be more comfortable for you to go to sleep in your own bed rather than this tiny couch."

You grinned, "Thanks Chae… I'll probably get something from the kitchen as well."

She nods and mumbles out a quick goodnight before disappearing to the girls' dorms. You return her farewell before standing up, eyes drawn to the wrinkles your nap had made on your robe. Attempting to straighten the robe and yourself out, you stumbled towards the Hufflepuff house entrance, exiting promptly.

The fireplace had been lit, a few house elves roaming about and carrying out their own duties. They paid no mind to you, as midnight snacks weren't out of the ordinary for Hufflepuffs.

You asked for what you needed, then was given it with no delay, "Thank you." The house elf nods before turning away with a grunt.

You sit at one of the tables, zoning out as you stared at the blazing fire across from you. School was getting a bit more stressful than it usually has, which was probably the reason why you had fallen asleep without knowing. You remember coming back from a long library visit. Maybe you collapsed on the couch once you did.

You made mental notes on the work still yet to be done before the following week, spontaneously creating a headache. Standing up, you figured it was best for you to go back to sleep. Slipping the dish into the sink, you started making your way back to the dorms.

You rubbed your temples and shook your head as you closed your eyes. It probably hadn't been a good idea to be wandering with your eyes closed as you had immediately bumped into something firm.

"Y/N?"

Looking up, you came face to face with Lee Minho, who was just as shocked as you were. He had been dressed down in a knitted Slytherin sweater and pyjama pants.

"Minho? What in the world?"

He backs up after noticing how close you were to each other, "Could say the same 'bout you."

"My dorms are right there," you point just down the corridor, "While yours is in the dungeon…"

Minho blinks before he tries to move around you, eyes avoiding yours.

"What are you doing here?" you grab his wrist, eager to find out why he was roaming the halls. It wasn't unusual for students to be breaking the rules, especially Minho, who loved living up to the stereotypes of a Slytherin. He smirks at the skinship, which prompts you to let go of him, heat rising up to your cheeks without warning. You're suddenly glad it's dim around the two of you.

"I was… taking a walk," he successfully pushes past you and into the kitchen, a glass of water already there for him. He thanks the house elf, leaving the glass, before turning back to you. By the looks of it, it seems like he's been doing this before, like a routine.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Taking a walk? You're painfully awful at lying." And the pause in his speaking gave that away. You followed behind him, expecting an honest answer as if you deserved to know.

"Weren't you just leaving?"

"But my question is unanswered," you shrugged.

"I answered you, I was taking a walk," he pushed the answer. Putting the cup down, he turned to you, "I have… sleeping problems."

"You just lied again," you nonchalantly, "Just tell me the truth. No judgment. A Hufflepuff's promise." You weren't usually one to push an answer out of someone, but this situation was different.

"You say no judgment but I already know how you're going to react to the truth," he takes another sip of water.

"So you were lying!" You raised your brows, "I knew it!"

"You don't deserve the truth," he sighs. Finishing the cup of water, he starts to make his way out, not even turning to look back.

"Lee Minho!" You groaned. Maybe it was your fatigue self or the fact this felt like some sort of game, but you weren't holding yourself back, "When I said I wouldn't judge, I won't. My mind's open to whatever you're going to say."

Minho spins around to face you, stumbling backward a few more steps before he halts, "I was practicing the dance steps."

No judgment.

The flat expression on Minho's face indicated that he had no intentions of lying this time. He had his hands hiding behind his back, eyeing you just to see if you would live up to your promise. Instead of his expected reaction, he finds you smiling, something he'd only see when you were around your friends.

"Wipe that smile off of your face, bumblebee," he mutters.

"Didn't you say you didn't care about that class?" you quoted, a smirk slowly replacing your smile, "Why are you practicing the steps?"

Minho licked his lips. He was at a loss of words, nothing but the truth occupying his mind… Why the hell not?

"Because you care."

You blinked back at him, lips parting and meeting several times as you tried to find the right words to say. The silence was deafening. "What?"

"Because you care," Minho repeated. He kept his expression still, eyeing you, trying to figure out how you were taking this in.

How would he further explain it? He didn't know. All he knew was that ever since that specific moment between the both of you the other day, he took it upon himself to better his partner dancing. He didn't want anyone else knowing, not you, and especially not his housemates, which was why he chose to stay up late to do this; it was the real reason why he had shown up late to class.

You weren't sure if it was because it was quiet, but you could easily hear your heartbeat as it quickened. You try to cover up the fact that you wanted to freak out, "I don't know whether I should laugh or–"

"Yeah, whatever, shouldn't have told you in the first place," he mumbles. For some reason, he felt his heart lub-dub in a way that it shouldn't. He frowned and sighed, "Just forget it."

"Wait, Minho," you call quietly. He stopped in his tracks and turned, partially facing the wall and facing you. He stared back at you with a vacant look, waiting for you to say something. If you weren't going to be saying something nice, he didn't want to hear it after exposing himself like that.

"'Because you care?'" you frowned, "You can't just say that and leave." You already made up a possible answer to the countless questions through your mind, but it was still unclear whether or not that was it.

"What else do you want me to say?" Minho stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I just want you to explain it," you reply quietly.

Minho glanced out the window sitting by you both before sitting down on its pane, "Remember that other day… when I told you I didn't care?" You nod and move closer to where he sat, unsure whether or not you should sit next to him or not, "I don't know… you were really serious back then… I guess I wasn't used to that. So I figured…"

There was a quick moment of silence before he huffs, almost sounding defeated.

"Did you know that I genuinely don't dislike you as much as you think I do?" He says out of the blue, throwing you off. You wanted to tell him to sleep it off again—why did moments like this always happen at night?

"I don't either," you say back, "At first I did… but I matured."

"I only ever argued with you out of amusement. You're the only person outside of Slytherin that could out-talk me and it bothered me for some reason," he laughed as if he recalled a memory.

"Me intimidating a Slytherin? Just wait til the others hear about this," you joke. He glanced towards your direction and saw a clever glint in your eye.

"Don't you dare," he holds back a smile before standing up to face you directly, "Or…"

"Or what?" You challenged, "Imagine how Seungmin would react! Donghyuck and Renjun? What about Yeosang and Wooyoung?" You start listing the other well-known Slytherins off of the top of your head, holding back a laugh as you watch Minho's face crumble into an expression that looks far too close to fear.

Minho recollects himself and shakes some sense into himself, "Or I'll make you go to the Yule Ball with me." He hadn't planned on asking you today, but the timing was perfect. It fit with the situation. If you were to react unfavourably, then he could just joke about it.

His question shut you up. Your eyes widened at him as you processed what he had used as a threat, "What if I want to go to the Yule Ball with you?"

Minho takes a step towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips. His confidence was skyrocketing, and you can tell, "Then I guess it's a date?"

Rolling your eyes, you let a smile grace softly onto your lips, nodding, "It's a date."

Bonus:

"I told you to wear something with gold," you whined jokingly as you were greeted with Minho, who had completely dodged your request. Instead of the black and gold look you were going for, he decided to wear a black suit that had traces of emerald. As much you wanted to match with your date, you had to admit that he still looked as handsome as ever in the attire. He looked like a prince.

"And look like a Hufflepuff? No thanks," he scoffed teasingly. He pulls out a corsage, one that matches the clothes he wore, tying it gently around your wrist, "You look very beautiful."

"Well, you look very handsome."

Minho laughed as he sticks out his forearm, a brow raised in your direction. Music being played by the live band had been spilling out of the ballroom; the voices of everyone attending gave the ball more life. It was exciting.

"Minho!" Seungmin had called. Felix, who had slipped from your side the moment Minho approached you, was standing by Seungmin, smiling brightly. He had been hyping you up the entire night, telling you that there should be nothing to worry about.

He was right.

"Shall we?" Minho asked. It was cheesy, but it worked.

"We shall."

Hope you enjoyed it! A like would be appreciated <3

215 notes · View notes

mingishoe · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: You and Wooyoung have been friends for as long as you can remember. After an unfortunate event, the two of you decided to make a safe word for when you feel uncomfortable or want out of a situation. Cinnamon. You just happen to say it on your wedding day.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst! hits of crack

Pairing: Wooyoung x Fem!Reader ft. Seonghwa x reader

Word count: 15.1k

Warning: infidelity?/cheating I do not encourage cheating, please don’t cheat :)

Smut Warnings: Dom!Wooyoung Sub!Reader, lots of dirty talk, teasing, unintentional edging, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, hand job, marking

A/N: ik this is like an oLD trend,, I wrote this back in may and never finished it but I reread it and decided I liked it too much not to post so here it is :)

also please don’t make fun of my header it sucks bc idk how to make them sjkdhsks

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You honestly don’t remember when you met Wooyoung, you just know that he’s always been your best friend.

You were 3 and Wooyoung was 4. You were just starting to be able to put your sentences together and make some sort of sense, and Wooyoung had already pretty much figured it out.

The two of you never did much talking, you just always sat together and played. Wooyoung was just a comfortable presence until you finally started grade school.

You were 6 and Wooyoung was 7 and it was probably the scariest thing that either of you have experienced at that time. Wooyoung’s mom drove the two of you to your first day of the 1st grade.

Your eyes were watery as you got out of the car with Wooyoung and his mom. She walked the two of you into your class and hugged the both of you goodbye.

Wooyoung sat next to you and watched as a tear fell down your cheek. He was only 7, he didn’t know how to comfort anyone but he tried. Wooyoung brought you into a hug that most 6 year old girls would hate because boys have cooties. Even you thought boys had cooties, but not Wooyoung. Wooyoung was cootie free.

Wooyoung gave you the tightest hug, “It’s okay y/n! I promise I’ll be next to you the whole time,” and he kept that promise.

Wooyoung was next to you all day, through the first introductions, making sure to help you if you got shy, “And this is my best friend y/n! She’s shy right now.” To snack time when you shared your fruit gummies with him just because you knew they were his favourite. Even at nap time Wooyoung made sure he was close to you even when you were supposed to be separated.

That day was the first time you knew you were sticking with Wooyoung for forever.

Every day you spent the entire day with Wooyoung, slowly making more friends. Most of your friends were boys, San, Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho. You being the only girl in your friend group was wild. You developed basically what was a boy personality, you were always playing outside with them, in sports, and don’t even get started on your humour. You had the humour of a 10 year old boy and that would never go away.

One day your class was in the playground and Wooyoung was trying to push you on the swing. One of Wooyoung’s friends, Jisoo, came over and asked Wooyoung to go on the slides with him.

You shrugged and went over to San and watched as he struggled on the money bars, “Sannie! You’re not strong enough!” San pouted at you as he jumped down from only the very first bar, “I am! I just… have a scratch on my hand so it hurts.” You laughed at sans excuses before he pulled you to the slides, “Come on! Let’s race on the slides!”

Wooyoung was at the top of the little castle the play set was supposed to look like with Jisoo. She had Wooyoung practically cornered as she spoke to him, “Wooyoung, since you’re my boyfriend we have to kiss.”

Wooyoung didn’t remember having a girlfriend. He was pretty sure she never even asked him to be her boyfriend, “I’m not your boyfriend.” Wooyoung very simply told her.

Everyone knows how these elementary school relationships work, if someone says you’re dating, you’re dating. It’s not always that both parties agree.

She obviously didn’t care that Wooyoung didn’t want to be her boyfriend. “Well, now you are.” Wooyoung shook his head, still disagreeing, “Why not?” Wooyoung looked around trying to find you and when he did he pointed in your direction, “Because y/n is my girlfriend.” And he wasn’t wrong, you were his friend that was a girl, his girlfriend.

Wooyoung and Jisoo both watched as you came up the stairs with San, “y/n, is it true that you’re Wooyoung’s girlfriend?”

You blink at both Wooyoung and Jisoo, “What?” You look at Wooyoung who’s nodding at you, “Yeah, Wooyoung is my boyfriend.”

Jisoo looks at you with a scowl before sliding down the slide. Wooyoung looks relieved as Jisoo leaves, “You just saved my life.” You roll your eyes and laugh at Wooyoung, “We need a code word in case this happens again.”

You nod then turn to san, “San you need to leave, you can’t hear the code word.” San makes a fuss but finally agrees after you tell him you’ll give him your gummies tomorrow at lunch.

You sit down with Wooyoung in front of you making sure no one else is around you, “What should the word be?”

The both of you sit and think for a few seconds before Wooyoung speaks up, “Umm… what about clouds?” You shake your head, “I don’t think so, we talk about clouds a lot.”

Wooyoung nods, “You’re right, what about pomegranate?” Once again you shake your head, “I’m never going to remember that.” Wooyoung frowns but nods. You speak up again, “What about cinnamon?”

Wooyoung looks at you like you just said the smartest thing ever, “Yes! That’s perfect!” The two of you high five with a laugh, “Race you down the slide!” Wooyoung said before quickly jumping down to get on the slide.

⋆

Day after day you spent with those 5 boys, with Wooyoung. You and Wooyoung had sleepovers every single night, on school nights, weekends, and even in summer. It was never a problem until you got to high school.

Don’t think that middle school was easy breezy covergirl. There were always stares as you walked with Wooyoung or any of the other boys for that matter. You honestly really weren’t sure why, like yeah they were all extremely attractive but it wasn’t anything to be petty over.

All the boys were constantly being approached by different girls since middle school started and it didn’t stop in high school or in college. You never got approached by any boys because of the ones that constantly surrounded you.

Any boy you talked to got scared away by either Wooyoung or one of the other boys. Any girl that liked one of the boys always tried to threaten you, like you even cared at all.

You hadn’t ever had a boyfriend and honestly you didn’t really mind contrary to others opinions. Some of your other friends had tried to tell you it was all Wooyoung’s fault and in all honesty it was but you didn’t mind. You had Wooyoung so you were okay.

One of the things that always stuck besides your friendship with Wooyoung and the other boys was the safe word.

After another uncomfortable incident that happened in 6th grade you changed the code word to a safe word. So every time you were wanting to get out of a situation or felt uncomfortable all you had to do was either say or text the word ‘cinnamon’ to Wooyoung. You two were still to this day the only people who knew what that meant.

It was a few weeks before prom and the bell had just rung. You were waiting for Wooyoung at your locker so you could leave together. You were leaning against your locker scrolling through your social media when you sense a presence in front of you.

When you look up your heart stops in your chest, “Hello princess,” you look around for Wooyoung before looking back to the boy standing in front of you, “S-Seonghwa, Hi.”

You’re quick to find Wooyoung’s contact and type a single word, “cinnamon” and press send. It was senior year and you were all 18, and Seonghwa had been trying to get into your pants for the longest time.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung were both known to absolutely hate each other, and it’s all because of you. Everyone knows that Wooyoung is extremely protective of you but Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care. He also doesn’t seem to get the hint that you're not necessarily his biggest fan.

You put your phone in your pocket after you see Wooyoung’s name flash on the screen signalling he was coming. “Where’s your little boyfriend?” Seonghwa teases you as he places one of his arms on the lockers next to you.

You press yourself against the locker trying to get away from Seonghwa, “H-He’s not my boyfriend… but uhh, he’s not here.”

Seonghwa smirks at you before pulling away slightly, “Perfect, he’s finally not up your ass.” You start to say something before Seonghwa stops you, “anyway, I haven’t had a chance to ask you because you’re always with someone and your friends aren’t necessarily my biggest fans…” you look at Seonghwa with red cheeks that match his, “You’re blushing.” Seonghwa’s mouth drops slightly in shock, “Shut up, let me ask the question.” You smile at Seonghwa as he continues, “D-Do you want to go to prom with me?”

This time your heart stops for a different reason. You definitely didn’t expect that. You look up at Seonghwa with cheeks that honestly rivalled his, “Seonghwa… I-”

“No, she doesn’t.” Wooyoung spoke up causing Seonghwa to look down with even redder cheeks. Wooyoung grabbed your hand pulling you away from Seonghwa before you could even say sorry.

“Wooyoung, what’re you doing?!” Wooyoung stopped you in the middle of the hall, “What do you mean? You sent the word!” You looked down awkwardly, “M-Maybe I said it a little too early…”

Wooyoung stood there with his mouth slightly open, “So you’re saying that you were gonna say yes to Seonghwa?” You pout at Wooyoung, “I don’t- I don’t know?”

“But y/n, you know exactly what he wants.” Wooyoung was right, you knew that probably all Seonghwa wanted to do was finally get into your pants. But you weren’t sure, what if there was that slim possibility that he actually truly just wanted to take you to prom, “You can go to prom with us, you know that.”

You nod at Wooyoung, “I know but you all have dates…” Wooyoung sensed your disappointment and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “I don’t have a date,”

You looked to Wooyoung as the two of you walked to his car, “Really? You’ve been asked by approximately half of the school.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and pushes you making you laugh, “Yeah but that doesn’t mean I wanna go with any of them.” You nibble on your lip in thought, “Maybe you should.”

Wooyoung looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, “What do you mean?” You huff as you get into Wooyoung’s car, “Maybe you should go somewhere with someone who isn’t me for once…”

Wooyoung doesn’t know how he should take that. He can’t tell if you’re actually being sincere, jealous, or if you’re just finally getting sick of him, “Do you not want to go with me?”

You sighed as you grabbed onto Wooyoung’s hand, “Wooyoungie, you know that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that maybe you should just… I dunno, give someone else a chance. Plus you know parties aren’t my scene.” You can tell Wooyoung is hurt by what you said but he’s trying to play it off as he doesn’t care.

Once you arrived at your house Wooyoung unlocked your door and waited for you to get out, “Are you not gonna come in?” Wooyoung shook his head without even looking at you, “I have to help my mom with something, tell your mom I said hi. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

You stayed looking at Wooyoung for a second before stepping out, “Oh… okay. Love you, see you tomorrow.” Wooyoung mumbled an ‘I love you’ before driving off.

You know you shouldn’t really be too affected by Wooyoung right now knowing that he’s upset but that doesn’t stop you from biting your lip in worry.

You open the door and see your mom in the kitchen, “Hey honey, hey Woo.” You pout as your mom unconsciously says Wooyoung’s name because he always comes home with you, “Wooyoung didn’t get off…”

Your mom looks up and immediately knows something’s off, “What happened?” You just shrug and sit at the stool next to where your mom is cutting vegetables, “He got mad at me.”

Your mom laughs softly knowing that it probably wasn’t even a big deal, “Wooyoung got mad because I told him that I didn’t wanna go to prom with him.”

Her eyebrows shoot up “Why don’t you wanna go to prom with him?” You just shrug, “It isn’t that I don’t want to go with him, I just don’t wanna go in general. So I told him that he should go with someone else… because somewhere close to 30 other girls asked him and he rejected them. I told him that he should give someone else an opportunity.”

Your mom looks conflicted. Well shit- that means that what you did was probably terrible and actually really mean. “Y/n sweetheart, Wooyoung rejected the other girls because he wanted to go with you. It’s not like he feels it’s a requirement, you know what I mean?”

You rest your head on the counter, “So you’re saying I should go to prom with Wooyoung?” Your mom shakes her head, “Not if you don’t want to, I’m just saying not to think that Wooyoung thinks he has to.”

“Someone asked me to prom…” your mom's head snapped up to look at you, “Really?! Who was it?” You laugh loudly before responding, “You know that boy that Wooyoung talks about all the time?” This time your mom’s jaw drops, “That boy umm… Seong- something? You know I’m not good with names,”

You nod vigorously as your mom is having a heart attack at what you’re saying, “Yes! Seonghwa! But he asked me today after school… and it was kinda cute? I’ve never seen him so flustered before. His cheeks were so red and he just looked really cute. But I don’t know, like I said I don’t even want to go at all.” You almost leave it at that but make sure to mention the obvious, “but Wooyoung would kill the both of us so that’s a no go.”

Your mom winks at you before leaning in to whisper, “Sometimes you need that adrenaline… just don’t let Wooyoung find out.” You pull away from your mom with a gasp, “You did not just betray Wooyoung like that!” Your mom just shrugs with a laugh.

The next day Wooyoung is really distant and is just pretty much ignoring you. Everyone else notices the shift in your energy making them pretty uncomfortable, “Y/n, what the fuck is happening?”

You look at San for a moment before simply saying, “Wooyoung’s mad at me.” Before San can even ask you why, you walk away and go to your class.

Thankfully that class has pretty much no one that you’re friends with so you’re free of any interrogation. You notice that Seonghwa is in this class so you decide to sit next to him, “H-Hey Seonghwa, sorry about yesterday…”

Seonghwa looks up from his phone to see you sitting next to him making him sit up straight, “Oh, Umm no it’s okay. I can handle rejection…” for some reason that made you feel really sad, “It’s not that I don’t want to go with you, I just don’t want to go in general.”

Seonghwa is looking down at his hands with his lip in between his teeth and your heart literally breaks, “You can just say you’re going with Wooyoung, it’s okay.”

“I-I’m not going with Wooyoung either…” This makes Seonghwa look at you, “Y-You’re not?” You shake your head with a soft smile, “I told you,”

You laugh as Seonghwa visibly perks up. You thought about what your mom had previously told you, “Why don’t you give me your number and maybe we can do something else?”

Seonghwa freezes, obviously not expecting you to ask for his number, “What about Wooyoung? Won’t he like murder you?” You laugh and nod, “Let’s just not let him find out… our secret.” You have your phone held out to him waiting for him to take it. He looks at you cautiously before deciding you were being serious, “Y/n, Wooyoung is going to murder me and send my balls to my mother if he sees my number in your phone.”

You pause for a minute, that being way too specific for Wooyoung to not have said that to Seonghwa, “Uhh… right.” You grabbed your phone from his hand and sent him a smiley face so he would have your number. Before you had a chance to say anything else your teacher walked in starting the class.

You and Seonghwa sat comfortably next to each other, not as awkward as you thought it was going to be.

When class ended Seonghwa walked out with you and you looked around you hoping that Wooyoung wasn’t there. You stopped yourself and looked up at Seonghwa, “Let’s start over yeah? Let’s just forget about Wooyoung and the other boys and not worry about them.”

Seonghwa smiled and nodded but still looked around like he was nervous making you laugh, “See you later,”

The rest of your classes were insanely awkward. Wooyoung still sat next to you and in all honesty it probably would’ve been better if he didn’t. The concerned glances of San and Yunho were becoming too much once it reached lunch time.

Both you and Wooyoung were mindlessly poking at your food and Yeosang was getting sick of it, “What the fuck is y’all’s problem?”

You drop your fork and look at Yeosang, “It’s none of your business.” Wooyoung rolls his eyes at you before snapping, “She doesn’t wanna go to prom with me.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Wooyoung I already told you, I just don’t want to go! It has nothing to do with you!” Yeosang already regretted asking.

“Oh okay but you were going to say yes when Seonghwa asked you?” You froze. Yeosang froze. Everyone at the table froze except Wooyoung, if this was a cartoon there’d surely be steam coming out of his ears.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You can see the veins sticking out on Wooyoung’s neck as his face turns red from anger, “You know exactly what my problem is and you know exactly why Seonghwa wants to take you to prom! He just wants to fuck you and then he’s gonna leave you.”

That was it. You pushed your tray of food at Wooyoung making it spill all over him, “Fuck you.” You’ve never wanted to hit Wooyoung as much as you do in this moment but you knew that it would hurt the both of you even more, so you contained yourself and just walked out of the cafeteria.

Wooyoung sat completely frozen. Everyone was completely shocked at your reaction. They’ve honestly never seen you this angry in the 12 years they’ve been your friend.

“Wooyoung I don’t know what your problem is but you need to fix it.” San stood up and followed you out of the cafeteria so he could make sure you were okay.

He went out the back doors of the school and walked some distance to the line of trees behind the school, that’s where you normally went if you skipped class or were wanting time to yourself.

“Y/n?” You didn’t look towards him opting to continue to text Seonghwa. You don’t even bother turning your phone off when San sits next to you, “Since when are you and Seonghwa all buddy buddy?”

You look at San with pleading eyes, “Please don’t.” San wrapped his arm around you letting you rest your head on his shoulder, “I’m not gonna say anything love, I’m just curious.”

You shrug as you further lean into San, “Just the other day when he asked me to prom, like Wooyoung said. I just- I just don’t know why he got so upset you know? I wasn’t going to say yes but that doesn’t mean he can’t let me deal with it by myself?”

San nods, “You know how protective he is over you, he loves you too much to see you get hurt.” You whisper this last part so quietly that almost San doesn’t hear you, “What if I want to?”

⋆

It was finally the night of prom and Wooyoung was still pissed at you. It's been weeks and you were honestly over it at this point so you didn’t even bother messing with him.

You and Seonghwa have gotten closer, he’s taken you out to eat a few times and you’re constantly texting. You honestly really enjoy his company and may you even go as far to say you like him.

While everyone else is at prom you’re laying in bed with your mom watching whatever’s on. Your phone buzzes and you see Seonghwa’s name. You look to your mom with a guilty look before opening the message,

Seonghwa:): You’re lucky you decided not to come to prom, it’s the most boring party I’ve ever gone to. No one has even spiked the punch yet.

Your mom snorts from beside you, “They still spike the punch?” You laugh and nod, “They do a little more than spike these days…”

Your mom watches as your thumbs hover over the keyboard, “Why don’t you invite him over?” Your eyes widen, “You’re really just betraying Wooyoung up and down these days aren’t you?” But you just shrug and send him a message back.

You: Why don’t you come over?

Seonghwa looks up from the wall he’s leaning against and sees Wooyoung and the rest of your friends sitting at a table looking awfully tense and awkward.

He watched as Wooyoung took a swig from a vodka bottle that he got from god knows where before deciding that he was going to take up on your offer.

Seonghwa stood outside your door for a solid two minutes trying to decide if he should knock or just go home. He doesn’t have a chance to do either before you open the door and look at him in amusement, “You’ve been standing out here for a while… do you wanna come in or not?”

Seonghwa walks in front of you as you close the door. Your mom is watching him in amusement as he looks down with red cheeks, “This is Seonghwa? Like Seonghwa Seonghwa?”

You bite your lip to keep you from laughing, “Yes mom. Seonghwa Seonghwa.” You eye her in warning before she says what you know she wants to, “Anyway, we’re going to my room, if you need anything just call me.”

“Prove that Wooyoung is wrong, Seonghwa” Your head snaps toward your mom with wide eyes, “I’m just kidding, go on.”

Your mom shooed the two of you off as she was too busy laughing.

“S-She’s just joking.” Seonghwa rubs his neck awkwardly, “Wooyoung told your mom about me.” You nod as you open the door to your room and let him go in, “I’d like to say it was all good things but…”

Seonghwa stops to look at your room, “I don’t know why but I didn’t expect your room to be so… cute.” You squealed as you jumped on your bed to cover up the stuffed animals that were sitting there.

Seonghwa grabbed one of your teddy bears and held it as he laid down next to you, “Do you not wanna change?” Seonghwa looked down seemingly like he forgot he was still in his suit, “I don’t have anything to change into…”

You thought for a minute before speaking up, “If it isn’t weird… one of the boys’ clothes will fit you.”

Seonghwa thought for a minute before nodding and standing up, still holding your teddy bear. You smile as he’s hugging the bear, “Looks like you like Mr.B.”

While you're going through your drawers you hear Seonghwa giggle, full on giggle, “You name your stuffed animals?” You pout as you hand Seonghwa a shirt with a pair of sweats, “Here, you can just change here.”

“Okay but don’t look, you aren’t ready for the sexy that I am shirtless.” You raise your eyebrows at Seonghwa with a smirk, “Seonghwa sweetheart, I’m friends with nothing but boys, I’ve seen abs before.”

Seonghwa looks at you expectantly before throwing Mr.B at you making you squeal. You cover your eyes with your hands as you hear him shuffling. You feel something being thrown down at your feet and you get the sudden urge to look.

You slowly separate your fingers and look at Seonghwa with your lip in between your teeth. You inhale sharply when Seonghwa makes eye contact with you as he’s undoing his belt.

Your cheeks are burning as you make no move to look away. Seonghwa doesn’t break eye contact as he pulls his belt through the loops. You whine as you turn over to put your head in the pillows while flailing your legs. You can practically feel the amusement dripping off of Seonghwa. Thankfully he ignored it and laid back down next to you.

Seonghwa was facing you as you were still whining with your head stuffed in the pillow. Seonghwa tapped on your shoulder making you look at him, “You’re really cute.”

You look away with a small smile, “Look at me princess.” You bite your lip as you look back at Seonghwa but you can still hear Wooyoung nagging at the back of your mind.

“Hwa… can I ask you a question?” Seonghwa nods while never looking away from your eyes, “Y-You don’t just want to… f-fuck me and then leave me, right?”

Seonghwa’s eyes flash what you can only express as anger, “Who told you that?” From the tone of Seonghwa’s voice you immediately knew that Wooyoung was lying. From your silence Seonghwa already knew the answer to his question, “It was Wooyoung, wasn’t it?” You pause before nodding carefully.

“Look, I don’t know what Wooyoung told you but that’s not true. Wooyoung- Never mind…” you shake your head, “N-No what?” Seonghwa bites his lip contemplating if he should actually say it, “Wooyoung knows that I l-like you… and I guess he didn’t want you to know so he said that.”

Your mouth parts slightly as you took in what Seonghwa just told you, “You like me? Like, like like me?” Seonghwa looks at you with a smile, “Yeah, like like.”

You just realised that what Wooyoung told you was a complete lie, “W-Wait! So you’ve liked me for three years?” Seonghwa nods sadly before wrapping his arms around you and hiding his face in your neck.

You carefully bring your hand up to run your hand through his hair. You feel a sudden urge of confidence and you pull Seonghwa’s head back to look at you before you carefully place your lips on his.

When Seonghwa doesn’t kiss you back you panic and pull away, “S-Sorry, I should’ve-” you get cut off when Seonghwa grabs your face in his hand and places his lips back on yours.

You pull away with a small whine as you place your head in Seonghwa’s chest and the two of you stay like that for what felt like forever. Seonghwa held you as you started to fall asleep in his arms.

The two of you were asleep for maybe 30 minutes when you woke up to your mom talking to someone. Your phone started to ring and you answered it with a tired ‘yeah?’ It was your mom, “Hide him. Tell Seonghwa to hide- like now.”

You didn’t even ask why before you started hitting Seonghwa’s chest frantically and telling him to go inside your closet. He almost falls on the floor but successfully makes it into the closest in time for your door to swing open.

Your eyes widen when you see Wooyoung walk into your room. You immediately look to Seonghwa not knowing what to do. The door to your closet is partially closed, only open enough for Seonghwa to see out.

“Wooyoung what do you want?” Wooyoung went to sit on your bed with heavy eyes, “I’m here to say sorry.” You would take his apology any other day but he’s clearly drunk right now, “Wooyoung, you’re drunk.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. I overreacted.” You kept looking to the closet making Wooyoung turn around in suspicion, “What’re you looking at?” You pull Wooyoung's face to look at you and you press your lips to his.

You honestly surprised yourself but you moved your hand to the direction of the closet and signalled Seonghwa to go. Seonghwa stepped out of the closet but stopped in the middle when he saw you kissing Wooyoung.

You pulled away and Wooyoung was looking at you with eyes the size of disks. You widen your eyes at Seonghwa and try to tell him to go but he points at his clothes on your bed. Shit.

Once again Wooyoung tries to look behind you making you pull him in once again. You kicked Seonghwa’s clothes off the bed and just signaled for him to go and this time he actually did. Once you made sure he was at least in the kitchen you pulled away from Wooyoung.

You quickly get up and kick Seonghwa’s clothes underneath your bed before going in your drawer and handing Wooyoung some clothes, “Here, just change and I’ll get you some water.”

When you closed the door to your room you almost had a heart attack. Seonghwa was in the kitchen talking to your mom and you walked up to them with the reddest cheeks, “S-Seonghwa, I’m sorry… I just- I just couldn’t let him see you. Maybe you can come over tomorrow or something?” Seonghwa nodded and gave you a hug before walking out.

Once you made sure Seonghwa walked out you sighed and almost started crying, “Mom, I like him.” Your mom looked at you like you were stupid, “And?” You looked to your room where Wooyoung was, “Wooyoung doesn’t like him. But he lied about Seonghwa so…” her mouth dropped open as you continued, “Andimaybejustkissedwooyoung but it was so Seonghwa could leave without being seen.”

You quickly grabbed Wooyoung a bottle of water and ran back to your room before your mom could say something. You were glad you and your mom were really close but you still couldn’t handle certain things she said to you.

When you reentered your room Wooyoung was sitting on your bed with the cutest pout, “What’s wrong Woo?”

“Who’s car just left?” You froze with your mouth wide open, “My mom… had a friend over…” Wooyoung nods but then his eyebrows furrow, “I didn’t see them?” You shook your head, “You're drunk Wooyoung.” You hand him the water and he drinks the entire thing like he found water in the desert.

“You need to sleep. Come on, let’s cuddle yeah?” Wooyoung smiles as you wrap your arms around him when you lay next to him.

His eyes never leave yours as he whispers, “I love you.” This time it felt different though. Your heart starts to beat faster as Wooyoung looks at you with loving eyes, “I love you.” Wooyoung shakes his head, “No you don’t, not the same way.”

Your heart almost exploded, “W-Wooyoung your drunk, don’t say things like that.”

Wooyoung grabbed your hand and started playing with your fingers, “But I’m sober enough to know what I’m saying y/n.”

“I-It’s late Woo, you should get some rest.” Before Wooyoung could continue anything he was going to say you turned and faced your back to him with your eyes squeezed shut. What the fuck are you supposed to do? You like Seonghwa but if Wooyoung isn’t just drunk and saying stuff you don’t want to hurt him.

Whenever you woke up Wooyoung was gone. You honestly didn’t know how he managed to get up and leave with a hangover and not wake you up.

You got up and went to the kitten to see your mom looking the most conflicted you’ve ever seen her, “What?” You looked at her with suspicion not knowing what she was going to do.

Once your mom sees you she shakes her head and pretends like whatever just happened didn’t happen, “Wooyoung just left…”

Your eyebrows shot up, “You let him leave?”

“Why not?” Your mom looked at you with furrowed eyebrows making you pout “Because he’s hungover and he can’t drive like that…”

She shakes her head, “He's fine… What about Seonghwa? Are you going to invite him over?”

⋆

After that day you never once brought up Wooyoung’s drunken words, your kiss, or the lie about Seonghwa, too scared that it would ruin your friendship but you had the hunch that it was already falling apart. Everything had been different since that day and you’re not sure in what way. There were lingering stares and touches that made your hearts race a little bit faster.

After a couple of months you and Seonghwa ended up dating and let’s just say when you announced it, it wasn’t pretty. Wooyoung threw what would be best described as a hissy fit and the rest of the boys thought you were joking.

Once they realised you were being serious they all supported you, even Wooyoung. It took Wooyoung the longest though. He ignored you for what felt like forever before San finally convinced him to get over himself.

You all continued to be friends in college, going to the same school. After a while they were finally warming up to Seonghwa and actually thought he was cool which meant a lot to the both of you.

Let’s just say Seonghwa didn’t want to fuck you and leave you because he’s stuck around everytime.

It was at the 4 year mark that Seonghwa proposed to you.

It honestly shocked you way more than it did everyone else, which was saying something.

It was at your 23rd birthday party, in front of the entirety of your friends and family. For whatever reason Seonghwa decided to do it at the birthday party your family held for you, making it all the more stressful.

You were never one for PDA or doing something private and intimate in a public setting or in front of people, so when you saw Seonghwa go down on his knee you almost told him to get up.

Everyone else was either crying or screaming and the only thing you managed to do was look at Wooyoung with wide eyes. You watched as Wooyoung shut his eyes before pushing through the people to leave. You wanted to follow him, you really did but with Seonghwa staring at you with his eyes shining brighter than ever you just couldn’t.

“Will you marry me?” Your eyes started watering and before you knew it you were crying.

The one word completely changed everything so fast it almost gave you whiplash, “Yes.”

The cheers got louder and more tears fell when you wrapped your arms around Seonghwa but it just didn’t feel right. Once everyone calmed down a little bit you went to San, “Where did Wooyoung go?”

He glanced at the ring around your finger with sad eyes, “I think just to the front… I dunno.”

You saw Wooyoung sitting under the big tree in your yard so you go sit next to him without saying anything.

You sit in silence for what felt like forever before you spoke up quietly, “I’m too young to get married aren't I?”

Wooyoung laughs with a nod, “A little bit… you’re still 23, most people wait to get married until their 30’s.”

You knew Wooyoung was right. You were still really young, you haven’t done half the things you wanted to do before you started a family.

“Remember how you always used to say you never wanted to get married? Because it felt like you were trapped?” You snort, “It is.”

Wooyoung turns to look at you with slightly teary eyes, “Then why did you say yes?”

You pause with your mouth opening and closing before you whisper, “I-I don’t know…”

A tear falls from Wooyoung’s eyes making your heart shatter, “D-Don’t leave me, please.”

Tears start leaving your eyes and now the two of you are sitting under your tree crying while looking into the others eyes, “Woo, I would never leave you. I promise.”

Wooyoung lets out a choked sob making you take his face in your hands, “Wooyoung, I love you so fucking much, you have no idea.”

Wooyoung shakes his head as more tears fall from his eyes, “N-Not the same way y/n. I love you. Now you’re engaged to fucking Seonghwa out of everyone. I spent so long keeping him away from you because I just fucking knew that something like this would happen.”

“Woo trust me. It doesn’t matter if I’m engaged to Seonghwa or not I still love you more than anyone and anything in the world.”

While you were outside Seonghwa was running around looking for you. He found San and asked where you were, “She’s outside talking to Wooyoung. I wouldn’t bother them if I were you.”

“Why? Don’t I have the right to-” san shakes his head and stops him, “Just don’t. Let them talk it out okay? If you’re so curious you can see from the window.” San and Seonghwa watch the two of you from the window.

San doesn’t look concerned in the slightest whereas Seonghwa has his eyes filled with concern, “She’s crying.” San shrugs, “So is Wooyoung, she’s fine.”

Seonghwa watches how you have Wooyoung’s face in your hands and the way the two of you are staring into each other’s eyes. He watches as Wooyoung falls into your chest and the way you hold Wooyoung. You’ve never held him like that…

You’re practically sitting on Wooyoung’s lap making Seonghwa turn to San with a confused face, “W-What is she…” San shrugs with an equally confused expression, “I have no idea.”

When Seonghwa tries to go outside San stops him, “Just- Just let them have their moment… please?” Seonghwa lets out a pained sigh as he watches the woman he’s engaged with sitting on the lap of the man who tried to keep them apart in the first place.

You had your eyes closed as Wooyoung rocked you back and forth with his arms wrapped around you tightly, too scared to let go.

You pull away slightly and rest your forehead on his just looking into each other’s eyes, “Wooyoung I’m serious. No matter what, I’m always on your side. I don’t care how much you think I love Seonghwa, I love you more okay? I won’t leave you. Ever.”

You wanted nothing more than to stay with Wooyoung and hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay but you couldn’t. No matter how much you wanted to kiss away his tears, you just couldn’t do that to Seonghwa.

You heard a door open and close so you quickly got off of Wooyoung and wiped the tears off your face. When you looked up and saw Seonghwa you tried your best to smile at him without it seeming fake, “There you are. Come on baby, your mom wants to talk to you.”

You didn’t miss the glare Seonghwa gave Wooyoung before pulling you away. You tried to stop the trembling of your lip as Seonghwa brought you back inside with everyone. Your mom took your hand and brought you into her room.

As soon as the door was shut you let out a sob and buried your face in your hands. “Why did you say yes sweetheart?”

You let out incoherent babbles with sobs and sniffles in between, “I have no idea what you’re saying.” Your mom makes you laugh slightly and you finally look at her. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before you start to speak up again.

“I truly w-wanted to say yes but not right now you know? I’m still really young and I have a feeling Seonghwa wants to get married soon and I don’t know…” your mom sighed, “He wants to get married this summer.”

Your mouth dropped open, “It’s December- Summer is in like 7 months.” Your mom nodded with an apprehensive look on her face, “What? You think I’m going to back out or something?”

Your mom doesn’t respond and changes the subject, “A beach wedding would be cute. Especially in the summer.” You really didn’t want to be having this conversation. Not so soon at least.

“Yeah… I’ll talk to Seonghwa about it.” Your mom could clearly see on your face that you didn’t want this, but it wasn’t in her place to say anything. She was confident that you would work it out.

⋆

It had only been maybe a month before Seonghwa started pressuring you to start making wedding arrangements. The two of you settled on a beach side wedding in June. Even though it was still several months away you were still extremely anxious. Everyday that passed you felt the sinking feeling in your stomach grow.

No matter how sudden, how rushed, or how short a time you have, you're going to have a cute flowy dress no matter what anyone else says. It’s too hot to have a skin tight dress or a big ball gown dress.

You had taken Wooyoung and your parents to go dress shopping with you and all of them cried when you put on the dress, Wooyoung for maybe a different reason.

It was tight from your waist up with a sweetheart neckline, making sure to show your figure perfectly. The bottom was flowy covered with pretty sparkles covering the entirety of the dress.

You remember how beautiful you looked with the headdress and veil. The way you looked to Wooyoung with teary eyes had him squeezing his eyes shut to contain himself, “D-Do you like it Woo?”

Wooyoung smiled and nodded even though you could tell he was very obviously upset, “You look beautiful.”

A month after it was time for the anticipated bachelor and bachelorette parties. Bachelorette parties are supposed to be fun right? You had practically no friends that were girls, and the ones you did have you weren’t super close with you. While Seonghwa went out with his friends for his bachelor party you asked Wooyoung to come to your place for yours.

Wooyoung was apprehensive, not knowing if he could really stay with you all night, but he decided that he wanted to spend one last night with you.

You’re not going to say it wasn’t tense or awkward because the lingering stares were too much for the both of you to handle.

You tried to put on a movie to distract from the tension but if anything it made it worse. You were too scared to say anything as Wooyoung’s eyes were glued to your lips, “W-Woo…”

“Can I kiss you?” You stayed silent for a while not knowing what to say, “Wooyoung-”

“Just once. Please.” You couldn't say no. Not when Wooyoung was looking at you the way he was.

You should’ve said no. You should’ve thought about Seonghwa and said no, but as soon as you nodded it was too late.

You felt yourself immediately become hot when Wooyoung’s lips met yours. All thoughts of Seonghwa left your mind the second he held your face in his hands.

Your heart started racing as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Wooyoung didn’t expect you to keep going but he definitely didn’t want it to stop.

You both knew it was wrong and you both knew you should stop before the both of you got too carried away, but that didn’t stop either of you.

You pulled away so you could catch your breath and the way Wooyoung was biting his lip made your thighs clench.

“Wooyoung, we should stop.” Wooyoung nodded but made no move to get away from you, “Y-You’re right. This is wrong.”

You nodded mindlessly as Wooyoung leaned in again. His lips met yours for the second time and this is what felt right. It felt different from kissing Seonghwa, but in a good way. You didn’t want to pull away.

Wooyoung’s tongue went to lick your lips making you gasp slightly. Wooyoung used that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

Your cheeks burned as the kissing sounds were the only thing able to be heard. You unconsciously moved yourself so you were on top of Wooyoung.

Wooyoung gripped your waist and pulled you closer to him before he carefully flipped the two of you so you were laying on your back.

You whimpered quietly as Wooyoung moved to attach his lips to your jaw and neck, “Woo- I-” You whimpered as Wooyoung started sucking lightly on your neck, making sure not to leave marks.

You spread your legs further to make room for Wooyoung to get in between them, “Wooyoung, Please-” Wooyoung pulls away from your neck and looks up at you with dark eyes, “Y/n… A-Are you sure? You don’t have to j-just because I want to.”

You shook your head with a whimper whenever you felt Wooyoung’s boner on your inner thigh, “I want to Wooyoung, j-just please!” Wooyoung groans as you run your hands up his back to grip onto his hair.

Your heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard as Wooyoung lifts your shirt to grope your chest through your bra.

Wooyoung wanted to take his time with you, to make up for all the lost time. He wanted to kiss and mark every inch of your body but he knew he couldn’t, not when he knew tomorrow you were going to be back with Seonghwa.

Wooyoung knew he should stop. Wooyoung knew he should be the bigger person and put his foot down and say that it wasn’t okay. You knew it was wrong, he didn’t have to tell you that but you were too far into it to stop.

“Wooyoung stop.” Wooyoung looked up at you concerned that you changed your mind and wanted to kick him out, “Stop thinking about Seonghwa… it-it’s okay.”

You both knew it wasn’t okay but that was the only thing that could stop the guilt from taking over.

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath as he nodded and went back to pay attention to your chest. He hesitantly lifted your shirt over your head and took a minute to look at your chest.

You didn’t wait for Wooyoung and you quickly pulled your hands behind you to undo your bra. You let it fall down your arms as Wooyoung let out a groan, “F-Fuck~ you’re so pretty.”

You suck in harshly whenever Wooyoung attaches his lips around one of your nipples. Your hand moves to grip onto Wooyoung’s blonde locks as he swirls his tongue around your perky nipple.

The hand that isn’t wrapped around your waist moves to tweak your other nipple between his fingers. Once he decides he’s paid enough attention to one he switches and does the same to the other.

Your mind is clouded with nothing but lust and you can only think about having Wooyoung inside of you, “Wooyoung- please fuck me!” Wooyoung groans before pulling your shorts down, “Patience sweetheart.”

Wooyoung spreads your legs and leaves wet kisses from your ankle to just beside where you need him the most. He repeats his actions with your other leg before placing open mouthed kisses on your clothed core making your thighs close around his head lightly.

“W-Wooyoung!” Wooyoung chuckles deeply before finally sliding your now ruined panties down your legs. Wooyoung bites his lip as he sits back to take in the sight of you naked underneath him.

He slowly brings a hand down to rub his fingers through your soaked folds, “F-Fuck y/n. You’re so pretty. Too bad I can’t have you to myself…”

Wooyoung didn’t want to get into a pity party while you were naked underneath him so he experimentally rubbed your clit in small circles with his thumb making you wither underneath him, “Wooyoung please stop teasing me! Do something!”

Wooyoung honestly didn’t even realise his teasing but he complied and swiftly gripped your hips and placed his head in between your legs.

Wooyoung licked a stripe up your cunt while he tentatively watched your face, trying to engrave the smallest of expressions into his brain. Your hand reached down to grip onto Wooyoung’s locks making him groan against your core.

Your eyes had shut from the pleasure as soon as Wooyoung’s mouth had touched your dripping cunt but you wanted to see him. You forced your eyes open and you swear you almost came at the sight.

Wooyoung lifted his face from your core making a pathetic whine come from your pretty lips whenever you saw his lips and chin covered in your juices.

You bit your lip as Wooyoung made eye contact with you before wrapping his lips around your clit. You moaned loudly whenever Wooyoung had probbed at your entrance.

His two fingers slipped into your tight hole almost completely with how wet you were, “Do you hear that sweetheart?” Your face was burning as you heard the lewd squelching noises coming from your bottom half, “You’re fucking soaked. All for me.”

“Yes Wooyoung! Fuck- all for you, just for you!” Wooyoung was encouraged by your words, and your noises, so he increased the speed of his fingers inside of you.

His fingers weren’t as long as Seonghwa’s so it took him a minute to find that spot inside of you, but when he did your grip on his hair tightened.

Wooyoung smirked against you as he continued to massage the sweet spot in you making you gush juices, “Woo- pleasepleaseplease, G-Gonna cum!” He sucked harder on your clit so he could push you off the edge.

Wooyoung was insanely hard in his pajama pants, almost crossing the edge to becoming painful. Wooyoung smirked as he swiftly added a third finger, making you feel the stretch.

Your mouth dropped open into a silent moan as you came. You pulled harshly on Wooyoung’s hair but he absolutely loved it. His groans were vibrating your clit, only intensifying your orgasm.

“Fuck W-Wooyoung! Fuck me- I n-need you to fuck me!”

Wooyoung wasted no time before he quickly stripped himself of his clothing. You barely had enough time to take the sight in before Wooyoung had his cock in his hand as he ran it through your folds.

He paused making you whine, “W-Wait y/n, condom?” You shook your head and pulled Wooyoung closer to you by wrapping your legs around him, “It’s o-okay… unless you w-want to?”

“I-I mean no but S-Seong-” You groaned and shook your head knowing that if Seonghwa found the condom it would be over.

“It’s okay W-Wooyoung… please?” He took a deep breath in before he slowly pushed in. You both moaned in unison as he had bottomed out inside of you. Wooyoung was a lot bigger than Seonghwa making you feel a stretch you haven’t felt before.

Wooyoung gripped your hips tightly as he tried to contain himself. You were already so tight but the way you were clenching around his cock almost made him cum on the spot, “y-y/n wait. If you keep doing t-that, I'm gonna cum.”

You nod in agreement knowing that you were pretty much walking on the same line he was. After probably a minute too long Wooyoung hesitantly starts to pull out before slowly thrusting back into you.

You let out a choked sob as Wooyoung started to thrust shallowly into you, still determined to tease you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Wooyoung brought a hand down to rub softly at your already sensitive clit.

After you whined about Wooyoung teasing you again Wooyoung gave in from more of his own need than yours, he would tease you for hours if he had the time and patience.

Wooyoung’s grip on your hips tightened as he slammed his hips into you. So much for wanting to take his time with you.

“Wooyoung! Fuck- y-you fuck me so good!” Wooyoung groaned and placed his feet on the bed so he would have more leverage to fuck into you.

“Y-Yeah? Does it feel good? Does my cock feel good?” Your head spun from Wooyoung’s words.

“Fuck yes- f-feels so good!” Tears sprung in your eyes from the pleasure you were receiving, Wooyoung’s cock hitting your spot with each thrust.

“Does Seonghwa fuck you good like this? Does he fuck you the way you deserve?” You shook your head, not remembering if you’ve ever felt this good before.

“No fuck!” Wooyoung managed to chuckle at your response, “Aww poor baby, you won’t be able to get fucked properly after this. Seonghwa won’t be able to fuck you without you thinking of me. You better be careful baby because once you moan my name it’s over, then you’re gonna be running back to me so I can show you what it’s like to be fucked properly again.”

Wooyoung’s words were becoming too much for you to handle as your legs started to shake. The coil in your stomach was so close to snapping and then your phone rang.

Wooyoung immediately stopped all movements making you let out the loudest whine you’ve ever made, “Wooyoung why- fuck!”

Wooyoung looked around before grabbing your phone, “Your phone is ringing” you honestly almost started crying, “Just leave it-”

Wooyoung shook his head, “It’s Seonghwa.”

You groaned loudly as your high was slowly starting to fade. You grabbed your phone from Wooyoung’s hand and took a deep breath before you pressed the answer button, “H-Hello?”

You heard what was loud music before it got quiet, “What’re you d-doing?” You heard Seonghwa hiccup as he was speaking.

As you started to respond to Seonghwa, Wooyoung started to thrust slowly making you inhale sharply, “oh n-nothing, we’re just watching that new movie…”

You heard someone speaking in the background before grabbing the phone, “Sorry y/n, Seonghwa’s drunk. I told you Seonghwa they weren’t doing anything, have a little more faith in them would ya?” You weren’t even listening to San with Wooyoung starting to increase the speed of his thrusts.

“What?” You held the phone away from your face so they wouldn’t be able to hear your heavy breathing, “Are you sure they’re not fucking?”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan whenever Wooyoung started rubbing against your sweet spot, “Wh-What is he talking about?”

San yelled at Seonghwa before bringing the phone back to his ear, “Seonghwa thinks that you’re having sex with Wooyoung.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Wooyoung reaches down to rub your clit, “Huh? Like right now?”

You hear San laugh on the other end of the phone like he knows how ridiculous it sounds, “Yeah, anyway, sorry about that. Go ahead and continue with whatever you were doing. Bye!”

You hang up quickly and throw your phone somewhere. You wrap your legs around Wooyoung’s waist and bring him even closer to you, “Did you hear him? Seonghwa thinks we’re fucking right now… little does he know he’s never gonna be able to satisfy you again.”

Once again Wooyoung’s words started bringing you over the edge, “Imagine if he came home and saw us right now, the look on his face when he sees his pretty little wife fucking her best friend.”

Your nails dig into Wooyoung’s back as your core starts to throb around Wooyoung’s cock, “He would see how good I’m making you feel, and he would know by the way your pretty little moans sound that he’s never made you feel this good.”

Without warning the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Wooyoung’s name came out of your mouth like it was the only word you knew. The feeling of you cumming was enough to push Wooyoung off the edge of his orgasm.

Your moans got even louder when you felt Wooyoung’s hot spurts of cum cover your walls. Wooyoung’s moans and groans engraved themselves into your brain as he was right next to your ear.

Your legs were shaking even after Wooyoung had pulled out and was laying next to you. Your cheeks burned red as both you and Wooyoung’s eyes were glued to your legs.

“Has Seonghwa ever made you feel that good before?” Wooyoung asked seriously. You let out a dry laugh before looking at Wooyoung with raised eyebrows, “What did that just look… and sound like?”

Wooyoung laughed before pulling you back on top of him. One of his arms wrapped around your waist while his other hand started running its fingers through your hair, “Like a no?”

You looked up to Wooyoung with a small smile, “Yep…” you looked at the clock on your bedside table and saw that it was only just after midnight, “Woo, we need to get dressed…”

Wooyoung agrees but neither of you make any effort to actually move. Wooyoung feels you becoming heavier on top of him signaling you’re falling asleep. He knows he can’t leave you naked on the bed for Seonghwa to see you and become even more suspicious so he carefully rolls you over to your back and gets up.

He goes over to the drawers and tries to find you some underwear to put on. While he’s over there he finds a pair of shorts and a T-shirt to put on you as well.

He places the clothes on the bed and looks around to find the clothes he had just previously ripped off of you, as much as he wanted you for himself he wouldn’t hurt Seonghwa to know that he had slept with you.

Once he puts the soiled clothing in the dirty clothes he quickly puts his clothes back on so he can go dress you.

As he carefully slips your underwear on you he feels a sudden wave of guilt. He tries his best not to let Seonghwa’s voice in the back of his head get to him as he continues to dress you.

He lifts your top half up as he puts your head through the hole. You mumbled something before you placed your head in Wooyoung’s neck and wrapped your arms around him, “L-Let me see your arms sweetheart.”

You whine quietly before sticking out your arms for Wooyoung and once he succeeded in fully dressing you, you wrapped your arms around him again and pulled him on top of you.

Wooyoung smiled fondly at you when he felt your grip tighten, “Love you Woo.” His heart clenched in his chest, “I love you more sweetheart.” He loved you more than words can explain but he knows you don’t love him in the same way, you couldn’t. Not when you’re marrying Seonghwa.

Wooyoung really tried not to think about it and focused on your breathing and soon enough he fell asleep while holding you.

⋆

Wooyoung woke up to the loud ringing of his phone somewhere. He tried his best to answer before it woke you up too, “Hello?” Wooyoung couldn’t keep up with whoever was on the other end of the line, “Wait wait wait- who is this?”

The person groans, “Yeosang you idiot.” Wooyoung makes a noise of acknowledgement before telling him to continue. As Yeosang is talking, Wooyoung looks over to your sleeping form next to him.

You just look so peaceful and so beautiful that Wooyoung can’t help but groan in annoyance making Yeosang stop talking, “What?”

Wooyoung carefully gets up to go to the kitchen so he wouldn’t wake you up, “Yeosang I fucked up big time.”

Yeosang pauses and Wooyoung hears shuffling so he's assuming he’s going somewhere else, “Please don’t tell me what I think happened…”

“Are you at your place?” Yeosang sighed harshly, “San and Yunho are here too though.”

Wooyoung nodded and went back to your room to grab his bag, “It’s okay… Seonghwa?”

“Oh his way back home… so you better leave before you feel too guilty.” Wooyoung agreed and hung up. He sits down next to you and brushes the hair out of your face before kissing you gently.

Your eyes flutter open as Wooyoung is pulling away. You grab onto his face and pull him into another kiss. When you pulled away you looked at him with your lip in between your teeth, “Are you leaving?”

Wooyoung smiles sadly and nods, “Seonghwa is coming back so I think it’s best if I go…” he watches as your eyes widen in a panic before he pulls you closer to him.

“No no no it’s okay! Hey sweetheart it’s okay, it’ll be fine.” You wrap your arms around him tightly, not wanting to let go, “Please stay?”

You looked at Wooyoung with watery eyes that made him want to give you the world, “I want to baby I really do, but Seonghwa he’s gonna be here in a minute and… I don’t think we could be in the same room as him right now.”

You nodded knowing that he was right but you still don’t pull away. Wooyoung gets up making him pick you up while he’s at it. He drops your legs so you’re standing on your tippy toes, “I love you.”

Wooyoung tightens his grip on you and rests his head on your neck, “Love you.” You finally let go of him but almost immediately grab onto his face to give him one more kiss, “Y/n-”

The way you’re looking at Wooyoung makes him weak and he can’t resist when you plea, “One last time. Please?”

Wooyoung holds your face with both of his hands as he kisses you with much love he can possibly muster. You let out a soft whine making him pull away, “I-I have to go…” you nod but when you make an effort to actually sit back down your mouth drops open and makes a noise of slight pain and discomfort.

Wooyoung snores loudly at you making you glare at him, “Sore?” You nod with a pout making Wooyoung feel a wave of pride mixed with slight anxiety, what if Seonghwa notices?

“I know that look Woo. I’ll be fine, it's okay.” Wooyoung nods once again but still looks concerned, “Want me to run you a bath? It’ll help.” You consider his offer but decline knowing that he couldn’t join you even if he wanted to.

Wooyoung finally makes his way to the front door, double checking he had everything he needed. He pulls the door open right as Seonghwa is pushing it open making him jump, “Holy shit! You scared me!” Seonghwa jumped too making him hold his hand over his heart, “Are you fucking serious?!”

The both of them stand at the doorway trying to calm down from the jump scare they both just received, “So, are you leaving already?” Wooyoung opens and closes his mouth trying to find the words before nodding, “Yeah, Yeosang asked me to take them something to eat… did y’all have fun last night?”

Seonghwa looks unsure of his answer but nods anyway, “Yeah, you know how it is with the boys… what about you and y/n?” Wooyoung panics slightly but nods, “Umm yeah, we just ate some snacks and watched a few movies.”

Seonghwa nods and they both stare at each other awkwardly before Wooyoung speaks up, “S-Sorry, I gotta go… the boys, they’re waiting.” Seonghwa nods and moves out of the way for Wooyoung to walk out.

Once Seonghwa closed the door, Wooyoung let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. When Wooyoung got to his car he threw his head against the steering wheel and let out a loud groan.

He fucked up big time.

When Wooyoung drives to Yeosang’s place he actually stops to go get food knowing they’re probably starving… plus if Seonghwa asks he doesn’t want him to know he was lying.

When he knocks on the door, San opens it with a large smile when he sees the bags of food Wooyoung was holding.

Wooyoung doesn’t even greet san before shoving the bags of food into his hands and walking into the apartment, “I fucked up.”

Yeosang and Yunho who were sitting at the table drinking coffee looked towards him. San followed Wooyoung completely confused, “Like our order?”

“No you idiot.” Wooyoung sits at one of the empty chairs at the table before looking at Yeosang with an extremely distressed look, “We- I fucked up big time Yeosang.”

Yunho’s eyes widen when he gets an idea of what happened, “We? As in You and y/n?” Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to say no and lie but whenever he nodded all three boys in front of him exploded.

“Wooyoung are you fucking kidding me?!” San had nothing else to say knowing that you had lied straight through your teeth whenever Seonghwa had called you. But then again what did he expect you to say, ‘Yeah I’m fucking my best friend’ obviously not.

“Even after Seonghwa had called her? After she told me straight up that that didn’t happen?” Yeosang really doesn’t look surprised but Yunho on the other hand looks like he’s having a heart attack.

Wooyoung shakes his head in response to San’s question, “So before?!” Wooyoung suddenly feels an immense amount of guilt as he shakes his head again.

San looks confused for a moment before his mouth drops open, “While we were on the fucking phone Wooyoung!” Wooyoung has never wanted to lie more in his entire life but he can’t bring himself to do it so he slowly nods.

A million expressions pass through San’s face and Wooyoung can’t stand the harsh glares of his friends, “Wooyoung- they’re getting married… MARRIED WOOYOUNG!” Wooyoung scoffs at Yunho who’s looking at him like he’s trash.

“You don’t think I fucking know that? It was just a kiss Yunho a-and then I pulled away. We both said we couldn’t do it but then she kissed me again…” Their glares soften as they see as Wooyoung starts to tear up.

“And I asked her like 3 times if she wanted me to keep going and every time she said yes. I-I’m not saying it’s y/n’s fault… because I was the one that started it. And yeah I know it wasn’t a very smart decision but I- Yunho I love her so much.”

Yunho sends Wooyoung a sad smile as he continues. All the boys know how Wooyoung feels about you so in all honesty they really don’t blame either of you, “I love her so fucking much and in that moment I know she felt the same way… I just couldn’t handle it. And Yunho this morning when I told her I had to go- she kissed me again and begged me not to leave. She begged me to stay and give her kisses while we laid together but I couldn’t. I couldn’t Yunho, not when Seonghwa was on his way home to come back to his fiancé.”

Wooyoung wipes the tears that are falling whenever he finally stops talking. The three boys look between each other not knowing what to do or say, “Do you think she’s going to go through with it?” Wooyoung looked at the other boys expectantly with nothing but Hope filling his eyes.

In all honesty they really didn’t think you were, but it wasn’t their business to put out there. “You know Wooyoung… I don’t know. I really don’t know, but for now all we can do is wish the best for both of them…” San put his arm around Wooyoung, trying his best to comfort him in any way possible.

⋆

You saw Seonghwa open the door to your room with a large smile. You got up from the bed to wrap your arms around him in a big hug. You squeezed your eyes shut as you let out a shaky breath, “How was your night?”

“We had fun, believe it or not, I wasn’t the one who got the drunkest.” You laughed softly as you pulled away.

You sat back down with a slight grunt, “You alright?”

You nodded as you swallowed harshly, “I slept wrong, my back hurts.” Seonghwa nods in understanding.

He walks to the bathroom and you flop back onto the bed. You shut your eyes and cover your face with your hands as you felt like crying.

As you tried to focus on your breathing Seonghwa came out of the bathroom and pulled on your hand. You looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, “I ran you a bath princess.”

You smile and follow Seonghwa, “I’ll let you relax alright?” You nod as he kisses you on the cheek, thankful that he doesn’t want to join you.

As soon as Seonghwa walked out you locked the door behind him and looked at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t do this. You scanned yourself in the mirror as you took your clothes off, trying to make sure there weren’t any hickeys on you.

You carefully went to sit down in the bath with a pained expression and a groan. You soaked your body in the water and bubbles and you couldn’t stop the tears that started flowing from your eyes.

You couldn’t stop the soft sobs and the way your body shook. You needed Wooyoung.

You don’t know how long you sat there and cried but the water was now cold and your fingers were wrinkly.

You looked down and your eyes widened as you saw the bruises on your thighs and hips, “Shit Wooyoung-”

“Are you okay in there?!” Seonghwa knocked on the door and called out to you.

“Umm… yeah I’m okay! I’m getting out now!” You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time and you could tell you had been crying for who knows how long. You tighten the towel that’s wrapped around you as you walk back into your shared room to get some clothes to change into.

You made sure you grabbed a pair of sweats to cover the bruises and a random shirt. You grabbed your phone and pressed San’s contact as you walked out of the room, ignoring Seonghwa who was looking at you.

San answered your call almost immediately, “Hey my love, what’s up?”

“San cut the bullshit, I know he’s there.” San was quiet on the other line before you heard a door close.

Your breathing was shaky and you walked out of your apartment, needing to get some fresh air, “Y/n what the fuck were you thinking? You’re getting married!”

You laughed dryly, “Do you think I don’t fucking know that? I’m not oblivious to what I did.”

“You lied right through your teeth. How do you think Seonghwa would feel?” Tears started pricking at your eyes again because you know you would’ve broken Seonghwa’s heart.

You know how much Seonghwa loves you and it hurts you knowing that your love for Seonghwa isn’t as strong, “San I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do lovely… you’re getting married in a week. A week y/n. You need to decide if you’re going to call it off or not.”

You shook your head, “I can’t do that Sannie. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You heard a sigh, “You need to talk to Seonghwa. Y/n I know you don’t want to go through with it. No matter what decision you make, it’s going to hurt Seonghwa.”

You didn’t even realise you started crying again until San started trying to comfort you, “Hey, y/n, listen to me. Everything is gonna be okay. You and Wooyoung will work it out.”

You nodded more to yourself, “Y-You’re right. Look, I got to go. Take care of Wooyoung for me.” You didn’t let San respond before you hung up the phone and shut your eyes.

You fucked up and you knew it. You were getting married in a few days and you just cheated on the man you’re getting married to.

You dragged your feet as you walked back to your apartment, wanting to take as much time as possible getting there.

Seonghwa was at the door and immediately walked to you whenever you walked back in. You stiffened as Seonghwa pulled you into a hug, “What’s wrong princess?”

“N-Nothing. It’s nothing, I’m okay.” Seonghwa pulled away and held your face in his hands. He raised his eyebrows at you, knowing that something was wrong, “I’m sorry. I’m just really stressed with everything going on.”

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, “It’s okay. I’ll take care of everything, we’ll work it out. Love you.”

“Love you.”

⋆

Your wedding day. It’s the day that should be the happiest moment of anyone’s life. You and Wooyoung haven’t seen each other since… then, but he texted you this morning making sure that you were okay.

Your mom and San and a couple other members of your family were helping you with your hair and makeup, San was just there for emotional support.

Everyone could see it in your face, you didn’t want to do this. Everyone tiptoed around you being careful not to mention Wooyoung or being married even though you were literally sitting there in your wedding dress looking out the window.

Your wedding was at the beach. It was supposed to be beautiful. There was a breeze, the ocean looked absolutely beautiful, and it was sunny.

The perfect wedding right?

San made sure you had everything you needed because you really didn’t have any motivation. You had barely finished your vows and Seonghwa had gotten his done months ago.

It was time that San had to leave and go help Seonghwa and the rest of the boys. San pulled you into a hug and you didn’t want to let go, “S-San please stay.”

“You’ll be okay darling. Just… don’t force yourself to do anything okay? You’ll know what the right decision is when you get up there.” San gave you an unconvincing smile but you nodded and took a deep breath.

San gave you a kiss on the forehead and one last hug before he went to join Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

San’s heart physically broke whenever he walked into the opposite room. He could see how happy Seonghwa looked and how Wooyoung looked like he was going to cry.

San felt so awkward but he was pained by his friends. He walked over to where the rest of the boys were, “What the fuck is going on?”

San made sure to speak quietly so neither Wooyoung or Seonghwa could hear them, “Dude there’s no way.”

“No?” Yunho looked at San with a sad smile as he shook his head.

The three boys sat there quietly as they watched Wooyoung try his best to keep a smile on his face as Seonghwa read his vows to Wooyoung. They really felt bad for Wooyoung.

Once poor Wooyoung confirmed his vows, it was time. Seonghwa stood in front of y’alls family and friends with Wooyoung next to him looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

If literally everyone was being honest, they didn’t think they’d actually be sitting there looking at Seonghwa. No one had ever imagined anyone else but Wooyoung standing there.

You wanted Wooyoung to walk you down the aisle but in the end it didn’t seem very smart so you had your closest family member do it. You stood at the exit of the building trying to force yourself to walk out. You took a couple of deep breaths before you heard the music start to play.

You felt like you were going to simultaneously vomit and shit yourself.

Your heart felt heavy as you saw Seonghwa looking happier than ever and your feet felt more like cinder blocks the closer you got.

You were tearing up and before you knew it, your body was shaking with soft sobs. Seonghwa was the complete opposite, his eyes shone with only love as he took your hands in his.

Wooyoung had the dreaded task of being the ring bearer, even though he wasn’t a child, so he walked from his spot next to Seonghwa in front of the two of you to hand Seonghwa the box with the rings.

Wooyoung gave you the most pained smile you’ve ever seen and you couldn’t help yourself when you pulled Wooyoung in for a hug. You both held onto each other so tight, absolutely terrified of letting go. Finally Wooyoung decided to pull away with teary eyes and quickly went back to his spot.

Usually the groom goes first in saying his vows, but you decided that you wanted to start out.

You forced out a laugh as you started, “Seonghwa… we’ve known each other for the longest time. After I realised that you were just a big softie who smelt like c-cinnamon all the time… cinnamon… that’s how you make me feel, warm like cinnamon.”

Wooyoung’s heart froze. Maybe it was just a coincidence? It had to be. Until you said it again… and again… and when you gave Wooyoung the look, he knew he had to do something.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just grab you and run, but he also couldn’t let you exchange rings.

Wooyoung’s adrenaline was pumping and he was suddenly glad he was there. His breathing got faster and he started shifting his weight anxiously, “You okay Woo?” San, who had noticed Wooyoung’s shift in mood was now… concerned to say the least.

Wooyoung couldn’t focus on anything else you were saying and before he knew it you had the ring and Seonghwa had his hand held out.

Your hand was so shaky and your vision was blurry from all the tears and you dropped the ring. That was Wooyoung’s opportunity, “I’ll get it-”

You glanced at Wooyoung and you knew, “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Seonghwa- I’m sorry, I love you so much.”

Behind Seonghwa, the boys shut their eyes in anticipation and your mom gave Wooyoung a knowing look with a nod.

Seonghwa looked confused for a minute before Wooyoung successfully found the ring and gave it to Seonghwa.

You and Wooyoung looked at each other for a minute before he grabbed your hand and started running.

You wanted to look back but you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to see the look on Seonghwa’s face as you ran away with Wooyoung.

You listened to the gasps of everyone you passed by but in all honesty, most weren’t surprised.

San, Yunho, and Yeosang looked at each other in both shock and relief. They honestly were really close to running with the two of you.

It was dead silent besides the sound of the ocean. No one knew what to do. Do they just… leave? Do they wait? If you ran you’re probably… not coming back.

San really wanted to cheer you on but it would obviously be a little bit insensitive with Seonghwa standing there so he contained his cheers with the biggest smile on his face.

Seonghwa couldn’t even comprehend what happened. There was no emotion on his face. He looked at the ring in his hand to where you and Wooyoung were distant.

The two of you couldn’t be seen anymore and you finally stopped Wooyoung, “W-Wooyoung I’m in heels. The beach isn’t nice to heels.”

“Let me carry you then.” Wooyoung lifted you up bridal style and walked you back to the parking lot. When he found his car and let you down and looked at you with a cheesy smile.

You rolled your eye at him with a matching smile as you got into his car. As soon as Wooyoung got in he took off before anyone could find y’all. You watched Wooyoung as he was driving, “Do you think that was a little too harsh?”

Wooyoung thought for a moment, “Umm, I- maybe wasn’t the best outcome but it wasn’t the worst.”

You bit your lip in thought before you spoke, “Wooyoung I love you.”

Wooyoung glanced over to you as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel he was staying at, “I love you.”

“No- Wooyoung I love you a-and I’m so sorry that I had to make you go through that.”

“Y-n, it’s okay-”

“No it’s not. It was so much unnecessary pain for the both of us. Me and Seonghwa, we were never going to work out. It just wasn’t meant to be. You’re what I want- no need. You’re my soulmate Wooyoung, and I know that’s cheesy and I understand if you just wanna give up on me and just be friends again… but that’s okay. It’s better than not being with you at all. It was so hard Wooyoung- I’m so used to being with you 24/7, i'm used to the way we used to cuddle, the way you would hold me and make me feel like everything is going to be okay and I miss it so much-” you continued to ramble until Wooyoung grabbed your face to get you to stop.

Your heart already felt like it was going to explode but when Wooyoung pressed his lips against yours, everything was calm.

It was right. This is how it was supposed to happen, with Wooyoung. Wooyoung was what you needed.

You pulled away with a smile, “Come on.” You got out of the car and walked into the hotel with Wooyoung trailing behind you. Y’all got a few stares along with a couple of ‘congratulations’ thrown at you making you laugh at Wooyoung's flushed cheeks.

Wooyoung takes your hand in his as he leads you to his hotel room. He immediately shuts the door and you move to sit on the bed.

The tension in the room was thick. You both knew what you wanted to happen but neither of you were making the move.

“Kiss me Wooyoung.”

That was the only push he needed. Wooyoung’s lips crashed against yours as you leaned back so you were laying on the bed. Wooyoung hovered over you and you held onto him tightly.

When Wooyoung pulled away he looked at your dress and laughed softly, “I- I don’t know how to take it off…”

You groaned at Wooyoung but you sat up and directed Wooyoung how to take it off. Wooyoung tried not to ruin the moment completely so he let his lips trail along your neck and shoulder.

Wooyoung pulled you so you were standing up and let the dress fall off of you. He picked you up and laid you in the middle of the bed while biting his lip.

Wooyoung sat up and took a minute to look at you, “W-Wooyoung-”

“Patience darling, I’m taking my time with you this time.” You whined as Wooyoung lowered himself down and attached himself to your neck.

“Wooyoung you can’t-” Wooyoung scoffed against your shoulder before he started to suck marks.

“Why not? You’re mine now.” You couldn’t stop the smile that came across your face before you squealed whenever Wooyoung bit down on your neck.

Your breathing was heavy as Wooyoung slowly made his way down your body with sloppy kisses and hickeys on your chest and stomach.

Wooyoung reaches your thighs and you stop him, “W-Wait.”

You grab onto his hips and bring him lower so you could grab onto his belt. You let Wooyoung straddle your waist as you shoved your hand in his pants to release his cock.

Your mouth watered as you slowly jerked Wooyoung off. He looked down at you with dark eyes and a parted mouth. Wooyoung reached underneath you to undo your bra with a groan when he saw you exposed underneath him, “You’re so pretty and you're all mine.

Your core was throbbing with need but you just ignored it in an opt to get Wooyoung off and his cock was pulsing in your hand.

You let out soft whimpers as Wooyoung kneaded your tits in between tweaking your nipples.

Suddenly Wooyoung pulled away from you making you groan before he moved up and held his cock in front of your lips. You immediately took him between your lips and sucked on his tip lightly.

Your legs instinctively spread as Wooyoung had a hand resting on your hip. He took that as a cue to dip his hand into your panties.

Wooyoung immediately felt how wet you are with a cocky smirk on his face, “I knew you’d come back for me to fuck you properly. Good thing you’re mine now so you’ll always get fucked right, just how you deserve.”

You pulled away from Wooyoung’s cock because you knew he was on the verge of cuming, “C-Cum in me.”

Wooyoung groaned deeply, “Please Wooyoung, show me that I’m yours. Make me yours.” He watched you for a second in complete disbelief before he gathered himself and spread your legs further as he carefully pushed into you.

You moaned loudly, remembering the stretch of Wooyoung’s cock. Your pussy pulsed around his cock, pushing him over the edge. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth was open as you took in the feeling of Wooyoung filling you.

Your legs wrapped around Wooyoung loosely as he started to thrust inside of you. He was still fully hard and was determined to get you to cum twice because he can’t be the one getting all the pleasure.

You were already embarrassingly close to cuming untouched so you almost came immediately after Wooyoung picked up his pace.

The fact that Wooyoung was still fully dressed while you’re completely naked was a lot hotter than it should be, so you grabbed onto his tie and pulled him down to attach his lips to yours.

Sloppy noises filled the room from your kisses along with your cum mixing together on your bottom half.

All the sensations mixed together were too much for you to handle especially when Wooyoung let his fingers trail down and rub figure eights on your clit.

You let out a muffled sob as your legs wrapped around Wooyoung’s waist again and held him close to you as you came. Your sobs mixed with whines got louder as Wooyoung slowed his thrusts, “Nonono! Don’t! Please don’t stop- please Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung laughed at how desperate you were before pulling out of you. You started babbling about how you needed to cum again and Wooyoung cocked his head in fake sympathy, “Aww, do you? I guess since I’m being nice today I’ll let you cum again.”

Wooyoung swiftly pushed back into you, making tears start running down your cheeks from how good it felt, “Does my cock make you feel that good? So good that you’re crying?” You couldn’t even answer Wooyoung properly from the pleasure you were feeling.

Wooyoung couldn't understand the incoherent babbling but he continued to tease you, “Huh, look at that, not only are you crying, but you're drooling too.” Your mouth was wide open and Wooyoung snorted as he used the opportunity to press his thumb against your tongue, “You’re so messy and I can tell you're about to make an even bigger mess.” He was right, you were about to cum again.

Wooyoung was waiting for you to cum again before he did. As much as his words affect you, they do the same to him.

He gripped your hips tightly as your legs tightened further around him, completely trapping him inside of you so you could cum again. Once again with the way you were throbbing so deliciously around Wooyoung’s cock, it didn’t take long for him to cum inside of you again.

Your soft whines and Wooyoung’s groans were filling the room as you both came down from your second orgasm.

As soon as Wooyoung pulled out of you, all of your mixed cum started to drip out of you and Wooyoung watched with furrowed eyebrows. He reached over to grab his phone and before you knew it, you saw a flash go off, “Jung Wooyoung I know you did not just take a picture of my pussy-”

Wooyoung laughs and takes a couple more, “I’m gonna put it as my background.”

“I dare you…”

Wooyoung pats your knee and gets up to get a wet towel to wipe off the mess on your pussy and thighs, “I told you- so messy.”

You roll your eyes and smack Wooyoung’s arm, “It was all you!”

Wooyoung looks at you with a smug smile, “Yeah, only because I fuck you so well. Now get up.”

“Wooyoung I can’t…” he really really wanted to make another remark but he decided to stop teasing you and removed the sheet from around you before you moved off of it.

It was actually kinda late and he was surprised neither of your phones were blowing up but he realised he had his on ‘do not disturb’

As Wooyoung was getting a set of clothes to sleep in he checked his call log and saw like 50 calls from several people.

“Don't call anyone back. At least not yet…” Wooyoung looked to where you were as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“I won’t… I want to stay with you.”

You held your arms open for Wooyoung and he walked over to you with a smile, “But here, you need to put some clothes on before I wanna fuck you again.”

You giggle as you put on the shirt and boxers Wooyoung gave you before you wrapped your arms around him tightly.

The two of you lay in each other’s arms until you speak up softly, “I told you I’d never leave you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Wooyoung didn’t take his eyes away from yours as he spoke, “I love you so much y/n and I know you’ve always felt the same a-and then you said yes when Seonghwa asked to marry you-”

“I know. It was always you Wooyoung, and I’m not going anywhere anymore. I’m all yours.”

414 notes · View notes

4stars-uswnt · 4 years ago

Text

A New Beginning [Tobin Heath x Reader]

requested by @lion457457: Hey can you write a second part of this is the end if you have time where Tobin can’t live without the reader and begs for her forgiveness.

requested by anon: the angst was so good!!! can i request a sequel where tobin realizes she made a mistake and wants the reader (can be post man utd) (but don’t make it too angsty and also have a happy ending?)

requested by @arination99: Is there a part 2 to This is the end?? If not can I request it??

A/N: this is a sequel to This is the End, so you should probs go read that before this if you haven’t yet. also this was a lil difficult for me to write bc i love both tobin and christen, also because i don’t condone cheating at all, but i hope you all enjoy this!

warnings: mention of cheating

“You ready for camp?” Megan asks you, as the two of you wait for Allie to get her bag.

“Yeah.” You reply.

The past four months had been some of the longest of your life. After catching your girlfriend of one year cheating on you, with one of your teammates at that, you had spiraled into a lonely hole of sadness. Although you were starting to feel like your old self again, with the help of both Megan and Allie, your insecurities and self-doubt, which were only heightened by the breakup, still had a strong presence.

“You sure?”

You nod, slightly smiling. “Tobin made her choice. Will it be hard to see them both? Yes, but I have you guys and the rest of the team.”

There was no question that when the national team found out about the incident, there was a lot of discourse and arguments, your teammates upset with the two forwards. Fortunately for Vlatko, training camp hadn’t been for another four months after, otherwise there would’ve been issues, both on and off the field.

“Damn right you have us.” Allie approaches the two of you, slinging her arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah, Chris and Tobin may be my friends and business partners, but I can’t stand by what they did to you.” Megan adds on.

You shake your head and look down at your feet. “I appreciate it, guys, and I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me the past four months, I really do. But I don’t want you to break your friendships with them just because of me, okay?”

“(Y/N), look at me.” The pink haired woman puts her finger under your chin, lifting your head so your eyes meet hers. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about them losing us, or anyone else on the team, as friends, okay? They did this to themselves. You are not to blame for any of this, got it?”

“Yes, okay. Thanks, P.” You give her a slight nod. “But I don’t want anyone bringing it up or any fighting. Can you guys do that for me?”

Megan and Allie look at each other, deciding whether they’re willing to agree to that.

“Of course.” The blonde midfielder affirms, putting your request above their desire to yell at Tobin and Christen.

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

The three of you pile into an Uber and make your way to the hotel.

—————

That evening at dinner, after the majority of the team had arrived, you sat at a table with Ash, Ali, Megan, Allie, and Kelley. Some of the players who had gone on loan to Europe were still yet to arrive, including both Tobin and Christen.

A couple of minutes later, all discussion stops, everyone’s attention turning towards the door. Curious as to what your teammates were looking at, you turn around in your seat, and your stomach twists at the sight of who’d arrived.

Christen Press visibly shrinks under the scrutiny of her teammates, as she makes her way to the buffet. As she heads towards an empty table, Ash call out at her, making you cringe.

“Press! Where’s the girlfriend?”

“Yeah, thought you two would be together.” Kelley sneers, adding a comment under her breath. “It’s the least you could do after what you did to (Y/N).”

A couple of your teammates throw out some comments, causing Christen to wince. You can’t help but sympathize for the older woman.

“Stop!” You yell and slam your hands down on the table, ending their taunts. Everyone turns to look at you in surprise, especially Christen. “This isn’t her fault. She just happened to fall in love, and while yes, the timing sucked, and her actions were questionable, I don’t blame her. I mean I did at first, but I’m over it, okay? So you guys should be too.” You look around at your teammates, giving them warning glares. “So, stop yelling at her, okay? She’s still your teammate and your friend. I don’t want anymore fighting or yelling, okay? It’s over.” You conclude, sitting back down in your seat.

You see out of the corner of your eye Christen mouthing a small ‘thank you,’ to which you just nod in return.

A couple minutes later, everyone once again looks up from their food, as Tobin Heath enters the room, Alex following in pursuit. The two of them stop their hushed conversation, feeling the team’s eyes on them.

You watch as they go to get their food and sit at a completely separate table, leaving Christen to sit by herself.

What happened to her and Tobin? Were they still together? Were they even a thing to begin with?

—————

The next afternoon, training was not going well, at least not for majority of the team. Kelley kept slide tackling Tobin, a little harder than usual. Megan would purposely not pass to an open Christen, resulting in her losing the ball. You, on the other hand, were trying to be the bigger person, and made exceptional crosses, Christen connecting to them and putting them in the back of the net. However, to say that Vlatko was upset would be an understatement.

“Ladies!” He blows his whistle, waving everyone in for a huddle. “I don’t know what is going on with you all today. I’d like to think it’s because we haven’t played together in almost a year, but I know that’s not the case and there’s something else. So, whatever it is, you all need to sort it out. Am I making myself clear?”

A chorus of ‘yes, coach’ echoes amongst the team.

“Good.” Vlatko claps and then turns to the two captains. “Megan, Alex, I expect the two of you to plan some team bonding tonight. We have little time before the Olympics and even less time before SheBelieves.”

The two women nod, agreeing with your coach. “You got it.” Megan confirms.

“Great. Now, go get changed. Training is done for the day.” He dismisses the team, and you all head back to the locker room.

As you’re taking off your cleats and packing up your bag, Megan slides into the seat next to you.

“Hey, you gonna be okay for team bonding tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You give her a small smile, as you continue to put stuff in your bag.

“I’m sorry that we have to do this, but you heard Vlatko, and honestly I agree with him, we need to bond as a team.” Megan continues to explain.

Standing up and swinging your bag on your shoulder, you let out a small chuckle. “P, I told you, I’m good. I want the team to go back to normal, too.”

“Okay. I’m just worried about you.” The older forward stands up, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks, Megan. I appreciate it.” You soften. “It’s definitely gonna be tough, but I’m also tough.” You give her a smirk over your shoulder, as you head to the bus.

—————

After dinner, the entire team piled into Megan and Lindsey’s room for the mandatory team bonding. No one knew what to do or say, a thick tension in the air. A few moments passed before Megan speaks up, clearing her throat.

“Obviously, everyone knows why we’re here. We need to work on our team chemistry, so tonight’s team bonding is gonna look a little different than usual.”

“So, we’re gonna all go around and say something that no one here knows about us.” Alex adds, nodding along.

You try your best not to your roll your eyes at the corniness of this activity. You want to speak up to protest, but you don’t need to, as Emily does it for you.

“What? This is dumb. There’s nothing about me that at least one person in this room doesn’t know about me.”

“Yeah! Ali’s my wife for goodness sake.” Ash exclaims, as many of the other women voice their disagreement.

Megan rubs her forehead, sighing. “You guys! I know this isn’t ideal, but we clearly have something to work out off the field in order for us to perform well on the field.”

The entire team turns, splitting their glares between you, Tobin, and Christen.

“We all know the issue here, so we should just leave them to solve it.” Kelley mutters under her breath, not going unnoticed by the rest of the room.

After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, Tobin finally speaks up.

“Kelley’s right. It’s clear that what I did has impacted the entire team, so I take complete responsibility for that, and I’m sorry.” The forward then turns her attention to you. “And (Y/N), I’m so so sorry for what I did to you. I can’t apologize enough. What I did to you was so wrong on so many levels, and it was honestly the biggest mistake of my life.”

You nod, not really knowing how to respond.

But Tobin isn’t finished yet, turning to look down at Christen. “And Chris, I’m sorry that we didn’t work out and that we had to end the way we did. It just want’t meant to be.” She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, as she reveals the last part.

The entire team is shocked by the woman’s confession that her and Christen have split.

“(Y/N), do you think we could talk out in the hallway?” Tobin addresses you, a pleading look in her eyes.

You feel your mouth dry and your insides twist at the thought of being alone with your ex-girlfriend. “Um, sure, I guess.”

As you make your way out of the room, Megan glances at you worriedly. You nod back at her, reassuring you that you’ll be fine. You subtly give her a stern glance, slightly nodding your head back towards Christen as a warning, ‘don’t you or anyone else on the team dare interrogate her.’

Exiting the room, you hear Megan clap her hands. “So, who wants to watch a movie?”

You and Tobin now stand alone in the empty hallway, an unfamiliar awkward space between the two of you.

“Do I really need to start this conversation?” You sigh.

“Sorry.” Tobin mumbles out, playing with the hem of her shirt. “I miss you, (Y/N). I know what I did was awful and absolutely unforgivable, but I want you to know that that was the biggest mistake of my life. You’re it for me.” She confesses.

Your eyes widen, not expecting her to say that at all. You can’t help yourself, blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind. “What about Christen?”

Tobin scratches the back of her neck, as she responds. “Uhh, we tried to make it work in Manchester, but I just couldn’t get my mind off you, and I guess she could tell. So we called it off. Chris deserves better than half of a relationship.”

“Hm, yes she does.” You hum. “And so do I, Tobin.”

“I know, (Y/N). You deserve the world, and I’m sorry that I didn’t give you that.” Tears pooling in her eyes, the guilt consuming her. “But I want to. I want to be with you again and show you that I can love you the way you deserve to be loved. I still love you, (Y/N), and I’d like a second chance, if you’ll give me one.”

You feel your heart rip into two. As much as you still loved Tobin and wanted to be with her, you were unsure if you could trust her with your heart after what she did to you.

“Tobin…” You trail off, the words lost in your mouth.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but I realized that you mean everything to me.” She rasps, practically begging at this point.

“Tobin, I’m not going to be your second choice just because it didn’t work out with Christen.” You firmly state, holding your ground.

“It’s not like that at all, (Y/N/N).” Tobin insists and shakes her head. “I love you, and somehow I got caught up in a relationship that somehow blended from a friendship to a romantic one. But I realized that you are the only one I want to be with, (Y/N), only you.”

Your eyes start filling with tears, your emotions from the past four months bubbling over, all of the anger, frustration, sadness, and devastation.

“Please, (Y/N), I beg you, please forgive me.” Tobin sobs.

“Tobin, you have to understand that you broke me!” You cry. “I loved you, hell, I still love you. But I trusted you, and you broke that trust. I want to be with you because I love you, but how can I after what you did?”

Tobin’s heart breaks at your revelation. “I know, (Y/N). And I know that I’m going have to work to gain your trust back, whether or not we get back together, as we still play on the same team. But I want to work and prove to you that you can trust me, no matter how long it takes. I’d wait forever for you.”

You see the desperation and sincerity written in her eyes. “I don’t know, Tobin.”

“Just give me one more chance.” She pleads. “One dinner. That’s all I ask.”

After fighting an internal battle, you finally concede, unable to say no to the woman you love. “Okay.” You agree. “One dinner. You have one dinner to give me a sign that you’re in this for the long haul.”

A giant grin breaks out across Tobin’s face. “Thank you, (Y/N/N). I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I better not.”

“Can I give you a hug?” She shyly asks, and you give her a small nod.

Tobin wraps her arms around you, as she pulls you into a hug. You bury your face in the crook her neck, breathing in her comforting scent that you’d missed so much.

“I missed you, Tobin.” You mumble

“I missed you so much, (Y/N). Thank you, again. I love you.” Tobin whispers, running her hand through your hair.

“I love you too.”

You hoped you were doing the right thing by trusting Tobin with your heart again, because you didn’t know if you could survive another heartbreak.

Although you couldn’t know what the future had in store for you, this was the a new start for the two of you.

This was a new beginning.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine #tobin heath imagines #uswnt #tobin heath

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

(He Isn't) A Good Guy

Kinktober day 15: humiliation kink

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader

Summary: Jensen is tired of everyone saying he's a good guy.

Warnings: dirty talk (kind dark bc of the kink), handjob, p in v, riding, cheating, possessive, slapping

You have to be careful with what you're good at. You might just end up doing it for the rest of your life.

Jensen Ackles never caught the appeal of that saying. If you were really that good at something, why wouldn't you want to do it?

Such a mindset was as constant as a mother’s love and made Jensen's loyal company for a long time during his career. He pictured it would last forever: the head pats, positive criticism, and his charm that caught more and more fans. The Hollywood man was happy, really. He grew to be a good — if not great — actor. He had a wife and three kids that were the love of his life. He could go anywhere and find a job through the instantaneous recognition that Supernatural bestowed upon him, not to mention its gift of a best friend, Jared, and the raw amount of personal growth he went through.

He was perfect in the most diversified aspects of his life, and, God, it was boring as fuck.

Whatever Jensen did, he was excused for it. Plenty of people would light themselves on fire for him (and hey, don’t think he was ungrateful for that), but being called a good guy that apparently couldn’t do any wrongs while the rights came out even in his sleep could be devastatingly annoying.

He thought he might have some problem, perhaps even a middle-aged crisis. Come on, who, with his life, would feel compelled to look for something else? Ackles had the money, the friends, and family. He had everything everyone dreamed about, but he just wanted to wake up.

Then, he met you.

You were the woman in her twenties who was barely starting in the media business, yet you had enough luck and talent to evoke the CW's attention that early. They wouldn't hire you as an official director, but you were in the training process. You were a prodigy, as most people on the set liked to joke about.

You sighed, slightly frustrated about the direction these takes were going. Asking Ackles to follow orders was roughly the same as punching a wall; the brick didn't break, and it only left you with scuffed knuckles and growing irritation. “Jensen, you need to tilt your head to the side or we won't be able to catch her face on camera.”

“I'm doing that,” he said as if it was obvious.

“The camera doesn't agree with you.” You crossed your arms, tired of having this heated squabble again.

“I know how to shoot sex scenes, Y/N. I've been doing that for—”

You interrupted him: “I'm aware of how long the show I'm working on has been going, Jensen. Now, take my hint and do as I say. I get that you have done this before, but we are trying a new position, so your M.O. might not work.” You knew he was a good actor. Supernatural wouldn't be what it was if it wasn't for his character. Still, you needed this episode to be perfect in terms of filming. It was your first actual chance to prove how worthy you were. Jensen had his career and little apple pie life settled, but you had to scratch and squirm to insert yourself into the industry. You knew what you were doing. Nonetheless, you attempted to pacify his self-assurance by being assertive and gentle at the same time: “Just listen to me and try it. Please.”

The green-eyed man opened his mouth, very much ready to spit out a contradicting retort, but at the last second, he clamped his jaw shut and opted for a smirk instead. “Yeah, boss.”

It was the first time in years that someone actually came at him. Jensen felt the bruise aching his ego that spiked a sudden pressing need to puff out his chest and say I know what I am doing. Why don't you watch?

He'd call that the Texan man behavior, alpha macho testosterone levels on high, but, honestly, he was just mad that someone had the audacity to talk to him like that, as if he was a rookie on his job. Jensen's whole body heated up, his jaw clenched, and his breath caught on his throat when he glanced at you — of course, he'd never put a hand on a woman, but God, that was infuriating. He wasn't a middle school child in need of a lecture.

But this was his first impression. As you gave everyone fifteen minutes to relax before shooting again, he went to his trailer, gait unnecessarily heavy like a child throwing a tantrum. Jensen locked his trailer and closed his eyes, trying to pick out his emotions — how long have it been since he got mad? That couldn't be healthy.

Do as I say. Your words were echoes in his head, spinning and making him dizzy. Just listen to me.

And the look you gave him. It wasn’t adoration as a fan or nervousness like a new worker. You didn’t excuse him as anyone else did. You glanced at him as you would to any other person on the set that had made a mistake: you pointed it out and didn't offer any sugarcoating to dull the blow.

It felt refreshing.

Shaking your head at the scene unrolling on the other side of the camera, you let out an exhausted sigh. This was your second directed episode, and Jensen wasn't making it easy for you. He always seemed like such a nice guy, yet you weren't surprised by his mulish behavior. You had called him out, and now he was turning it back around on you. Celebrities were complicated on their one, but male ones even more. Their egos required a role for themselves.

“Everyone, ten minutes!” you announced, placing the headphones on the table next to you. Your crew started dispersing, Ackles included, when his name left your lips: “Jensen, c'here.”

The green-eyed man arched his eyebrows, not sure why you wanted to talk to him so privately. Still, he approached you.

When you were a kid, you went through a phase when your smile wasn’t very pretty. It was too much teeth, eyes too tight, and head lifted high enough to show under your chin. Your parents couldn't just up and tell you that it looked terrible, obviously, so they just showed you multiple pictures until you decided that you didn't like something about it.

Maybe that would work with Jensen.

You patted the chair next to you, and Jensen sat there with a wisp of hesitation. You clicked on the scene you had been trying to get right for almost an hour. The replay went smoothly, Ackles's shoulders shrugging by the end. He didn't see the fuss about this.

“Seems good,” he said nonchalantly.

You squinted your eyes at him. Someone as talented as him couldn't be serious about not seeing a problem with how ridiculous his vampire transformation through the last season was. “Seems like a sitcom”

“It's a dumb scene.” Jensen shrugged.

You groaned. “Can't you just accept that you can do better?”

Jensen crossed his arms and straightened his posture, holding a defensive atmosphere around him. God, he was infuriating sometimes. “Maybe you can. I've been doing great for years. You might not be the right director for this kind of show.”

“Just do as I said. You're in the scene, but I'm the audience. I can see right through you. I'm seeing things from another perspective and trying to tell you how to improve. That's what a director is for. Go ahead and try it!”

Your friendly conversation with the lead apparently had the opposite effect. As soon as he went back to his place in front of the camera, Jensen Ackles appeared to acquire the stubborn, incredibly unprofessional desire to take on all the worst camera angles only to get on your nerves.

“Are you kidding me!?” You elevated your voice, furious at how careless he was. All your patience has been zapped. “You're doing it on purpose. How can you be so petty?”

“Me? Petty!?” he said between gritted teeth, almost hissing as he walked to you. “I've been playing Dean for years. I know him more than—”

“I know. You do a big job with that character, but Jensen, you make mistakes. It's part of the process. You're a grown-ass man, so you can take what I'm saying and make something useful out of it. I'm the director; you are the actor. I don't care about how long you’ve been on this stage, and I don’t care for incompetence. You ain't doing good, so do as I say and fix it.”

Jensen tensed up when you said that, exhaling shortly while his eyes glued on you. You were half his age, yet the way you presented yourself — arms stiffly crossed, eyes ablaze and chin lifted — spoke of your power on this film set. At the end of the day, he was just a man, and he was in your court. Just like that, you held all control. He bit his bottom lip, neck red with the heat of anger and adrenaline that lashed through his body.

He was furious, yet all his body could do was react as if you had kissed him instead of punching his ego.

Anger and luxury both came from the same place. They were just different branches on the same tree growing from a common seed.

The half of Supernatural's leader actor started doing it on purpose, then. Not acting in a way that could collide with his career or mess up the shooting schedule, but an occasional bitched scene here and there when he had a chance, and always when you were in charge of the scene.

He relished in it: someone treating him like a man and not an untouchable idol. A woman who would look straight in his eyes and not be too intimidated, excited, or lovey-dovey to tell him all the bad things he needed to hear. You were someone who could put him in his place.

Unfortunately, playing around can only get you so far. If you bring someone to the pool, they won't be satisfied with just one foot in the water. They'd want to swim, splash water at their friends to get them all wet and soaked too.

What started with provocative, fuming rage and nuisance soon melted into something deadlier. It was something unmanageable, a burning fire that attracted all the wrong kinds of glances. Yet, neither of you could help but follow where the smoke signal led.

You were here, in each other's arms. It was a dirty little secret that went way beyond just an illicit affair: it was about what you two could give to each other without even asking, and what other people could never quite comprehend. . . And they didn't need to. Jensen had you, and you had Jensen. To desire and savor the result was enough.

Your hand was wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in a painfully slow rhythm. You had two legs wrapped around his, your face hanging next to Jensen's — close enough that you could kiss all of his freckles if this were out of love and not necessity — as you spoke.

“Everybody thinks you are the good guy. Little mister perfect.” Ackles groaned at the malice in your tone. He hated that — how everyone called him perfect, how every single person told him he was such a good guy. You were his only grounding force under the blinding lights. “But I know you aren't. You are nasty, disgusting, and so needy for someone to put you in your fucking place.”

The male's lips parted slightly, a pornographic moan leaving his body. This perversion felt like a hair short of sin. Who in their right mind would be so turned on by a girl half his age picking up all the worst things one could say about him, only to throw them exactly where it hurt the most?

Why, in the name of God, did he want more? Why was Jensen bucking his lips, needy noises that he never dons escaping his trembling body? Why was his cock hard as fuck, ruinining your fingers with sloppy precum while he internally begged you for more?

It was like receiving a miracle and giving it to the devil.

“Look at you,” you continued, a smirk painted on your features, “getting fucked in your trailer by the woman who basically told you to stop whining and get your job done like a real man.” You loved being in control of the usually overconfident Hollywood star. If only his dearest fans knew how much of a submissive he was — how he just needed to be told where he belonged.

“Y/N…” Jensen managed to say, his chest moving erratically fast. You leaned in to press your lips to his, and he whimpered. Ackles' hand slid to your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, but all he got was a slap on the arm and lack of friction on his dick. “Y/N!”

“I didn't say you could touch me, stubborn idiot.” You hissed, getting up to throw away your skirt and underwear. Jensen sniffed, feeling so ridiculous about himself. You had way too much control over him, but he couldn't really care about anything other than you touching his cock right now. Fuck composure or else. “I'm not your wife. I'm not one of your thirsty fans.” Each word came out in a harsh tone, those syllabus together had no other duty but hurt him, and he loved how they agonized in his body, redirected right to his hardness. You got free of the skirt and your soaked lace panties. “I don't need you. This?” You gestured at yourself and Ackles, a wry laughter coming out as you climbed on his lap. “I'm doing you a favor. So, you better thank me and take whatever I choose to give you. Understood?” Jensen's eyes were obsessed with your image, not leaving your face once— not even to look at his hard cock that was so close to your cunt due the new position. He just nodded, wishing that was enough to show you his piece of mind. It wasn't. You slapped his cheek and howled. “I made you a question.”

Jensen gulped, the red on his cheek from your smack couldn't compare to his blushed body. This felt so good, finally getting what he wanted. Ultimately, he blurted out: “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now let's put you to good use.” You winked at him, a hint of silly playfulness before you got all his length inside you at once. Both of you moaned, the unique sensation of your walls around his hard dick was marvelous. So warm, tight, and wet. Everything he deserved in one pussy, one woman. You started to move your hips up and down. “You feel so good inside me, baby. Like your cock was made for me— I think you were made just for this, to be fucked by me. What do you think?” His eyes fluttered shut, Jensen was allowing himself to get lost into you. You were heaven in sin, fucking him so nice. You weren't having his silent, though. You both had to be quiet about many things regarding to your mutual arrangement, you couldn't get more of closed mouths. Not when this was happening. You grabbed Jensen's jaw, fingertips pressing against his skin. “You better start answering me before I get out of here and go get some with a real man.”

Jensen groaned, holding your hips possessively. You knew he was one of the jealous kind, talking about other men touching you always got a reaction out of him. “I'm a real man.”

“Show me then, baby.” A glimpse of sweetness appeared as you leaned in to kiss his lips. It didn't last much before your lips went to his neck, words coming through an open-mouthed there. “You know, they all are so caught up in your act, Jensen. The perfect texan boy, the amazing husband, the unproblematic idol…” You chortled, sending goosebumps through his whole soul. His dick was deep into you as you were riding his restlessly. “I bet you get tired of this. I bet you just want to fuck me in front of everyone sometimes, just to show them how dirty you can be.” He nodded, a soft whine leaving his lips. He was so tired of being the good guy. Only you knew him. “Like right now. You spent the whole day messing up with me, teasing me, just so you could get punished. And here we are, fucking in your trailer, while everyone is getting ready to go home.” He tried to move his hips as well, to get more of you. When you didn't stop him, Ackles winced and bucked his hips, hitting your G-spot, going deep and raw inside your tight cunt. One of his hands went to your pussy, digits pressing to your clit. Your next words came during groans of pleasure. “You should go too, baby. But you can't help it, huh? You just want go fuck me, even though I don't even care enough to send you a message to make sure you got home safe. You like it. You love that I'm not crazy about you, that I don't care.” His heart ached, but his cock only grew harder. Jensen could feel he was on the edgy. “So, you stay here instead of going home to your sweet wife. You stay here instead of hanging out with your best friend. You stay here instead of looking through your social media just to get an ego boost. Is this what a good man would do, Jensen? No... But that's okay. Men like you just need to be put in their places, and you love it.”

“Y/N!” He screamed helplessly, pulling your body closer to him when he came inside you, marking your pussy as his. A treacherous, lust stained thought was placed on his shoulders, whispering lovingly to his ear like you did your swearing: breed her, get her pregnant with your baby. Make her yours.

You had broken him, and he loved every second of it. He couldn't wait to give you the shattered pieces as a gift.

You came with an excruciating grunt right after him, all over his cock. The feeling of Jensen coming inside you always pushed you right way. You sighed happily, resting your head on his chest.

He enjoyed moments like this.

You remained there, waiting for his cock to relax inside you, get less hard before you pulled you. When it did, you pressed a quick kiss to his collarbone, walking to grab your clothes.

“Jensen,” You coughed after putting on your skirt. “I'll send you the new script tonight. Send me an email to confirm that you got it.”

What you truly wanted to say was, tell me if you got home safe. But you couldn't.

“Sure.” Jensen answered with a nod. Once again, he also wanted to say something else: thank you for giving me what I need, for seeing me. I love you. But he couldn't.

You picked up your wet panties, throwing it at him with a teasing smile before leaving the trailer.

It was enough.

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#jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #kinktober #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you #dean x you #jensen x you #jensen ackles x you

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