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ellana-ravenwood · 3 months ago

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“Batman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!” - Batfam x Fem!reader

Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans.

Oop, I’m back (?). My dudes. It’s been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...don’t know if some of y’all saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didn’t really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, don’t hesitate to let me know if you do :

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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“You’re evil, you know that right ?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing.

And that it was utterly...evil.

“It’s going to be FUN !”

Ah, and here’s his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family.

“They won’t believe their eyes !” His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish.

“That they won’t, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.”

Jason. Still not calling Bruce “dad” (except sometimes, by “accident”, and even him don’t realize he did), he’d only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.

Dick chuckled and added : “Who would blame them ? We’re talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !” He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldn’t hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile.

“I’m certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARS” Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point.

Oh yes. That’s where you were going, to the JLA’s headquarters. To execute Bruce’s plan. Quite the evil plan indeed.

“Hell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !” Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say : “what he just said”.

And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his children’s teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes.

Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise.

************

Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters :

“Oh, hey ! Look, Batman’s zeta tube is turning on ! We haven’t seen him in a while right ?”

Indeed they haven’t. Because, well, let’s put it this way : Batman’s wife just had a baby.

A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass weren’t TOO outnumbered anymore).

And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl.

Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne.

Just a man, who thought he’d never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children.

That was happiness then, right ?

So, yes. Batman hasn’t been much at the JLA’s headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a “hero”).

And that what’s made him particularly evil.

He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadn’t forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !).

And he knew they were a little worried about him.

He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : “Everything is ok” to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadn’t dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didn’t talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his “red button”, him, or anyone in the family.

They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasn’t anything bad.

Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried.

And Bruce knew.

You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan.

Why tell them, when you could toy with them ?

“They deserve it.” He told you, and you weren’t sure if they did, but you weren’t about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didn’t come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise.

Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours.

This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughter’s life only between yourselves.

It was nice, to go out “disguised” as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them).

It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit.

So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasn’t just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughter’s life being the only one being utterly smitten with her.

Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Let’s just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it.

Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby.

She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of “readiness” ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family.

And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLA’s headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husband’s arms.

Evil. Your husband was downright evil.

He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW.

And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little “prank”.

************

“Batman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?” Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself.

None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...

Bruce’s face didn’t move an inch, he just held that little “package”, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin.

Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing.

Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?

The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??

WHAT ?!

They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they weren’t there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation.

They knew he didn’t have the same face expression, when they were around.

Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him.

Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly : “He doesn’t kill people. He could break your knee caps though” in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jason’s death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldn’t be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them).

It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children.

Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his “mask” around them. After all, Bruce’s stoic expression was his face by default. It’s just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his father’s shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated.

Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.

Like today.

The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird.

Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. That’s just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least.

And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didn’t surprise them with something ?

How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...

Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image.

The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy.

Odd.

Yet, sweet.

Were they surprised ? Yes.

Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely.

Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too.

Were they happy for him ? For sure.

Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to.

Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky.

Hal, couldn’t help but think : “First, he’s not a vampire, then, he’s married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!”

***********

The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter.

“Her name is Martha.” Bruce said “We named her after my mother.” and it wasn’t his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didn’t want to scare his daughter, as he still held her.

She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruce’s hand hold her a little tighter.

Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried she’d be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-

Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards-

“What a sweet little girl !” Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her “voice reserved for babies and domestic animals”, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness.

You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most.

Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-

Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away.

Damian.

Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously.

He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends.

************

Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her.

Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldn’t hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldn’t hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasn’t about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.

Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your son’s stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ?

Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family.

Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldn’t give her their “viruses or whatever”.

You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice).

You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didn’t have much luck for the first few years of his life.

But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking.

Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldn’t have hurt the amazon).

************

It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, it’s Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them.

Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didn’t fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes.

They weren’t fooled by Dick’s agreeable smile either. A smile that didn’t always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless.

Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly.

Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her : “What ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I can’t believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*”.

After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruce’s watchful eyes.

Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They weren’t too worried, except-

Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her.

And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course).

“Oh no careful !” He’d scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and they’d scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh.

“You little-” Hal’s colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I don’t know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born.

You wouldn’t admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldn’t be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together.

************

Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him.

She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruce’s, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman.

He didn’t like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason

Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if he’d break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that.

He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldn’t take her, and she was so adorable and-

He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to.

Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didn’t say anything. He just let her do it.

You really hoped she wasn’t going to take advantage of this when she’d get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA.

************

“How can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?” Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable.

Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ?

“I believe, to make a baby, you need to-”

“Um, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! It’s just-Oh, forget it.”

Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon J’onzz didn’t seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people.

Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time.

Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest).

It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said : “I made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, she’s fine, and she likes it” and indeed, your daughter didn’t have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Tim’s face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damian’s was utterly vexed.

Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him.

As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone.

************

Cassandra didn’t say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents.

She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements.

Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted.

Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earth’s mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cass’ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his : “ -_-” face, by reflex really.

Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to.

She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didn’t like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...

Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyone’s heart.

And you could see her slowly creep in every members’ of the Justice League’s heart too.

Gods, you couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldn’t get out of it unscathed (to say the least).

************

Martha was particularly fond of Duke’s inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions.

As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep.

He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Duke’s head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as others’ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...

But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too.

And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace.

He loved the idea that his arms were his daughter’s favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you : “They all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?” and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little.

So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddy’s girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him.

He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ?

It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way.

You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and-

Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughter’s little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept.

And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldn’t help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel.

Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture.

Seriously. That guy !!

************

Batman smiling was...different.

They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-

Well. Broad.

It wasn’t his signature smirk. It wasn’t a soft smile. It wasn’t a half-smile. It wasn’t a smile that you could only see in his eyes.

It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say).

And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to “stone mode” when he noticed them looking), never that much.

As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine.

It made them all feel...soft. And warm.

It was nice, to know the bat wasn’t just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, “just” a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it.

That the Batman didn’t exist because of hatred, but because of love.

Because he loved his parents, his city, and now-

His family.

It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an “a-hole” sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that.

A loving man, who wanted to protect others.

************

You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all :

1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate.

2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !

3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons).

4. Dick’s “game” of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction.

5. The success of Tim’s baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower.

6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child.

7. How Clark’s eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy “The Batman” was happy.

8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didn’t like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an “emotional support baby”. Ah.

9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world.

10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA weren’t rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant-

Oh it meant so much.

And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLA’s headquarters.

Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious-

All positive feelings.

And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying “byyyyye” to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them-

Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh.

Oh it felt like you would die of happiness.

And still, Bruce’s hands held yours tightly.

He knew.

He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again.

He knew.

He never loved like that before.

Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.

__________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Don’t hesitate to comment and/or reblog, it’s always greatly appreciated :).

Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my “main” storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : “wait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?” and here we are. I really hope you liked this; I’m nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ?

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starlightkyeom · 14 days ago

Text

lost in the west | kmg

(where your best friend pretends to be your boyfriend for the holidays so you can avoid more nagging from your mother. except your whole family thought you were already dating)

pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: fake dating (kind of), friends to lovers, holiday!au | fluff, smut, romance rating: explicit, minors do not interact word count: 18.1k warnings: eating, drinking, mentions of christmas and holiday celebrations, reference to mingyu being afraid of heights, some minor family dynamic issues, so much kissing, fingering, big dick!mingyu, sex (just plain old missionary), i think that's it

author's note: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios studios for hosting the winter with you collab! it's been so fun to be part of (even if i forgot for a second that i had to include sunrise sledding, but we're ignoring that). i'm sorry this is a little late as a holiday fic but sometimes life happens and inspiration just doesn't want to strike. i'm not even going to say it's longer than i intended because that's just my brand atp. this is largely unedited.

author's note 2: i think there's going to be an epilogue but idk when that will be possible

tag list: @vitaminkyeom, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya (join my taglist here)

“You’re bringing your boyfriend back with you, aren’t you?” your mom asks, which makes you look sharply toward the phone. It’s on speaker because you’re in the middle of folding laundry. Your best friend also looks over towards your phone with a grimace, which makes you wish it wasn’t on speaker.

The thing is…you haven’t told your mom that your ex and you broke up about two months ago. Didn’t want to deal with all the sighing and interrogation while you’re rushing to finish end of the year deadlines at work. Somehow, you know it’ll be your fault. Never mind the fact that he cheated on you in your own apartment. But, that’s another story. Your mother will say something about how you shouldn’t be so picky and everyone makes mistakes. Say that sometimes it’s not your most attractive trait that you’re dedicated to your job. Say that you’re not getting any younger and remind you how many of your friends from school are already married or even having kids of their own. That’s one reminder you don’t really need. You see it every time you aimlessly scroll through your feed. Or when you open the mail and see another wedding invitation.

You sigh. “Well, actually…”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” your mother says with her own sigh. “You broke it off with this one, too?”

“I’m not going to get into it with you,” you say, gentle but firm.

“I don’t understand what could have made you break it off. You said he was like your best friend,” she reminds you.

This earns an eye roll from one of your actual best friends, Mingyu. He takes over folding your clothes for you as something to do and as a way to speed up the whole process.

“Well, he’s not and I don’t see any reality where I will forgive him for what he did to me. So, let’s move on,” you say.

“Maybe that’s okay. You know, one of my friends has a son who’s single and I could just…” she starts.

“No, absolutely not,” you say. This causes Mingyu to stifle his laughter with a hand.

“I don’t understand what the harm in meeting him is. He seems very nice and you’re not exactly getting any younger,” she says.

There it is. The conversation always somehow ends up at the same point. You’re not getting any younger. All your parents’ friends have been planning weddings and getting grandchildren. They all seem to understand the importance of building a family. Why do you have to be so focused on what’s wrong with every person you date? Why are you too wrapped up in work? Your parents constantly remind you how you seem too wrapped up in the city life to realize what you’re missing.

“I just don’t think…” you start but then trail off when Mingyu starts waving at you to get your attention. He’s pointing at himself and mouthing something you can’t understand.

“I know you don’t think, but just…” your mom starts and you mute yourself so you can figure out what your best friend wants.

“What, Mingyu?” you ask, sharper than you intend.

“Take me back with you for the holidays,” he says.

“What?” you ask.

“Take me…” he starts.

“No, I heard you. What are you on about?” you ask.

“You can just feed your mom some line. Tell her you and I just started dating. It doesn’t matter. Anything to just get her off your case,” he says.

“I’m not…what is wrong with you? I’m not going to just fake date you like some weird holiday movie,” you argue.

“Okay, first of all, rude. Those movies aren’t weird, they’re great. And second of all, what do you have to lose? Your mom loves me and she’ll be thrilled to see me. I already know everyone that’ll be at the parties and dinners. My parents are out of the country visiting my sister and her new boyfriend for the holidays, so I was only going to my cousin’s as kind of a pity invite. It can’t possibly fail,” he says.

“There are a lot of ways it could fail, actually,” you point out.

“Wow, are you going to leave me stranded for the holidays? I’m already rethinking this relationship,” Mingyu says through a pout. “My own partner doesn’t even want to spend the holidays with me. Are you embarrassed to bring me around your family?”

“So what do you say?” comes your mom’s voice. You had been blocking it out while talking to Mingyu, yet it still catches your attention.

You quickly unmute yourself and look away from Mingyu. “I…actually can’t, Mom. I’m sort of seeing someone different, but it’s new so I wasn’t going to mention…”

“Oh, you already found someone new, that’s wonderful!” she exclaims.

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know that he’s wearing a grin that’s entirely too satisfied. Even if he’s mostly kidding about being abandoned for Christmas, you know that it’s been bugging him that his parents decided to go abroad. You also know that he wouldn’t ever dream of inviting himself to tag long even if that’s what he wanted to do. He actually likes your family, sometimes more than you do.

“I’ll have to ask him if he’s willing to come with me, but…” you try to say before your mother cuts you off again.

“Tell him it simply wouldn’t be the holidays without him. I can’t wait to meet him. Oh, I’m going to tell your father. We may manage to get you married after all,” she says in seemingly one breath.

“I still haven’t…” you try again without any luck.

“I can’t wait to see you both! Love you!” she says.

“Love y-...” you say, but she’s already ended the call.

“I guess I have holiday plans after all,” Mingyu says and you fight the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“This is a terrible idea. I can’t pretend we’re dating,” you say and crinkle your nose.

“Oh, wow, have I offended your high standards?” he asks. “Should I remind you of your last two relationships?”

You do throw the pillow at him this time.

Despite all the questions from your parents about just who is coming home with you for the holidays, you insist that it needs to be a surprise. You definitely think that your parents will be surprised when they see Mingyu on their doorstep. Even though you only met Mingyu in college, the two of you have been nearly inseparable since then. He’s come with you to countless family events to keep you company, especially between other relationships. Your parents buy him Christmas presents every year and insist on video chatting with both of you on his birthdays. Your younger cousins ask when he’s going to be coming around again because they look up to him, both literally and figuratively. It’s kind of annoying sometimes because you wonder if they like him more than their own family member. But, you reason it away with them liking him for the same reasons that you do. He’s just so easy to be around, though they get more of his polite company attitude than you do. Around you, he’s much more relaxed and somehow more prone to pouting to get his way.

More unfortunately, the pout always seems to work on you. You pretend to be annoyed with it (well, it’s not always pretending, actually), but you give in every time. Which is fine when it’s just the two of you. It’s less fine when other friends are around because they all have smug looks. Convinced that you and him are end game and neither of you realizes yet. The worst, though, is when he slips into the pout mode around your family and you have to deal with the looks from your family members. It’s all worth it to have someone to act as a buffer, even if you’ll never tell him as much.

Before you get to that point of seeing your parents, you figure that you should stop by to see your childhood best friend first. Of course, he already knows the whole story with Mingyu and doesn’t seem entirely surprised. After all, he’s also known your mom nearly his whole life. Somehow you went from kids forced together when the parents hung out to adults that actually still genuinely love each other, which means he knows Mingyu well too. In his role as best friend, your current situation will not spare you from his teasing. That’s a role he’s happily embraced all your lives.

The smirk on his face is present as soon as he sees you and Mingyu walk into the coffee shop. Mingyu hasn’t even spotted him while he unwinds his scarf and heads to the counter to order drinks. You say you’re going over to sit with your friend and only then does Mingyu notice you’re not the first ones here.

“Hey Kwan, you good on your drink?” he calls.

“Yeah, thanks,” he calls back before his eyes turn on you like he’s got a secret.

You make your way over to his table and try not to react to the look he’s giving you. Typical Seungkwan looking like he’s about to burst with the latest gossip. Even when he knows exactly why you have Mingyu with you and even said, over text, he gets why you agreed. Ugh. You know better than to think he’ll let you live for even a second. Sometimes you think you need better friends.

“Has he gotten taller?” Seungkwan asks, casting his eyes over at your other friend.

“No, but for real,” you say with a laugh. “I swear, I see him constantly and I still feel like he’s getting taller.”

“Constantly, huh?” Seungkwan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re best friends,” you say with a sigh.

“And what am I?” he asks.

“Also my best friend. There’s no rule on having only one,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Are you nervous to head back to your parents’ house?” he asks, entirely switching approaches.

It’s not your first rodeo, though. “Why should I be? They like Mingyu, at least, so there won’t be any of the awkwardness beyond explaining that we’re dating now.”

“Which probably isn’t going to come as a surprise to them,” Seungkwan says.

“I mean, why wouldn’t it be a surprise?” you ask before you clock the look on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me this is more of that bullshit about how often I bring him around. You know my family is insufferable if I have to deal with them alone.”

“No, I just know for a fact that they’ve wondered if you were dating him before,” Seungkwan says as Mingyu finally joins you with two coffees in hand.

“That would mean she would need to have good enough taste to date someone as great as me,” he says when he sets your coffee in front of you.

“I’m so torn,” Seungkwan admits. “I could insult her taste in relationships, which, love you babe, but really? Or I could insult you as not really being any better than anyone she’s dated.”

“That one gets us both, though?” you point out, only a little offended.

“Option two it is,” Seungkwan agrees.

“Okay, enough of that. Fill me in on everything before I have to walk into the lion’s den,” you say.

It’s always the same when you catch up with Seungkwan. He’s thriving even though he chose not to leave the area where you grew up. It’s not that big of an area, but he’s found opportunities. You just found those opportunities a little further away. Just far enough away that your mother can’t easily pop by unannounced. That lead time before she shows up is usually enough that you can mentally prepare.

Seungkwan, for his part, really does brighten up the entire space, when he’s not being a demon. He’s got that kind of shine that can’t even be dulled by staying in the same general area as his family. He’s also better at setting boundaries, which he gently reminds you again. He doesn’t need the space and preparation time of his family showing up at his place unannounced because they all know that’s not allowed. It’s not that you’re a pushover, it’s just that it feels different. Even your parents seem to respect Seungkwan more than you at times. You try not to let the cynicism of being a woman seep into those feelings. But, it’s hard. Harder still when Seungkwan gives you the sympathetic look like he wants to agree and knows it won’t really help anything. He’s always been that special brand of ally. The one that actually does want to help and understands the inherent privilege.

Unfortunately, Seungkwan and his family won’t be coming to the events that your parents have planned for the next week, though they’re always invited. They wanted to do something more focused on their family instead. It probably seems like something over the top to anyone on the outside. To you, it just seems normal. This is how your parents always handle the holidays and most events seem to take place at their house.

All too soon, Seungkwan says that he needs to get back to something and reminds you that you can’t put off going home any longer. You’re already getting dangerously close to what your mother considers late. It’s probably not the best idea to test her patience before the week even starts.

Mingyu takes care of getting you over to your parents house. Maybe fake dating him for a week won’t be so bad when he takes care of driving without asking and doesn’t even need an address. Since he also already knows your entire family, he doesn’t need help with getting gifts to bring with him. That includes both something to give them when you get there as well as actual Christmas gifts. You remember telling him that wasn’t necessary and remember the look of horror on his face when he asked what kind of fake boyfriend he would be if he forgot. Despite the weirdness of the situation, you also find yourself far more at peace than the last time you brought an actual partner home like this. Mingyu has seen you through a lot of ups and downs. Knows when to be serious and when to crack a little joke to break the tension, even if it’s something only for your ears.

That all disappears as soon as your mother greets you at the door with a look of genuine surprise on her face.

“Surprise,” you say. It seems a little redundant because she seems shocked. “You, uh, you remember Mingyu, right?”

“Of course, of course, come in out of the cold,” she says, recovering quickly as she steps out of the way. “Let me get your coats.”

“I know this is probably a bit of a surprise,” you start.

“It definitely is,” she agrees as she takes Mingyu’s and your coats. “Your father is just in the family room.”

“I figured it would be a good surprise,” you offer as you start to follow her into the house.

“No, of course it is. We adore Mingyu, you know that,” she says with a soft smile for Mingyu. She’s always loved him. “We just, well, we thought you and him had broken up…”

“Broken…what?” you ask, your own shock now matching your mother’s as you come to a complete halt.

Mingyu seems to just stay quiet through this entire exchange. You’re wondering why until you look over at him to see that he’s barely containing his laughter. Of course he would find this whole thing funny. Maybe he believes Seungkwan that your parents have wondered if you were dating him. Or maybe he’s just quicker on the uptake. Whatever it, it would be annoying if your brain wasn’t working overtime to try and catch up.

“Yes, you said you’d broken up with a boyfriend. Your father and I realized we hadn’t actually met the last person you dated and we just assumed, since you only mention Mingyu. Well, you said he was like your best friend and we knew it wasn’t Seungkwan. Mingyu only made sense,,” your mother says with a shrug.

“Mingyu! What are you doing here?” your father asks, rising from his seat to shake your best friend’s hand.

“Dating our daughter, apparently,” your mother says with a skeptical look.

“Oh, good! I’m glad you kids worked it out,” he says.

“Did…everyone just think I was dating…?” you start to ask, looking confusedly between your parents. “Mom, Dad, I was not dating Mingyu. We were only…”

“Friends?” your mother supplies through her heavy tone of disbelief.

“Yes,” you say, eyes wide and desperate looking to Mingyu for support.

“We really were just friends,” Mingyu says. “I mean, I guess not just friends. But, seeing her go through another heartbreak just made me realize that I didn’t want to see her go through something like that again. I guess it just made me realize how much I do care about her. So, I finally said something.”

There’s a lot that you can count on Mingyu for. Driving, having an endless supply of oversized hoodies to steal, a stocked kitchen, the best meals of your life, 2 am chats, support through break ups, hating the same people, being scared of his own shadow, a perpetual golden retriever energy, endless loyalty, and the list goes on. Something you never expect to count on Mingyu for, though? The lie that spills so easily from his lips to try and get your parents off your case. Sure, he knows just how much you struggle with your relationship with them. This is different, though. The lie sounds so sincere and his face looks so soft when he glances over at you.

“You know, it’s okay if you just got back together,” your mother says, looking between the two of you.

“Oh my god, that’s not what happened!” you say, throwing your hands up.

“Of course, dear, of course,” your father says.

“I should go take our suitcases upstairs. Am I just in the normal guest room?” he asks.

It’s both a deflection from the conversation and a valid question all rolled into one. Whatever the case, it does work for long enough to have your mother refocus her attention on Mingyu to answer. That gives you at least a second to catch your breath. Bringing Mingyu was supposed to give you a break from your parents. And it will, you think, but it’s also bringing up a lot that you hadn’t planned on. You wonder what Seungkwan will say when you tell him about the reception. Probably that he told you so.

“Oh, no dear. We planned to have you stay in our daughter’s old room with her,” your mother says.

Great. Now you’re in an entirely new spiral because, what? She has you and Mingyu staying in the same room where there is only one bed? You can’t remember the last time she was this relaxed with a partner you brought home, which brings up even more questions. Has this really been the plan? Or is only the plan now because of how much they like him? Is this just another way for them to try and nudge you into marriage?

“But, mom…” you start to protest.

“We’ve got a full house with family, dear,” she says as an explanation.

“I know where it is, I’ll just take the stuff up,” Mingyu offers.

“I can help,” you say as a way to get out of this whole thing and to talk to your friend.

“Pretty sure I’m strong enough to get some luggage upstairs,” he jokes and you roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you go up with him anyway? Then you can freshen up before dinner,” your mother says with a poorly disguised look at your slightly wrinkled clothing.

Mingyu insists on carrying the bigger suitcases upstairs on his own, but you grab the smaller bags you had in the car with you. Well, except for his backpack that he also stubbornly carries. You don’t need a personal demonstration, you already know that he’s strong. You also don’t need to hear your mother talking about how nice it is to have such a polite young man around like he hasn’t been around a million times before. Once you’re inside the room and behind a closed door, you round on your friend.

“What the hell was that?” you ask.

“Your mom actually letting you and a boyfriend stay in the same room? I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?” he asks.

“Not that, what was with you?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” he returns, looking up from his suitcase where he had been getting ready to unpack.

“That whole answer you gave my mom,” you say and he looks almost pitying.

“I have to make it believable, don’t I?” he asks like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Otherwise, she won’t buy it and she’s going to try to set you up.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you concede.

“Kind of wild that they thought we’d been dating, though,” he adds on.

“Yeah, what was that?” you ask with more force than you mean.

He only shrugs. “I don’t know, they’re your parents.”

“Seungkwan said the same thing,” you remind him.

“About people thinking we’re dating?” he asks, eyes back on his suitcase.

“Yeah,” you say.

He only chuckles before he looks up. “Come on, that’s not the first time either. How many of our friends have thought the same thing?”

“They’re just fucking with us,” you disagree.

“And my ex?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, well in my defense, she was insane. The whole idea that people of the opposite sex can’t be friends is an insane take,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly upset to be rid of her,” he agrees.

“Come on. We better hurry up and get back downstairs,” you say.

The rest of the day is somehow just as weird, but also comforting. As the rest of the family starts arriving, either to stay or just for dinner, you find out that most of your family thinks you’ve been dating Mingyu. Or that it was him that you broke up with and are now back together with. It’s hard to tell if it’s something coming from your parents or just a general vibe that the two of you give off. You can at least acknowledge that you didn’t talk about your last relationship much with your family. Hindsight is always clearer, but you still think you knew something was off in that relationship the whole time. Knew that he wasn’t destined to go the distance. Maybe that’s why the break up didn’t hurt that bad. Honestly, the worst part was thinking of facing your family alone for Christmas.

Mingyu saves you from that as he’s saved you countless times before.

That brings you to the more comforting part of the evening. You can’t tell if any of your family members actually buy that this is a new relationship. At least, none of them seem to think it’s fake. You can probably put up with it if they just think you’re lying about when you actually got together. That makes it all feel much easier. Then, there’s the fact that your entire family loves Mingyu. It’s the first time you can remember joining the dinner to kick off the family Christmas festivities in years. Your family takes the holidays very seriously and it’s Mingyu’s first time experiencing it like this. Yet, he slots right in with everything.

It also feels like he’s thought through this whole fake relationship in ways you didn’t. Sure, you talked about some of the ins and outs since this isn’t just a quick overnight trip. But, mostly, you just decide it’s easiest to keep it as close to the truth as possible. The friendship is so deep that there’s genuine love there. You don’t have to fake that. What you did not consider is physical affection. You’re not the kind of person that drapes yourself all over a partner, never have been. There’s a moment where you worry, as you watch your cousin and her fiancé, that you and Mingyu could be found out for not showing enough affection.

A few minutes later, you’re wishing he would be less affectionate. And you’re not even sure why you worried. The first thing you really learned about Mingyu was that he was incredibly physically affectionate. Tight hugs, random hand holding, an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your arm or leg. It’s all just par for the course with him. It’s gotten even more obvious now that he’s pretending to date you. It seems so innocuous, too. He’s got his hand on your thigh, giving the occasional squeeze, while he’s talking to someone else. He randomly plants a kiss on your temple. He leans over to whisper something to you on the pretense of being close and usually it’s nothing. You don’t even realize that it has most of your family giving each other knowing looks. Like they’re still not convinced you hadn’t been dating before.

By the time it’s late enough to go upstairs, you’re more than ready to have time away from your family. Every time you think that you’re social, your family is there to humble you. Or maybe it’s just that being around them is too draining. In any case, you and Mingyu head upstairs together. Thankfully, your parents house is big enough that it feels like there’s a little bit of privacy in your old bedroom.

“So, how’s this going to work?” Mingyu asks, glancing at the bed and then into the attached bathroom.

Okay, so maybe, even with how big the house is, you haven’t fully considered everything. You’re not really sure what to do. It shouldn’t be weird. You and Mingyu have shared a bed before. This just somehow feels intimate when your entire family thinks you’re sharing because you’re in a relationship and don’t know this is all pretend so you can have a little bit of peace for the holidays. Your gift to yourself. Shaking it all off, you turn to Mingyu.

“I mean, we’ve shared before. It’ll be fine,” you say.

“So are we not gonna talk about the last time we shared?” he asks with an eyebrow raised.

Racking your brain, you can’t really think of anything that would make him say that. Had something awkward happened? Did one of you do something that you should really remember? Just as you’re about to go into a full blown spiral, you feel Mingyu appear before you. He reaches out to smooth out the line between your eyebrows.

“Don’t hurt yourself there,” he says with a laugh. “You whined about me taking up too much space.”

“Oh my god,” you say and swat at him. “It was a tiny bed and you took up the entire thing! You can’t do this to me when I’m already wound tight over my family.”

“Sorry,” he says and throws up his hands. The sparkle in his eyes says that he’s anything but.

“I’m going to change and then start my skincare routine,” you say as you move to grab something to wear to bed.

Without even asking if you’re dressed, Mingyu comes into the bathroom to start doing his own skincare routine while you’re in there. He’s already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, which you know is more than he normally wears to bed. It’s somehow peaceful to go through your routines in silence like this. You consider that it might be in part because it forces him to be quiet. Not that you usually mind his chatter, it’s just that your brain is already tired from one night dealing with your family. You can’t imagine how the rest of the days are going to go and are thankful for the downtime when you’ll be able to get out of the house to do things.

Once you’re back in the bedroom, you both finish off all the little things you need to do. You plug in your phone after checking for any important notifications, grab the TV remote to fling it over to Mingyu, and slide under the covers. Usually you just kind of scroll before going to sleep or sometimes you’ll read. But, you think it might be weird to do those things when you’re sharing a bed with someone else.

“Do I need to make a pillow wall or something?” he asks as he’s flipping through to find something to watch.

Your head whips to the side to look at him. Even though it’s only his profile, you can see that he’s smirking. Purposefully not looking at you because he knows it’ll break the little composure he has. To deal with that, you whack him with a pillow.

“Just don’t drape your entire body over me,” you say.

“Why?” he asks and does turn to look at you now, wiggling his eyebrows. “Afraid it’ll be too close?”

“No, you fucking goober, you’re just heavy,” you say through a genuine laugh.

“How is this relationship ever going to work if we’re calling each other names?” he says, pretending to be heartbroken.

“Same way it has for like 8 years,” you joke back with a soft smile.

“Are you saying you love me?” he asks, hand on his heart. This is one of your favorite things about your friendship with Mingyu because he’s so dramatic that it takes your mind off everything else.

“I don’t know, I’m rethinking it,” you say and turn back to the TV.

“I love you too, you know,” he says, voice soft enough to make you turn back to him.

“I know, Gyu. I don’t think anyone else would put themselves through this for me, so thank you,” you say honestly.

He just shrugs and goes back to a lighter place. “Well, I didn’t have good holiday plans and who can say no to this level of entertainment?”

The next day actually gives you time to catch up with some of your family members more personally instead of everything being such big conversations. That’s especially true for your cousin, Mimi, who’s only two years younger than you and has always been your favorite of your cousins. Even if you go months without seeing each other, it always feels like no time passes. There’s just a level of closeness and understanding between the two of you. You can complain about your mothers since they’re sisters and honestly the same person, just in a different font. It’s easy to be on the same page about things as well.

You’re actually a little surprised to see that she’s here alone, even though you know she recently got out of a bad relationship. Somehow, it seems her mom is more understanding than your own. She was also much more honest about how the relationship fell apart after 3 years and her mom is sympathetic about it. When she says it like that, you understand. Your last few relationships have all been measured in months rather than years.

“You’re not, like, actually dating Mingyu though, are you?” she asks quietly when it’s just the two of you.

“Mimi,” you hiss and look around.

“We’re alone,” she assures you with a wave of her hand. “So, spill.”

“No,” you say hesitantly. “Why?”

“I’m just curious,” she says unconvincingly.

“He was with me when my mom was bugging me about the holidays and bringing someone with me. Then she was going to set me up, so he just offered…” you start.

“He was the one who suggested it?” she asks, far more curious than she should be.

“Yeah,” you say simply. “Again, why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just always thought he was cute and I was wondering if he’s actually single.”

“You cannot hit on Mingyu,” you whisper through gritted teeth. She gives you a look you can’t place before brushing it off.

“Oh, I’m not saying I would. It’s just good to know I could,” she says.

“You can’t,” you remind her. “Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it anywhere anyone else could see,” she teases.

Of course, another of our cousins picks that moment to join you, so you can’t further chastise Mimi. It irritates you all the same though. How does she think it’s just fine to do something like that when you’re supposed to be in a fake relationship? Could she not just wait to hit on him until the rest of your family wasn’t watching with too much attention?

Normally, Mimi is a respite from the rest of your family. She’s one of the few people that you’re always completely honest with. Now, she’s taken that away. You try to go about the rest of the day with her knowing that the relationship is fake and she seems like she’s trying her best to get under your skin. Every part of you wants to stop her from chatting so much to Mingyu and you can’t. It would seem weird when everyone knows that you and your cousin are close. Weirder still when she always knows Mingyu relatively well from every other time he’s been to some family event.

When you excuse yourself up to your bedroom for a second away from your parents and their incessant hint dropping, Mingyu slips into the room just after you. Which is odd, considering you had not even seen him also slip away. The second odd thing comes when you look at his face. He looks more serious than usual, more tired. It doesn’t fully make sense because he’s incredibly social. Loves to be around people in the way all true extroverts do. Something must be wrong.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks after closing the door.

“You don’t ever have to ask,” you say with clear apprehension.

“Did you tell Mimi we weren’t actually dating?” he asks, still looking at you in a way you can’t place.

You exhale, thinking it’ll be nothing. “Oh, that, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you, I just…”

“Did you also tell her that I’m very single and she should go ahead and shoot her shot?” he asks and you stop short hearing that.

“I - what?” you ask.

“She just kind of cornered me and was laying it on super thick, but she said it was fine because she knows we’re not really dating and that you’d encouraged her to…” he starts and you immediately cut him off.

“What the actual fuck, Mimi?” you say in frustration.

“I mean, if you want me to…” he tries to start again, looking a little like a lost or kicked puppy. It makes you immediately close the space between you and him.

“Gyu, no. I did tell her that we weren’t actually dating, but I absolutely did not tell her it was okay to do any of that, let alone encourage it,” you say.

“So you don’t want me to flirt back?” he asks. He’s still looking Too Serious when he says it and you’re not really sure how to feel.

“Since we’re supposed to be dating, I’d prefer you didn’t. But, if you think she’s pretty it’s not like I can stop you,” you say noncommittally.

“Of course I think she’s pretty. You and your whole family are pretty. It’s like something in a TV show or some shit,” he says and this is a Mingyu you recognize because he’s rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah, says the guy who looks like that,” you say and vaguely gesture at him.

“I…did you just compliment me?” he asks, totally off track from wherever he was going.

“That depends, did you compliment me first?” you deflect.

“You’re such a shithead,” he grumbles and you tsk at him.

“Now, now sweetheart, should we really be name calling?” you tease.

He fixes you with his attempt at an unimpressed stare, but he’s nowhere near as good at it as you are. Like every other time, he relents first. “I’ve probably told you how beautiful you are hundreds of times in our friendship.”

“Which I’ve always returned,” you lie.

“Be so for real. I have to pull most compliments out of you,” he says through a snort. When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “Most compliments that are not about my cooking, I should say.”

“People fall all over you,” you say with a good natured eye roll of your own. “Do you really need to hear me also say you could easily be a model?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he mumbles through a pout.

“Oh, beautiful Mingyu,” you start, taking on the silliest voice you can muster. “You’re so pretty that I could cry. Your face breaks hearts every day, your smile lights up the room, your hair…”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he says even though he looks pleased.

“I cannot believe Mimi, though,” you say.

“I’m glad you’re not trying to push us together,” he admits.

“Why? Not interested?” you tease.

He answers seriously, though. “No. She’s pretty, sure, but no, I’m definitely not interested, even if I wasn’t pretending to date you.”

That honest answer strikes something in you. Not that honesty is unusual between the two of you. It just feels like there’s also an element of vulnerability in the response as well. Like he’s saying something that you just can’t quite decipher. You just brush aside for now, though, since there’s nothing else you really can do.

Mingyu, as it turns out, has one winter time tradition that he’s always wanted to try and never had the chance to do: sledding. He’s never lived in any place where it’s snowy enough or there’s enough free space. But, up here in the relative mountains where your parents live, sledding is a way of life. It’s something you’ve done countless times growing up with friends or family. Part of you is even a little thankful that he wants to do it, too. It’s been years since you’ve gone sledding and getting to see his face when you go for the first time feels special. Feels like something that’s just for you.

Which is why you’re up before the sun.

Last night, when you talked about sledding and getting an early start, Mingyu was on board. Now that it’s time to actually get up, you can see it written all over his face that he’s regretting every decision that’s ever led him to this moment. Like the true best friend that he is, though, he’s keeping the actual grumbling to a minimum. You’re not sure why you’re not also grumbling. You’re not a morning person. But, you’ve never gone sledding at sunrise either and something about it just seems like it’ll be magical. Like it really will make it an entirely new experience for you and him to share.

The house is quiet as you grab the bag of snow pants and winter jackets that you packed the night before from the closet in the entryway. Everything feels so peaceful in the house and just as still when you leave. Like even the soft sound of the door is too much while the whole world sleeps. You can hear the slight crunch under your feet as you trudge over to Mingyu’s car and take care not to be too loud getting in. Thank him again for driving when you know it’s way earlier than he wants to be awake. All he does is smile like there’s nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

The drive to the hill where you’re going to sled is quick and also tranquil. Even the music is soft like Mingyu is afraid of disrupting the peace. Or maybe you’re both just appreciating something different than the normal bustle of life in a city. It’s never this kind of quiet there and there’s something kind of beautiful about it. Even the parking lot is empty when you get to the small hill that you used to sled down as a kid. You’ve never seen it empty before. Then again, you’ve never been before the sun rose, either. Mingyu takes care to unload the sleds before you both bundle up. It’s not terribly cold, but you make him put on the waterproof gear anyway.

He stops at the bottom of the hill and looks towards the top. “We’re going all the way up there?”

You can hear a little bit of nerves in his voice. Mingyu has never been a fan of heights. This isn’t that high, though, and you nudge him playfully. Well, it doesn’t seem high to you. “I think you can manage. Come on.”

Climbing up to the top is always your least favorite part because it uses the most energy. Not that you mind the activity, it’s just a lot of work for a relatively short ride back down the hill on the sled. At least this hill has stairs built into the slope off to the side to help you. Once you’re at the top, you plop down with Mingyu right beside you. It’s less about catching your breath and more about appreciating the view. It seems like you can see for miles even though you’re not that high up. The sun starts to rise and you know it’s all worth it. All the shades of orange and pink stretch across the horizon as the sun makes its way over the distant mountains. There aren’t any words that come to mind to really capture how beautiful it is. The colors are more vibrant against the white of the snow all around you. Everything feels magnified in the quiet space. All either of you can do is utter out a soft wow to express your awe.

And then the quiet really is broken.

“Okay you expect me to slide down that on a piece of plastic?” he asks with a hint of panic in his voice.

You follow his gaze and look down the hill, because it really is only a hill. Not anything crazy. It always looks a little more intimidating from the top, but it isn’t anything all that high.

“Oh come on you giant baby,” you tease and nudge him. “We got all the way up here, how else are you going to get down?”

“Walk back down the stairs they so nicely provided?” he offers.

“That’s crazy,” you say.

“I’m afraid of heights!” he shouts, more panic in his voice.

“I know, Gyu,” you say, instantly softening as you approach him to put your hand on his arm.

“I didn’t really think this through,” he admits.

“Why did you agree to sledding down a hill?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks out over vista before him. You watch as a calm comes back over him. The kind of calm that can only come from a setting as pretty as this one. Watch him take a couple steadying breaths. Even though you’ve been friends with Mingyu for years, you’ve never really seen his fear of heights firsthand. Couldn’t have imagined it would kick in for something as seemingly innocuous as a small sledding hill. Though, admittedly, it is a pretty decent size. It’s definitely not just the kind of hill people sled down in their backyards or local parks.

“Because I wanted to try sledding and do something new. And this hill seemed important to you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not going to say no to something you ask me to do when you get that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” you ask to avoid considering a deeper meaning to his words.

“I don’t know. You get all starry eyed,” he says with a shrug.

“How about this? We can go down together and check it off the list. You don’t have to sled again,” you offer.

“We came all the way out here,” he says, unsure.

“And I got to see the prettiest sunrise of my life with my best friend beside me,” you say easily.

“Okay, okay. I can at least try,” he says.

You get up and send the smaller of the sleds down the hill without anyone on it in case you really only take the one ride. It would be a hassle to have to come back up and get it. Then, you position yourself on the bigger sled that’s meant for two people (or three kids sometimes when you were younger). Once you’re in place, you motion for Mingyu to settle in behind you. Point out where he can put his legs on either side of you, which already feels closer than normal even with how affectionate Mingyu can be. You adjust so that your back is pressed against his chest. It’s about the right balance to the sled so that you’re less likely to topple over on the way down. Mingyu has to crowd into your space to wrap his arms around your middle because he’s bigger than you are, something you hadn’t considered when suggesting this. You can almost tell that he’s considering burying his face in your hair, but stops short.

At least, until you push over the edge with a combination of wiggling and using your hands to push your forward. That’s when he buries his face. Then, you’re slowly picking up speed as you slide down the completely untouched snow. It’s always best like this, in your opinion. Before there are lanes carved into the snow. Yes, those lanes pack the snow down and can make you go faster, but you can also catch an edge and topple over more easily.

None of that is really on your mind once you start descending though. All you can think of is the way Mingyu’s body feels pressed against yours. How it’s very foreign but also very comforting. How you can understand why your whole family so easily believes that you’re together. The comfort is effortless, something you don’t ever think about. It just exists. You focus on how funny it is to have this giant of a man wrapped around you like a koala with his head buried in your hair now because he’s nervous. You don’t even consider any other way that it might make you feel. When you let out a squeal of delight as the sled picks up more speed, you feel, rather than hear, him grumble by the tickle of his breath in your hair. It only makes him cling more tightly to you.

It’s almost disappointing when you feel the sled level out at the bottom of the hill and slow down. It’s been the perfect way to relive one of the parts of your childhood that you loved the most. Getting to do silly little things like this really was one of the best parts of winter. You’re fully stopped before you realize that Mingyu is still clinging to you with everything he has. So, you carefully place a hand over his and feel him untense the tiniest bit.

“It’s okay, we made it to the bottom in one piece.”

Slowly, he loosens his grip on you and actually looks up. Again, you feel this rather than seeing it. You feel the absence of his body heat and only then realize just how tightly he was clinging to you. Mingyu pulls his face out of your hair and seems to look around, as if testing that you’re really at the bottom of the hill. Like he’s not sure it’s over that quickly.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“No, it was a lot of fun.”

“Do you think…could we maybe go again?”

Both of you are standing up again now and it makes you whip your head around to look at him because you can’t believe this scaredy cat actually wants to go down again after how much it took to get him down the first time. His face is hopeful, though, and you’re not about to start saying no to that face now. Not when you never have before. So you match his smile.

“On one condition,” you finally say. Mingyu only looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue. “You have to actually keep your eyes open this time.”

“You don’t know I had my eyes closed,” he insists with a pout.

“Gyu, your face was in my hair,” you say through a laugh.

“Okay, fine. Eyes open. But, I have my own condition, too,” he fires back, still kind of pouting.

“Yes?”

“I want to ride together again.”

It’s easy to agree to that. Even though you don’t say it out loud, it’s kind of fun riding with him, especially when the hill is so untouched. He’s tall and muscular, very helpful when it comes to carving a path and also picking up speed. He adds to the momentum and you like going faster. You don’t consider telling him that he wouldn’t go quite as fast without you because you would be losing on as well. It’s not a bad deal for either of you, really. Mingyu gets to work a little on a fear of heights on something much more manageable and you get to live out your best sled dreams.

Each run gets a little bit easier. Mingyu holds up his end of the bargain and actually opens his eyes, which is more entertaining to you than it probably should be as he curses all the way down that first run. But, he keeps wanting to go and you’re not going to stop him. Don’t realize that maybe he also keeps going because he loves to see the way your face lights up each run. Neither of you makes an effort to get the other sled again either.

By the time the sun is fully risen, yours and Mingyu’s cheeks are rosy from the cold. And also from the way you’ve taken to running back up the steps to the top like kids. You have to admit, even if it means he’ll get a big head, this is the most fun you’ve had in your hometown during the holidays in a long time. Honestly, it might actually be the most fun you’ve had anywhere in a while. It’s nice to get back to something simpler without worrying about anything else. Life can get busy back in the city between work and chores and endless responsibility. Sometimes it’s nice to just take a break from it all. Remember that there are more important things than just working all the time or being stressed about things you can’t really control. Maybe there’s something to simplifying life a bit.

Now that the sun is rising, it’s a more acceptable time for people to be out and about themselves. Kids can convince their parents to take them sledding as well. At the first sign of people approaching, you and Mingyu agree that it should be your last run. You’re starting to get a little tired and you know it’ll get loud. You don’t mind having the kids around, you just know it gets harder to avoid everyone and you have to wait longer between each run. Besides, you planned something post sledding as well. It catches you off guard that he actually seems a little sad to be leaving.

That is, until you take him to this little hole in the wall of a breakfast place. It’s something new because you’re not usually in this area when he comes with you to family events. Not that it’s far, it’s just a few towns over and there are closer places. Until winter comes around again and the elderly couple that runs the place roll out their secret recipe for hot cocoa. Honestly, you could probably just drink that without even ordering anything to eat and be the happiest person in the world. The food is amazing too, though, and you didn’t eat before leaving to go sledding. You and Mingyu order a few things to share and laugh all the way through it, talking about sledding and the trip so far.

“Thanks for this,” he says as breakfast is winding up.

You’re a little surprised at both his words and the gentleness of his tone. “For what?”

“Taking me sledding like this. That sunrise was amazing and I, well, I guess I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did,” he admits, a little more shy than you’re used to.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” you say and can’t quite place the look he gives you.

“I think I’d trust you with just about anything.”

The day before Christmas is always the same. By then, you’re in desperate need of a break from your family and you think they may be in need of a break from you as well. So, each year you get together with Seungkwan and some of your other friends that still live in the area. Anyone with a partner brings them along and you have a nice, boozy brunch. This year, Seungkwan is hosting because his place is spacious and the group seems a little bigger. It’s also nice to get to really spend some time at his place since he’s only been there a few months.

Typically, a few people in the friend group will bring over some pre-made things to warm up the next day as well as everyone bringing whatever they want to drink and share. That’s the same for this year with a slight change. Mingyu, once he sees the kitchen, says that he just has to make some food as well. After taking an inventory, he heads back out to buy more things that he needs, ignoring any of your protests and only agreeing to take your card so you can sort out the cost with your friends. (You’re not going to do that because you don’t mind just covering it, but you don’t want him to cover it either.)

When he gets back, he immediately goes into the kitchen and your friend Vernon’s girlfriend offers to help. She drags Seungkwan’s sister, who doesn’t usually come around, with her as well. Mingyu only leaves the kitchen long enough to bring you one of the mimosas that he made, insisting there’s a special ingredient. Then, it’s back to fully focusing on the food. Not that you really mind. It’s nice to just be in a low stress environment with your friends to catch up, have some drinks, and laugh a lot.

Vernon, after looking around to make sure nobody else is listening, shows you and Seungkwan the ring he’s been walking around with for the past few weeks. Apparently, he’s finally settled that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend tomorrow on Christmas Day. You’re thrilled because they’ve been together forever and she already feels like family. Seungkwan nearly bursts into tears, which you have to quickly cover so nobody realizes what’s happening. You love that your best friend is like that. It’s just not the time if you want to keep it a secret that Vernon wants to propose.

It also feels nice to be in a group where you don’t have to pretend. Nothing changes all that much for how you and Mingyu are together because he’s always affectionate with you. But, you get to trade any of the not-so-subtle comments about when you’re going to get married to the relentless teasing about how he passes as your boyfriend so easily. It’s nice to have someone joking about it and you find you don’t even mind. Especially when Mingyu chimes in with his own little comments from the kitchen. There seems like there’s a lot of laughter in there as well.

“You’re going to have to dress him better if he’s going to keep posing as your boyfriend,” Seungkwan jokes and you look over at the kitchen.

Mingyu is wearing this kind of awful green zip up sweater. It’s not even that nice, soft material. But, he insisted on wearing it because he wanted to wear something with Christmas colors and it was the only thing he had apart from his outfit for tomorrow. It makes you roll your eyes again remembering it.

“I know,” you sigh. “Usually he dresses so well and then there’s that.”

Your eyes drift back over to him in the kitchen again and you kind of wish you hadn’t looked back. You catch him as something falls off a spoon he’s using to taste test and onto his skin. And, without seeming to think about it, he sucks it off his hand. Then, licks along his finger for good measure. It makes your heart stutter a little in a way that’s completely foreign to you. Why are you so entirely transfixed by someone who’s supposed to be your best friend and fake boyfriend doing that?

“Hey, you good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping in front of your eyes.

You shake your head to clear it before turning back to him. “Yeah, sorry, zoned out for a second.”

“Uh huh,” he says skeptically, but you catch his eyes darting over to Mingyu.

“Don’t,” you warn him, causing him to throw his hands up in defense.

“I won’t,” he says. “But, if you decide you want to talk about it…”

“Talk about what?” Mingyu asks. You hadn’t even seen him leave the kitchen.

“The issue she’s having with Mimi,” Seungkwan lies quickly.

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She won’t leave me alone.”

“And that seems to be driving both of you crazy,” Seungkwan observes.

“Well, yeah, our bestie is just being a good friend and she knows I’m uncomfortable,” Mingyu says before you can answer. Is that all it is? For the first time, you’re not sure.

“I’m not sure how I feel about sharing a best friend,” Seungkwan says with feigned distaste.

Mingyu tries to give The Look again, but fails even worse than with you. Nobody can outdo Seungkwan and so he gives up. “Food is ready.”

“Oh good, I’m starving,” Vernon interrupts.

The rest of brunch goes by without Seungkwan making any other comments. To you, at least. You don’t see him sit down next to Mingyu after the food is done like it’s casual and unplanned. Nothing that man ever does is either of those things, though. What you do notice is how easily he fits into this group of friends. Sure, he knows Seungkwan pretty well and he’s met nearly everyone there. But, he doesn’t get to spend much time around them. Not really, in the grand scheme of things. It isn’t really surprising, if you think about it, because they’re all close friends of yours and he tends to think you have good taste where friends are concerned.

It is a little weird, you think as Mingyu sits on the other side of the room, that he seems to be a little glued to his phone now that things are getting closer to wrapping up. He checks it mid conversation and furrows his brow at whatever he sees. Both seem unusual. Mingyu is always one of those people that gives his full attention to a conversation. Unless it’s an emergency, he likes to be present in a moment. It’s one of your favorite things about him. It’s also unlike him to be so upset by something on his phone. You can’t think of any person that would be creating that reaction from him. Or anyone that he wouldn’t just ignore until later. You try to put it out of your mind as best you can. If it’s something serious, he’ll talk to you about it. At least, you hope.

Any other time, you would be thrilled to have your favorite cousin staying at your parents’ house for the holidays. She’s always been your confidant and one of your safe spaces. Now? You can’t stand it. You really wish she would be literally anywhere else. Just the sight of her is getting to be enough to set you off. It seems like she’s really taking it to heart that Mingyu is single. You’re not sure what her game is and you hate it.

Of course, she manages to corner you the second you’re back to your parents’ house. You’re not exactly paying all that much attention, though. The end of brunch with your friends had been a little weird, even if nobody else noticed it. Mingyu accepted all the praise for the things he made, but was distracted by his phone. Someone, you’re not really sure who, kept sending him messages. Whatever it was didn’t seem to be making him happy. Not that you really have any right to ask him who’s blowing up his phone. It’s just a little weird. Usually he’s so present in events like brunch. It’s odd to see him constantly checking his phone. Odder still that he had headed off to the bedroom as soon as you got back. You’re a little buzzed from the mimosas. Mingyu, on the other hand, is very sober.

“There you are,” Mimi says, appearing as if out of thin air. It makes you jump back, hand on your heart.

“Jesus,” you gasp out.

“No, Mimi,” she jokes. Any other time, it would make you laugh. You’re not so entertained with her now.

“What are you sneaking up on me for?” you ask instead.

She rolls her eyes and looks around. “I’m not sneaking up on you. I was just trying to catch you away from the others.”

“Why?”

“Why do you have that fake boyfriend of yours on such a tight leash?”

Out of habit, you look around to make sure nobody is listening. Everyone seems too busy, though. “I don’t have Mingyu on a leash.”

“Then explain why he’s basically refusing to answer any of my texts,” she says, arms crossed.

“I don’t know why…wait a minute. Was it you texting him while we were at brunch?” you ask.

This, somehow, seems to satisfy her. “Oh, so he’s not telling you who’s texting him.”

“I didn’t ask, honestly.”

“Well, I don’t see why he’d be ignoring - “

Your brain catches up then. “Hang on. How the fuck did you get his number?”

Mimi rolls her eyes again with a huff. “Please. You’ve had the same passcode on your phone for ages. I just grabbed it when you left your phone out.”

“That’s so fucked, Mimi. You can’t just go through my phone or take his number,” you say.

“You’re no fun anymore,” she says with a whine.

You’re not interested in hearing anything else she has to say because you just want to talk to Mingyu. This is getting insane that she’s going to this amount of trouble just to try to get to him. Yet, it’s also weird he kept it to himself that she was texting him. The two of you have talked a lot about the shit Mimi pulls in order to get close to him. Why is it different now that she’s texting him while he’s out with your friends? Is he starting to get worn out from dealing with the insanity of your family? Every other time he’s been around, it’s been really chill. This time, not so much.

Up in your room, you don’t initially see Mingyu. You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Maybe him on his phone texting or else complaining to another friend about how this whole trip is going. Or even talking to his sister about getting out to see her instead of staying here. None of that happens, though. Instead, you find him in the bathroom applying a face mask. It’s a little ridiculous and definitely the last thing you expect. But, you also know that it’s a sign he’s carrying some amount of stress.

That’s the thing about being as close to someone as you are to Mingyu. To most people, he’s got this unfailing streak of energy and kindness. He’s the kind of person that lets himself be bullied by all his friends even though he could definitely take them. It’s all part of making sure everyone is enjoying themselves and most things just roll off his broad shoulders. There are hidden depths to him, too. Sometimes he gets a little worn out because he’ll keep things to himself instead of burdening someone else. He takes so much onto his own plate and you wish he wouldn’t. At least, not always. He’ll go until it feels a little unbearable and then finally speak up. He’ll force a smile even when he doesn’t feel like it just to make sure nobody else realizes anything is wrong. In a way, he folds in on himself a little. But, you’ve been friends for years so you know his tells. Know how to spot the signs. It takes you a little longer this time surrounded by family and some friends. This is one of those signs, though. Taking the time to do a face mask, even if it’s in the middle of the day, to just give him an excuse to be quiet.

You’re not usually the one to initiate physical contact with him. Not because you don’t want to, he just never really gives you the chance. He’s like a human koala most of the time. With his back to the door and his eyes closed to enjoy the feeling of the mask, he doesn’t even hear you approach. Your hands wind around his waist, hugging him tightly from the back and your head rests between his shoulder blades. For the briefest moment, he tenses and you worry that he’s using this as a break from you. Then, he realizes it’s just you and his entire body relaxes. He puts his hands over yours and sighs softly. After a moment, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough because he turns in your arms and pulls you tight against his chest, wrapping you so tightly in his own arms that you would complain in any other situation. Not now, though. Not when he’s putting himself through all of this just so you don’t have to have a stressful holiday experience.

When it’s like this, you don’t dream of pulling away from Mingyu. There’s so much that he does for you and it’s so rare that you can do anything for him in return. So, you’ll stay tightly pressed against him as long as he wants. You won’t be the one to break the hug first. If you can take even a little bit of whatever he’s feeling onto your own shoulders, you will. This trip has been so much better than you could have expected in most ways and you’re determined to be more conscious of his needs. Eventually, he does pull away and let you look up into his face. He looks much more at peace than you expect. Maybe your hugs do have healing powers like he always says. Mingyu turns to remove the face mask and wipe his face before turning back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly into the space between you.

“For what?” he asks.

“For the whole drama that is my family,” you start. “Mostly, for Mimi, though.”

“Ah,” he says and his face falls a little.

“Gyu, I would never have put you in this position if I had known she would be like this,” you say earnestly.

“I don’t think anyone could have guessed she’d pull all this,” he says with a humorless laugh.

“You should’ve told me that she was texting you and bugging you like that,” you say without any accusation. You just want to be able to share in his burden.

He only shrugs. “We were with your friends and you looked so happy. I didn’t want to bring it down. How did you even find out she was texting me?”

“She told me,” you say with an eye roll.

“Really?”

“Well, she cornered me and asked why I had you on such a tight leash…”

“Kinky,” he interrupts and it nearly makes you choke.

“And then, when I asked how she even got your number, she told me she’d gone into my phone and taken it,” you say to avoid thinking too deeply about Mingyu and any kinks he might have.

“Bold,” he observes.

“Do you like that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

The second the question comes out of your mouth, you wish you could take it back. What is going on with your brain today? First you’re losing your train of thought watching Mingyu lick something off his finger. Then, you’re wondering about his kinks. Now, you’re wondering if he likes someone that’s a little bit bold. It’s got to just be the atmosphere that you’re in. Or that you’re pretending to date him. It’s messing with your mind and you’re not responsible for the way you act.

The worst part is that Mingyu’s entire face changes. He gets that knowing look on his face when he meets your eyes. A little cocky. The look that says he knows just how attractive he can be. It’s not usually directed at you and you’re not really sure what to do now that it is.

“Sometimes,” he says. “Not necessarily from someone I’m not actually interested in, though.”

“Good to know.”

Mingyu arches an eyebrow and okay, that’s devastating. Maybe you’re still a little under the influence of the mimosas. There’s no other explanation for the way your knees go a little weak at such a simple movement. “Is it?”

“Huh?” you ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“You said it was good to know and I asked if it was,” he repeats, smirk only deepening.

“Oh, sure,” you say and he seems momentarily surprised. “You know, so I can tell Mimi.”

You’re actually not entirely sure what makes you say it. It’s not like you would ever want him to consider Mimi. It might actually drive you crazy if he went for her. He gets that look on his face that you’re all too familiar with. Affection mixed with exasperation. Nobody seems to get it more than you.

“Too bad for her that I’m very much not interested,” he says.

“Shame. I don’t know how I would get over the loss.”

“Luckily you don’t have to because you’re stuck with me.”

“Until you actually have a crush on someone again.”

Even though you say it, you want to take it back as soon as it comes out of your mouth. Images come rushing into your mind of Mingyu falling in love with someone that actually lasts. Someone that could take your best friend away from you. Which should be what you want, right? You should want him to be happy. And you do. You just can’t really stand the thought of a life where he’s happy without you being right there by his side. This trip makes you think about a lot more than you bargained for.

“I do have a crush,” he says softly.

“Oh, of course,” you say and look away from him. That’s fine. This is all fine.

His finger is under your chin the next second to pull your face back around to his. It’s the look of patience that you also see a lot. Especially when he’s trying to teach you something in the kitchen. Or explain something from work. Or really just talk about anything he’s passionate about.

“The crush is on you, dummy,” he says softly.

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him correctly.

With a shake of his head, he steps back to lean against the bathroom. “Of all the times I pictured telling you this, I never considered telling you in the bathroom attached to your old bedroom at your parents’ house.”

“We don’t…” you start and he shakes his head again.

“No, this probably fits,” he says with a light laugh. The kind when he’s just a little caught off guard himself. “I thought I wanted to tell you after brunch with your friends and, I don’t know, I could be misreading the whole thing, but I think you’re ready to hear it now too. I like you. I’ve been more than happy just to be your friend because I didn’t want to say something before we were both ready. I’m happy to be here as your friend that’s only pretending to date you because I’d do anything to make life easier for you.”

“Mingyu,” you say, so low it’s barely above a whisper. Like you’re afraid to break the quiet in the limited space between you.

“You don’t have to say…” he starts, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at your bedroom door.

Your senses are entirely overwhelmed and you wonder what he sees as you look up at him, eyes wide in wonder. Before this, you would say that your brain could process too many things all at the same time. That it always had a million things going on. Now, you can’t seem to do any of that. Can’t focus on anything other than your beautiful best friend before you and the fact that apparently he has feelings for you. You see his mouth move, assume it’s to answer the knock, and have to shake yourself back to reality. Need to come out of this day dream so that you can react to whoever is at the door.

“Too bad, lovebirds, you have to come downstairs. Attendance for games and cookie decorating is mandatory on Christmas Eve,” your cousin calls back.

“Mimi, just…” you start to call out to her and Mingyu shakes his head.

“We’ll be right down!” he cuts across you. He waits, seeming like he’s listening for the sound of Mimi walking away from the door. How he can hear anything over the pounding of your heart seems unthinkable. Somehow, he must hear something because he turns back to you with soft eyes and speaks in an even softer voice. “It’s okay, we can talk tonight after dinner or when we come to bed. There’s no pressure for you to even say anything. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.”

With that, he gives you a quick peck on the top of the head. Something that’s immediately gentler than anything you’ve experienced with him during the entire course of your friendship. The smile he gives you as he steps around you to lead the way down to interact with your family has you go weak in the knees. Has he ever smiled at you like that before? Or is it a new smile? Once upon a time, you would have said that you had every facial expression of his memorized from years spent in each other’s company. Years spent sharing private jokes, going on adventures, complaining about work and family and everything in between. But maybe, you think, there are still things that you can learn about Mingyu. Maybe there are still things that you can learn from him as well.

When you don’t immediately follow after him, Mingyu turns around to grab your hand and pull you along with him. There’s something about the way he threads his fingers through yours and squeezes that makes your heart pound again before settling down. His touch is gentle, like it always is, and filled with complete care. You don’t notice the way he glances back at you every few steps. Not with concern, but with curiosity. He would have bet he knew your every facial expression and can’t fully place the way you look now. Somehow, even though he can’t completely tell what you’re thinking, he knows that he made the right decision. Knows it was time to tell you what’s been on his mind. Knows that, no matter what, he’s still going to have his best friend on the other side of this trip.

It’s chaos once you and Mingyu get downstairs, like it always is at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve. Though, this definitely seems a little busier than years past. You’re not sure why that is either, but everyone seems to want to join in on the traditions that your parents cling to. In any case, it’s a good thing for you because it lets you just blend into the group of people without your parents paying entirely too much attention to you. Mingyu uses your hand intertwined with his to pull you into him, the way he has countless other times on this trip, and presses a kiss to your temple. Then, he’s off into the kitchen, throwing a joke at your mom about how he’s here now and she doesn’t need to worry. He looks over his shoulder and winks at you as your mother puts him to work mixing ingredients. You honestly don’t even know how you react in response. It must be okay, though, because he smiles back at you.

You love to decorate the cookies and will happily help make them in other situations, but there are already too many cooks in the kitchen. Instead, you help to set up some of the card tables that your parents keep for times like these. It gives people the chance to figure out what they might want to play and who they want to join them. It really is a nice tradition, no matter how you feel about your parents. And since your mother usually spends more time on baking and decorating the cookies, she doesn’t notice if things get a little too competitive between you and the cousins. Or if your father eggs the rest of you on while he watches. She has her favorite parts and lets everyone else do whatever it is they want to do. As long as everyone takes a break to help with decorating the cookies. Not that it’s ever a concern, that’s most people’s favorite part.

Once the tables are all set up, you settle into a board game with some of your cousins. Usually, you’re one of the more competitive ones. Board games come pretty easily to you and you pick up on the strategy quickly. If your cousins notice that you’re not nearly as invested this time, they let you have it. And they do notice it, pretty quickly, but let you have it. It’s easy to see you’re distracted and to see that you keep glancing into the kitchen at Mingyu. They just let you have it. It’s in their best interest, anyway. It’s nice to get the chance to win without you being fully committed to beating everyone around you.

This kind of setting really gives you a chance to think without shutting yourself away in your bedroom. That’s too obvious. You can’t just say that your best friend confessed feelings for you and now you need to figure out what your own feelings are. Not when he’s pretending to be your boyfriend already. Not when your whole family already thinks you’re lying about having just gotten together with him. And not when your mother would probably kill you if you missed out on traditions that may be older than you are.

All the spiralling in your brain is just cover, you realize, for the bigger picture. Mingyu likes you and he thinks this is the right time to have a conversation about it. He also knows that your friendship is the most important. You agree. He’s one of the most important people in your life, but is he more than that to you too? Is it possible that it’s more than friendship? That’s not something you ever considered. When you and Mingyu met in university it was through someone you were dating at the time. The relationship was, fortunately, very short lived. But the friendship with Mingyu, that was the stuff of stories. That instant connection that survived the breakup. The two of you always joke that your friendship was meant to be and that’s why it lasted when the relationship didn’t. Why others could come and go from your lives but you two are forever. Especially when either of you has dated someone that had an issue with the friendship. It’s insane to think that men and women can’t be friends. A completely archaic way of thinking.

That makes you think about your friendship with Seungkwan, though. Someone in your life who has also always been a constant. Someone who supports all your rights and your wrongs, even if he gives you a hard time too. And that’s when something else clicks. Your past partners haven’t objected to your friendship with Seungkwan nearly as often as your friendship with Mingyu. It’s not that he’s not attractive, because he definitely is. It can’t be that you’re not as close. Seungkwan has been with you through a lot. It could be that there's been more distance between you and him since you moved away, but you’re not sure that’s it either. He’s a constant in your life even from a distance. When you can’t see him, you regularly FaceTime him. So, no, he’s still present even if he’s not in the same city.

And then it hits you. You don’t watch Seungkwan lick something off his finger while he’s cooking. You don’t get jealous of your cousin hitting on him, regardless of what else is going on. You don’t seek out physical affection in the same way. Don’t find yourself looking over at Seungkwan for his reaction to everything going on around you. Don’t want to know his thoughts on something before you make each big decision. Seungkwan is your best friend and he means the world to you, but the thought of him constantly kissing you on the cheek or the temple or forehead or even the back of your hand doesn’t unleash butterflies in your stomach.

Holy shit. You’re in love with Mingyu. Definitely in way over your head with feelings that should have been obvious to you. It’s impossible to pinpoint when it might have happened or how. Maybe there isn’t a specific time. Maybe it’s something that happens slowly over time. You know that when you first became friends it was only that, a friendship. Someone that you could be yourself around and feel at home with in a very foreign environment. Somewhere along the way, it’s morphed into more. He really is the person you want to share all your news with, the person that you look to for support first. It’s so clear to you that your feelings are there now that he’s confessed and gotten you thinking about it. When you meet his eyes across the room, you wonder if he can see the realization on your face.

Now that you realize that you also have feelings for Mingyu, you’re not sure how you missed it before. If you consider the traits you’re looking for in a partner, he ticks off every box. And if you’re being completely honest, he’s been the reason for adding some traits to your list. So, not that you’ll admit this to any of your most recent exes, but maybe they had a point when they questioned your relationship with Mingyu. Not a big point. They still had shitty reasons for disliking Mingyu, but a small point nonetheless.

The rest of the evening seems to go by entirely too slowly, even if you do enjoy yourself. Much to the dismay of your cousins, you’re no longer distracted and you proceed to kick their asses at any game they suggest. You do go a little easier on them than normal, though, and avoid any of the trash talk. Thankfully Seungkwan isn’t there to point out that being in a good mood makes you soft. Even decorating the cookies is more fun than you can remember. You try not to think about whether that’s because Mingyu sits right next to you the whole time, trying to sabotage your cookie designs or make you laugh with his own. Spoiler alert: it absolutely is and you’re already down horrendous. It’s even easier to act like a cute couple in love now than it was before. And you also ignore the realization that it being so easy to pretend to be in a relationship with your best friend should have also been an indicator. Nobody ever said you were the most observant when it came to your own feelings.

Finally, you get a free moment to go upstairs. It’s time to get changed for Christmas Eve dinner and that gives you both the chance to excuse yourselves. The only person who seems to be tracking the movement with some amount of interest is Mimi. You’re too caught up in reaching out for Mingyu’s hand to notice, though. His smile at the action is immediately familiar and new. Familiar because you know his face better than your own and new because you didn’t expect to see him looking at you like that.

“I didn’t expect your mom to have me working so hard in the kitchen helping with the cookie dough,” he says once you close the door.

“Oh, I did,” you say through a snort.

“How was the - “

“You were right.”

You both go to speak at the same time and Mingyu’s mouth closes the second he realizes what you said. Whatever he wants to ask dies on his tongue over three words from your mouth. They might just be the second best three words you could say to him right then.

“About?” he prompts.

“It was the right time to tell me,” you confirm for him. It’s clear that he’s biting his tongue to let you say whatever you need to. Even if he knows by the look on your face. “I like you too.”

“Thank fucking god,” he says with an exhale. “When Seungkwan told me that I should tell you because he caught you watching me, I thought he was being a shit and…”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Fucking Seungkwan. Of course.

“Oh, yeah, at brunch earlier he said that he noticed you watching me while I was cooking and that if I liked you like he thought I did, that I should probably tell you,” he says a little sheepishly.

“You know what? Forget Seungkwan. I need to see something,” you say and close the space between you.

Before Mingyu can ask anything, you’re on your tiptoes, hands cupping his face and lips pressed to his. He wraps his arms around your lower back to pull you tighter against his body without missing a beat. And that really is all you need to know. Everything is in that first real kiss. Any lingering hesitations slip away. You can feel his promises and the answers to the questions you know you’ll have to actually ask in that kiss. For now, it just feels like coming home. Like you found the person that can get through all the bullshit and remind you about what’s actually important in life.

“Wow,” you say when you pull away.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” you wonder.

“Just how long have you liked me?” he says with an all too knowing smirk.

“I only realized today so I’ve got some catch up to do,” you joke.

“We both do, I think,” he says.

Without having to say a word, both of you get ready for Christmas dinner since your mother insists that you get dressed up. Every few seconds one of you seems to catch the other looking. It feels exciting, but you’re also a little shy. There’s a lot to talk about and a lot to navigate. You know you can’t put it aside. It just doesn’t feel as time sensitive now. This is one of the most important people in your life and it’s going to work out. At least, if you can get through the whole drawn out affair that is dinner first.

Which you do. Through all your mother’s courses and all the formality that she insists on following, you have Mingyu by your side. You’re not even distracted by Mimi on the other side of the table. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you while you and Mingyu can’t take your eyes off each other. More than once, you entirely miss a question and Mingyu has to nudge you to prompt you. It’s not your fault, you reason. He’s just so insanely attractive and made all the more so because you know that he’s a genuinely wonderful person.

Every part of you wants to skip the after dinner drinks and go back upstairs with Mingyu, but he quietly insists that you should stay. Even laughs when you turn his signature pout back around on him. If he makes a good point that you have nothing but time, you still want to take advantage of some of that time right now. Instead, you sip on your rumchata and curl into Mingyu on the oversized armchair by the fire. Despite trying to leave a little bit of space, you’re basically sitting on his lap at his own insistence.

Once the first people start to call it a night, you look at Mingyu with nearly pleading eyes. That gets a light laugh out of him as he nods to agree that you can go upstairs to your bedroom. You say your goodnights to everyone in the room, wish people a Happy Christmas Eve, and lead the way back up to your room even though he doesn’t need the directions

It’s nice to have uninterrupted time to figure everything out with Mingyu now that your feelings are out in the open. And once you’re both changed and through your skincare routines, you get into bed just to talk. It’s remarkable how much can fall into place so easily. It’s obvious that he figured out his feelings first. You insist that yours are already just as strong. The two of you depend on each other in everything without realizing it. Turn to each other for support. Share in all the best news. Suffer through any heartbreak together. In the years of friendship, there’s something deeper than either of you ever expected.

Honestly, it’s not even something either of you just held onto or harbored for years. The feelings really came suddenly. Mingyu shares that he wasn’t just waiting around to tell you that he had feelings for you. He also shares, though you already know, that no part of him felt entitled to your returned feelings. Had Seungkwan not said something, he’s not even sure if or when he would have said something. The last thing he would ever want was to make you uncomfortable. As much as he cares about you and wants to explore the relationship, you’re also the best friend he’s ever had. You feel the same. It’s a little scary and exciting at the same time. You trust Mingyu with your heart in a way that you’ve never trusted anyone else.

It’s entirely too late into the night by the time you and Mingyu fall asleep. How the two of you have so much to say at this point in the friendship is something to be studied. But, eventually you drift off, completely intertwined with Mingyu. He’s been a cuddler this whole trip and you’re not sure how he’s gotten himself even more attached to you. Yet, he does. It’s like any space between you would be too much. It’s too much satisfaction to give him that he’s right. He can tell anyway.

When you wake up, it feels too early. A fact only confirmed when you check your phone. None of the little cousins or your cousins with kids are staying at your parents’ house. So, you know that it doesn’t have to be an early start to the morning. You consider if you can drift off back to sleep. In the night, you ended up with Mingyu spooning you. His arm is loosely draped over you and your back is pressed somewhat lightly into his chest. When you go to adjust to think about drifting back off, your ass brushes against his hips, you feel something press into you. That stops you for a moment. Obviously, you and Mingyu talked about sex the night before. About how you wanted to try to take it a little slower since this means so much to both of you. And obviously you know that it’s relatively common for a guy to wake up a little hard. Your brain knows all those things. Knows what you should do. You should just reposition and go back to sleep.

That’s not what you actually do though.

So carefully that it could be an accident, you wiggle against him, a little harder this time. You yawn like you’re actually just adjusting to get comfortable and fall back asleep. He might let you get away with it, too, if you didn’t do it more than once, pressing further back into him each time. You know he’s awake by the sharp intake of breath and then the way he moves his hand to grip your thigh. The way his fingertips dig into your skin there makes you grind back harder without pretending it’s anything else.

Mingyu puts his lips to your ear. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“No,” you whisper.

“I thought we said we were going to take it slow,” he says with incredible difficulty.

“I can move slower,” you answer immediately. It feels gratifying when he snaps his hips into your ass.

“You’re teasing me,” he whines.

“Not if I follow through,” you say. “I want you, Mingyu. I don’t want to wait.”

“Fuck,” he hisses as you continue to grind into him. “I want you to.”

“Then…” you start and immediately cut off as his hand winds back around to your front. He grabs your pussy through your shorts that suddenly feel too flimsy. Runs his long middle finger up your core and you immediately know you started something that he’s going to finish.

But his hand is gone entirely too quickly. Worse still, he pulls back. It’s only long enough for him to turn you towards him and then pull you on top of him. Your brain catches back up once you’re straddle over him and he pulls your face towards him. You kiss him like you haven’t yet. Full of desire and desperation. Nothing like the first few kisses you share. Those kisses were to make sure this was right. This kiss is to ruin him. Maybe to ruin yourself as well. His hands are on your hips, anchoring you to him, not that there’s anywhere else you could possibly be.

It’s never been like this with anyone. Just some heavy kissing and you’re already getting turned on. Already wondering what’s next. What it’s going to feel like. If Mingyu is the type of person that will take his time with you. It’s hard to imagine when he seems just as desperate as you are. At least, he tries to anchor you in a certain position so that you can’t grind too much. Maybe he does want to savor it. You really are down horrendous for this man because you think you could just kiss him like this forever and never quite get enough.

All too soon, Mingyu rolls the pair of you over again. Now he’s hovering over you and nobody has any business being that hot. And then he pulls back, somewhat straddling your legs without putting too much weight on you. In one movement, he pulls his shirt over his head and casts it aside. Okay, now you really think that nobody has any business being that hot. And sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before. This is just different. You don’t even realize as he’s reaching for your shirt until you feel his fingers brush the skin of your stomach. He’s looking for permission, but you’re a little impatient and pull the shirt off yourself. You’re not sure that anyone has ever looked at your body with so much love. Like he’s just as amazed as you are. He peppers your chest and your chest and your stomach with kisses. Showing you just how much he loves every bit of you. It’s the safest feeling in the world and you’re not really sure how you got this lucky.

Mingyu is so gentle when he pulls your shorts off. Trails kisses along your thighs as well and makes you shiver. Chuckles when he pulls his own off and you swallow at the sight of him. He’s a big guy and somehow you’re still not expecting his dick to be big like it is. Haven’t ever really thought about it in all the time you’ve been friends. You expect him to be all confident seeing your reaction. There’s something else there too, though. Like he’s a little nervous about this. You’re not really sure what to say to reassure him, so you just pull him back to you to kiss him again. He adjusts into you almost immediately, half laying on top of you while still making sure that he’s not crushing you.

This time kissing him is very different, though. He moves one hand between your legs. It’s gentle at first. He only runs his finger up your center a few times. Catches each moan with his kisses. Slowly works a finger inside you and pumps at a languid pace. It turns you into a whiny, squirming mess entirely too quickly. Empties any thoughts or worries out of your head. You know you can’t be too loud and you hate it. Nobody should be able to kiss this well while also hitting the perfect spot with each pass of his fingers. He adds a second finger and you’re sure that you’re done for. Sure that nothing else will ever feel as perfect as him again. You reach to stroke him and he pulls back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, unable to hide the concern in your voice.

“No, nothing,” he assures you quickly. “I just, um, well I really want to fuck you and I’m not sure I could handle it if…”

“Do you have a condom?” you ask, already ready to say it doesn’t matter if you have to.

“I might?” he says more like a question and gets off the bed to cross to his bag with too much speed. In any other situation you might laugh. Now, you just want to feel him. A moment later, after rifling through his bag, he comes back up with one.

He’s moving back to you, unwrapping the condom, and then he looks up at you. There’s a question in his eyes.

“Yes, Mingyu, I want this. And yes, I want it here,” you assure him.

Thankfully, that’s the only confirmation he needs. In the next second, he’s pumping himself a few times and rolling the rubber onto himself. You move to reposition, but he doesn’t let you. He gently presses you back and gets between your legs. Carefully, he lines himself up and presses in.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss out, trying to stay quiet.

“Too much?” he asks and stills.

“No, Gyu, just move, please,” you whine out, pulling him into you.

He does exactly what you ask and snaps his hips so he’s fully buried inside you. It’s a stretch in the best way. Like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be. You can’t help it, you moan out the first time he thrusts and he catches the second moan with another bruising kiss. Probably better to have bruised lips than to have your family hear the screams you let out as he fucks you. Probably better than having them hear his moans as well. They vibrate through his chest and it gives you a sense of pride. Mingyu is a taker in every sense of his life. You know that it must be killing him to keep quiet now.

The two of you fall into a perfect rhythm without even trying. There’s nothing awkward about it being your first time. Knowing each other as well as you do as friends seems to translate here. Or maybe Mingyu just pays much closer attention to you than you realize. You run your nails down his back and his thrusts stutter so you do it again. That seems to get to him. He picks up the paces of his thrusts. Pulls his dick almost all the way out of you before quickly snapping his hips to bury himself in your pussy again. Never in your life has sex as simple as this position felt so good. Never has anyone you’ve dated felt this perfect.

When Mingyu’s thrusts start to stutter, you reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. Seconds later, your pussy clenches around Mingyu and your vision whites out. You can feel Mingyu release and try to pick up the pace to work him through his own orgasm. He half collapses on you, breathing heavy. Both of you have to catch your breath from all the kisses to muffle the noises as well. He tries to roll over so that he’s not on top of you and you cling to him, not ready to lose contact just yet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you.

“I know.”

“That was…”

“Better than I was expecting.”

You can feel his eyes on you even without looking and it makes you smile. Can imagine what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth.

“Oh, you didn’t think I’d be any good?”

You laugh at that as you turn to face him. “No, I thought you’d be good. I just didn’t expect our first time where we had to be quiet because we’re in my parents house to be that good.”

He considers your words for a second.

“I guess I can take that,” he concedes.

“Come on. We have to clean up and get downstairs,” you say and he sighs dramatically. But, then he gets up and helps you up with him.

Half an hour later, you’re downstairs at the kitchen table sipping on a peppermint mocha latte and picking out your favorite pastries from the spread your mother has out. Mingyu has his chair pulled close to you and his arm along the back of your chair. Your cousin is sitting on your other side, cheerily humming under her breath. In a strange move, she isn’t even trying to speak to Mingyu. Just as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on with her, she turns to you.

“Have a good morning?” she asks knowingly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you hiss back, casting your eyes around.

“No need,” she waves off and shoots a smirk at you. “I got exactly what I wanted.”

“I don’t…”

“Seungkwan and I have been talking a lot. Plotting, I guess you could say. Seems like it finally paid off,” she says and your jaw hangs open.

“Are you…did you just…” you stutter out.

“As long as it’s real now,” she says and doesn’t wait for confirmation. Doesn’t need it, when it’s written all over your face. “We can talk about it later but I am sorry.”

“You and fucking Seungkwan,” you grumble.

It is a weight off your chest, though. Mimi has always been your favorite. A safe space in all the insanity of your family. It’s good to know that she’s still that for you. The two of you can argue about her methods, or her alliance with Seungkwan, later. It’s hard to ignore that it did actually help. You’re in this place because some of your favorite people meddled to help you and Mingyu see sense. Maybe you can say all is well that ends well.

In between all the chaos of breakfast and making sure the presents are under the tree, you manage to tell Mingyu about what Mimi had really been up to. He seems relieved. Not even annoyed, just happy that things can settle into whatever the new normal looks like for you and him. You also find time to whisper all the things you want to do to him when there aren’t prying eyes around. It may be cruel, but you delight in the way the blush rises up his cheeks and the way he shifts in his seat. You’re going to have a lot of fun playing with him, you already know. He’s so easy to rile up. Now you have brand new material to use on him.

Your mother works to corral everyone into the living room where the Christmas tree is so that people can start opening presents. You always hold back and watch at first. Don’t even make an effort to find anything that might be for you. It’s more fun to see people’s reactions. Does your mother like what your father picked out? Are your cousins humoring their parents? Did someone manage to get something that’s genuinely a surprise? There’s never a dull moment. In fact, you’re so lost in thought watching that you don't notice wasn’t beside you until he plops back down and nudges you. Hands a small, beautifully wrapped box over to you.

“Go on, open it,” he urges you softly. It’s clear he’s trying not to draw too much attention.

Exchanging gifts with Mingyu isn’t new. It’s something you do every year. This is unexpected though. Usually you exchange gifts away from other people because they can be a little silly. Nothing about this feels silly, though. With a final questioning glance at him, you pull the ribbon off and carefully ripping the paper. It’s immediately clear that it’s a jewelry box. That makes your heart hammer. You can’t even look over at him. Surely this is something he had already. It’s not like there’s been any time to go out and get something in the midst of all your confessions.

There’s a necklace inside the box. Something that looks old, important. The kind of thing you can tell has been well worn and loved without looking cheap. There’s a pendant hanging from the chain with your favorite stone in a setting that you instantly love. It’s the most perfect gift that anyone has ever given you and it makes you a little emotional. You turn to Mingyu, tears welling in your eyes, and want to have the moment just for the two of you. Unfortunately, your mother and several other family members watch your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly.

“Do you like it?” he asks, still unsure.

“I love it,” you say earnestly.

“It was my grandmother’s that she got from her grandmother before her. She told me to hold onto it and that I would just know when I should give it to someone,” he says and that does you in. Any last resolve disappears.

The only response you can think of is to just kiss him. A real kiss pressed to his lips full of all the words you can’t say about how much a present like this means to you. How sure you are that you two are making the right decision. It’s so meaningful.

“I love you,” he says quietly, trying to keep it just for the two of you. Which doesn’t happen. Not that it matters. Your parents have heard you saying you loved each other this whole trip. It means something different now, though.

“I love you, too,” you say back. “So much.”

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” your mother offers as Mingyu helps you to put it on.

“I thought it would look good on her,” he adds to your mother.

“Almost as good as a ring,” your mother says. It’s the least subtle comment in the entire world.

Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat. Just smiles and nods a little. “Well, maybe you’ll have to invite me back next year and see what the gift is.”

“You have a deal.”

For the first time, you’re not upset with your mother for bringing up marriage and the idea of settling down. You’re just basking in the affection coming from Mingyu and appreciating your new necklace. Soon, you’ll have to leave this little bubble. Trade the idyllic snow covered scenery where everything moves a little slower for your life back in the city. But, you’ll be taking a different relationship with Mingyu back. You think that maybe he’ll be the key to you finally figuring out how to balance it all. Maybe he’s been the answer all along.

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flwrkid14 · 2 months ago

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Tim Drake’s Worst Nightmare: Ra’s al Ghul’s Matchmaking Skills

It started with a mission.

Tim hadn’t expected to be sent after a new ghost anomaly, much less one that was human-shaped and strangely familiar. But when he found himself face-to-face with Danny—a teenager who radiated Lazarus energy like it was his second skin—things got weird. Fast.

Cue the League of Assassins bursting onto the scene, followed by a dramatic entrance from none other than Ra’s al Ghul himself.

And that’s when Tim learned the big, world-shattering truth: Danny was Ra’s al Ghul’s son. Not adopted. Biological.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tim stood, slack-jawed, watching Ra’s beam with the kind of pride usually reserved for conquering cities. Danny, standing awkwardly next to him, scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so, uh… surprise?” Danny offered.

Ra’s spread his arms wide. “Timothy! This is a joyous day. My son, Daniel, has found you at last.”

Tim blinked. “Found me?”

Danny shuffled nervously. “Uh, yeah. You’re kind of… important to the family now.”

Tim’s brain short-circuited.

———

The Heir Situation

Because here’s the kicker: Ra’s had been trying to get Tim to join the League for years. He saw Tim as a potential heir. But now, with Danny in the picture, Ra’s had an even better idea.

“Through Daniel,” Ra’s explained, practically glowing, “I can finally bring you into the family as I always intended.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am not marrying into the League of Assassins.”

Danny choked. “Wait, what?!”

Ra’s nodded sagely. “I see you are both shy about it. No matter! Destiny has a way of unfolding as it should.”

Tim and Danny exchanged horrified glances.

———

Danny and Tim’s Relationship

Despite the chaos, Danny and Tim clicked. Danny was chaotic but genuine, a refreshing contrast to the constant stress of Gotham. And Tim? Tim was the most grounded person Danny had ever met.

“You know, you don’t have to listen to Ra’s,” Tim pointed out after one particularly tense League encounter.

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, but if I don’t humor him, he gets pouty.”

Tim snorted. “Ra’s al Ghul? Pouty?”

“You have no idea.”

———

The Batfamily’s Reaction

When Tim brought Danny back to Gotham, the batfam had questions.

Bruce: “He’s… Ra’s’ son?”

Tim: “Yep.”

Jason: “And you’re… what, his fiancé now?”

Tim: screaming internally

Danny: “I’M RIGHT HERE.”

Damian, eyes wide: “Uncle?”

Danny grinned. “Hey, kiddo.”

Damian, flustered: “I—no. This cannot be.”

———

Ra’s Is Thrilled

Back in Nanda Parbat, Ra’s couldn’t be happier. Every time Tim showed up, Ra’s looked like Christmas came early.

Ra’s: “Timothy, you and Daniel are a perfect match.”

Tim: “In what universe?”

Danny: “Technically, several.”

———

Danny Was Happy.

That was the problem.

Tim might hate making Ra’s happy, but… Danny was different.

Danny liked being part of the League. He liked the structure, the weird family dynamic. He liked the purpose. And he was thriving.

Tim couldn’t ruin that.

Tim didn’t want to make Ra’s happy—he’d rather swallow glass—but he did want to make Danny happy.

And if that meant putting up with Ra’s al Ghul’s matchmaking schemes, well…

Tim gritted his teeth and endured.

———

Tim’s Inner Monologue:

“Being with Danny isn’t the issue. The issue is that it makes Ra’s happy. And I refuse to let that man win.”

Danny: smirking “You’re fighting a losing battle.”

Tim: “Shut up.”

Danny: “Love you too.”

#tim drake #brain dead #dead tired #danny al ghul #ra's al ghul #tim simp era #ra's is too happy and that simply can not do #someone save tim (but not really)#danny is an al ghul and tim suffers for it but its okay because tim loves danny #ra's wants tim to either have or be his heir #he's not picky

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alygator77 · 6 months ago

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 2 ᰔᩚ

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

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

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

ꨄ words: 12.5k

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

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 2 // under the spotlight

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

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

“Mama, mama, look!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well… temporarily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak of the devil—Naoya.

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

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

As if he owns you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really, Naoya?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time to get this marriage finalized.

ꨄ︎

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

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

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

Wait…should you have come dressed businesslike?

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

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

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

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

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

Within moments, the door swings open, revealing Satoru.

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

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

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

“Well, well, and who is this?”

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

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

What should he say? How should he act?

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

Oh God…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Haru.”

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

What do kids like?

What should he say next?

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

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

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

“Yes, Pikachu.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

Charming, even

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He keeps surprising you.

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

Satoru chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“Guilty as charged.”

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

Oh, this is rich.

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

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

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum.

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

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

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

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

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Referencing the document upon the desk, he begins.

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

Okay, easy—right?

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

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

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

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

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

Is he even listening?

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

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

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

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

You blink in surprise. A monthly allowance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, the suddenness of it all sinking in.

“Huh?”

“Problem, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re sure?”

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

To him, solving problems with money seamed effortless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suguru nods, making a note on the document.

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

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

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

Tomorrow?

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

“Alright…tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes, suspicious of his sudden generosity.

"And what’s the catch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Satoru’s crooked grin widens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suguru interjects, his tone professional.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No turning back now.

ꨄ︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden openness.

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

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

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

He chuckles, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is this woman Mr. Gojo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was... intense.”

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

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

ꨄ︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let me show you to our room."

You feel your face heat up instantly.

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

Satoru's grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Here we are."

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

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

"Wow," you breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he always this beautiful?

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

Crap. What are you thinking?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…I suppose I'll manage.”

Satoru laughs softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ꨄ︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ꨄ︎

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

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

You barely recognize yourself.

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

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

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

“Y/n you ready?” his voice calls out.

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

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

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

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

Does he think it’s too much?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ꨄ︎

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

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

Strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember, just follow my lead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the moment came.

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

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

Ten million?

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t fuck this up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if he exposes you?

What if this carefully constructed facade comes crashing down?

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

“There you are, darling. Everything alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles softly, his hand lingering on your waist.

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

What is he saying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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jungkookstatts · 1 year ago

Text

All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again.

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last.

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat.

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it.

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch.

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further.

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.”

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again.

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words.

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again.

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted.

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame.

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island.

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly.

“About?” you raise your eyebrow.

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.”

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself.

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps.

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward.

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice.

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.”

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

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violetrainbow412-blog · 7 months ago

Text

A Dragon's Dilemma

Aegon II Targaryen x Strong!Velaryon!reader

word count: 6k

warnings: infidelity, incest, some mentions of violence but nothing unbearable!

masterlist

The translation of what is said in High Valyrian is at the end!

It had been years since you or your siblings had last set foot in the castle. Six years, to be exact.

Everything had changed and, at the same time, looked exactly the same. Jacaerys and Lucerys were excited to return to the place where you grew up but you, however, still had your doubts about how good an idea it was. Of course it wasn’t a vacation visit, but a matter of great importance such as arguing for the right that belonged to your brother Lucerys was what had brought the entire family back to King's Landing.

As soon as you arrived the first thing you did was, of course, greet your grandfather whom you found in such a sorry state that you felt like crying. He could barely speak, was completely lying down and his physical appearance wasn’t at all pleasant to look at. But he was still the king and at least you were glad he was alive.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, gave you and your siblings complete freedom to wander around the castle as you pleased after that. You, unfortunately or fortunately, knew exactly where you wanted to go.

A part of you wished that during the welcome (which you didn't get, by the way) you could see your uncle Aegon. Curiosity killed you and above all there was a huge desire within you to know what had happened to him.

The last time you had the chance to talk was that unfortunate night when your (then) younger brother took it upon himself to gouge out your Uncle Aemond's eye. You and Aegon had been victims of the situation because it turned out that you were in his room that night and if it hadn't been for you hearing the commotion the queen probably would have found you passionately canoodling with her eldest son.

You had never planned for it to happen that way and of course you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help it. The boy was barely a couple of years older than you and unfortunately for you, love doesn’t pay much attention to those it attacks. More than love, you knew there was always a latent desire between you that probably would have been consummated if you had more time.

No one, not even your mother, had found out about it and to a certain extent you were grateful because according to the news that was circulating, Aegon had married Helaena and they had two children from that union. A pang of jealousy and an unjustified feeling of betrayal invaded you when you found out, although you knew that yours with the man was a childish fantasy that turned out to be impossible.

Hoping that Aegon was in the same room since the last time you had been in the Red Keep you made your way through the halls, praying that you wouldn't encounter any relatives who might question you about your intentions. The black dress you were wearing was something simple, but one of your favorites chosen especially for that occasion. Your brown hair had recently been cut so you had only asked your maid to make some braids to adorn your head.

The further you went, the more nervous you were and you even wondered what you would do if Aegon wasn’t in that room, questioning whether you would have the courage to look for him in the rest of the fortress or would you let that idea die for the good of everyone.

You almost fainted when you saw Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena walking along one of the balconies in the distance, but luckily neither of them noticed your presence before you could hide in a nearby nook.

“Your brother is a fool, it seems that he doesn't think, that he doesn't realize all the damage he does to this family…” you managed to hear and you knew, immediately, that you were going in the right direction.

Once you were out of danger you darted out of your hiding place and gathered your skirt in your hands, beginning to run towards the room you were looking for before anyone else showed up or until the queen returned to look for her son.

When you reached the door, out of breath, you took a moment to breathe and felt the beating of your racing heart throughout your chest. Your hair was sticking to your forehead due to the sweat you had released during the effort and while you were taking that moment you asked yourself again if this was a good idea. Determined, you pushed the doors to the room and then entered as cautiously as possible.

Aegon was confused between the white sheets of his mattress, since the curtains prevented much of the light from entering and the place was only illuminated by the warm tones of some candles. He seemed to be curled up in on himself, with his body barely covered to consider himself decent and hugging a pillow on which his face was hidden. Still, you didn't need to see him to know it was him, the completely white hair gave him away.

“Get out of here,” he gasped. From his voice you suspected he was crying and that only confused you more, so you walked over immediately.

Although of course, before that you made sure to lock the door.

“I want to be alone, moth…!” he spoke again, emerging from his hiding place to confront the intruder. However, he was frozen when he discovered that it wasn’t the queen who had entered his chambers.

“Am I coming at a bad time? I can leave if you want.”

“It's you,” he breathed out in surprise, as if he needed to say it out loud to make it real.

You thought there would be a little more conversation for the welcome, but the boy decided that it was more urgent to feel you close and he made it clear when he stretched one of his arms in your direction, offering his hand for you to take. You did not resist, but fulfilled his whim, letting him pull you until you were sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hello, Aegon,” you said kindly.

As soon as he knew you were close, the man entangled himself in you until he placed his head in the crook of your neck while his arms were responsible for holding you against his naked body. You still didn't see anything indecent, but you could feel the warm skin of his chest.

“You're here,” he continued happily, spreading slow kisses over whatever skin his mouth was within reach.

A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face when you realized that you hadn’t been the only one who had kept that feeling that had blossomed so many years ago well kept.

“I am,” you laughed gently. One of your hands traveled to his head to caress his scalp “I heard you got in trouble.”

“It's all stupid. Don't pay attention to anything you hear” he defended himself. From the smell on his body, as well as the appearance of the room, you suspected that the boy had been drinking before your arrival.

You put your hands between your bodies to push him to which he seemed scared, fearing that you were rejecting him, but his nerves eased when he discovered that you only wanted to be able to observe him.

You noticed that his eyes were swollen from the unshed tears behind which his irises shone.

“Hey, what's wrong, prince?” you asked motherly, raising both thumbs to wipe away his tears. “Is there something bothering you or is it just that in my absence you have softened?”

"When did you arrive?" he asked quietly, completely ignoring your questions.

"In the morning. I was hoping to greet you during the welcome but we didn't have one”

“I didn't even know you were coming. Otherwise I would have gone to the doors myself to receive you as you deserve”

“Would you dare to spoil me in front of my family?”

"Maybe not. But I would have let you take my arm and I would have stolen you to the rooms to do it”

A giggle left your lips at the joke and then you took a moment to observe each other. Aegon couldn't help but notice that your tits had grown and he could see them squeezed by your dress. Your features were still delicate but now they looked more experienced and you had cut your long hair.

You could barely recognize your uncle. His face was hardened, he had gained weight and had become robust, like a real man. You thought that he had changed too much since the last time you saw him and, to be honest, you couldn’t believe that he had become so handsome: while it was true that the marks under his eyes were more pronounced and there were some new scars, he still had the same indigo eyes with hints of purple that you loved to see so much.

"You have changed"

“And you became more beautiful,” he sighed, reaching out to cup your face with one of his hands.

Before you could process it, the boy had already approached you to kiss you, eager to take advantage of the little time you might have but at the same time desperate to feel your lips. They were still soft and inexperienced, almost as if prompting him to corrupt you.

“Aegon…”

“Hmm?”

“You have a wife and children.”

"So what?" he said nonchalantly, only moving on the mattress so he could hold your waist and get you closer to his body.

Kissing him was addictive, so you had a hard time putting two thoughts together coherently enough to push him away and tell him it was wrong. But deep down you didn't want to tell him either; it would be a lie to admit that your intentions when going to his room were only to greet him and chat with him.

His hands walked over your body, as if wanting to remember the shapes already forgotten by time, and you kept holding his face by his wet cheeks.

By doing that he was immediately distracted from whatever had happened and was torturing him, leaving room only for the feeling of satisfaction that came from nibbling and sucking on your lips.

After a few minutes, with one movement he laid you down on the bed and placed himself on top of you, which was enough to bring you back to reality. Just one kiss later, without too much force, but decisively, you placed a hand on his bare chest to push him away from you.

“Aegon,” you repeated sternly.

Whatever you had to say died in your throat as you looked down and noticed that the sheet could no longer protect him, revealing that he was completely naked.

The man looked amused by the situation.

"What? Did the dragon eat your tongue?” he made fun of you. Then he lowered himself just enough so that his lips were at the level of your ear “I can do some things that you might like with mine”

“Aegon, stop it,” you sighed shakily, your cheeks already quite red.

As best you could, you pushed him to the other side and he let you beat him just for the satisfaction of seeing you nervous. You sat back down on the mattress and threw a sheet over his crotch, more out of a matter of maintaining your self-control than out of modesty.

You had your back to him and the boy smiled from his position, wondering how long it would take you two to roll around in bed now that you were an adult and desires had become carnal. He thought that maybe you just wanted him to beg and he felt a bubbling inside, wishing he could persist until you agreed.

However, he was still somewhat hurt by the scene that had unfolded with his mother a few moments earlier and he wondered if you would be able to comfort him as he wished.

Innocently he approached you again and surrounded you from behind, leaving a fleeting kiss somewhere on your neck to test the waters. Seeing that you didn't object, he snuck under your arm and then laid his head on your lap like a cat looking for affection. To avoid temptation, he made sure to pull the sheet tight enough to cover most of his body.

“Where is the rest of your family?”

“My mother and Daemon talking to your mother, probably. I watched my brothers go towards the outer yard and Baela and Rhaena maybe with Rhaenys”

“Aemond was training in the yard so they will meet him. Let's hope this time no one loses an eye”

You giggled at that and Aegon held your hand up to his hair, asking you to pet it. You fulfilled his wish, while he snuggled closer to you.

It was strange that so much had happened and you felt with the same intensity that you had once shared. The problems between your families had never afflicted either of you two, because although both they and you had done questionable things, all that was forgotten as soon as their lips touched yours.

“Have you ever thought about what would have happened if your mother had accepted the engagement that mine proposed?”

"What are you talking about?"

“In having gotten married. You and I"

“You would be very unhappy,” he exclaimed confidently. “You only like me because you don't live with me every day.”

"Maybe you're right. But at least we would have had a lot of fun in the nights”

Aegon laughed and placed a distracted kiss on your arm.

“I guess you're not married yet, right, niece? Otherwise I doubt you would have come looking for me."

“There have been some candidates, but none convincing. Although it’s logical that they are dying to marry the next in the line of succession."

“Smug and mistaken, little princess,” he scoffed and both of you laughed.

You had already had that discussion before, but now you didn't have much heart to repeat it. Aegon claimed that, in case something happened to Rhaenyra, he was the heir and you confronted him by saying that since you were the firstborn, the position belonged to you. However, you knew beforehand that the man's desires were never to reign and that he was only trying to annoy you.

You yourself often wondered if you wanted to rule at some point in history, still afraid of what people might think of a woman on the iron throne. You weren’t blind and you knew that your right to the throne could be questioned not only because of that, but because of the supposed illegitimacy of your birth. You were a Targaryen, your mother's daughter, and that was all that mattered. But still, the thought of having to fulfill a duty of that magnitude completely overwhelmed you.

You were brought out of your musings when you felt the man in your lap stir and stretch enough to give you a deep kiss, which you reciprocated without opposition.

“You should get dressed.”

“Is it bothering you so far?”

“I'm serious,” you laughed, while you gently brushed a couple of hairs from his face “Someone might think badly of us if they find us like this.”

“For someone to think badly you should be naked too. Which I wouldn't object to, of course."

You shook your head, suppressing a smile, and then maneuvered yourself to your feet, pretending that with that Aegon would do what you were asking. However, when you tried to walk away he reached out to grab your hand, reluctant to let you go.

"How long you'll be here?"

"In your bedroom?"

“In King's Landing”

“A couple of days, maybe. I guess until the issue with Drifmark's inheritance is resolved."

“Good,” he whispered, as if assessing the situation. You wanted to free yourself from his grip but he didn't let you “Are you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“From King's Landing?”

“From my room,” he replied seriously, making you smile.

“I'm not leaving yet, Aegon. I'm just turning around so you can get dressed."

“I don’t mind you looking,” he said cheekily, but you had already turned your back on him. You heard movement behind you and assumed he had started to put on some clothes “Don’t you want to look even a little bit?”

“Just hurry up, your grace”

Upon hearing your complaint he laughed and then you felt a loud kiss on your cheek that had every intention of making you turn around, to which you didn’t succumb.

“There will be a dinner or something like that with the whole family.”

“Huh, yeah?”

“Well, that's what I heard. After dinner, can we meet?”

“Won't we have problems?”

“You don't like problems?” he said in a mocking tone.

You felt his hands put on your waist, from behind, and you prayed that when you turned around he wasn't still naked. It wasn't like that, he was only wearing a linen shirt, pants and was barefoot, but at least it was something.

“Not when they grow up in this family. Any family fight becomes a thousand times worse if it involves dragons.”

"I'm sorry for you. Mine are bigger than yours.”

“We're still talking about dragons, right?”

Aegon bit his lip to contain a grin from ear to ear and then he held you close to his body, ready to kiss you again. You just let him do it.

Dinner was a complete disaster.

You were already in your room, furiously packing all your belongings into a trunk, when you heard the sound of the door opening. You looked up from your task believing that by doing so you would meet Rhaenyra or maybe even one of your sisters, however, you were surprised to see a head of silver hair appear that was not theirs.

“You are very bold to come here after that.”

"After what?"

“You and your brother beating mine”

“They started”

“Aemond did it”

Aegon didn't think you were going to get that upset about the dinner incident, after all he still thought it was petty stuff. But the message had been clear and forceful, at least for you: you were considered bastards and, therefore, unworthy of any merit within King's Landing.

“You're exaggerating, it's just that… you know that Aemond gets carried away by his impulses.”

“And you agree with him?” you asked, angry when the white-haired boy tried to reach out to take your hand.

The boy looked at your things and then at you. He had heard your mother saying that the whole family would return to Dragonstone that same night because apparently, after what had happened, you no longer wanted to spend any more time in the Red Keep.

“He's my brother, I had to defend him…”

"I'm not talking about that. Do you think I’m not a Targaryen?” You interrupted him, stopping from the violent pace with which you were putting away your clothes so you could look him in the eyes. “Calling us bastards is already a betrayal, Aegon. Your family has to be very careful with what they say because very soon the one they offend is the one who will be on the iron throne.”

“Do you think they will allow that?” He said, showing the same seriousness that you had shown him. “I am my father's firstborn.”

“And what are you implying?” you took a step forward and he held your gaze. “Do you wish to usurp the throne that by right and by choice of the king belongs to my mother?”

“I don't want it. But many people do it. All my life my mother has told me that yours will kill me if she comes to power, because I am a threat to her reign.”

“My mother wouldn't do such a thing.”

“Not even under your father's advice?”

Daemon wasn't your father, but you understood what he meant. If your head already hurt after the fight, now you could feel it throbbing from your temples to the back of your neck.

“Is this a confession, Aegon? Are you telling me that as soon as Viserys dies you will fight for the throne?”

“My grandfather will do it. And my mother and Aemond and all those lords on the council will do it too. I hear them whispering everywhere. Viserys is about to die and they will fight to name me king.”

“You know you're taking a big risk by coming and telling me that, don't you?”

“I'm not taking the risk because you're not going to tell anyone.”

For a second, you froze. If anyone asked you, you were sure that Aegon would never be able to hurt you, much less kill you, but a lot could have changed in six years. You took a step back to search through your trunk for the sword that your grandmother Rhaenys had given you and he seemed to guess your intentions.

“Don't do something stupid,” he continued, cautiously. “I've come to make you a proposal.”

“The proposals were made a long time ago and your family declined.”

“Not one of that kind. I want you to run away with me.”

An incredulous laugh escaped your lips, thinking about how your uncle could joke at a time like this. You had to warn your mother, beg her to stay in King's Landing until your grandfather died so that no one could usurp what belonged to her.

“Leave my room, please.”

“I'm serious,” he exclaimed sternly. Almost carefully, he approached you and tried to take both of your hands but you refused, afraid that it was a trap. “Without me, no one here could deny your mother's claim. Not even Aemond, because he is not the firstborn male”

“And you seriously plan to run away?”

"I do. I am tired of all this and it is the only alternative that would solve the situation. That's why you have to come with me.”

“How do I know you're not tricking me into abandoning me far away and leaving my mother without her heir? Or worse yet, that you will keep me hostage for the interests of your family.”

“Our family, my niece,” he corrected you. “Do you remember that we are all part of the same family?”

“Your brother seems to forget often. And you too"

It was incredible how that morning you had been so affectionate and now that night had fallen you were arguing so heatedly. But there came a point where the offenses were intolerable, even with the affection you felt for the dragon.

“I have never hurt you. I have harmed everyone in this family physically or morally, but never you and you know it perfectly” he insisted on wanting to hold you and ended up managing to take only one of your hands “I am willing to leave to clear the way for Rhaenyra but I want you to come with me”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I will stay. And her inheritance will be at risk”

"Are you threatening me?"

“I'm offering you a chance,” he continued. Apparently he wasn't going to give up on it so easily “I've thought about it for a long time now. My father will be lucky if he makes it to next week alive, time is ticking and when you least expect it a war for power will break out. I'm just saving us a couple of steps.”

“Do you really think I will abandon my mother?”

“Under the promise that she won’t have any obstacles on her direct path to the throne? Yes, I thought you were sensible enough to see the enormous advantage that our absence would represent”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at him seriously and in disbelief at the decision in his words. Was Aegon really convinced to do all that? Was he proposing that you guys run away?

“And what about Helaena? And your children?"

“They will be fine. I'm not a good father, they won't miss me."

“Aegon this is… it is simply foolish. It's crazy."

“And we have to make a decision now. Your family is waiting for you to leave, time is of the essence”

You stayed quiet, your hand still being held by his. So much had happened that day that you felt like you couldn't take it anymore and now he had snuck into your room to tell you all that. You weren't stupid at all, you knew that your grandfather could die that very night and that the man in front of you was having a train of reasonable thoughts for probably the first time in his life.

“And why don't you just leave? You don't want to govern, uncle. We both know it, you just... go away and that's it."

“I don't want to go alone. I need a company and I want it to be you.”

"And why me?"

“Because I know you're the only one who would be willing to do it. For your mother's sake”

“So it's blackmail”

“Not blackmail. It's a fair exchange.”

You didn't realize when you started crying. And Aegon, as a sign of goodwill, came to kiss your cheeks to erase those tears.

“Say yes,” he continued. “I have it all planned. There is a ship to Essos leaving tonight, we will go on it and no one will ever hear from us again. There it doesn't matter if you're royalty or not, no one will recognize us."

“And our dragons?”

“We don't need dragons there.”

“And what are we to live on, Aegon?”

“We will live on anything. I have a trunk full of gold ready to be loaded on that ship, it will serve us for a few months and if we know how to manage it perhaps for a little longer”

It seems he had thought this through quite well and you wondered if you had always been part of the plan or if it was something that had arisen as a result of your visit.

"I can’t do this”

"Of course you can. Don't think about it too much, just... say yes and that's it."

“And how am I going to leave her? What kind of ungrateful will I be?”

“She left my father's side to live with Daemon, her uncle. And that has never bothered your conscience, has it?” he carefully approached you until he kissed you, hoping that maybe that would soften you enough for you to accept “I know you don't want this either. I know you don't want to govern, I can see the fear in your eyes every time the topic comes up because it is the same fear I see in mine."

“You can't know that”

“I'm an idiot most of the time, I'm not going to deny that to you. But I know we will never have an opportunity like this again. Please come with me”

That was a plea. Aegon was imploring you to join him in this madness and he required an immediate response. All kinds of thoughts crossed your mind at that moment and with all of them you needed to take time to decide. But you had also heard the man's words clearly and you didn’t doubt that Otto Hightower's ambition was such as to manage to steal from Rhaenyra what Viserys had given her.

Going with him would be impulsive, stupid, and anything but sensible as Aegon insisted it would be. You would completely break Rhaenyra's heart. You, her only daughter, abandoning her to seek better fortune in Essos.

Decisions, decisions... they were always the most difficult and cruel part for The house or the dragon.

“And how did you plan to escape just today? It’s improbably convenient, don’t you think?”

"I didn’t know. I was ready to flee the day it was necessary, but I think today is the best opportunity. You're here so our parents won't think I'm kidnapping you or something like that."

“They'll think about it anyway.”

“Leave a letter,” he suggested, bringing one of your hands to his lips to kiss the back “Explain to Rhaenyra that you're okay.”

“Aegon, I'm not going with you.”

"Why not?" he insisted, his voice already breaking. He raised both hands to your cheeks to force you to look at him “I'm asking you, please.”

"No…"

“Let's leave here and we will never know anything about royalty again in our lives”

“There will always be someone who questions a woman's authority.”

“But it won't be because of me and you won't be here to see it.”

“I don't want to leave my mother!”

Aegon sighed, completely exasperated, and his eyes unintentionally glazed over as well.

“Listen, if you had asked me at that time, I would have said yes to marrying you. I don't love Helaena, I want you. Come with me and let's leave all this for peace, we simply… we have to start again” with a delicacy that you never thought he was capable of, he leaned in to kiss you. Once, twice, three times…

"I can’t"

"Yes, you can. You don't want to, it's different."

You looked up, still too close to him, and a sob escaped your chest.

“It's just that I... Aegon, don't do this to me.”

“I will treat you like a queen. You will be my queen forever, you just have to come with me.”

You couldn't bear to look at his pleading eyes. You asked yourself: Should you follow your mind or your heart?

The sound of the door opening forced you to jump away and you pushed Aegon behind some curtains, afraid that someone would discover you.

"Mother"

“Are you ready, my girl?” he asked at first. When she noticed your eyes, her brow furrowed “Are you crying?”

“No, no… it's nothing.”

“Ow, love. What's the matter?" carefully she approached you and took your hands in hers. You felt like you were going to break right there “I know you don't want to leave”

“Leave?”

“Back to Dragonstone, of course. I know you like the warm weather of King's Landing better.”

"Oh yeah. That"

You were silent for a moment and then you approached her and hugged her. She wasn’t surprised, as it was common, but she was moved.

“What's wrong with you, huh?”

“Mom, have you ever thought about what would happen if I didn't want to be your heir?”

Rhaenyra froze. All her childhood and adolescence the only thing she had wanted was to be good enough for Viserys and that meant being named the heir to the throne. However, she assumed that you would have the same aspirations and that is why she wanted to demonstrate from the beginning that a first-born daughter had the same value as a first-born son. The mere thought of having hurt you with that decision immediately distressed her.

"What are you talking about?" she was quick to say, pulling you out of your hiding place to look at you.

“I don't know if I'm ready. I'm afraid I won't do it well."

“Oh, it's not about that, honey. You will do excellent, I don't doubt it for a second. I will advise you all the way until the time comes.”

“What if I don't want to do it?” You insisted. Rhaenyra felt her heart hurt a little and tried to hold back her tears. “It's too much pressure, mom. And I don't want you to be angry with me and I don't want you to hate me because I know you've done too much for us..."

“No, I would never be angry with you. Don't even think that, no,” she murmured gently, brushing your hair. “Are you sure you don't want it?”

"I don’t know yet. But I believe yes"

“Okay, okay,” the blonde responded, trying to process the fact that her most beloved daughter didn’t wish to continue the legacy she was forging. But she couldn't do anything, after all “We'll talk about this when we get home, okay? There is still… there is still Dragonstone as an inheritance if you are sure about this. And Jacaerys could take your place. But we have to think very carefully, sweetheart. This shouldn’t be decided right now.”

“You know I would never do anything to harm you, right, mother?”

"I know"

“And I thank you for everything you have given me and done for me.”

“Of course I know, my girl,” she said, smiling at you as gently as possible. “Thank you for telling me, you… you don't disappoint me at all, okay? Don't be afraid” she lovingly leaned down and kissed your forehead, as she had done all her life “Hurry up to leave. We will wait for you in the dragon pit.”

“It's okay, mommy,” you responded, your voice breaking. The woman was about to leave when you spoke again “Avy jorrāelan”

She watched you, from the door, and smiled.

“Issa tolī”

You waited patiently for her to leave, waiting a few extra seconds as a precaution. You then went to where Aegon was only to find him with tears running down his eyes, because while he was listening to the exchange he wondered why Alicent had never treated him that way. The boy thought you were going to throw him out of there and he was surprised when you pulled him by the collar to kiss him.

“If I go with you, you must keep all the promises you just made to me, do you understand?”

“Are you… are you saying you will?”

“Will you keep those promises?” you asked seriously and Aegon nodded frantically. You then shared another passionate kiss.

“Let's go then.”

You took just a couple of personal items to put them in a bag and Aegon suggested you wear a masculine outfit, which you ran to get to his room along with his own belongings.

“How do I know this isn't all a trap?”

“It’s not,” he assured you. He was so eager for you to trust him that he took out the sheath that held your sword and handed it to you “You can kill me if that's the case. But is not"

“I almost forgot it. Thank you"

“Take this,” he added, putting a cloak that was too long on your shoulders. It was probably from Aemond “I know how to get out without being seen, there is a passage.”

Still afraid of what might happen you let him take your hand and you nodded, letting him guide you to said place. You didn't want to imagine Rhaenyra's face when she entered your room to discover your dress placed neatly on the bed, with the jewelry she had given you and a sealed letter on it. You didn't let go of your companion's hand the entire way and once outside you practically ran to the port where the transport that would take you to the other continent was.

Aegon couldn't be happier to have gotten his little princess to accompany him on the crazy plan and he was sure that all things would work out in your favor. Completely devastated, you watched as the vision of King's Landing receded as the ship moved forward, leaving every glimpse of your life you could have.

“We did the right thing,” he assured you, noticing your melancholy and carefully holding your cheeks to kiss you “We will be very happy, I promise.”

You just hoped so. May the seven accompany your path and protect the future queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Viserys died that night. The Dance of the Dragons never happened because of the decision the pair of heirs made in an instant.

Entire years of war, were avoided only by taking a ship to Pentos.

Avy jorrāelan: te amo

Issa tolī: yo también

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x fem!reader #aegon targaryen x female reader #aegon targaryen #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen

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ldrfanatic · 9 months ago

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two worlds collided

theodore nott x fem!malfoy!ravenclaw!reader

a.n. this is quickly becoming a theo obsession blog BUT I am open to requests for others

love theo in this piece.

to be added to my theo nott taglist just comment on one of my theo nott posts :)

synopsis - you're draco's sister but you're a ravenclaw. your father shunned you because he thought that voldemort wouldn't want you but when Nott sr is trying to find theodore a bride your father takes this as the perfect opportunity. over time you grow to genuinely care for one another.

warning - cursing, lucius malfoy is a prick, hitting, borderline verbal abuse, arranged marriage

accompanying song - never tear us apart (bishop briggs)

works slytherin boys

"Father is asking for you."

Shock washed over you and you wondered if you submerged yourself into your cloud-like bed if Lucius would just forget about it. After carefully weighing your options, it seemed rather unlikely. You threw your navy covers to the side and shuffled awkwardly to the main dining hall where your mother, father, and older brother Draco were waiting.

Your eyes fell onto a rather scary looking man and another handsome figure who you recognized as Theodore Nott, one of Draco's friends.

"Daughter." The warm velvet tones of Narcissa Malfoy filled the air. After you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, Draco and Lucius had shunned you. Narcissa had been the only person in the entire family still kind to you. Well, she and your estranged aunt Andromeda who you'd been secretly exchanging letters since third year.

"Now that the Dark Lord has gained strength, it is imperative that we maintain close connections within the Sacred 28." Lucius approached you, looking rather unhinged, and placed a large hand on your shoulder. There was a malicious look in his eyes that made the entire interaction all the more unnerving. "Once the Dark Lord begins his plans, he'll need people he can trust to continue the most important of magical bloodlines."

Your father took you by the shoulders and moved you to stand in front of Theodore and the mystery man at his side.

"This is Theodore Nott Sr. and his son, who I presume you know from school."

Nott Sr. glanced to the side at Theodore who snapped out of a sort of trance. He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it.

"Y/n."

You smiled but didn't say anything, waiting in silence for your father to elaborate. He and Nott Sr. had clearly formed some sort of plan. "You and his son are to be married."

"What?!" Your body whipped around of its own accord and you felt rage explode over your body. "You haven't spoken to me in years and suddenly you expect me to marry this man without even asking me if I wish to be married to him or anyone for that matter?!"

Lucius' hand came down suddenly. A loud 'whack' resounded in the room as the back of his palm made contact with your cheek. "You ungrateful little brat." He straightened his cloak and took what you supposed was meant to be a calming breath. "Draco noticed the way that you stared at the Nott boy in school. You ought to be more appreciative that I didn't choose that awful Pucey boy although he was more than willing."

Though you couldn't see, Theodore's nose turned up in disgust at the mention of Adrian Pucey. He'd taken a liking to you, completely undeterred by the elder Malfoy's numerous threats to stay away from his younger sister. Draco might've been appalled that you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, but that didn't mean that he was gonna let that slimey tosser terrorize you.

Your gaze stayed on the floor for a few moments before you turned back around, muttering a small apology to Theodore and his father. Overall, Theo was quite handsome and you had stared at him more than a few times. He really was quite handsome.

Nott Sr. studied you for a few moments then turned to Theodore expectantly. "Why don't the two of you take a stroll and become acquainted while Lucius and I finish up the particulars." It was phrased like a question, but in truth he wasn't asking. The air was silent as you walked out of the room the brunette boy following diligently.

The cool air nipped at your exposed skin as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind you. It was always cold and dark in the area surrounding Malfoy Manor.

"I'm sorry Theodore."

"Theo."

You stared at Theodore like a fish out of water waiting for words of any intelligence to come to you. Finally, you stuttered out an ignorant 'Huh?'.

"Call me Theo."

Your heart beat loudly in you ears for a few moments. "Oh-kay," Theo began to mosey into the Manor gardens with you hot on his heels. He was quite tall and due to the length of his legs, every one step he took was nearly three of yours. "So Theo. I am sorry you got dragged into this."

"That's alright fiancée." Theo teased you with a smile that could make any girl weak in the knees. For a moment you felt as though you could almost forget that the both of you were being forced into this.

"Still. I know your reputation. I only ask that you keep your conquests separate from our entanglement."

An indescribable akin to hurt flashed in the eyes of the boy before you. As well as something you didn't quite recognize.

"My reputation?" You spluttered at him for a few moments once again making a fool of yourself in front of Theodore Nott.

"Theo I didn't mean to--"

"Whatever." He turned away from you and stalked angrily back towards the Manor, calling over his shoulder. "And it's Theodore."

The rest of the break passed by pretty miserably, as expected. You and Theodore had gone on a few dates, as demanded by both your father and Nott Sr. since the pair of you were courting now, but they were long and excruciating with little to no conversation.

Despite a summer that seemed as though it would never end, September finally arrived.

You were boarding the train with Theodore and Draco as your parents watched on. They'd been keeping an extra close eye on the pair of you. In all honesty, you and Theodore hadn't grown any closer in your courtship than you'd been as distant acquaintances the year prior. If anything, the walk in the garden at the start of your relationship had forced you further apart.

And though you'd pretended you didn't care, seeing Theodore with other girls was never something you'd enjoyed. Now, knowing that he'd be your husband sooner rather than later, the thought of Theo running around with some daft blonde Slytherin made your heart sink to your stomach.

Yet, as the year progressed, you and the rest of Hogwarts were unexpectedly surprised by Theo. Before you knew it, the first snowfall graced Hogwarts in November, and Theodore hadn't had any flings with any girls. He was even turning down girls that had been brave enough to approach him and make the first move.

Without your parents to keep the two of you tightly bound, you and Theodore hadn't spoken since the train in.

Through all of this, you hadn't expected to become close friends with Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl in Theo and Draco's year. But she'd walked up to you during breakfast one morning and the two of you really hit it off.

Hence why currently, you were sat on Pansy's bed while she worked on her charms homework. And she was putting her absolute all into trying to convince you to ask Theo to Hogsmeade.

"C'mon Y/n! It might be fun."

"If by fun you mean he'll humiliate me in front of the entire student body." You mumbled under your breath. You tried to tune her out so as to focus on the book you were currently attempting to read, but she was determined.

"According to Blaise Theo's been talking about you when Draco isn't around to glare at him for it."

"Look Pans, I know you're in love with the bloke but have you considered that Blaise may be confused? Or simply taking the mickey?" Pansy shot you an unimpressed look. "Theo and I haven't spoken since September. In any case, if he's turning down long legged red heads who are all but stripping in front of him, what makes you think he'd want to go out with me?"

"Because he's already agreed to speak with you in the Slytherin Common Room tonight."

"What?!"

Pansy ignored your protests and damn near dragged you down to the common room with an iron grip on your wrist. When you got there, Theo was spread out on one of the expensive leather couches with a cigarette in between his lips. Yet as he noticed you approaching, he immediately dropped it and put it out with a stomp on the stone floors.

"Y/n."

The sonorous tones of Theo's voice bounced off each wall of the common room and seemed to warm you from the inside out. His voice was so inviting that you almost believed you could actually do this.

There is, however, one thing to know about Theodore Nott. No matter how inviting or pleasant Theo's aura is, you'd made a promise to yourself not to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you made the unfortunate mistake to look Theodore Nott in his malachite eyes, you'd lose all ability to think, speak, even breathe properly.

It wasn't until you saw his shoes enter your line of sight that you knew that he'd approached you at all. Worse, when his large hand found purchase under your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his, you knew that you were well and truly fucked.

In that most regrettable moment, you realized how much you'd fallen in love with Theodore. During shared hushed dates and the rare moments of laughter. Theodore Nott had completely enraptured you. And you realized much too late to do anything about it.

So now here you stood. Lost in the beautiful blues and greens of your fiancée's eyes. You were completely, 100% at Theodore Nott's mercy. And likely not for the last time in your life, you felt the urge to give into him. He was a sin that you'd willingly drown in.

"Bellisima," Theo's voice thickened as he spoke. You couldn't understand what he was saying nor could you place the language. But in all honesty, you hadn't known that he even spoke any other languages. His tongue wrapped effortlessly around each syllable and his voice deepened even more than usual, if possible. "I asked you a question."

"Huh?"

"You've been avoiding me." He stepped closer and your heartbeat spiked. "Why?"

Why had you been ignoring Theo again? How could you, or anyone for that matter, ever dream of not giving this devastatingly handsome man everything he desired and more? Oh yeah. Your wretched father.

"You've already been roped into entrapment with me and then forced to hang out with me all summer. I didn't want to cause anymore turmoil to your peace than I already have."

Theo's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. Once again you'd gone and offended the poor boy.

Immediately, you opened your mouth to apologize, but he cut you off.

"D'you know for a Ravenclaw, you really can be rather thick sometimes?"

You felt your jaw drop in shock. The small grin he currently sported on his face let you know that he'd obviously been teasing. And for the umpteenth time since knowing him, Theo stole your breath with his stupid mesmerizing smile.

Yet, through all of that, he was right. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Theo finally seemed to get the hint that he was going to have to spell this out for you.

"I know you probably don't know this about me, but I never do anything that I don't want to. No matter who's asking."

You continued to stare at him blankly. Had he hit his head during the last quidditch match?

Theo ran a hand stressfully through his hair. He grabbed your wrist and led you back to the couches where you settled comfortably in the seat next to him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. "Merlin, Y/n. Turns out you Malfoy's are all slow."

"No offense." He added on quickly when he saw the look on your face. "That's not the point. Y/n I never would have agreed to this engagement with you if I didn't actually want to. I know that you did not get a say in the matter so if you truly wish to live our lives separately, I will respect your choice." Theo gently pulled your hand until it was safely tucked in between both of his larger ones.

"But whatever your decision, know that I am yours. I have wanted nothing more in the past few months than to be by your side. And every moment I spend without you is inexplicable torture for my soul."

"Theo."

He shook his head and cradled you face between his palms.

"No. My mother had a saying. Lascia che la vita accada. It means 'let life happen'. She believed that the only way to truly know if something is meant for you is to let life make it happen on its own. So take a few days. I'll meet you Saturday morning in the Great Hall. But know that if you agree to be mine, Tesoro, you'll be mine for eternity."

To say that staying away from Theo in the days following was easy would be a complete and total lie. When you told Pansy about the conversation the pair of you had (or lack thereof really) she'd all but exploded.

Finally, Saturday morning rolled around. You'd genuinely thought about all your options and you'd come to a decision. The only issue with Theo's plan is that Saturday was the infamous Gryffindor v Slytherin Quidditch match. The Great Hall was bustling in seas of only red or green. You were sporting a dark green jumper, a show of obvious support for the Slytherin team.

Those of your house that favored Gryffindor looked on at you with disdain as you stood from your bench and began making your way to the Slytherin table in search of Theo. He was one of Slytherin's chasers so trying to find him during such a hectic morning proved difficult.

As you walked up and down the table, a familiar figure appeared in front of you.

"Ahh Malfoy. I've been looking for you. I was wonderin' if you'd wear my jersey."

Before you had time to respond or even acknowledge the situation at all, Adrian Pucey had shoved his green and silver practice jersey into your arms. It was an incredibly common practice for girlfriends and boyfriends of Quidditch players to wear their partner's jerseys to their games for good luck.

The hall fell silent as the sound of glass breaking reverberated through the air. You looked to the source of the noise. Theo had stood so abruptly from his seat next to Blaise and Lorenzo that his entire breakfast went flying and ended up on the floor.

He was staring at you with clear ache in his eyes. Suddenly, he swung himself over the bench and stormed out of the room.

You threw Adrian's awful smelling jersey back at his face and ran frantically after Theo.

"Theo!" He ignored you and continued walking briskly even as you approached quickly on his heels. "Theodore please. Just let me explain."

"You don't owe me an explanation, dolcezza ragazza. You've made your choice."

"You've got it all wrong. That's not my decision. I don't want that." You cried out as tears brimmed your eyes. The thought of losing Theo because of Adrian Pucey was mournful.

"Hey, hey. Calma tesoro. Breathe." Theo's hands one again found their way to your face. He gently thumbed the tears from your face. "Don't get yourself all worked up. I'll always listen to you."

"Adrian he just sort of threw his disgusting jumper at me. I don't want him. I only want you. I'm yours, Theodore Nott, completely and without hesitation."

The grin on Theo's face was nothing short of heart-stopping.

"Does that mean you'll wear my jersey at the game today?"

wc 2.6k oops

4.17.24

-- taglist --

@thatdammchickennugget @moonlightreader649

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #lorenzo zurzolo #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson

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martian-astro10 · 4 months ago

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D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 6

Moon in 10th gives you a sassy (in a good way) father in law. Also, your spouse can be the best in their field. After marriage, you can be closer to your partner's family than your own. If you don't have a good relationship with your parents, then your partner's family will fill that void. (I know a gay guy with this placement and his husband was disowned by his family when he came out but my friend's family treat him as their own son. They have a really sweet relationship. I love this placement)

Rahu will either take away everything or give the best results related to the things of the house it's in. It really depends on it's dispositor. For ex- if rahu is in 5th, it can either give you a partner who is intelligent, creative, energetic, has a lot of hobbies, or it can give you a partner who drinks a lot, parties a lot, sleeps around, etc. it can also either give you a lot of kids or none at all.

Mercury in 9th gives you an intelligent spouse, they can also be a multilingual person. If you're a woman then your partner can have a little, teeny tiny tendency to mansplain, it's honestly like, they're so proud of their knowledge that they just wanna show how much they know, it can be a little annoying sometimes but nothing too serious. (I know a guy with this and his wife is so cute, she looks like a child every time she talks about her interests, you can tell how much she enjoys sharing her experiences and knowledge, it's kinda cute actually)

Venus in 7th is that placement that completely changes you after marriage, especially your fashion sense. it's because it aspects your 1st house, so definitely a huge change in personality, you can also get a glow up after marriage. Also, it can give a rich partner, kinda like a crazy rich Asians type situation. (I know a girl with this placement and she was so innocent before marriage, she wouldn't even wear revealing clothes and stuff but then after marriage, her mother in law basically threw out all her old clothes and got her new ones, I met her recently and BRO, she looked so different, so beautiful and she was wearing clothes that actually suit her body type and skin color. Also her mother in law is COOL AS FUCK, every time I look at her, I'm like, yeah, this is who I aspire to be like in the future) last point, you'll have a very loving marriage

Jupiter in 2nd is THAT placement. so many celebrities who are married to rich business men have this. I feel like this is one of the placements that just makes you very materialistic, like money is very important for you all, so you should marry someone who is just as materialistic. (I know people with this placement who don't get lonely or offended even when their spouses are workaholics, both you and your spouse think that money should take priority over any other matter) I'll be honest, your married life can be a little dry, but not if Jupiter is in a good sign

Sun in 9th is OFC another good placement. I haven't really seen this mentioned anywhere but this is like THE foreign spouse placement. all the people I know who have this, married someone who was not from their country. You'll also travel a lot after marriage. It gives you a really charming partner, like they can charm the pants off you. Also, the sexual tension is HIGH, Especially if sun is in Aries. There's also a high chance that you're an introvert but your spouse is not, so they can help you get out of your comfort zone

Saturn in 3rd can be such a calm and mature placement, it's like, you know how many men don't talk about the problems they face in a relationship, and then they start acting shitty and wait for the woman to break up. With this placement you get a responsible partner, someone who is willing to talk and meet halfway but you have got to match their energy yk. if you have a weak Mercury in d1, then this placement is not nice, cuz your communication skills are shit and they are TOO mature, so the moment you play games with them, they'll leave you. So work on yourself, is what I would say.

For ketu also, if the dispositor is well placed then you achieve balance in that area, but if not, then you feel detached. ( I know 2 people with ketu in 7th, one is so against marriage and she has extremely high standards, which tbh, are not even practical but the other one has high achievable standards. The funny thing is that the first one has always dated guys who were not good to her and the other has had zero dating experience cuz she's waiting for the right guy. So the detachment sometimes refers to "wrong attachment".

You all are not gonna like this but Jupiter in 7th is one of the STRONGEST indicators of getting married a lot of times. Jupiter in 1st as well, it's not that strong but chances are high. (Halley berrey, Jennifer Lopez, angelina jolie and Scarlett Johansson have it)

To end it on a good note, if you have mars in 5th, just know I'm jealous of you, cuz if there's one thing that you're not gonna lack in your marriage, it's sex. You guys will be those parents who kiss each other even you've been married for 35 years, you do that and then your kids go "ewww, you guys are so cringy" and run away. (Just make sure that mars is not conjunct or aspected by Saturn or rahu, Saturn gives no sex, rahu gives painful sex)

#astroblr #astrology #vedic astrology #astrology content #astrology community #astro observations #astrology observations #navamsa chart #d9 chart #astro community #astro notes #vedic astro notes #vedic observations #astro content

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luminnara · 10 months ago

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Gladiator | Feyd Rautha x Reader

REQUEST: Feyd-Rautha fights in the arena, hoping to win your favor and maybe even your hand.

Warnings: violence

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Feyd-Rautha didn’t know why your face was the only one he seemed able to pick out of the crowd. Out of all the eligible daughters the Houses had thrown at him, you were the one he couldn’t get out of his head. Deep down, he knew he should consider himself lucky for the privilege to have a say in his marriage, but most of the heiresses he had encountered did little to interest him and he had grown more than bored of the whole ordeal.

Until he was presented with you.

He had known little of your family, and he hadn’t cared to learn more. You had been from far away, and your culture was probably far different from his own. Perhaps it was arrogance that had fueled his initial disinterest, his ego rearing its ugly head. He had seen you and assumed you were boring and prudish, based on your style of clothing, and had initially been beyond irritated when you were offered up before him. He had cursed his uncle the Baron, and nearly killed the nearest servant. He had wanted nothing more than to be as far away from you as possible, exhausted and annoyed after a week of meeting princess after princess, all of whom he had rejected.

Why, then, had he become intrigued by you? Had it been the way you looked at him with such boredom, as if he had nothing to offer you? Had it been the information that he was simply one in a long list of suitors you were slogging through, much in the way he had been for what felt like an age? Or had it been the sudden revelation that you had more in common with him than he had thought possible, and the sudden knowledge that if he wished to catch your eye, tradition dictated he must show you a spectacular fight and defeat every other man whose goal was your hand in marriage?

“It is the way of her people,” Rabban had shrugged, oblivious to the way Feyd’s world was slowly being turned on its head. “I have heard that they were fighting long before House Harkonnen built our first arena.”

Now, Feyd-Rautha was stalking back and forth through the sand, thinking of all the ways he could slaughter his competition. He was one of ten, ten suitors, none of whom were drugged or weak from starvation the way his quarry on Giedi Prime always was. As he glared at the opponents around him, he knew that you were watching from the stands, in a luxurious box with your parents and ladies in waiting, and when a glance in your direction confirmed his suspicions, he was overcome with the desire to kill for you.

He had never felt that before. He was plenty familiar with the urge to maim, to slice and tear, to take lives—but he had never wanted to do it for another person. His darlings, in a sense, garnered that from him when he killed servants to feed them…but this was different. That was a life taken as a gift and a means to spoil them. This was a fight to the death, a way to prove himself to you…and for some strange reason, he wanted—no, needed—to succeed.

“Today we gather in the ancestral arena of our great House to honor a tradition which we have kept alive for one thousand generations!” A voice boomed. “Today, the Great Houses send their sons to fight for the hand of my daughter, and should they be so lucky, one will win her favor!”

Feyd-Rautha glanced at his nearest competitor, a round-faced man who was far too old to be marrying you. He knew the man thought he was safe; they had all received a speech on the importance of not actually killing each other, but Feyd had had no interest in listening nor adhering to the rules. If he was to truly win your hand, he knew he must make a grisly spectacle of himself. He had gone so far as to fight shirtless, so as to show you his smooth, unscarred skin, and display his enemies’ blood upon his flesh.

“Now, warriors…do battle!”

You watched from above as the fight commenced.

“I like the looks of that Halleck boy,” your mother commented as she peered through her positively ancient opera glasses.

Your eyes found the one she spoke of and you sighed. “He favors his right leg. He will not last.”

Your father plopped down in the throne next to you, a hearty laugh booking from his chest. “That’s my girl. Ever the strategist, with the sharpest eye in the known universe. Tell us, then, who do you predict will win? We can make a bet on it.”

“I hardly think gambling is appropriate on today of all days.” Your mother shot him a glare.

He only laughed louder.

“I like the Harkonnen.” You said, watching as Feyd-Rautha drove a blade into another man’s shoulder.

Your mother made a tutting noise. ��He is…”

“Bloodthirsty,” your father offered.

“Yes,” you said, somewhat transfixed. “He is.”

Your eyes followed Feyd-Rautha’s every move, glued to his form as he lithely parried and dodged his opponents’ attacks. He was a surprisingly welcome sight after the many suitors you’d turned your nose up at, and while he had initially bored you just as the rest had, there was something in his demeanor that had piqued your interest.

Upon meeting, you had both been irritated and more than ready to stay unmarried forever. You had heard that Feyd-Rautha had also been meeting potential suitors, and if the rumor mill was correct, he had nearly killed more than one of them. When you had first laid eyes upon the pale, hairless Harkonnen heir, you had immediately decided that you might give this one a chance; many of the others you had met had seemed ill suited, abhorred by the concept of fighting for your hand in an archaic ritual. Feyd-Rautha, however, had changed when he had heard, shifting from disinterested to focused, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement at the prospect of a duel.

Now, he was stalking through the sand below you, wielding wickedly sharp hunting knives as he attacked a competitor from behind. He wasn’t above fighting dirty, you noted, his blackened teeth bared as he head butted another man. Only six remained including him, the other four having given up or lying unconscious at the feet of their opponents.

“He’s going to kill someone!” Your father exclaimed, his voice gleeful.

“And what a diplomatic nightmare that will be,” your mother mumbled.

You weren’t sure if Feyd-Rautha had truly taken any lives so far that afternoon, but as he drove a knife into the gut of another fighter, you surmised that your mother may be spending the rest of her day smoothing things over with and paying off the families of some of these men.

You watched, smiling to yourself as they all fell, one by one, into groaning, bloodied heaps in the sand, until only one remained on his feet. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was the victor, as you had hoped he’d be, and as the crowd erupted into a roar of cheers, you stood.

Your parents watched you carefully.

“Are you certain?” Your mother asked.

“Do you have any objections?” You countered.

“…none whatsoever.”

You turned to your father. “And you, Father?”

He shrugged, leaning his chin on his hand. “I quite like the boy. He will make for an interesting match.”

“Then it is settled,” you sucked in a breath, steeling yourself before turning and walking to the stairs.

In the arena, Feyd-Rautha was drinking in the sounds of an entertained crowd. He could put on a show anywhere, it seemed, and if he had been at all concerned by leaving Giedi Prime to fight on your planet, they were long forgotten. His blood was still boiling, chest heaving as attendants began collecting his fallen foes, of whom more than a few sported serious, possibly life threatening injuries. And after he had struck each one down, he had glanced up to find you there, watching him.

The crowd hushed suddenly, and Feyd-Rautha saw that it was because you were approaching him, stepping over your battered suitors without so much as a glance down at them. Your eyes remained focused on him, never leaving, boring into his form as he straightened up and faced you.

“Feyd-Rautha,” you greeted him.

“Princess.”

“You fought well.”

“Thank you.”

You smirked at him. “You hope to gain my favor, do you not?”

“I had hoped for your token, yes,” he admitted, watching you with those dark, intelligent eyes.

“A token, or my hand?” You asked.

“I will take whatever you see fit to bless me with, princess.”

With a sly smile, you closed the gap between you, pressing a hand to his chest. He felt warmth there, and when you pulled away, the roar of the crowd returned and he looked down to see a crimson handprint on his skin.

“Congratulations, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you said, your voice cutting below the cheering of your people in the stands above. “We are now engaged.”

With that simple statement, you turned on your heel and left.

It was foolish to turn one’s back to a Harkonnen, especially Feyd-Rautha, but you both knew he would never do anything to you. Not now. Not when his eyes refused to leave your retreating form. Not when his heart thudded in his chest excitedly. Not when he knew he suddenly had a wife, one for whom he would kill anything and anyone.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha

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vivwritescrappythings · 3 months ago

Text

anything you ask

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

despite all odds, it is your wedding day (final part)

tw: fem reader, afab reader, plus size reader, body image issues, drinking, kissing, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, loss of virginity, breeding kink, creampie, not proofread.

wc: 10.2 k

masterlist

Your father sequestered you to your chambers immediately after your makeshift proposal, a knight you did not recognize posted outside your doors to keep visitors away.

It was remarkable how quickly you turned into a prisoner, only allowed to fetch books from the library and have dinner with your father in his private study. The meals were silent, his disappointment in you clear as you kept your gaze trained on your plate.

You tried to speak to him once. It was a pathetic attempt at an olive branch, some silly apology for ruining his plan with Lord Fischer. You stumbled over the words in your efforts to sound sincere. On some level you were sincere, knowing you embarrassed him and hurt his reputation. But you were rebuked just as quickly, his glare silencing your stammered excuses.

His disappointment was hard for you to swallow. While your sister was your mother’s favorite, you had always been your father’s. When you were little he took you riding and told you stories to fall asleep and always had the patience to play with you. Your personality had never irked him, he simply called you spirited. He said you got it from his side of the family.

To be outcast from his good graces hurt more than you could describe.

The days in your confinement were long. There was only so much time you could spend reading before you wanted to gouge your own eyes out. You found yourself missing your idle conversations with the other ladies at court over your embroidery–you had taken talks of dress styles and weddings and how to properly put together a dinner party menu for granted, always rolling your eyes and sticking your nose up in the air. You missed the other girls, the way they anxiously giggled at your sarcasm and how Mary always made space for you.

Above all, you missed König. His crystal-colored eyes and smile had been haunting you ever since your father yanked you up off the staircase by your arm and escorted you to your room himself. The knight had been your constant companion for over half a year, it was odd to no longer have him by your side.

Although, you had no idea what you would say to him if you were able to speak with him. You were still reeling from all that had happened, it felt like you had been thrown from a horse rather than gotten engaged. Of course, you had fantasized about marrying him, but you had never imagined it to be under these circumstances.

You still could not decide if you wanted to embrace him or rebuke him. His plan had risked everything for you–your reputation, your freedom. Rather than let you two marry, your father could have easily just sent you off to a convent for the remainder of your days.

König would have lost nothing. He was too skilled of a knight to be executed, and you were not important enough for his titles to be stripped. Even if he had not been permitted to marry you, he would have been let off with a slap on the wrist.

You never knew there was a part of him so selfish. Or so calculated.

It was not until after that you realized everything he did had a purpose behind it. If getting his mouth on you was his goal, he could have just as easily knelt before you where the two of you had been tucked behind the curve in the wall.

Instead, he spread you out on the stairs in plain view of any passers by. But he allowed himself to nearly suffocate beneath your skirts rather than hike them up around your waist and sacrifice all of your modesty.

It was an enigma to consider his motivations: did he actually want to pleasure you or just force your father’s hand? You knew he was a second son and that you had foolishly informed him of your absurdly high dowry amount. The two of you got along reasonably, and matches had been created on less. The leap to marrying you was not a difficult one to make.

You often found yourself sitting at the window seat, counting the days away as you watched the flurry of motion in the courtyard. König was out there with the other knights and squires once. Your eyes had nearly popped out of your head when you spotted him, your hand flattening against the cool window pane as you pressed your forehead against the glass.

He was only wearing his black hood and trousers, his thick torso on display as he showed one of the younger squires how to spar with wooden swords. It was unfortunate that your room was too far to see the fine details of him clearly, you could see the covering of dirty blonde hair on his forearms and chest, the faint line of it beneath his navel that disappeared into the laces of his trousers. You should have been ashamed by how you were ogling him, watching each movement and the way his skin moved over the ridges of muscle.

But, he was your soon-to-be husband, after all.

You could ogle as much as you wanted.

An odd sort of thrill ran through you at the thought. Your husband. In all your dreams about being married, you had never considered that you could marry someone you would want to ogle at. You expected a man like Lord Fischer: far your senior with no other prospects. But König was unlike anything you had considered realistic.

He looked up at you from the training field, making you nearly fall back from your window in shock. You were too far to make out any expression in his eyes, only able to see the way he tilted his head a bit to one side. A laugh, you guessed.

It had even been a week since that one shred of contact with him. You sat at your window every day since then as you vied for another peek of him. But you had no such luck, just knights and squires you had never bothered to pay attention to before. You kept looking, hoping to see a man who towered over the others.

You were at your window when your father came to your rooms to tell you to pack your trunks. He hardly spoke to you, informing you that you were both headed east to the Kilgore estate for your wedding.

–

The week before your wedding went by in the blink of an eye.

It was a blessing your mother and sister had arrived at the Kilgore estate before you did. It was a flurry of activity when you arrived, they had gotten the servants into a frenzy cleaning for guests. They had taken over most of the planning, ordering flowers and sampling bolts of fabric for your gown and putting together a menu for the feast.

You had been told that the eastern peoples enjoyed festivities as fantastic as their monumental architecture and rolling hills of green, so your wedding ceremony surprised you.

The hall was grandiose: tall buttressed ceilings and two long rows of pillars along the main walkway. A breeze carried in through the open terrace doors, fluttering the hem of your deep blue gown. The air smelled thick of oakmoss incense, you could see the smoke floating through the rays of orange sunlight.

You steeled yourself, forcing yourself to tear your gaze from the polished marble floor and look up.

At the end of the hall, König was there with the priest.

The ceremony was nothing you expected, only your family and your sister’s husband were present. König’s brother was overseas on some trade expedition and he had no other family, so a knight he had grown close to during his time in battle stood on his side of the room.

König’s shirt was of the same blue fabric you wore, embroidered elegantly with silver thread. His hood was nowhere to be seen, a mask covering his face from forehead to nose. His hair was the color of sand, half of it drawn back away from his face into a thick bun with the rest curling around his shoulders. A few loose pieces fell over the silver forehead of the mask.

It was more of him than you had ever seen before, your gaze greedily taking in the shape of his profile. His nose had been broken a few times, the ridge of his Roman nose exaggerated from being set in the field. His jaw was sharp, the familiar scruff of his stubble covering it.

You finally willed yourself forward, the fabric of your dress heavy as the train dragged behind you. Each step was measured and careful, your mother and sister had drilled into you the correct walking speed over the week. It seemed ridiculous at the time. But you found yourself counting each step in your head.

The aisle was long, it gave you far too much time to think. THe still had not uttered a word to you since that day in the hall. There was so much you wanted to say to him, the words bubbling in your throat as you swallowed thickly.

You stepped onto the dias, turning to face König.

His smile surprised you. It was faint, it almost felt like a secret between the two of you. His eyes were so open, every flicker of joy clear to you as you found yourself grinning back.

He reached out and clasped your hands, the rough scrape of his callouses against the tenderness of your skin. Your hands told of a life of privilege, his told of a life of work despite the luxury his family’s estate exuded.

Thumbs ran across the backs of your knuckles, feeling the delicate bones of your hand shift under the gentle pressure.

The priest began to speak in a language you did not understand, the same lilting accent and harsh consonants recognizable from König’s voice. You glanced at the gnarled old man, trusting König to guide you through the ceremony that was so foreign to you.

You could hardly hear what the man was saying over the thundering of your own heart. It just took a squeeze of König’s fingers to prompt you when to nod and agree, to clumsily repeat his words.

He slipped a beautiful ring set with an emerald onto your left hand, its weight already feeling familiar on your finger. It was easy to admire, your lips parting as you watched how it sparkled in the sunlight. The air felt thick with marjoram and incense smoke. You struggled to breathe.

It took the priest clearing his throat to pull you from your reverie. The room cleared, breath coming easy once more. König’s gaze was on you, eyes sparkling with fondness as they dropped to his own ring finger and back to your face.

Oh. You clumsily produced the thick silver ring from the pocket sewn inside your dress sleeve. There were etchings in the metal, swirls of filigree pressing into your fingertips as you grabbed his hand to bring it toward you. A drop of molten lead moved through your stomach as you realized that you could fit both of your hands into one of his.

Buzzing filled your mind as you pushed the ring onto König’s finger, relief warming you as it settled into place.

The priest tutted, tongue clicking against his teeth as he was seemingly satisfied.

He moved off the dias first, König taking your hand in his and leading you to follow the painfully slow pace. “Meine frau,” he murmured in a low rumble.

You hardly even looked at your family, feeling lightheaded as you glanced up at König. “What does that mean?” you asked softly.

“My wife.” He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss as soft as a petal on the back of it. You warmed at the term. Wife was a word that you were convinced would never belong to you.

His knuckles ghosted along the gooseflesh lifting on the back of your arm before lifting it around you. You tucked into his side easily, naturally. His hand settled on your waist, drawing you close as he steered you into a private room. The doors clicked shut behind you.

“Are we wed?” you whispered, brows drawing together as you looked up at König. You could see the distorted reflection of your face in his mask, the silver polished handsomely.

He laughed and nodded, his smile genuine as he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

It was the first moment the two of you had been alone. After a moment you pulled your hand from his grasp, taking a few steps back. You could see the confusion in his expression as he stood, watching you curiously.

Your anger had not dissipated, your arms crossing over your chest. “You could have informed me of your plan, you know,” you said, your glare earnest across the room. “I confided everything to you, trusted you with my life and you repay me by risking my reputation and what little freedom I have as a woman to force my father to accept your proposal.”

It was hard to pinpoint the moment when you started to shout at him, gesturing wildly with your hands.

König was smiling, aggravating your further. You huffed, lurching forward and shoving at his chest. His lack of an answer made you want to scream. “It was selfish! You knew that and you did it anyway.”

His big hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking along the bone as you snarled at him. “There she is,” he murmured, voice soft as he directed your gaze up to him. His smile was soft, the scars on his lips pulling taught. “I missed seeing the fire in my mäuschen, it has been quite some time.”

You scoffed, caught off guard by his words. Disbelief made you shake your head slightly, the warmth of his palm still curved to fit your cheek. “König…”

He stepped closer, his other hand curling around to the small of your back. “It was not my intention for your father to catch us,” he said, dipping his head toward your own. A kiss was stamped to your forehead, another to your cheek. “I was going to ask for your hand in marriage without any dowry–he would have been a fool to deny it.”

The skin beneath your earlobe prickled with sensitivity as König’s teeth nibbled at it. “The other day… I simply was too eager to give you pleasure,” he whispered into your ear, walking you back until your spine pressed against the stone wall and he loomed over you. “And I have thought about it almost constantly ever since.”

Your cheeks heated up like they were set on fire, your hand covering your mouth as you glanced away from König. “Constantly?” you asked, the word muffled in your palm. Something between embarrassment and flattery pounded in your chest.

His fingers nudged your jaw until you were looking at him once more. “It has been hard to focus on much else,” he murmured, a smirk twisting his mouth. The pad of his thumb ghosted along your lower lip, making you part them slightly. “You tasted so much better than I had ever even dreamed of, I could have kept my mouth between your legs all day.”

He may as well have lit you on fire.

“König!” you scolded lightly, shocked that he would say something so scandalous. “What if someone is listening?”

His laugh was warm and affectionate. “Well, mäuschen, then they will hear how much I desire my wife.” The pride in his voice was so obvious that you felt like you were glowing.

König finally bent to capture your lips with his own. You hummed into the kiss, letting your eyes close and your hand find his neck. The curls at his nape were soft as you tangled your fingers in them, pulling gently.

You had never kissed him without the bulk of his hood before, the smooth press of the silver mask covering his nose far different than the scrape of canvas fabric you had become used to.

His hand seized the fabric of your skirt, bunching it in his fist as he started to lift the hem. The feel of the embroidered edge sliding along your leg invoked your ire as you remembered why you had started the conversation in the first place.

You pulled away, shoving your husband’s chest to put some space between you. He let you, taking a step back and releasing your wedding dress. The air felt thick as you took a breath. “Do not think you can just kiss me and compliment me and I will forgive you,” you said, brows drawn.

König nodded, lips twitching as he tried to school his grin. He stepped toward you, palms lifted toward you like you were a cornered animal. “I will beg on my hands and knees if you wish.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. König took your hand and brought it back to his lips, letting them skate across your knuckles. “I will spend the rest of my days attoning for it if that is what my beautiful wife desires,” he murmured, looking up at you through his blonde lashes.

He disarmed you easily, making you turn your face as you fought the urge to grin. “Perhaps I do desire that,” you mumbled, the threat of a laugh tickling your throat.

There was a warm puff of air over your hand as König snorted softly. “The rest of my days, I swear. But first we must get through our wedding feast.”

You had forgotten there was still a feast to get through. The anxiety of walking down the aisle had taken up the forefront of your mind, the rest of the day had hardly occurred to you. The feast. The consummation.

Thoughts about consummating your marriage made you feel dizzy. Your mother cornered you a few days ago to discuss it with you, whispering in low tones as you both sat close on a window seat. Her words floated in your head: no man wanted a weeping, unexpired bride on his wedding night. She told you that if he showed you his face to tell him he was handsome even if you did not believe it, and to hide the fact that it hurt.

But she would not say what would cause you pain.

König gently tugging on your hand pulled you back to the present. “Yes, the feast,” you said, scraping your teeth over your lower lip as he brought you under his arm.

You leaned into his warmth as you exited the room, letting him pull you toward the large double doors at the end of the hall.

At his nod, the footmen pulled the large doors open to a room full of raucous clapping and shouts.

—

The feast was lively–far more people than you expected were present. The great hall was full of long tables, they even spilled out into the courtyard through the open doors across the room. Lords and locals and family and friends sat amongst them, eating and laughing and talking as though they had known each other their whole lives.

It had run long, hours upon hours of feasting and drinking and talking. You watched the plates before you were filled and cleared and filled over and over again. Seemingly without end. The food was delicious. Roasted meats and basted potatoes and honeyed pears, bread that flaked apart with the most gentle of touches. Cups remained full of ale and mead and wine, your drink strong enough that you were forced to sip it slowly.

People keep coming up to wish you both well, you and König sitting at the center of a long wooden table. The somber man you knew him to be was replaced by a man who remembered the name of each person who approached and clinked together mugs and laughed in loud barks.

You had been processing the ceremony still when you noticed the local blacksmith asking how König was liking the mask with a genuine smile on his face. It had been forged specifically for the wedding.

It was easy to feel smitten with König, the more you learned of him over the course of the evening making you soften from your previous anger.

His big hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently as he turned to face you. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. “Is the food to your liking?” he asked softly, head dipping low toward yours so he could whisper over the din of the room. “You have not eaten much, it is unlike you, mäuschen.”

You almost felt embarrassed, warmth coming to your face. It was hard for you to eat when you were so anxious. “It is wonderful,” you assured, inclining your head toward his shoulder. There was no way you could share your anxiety for what comes after with him. “The honeyed pears are divine.”

He smiled, leaning in to press his lips against your temple. They were soft and warm, his breath puffing against your hairline before he shifted his weight back into his seat.

Before you quite realize it, another plate of honeyed pears sit before you on the table

–

It was only when the moon was high in the sky that König whisked you away from the feast, an arm looped around your waist as he pulled you from your chair and out the side entrance to the room without so much as a farewell. He shushed you softly when you stammered that you needed to say goodbye, assuring you that the party would still be going on for the next few days as was his people’s custom.

The next few days, you could hardly imagine being able to stay awake for it.

Your feet were already stumbling, you struggled to keep up with König as you leaned against him. He took you through what felt like a labyrinth of stone hallways, making you get hopelessly turned around.

“It has been a long day,” he murmured, stopping for a moment to pull you closer to his chest. You sighed, sagging against him and taking in his familiar scent. It was pleasant to feel the slight give of his flesh as he embraced you–you had only ever encountered him when he was wearing armor. Without it he finally felt real beneath your touch.

You nodded, forehead pressing into his sternum as you let your eyes shut. Only one thing was left, your mother had impressed upon you how important it was for you to let König take you to bed no matter what. She feared he would wake up and change his mind in the morning.

You found your feet after a few moments, fingertips wiping at the corners of your eyes as you stood up straight. He only released your arms once he was sure you were steady, tucking a piece of hair away that had escaped your elegant braided style. You leaned into the scoop of his palm, letting your cheek squish into it.

You stretched to your toes, hands linking behind König’s neck to pull him down. He answered your silent plea eagerly, mouth slanting against yours. The crackle of lightning behind it reminded you of the first kiss you shared in the library of the royal palace. It took no coaxing from him for your lips to part, the flavor of the spiced mead he had been drinking all night filling your mouth as he licked into it.

His hands settled on your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he pulled you close. One of them migrated dangerously, smoothing over the curve of your ass just before taking a handful of it. You giggled into the kiss, pressing your body against his as you moved in toward him. His pinky dug into the line where your ass met your thigh, pulling a genuine laugh from you.

“I am ticklish there,” you protested between your lips meeting, trying to defend yourself with a hand. König chuckled, using the newfound knowledge to his advantage as he hooked his fingers into the crease.

You lurched, scrabbling at the thick muscles of his arms as you tried to escape his grip. “You should not have told me that, mäuschen,” he threatened affectionately, continuing his assault in spite of your protests. Your laughs turned breathless as you weakly shoved at his shoulders, your legs kicking as you attempted to twist from him.

Voices echoed from around the hallway corner. “He was quite eager to pull her away from the feast.” There was a bout of conspiratorial giggles as unseen companions agreed with the man who spoke.

The distraction stopped your husband from tickling you, letting you stamp your lips to his once more. You would have been content to stand and exchange open-mouthed kisses without worry, no longer caring of who stumbled upon the two of you.

But König pulled away, blue eyes meeting yours before he took you by the hand and you raced breathlessly next to him to his chambers.

–

You sucked in desperate breaths as the door clicked shut behind the two of you. His chambers were opulent and extensive, furs and velvets and fabrics embroidered with silver thread strewn across the furniture. The fire crackled merrily across from the large, four poster bed along the center of the largest wall of the room. It was still unmade, the twisted mess of quilts making your body warm to the tips of your fingers and toes.

König began to undress himself as instinct took over, kicking off his heavy boots and removing the belt secured about his waist. You were in his rooms after all, the thought a molten ball of lead in your stomach.

You stood in the center of the room, hands clasped together in front of you as you looked around. The smell of marjoram filled your nose, undercut by a familiar musk that always seemed to cling to König’s skin. Goosebumps prickled along your arms as you considered the room, unsure whether to disrobe or not. Your confusion forced you to freeze in place.

A sigh from behind you forced you to turn to look over your shoulder. His shirt had been entirely removed, tossed over a plush settee with little care as he raked his fingers through his hair. Your lips parted, mouth drying as your gaze shamelessly fell to the thick muscles of his torso.

He noticed your admiration, letting his hands fall from his curls as he stepped closer to you. “Is there something you wish to ask, meine frau?” His head tilted to one side, his form towering over yours as he stopped before you.

You swallowed thickly, lips parting as you tried to find words. Scars crossed over his torso just as they did his neck and lower half of his face. You hesitantly reached forward to touch one, the gnarled skin smooth beneath your fingertips as you traced the slash mark down the center of his sternum. There were more slashes and stab wounds, a burn mark over the meat of his hip and disappearing into his trousers.

The ridges of his abdominal muscles were firm beneath your touch. You were breathless, wetting your lips with your tongue as your forefinger followed the trail of thick, curling hair beneath his navel.

You looked up to him through your eyelashes, still feeling like you were choking as you tried to think of something–anything–to say. The room felt too warm, the fire burning in your belly hotter than the one in the hearth.

His blue eyes were dark as he met your gaze, mouth twisted into a smirk that made it feel as though the ground had dropped out from beneath you. It was easy to see that he was pleased.

The silver mask reflected the glow of the room back onto your face, hiding the rest of his expression from you. Your fingers itched to take it off, to untie the strap of leather that held the metal snugly to his face and reveal it after so long.

“Will I ever know my husband by the entirety of his face?” you asked in a moment of boldness, gaze flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “Or shall I only know you by your eyes?”

König hummed, seemingly contemplating as his large hands brushed over your shoulders and down your arms. “And if I did not wish to show you?” His thumbs circled over your wrists, slipping beneath the sleeves of your gown. Affection seemed so natural to him, as though he had spent the previous few months touching you whenever he desired.

“I would not force you to.” You allowed him to turn your hands over in his hold, thumbs pressing along the fine bones of your inner wrist before massaging the meat of your palms.

He was looking at your hands, blonde eyelashes fluttering against the bottom rim of the eyes in his mask. “And if you do not find me handsome?” he asked, so quiet that you almost missed it. Your heart ached, the fear undercutting his tone making your brows bunch together.

“I find you handsome now,” you assured him, cupping his cheek. It was hard to imagine a man like König to be insecure. He had always seemed so assured of himself before, exuding confidence in the halls of the royal palace.

“Promise you will not leave.”

It felt like he had seized your heart in your chest, fingers squeezing around it as you stepped closer to your husband. Your brow furrowed as you nodded. “I promise, König,” you said softly, trying to soothe the flicker of fear in his expression. “I am your wife, I will not leave.”

He sighed, a slight nod bobbing his head as he leaned toward you. You bit your lip, reaching up carefully to the knotted leather cord. It was easy to pull apart, your stomach turning with anticipation as the two halves of the cord fell away. He moved the mask away from his face, hardly breathing as he set it down on the same settee he had discarded his shirt onto.

You stopped breathing altogether, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

König was handsome.

Almost ridiculously so.

Of course he was rugged. His bright blue eyes were framed by thick, straight eyebrows and high cheekbones, his nose crooked from being broken so many times. It suited him, your husband both exactly what you expected him to be and nothing at all. One scar cut from the left side of his nose and curved up toward the outside of his eye, this skin jagged and puckered. The scar on the other side of his face looked like lightning, bisecting his eyebrow and meeting the cut running from the inner corner of his eye into a Y that dragged almost all the way down to the corner of his lip.

You must have been silent for quite some time, König clearing his throat prompting you to blink and shut your mouth. His cheek matched the cup of your palm, a shiver running up your arm as you touched his face for the first time.

“I am glad you did not take your hood off before now,” you murmured, watching him lean into your touch.

His eyes shut tightly, his expression bracing for you to say something worse. “I would have had to fight the other ladies at court off of you if they knew this is what you were hiding underneath that fabric.”

You grinned as his broad shoulders slumped, his relieved exhale puffing over your face. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours as he wrapped his arms around you. “You exaggerate,” he mumbled, almost sounding bashful. Color flooded his cheeks, dusting them with pink as the firelight illuminated him in gold.

It was hard to tame your fascination, your fingertips tracing the shapes of his features just as your eyes did in a foolish attempt to memorize them. You were greedy, wanting to make up for every moment you had wondered what he looked like.

“I would not exaggerate,” you whispered, wetting your lips once more. He shivered beneath your touch as you traced a scar across the bridge of his nose.

He grumbled something beneath his breath, bending his knees to grab you at your thighs and lift. “König!” you yelped, the sensation of the floor no longer beneath your feet making you balk as your hands pressed against his bare shoulders to keep yourself steady. “Put me down! I am far too heavy for you to lift like this.”

His laughter was genuine as he carried you with ease. For the first time in your life you felt as light as a feather, not even a hint of strain visible in König’s expression. “Too heavy? You seem to underestimate me, mäuschen.”

He turned, sitting on the edge of the bed and arranging you so your knees were on either side of the broad expanse of his thighs. König’s hands slipped beneath your heavy skirts, pushing the royal blue fabric out of the way so he could smooth his hands over your bare thighs. You still had the urge to shove his hands away from the dimpled flesh on the outside of your legs.

If your insecurity was obvious, König did not let on that he knew. His expression melted into one of desire as he squeezed handfuls of your soft thighs. The press of his hand on the small of your back pressed the two of you close.

Your bodies slotted together like they were made to, your thighs spreading wide over the bulk of him as he tugged you down hard. A whine pulled from you as you felt the swell of his clothed erection between your legs, snug against your quickly dampening undergarments.

The feeling of arousal was still new to you, your heart fluttering as König rolled his hips against yours. You tangled your fingers into his hair, now loose from the half-up style he had worn during the day. Twisting the soft strands around your fingers kept you tethered to earth as your bodies moved together, quiet moans filling the charged air between you.

Your nose dragged against his scarred cheek as you clumsily found his lips, teeth mashing against his as your hips rocked to the pace that he set.

The thin fabric of your undergarments started to stick to your inner thighs, the ache between your legs starting to make you desperate. You leaned back to better look at him, his eyelids heavy and lips parted as he took you in.

His gaze dropped from your face to your chest, tracing the square neck of your gown. There was a flash of his pink tongue as he licked his lips. Your fingers curled around his wrist, pulling his hand from your thigh to the bodice of your gown. It was all the permission he needed.

König’s thick fingers slipped into the front of your dress, pulling it down enough to make the stitches creak before your breasts spilled out of the fabric. Pride flickers through you at the way his eyes widen, jaw going slack as he stared with an expression that resembled awe.

It seemed he did not notice the stripes of stretch marks along the skin, the calloused pad of his thumb already strumming across your nipple in a way that made you sigh. His mouth moved to the other before you could quite register, lips closing around your nipple and sucking. You whimpered, arching your spine as you used your grip on his hair to pull his head closer.

“Christ,” you sighed, head tilted back and eyes screwed shut. He nosed along the thin skin of your sternum, his hot breath making gooseflesh rise on your arms. A bite on the side of your breast made you squeak, his tongue laving over the sting.

His big hand between your shoulder blades anchored you to him as he flipped the two of you over gracefully.

A few attempts were made to just pull your dress off like a brute before you were scolding him and flipping onto your stomach. “Be careful or you will rip it like that,” you hissed, moving your hair off the back of your neck. “There are such things as buttons, you savage.”

He only laughed, already working each button through the loop of thread holding it in place. “It should be a crime to have this many buttons on a wedding dress,” he mumbled, fumbling with them.

It gave you a moment to breathe. Despite not having touched a single cup all day you felt tipsy, the edges of the room a bit fuzzy as you tried to calm your heart.

Hands hooking beneath your shoulders flipped you over onto your back, earning a giddy laugh from you. König moving you like a ragdoll felt hard to reconcile with–you had grown up thinking that you were simply too heavy to be treated like the petite thing he saw you as.

Eagerness was glowing in his eyes as he pulled the sleeves of the gown off your arms, exposing your upper body to his greedy gaze. You had to calm yourself, breathing in and out and reminding yourself of your mother’s words: he had no time for a weeping bride on his wedding night–you just needed to make him happy.

You lifted your hips to help him pull down your dress and undergarments in one swoop. He tossed the gown onto the same settee with his shirt, the royal blue fabric ballooning in a heap.

His profile was outlined in the golden light of the fire, making him look ethereal for a moment.

You were thankful that he looked away to untie his trousers, letting you take in the rolls of your body without his reaction. You sucked in your stomach, breath locking in your chest. Perhaps sitting up would help, if you pulled your knees up it would at least cover the softness of your belly. You wished the firelight was dimmer, the shadows catching in each crevice of your body and exaggerating them.

You decided upon sitting up, awkwardly holding yourself with your arms as you tried to twist into a position that seemed natural. The press of your belly against your thighs took up too much of your focus, the rest of it preoccupied by the crease of extra flesh you knew existed just above where your hip met your back.

It was hard not to hyperventilate, each stretch mark and dimple on your skin magnified so much that you hardly remember that König was in the room with you.

You had no idea how many times he had to repeat your name before you actually heard him, blinking slowly as you looked up at him. His brows were furrowed as he observed you, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Sorry, I was preoccupied with my thoughts,” you murmured, smiling sheepishly. Your throat felt like it was squeezing closed, the anxiety you had been forcing out of your mind all day finally rearing its ugly head. The smile on your face tightened, your discomfort obvious.

His frown deepened. The laces of his trousers were forgotten, hanging open as he knelt on the mattress. Fingers nudged your jaw up to look at him, blue eyes seemingly staring through you and into your soul.

“What is bothering you?” he asked, thumb pressing your lower lip.

You felt like you were choking, your eyes wide as you tried to think of a plausible lie.

König’s gaze dropped to your body, lust shadowing his expression. His fingers twitched beneath your chin. “I am so lucky you accepted my favor that day at the tournament,” he said, a faint smile on his face.

He moved closer, slowly forcing you onto your back beneath him. His touch was delicate as he moved the hair out of your face. You let your eyes close as he pressed a kiss to your brow. “I worried that I would make a fool of myself and lose, I thought you were so distracting. So beautiful.”

It was hard to pay attention to his words when his mouth was dragging down the column of your throat, his teeth scraping over the delicate skin as he spoke.

He continued down your body, taking care as he felt the fullness of your hips and stomach and thighs. You grabbed his wrists, trying to pull them away as he shushed you. “I have been lucky enough to marry the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, please allow me to touch her,” he pleaded softly, voice muffled against the skin next to your navel.

His expression was so earnest you could hardly deny him, slowly letting go as you lay back. You could feel his smile as he lifted your legs onto his broad shoulders, smattering kisses and bites onto your inner thighs.

There he was, looking at you and still wanting you, still pressing his mouth to the ache between your legs. You gasped, grabbing a fistful of hair at the crown of his head as his scruff scraped against the insides of your thighs. He flattened his tongue over your sex, muscular arms curling around your legs to grab your waist.

He dipped lower, tongue teasing your entrance as he collected the wetness pouring from you. You bucked against his face, heel digging into his shoulder blade as you twisted to press the sensitive bundle of nerves against the ridge of his nose.

You were keening, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud. König moved to wrap his lips around the bud and sucked with small pulses of his tongue. His fingers pet over your entrance, making you clench around nothing as your spine arched. “Please, König,” you begged through clenched teeth, not quite sure what you were asking for.

Then one of his thick fingertips caught at your entrance. Your whole body buzzed as he thrust up to the second knuckle. Breathing was hard, the tightness a foreign feeling as you tried to relax.

He never even bothered to pull away as he hummed contentedly, surely suffocating by now as you kept pulling him impossibly closer. The press of his finger inside you eventually became comfortable, your muscles releasing as you willed yourself to relax into the feeling.

As soon as you felt comfortable with one, he added another. Both curling inside you made your breath punch from your chest, his digits feeling each and every ridge inside of you as he worked you higher and higher. The building feeling he had introduced you to last time was starting to knot in your stomach.

Two fingers turned into three, making you sob as your arm covered your face.

It was hard to get used to the feeling of being so full. Your moans were pathetic, pitchy and breathless as he found a spot inside of you and curled the tips of his fingers over it mercilessly. His other hand held firm just above your navel in an attempt to force you to be still.

It was too much, the rhythm of his fingers matching the tightening of your muscles until everything finally just released. The relief was instantaneous, all-consuming as euphoria buzzed from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You pulsed like a heartbeat around König’s fingers, still feeling dizzy as he pulled them from you.

His lips were wet with your slick as he pressed a kiss to the crease between your thigh and hip, wet fingers smearing against your waist. One leg fell to the bed, then the other as he crawled over your body.

You were limp on the tangled sheets as you looked up at him, his downturned eyes partially lidded as you ran your hand over the scrape of his stubble. It was wet around his mouth, his lips still shiny with your arousal as he buckled over you. His forearm braced next to your head, holding him above you.

It was hard to say who moved into the kiss first, but noses pressed into cheeks and teeth clicked together as you licked the taste of yourself off his lips. You ached for more, trying to pour your request into König through the touch of your lips.

He used his free hand to shove his trousers down his legs, kicking them off and onto the stone floor. The backs of your thighs were snug against his hairy quads as he shifted back over you.

You were almost scared to look at it–the only naked man you had ever seen was a drunk man who had been arrested just outside the palace gates. Even then, it was just glimpses and flashes through the bars.

The feel of a hot brand against your thigh caught your attention. You sat up slightly, propping yourself up on an elbow as you looked down at the gap between your legs. The flushed tip bobbed against your thigh under your gaze, smearing wetly against you. It was hard for you to tear your eyes away.

He fisted his cock, groaning as he worked the length of it in his hand with a practiced stroke. The girth was impressive, still looking thick even in his own hand as you watched clear slick trickle from the weeping head and over his knuckles.

This was the only part of the consummation that seemed to match what your mother warned you about. It was supposed to be the painful part, when she advised you to simply imagine you were somewhere else until your husband decided he had enough. You had no idea how his cock was supposed to even fit inside of you.

“Do you… do you think it will fit?” you asked, naivety coloring your tone. You never intended to flatter him, but the breathless laugh you earned made your cheeks warm. He dropped his head forward, lips pressing against your temple.

“Yes, mäuschen, it will fit,” he assured you gently as he tried to fight his grin.

Smooth callouses swept to the back of your thigh, your knee pressed toward your chest beneath his firm grip. The wet sound of your sex splitting against the press of his cock made you want to hide, arousal twisting deep in your abdomen as you lifted your hips toward his. You both sighed as he rubbed himself up and down the seam.

The blunt catch of the head at your entrance made König groan, his eyes screwing shut. He moved toward it on instinct, slowly pushing against the ring of muscle. The feeling was not painful as much as it was uncomfortable, the pressure of you stretching wide around him made you draw tight like a bow.

Your hips tilted through each strained press, trying to find a position that felt more comfortable as he kept pressing into you. It was hard to understand that he just kept going, seemingly taking up all the excess space inside your body.

Heat burned between your legs when he was finally seated fully inside you, the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickling the backs of your thighs.

Your breaths were shallow and quick, the intrusion overwhelming as your fingers twisted in the bedding beneath you. The press of his fingers was not enough to prepare you for the width of his cock, the length feeling like he was buried all the way through you and in your throat. He filled every inch of you, plugging you up until you felt like you would burst.

“Relax,” König breathed, his voice sounding strained as he kept himself still. He rubbed two fingertips up and down your sternum, the motion eventually coaxing your breaths to slow to match the rhythm.

He shifted against you, a minute movement jostling the two of you against one another. The sensation made the world drop out from beneath you, muscles tightening as your sex bore down around him. You were stubborn in your attempts to grind your hips against him. There was a strangled sound from his chest, deep and rumbling as he squeezed your thigh so hard you were sure it would bruise.

“Please, meine frau, you must calm down.” His hand moved to splay over your hip, forcing you against the mattress as he pinned you down. He nodded approvingly as you stopped moving, your head starting to clear as you settled with each breath.

Sweat dampened his forehead and the nape of his neck, wisps of his hair stuck to his pale complexion as he hovered above you. It was still hard to wrap your mind around the fact that König was your husband, the band of the ring on his finger digging into the flesh of your thigh to serve as a reminder. The scars marking his features already seemed so familiar to you, the tilts of his head and pinch of his eyes lending themselves to memorizing the expressions he had kept secret under his hood.

His thumb moved to press tight circles against your sex, a satisfied smirk contorting his features as he watched you gasp. The discomfort was quickly pushed to the back of your mind, your sex squeezing tight around him as you mewled. You kept squirming, making him groan each time your hips moved.

Another hot squeeze of your core had his head sagging forward on a groan. He rooted deep, hips stuttering as he nudged even further inside you. His eyes were dark as they found yours, your nod of encouragement frantic.

“Yes, please,” you breathed, hand finding the curve of his jaw. Your thumb traced the jagged line of the scar near his lip. “Please.”

He hummed his agreement, turning his head to press a kiss to the center of your palm. His breath was hot over your fingers as his hips bunched against yours.

It was only the first taste of him inside you, gentle rocks of his pelvis to get you used to the feeling. The hot slide and press of his cock deep inside you unlocked something in your mind, something primal and instinctual you never knew existed.

You clutched at his bicep, gasping for air as he got more confident in his movements. The squelch was loud in the room, you were absolutely soaking. You could feel yourself leaking all over König and the bedding and your inner thighs. But the way he looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky made you forget your concern.

He leaned back, his wide palm smoothing over the back of your other leg and pressing until you were nearly bent in half. You almost choked, surprised your body could even contort so much. His lips were parted, his breaths labored as he stared at where you were stretched tight around him. The swell of your stomach made it impossible for you to see so you settled on watching his expression grow heavy with lust.

A long, sinuous motion made your eyes roll back. König pulled out and plunged back inside you in steady thrusts from tip to base, his skin slapping loudly against yours. The muscle of his hips bumped hard against your pelvis, his hands pressing down on your knees to rotate your hips up toward his.

He looked up at you, the sight of your nod making him bear down further. You had to force yourself to keep breathing, each hard thrust making you sigh softly as you tried to keep your head above water and stay with him.

He rutted into you so firmly that your teeth clacked, sweat starting to form at every juncture of skin touching skin. You reached for his shoulders, making him gather the backs of your knees on his biceps as he moved in closer to you. His brows were drawn, cheeks flushed pink as he grunted softly.

The air in the room was humid, your shared breaths dusting over one another as your eyes remained locked together.

He fucked into you with grit teeth, sweat starting to roll down his temple. Each thrust of his hips made the knot in your belly tighten, a syrupy warmth blooming through you. The pressure of him around you scratched an itch you never knew you had–you would crave this for the rest of your life.

You lifted your hips even further, his cock reaching a spot that made lightning start to build between your legs as you cried out.

“König, there, please…” you begged, voice breaking.

He obliged, pressing his belly to yours as he caught your mouth in a searing kiss. The merciless rhythm of his hips continued, the ocean waves building in your belly starting to crest and break. His lips opened over yours, hot tongue twisting into your mouth and licking along your teeth.

His weight shifted, head of his cock pressing so firmly inside you that the frantic wave of pleasure smashed into a million pieces as you fell.

Your legs twitched as you came with a scream, back arching stiffly off the bed. It felt like you were on fire, hot and unbearable as your muscles locked up. You struggled to think, your pleasure syrupy and warming as you floated somewhere else.

König stilled above you, keeping you speared on his cock as you writhed beneath him. His moan was deep, vibrating against you as your sex squeezed down on him like a vise. The press of his hands held you there, as strong as steel as he ground into you through the throes of your orgasm. You surfaced, your eyes wide as they met his, the sight of him forcing a moan out of you.

He looked like a predator above you, eyes gleaming with arousal. They were the color of lightning, the blue so intense that it was almost crackling as he searched your expression.

Your body started to jolt, your orgasm wringing you dry as you panted beneath him. He ground into you, cock twitching inside you as your hips stuttered of their own accord. The bedding twisted in his fists as his knuckles turned white, forehead dipping into the hollow of your throat as his breath fanned over your chest.

It occurred to you that he was close to spilling his seed inside of you, the whole point of consummating your marriage returning to you as you thought of carrying König’s child. You gasped, hand flying to your stomach all at once as you rubbed the skin there and imagined.

Soon you would be pregnant. He wanted you to be. You wanted to be.

His eyes followed the movement of your hand, his own fitting over yours, thumb stroking over the backs of your knuckles. He groaned, pressing your hand down against your soft flesh as it became clear to you he understood.

Your name was on his lips, repeated like a prayer as his hands fitted to your waist and pulled you further onto his cock.

“König,” you replied, your voice breaking as he set a reckless pace.

Your world spun, fuzzy around the edges as you drew harsh breaths that ended in soft ahs. The full wave of his body was gone, a staccato rhythm that was quickly turning sloppy replaced it. He stopped withdrawing fully, fucking into you with an urgency as he pounded you deep.

Delirium took over you as he used your body for his own pleasure. Overstimulation made tears well up on your lashline and slowly roll down your cheeks, you moaned your husband’s name as you fought to keep your eyes from squeezing shut.

König was running his mouth in his native language, guttural words twisted around your name with his harsh breaths. You loved listening to him talk, you found yourself wishing you understood what he was saying as he muttered words under his breath. He snapped his hips against you once, twice, and then he made a wounded sound as he finally found his release.

He kept shoving into you, hard and unrestrained as he fought to get even deeper inside you as his cock spit come that felt like molten iron deep. His hips stuttered thoughtlessly to fuck it even deeper inside of you.

You were awed as he held you there, watching his eyes squeeze closed as his breaths came hard. One hand left your waist, pressing into the sweaty bedding beneath you to stabilize himself. He moaned under his breath, exhaustion and satisfaction mingling in the sound as he bowed toward you.

It was only a moment more until he collapsed, pressing you into the mattress with the bulk of his body as his nose pressed just beneath your jaw. You were both suspended in time as you gasped, your eyes wide as you stared at the ceiling.

His hand pressed beneath you to the small of your back, holding you close as he remained buried deep inside you.

The weight of him on top of you made you wheeze, your palm pressing against his shoulder finally bringing König back to life. “You are crushing me,” you said with a laugh, voice breathless.

He was moving before you could say anything more, arms curling around your waist and over your back as he rolled. The world shifted as your cheek came to rest on his barrel chest, ear pressed against his strong heartbeat. His arm fitted around you, pulling you closer as he stamped kisses on your damp hairline.

“My love,” he sighed, almost sounding awe-struck. You looked up at him through your lashes, your palm pressing over his ribs.

He shifted, both of you hissing as he slowly pulled out of you. His fingers traced down your body, gathering his come as it started to leak from you and pressed it back inside of you. You yelped, nerves frayed as you squeezed around his digits.

“Get that smirk off your face,” you said, your smile betraying your tone as you attempted to scold him. He looked satisfied with himself, eyelids heavy as he shifted his gaze to you. His eyes were back to the color of a clear pool of water, his calm affect returned.

“You did not seem so upset with me at the moment,” he teased, calloused fingertips tracing up and down your arm.

You rolled your eyes, mashing your cheek into his chest again as you curled into him.

The silence between you two was comfortable, your gaze roving over his chambers. There were shelves with trinkets from travels, books and scrolls amongst them. It was so cozy, furs and rich fabrics across the furniture and tapestries on the walls. You lifted your head slightly, the rounded ear of a stuffed bear visible behind a basket with odds and ends of fabric sticking from it.

“I have to ask,” you started, a wide grin on your face as you propped yourself on König’s chest. He smoothed his hands over your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin as he looked up at you, waiting. “Did you make that bear you gave me at the tournament?”

You had always found it hard to imagine him stitching it together, big hands working a needle through the fabric.

König laughed, a sharp breath of air leaving his nose as he nodded. “I did,” he said softly, cheeks turning pink as he looked a bit sheepish. “After the war I needed something to do with my hands that did not feel like murder. That was the best one I made, I wanted it to go to my future wife.”

You hummed, biting your cheek as you tilted your head to one side. “You thought I would be your future wife?” you asked, nose wrinkling. Affection warmed your cheeks, your hands pressing flat on his chest as you looked down at him.

“Oh yes,” he breathed, reaching up to tuck some of your mussed up hair out of your face. “I knew I would have no other. It seems that the gods agreed with me.”

You leaned into the touch of his hand, his thumb stroking over your eyebrow and down your cheek. “Would you make another one of those bears? For our child?” you asked softly, resting your chin on his sternum. You traced hearts on his chest with your fingertips.

König smiled again, his scarred face looking soft in the firelight. He bent down to kiss you, fingers hooked beneath your chin to lift your mouth to his. It was sweet, just a stamp of his lips to yours.

“For you, my lady?” he asked, eyes roaming over your face as he spoke. My lady. You were elated that he would now be calling you his wife. “Anything you ask.”

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