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sunnypopoki · 2 days ago

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— 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 ; P.3

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘒𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘵 ��𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.2 / Р.4

Kieran stared at the classroom filled with other fifteen-year-olds. Already, they seemed to fit the stereotypes he always saw on tv back in Russia; jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, and more. It was true that none of them had uniforms. At least that was one good thing, he wouldn't feel stuffy in some uniform.

Scanning the classroom, he paused when he noticed a girl in the back of the class. Her head was crammed into a notebook, cheek against the paper, as she wrote something down. Wasn't that pose hurting her neck? Why was she so close to the paper? She wasn't taking in the teacher's information while Kieran was waiting to be introduced. The class was chaos in a nutshell and all the students were chattering so loud that his ears were going to fall off.

"Now class, all of you need to pay attention to this!" the teacher huffed, clapping her hands, "come on! pay attention. Unless you all want some homework over the weekend!"

It was like magic. At the mere mention of homework, the entire class stopped talking. He bit the inside of his cheek when all the eyes in the room were suddenly on him. A few girls giggled, some boys leaned forward in their seats, and some gave him sweet smiles. He already hated all of them. Why did they stare at him like he was a new exhibit in a zoo?

The girl in the back of the class raised her head, wincing and rubbing the back of her neck. There was a sparkle in her eye and Kieran pursed his lips. She seemed to be one of the annoying chatter-box girls with that happy look.

"Today we are introducing a new student to our class, Kieran. Be nice, he just transferred here from London, so he might have to get used to how this school works for a bit," the teacher beamed at him, "why don't you go sit beside (Y/N)? She's a good student, she will help you with anything you need."

The class burst into welcomes, giddy excitement, and questions. Kieran had a gut feeling that they were only acting this way because he was a foreigner. He was aware that if they knew he was Russia, they would either be interested in his culture or racist about it. His father warned him that a lot of people were mean to Russians at times just because of Putin. Sure, not all of them, but he really didn't want to be called a terrorist just because of his ethnicity.

(Y/N), who he realized was the girl in the back, slowly raised her hand. That sparkle in her eye was something much more nervous now. People nudged and whispered at her, glancing at him with giddy eyes. Great. He was going to be stuck to the weird girl who writes like she has a broken neck. He ignored the pestering stares and whispers around the room as he walked to the back of the class and sat next to her. At least her name wasn't obnoxious.

While he desperately ignored her, he noticed the girl glancing at him from the corner of his eye. She gnawed on her bottom lip and her leg bounced up and down, followed by her opening her mouth to say something but then quickly shutting it.

Kieran's father taught him a lot of lessons growing up and one of those lessons was about cowards. The Morozov family wasn't fond of people who couldn't speak their minds, at least that was what his father told him, because cowards often ruined business. Of course, Kieran wasn't allowed to know a lot about his father's job, but he went ahead and applied that advice to this situation. He didn't understand why she was stammering so much and why her eyes bored holes into the side of his head. Was she just dumb? Maybe a dumb coward? His eye twitched and he leaned against his palm.

Finally, she managed to speak up.

"Uhm—do you... do you want to share my textbook for this class? I see you don't have yours yet. We are learning exponential equations," she proposed, "I'm not the best at them yet, but I can teach you what I know so you can get caught up with the class."

"Sure."

(Y/N) was taken aback by his harsh accent. He knew that it was thick. When he lived in London for two years, the private school he was at always had issues understanding what he was saying. This caused a lot of bullying, especially by the posh brats who didn't have anything better to do than flaunt their wealth and complain about how their parents didn't buy them a specific set of shoes for their birthday.

Her eyes lit when she realized he agreed and she quickly fumbled to put her desk next to his, opening her textbook so the two of them could see it. Kieran was glad he was forced to learn English at a young age because who knew he'd be in a situation like this once he got older? He still struggled with English now and again, certain words and sentence structure confused him, but he knew how to read the majority.

Kieran's eyes flickered to the side. (Y/N) was nervously rambling about something, pointing and poking at the page.

In truth, he was surprised she talked to him. His first impression of her was some weird, shy girl who didn't have a social life (even if that was extremely judgmental, he didn't care). The way she wrote in her notebook like some gremlin in the back of the class was enough to give him that impression. However, she seemed kind so far, even if she was jittery and nervous around him. He knew that even if she was some yellow-bellied coward, he'd rather talk to a coward instead of a bitch.

Back when he was a transfer student in London, people who tried to talk to him immediately retreated when they realized they would have a hard time understanding him if they continued the conversation. They had so much fear of putting themselves in an awkward situation that they didn't want to talk to the boy with a thick accent. Not that he cared, most of the time he just wanted to be left alone.

So it was shocking, to say the least, when (Y/N) started asking him questions.

"So, how do you like our school so far?" she beamed, nervously picking at her sleeve, "I hope you haven't met Jenson yet. He's rude to everyone, but I have a feeling he won't be nice to you."

Kieran pursed his lips, muttering, "...ah, well, everyone likes to stare here."

(Y/N) tensed and tilted her head. Ah... he knew that reaction. Did she not understand him? Annoyance bubbled in his chest and he gnawed on his bottom lip, tapping his fingers aggressively against the table. He opened his mouth to repeat himself and—

"Oh, yeah! People stare a lot here, but if you stare back at them, they will look away. I do that sometimes when some of the girls from art class stare at me," she interrupted, "sorry. Your accent is very thick—I mean, I don't mean that in a bad way! Uhm, it just took me a second. It's very pretty!"

Kieran blinked. His mouth clamped back shut and he awkwardly shifted in his seat, glancing away from her. "It's fine."

His hands stopped tapping at the table and he politely placed them in his lap. His ears felt hot and he rolled his shoulders back, doing his best to shake off the sudden awkward itch on the back of his neck. His accent was pretty? Was she just saying that to be nice? His teeth nibbled on his bottom lip.

(Y/N) brought out her notebook and started to doodle on one of the pages. He glanced over and saw that she was drawing a lot of animals on one page. A dog, a cat, an otter, there was a whole plethora of small critters on her page. She started to draw a black cat, absentmindedly containing the conversation, "Was your school in London cool?"

Why is she suddenly drawing a black cat?

He shrugged, "...not really. Posh brats everywhere."

Her eyes lit up. Whatever she was thinking, he didn't have to place it together quickly to understand what she was going to ask him next. "A lot of people in school romanticize British people. It's probably not the nicest thing to do, but I know a lot of girls from the grade above have been talking about visiting London one day. Did you go to a fancy school in London?"

He nodded. "A private school, but I was homeschooled in Russia."

God, he was delighted to be out of that place. Not everyone was rich and snobby in that place, and he knew it was because of their wealth and not where they came from, but he liked to blame it on the fact they were British. Just like he always liked to blame a lot of things Americans did just because of the fact they were American. All of them had shitty food compared to the delights in Russia, at least in his opinion.

"Woah! That's so cool," she looked up at him with a large smile, "where did you live in Russia? "

"Yakutsk," he deadpanned, "a port city on the Lena River."

(Y/N) blinked. She scribbled in the corner of her notebook and made a dark spiraling circle, her lips pulling into a much more awkward grin. "Uhm, did you say Yaktooz? I'm afraid I don't know where that is. If I am honest, I only know of Moscow, and I don't even know where that is."

Kieran's smiled a little bit more. It has been a while since he talked of his home, even if it wasn't the best place to live. He missed the food and the people, but there was a lot he didn't miss either. He shook his head and pulled out a piece of paper from his notebook, writing down the name of his town and then trying to write it down in English. He grumbled and erased it.

"No, it is pronounced Yakutsk," he paused and muttered to himself, "how would an American say it... shit, I don't know how to pronounce it in a way you'd understand."

(Y/N) tilted her head and looked at the page, "can you say it again?"

"Yakutsk."

When written down in Russian, the word looked completely different, something she wouldn't be able to understand at all. The word 'Якутск' stared back at her heavy yet fluid handwriting. She took her pen and tried to copy the Russian letters right under it. It was messy, not fluid, and hesitant handwriting.

"I--I don't think I will be able to say it as cool as you say it. Is it cold where your home is?"

Kieran didn't blame her for not repeating it. She did butcher the pronunciation when she tried the first time, whatever the hell she was trying to say.

"Summers were short and our winters are very cold. Russia is big, so not every place is cold, but Yakutsk is in Siberia. People have named it the coldest city in the world."

The only reason his family lived in that part of Russia was because it was because of the low crime rate and the fact it was easy for people to go missing there. The Lena River was one of the longest rivers in the world, and Kieran knew that his father sometimes took out people who wanted to cause them harm and threw them there. Why did they want to cause his family harm? he didn't know, his father never shared, but only said "You'll understand when you get older."

However, he wasn't naive. He knew that his father did something illegal. It wasn't just his father, but his entire family. They always kept strong peaceful ties with the authority in Russia and his father always managed to have the highest ranking of power to anyone they met. His father was a kind person, he smiled at everyone, and was so polite that it made him sick--but he also knew that scary look he had behind closed doors when he was talking with some of his men.

One day, he would get all the answers. He was still impatient about it though.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. She went back to doodling her cat, humming, "Oh, that's so cool! Do you still have some relatives in Ru—"

"(Y/N), please stop bothering the new student," the teacher snapped and pointed her pen at her, "Kieran is here to learn, not listen to you ramble."

She sank back into her seat and her lips pursed shut. She didn't blush, but by the way her eyes lowered to the floor and her body folded in on itself, she was embarrassed. He stared at her from the corner of his eye while the class burst into giggles and chatter. Some of the other students tried to ask him questions but he ignored them. Instead, he finished the black cat doodle in her notebook, adding a small 'meow' in Russian right next to it.

"Now, everyone pay attention! can someone come up to the board and answer this question?"

Whatever the teacher was saying, he blocked it out. The class went back to doing whatever they were doing, (Y/N) raised her head and doodled a second black cat to go with the first one, and then he added a third. Her doodles were better. When she doodled a pigeon, he was quick to doodle an owl. The rest of the class was spent wasting their time and not paying attention to the board.

Kieran bit his lip to keep his lips from twitching upward. He still would have preferred to be alone, but she wasn't that bad or annoying, and she was so far keeping him from being bored... He supposed he could talk to her a little bit more.

━━━━━━━ ╳ ╳ ╳

Kieran sighed and stopped scribbling on the blank paper on his desk. There were many times when he reminisced, remembering the time he first met (Y/N). It was hard to believe that he didn't like her at first. He didn't understand his past self, how he could have found her bright smile annoying. Now it gave him butterflies each time he thought about it.

Their time spent in school was wild, to say the least. Kieran wasn't the ideal student but he managed to get good grades throughout, good enough that his mother and father didn't scold him when he got home. How ironic that (Y/N) always got the best grades yet somehow her parents never thought it was enough. He licked his teeth at the thought, cursing them under his breath.

He never liked them. He was glad they were out of her life.

They got married six months ago and a couple of her family members were there, but their presence brought down the entire wedding. His family on the other hand were a little bit too loud.

His mother kept cooing and complimenting (Y/N) in Russian each time she had the chance and his father kept telling her baby stories about him. It was embarrassing. His parents adored her, which was good, but they were too adoring at times.

He glanced over at the watch on his desk. It was a gift she gave to him whenever they were in high school. It didn't fit him anymore but he still kept it close, reminding him to be careful and not get shot, because she was waiting at home for him.

Though... something had been off about her.

He knew that she was upset because of him. Kieran was busier than normal, he'd been out of the house more, and he'd been craving her touch. The nights she wasn't with him are the nights he couldn't sleep at all. Did she feel the same way? Was she lonely? God, he felt lonely, and he was the one going out and working all the time.

Not that he could stop. While he was the boss, just throwing away the mafia would get him killed. He had to make sure she was safe and throwing away his job just to be close to her would get her and him killed together. It wasn't like his father was in the States to help protect her either.

His mind flashed back to what happened last night. His expression soured, thinking of the two gang members he found talking to her, and her salty tear-stained cheeks. She was angry at him but didn't want to tell him. She wasn't a good liar, especially when she had an expression of gut-wrenching guilt. Why was she guilty? Did he make her guilty? Fuck, he never wanted to hurt her. He'd rather gut out his intestines and string them up for the crows instead of hurting her.

Kieran tried talking to her about it when they got home, but the conversation didn't go anywhere. He didn't know what to say to make her feel better, telling her the truth was more dangerous than lying, but he knew either option was hurting her. He knew she was lying about so many things. She was an open book. There were many times she pretended to be asleep just to avoid him. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He needed to find those thugs that talked to her. His ties with the police were beneficial for to the mafia, it kept them off his hide, but maybe they'd know their address when he didn't. He didn't want to go around asking his extra personal contacts for something small like thugs in minor gangs.

He groaned and his head fell into his hands.

God, he missed her.

He missed her scent, her laugh, the way she bites her bottom lip when she's embarrassed, her touch, her panting breaths when he kisses her—Kieran cleared his throat. Thinking about such things at work would leave him with a problem and he didn't want to explain to Sam why he wouldn't leave his office for an hour or two. Yet he couldn't deny that he craved just the brush of her fingers against his arms, his neck, his cheek.

He craved for her body pressed against his. He could imagine it already; (Y/N) cuddled next to him on the couch, watching a horror movie, her hands grabbing whatever they could get ahold of each time she was scared. The feeling of his clothes shifting, the way her body would move, her innocent eyes glancing at him to see his reaction to the movie.

Would she get all embarrassed if he leaned in closer? What sighs would leave her lips if he kissed her neck, caressing her like the goddess she was? God, he'd worship her like a temple, her breath enough to topple him to his knees.

He hissed. His pants suddenly felt tight, unbearably so, and he rubbed at his face. Work was leaving him pent up.

Kieran would be truthful and admit that there were times when it was hard for him to not touch her. All he wanted to do was to cradle her, to make her bend to his touch, to see how pretty she was on top of him... but being a killer didn't mean he was monstrous enough to force her to do something with him. She had to be safe with him, to trust him, so giving in to every horny thought about her wasn't the way to keep her happy, especially since she wasn't ready. He didn't care if she was never ready--she would stay with him forever, even if they weren't intimate.

However, there were times like this. Where the mere thought of her would rile him up, leave him breathless in his office, with no way of having privacy for longer than thirty minutes.

Kieran gritted his teeth as he shuffled in his chair, forcing his mind somewhere else. Somewhere boring. Walking out of his office pent-up was something he didn't want his men to see.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Thank god, a distraction!

Kieran glanced up, sighing whenever he noticed a familiar face peering through the cracked door to his office. Of course, Sam would bother him at a time like this.

"Why didn't you respond to my message?" he snapped, his voice thick with a Italian accent. "You left me on read and everything. I know you are cold, but I didn't expect you to be that cold. We are the only two higher-up immigrants here! We gotta be nice to one another!"

Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose. He was spouting nonsense again without any context. He should have expected this right when he saw him, he was always doing shit like this. "Come inside and stop talking through the crack of my door. What the hell are you even talking about?”

Sam huffed before barging into the room and shutting the door behind him. He was a short man, about 5'7, but the mass of his muscles compensated for it. He was about ten years older than Kieran but still appeared somewhat youthful. His dreadlocks were pulled into a bun and his colorful clothes only added to his unique and distinctive personality. He flipped the orange sunglasses off his nose and slapped them down on the desk.

"You know what you did, Kieran—

"Boss."

"—Boss!"

Kieran was usually confused each time he talked to Sam. Sam, short for Samuel, was a friend of his father's and someone who was meant to help him with the men underneath him. The Morozov Mafia was a dangerous place to work, especially since it was moved from Russia to the States. His father dragged all his people whenever they moved to both London for two years, and then to the United States. Sam was there throughout it all.

Were they close? Well, they were as close as mafia business partners could get. They recognized the respect between the two, they knew each other from growing up. Hell, Kieran could remember the day Sam turned 22. It was hard to believe that was 8 years ago.

"I don't know what I did," he confessed, "so what are you complaining about now?"

Sam frowned. "I messaged you at around ten yesterday morning and you left me on read. I told you to respond and everything because you didn't tell me where the hell you were after you said you'd meet with me. That's so cold of you, I thought we were like brothers."

"...I wasn't home at ten this morning. I already told you that I got caught up in some shipment yard where Kozlov fucked up and got some petty gang members into our territory."

It was messy work. The shipment yard was moving a box of slaves; people who were in debt with the mafia due to past agreements and refused to pay up. Their fault, they were the ones who decided it was a good idea to make contracts with the mafia when they didn't have the money to pay it all back. So hopefully they'd find some use elsewhere, likely back home in Yakutsk with his father and mother.

Even so, he wasted bullets on gang members. He viewed them as kids, infants with baseball bats and an occasional Glock G19, a common gun that anyone could get in the States if they tried even a little bit. Of course, such guns were sloppy, but that didn't stop one of his men from being shot in the leg. To put it simply, it was humiliating.

"Isn't the app on your phone? Are you sure you didn't glance at it and forgot then?" Sam asked, suddenly piqued in curiosity.

"I didn't."

"...I mean, maybe your wife read—"

"Sam," Kieran warned.

Sam leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. He sighed and his leg bounced up and down, staring at Kieran with a knowing look. "Then who else would have read the message? You only have that app on your laptop and your phone, which I doubt anyone would go through unless the woman who has access to it, did it. If the systems were hacked, which we'd already know by now if they were, then that'd be an issue. But they aren't."

Kieran glared. Quickly, the issue of being pent up went out the window, doubts starting to cloud his mind. Anxiety filled up his bloodstream like poison.

What would he do if she knew?

How could he keep her safe?

Who would hurt her?

How would he keep her with him?

"I know what you're thinking, but you already know the answer to that," Sam picked up a small candy from the tray, unraveled it, and plopped it into his mouth, "You either drag her in or you throw her out, kid, that's how this business works. Hell, you're lucky the Big Boss loves her so much that he allowed you to marry her."

"Sam," Kieran warned again, his voice tighter, face falling to hide behind his hands as a headache grew.

"I'm just saying! She's probably curious about where you are leaving all the time. You're editor, so of course you meet up with your clients sometimes, but not every goddamn night."

"Poor woman doesn't even have her man there to sleep with her. Who knows, maybe she'll go out and find some other guy—"

Sam stilled whenever he saw the two green eyes peeking out behind Kieran's hands, staring at him with enough intensity to knock the air out of his lungs. Thousands of spiders crawled up his spine and sweat built on his brow. He opened his mouth to fix his mistake, to undo what just slipped out of his mouth, but he couldn't speak. Not whenever the cold eyes of the devil were threatening to swallow him whole.

Kieran was glaring with icy anger. No, it wasn't quite anger. It was hard to explain, whatever look was in his eyes, but Sam had a gut feeling that he wouldn't have any issue placing a bullet in his head if he continued to talk about his wife. The sparkle in his emerald eyes was gone. It was dead, daring, threatening.

The two went way back—but he knew very well that Kieran loved and adored his spouse more than anyone and anything. He was obsessed. She was a drug and each time he was two feet away from her, he started to show cold symptoms of withdrawal. Bloodthirsty withdrawal.

"I—I was just joking boss," Sam backpedaled, "you don't have to look at me like that."

Kieran's eyes narrowed. Like a snake scrutinizing its prey, Sam felt like a mouse about to be served on a dinner plate. He shivered and his hands instinctively crossed his chest in a mere attempt to guard himself. Not like that would work. He was stronger than Kieran, but Kieran also knew martial arts. He could easily slam his head into the table with enough force to watch him choke and bleed out on the cold concrete floor.

"So... anyway, you should—you should talk to your wife. If she saw the message, she probably assumed it was something... indecent."

He needed Kieran to speak. To say something. Because the silence was getting overwhelming and his gaze was drowning him in tar. Hot, sticky tar that made his body break out into a sweat and his lungs clog up each time he shuffled in his seat.

"Fine."

Sam exhaled. He was dizzy, just how long was he holding his breath?

Kieran leaned back into his seat and stopped cradling his head in his hands. He was still on edge, Sam could tell, but at least he wasn't staring at him like he was planning a blood-soaked feast.

"Sam."

He inhaled, "yes?"

"Don't talk about her again."

Sam flinched. His hands wiped at his thighs and he nodded, staring at the gritty concrete under his shoes, "...yes boss. I won't bring her up again."

He was lucky someone ended up knocking on the door.

Kieran's face fell into indifference whenever a runt knocked on the door. He called for them to come in and soon a hairy man, clear of all common mafia tattoos, scurried in. He lowered his head and nervously tugged at his beard. He was shaking. Sam and Kieran leaned forward in their seats, picking up the strange atmosphere.

"Sorry to bother you, boss," the man choked out, "but some members from Leovana are here. They—They said they have a gift and message for you from, uh, from their boss."

Sam's eyes widened. He glanced over to Kieran, noticing the emotionless facade he was wearing. Why did he seem so nonchalant about it? The damn CEO of Leovana was their known enemy, even if he wasn't in any close mafia groups. He was a standing pillar who somehow continued to stay upright even when he was in a field of mafia men. It wasn't normal for a random CEO and his business to stand tall even in situations like this.

"What's the gift?" Kieran deadpanned.

"They didn't say."

"What's it held in?"

"A small box, boss."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip. He doubted it was a bomb, the bastard wasn't that tactless. However, Kieran looked like his head was going to explode based on how much he was rubbing his temples. He sighed and shrugged the anxiety off his shoulders, turning to face the man before Kieran had to say anything.

He didn't. Instead, Kieran pushed up from his desk and fixed his undid his messy bun into a low ponytail. He brushed a couple of strands from his face and walked to the door. Sam had a gut feeling that he was planning something, like usual, but it was going to be gorey this time.

"Sam, you're coming with me."

He grabbed his sunglasses off the table and put them back on. "Aye Aye."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

RANDOM KIERAN FUN FACTS

• Kieran makes the MC food every morning each time he can. Sometimes he makes it before he leaves at night and puts it in the fridge so she can warm it up later. The only times he doesn't make breakfast is when he's away for days.

• Kieran got his first tattoo before age ten for mafia purposes. It's the symbol of his family's group.

• Kieran is ACTUALLY an editor. It's not some lie, he does work as an editor for a coverup and does speak with authors and clients in face-to-face meetups.

• Kieran has a special charm tattoo on his arm that he got so he could always kiss it for good luck. It's the black cat that she doodled when they first met. Yes, something as small as that is important to him.

LINKS:

— 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳

— 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥

— 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘷

[ P.4 ]

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charlesslut16 · 3 days ago

Text

-New Year's Eve-

summary : you and charles celebrate into the new year

PAIRINGS : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you start good into the new year and have a great next year with your loves ❤️❤️

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night air in Monaco was crisp and cool, the city twinkling with the lights of countless celebrations as the clock ticked closer to midnight. The harbor was lined with extravagant yachts, their lights reflecting off the shimmering water.

The sound of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses filled the streets as the world prepared for the arrival of a brand new year. And amidst it all, there was a sense of magic in the air that seemed to surround you and Charles.

You stood on the balcony of a lavish penthouse overlooking the city, a glass of champagne in hand, Charles by your side. His arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him as the two of you gazed at the scene below. The night felt perfect, everything aligning just as it should.

"I still can't believe we're here," you said, your voice quiet, as you leaned against his chest.

Charles smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Me neither. But I'm so happy we are. It feels like the start of something incredible, doesn't it?"

You nodded, turning in his arms to face him. The warmth of his gaze melted the coolness of the evening. Charles’ hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing along your skin as he looked down at you. There was a quiet certainty in his eyes, an unspoken promise that made your heart swell. You had been together for a while now, and everything about your relationship with him felt so effortless, so right.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” Charles continued, his voice soft but full of emotion. “To be here, with you, starting a new year together.”

You smiled, your heart racing as you reached up to cup his face. “I feel the same way,” you whispered. “You make everything feel like it’s meant to be.”

The crowd below began to get louder as the final minutes of the year ticked away. The countdown was near. You could feel the excitement building, the anticipation of the moment when everything would change, when the calendar would turn, and the world would begin anew.

But for you, nothing felt as significant as the moment right now—standing with Charles, in his arms, with the promise of the future ahead of you.

“Five... four...” the voice of the host echoed from the party inside. The crowd joined in, their voices rising in excitement.

Charles looked at you, his hand still resting gently on your cheek, and his thumb brushed your lips. "This time last year, I would never have imagined I'd be here with you, in this moment."

You chuckled softly. "Neither would I," you admitted. “But now that we're here, it feels perfect.”

“Three... two... one..."

The crowd erupted into cheers as the new year arrived, and in that instant, Charles leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like it was meant for the very first moment of the year. It was tender, sweet, and full of all the love that had been quietly growing between the two of you. The world around you faded, and in that kiss, it was just you and Charles. No more waiting, no more wondering if things would fall into place. Everything was exactly where it needed to be.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, and you both laughed softly, the sound of fireworks bursting overhead filling the night.

“Happy New Year, mon amour,” Charles whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

“Happy New Year, Charles,” you replied, your heart full as you looked into his eyes.

The night carried on with laughter, dancing, and moments of quiet connection between the two of you. But no matter what happened, no matter how many people came and went, you knew that this moment—this perfect, beautiful moment with Charles—would be the one you carried with you into the new year.

And with him by your side, you knew that whatever the future held, it would be nothing short of extraordinary.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #masterlist #f1 imagine #christmas #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #Spotify

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lascvitae · 2 days ago

Text

the hills. — kim minjeong x reader.

"when i'm fucked up, that's the real me."

sypnosis ⸝⸝⸝ park y/n has always hated minjeong, and the feeling has always mutual. growing up as rivals, it only made sense for their rivalry to carry on with them to college. but when minjeong became student council president she devloped a knack for using that power over y/n, causing for the line in between love and hate to blur.

pairing ⸝⸝⸝ enemies to lovers, stuco president!minjeong x campus player!reader

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ profanity, suggestive, alcohol & cannabis consumption, cheating, y/n is lowk big mad, minjeong is down bad

note ⸝⸝⸝ HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY TO ME AND MINJEONGGG 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 and happy new year too!!! idk how i feel about this fic, it’s kinda out of my comfort zone (also its so late rn, i took WAYYY too long to post this)

word count: 4.4k

if there was one thing that every college student looked forward to during midterms, it was the month long break. whether they spend it sleeping, partying, or with their loved ones, it was always the fuel of their excitement.

this had even been the case for park y/n, an extremely popular student yonsei university. the popularity wasn’t due to her looks & lovable bold personality, but she was also park sunghoon’s little sister. sunghoon was notorius for his ability to ice skate, entracing everyone who watched him dance across the ice almost insantly.

y/n went viral after being spotted giving her brother a pep talk before a big performance, resulting in praise for her demeanor and refreshing visuals.

this event lead to her current boyfriend at the time, kim sunwoo, who was one of the most popular campus crushes. he was known for throwing the craziest parties, especially during the breaks.

even though y/n is well-known for breaking hearts and then moving onto the next person she deems worthy, sunwoo didn’t seem to mind this at all. he was happily enjoying his 15 minutes of fame. and in his mind, they were the hottest couple the university had laid their eyes upon.

this hadn’t been the case for student council president kim minjeong, who was currently eyeing the said girl with disdain. the annoyance was practically radiating off of her at this point.

minjeong wasn’t the typical president, though. while she exuded the punk and rock aesthetic perfectly, she was extremely nice to everyone. some would even describe her as shy, but everyone could tell that she genuinely cared for the students. with the way she coordinated all the activities, advocated for the students’ needs and concerns, and represented the entire studdent body. her leadership and communication skills were out of this world.

that was with everyone except for park y/n.

they had been enemies — or more so rivals, for years now. it started in elementary school, where they used to be table partners.

their table was pretty far in the back, so the teacher would always reach them last.

on the very first day when the teacher handed out colored construction paper, minjeong took the last blue colored one. the one that y/n had been waiting so patiently for.

that wasn’t the worst part about it all. she even left a friendly comment for her so-called table partner.

“i’m smarter, so i get it instead of you!” she chirped.

y/n smacked her gum angrily, crossing her arms as the teacher scolded minjeong.

“you’re a big fat liar!” y/n spat back, resulting in a loss of two class dojo points.

“park y/n! give me your gum, now.” the teacher scolded, and y/n immediately obeyed.

two more class dojo points that she needed for her favorite candy — the big blow pops with gum inside.

she could still remember the event as clear as water to this day.

and everytime she does, she reminds herself that she is indeed better than minjeong, and she wouldn’t let that anger consume her. it wouldn’t have been possible to beat minjeong in every spelling bee if the girl was better than her.

minjeong and y/n used to compete in the spelling bee every year during middle school, and they would always be the final two left standing.

but minjeong could never beat y/n. and the smile that y/n would give everyone once she got the award was worth losing.

and the time in high school where —

“are you even listening?” minjeong quirked a brow, patience running thin. her teeth grazed against the piercings that looped around her bottom lip. the piercings that made minjeong look ten times hotter.

y/n hated those.

“yeah, whatever. i, park y/n, swear to improve my behavior over the break. can i go now?” the blonde-haired girl shook her head in disappointment.

“today isn’t the day to be testing my patience.” even if there was any real threat behind the warning, y/n didn’t care. she rolled her eyes before standing up from the chair, smacking her gum to take it a step further as usual. she always knew exactly how to push minjeong’s buttons.

“just get out.” minjeong ordered before holding out the palm of her hand, tilting her head as her eyes zeroed in on her rival’s lips.

a reluctant y/n spat out her gum with crossed arms, huffing quietly. this wasn’t uncommon for the two, and y/n was never truly bugged by the action. she only feigned annoyance so that minjeong had a reason to do it more often.

and she definitely did.

“ugh! i can’t stand minjeong!” y/n complained in the canteen, fixing her lip combo as sunwoo held up the phone camera for her.

sunwoo was currently seated with y/n and her friends, listening to his girlfriend rant on and on about their student council president. this wasn’t a new topic for him.

yuqi was absent this time — she had probably been lip locking in a hallway with her boyfriend, waiting to get caught.

“is there something i should know about her?” aeri raised an eyebrow. “she’s my r—“

“mm-mm. just let her finish, aeri.” sunwoo cut her off, waving his hand side to side in the air. aeri could only shrug in response.

“i swear she does it on purpose too… she never reports anyone as much as she reports you.” ningning chimed in, sipping from the lilac stanley cup that sat on the table.

“exactly! urgh, like she’s so infuriating!” her boyfriend, who was more of a decoration, watched y/n work her magic, amazed by how pretty she was. “i swear we’ve memorized each other’s schedule.” aeri’s face contorted into one of confusion.

“maybe she wants to be your friend.” sunwoo shrugged, resulting in y/n giving him her signature eye roll.

“be my friend? baby, come on now…” she had looked up at him for a moment, sighing quietly before passing her attention to aeri instead. “babes! you should totally come to sunwoo’s party tonight.“

aeri was the newest addition to y/n, yuqi, and ningning’s interchangable clique.

while the three of them stuck together like glue, it was never the same case for the fourth person.

but they had high hopes for aeri.

“i wouldn’t miss it, y/n. anything in particular i need to wear?” she questioned.

“just come to y/n’s house. she’ll get you all fixed up.” ningning’s smile widened, twirling a strand of aeri’s hair. and if anyone was paying enough attention, they could see the faint blush appearing onto the pink-haired girl’s cheeks.

“yuqi had designer dresses made for all of us! today’s your lucky day, because we have a fourth.” y/n smirked, stuffing her makeup into sunwoo’s hands.

the boy hurriedly but carefully put everything back into her purse, along with the pink iphone 16 he knew she loved so much.

“it was originally meant for yujin.” ningning explained, sipping from her stanley as they all stood up. “before she went… rogue.” her voice dropped an octave on the word ‘rogue.’ aeri believed that she understood what that meant — yujin had made friends with minjeong and the rest of the student council.

“but it’s okay, because you’re totally prettier.” y/n giggled before grabbing aeri’s arm and walking off, ningning following close behind.

sunwoo dropped his girlfriend’s phone just as they walked off, picking it up and wiping it off with his hands. “y/n, wait!”

“yuqi, we look like cheap fucking whores. i thought you said this was designer?” y/n complained over the music after they arrived fashionably late to sunwoo’s christmas party.

there were already tons of people there. people that y/n could recognize and some that she couldn’t. some were dressed appropriately for the occasion, and some were in casual clothing.

they all had something in common though — hazy clouds filled the air, and the scent of alcohol boomed throughout the whole building. clearly whoever the dj was didn’t give a fuck about christmas, and that was obvious enough with the way rihanna blasted through all of the speakers.

“this is designer! feel the material.” yuqi retaliated, caressing the faux fur that stuck out of the top and bottom of the red minidress. the belt that defined their waists brought it all together.

aeri shrugged, being pulled closer by ningning. “it’s not too bad.”

their dresses were topped off with a matching santa hat, as well as black gloves and boots.

y/n crossed her arms, poking her hip out as she scanned the crowd. they had noticed their arrival now, earning the attention from a select number of the partygoers. she sighed, knowing that she couldn’t leave early because she rode with yuqi.

unless she were to leave with someone else tonight.

“damn, baby. you look good.” sunwoo sauntered over with his red cup in hand, smelling like a mixture of weed and his signature cologne as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against y/n’s lips.

he was dressed up as an elf. santa and the elf, how fitting for the couple.

“we look no different than the cup in your hand right now.” she pushed him away, furrowing her eyebrows.

“you look good in everything, though.” he pulled her close once more, planting open mouthed kisses to her neck.

“where’s the weed?” y/n subtly pried him off of her neck, clearing her throat. “this is a party, right?” she tilted her head, eyes burning into his.

“just come this way, baby.” and with that, he maneuvered his way through the crowd, being extremely easy to lose due to the dim and multicolored lighting and the way his green outfit looked underneath it.

the group had a bit of trouble following behind. all different types of people were around with their train of thought altered. high, drunk, both. sober.

they staggered into the kitchen, watching sunwoo open the door to a room just some feet away from them. “he went in there.” yuqi pointed out.

“hey! fucking watch it!” y/n shoved a random person after seeing them bump into aeri, who was being pulled close to ningning’s side once more.

the girl turned around, and y/n validated her own anger once she saw the girl’s face. it was ahn yujin.

yuqi stepped in front of aeri and ningning before gasping comically.

“hey! she didn’t even touch her.” a tall girl that had long brown hair spoke up for yujin with an alert expression painting her features. her name was wonyoung or something? whatever. y/n didn’t care.

“bitch, don’t lie! i saw it!” yuqi raised her voice, and wonyoung gave her a look of annoyance. this made both yuqi and y/n’s temper flare up.

y/n moved in closer to give them both a piece of her mind, but she was stopped by the familiar voice that she could recognize over any symphony.

kim minjeong’s.

“yujin? wony? what’s going on?…” the blonde haired girl was accompanied by the vice president of the student council, yu jimin.

jimin had two drinks in her hand, and yujin scurried out of sight. wonyoung was quick to give the two girls an apologetic look before following.

minjeong’s breath stopped as her eyes met y/n’s, studying the girl’s attire whilst her tongue played with her lip piercings. it was like her expression did a whole one-eighty. taken over completely by anger and something else that y/n couldn’t name.

y/n hated it.

“minjeong, huh?” she let out a laugh that was annoying to minjeong’s ears. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

it’s not that minjeong wasn’t expecting to run into y/n. this was her boyfriend’s party.

after all, y/n was the reason why she left the house tonight.

“this doesn’t look like improving your behavior.” her hand waved around y/n’s figure, arms crossed in her leather jacket. her shirt was short enough that her abs were on display.

y/n hated that.

“you aren’t innocent either, president.” y/n motioned to the red cup that was in jimin’s hand.

jimin laughed awkwardly, opening her mouth to de-escalate the situation.

“i earned this, don’t you think? for being valedictorian this semester.” minjeong spoke in a condescending manner, inching closer to y/n. the way she could see y/n’s eye twitch was the icing on the cake, smirk dancing onto her lips.

and y/n fucking hated it.

“you’re not better than me at everything, minjeong.” her words were laced with venom, even though the person in front of her was the snake.

“i’m sorry? name it.” minjeong chuckled, shoving jimin’s hand that came onto her shoulder.

“if you really wanna hear the answer, come smoke with us. i spent too much time on you.” y/n crossed her arms, smacking her gum.

minjeong was slightly taken aback, and jimin noticed this.

“hey, minjeong… we can—“

“lead the way, y/n.”

jimin’s face fell. how far was minjeong willing to go just to prove y/n wrong? her friends were in need of her help right now.

“hurry up! yuqi said sunwoo went this way.” aeri grabbed ningning’s arm, guiding her through the ocean of people as the rest of them followed, leaving jimin there alone.

“president finally letting loose, huh?” yuqi’s boyfriend, juyeon vocalized in an intrigued tone while sparking up both the blunt and the conversation. the group shared laughter of their own.

yuqi was cuddled close next to him, with aeri and ningning exactly to her left.

y/n was seated in between sunwoo and minjeong, while jake sat next to sunwoo. they were having their own conversation that y/n couldn’t care less about.

as the blunt started it’s rotation, the topic of conversation started to get lost. random thoughts were being talked about now. minjeong swore that she could hear juyeon lighting another blunt.

once it y/n passed it to minjeong, all eyes were on her.

“just do it.” y/n laughed at the worry plastered on the girl’s face.

“or are you a pussy, kim minjeong?”

that was all it took for minjeong to take a hit. a big one, too.

she blew out the smoke and immediately went into a coughing fit, sunwoo rushing to get the girl some water.

y/n felt jealousy coursing through her veins over this. but she wasn’t feeling jealous of minjeong.

“hey.” y/n stood up, elbowing sunwoo away from the blonde haired girl. she pat her back, taking the water bottle and waiting patiently for the coughing to come to an end.

once it did, minjeong tilted her head back so y/n could pour the water into her mouth. yet neither of them broke eye contact.

had aeri seen that right? because it looked like y/n pushed sunwoo away just to help minjeong. purposely.

but if sunwoo didn’t find anything wrong, she didn’t find a reason to, either.

all it took was a few minutes for the whole group to be completely faded. yuqi and her boyfriend left the room a while ago, and ningning excused herself to the bathroom. aeri followed to make sure the girl was okay.

this left jake, sunwoo, y/n, and minjeong. jake had the blunt, and he was laughing after y/n politely asked for a game of truth or dare.

“i might admit something i’ll regret later.” he shook his head, eyeing y/n considerably. this didn’t go unnoticed by sunwoo or minjeong.

she nudged y/n’s shoulder, leaning in to speak quietly once she had acquired her attention.

“the fuck does that mean, jaeyun?” sunwoo barked, sitting up slightly.

jake raised his hands, shaking his head as he yielded.

“still haven’t told me what you’re better at.” the president whispered, and the corners of y/n’s lips went upward.

“come here.” y/n grabbed minjeong’s hand as they stood up, sneaking out from the room that was full of hazy clouds.

sunwoo clicked his tongue, leaning back onto the couch as he looked over at his friend. “you gonna keep babysitting or what?”

“my bad. would hate to ruin y/n’s night.” his voice was lower now, and he handed the blunt to sunwoo, who was obviously upset.

sunwoo took a hit while shaking his head, turning his head to talk to his girlfriend.

“you good y/n—“

“the fuck? where’d they go?” he asked, coughing as he took the blunt from between his lips.

jake shrugged, and sunwoo left him alone in the room to start his search for y/n and minjeong.

“he took the blunt.” jake lifted his arms up dramatically.

y/n and minjeong were in the corner of the kitchen, and y/n smirked as she settled onto the side of the table parallel to her rival.

random people were watching as they began their game of beer pong.

“if minjeong wins, i’ll sleep with chaewon tonight.” a classmate named yunjin spoke out.

y/n started the game, easily taking the lead with two cups to zero.

“seriously? you can drink better than me? everyone knows that, y/n.” minjeong spat out once she kept losing. there were ten cups and y/n had already scored four, while she was at zero.

“hey, now. you know what they say. if you’re not drinking, you’re not playing.” y/n teased.

minjeong huffed, realizing that people were recording now. a light flush painted her cheeks. she didn’t want to seem like a total loser, at least.

she played with the piercings on her lip, finally landing the ping pong ball into one of the cups.

y/n couldn’t focus on anything else after seeing minjeong tease the lip rings, slowly losing her lead.

and after two more, the crowd began to ramp up. they were surrounded by red cups and camera flashes.

“yo, the president is about to beat y/n in beer pong!” some guy yelled out, and y/n furrowed her eyebrows. that’s not what she wanted to be remembered at this party for.

then suddenly, the crowd exchanged gasps as all of the cameras were suddenly pointed at y/n.

jimin had splashed a drink onto y/n’s dress, the liquid coating almost the entire top half of it.

and while y/n was enraged, minjeong found it the hottest sight laid upon her eyes. ever.

“minjeong! the fuck are you doing! people are recording!” jimin scolded her, grabbing her arm to drag her out of the party.

minjeong was crossfaded — she didn’t care. she hadn’t even zoned back in all the way yet.

“this is designer, you whore! it costs more than your whole life!” y/n yelled, and the room had gone quiet.

“you bitches post this anywhere and i’ll kill you.” she threatened the crowd, stomping off to the bathroom.

finally coming back to her senses, the blonde-haired girl spoke up. “jimin, what the hell?” minjeong pushed the vice president off of her shoulder, running after the girl she claimed to be the bane of her existence.

“what the fuck just happened?” a troubled sunwoo asked the crowd that had quickly dispersed and continued on with their previous activities.

a few had sobered up, but the rest replaced their tasks with getting wasted.

“i don’t know. chaewon ain’t getting laid tonight though.” ryujin commented, pouring a drink for yeji.

y/n found herself in some random bathroom, wiping frantically at the stain and trail of drink mixture trickling down her cleavage.

she groaned loudly, grabbing more paper towels when she heard the door open and close. it was no one other than kim minjeong.

she even heard the lock click.

the fucking audacity, y/n thought.

“y/n—“

“get the fuck out, minjeong!” she yelled out, words coming out slower than intended.

“let me help you—“ y/n pushed her away, chest heaving with anger as minjeong stumbled back into the door, leaning against it.

“this is all your fault, kim minjeong. she wouldn’t have spilled that drink on me if it wasn’t for you.” y/n yelled, pointing her finger at the girl. “it’s always your fucking fault!”

her words were slurred, but minjeong thought it was the hottest thing ever. had she ever gotten turned on from a girl yelling at her before?

“w-what jimin did isn’t—“

“shut up!” she moved closer to the blonde haired girl, and she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking straight at her chest.

y/n couldn’t help but notice this, and it made her heartbeat accelerate. “you know what? my whole mood is ruined. just… just shut the fuck up.”

minjeong fiddled with the piercings on her lip. she didn’t want to shut up.

“let me take you home.”

“while you’re drunk? no. this is why you just need to shut up.” y/n scoffed, making minjeong want to try even harder.

“then let me pay for your uber.” minjeong spoke up again.

“what do you not understand about shutting the fuck up?“

“please, y/n?” she breathed out, pushing off of the door to hold herself up on the edge of the sink. “i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

y/n looked at the other from over her shoulder, imaging how it would feel to have her lips against her own.

“okay.” the conversation ended there and the room went silent. only for a while though.

“does sunwoo do that?”

y/n’s breath hitched, and she swallowed harshly. “do what?” she whispered back, skin on fire with the amount of fire that was burning in minjeong’s eyes.

this was the moment that they realized they both wanted each other this whole time. the way that minjeong slammed their lips together proved it.

it didn’t take long for y/n to get into the feel of the kiss, lips dancing together in a rhythmic manner as y/n pushed her back against the door.

y/n smiled into the kiss as she finally fulfilled her dream of finding out how those piercings would feel at her lips, and it had her craving more.

the president let out a quiet moan as her rival’s tongue slithered into her own mouth, cheeks flushing as she lost herself in the sensation of their heated kiss.

“y-y/n...” she breathed out, and y/n pulled back to witness the sight.

minjeong was so cute.

“this isn’t the student council president i know.” y/n smirked, challenging the girl as she connected their lips once more.

they were drowning so deep into each other that they didn’t even notice that someone was knocking at the door.

“y/n? y/n, you in here?” sunwoo called out, twisting the doorknob.

oh fuck. y/n’s stomach dropped.

minjeong took this opportunity to switch them around, trapping y/n against the door as she attacked her neck with desperate kisses.

y/n didn’t know what to do. should she stay silent?

surely sunwoo had heard the noise of her colliding with the door.

should she just pretend that they were some random couple making out?

minjeong had gotten touchy, shakily gripping y/ns waist as she marked her as her territory.

sunwoo was persistent — knocking again as he continued to call out for y/n. does this guy ever give up?

just as she heard another guy approach the door, minjeong bit down on the sweet spot of y/n’s neck.

y/n whimpered at the action, listening to the conversation that happened on the other side of the door with heavy breaths.

sunwoo was asking someone if they had seen his girlfriend.

even if y/n did want to answer now, minjeong swallowed her noises, tongues fighting each other for dominance as y/n traced the other girl’s abs.

she whined into y/n’s mouth, feeling all of her fantasies finally coming to life.

“please, y/n..” it was a desperate whisper as they pulled away just enough to breathe, not wanting to create any more distance.

“i’ll take care of you.” she panted, playing with the piercings on her lip as she eyed y/n hungrily.

“i love it when you do that.” y/n whispered, keeping eye contact with minjeong while the footsteps retreated. “yeah?” minjeong closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a needy kiss.

“minjeong— baby, wait...” y/n moaned, pushing the girl away.

“call the uber.”

it felt like y/n’s brain was doing summersalts inside of her head, hammering against the edges with each routine. she groaned, reluctantly opening her eyes as she scanned the room that she found herself in.

the sheets smelled like amber vanilla with a hint of tart cherry. a scent she had come to love and hate over the years.

because it belonged to kim minjeong.

y/n sat up abruptly, breathing frantically as she really examined the room that she was in. she hadn’t even noticed the figure with blonde hair that she had been previously cuddled up with. that’s why she didn’t recognize this room.

because it belonged to kim minjeong.

“shit shit shit! what the fuck?” y/n bounced out of the bed, searching for her clothes that were scattered on the floor. her phone was on the nightstand, and she could see the multiple notifications that she had received from sunwoo.

she collected everything, tip-toeing into the connected bathroom and slipping back into the outfit she had on previously.

the mirror revealed that her lip combo was stained and there were marks scattered over her skin.

she would have to hide all of this from sunwoo.

feeling the realization really sinking in now, y/n grabbed her phone and traversed into the hallway. she saw that there was a door that seemed to lead to another room, and she began to panic more.

of course minjeong has a roommate.

quickly finding her way to the living area, it was barely lit up by the sunrise. the blinds were completely closed, and there was no other light available. y/n could barely see now, so how did anyone even see when they got home?

her mind tunneled on getting out of this mess, finding one of her boots at the door. after slipping it on, she ran a hand through her hair as her eyes scanned the space for the other pair.

it had to be close, right?

she hit her knee on the sofa, yelping and kneeling down to grab it. “fuck!” she whisper-yelled, pouting up at the sofa as she mentally cursed it out.

someone walked into the living room, flicking the light on and y/n fell silent. she froze in place, closing her eyes as she hoped the sofa would hide her figure completely.

“y/n. i can see your hat.” a familiar voice called out.

what the fuck?

y/n jumped up. “ningning!” her eyes were damn near poking out of their sockets.

ningning’s lips spread into a smile, letting out a melodious laugh after she scanned all of the hickeys and love bites scattered on y/n’s collarbone area and up.

y/n was confused and embarrassed, but not ashamed. “wait, but minjeong isn’t your roommate?…” that was when another figure left the room, grabbing both of their attention.

“holy shit, aeri??” y/n called out.

taglist — @saysirhc

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whizzing-fizzbee · 1 day ago

Text

I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (profanity, smut, adult themes) Words: 16,004 Themes: ex-lovers, rekindled romance, failed marriages, unhappy marriages, post-Hogwarts, adulthood, cheating, infidelity, jealousy, pregnancy, mild violence, language, smut, happy ending

Summary: You were supposed to be happily married to your handsome and successful husband. You most certainly were not supposed to think about your ex-boyfriend, Sebastian Sallow. After all, it's been five years since you broke up amid your graduation from Hogwarts. But when your husband surprises you with the announcement you're moving to Feldcroft, you despair over your new neighbors.

Notes: This was obviously inspired by Taylor Swift's "Fortnight." I debated with myself about including any smut with this, so I wrote it in such a way that you, the reader, can choose. Part I is the story. Part II is a smutty epilogue, which you can skip if you'd like. Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Part I: Turned Into Good Neighbors

“Darling? Are you home?”

You looked up from your novel at the sound of your husband’s voice calling from the kitchen. It was a quarter past 6 p.m. and you made a mental note that he was an hour late.

“In here,” you called, ensuring your tone didn’t expose your annoyance. He was a good man, you told yourself, and he worked long, hard hours to provide you with a nice life.

“Ah, there you are,” Oliver said as he appeared in the doorway. You smiled up at him as he approached to plant a kiss on your forehead, his usual greeting. The next step in this routine was for you to ask him how his day went, and then he’d sit down and tell you everything he did at work for the next 20 minutes.

But today was different, and while you usually welcomed change, this was a bigger surprise than you had bargained for.

“I have news,” Oliver declared. You decided his gaze looked more excited than concerned, so the tense manner in which your posture had straightened relaxed, but just slightly.

“News?” you repeated. “What is it?”

“I bought us a new cottage,” Oliver revealed excitedly. You couldn’t help but blink at him.

“A new cottage?”

“Yes, in a quaint little hamlet in the Highlands,” Oliver said. “Far away from the bustle of the city.”

“And we’re going to live there?” you asked.

“Aye, we are,” Oliver said. “I can simply floo to the Ministry for work every day. And we can apparate or floo back here to London any time we want.”

He spoke as if it were the most simple, obvious decision in the world, but your stomach twisted into knots.

“We’re moving to the Highlands,” you repeated. The faint twitch in Oliver’s jaw indicated he was growing annoyed with the way you were repeating his words, but you were having a difficult time processing such a significant revelation.

London had been your home for the past five years, two of which you spent living with Oliver in your home together. Though city living wasn’t your dream, you’d established your roots there with friends and a life that kept you occupied. The Scottish Highlands would be vastly different from this life, especially since you hadn’t been there since your Hogwarts days.

“Look, I know this is sudden and that I’ve surprised you,” Oliver said, his tone steady and gentle. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve always said London doesn’t suit you and that you miss the Highlands. Now’s our chance to take advantage of that. It’s a perfect opportunity.”

It was true, you missed the Highlands. They were nostalgic to you, a reminder of your years as a student. Your life had been defined and shaped by the adventures you had across the Highlands’ hamlets, the good and the bad. You missed the people, the peace, the picturesque landscape and the slower pace of it all.

But you hadn’t asked to move there. You didn’t tell your husband you were intent on leaving your perfectly content life to buy a new home and make new friends.

“The cottage is lovely,” Oliver continued boastfully. “Or at least it will be. I got a fantastic deal on it because it requires some minor repairs and renovations. We’ll be able to put our own personal touch on it.”

You didn’t want to fight with Oliver. Your marriage had been rocky, to put it lightly, and the two of you were presently in a good place. You hadn’t had a fight in weeks, and it made you hopeful that your turbulent days were behind you.

So in order to keep the peace, you flashed a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. After all, Oliver was the one working to create a life for you both, together.

“It sounds lovely,” you said. “Which hamlet is it?”

“A brilliant little place to the south of Hogwarts,” Oliver said proudly. “Feldcroft.”

One month later

The spring air felt clean and refreshing against your skin the moment you emerged from the floo flames. It was a stark contrast to the heavy, dirty London air that clouded your lungs and made your eyes occasionally burn.

It was new, yet so familiar, you instantly felt the memories beginning to stir. You gazed around the hamlet, which looked largely unchanged since the last time you visited years back. Some of the cottages looked older, worn by time and the harsh, salty sea air that carried in from the coast. Other buildings were new, including a row of three small shops that hadn’t been there before.

The wood lookout tower was still there, looking weathered and rickety now. The recollection of the first time you visited Feldcroft surged immediately.

You flew there from Hogwarts when you were fifteen on a quiet Saturday morning to visit your friend, Sebastian, and his sister, Anne. The events of that first day remained vivid, but not as sharp or as provoking as the events that occurred the last day you were there.

You could still remember the smell of the Feldcroft catacombs, damp and deadly. You could hear the raucous echoes of spells ricocheting off the walls, the hiss of the inferi that circled you, and the cries of despair when Anne Sallow found her uncle’s body. You could still see the blinding green light that erupted from Sebastian’s wand the moment he changed everything.

“Darling?”

Oliver’s voice yanked you from your memories. The thoughts had left you winded, your palms sweaty and your mouth dry.

“Sorry, what?” you asked, turning to meet Oliver’s concerned gaze.

“I said, are you ready? Our cottage is just this way.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Sorry, I was just… feeling nostalgic,” you laughed, flashing a smile for good measure.

“Ah, I’ll bet,” Oliver said as he offered you his arm to guide you through the hamlet. He began rattling off every fact he could find about Feldcroft and its history, as if you weren’t well versed in the events that had happened there during your teenage years, as if you didn’t have your own history with the town.

But as he rambled, you could feel your heart beginning to pound in your chest as that particular cottage came into view. You swallowed as it drew nearer, your eyes scanning it carefully for signs of life.

It was mostly unchanged from the last time you saw it. Flower boxes hung from the windows now and you noticed a row of pink rose bushes in the front. There were new wood shutters flanking the windows and the door was painted a deep shade of green.

It looked lovely as ever, but the memories tied to it clouded your head with dread.

“Are- are we nearly there?” you asked, interrupting Oliver’s explanation of the hamlet’s first inhabitants.

“Just about,” he replied. “It’s just ahead, over there.”

Panic surged through your body, rising in your chest and blooming through your limbs as you realized how close you were coming to that cottage. Your feet suddenly felt as if they were carrying lead, the thud of each step reverberating in your brain.

“That one, right there,” Oliver said, gesturing toward your cottage as you passed the well at the center of town.

No. No way. Surely, not.

But Oliver steered you closer and closer until that cottage was in front of you. You passed it, your heart slamming in your chest as you snuck a glance toward the front window, before Oliver stopped outside the cottage next door.

“Here we are!” he said happily. “Home sweet home!”

You recognized this cottage, too. It belonged to a nice vendor named Bernard Ndiyae back when you were fifteen. It appeared worn down now, clearly having been vacant for years, but it looked cozy.

“Well?” Oliver’s voice said in your ear as you realized he had been watching you closely for a reaction. “What do you think?”

You made a careful point not to glance at the home next door, its rose bushes threatening you with thorns in spite of their beauty. Instead, you smiled up at Oliver and squeezed his hand.

“It’s perfect.”

---

The cottage certainly did need work, but thanks to some useful conjuration and transfiguration spells you learned from Professor Weasley, you had the house looking like a home in no time.

The fireplace now crackled with warmth thanks to repairs to the cracked chimney, the dusty wood floors were restored to a fresh gleam, and the kitchen was clean and functional.

You spent your first three days decidedly confined inside the cottage, working to put your own touches on the interior. It was necessary work, not just for the sake of your home, but for the preservation of your sanity.

You didn’t dare go outside. You didn’t even cast a peek out the window toward the next door neighbor’s house. Not until one morning, four days after you moved in, to begin your work on fixing the cottage’s exterior.

Oliver had taken a few days off from work to help with the house, which you appreciated. He had been putting in 10-hour work days, so you enjoyed his company while you had it.

That morning, he badgered you to join him outside so the two of you could decide what to do with the landscaping and garden, and what color to paint the front door. You begrudgingly agreed, blaming your allergies when Oliver called you out on your reluctance.

When you stepped outside, you couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth of the sunlight that seemed to breathe new life into you after spending days inside that dusty house.

But your euphoria was quickly quashed by the sound of splashing water.

“Oh! Hello!” a cheery voice said from the direction you had been desperate to avoid.

You held your breath as you turned to the source, your gaze falling on a pretty blonde woman who was watering the rose bushes in front of thatcottage. She appeared to be about your same age, though she was noticeably shorter and very pregnant.

“Hello,” Oliver said, making long, quick strides toward the short fence separating your homes as he kept one hand gently placed at the small of your back.

“Welcome!” the woman said, the high pitch of her voice already grating on your nerves. She smiled warmly at you, but something about her gaze unsettled you. “We were wondering when we’d get to meet our new neighbors. I’m Wendy.”

You and Oliver introduced yourselves as Wendy finished watering her roses. “I’m afraid my husband’s at work,” Wendy continued. “But you’ll meet him soon enough.”

Soon enough. You couldn’t be certain, but somehow you just knew you wouldn’t need an introduction.

“Have you lived here long?” you asked carefully.

“Oh, I’ve only lived here for a couple of years, since we got married,” Wendy explained. “But my husband has lived here since he was a boy. He inherited the cottage from his late uncle.”

The air immediately left your lungs and you began racking your brain for any excuse to retreat inside your cottage and never leave again. Better yet, an excuse to leave Feldcroft and never return again.

Instead, Oliver took control of the conversation to sing Feldcroft’s places and to dote his historical knowledge on Wendy, who appeared too polite to not listen.

How could this possibly happen? How did you end up back here, in this hamlet where your history was tainted by some of your worst memories? How did you end up living next door to the boy who had dragged you to Hell and back, only to clip your wings when you thought you’d reached Heaven? Most important, how were you ever going to possibly face him again?

It would be inevitable and anything but easy. It never was with him.

“You two will have to come over for dinner soon,” Wendy continued. “Sebastian would love to meet you.”

There it was. That name. His name. It wasn’t easy to hear it five years ago and it wasn’t easy now. Sure, you’d moved on and were perfectly content with the life you’d built with the husband you loved, but the past, those memories, still twisted your stomach into knots that left you winded.

There was something about the notion that he had moved on too that produced a pang in your chest that left you stricken by guilt and shame. Of course he moved on. He was the one who ended things with you, citing your different paths in life as you prepared for your futures outside of Hogwarts. That reason hadn’t been good enough for you, but you knew holding a grudge against your teenage boyfriend was senseless and unbecoming.

Now, you’d be living next door to him and his beautiful wife who seemed to radiate in ways you never could. Of course he found someone who was the epitome of human sunshine, a staggering contradiction to you. You were intense, prone to moody bouts of cynicism and warring convictions. You weren’t the type to light up a room or charm your way into the hearts of all who crossed your path. You were a lot, yet it seemed Sebastian had found someone who managed to be much more, but in all the right ways.

But propriety was important and you had a husband who was trying to make you happy. He bought you this cottage with the hope of returning you to a world you once loved, though you knew it was also his ploy to silence all of your recent arguments.

So instead of hexing Wendy Sallow into the next century, you forced a kind smile.

“That’d be lovely,” you said, your voice taking on a sickly sweet pitch of too much enthusiasm. “Please let me know if I can bring anything.”

“Wonderful,” Wendy cooed. “Well, I should get inside. Time to start working on dinner.”

She bid you farewell and you watched as she retreated inside that cottage that had once welcomed you. Even several months pregnant, she moved with a level of dainty grace that made your lip curl. You wanted to drown her in a lake.

“Well, she seems nice,” Oliver commented once she was gone. You nodded silently. “It’s nice to know our neighbors are friendly people. Perhaps we’ll be able to get to know them more.”

“Perhaps,” you said, praying your steady tone would drown out the silent screams ringing inside your skull.

---

Despite the tension you felt every time you stepped outside your cottage, you couldn’t help but ease into a comforting routine in Feldcroft. It was peaceful there, and the inhabitants lived at a much more pleasant pace than bustling London. You liked it there, but you also hadn’t run into the reason you’d avoided the hamlet in the first place.

One morning, you visited the store to pick up some items for dinner while Oliver was at work. It was warm outside and you enjoyed a slow stroll home with your groceries, the scent of spring easing your posture.

As you reached your front door, you fumbled in your pockets for your keys when a familiar voice greeted you.

“Hello.”

You froze. Did he realize it was you? Was there time to scurry inside your cottage before he figured it out? Perhaps you could apparate on the spot and never return.

It was all so deranged. You were a hero at one point in your life. You saved Hogwarts during a goblin rebellion, not to mention the countless creatures you freed from poachers and the dark wizards you defeated. You were anything but a coward, but one stupid man made you that way.

Slowly, you lifted your head to turn and meet his gaze. He froze, too, as you watched the recognition settle in his eyes.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you said quietly. There was no edge to your tone, nor was there any fondness. You were simply greeting him as cordial neighbors do.

If you hadn’t been wondering if you were going to be sick on your own front steps, you might have actually taken glee in Sebastian’s reaction. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, the color drained from his freckled cheeks as he struggled for words.

“I… you… It’s you,” he finally managed. You pressed your tongue into the roof of your mouth to stifle a snort. How very unromantic it all felt after all these years – you, fumbling your house keys and Sebastian, void of any coherent sentences. The two of you seemed as awkward and unrefined as your 15-year-old selves.

“It’s me,” you replied, and you couldn’t help but offer him a smile.

You knew this moment was coming, so you had spent the past week mentally preparing for it. You vowed to endure it with dignity. No hard feelings, no familiar longing or spite. You were going to handle it with class and poise, the way you always took care of business. That’s all this was anyway, right? It wasn’t personal. You and Sebastian hadn’t been personal in years. You were neighbors now, and neighborly relations could be handled as strictly business.

You tried not to stare too long. He was still youthful, but his boyish features had sharpened into handsome angles. You could see traces of stubble casting a faint shadow along his jawline, which was more defined. His skin remained freckled and his hair was still disheveled, an indication that the same Sebastian still lingered inside him.

“You’re my new neighbor?” he asked, still looking alarmed.

“I’m afraid so.”

An anguishing silence fell between you, but you were determined to force him to speak first. Maybe it was immature and petty, but you had decided to let Sebastian determine how far your new relationship as neighbors would go.

“My wife… my wife told me she met the new neighbors but she didn’t mention names,” Sebastian continued. “She didn’t mention it was anyone I knew.”

“I figured I’d let you decide if she needed to know that information,” you said simply. It was true. It wasn’t your place to reveal your past with Sebastian. He should be the one to tell Wendy, if he even wanted to. “If you’d rather pretend we’ve only just met, I’ll fully understand,” you added.

Sebastian couldn’t begin to compute how to relay your connection to Wendy – he was still stuck on the fact you were even there in the first place.

“How… why…” he started. Even after all these years, you could read him.

“My husband,” you answered without waiting on him to ask questions. “He bought this cottage without telling me. Wanted to get out of London. I had no idea until he brought me here.”

Sebastian didn’t respond as he mulled over your words, clearly unsure of what to say. His eyes were determinedly avoiding you, as if looking at you would expose all your shared secrets to everyone in Feldcroft.

“Your wife is lovely,” you offered in an attempt to facilitate the conversation.

“Oh. Yes, she is,” Sebastian mumbled stupidly.

“When is your baby due?”

“Two months.”

“Is it your first child?”

“Yes.”

Another silence emerged and you couldn’t help but eye Sebastian with the faintest air of amusement. The Sebastian you had known could rarely keep his mouth shut. This Sebastian seemed unable to speak in complete sentences.

“Look,” you said, your tone shifting to something much more pointed and serious. “I know this is bizarre. Believe me, I would never have agreed to move here had I known. But maybe we can both just pretend like the past doesn’t exist and get a fresh start.” Sebastian frowned but said nothing in protest, so you continued. “My husband doesn’t know anything about us - our past. He only knows that I used to spend time in Feldcroft during my Hogwarts days. We don’t have to tell them. We can be strangers turned neighbors.”

Still no response from Sebastian. His abnormal silence was making you nervous, yet annoyed. After all this time and all he had put you through, surely the least he could do was acknowledge your words with civility.

Finally, his eyes met yours, though they were difficult to read.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, sending you deeper into your unsettled state. “I-I’ve always wondered how you were doing, how you ended up.”

You weren’t prepared for that. Though he was likely just being polite, you hadn’t expected him to admit to thinking about you.

“I’m doing just fine,” you said, unsure who you were trying to convince. “Looks like you are as well.”

Sebastian nodded carefully. “You said you came from London. Are you… did you end up becoming an auror?”

The question was innocent enough, but it made your stomach twist and your eyes drop to the ground in shame. “No,” you said, taking care to keep your tone neutral. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“What about you? I remember you wanting to be a curse breaker.”

Sebastian nodded. “I was in Egypt for a year, now I travel for work, mostly curse breaking cases within a hundred-mile radius.”

Despite your past differences and old wounds, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for him. He had been so remorseful for the mistakes he made during your fifth year, you were happy to see his success in spite of it all.

“And Anne?”

“She’s still with us,” Sebastian said with a faint smile. “She lives at a care facility owned and operated by St. Mungo’s. They keep her comfortable there and she’s made good friends.”

“And Ominis?”

“Still the same old Ominis.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of your mutual friend. “He works at the Ministry. Part of the Wizengamot.”

“Ominis, a purveyor of justice? How original,” you quipped.

Sebastian barked a laugh, the sound beckoning you with nostalgia. “I reckon Ominis felt the need to make up for… well, you know,” he said.

Of course you knew. You and Ominis covered for Sebastian when he killed his uncle. It was you who had convinced Ominis not to turn Sebastian in, and Ominis in turn convinced Anne to protect her brother.

“Good for him,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Ominis Gaunt sitting in court. It certainly suited him. It also made you miss him.

You had tried to maintain your friendship with Ominis beyond your seventh year, but it became collateral damage as your turbulent relationship with Sebastian splintered.

“Your husband,” Sebastian finally said. “Is… is he home?”

“Oliver. His name is Oliver. He’s at work,” you answered. “He works for the Ministry as well. In the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

Sebastian tilted his head. “I’m surprised Wendy didn’t recognize him,” he said. “She works at the Ministry as a receptionist, though she mainly just sees Ministry visitors, not employees.”

“Oliver comes and goes a lot,” you said with a shrug. “They have him traveling quite a bit.”

“Makes sense.”

You could feel the conversation reaching a conclusion, or at least you hoped that was the case. Sebastian’s eyes continued to linger on you and you prayed he blamed your red cheeks on the sun.

When several moments ticked by with no spoken words, you cleared your throat.

“Well, I’d better get this food inside,” you said, hoping your tone sounded more pleasant than nauseous.

“Right.” Sebastian shifted from one foot to the other, his hands shoved inside his pockets. “Er, I’ll see you around then.”

“Sure, see you around, Sebastian. It was, um, nice to meet you.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, too.”

Once you were inside your cottage, you slammed the door shut, your back pressed against it to catch your breath, your satchel of groceries forgotten on the floor.

Seeing him shouldn’t affect you like this. You were married. He was married. You shouldn’t feel a thing toward him, not after five years and the pain he inflicted on you during your breakup.

You should hate him.

By the time Oliver arrived home, you were in a sour mood, annoyed he was late again and mentally drained from your reunion with Sebastian. The dinner you made had grown cold from waiting for Oliver, leaving you to pick at your plate void of any appetite.

Oliver could sense the tension but tactfully chose to keep to himself. After dinner, he retired to his office to read, leaving you to clear the table.

What you really needed was to clear your mind.

Still fuming over Oliver’s tardiness, you flicked your wand to send the dinner dishes sailing toward the sink where they clattered audibly. Without acknowledging your husband, you pulled a sweater on and slipped outside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet creak.

You knew exactly where you were headed. It was the same place you and Sebastian frequented as teenagers to watch the stars when you were bored at night. You climbed the lookout tower, only slightly wary of the way it creaked and groaned beneath your footsteps to the top. When you reached it, you froze.

“Sebastian?”

“Heard you coming,” he replied. “Thought it might be you.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll go-”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “I assume you need to clear your mind about something. That’s the only reason anyone comes up here anymore.”

“I… yeah,” was all you could manage.

Sebastian gestured to a wood crate that sat opposite him. Years earlier, the two of you would sit on the floor of the tower, your legs dangling over the ledge as you gazed across the Feldcroft region’s landscape.

Your eyes scanned the view for the first time in years. Dusk was darkening the sky, but the scene appeared mostly unchanged. It comforted you, despite the unsettling company sitting across from you.

Neither of you said anything at first. What could you possibly say? You squirmed in your seat, silently willing Sebastian to be the first to break the silence. It was torture, because you wanted to be angry at him; instead, you were merely desperate to talk to him.

“What are you really doing here?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Did your husband really just surprise you with a cottage in Feldcroft and force you to pack up and move here?”

You frowned at him, anxious that he might believe that you moved there for him. But you were also afraid to tell him the truth, to spill your personal troubles so quickly after your reunion.

“He really did,” you sighed. “But I suspect he has ulterior motives than simply trying to make me happy.”

It was Sebastian’s turn to frown. “Isn’t that what a husband is supposed to do – make his wife happy?”

“Is that what you do?”

“Of course.”

How lucky for Wendy.

“Well, I suppose he just wanted an escape from London,” you finally said with a shrug, prompting another lengthy silence.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Sebastian suddenly said. When you looked up, you noticed he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, his eyes had fallen on something distant, likely nothing in particular at all.

“Trust me, neither can I,” you breathed with a faint chuckle.

“I can’t believe it’s already been five years since we graduated and since we... broke up.”

“Feels like yesterday in many ways, yet also feels like a lifetime ago,” you said simply.

Sebastian finally turned his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity that made you straighten your posture and hold your breath.

“So what have you been up to then?” he asked. “You mentioned you’re not an auror, so what are you?”

Your face fell. How could you possibly answer that with any dignity? The truth was shameful and, knowing Sebastian, he’d be disappointed in you. But you married Oliver, not Sebastian, and your husband’s opinion mattered more.

“I’m… not much of anything,” you finally admitted. There was no use lying to Sebastian. “I don’t work. Oliver takes care of me.” Sebastian hummed a response that ignited your defenses. “What?” you demanded rather sharply.

“Nothing,” Sebastian replied simply. “I’m just surprised, is all. You never struck me as the housewife type.”

“And why not?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sebastian chuckled. “Wendy’s probably going to quit her reception job and stay home once the baby arrives. The hours can be erratic and she doesn't like the work. It’s just… you always struck me as being different.”

“Different how?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You were the only person I’d ever met who was more stubborn and daring than me,” he answered. “You were always off on some adventure, saving or helping someone in need. You could never sit still and relax. You were always keen to use your magic for good. Just surprises me to hear you prefer to stay home.”

You bit your tongue. It wasn’t that you preferred to be a housewife. You wanted to become an auror, to do exactly what Sebastian had said - to use your ancient magic for good and to prevent more dark wizards from hurting anyone else. You had been well on your way, too. The Ministry had accepted your application to its auror division, but then you met Oliver.

Oliver preferred you to stay home and allow him to take care of you. He promised you invitations to elite social events and that you’d never have to worry about finances, not that you cared about those things. When you told him you wanted to work, he gave you an ultimatum, and you were in no place to turn down such a favorable marriage prospect.

You’d be more willing to stay home if you had children to take care of, but it wasn’t until after your wedding that Oliver made it clear he wasn’t interested in starting a family. You were crushed by the revelation, but clung to hope that someday he’d change his mind.

“Staying home just works better for Oliver and me,” you said quietly. You were afraid to meet Sebastian’s gaze, because you knew he’d see through that excuse. That was the terrifying, yet thrilling part of being near Sebastian – he read you like the hundreds of books in his collection.

“But you’d rather be working,” Sebastian said carefully.

“Of course. You can take the woman from the duel, but you can’t take the duel out of the woman.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. Merlin, that smirk was still there and it still made your insides melt.

“Why don’t you tell him you want to work?” he asked.

“Why don’t you mind your business?” you retorted. Your eyes widened the moment the words left your lips. Horrified at your lapse in decorum, you hastily apologized.

But this was Sebastian, and he knew your true wit and grit better than anyone. He barked a laugh. “I knew that scrappy spirit was still in there somewhere,” he said, his tone carrying an old fondness that made your heart ache.

But you couldn’t allow Sebastian to reel you back in, even if he wasn’t trying to do so. He had hurt you and you’d likely never forget it.

Sure, you recovered from the heartbreak, but you still remembered the way it made you feel. That memory dictated every relationship you had since Sebastian, including your decision to marry Oliver. You chose the safe bet, the one that wouldn’t make you feel that level of heartache ever again.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snapped. “At least not anymore.”

Sebastian flinched at your tone. “I suppose that’s true,” he said with a frown. “And I suppose I deserve your hostility.”

“I’m not hostile-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian cut you off with the wave of a hand. “I know I didn’t treat you all that great back then. I messed up bad and I’ve never forgiven myself for it.”

You paused, taken aback by his vulnerable admission. You hadn’t expected that from him, not when you’d only reconnected hours ago. You had assumed he had spent the past five years without giving you another thought.

“It’s not something worth fretting over,” you finally said, hoping your tone was gentler. “I mean, it all worked out in the end for the both of us, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian agreed, his eyes returning to the distant landscape. “But still, you didn’t deserve the way I treated you, or the way I broke things off.”

“Sebastian, we were eighteen,” you said, your lighthearted tone betraying the hurt you’d carried inside your chest for five years. “We were both young and dumb. A relationship like that was always going to be fleeting.”

“Still, I’ve never felt good about how we left things and I’m sorry for it. I've missed you terribly.”

It felt like something in the atmosphere had shifted, like that apology had been the missing piece to the puzzle of your past five years. But the weight that should have lifted off your shoulders pressed down harder when Sebastian’s gaze met yours again. His apology should have set you free with closure and loosened the ties that bound you to your past. Instead, it made you long for it.

“You don’t need to apologize, but I appreciate it,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile. “And I must say, this is the strangest second chance fate has ever handed me.”

“Too true,” Sebastian laughed. “It’d be a shame to waste it.”

You swallowed, willing yourself to have the strength to forgive Sebastian and the resolve to allow him back into your life, even just as your next door neighbor.

“Then we won’t,” you said confidently. “It would be nice to have a friend in Feldcroft… again.”

Sebastian’s signature smirk returned as he appeared relieved by the olive branch you’d extended. “Hopefully this time around we’ll have a little less death and destruction.”

“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” you teased. “What’s a few more ruined lives?”

---

In the weeks that followed, you and Oliver settled nicely into life in Feldcroft. You found ways to keep yourself busy while he was at work and the other villagers eventually grew to recognize and greet you as one of their own.

You also became friendly with Sebastian and Wendy, though the sight of them together made your eyes darken and your stomach lurch.

You came to understand their routine, too. Sebastian would disappear for work, sometimes for several days at a time, leaving Wendy to tend to the cottage and water her stupid rose bushes when she returned home from work in the evenings. Sometimes she'd stop you for a chat, asking you about your day. You couldn't help but feel judged for the way you'd tell her about your trips to the store or the long walks you'd take. You wondered if she judged you for being a housewife, though she never made any disparaging remarks. Still, it made you want to poison her stupid rose bushes.

It wasn’t fair, the way you longed for her demise, and you knew it. Wendy seemed like a perfectly nice woman who had simply been lucky enough to win Sebastian over. The important thing was that she made Sebastian happy, or so you assumed. You couldn’t imagine they’d be expecting a child together if they were unhappy.

But one evening, your curiosity piqued as you left your cottage for the produce stand on the edge of town. As you locked the door, the sounds of shouts echoed from Sebastian’s home. You froze, your ears focused on the voices. One was clearly Wendy’s, the other’s presumably Sebastian’s. You didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you also wanted to ensure no one was in danger.

Quietly, you lingered beside Wendy’s stupid rose bush, your ears still straining to listen. Wendy’s anger was evident in the shrill pitch of her voice, but you couldn’t make out all the words – just something along the lines of, “What kind of father…”

No. You shook your head and forced yourself to continue your route to the shop. Sebastian and Wendy’s disagreements were none of your business.

But as you reached the path that connected your cottage to the remainder of the town, the sharp bang of a slamming door made you jump. You spun and spotted Sebastian storming out of his cottage, his expression contorted in frustration. He froze when he spotted you, his posture becoming less rigid.

You cursed under your breath as Sebastian approached. Should you admit you’d overheard anything? Should you play dumb? Would he think you were eavesdropping on purpose?

“Need some company?” he asked.

“Oh. I- er… sure. I was just walking to the produce stand. Need some carrots,” you replied. Sebastian merely nodded, his jawline looking taut as he gestured for you to continue walking.

“So I suppose you couldn’t help but overhear all that,” he said as he fell into step next to you.

“Sebastian, it’s none of my business-”

“It’s okay,” Sebastian continued. “We just argue like that sometimes. I say something stupid that Wendy doesn’t like and it escalates into a shouting match.”

“You, say something stupid? Never.” You cast a nervous glance at Sebastian, hoping your jest didn’t upset him more. His lips curved into a small smile.

“I guess you’ve been in Wendy’s shoes a few times, haven’t you? And I was the one who put you there,” he said quietly.

“Sebastian, that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I just…” he sighed, his eyes shifting upward as if the answers to his problems were spelled in the sky. “I just wish Wendy understood my past.”

“Does she know… about Solomon?” you asked carefully. Sebastian shook his head.

“No. She only knows he died when I was fifteen.”

“Oh.”

“She doesn’t understand why…” Sebastian squeezed his eyes closed for a fleeting moment, willing the words to surface. “She doesn’t understand why I’m afraid to be a father.”

You let his statement settle before you gazed at him with empathy. “Does she know about your parents?” you asked.

“Yes. She knows. Honestly, my frustration with her isn’t even her lack of understanding, considering she doesn’t know how or why Solomon died. It’s more about the hostility she shows when I try to discuss it with her. She becomes so angry and says hurtful things. It’s like she cares more about becoming a mother than she does having a happy family.”

You didn’t want to take sides in an argument that had nothing to do with you, especially when you knew one party much better than the other. But you couldn’t help but sympathize with Sebastian's situation.

Of course he was fearful about being a parent. His own died, leaving him and Anne behind at an age too young to fend for themselves. They’d left him with Solomon, a man too angry and bitter about his own life to properly care for two children. Then Anne was cursed, leaving Sebastian as the only person willing to fight for her.

Then there was Sebastian’s dark past. Though he’d worked hard to right his wrongdoings, you knew he was still bothered by them, still fearful of the sinister acts he was capable of.

Sebastian’s hesitations were fair and you understand why he had them.

“Sebastian, you’re going to be an amazing dad,” you said assuredly. “I know your past has you scared, but you aren’t that person anymore. You can’t punish yourself forever. You deserve a good life, and so do your children.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course.” You turned your head to look him in the eye to emphasize your sincerity. “Sebastian, despite your past – and ours – you’ve always been one of the best men I know. You might be stubborn as hell, but you’re also fiercely loyal. You’re smart when you aren’t impulsive, and your intentions are always noble. You'll be a tremendous father.”

Sebastian nodded quietly as he considered your words. He wasn’t surprised you understood his concerns. You always understood.

“I just don’t want to let anymore people down,” he said quietly.

��You won’t,” you said confidently. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, which is going to make you a great father.”

“Thank you,” he said as the two of you reached the produce cart. “For being understanding about everything. You’re the last person who should have anything nice to say about me.”

“Sebastian, we were teenagers,” you said as you tossed a bundle of carrots into your basket.

“But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” You couldn’t help but snort as you paid the shopkeeper. “How was breaking up with me a favor?”

“I guess I was still punishing myself,” Sebastian replied. “I knew you were destined to do great things in a society full of lofty expectations. I thought being tied to me would bring you down.”

“A lot of good that did me,” you said, forcing an ironic laugh.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Sebastian said quietly.

You offered him a sad smile and a gentle touch to the forearm. “It’s okay,” you said with certainty. “All water under the bridge.”

Sebastian nodded in appreciation as the two of you headed back toward your homes.

“So what about you and Oliver?” he asked. “Do the two of you plan on having children?”

You pursed your lips, unsure of how to answer. But given how Sebastian had just opened up to you about his marriage, you decided you could do the same.

“It’s complicated,” you started. You could feel Sebastian’s eyes drift toward you with curiosity. “Oliver doesn’t want children. I didn’t know that when we got married and I haven’t been successful in changing his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, his voice tinged with sadness. “You’d be a wonderful mother.”

“It’s okay. I’m starting to accept it,” you said with a shrug. You didn't dare allow Sebastian to see the tears that welled in your eyes.

As you neared your cottages, Sebastian heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose I’d better go accept my punishment,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness. He rested a gentle hand on your shoulder that lingered for a fleeting second. “Thank you for… you know.”

You nodded in quiet, mutual understanding and offered him an encouraging smile. “Anytime.”

In the weeks that followed, Oliver’s absence became more prominent. The previous hour or so he’d turn up late after work had stretched into several hours. Once or twice, he failed to come at all and claimed he was called away on last-minute business, or was simply too exhausted and had slept in his office at the Ministry.

You had no proof, but you knew better. Your instincts told you he was with someone else, but you had no means of confirmation. Yet despite your nagging concerns over your husband’s whereabouts, your mind was more occupied with the man living next door.

Your evening rendezvous on the lookout tower with Sebastian became a frequent occurrence. When he was home and Wendy had fallen asleep, the two of you would sit on the tower together. Sometimes you’d chat the entire time, reminiscing about your Hogwarts days. Other times, you’d sit in silence for stretches and merely appreciate each other’s presence. It was nice to have a friend, even if that friend had a wife you wished would fall into a sinkhole.

One evening, you sat alone on the tower, wondering where your husband was this time. He should have been home three hours ago and you hadn’t received a word from him.

The familiar sound of Sebastian’s tread carried up the tower’s steps and you straightened in your seat as he emerged at the top, his hands stuff casually in his pockets.

“There you are,” you greeted.

“There you are.”

Typically, your mutual greeting made you smile, but Oliver’s antics weighed heavy in your chest as you wondered what to do about him. Though you had come to accept his infidelities, you weren’t sure how to confront him without proof, and you didn’t know what that would mean for your future.

You weren’t scared of the shame that would accompany a failed marriage – your reputation had been dragged around your entire life and you knew you’d recover. But Oliver and his rules had made it so you weren’t financially independent. Without him, you’d have no home, and you had no job to earn your own income. He had made it so that you needed him.

Sebastian recognized your tense demeanor immediately. “Something wrong?” he asked, peering downward at you in concern.

You swallowed, unsure how to reply. Sure, Sebastian was your friend again. He’d been your only friend since you moved to Feldcroft. But you weren’t sure you should reveal the latest details of your troubled marriage with him. Was it appropriate? Did he even care? Were you crossing a line?

“I’m fine,” you answered with a shrug. “Just tired is all.”

“Liar.”

You looked up in surprise. He looked concerned, yet you could see the faintest trace of smugness. He could still see through you and it was clear he enjoyed it.

That was the toughest and easiest part of your relationship with Sebastian, even after all these years. You couldn’t keep secrets because the two of you could read each other in ways no one else could.

You heaved a sigh as you tried to decide which detail to reveal first. Sebastian seemed to understand you were struggling, so he took a seat on the crate across from you and waited patiently.

“It’s Oliver,” you started. You paused, waiting for Sebastian to interject with some kind of snarky remark, but he remained quiet, nodding at you to continue. “He’s been… pretty absent lately. He gets home from work hours late, or sometimes he doesn’t come home at all.”

“You think he has someone else,” Sebastian said blankly.

“I don’t have proof.”

“You’re sure he isn’t simply putting extra hours in at work? Wendy does that for the extra pay. Says we could use it when the baby arrives.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t prove anything. All I have is my gut instinct.”

“And what is your instinct telling you?”

“That something isn’t right.”

Sebastian sat back, his hands resting on his knees as he considered his words carefully. “Is there a specific person in mind?” he asked. “Do you know who the other woman might be?”

“No idea. Outside of his family and me, Oliver doesn’t really spend time with anyone else. Most of his friends are through work and I don’t really know most of them.”

Sebastian exhaled slowly through his nose. You were surprised by the way his jaw seemed to twitch, a familiar tell that signaled he was trying to suppress his rage.

“You don’t deserve that,” Sebastian said quietly, his eyes wandering toward the sky that was shifting to nighttime.

“I don’t know, maybe I do,” you admitted. “It’s not like I married Oliver because he’s the love of my life. Maybe this is payback for that.”

“Why did you marry him then?” Sebastian asked sharply.

“Because he was safe,” you answered. “And because I lost my way. I lost myself when I met him. I had grown so used to taking care of myself that I thought I wanted someone to take care of me for a change. Oliver takes care of me, even if I’m not the only woman in his life. He’ll always come back to me.”

“You deserve to be the only woman in his life. And you deserve to be with someone you genuinely love,” Sebastian said quietly.

“I guess I just didn’t get that lucky."

The revelation was a sad truth you had never admitted out loud. You were grateful for the things you had, but many people mistook your life for something glamorous. They deemed you lucky – you were born with a rare, powerful ancient magic. You were declared a hero by your school, your name famous to all who passed through Hogwarts. You married a respected man with money so that you didn’t have to work.

Nevermind the omnipresent burden you had carried since the day you learned of Isidora Morganach and the repository. Nevermind the way people stared and whispered when they recognized you. Nevermind your loveless marriage that isolated you from the friends and career you wanted. Nevermind the fact your neighbor was the only person you ever loved.

To everyone else, you had it good. For all you cared, your life peaked years ago.

Sebastian was looking at you with a deep frown, an expression you chalked up to pity.

“So what are you going to do?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know,” was the best you could offer. “He’s made me too dependent on him to leave him. I don’t have a job. I’d have nothing, nowhere to go. I’d have to start all over.”

“Would a fresh start be all that bad?”

It was a simple question, but the answer felt heavy. It was true, you only stayed with Oliver for the convenience. The two of you were compatible enough for a pleasant relationship, but you certainly didn’t feel any overwhelming love and adoration for him.

Leaving Oliver could lead you to someone you did love properly, and vice versa. Perhaps you could start a career and build a life you felt proud of. But leaving Oliver could also mean something much worse, and being with him wasn’t the most miserable life you could dream up.

“I don’t have any proof that he’s having an affair,” you repeated. “And I can’t just leave him without reason.”

“You aren’t happy,” Sebastian pointed out. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

You wanted to agree with him. You wanted to put yourself first and give yourself the opportunity for the life you wanted – even if the one you’d always envisioned included the man sitting across from you. But you knew simply wanting a better life wasn’t enough. There were rules and expectations in your society. Leaving your husband simply due to unhappiness would blacklist you immediately. Though you didn’t care about the parties and decorum, a tarnished reputation could make life miserable. A proper divorce would require a legitimate reason.

“I’d need to catch him cheating,” you said. “I’d need a valid excuse for divorce.”

“So then let’s catch him.”

“What? How?”

“We follow him,” Sebastian said simply.

“Sebastian,” you said, your tone laced with warning and hesitation. It felt eerily reminiscent of your Hogwarts days, particularly your fifth year when the two of you were prone to risky adventures and questionable decisions. “We can’t just stalk my husband in hopes of catching him in the act.”

“Why not? We’ve done it before.”

“That was when we were children.” You couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “It was unwise tracking poachers and Ranrok’s loyalists then, and it’d be unwise tracking my cheating husband now."

“So you’re just going to sit back and do nothing, let him get away with it while you pine for the life you deserve?” Sebastian asked, his tone reflecting his obvious irritation. “You really have changed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re backing down from a challenge,” Sebastian said. He leaned back on the crate with his arms crossed. “And worse, you’re backing down from standing for what’s right.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? Because the version of you I used to know never would have sat in silence when faced with injustice. Even when I killed Solomon, you only decided to protect me because of Anne.”

“I protected you because I loved you.” The words left your lips before you could think better of it, and you bit the inside of your cheek in instant regret. Sebastian failed to maintain a stoic expression, frowning as the statement stirred more guilt inside him.

The comfortable bond the two of you had built over the past few weeks was compromised as the silence that fell between you felt somber.

After several moments of internal struggle, Sebastian sighed and leaned forward on the crate, his elbows resting on his knees.

“All I’m saying,” he finally started, “Is that I’ve seen you fight some of the most dangerous people and creatures on Earth. I’ve seen you keep your composure and resolve under unfathomable circumstances, and you never took the easy way out by compromising your morals. You’ve done immeasurable things for other people out of love, but that should include yourself, too.”

“Even if I wanted to end things with Oliver and catch him cheating, I can’t exactly just cast disillusionment charm and expect to trail him around the Ministry all day,” you said.

“You’re right, you can’t,” Sebastian agreed. “Good thing I have a better idea.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” you muttered. It was the following morning and you were standing in Sebastian’s cottage as he rummaged through a trunk in his bedroom. As he searched, your eyes drifted around the room.

It was different from the last time you were there. There was much more decor, surely Wendy’s doing. A coat rack in the corner held a pink sweater that you decided was ugly before Sebastian's voice pulled you from your judgmental musings.

“Ah, here it is,” he said, pulling a shimmering cloak from the trunk. “Haven’t needed it in quite some time.”

“And where did you get an invisibility cloak anyway?” you demanded.

“Found it on one of my work assignments,” Sebastian said proudly. He pulled the trunk around his body so that only his head remained in view. “See? Much better than any disillusionment spell.”

“And you expect to just trail Oliver around the Ministry all day while we huddle beneath that cloak?”

“Of course not. We’ll hide in his office and wait until the end of the work day, see where he goes.”

“And how do you expect to get inside his office? We can’t just waltz into the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”

“Good thing we know someone else who works at the Ministry,” Sebastian said smugly.

“Oh Sebastian, we can’t drag Wendy into this-”

“Not Wendy,” Sebastian cut in. “I’ve not said a word to her. She’s been too stressed to think straight lately, with the baby coming.”

“Who then?”

Sebastian smiled at you. “You’ll see.”

You and Sebastian waited until noon to apparate to the Ministry to ensure you’d arrived while Wendy was on her lunch break. Once you were past the reception desk, you stepped into the lift and Sebastian led you to Basement Level II.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” you hissed as you stepped off the lift. “Sebastian, what are we doing here? What are you going to do, have Oliver arrested?”

“Believe me, if infidelity were a crime, I would.” He glanced at his pocketwatch before leading you toward an inconspicuous door at the end of the corridor, guiding you inside.

“Sebastian, this is a broom closet. What the hell-”

“You’ll see.”

“It’s dark and it smells in here. I-” The door swung open and you froze as you took in the newcomer’s appearance. “Ominis?”

Your former friend looked amused. “The two of you hiding away inside a broom closet. It really is like old times,” he said. Sebastian ushered him inside and shut the door with a quiet snap as you blushed. “I should have known it would be some precarious, covert mission that would reunite the two of you.”

You threw your arms around him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

Ominis hugged you back, pulling away to smile at you. “While I’m also thrilled for this reunion, I must say, the circumstances are concerning – again, not that I’m surprised given that it concerns you two,” he said.

“Sebastian didn’t give you the details?”

“Sebastian, provide details before doing something potentially stupid and risky? Have you forgotten the past?”

You laughed, relieved that Ominis hadn’t changed, before you launched into an explanation of why you were currently hiding in a broom closet inside the Ministry of Magic with your two former closest friends. When your explanation was complete, Ominis’ expression was ambiguous.

He heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You don’t deserve that,” Ominis said with an air of sadness. “I’ve run into Oliver a few times for work purposes and I never found him as charismatic or astute as he seems to think he is. You deserve better than him." You opened your mouth to respond, but Ominis continued, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You two do realize this is utterly insane,” he said. You and Sebastian swapped a glance but said nothing. “I could jeopardize my standing with the Wizengamot if anyone finds out I helped you two sneak into Oliver’s office.”

“Which is why no one’s going to find out,” Sebastian said simply.

Ominis sighed and you couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all. You and Sebastian, tasking a reluctant Ominis to help you carry out a daring task that could get all three of you into trouble...

“Just like old times,” Sebastian quipped, as if he could read your mind.

“All right,” Ominis said. “You have the cloak?”

“I do.”

“Well put it on then. I’ll show you where to go and get you into Oliver’s office, but consider my involvement complete after that,” Ominis said.

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian draped the cloak around himself and then motioned for you to step closer. You froze. You hadn’t been that close to Sebastian in years. Ominis quirked an eyebrow as if he could sense your discomfort but said nothing.

You moved closer to Sebastian and he draped the cloak around you. The proximity made you tense, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as the scent of Sebastian’s cologne found you.

Fearful Sebastian would hear your heavy breaths, you kept your jaw clenched as Ominis swung the closet door open.

Once certain no one else was in sight, Ominis strolled toward the lift, where you and Sebastian squeezed into a corner to avoid detection by its other occupants. As more wizards and witches filed in, Sebastian pressed up against you, the two of you so close you could feel his chest heaving. His frame felt much sturdier than his teenage self and it made you want to snake your arms around him, to feel how much he had changed with the palms of your hands.

Once the lift reached Basement Level 5, Ominis strode to the corridor that led to the Department of International Cooperation’s International Magical Trading Standards Body offices, where Oliver worked.

Ominis offered polite greetings to passerby until he reached a row of doors. He glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, but the department was largely vacant due to the lunch hour. He knocked gently on the second door and waited until he was sure no one was inside to answer it. He cracked open the door just wide enough for you and Sebastian to file inside.

“Oliver, you in here?” Ominis called out as he stuck his head inside the office for good measure. He paused to give you and Sebastian time to slip inside before he muttered, “Must be at lunch. I’ll come back later.”

The door snapped shut and you and Sebastian exhaled a simultaneous breath. “We did it,” Sebastian said.

“Yes, but now we have to wait,” you said. “Perhaps we should sit in that corner, there. I doubt anyone would venture over there. We can sit comfortably and stay hidden beneath the cloak.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement and the two of you retreated to the corner of the room where you sat on the floor, your backs against the walls.

You took a moment to gaze around Oliver’s office. You’d never been there before, but it appeared to be an accurate reflection of him. A stately chesterfield sofa sat against the wall, a stack of books neatly placed on the table next to it. Various quidditch team pennants hung neatly on the walls and Oliver’s school quidditch trophies gleamed on the top shelf of a bookcase.

Sitting on the corner of Oliver’s desk was a single frame that contained a portrait of you.

You studied the photo of yourself, watching the woman in the frame wave and flash a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

The adrenaline rush of sneaking through the halls of the Ministry of Magic was suddenly replaced by a surge of sadness as you remembered why you were there to begin with.

Oliver wasn’t the love of your life. After two years of marriage, you merely tolerated him most days, maybe liked him on your best days. Losing him wouldn’t destroy you – not in the way losing Sebastian did. But still, Oliver was your husband, and you’d be a liar to deny the hurt his infidelity would cause.

Sebastian stirred next to you. You couldn’t help but smile as you remembered how the teenage version of him couldn’t sit still for too long without fidgeting.

“So tell me,” you said quietly, keeping your eyes on the door for any sign of movement. “What name do you have picked out for the baby?”

“Well, if it’s a boy, he’s got to be Sebastian Jr.”

“Then let’s hope it’s not a boy,” you quipped, drawing a grin from Sebastian.

“And if it’s a girl… I’m not sure. Wendy and I are sort of at odds over the name.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, she likes the name Doris,” Sebastian said. “Which is a fine name and all, but I’d like to name her some iteration of Anne. Maybe Anne-Marie.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Anne’s perfect.”

“The truth is, I’m not sure how much longer Anne has left,” Sebastian said, his expression becoming serious. “The curse has really worn her down in the last five years. She’s so frail now, and she just doesn’t have the same fiery spirit. She’s tired of fighting.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“She’ll keep fighting as long as she can, because that’s who she is, but I can tell it’s wearing on her.”

“She’s one of the toughest people I’ve ever met. And probably the only person more stubborn than you,” you said with a sad smile. “I’m sure she’d love to have a little niece with her namesake. And I’m sure any kid of yours will be just as gutsy as Anne is.”

“You’re damn right,” Sebastian said proudly.

The two of you fell quiet for a moment, the hum of the Ministry's offices echoing to fill the space. You thought about how bizarre your current scenario was. A few months ago, you’d have thought you’d gone mad if you had told yourself you were going to reunite with Sebastian Sallow and sneak through the Ministry of Magic to stalk your potentially cheating husband.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we stopped being kindred spirits.”

His words made your chest contort. Even when he belonged to someone else, even when he was set to start a family with her, he still cared about you. It would have been beautiful if it wasn’t quite so heartbreaking.

“I’m glad such a bizarre twist of fate made us neighbors,” you managed with a soft laugh.

“Indeed. Life wasn’t the same without you.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you laughed again. “Though it was much more stable and my stress levels dropped considerably.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying life was boring without me,” Sebastian mused. “Though I could say the same.” He cast a sideways glance at you, studying your expression from the corner of his eye for a moment. “My biggest regret in life is walking away from you, you know.”

Your chest caved at his statement and you swallowed, praying he couldn’t hear the way your heart threatened to hammer itself out of your chest. Part of you wanted Sebastian to continue spilling his innermost thoughts, to learn more about how he felt about you; the other part wanted him to shut the fuck up before he broke your heart all over again.

You dared to tilt your head to look at him and were surprised to find he was looking directly at you, too. You wondered if the sadness in his gaze mirrored your own, but you said nothing. Instead, you could feel him breathing as your treasonous mind made you wonder how it would feel to kiss him again.

You determinedly averted your eyes from his lips, refusing to reveal what was on your mind. You held Sebastian’s gaze as long as you could, as if his thoughts might permeate your own if you looked hard enough. You could see the familiar traces of affection in his eyes that once overwhelmed you with love.

But before any more thoughts could be expressed, the doorknob twisted. You and Sebastian both straightened, your eyes darting to the door as you held your breath. It was still 20 minutes until 1 p.m., meaning Oliver was returning from lunch early.

He strolled in with an aggravated expression that made you frown in confusion. But the answer revealed itself sooner than you ever could have imagined.

The clack of heels on the stone floor echoed their way toward the office, indicating a woman was close behind him. Your gaze darkened as you prepared yourself for the woman who was likely your rival.

You weren’t prepared to see Wendy Sallow.

Sebastian tensed immediately next to you, so you did the only thing that calmed him back when you were teenagers. You placed a gentle hand on top of his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently begging him not to act. His breath hitched and you clenched your jaw.

“Oliver, we’re running out of time,” Wendy said with a frustrated tone. Oliver shot her a sharp glare and waved his wand, the door swinging shut with a firm snap.

“I’m aware of that,” Oliver replied curtly, gesturing toward Wendy’s pregnant stomach. “But I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“You said you were going to leave her.”

“I said I’d consider it, and in due time,” Oliver responded irritably. “I didn’t say I’d do it so soon. And I certainly didn’t expect you to end up pregnant.”

“Well, this baby should be all the reason you need,” Wendy said. “You promised you’d take care of me – and our child.”

The room seemed to tilt, Oliver and Wendy’s bickering becoming a low background whir that your brain threatened to tune out as the reality of the situation unraveled itself at the expense of your nervous system. Your chest felt so tight, you wondered if you were suffering from cardiac arrest, and you suddenly felt so hot, you were certain the building was on fire.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was rigid next to you. Your heart dropped as the reality sank in. Sebastian would walk away from this moment with more scars than you. You had entered that office prepared to learn of your spouse’s infidelities, but Sebastian hadn’t. He was supposed to be the innocent, third party in all of this.

You realized you had to keep your composure in order for Sebastian to keep his. You had to silently convince him to control his emotions before he gave you both away.

The hand that rested atop his knee found his hand instead. You gripped it tightly, squeezing hard to send the message. You didn’t dare glance at Sebastian, fearful that doing so might evoke his rage, or your tears.

“And I will take care of you, darling,” Oliver said, crossing the office to place his hands on both sides of Wendy’s waist. “And our child.” He placed a gentle hand on Wendy’s stomach and you started to feel nauseous.

For two years, Oliver refused to father a child with you, and you were his wife . He had given you a barrage of excuses, claiming he wanted your attention all to himself, or that children were a tremendous financial burden.

This was an act of betrayal beyond any pain you’d ever felt. Worst of all, Sebastian had to share in it. Even now, all these years later when the two of you had built separate lives, your pain was mutual. It was beginning to feel like you and Sebastian were linked for life.

Suddenly, you let out a quiet gasp as you felt it. All of the fury and pain inside of you had clashed and boiled. It was currently coursing through your veins in the form of your ancient magic.

You could feel the familiar tingle rush through your fingertips and you dug your nails into the back of Sebastian’s hand to send him a warning. He cast a sideways glance at you and understood what was happening. He'd seen it before. He shifted, reaching in his pocket for his wand to ready himself. Though you could control your ancient magic, you couldn’t hide it, and anyone in your vicinity would be able to feel it.

The room’s atmosphere began to shift, the air becoming heavy as your ancient magic rolled through it. The background sounds of conversation, footsteps and rustling parchment fizzled as the hum of your magic swelled. Oliver and Wendy both froze as they felt it, the hairs on their arms standing upright.

Your magic caused the invisibility cloak to flutter, its fabric dancing in the sunlight that drifted through the window curtains. It was enough to catch Oliver’s eye and you watched as his hand disappeared into his robes. He sent a basic cast toward your corner that narrowly missed your head.

You and Sebastian dove in separate directions, the cloak falling to a pile on the floor. The room grew quiet as Oliver and Wendy watched in shock while you and Sebastian climbed to your feet.

“What in Merlin’s name-” Oliver started.

“Sebastian?” Wendy gasped.

Sebastian didn’t speak, a rare change in his usual demeanor, but the severity of his gaze was perilous. His chest heaved and his fingers gripped his wand so tight, his knuckles were white.

“How long?” you finally asked, shifting your gaze to Oliver who still looked stunned. “How long have the two of you…”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Oliver demanded.

“Sebastian, love, it’s not what it looks like,” Wendy interjected. She moved toward Sebastian, her hands outstretched and her doe eyes wide as they silently pleaded with him.

“Don’t,” was all Sebastian said, his voice steady but quiet.

Wendy whimpered. If you hadn’t been so furious, you might have laughed at her.

“How did you get in here?” Oliver continued. “How long have you been here? Were you following me?”

“I said, how long have the two of you been doing this?” you repeated.

Oliver appeared to be searching his mind for explanations, but he knew you were too smart to entertain any of them.

“Darling,” he started. “It’s not what you think. It’s much more complicated-”

“I think you’ve been having an affair for quite some time,” you said. “But I didn’t expect it to be with our neighbor.” Your ancient magic surrounded you with a blue haze as you glared at Oliver. “Is that why you moved us to Feldcroft? So you could be closer to her? So that you could see your child?”

“How do you know it’s his?” Sebastian suddenly asked, his gaze on Wendy. “How can you be sure it’s not mine?”

“Sebastian-” Wendy started, her eyes sparkling with tears.

“Answer me.”

Wendy recoiled, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she lingered next to Oliver. “I’m sure,” she squeaked. “It happened when you were away… in Portugal. I know it’s his because you and I hadn’t-” She let out a sob that made you flinch.

“So this has been going on for months,” you said blankly. “And what were you two going to do when the baby arrived?” You turned on Wendy, your glare brimming with disgust. “Were you just going to allow Sebastian to believe it’s his?”

“I…” Wendy’s sniffled. “Oliver said he was going to be with me. I was going to tell Sebastian then.” Her eyes pleaded with Sebastian. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm. I just… Oliver said he would take care of me. I just wanted to be taken care of.”

It was a jarring realization for you. The life you had grown to detest was the life Wendy wanted. You dreamed of a career, a husband who understood you and a family to call your own. Wendy wanted to stay home and be doted over. It was as if the two of you had ended up in the other’s fairytale.

The hurt in Sebastian’s eyes broke your heart. You hated how unfair life had been to him. Dead parents, a cursed sister, a cruel uncle who never wanted him. Sebastian had worked hard to make up for his past, but now life had betrayed him with an unfaithful wife and a child that wasn’t his.

“I don’t understand,” you finally said, frowning as you tried to make sense of the entire situation. “There were nights… times when you’d come home late, Oliver. But Wendy… I’d see you at home with Sebastian.”

Oliver and Wendy swapped a glance and your braced yourself for more bad news.

“Our townhome in London…” Oliver said. “I… I didn’t actually sell it. It’s still mine. Sometimes I’d stay there after we… I just couldn’t face you, darling.”

“Couldn’t face me,” you repeated blankly. “So you could have an affair with another woman – our neighbor – but couldn’t come home and look me in the eye when you were done fucking her?”

“Oh, don’t act so innocent,” Wendy spat. You flinched at her sudden outburst, her tone reaching a new shrill. “I’ve seen you and Sebastian sneaking away to have private little conversations about your past. Don’t think I didn’t know about the two of you. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at each other, like two lovesick puppies.”

“Nothing has happened between us since we were eighteen,” you said, glaring at Wendy. “Sebastian has always been faithful to you.”

Wendy forced a laugh. “Sebastian hasn’t touched me since you moved next door,” she said. “At first I thought it was because of my pregnancy, but then I saw the way he’d look at you, the way he’d rather spend time with you. It was never about me. It was always you.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak but Oliver cut him off.

“I know all about you, Sallow,” Oliver said. “Your dead parents and shamed uncle who was ousted by the Ministry. Your cursed sister stuck in St. Mungo’s. You can’t give your wife a life worth anything.”

The entire time, you had been worried for the way Sebastian might act. You didn’t consider your own reaction. But your ancient magic surged again, ignited by Oliver’s harsh words toward Sebastian, sparking a sudden crackle over the room you couldn’t control.

Oliver recoiled at the sound, mistaking it for an attack from Sebastian. He hit Sebastian with a basic cast, which sent him backward.

“Oliver!” you hissed, moving to check on Sebastian, who scrambled to his feet. Before you could beg him to refrain, Sebastian retaliated with Diffindo. Oliver spun from the red flash that sliced toward him, but it nicked him across the torso while Wendy let out a scream.

The conversation was over. It was now going to end in a duel and a peculiar twist of fate, with you and Sebastian against your husband.

Sebastian cast a barrage of spells at Oliver that sent parchment and paperwork flying. Oliver managed a Protego charm, its rebound causing the spells to ricochet throughout the office. One skimmed the top of Oliver’s desk, sending its content scattering, while another careened into the bookcase, smashing his trophies. Your eyes shifted to Wendy, who continued to scream. You refused to attack a pregnant woman, but pointed your wand at her in case she dared to attack Sebastian.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get the fuck out of here and stay away from Sebastian. I don’t want to ever see you again.”

She blinked in disbelief, but scurried for the door, the clack of her heels echoing until the sound faded down the corridor. Oliver had moved toward the door to follow her, but Sebastian remained on him, his force of spells driving him backward into the hall.

“Sebastian!” you shouted, following after them. “Sebastian, stop! We’re in the Ministry. The aurors will be on you in a heartbeat.”

He didn’t listen. You watched as he sent a Confringo spell at Oliver, which deflected into a row of desks, setting them ablaze. A handful of workers who had returned from lunch were backed up against the dark stone walls, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.

“Sebastian, you can’t!” you begged. “Think of Anne. Think of Ominis… think of me.”

You don’t know what made you say it. After all, you and Sebastian had only reconnected recently. He had been the one who left you five years ago, so you didn’t know why you thought he’d care about you now.

But he was here with you. He’d been the one to plan this entire day and help you get answers about Oliver long before he had any idea his own wife was involved.

Sebastian paused for a fleeting moment, his eyes drifting to you with understanding. Time seemed to slow when your gazes locked and you begged Sebastian with your eyes to come to his senses.

His pause gave Oliver just enough time to react.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from Oliver’s wand, whipping through the air until they coiled tightly around Sebastian. He fell over, writhing on the floor as he struggled against them.

And before you could stop to reflect, your ancient magic acted on your behalf. You didn’t need your wand as the blue static enveloped you, illuminating your frame. One dismissive flick of your hand blasted Oliver backward until his body skidded across the floor against the far wall in a heap.

Your eyes scanned the room for any more potential threats, but you noticed it had cleared out. You turned to Sebastian and waved your hand again, the ropes disintegrating as you knelt next to him.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You stared at one another, unsure what to say or what to do next. “We should go,” you finally said.

“Right.” You helped Sebastian to his feet and he cleared his throat. The awkward tension wasn’t lost on either of you, but Sebastian took your hand and apparated, leaving the Ministry behind with a sharp crack.

Eighteen months later

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You froze in your tracks, a tiny smile forming across your lips before you turned to face your husband.

“I was just going out front,” you said innocently. “The daylilies need watering.”

“You’re supposed to be on bed rest,” Sebastian said, his arms folded across his chest as if he were stern with you.

“I’m fine,” you groaned. “The doctor told me to take it easy. I’m simply tending to my garden, not dueling any poachers.”

“You’re nine months pregnant. You need to stay off your feet.”

“I’m going to hex you off your feet if you don’t back off.”

Sebastian smirked and took a step toward you. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that got you pregnant in the first place.” He reached for your arm and gently tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around you despite your large belly keeping you separate.

“Just let me water the daylilies first.”

Sebastian relented and followed you outside, where you used Aguamenti to water the bright flowers you had planted to replace the rose bushes. You smiled to yourself as you let the peaceful scene settle around you. You’d picked daylilies for their resilience – beautiful, yet tough as nails and difficult to kill. They were a symbolic reflection of both you and Sebastian, as well as your relationship.

You moved into Sebastian’s cottage shortly after your divorce with Oliver was finalized. Your relationship didn’t rekindle immediately after that day you discovered Oliver and Wendy’s affair at the Ministry of Magic. You hadn’t expected it to.

Instead, you and Sebastian both needed time to heal from your broken marriages. You recovered quicker, given that your marriage had been built on convenience, but Sebastian needed more time to grieve. Not only had he been betrayed by his wife, he had to accept her child was never his.

You were patient with Sebastian, careful to give him all the time he needed to mend. Though you were hopeful time would heal the wounds and bring you two together again, you made sure to keep your proper distance.

Eventually, you and Sebastian fell into a comfortable routine. Ominis introduced you to the head of the Ministry’s Auror Division, which eventually led to a spot with the Muggle Prime Minister’s security detail. Sebastian helped you regain your strength and skills as the two of you sparred in friendly duels in a fields west of Feldcroft. You finally had started the career you wanted with hopes you’d someday advance from protecting the prime minister to hunting down and catching dark wizards.

You and Sebastian spent your evenings talking quietly, cozied up next to the fire. You’d lounge on the sofa and he’d sit opposite of you in an armchair, both of your noses in books. But eventually, Sebastian began to join you on the sofa, sitting next to you every night until you felt comfortable resting your head on his shoulder. Other times, he’d stretch out with his head in your lap.

Finally, the traces of pain left his eyes and he returned to his normal self. He had also filed for divorce and Wendy agreed without another word. The last you heard, she and Oliver moved into your old townhouse together and she gave birth to a baby girl she named Doris.

Your closeness with Sebastian returned with a blend of nostalgia and unfamiliarity. You joked and teased just like you did as teenagers, but your romance carried a new level of trust that surprised you. Sebastian broke your heart once, but the pain and anger you carried was long gone. Now, it was replaced with the mutual understanding that you and Sebastian had been given a second chance you both refused to ruin.

You fell in love again slowly, then all at once. You and Sebastian had gotten married a year ago.

Now, Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, smiling gently as he watched you quietly. You pretended not to notice at first, until you flicked your wand toward him to spray him with water.

“You little-”

You laughed as he lunged for you, pinning your arms behind your back so that you’d drop your wand. It clattered on the stone pathway and rolled toward the cottage next door. You and Sebastian watched in silence until it came to a stop a few feet from the house. Lights were on inside and you could hear laughter from the family who had moved in a few months back. They were an older couple with a pair of twins who attended Hogwarts.

“Not thinking about leaving me for the neighbor, are you?” Sebastian murmured in your ear. He stood behind you, pressed against your back so that he could place his hands on your pregnant belly.

“Hmm, not sure he’s my type,” you mused.

“Good. Because I’ve killed before and I’d do it again. Wendy didn’t deserve it, but you – I’d kill for you.”

“Sebastian!” You whirled around to scold him and he laughed, gently pulling you close again so that he could press a kiss to your forehead. You continued to glower at him until he bent down to retrieve your wand from the ground.

“You know,” he said as he steered you past the daylilies and back toward your cottage. “I never liked those roses anyway.”

Part II: There We Were Forever

(Smut warning - minors DNI)

One year later

“Is she asleep?”

You nodded quietly as you joined Sebastian in the kitchen to help him finish clearing the dinner dishes.

“She’s out,” you said, waving your wand to send a stack of dishes toward the cupboard. You slowed your motion, moving your wand with precision until the plates settled with a quiet clink. “She was exhausted.”

“Good.” Sebastian tossed a dish rag on the counter and moved toward you, his hands resting on the small of your back as he kissed your temple. “I bet you’re exhausted too.”

You nodded. Motherhood was the toughest task you had ever faced, but you couldn’t be happier. Your 1-year-old daughter, Anne Marie, was your proudest accomplishment.

“I’ll finish cleaning up,” Sebastian said. “You go relax.”

You smiled in gratitude and retreated to the sofa by the fireplace. It crackled quietly as you sank into the cozy cushions and closed your eyes. A gentle smile rested across your lips as you silently appreciated the moment. Just three years ago, you were still married to Oliver, trapped in a life you didn’t want. Now, you were happy and full of appreciation for all the moments – the good and bad – that had led you to this point.

Your eyes remained closed but you could sense motion nearby as Sebastian settled in beside you, his arm draping gently around your shoulders.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he mumbled in your ear before he nuzzled your neck. He left a trail of kisses from your collarbone, up your neck, to the soft patch of skin behind your ear.

Sleep sounded positively blissful, but not nearly as blissful as whatever it was Sebastian had in mind.

You tilted your head to the side to allow Sebastian more access to your neck. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he shifted his body to face you better, one hand resting atop your thigh.

He kissed you as if his lips were searching for something rare, though he’d kissed you like that just hours earlier before he left for work. Those same lips had spent the early hours of the morning between your thighs, ensuring you’d relax a little before your daughter awoke for the day.

Now, Sebastian’s hand inched higher beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across your skin as he continued to kiss you.

Your own hands gripped the front of Sebastian’s shirt, balling and tightening the white fabric in your fists to emphasize the sinful thoughts escalating inside your mind.

A whimper escaped your throat as Sebastian’s fingertips brushed against your panties covering your core. He shifted again until you were on your back, your head on the armrest on the couch as he loomed over you.

He had you in a similar position in bed this morning, and the memory of it made you shift your hips as the familiar ache of lust swelled between your legs.

Sebastian’s fingers dragged against your panties again until you felt them inch to your hips, curling around the waistband on your side. He guided them downward, tossing them lazily on the floor as he returned his eyes to you.

Your own gaze fell to the bulge in his pants, which had the fabric so taut, it looked painful. You bit your lip as you eyed it, picturing Sebastian’s full, unclothed length in your mind despite having seen it countless times.

You suddenly felt guilty as you remembered that Sebastian had only serviced you that morning. He had helped you achieve your own release – twice – but Anne Marie’s wails from across the hall interrupted you before you could return the favor.

Despite the positively anguishing ache that was coursing between your thighs, you started to sit up to take control. But Sebastian was in no mood for a fight.

“Bad idea, love,” he purred as he gently pushed your shoulder back down. You narrowed your eyes in protest, provoking a wolfish grin from him.

His hand snapped back to your entrance, and before you could protest, a finger was edging its way inside you. The best you could manage was a moan.

“That’s better,” Sebastian cooed as he slipped another finger inside. He pumped his hand, the friction of his calloused skin stimulating pure bliss against your slick interior in sweeping motions. “Just relax, my love. You deserve some rest.”

Sebastian used his thumb to drag circles over your clit as his index and middle fingers glided in and out of your entrance. You pushed back with your hips, guiding your most sensitive spot over his fingertips. He curled his fingers and you gasped at the welcome, warming sensation building there.

A few twists of his fingers and just the right amount of pressure from Sebastian’s thumb nudged you over the edge. A loud moan echoed through the living room as your walls clenched around Sebastian’s fingers, which continued their beckoning motion inside of you as they worked through your orgasm. They sank back inside of you, pressing into your soft core until your body relaxed around them.

His fingers were slick as he removed them to suck on them, his eyes dark with satisfaction at your submissive state.

“Now it’s my turn,” Sebastian said, sitting back as he unbuttoned his shirt. You used the time it took him to undress to catch your breath. Your eyes roamed his bare chest until he began kicking off his trousers, the sudden sight of his erection reenergizing your tired body.

It was an erotic vision that prompted your filthiest thoughts as all you could picture was the way you would stretch around him until he fucked you so hard, your knees collapsed.

You couldn’t believe you ever allowed yourself to tolerate another man.

“Come here,” Sebastian growled as he settled upright at the center of the sofa. You straddled his lap, using the scant remnants of self-control that remained to slowly ease yourself around his cock. Sebastian’s head fell backward to rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes falling shut at the sensation of your cunt surrounding him. “Going to reward me for my generosity this morning?” he asked.

You hummed a reply as you lifted your hips slowly, delighted by the sensation of your folds dragging along Sebastian’s length as you worked up and down with deliberation.

You leaned back slightly and Sebastian’s eyes fell open to gaze at you. He frowned as he realized you were still in your dress.

“This needs to go,” he said as his hands searched for the hem. Once he found it, he helped you yank the dress over your head until it heaped on the floor in one fluid swish of fabric. “Much better,” Sebastian mewed as his eyes fell to your breasts. He groaned in pleasure as they bounced when you sank downward again, his cock filling you entirely.

As you continued to lean backward, your fingers gripping the back of the sofa for leverage, the angle made your eyes roll back as you concentrated on the feeling of Sebastian’s tip plunging inside of you, pressing against that same spot that would make your toes curl.

"You're too fucking good at this," Sebastian hissed.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed as you could feel the familiar uprise of another orgasm. Its threat surfaced quickly and you had a momentary, fleeting thought of using a silencing charm the next time you decided to let Sebastian ruin you in the living room. That thought was interrupted by the eruption of pleasure that made your cunt contract.

"I'm coming," you whined as you sank down once more, Sebastian's cock slamming into your sweet spot.

Your hips drove downward, settling in place as your walls quivered around Sebastian’s cock. He held still to allow you to ride it out, your wetness trickling to the base of his shaft.

“So fucking good,” he groaned as he felt your orgasm subside. “You always feel fucking incredible.”

By now, you were reaching the point that lay beyond exhaustion. Your legs felt weak from riding Sebastian so hard and your head felt hazy, but you’d be damned if you walked away again without feeling Sebastian’s sweet release.

“Let me up,” Sebastian said, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to gently pull you backward. You obliged, praying your knees wouldn’t give out as you stood.

“On your knees,” Sebastian ordered as he gently nudged you toward the sofa. You obeyed, your knees sinking into the cushions as you leaned forward against the sofa back, your hands clutching it in anticipation. You felt Sebastian kneel behind you, his own knees settling between your spread legs.

He rested one hand on your waist as the other wrapped around his cock to ease it back inside of you. Your cunt accommodated him with less resistance this time, but Sebastian grunted at the tight heat that swallowed his cock.

“Like it when I take you from behind?” he murmured against the back of your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Want me to make you come again?”

“Yes.” You whimpered to emphasize your greedy desperation. Sebastian made you come twice that morning and twice now this evening, but the feeling of your cunt stretched around his hard length made it difficult for you to think rationally. “Sebastian,” you whined at his lack of movement. You bucked your hips backward, drawing a resounding moan from him.

“Just like that love,” he breathed.

You ground yourself backward, Sebastian’s cock burying itself inside you repeatedly, the sounds of slapping skin clapping across the room. Sebastian’s grip on your hips tightened until his primal instincts overpowered him.

He thrust himself hard against you, his fingers sinking into your flesh to leave inevitable bruises.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned as he drove himself harder inside you. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sofa, your cunt gripping at Sebastian in an attempt to stir up one more orgasm.

Sebastian’s cock pounded against your sensitive spot and you cried out in encouragement, pleading with him to grant you the privilege of one more moment of euphoria.

“Come for me,” he commanded. You moaned in response to indicate how close you were, rocking your hips backward to meet Sebastian’s rhythm. His thrusts became more erratic, an obvious sign he was nearing his peak.

“Right there,” you managed as you squeezed your eyes shut, every ounce of your focus on the building sensation. Almost there. A few more strokes should do it…

The pleasure made your thighs shake as you released a breathy cry that was followed by the sounds of Sebastian’s thrusts fucking you to completion. The orgasm erupted in forceful waves that fluttered through your walls until you collapsed over the back of the sofa.

The sight of your satisfied, fucked out frame was Sebastian’s ultimate climax. He grunted as he thrusted hard and held you flush against himself while he spilled inside you. You couldn’t help but release one final moan at the sensation of his heat pooling within your cunt until he pulled away. It dripped from you, cascading down your thighs as you feebly straightened to your feet.

Sebastian’s arms were around you instantly, pulling you close as he held you quietly, both of your panting the only sound in the cottage. You slumped against him, sleepy and sweaty, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I can’t believe we didn’t wake the baby,” Sebastian mused softly.

Your eyes opened and drifted over the scene of your sins. “I can’t believe we ruined the sofa,” you frowned.

Sebastian barked a laugh and pulled you in close again, your head resting against his chest. “Wendy picked that out years ago. I never liked it anyway.”

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forgave-me-not · 3 days ago

Text

NEW YEAR'S DAY ☆ C.HS

Kissing at midnight on New Year's Eve is said to bring good luck and bounty to the upcoming year. It looks like you and Vernon both have to overcome your apprehension of being open with your feelings in order to have the best luck word count: 3.1K warnings: mostly fluff, making out, mentions of alcohol (it's new years guys), dry humping

Vernon was upset with you. How could he not be? You'd been helping him with his New Year's Eve party all day. No matter what he did, there was no way he could get you to take a break. He had to admit though, your dedication was admirable. What did you say? Something along the lines of, "As your best female friend – best friend really – it's my job to assist with matters like these."

Well, as angry as Vernon was that you hadn't taken any time for yourself aside from changing outfits in his spare room, he was thankful for the work you had done. His house looked absolutely amazing. The Christmas tree was in perfect order, balloons and streamers strategically placed, hors d'oeuvres meticulously positioned in the most aesthetically pleasing way possible—all of which you masterfully orchestrated with that brain of yours.

Still, with all the effort you both had put into the event, Vernon wanted to ensure you were having a good time. You deserved it.

He looked over to your spot in his kitchen. You were standing near the punch bowl with your head tilted back in laughter at something one of your mutual friends said. He smiled and nursed the champagne in his hand. You looked so beautiful in that black dress and your diamond studs. So lovely and warm and inviting. He wishes he could kick everyone out of his house this very second so that he could be with you all by himself.

Vernon began to feel his ears burn. You always said that when a person's ears burn, that means someone's talking about them. As his friends pull him into another conversation, he steals another glance over at you. He tries to make out the words. Maybe his name will be on your lips.

Yeah, Vernon was upset with you. But he was more upset with himself for being too beside himself to make his feelings known.

The vantage point from the kitchen island provided the perfect view of you and Vernon's handiwork. You and he had managed to transform the interior of his cozy brownstone into a Home Magazine photographer's daydream in just a few hours. It was only right that you stood back and admired it. The mini bar was full, finger food dishes over half eaten, and your friends milling about the house, all buzzing with excitement. You smiled, thoroughly satisfied.

With all your scanning of the area, your eyes were bound to land on Vernon at some point. A special kind of heat rippled through you, from the soles of your feet to the top of your head. He looked amazing. The sleeves of his crisp white button-up were rolled to his elbows, and his hair was pushed back and messy – like he'd been running his hands through it all night. And he was talking so animatedly with his friends that you could feel your heart growing 3 sizes too big, just like the Grinch's had. Vernon was beautiful, inside and out. There was never a day where you didn't remind him that he was "pale as the moon with a personality bright as the sun."

His typical response? That you were corny and way too into figurative language. You just hummed in agreement. Vernon was right, of course, he's your best friend. He's supposed to be right about you. Vernon was forgetting one thing, though. Yes, you were corny and yes, you adored figurative language; how can one not? It's very poetic. But the one fact he was missing was that you were head over heels in love with him. And that was the most important piece of information.

As you broke your surveillance of Vernon to glance at your watch, you felt a body slide next to yours on the counter. Looking to your left, you're met with the shit-eating grin of Sophia, Vernon's little sister.

"Like what you see?"

You blanch. "Oh please, give me a break," you say, turning around to face the cabinets. Sophia does the same. The heat is back, this time concentrated in your face. You pressed the back of your hands to your face in concern. The younger woman hums and fetches you a glass of water. "Before you shoot me down for even talking about it," Sophia says slowly. You glare. "I just say give it a try. You never know; he, like, will definitely like you back." You down your water and lay your head on Sophia's shoulder. "You really think so," you ask sheepishly. "I'm positive. And hey, if he says anything bad, I'll beat his ass and kick him out of this house. Then you and I can live here together. How's that sound?"

You laugh at her proposal. While you and Vernon had always been partners in crime, you wholeheartedly admit to being a double agent for Sophia. She'd always be like a little sister to you, no matter how not little she was anymore.

"Deal," you said confidently. Sophia giggled and hugged you quickly before trotting off to God knows where.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you watched her walk away. "You should get off your feet," a voice murmured behind you. You turn around to see Vernon's face propped up on the counter, his eyebrows raised accusingly.

You made your way around the island to stand next to him. "What? And not be able to strut around your gorgeous house in these killer boots? No way." You clicked your heels to emphasize your point, which made Vernon chuckle.

"You've been strutting around my gorgeous house all day, woman. Sit down." He looked at you with his big brown eyes full of so much care and admiration that you almost puked all over his Converse. You sighed and nodded your head. "Fine, I'll listen to the man of the house for once."

"But for the record, don't go getting too sappy on me, Hansol. Too many people will see through your cool guy persona." You jokingly narrowed your eyes and jabbed a finger at his chest before waltzing away with a plastic flute of champagne in your hand. Vernon watched the way the material of your dress hit the back of your thighs as you sashayed away.

Who cares about being cool if it's not with you?

Vernon was still watching you as you sat on the couch, fingers mindlessly tapping against the plastic in your hands. You were listening to your friend drone on about her loser ex. He could tell by the frequency of your head nods and the unruffled expression on your face that you had heard all of it before.

Someone snapped at him. "Um, earth to Vernon? Hello?" Vernon turned to see Mingyu's deadpan expression. Vernon swallowed. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Wonwoo playfully rolled his eyes. "If you hadn't been staring at a certain someone, you would know," he said teasingly. Vernon frowned at the man. "I wasn't staring. I was just…checking in." Vernon watched as his two friends looked at one another skeptically. "Right, right," Mingyu remarked, sipping his drink. Vernon listened to the rest of his friends' commentary on his situation before the loud voice of a newscaster caught his attention. Someone had turned on the TV.

"Oi! The countdown's starting soon," Seungkwan called out from his perch on the back of the couch. Vernon made a mental note to kill the man if he messed up the leather.

"You know what, man? You should totally kiss her to ring in the new year," Mingyu insisted, nudging Vernon's ribs. "This is your chance." The mere suggestion made Vernon's heart jump to his throat. Sure, he’d thought about pulling you in for a kiss tonight, but someone actually saying the words aloud? That was too real. His feet felt like they had been bolted to the floor, his tongue a rock in his mouth. Sensing his apparent uneasiness, Mingyu and Wonwoo smiled at each other maliciously and decided to do what any great friend would – toss him into the deep end. Wonwoo grabbed one arm, Mingyu the other, and together, the two men marched Vernon over to you.

The noise in the space was increasing by the second. It made Vernon's heart beat faster. "You've got this, champ," Mingyu said, laughing over the clamor of party blowers and enthusiastic shouting. "Yeah, go get 'em, tiger," Wonwoo said with a glint of mischief in his bespectacled eyes. They left him with pats on his back that almost sent him flying.

"Oh, hi guys," you said, puzzled. The two men sweetly waved back at you as they retreated. Your friend had easily clocked whatever bullshit Mingyu and Wonwoo were pulling and decided to take her leave. You stood to look your best friend in the eye. The two of you were close, fronts just an inch from touching. Vernon cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he breathed out after a moment. You smiled at him with those pearly whites of yours. Vernon could have fainted.

"Hey yourself, you look like you've seen a ghost," you said. With furrowed eyebrows, you pressed the back of your hand to Vernon's forehead. "Are you sure you're not sick, hon?"

Vernon leaned into your touch and sighed. "No, it's — it's nothing like that. Just a bit tired 's all." You nodded as you pulled your hand back. Vernon almost groaned at the lack of touch. God, this was going to drive him insane.

He was going to tell you. He had to. Because if he let you laugh and celebrate, or God forbid, kiss someone else, he would have to vault himself down his staircase and ruin everyone's night. Slowly, Vernon's lips began to form the words he had been dying to say forever. Your eyes widened in anticipation, like you could feel the weight of the words on the Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by a sudden cacophony in his home.

"10!"

You took a step back and cleared your throat. "Looks like everyone's gonna start swapping spit in a few seconds, huh," you whispered. It hadn't been hard to understand what he was thinking. You basically live in each other's minds; it's what happens when people are in love.

One of Vernon's hands had found the back of his neck, an easy tell of his nervousness. "Yeah, seems that way."

"9!"

You bite your lip. "So, you come here often?" Vernon laughs at your terrible pickup line. The knot in his stomach was gradually unraveling.

"8!"

"Oh, come here, you idiot." Vernon opened his arms to embrace you. Continuing with your teasing, you looked at him in faux surprise. "Who? Me?"

"7!"

Vernon rolled his eyes as you stepped into his space once more. Your hands snaked around his waist, and you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, taking in his cologne. He smelled like bergamot and cedarwood. "You really like that cologne I bought for your birthday, don't you?"

"6!"

Vernon smiled. "Yeah. It's my favorite."

"5!"

You pulled your head away from Vernon's chest to get a look at him. Stunning, as always. You hoped your eyes conveyed all the words you couldn't say. They say the heart speaks through the eyes. And Vernon was hearing you loud and clear.

"4! 3! 2!"

Vernon placed his hands on your face, the touch achingly gentle. Your hands move to lay flat on his abdomen. You fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. Vernon's warm breath fanned over your face. It smelled like champagne. "Ready?" He whispered the word as if he was afraid you might break if he were too intense. You nodded.

"...1! Happy New Year!"

And just like that, your lips were on his. Fireworks could be heard in the distance, and you couldn't help but think that's what the inside of your chest sounded like, too. Your hand gripped Vernon's shirt, surely wrinkling the fabric. Not that it mattered, though, because Vernon's lips were so soft as they chased after yours. You sighed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to explore yours.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, followed shortly by the sound of applause. You and Vernon (just barely) pulled away from each other to see what the commotion was all about. The realization came quickly because everyone was cheering for the two of you. You buried your face in Vernon's chest and laughed as he wrapped his arm protectively around you and cussed out the ringleader, who had been quickly identified as Mingyu.

Vernon pulled away to look down at you. His cheeks were flushed a bright red. "You alright," he asked softly. You beamed at him and kissed the tip of his nose. "So much more than alright."

For the rest of the night, you and Vernon were attached at the hip. Lighting sparklers, helping tipsy friends into their coats, cleaning up. Always side by side. And it didn't look any different than usual from the outside, but to both of you and everyone in the room, there was a clear distinction.

Vernon ushered the last of your friends out of the door with a contented sigh. The chaos was finally over. He turned to look at you on his couch, your body seemingly melting into the cushions. You had kicked off your so-called killer boots and were staring at the ceiling. Vernon made his way over to the couch and plopped down next to you.

"You think it was a success," you asked, picking at your nails.

Vernon turned to face you. "The party?"

"Obviously," you snorted.

"Yeah, I think it went great. But I don't know if I'm the right person to ask."

"And why is that?"

"Well, it might not have been great," Vernon smiled. "It could've been shit, and I wouldn't have even noticed because I got exactly what I wanted." You hummed at his answer. Turning your head, you gazed at him seductively. "Oh really? What did you want so bad, Hansol?"

There you go again, saying his name like that. Vernon chewed on his bottom lip and thought carefully about his next move. Slowly, he walked his fingers across one exposed leg, then the other. You shivered. Vernon tapped on your leg opposite of him. Receiving the message, you threw it over his and slid onto his lap.

"You, of course."

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, suddenly shy.

Vernon tenderly lifted your chin to get a look at your face. There was something so pretty about you in the light of his Christmas tree and vintage table lamp. It made you look like you did in his mind–like you were glowing. Vernon mindlessly ran his hands up and down your sides as the two of you sat in the quiet afterglow of the evening.

You leaned forward to press your forehead against Vernon's. Your fingers made their way to his jawline. It was transfixing how the muscles tensed and relaxed at your touch. A lopsided smile was splayed across the young man's face. You canted your face towards him but stopped, suddenly hesitant. For what reason, you weren't sure. It was almost like you were kindergartners again, and you could be walked in and scolded at any minute. Subconsciously, you were looking for a reason to stop, to not be in love with your best friend. You couldn't find one.

So, you kissed him. It was languid like you had all the time in the world. And there was. There was no countdown to rush you, no crowd of onlookers to be wholly invested in your actions.

You wrapped your arms around Vernon's neck as he deepened the kiss. He could feel a bead of spit dripping down his chin. He couldn't care less. Vernon's hands grasped the back of your thighs, and his fingers traced patterns in your skin. It made you squirm. The heat was gradually returning to your body. You needed to move, or else you'd probably explode. And you didn't want to leave another mess for Vernon to clean up.

Slowly, you began to rock back and forth in his lap. Vernon moaned into your mouth at the movement. It was kind of sweet when you thought about it. The both of you are too tired and lazy to get each other off efficiently, but neither cares enough to stop. It felt too good, anyway.

After a few minutes of making out with your friend-turned-lover, you reluctantly detached your lips from his. Making your way to his neck, you peppered kisses behind his ear. You listened to him sigh.

"Vernon, baby," you said breathlessly. Your hips stuttered to a stop. "I've really gotta go." With shaky legs, you stumbled off his lap, and you could've sworn you heard Vernon whine. Turning to put your shoes on, you felt a tug on the hem of your dress.

"We're pretty good at this being in love thing, aren't we?" His voice came out a little quieter, a little more shaky than he'd meant for it to. You looked at him with his swollen lips and blown-out pupils. Who gave him the right to look like that? Or to ask that question?

Vernon stood. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his chin on your shoulder, his chest pressed to your back. "I'd like to think we always were," you responded with a smile. Vernon chuckled.

"Stay," he whispered. "Please." Vernon spun you around to face him. You don't think you'd ever seen your best friend look so desperate. Shaking your head, you smiled.

"Fine."

And with that confirmation, Vernon grabbed your hand and guided you upstairs.

Scanning his room before climbing into bed, Vernon smiled to himself. All of your things looked so right sitting next to his. Your clothes kicked in the same corner as his. Phones charging next to each other on the same dresser. Hell, even your toothbrush on his bathroom counter fit in. But the biggest thing was you. You lying under his duvet in his oversized t-shirt and sweats.

"What are you so smiley about over there, loverboy," you asked, amused. Vernon slipped into bed next to you. "Couldn't help but think all of this felt natural," he said thoughtfully. You looked him over. His eyes were closed, and his arms were crossed behind his head. "For someone so scared to tell me he loved me, you're being super casual about this," you said, poking him in his ribs. You laughed as he yelped. "Well, I think you not tearing my heart out and rejecting me has a huge part to play in it, ma'am." You hummed in response. "Fair enough."

There was a beat of comfortable silence.

"You know, our friends practically say we're married already."

"I know. Can't really blame them, can we?" You laughed.

"No, we can't," you breathed. "Oh, if only they'd seen us arguing over what records to play tonight." You turned and grabbed his bicep. "Hoshi would never let us hear the end of it." Now, it was Vernon's turn to laugh.

There was another beat of silence.

"Sol?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for starting my year off right." Vernon felt his chest tighten at your words. He pressed a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

"It was a pleasure. Happy New Year, baby."

the art of dry humping is not lost on me!! this is one of those ideas that I woke up in a cold sweat from. like I just had to get it out of my brain. anyways, hope y'all enjoy

#vernon would figure out a way to nonchalant his way into someone's heart #that's just his nature #also happy new year guys #ava writes!!#vernon chwe #seventeen x reader #vernon x reader #txt post #seventeen imagines #ficlet #svt fluff

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antoncyng · 1 day ago

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౨ ( 이희승 ) ৎ — 𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒴 𝒮𝒰𝑀𝑀𝐸𝑅𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸

☆. : ,｡ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — a story where you look for heeseung in every sunset of the summer, until he’s finally yours. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 . lee heeseung x f!reader 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 / 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬). crushing, est. relationship, fluff, kissing. 𝐰𝐜. 0.5k

💌 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 — special birthday comeback surprise for my baby @ourhees ( ◠‿◠ ) you’re finally 18!! after my hiatus, i’m making a little comeback gift for you :33 i hope you enjoy!!

the orange yellowish light shining through your sheer curtains, the beautiful ocean waves visible from your bedroom’s window. sunsets like these remind you of the summer a year prior, hands held as you walked along the beach.

“you know this can’t be forever, right?” heeseung speaks up, your heart clenching at the reminder as you nod. “i know, but i want to treasure the moment while i can.” he nods, knowing his heart is reaching out for you too.

heeseung was always traveling, every summer his family would come back to your town to meet up, giving you little time to yourselves as your family spent time together, today was his last day of his travels, but the first day he realized his feelings for you were true.

“why can’t you ask your parents to stay a little longer? i hate thinking that you’ll forget me everytime you leave again..” you say, hurt in your voice as he packs up his things from your room, dropping his bag and walking over to you, cupping your face in his hands. “i could never forget you so quickly, angel. you know my parents are busy with work, that’s why i even have time to come out here. we’ll meet again next summer, i promise you.”

he always says that, the same every year since you were kids. looking into your eyes lovingly with his pupils widened, knowing you couldn’t stay mad at him as he held his pinky out, waiting for you to interlock yours. “you better be back quick..” you mumbled, crossing your pinky into his, his grin growing on his face while he nods.

it was finally summer, sitting by your window as you watched the waves rise and fall over the sand, the sun setting beautifully as it always does. ‘was heeseung coming back this year? what will he look like now?’ was all you could think of.

knocking at the door, your parents already excited to get it as you almost sprinted downstairs, seeing heeseung’s smile as he stood at the door, waiting for a hug from you.

nuzzling his face into your hair, he held you closely by your waist, holding you as if you could disintegrate any second now. he pulls away from the hug, still holding you close in your arms. “i’m staying, i’m staying for good” he announces, grinning at the shock on your face.

“so i’m taking this chance now while i’ll be staying for good.. yn, can i take the honor of being your boyfriend?” he asks with a nervous smile, his hands rested on your waist as you nod your head eagerly, cupping his face and kissing him gently and lovingly.

now, you didn’t have to wait for every summertime.

💌. — 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 ; heheh i hope you enjoyed this one savvy :33 this is officially my comeback post it might be kinda bad bc it was very rushed but its okay HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAV i love u so dearly have an amazing birthday hehehee ( also.. kinda new layout what do we think heh)

tags ( @ourhees @flwrstqr @cupidhoons ) idk who else to tag tbh

#౨ৎ antoncyng #౨ৎ antoncyng moots #enhypen #౨ৎ antoncyng fic #for sav!!!#this is lowk bad but i needed a gift for savvy #k-films #k-labels #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #heesung enhypen #enhypen fluff

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thewritergx · 22 hours ago

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Lake Tahoe: Rafe Cameron x Thornton F!Reader

Summary: Rafe spends Christmas with the Thornton's on their yearly trip to Lake Tahoe when his feelings for the shy girl become too much to handle. I was supposed to post this like two weeks ago, but I got extremely busy, so happy late Christmas. I hope ya'll like this because it was a total bitch to write.

Warnings: Drinking, Mention of lost loved one (Rafe’s papa), Smut Containing: Soft!Rafe x F!Reader, Topper's little sister, Kissing, Begging (by both parties but mostly Rafe), Dry Humping, Oral (F!Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Cumming in your mouth.

Word Count: 5K

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.

The bar is dimly lit, a warm glow from stripes of red and green Christmas lights cast shadows across the low-set tables. Conversations from couples and friends echo off the wall, blending into a quiet hum under soft piano music. Snow falls outside, covering the building in a thick pristine powder. It grows heavier, white flakes swirling in a biting wind. The ground is coated in a thick layer of pale white, covering any signs of the road or sidewalk. The wind howls a fierce and chilling gust that vibrates the bar's windows.

It wasn’t like you hated snow, but the cold never set well on your skin. You were used to sixty-degree winters with the occasional rain, a heavy contrast to the twenty-degrees and constant snow of Lake Tahoe. Your family has been visiting Nevada for the past three years. Slay rides, hot coffee, and campfires always made the trip fun, but it was growing old, and less exciting with each repeated year. Rafe joining the family breathed new life into the trip, an excitement dancing on your skin as his shoulders brushed against you on the seven-hour plane ride. You had hoped you were hiding it well, the lingering feeling of need that crept up anytime Rafe was around.

You spot Rafe from across the bar, his tall frame clad in a thick sweater, sleeves pushed up to his forearms to expose his tan skin. The soft material clings to his chest, a gold chain dangling from his neck. Rafe’s eyes lock onto you, watching the way you ease across the bar and settle on the stool next to him. His eyes rake over you, taking in every detail from your boots to the way your hair falls down your back. He takes a pondering sip of his bourbon, the golden liquid settling on his lips as he swallows. His dark green eyes meet yours in silence, your cheeks and nose rosey from the cold.

“You want a drink?” Rafe blows a quiet huff of air, an intense broodiness clinging to him like a second skin. He glances over at you, a cocky half smile formed at the corner of his mouth, his voice low and smooth under the music.

“What are you drinking?” You ask, turning your body to him.

Rafe smirks at the question, a hint of amusement you rarely see. “You’re not going to like it”. His eyes flicker over you. A low gruff as he chuckles hits your ears, another rarity.

“Let me try it.” You furrow your eyebrows, examining the ice that clings against the glass.

Rafe studies your face for a moment, that cocky smile creeping up again before he pushes his glass towards you. “Sure, but don't say I didn't warn you”, he replies, watching as you wrap your mouth around the rim of the glass, lips landing right where he previously was.

Your face turns sour, lips puckering as you swallow the cold drink. “What is that?” You laugh, whipping your lips with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

Rafe grins, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “It's just an old fashioned. Nothing crazy,” he chuckles. “Told you, you wouldn't like it.” Rafe gestures to the bartender, signaling them over with a wave of his hand. Even away from the Outer Banks, he has people at his beck and call.

“Can I get a vodka cran? Put it on my tab” He instructs the bartender, waiting as the man dressed in all black brings back a glass. “Here, you look like the type.”

“Hey, what does that mean?” You laugh, placing your hand on his warm chest. You would never tell Rafe, but Vodka had always been your go-to.

Rafe studies you again, peering down as a spark of green glimmers against the Christmas lights. His gaze falls down his body, landing on the way your hand lingers against him. “Nothing. I can tell you prefer it sweet, not too strong.” He clears his throat, his tone a playful mockery as he leans closer into you.

You shudder at his words, a slight shiver running through you as you grab the glass from his hands, fingers ghosting over his.

“Cold?” He asks, his expression soft.

“I’m freezing. I wish my parents would pick somewhere warmer for vacations”, you mumble, taking another quick sip.

“Here. Take my jacket.” You watch as Rafe grabs his jacket, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he places it around you. He drapes it over your shoulders, hands brushing the fabric up and down to create a warm friction on your skin.

You nodded your head, a quiet “thank you” scarcely audible over the music as you pressed your legs firmly together.

“Have you seen Topper?” You glance around the room, looking for any sign of your brother. He was supposed to be here having dinner with you and the rest of the family. It was just like him to run off, quickly leaving you and Rafe behind as he partied with some random girl. Your voice is less than thrilled, a dash of annoyance in your tone.

“I saw him leave a while around”, Rafe smiled, “had some blonde chick with him”. Topper had been a good friend, but Rafe was lying if he said he considered him a real, true friend. If Rafe was being completely honest, he only accepted the invitation to your family's vacation to spend more time with you, the girl he was reluctantly pinning over for the last year and a half.

Growing up, Rafe was constantly by Topper's side. When someone asked, he would say they were best friends or that he was like a brother to him. But in the back of his mind, Rafe knew. He knew the only thing still tying him to Topper was you. You were always lingering close by, a constant presence in his peripheral vision. Rafe didn't know when it happened but he stopped hanging out with your brother to spend time with him and switched to getting quick off-hand glances of you. You would be laid up by the pool, a tiny bikini clinging to your tanned skin, or sitting in your living room with a book, your legs spread out over the polyester. Everything about you pulled him in, a yearning he had kept quiet for far, far too long. You were a constant tease, always lurking in the background of his life. Just close enough to make you impossible to ignore but always out of his reach.

Now, he was stuck here with you, your hands lingering on him like a warm blanket. He was never a big fan of Christmas, especially not now that his father was dead and the rest of his family was refusing to speak to him. He hated to admit it, but the only choice he had for this Christmas was to third-wheel on your trip. He felt out of place, like a burden to everyone around him, even if Topper had guaranteed that he was welcome to accompany the family.

Rafe glimpses at the windows, watching the heavy snow fall silently. “Is it always like this?” Rafe stands motionless next to you, taking a big swig of his whiskey to cover the slight concern in his voice.

“No,” You laugh, watching the way his shoulders tense. “A storm is coming through. It’ll pass”.

“I don’t like it”, Rafe mumbles, his grip on the glass becoming strained. “Maybe we should get going. The hotel is just a block down. I’ll walk with you.”

“Okay,” You mutter, swallowing the remainder of your vodka. “You want your jacket back?”

“I’ll manage”. Rafe places a firm hand on your waist, his jacket loosely hanging as you stand from the stool. His grip is protective, a warm presence against the chilling air. “Besides, you look like you need it more than me. You’re shaking”.

He slips his hand in yours, fingers encasing yours as he leads you past the crowd and towards the exit door. Electricity surges through you, a hot blush covering your cheeks.

Rafe’s motions are fluid, the muscles in his back tensing under his sweater and he guides you into the cold night air. The frozen ground crunches under your feet, echoing in the silence between you. Rafe groans, the cold air hitting his face with an unexpected violence. He keeps his grip tight in your hands, a reassuring warmth in the freezing temperature.

Rafe leads you through the front door of the hotel. The lobby is a quiet ghost town, only a couple of the hotel staff linger behind the front desk. The air between you is still, almost like a storm is not raging just outside the thick walls. Rafe’s fingers finally loosen in yours, his eyes trailing over you as he gently brushes a bit of snow from your cheeks.

“I’ve got a fireplace in my room.” His fingers dance across your soft skin, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he loiters against your cheek, tracing along your jawline. “You can come warm up”. His eyes lock on yours, watching the way you shudder against his touch.

“Oh, u-um…o-okay,” you whisper, your eyes meeting Rafe’s as he towers over, his body close enough to fill yours with warmth.

The elevator ride is quiet, your breath hitching as Rafe presses the button to the fifth floor. He leads you towards the room, his strides are quick and calculated against the carpeted hallway. He stops at room 514, pulling out a key card, and quickly unlocking the bedroom door. Rafe gestures you inside the spacious room, an elegant and comfortable room dominated by a large fireplace. Soft carpet blankets the floor, a queen bed in the center.

“You look very pretty, by the way”, Rafe clears his throat, standing awkwardly in the doorframe, his hands stiff by his side.

“You think I’m pretty?” You mumble, a shy nervousness causing your eyes to fall to the floor.

Rafe shuffles, taking a step towards you. In a single passing second his body is pressed against you, his hand resting on your chin to force your eyes on his.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he smiles, tracing the plump skin of your lips with the pad of his thumb. It’s a gentle motion, one that forces a red-hot blush on your cheeks. You search for anywhere to look, darting your eyes between Rafe and the doorway.

“Getting shy on me, princess?” Rafe smiles, the hand on your lips traveling down to your jawline, tracing every inch of the velvety skin. You nod your head in a deafening silence, unable to stop the involuntary trembling of your body.

In all the years of knowing Rafe, he had never been this close. He never even made a pass at you. You figured he must not be into you, the way he used to frown at you from across the room at parties.

“It’s okay, I knew you would be. My shy, little girl”. His hands fell to the zipper of the jacket he had placed around you, slowly pulling the cold metal down until it clicked loose. His hand brushed against your shoulder, fingers hooking the thick material until it was falling down your waist onto the floor.

“Rafey,” you finally speak, your breath low and fatigued. You force yourself to look at him, studying the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes dart between yours, hands falling to the small of your back to pull you fully into him, your arms resting around his neck.

“Can I kiss you, princess?” Rafe’s voice is barely a whisper, almost inaudible in the white noise of the snow crashing down outside.

You try to respond, begging yourself to say that simple three-letter word, but your voice is stuck deep in the back of your throat. Instead, you give him an exasperated whine, your eyes pleading for his touch.

Rafe almost laughs, watching you squirm into him, your legs pressing tightly together. As much as he wanted to laugh, and release some of the thick tension built up, nothing was funny. He wished it was humorous, watching you try to fight off the desperation your body was echoing, but it was serious, deadly in the way your little moan sent an intoxicating jolt straight to his cock.

His eyes darted between yours, studying the way your eyelashes peered up at him. He bowed his head, bending his shoulder as leaned into you. Rafe’s small breaths ghosted over your lips, the grip on your back turning to iron. Every muscle in him tenses, his forearms flexing against your body.

Rafe groans, finally meeting your lips in the kiss he has spent years daydreaming of. It’s deep and insistent, his tongue gliding past your lips to explore the warmth of your mouth. He pulls you impossibly closer, molding your molding into his until you are practically one. A raw intensity ripples through him, burning just beneath the surface of his skin as his tongue dances along yours, prompting a low moan from your throat to echo into him. It vibrates through him, his body stiff and hard as his hands roam over you. Every curve, every soft dip is met with a possessive touch, his fingers tracing red hot patterns over the fabric of your clothes. His movements are slow, calculated even under the intoxication of your lips. His hands make a home on your sides, cold fingers gently slipping under the hem of the warm fabric of your sweater. Fire burns through him, the sensation of your smooth skin sending bolts of electricity straight to his cock. Rafe’s hands continue on a dangerous trail upwards, calloused fingers caressing your stomach and ribs.

Rafe’s lips leave yours, both gasping for air as he trails down your cheek, kissing a sloppy path down your jawline to your neck. You whisper his name, all shaky and out of breath as his teeth scrape at the skin, sucking a crimson mark easily seen by others. You should stop him, but your mind is in a daze. Whatever neurons in charge of firing were clearly asleep, your only thought focused on the way his hands travel up your shirt. His fingers trace the outlines of lace, feather-light and reverent as he lingers against the hem of your bra. He takes his time, eyes locked on yours as he teases the material, his fingers tracing the intricate pattern of the fabric before he cups your breast in one hand, his palm warm and firm against your flesh.

Your hands fall to Rafe’s chest, the gentle rising and falling of each breath expanding his muscles under your touch. He shivers at the contact, squeezing the subtle fat of your breast.

Rafe stands motionless for a moment, his only action the gentle caressing of his hands running up and down your sides. His eyes roam your face in thought, wondering just how far you’ll let him take this. His hands grip your hips tighter, his thumbs stroking the bare skin between your shirt and pants, as he gazes down at you with a look of conflicted desire.

“Can I-Will you let me…Fuck, you got me all messed up, princess.” His voice is shaky, the usual roughness betrayed by a yearning need of desire. He clears his throat, swallowing hard as his eyes flutter closed. For a moment he just breathes, holding you against him in a stoic mystery of private thoughts. “I want you…I-If you let me. I p-promise I'll make you feel fucking good. I’ll be gentle. J-just please, please let me inside you. God, I need you so bad, baby.” The words come spilling out of him, like a rush of freedom granted after a thousand years of silence. You swear he’s staring into your soul and you can’t help but wrap your lips around his again, this time a hungry desperate action, leaving a layer of his saliva around your mouth.

That’s all Rafe needs. The confirmation that you want him, that you need almost as much as he does. Rafe grabs at your thighs, a sickening desperation as he hoists you up to wrap your legs around his waist. His hands grip under your ass, squeezing at the fat concealed by a pair of denim jeans. His tongue dances in your throat, his steps messy and uncalculated as he searches for the bed.

The kiss grows more heated and desperate as his hands grip onto your ass, squeezing and kneading at the flesh there before he drops you on the bed, his hips pushing against yours in an anguished attempt for any kind of friction. His body traps you, your back pressed into the warm soft mattress and his muscular frame.

Rafe breaks the kiss, leaving your chest heaving as he gazes down at you with pleading lust-dark eyes. “C-can I take t-this off?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse as he tugs gently at the hem of your shirt. “Please, please let me see you.”

Never would you have expected Rafe to be so tender, the way he begged for just a hint of you almost making you cum right there. “Oh god, yes. Please Rafey, I-I need you,” you whine, your back arching off the bed and into his chest.

Rafe's eyes darken with desire at your words, his control snapping at the way you cried out for him.

“I know, baby. I got you”, he groans, his hands gripping your shirt tightly and quickly pulling it over your head. He tosses the fabric to the floor, his eyes roving over your exposed skin with a longing admiration. "So fucking pretty," he murmurs, his hands running up your sides and caressing your flesh.

Rafe's gaze drops to your bra, his eyes fixed on the lace that covers your breasts. He stares at the thin material, reaching out to caress one of the straps with a shaky hand, his eyes still locked on the way your tits bounce free. Rafe's hands are quick, his fingers falling to your back and unhooking the bra with trembling motions. He drags it down your arms, his eyes ghosting over your bare chest. He swears for a moment he dies, brought back to life by the way your hard nipples sit erect in the air, the subtle pink bud breathing new life into him.

"Fuck," he mutters, his hands immediately coming up to touch your skin. His fingers trace over your flesh, kneading fists full of fat before attaching your nipples between his fingers. Little moans flow out of you, your hips bucking into his relentlessly.

“So soft”. His voice is hardly above a whisper as he peppers wet kisses down your collarbone landing on the bone that separates your breast. He licks a long strip between the two mounds, slipping a nipple between his teeth and sucking. He bobs his head a bit, the swollen bud becoming impossibly harder as his warm tongue teases you.

“Rafey”, you whine, the unfamiliar gentleness of his touch relaxing your body. Your hands fall on his hair, the dirty blonde locks almost too short for you to grasp. He loves the way your hips writhe into him, just as pathetic and needy as him. He gasps at the feeling, his hard cock pressing against you. Even through layers of jeans, you feel him, hard and tight. Rafe growls around your nipple and presses himself against you until you're a grinding mess of moans and whimpers.

“Are you trying to make yourself cum like that, princess?” This time, he lets out a chuckle watching your failing attempt to get off on him. He hovers over you, snapping his hips against yours as your head falls onto his shoulder. “Let me help you,” he smirks, shuffling above you. He stands at the foot of the bed, fumbling at the button of your jeans. His fingers are shaking, his breath hitching as they tug at the fabric, quickly pulling the annoyance down your legs. You're left in a pair of thin panties, the light blue fabric becoming more of a dark grey as your arousal soaks the material, an obvious mark of how undone Rafe has already left you.

He towers over you, green eyes a shade darker than normal as he spreads your legs. A newfound confidence washes over him, and he’s pulling his sweater off in a swift motion. His tan muscles hit the cold air, his eyes roaming over the way your pussy lips are outlined, in clear view even though the panties hugging at your sides. He almost loses right there, watching you all sprawled out and begging for him.

Rafe undoes his jeans, his movements quick and urgent as he tries to get them off, throwing them off the bed with a light ‘thud’. You can’t help but stare, mouth watering at the way his boxers press against him, a large bulge pulling at the fabric.

Rafe’s motions are smooth as he positions himself on the bed, his back against the bed frame, pillows keeping him at a ninety-degree angle. You grasp your waist, pulling each leg by his thighs so you're straddling him. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he pushes you back in forth on his clothed cock. Even through his boxers, he can feel your slick wetness, his fingers digging into your sides as you buck into him.

“That’s it. Fuck, grind my cock baby.” That’s all he has to say before you’re throwing your head back, bouncing your tits in his face as you practically ride him. Sharp gasps escape you, the smooth skin of your thighs pressed against his as your hips stir in a string of circular motions, massaging your clit with his hard cock.

Fuck,” he growls between gritted teeth, his jaw clenched as his eyes flutter close. “You…you gotta slow down baby”. He knew he wouldn’t make much longer for his cum to spill out of him, not with you crying above him and using him like some kind of sex toy. Rafe dragged a finger to your panties, quickly rubbing soft motions with his thumb, circling your clit with gentle strokes.

It’s enough to push you just over the edge of no return, your legs already shaking as your stomach tightens. “Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, your hand grabbing at Rafe’s shoulders.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me baby?” He growls, pulling your hips harder against him and rubbing his thumb faster.

You nod your head, crashing your lips against his as your orgasm hits you like lightning, a single bolt sending shots of painful ecstasy to every nerve.

Rafe wraps his arms around you, still gasping for air as he flips you into your back, his body weight crashing down on you.

His hands dig into the hem of your panties, his eyes fixed on the fabric as if he’s completely entranced, not a care in the world other than what’s concealed underneath. "I need to taste you," he mutters, his voice gravelly with need. "Can I taste you?"

His words sent an uninvited shiver through you, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. You fight not to turn away, a gasp leaving your lips as he spreads your legs.

Rafe was no stranger to your shyness, always turning away when he looked too long or brushed against you. His eyes roamed over you, fingers lightly brushing your thighs. “Don't get all shy on me now,” he smirked, your adorable blush sending shockwaves to his cock. “Please, please let me do this,” he begged, lightly pulling at your panties again.

“I…O-okay,” you whined, watching your panties fall down your legs and Rafe sinks to his knees. He snaked his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he smothered your skin in soft kisses. His hand made smooth up and down motions against you, his breath hot against your core as he spread your legs, hooking your ankles around his neck.

Rafe lost it, the sight of your swollen pussy in his face. You were so fucking perfect, arousal leaking out of your dark pink hole and onto the blanket under you. He ghosted his lips over your clit, mankind small quick motions with his tongue as his fingers spread your labia apart. Your clit was so pretty, swollen, and hard against him as he sucked his lips around it.

“Fuck, ohmygod” Your words came out in one syllable, euphoria dripping from your throat as Rafe lapped at your pussy, soaking you in his salvia. His spit ran down your legs, mixing with your arousal in a warm concoction of need.

“Taste like heaven, princess. Fucking heaven” he groaned against you, vibrating your clit between his teeth. Rafe could do this hours, days even he thinks. Swirling his tongue through your folds and cleaning the mess you made against him just moments ago. The way you're moaning his name, your hips bucking into his mouth as you dig your hands in his hair, it’s too much for him to take.

“Oh, Rafe!” You pray the walls of the hotel are insulated enough to drown out your cries, your brother just on the other side. Your head falls back, spine arching in the air as you tremble around him.

Rafe needs more, needs to feel you stretching around him hopelessly as he drills into you. But he can’t rush, wanting even more in this moment for you to cum in his mouth, let him swallow every drop of wetness that falls onto his tongue.

“That’s a good girl. I knew you would like it,” he groans, sucking at your clit with vengeance. “Don’t I always take care of you?” He asks, recalling moments when he drove you home from parties or picked you up after school. He was always there, just a phone call away from rescuing you if you ever needed it.

“Ah! God, Rafe. Please, I-I’m gonna…” you were cut off by your own gasps, a second orgasm coursing through your veins.

“Good fucking girl,” Rafe growled, quickly standing to his feet and tugging his boxers down. He knows he should probably open you up with his fingers, help stretch your walls a bit before he pounds into you, but he feels like he’s got seconds to last before he’s nutting in his underwear like a bitch.

“Fuck, I need you baby. Please, can I put it in?” He whines, a sound so foreign to you, that you almost can’t recognize it’s him. Rafe tried so hard to wait for you to tell yes, but he’s already rubbing the tips of sick against your pussy, your slick wetness painting the underside of his.

Rafe grabs at your legs, pulling you farther back until your ankles hang on his shoulders. “Fuck baby, need to hear you say it. Tell me I can take you. Tell me this pussy is all for me”

The tip of cock pressed into you lightly, dangerously close to dipping inside you. Rafe can feel your walls clenching, the warmth of you on his cock destroying all the strength he has.

“Please, Rafey. It’s yours. Please, please, please,” falls from your lips, your fingers digging into the blankets as Rafe shivers his cock inside. One swift motion and you are seeing stars, the pit in your stomach filling with rapture.

Rafe swears you were made for him, taking his cock until his balls are pressed against your ass. He tries to be gentle, pulling out so tormentingly slow. He finds a steady, rhythmic pace as he slams back into you, your legs shaking like you just ran a 5K.

“Fuck, ain’t gonna last long with you squeezing me like that,” Rafe groans, pounding into you with an unforeseen violence even he didn’t know how to stop.

“I need you to cum baby, please. Cum around my cock, need it so bad.” He practically cries, biting at his hand as he watches the way your tits bounce with every thrust.

“Close,” is all the strength you have to say, your eyes clenched tight as Rafe slams into your cervix. He brings his hand to your clit, rubbing soft circles that make your mouth snap open.

“Fuck!” You scream, bucking your hips as much as movements would allow. In a second you're following his instructions. Your walls are like velvet, hugging his cock so tight he’s afraid he might not be able to stop. He growls at the thought, wishing he could flood you full of his hot thick seed.

“Shit,” he whispered through gritted teeth, pulling his cock out faster than he ever would have hoped. “Open that pottery mouth baby, fuck” Rafe grabs your hair, gently pulling you so sit just under his cock, your tongue pressed against his tip as he strokes every bit of his cum into you.

“Fucking swallow it,” he demands, pumping harder as he shoves his head passed your teeth, hitting the back of your throat as ropes of his juices fill you. Salty and bitter, but a welcomed taste you always dreamed of.

“Good girl” he whispers, watching you scope the drops running down your chin into your mouth, sucking your finger as you swallow.

“You okay,” he asks, a hint of nervousness overshadowed by breathless huffs.

“Great,” you laugh, pulling him next to you on the bed. You run your hands down his chest, the veins in his arms lightly sprinkled with sweat.

“You know I’ve always liked you more than your brother,” Rafe chuckles, running his fingers through your hair.

“Yeah, me too” you smile, sprinkling his shoulder in light kisses.

“I meant what I said at you being mine. I don’t ever want to be away from you.” Rafe pulls the blankets over your body, holding you tight as the storm outside continues to brew, the hollowing audible again.

“I meant it when I said I was yours.” You close your eyes, Rafe's strong arms warming your body.

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itsgivingmami · 20 hours ago

Note

One bed trope? Plus hear me out…reader has a nightmare

31- Rhea Ripley

Sorry this took actual years, was slacking for holidays😅 she’s a long one troops. I wish thee luck. Comments, notes and reblong always appreciated

“your sweet speaking and lovely laughing—oh it

puts the heart in my chest on wings for when I look at you, a moment, then no speaking is left in me”

Rhea fucking loathed Canada. Going up to cross the border always instilled an overwhelming dread and irritation any time of the year, but especially bloody winter. Snow the first couple times not having it growing up was magical, until she came to realise that it freezes your hair and your never really comfortable in a winter jacket just cold but somehow sweaty at the same time. To this day she fails to understand why anyone would revel in living inside a fucking ice cube for months at a time.

Her feet felt wet in her boots as she over heated in the smallest hotel lobby she's ever seen, in its defence it may be the crowd of wrestlers and crew packed into the small space of this- where even the fuck were they? Her eyes glanced to you to ask but seeing your furrowed brow staring at your phone made her pause.

"All good?" Nothing about this is really great, but at least they're safe. They had emergency landed at the nearest available runway to combat the incoming storm and though she doesn't mean it; she considers braving that more appealing than being stuffed into a room with a random person from the company.

"Trying to get you a refund for the other hotel," She wants to tell you not to worry about it, she'd hardly notice the charge anyhow but doesn't want to come off like she's show boating her wealth and allows you to continue to do, well, your job.

"Apparently we're all grouping up," she hears from somewhere and signs in relief at least bringing her assistant with her guaranteed she wouldn't be with a stranger. She let out a yawn, eyes watering as she scanned the room. Her colleagues look the same as her, exhausted, ready to lay down and not super excited about the situation they'd ended up in.

The next hour is a blur of shuffling and key distribution, it's nearly one in the morning by the time someone hands her a key card. You're next to her on the love seat with your knees pulled up resting your head on a hand, eyes closed.

"Hey," she gently touches your knee and your dark eyes flutter open, Rhea feels bad waking you but if you two can at least get to a room she knows you'll be comfier. She's recently hired you as a personal assistant and with the recent travel stretch she could see the new experience taking its toll. She finds seeing you tired harder than she expected but ignores the way her chest tightens "We've got a room,"

"Oh sorry," you quickly throw out and she shakes her head, you'd been constantly apologetic since your first day. It was something she'd learned was just a habit and focused on the fact that you'd seemed to finally stop calling her ma'am and celebrated that small victory. "Didn't even realise I'd dozed off," Rhea grabs the strap of your bag from the small coffee table as you lift your glasses onto your head and rub your eyes.

"We've been awake for too long we should both be dozing," Rhea answers quickly as you go to mention your bag and turns towards the hallway. You take some faster steps to catch up with her long stride along the awful pattern carpet, the amber lights illuminating the way until finding yourselves in front of a chipping burgundy door. She slides the key into the lock and it changes from red to green with an echoed click. Rhea pushes the handle and the door swings open, her eyes look for a chair to place your bags on but her gaze stops on the middle of the room where a single queen size mattress sits. "Bloody hell," Rhea swears under her breath, you come in the room behind her, you both stare at the bed in silence.

"I'll take the fl-" you stop mid sentence as Rhea stares at you, despite working for her over a month now you still found her in ring and out of ring personality lines blurry. You'd seen first hand what she could do angry in the ring and had made it your soul mission to make sure you'd never make her upset.

"We can share I'm not that high maintenance," Rhea explains and chuckles which does little ease the tension weighing down around you both. "If I ever get that far up my own ass you oughta punch me,"

"That definitely seems like a breech of my contract," you joke back with an airy giggle. Did you have to keep bringing that up? The fact that she was technically your boss as she definitely she not be having certain types of thoughts about you in general.

"You should grab a shower first, get rid of any left over chill," Rhea tells you keeping her back turned as she drops tour bags onto the end of the bed. The only bed. You want to offer it back, she does have a match but she gives you that stare again. It's overwhelming but comforting, the way she refuses to put herself over you.

"I won't be long," you assure you and she smiles tightly at you and you practically sprint into the room and shut the door.

"Take your time," Rhea answers to the empty room, hers legs giving out as she sits on the bed. She hears the pipes squeak as the water turns on and she finally relaxes for a moment. Mentally her chastising herself that she needed to get it together if she was going to make it through this.

Rhea thought she was used to this feeling by now. She had seen your face or heard your voice every single day for the last thirty days and each time it happened was a test of patience, a lesson in self control and slowly it had been getting easier. Or well, she thought so. Maybe it was the setting, an older hotel with soft lighting. An eye to the snow storm in this god awful country. Maybe it was the fact that the whipping winds outside and blowing snow make this feel separate from the real world. The world where you're only her assistant, the world where she has to get up for the gym in six hours, the world where she's unsure.

She huffs and stands back up walking away towards the window before turning and staring at the mattress. Was it getting smaller? Her strong hands rake through her hair, no longer bothering to keep let fringe styled forward, she unpacks her phone charger and something to change into ignoring the pit in her stomach and the voice screaming that no matter how normal she tried to make this, it was definitely something new.

"Rhea?" Her inner turmoil is cut off when you call her and she spins around quickly. Confusion painting her face as she stares at the cracked bathroom door, light and steam coming through, "I- Uh, could you pass my bag please?"

Oh. OH. She froze for a second as her brain caught up and moved to grab your bag which was sure enough left behind on the bed. She lands a foot from the door,

"I've got it here," she watches as you peek around the door, wet hair pushed over on shoulder, water droplets shining in the light on your face.

"Thanks," you murmur staring up at her and quietly slink back behind the door. Rhea stands in place watching the air where you just were and swallows thickly. That confirms it, she's screwed.

You're feeling a similar way when your left alone in the room, barely having said more than a sentence to Rhea as you'd traded to embarrassed that she had seen you in a towel and more embarrassed by the fact that you wouldn't mind showing her more. The thoughts pop up before you can stop them placing the blame on the jet lag but deep down you know it had nothing to do with it. Feeding yourself a convenient excuse just like you had every day since starting your employment.

Staring at her hands? No no you were admiring her tattoos or even her jewellery. She'd offer the pieces to you when she caught your gaze and you'd turn her down politely, between not wanting to give her any reason to think you were imaging about all the activities you could day dream while looking at her fingers move and the fact that she wore silver when you preferred gold it seemed like a safer choice to not accept her gestures. It was dizzying to you that the person who could make you cower with her stare could be so kind hearted.

Between the flying, the arguing with the airline company and being cold for hours your body is starting so fight back, clawing for sleep and you pace back and forth. Staring daggers at the bed for its inability to magically split in two and how comfortable it was looking as you grew more exhausted.

“No: tongue breaks, and thin fire is racing under skin

and in eyes no sight and drumming fills ears”

Rhea nearly melted when she saw you asleep on the bed your phone tumbled beside your slack hand and you breathe softly. She's grateful that your unconsciousness had saved her from doing the which side dance. Carefully stepping towards you she gently pulls the sheets from under your legs, freezing when you adjust and murmur at her before settling again. Rhea lets out a breath and pulls the covers up your body. She flips the lamp on your side and it turns off with a metallic clank.

Staring at the empty spot beside you she starts to breathe heavier and stalls by going to check the door that locks automatically and close the curtains. A yawn bubbles up as she's wandering around and her eye lids are getting heavier with each second. Her body moves to the bed as if it's calling and she pulls the covers back on her side before sitting down. Shes sure she looks ridiculous moving a slowly as possible and freezing with every sound.

Rhea watches you peacefully, the soft light from under the door and the moon outside casting a heavenly glow on you. There's a part of her that feels like a creep watching you and she stares up at the ceiling for a moment. You scare the shit out of her when her your foot hits her calf, followed by a quiet whimper. Her eyes widened as she looked to you, your face scrunched in distress.

"Hey," she whispers to you softly as her hand lightly hovers over your bare shoulder, still hesitant to touch you especially like this. Your body jerks in place again and she watches your hands curl into tight fists. "Mhm you'll hurt yourself," she tells you but you don't hear her and your unconscious body shakes. Rhea reaches for your hands trying to prevent harm, your skin is clammy on hers and she swallows thickly in fear. "Wake up for me,"

“and cold sweat holds me and shaking grips me all, greener than grass”

You're not sure if it's the terror your sleeping brain is causing, the assertiveness of Rheas voice or feeling her nails in your hair but your eyes snap open and you gasp loudly. Desperately clinging to the nearest thing you don't even realise you've got a wrestler level trap hold on her body, or that you're holding her at all. You take in air in short shallow breaths, vision a blur of black that is Rheas clothing and warm tears.

"It's me it's Rhea," she cooes to you, the grip you have on her holding strong and it urges her to pull you closer. "You're safe,"

Your mouth opens to speak but nothing except a choked cry comes out, you feel Rhea pull you upwards allowing more air into your lungs as she pulls your arms over her muscular shoulders.

"Can you hear me?" She asks and you nod against her chest, a heavy hand rubs your back and it's comforting to you both as she feels your breathing slowing. "Good girl," she says relieved. You two sit in silence for a while, small residue hiccups leaving you.

"Th-thank you," peeling your fingers from her feels like glue as your back straightens, your arms feel like stone as they fall from her to your sides. "I had a nightmare,"

"Yeah I-," Rhea covers her mouth with her hand not allowing the chuckle to come out, "I figured,"

"I don't usually have those," you rasp, eyes trained on the sheets below "I don't even remember,"

"Exhaustion and sleep deprivation make them more likely," Rhea explains, voice lowered as guilt floods her, "I pushed you too far I'm sorry,"

"No you didn't I made the decision I'm a grown woman," you affirmed and Rhea groaned. You tried to scoot backwards but she reaches for your fore arm.

"Yes a woman," Rhea agrees, you watch her carefully. "A woman that I can't pretend I'm not falling for, assistant or not I just can't pretend," her eyes meet yours, her gaze stronger than you'd ever seen it as you stay locked to her. "That I don't want you,"

You find yourself speechless as her confession echoes in your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek to make sure you're actually awake before you move your arms back around her shoulders and pull her flush against you. She pulls your body to straddle her as you hug tightly, getting as close as possible to each other.

"I want-," you stutter out finally finding words, as her arms fold against the small of your back. You pull back to come face to face with her, you teary eyes looking into hers. "I want you too,"

720 hours worth of self control build up had crumbled within the raven haired woman holding you, her lips find yours as you let out a gasp of surprise before your lips meld together and she swallows your small noises. Rhea tastes like tooth paste and her lips claim yours, you smile against her lips feeling her tongue ring hit your lip and she takes the opportunity to explore your mouth.

Your stomach feels like it’s floating as Rheas hands run your body, now that she finally has you she’s forgotten what it was like to have distance between your bodies. She occasionally separates from your lips allowing you to breath each others air as she places soft kisses on the sides of you mouth and your chin. She cups your jaw and uses her thumb to wipe the drool that fell from your mouth before gently pulling on your bottom lip. You watch her eyes stare hungrily at her action and the moment your lips snaps back up she’s in your mouth again.

“I am and dead—or almost”

“That emergency landing was the shits,” Damian complains as he plops down next to Rhea, who’s sitting in the middle plane seat despite you telling her you could take it.

“Punks a fucking beast of a snorer,”

Rheas hand squeezes yours, pressed between your two bodies and the seat. She looks to you for a moment and grins before turning back to Damian.

“Fucking awful,” Rheas tells him but can’t hide the grin on her face,

“Just intolerable,” you add smiling.

“I seem to me”

Sappho- Fragment 31

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kikyoupdates · 2 days ago

Text

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes.All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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“I didn’t think he was actually serious about watching us train.”

Toji glances next to him, brows furrowed. You’re holding onto his hand as you walk side-by-side, and every so often, you beam at him, giving him a front row view to your adorable little face. On the opposite side of you, however, also holding your hand, is Satoru. You’re in the middle of both of them, as happy as can be. It’d be nice if you could say the same for Satoru, but you’ve come to learn that he can be awfully grumpy whenever Toji is involved. He’s not used to having to share your affection.

Satoru squeezes your hand and scowls. “I already told you before that I’m not letting you train [Name] unless I can see it happen with my own eyes. You’re not allowed to hurt her. That was the condition.”

“Having to get permission from a child…” Toji shakes his head disappointedly. “I wonder how I’ve fallen so low.”

“I heard that, asshole!”

“Satoru, please be nice to Toji,” you say—much to Satoru’s immense frustration. You glance up at Toji yet again, and the moment you smile at him, he instinctively does the same. “He agreed to train me. For free . Isn’t that amazing? Especially since something tells me he really likes money.”

“You’re right,” Toji chuckles. “I love money.”

“Everyone loves money,” Satoru mutters. “You’re not special.”

“[Name], I get the feeling he doesn’t like me.”

“That’s because I don’t .”

You never thought you’d see the day where Satoru and Toji would bicker childishly back and forth. After all, the only other meeting they were supposed to have was many years from now, in a literal fight to the death. You know it’s too soon to get your hopes up, but already, the story has changed. And you intend to keep it that way.

Eventually, you arrive at your designated training spot for the day. It’s a clearing in the middle of the woods. You’ve got plenty of space here, and if Toji really wanted to, he could easily knock a few trees down and make even more room.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admit. “But also excited, because I really want to get stronger. I know it’s important to manage my expectations, though. I’ll never be anywhere near as strong as you, Toji. How did you get to be so strong, without any cursed energy?”

You already know the answer to that question, of course, but you figure it’s about time he explains it himself so that you don’t have to keep pretending to be unaware.

“Ah, right. I never told you. It’s a Heavenly Restriction,” Toji says. “That’s the trade-off. I lost all of my cursed energy in exchange for my body becoming stronger, and all of my senses being sharpened. Because of this, I can still see and interact with curses, despite not having any actual cursed energy. I need to use cursed tools in order to exorcize them, since curses can’t be killed without cursed energy, but it’s never been a problem.”

Of course it hasn’t been. Look at you. You’re basically the Arnold Schwarzenegger of this universe.

“Wow,” you marvel. “No wonder you’re so cool! I could tell right away that you were super strong. Why would your clan members be so rude to you? You don’t even need cursed energy when you’re already this powerful. I’ve never met any of them, but they sound stupid.”

Toji cracks another smile. “ Very stupid. Like I said before, they’re a bunch of fools who can’t even tell the difference between a head and an ass.”

“He’s talking about asses again,” Satoru grimaces. “[Name], does it really have to be this guy who trains you? I’m seriously worried he’s a pervert. I can already tell he’s going to be a bad influence.”

“Toji is the best mentor I’ll ever have,” you state firmly, and you make sure to wrap your little arms around him, adamant.

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh. It’s okay. He’ll come around to Toji eventually. It’ll just take a while for him to get used to things. Also, Toji won’t be a bad influence for you, but rather, you plan on being a good influence for him. Maybe, depending on how things go, he won’t abandon Megumi this time around. Maybe he’ll actually try to be a good dad.

You’ll be overjoyed if you can make that happen.

Toji pats your head a few times. A bit roughly, but the sentiment is there. You may not realize it, but you’re already starting to grow on him quite a bit. He’s never met a kid like you before. Or anyone, really. Someone he has so much in common with, but in spite of the unfortunate circumstances you’ve been born into, you manage not to give in to your bitterness and hate, unlike him.

And so, Toji will train you. He’ll teach you how to fight, how to use cursed tools properly, and how to hone your body in order to surpass your limits. But along the way, he may very well end up learning a thing or two from you as well.

He will be your teacher, and you will be his.

“Actually, I have something sort of similar to a Heavenly Restriction,” you say.

Toji blinks, visibly surprised. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. Well, technically, it’s a restriction I imposed upon myself. A Binding Vow. I decided to make one a while back to try and become stronger.”

“What kind of vow is it?” Toji asks, and already, you can hear Satoru groaning as he buries his face in his hands. Even just the mention of your vow seems to bring him immense agony. Poor guy.

“Like you, I can’t use cursed energy. Not because I don’t have any, but because the second I use it to hurt someone, I’ll die.”

You beam, brighter than the sun itself, and of course, Toji can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Every time!” Satoru fumes. “Every time, you talk about the conditions of your vow with a smile on your face! What’s wrong with you? It’s not something to be taken lightly!”

“I’m not taking it lightly. I just think it’s cool that Toji and I have so much in common. We were fated to meet!”

“You barely have anything in common! He’s allowed to fight without the risk of constantly dying, unlike you! Stupid! Moron! Dumbass!”

You glance over at Toji with a frown. “Do you see how he talks to me? I’m starting to think this is an abusive friendship.”

“A Binding Vow where your life is on the line?” Toji blinks repeatedly. “Why would you do something like that? What… did you gain from it?”

“Well, I’m really weak and I don’t have much cursed energy to begin with, and I still haven’t shown signs of manifesting a cursed technique of my own. So, in exchange for risking my life with this vow, I gained the ability to convert cursed energy into positive energy. So that I can heal people. Isn’t that awesome? I’m so smart.” You pause for a moment, then grin. “Do you have a knife on you? If you want, I can give you a demonstration—”

“No knives!” Satoru cries out. He’s already traumatized enough from the last time it happened, and he certainly doesn’t need to see it again.

Seriously. Poor guy.

Toji didn’t think you could possibly surprise him any more, but time and time again, you outdo yourself. Like Satoru, he never knows what to expect. And Toji has always prided himself on his cool-headedness and ability to make rational decisions. He hates the world of jujutsu sorcerers, true enough, but even so, he’s kept his anger at bay all this time. If he really wanted to, he probably could have slaughtered the entire Zen’in Clan by now.

“You’ve drastically increased the odds of you dying, in order to help other people?” Toji can’t help but marvel. “You really are selfless. What would possess you to put someone else’s needs above your own, when people have only ever treated you cruelly?”

“I don’t really think of it that way,” you frown. “It’s not like people have to be nice to me in order for me to do the right thing. People can be strong in lots of different ways, but jujutsu sorcerers kill curses in order to save lives, right? So, that’s what I decided I wanted to do. It seemed like the most important thing. Using my strength to make the world a better place.”

On this point, you and Toji differ. He’s nowhere near as kind or self-sacrificial as you are. Admittedly, he’s never even bothered to think about saving anyone’s life. All he ever wanted was to be acknowledged for being strong. But the Zen’in Clan immediately shunned him, because he was born without cursed energy.

Still, it’s impressive. The fact that you don’t let yourself be discouraged, no matter how others treat you. No matter how often they dismiss you and treat you like dirt. If you’re able to stomach all of the abuse thrown your way and still have such selfless goals, then at the very least, mentally… you’re already stronger than he is.

“You really are the strangest little girl I’ve ever met,” Toji chuckles fondly.

“Thanks,” you grin, and once again, you wrap your arms around him and give him the biggest hug you can manage.

Satoru rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to be a compliment, but whatever.”

Toji lets you hug him for a while. He’s already gotten used to how affectionate you are, and he’s surprised that he doesn’t seem to mind it. But as easy as it would be just to stand around and chat, you’re here for a reason.

You’re here to get stronger.

“Now,” Toji says, lips pulled into a smirk, “shall we begin?”

It was bound to happen eventually. Toji has been training you for a little while now, and it was only a matter of time until the Zen’in Clan found out.

Needless to say, they’re not happy about it.

They already don’t think highly of Toji to begin with. In their eyes, he’s a failure. Someone unfit to be a sorcerer. But now they know that he’s training you, another failure. At least, on paper. These elitist dickheads seriously only care about one thing, and it’s power. But only the kind of power that they deem acceptable. Which is ridiculous, because Toji could easily break all of their skulls if he really wanted to. They’re seriously playing with fire.

Long story short, you’ve been summoned. By the Zen’in Clan. The Gojo Clan of course heard about this and essentially told them to fuck off and mind their own business, but then the Zen’in Clan was all like, “You’re telling us to fuck off? No, no—you don’t get to do that. We’re the ones who tell you to fuck off. Who do you think you are to boss us around? You’re all a bunch of dipshits. Don’t make us go Super Saiyan on your asses.”

…okay, fine, that’s not exactly what they said. You’re paraphrasing. But the situation kept escalating, and it was getting really tense, so you decided the best thing to do would be to just get the meeting over and done with.

Which brings you to the present.

Toji scowls irritably. “You didn’t have to come. All this does is make these rotten assholes feel like they can order everyone around and get away with it.”

The Zen’in Clan estate stands before you. It’s even bigger than the Gojo Clan estate. Which makes sense, because Satoru is essentially a one-man army. The Gojo Clan still has many skilled sorcerers among their ranks, but as a whole, the Zen’in Clan is most likely stronger.

Not that it really matters, because Satoru could easily take on all of them at once, and win .

“It’s okay. I don’t really mind,” you shrug. “They can be as grumpy as they want. You’re still going to train me no matter what, right?”

“Of course. I refuse to ever bow to them.”

Toji grits his teeth, visibly seething, and meanwhile, Satoru crosses his arms. He came with you, of course. He outright refused to let you go on your own. Even though you reassured him that Toji would be by your side, but still. As always, he’s overprotective to a fault. He probably fears the Zen’in Clan might mistreat you, the way your own clan did.

“If they say something to get on my nerves, we’re leaving,” Satoru mutters.

“You should,” Toji nods. “Everyone here is disgusting trash, dragged up from the deepest, murkiest recesses of hell —”

“Alright, alright, let’s just go!” you exclaim, grabbing both of them by the hands and pulling them along.

It’s strange, being in a place that you know so much about, and yet, it still feels so foreign. You already know that in the future, all of these people will be slaughtered. By Maki. You’re not quite sure what it’ll take to prevent that. Maybe if you’re able to keep Mai safe. But then again, this place is home to parents such as Maki’s father, who would go so far as to try and kill his own daughters, so you’re not even sure if you want to save them.

You suppose you’ve got plenty of time to think about it. A lot will happen before then. You need to focus on saving everyone else first.

You and Toji are both used to being looked down upon. You’re no stranger to cruel, scornful looks, and neither is he. Evidently, though, the Zen’in Clan members weren’t expecting Gojo Satoru to show up as well. Because he’s here, no one dares to so much as even frown at you. Some stop and stare for a few moments, having never laid eyes upon him before, some instinctively cast their heads down, and others opt to avoid looking at him altogether, out of jealousy, inferiority, and resentment.

You have to admit, having Satoru here helps. Anyone with half a brain knows better than to try anything funny.

You’re brought to one of the rooms and told to wait for the head of the clan to arrive. Snacks and tea have been laid out for you, and you happily gorge yourself, seemingly without a care in the world.

Toji sighs. “You’re making yourself right at home, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” you reply, cheeks stuffed. “They put out these snacks for us, so it’s okay if I eat all of them, right? They won’t get mad?”

“I doubt it, but it’d be funny if they did.”

Ironically, you, the weakest of the bunch, are the least concerned out of everyone. Toji is in a shit mood because he hates everything and anything to do with the Zen’in Clan, and Satoru is stressed out because he’s constantly worrying about you, and meanwhile you’re just… chilling. Also, the snacks are pretty good. You might seriously finish them all at this rate.

Time passes. It seems the clan leader is determined to make you wait as long as humanly possible. Honestly, you’re starting to wonder if he brought you here just to laugh at how he’s wasting your time. You feel like you’re being trolled.

Eventually, though, the door to the room slides open.

But it’s not at all who you were expecting to see.

It’s a boy. He’s small, most likely around your age, and peering into the room inquisitively. His eyes widen when he takes note of Satoru, of course, but for some reason, he seems to be paying Toji the most attention of all.

Ah.

It takes a little while for you to realize who he is, because he’s still young and hasn’t yet dyed his hair in that distinct blond shade, and also, he’s missing his ear piercings. But you recognize those sharp, upturned brown eyes, and his childlike appearance becomes more and more familiar, the longer you think about it.

This boy is none other than Zen’in Naoya.

There he is. There’s the little misogynist.

Naoya hesitates for a moment before stepping into the room. He’s alone, by the looks of it. The clan leader isn’t with him. You suppose he must have stopped by out of pure intrigue.

Naoya eagerly slides the door closed, then bounds over to Satoru. “You’re him, right?” he asks, eyes all but sparkling. “You’re Gojo Satoru, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, visibly disinterested.

“Wow, cool! I never thought I’d actually get to meet you. I’m Naoya. My dad’s the leader of the clan, and he says that one day, I’ll take over as the new leader! Everyone tells me I’m a genius. I even manifested my cursed technique early.”

Naoya puffs out his chest, looking proud as can be. He’s supposed to be a year younger than you, so he’s not even seven years old yet, but it seems like that ego of his is already going strong. Not that you’re surprised. That’s what happens when you spoil a kid and fill their head with arrogance and conceit. Kids are the product of their environment, after all.

“That’s nice,” Satoru comments insincerely, and you almost feel bad for Naoya, because he grins widely, not realizing that it wasn’t a genuine compliment.

Naoya then turns towards Toji, and his smile gets even brighter. “Toji, is it true? I heard that you’re training someone. He must be super strong, then. Since you agreed to help him. What’s he like? Wasn’t he supposed to come today? Or is he not coming until later?”

“What do you mean?” Toji frowns. “She’s right here.”

“ She ?”

“Yes, she. As in, her. The girl sitting next to me. [Name].”

Naoya slowly turns his head towards you, eyes gradually filling with horror. He can’t seem to believe what he’s hearing. Also, it probably doesn’t help that you’ve been stuffing your face with crackers this whole time.

You hurry to swallow what’s in your mouth, then smile. “Hi, Naoya. I’m [Name]. It’s nice to meet you.”

“What?” Naoya gapes. “Toji, this… is who you’re training? You’re training a girl ?”

Oh boy. Here it comes.

“... but girls are weak!”

As expected, Naoya wastes no time in spewing his flawed ideology. He seems outright offended by you. In fact, up until now, you may as well have been invisible to him.

“Especially this girl,” Naoya continues, pointing an accusing finger your way. “She barely has any cursed energy. I can tell. And she definitely doesn’t have a Heavenly Restriction like you do, Toji. Right? She’s a weakling. Why would you train a girl? It’s a waste of time. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Toji narrows his eyes. “Is it really any business of yours who I decide to train?”

Naoya takes a step back, faltering for a moment. You know that he looks up to Toji. Their relationship wasn’t really expanded upon much, but even though they’re cousins, they’re not very close. Naoya’s admiration for Toji is a one-way street. He might even be jealous of you because you get to train with his idol.

“Why do you assume girls are weak?” you ask.

“It’s not an assumption,” Naoya glares. “Girls are supposed to grow up and become wives, then give birth to powerful sorcerers. They’re not strong enough to fight. They should leave all of the serious stuff to men, and focus on cooking, taking care of children, and making their husbands happy.”

“Hm. I see.”

You stare at him long and hard, watching as he clenches his fists and grows more frustrated by the second.

Then, you smile.

“I think you’re kind of stupid.”

Naoya blinks repeatedly. It actually looks like his brain short-circuits for a few moments. Once again, he can’t help but feel like his ears are deceiving him. He’s a genius. That’s what everyone always says.

No one has ever, ever called him stupid.

“Take that back!” Naoya childishly exclaims. “Who do you think you are to talk to me that way? I’m not stupid! I’m a hundred percent smarter than you are! You’re just a dumb, weak little girl, and you must have tricked Toji into training you!”

Satoru’s expression darkens. “Hey. You don’t get to say that to her. I’m the only one who’s allowed to call [Name] dumb.”

Even though the strongest sorcerer in the world is addressing him, right now, Naoya is so focused on his hatred of you that he doesn’t even pay him any mind. You’re not invisible anymore. Suddenly, you’re the only person he can see.

And it pisses him off.

“I just think what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense,” you shrug. “How could all women be weak? I’m sure some are weak. But there are men who are weak, too. Anyone can be weak. Or strong. Nothing is set in stone. And if you put in enough effort, then it’s even possible for someone who used to be weak to become strong. That’s how I see it, at least.”

Naoya grits his teeth. He’s so angry that he’s shaking. Clearly, his ego took a massive hit when you called him stupid. But if he’s going to say stupid things, then you feel compelled to point out just how stupid they are.

“[Name] is easily smarter than you,” Satoru sighs. “She’s even smarter than me . She likes to act dumb, but she’s actually gifted. She’s only seven years old, but academically, she’s as smart as a high-schooler. Between the two of you, she’s the real genius.”

“...what?”

Naoya looks taken aback. Since Gojo Satoru said it, it must be true. Once again, his brain can’t compute. He’s supposed to believe that a girl is superior to him? No… even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. What matters is strength , and that’s something you don’t have.

“S-So what if you’re good at school?” Naoya huffs. “Studying and getting good grades doesn’t mean anything. You’re still weak . We’re jujutsu sorcerers. Are you going to pull out a textbook while you’re fighting a curse and expect to win? Ha! Don’t make me laugh. You’re just a girl, and you need to take back what you said about me being stupid, or else I’ll get really angry!”

He proceeds to slam his little fists down onto the table, and in doing so, he accidentally breaks one of the small plates in half. You watch as he winces, and a cut appears on his hand. It’s a relatively shallow wound, but blood flows from it nevertheless.

Naoya bites down on his lip, tears pricking his eyes. He’s clearly resisting the urge to cry. He’s probably been taught never to show weakness, or to complain. Still, he’s only a kid, and it must hurt. Plus, he’s probably pretty embarrassed right now. You’d feel bad for him if he started wailing in front of his beloved Toji.

You offer a gentle smile, and without saying anything, you reach out and grab Naoya’s hand in yours. He flinches, and he’s probably just about to slap your hand away, but before he manages to, you take a deep breath and concentrate.

It only takes a few seconds. One moment, Naoya is cradling his bleeding cut, and the next, you’re wiping his blood off with a napkin and revealing clear, unblemished skin.

“There you go,” you beam. “All better now. You’re okay, right? It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“Huh…?”

Naoya stares down at his hand in disbelief. He swears there was a cut there, just a second ago. But now, it’s… gone? And so is the pain. It’s already a thing of the past, and it leaves him wondering whether he just imagined the whole thing.

…no, that can’t be. After all, the broken plate is still there. The broken plate he cut himself with just a few moments ago. Which can only mean that you healed him. You healed him? Seriously? Someone like you knows reverse cursed technique, which is something even the most elite sorcerers struggle to grasp?

All of a sudden, it feels like the entire room is spinning. Naoya swears he’s seeing stars. Everything is so backwards. Nothing makes any sense. The fact that you know how to use positive energy, the fact that Toji is training you… just, none of it.

And to make matters even worse, you’re still smiling.

“Like I said,” you hum. “Anyone can be strong. You never know what to expect, so maybe you should try to give people a chance.”

Naoya doesn’t respond. He can’t come up with what to say, and even if he tried to speak, he doubts the words would form.

From this moment onward, he won’t be able to get you off his mind.

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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