#i agree they should have had apologies given to them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaysbaefie · 1 month ago

Text

simone says | sjy

synopsis: in which your highschool rival agrees to tutor you, on one condition.

genre: high-school rivals to lovers ?

pairing: high-school rival!jake x afab reader

warnings: dubcon (ish), dom!jake, bratty!reader, reader calls jake a 'twink' on multiple occasions, jake reads hentai, mentions of blackmail? restraining with a belt, light degrading, spanking, grinding, reader grinds on jake's shoe, lowkey manhandling, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), public sex, praising, hair pulling, p in v, orgasm denial - i think that's it..

wc: 9.6k+

a/n: this is my first fic on tumbler, so if something seems wonky i apologize i’m not familiar with posting on this platform. feel free to leave tips on how to post on this site because i struggled heavy…

──── ୨୧ ────

the look of disappointment plastered on your professors face made you wince.

"i'm sorry __ , but if you don't boost your grades then i have no choice but to demote you from debate team captain and take you out of your advance learning classes," he said apologetically.

you wanted to do nothing but to scream in his old, wrinkly and saggy face, this was so embarrassing.

you internally scold yourself for thinking this way of your professor, the man was nothing but kind to you these past few months given your terrible attendance and poor marks.

you had never come home with less than a 95% in your classes. nowadays, your happy with a shitty 60%.

you don't know what's wrong with you, your unable to focus on your studies and instead spend time ditching classes and attending parties. you had promised yourself that no matter where your friends had dragged you. you would make your education a priority, but as expected, that wasn't the case.

senior year of high school meant a lot of behavioural and social changes within both you and your friends, the shy and nerdy girls you once hung out with had done a complete 360 switch. the hangouts that once consisted of going to cute cafes and studying, ice skating, arcades and movie nights had quickly switched to getting drunk every other night and doing any possible substance that they could get their hands on.

you missed the days where the four of you wouldn't get black out drunk and fake sobriety to your knowing parents. you didn't particularly enjoy the party life that your friends were living, but you didn't hate it, and you surely wouldn't be missing out on it. yes, your studies should come first, but your a senior in high school only once in your life. which is what your friends repeated every time you rejected a party. so that's what you lived by, your only a senior in highschool once.

unfortunately, that same logic costed you your above average grades and perfect attendance record. you had to fix this, and you were willing to fix this mess in any way possible. even if it meant dropping to your knees for your professor.

you give the old man a once over, shivering and internally rejected that as a possibility.

"i'd rather fail and live at home for the rest of my life," you think to yourself, your body convulsing at the idea.

swallowing harshly you ask, "is there anything i could do to boost my grades?".

he looks at you with sympathy, leaning back in his chair as he thinks for a moment. "the only thing i could do to help you with your grades is to be present and help answer any questions you have. i could stay some time after class and help you with some homework but that's about it __, i'm sorry," he sighs.

asking questions with homework wasn't going to change your 57% into a 95 in 2 months. you needed to completely re-learn the material and start from the beginning. you didn't have notes and you didn't have a clue of what was going on in the class. none of your friends were in your classes, none of your friends were as smart as you.

unfortunately for you, you hadn't bothered to even make any friends in your advanced learning classes. you couldn't just go up to someone in your class and ask them for their notes, you were stumped.

"do you think you could set me up with a tutor? i know i'm asking for a lot right now but i want to switch this around," you beg softly, your hands clutched together. your professor knew how much potential you had, you had created a good reputation for yourself after all. you were the debate team captain, although you had been missing more and more meetings recently. you had one of the highest marks in your grade, often ranking first place in exams. you had never gotten into any altercations, a squeaky clean student record. lots of volunteer hours and good recommendations from professors that would guarantee you a spot in the most prestigious of universities.

your professor thinks for a moment, his bushy eyebrows furrowing as he debates internally. "i could set you up with one, but i'm not sure he'll agree to helping you this late in the semester," he replies wincing. "or at all..," he continues but your ears miss it.

a smile instantly makes its way onto your face, there's hope for you. you were sure that whoever this person was they would agree to helping you. you were nice to everyone, always respectful and helpful to your peers.

who would say no to you?

"he's one of my best students, following you of course," the professor continues, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he takes his thin glasses off his face. he gulps softly, knowing that suggesting this student to you and vice versa wasn't the best idea.

you on the other hand, begin to think of all the smart students you know of in your grade.

yang jungwon?

park sunghoon?

kim sunoo?

mentally trashing all of the candidates that you deemed dumb.

your professor interrupts your internal dialogue, "you're going to have to talk to him and come up with something that works for the both of you, that is if he agrees," he says.

"but i will send him an email, warning him that you'll be in touch with him soon," he adds on tensely.

you simply hum in response, happy with the outcome of the conversation even though it may not work out for you at the end. one thing about you was that you were confident, and you knew that a little persuading would get you far in life. you got along with all your peers, unfortunately not enough to ask for notes or help but enough to pass soft smiles in the hallways or a gentle nod of acknowledgment. you stayed in your circle of friends, rarely hanging out with other classmates unless a project or school assignment was involved.

with no questions asked you thank your professor profusely, your smile reaching your eyes.

your professor on the other hand looked at you nervously, letting out a tense laugh as he tells you to head to your next class. you hadn't asked who would be your tutor, and your professor was grateful. he didn't want to deal with your reaction and preferred to stay out of it but he knew he would hear from you soon and he'd rather deal with it later than now.

"now, head to class the bell will be ringing soon," he ushers. you smile and thank him once again before practically skipping out of your classroom.

your professor watches you leave, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips before he opens his computer. his mouse clicking on the schools mailing app, before punching in the letters of the students email.

he wrote a simple message informing him, no— warning, that's the word, warning him that you'd be in touch with him soon.

he sends the email and immediately signs off, hoping for the best. his two star students couldn't be fighting anymore, and if he had to play cupid then he'd play cupid, even if it was extremely inappropriate and unprofessional.

he could only hope for the best.

──── ୨୧ ────

you walk alongside your friends, your shoulder casually brushing against yoora's as the four of you head to the lunch hall.

"so you're really taking this grade thing seriously, huh?" jiya asks, her brows arching as she looks at you with a soft smirk.

you roll your eyes, "someone has to," you reply.

"who else is going to make a lot of money so they could keep up with their friends luxurious life style," you playfully snide. the reason your grades meant so much to you was solely because you didn't come from a privileged and wealthy background. to you, good grades meant a good education which leads to a good job and a stable source of income for both you and your family. this wasn't a choice for you, yet you had been treating it as if it was one and now your dealing with the consequences.

your friends came from wealthy backgrounds, grades weren't that important to them because they knew that no matter what their gpa was they'd have something to lean back on. whether it be inheriting a business or their parents providing pocket money till their last breath.

jiya's expression softens slightly, her manicured fingers brushing against your arm, "we're sorry for distracting you, __."

"we didn't realize how much this was affecting your grades," she continues. the others nod in agreement as they mumble soft apologies.

you were greatful for their understanding, they were aware of your financial situation but often forgot. it wasn't something you liked to bring up often, the looks of pity on their faces making you want to shrivel up and die.

there would be times where they'd offer to pay for your meals, clothes and even tuition because they thought it would help lessen your financial burdens, but instead it made you feel embarrassed and angry. you didn't want the pity so you rarely brought it up. this was your motivation to make money and step out of the hole that finances had made for you.

"we won't pressure you into going to parties with us anymore," hana says before quickly continuing, "but that doesn't mean that you can say no every time. you still have to go out with us, but we understand that right now your education is your priority."

you smile in response.

"so, who's your little tutor?" hana asks, flipping her dyed blonde locks over her shoulder as she searches her purse for her wallet.

the four of you had entered the lunch hall, your eyes scanning for a table as you begin to walk to the lunch line.

you shrug at her question, "no clue, i forgot to ask. but probably some nerd."

yoora laughs, "fellow nerd," she corrects with a teasing smile, bumping shoulders with you as you stand in line.

you roll your eyes playfully, "bitch."

"i just hope it's not a creep, like min youngjae," you shiver at the thought. min youngjae was a perv, sure he was smart and often ranked high in exam scores like yourself, but he was a total creep. he had been caught peering into the girls change room last year and hasn't been able to live it down since.

your friends giggle, "carry pepper spray on you if it happens to be him, heard he had the hots for you too.." jiya snickers handing the lunch lady some cash before picking up her tray.

you shiver, "i'm carrying mace if i'm paired with him," you mutter as you follow jiya with a tray of your own.

spotting a table the four of you beeline for it, the lunch hall started to fill up and spots to sit had become scarce.

sitting down the four of you ease into small talk which then becomes gossip. giggling amongst yourselves you don't notice a certain pair of eyes on you, watching your every move.

if looks could kill, you'd be buried 6 feet under by now.

a soft nudge makes you stop laughing, yoora smirking as she raises her eyebrows. she motions to the side of you with her head, you furrow your eyebrows, confused to what was going on.

turning your head your eyes are instantly met with the one person who you had issues with in this entire school.

co-captain of the debate team, soccer team captain, and your worst enemy—sim jaeyun.

you almost gag when he smirks at you. his stupid plump lips curling into a grin when he's sees your expression before his beautiful—no hideous face morphs into one of mock concern. your surprised when he gets up from his spot and starts to make his way to your table.

his lean yet muscular legs flexing with each step he took, he was still wearing his soccer shorts that he had been wearing during practice with a thin white t-shirt that outlined the shape of his torso when the lunch halls light hit him in a specific way. his hair was slightly damp with sweat from practice, he runs his large hands through his dark locks before he reaches your table and his crotch is in level with your face. you make a face of displeasure before you shift away slightly, trying to avoid starring at his dick.

"fuck do you want sim?" you sneer, holding in the urge to punch him in the throat when his grin widens.

how you wanted to punch his shit-eating grin, his perfectly straight teeth would fall out of his big mouth.

"what do i want? hm, a lot of attitude for someone who needs my help," he mocks playfully as he bends down so he's eye level with you.

your face twists into one of confusion, help?

"what are you talking about dickwad? i don't need your help," you spit, your cheeks heating up when you catch a whiff of his cologne. you mentally beat yourself for letting someone like him fluster you.

"oh really? so mr.kim didn't send me an email asking me to tutor his 'star student' ?" he pouts mockingly.

your eyes widen and your mouth parts in shock.

mr.kim you are so fucking dead.

jake watches your face twist into one of shock, enjoying your attitude fizzle as you stumble for words.

your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land, racking your brain for a snarky comeback, but to your luck your mind was blank.

he stares at your expression, he could see a million thoughts behind your eyes and it only boosted his confidence. he was the reason your bratty mouth was unable to form words to shoot back at him. the same mouth that would spew insults at him whenever he dared to even speak in your presence was now shut because of him.

he was eager to shoot you down when he had originally walked to your table, ready to reject tutoring you and make fun of you for being so dumb and careless of your studies. he had noticed what you had become recently, the seemingly hardworking and shy girl you once were around others, not him of course, had become an avid partier who didn't care about her academics and future anymore. however, now he had different plans, he knew how much you needed him and he'd use it to his advantage. what's wrong with a little fun? right?

jake stands up straight, "meet me in classroom 103 tomorrow afternoon lunch, don't be late pretty," jake coos playfully with a chuckle escaping his pink lips.

your internal debate ends instantly at his words, your face dropping as you begin to process his words. he wants to tutor you? pretty? confused you look at him and begin to open your mouth only to see that he has turned away and began walking back to his table.

his friends looking at him and you both confused and amused at the interaction.

what the fuck just happened?

──── ୨୧ ────

sim jaeyun has always been that cockroach that just won't die. no matter how many times you hit it with your shoe, or the rounds of bug spray you spray on its disgusting body, it survives.

first day of 8th grade and you two were already fighting over the dumbest things. the two of you shared a mutual friend, kim sunoo, and you wanted to sit next to him for math. little did you know, jake had similar intentions which resulted in a full blown argument between the two of you on why either of you should sit next to sunoo.

at the end, neither of you got to sit next to him.

then came budging in line, to you the fight between who gets to sit next to sunoo was your last interaction with jake. however, jake had other plans.

he would purposely budge in front of you in line and when you made a move to confront him he'd act like you simply didn't exist.

you realized quickly that he thrived off of your reactions and stopped giving him the satisfaction of getting angry at him.

grade 8 science class is where the two of you had begun to get competitive for grades.

"hey, what'd you get on your quiz __?" your seat mate whispered to you while holding onto his own quiz, hiding the grade from your greedy eyes.

biting back a grin you show him your test results, "a 93%" you whisper back. you were so proud of yourself, you studied hard for that mark and you were going to tell anyone who asked what you got.

you heard a snicker come from the back and you immediately knew who it was. you whip your head around to shoot the boy a piercing glare.

"93? that's it? i got a 96," jake brags with a smirk.

you could feel your cheeks redden with rage as you flip him off and turn back in your desk.

fuck that twink and his 96%, i'll show him.

and you did show him, next quiz you got a 100% and you made sure jake saw it.

"awe, a 94. how cute jakey," you mocked with a pout. you had left your quiz on his desk while he was in the washroom, making sure he saw it when he returned.

jake's fists were clenched and he could feel himself bubble up with embarrassment when he saw your perfect score. he rolls his eyes and chooses to not respond, which only fed your ego.

the cycle continues for years, and with your luck you shared almost all of your classes with jake. the two of you were some of the smartest kids in your grade and shared the same advanced learning classes, with the exception of extracurriculars. the competition between you two never ended and neither did the unusual tension.

when you became debate team captain jake was furious, he worked equally as hard for that position but he was made co-captain for his efforts instead of the real deal. he never complained publicly though, instead he tried to outshine you during weekly meetings. being extra nice to the members and trying to come up with better ideas and solutions to make you look bad.

you're still captain, so clearly he's not doing a good enough job.

you tried to avoid jake when you could, you saw him as competition and an enemy, that's it. well, that's what you tried to convince yourself. there was an undeniable attraction that you felt towards jake, and it made you want to kill yourself. fortunately for you, you were able to look past it and come to terms that you found him attractive and justify that his personality made him ugly.

however, jake didn't try to avoid you back. instead he seemed to 'run into you' and random times and ruin your day. at one point you were convinced that he was following you because of how often he would be at the same place at the same time as you.

many of your friends and fellow classmates thought of you and jake as an elderly couple that bickered amongst each other. the thought of dating jake alone made you gag and you tried to shut down their theories of sexual tension between the two of you right away. that however, didn't work and the theories continue.

"i swear, you two just need to fuck," jiya sighed as she slumps against her pillows.

all four of you had decided to go to jiya's house after school, it had been so long since you all had hung out like a normal group of teens.

you choke on your drink, "fucks no," you look at her with wide eyes, shocked she would even say that.

jiya grins, she props herself up on her elbow to stare at you, "you know you feel the tension, because i sure as hell do. so do yoora and hana, hell, everyone at school does," she exclaims frustratedly, mad that her friend won't just take her advice.

you roll your eyes, "the only tension i feel that he's involved in is scoring higher than him academically, which i've been failing at recently," you respond with a groan.

finals were only 2 months away and if you wanted to pass with flying colours you needed to take up jake's offer.

"what if he's agreeing to tutor you because he wants to sabotage you," hana theorizes, gasping at her idea as she stares at you with her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised.

"i don't think he's the type to sabotage, he likes the competition and he likes to win fair and square from what i've seen," interjects yoora.

she had a point, jake had never played dirty. sure he was a dick, but he never tried to sabotage you. you were away for a week once due to a cold and jake had willingly given you his notes for that weeks lectures.

that only makes you wonder..

what is that twink up to?

you were confused by the entire interaction that took place in the lunch hall earlier, it wasn't odd for jake to be in your personal space, he did that a lot. however, the 'pretty' he added to the end of his sentence was what was throwing you off. jake had described you in a multitude of ways, ugly, witch, hag, dumbass, toad, and the list continues. but never has he called you something positive, let alone pretty.

"i don't know what his game plan is, but the only way i'm going to find out is by going to classroom 103 tomorrow."

──── ୨୧ ────

and that's how you find yourself outside classroom 103, your hands clutching the straps of your backpack as your nervously open the door.

you peer up making there wasn't a bucket full of liquid perched at the top that would fall onto you when you open the door fully. seeing that nothing was there you open the door and walk inside, seeing jake by the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

his back facing you, you could see how well his clothes hugged his shape and you couldn't help but admire.

he was wearing his uniform this time, his white dress shirt was crisp and free of any wrinkles and tucked into the waistband of his pants. his sleeves were rolled up so his forearms were exposed, you felt your mouth water slightly as you saw the veins from his arms lead to his large hands.

"are you going to keep staring like a perv or sit down?" and the moments ruined.

you roll your eyes and walk up to him, slamming your backpack down onto the desk before folding your arms across your chest, "what's your game plan here, shitface?" you spit out.

jake chuckles, finding your attitude and actions cute. you thought you were intimidating but in reality jake allowed you to believe that you were in charge, it was the least he could do before he showed you who was really in control.

jake moves away from the whiteboard before leaning against the teachers desk that sat in front of the board with his arms in front of him, holding him up.

"game plan? what are you talking about __?" jake asks innocently, looking down at you with a pout.

you roll your eyes again, "listen, i'm not in the mood for this back and fourth thing you love doing okay? are you going to tutor me? yes or no?"

jake grins, moving away from the desk and walking up to you, similar to how a predator stalks up to his prey. you give him a dirty look when he stands in front of you, staring down at you.

"of course i'm going to tutor you __, it's the least i could do to help my fellow classmate," he coos mockingly.

"roll your eyes again and watch," he threatens, seeing your expression shift again. your heart stutters in your chest at his tone, a soft flush coating your cheeks.

he knew you to well.

you scoff, "cut the bullshit, i know you have an ulterior motive to this 'i'm a good person' persona you have playing right now. spit it out, what do you want in return?"

his grin widens, "if only you used your brain to pay attention and get good grades rather that theorizing about my 'ulterior motives'. maybe then you wouldn't be in this position," he snarks back, his face leaning closer to yours. you take a step back but he takes two closer to you.

if you hadn't known jake and were someone else you would've thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you right now with the way his breathe fanned against your cheek. he was to close, but this was just how jake was. always in your face and business.

"maybe if you weren't a little shit who didn't have dick up his ass every second of the day i wouldn't be aiming for your crotch right now with my knee," you spit back, your knee bent up and close to his crotch area.

jake rolls his eyes, taking a step back as a precaution in case you do decide to knee him where it matters.

"so? what do you want in return. don't say that fake shit you're scheming up in your head about how you're just a good person and care for all your peers," you mock in what you think is a good impression of his voice.

he smirks, "all i want from you is to play a little game with me __."

you quirk your eyebrows in suspicion, "what game...?"

"simone says."

you burst into fits of laughter, your eyes watering with amusement as you look at him incredulously, "what are you? 7? get a grip jake," you snicker, leaning against the deck for support as your body still shakes with silent fits of laughter.

"7 inches deep in your mom," he lamely mutters which only makes your body shake harder with amusement.

jake's expression remains the same, "suit yourself, you either agree to the game or you find someone else to tutor you. but you and i both know that no one is going to help re-teach you the way i can."

he wasn't wrong, you and jake regardless of your differences, learned the same way. his notes were thoroughly detailed and you had seen him help out peers before, he was patient and made sure that at the end of the lesson they grasped the concept well.

when you don't say anything he continues, "i miss the competition between us you know? seeing your grades plummet to shit wasn't as satisfying as i thought it would be," he admits as he inspects the classrooms surroundings, almost embarrassed at his own confession.

shocked at the sudden confession you look up at him with a teasing smirk, "how cute jakey."

he groans, "fuck this, i'm out," he makes a move for the door before you grab his wrist.

"okay, okay sorry. i'll play your dumb game, just tutor me shitface," you mumble looking anywhere but him.

jake smirks, the threatening to leave ploy always works.

you had not idea what you were in for.

jake was going to tutor you, there were no lies there. however, he deserved to get a little something out of it.. right?

the game was a mere excuse to him. years of back and fourth had gotten him no where and that had to change, and it had to change soon. who knows were the both of them would end up after graduation, he had to lock you in.

"we start after school today, meet me at the library right after the bell," he says before he quickly struts to the door, leaving you in the classroom by yourself before you even had a chance to protest.

then what was the purpose of this entire meeting? you could've just seen him after school to begin with.

dickhead.

──── ୨୧ ────

"no, no, no that's all wrong," jake sighs as he pulls the notebook from your hands and flips to a different page.

he was beginning to get on your nerves and you had to hold yourself back from slamming your fist into his face.

"well maybe if you teach me from the beginning instead of handing me questions to answer i'll do it correctly," you scoff.

"i need to know where you are in your comprehension to be able to teach you the proper material, you toad. that's why i'm giving you practice questions, which your eating shit at, so clearly i'm going to have to start from the beginning," he snaps back ,rubbing his eyebrows that had tensed up.

you could feel your mouth water slightly at the sight of his hands, long and veiny which looked sinfully good every time he held something. drooling over your academic rival and overall enemy wasn't something that you'd publicly admit, ever. not even to your friends who had their own suspicions of the two of you.

'sexual tension' they said.

"lets start from the beginning of the semester, unless you need i need to revise basic algebra for you too?" he mocked, his upper lip curling up in a sneer.

you give him a sickly sweet smile, you weren't that dumb you still remembered things you learned from previous years. new concepts were the issue for you, "hm, whatever you think is right mr.sim," you say in a mocking innocent tone, all while batting your eyes before turning your head so you're sure he's staring right at you.

jake swallows harshly at the honorific, his fists clenching before he sits up a bit straighter. clearing his throat he lets out a fake cough to distract you if you happened to notice his sudden mood change.

you hadn't noticed his change in behaviour, going back to staring at your textbook. you had forgotten about the situation as soon as your eyes landed on the question you were stuck on, ignoring the now tense boy that sat next to you.

to others you two seemed like a cute couple, studying together and occasionally bantering. the two of you sat closer together than you'd like, but you didn't bother moving away. your knees touching and occasionally rubbing against one another whenever jake decided to bounce his knee, which you had noticed over the last years was a habit of his when he was focused.

"i think you're smart enough to remember previous years of study, let's go over this again. this time from the beginning."

you had to admit, jake was a pretty good teacher. he made sure you understood every concept of the unit, asking you to re-explain them to him as proof. he was patient and kind with you, which you hadn't expected.

but now you were getting tired, peering up to see the time on a clock that was mounted neatly on the library walls it read 6:23. you had been studying for almost 3 hours.

"hey, maybe we should continue this tomorrow," you suggest before leaning back in your chair in an attempt to crack your back. your hands in the air lazily as you let out a soft yawn. wincing when you hear a crack, a soft moan leaving your parted lips.

jake's eyes widened at the sound momentarily, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips when he sees your position. your skirt rose up a fraction and your shirt shifted in a way that your stretching exposed a sliver of your pink bra strap and your collar bone.

jake scoffed in attempts of giving himself a reality check, looking up at the clock, "it's only been 3 hours, tired already?" he raises his eyebrow before cracking his knuckles, joining you by leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden library chairs. he could practically feel his butt bones hit the wood.

you look at him incredulously, choosing silence as a response before turning to grab your phone, checking your notifications.

this seemed to piss jake off, not only had you ignored him but now you had the audacity to go on your phone during his tutoring session that he so graciously offered you out of his free time.

"off your phone, __," he demands, now sitting up in his chair.

you ignore his warning tone, looking up from your phone lazily before scoffing, returning your eyes to your messages.

"__, i said something and i expect you to listen to me," he says again, this time his tone more annoyed than demanding.

"simone says, get off your phone," he tries.

you let out a giggle, looking up at him with amusement, there's no way he tried using that. "or what? huh? what happens if i don't listen to simone and what he says," you mock with a pout.

"i reconsider tutoring you, i'm making time out of my day to help you and you're being ungrateful and bratty. the least you could do is stay off your phone while we're studying and abide by my only condition, which was to play simone says," he spits passively.

jake wasn't an angry person, he was typically calm and collected and rarely ever raised his voice. but something about you irked him, every name you called him, every snarky response to his normal questions, every dirty look you gave him—all of it had him busting at his seems. his eyes would twitch with annoyance and his hands itched to take care of your bratty mouth, he of course, never acted on his thoughts.

but life seemed to work in strange ways, and unbeknownst to him he now had a chance to do what he's been itching to do.

"wow you must be so busy," you mock, your arms fake surrendering.

"i'm so sorry that i took precious time out of your day. time that you use to beat your dick to some sort of freak anime porn," you snicker, sure you kept your distance from him but you did some digging on the boy.

some say you're good with your hands, picking a lock with some pins was light work for you. you remember back in junior year jake had 'accidentally' taken your keys to the debate room, the keys that belonged to the debate team captain, you. you knew he was upset that you got captain instead of him and he had taken the keys out of jealousy.

at first you decided to let him keep them, out of pity, but what's the fun in that?

you did the most logical thing, you broke into his locker. while searching for the keys you came across a multitude of things, one of them being a small collection of interesting cartoons performing certain actions.

he was reading hentai. at school. no shame.

your hands shook with excitement when you saw the lewd comics, biting your lip to contain your giggles you flip the pages, quickly scanning the contents.

your eyes widened at the content, jake was into some kinky shit.

your mouth drops as you continue to snoop, giggling to yourself when you realize that you had hit the jackpot on blackmail.

pulling out your phone you took a few pictures of his locker and the porn books mr.goody two-shoes was hiding from the student body.

jake's eyes widen at your comment, how did you know?

seeing jake's reaction, your grin widens and you decide to test your luck, "didn't take you for a guy who liked bondage jakey," you giggle, biting your lip to hold back the booming laughter that threatened to leave your mouth.

"unless, it's you who's getting tied up.. i can see that," you tease before you begin to shake with laughter. you glance over in between fits of laughter to see jake's expression, which remained shocked, struggling to process the situation.

"but i'm not surprised, little bitch boys like you look like they enjoy being left helpless," you continue as you stare at his confused face.

you couldn't help but cross your legs to soothe the ache between your legs, the situation you were in and the power you held over jake's head had got you feeling some kind of way.

just when you thought you had control of the entire situation, perched on your little high horse and ready to prance around jake, his expression changed and he lets out a small laugh.

your grin drops, confused to why he found the situation amusing.

"you know __, i respect that you tried," he says, you could see his eyes water as he bit back a smile threatening to appear on his face.

"this, just made everything i'm going to do a lot easier," he continues before he finally lets the grin he's been holding back pop onto his oh-so perfect face.

you look at him confused, "are you into humiliation too, jakey? i never would've guessed."

his grin only widens, he suddenly stands up from his chair and slams his hands on the library desk.

luckily, the library had emptied out slowly in the last few hours and only a few students remained in the large spaced area.

"what are you do-" you began before the words were knocked out of you.

literally.

grabbing you by the back of your neck, jake pulls you up and pushes you face against the desk.

and suddenly you were regretting picking the most secluded section of the library.

"what the fuck are you doing?!" you try to say but the words come out as sloppy and squeaky due to one side of your face being glued to the desktop.

you hear his breathing get heavier but no reply comes from him.

suddenly, you hear rustling of his belt and a click, indicating that he was now taking it off.

instead of fear, excitement rushes through you and you squeeze your legs together in anticipation.

jake sees this and grins, "dirty bitch," he sneers before impatiently yanking his belt off, letting go of his grip on the back of your neck—quickly grabbing a hold of your arm.

you let out a small squeal when you feel him roughly tug your arms behind your back, securing your arms with his belt.

you let out a small hiss of complain when he tightens the belt a bit to tight to which he only chuckles in response.

his hands bury themselves in your hair, yanking it so your face is no longer against the table and instead the crown of your head was touching his chest.

you could feel him ground himself against your behind, your eyes widening when you feel him push against your ass.

"you see how you're bent over a desk with my belt tied around your wrists and left all helpless, not me?" he whispers harshly in your ear, his breath tickling your skin making a shiver run through your body.

you unconsciously push yourself further back into him, a low groan leaving his parted lips.

"beats me, your the one that got hard from me degrading you, bitchboy," you snicker, wiggling your hips against him, finding the whole situation slightly amusing. you were really pushing it and you'd soon realize it.

your laughter dies down when you feel one of jake's hand slither down to your legs, softly running his fingertips along the plush of your thighs and nearing your crotch.

you shut your eyes when you feel his fingers graze against your underwear clad heat. a soft moan escaping your parted lips when he presses firmly against your clit, moving his finger up and down.

"and what about you, __? you've already soaked through your panties. and i've barely even touched you," he teases with a coo. you could feel him smirk against your ear, his fingers still running up and down your slit making your legs shake at the pressure of his actions.

when you don't answer he grips your hair harder and makes the pressure between your legs firmer, "are you not embarrassed, __?" he asks, his grip on your hair disappears and you fall back onto the desk with a soft thud.

"you're allowing yourself to be bent over the counter by someone who you swear up and down you hate," he continues, now pulling his hand away from your cunt making you whimper at the loss of feeling.

he smirks, "but i have a feeling, that you don't really hate me."

you look back at him before pulling your face into a sneer, "fuck yo-" you began but before you could finish a loud smack silenced you.

your skirt was flipped up and jake had made his hand comfortable on one of your ass cheeks. "you wanna try that again?" he asks, his eyebrow raised as his tongue pokes his cheek.

you were no one to back away from a challenge, "i said fu-"

smack!

"say sorry," he commands before landing another hard smack. you shake your head, biting your lip so hard that you swore you could taste blood. seeing you shake your head, he only grins, "suit yourself."

he landed hit after hit, smack after smack until you were sobbing and babbling over your own words. as much as it hurt your pride to apologize, you would have to or you'd drown in your own tears.

"i-i'm sorry," you manage to push out, you laid your head on the desk waiting for jake to say something.

"that's my good girl," he coos softly, his hand now massaging your bruised cheeks. you let out a small whimper at the feeling, you were sure that you wouldn't be able to sit down properly for weeks.

a small choked sob escapes your mouth when he begins to kneed the sore spot a little to rough, "does that hurt angel?" he coos softly while places soft kisses down your clothed spine.

you nod shakily, "that's too bad, but i know a strong girl like you can take so much more."

and just like that you were pulled off of the desk and pushed down onto the floor, a hiss leaving your mouth when the rough carpet of the library scratches your knees.

"now, you're going to stay true to your part of the deal," he begins before stopping, admiring how helpless you looked as he stares down at your tear filled eyes and flushed pink cheeks. how he has imagined you in this exact position hundreds of thousands of times for so many years, and here you were in front of him just how he dreamed.

all those times he's fucked his fist to you when you made him angry, which was every single day. now, he was granted with the opportunity to fuck you and your mouth, and you best believe he was going to take full advantage of it.

his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks, rushing to pull them down and allowing them to drop down to his knees.

you're eyes widen momentarily when you see his bulge straining against the fabric of his dark grey boxers. you look up at him only to be met with a look of need and urgency, you would say that he looked cute if his dick hadn't hit your cheek when he pulled down his boxers.

"simone says, suck my dick."

you gulp, moving your head back slightly to get a good look of what you were working with only for jake to thread his fingers into your hair and force his dick into your mouth.

you immediately gag, your eyes watering as you struggle to adjust to his length. you hear him groan when his tip touches the back of your throat, the sound only motivating you to swallow around him.

"fuck,__. you look so good with my cock stuffed in your bratty mouth," he moans out, his hips now slowly moving in and out of your mouth as a mixture of your spit and his cum leak out of the side of your mouth.

you only moan in response to his harsh and unforgiving thrusts, the sounds vibrating against him.

"look at you, angel. so good for me, taking me so well. if i had known this is the best way to shut you up, i would've done this a long time ago," he grunts out, his hips stuttering when he feels your jaw slacken to take more of him on easier.

"hauling your bratty ass into the nearest room and fucking your throat raw, making you beg for my cock to stretch you out."

you moan at his words, your thighs squeezing together to try relieve the pressure and ache that was building between your legs. jake notices this and smirks, his leg moving to slide between your thighs.

your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion but before you could think more about it jake begins to snap his hips faster. tears run down your cheeks, if your makeup wasn't smudged earlier, it was surely gone now.

suddenly, you felt pressure against your core, and you knew it was jake. he was able to get you to sit yourself onto his shoe, giving you a look that read 'you know what to do', and you did.

as shameful as it was, in the moment you didn't care. you allowed yourself to grind yourself down on his shoe to get some sort of relief, hips snapping to chase your high which was approaching embarrassingly quick.

"you're such a good girl, __. grinding yourself down on my shoe, getting yourself off while you gag around my cock. so fucking dirty," he moans, his head tilting back as he feels his high approach quickly.

you attempt to bob your head but jake doesn't let you, his grip on your hair tightening as he holds your head still. "m'gnna cum, f-fuck," he stutters, his thrusts now getting sloppy.

he then suddenly pulls out from your mouth, you whine from the loss of his cock, he smirks before he begins to ride out his high with his fist. "open your mouth, stick your tongue out," he demands, panting as he desperately fucks his hand.

you couldn't help but admire the view, jake's face was contorted into one of pure pleasure and bliss.

"you look so eager for my cum, yeah? is that right, pretty girl?"

you do as you were told, peering up at him as you continue to grind yourself down on his shoe. "f-fuck, you look so pretty. m'gnna nut all over that pretty face, angel," he pants and just like that thick ropes of his cum coat your face and tongue.

you flinch at the feeling before you swallow what was on your tongue—licking your lips at the warm and slightly salty flavour. a whimper leaving you when jake moves his foot away just when you were about to reach your own high.

he smirks in response, using two of his fingers to tilt your chin to admire the mess he has made on your face. "so pretty, my pretty girl. you were so good for me, and you know what happens to good girls? good girls get rewarded." fortunately for jake, you were too cock drunk to properly comprehend what he was saying.

jake pulls you up, you struggle to stand as you wobble slightly but he grabs your arms as support. he admires you quickly before pulling you into a searing kiss, his hands resting on your waist before moving them up to cup your face.

"so beautiful," he says in between kisses, the words making you feel lightheaded. you didn't know if he meant those words or if he was saying them in the heat of the moment, regardless you basked in the praise.

his hands move to your back, fumbling with the belt that was wrapped around your wrists. you almost moan in relief when he removes his belt from your hands, letting them rest by your sides. however, jake doesn't let you relish in that feeling of relief for long before his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms and then onto the table.

you let out a small gasp when jake drops to his knees, spreading apart your thighs roughly before moving between them. he's face to face with your panty clad heat, your hands immediately move to try and cover yourself but jake was not having it. he pushes away your hands and instead grabs your thighs to pull you closer but you try to shut your legs before he could slot his face between them.

"simone says, spread your legs."

even if you didn't obey, he'd still make you. it was an illusion of choice.

you hesitantly relax, allowing jake to manoeuvre himself between your thighs so his nose brushed against your covered slit.

the sight was erotic, jake looked like he was in heaven when he saw the giant wet patch on your panties.

"you've made a mess, fuck angel," he groans before he's pushing your underwear to the side, his nose poking your clit before you feel his tongue on you.

you let out a squeak when you felt his fingers dig into your thighs as he leaves no part of you untouched with his tongue. he moans into you, the vibration of the sound making you squirm in pleasure.

using his ring and pointer finger, he spreads your lips to get a good look at you, "you're even better than i imagined," he murmurs softly which falls deaf to your ears before resuming his actions.

you tried to keep your moans down but had a hard time doing so when you felt his tongue draw the figure '8' on your clit repeatedly. "f-fuck jake, s'good," you slur out, your grip on his hair tightening.

your hands find there way into jake's dark locks, his eyes rolling back in pleasure when you tug on them. "who knew a slut like you tasted so good," he says but his words come out muffled and only added to your pleasure.

he grins against your sopping pussy, his actions getting firmer and faster when he feels your body quiver and your moans get increasingly louder.

you release jakes hair to cover your mouth in an attempt to silence your moans, however, he didn't like that. you're eyes roll back when you feel him push a digit into your soaking cunt, all while focusing on applying firm pressure to your clit with his tongue.

you could feel your high approaching quickly, which was expected due to your denied orgasm just a few minutes ago. you look down at him for a moment only to meet his eyes already staring right at you, the stare causing you to buck your hips against his mouth as you shamelessly chase your high.

"so pretty baby, so pretty when you grind your slutty pussy on me," he groans as he slurps you like a starving man. he could tell you were close, the look of pure pleasure and concentration on your face gave it away. the way your hips bucked against him drove him crazy, his dick straining against his boxers once again.

"m'gnna cum," you moan, your hands reaching down to grab a hold of jake's hair again—making him groan in pleasure. "please jakey, can i cum?��please let me cum," you whined, bucking your hips against him feverishly.

you could feel him nod and that was enough for you to let go. dropping your head back you let out low moan, eye rolling to the back of your head as you feel yourself come undone over jake's face and tongue. "that's it pretty," he says against you, his mouth still on you—helping you ride out your high.

still coming down for your orgasm you feel yourself being pushed to the edge of the desk, your legs hanging over momentarily before you felt them wrap around a torso.

jake leaves no moment to spare, his hands coming down to unbutton and yank off your shirt—letting it fall somewhere on the ground. a groan leaves his mouth when he sees your baby pink bra, hugging your tits so perfectly that he was jealous that his hands weren't doing that job.

"so pretty, __," he mumbles, pulling down your bra enough for your tits to spill out. his tongue comes out to wet his lips before he's bending over to take one of your pebbled nipples into your mouth.

soft moans slip out of your mouth when he alternates between both of your breasts, taking one into his mouth while he fondles the other one with his hand. your breath hitches when you feel jake grind into your exposed core, his hand coming down to let his cock slip out of his boxers so he could slide his dick against your folds.

"so wet for me," he groans, popping one of your nipples out of his mouth to stare at your face. saying you looked fucked out was an understatement, hair was messy and your makeup was completely gone. but jake thought you looked as beautiful as ever.

"jakey, please," you beg, moving your hips to try and catch his cock. jake grins, "look at you, __. begging for my dick, begging for the dick of someone you hate."

you hated how smug he looked, and all you wanted to do was bitch back at him and show him his real place. however, you wanted his dick in you more.

jake moves back, towering over your frame before he taps the fat head of his cock against your puffy folds. a hiss leaving his mouth when he watches your hole tighten over nothing.

"i've been waiting to do this for so long, __. you don't even know it," he says before he's plunging into you, not letting you think to much about what he said.

gripping your thighs tightly, he bottoms out completely, leaving your mouth hanging in an 'o' shape while jake lets out smalls grunts—feeling your walls flutter around his length.

"so big," you moan, your hands reaching out to grip jake's shirt as he snaps his hips into you ruthlessly.

jake feels as if he's about to combust, after years of back and fourth, countless arguments and rivalry— he was buried deep inside you. this was exactly what he wanted from the beginning, but teenage jake didn't know how to articulate his feelings and made his crush think of him as an enemy rather than a love interest.

he watches your tits bounce with every stroke, mesmerized by the sight. he could get used to this, and he will.

"so good for me, pretty. taking my cock s'well," jake slurs, the sound of skin slapping filling the library. he was surprised that no one had caught them yet, but he wouldn't stop even if they were.

you feel the table move with every thrust, your back arching as you claw at him at the feeling of being so full. the wet sounds you were making when jake began to rub circles on your aching clit made you moan out.

never in a million years would you have thought you'd be in this position, sure, jake was a star in some of your dirty fantasies but you'd never act on it. to think the nerd knew how to fuck, you were a bit surprised at how fast his hips moved and how he pounded into you ruthlessly.

"look at you, taking me so w-well," jake groans, his balls tightening as he feels himself approaching his high quickly. he begins to rub your clit firmer as his pace quickens and strokes get deeper, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock in your dripping wet cunt.

he could feel you tighten around him and he knew you were close as well. his hand comes to wrap around your neck, pulling you up from the desk so your face to face with him—his thrusts not slowing down.

"fuck look at you pretty, all ready for my cum," he murmurs before he pulls you in for a scorching kiss—swallowing your moans.

"you gonna cum, pretty?" he asks as he feels his stomach tighten with every stroke, watching you bite your lip as you try to match his thrusts. you nod frantically at his words, "m'gonna cum, jakey. please make me cum," you beg softly as you hold onto his shoulders for support.

"yeah? gonna cum? cum for me, pretty," he mumbles against your lips before he lands a smack against your throbbing clit. your body shakes as you come undone, jake's high following soon after. you could feel his hot cum shoot into you, the feeling leaving you breathless as he continues to fuck into you—making sure you milked him dry.

he pulls out of you gently, cursing when he watches his cum fall out of your fucked out cunt and onto the desk. "did so good for me, pretty."

you lay limply on the desk, your body twitching ever so slightly as you come down from your high—still in shock of what happened.

before your had a chance to gather yourself and ask the question: what now? he beats you to it.

"simone says, go out with me."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here !

#enhypen #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake smut #jaysbaefie #smut #kpop #sim jaehyun x reader #highschool rivals #enemies to lovers #e2l #enha scenarios

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zentraex · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman.

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday.

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake.

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account.

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains.

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

"No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened.

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him.

"The keys?"

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him.

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes.

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know."

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.

What were you going to do now?

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped.

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer!

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks.

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall.

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors.

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger?

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance:

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window.

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles.

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles.

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.?

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye.

Shit.

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down.

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol?

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they?

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again.

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear.

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen.

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away.

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call.

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone.

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name.

You pressed the green button.

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear.

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him.

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning.

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you.

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore. I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him.

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day.

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that.

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened.

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special.

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black.

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes.

But honestly?

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #x gn reader #x you #x y/n #yandere #milkman #milkman x reader #that's not my neighbor x reader #yandere francis mosses #yandere milkman

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jellyfishmoon72 · 2 years ago

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#only two moms have ever apologized in the history of my writing and only one of them was actually worth listening to #shoutout to judy felicity. the mvp. the goat. the result of me going 'what if i wrote the mom i wish i had?'#when u don't wanna be a mom but the man u think u love wants kids so u agree to have one #and then said man gets mad that the kid didn't turn out 'normal' so he ignores them and demands more until one 'comes out right'#and u sit back and look at ur life and go 'hang on... i don't love this asshole at all wtf am i doing'#so u spike his drink and run off with ur kid in the dead of night #and vow to treat them with all the love and respect u wish ur parents had given u growing up #and u watch them grow and learn and while u still wish u never had them some days #u can't deny that it's been a joy to get to know them and ur glad they're in the world now #nooch I'm emo i love her 😭#anyways #i should write moms like her more often it's way more satisfying and a lot less depressing #lesson learned for next time

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harunayuuka2060 · 2 months ago

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MC (?): Here are your keys. Please remember to always lock your door and avoid leaving your room unlocked.

Kalim: ...

Kalim: MC? How are you feeling?

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I hope everyone has a good rest. I’ll see you all tomorrow. *turns around and left*

Kalim: ...

Vil: Kalim, it's best not to get overly friendly with Potato's doppelganger.

Kalim: But... They tried to warn us...

Riddle: I would have to agree with Kalim here. While I don’t fully trust them, it’s still better to have someone we can gather information from.

Azul: That is... if they're not being restricted.

Malleus, Leona, and Idia: ...

Idia: By the way, aren’t we all staying in the same room? Why does everyone need a key?

Leona: I know.

Malleus: The doppelgangers... they aren’t carrying any keys.

Leona: These keys serve as our identification.

Leona: So you better not lose it.

Vil: You should tell that yourself, Leona.

Leona: Hmph.

Malleus (?): Precious, you've disobeyed the order again.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I’m allowed to... provide clues. It’s entirely up to our guests whether they understand them or not.

Malleus (?): *chuckles*

MC (?): ...

Malleus (?): Are you still hoping to leave this place?

MC (?): No. This is where I belong.

Malleus (?): *smiles in satisfaction* That's right. *hugs them gently*

Malleus (?): Everything that you hold dearly is here.

MC (?): But those people—

Malleus (?): They can leave, of course—after the hunt.

MC (?): ...

Malleus (?): *chuckles*

The dorm leaders: *none of them could sleep*

Leona: Grr... I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched from somewhere.

Vil: That shouldn't be a surprise.

Riddle: Azul, what are you doing?

Azul: Checking if the door is locked properly.

Idia: Azul, you're being paranoid.

Azul: We are in a dangerous place. What do you want me to do?

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Al Asim, are you still thinking about that person?

Kalim: They look so sad... I feel bad for them...

Malleus: ...

Malleus: You only feel that way because they bear the face of the child of man.

Kalim: ...

Jamil (?): What are you doing here?

MC (?): I'm here to ask for a favor.

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): Aren't you getting tired?

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I've already given up, but I don't want any more people to experience the same thing.

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): Do you think I possess the same kindness as you do?

MC (?): You helped me once.

Jamil (?): And it failed.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): Jamil, are you...

Jamil (?): Yes. I will be executed soon.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): I am sorry.

Jamil (?): Well, it's a blessing to me. I'm tired of this life.

MC (?): ...

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): I dug a tunnel. None of the higher-ups know. You should look for it, but be extremely discreet.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): *smiles in gratitude* Thank you.

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): So you can still smile... It's a pity you haven't lost it yet.

MC (?): *covers their mouth*

Jamil (?): ...

Jamil (?): You would've been lucky if you had never arrived at this place.

MC (?): ...

Kalim (?): *has killed Jamil (?) in front of them*

Kalim (?): Hm~? I thought Jamil was your precious friend. Was I wrong?

MC (?): *stares blankly*

Kalim (?): *giggles* This is a bit disappointing. I wanted to see you cry.

MC (?): *bows their head* My apologies.

Riddle (?): You're bullying them again. Don't you get tired?

Kalim (?): Nope! And don't you try to act concerned, Riddle. You enjoyed their tears too.

Riddle (?): ...

Riddle (?): Yes, but now, they can't even shed a single tear.

MC (?): ...

Kalim (?): Ah, MC~ Clean this mess. *points at Jamil's (?) lifeless body*

MC (?): ...

Kalim (?): Answer.

MC (?): ...

MC (?): Yes.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst dorm leaders #twst jamil #twst school of psychopaths

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ladysharmaa · 11 months ago

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Kate mini version

Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma x Sharma!sis

Summary: Y/n adapted to the Bridgerton family dynamic. However, she remains a little fearful and shy. Could the arrival of a prince change that?

part 1 part 2 part 3

Ever since Kate and Anthony assured Y/n that they wanted her to live with them, things had gotten better. The girl felt more comfortable with them, and appreciated the effort the couple made to show that she was always welcome. Riding horses for the three of them was an almost regular activity now, and these afternoons were Y/n's favorite.

Anthony had given her a beautiful black mare, which she insisted on learning to wash and comb, even though there were servants for that purpose. The man then spent the rest of the month teaching her how to ride, and this was something that brought her very close to Anthony, who she now considered like a brother.

The truth was, living with her older sister and her husband was wonderful. There was never a dull moment and she always had someone to talk to. Furthermore, the relationship between her and Kate was the strongest, and they were more inseparable than ever. Y/n's mother had agreed that her daughter would stay at Viscount's house for a while and thus extended her stay in India.

However, even though she was comfortable in that smaller core, she still felt shy around Anthony's siblings. She loved them all, and they always treated her equally, but in the back of her head there was always that thought that she was intruding.

Now, the Bridgerton family plus Y/n were on their way to the park to have a picnic. The season was starting again and suitors from all over the world were arriving to try to find someone. On the way there, Y/n entertained herself by listening to Eloise's grumbling that she would be entering the season again, even if the last thing she wanted was to find a husband.

Bridgerton had made a point of giving Y/n her feminist speech, and despite the eye rolls she received from some of her siblings, Y/n agreed with everything she said. However, she always wanted to be married to a man who truly loved her, and that wasn't going to change.

It was a sunny day, perfect for staying right by the lake and enjoying the delicious food that the maids had prepared. Anthony and Kate were in their own world, whispering to each other with gigantic smiles, Benedict and Collin were appreciating the ladies passing by, and Eloise was reading her book while Violet had met Lady Danbury and the two were chatting animatedly. Daphne and Simon hadn't arrived with their son yet, but Y/n couldn't wait to play with the baby again.

Meanwhile, she, Hyacinth, Gregory and Francesca were walking around the lake, picking up rocks and seeing who could throw them the furthest. Probably not the most etiquette thing they could do, but Violet and Anthony hadn't stopped them yet so they continued.

"I'm starting to get tired." Y/n grumbled, rolling the shoulder of her arm that was starting to feel sore from throwing so many rocks. "I think I'll sit down and get some sun."

"We'll be right there and keep you company then. I just need to beat Gregory first!" Hyacinth promised.

Y/n smiled towards the three, then heading towards the lawn where the others were. She momentarily looked down, seeing that she had gotten a little dirty on her dress when she went up against someone. The force of the impact had been so great that she lost her balance and began to fall backwards. However, this never happened because someone managed to grab her arms and pull her up again.

When she opened her eyes, having closed them in preparation for the fall, she saw a young man, around her age, looking worriedly at her. "Are you alright? My apologies, Miss, I was distracted and didn't see you."

"I'm okay." she said a little breathlessly. Their proximity didn't help either. "I'm the one who apologizes. I should be looking ahead instead of at my dress."

"It is a beautiful dress." he said, taking the opportunity to look her up and down, letting a small smile form on his lips. Y/n's cheeks immediately started to turn pinker. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"

"Sharma." Y/n smiled. "I'm sorry, I don't recall who you are."

"Prince Charles, the youngest son of Queen Charlotte and King George." he chuckled when he saw Y/n's wide eyes, who quickly made a small bow. "Please, that's not necessary. On top of that, I was the one who almost made you fall to the ground."

"My apologies, Prince Charles. I returned from India only a few months ago and it seems that I still don't know everything I should know. This mistake will not be repeated."

"It wasn't anything serious. To be honest, I'm actually glad you didn't immediately know who I was. I went against you because I was running away from an Earl's daughters who were begging me to marry them." A silence fell over them. "Who are you here with?"

"My sister and her husband's family. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and Viscountess Kate Bridgerton." Y/n looked over his shoulder, seeing Anthony staring in her direction, more specifically at the Prince. He was about to get up when Kate pulled him down again, sending Y/n a smile and a wink. "They're looking at us right now."

"Of course, I know who they are. My mother loved the love story between them. Since then, she has only told my older siblings that she wants them to have something like that too. But they are not very interested in getting married, much to the Queen's disappointment."

Y/n just let out a small chuckle in response, not really knowing what to say. The proximity to the prince was becoming increasingly intimidating, and it didn't help that the entire Bridgerton family had noticed that interaction and were now observing discreetly.

"I apologize, Prince Charles, but I must return to my sister's family. We came to take advantage of this beautiful day to have a picnic."

"Of course, Miss Sharma. I hope to see you again soon." he nodded with his hands clasped behind his back. With a smile, he went back on his way while Y/n walked over to where Kate and Anthony were, her cheeks painted a light pink.

"What were you talking about?" Anthony questioned without being able to control himself any longer, his half-closed eyes still focused on the back of the boy walking in the distance.

Kate rolled her eyes at Anthony's exaggerated protectiveness, but the truth is that her heart started to beat faster when she saw how Anthony had so much care and affection for Y/n. It made her imagine how protective he would be of their daughters.

"Don't pay attention to Anthony, Y/n. The prince seemed very interested in talking to you. You should have gone for a walk together."

"Sister!" the younger girl exclaimed with wide eyes, becoming even more embarrassed. "He was just apologizing for going against me."

"That boy, prince or not, should look where he is going! Irresponsible, that's what he is!" Anthony continued to mumble, ignoring the look his wife sent him.

"Well, I am delighted that you made a new friend, Y/n. Now come sit with us for a while and drink some water, it's very hot."

"You're getting worse than mother." Y/n rolled her eyes in amusement. She added with a wink, "I guess it's a good training for the future."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"I do not want to go." Y/n stated, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Sister, we've already had this conversation." Kate repeated for the thousandth time, but still with the same patience as the first time. The older woman sighed, looking understandingly at her sister who was looking at the floor with a pout. "What are you really afraid of? It's your first ball, it's normal for you to be nervous."

Y/n was going to be subject to the season for the first time, where she could meet her future husband. Despite all the nerves she felt, she was happy to have Kate, Anthony, and the rest of the Bridgerton family with her. Furthermore, she would be in the same situation as Francesca, except that the latter had been named diamond of the season.

"How's mother and Edwina?" Y/n tried to change the subject, instead asking about the two other Sharmas who were in Prussia. Edwina was pregnant with her first child with Prince Friedrich and Mary had gone there, after a brief stop in England, to support Edwina.

"Y/n, don't change the subject. You can talk to me."

"What if no one asks me to dance, Kate?" Y/n finally revealed her fears shyly. She spoke so quietly that Kate had to strain to understand her words, but when she did her eyebrows furrowed in sadness. "You and Anthony took me in, what if now no one asks me to dance and I make you look bad?"

"First of all, you could never make us look bad and we would never be disappointed in you. I even think Anthony's biggest dream would be if you and Francesca didn't dance with anyone." Kate chuckled knowing how protective her husband was. "And I don't want you to be forced to dance with anyone. You can say no if someone invites you to dance and you don't want to. And if anything happens, call Anthony or his brothers."

"I will." the girl nodded, seeing her sister's serious look. "I hope everything goes well."

"Of course it will! And you won't be alone, we'll all be there in case you need anything. And who knows, maybe you'll see a certain prince. I heard the queen is going to make him participate in this season."

Y/n didn't respond to the teasing, she just continued to get ready with the help of the maids. When Anthony called them from downstairs, the two sisters hurried to meet him, seeing that the rest of the family was already there with the exception of Francesca.

When they saw her, a big smile appeared on everyone's faces, Violet going to give her a hug as soon as she reached the end of the stairs and Daphne holding her hand. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." she smiled at the women, and was later praised by Eloise, and the Bridgerton brothers.

Then, it was Francesca's turn to go down the stairs, catching their attention. After the compliments she received, the girl stood next to Y/n, the two holding hands as they walked to the carriages waiting for them.

"You look very beautiful, diamond of the season." Y/n said with a teasing smile, squeezing her hand in Francesca's in comfort.

"You do as well, Princess Sharma." Francesca giggled. To relieve the tension, the girl looked straight ahead at Anthony who was helping Kate into the carriage, his forehead dripping with sweat as he looked discreetly at the two teenagers. "I think my brother is going to pass out from how nervous he looks."

"Tonight promises to be quite interesting. At least he has my sister to control him a little, or I think he would be glaring at every suitor in the room, even if they didn't even want anything to do with us."

When they arrived at the Queen's castle, they were both amazed by the place. An orchestra played in the middle while some couples were already dancing, the space decorated with various details and chandeliers lighting up the room. When the Bridgerton family entered, everyone stopped to observe the diamond of the season, who was still clinging to Y/n.

To give her the focus of attention, Y/n tried to move away but Francesca just grabbed her hand tighter, sending her a look of fear. The Sharma girl nodded in understanding, then stood on Francesca's side, also being subjected to the curious looks of other people.

"Come on, girls." Anthony said, guiding the family to a corner while everyone analyzed the environment. He then turned to his two friends, who in his eyes were too young to be thinking about suitors, but he knew that this was the right age. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, go to one of us. We'll always be here to make sure you're okay. Now, all of you split up and socialize."

"They already look so nervous and you're going to scare them even more with your nerves." Benedict placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Relax, brother. Go dance with your wife, we are also here to take care of them."

"I know." Anthony sighed, running a hand over his face. His tense muscles only relaxed when he felt Kate's hand caress his arm as she smiled understandingly. "Shall we dance, Viscountess Bridgerton?"

"We shall." she giggled, letting her husband guide her to the center of the room.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched the people at the ball nervously and curiously. They were all dressed to the nines, with the best fabrics and jewelry that showed the families' wealth and status. The Sharma smiled slightly when she noticed a girl being asked by a suitor. It was obvious that they were both nervous, but when he finally managed to ask the question, the girl blushed and accepted with a big smile.

Y/n sighed, turning her attention elsewhere. Her heart was beating heavily against her chest, wondering if she was going to experience the same situation as that girl.

A light touch on her shoulder made her snap out of her thoughts. Y/n turned to the side, her eyes widening when she saw Prince Charles standing there, both hands behind his back and a perfect smirk on his lips.

"Miss Sharma, what a pleasure to see you again."

"Prince Charles." she greeted, making a small bow. "This time I haven't forgotten my manners."

"I must say you look beautiful tonight." he praised, gently taking one of her delicate hands and bringing it to his lips, lightly kissing her skin. Y/n's cheeks immediately flushed, getting worse when she realized that they were attracting the attention of others. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Very much, thank you. The orchestra plays beautifully. It's lovely to see so many people dancing, especially my sister and Viscount Bridgerton. I have never seen them happier."

"Indeed. We could dance too… If you would like to, of course." Y/n didn't think she had ever seen the boy being shy, but she had to admit that it was really cute to see him like that.

"Are you sure? Many people are already looking at us… Including the Queen." she whispered the last part with a look of fear. "Are you supposed to find a lady to marry this year?"

"My mother hopes so, but she doesn't pressure me into anything. Right now, I just want to dance with you. Please? Don't pay attention to anyone else, just focus on me."

Y/n swallowed hard, but nodded, resting her hand on the arm Charles offered. The two walked to the dance floor as soon as the song ended, preparing for a new melody. The Sharma girl held her breath when she felt the boy's hand position itself on her waist, pulling her closer, while the other intertwined with hers.

The music started slowly and Y/n let the prince lead her, too nervous to even remember the choreography she had already practiced several times before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kate and Anthony looking at them as they danced, giving nods of encouragement but still keeping their attention on them.

The rest of the people looked in shock, seeing the youngest son of the Queen and the King dancing with the sister of Viscountess Bridgerton who had caused a lot of talk last season. The Queen was also watching them, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"You're not just focusing on me." Charles hummed, squeezing her waist to show she was just joking. "And on top of that I'm a great dancer."

"My apologies. But I can't agree with the last part. I think —" but she couldn't finish her sentence as Charles picked her up and twirled her around several times until her laughter could be heard above the music.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he laughed teasingly, loving the blush on her cheeks. He wanted to make her blush all the time, he loved the effect he had on the girl who was constantly on his mind since that day in the park.

"Prince Charles, this will certainly not be seen very well by other people. They are all whispering about us now! More than they already were."

"Call me Charles." He said, ignoring the rest of what Y/n said. His eyes were intense, studying the girl's face and stopping on her lips before moving up to her eyes.

"No."

"No?" he raised his eyebrows, as if he wasn't expecting that answer. Y/n stepped away from him, making a small bow. And only then did he realize that the song had already ended.

"I really enjoyed this dance, thank you. I hope to meet you again. We keep crossing paths so who knows?" she smiled, turning her back and walking towards Francesca who was alone in the corner, a drink in her hand.

Prince Charles definitely wanted to see Y/n Sharma again, his gaze following the girl's movements as if in a trance. Surely him standing in the middle of the dance floor looking at Y/n would be the main topic in the paper of Lady Whistledown.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #collin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #eloise bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #kate sharma x reader #kate sharma

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lavenders388 · 3 months ago

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HII!!

could we please get some kang dae ho x reader??

something where he’s a bit of his usual himbo self and the reader is maybe a bit airheaded— something about two people being in love with one another while the world around them is burning is amazing.

~Flowers in December~

<3 Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

authors note: i am amazed by the amount of requests and also so flattered!! I am so happy to get back into writing not only for myself but to be able to make other people happy to see their ideas come to life!! i apologize if this has some flaws i cant wait to get more practice in and promise the next will be better!! feedback is always appreciated! thank you all so much!!<3 -matcha

~~~~~~~~~~~⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆~~~~~~~~~~~

...

~takes place during the second night~

"we should all take turns keeping watch over the group" player 456 urged as the warning for lights out echoed throughout the room, the rest of the group silently agreeing- trusting the man who claimed to have been in one of the previous games, leaving as the sole survivor. you were, as were many others, reluctant to believe that he had done all of this before, but after his help in the first game and joining his team for the second, you grew to trust him; and the other members of your group. the man that had been assigned your partner for keeping watch was coincidentally a member you were drawn to specifically- at first because he was close to your age, his boyish face making you feel a little less scared and alone in the second game, and eventually you appreciated his outward personality and kindhearted confidence, a stark contrast to the situation you both were in. as you sat together, although trying to protect your group from whatever could happen in the dark room, you felt even safer. "how in the world did you pull that off?" you broke the silence with a whisper, referring to him playing gonggi in the previous game. "my hands were shaking so badly i could barely even hold my ddakji." he laughs, a bit louder than he should have given the people sleeping, but it made you smile. "i told you all i played with my sisters!" he chuckles. "you said you know how to do it yeah," you retorted, stifling a giggle at him being unaware of the compliment. "you didn't tell us you were amazing at it, that was a surprise." he turns away, embarrassed of how deeply your compliment made him grin and scared you'd see him blushing even in the dark. "thank you y/n." he says bashfully as he regains his composure. the silence returns; the reality of where you're both having this conversation threatening to creep back in. his gaze softens as he turns to you again, "you did really well with your ddakji you know, doing it the first try is really impressive, especially given the circumstances." you smile, a toothy grin as not only are you proud of yourself but you appreciate the compliment; especially from him. the kind, authentic way he states how good you did has you unable to find a response. "t-thank you" you say, blushing and still smiling. "it helped that nobody was there, i get nervous when people are watching me." his demeanor changes. he nervously runs his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry if i made you nervous, y/n" he says sincerely. your confusion shows on your face until you realize what he means. "oh no don't worry! i meant the crowd, like how everybody was cheering for the other teams! i didn't want them all to see if i messed up. you watching me helped actually. it made me less nervous." the silence returns; comfortingly. you've forgotten where you are, you've forgotten what would have happened if you'd messed up, all that's on your mind is the man sitting next to you. when you look back he's staring at you. smiling. "thank you for being on my team." you say to him as he turns away, trying to hide how long he was looking at you. you've never seen him speechless before. "if we work together nothing can stand in our way." he said to you just as he said to jung bae before the game. "i am truly honored you feel that way." you half-joke. "what are your plans for tomorrow?" you ask as if youre speaking to him in a normal situation. "oh wait im sorry!" you laugh. "well i bet they're the same as mine then!" you joke about your forgetfulness as well as making light of where you find yourself. like hes done for you, he also had forgotten the events of the day and what followed tomorrow. the two of you talking made him feel as though he was living a good, normal day. it was greatly appreciated by him, your bubbly nature being a moment of solace.

a/n if this is buns at all please lmk what i can do better!!! ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#squid game x reader #dae ho #dae ho x reader #player 388 x reader #kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #squid game #squid game season 2

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starlightguh · 6 months ago

Text

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

#love and deepspace #lads smut #love and deepspace sylus #lads fanfic #lads x reader #sylus x reader #sylus #sylus fanfic #sylus x mc #sylus smut #grasslands Sylus #jealous sylus

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alisonwritesimagines · 6 days ago

Text

Grounded ~Batman Imagine~

Summary: Bruce is grounded.

Author's Note: I had this in a draft so I figured I should publish it.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader's Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: none

Do not repost this anywhere!

It wasn’t unusual for Batman not to be at the Justice League headquarters. But it was also usual for him to be there when the team needed him there. And he would always be on time unless he stated otherwise.

So when they called him and asked him to meet them at the headquarters, the league grew suspicious when he didn't show up or explain he was running late.

“Where is he?” Superman asked as he stared at the door.

“Wow! For once, the Batman is late!” Flash called out with a gasp.

“I’m sure he has a good reason,” Wonder Woman mentioned.

Two hours had passed and nothing.

“We should check on him,” Superman said.

“Agreed,” Wonder Woman nodded.

Barry, Diana, and Clark rushed over to the Batcave to see if he was still here while the rest stayed behind. To their surprise, they only saw Alfred cleaning.

“Hello. How May I help you?” Alfred greeted.

“Where’s Bruce?”

“I’m sorry to say but Master Bruce is currently grounded at the moment,” Alfred said, trying to hide his smirk.

“I’m sorry. Grounded?” Clark asked with confusion.

“He and the children had deeply upset Ms. Y/n so she grounded all of them,” Alfred said.

“All of them?”

“All of them,” Alfred said, now smirking.

“What did they do to make her upset that bad?” Barry asked.

“Why don’t you ask him about it? He’s allowed visitors according to Ms. Y/n,” Alfred said as he led the team upstairs.

“What are you guys doing here?” Bruce asked as the three came into his home office.

It was rare sometimes for Bruce to use the home office. You mainly used it for when you had to plan charity events but since he was grounded, he had to work in his home office.

Many people would label this as extreme. Given that Bruce and almost all the kids were adults, but the grip you had over them was life threatening.

"We thought something happened to you," Clark explained.

“You didn’t show up to the meeting today,” Diana told him.

“Oh. Right. Y/n took my communications away,” Bruce explained in a nonchalant tone.

“I’m sure she could’ve understood for one message,” Diana told him.

“She’s in no mood or any negotiations. The children and I made her extremely upset,” Bruce told them.

“How so?”

“We forgot about her parents coming to visit and we didn’t spend time with them like we were suppose to. She gave us the warnings ahead of time and we promised her that we would spend time with them with her.”

“None of you showed up?”

“Only Alfred and Martha were with her.”

“Have you tried apologizing or making it up to her?” Clark asked.

“She’s not budging. She made all the kids do the cleaning and took away all of their leisure activities."

"And you?"

"No Batman duties for a few nights."

"We'll talk to her," Clark said. "Where is she?"

"Backyard with Martha. Good luck," Bruce said.

Clark, Barry, and Diana walked to the backyard where you sat under a tree with some of the kids by your side. You watched as Martha played with some toys while the kids kept her entertained.

"Y/n! May we have a word?" Diana asked. You stood up and walked up to them.

"Hello. How are you all doing?" You asked sweetly. You didn't seem like you were in a bad mood. Maybe you were ready to forgive Bruce?

"Y/n, we need Batman for a meeting. Is there anyway you can get Bruce resume his Batman duties for just a day?" Clark asked.

"No," you responded without hesitation.

"Y/n, this is important-"

"No, Let me tell you what's important. I have spent months warning my family about my parents' arrival. I have made sure we were going to have fun activities, have nice meals together, and I had even gone to the point to make sure Gotham was going to be okay for a week without any hesitation. I had to bribe so many people to lay low for a week. And you know what my family did? They went on missions outside of Gotham for that week after I even warned them not to. So I had to deal with my parents with just Martha and Alfred to the point where my parents had to ask me when I planned on getting a divorce from Bruce," you explain to them calmly. You took in a deep breath before continuing. "The embarrassment I felt during that week cannot be undone. Even if you all came here on your knees begging for Bruce or Batman, I am still not allowing it. Now, please leave for now and please wait until Bruce and the kids are done with their grounding."

You walked back over to your children and sat down. The older kids gave the adult a shrug, acknowledging their efforts to get Bruce out. Barry, Clark, and Diana walked back over to Bruce's office who had his arms crossed.

"Told you she's not budging," Bruce sighed.

"How much longer of your grounding do you have?" Barry asked with a slight chuckle.

"Till the end of the week. Then after that, we can resume our duties before we have to go to Addison's hometown to spend time with her parents to make it up to them," Bruce said.

"She seems like she's getting in a better mood," Clark said.

"I wouldn't underestimate her," Bruce warned.

"Wait, if you're all grounded, then who's protecting Gotham?" Barry asked.

"We're not questioning it. Y/n said she'll deal with it and somehow she did," Bruce said.

"How much power does she have here in Gotham?" Clark asked Bruce.

"I stopped questioning it a while ago."

"Have you looked into her? Just in case?" Clark asked.

"No. I trust my wife. I've betrayed her enough times. So whatever she is doing, I will let it slide," Bruce tells them.

"You must really love your wife if you're willing to look the other way," Diana said.

"I do. So whatever she doing, I trust her," Bruce tells them.

"Aren't you afraid you're going to regret it?" Barry asked. Bruce looked over at the family photo of you all together.

"No. As long as she is still with me, I don't care. She can do whatever she wants now as long as I have her in my life," Bruce said.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman imagine #batman x reader #dc #dc imagine #batfamily #batfamily imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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w1w2 · 19 days ago

Text

The Price of Affection

Previous part | Part 2 | Next part

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 7k

Synopsis: The boundaries between what is given and what is taken begin to blur. In a game where emotions were never meant to exist, one question remains: how long can desire masquerade as indifference before everything falls apart?

Req by Anon

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Sana never kissed her.

Not once.

No matter how many nights Y/N spent tangled beneath her, no matter how many times Sana’s hands claimed her with an ease that left her breathless, no matter how completely she unraveled beneath her touch, her lips never found Y/N’s mouth.

It was a boundary unspoken, a rule neither of them had ever acknowledged, but one that was upheld with an almost rigid precision. Sana’s lips traced the curve of her throat, the sharp edge of her jaw, the fragile dip of her collarbone. Her hands moved like they had mapped Y/N’s body long before ever touching it, like they had memorized the places that made her shiver, the softest parts of her that yielded too easily to the way she pressed, pulled, took.

But no matter how close they became, no matter how thoroughly Sana consumed her, she never kissed her.

Never there.

Y/N told herself it didn’t matter.

Told herself that it wasn’t important, that it was simply another unspoken rule of their arrangement, a line drawn so neither of them would forget what this was, what it wasn’t. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the way it lingered in the back of her mind, an absence she wasn’t meant to notice, a silence where something should have been.

Because for all the ways Sana possessed her, there was always something held back.

She could be touched, but she could never reach.

She could give, but she could never take.

And when it was over, Sana always left.

There were no whispered words in the quiet moments after, no arms wrapping around her, no soft breath against her skin as the night stretched on. Instead, there was only the shift of the mattress, the rustle of sheets sliding away as Sana slipped out of bed with the same composure she carried everywhere else, as if nothing about this, about them, was ever meant to last beyond the moment.

Y/N would lie still, her body cooling where Sana’s warmth had been only seconds before, her heartbeat settling into something hollow, something restless. And in the silence, she would listen, the soft sound of retreating footsteps disappearing down the hall, the quiet click of a door closing behind her.

She never stayed. She never hesitated.

And Y/N never left first.

That was how it always was. How it was supposed to be.

She had agreed to this, had stepped into this world with her eyes open, had understood the terms of what she was offering and what she was receiving in return. She had known, from the very beginning, that this was not love, that it was never going to be love.

It had been a few months since Y/N had stepped into Sana’s world, since she had willingly allowed herself to become something kept, something claimed, something that wasn’t hers to own but belonged to someone else entirely.

The transition had been jarring at first, like slipping into a second skin that didn’t quite fit, suffocating in its unfamiliarity. The weight of expensive fabric draping over her body, the taste of wine she could never afford, the sensation of standing beside a woman who commanded rooms with nothing more than her presence, all of it had felt foreign, like a life she was only borrowing.

But now, she had adapted.

Or at least, she had learned how to exist within it.

The expensive restaurants, the weekend trips, the charity galas, they had all become routine. She no longer stiffened when a dress worth more than her monthly rent was handed to her without so much as a glance, no longer hesitated before slipping into the backseat of Sana’s car, no longer questioned where they were going or why, because it never really mattered.

Sana called for her, and she came.

That was how it worked.

And Sana was consistent. Cold. Controlled. Unyielding.

She never wavered, never broke the rhythm of the carefully structured existence she had built. She remained as distant as she had been the very first night, never asking more than she was willing to give, never offering anything beyond what had already been agreed upon.

Except she wasn’t.

Not always.

Y/N wasn’t sure when she first noticed the shift.

Maybe it was the way Sana had started lingering in bed a little longer than before, her breath warm against Y/N’s shoulder, her fingers barely brushing her skin as she lay there, unmoving, even after Y/N expected her to leave. A pause. A hesitation. Something fragile in the quiet between them.

Or maybe it was the way Sana had started watching her, not with detachment, not with that careful calculation Y/N had grown so used to, but with something else, something almost… curious.

Or maybe, maybe it was the way Y/N had caught her once, just once, hesitating at the doorway before she left, standing in the dim glow of the hallway light as if something had momentarily anchored her in place, something that flickered too quickly, too fleeting for Y/N to decipher before Sana turned and walked away.

It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it left Y/N wondering. Was she imagining it? Or was something changing?

She didn’t have an answer. Not yet.

But that was before she saw it.

The first crack in the armor.

The moment was so small, so fleeting, that Y/N almost didn’t notice it.

They had just left the gala, stepping out of a world where crystal chandeliers hung like constellations over rooms filled with the rich and the powerful, where laughter was crisp like the clinking of champagne glasses, where Sana had moved effortlessly through the crowd, playing her part with practiced ease. Untouchable. Composed. Perfect.

And Y/N had stood beside her, playing her own role, wearing another dress she hadn’t chosen, slipping further into a life that still didn’t feel like it belonged to her.

The city outside was quieter than the one they had just left behind, wrapped in the dim glow of streetlights, the occasional car passing by, its headlights cutting through the silence. The heels of Sana’s designer stilettos clicked against the marble flooring as they stepped into the lobby, the sound sharp, deliberate, another reminder that she was a woman who never rushed, never faltered, never lost control.

And then, Y/N saw it.

A stray cat.

A small, scrawny thing, curled up near the entrance, pressed against the cold glass of the revolving doors. Its fur was dull, patchy in some places, its frame too thin to belong to a well-fed city pet. It lay still, unmoving, save for the lazy flick of its tail, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion.

Something about it hit her all at once.

She knew this kind of exhaustion.

She knew what it felt like to curl in on yourself, to take up as little space as possible in a world that had no place for you.

Y/N slowed, her breath catching slightly as she took a hesitant step forward. She had always had a soft spot for strays, for the forgotten things of the world, the ones left behind, the ones that didn’t belong. She wanted to reach out, to crouch down, to offer something, anything, but before she could move, before she could even turn to Sana, she moved first.

Y/N froze.

Without a word, without hesitation, Sana stepped forward, lowering herself into a graceful crouch, the silk of her gown pooling around her like liquid moonlight. There was no reluctance, no flicker of disgust at the thought of dirt or fur marring the expensive fabric, no moment of hesitation.

She extended a hand, not to touch, not to startle.

Just to offer.

A test of trust.

The cat flinched slightly, but only for a moment.

And then, slowly, cautiously, it leaned forward, pressing its small head against the warmth of Sana’s palm.

Y/N stopped breathing.

Because this was not the woman she had come to know.

This was not the cold, untouchable force who carried herself like she was made of something sharper than the rest of the world, who never gave more than what was required, who never let herself be seen as anything but composed.

Sana’s fingers moved with a kind of careful reverence, trailing lightly along the cat’s thin frame, her touch impossibly gentle, as if she understood something about fragility. As if she had held something fragile before and had learned how to be careful with it.

Y/N had never seen her like this.

Her expression wasn’t calculated. Her movements weren’t controlled.

For the first time since she had met her, Sana didn’t look like someone untouchable, someone impossibly distant, she just looked human.

And it was over too quickly.

Sana exhaled softly, so softly that Y/N almost didn’t hear it, and then, just as suddenly as she had crouched down, she pulled away.

The moment broke like shattered glass.

She rose to her feet without looking at Y/N, without acknowledging what had just happened, without offering an explanation. She said nothing, not about the cat, not about the way she had touched it, not about the quiet tenderness that had flickered across her face, too fleeting to hold on to.

But as she strode toward the waiting car, the picture of indifference once again, she paused, just for a second. And then, in a voice so effortlessly composed it could have been mistaken for a passing thought, she spoke.

"Call the concierge," she murmured to one of the hotel staff standing near the entrance. "Have someone take it to the vet. Make sure it’s taken care of."

Her tone didn’t waver, didn’t soften, didn’t betray a single emotion.

To anyone else, it was an order, simple and efficient, nothing more than another task to be handled, another problem to be solved.

But Y/N knew better.

She had seen the way Sana’s fingers had trembled, just barely, when they skimmed over the cat’s fur. She had seen the way she lingered, the way she hadn’t pulled away immediately, the way she had allowed herself that moment.

And now, as Sana slid into the car beside her, her posture as impeccable as ever, her gaze fixed out the window as if the whole thing had already been forgotten, Y/N remained quiet.

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t point out the kindness hidden beneath the command. Didn’t ask why Sana had stopped in the first place.

But she knew.

And as the car pulled away, leaving behind the city lights, the hotel, and the stray cat that was no longer alone, Y/N realized something she hadn’t before.

Something was changing.

Y/N noticed it in the way Sana started remembering things. Things she had no reason to remember.

It was the way, one evening, after a long event that had drained Y/N to her very core, she had collapsed onto the couch beside Sana, her body sinking into the cushions, exhaustion pressing against her bones. She hadn’t meant to say anything at all, but the words had slipped out, murmured into the quiet space between them, more to herself than to the woman sitting just a few feet away.

"I used to love this one book when I was younger," she had murmured, barely aware that she was speaking aloud at all. "But I lost it somewhere along the way. Never got a chance to replace it."

It had been a passing thought, a piece of nostalgia that meant nothing, words she had already forgotten by the next morning.

But then a week later, there it was.

Waiting for her.

She had come home late, exhaustion weighing heavy in her limbs, barely having time to take out her keys before she noticed it, a package, sitting just outside her door. Wrapped in crisp, expensive paper, a small card resting on top, her name scrawled in familiar, careful handwriting.

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she bent down to pick it up, fingers tracing the neat folds, the weight of it solid in her hands.

Inside, the book.

New. Pristine. Untouched by time.

Her breath caught in her throat. There was no message inside, no grand gesture of explanation, just the undeniable presence of something she had once lost, placed back in her hands as if it had been waiting for her all along.

There was only one person who could have sent it.

And Y/N didn’t know what to do with that. She told herself it was just Sana’s way of keeping her comfortable, satisfied and entertained.

But there was nothing extravagant about this.

This was personal.

Sana had listened. She had heard something Y/N hadn’t even realized she was saying.

And then, there was the time Y/N had made an offhanded comment, so fleeting, so insignificant, about how much she hated white roses.

"White roses always feel like mourning," she had muttered at one of the endless, lavish parties Sana had taken her to, pushing a bouquet aside on the dinner table. "Like a funeral. Like something is ending."

Sana hadn’t responded. Hadn’t even looked up from her wine glass.

So Y/N hadn’t thought anything of it.

But then, she had walked into the penthouse for the first time in days, expecting to find things exactly as they had always been arranged in Sana’s place.

She had stopped mid-step.

Because the usual arrangement of white roses, the same ones that had always sat near the grand dining table, pristine and untouched, was gone.

In their place, a new bouquet.

Not roses.

Peonies.

Deep, rich in color. Full and alive. The kind she had once mentioned, long ago, that reminded her of warmth. Of something safe.

And just like before, Sana said nothing.

But Y/N knew.

Then, there was the night she got sick.

It had started as nothing. A dull ache behind her eyes, a scratch in her throat, the kind of exhaustion that Y/N had long since learned to ignore. She had pushed through it, dismissing the warning signs, convincing herself that she just needed sleep, that by morning, she would be fine.

But by the time the sun had set, her body had other plans.

The fever hit her hard, leaving her shivering beneath too-thin blankets, curled up on the worn-out couch she had owned since college, body aching in protest against even the smallest movement. Her phone buzzed somewhere in the room, but she barely had the energy to register it. Whoever it was, it could wait.

Sana wouldn’t call for her tonight.

She could be sick in peace, let the fever run its course, and by the time Sana reached for her again, she would be fine. She would be ready.

At least, that’s what she thought.

Until she woke up hours later to the sharp, persistent ringing of her doorbell.

The sound dragged her out of sleep, her body still sluggish, still unbearably heavy as she forced herself upright. Her head spun. The room was too warm. She barely remembered falling asleep at all. What time was it?

The doorbell rang again.

Y/N groaned, pushing the tangled blankets off her as she stumbled toward the door, one hand gripping the wall to steady herself. Her stomach twisted, who the hell was at her door at this hour?

She unlatched the lock with unsteady fingers and pulled it open, squinting against the harsh hallway light.

A delivery driver stood there, looking mildly impatient but otherwise unbothered, holding up a large brown paper bag.

"Delivery for Y/N," he announced. "Paid for in advance."

Y/N blinked at him, sluggish. She hadn’t ordered anything.

Confused, she took the bag with trembling hands, mumbling a quiet thanks before shutting the door again. The scent of warm broth and steamed rice curled into the air, filling her small apartment with something comforting, something unfamiliar in a way that sent a strange chill down her spine.

She placed the bag on the kitchen counter, hesitating.

As she turned back toward the living room, her eyes landed on the coffee table, and for a moment, she thought the fever was playing tricks on her.

A bottle of medicine sat neatly beside the glass of water she had poured earlier.

Her stomach twisted.

She hadn’t left it there. She hadn’t bought it. And yet, it was there, placed with careful precision, as if someone had set it down and stepped away without wanting to be caught.

Something in the air shifted. Her apartment wasn’t disturbed, nothing was broken, nothing was stolen, but it felt different, just enough to make the fine hairs at the back of her neck rise. Not wrong, but not untouched either.

Her heart pounded as she turned toward the couch, spotting her phone where it had slipped between the cushions. The screen flickered to life as she reached for it, her sluggish, fevered mind struggling to focus, her limbs still heavy with exhaustion. The notifications blurred for a moment before sharpening into something that made her breath catch.

Three missed calls. One message.

From Sana.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation curling around her ribs, something fragile and unsteady pressing against her chest. She already knew what it would say. But knowing didn’t stop the way her stomach twisted as she opened it.

"Take your medicine and I’ll see you in a few days."

That was it. No questions. No unnecessary words. But it was enough.

Her pulse thrummed, her gaze shifting back to the coffee table, to the bottle of medicine sitting there, silent proof that she hadn’t imagined any of this. That Sana hadn’t just noticed her absence, she had acted on it. She had come. She had let herself in.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, the cold metal grounding her as her mind tried to catch up with reality. Sana had been here. She had crossed a threshold she had never crossed before, stepping into Y/N’s space, into her world, one she had always kept separate, one Sana had never cared to know.

But she knew now.

Y/N could picture it too easily, Sana standing in this very room, sharp eyes scanning over the crumpled blankets, the unfinished glass of water, the phone she had ignored, taking in everything without a single word. She wouldn’t have panicked. She wouldn’t have let herself. But she would have noticed. She would have stood here, silent and calculating, making a decision before slipping away, leaving behind nothing but the weight of her presence and the quiet reminders that she had been here at all.

The medicine. The food.

Y/N exhaled slowly, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead, trying to steady the thing unraveling inside her.

She should have been angry. She should have felt violated, unsettled, irritated by the fact that Sana had let herself in uninvited, that she had taken it upon herself to intervene when Y/N had never asked her to. But instead, something warm and sharp twisted inside her, something she wasn’t ready to name.

Because this wasn’t just about control.

This wasn’t just obligation.

And Y/N didn’t know what scared her more, the fact that Sana had noticed she was gone, or the fact that, for the first time since this had started…

She wanted her to stay.

It was dangerous, the way she was starting to see Sana differently.

Because no one else did.

To the world, Sana was a force, a woman who moved through life with effortless grace, untouchable in a way that wasn’t just about wealth or power, but something deeper. She was a presence that commanded attention, someone whose name alone carried weight, whose silence spoke louder than words, whose gaze could hold an entire room in place.

She was admired, envied, revered, but never known.

Never touched. Never understood.

But Y/N? She was starting to understand.

Because she had seen it. The moments that slipped through the cracks, the tiny fractures in the polished veneer, the quiet hesitations that no one else seemed to catch.

She had seen the way Sana’s fingers trembled, just slightly, when they brushed against the stray cat’s fur, her movements careful, reverent, as if she were afraid of startling something fragile. She had seen the way she pulled her hand back too quickly afterward, like the moment had caught her off guard, like the tenderness had slipped out before she could stop it.

She had seen the way Sana’s breath hitched, so faint, so barely there, when she lingered in bed longer than she meant to, when the warmth of another body pressed into her side, when the sheets felt too soft, too real, too much like something she shouldn’t want. She always left before it could mean anything. Always pulled away before the weight of it could settle.

And Y/N had noticed.

She had noticed the way Sana hesitated in doorways, as if standing on the edge of something she wasn’t ready to cross. The way she would start to speak and then stop herself, swallowing words before they could form, holding them back like secrets she had never learned how to share.

And now, she couldn’t stop noticing.

She couldn’t stop seeing the cracks beneath the surface, the moments where the mask slipped just enough to reveal something real, something aching beneath it all.

Something that made Sana feel less like a storm, less like an untouchable force of nature and more like a person.

A person who had spent too long pretending she didn’t need anything.

A person who had spent too long alone.

And Y/N wanted to know her.

She wanted to know the things Sana refused to say, the thoughts she buried beneath cool smiles and careful distance. She wanted to know what would happen if Sana let herself stay for once, if she let herself be known.

She wanted to see it all.

That was dangerous and Y/N should have known better.

She should have known that hope was a dangerous thing, that allowing herself to believe in something, in someone, was like walking willingly into a storm, knowing she would get caught in the downpour.

But it had been impossible not to believe.

Because Sana had started to change. Not in grand, sweeping gestures, not in ways that anyone else would notice, but in small, quiet ways that mattered. The kind of things that crept up on Y/N before she realized just how deeply they had settled into her bones.

Maybe it was foolish, but Y/N let herself believe.

That despite how this started. Despite the rules. Despite the silence where words should have been, there was something real between them.

So when Sana asked her to come to the dinner party, Y/N said yes.

Not because she had to. Not because it was expected of her.

But because she wanted to be by her side.

The venue was breathtaking in the way that all of Sana’s world was, a place built on quiet opulence, where wealth was stitched into the very fabric of the walls, where chandeliers dripped in gold and crystal, where laughter was light and effortless, belonging only to those who had never known hunger, never known struggle, never known anything but excess.

Y/N had grown used to places like this.

She had learned how to move through them, how to blend in, how to let the expensive dresses and diamond-studded jewelry serve as armor when the weight of it all felt like too much.

But tonight felt different.

Because tonight, she wasn’t just another beautiful thing in a room full of beautiful things. Tonight, she was here with Sana.

And it meant something.

At least, she thought it did.

The evening passed in a blur of conversation and champagne, of clinking glasses and careful smiles, of Sana’s presence at her side, grounding, steady, constant. People looked at her, the way they always did, but this time, Y/N didn’t feel like she was on display. She felt like she belonged.

Until she didn’t.

It happened so quickly that at first, she thought she had imagined it.

She had been standing beside Sana, their bodies close but not touching, listening to idle chatter from a group of men who reeked of wealth and arrogance. The conversation had been meaningless, a series of carefully curated pleasantries, until suddenly, it wasn’t.

Until one of them, some man whose name she hadn’t bothered to remember, whose suit was worth more than her tuition, whose voice carried the sharpness of someone who had never been told no, laughed, tilting his glass toward Sana with an easy smirk.

"I see you’ve brought another one."

Another one.

Y/N barely had time to process it before he kept going, voice dripping with amusement, like this was nothing more than a joke to him.

"You really do have an eye for them. I swear, you always pick the most stunning things."

The word lodged itself in Y/N’s throat, sharp and cold and suffocating.

Things.

Not people. Not someone.

A thing.

Another beautiful thing Sana had acquired. A prize. A possession.

She waited for Sana to correct him. To say something. To acknowledge her.

But Sana only took a slow sip of her wine, saying nothing at all.

The moment stretched, the laughter carrying on around them, the conversation moving forward as if Y/N wasn’t standing there, as if she wasn’t hearing every word, as if she wasn’t waiting for Sana to tell them they were wrong.

But she didn’t.

And suddenly, Y/N felt cold all over.

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt the most, it was the silence that followed.

Because for the first time, she wondered if she had been imagining everything.

If all the glances, all the quiet hesitations, all the unspoken things she had started to believe in, if none of it had ever meant anything at all. If this version of her, standing beside Sana, silent, beautiful, just another thing to be admired but never acknowledged, was all she would ever be.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress, the sequins biting into her palm, something bitter curling at the back of her throat.

Because the worst part wasn’t that he had said it.

It was that Sana had let him.

That night, Y/N barely spoke as the driver took her home. She didn’t ask Sana why she had stayed silent, didn’t demand an explanation, didn’t break the quiet that settled between them like a fragile thread stretched too thin. Maybe she was afraid of the answer. Maybe she already knew it.

And maybe, just maybe, she was done waiting for Sana to prove her wrong.

She had been waiting for too long. Waiting to be acknowledged. Waiting for proof that she was more than this, more than just something beautiful to be possessed, something delicate to be admired but never truly seen.

But she was tired of waiting.

And for the first time, she realized she didn’t have to.

Y/N had spent years being overlooked.

She had learned how to move through life unnoticed, how to slip into spaces without making a sound, how to exist in the background as if she had been born to be unseen. It had never mattered before, because blending in had been safe, because being invisible meant that no one could take something from her that she wasn’t willing to give.

But lately, things had changed.

It hadn’t happened all at once, but in quiet, almost imperceptible ways.

A slow shift in the way she carried herself, a newfound steadiness in the way she held a gaze rather than looking away, the subtle confidence that had begun to seep into her movements like ink spreading through water. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t expected it, but it was there now, impossible to ignore, curling beneath her skin, unfurling in ways she didn’t yet understand.

Maybe it was the time she had spent with Sana.

Not because of her, but in spite of her.

Because in a world that had never felt like it belonged to her, she had found something that did.

Her art.

And now, for the first time in her life, people were beginning to notice.

It had started small. A quiet encouragement from a professor, a few sketches shared in passing, whispers of things she had long kept locked inside herself. But then there had been an opportunity, a gallery seeking new talent, an open call for emerging artists, a chance to step beyond the confines of her own uncertainty and into something bigger.

For the first time, she had submitted something of her own.

She hadn’t expected much.

But when her piece was accepted, when it stood beneath gallery lights, framed and displayed like it belonged there, when strangers paused to look, when soft murmurs of admiration filled the space around it, it was as if she had been given proof that she was real.

That she was more than just something kept.

That she was herself.

And someone else had noticed.

The gallery owner. Someone older, someone accomplished, someone who saw something in her, really saw her. Someone who called her work fascinating, who lingered beside her as he spoke, his voice warm with encouragement, with interest, with the kind of quiet, measured attention that made her feel as though she were standing on the edge of something unknown.

Someone who looked at her like she was not invisible.

And Sana saw all of it.

She arrived without warning, stepping into the gallery as if she had always been meant to be there, as if her presence was inevitable. And maybe it was.

But this wasn’t her world.

Not here. Not now.

Y/N hadn’t noticed her at first, not until the weight of her gaze pressed against her skin, heavy and smoldering, sinking into her bones before she even turned her head. And when she did, when her eyes found Sana standing near the entrance, watching, silent, unreadable, something inside her twisted.

There was no expression on Sana’s face, nothing that could be deciphered, but the air around her was thick with something unspoken, something waiting, something dangerous in its restraint.

And Y/N felt it immediately.

She felt it in the way her heartbeat stuttered, in the way the warmth that had been curling beneath her ribs turned sharp, edged with something she couldn’t quite name. She felt it in the way she suddenly became acutely aware of herself, of the space between them, of the way Sana had chosen not to move.

Not yet.

But Y/N refused to shrink beneath it.

Not tonight.

So she let herself stay where she was, let herself turn back toward the gallery owner, let herself laugh at something lighthearted, something fleeting, something easy, letting the sound of it drift through the air like defiance, like a declaration.

Let herself exist in this space, wholly and fully, without the shadow of Sana’s presence swallowing her whole.

And when the conversation finally ended, when the gallery owner stepped away, Y/N turned again, only to find that Sana was still there.

Still watching. Still waiting. Still silent.

And Y/N should have known what was coming.

She should have braced herself, should have steeled herself against the inevitable, should have understood that Sana had never been the kind of woman to let something slip through her fingers without consequence.

But even then, she still wasn’t ready for it.

Sana didn’t speak until they were outside.

Didn’t say a word as they stepped onto the sidewalk, the cool night air pressing against their skin, thick with the lingering scent of rain, of pavement, of something unspoken stretching tight between them. The city hummed in the distance, cars passing, conversations drifting, the world moving on as if nothing had just happened, as if Y/N’s entire chest wasn’t cracking open from the inside out.

But Sana was silent.

Silent as they walked. Silent as she led them toward the waiting car, her strides long, measured, precise. Too precise. Silent in the way only Sana could be, when she was trying too hard to seem unaffected, when something was clawing beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Y/N should have left it alone.

Should have climbed into the car, let the night end without another word, let whatever this was between them linger unspoken, untouched, unresolved, the way it always did.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Not anymore.

She stopped, barely noticing the way her heels scuffed against the pavement, barely caring that they were still in front of the venue, that people might still be watching. Her pulse was hammering too hard, her breath uneven, her hands curling into fists at her sides, and Sana still hadn’t looked at her.

"Are you going to say something," Y/N demanded, voice sharper than she intended, shaking with the weight of everything she wasn’t saying, "or are you just going to glare at me all night?"

Sana halted, the only indication that she had heard.

For a moment, she didn’t turn. Didn’t react. Just stood there, spine straight, shoulders stiff, the soft glow of the streetlights casting shadows along the edges of her face.

And then, slowly, carefully, in that way that always made Y/N feel like she was being studied rather than seen, Sana shifted, tilting her head just slightly, her gaze finally locking onto hers.

"Do you enjoy it?" she asked, voice smooth, deliberate. Too deliberate.

Y/N frowned, thrown by the coolness of it. "Enjoy what?"

Sana let the question linger, her eyes dipping, just briefly, toward where the gallery owner had touched Y/N’s arm earlier in the night, his fingers light, lingering, respectful. But that didn’t matter, did it?

Because Sana wasn’t looking at her arm.

She was looking at him. At the memory of him. At the space he had occupied, too close, too interested, too much.

"The attention," Sana said finally, voice soft but sharp, a blade hidden beneath silk.

Y/N felt the words like a slap.

A slow, cold disbelief unfurled in her chest, creeping into her veins like ice, like something poisonous.

"What?" she whispered, barely recognizing her own voice.

Sana’s gaze flickered, just for a second, something shifting too quickly for Y/N to catch it. But then it was gone, buried beneath the weight of something heavier. "He was looking at you," she said, low, measured, certain. "Like he wanted you to be his."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

And then she laughed. Sharp. Bitter. Completely devoid of humor.

And God, it should have been enough to break the tension, should have been enough to let her shove this moment aside, to turn around, to climb into the car and let Sana have her silence, let her keep whatever it was she refused to name.

But it wasn’t enough.

"You didn’t like that, did you?" she asked, voice quiet but biting, the edge of something sharp curling around the words, threatening to cut.

Sana didn’t answer.

And that was answer enough.

Y/N let out a slow breath, head tilting back, staring up at the night sky as if it could somehow steady her, as if it could somehow quiet the storm inside her. But it didn’t.

Because it wasn’t the man at the gallery. It wasn’t the way he had spoken to her, had complimented her, had seen her as herself rather than as someone else’s possession.

It was Sana.

It was always Sana.

"You don’t get to do this," Y/N said finally, her voice quieter now, steadier, even as her pulse rioted beneath her skin. "You don’t get to act like this bothers you. Not when you’re the one who made the rules."

Sana’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

"You never let me touch you," Y/N continued, every word dragging out of her like a wound being torn open. "You never kiss me. You never let yourself be seen with me as anything more than…" Her breath shuddered, a sharp inhale that barely steadied her. "This thing that you own. And now, suddenly, you care?"

Sana took a step closer.

Too close.

Close enough that Y/N could feel the warmth of her skin, the sharp inhale of her breath, the heat curling between them in the space that had always been too much and never enough.

"I never said I didn’t care," Sana murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N swallowed against the ache in her throat.

"Then what is this?" she asked, voice breaking, because God, she was so tired. So tired of this endless push and pull, so tired of grasping at something that was never meant to be hers. She gestured between them, between the distance that had always been there, even when they were tangled together in the dark. "Because I can’t keep pretending that this is nothing."

Sana said nothing.

Not a word, not a breath, not even the smallest shift in her expression to indicate that she had anything to offer in return. And somehow, that was what broke Y/N the most. Not the jealousy, not the sharp words they had thrown at each other like weapons, not even the way Sana had pulled her closer only to keep her at arm’s length.

It was this.

This silence, heavy and absolute, filling the space between them like a wall Y/N would never be able to break through.

Because Sana had nothing to say. No defense, no justification, no attempt to make this hurt any less than it already did. No reassurance that Y/N had ever been anything more than what she feared, something temporary, something to be kept but never held, something that was always meant to be let go.

Y/N exhaled, but the breath that left her wasn’t relief, wasn’t acceptance, it was something unsteady, something that fractured at the edges, something that felt far too much like breaking.

The moment stretched too long, too tense, too heavy with everything that had been left unsaid for too long.

Y/N turned, not to leave, but because she couldn’t look at her anymore. Couldn’t bear the weight of that unreadable expression, the sharp line of her jaw, the way Sana stood so still, as if anything more might make this real, might make it something she had to face.

Sana didn’t move.

Not much, not enough to change anything, not enough to undo the silence settling between them like an ocean too wide to cross. But there was a shift, barely perceptible, a twitch of her fingers, a fraction of a breath held too long, the smallest, most fleeting hesitation. And in that hesitation, there was something, something raw, something restrained, something that almost felt like longing, like regret, like the remnants of words she couldn’t bring herself to say.

For a second, just a second, Y/N could feel it.

Could feel the weight of almost. Almost reaching for her. Almost closing the distance. Almost saying something that might have changed everything.

But Sana didn’t.

She didn’t touch her. Didn’t stop her. Didn’t give her anything at all except the suffocating weight of silence, of everything left unsaid, everything she was too afraid to offer.

Just hesitation.

Just that brief flicker of something, a crack in her carefully constructed armor, a glimpse of something Y/N wasn’t sure she was even meant to see, before it was gone, before Sana forced it back down, swallowed it whole, and let the cold detachment slip back into place like it had never wavered at all.

And Y/N felt it.

Felt the way it lingered, the way it dug beneath her skin like an ache that refused to fade, the way it left her standing there, caught between leaving and staying, between hope and resignation, between believing that maybe she meant something and accepting that maybe she never had.

Because Sana hadn’t let her go.

Not entirely. Not enough.

And that was somehow worse.

The realization hit her all at once, the unbearable weight of what this was, what this had always been, what it was never going to be.

A transaction. A role she had agreed to play.

And she had been a fool to think it was anything more than that.

Y/N turned back to her, breath unsteady, something burning beneath her skin. "Say something."

Sana blinked, her expression perfectly composed, like she hadn’t just hesitated, like nothing had cracked at all.

Y/N’s stomach twisted.

"You don’t get to just stand there," she said, voice rising now, too sharp, too raw, too full of everything she had been holding back for too long. "You don’t get to look at me like that and then say nothing."

Sana exhaled slowly, steady, unaffected, her eyes dark in the dim glow of the streetlights. "What do you want me to say?"

And God, that was it, wasn’t it?

That was the problem. Sana didn’t know.

Didn’t know how to apologize. Didn’t know how to admit that she cared, didn’t know how to take the thing simmering beneath her ribs and turn it into something real, something she could hold onto instead of pushing it away.

Y/N let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. "I want you to tell me what I am to you, Sana. Right now. No games, no carefully chosen words, no more of this…" She gestured between them, this thing that had never been enough. "Just say it."

Sana’s jaw tightened. "You know what this is."

Y/N scoffed. "No, I don’t. I really thought I did, but I was wrong, wasn’t I?"

Sana didn’t answer.

And the silence between them said everything.

Y/N inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay standing, to hold onto the anger rather than the ache. "I must be so pathetic to you."

Sana’s expression flickered, just slightly, just enough for Y/N to see something there, something that looked dangerously close to panic. "That’s not…"

"I must be," Y/N continued, cutting her off, voice trembling now, not with sadness, but with something so much sharper. "Because I let you do this to me. And you were right, Sana. You were right when you made those rules, when you said no emotions, no attachments, no expectations."

Sana’s throat bobbed.

Y/N took a slow breath, then exhaled. "I broke them."

Silence.

Sana’s fingers curled into fists at her sides.

"Did you?" she asked, but the words came too slow, too careful, like she was trying to delay the inevitable.

Y/N held her gaze, steady, unwavering. "Yes."

Something shattered behind Sana’s eyes.

And Y/N let it.

She exhaled, a slow, final thing, and took a step back, then another, until the distance between them was no longer suffocating but freeing.

"This is over," she said, and the words didn’t tremble. Didn’t waver. Didn’t break.

Sana’s breath hitched, but her lips pressed together, her walls slamming back into place so violently that for a moment, it was like nothing had happened at all.

Like Y/N hadn’t just bared her heart.

Like she hadn’t just ended it.

But Y/N didn’t care anymore. Didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t wait to see if Sana would stop her, if she would finally break, if she would finally be the one to reach out.

She turned.

And this time, she walked away.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice sana #sana x fem reader #sana imagines #minatozaki sana x reader #sana x reader #minatozaki sana x fem reader

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 8 months ago

Text

The Godswood

Robb Stark x reader

Summary: When the newest Lady of the North is chased into the woods, the lords of the north search for Robb Stark's wife

Warning: canon-level violence, no use of y/n, wildlings, nudity (but no smut), not beta-d (I literally typed this on my phone and posted it), deviation from canon (just pretend the godswood is outside winterfell)

Word Count: 2.8K

Masterlist

“Robb?” the new Lady of the North’s voice rang through their chambers. “I thought I should go to the Godswood to pray,” she relayed her plans for the day.

Robb immediately exited the washroom of their chambers. “Is it necessary for you to pray in the Godswood? There is a perfectly good sept near the Great Hall.”

“I know but even you say you feel more inclined towards the nature of the north when you pray at the Heart Tree,” she shrugged.

Robb sighed. “But I am unable to bring you today. You know I have that meeting with my father and the bannermen,” the young lord argued.

“Robb, I will be perfectly alright,” she insisted, giving him a loving yet exasperated look. “If it makes you feel better I will bring guards with me but I am telling you I will be okay in the few minutes it will take me to wish for the health of your family.”

Robb looked reluctant still but grumbled out an agreement. “Fine,” he agreed, moving closer to his wife so as to press a kiss to her temple. “But do not stray from your guards. The Godswood can be dangerous.”

“I won’t,” she complied, calling after him as he returned to the washroom to continue shaving and she exited their chambers. Making her way to her father-in-law’s office, she was already shivering through the drafty hallways of the Stark family’s residence within Winterfell. Not being from the north had made residing here difficult in terms of becoming accustomed to the weather. But her husband was always willing to warm her up. And her mother-in-law, another northerner by marriage only, had given her tips of how to prepare for the cold.

Finally making it to the Warden of the North’s chambers, the guards allowed her to enter after announcing her presence in Lord Stark’s office.

Entering, she found that the first of the bannermen had already arrived. “Lord Karstark, Lord Amber,” she greeted the men. “My apologies, my lords, I did not realized your meeting had started.”

“Nonsense,” Lord Stark dismissed his daughter-in-law’s concerns, always happy to see the girl that seemed to brighten his son’s life. Lord Stark considered himself to have made a few very good decisions in his life. One of them being his decision to marry Cat. But another one was orchestrating his eldest son’s marriage to the girl that stood before him. “The lords here were just telling me about their lands before the true meetings began. Is my son ready?”

“No,” she answered. “You know how particular he gets about his hair.”

The men erupted into laughter. “Wow,” Lord Karstark began, still recovering from his laughter. “Wish I had her for a daughter-in-law. My son refuses to even neaten his beard.”

“Yes, well, my son finds her input very valuable,” Lord Stark chuckled. “What can I do for you, dear?”

“I had just hoped you would assign me a guard. Robb insisted I take one into the Godswood.”

“He is smart to do so,” his father commended. “I will send you with two. Just to be safe.”

She gave her father-in-law a bashful smile. “Thank you,” she bid, exiting the office.

“Come,” the guard waiting outside the office bid. “I will assign your guards.” She followed him out of Ned Stark’s chambers to the hall where several had already been waiting for assignments. He looked to two of them, giving them orders to take her to the Weirwood tree.

“Aye,” both agreed in sync before breaking from the rest of the group. The pair then stepped up to their charge for the day. “My lady,” they both greeted.

She nodded to them in acknowledgement. “Well seeing as the assignment was already explained to you, let us go,” she explained, trying to relieve any awkwardness. She truly loathed to have guards follow her around wherever she went. In her childhood, guards were only ever needed when she left her family’s lands. But Robb had insisted on her either being with him or with armed sentries whenever she even left the Stark residence. Even just to visit the stables or library he insisted she have some sort of protection. Claiming that technically Winterfell was a fortress that could be under attack at any time.

Not much was said as the trio made their way out of the walls of Winterfell and into the forests surrounding the fortress. As she went, she could not help but shiver as the cold winds nipped at her neck and face. She dreaded the day winter actually descended upon Westeros as apparently the northerners considered this more “mild” chill to be summer as well.

Finally reaching the Heart Tree, adorned with a carved face, the new Lady Stark fell before the long reaching branches. Just as her face fell to her interlocked hands, a snapping twig broke her thoughts. Looking up, she found a wildling fifty feet or so away from her. She stumbled back, falling from her knees and onto her rear, her hands catching in the dirt.

The guard posted nearest to the wildling immediately came between her and the wild looking man. Her heart hammered in her chest as she observed his tangled hair and overworn clothes.

A yell from her other side drew her attention to the other guard who was now brandishing his sword against another wildling man holding a spear. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she moved closer to the Weirwood as if it’s branches would swat away any threats to her. Looking around frantically, she found three more wildlings creeping out of the trees.

“My lady, run!” one of the guards shouted as one of the wildlings jumped to attack him.

Scared beyond belief, she obeyed, rounding the Heart Tree to run away from the grizzled men. She had no idea where to go, she just prayed there weren’t more waiting for her behind the tree. As she sprinted through the forest, she spotted none but she was not naive enough to believe her two guards could hold five of them off. She wept as she ran, holding up her dress as she ran so it would not trip her or snag on any stray branches.

She had no idea how far she ran until she truly could not breathe. Taking a moment to rest against the trunk of a tree, she caught her breath. But it soon evaded her again as she was overcome by sobs. Her guards were surely dead now. And by the time anyone noticed she was lost the men who killed them would likely have caught up with her or she would be so lost she would never be found. Completely rattled by the idea of falling into those men’s clutches, she continued on, this time at a walking pace. Remembering that these wildlings would surely be skilled trackers, she did her best to disturb the flora as little as possible whilst taking an erratic path.

The guards who held the western gate of Winterfell looked in reluctant astonishment at the two bleeding guards before them. “Evander,” a sentry addressed his bleeding friend. “What happened?”

“We were ambushed by wildlings. Get Lord Stark and the bannermen, Lady Stark is still out there. We told her to run.”

A guard who overheard wasted no time, running to the Great Hall as fast as he could. He relayed the message to all the guards standing outside of their Lords’ meetings and they immediately parted to let the man through.

“Forgive me, my lords,” the guard announced his presence as he burst through the doors. “Wildlings attacked Lady Stark in the Godswood. Some of the wildlings were slain but she is still out there,” he breathed heavily.

Robb was the first to stand, doing it so fast his chair fell behind him. “Saddle my horse,” he ordered, already moving to exit the room.

Behind him, his father also stood. He looked at the still seated, mildly shocked men. “You want more titles and lands? The first man to find my daughter-in-law will have the moors.” Each man immediately stood, barking orders at the advisors who accompanied them to prepare for the search.

Eddard followed after his son who had already made it outside and was saddling his horse. “Son,” he called, catching the young man’s attention. “Just wait a moment so we may organize the search.”

Robb’s eyes flashed with worry at the prospect. “Father, just three harvests ago wildlings slaughtered the Farlands. I have to at least begin a preliminary search.”

Before the Lord of Winterfell could disagree, the commander of his guard ran up. “My lord, we have a dozen or so men prepared. Would you like us to begin a preliminary search?” he asked. Everyone in the North who had dealt with wildlings knew just how dire the situation was. They almost certainly knew the terrain better than the newest Lady of the North.

“Yes,” Robb immediately agreed, pulling himself onto his horse. His father nodded to the commander, and the initial search party saddled their horses and rode for the western gate. In their company was one of the guards who had initially gone to the Heart Tree. The other, too injured to accompany them, laid in the maester’s chambers having his wounds dressed.

Once the group made it to the Heart Tree, they found remnants of the attack. Two wildlings laid dead in the brush. “As far as I know there are three more, my lord,” the initial sentry informed Robb as he dismounted from his horse. “I had told your wife to run and she went to the opposite of the tree,” he said, pointing west. “They attacked us and we managed to fend the five of them off but once they realized she was getting away, three of them followed after her.”

Robb wanted to demand to know why they had not chased after his wife but he held his tongue. He just prayed for their sakes they were right in their judgement to return for reinforcements. “Everyone head west and spread out. She’ll know to have put as much distance between her and the wildlings as possible. And search for tracks, if she was concealing hers, the wildlings won’t have bothered.” A chorus of agreements rang out as each man took off.

The search had been on for hours. By now nearly every man within five miles of Winterfell had been out to search.

It was painful for Ned to watch his son slowly lose hope as the hours wore on and it became increasingly darker. Riding over to Robb, he spoke, “We will find her, son.”

Robb only nodded, holding his jaw clenched tightly. He was reluctant to admit that his wife of only two moons may already be gone. She was not of the north, she had no idea how to navigate the woods. And she would be perfectly defenseless running across any wildlings or creatures.

“I should have never let her even leave Winterfell,” he lamented.

“You cannot blame yourself,” Ned lectured. “Son, if you are going to become the Warden of the North, you cannot take every loss as personal.”

“I know, but this is my wife. The first person I am supposed to protect. If I cannot even find her in my own lands how can I lead them?”

“It will come with experience,” Ned assured. “And you did nothing wrong, you protected her as well as anyone could have.”

Before Robb could further degrade himself and argue, several calls rang out through the forests. Finally, they came near enough to be clear. “We found her!” echoed through the seemingly empty forest. Robb let out a shuddered cry of relief as he took off toward the voices, leaving his father behind.

As he rode he spotted more and more of his men, each time becoming more and more eager that they were the one who had found her. But each time they just ushered him on, pointing him further and further north. He continued on until he found several men gathered, lit only by their torches and the moonlight. They all turned to see their heir, immediately parting to reveal his wife sitting upon a fallen trunk.

“Robb!” she cried as she saw his horse approach. Her voice was broken with tears. As soon a he reached the clearing, he dismounted, immediately clambering to his wife. He had not even embraced her yet before he was throwing his fur cloak over her quivering shoulders, surely shivering from the chill that had by now reached her bones.

He immediately pulled her into his embrace, holding her tighter than he ever had before. He cared little for decorum as she buried her face into the warmth of his neck and sobbed. He himself wanted to cry in relief but held it in. When he finally pulled away only to look at her, he found several scratches on her face and mud adorning her dress. “What…” he began softly as he reached a hand up to her face.

“Just the scratch of the branches,” she assured, gently grasping his wrist in her icy hands as he continued to hold her face. “And I admit I did fall down a hill in my haste,” she explained sheepishly. Robb was sure that if she were not so incredibly cold he would feel the warmth of her blush through his gloves.

Finally Eddard Stark arrived, finding Robb holding his wife as if she were the most precious thing in the world. He let out a private sigh of relief seeing the girl relatively unharmed. Given his son’s level of depression just at the mere idea of his wife being lost to him, he was reluctant to even imagine what Robb would do had they found evidence of his wife’s death.

“It’s dark, the lady needs to warm up and rest. Let us go back to Winterfell. My lords,” he addressed the men who helped in the search, “you may spend the night in the guesthouses. Word of the day’s events have already been sent to your families.”

Robb stood from his crouched position, pulling his wife up with him as if he were afraid she’d slip between his fingers. “Come,” he bid, “you will ride with me.” She only nodded, her chattering teeth providing the answer she could not. She held Robb’s hand and with the other she clutched Robb’s cloak around her shoulders. He helped her onto his horse, moving her so she sat sidesaddle so he could sit behind her. With both arms around her to take the reins, she immediately took refuge in the warmth of his arms.

As they made the journey back through the woods, Robb wrestled with his thoughts. He wanted to scold her and tell her this is exactly why he did not want her out of Winterfell but the other part did not want to add to her distress. Similarly he wanted to ask about the wildlings but at the risk of being told something he was not ready to hear and stressing her out more, he elected to stay quiet.

But it was her who broke the silence. “I’m sorry for questioning your judgment and going. And for endangering your guards,” she apologized meekly, her voice heavy with guilt.

Robb immediately hushed her. “It’s no concern. I am just glad you’re okay,” he said with a kiss to the top of her head.

Once they reached Winterfell, Robb was quick to usher his wife past all the guards and lords, eager to get her into a warm building. As soon as the couple entered the Keep, she felt as if the biting cold was melting from her bones. Robb once again ushered her to their chambers.

His wife immediately went to the fireplace, standing in front of it trying to warm her hands. Behind her, Robb softly grasped her shoulders, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “I sent ahead for a bath to be prepared to warm you.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, still feeling the harsh cold of her skin. He released her only enough so she could head to the washroom where she found the tub full of steaming water.

Robb, as gently and cautiously as possible, slowly stripped her of her clothes. Mere weeks ago she would have shied away from his gaze but his constant praise and affection had emboldened her to kiss him deeply even when she stood nude against his completely clothed frame. “Bathe with me,” she asked, stepping away to slip into the water.

Never one to decline his wife’s attentions, Robb quickly disrobed before sliding in the tub behind her. He wrapped his arms around around her, pulling her into his chest as they soaked in the warmth of the water and each other.

Masterlist

#x reader #robb x reader #robb stark x reader #robb #robb stark #house stark #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got #got x reader #hotd #hotd x reader

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pearlywritings · 1 year ago

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A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Here is the second part btw

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly.

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge.

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?”

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan.

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it.

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fluff

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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What Happens in Vegas

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the morning after the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you wake up with one new wedding ring and zero clue about what happened … or who your husband is

You wake up with a pounding headache, the sunlight filtering through the curtains feeling like daggers in your eyes. Groaning, you roll over and glance at the clock on the nightstand.

12:37 pm.

Far later than you would normally sleep, but given the circumstances, not entirely surprising.

The night before was the Las Vegas Grand Prix and things had gotten a little out of hand afterwards. Okay, more like a lot out of hand.

The details are fuzzy but you vaguely recall dancing on a table at some point and did someone get pushed into the hotel fountain?

Ugh. You make a mental note to apologize to whoever ended up taking an unexpected late-night swim last night.

Sitting up slowly, you rub your temples, trying to ease the jackhammer currently going off in your head. Getting blackout drunk maybe wasn’t the most professional move, but hey, what happens in Vegas and all that.

You stumble into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing some cold water on your face. As you reach for a towel, the glint of metal on your left hand makes you pause.

No. It can’t be.

But there it is, a simple gold band around your ring finger.

A wedding ring.

Your wedding ring, apparently.

“What the hell?” You mutter, staring at your reflection in disbelief.

You rack your brain, trying desperately to remember what happened last night. But it’s no use, the details are lost in an alcohol-induced haze.

You married someone last night. In Vegas. While ridiculously drunk.

This is bad. Really bad.

Your career, your reputation, everything is on the line here. Who knows what kind of scandal this could cause if word got out? You need to figure out who you married and do damage control, fast.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm the rising panic. Freaking out won’t solve anything right now. You need answers and sitting here panicking won’t get you any. Time to do some investigating.

You quickly throw on some clothes and head downstairs to the hotel lobby. The drivers had agreed to meet for brunch today before getting thoroughly wasted last night. Maybe one of them knows something.

As you step out of the elevator, you immediately spot a group of your friends chatting in the lobby. Max, Charles, Lando … the usual suspects.

Lando is the first to spot you. “Well good morning, Mrs. Lando Norris,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You freeze. No way. There’s no way you married Lando. The kid is like a little brother to you. An obnoxious, hyperactive little brother. But Lando just laughs at your stunned expression.

“Kidding! You should see your face right now,” he giggles. Little punk. But at least that rules out Lando as your surprise husband.

You roll your eyes and shove Lando playfully before turning to the others. “So, crazy night last night, huh?” You say, aiming for nonchalance.

Max shrugs. “I mean, it’s Vegas. Things do tend to get wild.”

“Right, wild,” you echo. Time to cut to the chase. “So wild that I ended up getting married apparently.”

You hold up your left hand, wedding ring glinting in the light. The others stare at it then at each other, puzzled.

“Wait, you actually got married last night?” Charles asks incredulously.

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Yes! And I have no idea who I married. Come on mates, you must remember something from last night that can help me figure this out.”

But their faces are blank, everyone shaking their heads. Useless, the whole lot of them.

You turn to Max, who averts his eyes, looking uncomfortable.

“Max, come on. You always know everything that happens on these nights out. Help me out here,” you plead.

Max shuffles his feet, not meeting your gaze. “I mean, it was pretty crazy. I was very drunk too,” he mumbles.

You sigh in frustration. Clearly you’re not getting anywhere with this group. You need to try someone else, someone who maybe left the party early last night.

You recall Fernando complaining about the horrible music at one point. Bingo.

“Alright, I gotta go see if I can find someone who can get me answers,” you announce. “You drunkards are no help.”

As you turn to leave, Charles calls after you, “Let us know if you find out who the unlucky guy is!” This earns snickers from Lando and Max.

You shake your head and head out to find Fernando. That Spaniard better have some useful information or there will be hell to pay.

One thing is certain, you will get to the bottom of this. You need to find out who this mystery husband is, sort out this mess, and most importantly, get this ring off your finger before the media catches wind of your drunken Vegas wedding.

This is going to be one hell of a day.

***

After leaving the unhelpful group in the lobby, you set out to find Fernando. The Spaniard has always had a keen eye for details. If anyone saw what happened last night, it would be him.

You find Fernando sitting alone at a table in the closest coffee shop, sipping an espresso. He looks irritatingly fresh-faced and put together given the wild night you all had.

“Well good morning, chiquita,” he says with a smirk as you plop down across from him. “You look like you had quite the night.”

You scowl at him. “No thanks to you. Leaving the party early again, I see.”

Fernando shrugs. “What can I say? I’m getting too old for these Vegas nights out with you crazy kids.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Oh yes, grandpa, you’re soooo old at 42. Anyway, I need your help figuring something out.”

You hold up your left hand, the wedding ring glinting under the lights. “Any idea how this might have ended up on my finger last night?”

Fernando raises an eyebrow, looking far too amused. “Well well, our little Y/N got married in Vegas. Who’s the lucky man?”

You huff in annoyance. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out! I don’t remember anything from last night. But I woke up this morning hungover as hell with this on my hand.” You waggle your finger for emphasis.

Fernando sits back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, interesting. And you say you remember nothing?”

“Nothing!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up. “Everything after the third tequila shot is a total blank. Please tell me you saw something that can help me out here.”

You give Fernando your best pleading puppy dog eyes but the Spanish driver just shakes his head.

“Sadly, I did not witness this alleged wedding. I turned in early, unlike you wild youths.”

You groan and let your head fall to the table. “This is bad, Fernando. Really bad. I could lose my seat over this if the team finds out I pulled a stunt like this. I need to figure out who I married!"

Fernando pats your head condescendingly. “There there, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. Your secret is safe with me.”

You peer up at him suspiciously. “Just how secret is this? The smirk on your face makes me think you know something.”

The smirk widens. “Maybe I know something, maybe I don’t. But I’m not going to spoil the surprise for you.”

“Nando!” You smack his arm as he laughs. “This isn’t funny! Just tell me who I married!”

“Nope,” he says, popping the P obnoxiously. “It is too entertaining watching you squirm.”

You let out a frustrated growl. “You’re the worst. I don’t know why I bothered asking you for help.”

“Because you love me, that’s why,” Fernando says with a cheeky wink.

You can’t help but smile a bit at that. You’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for the menace.

“Ugh fine, keep your secrets,” you concede. “I’ll figure this out without your help.”

You start to stand up but Fernando stops you. “Leaving so soon? Stay, have some breakfast with me. You’re going to need your energy today.”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of food so you sink back down into your seat. “I guess I could eat something while I plot my next move.”

A waiter comes by and you order a massive plate of food to soak up the alcohol still swimming in your system. As you tuck into your meal, you notice Fernando watching you from across the table, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he says. “Whoever you ended up marrying ... they are a very lucky man. Underneath this hungover mess, you have a good heart. Don’t be too hard on yourself over one wild night, eh?”

You pause mid-bite, touched by his sincerity. “Thanks, Nando. That really means a lot coming from you.”

He smiles and squeezes your hand briefly before returning to his coffee. The playful twinkle returns to his eye. “Even if you did get married like an idiot last night.”

You snort. “Wow, thanks. Way to ruin the moment there.”

Fernando shrugs, unrepentant. “What can I say? I live to annoy you, little sister.”

You finish up your meal, feeling slightly better with some food in you. As frustrating as that encounter was, at least you can count on Fernando to keep this quiet. Time to go gather more clues.

You stand and point an accusatory finger at Fernando. “This isn’t over. I will get to the bottom of this mystery marriage!”

Fernando just smiles enigmatically. “I have no doubt. Good luck, Mrs. Whatever Your New Last Name Is.”

You stick your tongue out at him maturely and flounce away. That man is infuriating. But the quest continues. Time to find the next driver on your interrogation list.

***

You decide to try your luck with Daniel next. The Aussie partied hard but he’s also a notorious gossip. Maybe he caught wind of something that can point you in the right direction.

You find Daniel lounging by the pool, sunglasses on, basking in the Vegas sun like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

So unfair.

“Hello there, sunshine,” he drawls as you walk up. “Don’t you look fresh as a daisy this fine day.”

You glare at him from behind your own sunglasses. “Stuff it, Ricciardo. I’m only here because I need information from you.”

Daniel gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! Here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” you roll your eyes. “When you’re not being a pain in my ass.”

“A pain in that fine ass of yours? Perish the thought!”

You smack him lightly upside the head and he chuckles. “Alright alright, what do you need from old mate Daniel?”

You plop down in the lounge chair next to him and hold up your left hand. “I need you to tell me anything you know or can remember about how this got on my finger last night.”

Daniel lets out a low whistle. “Well tickle me pink and call me Sheila, Y/N’s gone and got herself hitched in Vegas!”

You shush him frantically. “Keep your voice down! The last thing I need is for this to get out.”

Looking far too delighted by the situation, Daniel leans in conspiratorially. “Right, top secret and all that. Who’s the lucky fella then?”

You sigh. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Everything after we moved on to OMNIA is a total blackout. Please tell me you know something.”

Daniel taps his chin thoughtfully. “Let me think here ... I may have some recollection of the night’s events.”

You perk up. “Yes? Go on then, tell me!”

“I do seem to remember ...” he pauses theatrically, “... that I was your very own ring bearer for the occasion!”

Your face falls. “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?”

Daniel grins cheekily. “What can I say, it was a beautiful ceremony. I was truly honored to be part of it.”

You smack his arm. “You’re no help at all! Come on, I’m desperate here.”

Daniel laughs and puts up his hands. “Alright, alright, I’m just having a bit of fun with ya. Truth is, I was as pissed as the rest of you lot last night. Don’t remember much myself.”

You sigh. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Daniel must take pity on your crestfallen face because he places a hand on your shoulder. “Chin up, Y/N. So you got a little wild in Vegas, it happens. I’m sure you’ll get it all sorted out.”

You nod but can’t keep the worry from your face. “I know, it’s just ... this could really screw things up if anyone finds out. I don’t even know who I married!”

“Well then it’s a good thing you’ve got the Honey Badger on the case!” He proclaims cheerfully. “I may not have the details but I’ll sniff around and ask some questions on the down low.”

You smile gratefully. “I appreciate that. Hopefully someone around here knows something.”

Daniel pops to his feet and offers you a hand. “Too right! Now come on, up you get. Let’s go scrounge up some greasy food and hair of the dog for that hangover, eh?”

You let Daniel pull you to your feet, feeling bolstered by his positivity.

As you head towards the sports bar in search of a burger and fries, Daniel slings an arm around your shoulder. “Cheer up! This’ll make for one hell of a story someday. It might even become a Grill The Grid trivia question.”

Despite everything, you have to laugh. Trust Daniel to look for the bright side.

But you still can’t ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You married someone last night. For real. It’s not just some random hookup you can laugh off. There’s a living, breathing person out there who you pledged your life to and you don’t even know their name.

What kind of person did drunk Y/N choose as a life partner? Are they worried about this too? Or are they some opportunistic sleaze looking to take advantage of you?

You shake your head, realizing Daniel is watching you with a quizzical look. No use speculating. Just keep searching for answers, one driver at a time.

***

After saying goodbye to Daniel, you set off in search of Lewis. As the life of every party, surely he has to know the details of your wild night.

You eventually track him down just outside the hotel, walking his beloved bulldog. Lewis grins when he sees you approaching.

“Ah the bride awakens at last! We were wondering when you’d emerge,” he says with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes. “News sure travels fast. I’m guessing Nando blabbed?”

Lewis shakes his head. “When you have an impromptu wedding in the middle of a rager in Vegas, people are going to talk.”

You wince, dreading how far word of this has already spread. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you need information.

“About that ...” you say. “I don’t suppose you happen to know who I ended up marrying last night?”

Lewis’ grin widens. “Now what kind of best man would I be if I spilled the beans?”

You stare at him in shock. “Best man? You were there?”

“But of course!” Lewis declares. “Had to lend my impeccable fashion sense for your dress. Pulled some strings with a stylist I know and got you all hooked up last minute.”

Your mind is reeling. You got married in an actual wedding dress? This just gets worse and worse.

You wrack your brain trying to picture it. But you have zero memory of any dress. Lewis must read the confusion on your face.

“Don’t worry, I had it safely delivered to your room after you started taking it off in the middle of the club. Though I’m guessing you were in no state to keep track of it,” he chuckles.

You shake your head, still stunned. “I didn’t see any dress in my room. What did you do with it?”

Lewis taps his chin. “You know, I did pop in this morning to check on you but you were still passed out cold. So I had the dress boxed up and sent off to be preserved and framed as a gift.”

He crouches down to scratch Roscoe behind the ears. “That’s from me and this good boy right here. Couldn’t let such a work of art go to waste!”

You’re touched in spite of yourself. “That’s really sweet, thank you. But I would really rather just know who I married right now.”

Lewis stands back up and wags his finger. “Ah ah ah, where’s the fun in that? This is the most entertainment we’ve had all season!”

You groan as Lewis laughs. “Come on, Lew. Have mercy and put me out of my misery here.”

But Lewis just zips his mouth. “My lips are sealed! Don’t you worry though, he’s a great guy. You’ve got my stamp of approval.”

You cross your arms in frustration. Of course Lewis would drag this out like a sitcom. But his clue gives you pause.

“He’s a great guy,” Lewis said. So your mystery spouse is someone Lewis personally knows and actually approves of. That narrows it down a bit.

Lewis gives you an apologetic smile and checks his watch. “I’d best be off. But don’t worry, you’ll figure this out!” He tosses a wink over his shoulder as he saunters away with Roscoe in tow.

You watch them go, mind spinning.

Lewis doesn’t just compliment anyone. So apparently drunk Y/N didn’t marry a total disaster. That’s something at least.

You absently twist the wedding band around your finger. You wish you could remember anything about him, about what happened between you.

Did you have a beautiful ceremony? Exchange heartfelt vows? Share a magical first dance as spouses?

You shake your head ruefully. If so, what a shame not to remember any of it. Here’s hoping that this “great guy” turns out to be someone who can make you fall in love all over again ...

***

You decide on a new approach — find the person who actually married you and your husband last night. Whoever officiated the ceremony must know the identity of your mystery groom.

The only problem is, you have no idea who that could be. It’s not like Vegas chapels employ actual priests or judges to perform marriages. It was probably just some random person licensed to perform marriages.

You start making the rounds of the chapels on the Strip, showing your ring and asking if anyone remembers you coming in during the night. But you have no luck — most of the chapels you try to check in with aren’t even open yet, catering to the drunk impulsive crowd that comes out after dark.

After hours of fruitless searching, you plop down on a bench in front of the Venetian, racking your brain for what to try next.

A group of women in matching Bride Tribe shirts walk by, laughing and chatting in that way only tipsy daytime bachelorettes can.

One of them pauses as they pass and calls out to you. “Hey hun, you look down. Guy trouble?” She gestures to your ring.

You debate waving her off but then reconsider. Maybe a bachelorette party would know their way around the Vegas wedding scene.

“Yeah, you could say that,” you reply. “I’m trying to find the person who married me last night but it was a bit of a ... wild impromptu thing. I don’t even know where it happened.”

The women gasp excitedly. “Oh my god, a drunk Vegas wedding? That’s epic!” Says the one in the rhinestoned Bride To Be sash.

“Epic disaster more like,” you mutter but can’t help smiling. Their enthusiasm is infectious.

The bride puts her arm around you. “Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll help you sort this out! I know all the best chapels.” She turns to her posse. “Ladies, let’s help her track down her mystery hubby!”

You find yourself swept up in the bachelorettes’ mission to assist you. After barraging you with questions about the wedding (“Please tell me you at least had a cute dress?” “Oooh was it Elvis themed?”), they decide that the most likely chapel was The Little Vegas Wedding Chapel off the north end of the Strip.

You all pile into their pink party bus and soon pull up at the aforementioned chapel. The receptionist greets you with a smile. “Welcome ladies! Who’s the lucky bride today?”

The girls nudge you forward. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Well actually, I’m trying to find out if I was a bride here last night.” You show her your ring. “I don’t remember much but I know I got married. I was hoping you might have a record?”

The receptionist types away on her computer, then frowns. “Hmm doesn’t look like we had any late night weddings yesterday. Our last was at 10 pm.”

You sigh but thank her anyway. So much for that idea. At least the bachelorettes are still upbeat as you climb back on their bus.

“No luck there but it was still a fun adventure!” The bride-to-be seems to have all the enthusiasm in the world.

You nod, grateful for their attempts to help. As the bus starts moving, the bride gasps.

“Wait, girls, I think I know where we need to go!” She turns to you excitedly. “There’s this little all-night chapel down on Fremont Street. Our friend Val got married there on a total whim a few years ago and she said it was fabulous!”

A chorus of squeals greets this news. You aren’t sure this is a solid lead, but hey, it’s not like you have any better ideas.

“Alright, let’s give it a shot!”

Twenty minutes later you’re climbing out of the bus in front of a small chapel with a neon 24 Hour Weddings sign. Taking a deep breath, you push through the door into the kitschy Vegas-themed space.

At the front counter is an older man in an Elvis costume that must be at least a size too small. Bingo. You hurry over and show him your ring.

“By any chance did you marry me and some guy last night?”

The Elvis impersonator peers at you for a moment before his face lights up in recognition. “Well slap me sideways, you’re the lovely lady I helped get hitched last night! What a shindig that was!”

Your heart leaps. Finally a lead! “Yes that was me! Do you by chance have a record of who I married?”

Elvis frowns. “You mean you don’t remember the young fella? He was real handsome, said some mighty sweet vows if I recall correctly.”

You shake your head in frustration. So close and yet so far.

Elvis pats your arm. “No worries darling, old Elvis remembers. I gotcha hitched to ...”

You lean forward eagerly as Elvis taps his chin, racking his memory.

“Now let’s see ... young fella you married. He was oh ... a bit taller than you I’d say. Had one of them European accents — German, Swedish, or somethin’ like that. Brown hair I think. A pretty good lookin’ chap. Dressed real sharp too.”

Your heart sinks as Elvis delivers the extremely vague description. Brown hair and a little over your height? Well that only narrows it down to about half of the paddock!

You groan and smack your forehead in frustration. So close! Elvis gives you an apologetic look.

“Aw shucks, wish I could tell ya more little lady. But I was croonin’ so many love songs last night that all you couples started to blend together.”

You force a smile, knowing he did try his best. “That’s alright, I appreciate you checking for me.”

Back outside, you fill in the eager bachelorettes on Elvis’ less than helpful clues. Their excitement deflates a bit.

“Dang, that could be like, anyone!” One says, voicing your thoughts exactly.

The bride-to-be squeezes your shoulder. “Don’t worry hun, we’ll keep thinking! Your mystery man is out there somewhere.”

You give her a grateful hug. “Thanks ladies, for all your help today. I should probably get back to my hotel and keep investigating.”

The gaggle of girls walks you back to the bus, firing off more wild theories about your potential groom.

“Oooh what if it’s that sexy Spanish driver … Alfonso?” Suggests the bridesmaid named Amy.

“It’s Alonso,” you correct with a laugh. She may be way off but you appreciate the enthusiasm.

As you say goodbye to your new friends, your mind is spinning once again. So Elvis confirmed this wedding really happened, though his clues weren’t particularly enlightening.

But he did say one thing — whoever you married gave sweet vows. So apparently in your drunken state, you picked someone who could be sincere and romantic.

That has to count for something, right?

You glance down at the wedding ring on your finger, the physical reminder of the huge secret you’re unraveling. Did you really promise to spend your life with someone here of all places? And do they plan on holding you to that promise?

Your gut twists with anxiety but also a trace of curiosity. Who is this mystery man who can make drunken Elvis shed a sentimental tear?

Whoever he is, you’re going to find him.

***

Exhausted after a day of fruitless searching, you decide to head back to your hotel to regroup. You slump down onto one of the plush couches in the crowded lobby, mind still spinning over the bizarre situation you’ve found yourself in.

Who exactly did you end up pledging eternal devotion to in your drunken stupor last night? So far your quest to unravel this mystery marriage has led nowhere.

But you can’t rest yet. You need answers.

As you sit there contemplating your next move, your phone starts blowing up with Twitter notifications. You blink in surprise. Must be big news dropping for this much activity.

You open the app and nearly swallow your tongue when you see the top trending hashtag: #Y/NMaxWedding.

Your stomach drops to your feet.

No no no, this cannot be happening!

But with a sense of impending doom, you click on the hashtag. Immediately you see the bombshell that has sent your world into a tailspin.

It’s a tweet from a fan account, featuring photos they somehow obtained of a Clark County Nevada marriage certificate between you ... and Max Verstappen. Your teammate.

You stare slack-jawed at the images of the official document signed by you and Max as spouses, clear as day. Your drunken Vegas escapade isn’t a secret anymore. It’s public record, blasted all over social media.

Numb with shock, you scroll through countless tweets analyzing, freaking out over, and cracking jokes about you and Max’s surprise nuptials. Some fans are outraged. Others seem delighted at this bombshell gossip.

You groan, head in your hands. This is an absolute disaster. What was merely a drunken mistake is now immortalized online. There’s no hiding it or hoping it will blow over quietly.

You married Max freaking Verstappen in Vegas. The sometimes arrogant and standoffish but always crazy talented driver you’re teammates with. No wonder he was acting so squirrelly this morning when you asked about the wedding.

Some logical part of your brain knows you need to talk to Max, start figuring out what to do for damage control. But the overwhelmed emotional side just wants to crawl under a rock and hide.

In a daze, you make your way up to your suite. Once inside, you toss your phone onto the bed, not even bothering to read the likely hundreds of texts blowing it up. You are in no state of mind to talk to your manager or team right now.

Collapsing onto the couch, you stare blankly at the wall, feeling numb. Despite all your investigating, a part of you still hoped that maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe the ring and certificate were just part of some elaborate prank.

But there’s no denying it now. You’re well and truly married to Max Verstappen.

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of you. Of all the drivers, of course you had end up with him. Max, your fiercest rival, constantly pushing you to be better. The teammate who drives you crazy but also loves to compete with you and rile you up.

God, your friends are never going to let you live this down. Married to Max. It’s like some cheesy fanfiction brought to life.

You glance over at your silent phone. The logical part of your brain knows you need to call him. You’re going to have to talk about this and figure out what the hell to do next.

But the overwhelmed part wants to put that conversation off indefinitely. You need time to process the bombshell that just upended your life before you can face Max.

Your inner debate is interrupted by a knock at your door. You freeze. No doubt it’s the Red Bull PR team come to scold you or paparazzi looking for a comment on your no-longer-a-secret marriage. Well you have nothing to say to them!

“Go away!” You yell but the knocking persists. With an irritated huff, you wrench open the door, fully prepared to give whoever’s there a piece of your mind.

Instead, you come face to face with the person you least expected but probably most needed to see. Max stands in your doorway, sheepish and awkward.

For several tense beats, you just stare at each other, the weight of this life-altering moment hanging between you.

Finally Max breaks the silence. “So ... quite a day, huh?” He gives an uneasy chuckle.

You continue gaping at him, stunned into silence. Max shuffles his feet, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Can I uh, come in? I think maybe we should talk.”

Wordlessly, you step aside and let him enter the suite. Max perches on the edge of an armchair while you sink onto the couch. More tense silence.

Max clears his throat. “So I’m guessing you’ve seen it?”

You nod mutely. Max sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look, Y/N ... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But I woke up just as confused as you this morning. Wasn’t totally sure it was even real.”

He hesitates then continues softly. “You were pretty out of it last night. We all were. Getting hitched was obviously crazy but I guess it seemed fun in the moment.”

You shake your head, finding your voice at last. “This goes way beyond fun, Max! We’re married! Actually married!" Your voice edges up hysterically on the last word.

“Yes it was a ... crazy night,” Max laughs nervously.

You scoff bitterly. “That’s putting it mildly. I’d say a drunken Vegas wedding to my teammate counts as more than just crazy!"

Max winces at your tone. “Look Y/N, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. But we were all wasted last night. I didn’t even remember at first—”

You cut him off sharply. “Well I don’t remember any of it! As far as I’m concerned, this so-called marriage never even happened.”

You begin pacing. “We need to get this annulled immediately before things get worse. It was clearly an idiotic mistake.”

Max frowns, looking hurt. “Whoa, no need to be so harsh. It may have been drunken impulse but ... maybe it was also fate.”

You stop pacing and stare at him incredulously. “Fate? Are you insane?”

He stands and steps towards you. “Hear me out. We’ve been teammates for years now. Maybe deep down we both wanted this.”

Your jaw drops open. Max keeps going.

“I know it’s crazy but what if this marriage was meant to be? We owe it to ourselves to give this a real shot before bailing.”

You gaze at him in disbelief. Is he seriously suggesting ...

“Give this a real shot?” You repeat faintly.

Max takes your hands earnestly. “Yes! We’ve always made a great team on track. Just imagine how great we would be together off track too.”

You open your mouth to argue but Max presses on. “Plus, my children need a mother.”

You yank your hands back in shock. “Children? You have kids?”

“Well, not human kids,” Max admits sheepishly. “But my cats, Jimmy and Sassy! They need a maternal influence.”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with Max’s ramblings. Is he pranking you right now?

He fixes you with his most charming smile. “Come on, wifey. Just give it a chance! We’re clearly compatible if drunk us wanted to get married.”

You stare at him like he sprouted a second head. Max gazes back hopefully. His smile really is kind of adorable ...

No! Snap out of it! This is crazy.

But he does raise some valid points. And backing out now would cause an even bigger scandal ...

You slump down onto the couch with a groan. “Fine! We’ll stay married for now. But we explain to the team it was just drunken foolishness.”

Max pumps his fist. “Yes! See, we’re already compromising with each other. It’s like we’re meant to be husband and wife!”

That finally breaks through your haze of shock. Oh god ... you have to tell Christian Horner that you married Max Verstappen.

***

You take a deep breath as you stand outside Christian’s hotel suite, arm raised to knock. “Ready for this?” You ask Max.

He grimaces. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Might as well get it over with.”

You steel your nerves and rap sharply on the door. After a moment, it swings open to reveal Christian mid-yawn.

“Y/N, Max, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks curiously.

You shuffle your feet, not sure how to start. “Uh, hey Christian. Max and I have something we need to discuss with you. Mind if we come in for a minute?”

Christian narrows his eyes but steps aside to let you both in. “What’s this about? I just got off a conference call with the factory team in Milton Keynes and I was finally planning to try my luck with the slots downstairs.”

You perch awkwardly on the edge of an armchair while Max stands next to you stiffly.

How do you even begin to break this kind of news to your boss?

“So Christian, funny story ...” you start lamely.

Max jumps in, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. “We got married last night.”

Christian’s eyes widen comically. For a long moment he just looks between you two like you each have three heads. Then he throws his head back and laughs heartily.

“Good one guys, you almost had me there! Trying to pull one over on your poor old team principal, very funny,” he chuckles, wiping his eyes.

You give a weak smile. “No uh, we’re actually being serious. We got married for real last night.”

Max nods. “It just sort of ... happened.”

Christian collapses onto the sectional, looking between you in shock. “This would be a great time for you to stop with the prank.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Max says solemnly. “We were drunk and it was all really quite fast ...”

“No no, this must be some kind of joke!" Christian protests, though he’s starting to look uncertain. He grabs his phone off the coffee table. “Let me just check online, there’s no way ...”

His voice trails off as he scans his phone screen, eyes going wide at the headlines. With a low groan, he collapses back into his armchair.

“It’s true? You two actually ...” He drags a hand down his face. “Please tell me this is all some elaborate hoax the internet cooked up. Please tell me that two other people named Max Verstappen and Y/N Y/L/N happened to get married in Vegas last night.”

You shake your head helplessly.

Christian drops his head into his hands with a groan. “Unbelievable. Two of my drivers running off and eloping in Vegas! The media is going to have an absolute field day with this.”

He fixes you both with a stern glare. “Do either of you have any idea the position this puts the team in? The scandal it could cause?”

You hang your head, properly chastised. Max speaks up tentatively. “We’re really sorry, Christian, it was incredibly stupid of us. But it’s done now so we just have to deal with it.”

Christian sighs heavily. “You’re not wrong. The last thing we need is more media drama so we will have to get out in front of this.”

He pauses, regarding you both shrewdly. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll pursue an annulment right away and we can pretend this never happened?”

You glance at Max, who takes your hand and shakes his head. “We’ve talked it over and want to make this work. It happened for a reason.”

Christian makes a strangled noise. “Make this work? You plan on staying married??” His voice rises in pitch, verging on hysterical.

“We want to try,” you confirm, squeezing Max’s hand.

Christian looks desperately between you two once more before his eyes roll back and he slumps over in a dead faint.

You and Max rush over in concern. “Christian!" Max taps his face urgently. “C’mon, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, Christian’s eyes flutter open. “Wha ... what happened?” He mumbles.

“You passed out when we told you we’re staying married,” you explain sheepishly.

Christian groans, covering his face with his arm. “God help me, this is a nightmare ...”

You have to bite back an inappropriate laugh. Seeing your usually unflappable team principal so flustered would be funny if the situation wasn’t so serious.

Max helps Christian sit up and hands him a glass of water. “Sorry for springing this on you. But we’re going to make the best of it.”

Christian fixes Max with a weary look. “Just promise me no more reckless surprises from you two.”

You and Max raise your right hands in unison. “We promise!”

Taking a deep breath, Christian straightens his shirt and smooths his hair, regaining his composure. “Right. Well this is certainly an unexpected development. But the show must go on.”

He adopts his usual businesslike tone. “We’ll need to draft a press release announcing this immediately and get ahead of the media cycle. No commenting publicly until we strategize.”

You both nod obediently. Christian checks his watch. “I needed to get our PR team on the phone five minutes ago. You two, order room service and lay low until you hear from me.”

He ushers you politely but firmly out the door. As it shuts behind you, you turn to Max with wide eyes. “Well ... that could’ve gone worse?”

Max winces. “I thought Christian was going to burst a blood vessel at first. But it seems he’s taking it in stride.”

You both burst into slightly hysterical laughter, the stress melting away.

Looks like you have a marriage to figure out how to actually make work.

***

One year later

You take a deep breath as you knock on the door to Christian’s office, Max by your side. It’s time to break some more big news to your team principal.

“Come in!” Christian calls.

You enter to find him sitting at his desk surrounded by the usual organized chaos of strategy plans and data analysis.

He looks up, blinking in surprise. “Y/N, Max, what brings you by?”

You glance at Max, who gives you an encouraging nod and tentative smile. Turning back to Christian, you clasp your hands together nervously.

“Hey Christian. So, remember last year in Vegas when we promised no more reckless surprises?”

Christian’s eyes narrow warily. “Yeeesss ...” he draws out.

You look at Max again who blurts out, “Well we have another surprise coming your way. You’re going to be a grandpa!”

Christian’s jaw drops. His gaze darts down to your still flat midsection then back up to your nodding, beaming faces.

“You ... you’re ...” Christian stammers, looking like all the blood has drained from his face.

You take pity and confirm it for him. “Pregnant, yes. Surprise!” You add with an awkward chuckle.

For a few long moments Christian just sits there, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish. Then, his eyes roll back and he topples forward, head thunking down on his desk.

You and Max rush forward. “Uh no, I think we broke him again,” Max winces, gently shaking Christian’s shoulder.

After a few tense seconds, Christian stirs with a groan. “Oww, my head ...”

“You passed out when we told you about the baby,” you explain sheepishly.

Christian blinks blearily up at you both hovering over him anxiously. “The baby ... so it’s really true then?”

You place a hand on your stomach. “Yep! There’s going to be a little Verstappen running around in around seven and a half months.”

Despite his obvious shock, Christian manages a weak smile. “Well how about that ... we’re expanding the Red Bull family.”

Max claps him on the back. “I know it seems a bit crazy but we’re thrilled.” He squeezes your hand and smiles softly.

Christian lets out a long breath, straightening his rumpled shirt. “Well, I appreciate you both coming to me first this time. We’ll need to strategize how to share the happy news.”

You can’t resist teasing him gently. “Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to avoid making you faint again in the future.”

Christian levels a stern finger at you both. “See that you do. My heart can only take so much.” But his mock glare melts into a warm smile.

You exchange a grin with Max.

It turns out that sometimes what happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas … but neither of you is going to complain about that.

3K notes · View notes

nemesyaaa · 4 months ago

Text

Seven days // Zach mclaren x female!reader

Summary ; After an injury from soccer, Zach is forced by his doctor to rest his feets at home which leads him to order food. It was just supposed to be one night, but it was before seeing how pretty you are. And this is how you end up meeting him almost every night on your shift because he couldn't stop himself from ordering just to see you on his door . The food is great but he's now looking for another taste...

Warnings : None. it's purely romcom coded with all the fluff plotline and the cheesy lines filled because i needed this <3 (the delivery trope is so much underrated.)

Author's note : This is dedicated to @nadvs because we belong in the same zach fanclub. but also it's for all the zach's girlies. ✨‼️

There was no one who loved winter more than you. you were always the first to look forward to this season of the year. From the month of November, you waited at your bedroom window for the first snowflakes, the first white trees, the first mist on the window, the first icy breath on the snowfall. You couldn't wait for the city to be immersed in the Christmas spirit with all the decorations in the streets, the lightened places, the warm outfits to alleviate the chattered teeth and the frozen hands stuck on the pocket. The sunny sky above the roofs of the houses completely covered in snow, the sidewalks buried under the ice, and the snow was so pretty to contemplate in the parks, northern lights and the winter landscapes.

You were definitely a winter girl. that night like all the others where you were not with your nose buried in your books or on the screen of your phone scrolling all your tiktok fyp, you were working as a delivery girl in a chinese restaurant a few meters away from your home. The old couple who ran the house had agreed to take you in, even without any professional experience, and you had always been grateful to them. They were friendly people with immigrant backgrounds like you. You bonded easily, and you were a bit like their granddaughter. It was crazy how the clash of cultures could bring people together.

Because you had been lazing around in your bed for too long, you had to take a fast shower, and leave the apartment quickly. you hadn't even been able to put on a coat as you were already heading to your workplace. the only thing you had time to do was get into the frosty december mood with an eternal classic of your playlist music in your ears called “Last Christmas” by Wham.

you didn't like being late, because it made it seem like you didn't take your job seriously even though it was currently one of the things that mattered the most to you. you had good bosses, nice colleagues and in addition to your salary, you received generous tips. you may not have been rich but life offered you countless things to make you happy.

the only thing she had never given you before was a boyfriend. you'd like to say you weren't desperate about it but you were already in your late twenties and had no experience. it shouldn't be shameful to be single and a virgin but you were starting to believe that you would never find the right person. However, you had crushes but you were just good at accumulating them, not collecting them.

a woman should think more about her studies than about guys. and you agreed, but it was terribly frustrating to see the whole world pairing up when you had never kissed anyone, or even discovered what true love was. it was completely ridiculous.

you pushed the door of the restaurant, your entrance punctuated by a shrill sound of a bell. you greeted your work colleagues, put on your outfit and apologized to the bosses. you were ready to return to service.

“I don't mind if you're late here, but don't be late for the customer " the grandmother behind the counter gently scolded you, with a compassionate smile on her face.

“There is no faster or more reliable delivery person than me. I remind you that I have five stars on the site.”

“think you can beat me?” Spencer, one of your work colleagues, had challenged you.

“i already did. but thanks you, you’re adorable but keep going, I love seeing you believe in your dreams.”

you giggled before grabbing the bag of food. when you looked up at the address, your eyes widened.

“ what's the matter ? ” he asked because of the sudden look in your face. “ Something's wrong ? ”

“ it's just…i already delivered this guy almost everyday this week…i'm just kinda surprised, you know ? ”

“ you doubt the quality of my food ? ” questioned your boss with a fake offended tone.

“ no, lady su. nobody makes better food as you in this town but isn't-it strange ? ”

"maybe it's not about the food that he orders so much." had simply commented on the grandfather who passed by with a steaming tray of delicious dumplings with a plate of Peking duck.

you rolled your eyes, not believing a word he had just said. but he replied with a wink. sometimes you wondered if they weren't your real grandparents.

you left the restaurant before starting your motorcycle. on the way, you began to regret not having brought a jacket or scarves because you were starting to shiver. the cold was terrible with the wind which literally felt like a blizzard. your body felt colder against the temperature and you had been sneezed on several times. your ears were icy, and you were sure your bones were frozen. at least your fingers were.

you parked in front of the building. you rang the bell for him to open the building door for you before going up the stairs.

you knew the place by heart now that you came there every day. even though you tried not to think about it, it gave you a strange feeling knowing that he ordered at the restaurant every day. it was quite curious. you recognized that the food was incredibly good, but so much so that he wanted to eat it every day?

no way.

impossible.

you weren't complaining about having such a good client, it was very cool but you had to ask yourself questions. you barely had time to knock on the door when it opened, as if he had pathetically and desperately waited behind until you arrived.

“hey” his voice was always so friendly, so eager to greet you.

“hey” you replied with the same intonation, before handing over the bag of food.

Usually, you never bothered to take a closer look at your customers. you delivered and left but this time, you couldn't help but observe him from the third time you came. he must have been the same age as you. he was easily taller than you, his size forcing him to look down on your frame. he had intensely blue eyes, even brighter in the light of the hall.

and you could tell by his athletic shape that he had a sports career at his college. but judging by the way he grimaced when he walked, it was on break. you could tell that he had recently had a problem with his foot. you didn't need to have studied medicine to know that.

even if he wanted to hide it from you, you could hardly ignore that he was in pain.

as he picked up his bag, you sneezed. three times in a minutes. you tried to appear completely normal but it would have been hard for him to act like he hadn’t heard anything.

“i’m s-sorry.” you apologized. “ i'm fine. ”

“don’t tell me you deliver in those clothes ? ”

"it's okay. it's not about the co..." you sneezed.

“what did you say already?” he mocked you softly. “hold on. can you wait just a second?”

“w..."

you couldn't finish your sentence as he already had his back turned to you. you sighed slightly. you couldn’t lie about how terribly cold you were. you were shaking, and your cheeks were frozen.

when he returned, he was holding a jacket in his hand.

“I can’t accept it, I’m sorry.” you politely refused.

“I’m not going to let you go without it.”

“It’s embarrassing. and it’s not mine.”

he placed the jacket on your shoulders, ignoring your words. “now it’s yours. ”

“ you're too kind. I’ll give it back to you after my shift.” you replied, thanking him.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

"Are you sure? I don't want to take advantage of your kindness."

“you’re better like that…” he hesitated for a long time before answering. “It looks good on you, better than it does on me.”

“then I should keep it.” you joked.

your little moment was interrupted by the vibration of your phone. it was spencer. you smiled, and replied “sorry, I have to go.”

you came home around two in the morning, the night had been long but warmer with your client's jacket on your back. you felt so good in it that when you got home, you kept it on for a few more minutes. the garment carried his scent, it was soft and surprisingly light as a perfume.

the next night he ordered again. you had left home early so as not to be late for work. he ordered at the same time every day, and he was very conscientious about this detail. so he was always your first customer of the day.

you had picked up the food, and walked over to his house in a fuzzy coat and matching boots. you had opted for something warmer, and you were carrying three bags in your hands. Chinese food, coat and apple shortbread with an aromatic touch of cinnamon and spices. you had spent your free time cooking instead of studying in order to thank him for kindly lending you his coat because it had saved you.

you followed the recipe from a culinary influencer that you followed on Instagram. you hoped that would have an effect on him.

you rang the doorbell. and the moment he opened the door, you were about to greet him with your charming delivery girl voice, but the words stuck wildly in your throat. you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm.

you were by no means shy, but he had literally managed to shove all of your self-confidence down your soul with his half-naked appearance. a hot steam hovered his tonic body and a white towel loosened his sculpted hips.

his chest was hot and wet as if he had just come out of a sauna. you wanted to look away but how were you supposed to ignore the size of his biceps when he rubbed his hair, the shaking movements of his arm making splash some beads of water. how were you supposed to ignore the six-packs exposed under your eyes. this body was just full of sins and you were about to lose your job if you heard your thoughts.

you gulped loudly, before finally being able to speak your mind. “ hey ! here’s your jacket. and i… ”

his smile was huge and in a way so warm. but mostly, it was his gaze. the way his eyes were fixed on your face, and your opened lips to catch every word of your mouth killed you. you tried to avoid his piercing stare but you couldn't escape it.

“ i made you some shortbread. i just hope you like cinnamon and apples. ”

“ you really made this for me ? ” he asked, like he couldn't believe it himself.

“ it's my way to show you how thankful i am. ”

“ seems like you've got a lot for me today. ”

“ "It's nothing. And you're a loyal customer. It's very nice to order from us every day. My bosses appreciate it."

“my name is zach.” he replied, holding out his hand to you.

“y/n.”

“I should have known you had a pretty name.”

you smiled before giving him all the bags. he returned a few seconds later with the tip. and your eyes widened at the amount.

“ wow... that's nice but i don't think I deserve that much money. "

“ you don't want my money ? ” he teased you softly, a little smile curving his lips. “ what can I offer you that would please you ? ”

“ you don't need to. just stay safe, okay ? ”

“ it comes from the girl who makes deliveries on cold winter days without a jacket. ”

“ i was stupid, it doesn't count. and I was late to my job, I didn't think too much. but now can you see ? i've got a superb coat. ”

he stared at you longer than he should. obviously, you were pretty. you were coming back from a long drive in the wind. you still had snowflakes in your hair, the tip of your nose was damp from the cold, your lips were slightly chapped and your breathing was foggy. you also wore an earmuff on your head which made your hair sag.

but you still looked so beautiful to him. his eyes were sparkling under the lights of the hall of his apartment.

“ would you mind if i ask you why you are ordering everyday ? i mean yea the food is really great and i'm happy that you're enjoying it truly. but it can't possibly be this awesome ? and deliveries cost some money at the end of the day, so is it…just about the food already ? ”

you know it was a risk to ask something like that but you couldn't hold yourself to hide this thought. you kept coming back everyday to his place, it was kinda your right to want to know. and also, he was not forced to answer you. you were anxious and afraid because you didn't want to seem bothered by him. you started to play with your fingers, slowly biting nervously your lower lip.

a little chuckle came from his mouth, before answering your thoughts. “ you've got me. ”

“ you think i'm dumb, zach ? ” you lighty joked to relieve the tension.

“ oh no. i know you're smarter than me, ma’am. ”

“ it's not true. you're just obvious. ”

“ but the food is really good. ” he defended himself by pulling out of the bag the box of noodles. “ want a bite ? ”

“ i'm working. ” you said.

“ actually, you're talking to me. ” he corrected.

how silly.

“ to be honest, i need to go back to work. my bosses will not be happy if i took too much time with a client. ”

“ then let's see each other without you being the delivery girl and me being the client. ”

“ i don't think it's professional. ”

“ think the way you stared at me when i opened the door was professional too ? ”

“ you know what you were doing. ” you mumbled in your throat.

“ and you're just mad because it worked. admit it, pretty. ”

you rolled your eyes and he laughed. “ it's not like you've got the body of an old man. ”

“ i'm a soccer player so i need to stay in good shape. i'm working out every day. ”

“ oh i totally suck at this game. ” you admitted.

“ you just need to learn. ” he answered. “ because, i promise, it's easy for a sport. ”

“ i don't know if i can trust you when i look at your foot…it doesn't look better since i come here…”

you didn't realize what you had just said until you caught his intense and piercing blue gaze on you. you looked away and he responded.

you had observed him. and you had just exposed it.

“It’s just an accident. It's nothing serious. I just have to be careful for a month but then I can start playing soccer and matches again. "

“you have to really love it to want to pick it up after an accident.”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

you would have loved to finish this conversation and even chat a little more with him but the clock was ticking and you had other clients.

"Okay. We can see each other again as normal people."

you wrote your number on a piece of paper before greeting him. you felt a little sorry for cutting him off in such a serious moment like this but you didn't have time anymore.

you couldn't afford to lose your job. you needed it. you were a student and you didn't really have the choice of working if you wanted to enjoy life, which was quite ironic.

When you got home, you had your phone on. zach sent you a message.

zach mclaren: hey

zach mclaren: your shortbreads were perfect

you: maybe i should start a business :)

(you boost my ego. thank you.)

zach mclaren: you know how to boost my ego too when you stare at me for so long

you: i was just checking that you don't get cold...

zach mclaren: you're not good at lying

zach mclaren: it's a compliment

you: i'm going to sleep.

zach mclaren: are you working tomorrow? i would love to see you

you: you're lucky. it's my day off.

it had already been half an hour since you said you were going to sleep but you continued to text zach. you would probably regret it tomorrow when you were half asleep in class but for now, you were responding to all his texts every second.

after your day of classes, you came home to change. you were meeting zach at the christmas market in a few minutes and you wanted to look presentable. you had arrived early for the meeting for fear of being too late, you hoped not to seem desperate or in too much of a hurry. when you saw his silhouette in the crowd, you smiled.

he was walking towards you, his hands in his pockets, and his lips were twisted into an adorable smile that was only addressed to you.

It was so warm in places like that but it was even better when you had someone by your side. you would think he was your boyfriend but he wasn't. you were still sadly single in winter.

“did you find something you like? " he asked.

“i was waiting for you.”

“ did you wait a long time ? ” he was now worried, but you reassured him.

“ also last time you said that you didn't have the choice to continue soccer…and i was wondering why ? i mean, there are a lot of alternatives. ”

“ i'm just…good at it ? i always focused on soccer since i'm a kid, and i've got no other skills or passions so i can't really give up. ”

“ there is no other things that you're good at except that ? i don't believe you. yes, i don't know you but you can't tell me you're only skilled at just shooting your feet in a ball. ”

“ i really need to show you what soccer is. ” he chuckled out loud, looking at you're confused look.

“ what do you do when you're at home ? you're just watching TV ? don't you read ? ”

“ it's boring to read. ”

you tried not to wince at his comment but your mouth was pursed slightly. “Have you ever tried to at least read some?”

you chatted while walking through the aisles filled with small traders. there was everything: jewelry, food, scented candles, soaps and body care, clothes and scarves, local products and a lot of other things.

“ i want to look at the scarves. maybe, i will find another one to add to my collection. ”

he nodded. honestly, all your desires were orders. he couldn’t say no to your sparkling eyes.

he followed you to the stand run by a lady behind her counter. she was quick to greet you as if you were her first customers of the day.

you grabbed the white scarf before wrapping it around your neck in front of the mirror. the wool was so soft.

you turned around to ask zach’s opinion but he was already looking at you. all his attention was fixed on you.

“it looks very pretty on you. you should pick that one. “

you didn't need to look in the mirror again because his gaze was terribly convincing.

White was certainly an ordinary color but with the tone of your skin, it was the ideal layering. the glow of your features was what made this scarf look so good, and what made you so attractive. Zach was literally watching you with stars in his eyes, trying so hard to not exposing his feelings but you were just so pretty with that accessory and your smile was literally taking his breath away. “ very pretty ” he whispered before towering with his height, using his hands to adjust the scarf around your neck.

His touch was so gentle, cold because of the snow that fell from the sky and gave your bones little shivers. You slowly met his gaze as his face was across yours, his fingers still wrapped around the fabric of the accessory.

Your mouth was agape, filled with tiny breathing that was tickling the space between you and him. You felt every snowflakes on your hair, your face getting colder with time.

When he took a step back, you looked away quickly.

“ i'm gonna take it then ! ”

“ you should. ”

when you were about to take out your wallet, he had already taken out his card to pay.

“You’re lucky to have a boyfriend like that. ” the lady commented.

“ he's n…” for some reason you didn’t continue your sentence.

you had just continued on your way to turn towards a food stand.

"you shouldn't have paid. I'll reimburse you..."

“I know but I wanted to do it. ”

"ok, then let me buy you something in return. why not a smoothie? athletes like that, right? it's fruity, it has vitamins. it's nutritious. let me find the perfect taste for you. ”

zach was lucky that you couldn't read his thoughts because he was gonna explode. hearing you talking about his health like that, turning yourself into a little nutritionist was something irreal for him. you were like a dream.

you were smart, gentle, soft and calm. you didn't need anything more to make him under your spell. just the way you were was enough. he was not the type to be difficult in regards to love, he could fall in love so easily with anyone. but the way you were, all the beauty that came from your brain, your physic, your gesture, your mind.

“ think you can do that without knowing every single thing about me ? ”

“ i know that you play soccer. ”

“ and ? ”

“ yea, you're kinda right. we don't know each other. but this is why we are here together in that marketplace. you're gonna talk to me about your life, the things you love, that make you happy and i will just be here, listening to you and realize that you're in fact a sweet boy. ”

“ only sweet ? i'm sure i'm more than sweet. ”

you ordered a smoothie and gave it to him, waiting to know what his thoughts on the state. he catched the straw with his mouth, and started to drink a little of the juice.

“ pretty good. ”

“ i'm glad. there are strawberries, bananas and spinach in it. i know it's the end of the day, but when you start your morning, it's a good and rich combo. ”

“ do you want to taste it ? ”

“ can i ? ”

“ you're lucky. i'm happy to share. ”

“ oh zach, you're too good. ”

“ i can ask for another str…”

“ it's okay. ”

he handed you the juice, and at the moment, you didn't care about the way your lips literally shared around the straw. you were just focused on how good your taste was. it was delicious.

you and zach continued to walk under the snow.

you shouldn't do it but unconsciously you noticed the little attention of the athlete. like the way he held you closer to prevent you from bump into people, the way he delicately readjusted your scarf so it wouldn't fall off, the way he slowed down when he felt like he was walking too fast for you, the way he went where your gaze went, looking at you so often to make sure that you were okay.

he was also a very attentive person. he loved hearing you talk, as he enjoyed listening to you. you were so interesting that he felt terribly boring next to you. you always had something to say, anecdotes, facts, stories. you could convince him to open a book more often with your words.

you had a way of being simply attractive.

when it started to get late, he walked you home. you talked about absolutely everything about cinema, music, sports, activities. you had never had so much fun. and it felt good.

you had even listened to music on the way home. you shared a pair of headphones that connected to your phone while remaining next to each other.

you had arrived at the door of your house, and a long minute had passed.

“thanks for today, zach. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a great day in my entire life.”

“then we should do this again. i mean if you're okay. ”

"Would you invite me again? It would be a pleasure. We could go to the cinema, or to.."

“whatever you want. i just like to be with you honestly. ”

you smiled. and his lightened gaze already catched your smile, while you wisely kept your hands in your pockets.

“ Oh, I almost forget.” you replied, giving him back the jacket he had lent you earlier. “ this is yours. ”

“you can keep it.”

“I can’t accept it.”

“And I can’t get it back either.”

“zach!”

"I'm serious. I'd rather see it on you than on me…”

he moved closer, leaning just above you. you had started to feel chills throughout your body, like squirming in your stomach. the proximity was so close that you were frozen. when you thought he was going to kiss you because he was leaning over your face, staring at you with light in his eyes, he simply blew on the tip of your nose. you shivered before feeling a slight rush of moisture on your face. a snowflake.

for some reason, you were kinda disappointed.

his mouth was so close to yours that you kinda expected it, his features were over yours, his lips were so close that you could feel his warm breathing against yours, and his nose was literally brushing your skin. the way it was so cold outside but every time he stood near you, the temperature rose again. it felt like he was enough to warm you up.

you didn't realize that you closed your eyes because of the sudden magic you felt inside your tummy. it was so strange. when you fixed your gaze on him again, he was two feets away from you and you chuckled softly. “ you scared me. ” you admitted. “ don't do that again. ”

“ i just protecting you from getting cold again. ”

“ you're worrying too much about me. don't forget yourself. ”

“ i can't help it. ”

"i-i need to go, okay. thanks you so much for today.”

“ text me when you're home. i mean in your room. ”

“ i'm literally there. ”

“ i just want to be sure. ”

“ okay. ”

you had been thinking about this day for the past two days. it occupied all your thoughts. you had returned to work, you had become a simple delivery person again.

you made your deliveries and then went home. the routine was the same except for one detail. zach had stopped ordering. now you were friends.

today, you suggested to Zach that you meet at the mall. It was quite cold outside due to the winter wind and snow so it was better to stay warm. you hadn't waited long before seeing him in the middle of the crowd. you were starting to get used to his presence in your life, and it was crazy how much space he could take up so quickly.

“wow, you really came fast.”

“I couldn’t keep you waiting. I'm a gentleman. ”

“I’m not that special you know.”

“I think you are. ”

“ I think you should stop saying things that make me want to fall in love with you. ”

“ Why ? Is it bad ? I'm a good guy. ”

“ Being too good is suspicious. ”

“ Fair point. ”

“ Anyways, does your feets hurt ? I've always ask you for things that make you walk so I feel sorry. ”

“ Don't worry, it's starting to get better. ” in fact, Zach was really surprised that you care about it. you cared about him more than he thought.

“ Really ? I'm glad. ”

you had followed the athlete to the video game store, a place that was extremely foreign to you but it was perfect. you wanted to know so much more about his world because since you knew him, you had the impression of only talking about yourself, of being the only one to open up.

“I bet you’re lost.” He scoffed, watching you glance around. “ You look like a puppy. ”

"I'm getting acquainted with your world. Be nice, will you?"

“I should teach you how to play.”

“ Oh yeah, teach me how to kick your ass. ”

" So this is your only motivation. ” he laughed, taking place next to you.

“ you know, i already play some games. not your type of game but…”

“ which one ? ”

“ just dance. ” you replied proudly. “ and i'm pretty good at it so don't even start to mock me. . ”

“ i believe you. but you know, you need to show me those dance skills one day. ”

“ don't say it twice. out of subject, why are we here ? you want to buy something ? ”

“ yea for my little sister. she loves to play video games like me, and it's Christmas soon so I want to buy her a new game. ”

“ oh so you're a big brother ? that's why you're so good with girls. ”

“ i thought i already told you. “

“ no, because i would remember it. what's her name ? ”

“ avery. i think you would like her. ”

“ i would like to meet her. ”

you kept talking while seeking a present for his little sister. when you find a game, he buyed it before the two of you walk to the bookstore. it was his time to get lost, and your time to shine.

“ so, this is your heaven ? ” he asked, still staring at you.

“ isn't it the most pretty place in the world ? i would buy everything here if i was rich but unfortunately i'm forced to choose only a few books. ”

“ you can read online. ” Zach suggested.

“ i know but this is not the same. i want to feel the paper. and i need to have the book in my room, to add it to my collection. ”

“ so you want to be an author later or something like that ? ”

“ oh no, reading is just a hobby. i learn a lot by reading. i can't believe you don't like it, or maybe you just didn't find the perfect book. let me find you one. ”

“ you really took that seriously. ”

“ this is why you shouldn't joke with me. so now, you're forced to read. ”

The Bluest Eye By Toni Morrison.

“ I've read this one when i was younger and it's beautiful. I think it's one of my favorites ever written. ”

“ I'm sure you've got great tastes. ”

one day, the grandmother who was your boss stopped you while you were going on deliveries.

“are you okay?”

“yes. why?”

“you know that guy you were talking about last time. he doesn’t order from us anymore. is he sick?”

" oh so that's it. don't worry. he just got what he wanted. " you replied with a wink.

A month had passed, and his feet were already feeling much better. he was going to return to university, and especially soccer.

zach mclaren : i've finished the book

you : how do you feel ?

zach McLaren : miserable

zach McLaren : but it was worth it

you : i felt the same the first time

you : but congrats, you read a book !

you : i'm feeling proud

zach mclaren : now, it's my turn

zach McLaren : come over

you : i need to study

zach mclaren : this is why you're texting me right now ?

you : i will be there in few minutes

you left your house after a quick shower to spend the rest of the day with him.

before returning to classes, he invited you to his house.

It was crazy knowing this building by heart even though you didn't live there.

he opened the door for you and you couldn’t help but joke. “ shit, you're dressed this time. ”

“ and i still make you look. ”

“ one point for yot. i've got the food. my bosses are generous and wanted to make the food for tonight. ”

“ i'm starting to be the favorite. ”

“ in your dreams. ”

you entered the apartment.

it was big enough for a student. you wondered how rich he was sometimes. you had started setting the table with all the chinese food, and he had brought the drinks. he had even prepared cakes for dessert.

you decided to watch a movie.

“what do you want to watch? ” he asked.

“ the princess and the frog. i'm in the mood to lurk at Prince Naveen. Isn't he the best prince ? ”

“ I thought i was. ”

“ So, i'm your Tiana. ” you joked. “ You would love me if I turned into a frog, Zach McLaren ? ”

“ Yea. And you will still be the best and the most beautiful person i've ever known. ”

“ I can't believe a man like you is single. ”

“ I can't believe you're single too. You're pretty, you're smart, you're talen…”

“ continue and i will think that you're in love with me. ”

“ does it matter ? ”

you looked at him, turning your gaze in his eyes.

maybe it was obvious from the start. all these commands, the way he looked at you, the way he absolutely wanted to spend time with you, the way he was constantly trying to talk to you. it wasn't just friendship, this affection was stronger, more intense. he wanted more than to be your friend.

what was less so for you was when all these attentions began to charm you. when was the moment, he made a house inside your mind and made you think of him so often.

“ Zach. ”

“ You're important to me. I love everything about you. I thought i was good by staying your friend but i want more with you. ”

“ It's so funny…I was just that delivery girl who came to your place and now, we're just here together…i mean, i'm just surprised…i'm just surprised because your words make me feel so attractive and important. i Always thought that i would end up alone and you just came into my life, made it brighter and now you're confessing your feelings about how you love me just because i was myself. ”

you were too sensitive, and zach took your hand in his, gently stroking your skin with his thumb, before you lost your gaze in the blue fierce of his eyes. “ hey, hey. look at me…”

“ when you seek love all your life and you suddenly feel loved, it's just so warm. you make everything so much better… ”

your words were shutted by his mouth, his lips moved into yours crushing them in a passionate kiss, as he pulled you closer with his hand on your cheek. you were exploding, making yourself a way on his lips, letting his free hand slowly down your body to catch your hips. he stroked them softly, his fingers dancing under the fabric of your t-shirt. you were on top of him, controlling the kiss with your tongue, and biting his lower lips with your teeths. you were pleased by the sounds of his moans under your breath. he was deliciously hot, and you shushed him with your fingers against the wet stream of his lips, forcing him to keep his mouth shut.

“ maybe, it's better to do it slowly because we are just confessing our feelings to each other. we shouldn't burn any step. it's okay for you ?”

“ i think you're right. it's better if we're taking time to make things right. ”

“ sounds like we're understanding each other well. ”

“ i really want to take my time with you, and we're not in a hurry. ”

“ i appreciate you for this. you're my first boyfriend you know and what i mean by that is that i'm…very happy that's you. i don't care that i'm not your first girlfriend because I feel really loved and it's all that matters. ”

#dividers by dollywons #my baby zach mclaren. been waiting for you <3 #walking green flag. love of my life. sweetest boy. babyface.#zach mclaren #zach mclaren and reader #zach mclaren x reader #zach mclaren x female!reader #the other zoey #zach mclaren fanfiction #i love him so much god #drew starkey x reader #zach mclaren x y/n

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dansroo · 3 months ago

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Constantly thinking about the soft touch of Mel's hands on your back, slowly stopping on your shoulders. Her breath hitting the back of your neck, causing chills all over your body. The warmth of one of her hands going up the side of your neck and her fingers gently taking you by the jaw.

Your hands remain firm behind your back as you watched Councilor Talis in front of you. From the expression on his face, you could tell that he was still nervous. Watching him swallow when his gaze moved away from Mel to meet yours.

"He's a pretty attractive young man, isn't he?" The sudden voice of the Councilor Medarda making you hit a little jump. Her lips being just centimeters from your ear. You didn't need to look at her to notice her sweet and tempting little smile.

You swallowed. Never, in all the years you had been working for the young Medarda, have you imagined yourself in this type of situation. Much less that you would agree to do it.

Councilor Talis coughing embarrassed, looking away to the other corner of the room "Yes... I can say" you heard the murmur of his voice, coming out almost in a whisper. He wouldn't lie to himself, you had caught his attention from the first time he looked at you. The elegance with which you did things, your education, the way you spoke, smiled and even laughed. The way you seemed to contrast and fit perfectly with Mel. It was a challenge for him not to set his eyes on you.

Your gaze following Mel until she stopped in front of a glass table, where a pretty bottle of wine rested.

"Quite obedient too" her golden figure turned toward you. It is inevitable not to look at the way her lips made contact with the thin glass, taking a small sip of the crimson liquid—all this as she walked in your direction. Her eyes did not leave yours at any moment , reaching a point where you were so absorbed in them that your body did not react until she was very close.

A kiss, a completely wet kiss, showing no tenderness at all. Her tongue dancing inside your mouth, exploring every part of you without any shame. The bitter yet sweet taste of the wine filled your throat, savoring what she had given you and letting the rest slide down your chin to your neck.

Councilor Talis' hands slowly getting rid of your belt, taking the time to sweetly lick the rest of the wine that was on your neck. Only to ride you some time later, so desperate, as if his life depended on it.

All this while Miss Medarda made sure that her sweet and very obedient assistant kept his promise. Whispering in his ear what a good boy he was.

I really love my girl Mel so much. 😪 Should I make a complete fic about this?, let me hear your opinions !

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x male reader #x male reader #jaymel x reader #mel medarda #jayce talis #mel medarda x reader #jayce talis x male reader #jayce talis x reader #male reader #jaymel #meljay #i really love them

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choerypetal · 10 months ago

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Love at first Sight / Steve Harrington x Winchester!Sister

Summary: The reader, as the younger sister of the Winchesters, moves to Hawkins to investigate a hunt after losing contact with their father, John. Unbeknownst to them, Hawkins harbors dark secrets, particularly when a certain boy rescues them from the monsters.

ps: This is my longest story to date, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it just as much! Since English isn't my first language, I apologize for any minor grammar errors.

word count; 6ks.

tag list ; @figurantedefilme

“Father, hasn’t come back.”

Dean’s words reiterate in your mind as you sat in the passenger seat. Sam, your twin, understood the potential consequences of bringing you along. You vividly recalled his argument about the test you had the next morning, how he had done everything possible to support your decision not to get involved. The thought of dragging their little sister, on the brink of graduating high school, into family matters made him troubled. "And where exactly is the location?" he asked, struggling to conceal his irritation while casting worried glances in your direction.

Dean understood he had no alternative. If given the opportunity, there was no doubt he would have ventured alone. However, giving John's unequivocal instructions left no room for debate on the matter. When family, particularly your father, was concerned, it was imperative for everyone to participate, regardless of their preferences. Dean's grasp on the steering wheel tightened as he disclosed the destination you were bound for.

“Hawkins.”

Hawkins was nothing like Kansas. After an eight-hour drive with multiple stops, your brothers took turns at the wheel. For once, you all agreed that your father should be immensely grateful when you finally rescued him, especially given the uncertainty about where to start. It wasn't until you checked into a motel near Hawkins that the research on the haunting began in earnest.

Dean had gone to buy some food while Sam and you continued your search. The sun had set, giving way to the shimmering stars of the night. One of the things you couldn't help but admire about Hawkins was the luminous presence of its own scenery. You were stargazing from your motel window when you heard the door creak open and Sam's voice, poised to relay any information about your father's whereabouts. But it was Dean who spoke first, interrupting Sam's rambling about anything he could find useful. "So, you're telling me there are no official records, just a stupid student article about the incident that happened, what, a year ago? When it all started with a boy going missing?"

"Maybe we should ask for the chief," you suggested, recalling the man around your father's age whom your brothers had seen at the gas station an hour earlier. One who could definitely be a source of information. However, your brothers dismissed the notion, unwilling to involve others. "No, no, no," Dean said, pulling food from the plastic bag and placing it on the table. Sam, still engrossed in his laptop, grabbed the first item his hand found. "The one thing we definitely can't do is involve the cops, especially the sheriff."

And he was right, much as you hated to admit it. Dealing with the cops had never been your brother's strongest suits. Recalling numerous arrests, all tied to their hunting activities, with your father or Bobby often being the one to bail them out.

"I think I found something," Sam said, capturing your attention. Dean snatching the laptop from him, causing Sam to roll his eyes and start munching on his sandwich. "Demogorgon, really?" Dean said, almost offended by the article. What struck him, though, was how off the situation felt with the missing boy and the lab in Hawkins.

"I don't know, man. Don't look at me like that. Just read further," Sam insisted as Dean tried to process the information. Despite their extensive hunting experience, from Wendigo's to the King of Hell, Dean was on the verge of dismissing the student article entirely. This seemed like a stretch even for them.

"And you're telling me Dad went missing because of a half-man, half-creature that feeds on human powers?" Dean asked incredulously. Sam chuckled at his brother's disbelief and nodded. "That's what the article says," he confirmed, though Dean remained unconvinced. He needed more evidence, which meant by morning they will have to start questioning anyone around Hawkins. "Tomorrow, first thing. If the rumors are true, and as much as I hate to admit. Dad might be the creature's next snack anytime soon."

The next morning in Hawkins, you and your brothers headed to the nearest diner. Unlike other places you'd visited, Hawkins had a surprising calmness to it. You were particularly excited to visit the DVD store that had caught your eye, likely the only other place of interest besides the arcade. You always made a point to bring something back from each mission—a habit your brothers found odd yet endearing.

"Please," you begged Dean as the three of you walked into the diner. He rolled his eyes as you all sat down and ordered the usual breakfast: two coffees and an orange juice for you. "What do you even need at a DVD store?" he asked. "Maybe it could also be a good excuse for you and Sam to investigate," you replied with a hint of amusement. Your brothers exchanged a glance and thanked the waitress as she brought the food. "She isn't wrong, you know," Sam agreed, seeing the potential in the idea. "And if it makes Y/N feel at home..."

"Fine," Dean finally conceded with a sigh. "But after that, we're heading to the trailer park." He insisted, knowing it was one of the areas where the creature had reportedly lingered and the last place your father was apparently seen.

"Robin, I told you, the last time I flirted with a woman, I couldn't even avoid making her cringe," Steve sighed as he brought the DVD tray to restock returns. Behind the counter, Robin mentally tallied her best friend's countless failures, a smile playing on her lips. “I call dibs on the next client.” As she noticed three silhouettes entering the store, her attention shifted entirely to them. "Welcome!" she greeted them, her tone ambiguous enough to make it unclear whether she enjoyed her job or not. "May I help you?"

Your brother wore an expression of determination. Sam, ever the polite one, smiled first and quickly refocused on their primary mission: finding your father. "We just need a few pieces of information," he said, presenting their fake FBI cards. You leaned forward, peeking between your brothers. Immediately catching Steve's attention. Outside, Max and Billy, being new in town, added to the unusual sight of newcomers, especially at this time of year. Steve couldn't help but admire this in awe. "I'll go look for a souvenir. Don't wait for me," you said, glancing at them one last time before heading off.

"Alright, Chipmunk, just don't take long," Dean replied, prompting you to roll your eyes. Steve noted the nickname, remembering it all too well. As you made your way toward the shelves of tapes, Steve remained with your brothers, soon summoned by Robin.

"It's about their father," Robin had filled Steve in on the situation. Wherever their father was, it didn't sound promising, especially with everything happening—the Demogorgon, Vecna—anything could be connected. Observing Dean's expression shift from annoyance to complete shock, as Sam realized that dismissing the student article might have been their first mistake.

"So... you're saying you fought one of them?" Sam directed his question to Steve. Usually, Steve couldn't resist a bit of ego-boosting, but the serious expression on Dean's face and his repeated glances in your direction, ensuring you wouldn't make a mess, made Steve reconsider. Perhaps setting aside the flirting was the wisest choice. Thus, he simply nodded. "Yes, thanks to Dustin, who obtained the information initially. Even the police are clueless about what's truly occurring."

The Winchester brothers exchanged glances. "Dustin?" they asked simultaneously. Steve nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and not just Dustin. We also have El, who possesses superpowers. She's been instrumental, but given your father's disappearance, someone would have found his body by now or—" Steve hesitated, unwilling to entertain darker possibilities, especially after their experience in the Upside Down. He shared a concerned look with Robin, who shrugged, considering various scenarios. "Wait—let me just process all of this," Dean interjected, taking a step back. Robin offered him a seat at the counter, which he gratefully accepted as he attempted to piece everything together.

"So, let me get this straight: first, this kid Will goes missing, then you guys run into some Demo-whatever-the-hell-it's-called, and now there's this girl with random powers who was held captive in a lab by some Vecna creep?" Dean recalled how vague his father had been on the phone the previous night, mentioning he'd be at some sort of lab. The thought worried him, prompting Sam to give his brother a concerned look. "Are you okay?" Sam inquired. Dean hummed a yes and locked eyes with Steve, who swallowed nervously. Despite only meeting briefly that day, something about your older brother made Steve fidgety. Dean paused momentarily, then retrieved an article from his back pocket and placed it on the counter. Steve immediately recognized Nancy's handwriting.

"Not to sound arrogant, but that's your source?" Steve gestured towards the paper, blinking twice. While Nancy's article was informative, she had to simplify and spice it up to attract readers for her publication, not to mention keep the whole Upside Down ordeal a secret. Steve distinctly recalled her mentioning that. However, he hadn't anticipated it would attract a group of hunters brandishing fake FBI badges. Despite his reservations, he refrained from commenting on it. "Also," he added, indicating their badges, "this whole fake badge charade doesn't fool us. We've already dealt with the Russians trying that stunt," he remarked smugly. Just as you arrived with a stack of DVDs, you couldn't help but laugh. "See? I told you those FBI badges were outdated."

Sam's lips curved into a playful smile as he observed your reaction. Despite disliking that you were traveling with them and missing out on a normal life outside of hunting, it was gratifying to see you interacting with people your age. Your formal demeanor while conversing with Steve, who nodded in response to your comment, was refreshing, as were the small interactions you shared with Robin. "Cash?" Steve inquired next, prompting an eager nod from you as Dean stepped in to pay. "But I have enough!" you protested, pouting adorably—a sight that Steve found strangely endearing. He snapped back to reality as your brother impatiently waited for him to retrieve the cash. "Want-Want the receipt?" Steve asked stuttering slightly, to which your brother shook his head. As the three of you prepared to leave the store, thanking the two employees one last time, Dean paused, causing Sam and you to exchange a curious glance. Dean clearly had something in mind.

"Can we arrange a meeting spot?" he inquired. Steve and Robin shared a glance, aware that the next day they would be assisting Dustin in searching for his friend Eddie. It appeared to be an ideal opportunity, particularly since your brothers intended to explore Hawkins' forest as well. "Skull Rock?" the younger boy proposed. Neither your brothers nor you were aware that you would have more company than anticipated. Dean hesitated, but upon seeing your radiant expression as you held the stack of DVDs you had purchased, you spoke up on their behalf before he could respond. "We'll be there!"

Steve's prediction proved accurate. The following morning arrived, and he remained uncertain whether you would indeed appear, let alone bring your brothers along. The previous night, after interviewing numerous locals, you had practically pleaded with them to join, convinced it was an excellent idea. Considering your father's tendencies, initiating the search in the forest seemed logical. "If this is because of that Steve boy again," Dean interjected with disdain evident in his tone, prompting you to roll your eyes. "It has nothing to do with him! Besides, he's taken down one of these creatures before. I'd sooner trust a DVD seller than a random sheriff at this point." You made a valid argument, and upon witnessing the resolve in your expression, Sam concurred, "She's got a point." With a sigh, Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before starting the engine without another word and directing the car toward Skull Rock.

"So who are we waiting for exactly?" Dustin inquired impatiently, observing Steve's restless pacing. "And what's with the sudden nerves?" Robin teased with a smirk. "It's Y/N." "Y/N?" Steve spoke your name, almost offended. "Oh, so you know her name?" Robin enjoyed Steve's irritation and couldn't resist teasing him further. "She mentioned it before they departed, in case you were paying attention, lover boy."

"They?" Dustin regarded the two adults before him, clearly perplexed by the situation and the strangers they had involved. "Her father vanished, and her brothers, who are apparently hunters, were dispatched here. We're just hoping we don't stumble upon their father's lifeless body along the way," Steve explained. He hadn't intended to sound so severe, but his nerves had taken over, leading him to adopt a touch of sarcasm. His confidence faltered as he heard your brother's voice drawing nearer. "Y/N, this is nonsense. We should've contacted Castiel."

"Yes, but remember, Castiel's at the hospital right now. He needs the rest," you reminded them, recalling the events of the last hunt. "Come on, grumpy old man," you added, grabbing Dean's arm, eliciting a whine from him, while Sam chuckled, enjoying the moment. As your eyes met Robin’s, you waved at her. "Robin!"

Robin was the first to notice your arrival and approached you with a hug. You were introduced to Dustin, whom they described as the clever one, and who had some knowledge about the creatures and your father's potential whereabouts. Lucky for him, he had mentioned about seeing a man whose description bore a striking resemblance to your father's, which he promptly relayed to Dean. "So, that's how you stumbled upon this entire Russian trap?" you inquired. They all nodded in agreement, but their conversation was interrupted as Eddie emerged from his hiding spot, causing you to startle slightly.

"Dustin, you rascal," Eddie's voice reverberated in your thoughts. Amidst the chaos of your missing father and the onslaught of curses from Max and Eddie, whom you had only just met, Eddie extended his hand to shake yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as he flashed a smile. "Haven't seen you around before, sweets," he remarked, managing to find humor in the situation despite its gravity, prompting a slight cringe from Steve, who had been the first to encounter you. Yet, you couldn't deny that Eddie exuded a certain charm of his own. "We've been sent on a mission. My father disappeared around here a few days ago, and my brothers, who are hunters, insisted I come," you explained, introducing Dean and Sam to everyone present, including Lucas, Max, and Nancy, all of whom reciprocated with their own introductions.

"And I assume you're familiar with me," the metalhead sighed at his presence, wishing for a more auspicious introduction. You shook your head, seeking confirmation from Robin and then Steve. "Eddie," Steve answered, somewhat irritated. "The 'supposed boy' who was involved in the cheerleader's death?" your brother recited from a news article. But quickly flinched and groaned in discomfort as you took the crumpled article and hit it against his chest. "Good Lord, Y/N, what was that for?" he protested as you gave him a knowing glance.

"Do you get a serial killer vibe from him?" you questioned, coming to Eddie's defense. “It’s alright, Y/N, there’s no need…” Observing the unfolding scene, Steve couldn't help but wish he were in Eddie's position, but circumstances had changed since your meeting with him the day before. Determined to contribute, he spoke up. "Shouldn't we be, you know, taking action instead of just standing around? Especially for their father, Dustin, and everything?"

Dustin briefly glanced at Steve, recognizing that familiar look of jealousy. First, it was with Nancy, and now it seemed directed toward a complete stranger. Amused, Dustin couldn't resist teasing him and feigned ignorance, only serving to make Steve's jealousy even more evident. Meanwhile, you were completely absorbed in Eddie's presence, oblivious to Steve's inner turmoil. Dean, always the vigilant brother, interjected, "Come on, lover boy, no time to waste," playfully tousling your hair as he noticed Steve's uneasy glance. You muttered a few choice words before smoothing down your hair. It was endearing to witness the two men vying for your attention, but it also put Dean, the protective brother, on edge. "Sammy?" he called out, turning to Sam, who was already assisting Dustin in plotting the next course of action. "Ready?"

You, on the other hand, gave a final glance to Eddie, who appeared ready. "Lead the way, sweetheart," you encouraged. The walk proved lengthier than anticipated, and as the sun began to set, the sky revealed the first twinkling stars, a sight you never failed to appreciate. Steve made a point to remain by your side throughout. "Look!" you exclaimed, prompting Steve to recall the way your smile lit up your face. Your observation caused everyone, including your brothers, to pause in their tracks. "The stars seem larger tonight," you remarked in awe. "Are you a fan of astrology?" Eddie inquired, leaning closer to you, and you turned to regard him. "And you?" you countered. He shrugged. "Not particularly, but now that you mention it, Hawkins nights do hold a certain allure, don't they, Steve?"

"Indeed," Steve responded, the faint edge of irritation apparent in his tone. Eddie noticed, recognizing the signs of infatuation, and chose not to press the matter further. "Perhaps," he suggested, "rather than discussing stars, we should direct our attention to..."

An interruption broke the silence—a familiar screech that caused Dustin to halt abruptly, prompting everyone to freeze in place. He listened intently, ensuring it wasn't merely his imagination. "Do you all hear that?" he whispered, the sound growing louder. Your brothers remained nearby, while Steve stood steadfastly by your side. You could have sworn you felt his fingers graze yours, prompting you, out of habit, to reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. In that moment, he was your knight in shining armor.

Dean swiftly seized the flashlight, his actions quickened by a piercing scream resonating through the air. As you turned to confront the creature lurking in the shadows, a chill of fear gripped you, compounded by the sight of blood dripping from its jaw. Paralyzed, you sensed its menacing presence drawing nearer with each passing second. In the blink of an eye, it lunged towards you. "Y/N!" Steve's urgent voice reverberated in your mind as Dean barked orders at Sam to take the first shot. Yet, the gunfire proved futile against the relentless creature. "Steve!" Robin's frantic shout pierced through the chaos as she tossed him the bat. Everything unfolded too swiftly to comprehend.

Overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the creature, you found your knees giving way, sending you tumbling to the ground. In a swift response, Eddie rushed to your side, offering reassurance in a soothing tone. "It's alright, it's gone," he repeated, his words a steady anchor amidst the chaos. With trembling hands, you instinctively shielded your face, attempting to suppress the rising tide of screams threatening to escape.

Unbeknownst to the group, your father had been silently observing from the shadows all along. With keen interest, he monitored the actions of his two sons and daughter, though the sight of you among them caught him off guard. This situation served as a test, one that Dean might soon recall—it was designed to assess whether the two boys were prepared to tackle cases beyond their usual scope. However, your involvement was an unexpected twist, not part of the original plan. Little did John know, another version of himself had been lurking much closer than anticipated.

Sam was the first to discern John's presence. His disbelief was palpable, tinged with a hint of revulsion at the sight of his father seemingly unscathed, contrary to the myriad theories the three Winchesters had fervently debated in recent days. "Dad? Dad?" Dean's puzzled expression mirrored Sam's confusion, just as Steve swiftly dispatched the Demogorgon with a well-timed blow.

"Boys," John greeted with a smile that felt forced. Max, sensing an underlying unease, found herself growing suspicious. Though not intimately acquainted with the Winchesters' father, her own encounters with flayed individuals had honed her instincts. "Guys," she interjected, attempting to capture Steve's attention, "I have my doubts about him." Steve, casting a brief glance at Hargrove, immediately redirected his focus upon hearing your faint cries, ensuring your well-being as he knelt beside Eddie. Meanwhile, your brothers stood frozen in astonishment at the sight of their impostor father.

"Dean?" Max's voice reverberated in your brother's mind, prompting him to turn towards her. "Yes?" he replied, noting the concern etched on her features. An instinctual feeling swept over him, suggesting that the figure before them wasn't their father. With Sam in close proximity, Dean couldn't resist beckoning him over, yet there was no response. "I don't believe it's your father," Max murmured softly, her words carrying a weight of conviction. "And what leads you to that conclusion?" Dean inquired, though inwardly he harbored similar suspicions. Despite clinging to a glimmer of hope, he remained open to Max's insight. "Do you notice any discrepancies?" Bingo. Dean scrutinized the man masquerading as their father, discerning subtle nuances in his smile, his gaze, and the feigned affection. It became increasingly apparent that whatever entity had taken control was failing miserably at replicating their father's mannerisms.

"I'm relieved to find you all here. I was growing concerned," the voice emanated, its tone unsettling. Max's intuition proved correct. Sensing trouble, Sam moved closer while Dean hastened towards him, their actions synchronized with the abrupt sound of another gunshot. The bullet found its mark, striking the impostor masquerading as John. A sickly green fluid oozed from his mouth, portending imminent danger. His once-human eyes now glowed an eerie white. In a stroke of luck, John had managed to discharge a bullet into his counterfeit form. Sam's eyes widened in horror as he cried out for his father.

Dean's grip tightened on his firearm, grappling with the uncertainty of the situation, questioning the authenticity of the figure before him. John's eyes met yours, a silent challenge conveyed through his gaze. Despite the tension, you managed to steady your breathing, feeling the weight of the moment. With Steve's presence lending you reassurance, you stood your ground, determined to maintain composure amidst the uncertainty.

"Bringing Y/N along, really?" Your father's tone dripped with a mix of disgust and shame, causing Sam to sense the weight of the situation. Understanding the pressure you were under, he rose to stand by your side. Meanwhile, Eddie and Steve, recognizing the need for composure, subtly suggested maintaining distance, hinting at the gravity of family matters. Despite their advice, you clung to their shirts, silently pleading for their support. "Please," your eyes implored. Thus, you, Sam, Eddie, Steve, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Robin, and Nancy maintained a respectful distance, observing the unfolding events.

Dean harbored discontent towards his father's stance on involving you in the discussion. While it had been acknowledged that reaching a certain age would inevitably draw you into the hunting lifestyle, akin to Sam's trajectory, Dean remained disheartened by the prospect. He often cited Sam's own journey, pointing out how it led him to abandon Stanford and commit to hunting full-time. Unlike Dean, Sam advocated for a conventional life for you, one filled with relationships and camaraderie. The time spent in Hawkins only solidified this perspective for you. "She's prepared," Dean asserted, though John's skepticism was evident.

"Y/N, return to the car," your father's voice rang out, commanding attention as all eyes turned towards where you knelt, shaking your head in defiance. "I said, return to the vehicle," he reiterated, employing the same authoritative tone he used on Sam during the vampire hunt. Just as you were about to interject, Sam's figure materialized beside you. Sensing the escalating tension, Steve cautiously ushered Eddie away, allowing space for Sam to intervene.

He knelt beside you, meeting your gaze with familiarity, recognizing the turmoil reflected in your eyes—a familiar sight during conflicts between your father and himself. Understanding the need to address the situation decisively, not only for his own sake but for yours as well, he inquired, "Do you want me to speak to him, instead?"

A silent sob and a nod conveyed everything. "No, Dad," Sam's voice, grave and resonant, shattered the stillness. He reserved that tone for moments of utmost gravity. Dean attempted to interject, "Sam!" but his words fell on deaf ears; Sam had already approached their father. "She's not prepared," Sam asserted, his gaze penetrating the darkness of the night. Towering slightly over their father, he leaned in, exuding an air of palpable tension. "You are the reason she departed in the first place. In any case."

"What did you just say?" John's voice carried the weight of authority, now laced with a menacing undertone aimed at both his son and daughter for their insubordination. "You heard me," Sam retorted unwaveringly, his gaze hovering dangerously close to his father's collar, poised for confrontation. Yet, he refrained from physical action, mindful of the precarious situation in Hawkins. The tension between the two men simmered, with Dean positioned between them, striving to defuse the escalating conflict. "Yes, you left when your brother and I needed you. You chose her over us! Sam! You—"

"And let's not forget, Dad, you're the one who said, 'Don't come back.' You slammed that door shut on her, not me! You were just angry because you couldn't control her anymore!" Dean interjected, seizing his brother's collar to preempt any potential altercation. John, their father, fixed his gaze on you. Sam's accusation hit home. Despite your love for him, the scars from his domineering nature and the dangers of the hunt still haunted you. Was it all to prove a point about strength? Even now, the memories of that day haunted your dreams.

"We're all exhausted," Dean interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Now that we've found you, maybe we can head back to the motel." Sam's expression betrayed his reluctance, but it seemed like the most prudent course of action. With their father located, the Winchesters knew their business in Hawkins was concluded. However, your intentions were different. You had someone else in mind: Steve.

Steve observed the scene with mounting fury. The family conflict played out before him, and seeing you curled up, trying to hide your distress, fueled his anger. He was furious at your father for forcing you into a life you hadn't chosen, for making you feel trapped by the family legacy. Watching your brother stand up for you only deepened his ire. Later that night, while your brothers tried to calm your father. From how you would see him gently caressed your cheek, wiping away any lingering tears, and let you collapse into his arms. Murmuring soothing words such as, "Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’m here." And he meant it. He stayed with you all night, knowing that by tomorrow, you might be gone. Or so he thought.

The following night, you faintly recalled your brothers arguing, their voices rising until they stepped outside to avoid waking you. The hunt had left you drained, but your father's harsh words lingered in your mind. With your eyes closed, feigning sleep, you heard the front door of the motel room creak open. Your father entered and knelt beside you, gently brushing the hair from your face. The look on his face, one you couldn't forget, made you wonder if Sam had managed to get through to him. "I am so sorry..." he murmured softly.

His voice was hoarse from crying. Whatever they had discussed was more significant than you had imagined, affecting not just you but Sam as well. As his twin, you had always stood by his side, through thick and thin. Your father, recognizing this bond, finally broke the silence, "If you want to go to college," he said, his voice laden with emotion, "then you can. I love you."

He hadn't wanted to wake you, but his genuine words stirred you. You couldn't help but lean in and wrap your arm around his waist just as he was about to leave. Initially thinking you were asleep, his eyes widened in surprise, then softened as he smiled and returned your embrace. When your brothers returned with food, Sam smiled but refrained from teasing, not wanting to embarrass you. "Dinner?" he asked simply, the warmth of the moment lingering in the air.

Your father glanced at you as you wiped away the last of your dried tears. Nodding, you joined the three men at the dinner table. As you ate, your thoughts drifted to Steve and the longing to see him one last time. "I know we're leaving tomorrow, but..." you began, cheeks flushing. Dean, catching on immediately, spoke through a mouthful of sandwich, "The lover boy?" He raised an eyebrow. Both Sam and your father chuckled, with your father raising an eyebrow in mock confusion. "Who?" he asked, though he clearly knew. "Steve," you murmured, so softly that your family made you repeat it. "Who?" they echoed, smirking. "Steve! Alright, jeez. Anyway, I have to return my DVDs anyway."

Dean rolled his eyes, even though he was notoriously inept when it came to romance. Seeing you with someone, especially someone like Steve, was undeniably endearing. He knew Steve was a good guy—after all, he had helped a complete stranger in the woods, which had led to more than just uncovering their father's disappearance. Now they knew their dad had been flayed. While Dean hated the idea of leaving so soon, he understood that helping Hawkins was necessary. And if it meant you could spend a little more time with Steve, he didn’t mind at all. "You know," he said in a suggestive tone, "I talked with this Dustin kid..."

You met your brother's gaze, eyebrows furrowed, sensing he was onto something significant. "Spill," Sam demanded.

"Well, I also talked to Dad," Dean began. "We discovered something more sinister lurking beneath Hawkins. They need all the help they can get, so I offered our assistance. We’ll be staying a few days to start our search." Your eyes widened in shock and joy as you processed your brother's words. This meant you might be staying for weeks, even months, given the seriousness of the Upside Down situation. And it also meant more time with Steve. “So, we’re staying?” you asked, excitement evident in your voice. Dean nodded with a smile, ruffling your hair. "Don't get too excited, Chipmunk. But yes, and Dad is joining in."

You couldn't be more grateful, and as the three of you settled into bed that night, only one thought occupied your mind: Steve.

The next morning, your brothers and father decided to eat at the nearest café in Hawkins. Over breakfast, you managed to gather more information: one piece related to Max's curse and another concerning Eddie's possible connection to Chrissy's murder, a name you learned only afterward. “And I thought vampires were bad,” you quipped, eliciting chuckles from your brothers. Given your extensive hunting records and those of your brothers and father, it was evident that this situation in Hawkins was unlike anything you had faced before.

After breakfast, while your family was investigating with Dustin's help, you decided to visit the store. Steve was nowhere to be found, so you gently placed the DVDs on the counter and waited. As time passed, your patience waned. With a sigh, you left the DVDs and some cash on the table, resigning yourself to the thought that Steve might already be thinking of someone else, perhaps even kissing another girl. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out, “Y/N! So sorry, it was my break shift. I didn’t–”

Your face brightened at his presence, a wave of relief washing over you for not considering his break earlier. You watched him clumsily put on his vest and walk toward you for a hug. “You okay?” he asked, releasing you and focusing entirely on you, his eyes filled with affection. You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yes, we finally managed to talk it out with my father,” you murmured, still processing the emotional weight of the conversation.

Steve's concern was palpable, but relief washed over his face as you spoke. “Also,” he added, a smile spreading across his lips, “I heard you’ll be staying here for a while, huh?” His teasing tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile, nodding your head and murmuring a soft, “Mhm.”

"Yep, my brothers insisted on helping as much as they can," you said, appreciating their unwavering support, even in the gravest situations. It was one of the many reasons you wanted to join their hunts; balancing college and hunting didn't seem so daunting after all. "This means seeing your face all day," you added with a teasing pout, trying to feign offense. Steve's chuckle and eye roll, however, told you he saw right through your playful act.

"Ouch, I am hurt," he said sarcastically, stepping closer. It was now or never, he thought. If he waited another day, another week, who knew when he'd get another chance to express his feelings. "You know," his voice became slightly hoarse as his eyes roamed over your face and body. His fingers gently brushed your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. Up close, you realized how striking Steve's eyes were—something you'd have to get used to. "I don't have anything planned for tonight," he purred, making you tilt your head in feigned innocence. You knew Steve had something in mind, even if he wasn't saying it outright.

"I was thinking of inviting you over for a movie night at my place. I'll cover the pizza," he offered, his words causing your cheeks to warm. While you felt the urge to inform your brothers, you decided to wait until later, until you were at Steve's house. "Alright, lover boy," you said, using the nickname your brother had coined for him. Steve grunted and rolled his eyes, dismissing the teasing. "So, tonight at 8, Chipmunk?" he added with a smirk, to which you responded with a playful glare.

"Eight o'clock it is," you agreed. Just as you felt the warmth of Steve's proximity, the door swung open. In walked Dustin, Max, Eddie, and your brothers. Dean, unable to resist, was the first to comment. "Alright, lovebirds, we've got some research to do. If you want my sister by eight, we need to get started immediately."

"Dean!" you protested, turning to face your brother with a glare. He smirked and followed Dustin to the DVD computer, while Steve protested for more carefulness. As everyone crowded around the screen, Sam approached you, leaving the two of you momentarily alone. "You know," he said with a genuine smile, "if you want to go to college—" You shook your head. Despite your father’s agreement, you couldn’t leave your family behind; you loved them too much. "No, I really think I'm ready," you replied. Sam raised an eyebrow, taken aback but relieved, and wrapped one arm around you in a quick hug.

"Then let’s kill this thing," Sam said, and you nodded, following him. Who would have thought that a place you initially hoped would hold clues about your father's whereabouts would also be where you'd find friends and someone to count on—Steve Harrington. "You okay?" Steve murmured as you joined him, noticing your brief discussion with Sam. "Yes, I am," you replied with a smile, feeling his hand gently squeeze yours. "I just can’t wait for tonight as well," you confessed, and you could have sworn you saw Steve's cheeks warm at your comment, which you found adorably endearing. He leaned in to press a kiss on your cheek, returning the favor.

"I am too," he said.

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