#i love my dysfunctional step family!

[todayisafridaynight]

found family for the arakawas aint even metaphorical shits Literal

[freebooter4ever]

wait is that true about hey jude????? must google after work o.O

[fairwinds-safetravels]

.

[joemama-2]

" all i want for christmas is you "

♡ drabble of my series velvet lies

♡ gojo x reader

♡ synopsis: it's the first christmas you're spending with your boyfriend, satoru gojo.

♡ tags/warnings: fluff, angst, hints of a dysfunctional household, suggestive content

♡ wc: 3.3k

Year: 2015

“Where are you going?”

You stop midway, having just almost slipped out of the front food undetected. You thought she was still sleeping. Turning your head over your shoulder slightly, bag slung over your shoulder, hood on. “I…I’m sleeping over Satoru’s.”

“Hah,” she scoffs out, lip curving up bitterly. “And who gave you the permission to?”

“I’m nineteen, mom.”

“And still living under my roof.”

Your lips purse, holding back a frown. It’s already nine at night, Christmas Eve. You told Satoru you’d be at his by nine-thirty. If she holds you up any longer, you’ll be late. “Mom, please, okay? We’re not doing anything today and I want to spend it with him.”

Your mother stalks forward, snatching the bag off your shoulder. She looks in, spotting a small gift inside. When her hand reaches in to bring it out, you stop her with a grip on her wrist. “Please, stop. You’re drunk.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow, her lips twisting into a scowl. “Drunk?” she spits out, yanking her wrist free. “How dare you accuse me of that?”

The bitterness in her voice stings, but you hold your ground—you have to. “Look mom, I don’t want to fight right now.” You keep your tone measured, and calm, acting like the adult in this situation. You’re always the adult around her. “It’s Christmas Eve. Can we just—”

“Can we just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising. “Pretend everything’s fine while you run off to God knows where with him? Always with him. Do you even care about this family anymore?”

Your jaw clenches at her words, frustration bubbling under your skin. “It’s not like that, Mom,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. ��Satoru’s my boyfriend. He’s important to me.”

“More important than me?” she snaps back, her words laced with hurt. “Than your own mother? Than the one who gave birth to you and brought you into this world, you ungrateful brat.” Her nails dig into your skin while she tries to hold onto you, shaking your arm with vigor as if it’s a physical alignment to the harsh words she grits at you.

You falter, the weight of her question pressing against your chest. “That’s not what I’m saying,” you mutter, lowering your gaze. At this moment, you feel as if whatever you say is not good enough for her. Whatever you say, it’ll spark an unnecessary argument or fight—something you don’t want nor have the energy for. Carefully, you remove yourself from her tight hold, the alcohol in her system giving you the ampleness to do that quite easily. 

She exhales a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. For a moment, the tension between you softens, but it’s short-lived. She steps closer, holding the bag tightly against her chest. “If you walk out that door,” she says, her voice trembling with unspoken pain, “don’t bother coming back.”

Your heart skips a beat, the ultimatum hanging heavy in the air. You can’t tell if she means it—if the alcohol is speaking for her, or if it’s a wound she’s trying to inflict deliberately. “I’m nineteen,” you say again, your voice quieter this time, tinged with sadness. “I love you, Mom. But I just want to have a happy day today.” You reach for the bag, and for a moment, she doesn’t resist. Her fingers tighten around the strap as you pull it away, but she lets go, her expression unreadable. 

“He’ll never stay.” Your mother says, tinged with a hint of jealous amusement. “Men like him don’t go for little girls like you. It won’t last, it never does. And when that happens, don’t come crying to me. Because I’ll tell you I told you so.”

Turning toward the door, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle. You won’t give in, not now. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. So, you suck it up, taking what she says to a very surface-level degree. Because at the end of the day, you have some respect for her. But that is diminishing slowly and slowly until one day, you might never have it anymore. And you’re okay with that, maybe even waiting for it. “Merry Christmas,” you say softly, not looking back.

You don’t wait for a reply. 

The cold night air bites at your skin as you step outside, the door clicking shut behind you. Your chest feels tight, but you push the feeling aside, tugging your hood further over your head. Satoru is waiting, and for now, that’s all that matters.

“Minus ten points for tardiness.”

You sigh, stepping in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Closing and locking the door behind you, he follows you. Peering into the bag that housed some clothes to sleep in, his eyes are drawn to the small present. A grin sneaks its way onto his face, hand steathily reaching in. “Oh? And what’s thi—”

“No,” your eyes roll, effectively swatting his sneaky fingers. “No peeking, or you’ll be on the naughty list.”

He giggles, following you into his living room. Watching as you set your bag onto the lavish sofa, wrapping his arms around your middle from behind you. The tips of his snowy hair tickle below your jaw, not being able to resist the shiver and subsequent airy chuckle the falls from you. You feel his smile against your neck, his soft and full lips planting sweet kisses along the stretch of it like he’s tediously worshipping you. “I’m always on the naughty list, baby. You know that.”

Again, you roll your eyes—this time in more amusement than annoyance. “And naughty boys don’t get presents, Satoru.”

“What do you mean? I have my present right here in my arms.” Another chuckle and he’s kissing up your neck to your ear, playfully nibbling at your lobe. His hand turns your chin so you’re face to face. He calculates the twinkle in your pretty eyes for a second—but a second is more than enough time. Leaning down and indulging in you. “My present tastes sweet, too.” He mumbles against your lips, head tilting to deepen the passionate moment. 

Twisting your body to face him better, your arms wrap around his neck while his around your waist. You two stay like this for a few seconds, inhaling each other’s breath like it’s a meal, tongues rubbing together. The kiss deepens, his hands slipping under the hem of your sweater to rest against the warmth of your skin. The heat of the moment wraps around you both, drowning out the chilly air outside the window. It’s intoxicating, the way his lips move against yours, slow yet insistent, as if he’s savoring every second.

When you finally pull back for air before it goes too far, his forehead rests against yours, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. His breath fans across your lips, warm and teasing. “Told you, silly. I’ve actually been good,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, sultry tone that always sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of his albino hair out of his face. “Good boys don’t try to bribe Santa with kisses, Satoru.”

“Santa should’ve known what she was getting into when she got with me.” His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “Besides,” he adds, tilting his head slightly, “if I wasn’t good, you wouldn’t be kissing me back like that.”

You sigh, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Only because you fill me up,” he fires back without missing a beat, the cheekiness in his grin giving way to a softer look. His thumb brushes against your cheek as he gazes at you, all traces of teasing momentarily replaced by something deeper. It’s in these moments that you realize just how much he loves you, how much he treasures these quiet times together when the world falls away, leaving just the two of you. “Thank you,” he whispers suddenly, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

“For what?” you ask softly, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck.

“For always being my home,” he says, his eyes holding yours as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. “For making me feel like I belong.”

Your chest tightens, warmth spreading through you. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Satoru.” His arms tighten around you in response feels like a promise, one that doesn’t need words.

After a beat of silence, he decides to bite the bullet. “Do you wanna tell me why you were late?” You hesitate, lips thinning into a line he knows all too well. It’s the look that tells him he already knows the answer, it’s like a telepathic way of communicating with one another. He doesn’t push, nodding and interlacing your fingers before bringing you over to the kitchen. “That’s fine. We don’t have to talk about anything. Just you and me, that’s it. Parents gone so we have the whole place to ourselves, remember?” 

You let out a soft sigh of relief, thankful that he isn’t pressing further. It’s one of the things you appreciate most about Satoru—his ability to read you, to know when to dig deeper and when to let things be. He squeezes your hand gently as he holds onto you, the warmth of his home wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla lingers in the air, remnants of whatever candles he had lit earlier. The cozy space is dimly lit, with only the soft glow of fairy lights strung along the windows. Satoru releases your hand to open the fridge, rummaging around with exaggerated movements to make you laugh. “Let’s see,” he says, peering inside. “What can I whip up to impress my lovely guest tonight? Gourmet pizza rolls? Instant ramen? Or…” He pulls out a half-eaten cheesecake with a dramatic flourish, “this masterpiece of dairy and sugar.”

You chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he fires back, setting the cheesecake on the counter. He turns to you, leaning casually against the counter with that boyish grin you can never resist. “Seriously, though, are you hungry? Thirsty? Or just here to bask in my undeniable charm?”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll take some of that cheesecake, thanks. And water.”

“Excellent choice, my dear.” He grabs two forks and fills up a glass of water, sliding one toward you before hopping onto the counter like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He takes a bite, pointing his fork at you. “You know, I should charge you for this. High-quality desserts like this don’t come cheap.”

“Oh, please,” you tease, taking a bite of your own. “You didn’t even make it.”

“Semantics, semantics,” he says with a wave of his hand, but his smile softens as he watches you. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you both eat, the tension from earlier slowly melting away. After a moment, he speaks again, quieter this time. “I meant it, you know. We don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re here.”

You glance up at him, his blue eyes meeting yours with an openness that always makes your chest tighten. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world, makes it harder to keep your walls up. “Thanks, Satoru,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I really needed this tonight.”

His grin returns, brighter than ever. “Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty great at being exactly what people need.” He winks, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “What you need.”

For the first time that day, you feel the weight on your chest ease, just a little. Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be about the things you’re running from. Maybe, just for a while, it can be about the person sitting right in front of you. Your boyfriend. Your best friend. Your one and only. Yeah, you think to yourself as you wipe some frosting from the corner of his mouth. 

You are what I need.

“You don’t have to record this…” you mutter in embarrassment. The hat he made you wear was one thing, but now he’s acting like some dad. Recording in landscape mode as you open the gift he wrapped for you. 

“Pfft! Open it! It’s a memory we can look back on when we’re old and crippled.” He waves you off with one hand, lifting his head over the phone to give you a certain look. 

With finality, you exhale heavily and unwrap your gift. Your own anticipation is eating at you, hoping he didn’t get you something too extravagant. You already told him not to, but he’s Satoru. Besides, you’d feel like shit if he got you something expensive and yours isn’t. Nimble fingers unwrap the paper decorated with red hearts and Christmas trees, finally getting it out the way. In its wake is a small, rectangular box. 

“Proposing already?”

“Not yet.”

You snicker, taking in a deep breath before opening it. Your eyes widen, lips parting a small gasp falls from your lips. “...sa…toru…” you say, feeling a familiar tinkle to your heart, skin heating up and smile subconsciously growing. Carefully, you remove the piece from its placement in the box. Holding it up to the light, it looks even more beautiful. “This is…” The delicate necklace sparkles under the glow of the fairy lights, a silver chain adorned with a small, intricate charm shaped like a snowflake. Tiny gemstones catch the light, creating a mesmerizing shimmer. “The one you wanted.” He finishes for you, lowering his phone, the camera still rolling. “Open it.”

When you open the pretty snowflake locket, there’s a picture printed inside. A miniature version of the first picture you two took together. It’s awkward and your smiles seem a little forced due to the close proximity. But looking back at it now, all you can think of is how endearing it is. How cute it is. When you meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you—tenderness in his expression. “Thank you, Satoru. It’s beautiful, I love it.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, the kind that makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t quite put into words. “I’m glad you love it,” he says quietly, his gaze steady, unwavering.

Your fingers lightly brush over the tiny photo, the memory of that day flooding back to you. It had been awkward, both of you still figuring each other out, yet there was something unspoken in the air even then. Looking at it now, it feels like the perfect encapsulation of where it all began—a little clumsy, a little uncertain, but undeniably sweet. “You kept this picture all this time?” you ask, your voice laced with surprise and affection.

“Of course I did,” he repliesmas if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It was the first moment I had proof you actually liked being around me.” He laughs, his playful tone back in full force.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork,” he counters, moving closer. “I wanted you to have something that’s just… us. A little reminder of how far we’ve come.”

Your heart swells, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning. “It’s perfect,” you say, meeting his gaze. “It’s so thoughtful, Satoru. I’ll treasure it.”

He leans down, his nose nudging yours. “You better, because it’s a symbol of my undying devotion to you.” His voice is teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes you smile.

“Well, now I feel bad about my gift,” you admit, scrunching your nose. “It’s nothing compared to this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Anything from you is the best gift I could ask for. Besides, I already got what I wanted—you, here with me.”

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “Alright, alright, you win. I’ll stop doubting myself.”

“Good,” he says, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Because there’s no competition—you’re already the best thing in my life.” And just like that, you’re reminded why you fell for him in the first place.

When it’s his turn to open his present from you, he’s making you hold the camera now. You’re nervous—rightfully so. Satoru has everything he could need and want, and then some. So coming up with a gift was both hard and tedious for you. But, you can pat yourself on the shoulder for a job well done. 

He’s much more quick when unrwrapping it, big smile on his face that barely shows off his excitement. In just barely three seconds, the wrapping is off and carelessly thrown to the side, opening the little box. His eyes widen for a moment, and then his expression shifts into something that makes your heart flutter—equal parts surprise and awe. Nestled inside the box is a custom-made keychain, simple yet meaningful. It’s crafted from silver, with a small engravement of your shared favorite flower, a purple hyacinth. The small phrase, “here with you, now and always.” is below the flower.

For a moment, he’s speechless, his fingers carefully lifting the keychain from its box. The soft clinking sound it makes as it moves feels like the only noise in the room. “You made this?” he finally asks, looking up at you, his voice softer than usual.

You nod, biting your lip nervously. “I… I had it made, yeah. I know it’s nothing big, but I wanted to give you something personal. Something you could keep with you wherever you go.”

His thumb brushes over the engraving, and his lips tug into the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “It’s perfect,” he says, his tone filled with a tenderness that sends warmth spreading through your chest. “I mean it, this is—this is incredible.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling a wave of relief. “You really like it?”

“Like it?” He sets the keychain down carefully, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “I love it.” His eyes glimmer with something almost boyish, the excitement he always has when you do something that touches his heart. “I mean, look at it!” he says, picking it up again. “This is so thoughtful. The writing? And the flower? Genius. It’s your flower, I always think of you whenever I see one. It’s like you’re with me all the time now, even when you’re not.”

You laugh softly, your nerves dissipating. “That was the idea.”

He grins, turning back to you and holding it up proudly. “You’ve officially raised the bar for all future gifts. I’ll carry this with me everywhere, you know that?”

“I’d hope so,” you murmur, watching as he clips it onto his keys right then and there.

Once he’s done, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers into your hair.

You smile, your hands resting against his back. “I guess we’re both pretty amazing, then.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “Best Christmas ever,” he declares, and the look in his eyes tells you he means it.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he whispers back, hands itching for you.

You two seal the end of the gift giving with a kiss, straddling his hips. It feels just right. His hands, his lips, his whispered praises. Like he said, you have the night to yourselves, and you plan to take complete advantage of that. Because after all, that’s not the only gift you’re giving him. 

In the future, one night after a particular revelation that shook his world, he finds himself looking at the keychain that’s been locked in a drawer he hasn’t dared to open in years. And if he scrolls high enough in his photo album, he’ll come across a familiar video that starts wholesome but ends with something far more…naughty.

(You two forgot the camera was rolling.)

a/n: hi everyone, today i felt inspired and wanted to give out a cute little drabble pre everything. i hope ur all having a wonderful day and make sure to eat well!, tagging the usual taglist

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[kissingwookiees]

wrt to that last poll if my sets of grandparents were ever in the same vicinity i'd actually have to worry more about my grandpas brawling than which one i call grandpa

[melanchoire]

ME AND MY HUSBAND ──── pham hanni.

── ( 🍸 ) stuck in your brother's shadow, you've always craved the love your parents freely give him, until his girlfriend arrives, and suddenly, it's her warmth that makes you feel seen for the first time.

pairing. soft dom!brother's fianceé!pham hanni x sub!fem reader

warning(s). sensitive topics (cheating, daddy & mommy issues, dysfunctional family, no one is mentally healthy here.) smut (cunnilingus, fingering, making out, nipple play, pet names, praise.)

word count. 4.6k

request. anon only requested hanni stuff and wasn't specific about preferences or anything in particular so i had to use one of the ideas from my twisted brain 🫶🏻

the weight of expectation had always felt like a physical pressure, a constant hum beneath your skin. your older brother, the golden child, had carved a path that your parents seemed determined you should follow, each step meticulously measured against his achievements. kindergarten, elementary school, high school — milestones he’d breezed through, each one a testament in their eyes to his inherent superiority. even as you navigated the same terrain, it felt like you were walking a path already paved, the only acceptable outcome being a perfect replica of his journey.

your brother, of course, thrived on this. you saw it in the glint in his eyes, the smug curve of his lips whenever your parents lauded his accomplishments. he seemed to revel in the way you’d bite your tongue, suppressing your own frustration, unwilling to start an argument you knew you couldn't win. his “achievements”, you’d often privately fume, were nothing more than the bare minimum, inflated by your parents' unwavering adoration. he was the teacher's pet, the goody two-shoes, the one who always did what was expected. and you? you were always just… you, never quite good enough by their standards.

university applications loomed, and the familiar chorus began. “your brother aced his entrance exams, you know.” “he had multiple offers, it was so difficult to choose.” you’d nod, biting back the retort that tasted like ash in your mouth. yes, you knew. you knew every detail of his accomplishments, every carefully phrased praise from your parents. it felt like his life was a highlight reel, constantly being replayed before your eyes, a stark reminder of your perceived inadequacy.

and his relationships? it was like a cruel joke. every new girlfriend was another opportunity for your parents to ask about your lack of romantic endeavors. “hen are you going to bring someone home?” they’d ask, their tone tinged with a mix of impatience and disappointment, as if you were actively choosing to fail in this specific area. your brother would watch, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly relishing in your discomfort. ue was the star, and you were the ever-present shadow, perpetually in his periphery, constantly being reminded of the light he cast and the darkness you supposedly inhabited.

then, hanni came into the picture, and everything shifted, not in the way you expected, but in a way that sparked something within you. pham hanni, your brother’s girlfriend, was a breath of fresh air, a radiant burst of sunshine in the dimly lit landscape of your family dinners. a law student with a smile that could disarm any bitterness, she possessed a charisma that was impossible to ignore. you couldn’t, and you didn’t try. you found yourself watching her when you thought no one noticed, observing how her brow furrowed slightly when she was concentrating on a conversation, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed.

she possessed an undeniable radiance, a magnetic charm that seemed to draw everyone in. your parents, of course, adored her. they praised her intelligence, her ambition, the way she effortlessly fit into their carefully curated image of the perfect daughter-in-law.

she was a distraction, a welcome one. during those strained family meals, when your parents would inevitably turn their attention to your lack of romantic prospects, hanni would interject, her voice a gentle melody in the cacophony. “how are your studies going?” she’d ask, her eyes warm and genuinely interested, making a noticeable contrast to your parents’ perfunctory inquiries. she’d actually listen, unlike your parents, nodding attentively as you explained your latest project, offering compliments that felt sincere, not forced like the ones from your family. “that's fascinating!” she'd say, her tone making you feel like your thoughts and words held value. you were used to being invisible in your own home, and she saw past that. you were not invisible to her.

your brother and parents would be engaged in their usual self-congratulatory routines, the air thick with unspoken comparisons. but then, hanni would reach out, a question about your day or a gentle comment about something she’d noticed. it was like a brief escape, a stolen moment of warmth in the chill of the constant scrutiny. you started paying attention, noticing the small details. the way she would laugh at your jokes, her hand briefly touching your arm during a gesture, a small brush of her fingers as she handed you a dish, or the lingering gaze she would offer you across the table. she seemed to see you, not just as your brother’s sister, but as an individual with thoughts, feelings, and dreams of her own.

it was… different. it was the kind of attention you craved, the kind you hadn’t realized you were missing. and it was coming from the one person you shouldn’t be fixated upon, your brother’s girlfriend. was it possible to develop real feelings for her? the thought was a dangerous whisper in the back of your mind. she was everything you admired; intelligent, beautiful, kind. she was the antithesis of everything you had ever been made to feel, and you fell for it hard.

the feelings that stirred within you confused you. was it just gratitude for the kindness she offered? or was it something more? was it possible to develop genuine feelings for your brother’s girlfriend? it felt like a transgression, a betrayal of some unspoken code. and yet, when she laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners, or when she’d ask about your latest writing project, your heart would flutter, a sensation both exciting and terrifying.

beyond the pleasantries, there were these fleeting moments of intense connection. the way her soft tone, when addressing you, seemed to carry a different weight than her interactions with your parents or even your brother.

you started analyzing her every interaction. ehen she spoke to your parents, her voice held a polite formality, a careful curation of tone. but with you, there was a different warmth, a hint of something deeper. her gaze, too, held a different quality when directed at you. it lingered, an unspoken question hanging in the air. during a particularly drawn-out dinner, as your brother regaled your parents with his latest legal victory, you felt a soft pressure on your hand. you looked down to see hanni’s fingers lightly resting on your own. her eyes were on you, a small, almost conspiratorial smile playing on her lips. you pulled your hand away, a jolt running through you, and focused on your plate, your cheeks flushed.

once, while your brother was rambling about his work, she’d slid a small, intricately folded napkin across the table towards you, and as you discreetly opened it, you found a simple doodle of a smiling flower and a short note, “hope you’re having a good evening! <3” it said, her handwriting neat and elegant.

another time, as you were helping your mother clear the dinner table, you felt a gentle touch on your back. it was hanni. “let me help.” she’d said, her voice soft and low, her breath tickling your ear. your skin prickled where her fingers had been, and you felt a wave of heat wash over you.

these moments were like fragments of a dream, confusing and alluring. was it your imagination, desperate for connection? or was she subtly hinting at something, a shared undercurrent of feeling that she also seemed to be aware of? the lines were blurred, and you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty and longing.

then came the engagement announcement. your brother and hanni were getting married. the news was delivered with the celebratory fanfare you’d come to expect from your parents, as if your brother’s engagement was an achievement they could also claim. the questions, of course, intensified. “when will you bring someone home?” your mother asked, her brow furrowed with concern. you wanted to scream. to point out the hypocrisy, the absurdity of constantly reminding you of your perceived failures while you grappled with feelings you barely understood.

and still, despite the engagement, despite the impending wedding, hanni continued to look at you, continued to touch your hand, to whisper your name in a tone that sent a tremor through you. it was as if the engagement hadn't changed anything between you. you were caught in a whirlwind of confusion, desperately trying to decipher her signals, her glances, and her unexpected gestures. was it possible that she felt something too? or was it your own wishful thinking, your desire for her attention coloring your perception of reality? it was torture, this constant push and pull, this sense that you were on the precipice of something you couldn’t fully understand, something that felt both thrilling and terrifying. you couldn’t tell if you were confusing things or if she was actually hinting at things. it was hard to tell if a girl was flirting with you, being a girl too. maybe that’s why you felt like you were drowning in a sea of indecision.

you were caught in a loop, constantly questioning your perceptions. was she playing some kind of game? was she just being kind? or was there something more to her actions? being a girl, you weren't used to the subtleties of flirting between women. the signals felt blurry, coded in a language you were only just beginning to decipher. you longed to understand the truth, to know if the feelings simmering within you were just a fantasy, or a shared flame waiting to be ignited. and you were terrified by the prospect of either possibility.

the clatter of plates against each other was a familiar soundtrack to your evenings. you meticulously wiped each dish, the ceramic cool beneath your fingertips, while your mother rinsed. your father, a creature of habit, methodically cleared the remaining debris from the table, a newspaper tucked under his arm, ready for his post-dinner read. and your brother? he’d already sunk into the couch, a possessive arm draped around hanni, his focus entirely consumed by her smile. typical. you sighed, a puff of air that ruffled a stray strand of hair.

you turned from the sink, the kitchen light casting long shadows down the hallway. you were halfway up the stairs, the familiar squeak of the third step a comforting sound, when a hand clamped onto your forearm. you turned, annoyed. your brother stood there, his usual smirk slightly sheepish.

“hey…!” he began, his gaze shifting nervously. “so, uhm…can hanni sleep in your room tonight?”

your eyebrows shot up. “what? why?” you couldn't quite keep the exasperation from your voice. hanni always slept in his room, nestled amidst his chaotic collection of video game paraphernalia and discarded energy drink cans. why the sudden change?

he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “well…” he started, his tone laced with reluctance, “tomorrow is our anniversary. and…i have her gift. it's on my desk, in my room. i don't want her to see it before then.”

you crossed your arms, a mixture of amusement and disbelief bubbling inside you. “so you brought her here and now you can’t even spend the night in the same room together because you can’t hide a gift?” you asked, a pinch of irritation in your tone. “why even bring her here at all if we aren’t going to spend time together?”

he winced at your words. “it’s just—… please? just for tonight?” there was a desperate edge to his voice that you couldn’t entirely ignore. he’d never really ask for anything, and that was probably the reason for your next response.

you rolled your eyes. “fine.” you conceded, though the word felt heavy as it left your mouth. “but this is ridiculous.”

upstairs, your room felt suddenly inadequate. you carefully pulled a padded cloud-like mattress from the storage closet, laying it neatly on the floor beside your bed. you covered it with soft sheets and a fluffy quilt, adding a couple of pillows for good measure, trying to make a somewhat comfortable space. you were barely finished when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

your stomach did a strange flip as you opened it. hanni stood there, a soft smile playing on her lips. her dark hair was pulled back from her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw. she looked almost ethereal in the dim hallway light.

you stepped back, ushering her inside. but in that moment, you felt a strange wave of self-consciousness wash over you. your eyes scanned the room, mentally cataloging the chaos. piles of clothes formed a precarious mountain on your desk chair, your old stuffed animals lined the shelves, their button eyes staring blankly ahead, and a random assortment of art supplies lay scattered across your desk. you felt your cheeks flush, hoping hanni wouldn’t notice the disarray.

you braced yourself for a judgmental smirk, but it never came. instead, her smile widened.

she did notice, of course. her gaze swept over the room but instead of the judgement you expected, her face softened into a smile. “it’s cute.” she said, her voice warm and genuine. “it feels very… you.”

you blinked, surprised. most people just saw the clutter. you gestured vaguely to the mattress on the floor. “so… make yourself comfortable, i guess.” you muttered, feeling a sudden awkwardness settle over you.

you settled into your bed, the silence in the room feeling thick and uncomfortable. you tried to focus on a book, but the words blurred before your eyes. you couldn’t shake the awareness of her presence, so close yet so far. the small sounds of her breathing, the faint rustle of fabric as she shifted on the mattress, all seemed amplified in the quiet of your room.

hours seemed to pass like molasses. you shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but sleep seemed to elude you. suddenly, her voice broke the silence, low and gentle.

”you seem... restless.” hanni's voice was soft, breaking the silence. you turned on your side and faced her.

“i can’t sleep,” you admitted, feeling foolish. “it’s… new, having someone in here.”

she giggled, a soft, musical sound that made your insides flutter. “well, i have something to distract you.” she reached out, her finger gently brushing against your arm. “i wanted to ask you something important.”

you sat up, your back against the headboard. "okay?"

her eyes sparkled in the dimmed light. “i want you to be one of my bridesmaids, at the wedding, of course. but, specifically, i want you to be my maid of honor.”

your jaw dropped. this was… unexpected. you weren’t even friends, not really. bridesmaids were reserved for the closest friends, the people who had been there through every step of the way. “what?”.

she sat up, her eyes sparkling in the faint light that filtered in from the window. “When i get married, i want you to be one of my bridesmaids.”

“but… i'm not…we’re not even friends," you stammered, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “bridesmaids are supposed to be people close to you.”

she smiled, a small knowing curve of her lips. “i want you close.” she said, and her tone made you feel like she didn’t mean it in just the literal sense. “the most important one, the special one.”

you were speechless. you barely knew her, had barely exchanged more than a few words with her. she was your brother’s girlfriend, that was the only connection between you two. why would she want you?

but her words resonated within you, a strange mix of confusion and something else, something that felt a little like hope, but you quickly pushed it down. “but why me? i—" you ask.

“shhh.” he whispered, her voice low and husky. “i’ve been watching you. and i know."

“know what?” you try to ask, but a wave of nervousness washes through you at how close she is.

before you could even form another question, you felt the presence next to the mattress shift. the edge of your bed dipped, the springs groaning beneath the sudden weight. you looked to the side, your eyes struggling to adjust in the darkness. hanni was there, a shadow against the dim light, yet you could still recognize the curve of her lips and the intensity in her gaze.

she didn’t answer with words, instead, she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. it was a tentative touch, a gentle exploration, and yet, it sent sparks flying through your veins. you tried to pull away, but she held you there, her fingers tangling in your hair.

“hanni…” you whispered, your voice a mix of shock and bewilderment. “what are you doing? go back to your mattress. your anniversary... the wedding, what would your fiancé say?”

she reached out, her hand cupping your cheek, her thumb caressing your skin. “he can wait.” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “i’ve been watching you for a long time, you know? i know the way you look at me. i know what your family is like with you.”

tour breath hitched. how could she know? how could she possibly understand?

“but—...” you began, trying to regain some semblance of control, “you can’t just—”

she silenced you, her fingers moving to trace the line of your jaw, her touch sending shivers down your spine. “i want to make you feel loved,” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours, a feather-light touch that sent your senses reeling.

the kiss was soft, tentative at first, a gentle exploration of your lips. but after a few seconds later, the kiss deepened, her lips parting yours, her tongue tracing a path along your lower lip, tasting you. your protests melted away as a desire you didn’t know you possessed surged within you. the kiss became more demanding, more urgent, and your body responded instinctively, arching towards her touch.

she pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your skin, and continued kissing you, your jaw, your neck. each touch sending shivers down your spine. her hands moved to your shoulders, gently pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, her lips claiming your skin, exploring each curve and hollow. there was a hunger in her touch, a possessiveness that both frightened and thrilled you. you were being consumed by the feeling, your mind swirling, and for the first time tonight, you didn’t want the night to end. you were hers, completely.

her hands were everywhere, exploring the contours of your body, pulling you closer and closer until you were practically melded against her. the kisses were coming faster now, more insistent, more demanding, as she slowly took control of the situation, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. you wanted to resist, to tell her to stop, but the words were lost in the intensity of her touch.

hanni leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. her lips moved against yours with a tender passion, her tongue teasing the seam of your mouth. one hand caressed your cheek, while the other trailed down the side of your neck, over your collarbone, and down to the neckline of your nightgown.

“can i undress you, sweetheart?” she breathed against your lips, her fingers already working on the hem of your nightgown. “i want to see all of you... taste all of you.”

hanni’s touch was gentle and reverent, her intentions clear. she wanted to make love to you, to bring you pleasure and satisfaction. the room was filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and the gentle rustling of fabric, an intimate and sensual atmosphere.

the weight of reality falls on you in that instant. you’ve never had anything so intimate with someone before, not even a relationship. but... with her this felt different, it felt right. so, you don't see the need to refuse or back down. “... yes.”

hanni smiled softly at your breathless consent, her eyes darkening with desire as she slowly took off your nightgown. she peeled the fabric away from your skin, revealing the lacy bra and panties you wore underneath. her gaze traced over the curves of your breasts, the dip of your waist, and the flare of your hips, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

“you’re so beautiful…” she murmured, her voice low and filled with wonder. She leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your collarbone, her lips lingering on your skin. “i want to touch you everywhere, taste you everywhere.”

hanni’s hands slid up your sides, her fingers splaying across your ribcage. she unhooked your bra with a deft flick of her wrists, freeing your breasts from their confines. she took a moment to admire the sight of your hardened nipples, before leaning down to capture one in her mouth.

she swirled her tongue around the sensitive peak, suckling gently as her hand cupped and kneaded the soft flesh of your breast. her other hand slid down your stomach, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. she could feel the heat emanating from your core, the dampness that had already soaked through the delicate lace.

hanni’s touch was slow and sensual, focused on building your pleasure and desire. she wanted to take her time with you, to explore every inch of your body and bring you to the heights of ecstasy. she knew she had all night to make you hers.

hanni’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, brushing against your slick folds. she groaned softly against your breast, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through your body. she could feel how ready you were for her, how much your body ached for her touch.

slowly, teasingly, hanni peeled your panties down your legs, tossing them aside onto the floor. she settled herself between your thighs, her breath hot against your most intimate place. she looked up at you, her eyes dark and filled with lust, seeking permission.

“can i taste you, baby?” she murmured, her fingers brushing against your clit, spreading your folds open for her.

but you couldn't keep up the lie for long. “... i've never done this before.”

hanni’s heart melted at your shy admission, a soft smile spreading across her face. she leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to your stomach, her hands caressing your thighs soothingly.

“shhh, it's okay baby. i'll take care of you.” she murmured, her voice low and reassuring. “i promise i'll make this amazing for you. just relax and let me love on you, sweetheart.”

hanni settled back between your legs, her fingers gently parting your folds. she leaned in and placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss on your clit, before dragging her tongue along your slit, tasting your essence.

she groaned at the flavor of you, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss. she delved deeper, her tongue exploring your folds, before focusing on your clit. she circled the sensitive bud with the tip of her tongue, before suckling gently, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

hanni’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for her as she feasted on you. she could feel your hips starting to rock against her face, your body seeking more of her touch. she obliged, two fingers delving deep inside you, curling against that special spot that made your toes curl.

hanni’s fingers pumped slowly in and out of you, her tongue never stopping its sensual assault on your clit. she could feel your inner walls fluttering around the invading digits, your body instinctively trying to draw them deeper.

she looked up at you, her eyes dark and filled with lust, watching your every reaction. she could see the pleasure playing out across your face, the way your brows furrowed and your lips parted in soft gasps and moans. it spurred her on, making her double her efforts to bring you to your peak.

hanni’s free hand slid up your body, cupping your breast, rolling and kneading the soft flesh. she pinched your nipple gently, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your core. she could feel your hips starting to jerk and writhe against her face, your body tensing as your climax approached.

she pulled back for a moment, her fingers slipping out of you. she gazed at you with a wicked grin, before diving back in, sucking your clit hard as she plunged three fingers deep inside you. she curled them just right, rubbing that special spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

“that's it, baby.” she urged, her voice muffled against your sex. “come for me, baby. i want to taste your cum on my tongue. let go, sweetheart.”

hanni’s fingers pumped faster, her tongue working overtime, determined to push you over the edge and into ecstasy.

hanni could feel your body tensing, your inner muscles clenching around her fingers as your climax approached. she doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. her other hand slid down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh and pulling you harder against her face, desperate to taste your release.

“come on, baby.” she urged, her voice strained with desire. “give it to me. i want to feel you cum all over my face.”

with a final, hard suck on your clit and a curl of her fingers, she sent you hurtling over the edge. your body convulsed, back arching off the bed as a scream of pure pleasure tore from your throat. hanni moaned against you as your essence flooded her mouth, lapping it up greedily, relishing the taste of your climax.

she gentled her touch as your body trembled and shook, riding out the waves of your orgasm. she placed soft kisses on your sensitive flesh as your breathing slowly returned to normal. finally, she pulled back, a satisfied smirk on her face as she gazed up at you with adoring eyes.

“that's my good girl.” she purred, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss. She let you taste yourself on her tongue, moaning softly as she savored the flavor. “you did so well, baby. i'm so proud of you.”

hanni cuddled you close as you both caught your breath, her arms wrapped around your trembling body. she stroked your hair, your back, your arms, anywhere she could reach, trying to soothe you down from your intense high. her touch was gentle and tender, full of a quiet adoration she rarely showed.

“you okay, sweetheart?” she asked softly, tilting your chin up to look at her.

“yes, yes i am, don't worry. it's just—it was very intense.” you murmur breathlessly, running a hand through your hair, pushing away the loose strands that stuck to your forehead and face due to the fine layer of sweat covering your skin.

her thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure that had slipped down your face. “you were amazing. so responsive and sexy. i loved every second of making you cum like that.”

ahe leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, pouring all her desire and affection into the embrace. her tongue danced with yours, letting you taste the lingering essence of your climax on her lips.

breaking the kiss, hanni nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent, a mix of arousal and satisfaction. she nipped and suckled at your pulse point, marking you as hers in a way that would leave a visible reminder of your intimate encounter.

“i'm not done with you yet though…” she murmured, her voice low and full of promise. “i want to make you cum over and over again tonight. i want to worship this beautiful body of yours until you're completely spent and satisfied.”

to emphasize her point, one of hanni’s hands slid down your stomach, her fingers toying with the slick folds of your sex. she could feel the renewed heat emanating from your core, the dampness that signaled your body's willingness for more.

and well, this would definitely give you enough closeness to her to be able to be one of her bridesmaids.

[riizegasm]

Impure Intentions || L. CY (Anton)

❀ pairing: chaebol heir!anton x rival!reader, implied fem!reader

❀ genre: enemies to lovers (but not really), fluff, suggestive

❀ word count: ~6.7k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of dysfunctional families, one heated kiss scene

❀ summary: From the day you were born, all you ever heard was, “don’t fall in love with Anton Lee.” A better heir to a multimillion dollar conglomerate would follow their family’s advice. But you…not so much.

❀ a/n: sheesh, talk about writer’s block. This work has taken me so long and so much effort, but i'm very proud of how it turned out! It may have even helped me out of my slump. Also, please don’t judge me too hard. I know nothing about business and corporate families!!! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are strongly encouraged. Happy reading!

Your head aches. The lights in the banquet hall are too bright and the clink of gilded silverware is too loud. Polite chatter buzzes around you like a pesky fly evading a swatter. The air is suffocating, overly stuffy with high end perfumes and colognes clouding the space. This is torture; the Lee family banquets always are.

It would be better if you could enjoy the food or engage with the various guests like everyone else does, but this is enemy territory. Your family had made it abundantly clear that this was not an event for fun, but rather for scoping out the competition. Lectures about a corporate acquisition going south and details about poor contracting simply entered in one ear and left via the other. You didn’t care why you had to be there. The knowledge of your forced attendance did enough to damper your mood, especially once you were hit with all of the rules around your presence.

Sit still, look pretty, smile politely, eavesdrop on any corporate plans, and don’t talk to Anton Lee.

You never understood your family’s obsession with keeping you away from him, the prized son and heir of the Lee empire. Everyone made sure to fill your mind with negative opinions and baseless rumors about the young man, as if to deter you from even giving him a chance. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however. You’ve never even seen the man, let alone had a conversation with him. Anton Lee was much more of a mythical being than he was a person, in your eyes. He was always whispered about, but never seen.

From what you gathered, he was around your age, tall, broad, and supposedly extremely handsome. He was known for his overly harsh demeanor, rumored to command a room with a simple word. His presence apparently spoke volumes, enough to speak to his blunt nature and bad intentions. It made sense, your parents would always say. After all, he is a Lee.

“Fix your face, honey,” your mother snaps with a forced smile. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles before you turn thirty if you keep scowling like that.”

It takes everything in you to fight an eye roll, biting back the string of expletives waiting on the tip of your tongue. “Sorry. I’m going to run to the powder room.”

You don’t bother to wait for her response before excusing yourself from the cocktail table, getting lost in the crowds of people as you head towards the bathroom. Away from your family, the air feels somewhat lighter, although it still reeks of entitlement. The throb in your head is insistent now, forcing you to escape to find relief.

You find yourself heading towards a set of grandiose double doors, hoping they will lead you anywhere but here. Luckily, your prayers are answered as you step through them onto a stone balcony. The crisp nighttime air does wonders to cool your heated skin, a slight breeze ruffling the loose fabric of your dress.

This is exactly what you needed, space and solace.

“Rough night?”

A soft voice makes you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around to find the source. Its owner leans up against the exterior wall, somewhat bathed in shadow. All you can make out is a glimmer of white teeth, reflecting the moonlight.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the figure apologizes, taking a small step forward into the light.

You feel your breath stutter in your chest as you take in the man. The first thing you notice is his sheer beauty, lips enticingly full and nose broad. His beauty is complemented by his tall stature, the height difference between you two becoming increasingly apparent as he approaches. Like this, bathed in the moonlight, it’s impossible not to notice the broadness of his shoulders and how they taper into a small waist. He fills out his all black suit beautifully, the garments clearly tailored to his every curve.

“Are you alright?” The man asks, stopping only a few feet away.

The concern in his tone is just enough to snap you out of your reverie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, needed some air.”

The man nods in understanding, leaning over to place his forearms against the balcony’s railing. You struggle not to eye the way his suit jacket stretches across an impossibly wide back. Instead, you mirror his stance, looking out at the beautiful gardens below, bathed in silvery moonlight. Just beyond the seemingly endless maze of hedges, you can make out what looks like a small lake, it’s surface rippling under the nighttime breeze. 

“It can be stuffy in there,” the man says softly. 

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, shocked that such a mild tone could come from such an intimidating man. “Yeah, it really can be.”

The man lets out a small chuckle, no doubt amused by your clear annoyance. “So I take it you’re not in the business.”

“No, I’m–,” you pause for a moment, not sure how much of your identity you should reveal to the stranger. “I’m related.”

He chuckles again, this time turning to look at you. “Hm, I guess I could say the same for me, then.”

A round of applause sounds from somewhere inside, and you curse under your breath, knowing your family will kill you for your absence. The man next to you seems unphased, as if he’s used to the party going on without him.

“I think I should get back.”

The man flashes you a smile, its brightness almost blinding in the dark. “That’s okay. It was nice chatting with you…”

“Y/N. And you are?”

“Anton,” he whispers. “I hope I can see you again, Y/N.”

An icy chill travels up your spine, momentarily freezing you in place. But you force yourself to remain composed, plastering a smile on your face. You silently thank your years of etiquette training and the countless social events you have had to smile for. With a slight nod of your head, you disappear back through the double doors, instantly choking on the scent of Chanel No. 5.

.        .        .

It’s easy to believe that your first encounter with Anton Lee would be your last, especially as the weeks pass without a single sign of him. It makes sense that he wouldn’t start making regular appearances at events after attending just once. He has managed to spend twenty years staying out of the spotlight, and you can’t imagine that changing now. 

But, for some reason, you can’t help but search for him in the crowd of every gala or at the tables of any grandiose banquet.

He would be easy to spot, with his overwhelming height and dazzling smile. Maybe his honey brown hair would be slicked back off his forehead this time, or maybe it would hang in front of his eyes to conceal his bright gaze. You’re sure that he would still talk in that overly soft tone of his, somehow managing to command a room without a change in volume. 

Even his absence begins to feel like a presence in and of itself, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You tell yourself that it’s simple intrigue and nothing more. The first time you had ever laid eyes on your supposed family nemesis had been on a balcony bathed in the moonlight. Where had he been all these years?

More importantly, why had he disappeared again?

The question runs through your mind as you accept a flute of champagne from a waiter, eyes flitting around the charity dinner in hopes of spotting a specific someone. Somewhere near the front of the banquet hall, the Lee family is seated at a table with a few other wealthy families, but their oldest son is nowhere to be found. 

You crane your neck to get a better look. Just to be sure, you tell yourself. But the contorting you force yourself to do has you leaning right back into a waiter, your elbow knocking into his empty tray. The sudden movement has your champagne flute slipping out of your grasp, icy bubbles splattering across your chest and down the front of your dress. You can practically feel the daggers that your mother is shooting you from across the table, always having scolded you about the embarrassment that comes along with being a klutz. Before she can part her lips to tell you off, you excuse yourself politely, dashing out to find a restroom to freshen up. 

You let your heeled feet carry you through a maze of hallways, side stepping waiters and party guests as you move further and further away from the event space. It’s only when you travel down a flight of stairs that you find yourself a seemingly private restroom, briefly stepping inside to clean yourself up. No matter how much you dab at the stain in the center of your bust, the wine doesn’t seem to budge. You thank the heavens that it was champagne instead of a red, saving you some degree of embarrassment.

After a few minutes in the restroom, you find yourself wandering around, ending up in a much more secluded lounge space, equipped with a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. You immediately collapse onto one, sighing as the ache in your feet finally lifts. 

It’s only then that you feel your eyes begin to sting, a familiar rush of heat striking your face as a lump begins to form in your throat. The sticky sweet smell of champagne still clings to your body, your dress uncomfortable where the alcohol seeped into it. You’re sure that you look a mess, knowing that tear smudged makeup would be the last thing to complete your disheveled look. 

“Another rough night?”

The soft rasp of a voice instantly has you perking up, breath caught in your throat as you take in the tall figure approaching you. His crisply pressed suit hugs his broad shoulders and cinches at an impossibly small waist. His lips are quirked upwards into a small smirk, clearly teasing. Something about it is enticing, setting off a stampede in your stomach.

“How could you tell?” You mumble, trying not to stare as Anton settles into a lounge chair across from you.

The man’s smirk just deepens. “Wild guess. What happened?”

“I spilled champagne on myself and now I look a mess.”

“You don’t,” Anton states, smirk dropping from his face. “You could never look bad.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “How would you even know that? You’ve only seen me twice.”

Anton chuckles, finally relaxing into the plush of his chair. His legs separate ever so slightly at the action, allowing you to admire his mile-long legs. It’s almost frustrating, how perfect he looks. You imagine that if anyone never looks bad, it’s him.

“I’ve seen you way more than twice, Y/N.”

The simple statement has you turning your eyes away from his figure, meeting his open gaze. He seems so casual, so unbothered, as if that one sentence hasn’t turned your world upside down.

“Wait, what?” You find yourself tripping over your words in the rush to get them out. “Wh-what do you mean you’ve seen me more than twice? I only met you the first time at that contracting dinner a few weeks ago.”

Anton chuckles again, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “Yeah, that was the first time we’ve met, but I’ve seen you so many times. You and your family have been at every major event since we were kids. How could I not see you?”

“But, I’ve never–,”

“I know,” Anton interrupts. “I like to stay outside or in whatever lounge areas I can find. These things always make me really anxious.”

Wow, you didn’t expect such an honest admission from a man of Anton’s status. If anything, his candor makes him much more attractive, as if he could get even more perfect.

“You know we’re supposed to hate each other?” He asks, a small smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Apparently you’re my rival in the field, and I’m supposed to hate everything you say and do.”

Unfortunately, you know the feeling, causing you to let out a small giggle. “Oh trust me, I know. Do you, though?”

“Hate you?”

You nod, fighting a smile as Anton pretends to think.

“Nah,” he eventually answers. “My grandfather taught me from a very young age that I should never harbor negative feelings for beautiful women.”

The implication has heat rushing to your face, forcing you to struggle to keep your composure. “Well, my family has always told me that attractive men always have impure intentions.”

Anton chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He takes a beat before standing, letting his eyes rake over your still seated figure as he begins to retreat down the hallway. It’s impossible to decipher where the intensity of his gaze stems from. He eyes you as if he were hungry, trapping you against the couch with his stare alone.

“Then let me show you just how impure my intentions are.”

The man is gone with little more than a wink and a smile, leaving you with warm cheeks and the scent of champagne clouding your nose. 

.        .        .

You’re surprised to see Anton as soon as the next event, only three weeks later. It’s a simple charity ball for some rare disease research, but for some reason, Anton has decided not to hide in the shadows for this event. It’s interesting to watch how despite his supposed anxiety, he is clearly in his element. He greets everyone kindly, shooting various guests a charming smile as he is introduced to them. His father looks proud of him, a hand kept clapped over his shoulder the entire time. 

You wonder if he’s comfortable like this, with a blur of people and faces constantly passing by him. However, you are instantly snapped out of your wondering when a manicured hand grips your shoulder. The feeling of your mothers lips close to your ear sends a shiver down your spine, a perpetually bad omen. 

“Straighten up,” she scolds. “We’re going over to talk to the Lees. Their son is making a public appearance at an event like this for the first time. No funny business.”

You would laugh if not for the uncomfortable way her nails dig into your shoulder. It forces you to instantly fall in line behind your father, taking a deep breath as you get closer to the Lees. What is only a few seconds feels like hours until you finally stand face to face with your supposed rival. 

“Yoon Sang, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” your father greets, shaking the hands of the head of the Lee family. 

He even leans in to place a friendly kiss on Mrs. Lee’s cheek. You find yourself standing frozen in place as the parents exchange greetings, unable to do anything but stare at the man before you. He sports his signature charming smile, mouth full of perfectly white teeth on display. Not for the first time, you feel your face grow warm. 

“We thought it was about time for our Y/N to meet Anton. After all, they will be competitors when they take over the respective businesses, right?”

Your father’s comment snaps you back to attention. However, you are immediately distracted by the feeling of Anton’s large hand engulfing yours, his palm both warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. You have to glance upwards to meet his eyes, but it’s impossible to miss the amused glint in his stare. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I have heard so much about you.”

You force a smile on your face. “The pleasure is all mine.”

It’s easy to tune out the conversation after that, letting the adults blabber on while you reminisce about the feeling of Anton’s hand in yours. The man seems to be similarly distracted, clearly eyeing your figure. The silence between you speaks volumes, and you hope your parents are too deaf to hear it. 

“We would love to have Anton over at our headquarters sometime,” your mother suggests, her piercing voice rising above the noise of the ball. “I’m sure Y/N would be happy to show him around!”

You don’t even have time to process the full body panic that begins to overcome you before Anton’s family is readily agreeing. 

“I agree that it would be great for them to know the ins and outs of the business,” Mr. Lee replies with an overly saccharine smile. “We would love to have Y/N over for lunch at the estate as well. Who knows? Maybe they’ll find themselves to be friends.”

Your dad chuckles, obviously disgusted by the thought. “You’re so right. The two might even do a merger some day!”

As the group erupts into phony laughter, you feel the beginnings of a migraine tingling behind your left eye. Something about the cacophony of laughs and the dull classical music is making you ache, your stomach starting to swim with nausea. You dare a glance upward, fighting the pain that blooms in your head with the motion. 

Anton’s gaze is bright where it meets yours, a soft smile poised on his full lips. His cheeks are dusted with a slight blush, clearly flustered by the implications. There’s a slight fidget in his fingers, twirling expensive rings as a means of soothing himself. 

He’s cute, you realize, not for the first time. 

It’s only after a few more moments that the families say goodbye, the Lees promising to send a lunch invitation soon. Anton shoots you another smile before he follows behind his family, suddenly looking small despite his large stature. You can’t help but smile as you watch his departure, suddenly realizing that your migraine has disappeared. 

.         .         .

The Lee estate is just as gorgeous as you expected it to be, with tall stone gates and artfully placed landscaping. It looks impossibly large from where you’re seated in the car, causing nerves to begin to creep up your spine. You pass off the butterflies that begin to flutter in your core as obvious intimidation that comes with being on the property of your family’s biggest rivals. It surely has nothing to do with an overly soft voice, broad shoulders, and kind eyes. 

“Remember,” your mother had told you before sending you off. “This is business. Reveal nothing and absorb everything. And most importantly, remember that Anton Lee is not your friend.”

You take a step out onto the perfectly paved driveway, surprised to already see someone standing by the door. Anton seems to perk up when you lock eyes, shooting you a polite smile. His wave betrays his excitement, though. You imagine that if he were a puppy, his tail would be wagging. 

“Y/N, hey! I’m glad you actually came.”

“Please,” you shoot him a cheeky smile. “As if I could ever turn down an invitation from the Lee family.”

Anton lets out a slight groan. “Don’t remind me that this is ‘business.’”

“Well then what would you like for me to call it?”

Anton shrugs, turning to hold the front door open for you. It’s only when you pass through the threshold, Anton still standing behind you that he responds. 

“A lunch date.” Before you have the chance to respond, Anton is shutting the door behind you both. “Come this way. Food’s on the patio.”

It takes a few turns down intricate hallways to get to a set of double doors that lead to the patio. As promised, there’s an assortment of sandwiches and salad laid out on a round table, two seats set across from each other. You would be impressed, if not for the even more stunning view that lay before you. 

The patio looks out on sprawling gardens, tall bushes and blooming flowers swaying softly in the breeze. A little beyond the landscaping, a wooden dock leads out to a large pond, its greenish-blue water seemingly sparkling under the midday sun. 

“Wow, this is beautiful,” you breathe out, unable to take your eyes off the sight before you. 

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? My parents have always had an affinity for water.”

You imagine that all of their properties have pools or lakes, much like this one. Meanwhile, your own family prefers the hustle and bustle of the concrete jungle, never expanding beyond brutalist modern penthouses in the tallest apartment buildings in the city. It must be nice, you imagine, to have a space that feels like a home and not just another office. 

Eventually, the two of you sit, settling into a comfortable silence as you distribute food amongst yourselves. It’s quite amusing to watch Anton as he eats, clearly possessing the hunger of a growing young man while forcing himself to take small bites and practice the etiquette of an heir. You wonder if you look the same, so obviously restrained while you want to let loose, if only for a bit. 

Despite the fact that you haven’t seen another person since you set foot in the Lee estate, you know that people must be somewhere. There are always eyes on you. 

“I’m surprised that your family was so adamant about having me over,” you begin, settling back in your chair. “I thought I was the enemy.”

Anton smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well you know what they say. Keep the enemy close and all that.”

“Is that what you want to do? Keep me close?”

You know you’re treading in dangerous waters. All it would take is one word about the obvious flirting to Anton’s parents for you to become your family’s disgrace. You can practically see the headline now: Conglomerate Heiress Gets Rejected By Rivals’ Son. Your family would disown you. And yet, as color begins to flood Anton’s cheeks, you can’t find it within yourself to care. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice coming out even softer than usual. “I think that is what I want to do.”

You duck your head, clearing your throat in an attempt to settle the flutter in your stomach. “I’d like that.”

A sudden interest in lunch leaves both of you munching away in silence. It’s peaceful, despite blushing cheeks and racing heartbeats. It allows you to realize that being around Anton is unlike being around anyone else in your family’s circle. Here, there’s no pressure to be prim and proper, no pressure to listen out for secret ins and outs of business. 

It’s odd to find comfort in the one person who is supposed to bring you anything but. And yet, with the warmth of the sun on your face and the pleasant fullness in your belly, you’ve never felt more at home. 

“You know,” Anton starts once you have both cleared your plates. “I think we’re supposed to be talking about business.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Can I be honest?”

Anton nods slightly, honey brown hair shifting across his forehead. 

“The business is the last thing I want to talk about.”

Anton smiles. “Trust me, I feel the same way.”

There’s a beat of silence, the two of you content to simply sit as the breeze ruffles the flowers that dot the landscape. When Anton speaks again, you watch his mouth, noting the way that his lips hold the same hue of the red tulips in the nearby flower bed. 

“Can I show you something?”

The simple question has your gaze flickering back upwards, trying to ignore the way your heart races when his eyes meet yours.

“Sure,” you whisper, words instantly carried away by the wind. 

Following behind Anton through the grass proves to be harder than you imagined, his long legs allowing him to move with a grace and speed that is difficult to match. He leads you in between a maze of flower beds, bringing you deeper into the garden until you’re surrounded by tall hedges on either side. From here, it’s impossible to see the house, so you just continue to follow behind Anton. You find yourself eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the way his shirt shifts across the muscles of his back as he walks. It’s hypnotizing, so much so that you don’t realize that you have arrived at your destination. 

“This is my thinking spot,” Anton says with a little flutter of his arms, clearly trying to present the space to you. 

The hedge maze has opened up to a small central pocket, not housing much except for a small fountain and a stone bench. Anton is quick to take a seat, motioning for you to occupy the space next to him. It’s a bit of a squeeze, putting you and Anton close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin on your own. You dig your nails into the stone of the bench, hoping that it will steel your nerves. 

“I like to come out here when my parents get in my head about the business. It’s pretty peaceful.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, despite knowing that no one is within earshot. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is.”

There’s an airiness to Anton’s voice that has you turning to face him. You take in a sharp inhale when you notice that his eyes are already on you, the close proximity leaving your faces mere inches away from each other. The overwhelming rush of blood in your ears forces you to turn away, taking a deep breath to calm your thundering heartbeat. 

“You take all the girls here?” You aim for teasing, but the slight break in your voice makes it err more on the side of desperation. 

Anton shakes his head earnestly. “You’re the first person I’ve brought here who isn’t my family.”

The admission feels like a sucker punch to the gut. Except there’s no pain, just a rush of warmth that climbs up your throat like ivy. Anton is clearly surprised as well, his own words deepening the pretty flush that has taken hold on his cheeks. His bottom lip is trapped by his teeth, its plushness oh so enticing in the afternoon sun. 

“Y-you know,” you stutter out, swallowing thickly before continuing. “When you said you had impure intentions, I thought you were joking.”

“I don’t think I could joke about how bad I want you.”

It should feel like a corny line. It should feel like something he says to all the girls. After all, he’s Anton Lee. He could get anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat. So why does it feel so real when he says it to you? Why does it feel like those words are meant for you, and only you?

Anton’s gravity is pulling you closer, allowing you to lean further into his space. You’re close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your face, coming out in gentle puffs that reveal just how fast his heart is racing. He has released his bottom lip by now, leaving it glossy with saliva. It’s impossible not to anticipate the smooth glide of it against your own. 

A sudden vibration snaps you both out of your bubble, the two of you popping apart as if you were repelling magnets. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the vibration is coming from your own phone, buzzing incessantly. You shoot Anton an apologetic look before stepping away to take the call. 

“We need you back home,” your mother rushes from the other side of the line, not bothering to waste time greeting you. “Your father wants to hear about your business with the Lees before he heads to his strategy meeting in an hour.”

“But the Lee house is thirty minutes away!”

You can practically hear your mother’s eye roll over the phone. “Then you better get going.”

.         .         .

Business meeting, my house at 4pm?

The text comes as both a surprise and the most expected invitation in the world. In your flurry to leave his house the week before, you had made sure to leave the man with your number. In turn, he smiled wide, promising to invite you over for another “business meeting” soon. 

Before you can inquire about how much business will actually be necessary to discuss, your phone buzzed again. 

My parents just left for a business trip to Milan. 

A flutter rushes through your stomach at the implications. It’s clear what that means, that the two of you will finally have a chance to act on your chemistry without the watchful eyes of competitive families. The two of you will finally get to exist as your own people, and not as rivals and heirs of major global conglomerates. 

The thought alone has you spending extra time on your appearance as you get ready. You make sure your hair sits just right and that your lips are perfectly glossy before pulling on a swimsuit and heading over. You try your best to remain as still as possible during the entire ride there, knowing that nerves in combination with the late summer heat will be enough to set you aflame. 

Your heart is slamming in your chest by the time you finally pull into Anton’s driveway. It’s accompanied by a soft flutter of affection when you spot Anton’s figure, waving at you from the doorway. The wide smile on his face alone is enough to melt you. But the relaxed fit of his muscle tee and the way his swim shorts sit low on his hips has your face flooding with heat. 

He greets you with a tight hug when you cross the threshold into the house. You try not to swoon at the firm pressure of his arms around your torso, ignoring the heat of his bare skin on your own. Anton had never touched you before, not beyond a simple handshake exchanged in front of parents, always respectful to a fault. For the first time, you find yourself grateful for that fact, knowing that now that you’ve had a taste of his touch, you will forever be addicted. 

“I’m so happy to see you,” Anton gushes. “My parents have been really getting on my nerves about business and competition lately.”

“So you decided to invite the competition over to chill?”

Anton smiles, cocking his head in a puppy-like manner. “No, I invited the competition over to swim!”

So that’s why he reminded you to wear a bathing suit mere minutes before you left for his house. It makes sense, from the minimal texts that the two of you exchanged. Anton was always excited about the balanced heat of late summer, citing it as the perfect time for a lakeside swim. You wouldn’t know, of course, never having the luxury of having a lake in your backyard.

“What about your staff?”

“I let everyone have the afternoon off,” Anton responds proudly before letting his smile sink into something softer, more private. “I just wanted us to have some time alone.”

The simple admission rings out loudly in the otherwise quiet house. It’s clear how badly Anton wants this, how bad he wants your company despite the taboo that comes with it. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself wanting it just as bad, if not more. You’ve never craved anyone’s presence the way you have craved Anton’s, despite him being the one person in the world that you supposedly need to keep your distance from.

A small nod on your end is enough for Anton’s smile to grow once again, pearly whites on full display as his eyes wrinkle at the corners. The sight alone has your heart beating a little harder in your chest, the minor flutter in your abdomen growing into a full stampede of emotions. The feeling only intensifies as Anton engulfs your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he leads you out into the backyard.

The late afternoon sun sparkles against the water, illuminating everything in a blue-yellow glow. It’s the most captivating sight for miles, you’re sure, until Anton begins to take his shirt off. The way his muscles shift under his unblemished skin rivals the beautiful surface of the lake, sparkling in its own way. His shoulder blades dance across his back enticingly as he leans down to remove his socks and shoes.

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder before cannonballing right into the water.

It takes only a few seconds for the man to reemerge, slicking his honey brown hair off of his forehead. His biceps bulge with the movement before waving you into the water. It’s as clear of a signal as any, but you can’t help but hesitate, suddenly shy at the thought of stripping down to your bikini in the presence of such a man. But the delicate reflection of sunlight in his eyes and the easy smile on his face is enough to draw you in.

Before you know it, you’re discarding your clothes, taking a running head start to join Anton in the water.

Your skin is submerged in an icy chill, the water surprisingly cool for so late in the day. But soon the warmth of another body is nearing, making the cold that much more bearable. You resurface with a giggle, giddy from the feeling of swimming so long. Instantly, Anton is joining in, clearly happy seeing you filled with such glee. 

“Fuck, it’s cold!” You exclaim, shrieking when Anton splashes a bit of water your way. 

“It’ll get better,” Anton grins. “You just gotta keep swimming.”

It’s easy to do as told, letting your body relax as you continue to wade in the cool water. Eventually you let yourself fall into your back, feeling the contrast between the warm sun on your face and the cool water surrounding your body. It’s serene, allowing you to let your worries quite literally float away. However, the feeling of a chilled hand grazing your hip is enough to snap you out of your relaxation, scrambling to right yourself in panic. 

“Sorry!” Anton chuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just getting bored without you.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, finding that the pace of your heart is beginning to quicken for an entirely different reason. 

Anton looks especially beautiful like this, with his damp hair splayed messily across his head and drops of water dripping down his face. The sun has just begun to set, painting Anton’s skin with a beautiful golden hue. His eyes glisten just like the water, sunlight sparkling as it dances across the reflective surfaces. Like this, Anton seems so bright, so luminous, that hating him seems impossible. 

“I’m really glad you came today,” Anton says, his voice dropping to that soft shy tone he always uses in the presence of others. “I’m glad to have someone who gets what it's like.”

You can’t resist the smile that begins to tug on the corners of your mouth. “You’re not just saying this to get my family’s business secrets?”

Anton huffs out a laugh. “No. I’m saying this because I really like you. I like spending time with you, even though I’m supposed to hate it.”

With every word, you find yourself drifting closer to the man, his hand remaining steady on your hip as you tread lightly. Despite the obvious effort to keep your head above water, you feel like you’re drowning. But the slick feeling of Anton’s skin against yours reminds you that you won’t drown. Anton won’t let you. 

“I like you, too.”

The simple admission has Anton’s face flushing, the pretty rose color glistening orange in the light. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. You hate to dull his beauty in this moment, but you have to. 

“But what about our families? It’s not like the two of us can ever be anything.”

Anton sighs, his face dropping with realization. “I know, but…is it crazy to say that I don’t care?”

The hand on your hip tightens, pulling you even closer into Anton’s space. It’s close enough that the two of you end up bumping knees every so often, constantly moving to keep yourselves afloat. Here, in his space, you can see the way that his lashes cast subtle shadows on his cheeks. It’s easy to count the few moles that pepper his face and neck, sitting stark upon unblemished skin. 

When his eyes meet yours, it becomes clear what you wish to do. No, what you need to do. 

“Anton,” you whisper. “What did you mean when you said you had impure intentions?”

The man moves to open his mouth, but before he can get the first syllable out, you cut him off. 

“Don’t tell me,” you coo. “Show me.”

You would be lying if you said you never thought about the feeling of Anton’s plush lips on yours. In reality, you spent too many nights lying awake, thinking about the slick feel of his mouth on yours, of the way his large hands would feel clutching onto your body, of the feel of his soft brown strands underneath your fingertips. 

But dreams never compare to the real thing. 

Nothing could compare to the pure bliss of having Anton’s mouth slide against your own. He moves fervently, letting the kiss carry the twinge of desperation that you both have felt since you’ve met. It’s far from the polite way that you expected Anton Lee to kiss, but that makes it that much better. 

His nose grazes your cheek as he tilts his head, angling himself to kiss you deeper. His tongue is warm as it eases its way into your mouth, the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill of the lake. The hand that was once grasping your hip travels down to your backside and thigh, lifting you up to wrap yourself around his waist. It’s improper, at the very least, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when Anton sighs softly into your mouth. 

It feels like ages before the two of you part, chests heaving where they remain pressed together. You’re so close that you imagine that even water can’t exist between you two. Anton’s abdomen is solid where your core is pressed up against him, supporting your weight so that neither of you are at risk of sinking. 

“That,” Anton whispers, “is what I meant by impure intentions. 

You can’t help but giggle at the boy’s breathless tone, suddenly feeling giddy that you were the one to make him this way. You were the one to fluster the ever-perfect Anton Lee. It was you. It’s always been you. 

“Our parents…” you mutter reflexively, your mind a war zone. 

“Hey,” Anton coos, bringing a hand under your chin. 

With just a gentle tilt, you meet his eyes, instantly getting lost in the way his gaze bores into yours. As if he can’t help himself, Anton leans in to place a quick peck on your lips. When you part, a soft whine escapes your lips, mourning the loss of your lover’s kiss. 

“Y/N, we’ll figure it out. I won’t let this go south because of our parents.”

You nod nervously, trying your hardest to believe in the reassurance that Anton is trying to provide you. As if he could sense the residual nerves, Anton presses his lips against your forehead in a soft kiss. The sensation makes your eyes flutter shut, a content smile beginning to grown on your face. After a brief moment, Anton chuckles. 

“Who knows?” He mutters. “Maybe our parents will get that merger after all.”

.         .         .

[8 years later]

BREAKING NEWS: Lee Enterprises and TOTAL, Inc. have announced a historic merger to form one mega-corporation. This announcement comes one year after CEO and President of Lee Enterprises, Anton Lee, and Chairperson of TOTAL, Inc., Y/N Y/L/N, announced their marriage. The new multinational conglomerate will be known as Lakeside, LLC, and is said to have a current stock value of over five billion dollars.

.FIN.

[lvmoure]

But Daddy, I Love Him CS55

Summary: In the youngest child of King Charles II and late Princess Diana of Wales fell for an F1 driver, and is willing to do anything just to be with him.

Warnings: slight angst and rebellion.

You want nothing but to escape from the royal protocols that your family have set.

You are a lot of things: classy, smart, beautiful, elegant, and also, away from the eye of many, you are nothing but a rebel. Growing up in a dysfunctional family where your brothers seem perfect, life is nothing but complicated. It becomes even more complicated when your older brother, Harry, decides to live away from everyone with his wife, Meghan. You feel the weight of expectation in Buckingham Palace, where every action is scrutinized and every misstep could lead to scandal. You yearn for freedom, for a life beyond the gilded cage of royalty.

It’s a rainy Thursday afternoon, and the clouds outside your window reflect the turmoil inside. The dark sky looms over the palace like an ominous reminder of your frustrations. You sit on your bed, staring at the opulent walls adorned with portraits of ancestors, wondering if any of them ever felt trapped in their roles. Your heart pounds in your chest, a constant reminder of the fight brewing inside you.

“Why can’t you just act like a proper lady?” your father’s voice booms from the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts.

You can hear him pacing outside your door, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. “You’re a princess, for heaven’s sake! This isn’t a game!”

You stand up, your anger boiling over. You open the door, your resolve hardening as you face him. “This isn’t about being a princess, Dad! It’s about being myself!” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

He turns to you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disappointment. “Being yourself is exactly what got you into trouble last time. You can’t just run off to… to some racing event with that Sainz boy! It’s unbecoming.”

“Unbecoming?” you scoff, crossing your arms defiantly. “What’s unbecoming is pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m tired of this charade. I want to live my life!”

He steps closer, towering over you, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “And what kind of life do you think you can have? You’re throwing away everything—your title, your future—for a whim. For a boy!”

“Carlos is not just a boy! He’s passionate, driven, and he understands me in a way you never will!” Your heart races, but you refuse to back down.

“Passionate? Driven? Those are just words to romanticize what he is—a reckless race car driver! You think this is some fairytale?” His voice rises, echoing in the grand hallway, and the walls seem to close in on you.

“Maybe I don’t want a fairytale, Dad! Maybe I want to create my own story!” You take a step back, your breath quickening, realizing how far the argument has escalated. The tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away, determined to stay strong.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “You are a princess! You have responsibilities, expectations! You can’t just abandon them!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a princess anymore!” you shout, the words escaping before you can stop them. Silence hangs between you like a taut wire, both of you breathing heavily, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air.

He studies you for a moment, disappointment flashing in his eyes. “If you leave, don’t expect to come back. This family doesn’t tolerate such behavior.”

Your heart sinks, the threat echoing in your mind, but the fire of rebellion burns brighter. “Maybe I’ll take my chances.” You turn on your heel and storm down the hall, the echo of your footsteps reverberating through the palace like a drumbeat of defiance.

As you grab a small bag, you throw in a few essentials—clothes, your phone, and a picture of Carlos you keep tucked away. The thought of leaving fills you with both fear and exhilaration. You pause at the door, your heart racing as you glance back at the life you’re about to abandon.

With one last deep breath, you step out into the rain-soaked streets of London, the cold air invigorating. Each step takes you further from the constraints of your title and closer to the life you’ve always dreamed of—one filled with passion and freedom.

Days pass, and you find yourself standing on the sun-kissed shores of Mallorca. The salty breeze tousles your hair as you sit on the warm sand, staring out at the turquoise waves crashing against the shore. You left everything behind: the palace, your family, the expectations. You made the choice to find solace in the sun, but it feels like a band-aid over a deeper wound.

Carlos, with his warm brown eyes and infectious smile, had always been a light in the dark. It was his idea to meet here, a promise he made to show you the world beyond royal duties. As you watch the horizon, you remember the first time you met him at a charity event, his passion for racing sparking something inside you that you never knew existed.

Suddenly, you hear his voice, and you turn to see him approaching. “There you are! I thought I’d lost you to the sea,” he teases, his smile lighting up his face.

You smile back, feeling the weight of your past lift slightly in his presence. “Just contemplating life and my terrible decisions,” you say, trying to sound light-hearted.

“Hey, every decision leads us somewhere, right? At least we’re here now.” He gestures to the beach, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at his optimism.

“Yeah, here. Away from everything,” you reply, your voice trailing off as you recall the argument with your father.

Carlos sits beside you, his presence comforting. “Is everything okay? You seem… distant.”

You sigh, looking out at the waves. “It’s just hard to let go of everything. My family… they expect so much from me.”

“You don’t owe them anything. You’re allowed to be who you want to be.” His words are gentle, yet they cut through the chaos in your mind. You turn to him, your heart racing.

“But what if who I want to be isn’t what they want? What if I’m just throwing everything away for nothing?”

“Nothing? You’re not throwing anything away. You’re chasing what makes you happy. And if that’s me, then I’ll do everything to make it worth it.” His sincerity makes your heart flutter, and you feel the connection between you deepen.

As the sun sets, casting a golden glow over the island, you realize how much you longed for this kind of connection. “What if this is just a summer fling? What if you go back to racing and forget all about me?” The fear creeps in, but you push it down, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Carlos takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Then I’ll race back to you. No matter what, I won’t forget you. You’re not just some fling to me.” His eyes hold a promise, and for the first time, you feel hopeful.

That week, you explore the island together—dancing under the stars, sharing stories, and laughing until your sides hurt. Each moment feels like a stolen treasure, a world away from the palace. But as the days pass, the looming thought of returning home creeps into your mind, a shadow over your newfound happiness.

The week has come to an end, and you find yourself at a quaint café overlooking the Mediterranean. The sun rises slowly, casting a warm light that contrasts with the storm brewing in your heart. Carlos sits across from you, sipping his coffee, a content smile gracing his lips. You want to capture this moment forever, to freeze time in this perfect bubble.

But the bubble is about to burst. Your phone buzzes, a message from your father breaking the serene atmosphere. You read it, and your stomach drops. “Come home. It’s time to face your responsibilities.”

You set the phone down, feeling the weight of the message like a boulder on your chest. “I can’t go back,” you whisper, panic rising.

Carlos looks concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my father. He’s demanding I come back to the palace. I can’t bear to face him after everything.”

“Don’t you want to talk to him? Maybe he’s just worried.” He reaches out, but you pull away, the thought of facing your family unbearable.

“Worried? Or controlling? He’ll never understand. I feel like I’m suffocating in that place.” Tears brim in your eyes as the emotions flood over you.

“Then let’s not go back,” Carlos says fiercely. “We can stay here. We can make a life together away from all that.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of reality. “I can’t run forever, Carlos. My father will always find me.” You realize with a sinking heart that this paradise can’t last forever.

The conversation grows heated, both of you struggling to find a solution. “You have to fight for what you want,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “Don’t give up on us.”

“It’s not that simple! My family… they have expectations. I can’t just turn my back on them.” The thought of your father’s disappointment stabs at your heart, but the idea of losing Carlos cuts deeper.

“Then you need to stand up for yourself. Tell him how you feel.”

You pause, considering his words. “What if he doesn’t care? What if he just wants to control me?”

Carlos reaches for your hand, holding it tightly. “You

won’t know until you try. You deserve to be happy, and I want to help you fight for that happiness.” His eyes are fierce with determination, and you feel a spark of hope igniting within you.

But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your heart. “I don’t know if I can go back and face him,” you admit, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Then we’ll face it together. I’ll be right by your side.” His warmth envelops you, and for a moment, you believe him.

But then reality crashes in. You know what you must do. “I have to go back, Carlos,” you say softly, pulling your hand away. “I can’t abandon my family, no matter how hard it is.”

The decision hangs in the air, and you can see the hurt in Carlos’s eyes. “I understand. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy.” His voice trembles slightly, the pain evident.

“I wish things were different,” you murmur, your heart breaking as you stand up, ready to leave the paradise you’ve found.

As you walk away, every step feels heavier, and you can’t shake the feeling of loss that grips you. Carlos’s figure fades into the background as you board the plane back to London, leaving behind a piece of your heart in Mallorca.

Back in Buckingham Palace, the weight of reality crashes down like a heavy fog. You wear a smile for the cameras and the public, but inside, you feel like a ghost drifting through the hallways. The opulence feels suffocating, and every laugh shared with your family feels hollow. They celebrate your return, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside you.

Each day, the longing for Carlos grows, filling the empty spaces where happiness used to reside. You replay every moment from your week in Mallorca, from the gentle caress of the ocean breeze to the warmth of his hand in yours. The memories haunt you, and the loneliness settles in your heart like a cold stone.

One evening, you find yourself wandering the gardens, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the flowers. The beauty of the night contrasts sharply with your inner turmoil. You stop by the fountain, the sound of water soothing yet haunting.

Your father’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of the responsibilities you’ve shunned. You should be grateful for everything, yet all you feel is regret. “Why can’t you just be what we want you to be?” he had said, and the words sting like a whip.

You sink to the ground, tears spilling as you realize the truth—you cannot live a life dictated by others. You want to fight for your love, to reclaim the happiness you’ve tasted with Carlos.

“I can’t keep living this way,” you whisper to the night, your heart racing with determination. “I won’t lose him.”

The decision crystallizes in your mind: you will leave again, this time for good. You’ll fight for the life you want, for the love you’ve found. The fear that had held you back shatters, replaced by an unyielding resolve.

As dawn breaks, you pack a small bag once more, your heart pounding with the thrill of rebellion. You leave a note for your family, knowing they may never understand, but this time, you don’t care. You are doing this for yourself.

The flight to Mallorca feels like an eternity, your heart racing with anticipation. You step off the plane, the warm breeze washing over you, carrying the scent of the sea and memories of laughter. The familiar landscape unfolds before you, each corner reminding you of the moments you cherished with Carlos.

You find him at the same café, his laughter echoing through the air as he chats with a group of friends. When he sees you, his face lights up with a mixture of surprise and joy, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

“Is that really you?” he asks, disbelief evident in his voice. “I thought I lost you for good.” You run to him, throwing your arms around him, the warmth of his embrace grounding you. “I came back. I had to fight for us,” you breathe, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. Carlos pulls back, searching your eyes for the truth. “You mean it? You really want this?”

“Yes! I want you, Carlos. I want this life, the one I choose for myself. No more hiding, no more running.” You take a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, cupping your face in his hands. “I was worried you’d change your mind.”

“Never. I’ve spent too long trying to be someone I’m not. I want to embrace who I am, and that includes you.” You lean in, and he captures your lips with his, a kiss that seals the promise of a future together.

For the next few days, you immerse yourself in the vibrant life of Mallorca, exploring the island hand in hand. You learn more about racing, his passion igniting something within you. You share your dreams and fears, building a bond stronger than ever.

But then, the day comes when Carlos must leave for a race. As you stand on the balcony, watching him pack, a wave of sadness washes over you. “You’ll come back, right?” you ask, the uncertainty creeping in.

“Of course! I’ll always come back to you,” he promises, wrapping you in his arms. “Just remember, you’re the reason I push harder on the track. You give me strength.” As he leaves, you feel a mix of pride and longing. You have finally found your voice, your path, and love. But you know that this journey has only just begun.

Months pass, and you find yourself at peace with your choices. You’ve forged a life away from the palace, pursuing your passions alongside Carlos. The connection you share deepens, built on trust and understanding.

Finally, the day comes when you stand before your father again, ready to confront the past. You’ve made your decision; you want to forgive him and seek a relationship based on honesty.

“Dad, I want to talk,” you say, your voice steady as you approach him in the gardens. He looks up, surprise etched on his face. “You’re back from your… adventures.”

“I want to understand. I want us to move forward, but I need you to understand me too.” The words come rushing out, a torrent of emotions spilling over.

Your father’s expression softens, and for the first time, you see the regret in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just wanted to protect you.”

“I know. But I need you to let me be myself,” you reply, your heart open. “I want to find my own path, and I want you to support that.”

As the conversation unfolds, you both find common ground. There’s healing in vulnerability, and slowly, you rebuild the bridge between you.

A few months later, you stand in a sun-drenched chapel surrounded by friends and family, your heart pounding with excitement. Carlos stands at the altar, his eyes full of love and determination.

As you walk down the aisle, your father by your side, you feel a sense of peace. You’ve embraced your past, and you’re ready to step into the future. You take Carlos’s hand, and in that moment, you know you’ve chosen the right path.

The vows you exchange are a promise not just to each other but to yourself: to love fiercely, to fight for your happiness, and to always remain true to who you are.

As you seal your vows with a kiss, the future stretches before you—unpredictable, thrilling, and entirely yours.

[clarkeyhill]

Sentimental | George Clarke

Fluff.

Christmas was a time in your life you dread to come around, your dysfunctional family made celebrating and being festive a chore ever since you all grew up. George knew how much Christmas time raised your anxiety levels and decided he'd do something to make you realise that, Christmas is still as magical as it was when you were a child.

Christmas Day was in full swing, the time was 8am, you roll over to face George, already laid smiling at you.

"Merry Christmas baby" he says with a soft smile

"Merry christmas my love" you say back planting a soft kiss on his lips

Without hesitation he wraps your body in his arms, engulfing you like a warm blanket. You snuggle for a few minutes as you decide to get up. You had stayed at George's family home for Christmas this year, you felt out of place but more sane that you would if you were at home right now.

You make your way down the stairs in your watching pjs as you're the first ones down.

"I feel like a little kid again" you smile, cheeks rosy from the excitement as you look at the presents scattered into piles with your stockings on top of them.

"You deserve it, I know Christmas is a touchy thing for you, we wanted to make it special" he smiles, snaking his hand around your waist.

You perch yourself on the sofa as George heads to go wake his sister and parents. You decide to motion yourself towards the kitchen and make everyone a brew, setting them up for the day ahead. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the window as you smile, a feeling of your warmth gushes over you. You finally felt like you belonged somewhere at this time of year, no pressure to stir conversation or keep a brave face.

You place at the drinks on a tray and slide them on the coffee table, you sit and wait. George had been gone a little while you thought, furrowing your brows. Just then he returns, as his smile broadens.

"Follow me" he holds out his hand

You take it, unsure of the reason but you trusted him.

"Trust me a second, I'm going to cover your eyes for this" he says with a soft tone, placing his hands over your eyes

You nod as you shuffle down the hallway, George directing you as you make your way to what seems like the back door. All of a sudden the patio door slides open, the cold December air wafts your face as you grab the door frame, lowering yourself down the step.

"George, what's going on?" You ask giggling

"You'll see, two seconds" he snickers, his tone giggly as if he couldn't contain the excitement about to burst through him.

"Okay, 3,2,1-"

He removes his hands as you blink, suddenly you see what looks like snow, falling from the sky.

"Snow?!" You say shocked

George giggles, you turn round to him to face him. A broad smile plastered on his face.

"I know this time of year takes a toll on you and I understand that. But I will do anything in my power to make sure that every Christmas you have is special and memorable, even if it means buying a thousand snow machines and hiring reindeers" he chuckles as he places a thumb over your cheek

Your eyes swell with tears threatening to drop, you speak no words, instead you crash into George's chest. Gripping him tightly as the tears fall, his hand rubs the back of your head as he rocks you to and fro.

"Thankyou George, I-i don't know what to say" you sniffle

"You're more than welcome beautiful, merry Christmas" he smiles as he looks down at you, planting a kiss on your forehead

"Merry Christmas baby" you reply back as you look in to his baby blue eyes.

-

🫶🏻

Merry Christmas guys!!! 🎀✨🩷

[flyingwargle]

november fanfic recs!

we're almost at the end of the year, but there's always fanfic to be read! check out previous months' recs: october, september, august, july

some of these fics are rated e!

sakuatsu

can we always be this close (forever and ever?) g. 3.1k. sakusa approaches osamu to ask for his ring size because he plans to propose to atsumu. osamu instead interrogates him to see if he's ready to be with atsumu forever, while suna watches. very endearing with the best ending ever.

The Wisdom Tooth Incident™ g. 4.8k. atsumu gets his wisdom tooth removed and forgets about sakusa in his post-anesthetic haze. i will never tire of this trope. you can pry it from my cold, dead hands.

city of millions t. 7.2k. mostly sakusa-centric and background sakuatsu. a beautiful love letter to sakusa's early years of university, his friendship with akaashi, and learning to reconnect with things that he left in the past (things being miya atsumu).

lingua franca m. 9.1k. sakusa learns about the different love languages through his life and finally finds someone who has the same love language as him.

itadakimasu t. 10.9k. pro athlete sakusa puts out an ad for someone to cook him meals, and aspiring chef atsumu answers his call. a slow but beautiful partnership that leads to love.

double lift e. 12.8k. 3/3. accidentally been reading a lot of winterwaltz6's works this month huh (they're all very good though). this one is the intimacy of sakusa helping atsumu re-dye his hair after he's been on the bench due to a knee injury. very soft and warm <3

halfway to sunrise e. 12.9k. atsumu offhandedly tells sakusa that he can sleep with him and sakusa takes him up on it. fwb to lovers.

hustle for that muscle e. 13.8k. atsumu and suna make a bet on who can get an underwear ad first, and the loser has to ask their respective crush out. atsumu loses, hence the hilarious attempt to ask sakusa out, which leads to eventually trying to sleep with him.

anchor m. 21.3k. atsumu helps sakusa through his panic attack and sakusa reciprocates in turn. augh, the emotional damage this caused, but the fluff made up for it. beautiful writing and discussions of mental health.

take two e. 23k. 3/3. sakusa reconnects with his ex, atsumu, after finding him on an adult site, and maybe, just maybe, they'll rekindle their relationship. the prose was full of so much pining and love.

A Thousand Cuts t. 37.9k. 3/3. this is the perfect study of misunderstandings, miscommunication and unrequited love. absolutely heartbreaking with gripping prose.

hand study e. 84.4k. 7/7. atsumu injures sakusa's hand and becomes his personal helper while he heals, with benefits. fwb to lovers with a healthy dose of angst but has a happy ending.

Lessons in Falling e. 87.2k. 6/6. sakusa resists from falling in love with atsumu because he believes his family is cursed with falling out of love and dysfunctional relationships. atsumu is so tooth-rottingly sweet and patient while waiting for sakusa to make peace with his family. gripping prose and tension. one of my favorites <3

iwaoi

thrilled by the still of your hand t. 2.6k. iwa and bokuto arm wrestle. that's it, that's the fic. and oikawa kisses iwa but that comes later.

tattoo your name across my heart g. 5.4k. iwa drunkenly gets oikawa's name tattooed on his arm. SO CUTE. SO FLUFFY. augh my heart, they love each other so much.

Even here, there is light t. 11.4k. single dad oikawa finding love in iwa. oikawa's son is so lovely in this, along with their love.

come get me, come love me m. 20.7k. oikawa is invited to a wedding upon his return to japan and comes face to face with his ex, iwa, after several years. a lovely, lovely fic of coming back together <3

Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run) m. 27.6k. oikawa's knee isn't healing the way it's supposed to be, thus a long journey of getting surgery and enduring the rehab that follows. iwa is with him every step of the way.

bokuaka

and i have never felt so bright t. 16.5k. 5 times akaashi told himself not to be selfish in life and 1 time he decided to. the 2nd chapter blew me away with the domestic details and eventual getting together. such a sweet fic.

down, boy e. 87.8k. 15/15. think of sakuatsu's terminal curiosity but bokuaka. that's all i can really say without being too detailed, other than it's slow burn with a lot of spice.

sunaosa

check out all the wonderful works from the sunaosa autumn gift exchange that were revealed in november! there's lots to read and fanart to see <3

the universe called and said we're soulmates t. 3.8k. suna starts dreaming of his relationship with osamu in different universes. so sweet and beautiful!

two drinks t. 4k. suna falls head over heels with the barista to the point that he orders coffee every time he sees him. except he doesn't like coffee. absolutely hilarious!

moonlight e. 5.5k. emotional spice featuring suna having low self-esteem and osamu wanting to show him that he's loved. beautiful, with so much affection from osamu to suna.

stop me if you’ve heard this one before… g. 6.4k. osamu is a dumbass and keeps forgetting about relationship milestones and suna just finds it amusing. find yourself a partner that finds your forgetfulness endearing like suna, seriously.

god in jeans t. 22.4k. atsumu accidentally kicks a god's shrine and ends up indebted to them - i.e. suna. outsider pov watching suna and osamu fall in love despite suna's god status, with a healthy amount of angst and an eventual happy ending.

drowning in gravity m. 24.1k. exes to fwb to lovers. suna being emotionally constipated, osamu being patient but also impatient...combine all that together and you get angst with a happy ending.

other

And flowers bloom in his wake g. 10.6k. kurodai. modern magic au where everyone has a unique ability and daichi's ability is that flowers grow where he walks and kuroo makes it his personal mission to protect those flowers (and fall in love in the process).

know what a river can be g. 13.6k. oikawa-centric. a character study of oikawa's time overseas to pursue his volleyball career with bodies of water as the main motif. beautiful prose with an uplifting ending.

Point Break t. 18.3k. daisuga. the karasuno 3rd years undergo the most ridiculous heist of all time. HILARIOUS. so cute and endearing as well, and so, so dumb. on-point prose, pining, and getting together. one of my favorites this month <3

heaven's here, it's right where you're standing t. 47.2k. 8/8. kuroken. kenma, a cancer survivor, moves to a small seaside town for a change of pace and meets kuroo, the local science teacher and volleyball coach. slowburn romance with perhaps one of the best twists that i have ever read.

Making a Home g. 106.3k. 27/27. arankita. kita is a foster parent whose license is about to expire when he's given the miya twins to foster, after they've been passed from one abusive household to the next. a beautiful story of found family and love.

[mj0702]

@helen-with-an-a wanted it... you all have to suffer

You hardly keep something from Lucy. There were a few times you didn't tell her things. The time you broke her favorite mug. Then when you started dating Georgia. Oh – and the time you got mint jelly all over her first Olympic Jersey. So you keeping something from her felt incredibly wrong to you. You didn't LIKE to keep things from her. But you also were a person that need to prove to yourself that you can achieve things without the name Bronze or without Lucy. That's why you kept all this from her. You were living in Barcelona now – Barcelona was your home. It was where your Family was. Lucy. Keira. Ona. Alexia. Mapí. All them spaniards (and Jenni the lanky half-Mexican from the bad area from Spain) you love more than life and that you would give your life without a second thought. So keeping one of the biggest thing in your life from your sister was hard. And it got significant harder once the others caught on that something was going on with you. You talked to Georgia a lot. You finished school in summer and you knew you just had to ask Alexia and you immediately would have a job at Barca but you wanted more. Yes, you were good at analytics and tactics but you wanted to help on a different level. So your girlfriend suggested you would start to train to be a physio but true to Bronze fashion you wanted more. You wanted what Lucy did – you wanted to study and you wanted to understand the human body and the movements and the muscles and the tendons and... everything.

So you looked up some courses at Unis in England when Georgia suggested you should probably look in Barcelona. Barcelona had excellent Universities and you did found something that would go in the direction you wanted so you wrote an application and to your big surprise you got accepted. You hoped that it wasn't because of the name Bronze but on the other hand you didn't really care when you opened the letter. You immediately called Georgia who was at training but called back ASAP once she saw the 31 missed calls from you thinking something has happened.

“Hola Cari” you heard Alexia entering the meeting room where you were hiding most of the trainings theses days working on your paper for “school”

“Hola” you squeaked and slapped your laptop shut panicked

“Are you okay Cariño?” the blonde raised an eyebrow at your weird acting

“Sí... mi bueno... mucho bueno” you nodded fast your hand still on your laptop

“We taught you better than that” Alexia huffed slapping the back of your head lightly “... what are you doing in here anyway?”

“Nothing” you answered quickly pushing the laptop a little away so Alexia couldn't snatch it away

“You weren't watching porn were you?” the blonde asked seriously still a little carefully

“WHAT??” you looked at her bewildered “NO!!”

“I mean I would understand....” Alexia said carefully “... you and Georgia... long distance”

“Oh ew...” you scrunched up your nose “.. please stop talking about... what I do or don't do with my girlfriend”

“Then what are you doing?” the blonde pushed again trying to grab your laptop

“Hello?? Privacy??!!!” you exclaimed jumping up from your chair pulling the electronic device to your chest as you took a few steps back to get some distance between you and the catalan

“Please..” Alexia snorted chuckling “... you should know there's hardly any privacy around this dysfunctional familia... how often did you walk in on Ona and Lucy now?”

“Yeah well.. I want my privacy now... so can you just leave?” you whined before you mumbled “... seven times”

“Cari....” the blonde said softly “... I don't know what you're doing but it's nothing dangerous right?”

“No... it's just something I need to do by myself” you said seriously

“If you need help you know you can come to any of us right?” Alexia said firmly

“I know...” you nodded “... I promise I'll tell you soon okay.. I just... need to figure it out myself first”

“Okay... I trust you that there won't be Police on the side one day trying to take you away” the blonde said “... if your sister asks... do Maps a favor and say you did indeed watch porn”

With that Alexia left you alone and you looked shocked at the door that just fell shut

“Hey Bubs..” your sister greeted you as you entered the locker room

“Hey” you grumbled back

“Woah... what's wrong Bits?” Keira now perked up from the opposite side giving you a once over if you sported any new bruises or wounds

“Nothing” you grumbled proceeding to stuff your laptop and some papers in your personal Barcelona Bag

“Bubs... talk to me” Lucy said softly when she came over to sit next to your cubby – yes you had your own cubby gifted by the Barca captains themselves

“What's there to talk... not an INCH of privacy in this godforsaken place...” you grumble subtly fixing the rim of your shirt

“What?” your sister said dumb folded not catching on

“Bitsy speak up... your sister doesn't get it... as usual” Keira said rolling her eyes already “knowing” what happened

“I have needs okay... my girlfriend is thousand miles away...” you looked at Lucy faking to be upset “... ALL of you should have been at training... ALL... yes ALL... except for Mrs. Alexia “I can do whatever I want because I'm La Reina” Putellas... SHE doesn't have to train... she's sooooo good... newsflash... your one touch is lacking”

“Woah whoa whoa whoa...” Lucy held her hands up in a calming matter “WHAT are you talking about?”

“I have NEEDS Luce...” you huffed

“What do you need? Can I help somehow??” your sister asked confused and you heaved

“She was watching porn Lucy... or a video from G getting herself off” Keira now interrupted dryly

“Oh my god!!” Lucy exclaimed shocked.. and disgusted.. but mostly shocked

“HA!!!” you heard Mapí exclaimed victoriously

“María” you heard a second voice smirking when Ingrid slapped her girlfriend and shot her a death glare

“NEVER say anything like this again” Lucy coughed after she gagged loudly “You are my little sister... you die a virgin because you don't HAVE a sex life”

“Oh but I...” you started nonchalantly

“Bitsy” Keira interrupted you in a warning tone “No”

“But...” you whined

“Do you really want me to come over and we discuss that in private?” Keira challenge you with a raised eyebrow

“No no... I'm good.... thank you” you said quickly when you got a glimpse of the clock

“SHIT... I'm late” you quickly threw the rest of your stuff in the bag and sprinted towards the exit just to get stopped by Alexia

“Late for what?” the blonde catalan blocked the door

“Not your business” you said getting slightly angry trying to push past her

“You really think you can push me over?” Alexia looked down at you crossing her arms in front of her chest

“I know your weak spot...” you said dangerously calm “... don't make me hurt you Alexia... let me go”

You and Alexia got into a little stare off before the blonde took a step to the side letting you hastily fly through the door

“You letting her leave? Alexia!” Lucy exclaimed confused

“Something tells me the Cari has some things to figure out” the catalan said softly

“Ehrm.. Amor?” Ona now speaks up being a little shady

“Sí?” Lucy looked at her girlfriend after she processed what Alexia said

“Please tell me you have the Car keys” Ona asked already knowing the answer

“No... I gave them to you...” your sister shook her head bewildered

“Yeah... about that...” her girlfriend scratched the back of the neck “... I think Bebita took them”

“WHAT???” Lucy yelled shocked starting to pull her clothes from her bag again looking for her car key

“No no no no no no” your sister whined after she reached the bottom of her bag “Noooooohooooo”

“She got you again Bronze?” Keira smirked evilly

“Shut it Walsh” Lucy grumbled as she fell down on the bench “... you can give us a lift?”

“Sure thing” Keira laughed “... but you better move your ass... you know I'll leave without you and just drive your girlfriend home.... and when we're at yours we pass the time by painting our nails and talk about your performance... the not on the pitch performance”

“You are an evil EVIL woman Walsh” your sister grumbled and stuffed her trainings stuff back into her bag

“Sorry for being late... got held up at... work” you panted entering the classroom now everyone looking at you

“I'll let it slide this time but only because you are one of the Best in this course” your Teacher Mrs. Hernandez looked at you strictly and then nodded her head towards your place and you quickly scrambled to sit down and pull out your papers and sat up your laptop “... and you can start with explaining your paper you better have finished since last lesson”

“Yeah.... about that... my... dog ate it” you scratched the back of your neck embarrassed

“Your... dog ate it??” the dark haired woman asked confused raising an eyebrow

Truth was... Narla didn't ate it. You worked on that paper and you finished it. In Munich. At your girlfriends apartment. On your second laptop. That was still in Munich.

“Yeah....” you tried to grin innocent resulting in a pained grimace

“How about we try the truth?” the woman asked fixing you with a glare

“Damn... you're just like Ale...” you mumbled but then cleared your throat “... I forgot it in Munich and my dearest is to... untechnical to get through me safety settings sooooo...”

“So you have time to go on holiday to Germany instead of studying?” Mrs. Hernandez asked

“No no no... I do study” you said quickly “... my girlfriend lives in Munich and no one except for her know that I'm doing this so whenever I know my familia is home I flee to Munich so I can have my peace and quiet and know one will see what I'm doing because... I don't want them to get involved before I passed this class”

“Now that's a reason I can get behind” the dark haired woman nodded understanding before she fixed you with a glare once again “... I want BOTH papers before next lesson starts on my desk in printed form”

“Sí... gracias” you nodded quickly already planning your next trip to Germany

“Aitana…” you said quietly

“Sí?” the small catalan asked confused

“I need your help….” you whispered looking around so no one would hear you “… I can offer you a deal”

“Aha” Aitana took a step back

“You teach me catalan…. I teach you English” you mumbled quickly

“I don’t need helping in English” the catalan looked confused

“You say things like “you work or no work”…. “ you deadpanned

“Yes… she was at every game” Aitana looked even more confused

“Firstly it’s rude and secondly it’s not English” you rolled your eyes “… sooooo… we have a deal?”

“Why you don’t need helping from Alexia?” the small player asked

“She’ll ask questions that I can’t answer right now….” you mumbled “… and you definitely need help with English”

“Okay…” Aitana shrugged her shoulders and that was the start of the most chaotic private lessons existing to this day.

“Bitsy... we need to talk” Keira said pulling you away after training a week later

“What? Why? I did nothing?” you said quickly a little scared

“Sit” the englishwoman gestured to one of the seats in the stands and you promptly sit down “So... what's going on?”

“Huh? Nothing?” you asked confused

“Bitsy... you never lied to me... okay once but that was technically okay since it was a surprise party” Keira said firmly “... so I'll humor you and ask again... what's going on?”

“Nothing I swear” you held your hands up in a defending manner

“For weeks now you're different... your mind is somewhere else... you hardly participate in pranks with them nutcases anymore... you fly an AWEFUL lot out to Munich... you spend hardly any time with Lucy, Ona, Alexia or me for the matter... so... what's going on.. you and G okay?” your “Mom” asked her voice showing a little concern

“Oh... OH...” you exclaimed “... yeah... all good”

“And???” Keira looked at you with that “go on”-look

“And nothing... all good” you smiled standing up for Keira to pull you right back down

“Y/n” she warned you and you know you are basically fucked

“I promise all is good... but..” you started with a little wince “... I can't talk about it... not right now... I promise everything is okay and I will tell you eventually just not... now”

“Okay...” the blonde said after she studied your face for a minute “... you know I trust you Bitsy and when you say you're okay I believe you... BUT.. if you got trouble I want you to come to me okay...”

“I promise Kei.. that's just something I have to do on my own... FOR me” you said seriously and Keira nodded slowly

“Okay... just promise me you didn't get pregnant or married... Lucy would get a stroke” Keira smiled slightly

“PREGNANT????” you screeched causing several heads to whip in your direction making Keira burst out laughing

“BUBS???!!!” Lucy yelled over shocked

“NO!!!! NO!!!!” you shook your head panicked as your sister started to come over to you and Keira

“You know she's gonna make you do a test right?” Keira wheezed out when she saw Lucys face

“I'm not pregnant” you squeak out your sister now coming up resting against the railing her eyebrows raised

“Then you won't have anything against taking a test right?” Lucy looked at you

“Told you” Keira bursted out laughing again

“You can take a test” you grumbled sinking lower in that uncomfortable plastic chair

“I'm pretty confident I'm not the one who just yelled Pregnant over the whole pitch...” your sister said in a matter of fact voice “... Alexia is already on her way to get one”

“I'm NOT taking a pregnancy test” you glared at Lucy

“So... you have something to hide then” Lucy poked your ego

“No... but I'm not supporting your stupidness” you shot back while Keira nearly fell of the chair clutching her torso laughing

“You are in a very.... difficult age Bubs....” your sister started slowly “... your hormones...”

“GOOOOOD” you groaned “... please stop.... Keira.... make her stop”

“Oh no... this is very entertaining” the blonde laughed at the uncomfortable look on Lucys and the disgusted look on your face

“You just take the test Bubs and we're good” Lucy said shrugging her shoulders not really wanting to have this conversation

“Luce... I'm NOT pregnant...” you said seriously “... G is good but not THAT good”

“Oh gooooood...” now your sister groaned while Keira interrupted into a new round of laughter

“Hey Alexia” you strolled up to the Barca capitan after a gym session several weeks later

“Yes Cari?” Alexia breath slightly labored as she wiped her face with a towel

“What are you doing next Thursday??” you asked slightly nervous

“Nothing I think... I have to check my planner but I don't think I have anything planned why?” the blonde catalan said after she thought about it for a second

“Could you and Olga maybe... be there...” you asked quietly pulling out a scrunched up piece of paper with an address and a time scribbled on it

“Ehrm... okay... can I ask why?” Alexia looked confused as she took the paper from you

“Just.... it's something important to me... so... please?” you shuffled nervously from left to right

“Okay... okay we'll be there” the blonde smiled softly feeling the nervous energy radiating from you “Thank you... casual chic... or just chic.... whatever you feel like” you mumbled quickly before you basically run from the gym

“Oh Cari.... what have you done now?” Alexia huffed lightly as she watches you leave and started to collect her things

“Luce??” you yelled as soon as you opened the door “Ona?”

“Living room” you heard your sister yelling back

“OKAY” you yelled back kicking your shoes down the hallway

“Why do you two always have to yell?” Ona groaned

“Love language” Lucy shrugged and grinned “…. When she yells I know she’s okay”

“Sooooo….” you said a little carefully

“Sooooo?” your sister asked sitting on the couch Onas head in her lap

“You free next Thursday?” you shuffled around nervously

“Think so…. Why?” Lucy looked at you expectantly

“Just… be there at 7” you said quickly and threw another scrunched up piece of paper at them and quickly made your exit

“Bubs” your sister yelled after you while Ona unfolded the piece of paper that hit her on the forehead

“What is it?” Lucy looked down on her girlfriend

“It’s an address” the catalan said confused

“I swear if she caused trouble and that’s a court date…” your sister grumbled

“It’s the Universities address” Ona said as she looked up from her phone as she googled the address

“University?” Lucy asked bewildered

“Yes…” the blonde showed her girlfriend the screen

“What the… BUBS??!!!” your sister yelled

“She’s not home!!!!” you yelled back from your room

“Stop being a Twat and get your ass in here” Lucy groaned

“No….” you whined

“Y/n Tough Bronze” your sister hollered

“Lucy… let her be…” Ona said softly “… it obviously took a lot for her to ask us to be there – so don’t squeeze informations out of her”

“I just want to know what’s going on….” Lucy defended herself

“Lucia…” the catalan warned

“Yeah okay…” your sister huffed

“Hey Kei….” you said appearing out of nowhere next to the blonde English woman

“Jesus Christ” Keira exclaimed shocked clutching her chest “DON’T do that”

“What?” you looked confused

“Don’t appear out of thin air like this” the blonde exclaimed

“I literally walked down the sideline… not my fault you don’t pay attention to your surroundings” you shrugged

“I was talking to Vicky” Keira throws her arms in the air

“Not my fault she’s not paying attention to your surroundings” you waved off

“What do you want pest?” the blonde rolled her eyes

“Next Thursday… 7PM… be there” you fished another paper out of your pocket just as scrunched up as the ones you handed out before

“And why would I want to be there?” Keira ask confused

“Just… please?” you said shyly

“Okay” the blonde huffed knowing by your reaction that it was important to you

“Thanks Kei” you smiled

“Always Bitsy” Keira smiled back softly

“You ready Babe?” Georgia asked fixing the tie around her neck

“I can’t do this…” you said panicked pulling on your robe

“Stop” your girlfriend said firmly grabbing your shaking hands

“I can’t G… I just can’t… everyone will be there…” your breathing labored

“Breath….” Georgia said calmly

“You don’t understand” you started again just to get interrupted

“… you are nervous… I do understand that… but you worked so hard… you sacrificed so much…” your girlfriend talked lowly “… you showed that even off the pitch you come out on top… you are the best of the class… I am so proud of you and everyone else will be too”

“But what if they’re mad I kept this from them…” a new wave of anxiety hits you “… Lucy gonna be so mad”

“Baby…” Georgias voice strict “… no one is gonna be mad… not Keira… nor Ona… and definitely not Lucy… you worked your ass off and you deserve it more than anyone”

“I need to hold a SPEECH!!!! A SPEECH G!!!” you squeak

“I know…” your girlfriend smiled softly “… and you’ll absolutely smash it”

“IN CATALAN G!!!” you screeched

“And you learned to speak catalan from the best…” Georgia smiled

“I…. guess….” you calmed down slightly

“See… you are prepared… and pretty…. So so pretty” your girlfriend smiled pressing a soft kiss to your lips

“I don’t…” you started

“No… we will go there… you get your diploma and then we leave… we getting a pizza at the shop down the road and then we celebrate your bachelor degree” Georgia said keeping her voice soft

“Pizza sounds good” you mumbled

“See… we just quickly go and pick up that piece of paper and get pizza” your girlfriend shrugged smiling and gently pushed you towards the door

“Alexia …” Lucy said surprised “… what are you doing here? What is this? You know what this is?”

“Cariño invited Olga and me…” Alexia looked at her teammate “… and no… no idea”

“Kei… do you have…” your sister turned around having spotted her ex

“… no idea” Keira interrupted Lucy rolling her eyes

“Then what are we doing here?” Lucy asked bewildered

“You’re here to support a person that’s important to you and you are important to her…” Georgia said appearing next to Keira “… she’s fucking nervous as it is so all of you pull it together and support her”

“Where did you come from?” your sister looked at Georgia pure confusion on her face

“From the champagne stand over there” your girlfriend pointed to a little bar with her glass “… it’s free and I thought… Eeh.. why not”

“Spill Stanway” Lucy growled getting upset

“Not in a million years…” Georgia snorted “… you’ll have to wait and see… I don’t know what your plans are but I’m going to me place now”

“I can’t believe she ignored me…” your sister started as Keira started to snort

“… you growling at her like a toothless puppy?” Keira asked “She knows you’re all bark no bite by now Luce”

“I am intimidating!!” Lucy exclaimed

“Yes Amor… so intimidating” Ona smirked and started to follow Georgia

“I AM!!” your sister shouted after the group

“I am” Lucy mumbled to herself now trotting after the others finding her place

“I can’t believe…” Lucy said shocked looking up to the stage where you were currently holding your speech in catalan

“…. She pulled that off?” Georgia helped out

“That she really …. she got a bachelors degree now…” your sister said in disbelieve

“She worked her ass off for it…” your girlfriend hummed “… the amount of times I found her at the kitchen table in the morning fast asleep on her papers… she really worked for it Luce”

“I… we… we all would’ve helped…” Lucy whispered given up already trying to understand what you were saying due to it being catalan “… why didn’t she say anything?”

“She was scared she could fail and that you’d be disappointed in her…” Georgia said remembering how often she herself tried to get you to talk to Lucy “… she said if she did fail no one but me would be disappointed”

“What a truck load of bullshit” Lucy grumbled

“I know… it still doesn’t change the fact that she wants to meet your goals Lucy… you are so fucking important to her…” your girlfriend said lowly “… the thought she could fuck up nearly broke her”

“Can you two shut up… I’m listening to the Cariño speech” Alexia sneered from two seats down

“I don’t understand anything anyway “ Lucy shot back

“Maybe if you’d listen you would’ve noticed her saying that she couldn’t have done it without the upbringing you provided her with because you taught her to fight no matter the outcome and that everything she achieved was because of you being her role model” Alexia said her voice low

“She did?” your sister asked perplex

“Yes….” Ona said tears in her eyes “… yes she did”

“But I…” Lucy looked around for help

“You showed her the world Lucy… from the moment I met you two it was clear that you were HER world… you just never realized how much…” Keira said softly “… none of us could ever reach the podium she holds you on… you two always were more than just sisters… you two always had something special”

“I…” your sister was at loss for words as you ended your speech and received your diploma smiling widely

“You are her everything Luce…” Georgia smiled clapping her friends back “… just like she is yours”

“Sooooo…” you slandered up to your girlfriend “… about that pizza….”

“Yeah I think we can kiss that idea goodbye…” your girlfriend smirked nodding behind you

“So proud of you” you recognized the voice of your sister as she pulled you into a bone crushing hug “so fucking proud”

“Lucy…” you groaned your voice strangled “… need air”

“Lucy” Keira warned “… no killing tonight”

“I’m just proud!! Can’t I be a proud sister for once?” Lucy asked flabbergasted still holding onto you tightly

“Air” you squeak out hitting your sister wherever you could reach her

“Amor…” Ona said softly prying Lucys arms away from around you “… others want to be proud too”

“I have first proud right!!!” your sister said

“Yes you do and you already showed her how proud you are” the small catalan said softly while you where holding onto your girlfriend coughing hard

“But not enough” Lucy said confused

“Plenty enough” you wheezed out as Georgia patted your back softly

“We need to celebrate” your sister suddenly exclaimed

“I already…” you started but get fixed by a glare from Keira, Alexia and Ona “… haven’t planned anything” you said quickly

“Mhm…. Thought so Bits…” Keira said eyebrow raised “… you know the tradition”

“Keiraaaaaa… come ooooon” you whined immediately knowing what she implemented

“Oh no… it’s tradition” the blonde smirked

“What?” Alexia asked confused

“Every time Bitsy came home with good grades at the end of a school year we would celebrate it and she was given the honor to pin it on the fridge” Keira smiled

“I’m not in middle school anymore” you continue to whine

“Oh I don’t care… university is school… you have good grades… tradition it is” the blonde English woman shrugged her shoulders and you knew you lost the battle – and the war.

“Ugh… so unfair” you huffed

“I’ll let you have a second cheat day this week Cari… this achievement is reason enough to eat whatever you want” Alexia pulled you into a side hug

“So generous” you grumbled “… you do realize I can eat whatever I want whenever I want”

“Oh I know Cariño…” the catalan smiled and you saw you were close to the magical line that would make her snap “… I also know you wouldn’t dare to do that because you knew I would let you run laps until your lung comes out”

“A second cheat day sounds amazing” you squeaked

“Thought so” Alexia smirked pinching your cheek

“Come on Bebita…. Let’s go home” Ona smiled grabbing your hand softly

“But G comes too…” you said as you let Ona pull you along

“Of course…” the catalan smiled and that’s how your bachelor’s degree ended up pinned to Lucys and Onas fridge making Lucy smile proudly every time she saw it.

Y/n Tough Bronze – Bachelor in Physical Activity and Sport Sciences

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Platonic..Yan! Bruce Wayne w/ new robin darling

warnings: Dysfunctional family dynamics, manipulation, emotional abuse, narcissism, delusion, kidnapping ect. I used experiences from my own family dynamics. My own father pinned me against my other siblings and did similar things so i guess this is personal lolll. Maybe others can relate too? Not romanticizing!!! but i do think yan! father Bruce would be mental like this.

Anyone going through parents like this, just know you're not alone. You can escape eventually. I did, so will you.

Masterlist

Requests? Always open

Yandere Bruce Wayne is a self righteous prick with an intense savior complex. So much entitlement for just one man Bruce, being dissatisfied with his current children's rebellion, needed someone new to traumatize. That someone is you. He noticed you instantly. A shy kid he encountered at one of his charity events. How "naive" and "dumb" his new batchild was. You're weak...and lonely...you're a helpless soul in need of saving. You're a perfect subject to wipe clean and reshape into his new robin.

According to him at least.

Your siblings can see just how distorted and plain wrong his 'love' for you is. He had the same kind for them too. They are all way too familiar with his process.

First he bombards you with praise. You're such a smart and amazing kid! So strong too. He's never seen anything like it.

Then isolation..Maybe you'd like to live with him and his other children for a little bit? It's a perfect, fun life here and he can dump so much money into your future in exchange for a few months of training. Its all temporary, you'll be back to mommy and daddy in no time.

Yeah lies.

He keeps you longer than the agreed time while giving your parents bullshit answers as to why they can't contact you. He tells them it could breach security if they call you but they keep on pushing back. He tries to pay them off and threatens them which ends up in them going to court to fight for you. The whole time he was making a case of child neglect and completely screwed them over. They lose custody and you're his to keep. He keeps this on the down low and ensures this won't hit the airwaves. Naturally, you ask him about going home. You never did get those weekends with your parents that he promised...and wasn't this only supposed to be up to six months?? It's almost been a year now. Why haven't you received a call? A text?...nothing? This is starting to make you get a knot in your stomach. *deep sigh*

Sorrows. Prayers.

Next is the re-programing/gaslighting. Your family was perfectly fine. More than loving and providing for you, you had a happy nuclear family..maybe a little unconventional in some ways but it was fine. You missed them dearly, you didn't understand why they suddenly are absent? Why did they just leave you here? Why couldn't you leave this place? Bruce is so twisted and his power he holds enables this false reality that he lives in. He projects his childhood and fragments of the other kids lives onto you. He'd drill it into you for hours that they never loved you, they begged him for money in exchange for you. They didn't care for the responsibility of you and were overjoyed by this way out. Though truthfully this was for the best anyways...they were dysfunctional and dangerous. They were setting you up for failure and your new dad just had to step in.... Can't you see? The memories you had of them were all false. You was living in a dream. Sorry to tell you, but it's probably best to not think too hard on it and embrace this new life of yours...it's meant for you. Are you being a brat and not accepting what he's telling you? How dare you declare him a liar. He's not the one who abandoned you. He saved you and he'd be a horrible parent if he let you go back to those criminals! Be grateful for what he's given you.

Manipulation, fear tactics and torture are all used to keep you in check when you ask about your family or try to escape because you know something is wrong. He runs you into mental circles until you're confused and disoriented

This is your new family now. He is your new dad now. You don't need them. You're his daughter and only his. Get in line, Robin.

Yandere Bruce whose next step in the plan is to play favorites with you over the other batkids in order to gain your trust. It's to give you an untruthful version of what life is actually like here when you're his robin. He purposefully spends more time with you, allowing you to fully get your way and defends you in bickers between the other kids. Sometimes he'll even pin you against each other if that works. You don't know better though. You think your siblings are bitter because you're better than they ever were at your age. But never being enough for Bruce eventually gets to you.

You're his shiny, new golden child in the making. He will perfect you. Your mind will be cleansed of all that filth in the world you've seen. Forget all you know for what he will teach you. What he's failed to perfect with the others, he'll accomplish with you.

Uh oh...you're starting to displease Batman. Don't worry...this is the second to last step. He steadily shows disapproval and acts like there's something wrong with you. Maybe he was wrong about you? Maybe you aren't meant to be great like the others because you are barely average right now. Just look at how scarred you are after one night on patrol...worse than Jason on his first night. You'll become dependent on his approval like the rest but you cannot seem to escape the look of disappointment from his face. The scoldings only seems to worsen.

He then comes around, but patronizing this time...coddling you with every step. The way you perform is showing him you aren't able to do anything for yourself. You're weak again. You're nothing but you're lucky to still be in his care because there's still a chance. He can fix you but it's going to take a lot of work. Can his new robin endure it or should he kick you out and leave you to the wolves? He knows the answer you'll choose as you're desperate for his fatherly love. He'll break you then rebuild you and break you some more until you're exactly who he wants you to be.

Coming after the greats means you're expected to excel past them....quickly. Don't embarrass him or he'll get another.

[gamergirl-niffler]

What if... there is more to Dabi?

Sometimes I sit and think about stuff because of that I often have weird ideas, theories, headcanons, etc.

For the last few days, I was thinking about Touya and Dabi. How he was super fixated on revenge, EVEN if there were less aggressive ways to solve all of this...

And came to the conclusion:

"What if Touya suffers from DID and Dabi isn't just a way to hide his true identity, but a personality that developed to protect him and seek justice for his harm?"

It's probably super wrong approach but hear me out!

(From what I read on Wikipedia)

Early childhood trauma, places someone at risk of developing DID.

Traumas like: childhood abuse, violence, neglect, or severe bullying, dysfunctional family dynamics were reported in people suffering from DID

We all know "hellish" Todoroki family and the way stuff went there.

Touya was a child "created" for greatness by Enji.

From the very being, Enji put into Touya's head that "HE will be the one to suppress All Might himself" and since he was just a child he believed in this.

He believed his father, he wanted to learn, he wanted to achieve this goal, make his father proud, proof he is worth his love and attention because his other siblings were no threat.

Then Shoto was born, and BAM, everything burst like a bubble.

THAT'S WHEN DABI'S DEVELOPMENT COULD START.

Once loved boy with SO many expectations put into him was thrown aside like a rag doll for the sake of little brother.

Neglectful and selfish actions of his own father, mixed with Touya's obsession on being THE CHILD his father once said he was, led him to that cursed mountain and when Enji didn't show up...

That's when Dabi came out.

When we see him wake up after 3 years - it's not Touya, but Dabi.

Dabi - The personality developed to protect Touya, to prove that Touya can be the very thing Enji told he will be, a personality made to PAY BACK for all the harm that child had to go through because of bastard father.

He is like an older brother stepping in front of the younger sibling to take all the harm on himself.

It's not TOUYA doing all those bad things while chasing Enji and going against Shoto - It just Dabi.

Dabi who wants desperately show what Touya is capable of while Touya is just tucked away from all the harm, just waiting to be again acknowledged but not out of pity or because his father feels bad for his own actions but because of what he can be.

Of course, Dabi is so fixated on achieving this goal that he takes EXTREME measures - but it's all for Touya's happiness that he deserved ever since he was born.

This may make no sens, but this was a train of thoughts that went through my head very recently. The post is probably messy because I am not the best at making such things and putting them 'on paper"

Feel free to comment and tell me what you think about this, BUT please don't be mine or anything. I didn't mean to insult anyone with my limited knowledge.

I am curious of your thoughts

[prythianpages]

The Family Reunion | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | summary: Azriel accidentally welcomes your dysfunctional family into your home.

warning: I can't really think of any at the moment besides violence from a witch fight, basically you being protective over Az

a/n: There's not very much known about the witches in the ACOTAR universe so I'm just taking creative control here (: This can be read as a stand alone fic.

As Azriel sits in your living room, the familiar weight of concern settles in his chest. The past few days have felt like a quiet storm and the bond between you, has fallen eerily silent far too many times to go unnoticed. 

Of course, he’s already asked if you were alright but he sensed the lie as it brewed in your eyes before it slipped out of your lips. The shadows that remain at your side keep him updated on your whereabouts but besides a crow following you one day, there’s nothing else to report. He wonders if you’re upset with him.

Azriel tries to engross himself into the book–as it’s one you recommended to him– in his hand but his eyes keep drifting from the pages. He steals glances toward the closed door of your study. A vibrant green glow, your magic, spills from the edges of the door. He tries to pull on the bond but cannot find you on the other end. You shut him out. Again. 

Three knocks pull him out of his thoughts. Ignoring the skittering dance of his shadows and the way Pearl–your pet spider–retreats back to her corner, he opens the door. There’s no one on the other side. A perplexed furrow forms on his brow as he peeks into the hallway, dispatching his shadows to investigate further. They return with no insights, leaving an unsettling silence in their wake. 

“Hey Az?”

Azriel closes the door and locks it. He turns to see you stepping out from your study. You smile at him sheepishly, toying with your glowing hands. “Can I have some of your blood?” Your voice is surprisingly calm, despite the look in your eyes, and you must mistake his silence as apprehension because you’re adding: “Just a drop!”

He would’ve gladly granted your request but before he can even utter a word, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Your eyes widen, a touch of panic flickering within them. It’s a fleeting moment where control slips from your grasp, and in that heartbeat, your side of the bond bursts open.

His wings quiver as if struck by an invisible force. A torrent of emotions crashes over him like unrelenting waves on a storm sea, flooding and overwhelming his senses. Worry etches lines on his face at the raw intensity of your feelings. 

“Toad’s blood!”

In the blink of an eye, he’s standing in front of you, his hands cradling your face. The hazel depths of his eyes burn with concern but you avoid his gaze, your frantic eyes darting around the room as if looking for something–someone.

“y/n, my love,” Azriel implores softly, his heart pounding in his chest as he desperately tries to navigate through the sea of your emotions. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes land on the door and a palpable tension fills the air. “You opened the door.”

Azriel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Someone knocked.”

You swallow thickly. “How many?”

“What?”

Your voice is firmer this time. “How many knocks?”

“Three.”

You’re pulling out of his grasp abruptly. You run back to your study and a trail of perplexed worry etches further across Azriel’s face as he follows after you. With a furrowed brow, he observes your hurried actions. Windows are slammed and shut and locked in quick succession. He blinks and you’re running to your room next. “y/n, please talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong!”

You pause, if only for a brief moment, your eyes finally meeting his. “You just opened the door to a gateway of evil.”

“Evil??” Azriel’s wings flinch, the word carrying an unexpected weight. “What evil?”

“My mother.”

A sense of impending danger guides your every move and you’re sprinting past him. Over your shoulder, you urgently command, “Quick! Lock all the windows!”

Azriel responds without hesitation. He races back to your living room, determined to secure the window he opened earlier. As he does so, he sees a crow flying toward him. It’s familiar to both him and his shadows. The dark tendrils hasten to close the window beside him and the crow, unable to halt its trajectory, collides with the glass.

“I think that's all of it,” you say with a sigh of relief. However, it’s short lived as an overlooked detail dawns on you. The window in your kitchen.

Azriel, his shadows and you are already racing toward the kitchen but despite your efforts, you’re too slow to close it. Your sock clad feet glide across the floor and Azriel wraps an arm around your waist from behind, preventing you from falling. It tightens around you, drawing you snugly against him in a protective embrace, just as the crow flutters its wings menacingly and tauntingly above you. His eyes narrow at the bird and his shadows poise like a snake ready to strike. 

Shrouded in a swirling cloud of purple smoke, the crow undergoes a mystical transformation. Its plumage shifts and twists, feathers unraveling and converging as if guided by an unseen hand. A silhouette begins to take form amid the enchanting mist and as the last tendrils of purple dissipate, a beautiful older female stands before you.

“That is not the way to welcome your mother, Dearest.”

**

The last time you saw your mother was when Hybern became allies with Spring. She had asked you to join her coven, out of worry for you if you stayed in the court that was crumbling apart, but Feyre had already secured plans to bring you to Velaris. The City of Starlight was a safe haven for you…until the Hybern attack unveiled its secret. She’s been reaching out ever since–sending countless letters and when those did not work, she started sending ravens.

Though she delves in dark magic, you know your mother means well. She loves you and has been protective of you. Overly protective. Perhaps, you were being dramatic about it all but you weren’t ready for her to meet Azriel yet. You didn’t even get to finish the protective spell you were planning on casting upon him. All you needed was a drop of his blood to complete it…

“Mother,” you reluctantly greet.

She smirks at you. Every muscle of your body tenses and you place your hand over Azriel’s to let him know it's okay. Ever the perceptive one, your mother catches the subtle gesture. Her gaze falls upon the protective presence behind you. She narrows her eyes and points a perfectly manicured finger at him as if to say “I’ll deal with you later.”

With a wave of her other hand, a cage materializes out of thin air. You can barely make out the tiny green creature in it before your mother is thrusting it into your hands.

“Hold your father, will you? I need to go fetch your sisters.”

She says it so casually, it’s comical almost. You grimace as your gaze flickers to the small lizard. It nervously scurries within the small cage it is confined in and you’re tempted to drop it. 

Your father, a former high noble fae from Spring, had been cursed into a feeble gecko at the powerful hands of your mother. She did it shortly after she caught him trying to take your life at the mere age of two. He had plans to kill your mother next and take her heart for his own so now your mother loves to torment him by carrying him with her so that each remaining day of his life is as miserable as can be.

Verena, your mother, walks over to your door as if she owns the place. With an air of confident authority, she swings it open, revealing two females on the other side—your sisters, each birthed from a different father. One, with dark, flowing hair and sinister eyes, wears a smirk that mirrors Verena’s. Maeve. The other, with lighter hair, possesses kinder eyes, and delicate white feathery wings. Thea. She looks at you apologetically. 

You’re slipping out of Azriel’s grasps and joining your family in your living room. The cage falls from your grasp, rolling onto the ground. Binx dives out from the shadows, eyes alight as the cat spots the green creature within. A curious paw swats at it, its claws peeking through the thin gaps at the top of the cage but no one bats an eyelash at the terrified squeak.

A scowl settles onto your face. “Mother, Maeve, Thea. As quickly as you arrived, I want you all to leave,” you say, clapping your hands at them for emphasis. “I did not invite you here.”

“No,” your mother agrees with a nod but her eyes are fixed on something–rather someone behind you. “He did.”

**

Four pairs of eyes are on him and Azriel only cares about one. Yours. His knowledge over your family is limited. He knew your father was a piece of scum but he did not know he still lived. There’s a tightening in his chest and he knows it's coming from your side of the bond. He sends a wave of reassurance through it because if you’re okay, he’s okay. Even if your family is a little overwhelming.

Verena circles around him, her gaze sharp as the crow she morphs into. Azriel stands still, his shadows swirling defensively. When Verena extends toward the talon of his wings, the shadows snap at her, causing her to withdraw. A wicked grin appears on her face.  “A Shadowsinger,” she observes. “What is your name?”

“Azriel.”

Verena hums, stepping back, her eyes scanning every inch of him. There’s a devilish gleam in them when they settle upon his large, membranous wings. He instinctively tucks them back.

“By The Mother, you look absolutely ravishing,” purrs your dark-haired sister.

The lighter haired sister beside her smiles. “He is quite beautiful.”

“Maeve,” the darker haired sister introduces herself. Her dark brown eyes sparkle in amusement. She holds her hand out to him. “We haven’t yet had the pleasure. y/n has been hiding you for far too long.”

Azriel does not take her hand. Instead, he watches her with wary eyes and she laughs. As her eyes deepen in hue, mirroring the unsettling darkness akin to yours, an ominous glow envelops her hands. It resembles a delicate yet foreboding cloud of gray smoke that dances around her fingers. 

**

“Don’t touch him,” you growl, raising your own hand. A raging green fire roars from your fingertips as the darkness takes your eyes.

Maeve turns to hiss at you. Her cloud of smoke is steadfast as it continues its path to Azriel. Your mate. You hiss back but your mother rests a hand on your shoulders and out of the corner of your eye, you swear Thea sends a reassuring gesture your way.

“Oh, come on.” Maeve persists, her voice, both enchanting and seductive, beckons like a magnetic force. She steps closer to him, ignoring the heated glare you send her way.  She places a hand on his arm and you're shaking with rage as you recognize the haze that clouds Azriel's eyes. 

“You look hungry. Would you like a taste? What do you think, Shadowsinger?”

Smoke wraps around him, infiltrating his senses and charging the air around him with an alluring energy.  It smells like chamomile and lavender–a scent intricately tied to you, the enchanting witch he calls his own. You’re shoving away from your mother and prancing on your sister, the two of you tumbling to the ground. “Let him go!”

The room becomes a radiant spectacle, bathed in the ethereal clash of gray and green magic. The air is charged with the tension of their coexistence and you’re pinning your sister to the floor beneath you. “Why do you always have the thirst to take everything I have?”

“Because it’s fun,” Maeve hisses at you, her dark eyes a reflection of yours. “Besides, our family is in need of a new pet, don’t you think?”

“Girls, stop it this instant!”

“Can it be something cute this time? Like a puppy!”

“Thea, shut up!” You say brusquely as you look up.

Thea winces at your tone. Maeve takes the sliver of your distraction to push you off of her. The two of you hastily get to your feet and you hold your hands out ready to unleash the vibrant, verdant rage coursing through your veins at her. 

“I think y/n is ravishing this evening. Don’t you?”

Azriel’s voice is light, dreamy almost as he’s in a trance. He blinks and the tendrils of magic briefly cloud his vision before it clears. He steps away from Maeve’s cloud of smoke, repulsed by her magic and his eyes are searching for you.

His gaze, steady and filled with a profound warmth, captures yours and it feels like a gentle cascade of water extinguishing a flame. The vibrant green fire in your hands gracefully fades away, mirroring the softening of your eyes in the tender exchange. 

“And he’s not even lying,” Maeve frowns with a huff, her voice and eyes returning to normal. Disappointment is written all over her face. No one has been able to escape from her power of seduction before. “How dull.”

Your hand finds solace in Azriel’s and he locks his fingers with yours. You smile at him and he smiles back. You are the only enchantment he desires and your heart swells. You're so happy you could kiss him--

Thea, always one step ahead of everyone, gasps. “He’s your mate.”

Your mother’s eyes undergo a shadowed transformation of her own, reminiscent of a crow’s ominous gaze. Azriel feels a subtle unease but you remain composed. Gracefully, she approaches, her movements mirroring the fluid elegance of a bird. With a discerning sniff, she assesses the air around you both. Her keen eyes flicker to Azriel’s chest–where the emerald, the greatest token of your affection, securely rests beneath his leathers. His siphons awaken in response, pulsing with a powerful and protective luminescence.

“Your heart. Your precious, precious heart,” she whispers, her voice on the brink of tears.

There’s a drastic shift in her voice when she speaks again. It darkens with a mother’s fierce intensity and echoes through the room like a hissing serpent. “You’ve given it to him.”

Your mother outstretches her hand, toward Azriel, her gesture laden with an unmistakable agony. With a resolute urgency, you press your hand against Azriel’s chest, your other hand still wrapped around his. You can feel the pulse of his heart beneath the gem. It’s fast and erratic but gradually soothes under your touch. 

Given your family's history, you can't blame your mother for reacting this way. Maeve's father was a charming merchant, who enjoyed traveling through the sea, and was very aware of his heartthrob status. Your mother was not immune to his allure and though she did not love him, she was possessive over him. So when she caught him touching another female, she cut his hand off, forcing him to always think of her for the rest of his life. She keeps the hand she severed preserved in a jar at her house. 

On the other hand, Thea's father was a peregryn warrior who loved studying the stars in his free time. He was probably the best male out of all three...if he hadn't picked his loyalty for his court over your mother. Surprisingly, your mother left him alone and unharmed but she made a good example of him to you all because even the kindest of men were not to be trusted.

But Azriel is different. 

His sweetness, care and love create a warmth that gently embraces your heart. You’ve spent a lifetime shielding your heart as your mother taught you but with Azriel, it feels different. He is your mate. Your other half, crafted by The Mother and Cauldron itself. In his presence, you find a haven where vulnerability is not a weakness but a welcomed connection. 

“I love him.”

Wheeling with a snarl, she fixes her sharp gaze back onto you. Her hand tenses midair and her talons peak out before dropping it back to her side. She leans so close you can feel her breath tickle yours.  Her gaze travels down to the obsidian necklace you keep on at all times for protection and she feels her throat tighten when she sees the new charm attached to it. It’s an initial. A for Azriel.

“You stupid, foolish girl. What have you done? Have I taught you nothing?”

Azriel growls and his shadows tense as they await their master’s next order. Your hand tightens against him and you send a wave of reassurance through the bond. This was exactly what you had been hoping to avoid. The last male you introduced to your mother was turned into a frog and you hadn’t put up a fight as the male had fallen under Maeve’s spell. But this time, you were willing to fight and defend what was yours. 

“I think it's quite brave,” a dreamy voice cuts in through the tension. “A true testament to love.”

“Shut up, Thea.” Maeve snaps. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you ask for a reading!”

“Azriel.” Your mother’s voice is sharp, demanding attention. “You hold something extremely dear to me now. If I find you to be careless with it–if you so much as hurt y/n in any shape or form…I will hunt you down, rip your heart out and eat it for breakfast.”

“She’s not joking,” Maeve decides to chime in. “She ate Thea’s lover for dinner once.”

“Must you always jump at the opportunity to remind me?” Thea retorts with a look of pained disgust on her face and you almost feel bad for her. She did love that male terribly, as undeserving as he was.

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal, my dearest,” your mother says in a perplexed tone. She rolls her eyes at the scoff she received in response. “He was a human.”

“He was the love of my life!”

“And others too.” Maeve cuts in, lips curled into a lopsided smirk as she gazes at her nails. “Mother did you a favor there.”

“This,” you say to Azriel, lifting your chin toward your family. Your mother and sisters continue to bicker back and forth while Binx zooms after the rolling cage imprisoning your father. You sigh deeply and Azriel now understands why you were on edge all week, why you had shut him out.

 “This is my family.”

As if on cue, your family turns to him. Binx rests a paw on the rolling cage, halting its movement. Even the green gecko inside seems to peer curiously at the Shadowsinger, its tiny eyes glinting in the dim light.

 Your mother, a formidable figure with an air of ancient wisdom, focuses her attention to Azriel. The expression on her face is a complex blend of skepticism and concern. Her dark eyes narrow as if probing his very soul–a look that has sent many to mad chaos and the room seems to hold its breath as Azriel meets her gaze. 

You step in between them both. “Mother, must you always do this?”

“It’s okay. I have nothing to hide,” Azriel reassures you as he holds your mother’s gaze, unwavering and resolute. “I would never dream of hurting y/n. I love her.”

“He speaks the truth, mother. He’d kill for her, I’ve seen–ow!”

Your mother’s keen eyes linger on him. Despite Thea’s words, she wants to see for herself. The room feels suspended in time as she carries on with probing into his very soul. She’s peering into the depths of his heart, seeping into its cracks and searching for any hint of insincerity. The tension in the room starts to dissipate as she must sense something she agrees with. Slowly, her lips gradually curve in a smile–a genuine one. 

“I like this one,” your mother says as she turns to you. “I shall spare you the part of my visit where I ask you to come back home with me as I now know it will be pointless. So let’s have dinner, hmm? All this excitement has me famished.”

Your mother clasps her hands together, springing the room into action. Binx resumes messing around with your father and Maeve makes her way to your kitchen, your mother following after her.

“I did not agree to you staying for dinner!” You call after them, shooting Azriel an apologetic look.

“She was going to agree anyway.” 

Azriel turns to your sister–the closest to a normal relative you seem to have. Her blue eyes, flecked with silver hold a spark of otherworldly wisdom as she regards him. 

“You can see the future?”

She tilts her head, a cascade of blonde curls falling over her shoulder. Her lips curl into a knowing smile and her peregryn wings flutter. “Only what the stars tell me,” she replies cryptically. “Would you like me to read your cards?”

Azriel contemplates for a moment. He turns toward the kitchen and his eyes find you. You’re engaged in a lively debate about the perfect amount of herbs, claiming that only a pinch of thyme is needed while Maeve stubbornly shakes her head.

“Out of my kitchen! Go seduce a pig for all I care before I hex you with an angry nest of bees!” 

His love for you deepens with every passing second and he nearly startles when he feels a flutter in his chest. It’s you. You echo the sentiment very loud and clear through your end of the bond.

“No.”

“Why not?” She teases, though she already knows the answer.

“Because right now, I have everything I could ever want.”

**

Once your family departs, relief washes over you, and you finally feel able to breathe freely. Leaning against the door, you release a sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter shut momentarily. When you reopen them, your gaze lands on Azriel in the living room. He's seated, head tilted back, eyes closed, weariness evident. Moving towards him, you saunter over, and without a word, he instinctively pulls you onto his lap, his eyes still shut in a shared moment of exhaustion and solace.

Your hands tenderly cradle his face, bathed in the soft glow of your green magic. You massage his temples, your fingertips tracing away the remnants of the headache your mother’s earlier probing had left behind. A contented sigh escapes him at your soothing touch. 

“Thank you,” he breathes and his hands find their place at your hips.

You press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I should be the one thanking you.”

He opens his eyes and there’s a subtle perplexity among them. “How come?”

“Because they’re chaotic,” you answer and tipping your chin down sheepishly, you continue, “I’m sorry for shutting you out. I was doing my best to keep them from coming but I should’ve just told you instead. I was trying to protect you from all of this–”

A scarred finger props your chin up, urging you to look back up at him. The hand that remains at your hip tightens with a comforting reassurance. You find yourself lost in the depths of his beautiful hazel eyes and like always, they anchor you like a tranquil forest bathed in sunlight.

“You don’t have to protect me from this. I accept it–all of you. I love you,” he murmurs. The corner of his lips tug up into a small smile. “Though I do find you unbearingly adorable when you’re protective.”

“Adorable?” You can’t help but laugh. Others would beg to differ. You're sure your eyes have given Cassian nightmares.

“Especially when it’s all for me,” he nearly purrs, pressing kisses to the corner of your eyes. The very eyes he adores, even when they transform into inky pools of black.

He kisses the nape of your neck and your breath hitches. “Did you mean it?”

Azriel hums against your neck. “Mean what?”

“What you said to Thea earlier,” you say, mindlessly confessing that you had been listening to his short conversation with your sister. 

You feel him smile against you. “Of course I did. Whatever the future may bring, as long as I have you, that's enough for me. You’re my everything.”

When he pulls away to look at you, you’re beaming at him. His nose brushes against yours and your hands cup his face again, eyes flickering to his lips before you guide them to yours in a slow yet passionate kiss. You slide your tongue along the softness of his bottom lip, reveling in his honeyed taste and he parts his mouth for you, a small sound of pleasure slipping between your lips.

You kiss him and kiss him until the future seems like a distant thought, overshadowed by the perfection of the present.

a/n: I was driving to an appointment when I randomly thought of how chaotic reader's family is and wanted to introduce them formally in case I want to incorporate them in future imagines. This takes place shortly before the one where you get kidnapped.

Also, I'm currently watching the Witcher and I couldn't help myself and use this scene to help me write the part where Maeve tries to seduce Az.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

[kameyyy]

PASSION; atsumu miya x reader

CHAPTER 1: red

cw: ooc orobably, cursing, mention of a deceased grandparent, mention of dysfunctional family, lowkey unreliable memories, mention of alcohol use, umber is a color I don't mean amber, sry if I missed some [please refer to the general tags/warnings on the m.list !]

a/n: hi so I hope you'll enjoy !! this is my first ever written chapter in english and after like idk 4 years of writers block, so please be nice about it <3 I'm really excited to write this smau and I apologize for any grammar issues or typos !! I'm writing this at 6:30 am rn and I haven't slept yet lol so please bear with me

songs I violently played on repeat: Girl With One Eye ; Beatutiful Crime ; Claire ; Not

wc: 3.7k

She didn’t hear the front door of the shop creak open, nor the ring of the old bell attached to the ceiling sounding twice. He let his eyes roam suspiciously over the two steps of stairs in front of the door that led him further into the building, uneven and small, rough edges and splitting paint hidden behind a rug of yale blue that certainly has seen better years.

At first glance, the shop appeared messy. Countless rugs in various colors hung up on walls, spread out on the dark wood floor, or rolled up and stuffed together on shelves or any corners. The wallpaper was yellowed, partially wavy, and loose in places. Between the million rugs laid out underneath his feet, he spotted chipped parts of the wood floor and white dried-up paint smeared over it, seemingly by accident, as he moved over to the redwood counter and the person sitting behind it.

He wondered why his friend chose this specific shop for his rug. It was nothing like him, and not even close to the other stores he frequented. This one was cluttered, messy, and odd. The tips of the aloe vera on top of the counter were rolled tight and colored brown, balancing between life and death. Water and coffee stains adorned the counter top, dust settled in the corners and the jar with pens was tipped over. However, when his eyes landed on the stack of volleyball magazines spread messily next to the woman hunched over the counter, he suddenly understood his friend. He couldn’t make out her face since it was angled too far down, but instead, he clearly saw the video she was watching. A volleyball video. An interview of him. 

This place reeks of a discount.

She doesn’t like the color red. It reminds her of the past she is trying her best to forget, or it announced bad times coming for her. But as much as she learned to hate this color, somehow, she found herself surrounded by all kinds of shades of it every day.

Her childhood bedroom had wallpaper colored in carmine red. Walls that witnessed her silent sobs, her figure slouched over the prickly carpet writing a myriad of essays, all those fights with her mother, and countless nights where the bed stayed untouched and cold. She used to love this specific shade of red, though all it did now was leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her school uniform had a tie colored in maroon. The fabric accompanied her to all those classes, where she repeatedly realized just how different she was from everybody else. 

All her peers had their lives planned out already. They knew what to study, what job or company they wanted to work for, and at what age they wanted to get married. One child or two, the age difference no more than three years. A boy, or a boy and a girl. If they didn’t plan their life out this detailed, then they at least had an idea. Everybody had some sort of dream or goal to reach, unlike her. 

She was lost in a maze with no way out, the fog imprisoning her growing denser with every passing year or thought she spent on ways to escape.

The counter was made of redwood and the countless rugs scattered around the shop, either hung or rolled up, were all colored in some shade of red. They watched her fail the attempts of trying to forget the past whenever she lets her gaze wander out the window. Her eyes focused on the building across the street as if she was looking for someone. 

These rugs witnessed on cold fall days how she hung up a certain crimson red scarf on a coat rack behind the counter and sometimes stared at it a little too long, lost in thought. She got it as a gift a year before her high school graduation and never brought it over herself to toss it out of her life. It kept her warm on nights she turned her back to the locked front door of her house. Head hung low, sigh after sigh leaving chapped lips, a shiver from the biting cold of winter running through her body. Though moments later she was greeted happily in a certain house filled with warmth, laughter, and love. Umber eyes lifted unpleasant feelings and worries from her shoulders like a feather caught by a gush of wind. The scarf tagged along when she waited in front of the school gym, or when she laughed with the person that would later show her what passion truly felt like. Even when that passion was fueled by hate.

She was hunched over the countertop next to the cash register, her knuckles pressed against her temples as she kept her head low and eyes trained on the screen laid flat on the wood grain. 

She couldn’t help it.

The wired earphones she wore were broken in and tangled, the sound quality wasn't the best, but it was enough for her 10-minute walk to work. Or, to watch this interview with her eyebrows scrunched while the shop was only filled with her figure and a faint buzzing sound coming from the break room. It went unnoticed — just like the person actually standing in front of her.

She doesn’t know why she keeps watching these stupid volleyball interviews with him in it. She doesn’t know why she googles his name at least once a month, on the lookout for new achievements he made in his life, but not to celebrate. And she doesn’t know why she keeps buying these damn magazines he’s printed on the cover of — or is somehow featured in. 

She doesn’t know why she can’t let him go.

On her screen he stood proudly with a hand on his hip, the other running through his damp blonde hair while he answered the reporter's questions. His team won a match that was seemingly rather important. They talked a little too much about volleyball and teams she had never heard of before, though that was only because she always skipped the magazine pages that weren't about him, so she didn't really focus on what was said.

He carried himself with confidence, success was written all over his face. His hair wasn’t this awful yellow color anymore, it hadn’t been for a while, but rather a natural-looking blonde. He grew bigger, in muscles and size, compared to the last time she saw him in person years ago. He seemed more mature, though he was still the same and carried his signature smirk around, which she so desperately wished to wipe off his face. 

It’s unfair. Life’s unfair. It had only been good to him, for some stupid reason. He had a happy family, confidence and looks like no other, passions and goals he worked hard for to achieve and maintain. On the other hand, life had been treating her like a pacifier lost on the streets. It made her bitter. It filled her with hate. It made her cry at night — because she doesn’t understand why.

He got everything he dreamed of, while she didn’t even get a dream.

“What is your ideal type of woman?” The reporter spoke, and the blonde man paused for a second, raising a hand to his chin in thought, before a sly grin spread over his lips. She found herself biting on the skin of her cheek, a small part of her anticipating his answer a little more than she’d ever admit.

“My type in women?” He blew a lost strand of hair out of his vision, his eyes glimmering in amusement. “Someone who knows what they want in life.”

She scoffed loudly, roughly ripping her earphones out of the shell of her ears, and throwing them on top of the table. 

“What a dick.” She spat, venom rising to the back of her throat, daring to spill over like ink and red wine, staining her for years to come. She threw herself back in the creaking chair, nails roughly digging into the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded in offense.

Her eyes snapped up from the screen that still played the interview. In front of the counter, she was met with a broad figure in a burgundy red t-shirt and umber-colored irises. Her mouth went dry — and with it, her heart stopped beating for a second.

“What the fuck.”

Her sudden words of calling him a dick caught him off-guard. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had his lips parted for more words to come out, offense painted across his face, though they died on his tongue the second she threw her head back to look at him.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they took in one another. 

It was her, to his delight. And it was him, to her misfortune.

He desperately tried to find his voice. He wanted to express all the feelings and questions swirling and burning inside his mind about her, after all those years, since they last saw each other. She pressed her jaw together tightly in an attempt to keep calm, the fight or flight instinct within her triggered. But she was working right now. Punching a customer would likely result in termination, as well as abandoning the shop.

He was the first one to break the silence again, a weak and nervous smirk painting his lips as he spoke.

“You’re a fan?” His eyes flickered to the interview still playing on the screen.

“Quite the opposite.” She scrunched her nose in disgust and quickly turned off the video.

Though, he simply raised his eyebrows, not buying a word she said, and instead nodded towards the stack of magazines next to her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that the magazine lying on the top of the stack had his face printed all over the cover. She cursed herself silently, the only one without him displayed on the front page, currently stuck under the left leg of her chair to keep it from tilting over.

“We sell those.” She said flatly, trying to seem indifferent about it, but the nervous biting of her lip betrayed her.

The corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the smile on his lips grew wide before his features ultimately softened. Umber eyes roamed over her face, taking in everything that changed or had stayed the same. 

Her hairstyle was different, the bags she used to carry under her eyes weren’t as prominent anymore. But she still looked tired, her lips still chapped from her habit to gnaw at them whenever something bothered her. 

He wondered if her troubles were different now. He hoped they were. Otherwise, everything he had given up — which was her — was pointless. Nonetheless, she resembled the same girl from years ago, though he knew she was different now. She looked at him differently, too.

“I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” He muttered, memories of their time spent together played in front of his inner eye.

“I wish it would’ve stayed that way, Miya.”

His name tasted weird and unfamiliar on her tongue. The last time they saw each other — which was years ago — she referred to him by his given name, though not nearly as civilized as she managed now. Ways were parted in hate and anger, insult after insult spat from her mouth like venom as she screamed at him, in hopes of making him hurt as much as she did in that very moment.

He wronged her. He broke the trust he had so patiently built up and did the one thing she begged him not to do, sealed with multiple pinky promises and reassuring smiles. 

But suddenly her life fell apart. All because of him. 

She was left with nothing except this ignited spark of hate, and she never managed to loosen the claw-like grip it had on her throat.

“How have you been?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, dying to know about her life since he lost her. It was the same soft tone and expression he had used on her years ago. On days when she came to him after she had found the front door to her house locked and her hopes for a better life in shambles.

“Don’t act like you care.” She pressed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling from frustration.

She shot a glance behind him at the only functioning clock hanging on the wall, next to many others that were either off by many hours or just stopped working completely. Some were small, some were big, and a few were oddly shaped. Metal, plastic, wood. Brown, gold, red. It was 6:53 pm and her shift for today would end in exactly 2 hours and 7 minutes. 2 hours and 7 minutes too long, stuck in this shop, with a man she never wanted to meet again.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he took a step closer to the redwood counter, placing his calloused hands on the rough edge of chipped wood. The murmur of her name fell from his lips like a low melody. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that?” She scoffed, disdain written all over her face as she jolted up from her chair, the palms of her hands slamming against the counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He winced when her chair hit the floor, avoiding her gaze as he tightened his grip, looking down to her hands sprawled out on the wood grain. Chipped redwood dug uncomfortably against his palms, he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, biting his cheek as if to force himself to make his next move. 

He gulped as he carefully lifted his gaze back to her, silence hanging thick in the air between them. 

Years ago, on a day that began like every other, he messed up and lost her completely. Today was similar, though this time he won’t let her stray far from him again. Their friendship meant a lot to him, even if he never openly admitted it, and he wanted to win her back. Make up for past mistakes and fix things, see her laugh at his stupid jokes or hear her cheer loudly for him during a volleyball match again. 

He missed their late night talks in the quiet of his living room, arms softly brushing against each other and acting as if both didn’t notice their knees touching underneath the thin blanket. Hushed voices conversing from the floor and bottom bunk bed in his childhood bedroom, trying not to disturb his brother who always fell asleep first, and giggles muffled by their hands when his mother returned from a shift way past their bedtime, rushing up the stairs with adrenaline pumping through their veins. 

He was uncharacteristically soft with her, doing small things his brother teased him about, like holding her hand under the pretense that she was walking too slow, or so she wouldn't get lost. Physical contact like this normally made her uncomfortable, but for him, she made an exception.

A wary look was painted on his features and his warm, calloused hand slowly cupped over her own, his thumb softly brushing over her knuckles in a calming manner, voice just as gentle. “Look, I’m sorry for what I’ve done-”

“No, you’re fucking not!” She cut him off with a snarl, swatting his hand away like a nasty fly. “You’re only sorry because your stupid attempt to ‘save me’ failed!”

He opened his mouth to object, his hand pulled close again as if he had burnt himself, though his words died on his tongue and he pressed his lips together tightly, running a hand through blonde hair. 

Never before had she seen him this close to looking remorseful, though, she knew it was just faux feelings. If he hadn’t met her today, after roughly four years, he wouldn’t have spared a single thought on her. She was just a side character in his story, after all.

Atsumu Miya was the type of guy who spoke a lot and couldn’t ever shut up. Even when the situation called for it. 

She only slept 4 hours? Well, he only slept three and has a stomach ache. 

She tries to talk about her life at home? Too bad, suddenly he’s reciting every moment of his life, starting from when he was just a cell in his mother's womb. 

Something was always on his mind. Anything he deemed worth expressing he spoke out loud, and often it was unnecessary, stupid, or left her questioning his common sense. When he didn’t talk over her or made every conversation about himself, he was too busy training and bickering with his brother. 

Emotional, soft, and heart-to-heart conversations were impossible with him. This includes when she first opened up about her situation at home. Her voice was quiet, her hands trembled, and she made him promise a million times not to tell anyone else. 

Opening up to someone filled her with anxiety. Somehow, she even feared his reaction. Would he be indifferent? Dismiss her completely, or tell her to suck it up? Would he get angry at her? Would he tell her mother? Or his brother and mother?

These are things she never had to worry about whenever she emailed her deceased grandmother, emails in which she thoroughly spoke about the things that had happened to her, dumping her thoughts and feelings. She had tried diaries before, but the fear of her mother discovering them or someone else led to her lying about the things she wrote about. But that destroys the purpose she bought the book for, no?

So she stopped, and poured out her heart's content in emails instead that no one had access to anymore. Even though she will never receive an answer, sending those made her feel as if she really talked to someone. Something a piece of paper or the notes app on her phone couldn’t ever do for her. Unlike when she opened up to Atsumu, she felt heard and listened to.

He kept pacing around the room, muttering curse after curse through gritted teeth. She didn’t know if they were directed at her mother, her, or himself. He was ticked off and frustrated about the fact that this had been going on for years at her home, without him knowing anything about it, though they only recently started growing closer. So when could she have told him about it? Not only that, but she used to hate him too. 

Many people her age actually preferred being friends with Osamu, rather than him. They were alike, but the grey-haired brother was rather laid back and kind of calm, more bearable to have a conversation with. But the blonde kept pestering her, walking her to class, eating lunch together and joining her on the swings by the playground at late hours. She eventually came to the realisation that he was only half as bad as originally thought, and that she actually kind of liked him. 

Yet moments like these, where she opened up and made herself vulnerable in front of him, caused her to second guess her choice of friend. There were no hands holding hers, and no softly spoken call of her name to sooth her spiraling thoughts. Nor did they ever truly talk about the things she so slowly and carefully put together in words. He couldn’t comfort her the way she needed, and to a certain degree it seemed like he never truly cared, always swiftly moving to a different topic.

“I was doing okay, I was content. But you made my life sound so much worse than it actually was.” she said, her tone tight, edged with frustration and a hint of wounded disbelief. “I had you and your support, no one else needed to know what was really going on, there was only one year of school left anyway.”

Somehow, she noticed, their roles were reversed now. He grew up and learned to manage and express his emotions better. He was successful in his job and his passion. Everything she prayed to god to was ignored and fell into his lap instead. 

It filled her with hate and bitter jealousy.

They both came from somewhat similar backgrounds. A deadbeat father, a single mother, and issues with making friends. She was an only child, he was a twin. She expected his mother to be exhausted, overwhelmed, and stressed, unable to control her emotions or lash out at them sometimes. It’s what her mother was like already, though she only had to feed one extra mouthful, and not two. Instead, she was met with nothing but love and support in the four walls of his home. Something incredibly foreign to her. 

Now, she directed her frustration and anger at people close to her who deserved it the least. Her emotional control kept slacking off with every passing day. She’s been fired from previous jobs often, goes out drinking instead of attending her classes, and her relationship turned from something that gave her joy and a will to push through, to this never-leaving sense of guilt and exhaustion. 

“I had plans, Atsumu. I knew how to get out, I knew how to help myself. But you robbed me of every opportunity and broke your stupid fucking promise.”

Everything he had dreamed of was just one breath away, while she’d been drowning for years.

They’re two sides of a coin. 

He woke up early with a smile, feeling refreshed and energized. She hadn’t moved an inch the moment she opened her eyes, even though she’d been meaning to get up for the past hour.

He kept in touch with his mother and called her every Sunday. She hadn't heard a word from hers since she moved to Osaka.

He doesn't know who his father is and doesn’t plan on knowing. She was forced to find out about hers.

He was a role model for many children. She never understood the concept.

The blonde stepped back from the redwood counter, hands buried in his pants as he shook his head slowly. “You would have lost yourself.” 

“And I’m not lost right now?”

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[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part 11)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

The following few days passed like a blur. Cillian was in London, working and attending some meetings for another movie while you finally got rid of your ankle monitor, gaining some freedom.

You applied for a few jobs in the hope to save enough money to move out again, even before you were scheduled to relocate to New York to attend your photography course, while your mother was busy shopping for Award Season dresses with your sister who was keen to be a third wheel at the Golden Globes and Oscars that year.

"Why do you even want to go to these award shows with them? I mean, don't you feel weird about it?" you questioned your twin-sister Cliona one evening, as the two of you sat together in the kitchen, eating leftover pizza and chatting, while your mother was putting Sadie to bed. 

"Because it is fantastic for networking," she replied, chewing on a slice of pizza. "You never know who might be there and, besides, these events are great opportunities to show off," she added smugly, throwing a smug smile at you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes and ignore her comment, allowing her to talk some more. Cliona had always been more interested in your stepfather's status than you had and, although you sometimes wished that you didn't care about her attitude towards his fame, it bothered you a lot lately.

In recent days, you had become particularly moody and being in a house with her and your mother, often alone, didn't help your nerves, despite the fact that you did love them.

On top of that, you had tried to push Cillian out of your head, telling yourself that what had happened between you two was a mistake and nothing more, but try as you might, you couldn't forget it.

You couldn't forget the way he had touched you, made love to you, or even just looked at you. You had never felt so desired in your life and although it scared you, it also excited you beyond belief.

It was a push-pull experience that made you yearn for his presence while, at the same time, you wanted things to go back to the way there were before, when you didn't have these feelings of guilt and shame constantly lingering over you when your mother and twin-sister were around.

"So you aren't coming to any of the awards then?" Cliona repeated her previous question with a pout, which mad you realise that, this entire time, when you were thinking about Cillian, she had been talking to you.

"W-what?" you said, snapping out of your daze. "Um, no, I won't be attending any of the awards shows with you guys. It's not for me and I have too much on my plate at the moment," you lied, even though you had no job and not much to do, other than wait for your course to start.

Cliona shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, as if implying that you were missing out on a great opportunity, before finishing off her slice of pizza and standing up from her chair.

"Well, I'm heading to bed. See you tomorrow," she added, before walking out of the kitchen and leaving you alone in your thoughts.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, staring out the window just as your phone  beeped, signaling a new text message. 

"You've got the job!" was the message written in big bold letters on the screen from the nice bartender at a local establishment to which a friend had introduced you to the day before. 

Excitement bubbled inside of you, and your troubles seemed to vanish at the sight of the single message. You were absolutely broke , so this opportunity couldn't have come at a better time. You would be able to start working within the next few days, which provided a sense of financial security and a diversion from the drama you had created with Cillian.

Cillian, himself, arrived back home later that week just as you were about to head out for your first shift at the bar.

You were dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans, a fitted grey shirt and your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Hey," you greeted Cillian as he walked through the door, looking exhausted but happy to see you, his eyes lighting up as they met yours.

"Hey," he replied, retaining his distance which, in your opinion, made this encounter somewhat awkward.

Luckily for you though, you were an expert in the art of small talk and, even though you hadn't mastered it, your tone sounded light and casual.

"How was your flight?" you asked, as he placed his luggage down and unzipped his jacket.

"Long," Cillian replied with a weary sigh before his eyes met yours again.

The connection was undeniable, burning with a passion that refused to quell. But he had his integrity, and perhaps that was something he would never compromise. Not even for you.

"Where are you off to?"  Cillian inquired, his gaze falling on your outfit while you were fidgeting with the house keys.

"Oh, I've got a job now ," you informed him cheerfully, attempting to keep your tone light while trying to overcome the fluttering feelings in your chest.

"Where at?" Cillian asked, raising an eyebrow, and you wanted to smile at his enthusiasm, but you held back, taking a deep breath instead.

"Just a bar, in town. It's called O'Rielly's and is really nothing special," you lied, trying to downplay the significance of this job, but Cillian could see right through it.

"That's great though," he said with a warm smile, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. "Well done," he told you, knowing how you wanted to pay your own way. 

"Thanks. I really needed this. I was starting to feel like a burden around here," you muttered, not meaning to make the conversation heavy.

Cillian narrowed his gaze upon hearing that, sensing there was something more to your statement.

"You're not a burden, Y/N, and you never have been," he asserted, closing the distance between you, his hands resting on your upper arms reassuringly.

"Oh, I am sure my mother would disagree with you right now," you chuckled, not wanting to tell him about the many fights you had with her in recent days, all because you felt like a leech living in her house. "But listen, I really have to go. My shift starts at six," you said, zipping your jacket closed and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Cillian offered, breaking through your thoughts.

For a brief moment, you imagined what it would be like to spend a few more minutes alone with him in the car. But you quickly shook off that dangerous thought.

"Thanks, but I can take the bus," you said, smiling weakly. "Despite, you just got off a six-hour flight,"  you added.

Cillian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. "No, really. I've got this," you insisted, already moving towards the door.

Cillian sighed, looking like he wanted to say more, but he seemed to think better of it. "Alright, but call me when you get off work. I will pick you up. You shouldn't take the bus that late," he said, his voice firm.

You paused and looked back at him. "You worry too much,"  you said, but there was a small smile on your faces as you said it since you found his concern heartwarming.

"Only because I care," he replied with a warm smile before he allowed you to leave.

When you arrived at the bar for your shift, you found it bustling with people, eager to escape their daily routine. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and walked behind the bar, where the manager was waiting for you.

"Ah, Y/N! It's good to see you. Here, put this on," she said, handing you a shirt. "I'll show you the ropes."

The first few hours flew by quickly, with you learning the ins and outs of the bar, how to make drinks, take orders, and keep the customers happy.

The pace was fast but exciting, and you found yourself enjoying the buzz around you, serving drinks, laughing with the patrons and relishing in the anonymity and the freedom that came with working at a separate place of employment.

When things started to slow down, you checked the time on your phone and saw it was already after midnight. There was no way Cillian would still be up, you thought to yourself, as you dried your hands on your apron and walked towards the front of the bar but, just as you were about to bring up the bus schedule again, your phone buzzed with a new message.

"I'm still picking you up," it read, causing your heart to skip a beat.

You smiled to yourself, thankful for his concern and hit 'Reply,' typing out a quick thanks and an estimated time for the end of your shift. You knew that there was still some cleaning up to do, which would take about thirty minutes or more.

You put your phone back into your apron’s pocket and got to work, finishing up as quickly as possible and the friendly bar manager, Jeremy, offered you a drink on the house after you finished lifting up all the chairs.

"You did extremely well today," he praised, touching your shoulder. "And thanks for taking the shift last minute, you really saved me," he smiled, noting that you weren't actually meant to start until the week after. 

"I am glad I could help," you responded before noticing him flirting a little with you.

"I enjoyed working with you tonight Y/N. I am serious," Jeremy added with a wink, making you blush slightly and laugh off his compliment. "And you can have as many shifts as you want," he went on to say, which caught you off-guard, since most places usually put new hires on a light schedule.

"Oh, really?" you asked, trying to hide your surprise. "I mean, that sounds good," you added hastily, before taking another sip of your drink.

"Absolutely. I would love to have you on the team, you are a star already," Jeremy complimented you again, causing your face to flush with heat.

You chuckled nervously and glanced down at your phone, checking the time, and saw a message from Cillian: "I will be there in a minute," it read, making you plan your exit. 

"I, uhm, I gotta go now if that's okay?" you  said shyly, biting your lip as you met Jeremy's gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment longer than necessary before he looked away, just as Cillian reluctantly pushed open the door to the bar, looking straight at the two of you.

"We are closed," Jeremy announced, trying to sound imposing, but you interrupted him.

"It's okay. He is just...uhm...picking me up," you stammered, shuffling your feet nervously as you broke eye contact with Jeremy. "He won't let me take the bus and now this is all really awkward," you then blurted out, causing Cillian to raise an eyebrow.

"I am Cillian. Y/N's..." Cillian paused before saying the word. "Stepfather," he clarified hesitantly, offering a polite smile and his hand to Jeremy for a handshake. There was a slight tension in the air as Jeremy hesitantly shook Cillian's hand, eyeing him carefully, before finally giving you a nod. 

"Oh, right. Of course," Jeremy said, seeming to understand that there was nothing more to this interaction, which made you feel more at ease. 

"I'll just...uhm...go and get my things from the back then," you muttered nervously before quickly scurrying towards the back room to collect your belongings.

You could feel both Cillian's and Jeremy's eyes on you as you gathered your coat and bag, your heart hammering away in your chest.

You had never been very good at hiding your emotions, and it seemed that both men had picked up on you feeling somewhat out of place right now. 

"Okay, I'm ready," you eventually said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face as you walked back out to the front of the bar and, after Jeremy thanked you for your hard work, you followed Cillian out of the door, your heart still racing.

"You know you really didn't have to stay up for me," you said as Cillian opened the car door for you.

"I know. But I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Besides, I was still up anyway," he replied, his tone serious.

As you sat next to him in his car, you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about Jeremy and how he had been looking at you throughout the night and, it was also something that Cillian had picked upon. 

"Everything okay?" Cillian asked, seeming to sense your discomfort.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you lied, forcing a smile.

"I can see the bar manager has already taken a liking in you," Cillian said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, I think, maybe, he has," you confirmed, looking out of the window of the car as Cillian expertly drove through the quiet streets of the city.

"Then again, he works in a bar. I am sure he has taken a liking to many women who have worked there," Cillian replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

You remained silent for a moment, trying to decipher his intent, but you chose not to press further at that moment.

"Are you jealous?"  you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. It was the last thing you wanted to imply, given the circumstances.

Cillian glanced at you and raised an eyebrow, causing you to quickly backtrack.

"I mean, not that you have any reason to be, of course. I am just your stepdaughter after all," you added hastily, your cheeks flushed as you watched Cillian's expression soften.

"No, I'm not jealous," he replied softly. "I am just concerned about you, that's all. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

"Sure, we will leave at that," you nodded, understanding his concern, and looked away, embarrassed that you had even brought it up.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, with neither of you speaking. But, despite the silence, the tension between you two was palpable. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to ignore the thoughts and images that swirled in your mind.

The memories of the connection you shared, the intimacy you both had experienced, and the desire that still lingered, seemed to be clouding your judgement, and you couldn't help but long for that closeness again.

The car pulled up outside the house, and Cillian turned off the engine, allowing the silence to envelop you. He shifted in his seat as he glanced at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness. You could sense that he was trying to read your thoughts, but you couldn't find the words to explain what was going on in your head.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, conflicting desires, and unspoken truths that clashed together, creating turbulence you were struggling to navigate.

"We should go inside and get some rest. It's late," you  said softly, your eyes meeting Cillian's. There was a lingering tension between you both, as if his gaze could combust the emotions resparking within you.

"Yeah," Cillian  replied after a moment, his voice almost a whisper. He let out a long breath before he opened his car door, stepping out on the pavement.

Only after he had fully closed the car door did you realize that you had been holding your breath. It was then that you released it in a sigh, feeling strangely disappointed that the night had ended like this, with awkwardness and silence and no connection between you both, except the remembered one.

You quickly exited his car, feeling embarrassed at how much your feelings for him had control over you at times, now that he was ignoring them too.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Cillian muttered, almost under his breath after you both stepped inside, as if he was too afraid to say it any louder.

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprised and confusion, before you replied with a hoarse "Goodnight" and walking up the stairs, leaving Cillian to stand alone in the hallway. 

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