#i need a food network tag

[lesbiancolumbo]

it's this man's birthday and he's using it to shoot his shot with alex. and let me tell you i would do the exact same.

[icewindandboringhorror]

a quite simple outfit, trying to use the little blue and white apron thing (which is actually a dress I think, that I just leave un-buttoned in the back and added an apron-like tie to lol)

[woebegonewings]

Also like, trying to not make TLoU AU Kseniya just…wildly overpowered is fucking hard. Because yeah sure, chronic pain and looks visibly infected (meaning anyone with half a brain cell and a gun will shoot on sight) and blind; that all sucks…

…but she can fucking talk to cordyceps. She can talk to the Infected. Her and Pierce run across three Clickers? No problem, just let Kseniya casually walk up to them and make them go away. Because unlike Ellie the Infected read her as one of them, so not only will they not attack her but they’ll treat her like any other Infected. Cordyceps isn’t inherently evil or violent—it’s a fungus, it can’t have morality. It’s doing what every fungus wants to do: survive, propagate, and make more of itself. It just mutated into something that can use humans to do that, not because it hates humanity but just because that’s how it went.

So if Kseniya’s like “yeah no, not a viable host, sorry!” the Clickers will wander off and leave Pierce be.

That is UNBELIEVABLY overpowered in a TLoU context. 50% of the threat to their survival is just…gone! Poof!

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐌𝐆 ♡

Day Six - Cock warming

【Synopsis】 : Mingi finds his little mouse trying to do her exams. Too bad he needs her right now.

『Word count』 : 2.69k

-> Genre:  Collage au. Smut. 

Pairing: FratBoy!Mingi x Choi!Reader

[Warnings] : Teasing. Swearing. Fingering. Dirty talk. Pet names. Mentions of Seonghwa (yes, that's a warning)

Note: This is a little part two of Prove It, hehe. Keep a look for more content with these three ♡♡

Network: @cromernet @illusionnet @atzhouse @wonderlandnet @k-vanity

Also, thank you to those who asked for a part two for this story. ♡ Part three with Seonghwa and part four with both boys will also be posted soon, hehe ♡

Special tags : @fxlling13 @angelsaway @stolasisyourparent @voicesinmyhead-rc @hotteokhatyu @choisanboobenthusiast @asleepyhuman @therealcuppicake @vantediary @mingisprincesss @kelsxxyawn @kissofthespring @eunseosilver @mingisdimple @mingismoralloyalty

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Ever since the night Mingi and Seonghwa had successfully proved how skilled they were, days following have become only described as cat and mouse. Every chance they got, one of them had their hands on you. Whether it was Mingi holding your hips for too long while waiting in line at the food truck one night. Or Seonghwa, placing his hand innocently on your thigh under the table at a restaurant. No, ever since that night, it became one big game of desperation. Lonely nights spent fucking yourself at the mere thought of them while Mingi had to go to Seonghwa a couple of times when he couldn’t sleep, needing some sort of relief to make him breathe for a moment. But nothing helped. They were both hooked on you. And you on them.

It was a normal afternoon, you were in your room finishing up on some homework before you had to inevitably had to continue packing. You weren't super sad to move out, but you had doubts, not knowing if living on your own without your brother was a good idea yet. But you were old enough and you always had wanted to live closer to campus. But it was still scary. You could hear the last of the loud men leave the apartment, heading off to classes or work, finally leaving you in peace for at least a few hours… “What you up to dollface?”

Scratch that last statement.

“Nothing much. I’m just writing up my exam sheets and then I’ll continue packing.” You shot Mingi a quick smile before turning back to your paper, you didn’t want to look at the extremely hot man. Not after he had just got his hair cut. You needed to focus on your work. But you hear him start to wander around your room, your eyes can't seem to move off the one sentence you have almost read over five times. You sighed, pushing against your desk so you could swivel your chair until you were completely facing the tall beefcake of a man. “Do you need something Min?”

“It’s kinda… hard to concentrate when you are walking around my room.” You stutter slightly, feeling your ears already start to heat up. his tongue wet his lips as his smile grew more. His eyes wandered down your figure, you were wearing an old hoodie from one of the boys and sleep shorts. The same sleep shorts you wore when he made you squirt.

“Hmm, no. I’m good. Don’t mind me. You continue working…” He gave you a soft smile. asshole…

“I’m sorry doll, here let me fix that.” He cut the space between you so face you could barely notice what was happening until it happened. He lifted you off your chair before sitting down and placing you on his lip. His long legs manoeuvred the chair until he was sitting back in front of the desk, suddenly making you very confused. “There you go. Now go on with your work. While I relax.”

“Mingi…I can't just keep working while sitting on your lap.” You said flustered.

“Sure you can. And if you write over 100 words I’ll reward you.” He whispered that last part in your ear before lightly leaving kisses down your neck. Your head automatically tilted to the side, letting him have more access to your skin. “Come on baby. I don’t hear you typing.”

“Fuck you.” You growled, slightly annoyed.

“Don’t tempt me.” He chuckled making you freeze. Your hands flew to the keyboard trying their best to make up some words. But your brain had gone south for the winter and you had no more brain cells left to function.

“M-mingi…” You whispered, his lips successfully distracting you. He pulled away.

“Okay, baby. I want you to write some words outs. And every time you write at least ten words, I’ll continue. Deal?” He knew he had you trapped when he suggested this sinful game. And you were of course going to agree. So you read the next question out of your sheet, seeing it was a super easy question, your brain, with a lot of inner self yelling, you managed to write a proper sentence and over ten words like Mingi had wanted. His chuckle made you shiver as you felt his hand begin to wander down your body until it stopped right above your closed legs. “Good girl, now you get a reward. Take off these cute shots baby.”

He picked up the hem of your shorts and panties, pulling them taught before letting it go, making the band snap against your soft skin. This caused you to let out a shaky whimper, wiggling your hips until the fabric slipped off. You didn’t even bother trying to stand, using Mingi’s body as a support, you finally threw your panties and shorts somewhere in the messy room, leaving your bottom half completely exposed for him. “What is my reward…”

You had asked with mostly curiosity but there was a lingering of blunt lust, not really even caring for the kind of reward. No, all you wanted was for him to touch you. In any way, he seemed fit. “Oh, baby. Do you remember the last time we were in this position…” His deep grunt tickled your ear as he threw your left leg over the armchair, opening yourself for him. “Do you remember how thrilling it was for me to touch you, while Hwa ate you out like a starved bitch.”

You couldn’t help but moan, hands gripping tight onto the desk in front of you. His fingers danced along your plump thighs, slowly creeping their way towards your soaked core. He had to chuckle at every shaky breath you took and shiver that spilled down your spine. “You were such a good girl. Listening so well. Can you do that for me again? Hmm?” His fingers pressed firmly on your clit, feeling just out sensitive you’ve become.

“Yes please Mingi. Anything. I want to be good for you.” In other situations, you would have felt embarrassed to say such words, but Mingi knew how to draw this side out of you. A side that lives and breathes to please him. Mingi rubbed your clit slowly in a circle, smearing all your slick around, the sounds were filthy, but you no longer cared. His fingers slowly snaked down until one dipped inside your belief, making you gasp in anticipation.

“Stand up and lean over your desk, dollface.” You quickly did as you were told, standing on your jelly legs but not before you threw your hoodie off, only leaving you in a lace bra. “Fuck…” Mingi licks his lip as he watched you obey him. Your ass wiggled perfectly in his view, fuck what he would give just to stare at you all day. He would die happy. But no, for now, he needed the chase. The tease. He wanted to see how far you could go. Before he breaks you. You could hear the sound of a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes. Your heart started to ring loudly in your ears as you waited nervously for what might happen. “You Ready, love?”

The nickname caught you off guard, making your heart do laps. Love. A name you most certainly need to hear him say again. “Yes, Mingi…”

His large hands gripped your hips slowly pulling you back. He was standing behind you, the tip of his cock only just brushing against your wet folds. You bit your lip hard, trying to stop the pathetic noises that were trying to escape. Just as you feel him inch inside, you couldn’t help but let out a yelp before rolling your eyes back, “Fuck you’re big.” you had no idea why you thought he wasn’t but he was definitely bigger than any guy you had been with prior.

“And you fucking tight princess. I can barely fit.” His grunts were music to your ears and it was only when he completely bottomed out, you both let out relieving sighs. “Come on Doll, sit down.”

He guided you to the seat once more, taking a seat with you now snuggly on top of him. His cock sunk deeper at the angle, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. “Now…let’s continue.” He gestured towards the computer in front of you.

“W-what.” Your brain was so fuzzy from being so filled, you had completely forgotten about the work in front of you. Looking over your shoulder you spotted Mingi’s dark eyes. He was going serious. “B-but I thoug—You thought what? What, you answered one question and that would mean I fuck the life outta you. Hmm?” He cut you off with a dominant tone, causing you to clench around him.

“Answer a few more questions and we can see where it’ll lead.” He was stern, causing your whole body to shudder. You’ve never heard him speak like this, especially towards you. But you let out a sigh, shifting a little bit only to get…Comfortable, before looking back at your work. The first five minutes that passed were hell, every nerve on fire while every bump, shift, and tug made you very aware that Mingi’s cock was still very much inside you. But after another ten, it started to become bearable, you were able to focus more on the questions in front of you. Even asking Mingi for some assistance if needed. You both became content funny enough.

He hadn't felt this relaxed ever in his life while you were getting work done you were merely dreading prior. And by the end of the hour, Mingi was soundly napping on the chair while you were finishing up with your exam sheet. A sense of pride filled you as you typed out the last answer. You almost fell back to wake up Mingi from his peaceful slumber but even though he promised, you decided to give this moment of peace to shut your own eyes, letting sleep take a hold of you.

—

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋���𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[xomakara]

Second Chance at Love

SUMMARY |  Jongho’s twin daughters really want you to be their new mom ever since you have been taking care of them after their mom passed. They’re trying to play matchmaker between you and Jongho to fall in love, but in actuality, you and Jongho already have feelings for each other.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS |  widow!Jongho, nanny!Reader, singledad!Jongho, dilf!Jongho, lots of fluff, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it ya’ll!), face riding, creampie, impregnation, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW

LENGTH | 7134 words

TAGLIST | @yourlocaljonghoe (tagging cuz I know you're waiting for it lol)

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi, hello. Thanks @itsnotmydejavu for all the brainstorming. I really appreciate it! This was more fluffy that I anticipated lol. We really need more dad!teez fics out here~

"Joomi, I think we should make Daddy fall in love."

"With who, Jooeun? Y/N?"

"Yeah! Wouldn't Y/N be a great mommy? She already takes really good care of us! And she's mommy's best friend."

"Mommy would be happy if Y/N was our new mommy."

The two five-year-olds were huddled by the stairway, looking down the hall into the kitchen where you stood by the sink and Jongho cleared the table. After their mom passed away, the twins knew that their dad was struggling to raise them himself, he had no clue what he was doing. When you, their mom's best friend and their favorite person in the whole wide world, moved into the home to help out, they were thrilled.

They knew you had been close to their mom, but seeing how much you care for the three of them just proved to them even more that you are the perfect match to take over the role of their mother. You cook all their favorite meals, you read bedtime stories to them, and you even help them brush their teeth! You loved all three of them very deeply and would do anything for them. The girls admired you and adored your kind heart and the loving smiles you had for their dad and them. The girls noticed the way the two of you looked at each other when you thought no one was looking. Their dad had it bad and Joomi could tell that you did too. But you and their dad always insisted you were 'just friends' and that there was nothing more than that. So, being the bright children they were, Joomi and Jooeun put their minds together to hatch a plan.

If they made you two fall in love, you could get married, and become a family!

Their dad was walking into the kitchen. "How did their snacks go? Were the girls okay?"

You nodded. "Oh, it went wonderfully. The girls were perfectly sweet the entire time."

Jongho exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry for leaving. I had to stop by a client's office since we are having trouble meeting a deadline for a project that needs to be completed by Friday. If anything were to go wrong or anything would happen..."

You put a hand on his arm, stopping him from rambling. "Everything was fine. Don't stress yourself out, everything's under control here. You just take care of whatever work you need to do."

Jongho nods but hesitantly stops. "I'm...just afraid something will happen. The girls...they've been through enough. I feel bad for asking so much from you, I don't even pay you to take care of them or live in my home or-"

You chuckled. "Hush. No money is necessary to watch over the people I care about. Plus, this is more than a payment. You've given me a place to stay, food, and the company of two adorable girls. Now stop worrying."

The look Jongho gave you after that was too warm and sent butterflies fluttering throughout your body, but it made your cheeks heat up.

Joomi and Jooeun made small noises of "falling in love, falling in love, falling in loveeeee," over and over while they looked over at their dad and you by the stairway. They were careful not to be noticed by either of you and they were patient as they watched.

"Okay...you're right," Jongho breathed out a heavy sigh and you saw the way his shoulders visibly relaxed, his built figure leaning forward and closer to you.

You laughed. "Let's start planning a summer trip, okay? When things are not as busy."

He smiled. "That'd be lovely."

As soon as he said that, you heard the girls giggling by the stairs. "Were they listening to our conversation this whole time...?"

You covered your smile. "Probably."

Jongho scrunched up his nose, laughing to himself. "You know what they're trying to do, right?"

"I mean- they've been playing their games lately..." You let out a small laugh.

You can see Jongho shaking his head from behind you. The two of you walked up the steps, approaching the kids at the top and grabbing them. The girls screech playfully in shock, holding back a snicker at what their next plans could be. Jongho holds both of them in each arm, one girl in each, and you're unable to hold back your laughter at how precious they are. Jongho carries them both off to their bedroom, where he drops them softly on the big bed that the two girls shared. They're laying on their bellies, kicking their feet back and forth like fish, a huge grin plastered across both of their faces.

"I know your tricks, ladies. So do be a little less obvious about trying to play matchmaker." He scolded them playfully, hands on his hips and giving them a pretend serious look.

Joomi snorted, still kicking her little feet. "We've noticed you and Y/N."

"What does that mean?" He chuckled.

Jooeun flipped over, the bedsheets making a small swoosh sound underneath her as she laid down on her back. "You and Y/N have crushes!"

Your eyes widened. You felt yourself redden up. "Oh. Girls! No no no, your daddy and I are just friends. Best friends! Like, soooo best of friends!"

Joomi furrowed her little eyebrows. She glanced back and forth from you to her father. "You and Daddy love each other like mommy did, but don't kiss."

"Or...at least haven't kissed. Yet," Jooeun sang.

You let out a shaky sigh. "Where are they learning these things? Don't go saying things like that, the two of you."

Joomi nodded with a shrug. "Why not? Are you embarrassed?"

You let your gaze wander over to Jongho to look for some support on the matter. But Jongho was flushed and looking everywhere other than at you. It was obvious that this wasn't an easy conversation for either of you to have, much less in front of the twins.

Joomi noticed your actions and she smiled, snapping her head over to her father. "What? Are you embarrassed, Daddy?"

Joomi was giving him the same look she always did when she's trying to convince him to get something for her. With big puppy eyes, a wide smile, her bottom lip out with just a twitch at the end. Her eyebrows wiggle just a little, begging him silently and sweetly. She and her sister knew their father couldn't resist when they pleaded in that certain tone of voice, looking in their sweet little girl ways. They've played their games so many times, so why not try again?

"Joomi..." Jongho sighs, putting his hands on his knees, not being able to escape her large dark brown eyes. "What am I going to do with the two of you?"

The twins only let out tiny laughs, shrugging and hugging each other in the bed as Jongho stood. The girls love him very much and are grateful they have such a good father, despite their circumstances. Jongho leaves the room and you stay in the room with them, sitting on the bed, wanting to get to the bottom of where the girls' idea of a crush came from.

"Who told you about what a crush is?" you asked the girls after they sat themselves on the bed and changed into their PJ's.

"Uncle San!" Jooeun squeaks as the top half of her head peeks out of her PJ top.

You internally facepalmed, thinking about how Jongho's older cousin, San, was whispering conspiratorially with the girls after they asked him questions about life in a school filled with friends, crushes and parties.

"We thought you and Daddy liked each other," Jooeun had confessed innocently.

"Do you hate Daddy?" Joomi frowned, getting teary-eyed as her head pokes through the collar. "Do you hate us? Are you going to leave?"

You give her a hug, cupping her face with your hands and giving a sweet, reassuring smile. "No, no, no, sweetheart. Not at all, it's just complicated. Please don't say those things again, okay?"

It hurt, seeing the disappointed looks in their eyes and on their pouty lips, but you tried not to show it on your own face.

"Promise?" Jooeun had pleaded.

You took in a shaky breath. "Of course. Come now, time to get to sleep."

You helped the little ones into their beds, tucking the blankets around them and reading from a fairytale book as the light to their night-light flickered from the wall outlet. They slowly drifted off to sleep and you shut the bedroom door with a gentle click behind you. With a sigh, you approached the master suite across the hall and opened the door quietly, catching sight of Jongho flopped stomach-down on the mattress, buried with a duvet as you chuckled at the sight.

You clicked the bedroom door shut as you entered, stepping over to him. "The kids are asleep," you announced softly, moving to sit on the side of the bed and leaned over, poking his shoulder blade.

With a quiet huff, he rolled over, his face and shoulders now facing you. His fluffy hair lay flat over his eyes and a low sigh passed through his nose as his eyes shifted to meet yours, eyelids drooped.

A smirk found its way to the corners of his mouth. "Those two will be the death of me."

"You know we'll have to tell them about us eventually if they keep it up with their shenanigans," you warned him, laying yourself overtop of him.

"I was thinking of ways to approach the subject with the girls in my head just now." he revealed to you, reaching his arms around you. "I'm nervous that I don't know what they're really thinking or feeling."

Your hands came up and framed Jongho's cheeks. "Oh, Jongho...those girls are too smart. They even asked San about what crushes are.”

"San? Why'd they ask him?"

"That's not the point." you whispered, running your thumb across his soft cheek. "Do you think we should sit down with them? Explain?"

"Explain what? That their daddy and their nanny are secretly in love with one another because they can't stop sneaking kisses in secret places of the home?"

"Shut up." you said with a playful nudge at his chest.

"But you admit those kisses are nice." Jongho says as he sits up, dragging you onto his lap, the blanket sliding down his toned chest as his arms remain around you.

"Extremely," you confirmed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you feel the hands on your waist move to cup the underside of your thighs, adjusting the way you're positioned on him.

"Hey." Jongho brushed his nose with yours as a whisper against your lips.

"Hello," you replied with a giggle, already finding his mouth and leaning in with the full intent of kissing him again.

"Would you be happy with a widowed, single dad?" He continued to stroke the back of your leg with his fingers. "What it be wrong for me and the girls to be happy again?"

The tips of your thumbs draw little circles on the back of his neck. "Nothing is wrong with that, Jongho... I think Eunmi would be happy if you and the girls were finally able to move on and be happy."

"What if that happiness was with you? With us?" he asked, pressing his forehead against yours and rubbing his hands up and down your sides and you gently rub his back with your fingers.

You lean into the embrace and inhale, closing your eyes for a moment, then pulling away. "When Eunmi told me her last words to take care of you and the girls... I think maybe that was her way of telling me that it was okay for us to be happy. It's not like we're strangers. Not like we haven't been together before."

You and Jongho had known each other for years, and at one point, the both of you dated back in high school for a year or two but broke off your relationship for various reasons. You met Eunmi in college and ended up staying good friends with her throughout the rest of the years. And when you found out that Eunmi and Jongho started dating and eventually got married, you couldn't have been more pleased for the two of them.

You were never jealous that Eunmi and Jongho were together. Never jealous when they got married or when you helped Eunmi with the twins' birth. 

Never once.

Because you loved them dearly and you wanted them to be happy together.

When Eunmi fell sick and lost her fight with the sickness that plagued her body and spirit, she pleaded for Jongho to promise her to live his happiest life possible, and that meant starting a family all over again. Because she couldn't anymore. She couldn't raise their kids, or start over as husband and wife with Jongho, so the least she could ask for was for him and the girls to be happy. When you visited her in her final days in the hospital, she grabbed your hand and asked you a favor.

"If you love Jongho and want him to live a fulfilling and happy life... then please, look after him for me when I'm gone," she had begged with tears in her eyes. "You know how to take care of our girls, and if Jongho were with you and the girls are happy with you, I know he would be more at ease. With more help, with love...and if somehow the both of you were to fall in love all over again with one another...don't leave him, okay? Take care of him...take care of the three of them...love them, make them happy...my family is your family now."

That was over a little more than a year ago, and Jongho, although still hurt over his past love's untimely loss, was healing. So were Joomi and Jooeun. That was proven by the fact that Jongho was finally starting to love again, albeit slowly, after a while. The twins were right. They knew that he was happy when he was around you, just like he knew the twins were happier when you were around, just as their mother, Eunmi, knew the same thing.

And the last promise he made Eunmi on her deathbed was one that he will make sure he keeps.

Live his best, happiest life possible, even with the way that his life was now.

Even if it meant being with you, the woman he once loved before and recently was falling for again.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your back hitting the plush comforters as Jongho shifts to pin you on the mattress below him. You look up and see the gleam in his eyes that have turned a shade darker from before. Your hands snake their way around his neck as he reaches and traps your face with his fingers and palms. A mischievous smirk danced across his features, his thumb rubbing the spot below the corner of your mouth, his index and middle finger rubbing at the shell of your ear. You shivered at his actions.

"Let's make them happy, Jongho..." you cooed, relishing in the soft, tickling touch of his fingers along your neck and shoulder. "Let's be happy, together, with them. Like Eunmi asked."

"I love you, you know that? I can't help but think that Eunmi knew what was going to happen, the whole time," he expressed with a big exhale as you pull him forward and close. "And she never once left me. Never doubted that I loved her even with my...previous feelings for you resurfacing."

"She loved you so, so much, Jongho. Don't ever think she didn't love you, or that she thought you didn't love her, despite the things that happened when we were in high school," you reminded him with a reassuring smile. "She loved you until her final breaths and beyond, and wanted nothing but a lifetime of happiness for you and your girls. You deserve that. Everyone deserves that. Including you."

"Do you love me too...?" he whispered against your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek.

"Always have, always will," you promised, smiling and finally pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

The next few days passed in a blur. The girls were constantly scheming or attempting to make you and their father become 'official' to their little eyes. You and Jongho would playfully play the fool, knowing their secret plans, and doing small things that would give them the belief that their tricks would work.

But in actuality, you and Jongho were having a good time trying to guess what would come next. One day, you woke up early and had just finished washing the dishes from breakfast. The girls scurried up behind you, wrapping their small bodies around your legs like adorable monkeys clinging to trees.

"What are you two up to, huh? Going to try and climb Y/N like a tree and claim that I stole your new favorite?" You hear Jongho joked as he leaned on the doorframe between the living room and dining room.

The twins giggled in unison at the ridiculous accusation as Jongho slipped closer, grabbing both girls from either side and tickling their sides as he lifted the twins up on his broad shoulders.

"Never! Our favorite is still you, Daddy!" the girls gasped in between fits of laughter as you watched on in amusement at their antics.

You rolled your eyes at the girls' silliness.

"Careful there. Make sure the two of you are hanging on tight," you playfully warned them as they straddled Jongho's shoulder blades.

The two girls immediately sat and hung on to Jongho for dear life, faces buried on either side of his head. You and Jongho chuckled at the adorable display of their devotion. You reached out and bopped the twins' noses in turn as they peered up, big bright grins adorning their cherubic cheeks.

The weekend is arriving soon, and with it, comes an overnight trip for the four of you.

"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet?" the twins cried out, looking out the passenger's-seat windows in anticipation.

"We'll be there soon," you laughed from the front seat where you were seated beside Jongho as he drove along the road to the campsite.

You and Jongho decided to take the kids camping, along with his friends and their kids to get a break from the bustling city life. His friend Mingi has a lakeside cabin and lots of land on which you can pitch a tent, start a fire, roast marshmallows, swim in the lake, and go canoeing or kayaking, just a few hundred meters away from the cabin itself. Jongho explained this to you as you looked out the window, smiling and watching the pine trees on either side of the vehicle whizz by at lightning speed.

Your thoughts drifted from the scenery out the windows to the scenery in the passenger seat beside you.

Jongho has his eyes focused on the road. His mouth was set in a small smile as he maneuvered the vehicle and focused on his driving, looking back into the rearview mirror to glance back and see his children giggling and talking amongst one another.

Then his dark brown orbs flickered over to your side briefly before his eyes landed back on the road before him. He turned and tilted his head towards you and his smile only got wider as his eyes crinkled at the sides, an adoring look settling over his handsome features.

"What's on your mind?"

"Not too much," you murmured, not realizing that you were being called out because of the pensive look you've been wearing on your face while looking out the windows. "Just thinking about stuff, you know, as a typical human is prone to doing from time to time."

"Got something you wanna share or something you want to keep to yourself?"

"Mmm...let me get back to you on that one."

Jongho let out a chuckle, shrugging and facing forward again. He kept his hand on your thigh the entire drive.

As soon as Mingi came into sight and everyone pulled up and parked in the driveway near his cabin, the twins were ecstatic. Unable to keep themselves in check as they jumped up and down and opened the door, they hopped out onto the ground and rushed towards him. Jongho's other friends' kids did the same thing and rushed forward, enveloping Mingi in a big group hug and pulling him downwards to smother his face and neck with affectionate kisses and screaming 'Uncle Mingi! Uncle Mingi! We're here!!' at the top of their lungs. A look of bewilderment crossed Mingi's features and he laughed heartily.

"Oh man, I wish I was that popular," San muttered as he watched the kids crowd the tall man, shaking his head.

"You're just jealous that Haru likes Mingi more than you," Wooyoung said teasingly, punching San's shoulder playfully.

"But I'm his dad!" San said with wide-eyes.

"And Mingi is his favorite uncle." Hongjoong pitched in.

"I've been replaced." San faked a dramatic swoon.

"Yunhee, make sure you get money from Uncle Mingi!" Yunho yelled at his daughter who only responded with a loud 'Got it!' from Mingi's front porch before turning around and giving her father a thumbs up.

You watched as the kids greeted Mingi on his porch and then he turned his attention to the adults and waved enthusiastically, pointing at the cabin door.

"Lunch is inside already and is ready whenever you guys want! Help yourself! We got games set up in the back if anyone wants to get their butts kicked in basketball or kickball. We also have kayaks in the back we can take out onto the lake. We've also got plenty of seating on the deck and some patio furniture. Make yourselves at home!" He announced, his voice booming out with laughter.

The adults nodded at him, not missing the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he continued to yell at the kids. "KIDS. There's a small playground behind the cabin with a swing set, sand pit, slide, etc. and the water's right behind that. BUT-"

With that, the kids perked up and looked at him, eye-wide, eagerly hanging on every word that would leave his mouth.

"But~ If you don't behave well, Uncle Joong and Uncle Hwa are going to turn into super spies and capture each and everyone one of you!" Mingi announced in his serious adult's voice as he eyed the kids before continuing with, "Don't even try us! You can run, but you can't hide. Uncle Woo and Uncle Yeo have superhuman hearing and can detect trouble-makers from a hundred feet away. They'll be on you before you even realize it! Uncle Yunho and Uncle San have lightning reflexes! One little slip up and they'll snag you faster than your father can!"

The kids gasp and run past them in a hurry towards the playground that lay behind the cabin. The adults looked amused after their gleeful retreat, and it's not long before the noise of playful squeals and shrieks fill the air.

You and the rest of the adult pack burst into a fit of laughter at the fact that Mingi just riled the kids up into a frenzy. The others looked back and watched their offspring tear into the backyard. You watched a fond look cross Jongho's face, the smile reaching his eyes as he watched the scene in the back unfold.

"Jongho," Mingi said, interrupting Jongho and shaking him from his thoughts. "Are you and Y/N okay to share the bedroom in the back of the cabin? All the kids wanted to have a sleepover in the living room, and all the other bedrooms were claimed, save for one. I mean, I could sleep on the couch and one of you can take my bedroom..."

"It's okay, Mingi." Jongho smiled, pulling you to stand beside him and wrapping an arm around your waist, looking at you for approval.

"Ohhhhhhh~" the rest of the guys exclaimed, slapping him on the back, playfully. They were happy that Jongho was moving on.

"Wait," Wooyoung cried out, confused, "Wasn't there another room open?"

Mingi wiggled his brows. "Totally open."

“So why…” Wooyoung scrunched his face in confusion. Then his eyes widened in understanding when it clicked in his head. "Oh. Oh, damn!"

"Did you plan this or something, Mingi?" you laughed.

He holds his hands up. "Nah, the kids suggested sharing the sleeping arrangements. I would've switched our sleeping places around, but Joomi and Jooeun gave me puppy-dog-eyes and asked me to go along with their plan. Don't think any of the adults or kids here could resist a face like that."

"The twins and their shenanigans. Their mom was such a schemer so the apples didn't fall far from the tree," you said affectionately, remembering the woman you called your best friend.

"They take after Eunmi but their hearts are in the right place." Seonghwa laughed. "They know that you two like each other and have been wanting you two together for a long time. Guess today, we're accomplices to their 'Matchmaker-Twins'. Right, Captain?"

"Yes, we are," Hongjoong piped up.

You giggled at the remark, realizing that the others were in cahoots with the twins' scheme. You rolled your eyes, not surprised that all the kids and adults are in on the plans the two made for the day, the rest of the group joining in, egging the girls on, and enabling the twins to go along with their plots and plans.

After helping the twins and the other kids settle into their 'camping spots', and getting them properly settled in their temporary sleeping arrangements in the living room and putting them down for a nap, you and Jongho retired to the back room to relax in peace and quiet until the kids wake up again.

The two of you climbed into the bed and under the sheets, settling down on top of the covers. You and Jongho simultaneously sighing in relaxation and content. Jongho rolled over onto his left side and pulled your body, snug to his and against his chest, hooking his chin on your shoulder.

"Want to get a quick nap in?" you ask.

"I know something that will put us right to sleep," Jongho whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against your neck, right below your ear, causing you to shiver at the contact.

"Now?" You teased, a smirk playing across your features.

"Why do you think Mingi gave us the very private room in the cabin? I guarantee he put two-and-two together, plus heard my little munchkins' schemes, so..." Jongho retorted, continuing his little trail of pecks along the expanse of skin on your neck. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. His mouth was trailing hot and open kisses along your exposed flesh, his tongue flicking at the curve of your shoulder. The trail continued downward until he was stopped by the cloth covering your skin. Jongho looked up at you. "What do you say, baby? Wanna?"

In response, you reach down to pull up the shirt you were wearing up and over your head. Dropping it to the floor next to the bed. "We need to hurry, though. Mingi said the kids are probably going to wake up in the next hour, maybe, to finish up their outdoor activities."

"An hour is more than enough time," Jongho murmured against your jawline, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a hungry, passionate kiss as you grind against his groin. "More than enough..."

The atmosphere grew heated rather fast and in no time at all, the two of you were bare of your clothes, warm skin touching warm skin, his lips chasing yours and yours chasing his, trying to feel him as close as possible. 

"Get your pretty ass up here. Ride my face." Jongho demanded.

"You're kidding," You choked out in disbelief, he shook his head at your words, his hands traveling down your curves.

"Nah, get up here. Sit on daddy's face." His words were a breathy moan against the crook of your neck and you felt yourself blush from head to toe.

"Jongho," you whined.

Jongho moaned desperately and pinned you to the bed, lifting you by the back of your thighs easily and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he laid back on the bed, his dark eyes burning into yours, "Please?"

"Are you trying to kill me?" You asked, giggling as he stared at you.

"Just turn around," Jongho chuckled, and the next second you gasped as his hands grasped you tightly and pulled you around to where his face was inches from your soaked core. "Hands on the headboard and keep still."

His firm demand sent heat shooting throughout your stomach and down into your aching pussy, and you quickly scrambled to grab onto the headboard. You almost jumped out of your skin as his tongue took a long, slow lick up the length of your slit, your grip on the wood tightening as he slowly began circling his tongue over your clit.

The wet heat that pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves was almost overwhelming and you ground your teeth as Jongho began pushing his tongue against you rhythmically, licking and sucking at you as he tried to fuck you with his tongue. His ministrations were methodical and measured, never picking up the pace too much, but applying an immense amount of pressure every time he moved against you.

Your head was swimming at this point, the feeling of his soft mouth pressing against your drenched pussy was sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your body, causing your nipples to harden and your mind to reel. You couldn't keep yourself from whimpering slightly at the way his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, and your hips jerked downwards involuntarily in an attempt to feel his tongue deep within you.

A guttural groan erupted from within his throat, and it reverberated against you as his grip on your thighs became impossibly tighter. He pinned you against his mouth so that you couldn't squirm against him again, keeping you on his tongue so that it could continue massaging over every sensitive bit of your pussy.

And before you even realized what you were doing, you had clenched your thighs around his head, not allowing his head to budge from underneath your hips. He moaned against your flesh and picked up the speed of his movements, sloppily lapping at you and dipping his tongue deep inside, stretching your clenching walls, working your entire core in a way that was sending you barreling into a quick and intense orgasm. Your legs bucked out on either side of him as you moaned loudly, pressing his tongue deep inside of you.

"Gosh, Jongho! F-Fuck!" You moaned, pushing your hips down and riding his face vigorously until your entire core pulsed, sending warm shockwaves rippling through your whole body.

When you finally finished clenching your thighs around his head, Jongho managed to lift his head up just enough to begin sucking hard on your oversensitive clit. "Don't fucking move," He murmured against you.

As your head slowly spun, he held himself there, moaning against your wet flesh. Jongho would not allow you to recover, and his tongue never stopped its movements, continuing to lick at your walls as if he could drink every bit of you in.

"Taste so good…" He breathed, kissing your inner thigh gently.

"Oh please..." you whispered and gasped as the pressure of his mouth against you suddenly increased, Jongho moaning obscenely beneath you.

"You make the prettiest noises..." Jongho said as you felt his hot breath fan against your overly sensitive pussy, his mouth moving against you rapidly, almost as though it couldn't kiss you deeply enough. "Couldn't help but be noisy could ya? Little tease..."

"Baby, I can't cum again..." Your whole body was beginning to spasm now as the warmth between your legs threatened to burst again, his lips pressing hard against your clit and sucking deep and slow. Your vision was going white as the pressure built in you. You could feel yourself climbing toward yet another earth shattering release as you leaned against the headboard for support, knuckles turning white from your iron-like grasp.

But Jongho never let up, relentlessly dragging his mouth over your swollen sex and moaning hotly as he pleasured you, eyes closing in rapture as he lost himself in the taste of you. "Can you cum again? Can you cum on my tongue, beautiful?"

Your grip on the headboard tightened impossibly and before you knew it, you were cumming, your body jerking in time with your pulsing pussy, soaking him as you released everything within you.

Once your high fizzled out, and your heartbeat returned to a normal rate, you were feeling your body growing tired. Your fingers and arms and legs were sore. "Jongho..I need a break..." you sighed, leaning down to try and push his head away, your words sounding more desperate than you'd meant them. "I can't cum again like this, it's too much.."

"Then do you want me to fuck your pretty pussy?" Jongho asked, looking up at you through dark eyelashes as he circled his tongue against you. "I could kiss this pretty pussy all day long, but I don't think you can wait anymore."

You bit your lip hard at the words and glanced behind you to see Jongho pumping his thick member with his hand, still holding you in place with his other arm. "Please..." you murmured.

With a pleased groan, he helped turn you back around, moving both of you until he was positioned on top, spreading you wide apart and nudging his tip against your swollen entrance.

"Stop teasing me," you whined, the sight of his twitching length inches from where you needed it made you a bit crazy. Jongho chuckled lightly and captured your lips as he slowly pushed himself in.

You could not stop the moan that escaped your lips the second Jongho was balls-deep inside your pussy, your arms flying around his neck, clinging on tightly. He fit inside you so well, filling you up in every conceivable way, the tip of his cock hitting every hidden part of you.

His lips travelled along your neck and collar, sucking and kissing the soft flesh. Your mouth was still agape, hanging low with no sound, only letting out little gasps as his tip brushed past the deepest part of you, sending warmth radiating throughout every nerve-ending. 

"My beautiful baby.." Jongho hummed, pulling out gently before pounding into you, one strong arm wrapping around your hips and lifting them so he could pound against a different spot deep within you.

Suddenly it seemed to you as if Jongho's tip were brushing over your clit each time it pulled back before sliding deep into your entrance.

You gripped him tighter as his hips moved back and forth. Before you knew it, Jongho's name tumbled out of your lips as he hit a soft spot of yours. 

"Jonghooo..." you moaned, losing your mind.

"Gonna fill your pussy up with my cum...make you take it..." Jongho growled, snapping his hips up again with more force. 

"Wanna give you my kids. Would you like that? Add another to our family?" He groaned against your neck, squeezing your ass, then swatting it.

He pushed himself in as far as he could, biting your earlobe as his member twitched inside of you, "Tell me, baby. Do you like being a mommy to me and my twins, and being my pretty wife? Don't want anyone else...only my baby. I love you so much. You and my girls..."

"I love you and the girls too, Jongho. So, so much." You respond, feeling the tell-tale signs of the pleasure building deep within.

"Do you want to cum, my love? Gonna take every drop of daddy's cum inside?" he moaned into your ear. His husky voice was so hot, and the feeling of him, pressed into you, so unbelievably warm and powerful, caused your body to tense, and then go limp under his strong hands. "Want to give you a baby too, sweetheart. I'm ready for another set of twins, and another set after that, if I'm blessed with it."

And when Jongho slid his tip between your sensitive folds, hitting every raw spot he could as your body shook, that was it. The walls of your pussy contracted against him, a gush of his cum emptied inside of you, making its way to your awaiting womb, hoping for it to take seed and create more lives. You moaned and threw your head back, thrusting your hips upwards to meet his one final time.

Jongho grunted into your shoulder as he fucked his load into you, cumming as deep inside you as he could possibly go and taking deep breaths.

You wrap your legs around his waist, locking him against you and pushing his cock to the hilt inside your dripping walls, not willing to let a single drop escape. His pulsing cock makes your core pulse. The two of you stay as still as possible as you catch your breath, Jongho breathing hot air down your chest.

"Don't you dare pull out yet, Choi Jongho," you ordered firmly. You needed him close, wanted him near you. Jongho smiled up at you.

"Is that what you want?"

"Mmmmhhmmm..." you moan, and wiggle your hips to make his cock stir your insides. Jongho moaned back into the mattress and grabbed your waist tightly. You squeal in delight at his sudden movement, then press your lips firmly against his, claiming him as your own.

"Y/N...would you marry me?" Jongho asked softly a few minutes later, as he propped up on his left elbow and looked deeply into your eyes, stroking your hair gently. "Officially be the girls' mother and my wife? I was hoping..." 

He reached down beneath the pillows, and pulled something from underneath it. He looked shy as he revealed a black velvet box in the palm of his hand, holding it out towards you. "Would you, please?"

"Yes, Jongho." You say in response, watching him open the small, velvet box. Jongho exhales and a smile appears on his handsome features as he pulls the ring out of its housing, sliding the metal band on your ring finger of your left hand. "Absolutely yes."

It fit perfectly.

He crushed his lips to yours and you sighed into the passionate kiss, running your hands through his hair as his tongue pressed inside. It felt good, almost too good, but he pulled away and laid back on the bed. 

After a while of cuddling, kissing, and playing with his hair, Jongho buried his head in the crook of you neck. "I think we should clean the sheets, shower and just cuddle..." He said quietly. "I have a feeling that the girls will barge in once they're awake and we don't need them seeing this mess or smelling the room."

You hum in agreement. You and Jongho kiss softly, barely audible 'I love you's' being whispered between the two of you, your fingers running through his silky strands. You love this. You're so in love and you can't imagine not being with Jongho, and you truly love and adore his two girls.

After getting the room and the two of you cleaned, and the sheets changed and clothes pulled back on, the two of you laid comfortably in  bed in each other's arms.

Jongho turned so that he was hovering over you, one hand propping him up, the other lightly caressing your cheek and thumb tracing your bottom lip. He lowered his head and brushed his nose against yours, lightly pressing his lips against yours. He pulled away to see your cheeks a rosy tint of pink. He leaned his forehead on yours and chuckled. He went back in to continue kissing you.

The door flew open and the bed dipped as two weights jumped onto the end of the bed. Jongho rolled over, the twins landing in the bed, bouncing with their jump, laughing loudly. Joomi moved to sit on your lap, and Jooeun did the same with her dad.

"How was your nap?" You asked the girls, hearing the loud screams of the other children and their parents somewhere in the cabin.

"Good but we're hungry and Uncle Joong told us to wake you up for lunch, so we did! But we didn't run here. We walked." Joomi said.

"Yes," Jooeun agrees.

"Are you sure you walked or ran? I heard some feet scampering down the hall when I woke up," you smirked and booped their noses. They giggled.

"Y/N, are you and Daddy a couple now?" Joomi whispered in your ear. You heard Jooeun asking her dad the same thing.

You and Jongho both chanced a glance at the other before saying at the same time, "Are we?"

Jongho laughed before leaning in and giving you a small kiss on the lips. He also glanced at the girls who were jumping and cheering in your arms. "Why don’t we get you girls and Mommy something to eat?"

"I could hear them telling the other adults that their little plan worked." You whispered. The twins were talking your ears off, excited that you were going to be their new mother now that you and their daddy had finally gotten together.

"I love you." Jongho kissed you as the four of you walked together out to where the other adults were, to have their lunch.

"I love you, too." You kissed him back before kissing the top of the twins' heads. "And I love my new little girls so much."

The twins squealed and screamed louder, "Mommy, yay!" They both launched at you, hugging the life out of you.

"C'mon Mommy, lunch now!" Jooeun pulled you forward towards the table that had been set up for the lunch buffet style. Joomi held out her hands, palm open, to her dad. Jongho chuckled before interlacing his fingers with hers. The four of you walked towards the long table where the rest of your friends and the kids had already made their way to and piled their plates with their food, before sitting together and enjoying their food.

"Told you the plan would work!" The twins exclaimed, the adults laughing.

[nina-ya]

Law Helping You Study (NSFW)

Pairing: Law x AFAB Reader CW: Oral (reader receiving), fingering, uh i think thats it??? WC: 2.5k A/N: This was meant to be a self indulgent Law helping you study thing but idk what happened I blacked out and now its NSFW lol. I might write a part 2 with what happens after the end of this one but for now here have this <3 Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

“Wrong”  Law's deep voice declared from across from you, causing you to look up, irritation flashing through you.

“What? No, I can’t be wrong.” you insisted, narrowing your gaze at the man in front of you.

Law raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide the amused smirk playing on his lips “Your flashcards don’t lie” 

“Well the flashcards are wrong.” you retorted, crossing your arms defensively.

Law leaned back, studying you with a bemused expression. “But you made them.” 

You let out a frustrated groan, tossing yourself back onto the bed, and running your hands across your face. The stress of the upcoming exam was getting to you, and it seemed Law was enjoying the spectacle.

“You need a break.” Law suggested, putting the flashcards to the side. 

You shot him a skeptical look as you responded, “since when are you one to take breaks?”

“Since I can practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.” he deadpanned, gesturing to your visibly agitated state. 

You sighed deeply and rolled your eyes. Law was right, and you knew it. You needed some sort of destresser before you blew up. You propped yourself onto your elbows and looked at Law. “Fine, a break,” you conceded. “But only a short one.”

Law nodded and got up, putting all of the study materials aside and walking away from your study area. He gestured for you to follow him. You reluctantly got up from the comfort of the bed and followed as he led you into the kitchen. He found himself digging through the fridge, pulling out some random ingredients.

“You could’ve just said you were hungry.” You said as you observed the items he was pulling out of the fridge. 

“It’s not for me, It's for you.” he stated matter-of-factly. “Three cups of coffee, an energy drink, and some cheese and crackers is not proper sustenance.” 

“I don't know, that feels like more than enough sustenance to me.” you retorted, a playful smile forming on your lips. 

“Ahuh, sure. Sit.” He said, gesturing for you to take a seat at the small kitchen table, and you complied. You watched as he threw together a simple sandwich for you, placing it on a plate and pushing it towards you along with a glass of water. You seemed to relax as you took the sandwich in your hand, taking small bites out of it. 

As you made your way through your sandwich, Law leaned forward on the counter, looking at you as he stated, “You seem to be struggling.”

“Excellent observation, Sherlock.” You retorted, finishing the last bits of your sandwich. 

“Still snippy. I thought food was supposed to calm you or something.” He said with amusement, shrugging as he pulled the plate from in front of you, putting it in the sink. 

“There’s nothing calming about feeling like I’ll never understand this subject.” You whined out, dropping your head onto the counter as you let out a groan of frustration. 

Law looked at your state of despair and watched as you lost hope. He suddenly spoke up. “Maybe you need to look at it in a different direction.”

“Huh?” You asked, lifting your head up from the counter to make eye contact with him.

“You need to switch up your studying. Change something in your routine to make studying more tolerable, and hopefully enjoyable.” He said thoughtfully.

“Enjoyable? You severely overestimate just how enjoyable studying can be.” You countered with a groan, clearly not wanting to hear him out.

“Humor me.” he stated plainly. He walked out of the kitchen and waited for you to follow, leading you back to your study area.

You sat down on the bed once more, feet dangling off the edge as Law took a seat in a small chair across from you. He pulled out the study materials, sorting through them as he started, “Studying won't do you any good if you aren’t motivated. You look at each of these flash cards as if they are the enemy.” He waved the flash cards in front of you for emphasis as he continued, “How does a reward system sound?”

“Rewards?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the thought, “Like what?” you asked.

He leaned over to a nearby drawer and rummaged around. As he did so he started to explain, “Let’s say for every 5 questions in a row you get right, you get to take a 5 minute break or…” he trailed off as he seemed to be looking for something. Then, he sat back up, a plastic bag in hand as he continued, “I knew you had these,” he muttered to himself triumphantly. He held up the plastic bag, and in that moment, you realized it was your stash of chocolates, “How about, for every question you get right, you get a piece of chocolate?” 

“This is stupid.” You say with a deep sigh, the motivation to study having evaded you hours ago.

Law continued, trying to convince you to give his idea a shot. “It’s not stupid, It’s basic psychology. Do you have any better ideas anyways?”

You stared at him for a moment before sighing in defeat. He smirked at this small victory as he placed the bag of chocolates in his lap, getting into a comfortable position to start with your new study session.

Law held the flash card in your face, and your eyes scanned over the question, reading it carefully. You thought for a moment and perked up as you nearly shouted out an answer. A smirk spread across Law's lips as he placed the flash card down and grabbed a piece of chocolate, tossing it to you. 

The next flash card is up. You thought hard for a moment once more and recited another correct answer. Once again, he grabbed a piece of chocolate, tossing it to you.

Next question. He held the flashcard up and you thought over the content before starting to slowly and unsurely speak. As the wrong answer spilled from your lips, Law’s eyebrows raised as to indicate that you are on the wrong track. You noticed this and hesitantly changed your answer, this time saying the right one.

He nodded his head at you and pulled out another chocolate. This time, being a little more brave as he leaned forward and held the chocolate in front of your mouth. Your eyes flickered between the chocolate and his eyes, your brain stopping momentarily at the action. Nevertheless, you leaned forward and accepted the chocolate, taking it from his fingers. Your tongue ran against the tip of his fingers and  your lips enveloped the digits as you did. When he pulled his fingers away, a small string of saliva connected your lips to his fingers for a moment before it snapped. His eyes grew darker as they fixated on your dampened lips before pulling his hand back towards him.

This action did not go unnoticed by you, as your breathing deepened slightly, heart starting to thump harder in your chest and a slight heat building in your core. You simply stared at him, shifting slightly as you instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking any friction of sorts to relieve yourself of this sudden rise in tension. 

He pulled out another flash card and held it in front of you, the fingers that were just in your mouth seconds ago dampening the card underneath. You had to forcefully rip your eyes from his gold ones in order to focus on the question in front of you. 

‘I wonder what he tastes like… wait, that's not what the flash card says… those fingers, that hand, what would that look like around my throat?... Shit! Get yourself together!’

“Having trouble there?” Your heart raced as Law’s voice broke your swirling thoughts, bringing you back into the present moment. You blinked rapidly, trying to regain your composure as you tore your gaze from his intense stare.

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” you stammered, attempting to regain focus on the flashcard in front of you. Your mind was still reeling from the unexpected intimacy of moments ago. The question seemed to wash away before your eyes, the words blurring together as you grappled with the sudden rise in this unexpected desire.

With a shaky breath, you managed to refocus, mentally berating yourself for letting your intrusive thoughts take over. 

“What's the answer?” Law prompted, his tone colored with amusement as he watched you struggle to conceal your emotions.

You forced yourself to ignore the lingering sensations as you recited the correct response. Relief washed over you as Law nodded in approval, his expression rather unreadable at this point. He reached for another piece of chocolate and held it out to you. You hesitated, heart racing as you looked at the compromising position you are once again in with his tattooed fingers delicately holding out the chocolate to your lips.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, parting your lips to accept the offering. As the chocolate met your tongue, you closed your eyes briefly, savoring the sweetness that flooded your senses. Your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of Law’s hand moving, his hand now gently cupping your chin with his thumb resting on your bottom lip. 

You locked eyes with him and you froze, most of the chocolate still poking out of your mouth, being held in place by your teeth as you dared not move. Heat rose to your face and your breathing quickened as his gaze bore into yours, dark and intense. 

Without a word, he closed the remaining distance between you two, his lips parting to meet yours. He gently bit down on the chocolate as his lips brushed against yours with a soft touch, sending shivers down your spine. 

You gasped softly, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips pressed more firmly against yours, the kiss growing more insistent with each passing second. His hand slid from your chin to the curve of your jaw, holding you in place. Your lips parted instinctively, allowing him access as his tongue slipped past, tasting the remaining remnants of chocolate on your tongue.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with desire. Without breaking the kiss, Law rose from his chair, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, gently urging you back onto the bed. You complied without hesitation, sinking into the softness of the mattress as he hovered over you. 

His hands roamed freely, tracing your body, gently touching and grabbing everything within his reach. His lips began to trail down your neck, each press of his lips onto your skin sending your mind into a haze with a desire that bordered on intoxication.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his hands explored every inch of your skin. Law’s hands roamed under the fabric of your shirt, and with a desperate touch, he guided the shirt over your head, discarding it with a sense of urgency.

Exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze, you watched as he leaned down, and you sharply gasped when his lips started trailing down your chest, each touch growing that feeling in your core. You arched into his touch; every caress left you yearning for more, aching with a need only he could satisfy.

Laws hand reached behind your back, his fingers working at the clasp of your bra, releasing it with ease. He tossed the garment aside, not particularly caring about where it ended up. You gasped as his hands met your bare chest, his touch sending shivers down your spin as he grabbed and squeezed at the skin. His fingers teasingly ran over your hardened nipples, chuckling lightly at the reaction he pulled from you when he gave one of them a squeeze.

Your breathing shuttered as his lips closed around one of your buds, his tongue flicking and teasing with a skill that left you trembling with pleasure. Each movement sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you.  

Law's lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along your abdomen, the feeling of pleasure coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. Your breath hitched as his hands slid lower, tracing your hips with a light touch.

He lets out a low groan of desire as he pressed his lips against the skin just above the waistband of your pants, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You whimpered out at the sensation, your breath shaky as he teased you.

In one smooth motion, he rid you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze. His eyes bore into you with complete and utter desire as he took in the sight of you. He closed the gap, and his mouth found its way onto your dripping core, having you moan out in utter pleasure at the feeling. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he worked his tongue on you. Each flick of his tongue around your sensitive bud had you trembling.

You writhed under his touch, your body involuntary moving as the pleasure threatened to consume you whole. But Law held you down, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “Stop squirming,” he murmured his voice low and commanding as he continued his relentless assault.

Law wasn’t content with just his mouth, he wanted to drive you to the edge with the help of his fingers as well. He slipped two of his fishers between your thighs, the digits easily sliding in with the help of your wetness, and soon the ‘E’ and the ‘A’ of his knuckle tattoos disappeared deep within you as he explored your depths. You moaned out, back arching as his fingers and his tongue tortured you, tightening that coil that's threatening to snap with each passing moment. You cried out his name, your voice a desperate plea for release as he brought you closer and closer to answering your prayers. 

With a final thrust of his fingers, he sent you hurdling over the edge, your body convulsing, thighs clenching around his head as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over you. He lapped up your dripping desire with hunger, riding you through your orgasm. Your heart raced and your chest heaved as you lay spent and breathless beneath him. 

He brought his head up from between your thighs, your essence dripping from his chin as he stared at you with a shit-eating grin. He wiped away your arousal with his fingers, popping them into his mouth to lick them clean.

Law was not content with just tasting you; he wanted to feel you. He discarded his shirt, revealing the large tattoo that adorned his chest. His gaze burned with hunger as he leaned down to kiss you once more, his hips planting themselves between your legs, grinding against you as he chased any sort of friction to release his own pent up desires. 

What was meant to be a simple study session has quickly faded into a moment filled with complete and utter desire. Sounds of shared pleasure soon fill the room, studying being the last thing on anyone's mind as you two get lost in the feeling of absolute bliss.

[safination]

Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason.

Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick . . .

Flick . . .

Flick . . .

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you. The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you . . . just . . . one . . . single . . . moment to . . .

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘ yours ’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain. The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair . . . hair-feather, or your ‘ whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble . . . well, uhhhhh . . . grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with. (These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of . . . something . You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box. Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown . Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink.  Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door.  Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

Huh . . . you’re on the bus .

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle. You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems . . .

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. How . . . how are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair . . . or was that skin . . . puffs out with two red sets of eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his . . . er . . . snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “ . . . Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel. Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell . . . Cady . . .Char . . . Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face .”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered.  Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘ x ’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous.  “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this . . . slithery . . .slippery . . . special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery . . .sheddy . . . and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “ . . . and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So, this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Yes . . .,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless . . .” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘ humph’ , and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

“Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious . . .hehe . . .,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to meet you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh . . . and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you . . . ?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow.  “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown.

“Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋ .” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we . . . uh . . . take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor . . .”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

 “My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite . . .kind of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances. Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This . . .,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “ . . . is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh, I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘ x ’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

 “ Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human . It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re . . . giving . . . me permission to poke around?”

“Er . . . yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh . . .

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but . . . but . . . you find it in your grocery basket every single time .

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“ What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘ absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘ this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something. Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing! ” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman.  Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never-ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him. 

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh . . . yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away. 

“I see.” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble . . . at least, they never have before.) 

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However,  I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread.  He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.” 

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh . . . yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “ Thank you thank you thank you! ” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush it away. You grab his lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh . . . oh . His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no . . . not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this . . . this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should Be Trusted| If you guys know who Octavia and Stolas are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

[heartkyeom]

be sweet

prince!hoshi x princess!reader (svthub garden collab)

word count: 18.7k

warnings: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, modern royalty au, family issues, descriptions of food, unprotected sex

tag list (only svthub members since I’m revamping my tag list): @bitchlessdino @wondernus @idyllic-ghost @strawberryya @junkissed

notes: oh my god I finally have another fic out!! this one was truly a labor of love, thank you to all the svthub members that beta read any part of this story. this fic is for the @svthub garden collab and I am extremely grateful for the network’s help with this story <3 I’m very happy that this aligned with hoshi’s birthday! and a big big thank you to my beloved @wondernus for making this amazing header for me!!! as always, I hope y’all enjoy this and please leave feedback through reblogs !!!! and the title is based off the amazing song be sweet by japanese breakfast, listen along to it if you’d like!

The day’s events shouldn’t have felt so taxing, yet they were. There were only a few meetings you had to sit in on, both not requiring full participation. That sounded easy enough for you to handle, you were used to the rigor of royal meetings for years now.

It was easy enough to brush off any requests with a short comment of approval or neutrality, never expressing a thought of negativity unless the guest was close to your family.

You didn’t pull the princess card very often, especially since your meetings mainly consisted of fellow royals who knew the pressure of the job, but today felt different.

Maybe it was the dull pressure that resided in your head, making it hard to focus on the topics at hand. You curse yourself for not taking some kind of headache relief earlier, but now it has lodged itself in the middle of your brain.

You almost work up the nerve to speak up, but your aide beats you to it.

“Princess,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, “there's an urgent matter. We should leave immediately.” Her hushed tone makes your heart clench.

You could only hope no one in your family was hurt. You silently nod and clear your throat, bringing attention to yourself.

“I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up. I have to go, but please make sure to send me any notes and I’ll be sure to review them before we meet again,” You offer the room a small smile, enough to garner empathetic nods from the room.

You let out a shaky breath and stand from your seat, your aide trailing slightly behind your side as you both exit the room in silence.

“What’s going on?” You ask hesitantly.

“Someone has requested a private meeting with you, they asked to keep their identity a secret. Everyone in the family is okay, don’t worry,” The aide turns her head slightly to make sure she can see your response.

You can’t help but ask about your family first, it’s the only thought you have as the only child.

If someone’s passed on, you’re stepping up to handle the situation, and the emergency plans start to kick into high gear.

Luckily, that nightmare can remain at rest.

“Okay,” you nod slowly, trying to process who could want a private meeting with you.

Is an elder statesman concerned about his country? An estranged family member asking for a favor? It really could be anything or anyone.

You both keep a consistent pace through the cavernous halls of the royal estate, your footsteps echoing loudly with each step. You soon arrive at one of many conference rooms, and you’re surprised to see your aide face her back towards the door, she steps aside to let you walk in.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, lest it escalates to that point,” She raises her eyebrows at you before looking away. That wasn’t a reassuring sign.

You brace yourself before going inside, but nothing seems to prepare you for who’s waiting.

“Hi, lovely.” Kwon Soonyoung smiles at you in a menacingly sweet kind of way, it makes your blood boil.

He’s dressed much nicer than you’re used to seeing him, he’s the type to wear baggy clothes that swallow him whole. In contrast, today he wears a crisp button-down with black slacks, his suit coat nowhere to be found. His signature designer sneakers are exchanged for loafers instead. There’s no logical reason why he could be here, considering his own busy schedule as a prince.

Soonyoung isn’t flying in for a private conversation just for the hell of it.

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance.

“That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth.

You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

Most princesses knew to let each other know that if they were charmed by him, Soonyoung was ultimately not marriage material. If anything, he was determined to make himself the least suitable husband possible.

He was the typical sweet boy turned party animal, spending most nights abroad drinking his days away with a new girl in his bed every night. He does show up to the occasional political obligation, but only when his team forces him to. That’s one reason why he bothers you so much, he has such little duty to his native country of Aranorin and the people in it that everyone else has to make him care about it.

“You’re joking, there’s no fucking way,” Your body vibrates from laughter, but you slowly come to your senses once you see he’s not cracking another joke.

“I’m not joking, I’m here to start our courtship.” His serious tone makes you start to consider the gravity of the situation.

“Hold on, so you think you can just come into Maritria, coming from god knows where,” You make a broad gesture toward him before continuing, “to formally start our relationship. That’s what you’re saying,” You cross your arms, returning to your originally defensive stance.

“Yes, this isn’t just coming out of thin air. This has been in the works for a few months now,” He raises his eyebrows to punctuate the timeline. It just makes you even more confused. Why wouldn’t anyone tell you about this?

“What do you mean?” You question.

He braces himself one last time. “I’ve been speaking to the king and queen about arranging our marriage for two months,” You almost think his face goes slightly sympathetic at his admission, but that’s wishful thinking.

Regardless, it’s a blow to your ego.

How could they not tell you? How could they so easily shift the responsibility onto him without saying a word?

It would be one thing if they were still considering other men, but to know the talks were final, that Kwon Soonyoung was your future husband whether you liked it or not, was a devastating realization.

“This is unbelievable.” You let out a shaky whisper, you’re so rattled that you force yourself to sit down and close your eyes, willing yourself to take a deep breath.

You open your eyes to see him hovering near you, clearly a stifled attempt to try and comfort you. Yet, he’s the least comforting person you’ve ever known.

“I don’t want to do this either. You’re definitely not my first choice for a wife.” He scoffs at the possibility that he could ever choose you without incentive.

“Yeah, clearly. You’d rather want a girl who would kiss your ass every day instead of being honest with you.” You retort.

The gossip that flitted between young royals all but confirmed your suspicion that he dumped any girl that tried to make a long-term connection with him. It was fine if he didn’t want to get married. Not all royals are meant for it, and he didn’t have as much pressure to marry off as the youngest child. He could get away with being a lifetime bachelor, but choosing that lifestyle wasn’t worth hurting other people in the process.

“Aw, is lifetime celibacy boring you that much to the point where you’re worried about the girls I sleep with?” He cracks a smile that you match with a forced laugh.

“No, I just think you dump them as soon as they realize how small your dick is.” You smile through your response, causing him to form his arms together.

“You’re so lucky now that we’re together, you can finally stop waiting for those nice guys who don’t have a personality to sweep you up,” His condescending tone makes you frustrated but not deterred from bantering completely.

“So I can end up dating one of your dickhead friends instead? Absolutely not,” You shake your head knowing how insufferable most of his friends are. Soonyoung just happened to be the worst of them.

“All jokes aside, I know you’re perfectly aware of why we’re getting married. I don’t have to look at the news to know things are bleak,” His straightforward approach forces you to swallow the lump in your throat.

You knew the country’s finances were not great.

You didn’t want or need to see the exact numbers, especially if it makes your day-to-day duties labored with worry. Although many political teams insist that princesses have no business in the logistical affairs of running a country, it meant everything to you to know how your country was faring in the world. Maritria already maintained a longstanding connection with Aranorin that gave your country some freedom to pursue other lucrative opportunities, but it dawned on you that it wasn’t enough.

“I’m doing this for my country, not out of some pathetic excuse you may have to avoid self-reflection. You can just get married to me and stop pretending to be a good person, right?” You ask bitingly.

“We both know I stopped pretending a long time ago. Marrying the nation’s sweetheart is just a bonus,” He smirks unapologetically, you don’t like the way the nickname sits on his tongue as if it’s his own.

“Is there anything else you want? I need to get back to work,” You stand up from your seat, trying not to look back at the door while you plot your escape. It was hard enough not to completely explode at him, and you needed to redirect your energy elsewhere.

“There is, I got you something,” He retrieves a small velvet box from his pocket. “It’s not an engagement ring, but just consider it a courtship gift.”

You open the box and lightly examine the ring. You know it’s far too expensive than most of the jewelry you’ve ever worn. Your family was wealthy, but Soonyoung’s family had the kind of money that you didn’t need to plan so carefully around. However, you don’t want to seem so easily impressed.

“It’s fine. When are you planning on proposing?” You brush him off easily.

“That ruins the surprise.” He smiles at you yet your face remains stoic.

“I’ll get your number from someone else, I don’t want to drag this out anymore.” You stuff the box in your dress pocket and start to make your way toward the exit.

“It’s been horrible to see you again, Your Royal Highness.” His stiffly formal greeting makes you turn around to face him.

You squint your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“The Royal Highness thing,” You point at yourself before continuing, “I’m not gonna say Your Royal Highness every time we’re in private. Don’t start giving a shit now.”

“Fine. Bye, darling.” He quips.

Your face contorts into disgust before you can stop yourself. “You’re not gonna make that my mandated wife nickname.”

“You don’t get to choose the nickname I give you, honey.” He approaches you and pinches your cheek before speaking, “Besides, it’ll be fun to try to figure out how to mask my hate for you in public.”

You cringe at his touches, but you straighten up immediately.

“Likewise,” You offer a tight-lipped smile before finally leaving the room.

You close the door behind you and take the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day? I need time to deal with this,” You finally look at your aide with an expectant glance.

“Yes, of course, princess.” She immediately grabs her phone to send notices to those involved. You can’t even remember who you were meant to see for the rest of the day. Your mind simply wanders to your parents, the next targets of your rage.

“I’m gonna go home. I don’t want to see anyone unless it’s my parents. Or him, not that I want him around anyways,” You roll your eyes at the thought of having to voluntarily communicate with him on a regular basis.

“Sounds good. I have his phone number, if you’d like it.” She offers.

“Ok,” You agree and quickly input his phone number. As you type in a contact name, you’re not sure what to call him.

Soonyoung is far too casual, it doesn’t feel comfortable yet. You’re absolutely not calling him by his title, not by a long shot.

The romantic pet names similar to the ones he used with you were not earned, so it left you stumped.

You settle on “headache,” because the ache in your temple is still there, bothering you immensely and now he’s adding to it.

You’re just lucky that you didn’t end up shouting at each other this time.

—

As if they could read your mind, your parents call you in for an emergency meeting before you can make it home. That pent-up rage is starting to make its way out before you even see them, it shows in the way you stomp to your father’s main office, marching far ahead of your aide.

You open the door without knocking, a major sign that you’re not looking forward to the discussion.

Your father gives you a warning look, but you’re not bothered by it. The staff turns their attention toward your bold entrance, immediately preparing themselves to leave.

Your father is sitting in his velvet study chair, poised as always. Your mother stands behind your father, idly leaning her weight against the back wall.

Her demeanor is not as composed, as if she knows you’re about to raise hell.

“We’d like a private meeting, thank you,” He gives a pained smile to the staff and they all file out silently. You watch them with a fiery gaze, waiting for the last person to close the door behind you.

When the door finally shuts, you whip your gaze to face them again.

“Soonyoung? Are you kidding me?” You exclaim.

“Y/N, please,” Your mother tries to intercept, but you’re faster than that.

“Actually, I’d like to know exactly why I was left out of the conversation about me having an arranged marriage, to begin with,” You cross your arms and lean back in your chair, preparing yourself for a bullshit excuse.

“Well, we were anticipating this kind of reaction,” he gestures at you in disapproval, “you weren’t meant to be involved in these discussions in the first place.” He speaks to you so patronizingly that it almost catches you off guard.

“So you can just decide that I’m getting married on a whim, just like that.” You snap your fingers impatiently.

“You know how the country is currently faring, you knew marriage could possibly be an option for financial security almost a year ago. Please don’t act like this is some affront to you,” Your father slowly raises his voice, fists slowly clenching as he elaborates.

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me things were this bad. You didn’t tell me that you had tried everything else. Hell, you didn’t even tell me that you were starting discussions about marriage!” You were trying your best to keep your voice even, but the defeat was starting to show through.

“We ultimately thought leaving you in the dark was best, but we miscalculated.” Your mother tries to cover for your father’s stern approach. You scoff, turning away for a moment before continuing.

Miscalculated is an understatement. You were devastated.

Your father seems to be annoyed that you were showing this much emotion while your mother seems ashamed that the situation has escalated this far. Their conflicting expressions just made you feel even worse, knowing that they couldn’t act as a united front. You wished that it was either complete anger or support from both of them.

“Soonyoung. You can’t possibly tell me he was the only option,” You turn back to them with glossy eyes.

“Sweetheart, you know Arinorin is one of our most important allies. Soonyoung would have always been an option. Even if there were better options, we couldn’t ignore him.” Her comforting tone does little to comfort you at the moment.

A tear finally falls onto your cheek. Her words hurt because she was right. Even if there was a perfect prince waiting for you out there, he wasn’t the prince of Arinorin.

“He hates me, you don’t see how much he hates me.” You shake your head and cover your face with your hands. You’re fully sobbing into your hands and it leaves your parents speechless. You know they’re looking at you with full judgment, but it didn’t matter.

“You’re giving your only daughter away to a man who despises her.” You seethe through your tears.

“He hasn’t given us any reason not to trust him.” Your father speaks up again and it breaks you down even further. He has that immovable stare on his face that signals his word is final.

You compose yourself before speaking again.

“When we get a divorce, it’ll be your fault.” You lift your hand to your cheeks, wiping away any stray tears left on your face.

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re saying that you won’t even try for your country?” Your father shifts in his seat, it seems like he wants to jump up and fully lecture you but it won’t happen.

You finally snap. “I have tried for this country! Every day, I have shown both of you what I’m capable of as a future queen, not asking you for anything. Now, the one part of my life where I should have control, choosing the person I’m married to, I have none.” By the time you finish speaking, your tears are gone by sheer will. Your eyes burn with the familiar sting of fatigue mixed with anger bubbling over the surface.

“I’m sorry, dear.” You see your mother wipe a tear of her own. You were grateful that she saw through you, at least at this moment. It was a quiet show of support that you needed amongst all these difficult feelings.

You put your head in your hands for a moment before looking up at them. “I’m going home and someone will send me the things I need to wrap my head around this entire situation.” Your tone is far more measured compared to before.

Before you can hurt your own feelings by hearing them out, you decide to make your exit. You’re nearly out of the door before you turn around again, letting go of the doorknob.

“I’ll always remember that he told me first instead of you.” With that, you leave without looking back at their expressions.

Hopefully, it’ll hurt like hell for them to hear it.

You ignore the staff members that were peering near the door, eagerly waiting to see who would break first. You’re sure that it looks dramatic, but you were far too concerned with your own feelings before anyone else’s.

—

Once you made it home, you were attempting to forget the stress of the day and it was going relatively well. You were able to catch up on a TV show you’d been forgetting to watch, and finally remembering to do self-care tasks that were left unattended due to your work.

Now, you’re taking a bubble bath with no intention of opening your eyes anytime soon. You needed to just sit, you didn’t have much time to do that most days.

The water is still fairly hot, enough to where you can sink down and continue to salvage any remaining calmness you might’ve had left.

Thus, your vibrating phone didn’t exactly make you feel at ease. You hope that it wasn’t one of your parents, considering your conversation didn’t have a clean finish. Any of their apologies would be falling on stubborn ears.

You glance at your lock screen and if anything, it’s worse.

It’s him. You pick up the phone with an anxious hand and press the accept button.

“What do you want?” You snap at him.

“You actually picked up!” He notes with a hint of surprise.

“Trust me, I didn’t want to.” You shift uncomfortably in the bathtub, the sloshing water calling you out immediately.

“Is that water? What are you doing?” His curious nature already annoys you, so it’ll be easier to dodge the question.

“None of your business.” Your free hand cups the remaining bubbles in the bath.

“Oh my god, is the princess naked on the phone with me?” He sounds far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin in the way he replies.

“You’re a horny little freak who hasn’t told me why he’s called yet.” You force yourself to sit up now that the relaxation in your body is quickly dissipating.

“Right. We’re doing intimacy coordination tomorrow. I figured you didn’t look at that schedule they gave you.”

“Shit.” You sigh just out of earshot.

Intimacy coordination isn’t common at all with arranged royal marriages. If a couple looked like they had never met before in their life, it was typically on them for not being more convincing. Yet, the number of public events you two have to be involved in over the foreseeable future warranted different circumstances. If you couldn’t look head over heels for each other at the wedding, it was going to spell trouble for both countries.

“I’m only in town until tomorrow night, so I don’t have to look at your face for much longer than that,” You sigh at his response, knowing that he’s not one to hold back with you.

“I wish you could leave sooner, maybe I could actually enjoy not seeing you even more than I already do.” You reach to open the drain.

“Just practicing my future husband duties by stressing you out, love,” You can practically hear his smile through the phone.

“That one isn’t bad, actually,” Your thoughts trail off once you hear it, but he brings you back to reality almost immediately.

“So that’s definitely not what I’m gonna call you.”

“I’m hanging up.” Your waning patience with him has officially run out and you’re itching to move on with your night.

“Bye, honey!” He’s laughing uncontrollably through the response and it makes your blood boil. It’s clear that this is already a joke to him.

“Fuck off,” You hang up before you have to listen to his laughter any longer. You put your head in your hands and let out a muffled scream.

He already wanted to make this courtship as excruciating as possible.

You finally stand up from the bath and wrap a warm towel around your body, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

Luckily, your parents did listen to your request and a massive document of schedules and timelines of your relationship with Soonyoung appeared in your email inbox.

You had only skimmed the schedule before Soonyoung called you, you stopped looking at it before it stressed you out beyond repair.

According to the timeline your parents created in accordance with his team, you were supposed to have been dating for 11 months at this point.

You can’t possibly imagine putting up a front for 11 months, but then again, you would have to pretend for the rest of your life.

That thought haunts you through the rest of your night routine.

How do you carve your life around Soonyoung when he’s creeping his way into everything?

How do you find peace when you’re with someone who’s determined to misunderstand you?

These questions have you wiping your tears as you attempt to fall asleep that night.

—

To your dismay, the intimacy training was first thing in the morning.

You were barely conscious, but somehow you arrived early with a slightly cloudy mentality and an overall dread for the next 2 hours.

You were the first of the three, besides your personal staff members, to arrive at the dance studio. You figured the space was far too big for what you were working through today, but you forego criticism to admire the room.

Admittedly, you didn’t go into many of the creative spaces throughout the palace because you weren’t a creative type. The arts were simply something you admired from afar, you didn’t have the talent even as a child to pursue these things seriously.

This apparently needed to be remedied as you notice the sweeping mirrors around the perimeter of the room. The hardwood floors were practically shining underneath your feet. You’re sure that whoever used the room was sure to enjoy themselves.

You’re admiring yourself in the mirror when you catch Soonyoung entering the room. He quietly greets the staff, giving short bows to everyone in sight.

It’s the only time you’ve seen him act with a royal demeanor, even in his casual workout clothes it’s a bit surprising to see him this way.

He makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re early.” He eyes you up and down.

“Unfortunately, yes. You look.. comfortable.” You don’t mean to raise your voice up another octave, but you were just barely attempting niceties.

“So do you, you actually don’t look like you're trying too hard for once.” He leans against the mirror and gives you another judgmental look.

“It’s far too early in the morning to play this game, Kwon Soonyoung. Don’t get your feelings hurt.” You close your eyes before you get too angry, a slight change of pace from your typical interactions with him.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be more awkward considering you’ve only had two boyfriends, one who looked like he was your son.” He stifled a giggle.

“Chan was so sweet.” You pouted at the thought of your teenage boyfriend. He really was kind, probably the perfect first boyfriend that you could ask for. You remember how much he cried when you broke up with him. You just weren’t the same person you were when you started dating him at 16, so you needed the space to grow apart.

Unfortunately, Soonyoung was right about the mom thing.

“It’s not my fault I had a growth spurt and the stylists kept dressing me like a divorce lawyer.” You insisted.

You recalled how harsh the style blogs were on you back then, many claimed that you’d never find your own personal style as long as other people kept dressing you older than you actually were. Unfortunately, they were also right. You live and learn though.

However, you didn’t even want to think about your second boyfriend.

“I’m just saying good chemistry doesn’t come naturally to all of us, it’s okay to ask for help.” His faux concern was especially irritating.

You weren’t that awkward with men, were you?

You didn’t have much time to consider an answer before a young woman walked into the studio.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you both! My name is Elise and I’ll be leading you both through training today.” She offers her hand out to you for a handshake and you accept with a smile. She does the same to Soonyoung and moves toward the mirror.

“So, how long have you known each other?” She dives right into discussions with the question.

“Around 15 years or so?” The number that came out of your mouth was definitely a rough estimate, but it sounded about right.

You vaguely remember being introduced to Soonyoung and his older siblings at a fancy state dinner as a child. He was far less mischievous then, a bit timid around everyone except his family. Since then, you’ve ran into each other regularly due to the relationship between your parents. They were far closer to each other than you were with him and his siblings, so the situation feels a bit ironic now.

“Okay, but I’m assuming you haven’t been in contact very often?” She clarifies.

“Not at all.” He chimes in.

“Right, so we’ve got our work cut out for us then. Today isn’t gonna be too complicated, you’re just gonna be trying some physical activities to see how natural that looks.” Elise smiles in order to lighten the mood, but you’re certain it won’t work out.

“So, what are we gonna practice, hugging?” He scoffs, and you’re certain that he thinks this is all bullshit. You weren’t happy about it either, but keeping up appearances was the most important part of this.

“Yes, I know that sounds weird, but I promise it’ll pay off,” Elise continues to offer reassuring statements, but he’s not convinced and frankly, neither are you. You exchange a glance with him and decide to take the lead as the awkwardness continues to sit in the air.

“So where should we start?” You ask out of a mix of curiosity and dread.

“Let’s just have you both hold hands.”

Soonyoung extends a hand out to you with a smirk on his face. You’d rather slap him, but you’d think it would leave Elise traumatized.

You take his hand a bit too forcefully and adjust yourself within his hold. By glancing at the two of you in the mirror, you notice two things.

First, his hands are warm, a bit too warm for this moment.

Secondly, his thumb is absentmindedly brushing against the back of your hand. You can’t call attention to it or else it’ll stop, and you decide in the moment that it’s too relaxing. He probably doesn’t even notice that he’s doing something so romantic, that little bastard.

“Okay, so how does that feel?” Elise asks.

“Fine.” The reply forces itself out of your mouth.

“It’s fine.” He agrees with a nod of his head. He also peers at the both of you in the mirror with a slight curiosity, his head tilting slightly.

“We do look good together, though.” He murmurs to himself. You’re not sure if it’s the arrogance peeking through and he only believes you look good while he’s with you, but maybe for a second, you can see what he’s talking about.

“Good, and what’s a small physical gesture you can do to make each other feel at ease?” Elise’s question causes you to look up at him.

This feels unnecessary since Soonyoung is not a nervous person. No matter what, his particularly frustrating charm and gregarious personality never allow any anxiety to show to others.

“I can just do this.” He calls attention to the thumb thing and that puts you on the spot.

He seems incapable of needing comfort. It’s one of the things that keeps a silent distance between the two of you. You believe that he remains emotionally stunted in order to navigate his world a bit easier.

He can let the girls who want something more from him down easy, and they don’t realize how bad it really felt to be pushed away until they never see him again.

You didn’t want to end up in that position.

“I don’t know.” You let your mind wander for a moment.

Yet, he was bold. He was always decisive in what he wanted, never caring about what his actions made him look like if it was for better or worse.

You figured that you should be bold too.

You intertwine your fingers deeper into his grasp and pull his hand to your lips, leaving a small peck on the back of his hand.

His eyes widened immediately. “That’s quite forward, princess.”

“I needed to one-up you,” You answer nonchalantly, but you don’t miss the slight spark in his eyes. It was unexpected, and you were always going by the book.

Elise ignores your conversation and continues her questioning. “So I assume you both will be interested in PDA?”

“To a certain extent, I don't see why not.” You pull back slightly into your reserved nature, but he runs with it.

“Yes, we’re supposed to be a more open and progressive couple to represent a new generation of royals, so it would be nice to be a bit bolder,” He nods decisively along with his response.

You didn’t really think about the relationship like that until he mentioned it. While you were attuned to a certain sense of responsibility as the singular face of your country’s new generation of leadership, it was known that you fought back against regressive norms brought up in your daily work.

Why not lean into something new when the image of your respective countries so desperately needed a refresh?

“That’s good to know. I know you both have different styles, but I think there are ways we can meet in the middle here.” Elise notes.

That statement proves to be true for the rest of your session. Elise leads you both through hugging and slightly provocative gestures that make you want to crawl out of your skin, but you both fumble your way through it.

Soonyoung seems insistent on embarrassing you with more revealing gestures while yours are relatively contained. He’s being a bit too playful for your liking, but it helps you understand his personality a bit more.

You decide that you want a moment to speak with him before he flies back home later that evening, excusing Elise and the remaining staff to leave you both in the studio.

“When do we see each other again?” You ask.

“You’re a bit too eager, aren’t you darling?” He smirks at you, and you lose the slight bit of faith you had instilled in him before.

“Shut up, I’m just trying to remember this stupid schedule.” You grumble. You resort to pulling out your phone instead, quickly finding the most up-to-date iteration of the relationship timeline in your email inbox.

“I’ll be in Arinorin in a few weeks to meet your parents,” Your brain works through the schedule quickly, scanning the information fast enough to say it out loud.

“Oh shit.” He mutters under his breath.

Oh shit was right. You haven’t had a proper conversation with the king and queen since you were a teenager. It was typical family friend fare, asking how your studies were going, if your hobbies were still things you enjoyed and a faint interest in any other topics that you happened to bring up.

Since then, there were only brief interactions in passing that were fairly positive. They must’ve thought quite well of you if they agreed to have their youngest son marry you, but that was something you’d have to inquire about with them.

“And to go on a date with you,” You mumbled.

That’s what really rattled you. It wouldn’t be real until no one else was around to direct and stage your romance, it was up to the both of you to make it happen.

“Right, I’ll get to choose what we get up to.” You can tell that his brain is creating a vision that will be less than satisfactory, and you can’t fight the urge to attempt to gain control.

“We aren’t going on your yacht, are we? I think you’ve broken enough hearts there.” You tease him.

“Very funny, and no, we’re not going on the boat… anymore.” He admits with an eye roll.

“See! I knew you were gonna take me there!” You interject, letting out the laugh that had been sitting in your chest for a minute or so.

“I’m never anybody’s boyfriend, cut me some slack,” He says it as if it’d get him off the hook for being mentally checked out during this process.

That much was obvious from the lack of planning, but you’d have to give him some space to try and impress you.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear. I know long-term planning isn’t your strength.” You bite back and he brushes it off easily.

“Get all your jokes out now, but I’m gonna impress you. Mark my words,” He points at you while heading towards the door.

“We’ll see about that, loverboy,” You check your phone absentmindedly while he sees himself out.

“Is that my nickname?” He pokes his head back into the door with an excited tone.

“Bye, Soonyoung,” You grit your teeth into a smile and watch him reluctantly leave the room.

You can only hope your future in-laws aren’t as insufferable as him.

—

A few weeks later, the trip to Arinorin has arrived and all of its possible consequences are driving you up a wall. The culmination of meeting with your future in-laws, the date with Soonyoung, and the idea of being perceived as his partner outside of your home country are all slightly nauseating.

At first, it was just fun and games, but now, as the plane lands, the tension settles beneath your skin. Soonyoung was supposed to be picking you up, but you didn’t have much faith in that happening.

You barely remembered to grab the ring he gifted you so you could wear it while you were in town, simply as a reminder that this was all happening.

You exit the plane with your luggage in tow, only for Soonyoung to be waiting on the tarmac. He’s accompanied by a large black SUV that is clearly not his personal car, but his stance is trying to convince you that it is.

“Hi, princess.” He calls out with a wave of his hand.

“When are you gonna actually call me by my name?” You approach him with squinted eyes, your vision steadily adjusting to the early afternoon sun.

“When this feels less awkward, so give or take a few years,” He jokes.

“Not funny,” You gesture to him to take your luggage, and he catches the hint once you look at him again. You don’t want to shoulder smaller tasks onto his staff, you wanted to see how he would handle these things instead.

“How was the flight?” He calls out to you again, you hear the trunk slam shut and he comes into view again to anticipate your answer.

“It was alright, I’m just tired.” You rub at your temples to punctuate the feeling.

“Hopefully your room will be good enough,” He sounds somewhat considerate while opening the door for you. It feels wrong.

You slide into the back row with him following behind you. He shuts the door and his driver promptly begins the drive to the palace.

“Are you nervous about the trip? My parents aren’t exactly as kind as yours,” Soonyoung chuckles.

You let out a deep sigh. You wouldn’t call them kind considering the circumstances, in fact, you’re barely on speaking terms with them outside of public obligations.

Was it petty? Yes.

Was it also justified? Yes.

You figured that icing them out for a while would help them come to their senses. If worst comes to worst, maybe it could help you gain further control over the wedding.

Nevertheless, you were still upset with them.

“They’re really not that great, and I’d say that I’m pretty good with parents,” You avoid his glance to look out the window instead, taking in the sights of the country.

You don’t have many memories of Arinorin. Many of them were informed by meetings that you couldn’t even remember anymore.

“You’re right. The nation’s sweetheart can charm anyone. Plus it’ll give me time to think about what we’re gonna do on the date,” He affirms with a nod of his head.

“God, don’t remind me. If I’m lucky, we’ll be meeting at a strip club.” You roll your eyes.

“You really have no faith in me!” He pouts. You don’t give into him though.

“It's hard enough just being in a car with you.”

—

Soonyoung doesn’t ever have to think about first dates.

In fact, he doesn’t think he’s been on a proper first date since he was a teenager. Even then, it was low stakes. He could just pick something random for him and another girl to do, and it would be completely inconsequential to his life.

Now, impressing his future wife with an incredible first date feels monumental. He barely knew anything about you besides that goody two shoes personality of yours. It seemed like everyone was suddenly obsessed with you and he was the last to know.

He decides that a midday picnic is inoffensive enough for the both of you to enjoy. If either of you were miserable with each other, there would at least be good food to distract from it. The sunny weather was already on his side, now he just had to charm you.

You waved slightly as you approached his picnic blanket, stopping before your feet could cover the edge of the blanket.

“Wow, this is a lot,” Your eyes landed on the assortment of food spread across the blanket. There was a spread of fruit, snacks, and sandwiches for the two of you to eat together. Soonyoung knew he didn’t completely fuck up by the way you nodded, but you weren’t exactly jumping to praise him in general.

“I don’t get a hello?” He attempts a greeting but it falls flat.

You roll your eyes. “Hi, Soonyoung,” You state halfheartedly, crossing your arms in protest.

“Hi. Does the food look alright?” He takes off his sunglasses and fixes his gaze on you.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be inept at setting up a date, so it’s surpassed my expectations already,” You give him a tight-lipped smile before sitting on the blanket. He attempts to ignore the way your dress hikes up slightly to expose your thigh. The sundress that you’re wearing seems to expose every detail of your body that he’s neglected to look at, but he snaps back into focus when he hears you clear your throat.

Once you both start eating, it’s clear how little you have in common with each other. Sure, he figured it’d be a little difficult to get to know you, but the lingering silence doesn’t exactly make him eager to strike up a conversation.

“How do you feel about all this?” You ask suddenly. It catches him so off guard that he chokes on the piece of fruit he was chewing.

He coughs, raising the attention of the nearby guards. You turn to them, giving a signal that he’s okay before turning around. “Damn, I didn’t think the question was that bad,” You laugh sadly.

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect it.” He waves off any suspicion.

He takes a deep breath. “I mean, I’m not thrilled. I know the economic aspect of this is the most important thing, but my parents are practically dying to marry me off,” He reaches for a bottle of wine, grabbing a nearby glass before pouring himself something to drink.

“So I’m not the first?” You ask.

“Absolutely not,” He snickers. This relationship would mark the 5th time his parents have tried to set him up with a fellow royal. He has managed to sabotage all previous attempts on account of pissing his parents off.

The girls they set him up with were nice enough, but he had no chemistry with any of them. He felt like sparing them from a relationship full of misery by ruining it before it even started.

“So your parents figured you wouldn’t want to escape a marriage instead of just dating?” You attempt to clarify.

“Bingo,” He sips his wine before handing you the bottle.

“So, does that mean you’re gonna try to escape this?” You accept it and pour yourself a fuller glass, immediately taking a sip after asking the question.

“I think you’d be pretty fucked if I tried to do that. I’m not that much of an asshole,” He shakes his head and laughs it off. Since being hated by his parents was bad enough, Soonyoung didn’t want to become the center of an emerging geopolitical crisis.

It would fuck everyone over, especially you. He could at least admit to himself that you didn’t deserve that.

“That’s nice, I guess,” You smile halfheartedly at him.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He speaks in an unusually flat tone before turning away to face the view of sprawling hills and seemingly endless mountaintops. The sight of the burgeoning nature surrounding the houses below him brought a sense of peace.

Before you asked, he hadn't given the entire arranged marriage process much thought. Sure, he knew that you’d be getting married relatively soon, but he had no idea how to present himself as a good partner. He didn’t exactly know how to move forward knowing that everyone expected him to fail.

“You really are a dickhead,” You mumble.

“You’re not exactly sweet as pie either. Everyone loves you, but you’re fucking miserable to be around.” He responds in a piercing tone.

“Well, if you get to be a cunt, then so should I. It’s not like I’m getting anything out of this,” You shoot back.

You were definitely worse off as an only child. Sure, he was the black sheep of the family, but he could get away with plenty of things as the youngest. His siblings were off impressing the world by ruling the country, getting PhDs, having a shit ton of kids, and generally being upstanding citizens.

However, it didn’t make sense for him to try that hard.

“Your country’s finances won’t go to shit, isn’t that enough?”

His question seems to bring out another layer of frustration for you. “No, I want a husband who gives two shits about me past my bra size, but apparently that’s wishful thinking,” You angrily bite into a strawberry and turn away from him.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything except pretend that we’re in love. So, let’s not do anything past that. Alright?” He proposes. Your face is unreadable, but the way you chew on the inside of your lip shows that he’d never get to know what’s eating away at you.

“Alright,” Your body language seems to retreat completely.

The mood of the date is different after that, and his request seems to render you both silent as you eat the rest of the food without interacting. The view of the countryside makes him wish that he didn’t have to deal with any of this, just live in a tiny house where no one had to remind him about his impending marriage.

—

The entire day leading up to the Youth Summit Ball left you feeling incredibly rattled.

You know the staff is perfectly capable of executing your vision for the ball as they've done year after year. It was one of your signature events as a royal, and its annual presence in Maritria brought much-needed attention to the country with the presence of young royals and its ever-popular red carpet.

Tonight, however, would be the first time Soonyoung is escorting you as a “longtime” boyfriend in public. You’ve been seen together in public, yes, but this is a public declaration that you are hypothetically in love with him. As a co-chair of the event, nothing could go wrong since many of your peers would be attending with their families.

Nothing could go wrong, thus you needed him to know the extent of your anxiety.

You heard a knock on the door, and you’re accepting them inside without a second thought.

“You wanted to see me?” He asks as he steps inside the dressing room.

You’re thrown by how handsome he looks. You argued with each other over text about what he should wear, he insisted that it didn’t matter. Yet, your color palettes were not to be betrayed. You internally thank yourself for persisting with a navy suit. It contrasted well with his platinum-blonde hair that seemed to attract as many eyes as possible while you were out in public together.

“Yes, I did. You need to behave tonight, I’m not risking anything because you want to get your dick wet,” You scoff.

“Trust me, I already got this little lecture from your mother. I’ll be fine.” He smirks at you, not doing much to quiet the anxiety that was starting to build in your stomach.

“Well, your girlfriend is telling you herself that I’m serious about this,” Your hands automatically move up to his shoulders, smoothing out the nonexistent creases on his jacket. It was still weird to call yourself his girlfriend, the word felt too stiff coming from your mouth.

“And I’m reluctantly listening,” He moves his hand to your bare shoulder, brushing something off with a few light sweeps. You opted to wear a black form fitting gown, the design was relatively simple but it was still eye-catching. You thought you noticed Soonyoung taking glances at you.

“Do you remember everything I told you about tonight?” You remind him.

“Why wouldn’t I remember, Y/N?” He gives you that “are you serious” kind of look and you’re starting to buckle under the pressure.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re nervous or something,” You turn away from him, peering into the mirror to check if there are any flaws with your makeup.

“I don’t get nervous about stuff like this. Are you nervous?” You see him approaching, but you put your focus immediately back on your face.

“What? No, stop, I’m fine,” You purse your lips to check your lipstick. He mimics you, pushing his lips out like a duck and it startles you.

“Those cheeks of yours are telling me otherwise,” He rubs a finger on your cheek and you slap it away almost immediately.

“Stop, Soonyoung, I’m serious. Let’s just get through the night.” You shoot him a warning look and he puts his hands up defensively.

“Okay, no funny business. I promise,” He smiles. It’s not enough to convince you, but your mind is too focused on creating a good outcome for the night that it’s fruitless trying to argue with him any further.

“Ready for a good time?” He offers his hand out to you, and you reluctantly accept it.

“It sounds bad when you say it.”

—

“You know, she said we should kiss just once to see what it’s like,” His voice was slightly slurred as if the alcohol was slowly taking possession of his words.

“You’re just tipsy,” You throw your purse across the living room and fumble to lock the door shut.

“No, you are, I saw you sneak two shots out of the kitchen,” He points with a shocked smile, “plus a few glasses of chardonnay. You’re not fooling me, princess.”

He was probably right, but that didn’t make it any better. “God forbid that I wanna drink at my own event. Why are you at my place right now?” You’re irritated at his presence almost constantly.

“You wanted me to do everything for you, remember? So you could just hop into bed with no worries,” He waves his arm into the air.

The event went well, accounting for your drunkenness and Soonyoung’s unpredictable nature.

“What are you waiting for then? Take my shoes off,” You flail your arms helplessly, your body is slowly slumping forward but Soonyoung catches you before you stumble.

“Okay, let's sit down, miss bossy. You’re ordering me around when I was a perfect boyfriend tonight,” He guides you to your couch, slowly easing you down onto the seat when you let out an audible sigh of relief.

“You were an average boyfriend who didn’t look stupid in front of paparazzi. Don’t feel too proud of yourself.” Your tolerance for his shenanigans was lower than usual now that you were drunk, and you didn’t feel bad about fighting back at him.

“All of this is extra credit,” He tries to reason himself out of the bare minimum.

“Taking care of me is not extra credit, it’s the standard. You’re supposed to be taking care of me for the rest of my life, not just right now. Idiot,” You roll your eyes and close them briefly before his voice forces you awake again.

“You’re so mean to me, your poor boyfriend is still learning what you like,” He finally takes off your heels and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Better?” He asks with a smile. You know that he wants to laugh at you so badly, but you’re too far gone to care.

“Much better,” You close your eyes for a moment before snapping again. “Take off my jewelry.”

He removes your earrings quite easily, but you still feel a bit flustered when he leans toward your ear to focus on undoing the clasps of your necklace.

He settles his face near your neck to fully remove your diamond necklace, he cradles it in his hand and you think you might go slightly insane. He places it on the coffee table gently and looks back at you with a smirk.

“What’s going on?” You pick up on his expression.

“Nothing, I’m gonna do your hair.” He turns your body so your back is facing him now. He’s sort of just feeling around for bobby pins, placing them down on the coffee table whenever he pulls another out. Once he takes out the decorative pins near the top of your head, your hair finally feels free.

“Soonyoung?” You ask suddenly.

“Hmm?” He’s organizing all the hairpins but takes a moment to look up at you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Your voice is a bit timid, nervous about how he might react. You would’ve contained yourself in any other circumstance, but now you just needed to head that you were worth complimenting.

“Where’s all this coming from, you’re just fishing for compliments now,” He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

“No, I’m not. It’s just-,” Your thoughts trail off, but Soonyoung catches your attention again with a gentle hand on your thigh. You don’t jump to move it away.

“Everybody was looking at us, but some people looked at us like I wasn’t meant to be with you. Is that true? Am I not pretty enough to be with you?” You feel increasingly insecure the more you elaborate. You didn’t think you’d feel this upset about it, but it meant your work was failing. You weren’t a believable couple and it was obvious to you now.

“Y/N, don’t say that. You’re beautiful,” His voice is noticeably softer.

“Not beautiful enough to sleep with. You wouldn’t sleep with me,” You rub your eyes with your hands and Soonyoung removes them from your face, laughing at the traces of makeup on the sides of your fingers. It seems like he still caught what you said though when he stops laughing.

“And that’s not the point. You’re just saying shit now, all of the guys in there would be lucky to even kiss you,” He insists. He stands up suddenly and walks toward your room. You assume he gets up to find makeup wipes, but you sit with his statement in the meantime.

You contemplate if you’d even want to kiss any of the royals who came to the party. You knew your standards were high and wondered if that would chase them off before they even had a chance to kiss you. He comes back and immediately wipes across your face the moment he sits down. His approach is slightly rough, but you couldn’t exactly get mad at him. He was just doing what you asked of him.

He’s analyzing if he got all of the makeup off when you speak up.

“But you’re not lucky?” You remark quietly.

That makes him clear his throat. You can even spot a hint of blush across his cheeks. It appears that you’ve riled him up slightly.

“I am lucky,” He lowers his head to rub the back of his neck with his hand, “You give me a run for my money.”

“Show me how lucky you are.” You continue to tempt him to see how he’ll react.

“I thought you wanted me to behave tonight?” He’s almost willing to act, but he still waits for your approval.

“I do, but she said we should kiss for practice,” You swallow lightly in anticipation. He rests his forehead against yours and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat.

You’ve been good, you’ve been so good all of your life. You don’t think you’ve done anything worth batting an eye at for your entire adolescence and young adulthood, but it was exhausting.

It was exhausting to be good, the voice of reason, the example of a perfect daughter to your country.

You weren’t in love with him, absolutely not.

Yet, the curiosity about what his lips tasted like made you want to be rebellious.

“I didn’t think you heard me.” He chuckled softly.

“I did,” You nodded your head against his. Soonyoung didn’t ask for permission to be bad, he just did it. That’s what runs through your brain when your lips meet his. Neither of you move for a moment and you’re afraid that you messed up.

That is until you feel Soonyoung’s hand cradling the back of your neck. He’s tilting into the kiss and you know he’s comfortable by the way his tongue slips into your mouth.

He tastes like tequila mostly, but there’s a hint of sweetness that you suspect comes from the dessert table at the party.

It feels so much better than you expected, now you know why girls couldn’t get enough of him. Even if it is just practice, he still took it far more seriously than you expected.

You haven’t had many kisses that were worth remembering, but this was something spectacular.

You know he’s kissed people far more times than you have, but there’s still a hesitant energy there that you can’t describe.

Did you make him nervous?

He pulls away first and it surprises you. He takes a deep breath and looks at you with tired eyes.

“Just a practice kiss, right?” He whispers.

“Just practice.” You affirm, pulling your head back. You’re not sure why it felt so disappointing to not have another kiss. You were sobering up which made the realization even worse.

“I’ll leave now before you kick me out.” He stands up from the couch and you don’t follow him. He makes it to the door and turns around.

“Don’t stay up all night reading thinking you can fight a hangover, go to bed.” He points at you with a teasing finger.

“Don’t lecture me, Kwon Soonyoung.” You stand up and walk toward your bedroom, ignoring whatever expression is on his face. You don’t look back until you hear the front door shut.

He didn’t say goodbye and that was probably for the best. You didn’t need any other memory from this part of the night to linger in your brain.

You rush back to the living room to lock the door again and sulk back to your bedroom. You eye the novel on your bedside table, you left it there earlier in the day to pick up whether you ended up drunk from the party or not.

Damn, he was good.

—

There were now multiple days, even weeks, between your shared schedules with him, and the more time that went by after the kiss only made you want to see him again.

Of course, he was friendly to you in public, and you were both able to handle public events with ease, but

the timing left you with many questions, and one stuck out in particular.

Why was he nervous to kiss you?

Today, he requested a private schedule for the two of you before he left Maritria early next week. There was a sneaking suspicion that it was the proposal since there wouldn’t be another reason for you to be alone.

He never wants to be left alone with you, it’s all about putting on an act for others that makes it so thrilling for him.

That’s what you try to tell yourself, at least.

“You’re here,” He eyes you carefully as you approach the entrance of the private garden. He’s surrounded by endless blooms, it’s almost suffocating how romantic it’s supposed to feel.

“I’m here because you want me here,” You offer quietly.

“Right, well I don’t want to waste any time. I’m sure my princess has lots of work to do today.”

On any other day, he’d be right, but the underlying suspicion of his true intentions made you want to linger.

He grabs your hand before you have another second to contemplate your feelings.

“I know that I’m not the person you wanted this to be from, but that’s how things have turned out. We both can’t get what we want, but I want to make this a good memory for us regardless of the situation.”

He gets down on one knee before asking. “So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

His hands held a small black velvet box and he quickly opened it to reveal a stunning oval shaped diamond ring. There are definitely more carats than you've ever seen on an engagement ring, and the gold band it sits upon feels equally regal.

It almost makes you sick from how ornate and gaudy it is, but it’s yours.

“You know this is the part where you say yes,” He clears his throat.

“Give me a second,” You mumble. You can’t see his glance, instead choosing to look at the ring. Everything else felt like a game before, but this was real.

He is proposing to you, offering a ring to you to signify a love that wasn’t actually real. That kind of sappy affectionate love you dreamed of would never come to fruition, possibly for the rest of your life.

It’s a realization that is entirely too bleak for the moment.

You’re meant to be happy, but if your parents were here they’d pick apart how long it took you to respond.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” You force a smile onto your face to appease him. It doesn’t seem like he notices the pained expression within it, only offering a content sigh.

“Great.” He rises to his feet to place the ring on the appropriate finger. It feels like it’s all over now, you can imagine the rest of your future laid ahead of you on a set path.

The thought of taking constant publicity trips as a couple, having future heirs to the throne, and the idea of bringing him into Maritria’s lineage makes you wonder if you did everything you could to save yourself.

There is no out, just you, him, and the impenetrable distance between you both.

You wonder how a couple might build a life with an unstable foundation.

“Should we kiss?” His question brings you back to your senses.

“What?”

“For the camera, we should kiss.” He points to a photographer making themselves known from a nearby bush.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

This is your duty, right?

You pull him close and kiss him, trying to ignite the small spark you felt when he was at your apartment.

Yet, the feeling doesn’t come and you pull away from him gently after a few moments.

“We just need some photos for social media and then you’re free to go.” The photographer reassures you with a kind tone.

You snap into professional mode in order to speed up the process. Your hand rests on his chest, angling it slightly to show off the ring. You force a smile, trying to indulge in the fantasy of it all. Once he gets a few shots of that pose, you turn back to look into Soonyoung’s eyes.

He was unfortunately quite handsome, it’s a shame that nothing else about him could make you happy.

“What are you thinking about?” His questioning pulls you out of your head once again, but you’re not sure what to tell him.

Being honest with him means making a sweet moment uncomfortable, and lying to him means letting your pain continue to simmer.

You go for the latter, to spare everyone a difficult moment. “Nothing. The ring is beautiful,” You shift the conversation with a quiet tone in order to deflect the topic off of you. He smiles widely, his face tells you that he didn’t expect you to like it one bit.

“I let my team take the reins with it since I don’t know you that well.” He responds so earnestly, and you’re not sure if he understands how hurtful that sounds.

You take it in stride though. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

He only nods and takes a moment to adjust his suit jacket.

You watch him brush over the fabric with his hands, wondering how in the world you ended up here. Even if things were different, fate would probably still bring you into Soonyoung’s orbit in another way.

Regardless, it’s enough to make you even more upset. Once the photographer is satisfied with the variety of shots, you’re about to leave when you feel Soonyoung’s hand touch your shoulder.

“Hey.” He turns your body to face him with his hand. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand in front of him without crying.

“We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

You can’t be bothered to remember what he means, but it’s best just to agree. It’s not like you had much of a choice.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.” You nod at him before leaving. The moment you turn your back, you can’t hold back the stray tears falling onto your cheeks. You can only hope that he can’t hear your sniffling.

—

Now that the proposal news was officially out, your life had an even bigger microscope on it than usual. You’re used to being judged on a public scale, however, there were millions of people who were obsessed with Soonyoung that now wanted to know every single piece of information about his new fiancée.

Your Instagram posts and tweets had an influx of new activity that you could barely keep up with, and the new attention was starting to work into every corner of your life, even the time you spent with Soonyoung.

“Can you tell your fans to stop making video edits of me?” You stuff your phone into your jacket pocket in slight annoyance. You were genuinely trying to enjoy the private dates you had with Soonyoung, even if they were heavily guarded by staff. It was only right that you treated these outings as the dates they were, opportunities to get to know him better in order to connect with him that would hopefully prevent any issues further down the line.

Today, the location of the date was your choice and the staff had elected to leave you alone in light of the proposal news. Thus, you decide to take Soonyoung to a small beach on the outskirts of Maritria’s capital city. You’ve spent many days throughout your teenage years in your favorite spot, a cove in a hidden part of the beach. You figured that it’d be smart to let him in on a few things that you enjoyed, namely one of your most treasured spots in the country.

“That means they like you, and since when are you afraid of attention?” His interest is now piqued as he places his head in his hand to face you.

“Since always, I’m not exactly a Kwon Soonyoung-level attention whore,” You scoff.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” He speaks in an exaggerated sad tone, accompanied by his pretending to cry. He turns his head to face you, sunglasses attempting to hide the goofiness peeking through.

“Still, I mean this is all a lot. I’m not exactly important enough to warrant 700,000 new followers.” You attempt to redirect the conversation.

As soon as the remark leaves your mouth, Soonyoung takes his sunglasses off. He looks at you with a confused glance, as if your self-deprecation was a personal attack on him.

“What are you talking about? You’re a princess and a genuinely nice one at that. That’s pretty hard to come by these days,” He compliments you. It pulls at your heartstrings very slightly, enough to absentmindedly check for a blush on your cheeks before snapping out of it.

“You wouldn’t know, you don’t see anything past the title before you sleep with these girls,” You attempt to defuse the response again, but he’s prepared.

“First of all, those days are behind me. I’m a proper engaged man now,” His thumb grazes your engagement ring and it sends a chill down your spine.

“And second, that statement is funny coming from someone who’s marrying me for financial stability,” He pokes your shoulder and you move to cover it.

“Correction, my country’s financial stability. You’ll have to get used to living here once we’re married,” You clarify.

“Who said we’re living in Maritria?” He argues instantly. You let out a sigh and try to understand the perspective he’s going to bring up.

“Soonyoung, wouldn’t it be smart to show how much the country’s condition would improve with you here?”

“Yes, but imagine being in Arinorin. The optics of giving you away to the country that saved yours seem pretty positive to me.” He suggests. While idealistic, the perspective is shortsighted. He didn’t necessarily have a shining future back in his home country considering his reputation and lack of communication with his parents.

“Even though you’ll never be king?” You didn’t mean for the question to sound so mean, but it’s true.

He was not the country’s future king, not unless there were dire circumstances that would force him into the position.

He scoffs. “Way to rub it in.” He looks into the distance, not acknowledging your glance anymore.

“I’m just saying. At least here, you’ll have the chance to have more of the public’s attention. There’s nothing to fight over, it’s just me,” You add sympathetically.

There’s a lingering silence that you don’t want to fill for the moment. You can tell he’s mulling over your words by the way he’s looking down at his hands, playing with his sunglasses idly.

“You know, you don’t have to stay there. Not to be that person, but if the idea of staying makes you feel worse, then what’s the point?” You soften your tone in an attempt to bring him back.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” He shakes his head resolutely. You feel your window of opportunity to try and comfort him closing rapidly.

“Ok, you’re right, but I’ve kept up with the news. I know a bit about how my future in-laws have treated you. You’ll be okay here,” You place a hand on his shoulder.

“I think they’ve wanted me to leave for a while, honestly. I’d go somewhere where they don’t have to think about me anymore.” He scratches the back of his neck before focusing on a small tidepool that sat directly below the both of you.

His statement is enough to now squeeze his shoulder, gently rubbing it to show your support.

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t think being a problem child fits me very well anymore.”

“You can reinvent yourself here if that sounds alright with you?” You offer and he laughs quietly.

He smirks. “I’ll think about it,” His slightly hopeful tone makes you feel at ease.

Any true affection toward him still feels too foreign, but verbal reassurance is a step you’re willing to take if it means your shared future is relatively peaceful.

—

The trips back and forth to each other’s countries were becoming a blur of wedding planning, being present at each other’s public engagements, and trying to get to know each other. It was becoming such a tedious process that any opportunity to rest was taken without hesitation.

The big plan for the current trip to Arinorin was to have a joint dinner with both of your immediate families.

You waited endlessly, but Soonyoung never showed up for dinner. It was embarrassing trying to subtly figure out where he was by going to the bathroom and frantically texting him. When that didn’t work, calls went unanswered until you were forced to give up and return to the table in defeat. He wasn’t answering and you were left to deal with two confused families on your own, attempting to answer questions that you had no answers to. Dinner eventually proceeded with an unyielding amount of attention on you, but thankfully, the rest of his family seemed to accept you.

Yet, it was ultimately embarrassing to attempt to cover his tracks and defend his actions throughout the night.

Thus, your post-dinner plans were to relax in your room and attempt to forget how wild the night had been. A knock on the door interrupted those plans almost immediately.

You open the door to see one of the guards that have been assigned to you since the arranged marriage proceedings had begun.

“Sorry to bother you, princess. I’ve just received word of a disturbance with the prince downstairs that needs your attention.” His tone was especially solemn, so you didn’t want to leave him waiting for long.

“Alright, I’ll be ready in a minute.” You nod at him and thank your lucky stars that you’ve already changed into more comfortable clothing.

With his assistance, you were soon traveling through the endless halls of the castle to find your fiancé. It wasn’t long before he came into view, sitting on a bench with his legs tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped around the front with his hands clasped tight. He was clearly drunk, sighing to himself before looking up.

“Y/N! Hi!” He exclaims, waving at you wildly.

“Fucking hell,” You exhale under your breath. You’re extremely grateful that he wasn’t out wandering the streets, clearly under careful watch by his guards.

“Can you give us a moment?” You look around at the surrounding guards. They nod curtly and dismiss themselves, retreating to a nearby room where they could still intervene quickly if needed.

You turn your attention back to him once the door closes. “Where were you?”

“I was out with Seungkwannie and, um, Seokmin. It was so much fun,” He laughed brightly, eyes almost disappearing from his smile.

“We were supposed to have dinner with our families. Remember?” You hold onto your curt tone.

He shakes his head immediately. “They didn’t wanna see me, they don’t care about me.”

You were starting to lose your patience. While you understood his hesitation to face his family, it wasn’t an excuse to leave you to navigate so many different dynamics on your own. This was supposed to show your families all of the efforts that had been made thus far, and there were plenty of efforts that were beginning to show naturally.

He had become more affectionate in public, it was less uncomfortable to smile at him and speak with each other kindly. It wasn’t real, obviously not, but unsuspecting eyes wouldn’t have known any better.

You were almost visibly in love.

“How about how I feel, Soonyoung? I had to deal with everyone alone, deal with everything by myself. That was so hard for me, but you just ignored it and got drunk.” Your voice was tight, barely allowing yourself to feel anything besides anger.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs before running through his hair. He’s affected by it, as his posture starts to wilt like a dying plant.

“You should be. That hurt my feelings a lot,” You felt the intended venom of your words dissipate on your tongue until nothing was left.

What was the point in yelling when he wouldn’t remember any of it anyways?

Honestly, you were disappointed in him. You had earnestly tried to connect with him, and it finally felt like he was trying to do the same thing. Yet, he let you down. You didn’t ask for much of him and adjusted your expectations for him at every step of the way, but he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t be better for you.

“Was being selfish,” His pout seems to get deeper somehow.

“Yeah, you were,” You whisper. You finally take a seat next to him on the bench, taking a deep breath. The silence between the two of you almost felt labored, as if the air held all of the emotions you were both feeling at once.

You shouldn’t be babysitting your fiancé like this, that much was true. If he couldn’t even attend a family dinner, what did that mean for the marriage?

“You don’t have to worry about the wedding. I’ll take care of everything,” You mutter quietly.

“What?” He sits up in surprise.

“I can’t trust you, Soonyoung. You don’t care about this and you clearly don’t care about me, so why would I let you plan any part of this?”

“I can try, just let me try,” He pleads quietly. You can feel the desperation in his tone, but you can’t budge.

“I’ve let you try and this is what happens. I don’t know if this is how you picture our marriage, but if this is it then consider us strangers. I can’t do this, not like this.” You can’t look at him as you stand up.

Your body goes into autopilot as you knock on the door where the guards are stationed, letting them out so you can both separate for the night. You gently request for him to be taken home before starting the journey back to your room, wiping away tears that welled up in your eyes without a second thought.

You hear him calling your name, but what point is there in turning around? You didn’t have the energy for drunk pleas and broken promises anymore.

If you couldn’t stop everything and everyone from falling apart, you could at least try to protect yourself from the wreckage.

—

For the first time, Soonyoung hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It never felt good to be ignored by anyone, but getting ignored by you? It had to be a new kind of pain.

Despite his unbothered facade, he didn’t mind your company at all. He quite enjoyed your little quirks, small things that other people probably wouldn’t notice.

In the chaos of your intertwined schedules, there were moments where he’d just look at you to take in your features for himself, and not anyone else.

He loved seeing how peaceful you looked while you slept during flights or the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled. Since he couldn’t have you to himself often, he could hold solace in the smaller moments.

Admittedly, he had been in love with you for a while now, and he could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized it.

He mentioned to you offhandedly that he’d lost a beloved stuffed tiger toy as a kid, but he’d accepted the loss and attempted to move on. He didn’t think you’d remember the anecdote, much less do anything about it.

Yet, you handed him a silver gift bag while on a flight with him.

When he unwrapped the tissue paper to the sight of the exact make of the tiger he had, his heart momentarily stilled in awe.

“I found the original manufacturer and they still make them. The certain model you had is a collector’s item now, so it took a little while to find but it wasn’t impossible.” You explained everything calmly, your hand propped your head up on the armrest of your seat. You lazily smiled at him as he admired it in his hands.

“This is very kind of you, thank you,” He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

His parents hadn’t thought of trying to replace it for him after all these years, and he surely didn’t expect it from you. The gesture is just so romantic, even if you just wanted to write it off as simply a nice thing to do.

He didn’t cry until he was alone after the day’s activities were finished, realizing just how important it was to him. You were so nice, much nicer than he deserved from his future wife given his standoffish behavior.

There was no reason why he couldn’t confess his true feelings to you at this point. The wedding was fast approaching, sooner than he’d like to admit.

Details about the ceremony were quickly ironed out between your shared staff before he could think twice about asking, and you held to your word that he wasn’t allowed to get involved in wedding planning.

He didn’t remember much from the night you found him drunk, but it was clear that wedding planning was off-limits and you were extremely wary of being alone with him. Thus, he had to make his apology meaningful, and he couldn’t wait until after the wedding. He was determined to mend the relationship before you walked down the aisle.

He started by sending you various bouquets, all carefully chosen by him.

That was a kind gesture, right?

He thought so until he saw you throwing one of the bouquets into a dumpster from afar.

All of his apologetic texts to you were swiftly ignored as well, forcing him to switch gears completely. It was clear that you were subtly hinting at an in-person apology, which was daunting but not impossible for him to do.

He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the night of the Youth Summit Ball, a major oversight on his part. Yet, he figured there was no better time than the present to start taking things more seriously.

He held the bouquet of white and red carnations tightly in his hand, fingers playing gently with the paper wrapping as he sat in his car.

He was optimistic that the rain would hold out until he was hopefully let into your apartment. Yet, he ignored the raindrops periodically hitting his raincoat as he walked up the stairs to your brownstone.

The moment he knocked on the door, it was as if the universe decided to fuck him over. The occasional raindrops turned into a full downpour, and he scrambled to figure out what to do with himself. There wasn’t any awning to hide under, so he attempted to conceal the flowers from the rain, unzipping his jacket enough to sit the damp bouquet on his chest before zipping it up again.

It felt like a lifetime before you opened the door, and the sight of you rendered him speechless.

This was the first time in so long that he was facing his fear of resolving the neverending conflicts in his life.

“Hi.” He smiles despite your unreadable expression.

“Hi,” You were confused, rightfully so. After passive-aggressively sending indirect apologies, he decided to skip everything else and just show up.

“Are you busy?”

“No, but I don’t think I have a choice,” You move to the side so that he can enter your apartment. He takes the cue and makes himself comfortable in the living room.

“These are for you.” He hands the flowers to you, and the hesitancy is clear on your face.

“You aren’t giving up on the flowers, are you?” You ask with a judgmental tone. He doesn’t feel completely deterred when you place them on the dining table instead of throwing them out.

“Well, these are your favorite.”

“This doesn’t bail you out, you know.” You give him a knowing look.

He sighs, steadying his breath before speaking. “I know, and you deserve an apology for everything.” When he notices that you're focusing intently on his words, he feels confident about continuing.

“I know that I’ve made you feel isolated, and I’m truly sorry for that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this, and I want to make this marriage work. You deserve to marry someone who’s willing to admit their mistakes and grow with you. I’m ready to be that person if you want me.” By the time he finishes, he knows that he was completely honest with you. He’s wanted to be upfront with you for so long, but it wouldn’t have been worth it if he didn’t express himself properly.

You let out a contemplative sigh. He could tell that you didn’t want to reject him, it’s as if your face was processing his statement just as swiftly as your brain.

“As much as I appreciate this, I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage.” You said.

He swallows lightly, but he’s still understanding of your perspective. He knew that he had to lay everything out for you before it was too late.

“Who said it was loveless?” He says.

“What?”

The revelation seems to catch you off guard, but it's not surprising to him. Soonyoung is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and this kind of confession feels completely out of his emotional range.

“I love you, and I should've told you sooner. I regret not proving that you could trust me, and you have every right to not have any faith in me.” He walks toward you, internally pleading that the lack of distance will help you change your mind.

“I do have the right,” You mutter under your breath with a chuckle. He lifts your chin slightly with his finger, forcing your eyes to meet his again.

“I will prove to you every day for the rest of my life that I love you.” His eyes are completely sincere, showing that he’s willing to provide the romance that you’ve been grasping for. He can tell that you can’t let him in this easily, he has to earn you completely.

“Every day?” You question him.

“Every single day,” He reiterates. He means it too, his mind was already thinking of dozens of ways that he could start making it up to you.

“That’s pretty tempting, honestly.” You tilt your head in curiosity.

“Anything holding you back?”

“I don’t think so. You just can’t keep coming into my apartment soaking wet anymore,” You scrunch your nose at his appearance and gently tousle his hair, earning a giggle from him.

“That wasn’t planned. It was pretty romantic though, right?” He can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face as he asks.

“A little bit. I forgive you, by the way,” You admit.

He exhales and runs a hand through his hair with shaky confidence. He couldn’t be certain of your decision, so the relief he feels at your words is palpable.

“Does that mean I get to see all the spreadsheets about the wedding now?” He knew he was testing his luck by asking, especially because the process had been under lock and key even before restricting his access to wedding-related documents.

“Yeah, it’ll take some stress off my back. It’s giving me headaches just thinking about everything coming together,” You rub your forehead and close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him.

“You’ve been stressed like this and you haven’t told me?” He frowns.

“I was mad at you, so all my other feelings just kept building up. I’m sorry,” You shake your head, immediately covering your face with your hands. He pries them off just as quickly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“It’s okay, love. I am more than willing to help you, I promise,” He nods eagerly with a grin.

“Okay. I like that name, you know,” You finally crack a smile and his own smile widens.

“Figured you would.” He’s leaned closer to your face, but there’s enough space to move away in case you reject him. “Can I kiss you?” He asks gently.

“Please,” You whisper.

It’s all he needs to complete the distance between your lips and the feeling of you is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. He’s so lucky at this moment, feeling your hands push his head deeper into the kiss. He was too cautious last time, but now he’ll never take another kiss of yours for granted, not when it feels this good.

He would do anything to make sure you felt loved and cared for, no matter how long it took to earn your full trust.

—

“I just need a moment alone, if that’s alright?” The question comes out a bit shakier than you imagined, but you can’t seem to quiet your nerves. Your wedding day has already taken you on an emotional rollercoaster despite not going down the aisle yet.

As you view yourself in the gown that you meticulously picked out along with the detailed hair and makeup that took hours to complete, nothing looks out of place.

Yet, your heart feels unanchored.

Your relationship with Soonyoung was getting better every day, but it seems like it was all going a little too well. Even though your relationship was transforming from a state of emergency into a promising romance, it was all catching up to you at the moment. Your mutual efforts to improve your relationship had been fruitful, giving you both the confidence to get married without feeling insecure.

You wouldn’t regret it, right? You needed to be certain that you wouldn’t.

“Of course, Princess.” Your head staff member agrees without question before exiting the room along with a few team members who were assisting you for the past few hours.

Your brain can only think of him. The tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart from each other felt more like torture than anything else, as you’ve come to appreciate his comforting presence next to you. In the last few weeks leading up to the wedding, he’s made such a genuine effort to intertwine your lives together that spending time apart felt futile.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. Before you can ask who’s there, Soonyoung’s voice fills the silence.

“Is it a bad time?” His voice makes your heart flutter before you can even look at him.

“You can’t see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” You attempt to fight the smile on your face but you don’t allow yourself to look at him.

“Even if my bride has cold feet?” He presses on, his footsteps quietly approaching you.

You turn to reveal yourself to him and his face lights up.

“They’re not cold, they’re lukewarm,” You smile coyly at him. He grabs your hands and scans your body with wondrous eyes, his gaze seeming to land on every detail of the dress before meeting your eyes again.

“You look so,” His voice trails off. You’re sure that you can read his mind, he’s practically grinning from ear to ear. It makes you feel a bit shy, you can feel your cheeks heat up from his complimentary words.

“You’re really inflating my ego here,” You shake your head gently, but the feeling of his hand grazing your cheek pulls your gaze to him. Despite your best efforts, it’s still hard to fight the inner voice that tells you that he doesn’t mean it, that he’s only saying it because it’s something you want to hear.

Yet, his responses are just unflinchingly earnest that it makes you wonder why you ever felt that way in the first place.

“You just look so stunning,” His voice begins to shake before he clears his throat, “I just can’t believe that you’re mine.”

You were certain that you’d never seen that much sincerity in his eyes up until now, but it started to quiet the lingering fears that still sat in the pit of your stomach. He was absolutely smitten with you, to the point where his smile didn’t go away while you were talking to him.

“You can’t cry yet, you have to save it for the cameras.” You chuckle in an effort to push away his tears, but his eyes were still glossy.

“I can’t help it. You’ve worked really hard on all of this and it’s coming together so well,” He sighs with content. Honestly, you needed to hear that it was all worth it, especially from him. Although he’d been offering reassurance more often than not, the sentiment felt different knowing that you were minutes away from getting married.

“I wanna kiss you so badly, but I can’t fuck up my makeup.” You pout. He instinctively places his hands on your shoulders, moving them up and down to make you feel grounded with his touch.

“We can kiss, you know. There are no rules to any of this.” He attempts to get you out of your tradition-focused mindset with a low tone. You do want to indulge him though, considering that this was the first time you'd been alone with him all morning.

“Just go below the mouth.” You nod and he smirks, immediately placing his lips on your jaw to see how you’d react. It pulls a soft moan from your throat, and your reaction encourages him to go down your neck, leaving kisses wherever his lips can find skin. You started to let go of the responsibilities lingering over your head and focus on your fiance’s tongue leaving open-mouth kisses on your cleavage.

He’s practically doing everything but undressing you and his eagerness makes it harder to pull away, but you have to.

“Babe,” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Later,” You have to hold onto your resolve or else you’ll give in, and you can’t let your first time be in a dressing room.

“Later?” His eyes perk up like an excited puppy. The implication of the consummation of your marriage feels daring, it will serve as the reward after dealing with the decadent fanfare of the day.

“Yes, later. I promise.” You nod and he somehow looks even happier than before he walked in. He focuses on your lips but leaves a kiss on your cheek instead.

“I’ll see you out there, okay?” He presses one last kiss to your palm before heading towards the door.

“Okay,” You wave him off and watch him disappear with a smile on your face.

It’s clear that you don’t have anything to worry about.

—

“You’re sure that you don’t wanna come in with me?” Soonyoung calls from the pool.

“Yeah,” You nod with a hand placed above your eyes, acting as a sun visor since you couldn’t find a hat to put on.

You were two days into your honeymoon, tucked away at a small island resort that mostly isolated you from the outside world.

The wedding had thankfully gone far better than you could have imagined. He stopped you multiple times throughout the reception to tell you how beautiful it was, how happy he was to be in the moment with you, and how well you planned it all. It was a day that felt sun-soaked, enveloped in a love that was starting to soften and lose the sharp edges that had restrained it before.

Despite all of the kind attention from family and friends throughout the day, it was evened out with the constant presence of staff and castle officials that made it all a bit overwhelming.

Thankfully, the honeymoon began the next day and you’d have to force all responsibilities out of your head for the next week.

“You’re thinking about something, probably too many things,” He assumes correctly.

You scoff and turn away for a moment before facing him again. “You can’t be this good at analyzing me, we’ve only been married for less than a week.”

He laughs before swimming closer to the edge of the pool to meet you. “That’s my job, angel.”

“But you’re right, I am thinking too much about you moving in and all the press stuff we have to do,” You’re rubbing at your temples just thinking about how much effort it’s all going to take.

“Hey, look at me.” He calls out softly. You reluctantly place your hands at your sides, trying to take in his words.

“You’ll have plenty of time to worry about this, but this is the only time you’ll be on your honeymoon. Hopefully,” He shows his teeth and it succeeds in making you laugh. He smiles back at you before continuing.

“So maybe we can swim together if you’d like?” He tries again, knowing you’ll say yes. You take one last sigh and nod.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” You take your coverup off to reveal a solid black bikini he hadn’t seen yet. You discard the coverup on a nearby chair before turning to face him.

He eyes you for a moment before you clear your throat. “Slow down, loverboy, we’re supposed to be swimming!”

“Just admiring how beautiful my wife is, that’s all,” He bites back a smile but ultimately lets it show. You walk down the pool stairs until you’re swimming next to him. He only stares at you for a second before pulling you in for a kiss.

You’re caught off guard, letting out a small squeak when his tongue slides into your mouth but you give in to the feeling soon enough. You let your fingers card through the back of his hair, pushing yourself further into the kiss. You feel his hands wander across your ass and you let out a moan.

“Just wanted me in here so you could fuck me?” You whisper, finally pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath.

“You caught me,” He whispers back and proceeds to kiss down your neck, not hesitating to leave marks that force moans out of your throat.

“For fuck’s sake,” You sigh. You didn’t need to have control right now, you didn’t want it when he was making you feel this good just by kissing you. You thank your lucky stars that the vacation house is somewhat isolated because you can’t pretend to hold back the noises you’re making.

He picks up on this and presses his erection against your thigh, causing you to hold your breath. “Where do you want me, sweetheart?” He asks quietly. Your train of thought can’t even start because he’s staring right at you, brushing his thumb against your lip.

“Chairs,” You mutter. He bites his lip and turns to look at the unoccupied beach chairs lined up near the sliding glass door that leads back into the house.

“Okay,” He nods. He leads you back to the pool stairs before taking your hand and helping you out of the water. You both don’t think about drying off before he sits you down onto the chair, pulling off your bikini bottom without a second thought. You watch him with spread legs, taking in the sight of his glistening chest and abs. He seemed just as eager as you, taking off his swim trunks in the blink of an eye. The sight of his cock makes your head spin, so you force yourself to make eye contact with him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks earnestly. He must not know how hot he is because you’re rendered speechless. His freshly dyed black hair is slightly spiky, and it doesn’t help when he runs his hand through it. It all just goes to your clit, and you’re certain that the pressure will make you explode.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You force your mouth into a smile to replace the incredulous look on your face. He nods and settles into the space between your legs, quickly spreading hands across your thighs.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” His eyes are practically dripping with lust, but you want to let him know that the feeling is mutual.

“Yeah, maybe for the 100th time today, but you look even prettier,” Your compliment comes out a bit shy, but it still makes his eyes light up.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” He lets his thumb graze your clit and you whimper. He lingers there for a few more moments before dragging two fingers down your entrance. He ponders for a moment before pushing inside, and the new sensation makes you cry out. The angled position of the chair makes his movements feel even more powerful, and his fingers gliding against your tight walls already have you in shambles.

“It’s not possible because you’re the prettiest person in the world, and I get all your cute noises to myself, right?” His question makes the coil in your stomach harder to ignore.

“Yeah,” You moan. He leans in for a kiss, capturing your lips easily while thrusting his fingers even deeper. How does he know your body like this? Sure, you’ve made out a few times but he's never touched you like this before.

Maybe it’s the anticipation that’s causing him to show out like this, he’s trying to impress you because of how long you’ve had to wait for this. You let your arms drape behind his neck for a moment before clutching onto his back.

You hear him moan from the scratches you leave on the expanse of his back, you savor the noises as they start to blend in with your moans.

“Gonna cum,” You breathe into his ear. He can tell how tense you are around him, and your eyes are becoming frantic from the impending pleasure.

“Just relax baby, take a deep breath, and let go for me. I know you can do it,” His encouragement lets you cum immediately, arching your back off the chair with a soft grunt escaping your lips. Your orgasm washes over you all at once and his fingers only slow down a bit, allowing you to feel every single bit of pleasure that he could pull out of you.

You take a few deep breaths and focus on his eyes once again. You start to register his face again as he strokes your cheek. “Are you ok? Are you up for more?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d get me like this so early, that’s all.” You cover your eyes with your hands for a moment before looking at him again. He has you so shy that you can barely look at him. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you haven’t cum like that in a very long time, but if he’s making you feel like this so early on into the marriage, you don’t think you’ll ever be disappointed.

“Well, that’s good. I just wanna take care of you,” He reassures you sweetly. His eyes are so full of love that it makes your heart pound, swallowing in anticipation.

He meant it when he said he’d take care of you, he had barely let you do anything for yourself since you arrived at the vacation house. It was so adorable that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. It was nice to let him live up to his promise of showing his love for you instead of constantly feeling distrustful of his actions.

Of course, there would eventually be moments where you’d disagree or argue with each other, but it wouldn’t be out of spite like before. You’re lost in thought until he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Where’d you go, pretty?” He whispers, his face now a few inches away from yours. It somehow makes you even more flustered than before.

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” You admit with a smile. His eyes widen at the confession and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You love me?” He asks in surprise.

“I love you.” You state it confidently. You mean it too, and it feels so easy to express it to him. You knew you loved him since the wedding, he cried at the sight of you walking down the aisle and it helped you realize his sincerity. He seems to let the words settle into the air before giving you a response.

“I love you too. It feels good to say that,” He laughs at his own confession. With a mutual confession out in the open, the air somehow feels lighter.

“Can I show you how much I love you by fucking you properly?” He asks. You can only laugh and nod your head at how sweet it is.

“Not out here though. I need you in bed right now!” He exclaims, sweeping you up into a bridal style hold. You let out a scream before bursting into laughter, you can only let yourself get carried back into the house without protest.

----

“Fuck, right there, please,” You whimper, eyes screwed shut. The feeling of his cock stuffed inside you was indescribably good, it was nearly enough to make you cry. Once he got you on the bed, he wasted no time filling you up and easily pulled moans out of your throat.

He pressed your legs up to your chest, making sure that he was completely inside of you. You quickly learned that your husband had incredible stamina, and you were definitely gonna cum again sooner rather than later.

“You’re so good for me, my love. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of having you like this,” He whispers in your ear. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin brought something primal out of you, you just want to suck him inside of your walls even deeper. You were barely holding on, but he kept pushing you even closer to the edge.

He leaned down to leave marks in the crook of your neck, leaving a hand free to fondle your breast. It was as if he combined every possible move just to drive you insane and it was working.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” His voice is laced with something even deeper than lust, it almost felt demonic the way he asked you.

“Yes, please let me cum, please,” The words spilled out of your mouth, your voice was shaking along with your body. He was practically rocking you back and forth with the impact of his cock, hitting that particular spot deeper every time.

“Go on, then. Cum for daddy,” He grants you permission. The nickname makes you flood his cock, screaming again as your orgasm takes over you. He pulls out in time for you to squirt on his cock, leaving you even more surprised than before.

“Holy shit,” You whimper. He looks so pleased with himself, but also shocked that he was able to push you that far.

He lets you both recover for a few minutes, but you know he hasn’t cum yet. “I’m kinda close, baby, is it alright if I-?” He asks, but you don’t let him finish.

“Of course. I already miss your cock, to be honest,” You let yourself smile and his eyes are already blown wide by your response.

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“You made me like this,” You hit his arm playfully. He slides his cock into you again slowly and he watches your mouth fall open slightly at the sensation.

“I did,” He smirks at you, relishing the sight of how fucked out you look just from him staying still.

He picks up the pace, trying to focus on getting himself there. It didn’t seem like it’d take much just from how intensely he looked at you.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, baby? Should I get you pregnant like this?” His questions felt sinful in your ears, but you were too gone to care. You felt pressure building just from that, and the thought of him breeding you felt exciting.

“Yes, please, I want it,” You whine. He felt so deep that you could feel it from your head to your toes. Every single part of you felt overwhelmed by his cock and his relentless pace.

“Good girl, daddy wants to fuck you like this all the time,” He moves to kiss you sloppily, but it still feels heavenly to have him in your mouth. It wasn’t much longer before you felt his body tense beneath you.

“Are you close?” You ask breathily.

“Yeah,” He grunts. He grabs your hips and fucks into you even harder than you remember, the pain radiating from your thighs forces a tear out of your eye but you know it’s helping. He doesn’t warn you before he cums, and the sudden warmth inside of you makes you moan louder than you expect. He finally falls beside you and lets you both recover for a few minutes in silence. You could easily fall asleep like this, both of you laying haphazardly under the covers while his breathing steadies your own.

“Y/N?” He calls your name and it startles you. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the sound of his voice.

“Oh no, I scared you,” His voice is much quieter than before, lulling you back into a state of calmness.

“No, I’m okay, I promise,” You turn to face him, rubbing your eyes gently.

“Ok good. We’ve gotta clean up now, alright?” He softens the blow of the question by kissing your forehead. It still feels foreign to let him take care of you, but when you see how gentle he is, you don’t feel the urge to take control.

It’s enough to watch him go through your suitcase, observing how his eyebrows furrow while trying to decide what shirt you might want to wear.

You decided that he didn’t have to prove anything else to you, ultimately, you could see how pure his heart was, and it would be doing both of you a disservice to let assumptions of character control the course of your relationship.

You’re attentive enough to follow his cues while he’s dressing you or helping you up to the bathroom, but your mind is consumed by him.

“Doing okay, love?” His question pulls your head toward him. You adjust your posture in bed as he approaches you, climbing into the bed beside you.

“Better now that you’re back,” You hum lowly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You take a deep breath, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours.

His body vibrates as he chuckles. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was thinking about something while we were in the bathroom,” He leans into your touch slightly, enough to make your eyes flutter shut.

“What’s up?” You accept his inquiry.

“I think we should take the kids here one day when they’re old enough,” He explains it as if it’s fate, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him being certain that your shared future is meant to expand in so many different ways. You can’t picture yourself being pregnant for a long while, but the idea of building a family with him feels right to think about.

“We’ve fucked once and you’re thinking about our kids,” You tease him in a lighthearted tone, but you hear his nervous laughter.

“It’s just a thought,” He waves his hand gently.

“It’s a very nice thought, you’re really sweet,” You finally raise your head to look at him. You let your hand caress his cheek before kissing him gently. He accepts you immediately, and you let yourself linger on his lips for a few moments before pulling away to look at him.

He searches your eyes, focused on figuring out what you’re meant to tell him. You can’t think of anything profound to tell him, any extravagant sentimentalities you might’ve conjured up don’t make their way out onto your lips.

“I love you,” You whisper. Your feelings are buried too deep to let them all out now, but it’s enough to tell him this. You feel the pressure in your chest lessen the moment he smiles back at you.

“I love you so much,” He mumbles the words against your lips before kissing you, love seemed to radiate from his lips the way he was holding you against him. The day unfolded into the evening, time passing languidly as you were enamored with each other.

As you fell asleep with him holding onto your waist, you realized that sweetness had made its way into your life before your very eyes. The limitless potential between the two of you no longer strikes fear into your heart, but instead sustains you in new ways.

There would be time to flesh out the dynamics of your relationship, determining how you’d show up for each other in loud and unspoken ways, but the present feeling of safety that sat in your chest was enough.

Neither of you was perfect, but the act of showing up and being willing to grow with each other was enough.

You are both trying, and that is more than enough.

[roronoa-roro]

ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ #3 "ꜱᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɴᴜᴅᴇꜱ" !!!

CW: nudes¡ suggestive language¡ mentions of sex¡

Pairing: (all post timeskip) suna, atsumu, osamu, ginjima x gn!reader

Network: @tokyometronetwork

ꜱᴜɴᴀ ʀɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ

Guaranteed returns. All favors are returned x1000.

Send him a partial nude and you will get a dick pic within 3 milliseconds. Send him a thirst trap and an audio capture of him moaning your name is sent back.

Suna prides himself on his ability to collect quality material, so it's no surprise he's so very enthusiastic about this nudes exchange business.

Has pretty lights set up around his room just for the sake of clicking aesthetic dick pics.

There's even a special folder on his desktop dedicated to you. All these frisky pics and videos are stored there. He even names it his 'personal pornhub'

Comes home with hundreds of nasty fantasies filled in his head. Trust me he's created a very nice simulation of all the things he'd love to do to you.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ

You just know this motherfucker is choking on his spit every time you send a pic that's even closely revealing.

This one time you send him a suggestive (only to dirty minded people) picture of your newly done nails holding your glass just for fun and next day videos of Miya Atsumu, star athlete clumsily fumbling with his phone are trending on the internet.

I'm really really sorry for this one but he totally responds in Adam Levine style😭😭😭 he's embarrassing you know it but you love him and that shitty replying style is something you and him have to work on.

He comes home all needy and whiny after that. Needs all the love and affection— much much more than usual.

He might not admit it but every time his phone pings and it's a message from you he pulls in a deep breath to stabilize his heart and be ready.

Atsumu is too much of an innocent boy for that cocky front he puts up.

ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ

Now this guy is a totally different story. Unlike his brother, although equally cocky, he has the guts to back it up.

You once sent him a nude while on a double dinner date just to see his reaction and this mf looked at the picture and smirked, licking his lip. Never tell him how flustering you found it you'd just be digging your own grave.

He's an observant guy, he knows all your preferences– from the food to the positions, so it's not a huge surprise to you when he sends you detailed, nasty, toe-curling replies.

Lowkey think he could run his own pornblog and we would still follow him like dick hungry bitches.

Sometimes, he would send you unprompted random messages while you are at work. Like sirrrr, you get it. He knows you very well but it's none of his business to ensure you're melting in your chair at work thinking about him.

But that's not all. The real nastiness starts when you return home, or his hotel. This man is filthy. And he's gonna pull you down with him whether you like it or not.

ʜɪᴛᴏꜱʜɪ ɢɪɴᴊɪᴍᴀ

You were sorely mistaken if you thought he was an innocent baby boy who had to be introduced to the art of sending nudes gently💀💀💀

He is the devil. This man laughs at you and calls you weak when you send him a partial nude.

The insult digs deeper when he sends you a beautiful, Pinterest worthy image of his pants pulled down just enough to show his perfect v-line. The sunlight kissing his pretty skin doesn't help either.

This ensues a nudes war. Who can click the better nude.

You both give each other occasional runs for your money. But it's usually him powning you most of the time. This guy has some serious aesthetics.

But the funny thing is, although you both forget the original intention of sending nudes, you both develop a cute and adorable sort of bonding activity out of it.

Lost the taglist so i won't tag anybody and this isn't gonna be a regular writing phase anyways so🙏🙏🙏 also drop some holy water in the comments and reblogs plej i need it I've been thinking very nasty thoughts abt a certain white haired sensei from naruto

[forest-hashira]

for resident yuwuji lover @cruel-hiraeth. thought of this, then thought of you. hope you enjoy it 💜

read on ao3 | wc: 502 | cw: gender neutral reader (no pronouns), reader's having a bit of a rough time, pet names (he calls you 'baby' and 'angel'), ambiguous ages so imagine what you like, just yuji being a sweetheart & offering reader some comfort

You were tired. Exhausted, really, if you thought about it, though you tried your best not to. Everything was draining you, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had the energy or desire to do much of anything. Instead, you spent most of your time exactly as you were now: sitting by the window, knees hugged to your chest as you stared blankly out at the world. At least today the gloomy weather was closer to how you felt.

“Angel?” Yuji’s voice brought you out of your head a bit, though you didn’t move until you felt his warm hand on your back. “Having a rough day again?”

There was a brief moment where you considered lying to him, but you knew it was useless; he always knew when you were lying to him about things like this. “Yeah,” you whispered. “‘M so tired…”

He said nothing at first, just maneuvered himself to sit beside you, arm now wrapped around your shoulders and holding you close. When he rested his cheek against the top of your head, you found that you didn’t mind the pressure. It made you feel… loved, actually. It was nice. 

Silence settled over the two of you then, a bit heavy, but not uncomfortable. If you had to guess, Yuji was trying to come up with the right thing to say, though you had told him before that there wasn’t a right thing to say when you had times like these. It was nice to be comforted sometimes, sure, but every promise that things would be better soon, however well intentioned, always had you wanting to tear your hair out. 

Luckily for you, Yuji had always best been able to show his support in ways that didn’t need words. 

His calloused hand was gentle as he pulled you a bit closer into his side, his finger tracing featherlight circles on your shoulder. He lifted his head slightly from where he’d rested his cheek atop your head, pressing a gentle kiss to your hair. There was another beat of silence, then a quiet, “Hey, baby?”

“Hm?”

“I was gonna make us some lunch. Why don’t you come sit in the kitchen with me?”

Your heart stuttered a bit, the deeper invitation in his words clear to you; he wouldn’t force you to talk about anything you didn’t want or weren’t ready to yet, but he wasn’t going to leave you to wallow all on your own. Blinking back tears, you gave him a slight nod. “You making your chicken meatballs?”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, “Yeah, I am. Makin’ ‘em to go with some udon noodles. Gloomy weather calls for comfort food.”

Tilting your head to look up at him, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Yuji was always a sight to behold, constellations of freckles sprinkled across his nose; sometimes it was hard to believe he was really yours.

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly. “I suppose it does.”

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@dr-runs-with-scissors @entirelysein-e @teddybeartoji @sugurei @whatthefucksatan

@lemonloaves @lu-dao-writes @roselleviennesstuff

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divider by adornedwithlight

[cherrrydragon]

➤ you need to be yourself (love someone for loving you instead of someone really cool)

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SUMMARY ↳ Tim Drake and you, throughout the years. Growing up changes things, after all. You've always valued your independence, your ability to navigate life on your own terms. Yet, beneath that independence lies a yearning—for connection, for understanding. There’s a realization settling in—a realization that friendships, like all relationships, evolve and change as you get older. You've grown alongside Tim, but perhaps you've also outgrown some aspects of your dynamic. You’ve noticed the way his muscles flex when he stretches, the way his arms have gotten bigger and you’ve seen a glimpse of his toned stomach. He’s grown up, as seen by his body. But growing up doesn’t just change your body. It also changes your mind. pairing: tim drake x fem!reader warnings: reader gets grazed with a bullet, but i think thats it (other than the angst, that is) tags/notes: unrequited love but not actually unrequited love, hurt/comfort, angst w/ a happy ending, friends to lovers, this fic was inspired by Best Friend by Rex Orange County. wc: 6.9k

You first met Tim Drake at a gala.

Your parents had promised you ice cream if you behaved well. You didn’t want to go in the first place, but the promise of a sweet treat was too tempting for your little eight-year-old mind.

Dressed in your best clothes, you arrived at the grand event, feeling overwhelmed by the opulence and the throngs of well-dressed adults. You stuck close to your parents, clutching your mother’s hand tightly as you navigated the sea of guests.

While your parents mingled with other attendees, you found yourself near the dessert table, eyes wide with anticipation. Your father said not to try anything without permission, but he didn’t say from who. Now, you have to figure out who to ask and how to ask them. Words never came easily to you.

There’s a boy coming up to you. Maybe you can ask him. Maybe not, he looks like he’s your age. An adult would know better.

“Hi, I’m Tim,” he said, offering you a smile that seemed a little too mature for his age.

You introduced yourself shyly, still focused on the food. Tim seemed to sense your discomfort in the unfamiliar environment.

“Do you want to go somewhere less boring?” he asked, glancing around to ensure no adults were watching.

Nodding eagerly, you followed Tim through the maze of guests until you reached a quiet corner of the gala hall. There, hidden from the prying eyes of the adults, Tim produced a small bag of chocolates from his pockets.

“All the chocolates have weird stuff in them. These just have chocolate,” he explains, handing one to you.

You nibble on it gratefully, taking a seat with him on a nearby bench. The two of you chatted about school, favorite toys, and the best flavors of ice cream. Kid stuff, you know how it is. Tim tells you about his parents' business, about why their work is important and that they’d appreciate your parents’ support.

“You should tell your mom and dad about my mom and dads work,” he insists. To be honest, you weren’t paying all that much attention to what he had been saying, but you’ll tell your parents about it since he asked.

Your mom shakes her head when you tell her, muttering under her breath, “They’re making their son network?” You didn't quite understand what your mother meant at the time. You only remember wanting to share ice cream with him.

From that day on, your paths crossed frequently at various events. Tim quickly became one of your closest friends, someone who understood your quiet nature and often helped you navigate social situations. You find out you’ll attend the same school, which makes you happy.

You’ve never been one for friendships. You simply just prefer being alone, often labeled as ‘mysterious’ by your peers. But Tim has dutifully kept the title of your best friend for years now.

The thing is, you’re not sure you're his best friend.

Tim Drake has his friends, and all you have is him. There’s the pretty blonde, named Stephanie, the other pretty blonde, Cassie. The lively one named Bart, and the cool one named Conner. Sometimes Tim invites you to hang out with them, but you’re not stupid. You know there’s a disconnect between you and them. You feel like you're constantly missing something when you’re around them.

You stop hanging out with them, and eventually Tim stops asking. He must’ve noticed, though, since he starts coming over to your place every Friday for movie night.

At first, it’s a bit awkward. Tim brings over some of your favorite movies, trying to rekindle that old spark of friendship. You sit side by side on the couch, munching on popcorn and watching the screen, occasionally sharing a laugh or a comment.

As the weeks go by, you start to relax into this new routine. Tim is patient, never pushing you to talk more than you’re comfortable with. Sometimes, in the quiet moments between movies, he asks about your day, your thoughts, your dreams.

One Friday evening, after a particularly intense movie, Tim turns to you with a serious expression.

"I miss hanging out with you, you know," he admits quietly. "I know things have changed between us, but I still value our friendship a lot." He scratches the back of his neck. “I know I’ve been busy lately, but a lot of things have happened. Out of my control.”

You glance at him, feeling a mix of emotions. Part of you wants to explain why you pulled away, but another part just wants to enjoy this moment of peace with Tim. You nod slightly, not quite sure what to say.

Tim smiles softly, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder gently. "Thanks for letting me come over every week. It means a lot to me."

And just like that, the tension eases between you. You realize that maybe friendship doesn’t always have to fit into a predefined mold. Tim understands you in a way that no one else does, and you’re grateful for his presence in your life.

You try-out for the volleyball team. You make it.

It becomes a staple in your life. Your afternoons are filled with shoes squeaking on the gym floors and sore muscles. The practices, the games, the friendship with your teammates—it all starts to feel like a natural extension of who you are.

The friendship with your teammates.

They form a group chat, adding you in it of course. It stops being used only for practice announcements and starts being used as ‘life’ updates from your teammates. They gossip about who they like, who they dislike, their boy troubles. You don’t say much, but when they ask you for your opinion, you give it. Apparently, you give really good advice.

You’re sixteen when you realize you’re in love with Tim Drake.

You’re not sure how long exactly, but you know that you’ve craved his presence since you’ve met him.

Tim introduces you to his boyfriend, Bernard. He’s blond. You think Tim might have a thing for blondes.

You tell Tim this later, when Bernard leaves. He only shrugs.

You wonder why you didn’t realize when Tim dated Stephanie. Probably because they dated when you and Tim were estranged. Maybe the reason you two became so was because they dated. You don’t know.

You've always known Tim as your best friend, the person who understands you better than anyone else. But realizing you're in love with him changes everything. It's a mix of emotions—joy, fear, uncertainty. You start noticing things about Tim that you hadn't before—the way he smiles, the way he talks about his interests with such passion, the way he looks at you sometimes when he thinks you're not paying attention.

That last thing might be delusion on your part.

But Tim has Bernard now, and you respect that. You value your friendship with Tim too much to jeopardize it with your feelings. So, you bury your emotions deep down and try to focus on being the best friend you can be.

“What about you, [Name]?” asks Mina, libero of your team. Mina is notorious among your friends as the one with the most boy problems. You’d never say this out loud, but you think she doesn’t know that you don’t always need to be in a relationship.

“Any boy troubles?”

Your shoelaces can’t get tied fast enough. “No.” Because there’s not. Tim has his own boyfriend. There’s no you and him, apart from being you being his friend and him being your best friend.

Lilly, setter, gives you a playful nudge, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come on, spill! There's gotta be someone you're crushing on."

You chuckle nervously, shaking your head. "Really, there's no one."

Your teammates exchange knowing glances, clearly not convinced. You've always been more reserved about your personal life compared to them. They respect your privacy, but sometimes they can't help but tease. You’ve come to realize that it’s just a friend thing.

Senior year is a calm year.

Most people describe it as the most stressful yet chill year of them all. Stressful, because after this life is going to be serious and suddenly you’re swamped with creating a resume and applying to colleges. Chill, because you can simply just not do all that, and barely show up at all.

Your parents want you to go to college, but assure you that if you don’t want to, you’ll always have a place at their company. Nepotism is a beautiful thing.

You think less of Tim and think more of making this volleyball season the best it can be. It’s your senior year after all, when better to go all out? You become the reason your team wins their games. The star ace. 

During the final game of the season, Tim meets you out back, just before you have to go out on the court. He's holding a bouquet of flowers—violets and peonies. His smile is nervous, uncertain, but there's a warmth in his eyes that you've come to recognize as affection.

"Hey," he starts, handing you the bouquet. "I know this might be a weird time, but there's something I've been wanting to tell you."

Your heart skips a beat as you take the flowers, your mind racing with possibilities. Could this be...?

"I've been thinking a lot lately," Tim continues, his words coming out in a rush now. "About us, about our friendship. I realize I've been a bit... oblivious, maybe. And I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you, [Name]. More than anyone else in my life."

You feel a mix of emotions—hope, confusion, and a twinge of disappointment. You try to keep your expression neutral, not wanting to betray your feelings. You’re not sure what you were thinking. You should’ve known better.

You tentatively reach out to take the bouquet. It’s pretty. “You should’ve probably saved them for after the game.” It’s meant to be a joke, but you’ve never been too good at making those.

Tim chuckles softly, his nervousness easing a bit at your attempt at humor. "Maybe. I wanted to give them to you now.”

The bouquet feels heavy in your hands, the flowers vibrant and fragrant against your fingers. “Thank you.”

You play with all your might. Sweat beads at your temple as you leap in the air. It feels like flying. You play with a fierce determination, channeling your emotions into each move, each serve, and each spike.

You spot Tim in the crowd as you’re in the air. He's watching you intently, his eyes filled with pride and admiration. The game seems to blur around you as you lock eyes with him. You almost miss the winning point.

You're surrounded by your teammates, celebrating the victory, but your eyes search for Tim. He's waiting for you at the edge of the court, a proud smile on his face.

As you approach him, still breathless from the game, he envelops you in a hug. "You were amazing out there," he says sincerely, his voice filled with admiration.

"Thanks," you manage to reply, feeling a rush of emotions—pride, happiness, and a lingering uncertainty.

“I like seeing you do things you love.” He should stop saying things like that.

Tim wants to take you out to dinner to celebrate. You initially decline, and he looks a little confused by that.

“My coach said she’d take us out to eat if we won,” you explain.

“Oh,” he says.

“Don’t worry about what Coach said, [Name],” says Anne, captain, laying a firm hand on your shoulder. “Go spend time with your boyfriend. I’ll ask her to reschedule.”

“Tim’s not my–”

“That’s okay,” smiles Tim. It’s his showman smile. “I don’t want to keep [Name] from spending time with you.” He doesn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend. Why doesn’t he deny that he’s your boyfriend?

Anne grins, fierce and sharp. “Take her out to dinner.” And that’s that.

Tim keeps a friendly hand on your back as he guides you out. “Let's go to that place we talked about last week," he suggests, his voice almost as sweet as the victory that's just come to pass. "I promise it'll be worth it."

You're filled with a mix of emotions as you walk alongside Tim, still processing everything that's happened. The restaurant is cozy, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. Tim seems relaxed, chatting about the game, your performance, anything really. Tim’s always had a way of capturing your attention.

“Bernard and I broke up.” You almost don’t register the info, too focused on watching his face.

You furrow your brows. “What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did something?” he asks dryly.

“Have you met you?”

“Nothing happened.” He rolls his eyes. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Oh,” you reply softly, unsure how to respond to Tim’s revelation. You hadn’t expected he would talk about his relationship status, and would’ve preferred if he hadn’t.  Tim continues to look at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you’re not sure what to say. 

The atmosphere between you feels a bit heavier now, the weight of unspoken feelings lingering in the air. You've always valued your friendship with Tim above anything else, and while part of you feels a pang of sympathy for his breakup, another part wonders what it means for your relationship with him.

By the time dinner ends and you're walking back together, the tension that had briefly surfaced seems to have dissipated. Tim is back to his usual self, cracking jokes and teasing you playfully about your volleyball skills. You find yourself smiling, grateful for the comfort and familiarity of your friendship.

As you part ways for the night, Tim gives you a warm hug, holding onto you for just a moment longer than usual. "Thanks for tonight," he says sincerely, his voice quiet.

"Anytime," you reply softly, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "I'm glad we could hang out."

Tim nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally heads off. You watch him go, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions that you're not quite ready to unpack yet.

In the days that follow, you notice subtle changes in your interactions with Tim. He is pulling you closer to him. He has taken you to more private places just to hang out. He seems more attentive, more considerate of your feelings and preferences. He makes an effort to spend more time with you, whether it's grabbing lunch together between classes or inviting you over for movie nights more frequently. 

You feel a flutter of hope in your chest with each of these gestures, but you push it down. You know better.

Tim stops going to school for a while, and it feels like you're back to square one. Back to when he found better ways to spend his time, with others who are not you.

You meet a boy. He’s nice and he’s cute. You like him well enough, and he seems to genuinely enjoy your company. Your friends say that you guys are cute together.

He asks you on a date to a local cafe, and you agree. It's a pleasant afternoon, filled with easy conversation and laughter. He listens intently as you talk about your interests, your dreams for the future, and he shares his own aspirations with you. It feels comfortable, uncomplicated.

Comfortable and uncomplicated never last long for you.

“This is a goddamn robbery!”

Two warning shots go off, and people scramble out of their seats to cover. What kind of asshole robs a cafe? You hide under the table, mind scrambled by the sudden change of events. Your hands scramble to grab on to your date, for comfort or for reassurance you don’t know, but you don’t feel anything.

You see your date round the booth and run out of the door. He left you.

You’re left alone and bewildered, shaken by the sudden chaos. Your heart races, adrenaline pumping as you try to make sense of what just happened. Fucking asshole , he just left you!

“Put the gun down, sir.”

There’s someone in the doorway. You peek out from under the table, heart still racing, and see him—Red Robin. He’s a figure of black and red. His presence commands and reassures.

The robber hesitates, gun wavering slightly as he eyes Red Robin warily. It’s a stand-off, tense and uncertain.

“I said put the gun down,” Red Robin repeats calmly, stepping forward with measured confidence.

The robber takes slow steps to the side, gun pointed at the vigilante. Every step taken to get closer has the robber threatening to shoot. “Easy, just put it down and we can talk,” Red Robin continues, his voice steady and calm. The tension in the cafe is strong, everyone holding their breath as they watch the standoff unfold.

The robber’s hand shakes as he weighs his options, eyes darting between Red Robin and the patrons cowering behind tables. His legs carry him closer and closer. He’s.

He’s getting closer to you.

You try to move further under the table, but the robber lunges down and grabs your arm, twisting his and pulling you up. You yelp as there’s suddenly something cold pressed to your head.

“I’ll blast her brains out.”

"Let her go.” Red Robin's voice is suddenly deep and menacing.

The robber hesitates, glancing between you and Red Robin. He tightens his grip on your arm, causing you to wince in pain.

"Let her go now," Red Robin repeats, his tone firm and unwavering. Your breathing starts to pick up.

Suddenly, there's a blur of motion and a loud thud. The robber cries out in pain as he releases you, stumbling back from the force of impact. There’s a loud sound and suddenly there’s a searing pain in your side.

You whimper and stumble to the floor, holding your side. There’s a rush of movement around you as you crawl away. You hear sirens. The police are here. What good they were.

“Hey. Heyheyheyheyhey. It’s okay.” A hand removes yours and replaces it. You look at them. They’re covered in blood. “It’s just a graze. It’s okay.”

Red Robin is at your side muttering reassurances into your ear. You whimper when his hand applies pressure to your wound. He shushes you quietly. “You’re fine.”

Then his voice breaks. “You have to be.”

There’s a heavy thud of boots in your directions. “Red Robin.” It’s Batman, in all this terrifying and dramatic glory. Batman, with a quick glance at you, shifts his attention to the situation at hand. “She needs medical attention.”

Red Robin helps you sit up a little, keeping pressure on your wound while Batman assesses the situation. The cafe is now surrounded by police, and the robber is being apprehended. "Stay with me," Red Robin urges softly, his voice a comforting presence amidst the chaos. "You're going to be okay."

Paramedics arrive shortly after, quickly attending to your wound. Red Robin stays by your side, explaining what happened to the paramedics and keeping you calm. It’s strange, how easily you’re comforted by his presence.

You're taken to the hospital for treatment, where the doctors confirm that your injury is indeed just a graze. Your parents are the first to arrive, appearances rustled. Your mother sheds a tear, even after you tell her that it’s just a graze, that it could’ve been a lot worse. That makes her cry harder.

Your friends arrive next, rushing through the door. You ask how they found out what happened, and they say they were secretly watching your date from across the street. They ridicule your date, having saw how he ran away first thing. You can’t bring yourself to be irked with them.

No one else comes to visit.

You’re allowed to go back to school after a week. Tim is there, waiting by the entrance. He perks up when he sees you. You stop in your tracks as he makes his way over to you.

Tim embraces you in a hug, unexpectedly. You can’t bring your arms up to hug him back. He must notice, because he unwraps from you with a cough.

"...Hey," Tim says softly, his eyes searching yours. "I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

You nod, not being able to bring yourself to say anything. He nods as well. “That’s good.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Tim…” you sigh, finally. He perks up at your voice, looking at you earnestly.

“Do you want to go somewhere? The park? We don’t have to do anything, we can just. Sit. I don’t want you to pull your stitches or anything–”

“You weren’t even there.”

Tim shuts up, staring at you. You don’t look at him, perhaps afraid. You’ve never truly spoken your mind, preferring to simply deal with it and move on. But you… deserve better.

“I waited for you to come visit,” you whisper, looking down at your shoe. “But you never came. Did you even know?”

His hands hover in the air uselessly. “I. Of course I knew–”

“Then why didn’t you visit?” Your brows furrow. “Is that asking too much? For you to just, show up? While I’m sitting in the hospital because I barely missed being shot?”

“I was busy!”

“You’re always busy,” you groan.

Tim's expression tightens with guilt as he listens to your words, his usual composed demeanor faltering. He runs a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. "I know... I know it's not an excuse, but things have been crazy, and I... I should have been there for you. I'm really sorry."

“It’s the same thing everytime.”

“[Name]?”

“You’re not there. You apologize for not being there. I accept, we move on. And then it happens again.”

Tim's shoulders slump slightly, and he takes a moment before responding, his voice quieter now, tinged with regret. "I... I don't want it to be like that. I want to be there for you. I want to... I want to do better. You just… you don’t know what I have going on in my life.”

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. His sincerity is evident, but so is his struggle with balancing his responsibilities. You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of frustration and a longing for understanding.

“I don’t know because you don’t tell me anything,” you mutter.

He takes a step closer, hesitant but determined to bridge the gap that has formed between you. “I’m sorry, but please. You're… you’re my best friend.”

You shake your head. “You’re my best friend. I’m just… convenient for you.”

Tim's expression softens, hurt flickering across his features before he shakes his head. “No. No, please don’t think that.”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

Tim's eyes search yours, pleading for understanding. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I... I know I've let you down. And I'm sorry for that. You mean more to me than just convenience. I don't always… know how to balance everything.”

His admission hangs in the air, vulnerable and raw. You feel a pang of sympathy mixed with frustration. Tim has always been your closest friend, but for a long time, it's felt like he's slipping away, caught up in his own world.

“Can you just,” you pause, feeling like your entire world just shifted on its axis. “Leave me alone?”

“...How long?” he croaks.

You hesitate, the weight of your words heavy on your chest. "I don't know, Tim. I just. I need some space right now."

He nods slowly, expression twisted with anguish. “Okay,” he says softly. “Whatever you want.”

You wanted him, but that’s not possible.

Tim stands there for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but ultimately turns away. You watch him go, feeling a mixture of relief and sorrow.

Days pass, and Tim respects your request for space. The halls of school feel different without his constant presence, a reminder of the void left by his absence. You start spending time on rooftops at night. You find solace in the quiet, away from the complexities of school and relationships. The city lights spread out beneath you, casting a gentle glow on the world below.

You've always valued your independence, your ability to navigate life on your own terms. Yet, beneath that independence lies a yearning—for connection, for understanding.

There’s a realization settling in—a realization that friendships, like all relationships, evolve and change as you get older. You've grown alongside Tim, but perhaps you've also outgrown some aspects of your dynamic. You’ve noticed the way his muscles flex when he stretches, the way his arms have gotten bigger and you’ve seen a glimpse of his toned stomach. He’s grown up, as seen by his body.

But growing up doesn’t just change your body. It also changes your mind.

It changed the way you see Tim. He’s matured into a strong and confident person, and you can’t help but notice the way he holds himself now. He’s more than just your childhood friend—he’s become someone you admire for his determination and resilience. Yet, amidst this newfound admiration, there’s still a part of you that remembers the boy who used to share chocolates with you at galas, who understood your quiet nature and sat by you during movie nights.

You can try to move on. You can hang out with other people, but he’ll always be in the back of your mind. You know you miss him. Every time you see him at school, you feel a pang of longing, mixed with a hint of resentment.

“You shouldn’t be out so late.”

You don’t move your head from where it’s rested on your arms on top of the ledge. Footsteps echo closer, until a figure clad in red maneuvers himself to sit on top of the ledge. Red Robin has decided to pay you a visit. You hope he doesn’t think you’re up to no good.

It’s silent for a moment, only the sound of wind rustling and cars moving able to be heard. The vigilante coughs, fidgeting.

“...You didn’t tell me why you were out so late.”

“You didn’t ask,” you mutter, finger trailing the surface of the ledge. 

“I guess I didn’t,” he chuckles awkwardly. He shifts, the dim glow from the city below casting a subdued light on his features. His suit blends with the shadows, making him seem almost ethereal against the night sky.

“It’s just that,” he pauses, straightening his shoulders once he seems to find his confidence. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out alone so late.”

You raise a brow at him, which makes him falter ever so slightly. “I’m on a rooftop. There’s no one else here.”

“I’m here,” he points out.

“You are,” you agree. “So now that you have me alone, are you gonna do something to me?”

He sputters, waving his hands. “No! No, God no. I promise. I help people, not–” he stops, hearing a sound. It’s your laughter. It’s nothing grand, but it’s genuine. The vigilante relaxes a gentle smile on his face as he takes you in.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, eyes closing. It’s pretty late. You could honestly fall asleep here. Red Robin lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Bad joke.”

“No, no. It was good,” he assures. “You got me good.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with the easy silence of two people who have unknowingly shared many quiet moments together. Red Robin’s presence is both comforting and disconcerting.

A finger gently pokes you, stirring you awake. “Sleep at home, not here.”

You blink a few times, slowly lifting your head from your arms, feeling the cool breeze brush against your cheeks. Red Robin’s face is close, concern etched in his features. You yawn, stretching out your limbs and reluctantly pushing yourself up from the ledge.

“Are you not sleeping well?”

“No more than usual,” He offers a hand to help you stand, and you take it, feeling the strength in his grip. Once on your feet, you dust off your clothes and glance around the rooftop, a part of you reluctant to leave the serene view behind.

“Let me walk you home,” Red Robin offers, his voice gentle but firm.

“Sure.”

As you walk together, the city around you hums with a nocturnal life of its own. The streets are quieter, but not entirely deserted. Red Robin stays close, his presence reassuring. You steal glances at him. Something about him feels familiar. Maybe it’s just because he’s friendly.

When you turn back to thank him once you’re at your front door, he’s gone.

It becomes a routine, meeting him on that rooftop. Sometimes he doesn’t show, you feel eyes watching you when you’re walking back home. The days blend into nights, and you find yourself looking forward to those moments on the rooftop. The city feels different when you're up high, watching from a vantage point few ever see. It's a perspective that offers clarity, a place where the noise of everyday life fades into the background.

One evening, you arrive on the rooftop to find Red Robin already there, leaning against the ledge, gazing out at the city. He turns when he hears your approach, his expression softening.

“You’re early tonight,” he comments, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Needed some fresh air,” you reply, settling beside him. “And some company.”

He chuckles softly, the sound blending with the distant hum of the city. “Well, you’ve got both now.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks volumes without needing words. You find yourself studying him, noticing the way his eyes reflect the city lights, the slight tension in his shoulders that eases the longer you sit together.

“Why do you come here?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. His tone is curious.

“I like being alone,” is all you say.

He nods thoughtfully. “I get that. Sometimes it’s easier to think when you’re away from everything else.” He looks at you. “Surely you’re not lonely though, right?”

“Lonely?”

“Like…” he hesitates, “you have friends?”

“I do,” you hum, furrowing your brows. “But. I don’t know. The girls on my team are nice, but I don’t really feel all that connected to them.”

“Is there no one you feel connected to?”

“There was somebody, but,” you trail off, looking towards the skyline. “People change. I guess I just can’t keep up.”

Red Robin listens quietly, his gaze thoughtful. "Change can be hard," he agrees softly. "But it's also inevitable. We all grow, evolve... sometimes in different directions."

"Yeah," you murmur, staring out at the city lights. "I guess that's part of growing up."

He whistles slightly. “So, who was that somebody?” You raise a brow at him. “If you’re comfortable sharing, that is!”

“Didn’t take you for a gossip,” you mumble.

Red Robin laughs softly, the sound light and almost musical against the backdrop of the night. “It’s not gossip if I’m just listening.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to the cityscape. “It was my best friend,” you admit quietly. “We grew up together, shared everything. But lately... things have changed. We’ve changed.” You sigh softly. “Sometimes I wonder if I did something wrong, or if it’s just... life.”

“I’m sure you did nothing wrong,” he whispers.

“I was in love with him. I think I still am.”

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavier than any silence that had come before. Red Robin shifts beside you, his posture suddenly more alert, more focused on your words.

"In love?" he repeats softly, as if testing the weight of the phrase.

“I kind of realized it when he introduced me to his then boyfriend. But by the time I understood my feelings, it felt too late. He has friends and big things happening for him, and all I have is him,” you mumble. “But I guess I don’t have him anymore.”

“He let me down so many times and I don’t even have it in me to be angry with him. I just wish he chose me.” You turn to face him.

Red Robin's expression is unreadable beneath his mask, but there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there before. He listens intently, not interrupting your flow of words, allowing you to spill the feelings that have been bottled up for so long.

Your face turns sad. “But maybe I’m being selfish.”

Red Robin's hand moves slightly, as if he's about to reach out to you, but he stops himself, clenching it into a fist instead. "It's hard," he says gently. "Loving someone who doesn't see you the same way, or who can't be there for you like you need them to be."

You stare at him as he continues, “I know it can’t compare to what you felt, but I’ve been so upset for the longest because I couldn’t share this part of my life with you.” He gestures to himself. “I was angry I couldn’t share with you the crazy things that happen on patrol or rely on you to patch me up if things go bad.”

The fog in your head clears. You look at him in confusion. “What?”

“But I was also so scared of bringing you into this life. I didn’t know if you felt the same and I thought I would just be dragging you into something that wasn’t worth it.”

You blink, staring at Red Robin in shock as the realization dawns on you. The pieces start to fit together—the familiarity, the way he seemed to know you, the concern in his eyes.

“Tim?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he removes his mask, revealing the face of your childhood friend. Tim’s eyes are filled with vulnerability and a hint of fear, as if he’s terrified of what you might say next.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you for so long. I wanted to protect you, but I ended up hurting you instead.”

Your heart races as you take in his words, the weight of his confession settling over you. The anger, confusion, and longing that have been building up inside you finally find an outlet.

“I thought,” he pauses, finding the words, “if I stayed away, you would be safe. You’d find other people and you wouldn’t need me anymore.” He shakes his head. “But I couldn’t stay away. You weren’t selfish [Name]. I was.”

The night seems to stretch on, the air tense with unspoken words. You look at Tim, still grappling with the shock of his revelation. His vulnerability pierces through the stoic facade you’ve seen him wear as Red Robin. The weight of his confession hangs heavy between you, stirring emotions you’ve kept buried.

You get up and start walking away.

Tim winces and reaches out to you. “[Name]–”

You whirl around. “I told you to leave me alone ,” you snarl. “So you go and play nice with me in your stupid costume? You pity me or something?”

Tim's expression shifts, hurt flashing across his features before he schools it into a mask of determination. "No, it's not pity. I care about you, [Name]. I've always cared." His voice is earnest, pleading almost, as if he's trying to convey the depth of his feelings without fully exposing himself.

You start pacing. “God, everything I told you–”

“I was just worried about you–”

“I trusted you.” you whisper.

He looks up at you, his expression pained. “I know I messed up. I should have been honest with you from the beginning.”

“Yes, you should have,” you snap, the anger rising in you like a tidal wave. “You had no right to decide for me.”

“You’re right, it was wrong.”

“Wrong doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you retort, your voice trembling now with a mix of anger and hurt. “Tim, I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he insists, his voice desperate now, pleading for you to understand. “I’ve always been your friend. I–”

“[Name],” he pleads. “I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity of his confession crashing into you like a rogue wave. Tim stands before you, vulnerable and raw, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding, of forgiveness.

“That’s why I did the things that I did.” His hand reaches out to gently take yours. “Because I thought I wasn't enough for you, and I know I don’t deserve you, but I still love you.”

His hand, warm and trembling, rests gently over yours. The city lights cast a soft glow on his face, revealing the sincerity in his eyes. Your emotions churn in a tumultuous sea of anger, hurt, and disbelief, struggling to find their place amidst his confession.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence is thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Tim's gaze never wavers from yours, a mixture of hope and fear etched into his features.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I know.”

“I deserve better.”

“I know.”

You sigh deeply, head dropping. “Maybe it’s too late,” you say quietly, your voice wavering. “Maybe we’ve both changed too much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re so unfair,” you growl, eyes growing wet. “I was trying to move on, and then you just come and do this.”

Tim winces.

You run a hand down your face tiredly. “And I still love you. God. Maybe I hate myself just as much as I hate you.”

“Don’t say that about yourself–”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

You point both fingers at his face. “You. You owe me so much.”

He nods rapidly. “I’m talking months, years of making this up to me,” you say, eyes looking into his. “You’re gonna do anything I ask and tell me anything I want to know.”

“Whatever you want, pretty.”

You raise a brow. He purses his lips. “Sorry. You’re kind of hot right now.”

“I’m always hot.”

“You’re right, I apologize.”

You glance at Tim, your anger softening. Despite everything, his familiar charm still manages to tug at your heartstrings. You let out a resigned sigh, realizing that beneath the hurt and confusion, there's a part of you that still cares deeply for him.

Your hands cup his face. “I’m going to kiss you now. You don’t deserve it, but I want it. And this will be the only one you get for a while.”

Tim’s eyes widen, and he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for what’s about to happen. He places his hands on your waist, tightening when you don’t bat him off.

As you lean in, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your lips meet his in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, a complex blend of longing and frustration. The contact is electrifying, igniting a myriad of feelings that have been pent up for too long. For a moment, the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you amidst the city lights and the quiet of the rooftop.

Tim responds with a desperateness that contrasts with the tenderness of your kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid you might disappear. The kiss lingers, neither of you rushing to pull away, savoring the connection despite the turmoil that surrounds it.

Tim presses a few fleeting kisses as you pull away. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, not sounding sorry at all. “Who knows when you’ll let me kiss you again.”

“You’re such a loser. Why do I love you.”

His smile goes stupid. He shoves his face into your neck. “You love me.”

You sigh, leaning into his embrace despite yourself. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The two of you stand on the rooftop, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city sprawled out beneath you. In that moment, amidst the complexities and uncertainties of life, you find a sense of peace—a realization that perhaps, despite the changes and challenges, some things are meant to endure.

“I’ll do right by you,” he vows.

You nod, feeling a bittersweet satisfaction. The process of healing and rebuilding trust will take time, but there’s a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, things can start to mend. You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the familiar comfort of his presence. “Let’s just take things one step at a time. I don’t want to rush this or force anything.”

Tim wraps his arms around you, his hold gentle but reassuring. “You won’t be. I want this bad. But whatever you want.”

Eventually, and hesitantly, Tim pulls away from you. “It’s late. Please let me take you home.”

He offers his hand, and you take it.

Tim struggles to let go of your hand as you open your front door. You compromise with a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Tim.”

His face goes red. “Goodnight, [Name],” he replies, his voice carrying a note of hope and promise.

You close the door behind you, feeling a renewed sense of clarity. The complexities of your emotions are still there, but you have a newfound hope that things can be mended. The city outside continues its nocturnal dance, but up on the rooftop, amidst the shared moments and honest confessions, you’ve found a glimmer of possibility. And for now, that’s enough.

notes: tim only went up to you at that gala because of his parents, but his little 8 year old self saw a cutie and said fuck it we in this for life

[lesbiancolumbo]

this woman is insane and i wouldn't have it any other way <3

[saturnville]

…stays in madrid [2/2]

pairing: jude bellingham x black oc (naomi sinclair) summary: what happens in madrid… warnings: small small reference to sex. tags: @emjayewrites @cocobutterqwueen @neeville @neewrites @blueaetherr @vile-harlot + anyone else who likes football fics? let me know if you want to be added! an: love naomi and jude down bad.

fc: renee downer

part one: what happens in madrid

1 year later.

She received an offer. To start a career in a new city—Madrid. To network with the most experienced and knowledgeable fashion. icons, to hone in on her craft of designing, to get one step closer to creating her own brand. She received an offer to be an Associate Director of Development and Design and she took it.

At the first opportunity, she packed her degree, all her belongings, sold her home, and jetted to Madrid on the first available flight. There, she was greeted with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine on her kitchen island in the center of her new condo.

Congratulations, it read. I’m so proud of you and all you’ve done. I hope you enjoy Madrid as your home. Can’t wait to see you. Xx Jude.

Naomi smiled softly. Still as sweet as he was a year ago when he desired her attention. She brought the bouquet to her nose and inhaled softly. The scent of tulips would never get old. She made a mental note to keep flowers in the kitchen as frequently as she could.

Naomi spent the next few hours unpacking and organizing her home. By the time she’d come to a reasonable stopping point, her bedroom and bathroom had been unpacked and organized. Her kitchen and living room required some work, but they would be priority for later.

She huffed and prepared to sit on the edge of the bed but was halted in action by a loud knock on her door. Naomi whined loudly and clenched her teeth. With her feet planted firmly, she rolled her shoulders bag and trudged toward the door. 9:42pm. Who could…?

“Fix your face,” she heard once she opened the door. Her features immediately softened, her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes lit up. On the other side of the door was Jude, leaned up against the doorframe, another bouquet of flowers in one hand while a large backpack occupied the other. “Can’t be that upset to see me, can you?”

Naomi smiled softly and ushered him in. Jude nodded as he glanced around her apartment in approval. Proud was an understatement. She’d done the damn thing and he couldn’t have been happier for her. “Looks good, babe. You need help with anything?” Jude hardly emptied his hands before Naomi’s chest was pressed against his and her lips claimed his. His large hands circled around her waist and snuck downward to caress her bottom. She smiled against his lips. Three months was too long without him, and now, she’d see him almost everyday.

“Not right now,” she said once she pulled away. Her thumb caressed his face in endearment. She wiped away the remnants of her lip gloss and giggled. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t expecting you until later this week.”

Jude shook his head. “My girl’s in Madrid and you thought I wasn’t coming today?” He blew a raspberry and waved her off. Naomi held her hands up in faux defense, “Alright now, Mr. Bellingham.”

“You eat?” he asked, sauntering to the counter top. Naomi shook her head. He began to dig into the backpack and pulled out containers of food—a variety to choose from. And of course, her favorite wine along with chocolate and packs of popcorn. “Jude…”

He was just so him. So considerate and kind. So generous and lovely. Her eyes began to water. Who would’ve known that the man who approached her a year ago at a dinner would be in her new home wining and dining her. Blessed couldn’t even describe how she felt.

“You’re amazing. Thank you,” Naomi said, wrapping her arms around his waist. Jude pressed his lips against her forehead, his heart fluttering at her touch. “Gonna take a shower. Did you bring clothes?”

Jude nodded, his stomach clenching. “Yeah, why, what’s up?”

Naomi pulled away and raised her eyebrow suggestively. Jude smiled softly and tapped her bottom as he followed her to her bedroom. “Yes ma’am.”

-

“Right there, baby?” His warm breath tickled her ear and scratched at her insides. Speechless. How had she never known the beauty of making love? It was so rich and warm. Maybe it was because of his gentleness and patience.

The way he caressed her so softly, encouraged her so boldly, and expressed his adoration so freely, had her mind going in circles. How had she gotten so lucky?

Her words were gargled as she tried to make out a simple statement. He found amusement in her struggle. She swallowed thickly. “Yeah, right there…”

-

Liked by judebellingham, adyajalyn, alexandraaaaa, and 789 others.

naomisinclair from madrid, with love.

View 167 comments.

jobebellingham get a room. jk love u

— naomisinclair love u dork

adyajalyn miss you already

— naomisinclair i miss u more. come visit soon

justineskye so happy for you!

— naomisinclair i’m gagged. thank you!!!

judebellingham i love you

— naomisinclair i love you more

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-

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jude whispered. “I know you’re not here for me, but you being here means everything to me.”

Naomi smiled. She placed her food on the bedside table and threw her arms over his body. “I’m glad I’m here too. I love you.”

Jude seared his lips against hers. To be close to her was everything. To know her was a privilege. One that he’d never take for granted. Ever. “I love you.”

[belleandsaintsebastian]

Can I re-blogging the post you created?

I do not know how to begin my story. I do not know if my words will touch the hearts of everyone. What I want is to save my beautiful and loving family. It is like my whole life. I wish from my heart to be this girl who fights with all her might for her family because they are everything to me, and every day passes. It is as if we were carrying mountains and walking with them. The situation is catastrophic, like a movie that you do not know what its ending is. The North is suffering from hunger and the South is suffering from destruction, bombing, poor food and death that haunts it every second. Today was difficult. Many of my family were martyred. The news was not good. I hope that my day will end and that We are fine, what does the world expect from us? Should I wait to see my family's health deteriorate before my eyes?! We have lost a lot, we have lost dreams, we have lost the future, we have lost work, we have lost the house, we have lost friends, we have lost the neighborhood, the street, and everything

O free world, I hope you can help me. I hope to publish and write down my story on social networking sites. My story is full of many meanings. My story is beautiful. It needs your support. We want to leave Gaza in order to protect my family from bombing, displacement, and the hunger of poor lunches. We want a better future. Everyone in my family has dreams. I do not want those dreams. If you die, I want you to be created again, despite the many pains that we carry inside us, but this will be achieved by your spreading me, and may Palestine and Gaza live free

hello <3 beautiful shahd has reached out to me with her story in the hopes of raising funds to help get her family of 15 to safety -- campaign is currently at $5,695 USD of a $50,000 goal, please consider donating if you have the means and please share her campaign so that she can reach her goal!!! campaign was vetted by @/nabulsi under a different account that has been deleted.

tagging some people who might be able to share <3 @maryoliverdotcom @serethereal @boydykepdf @nabulsi @sayruq

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 13

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: For those who didn't catch my announcement on Monday, I released Part 12 earlier this week! Now, on to a confrontation I think a lot of you have been waiting for...

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted sexual assault. Protective Dean, angst, hurt/comfort.  

Part 13: “Boiling Point”

Usually, Christmas was your absolute favorite time of the year.

This holiday was a baker’s dream, and you and your grandmother used to volunteer at the church bake sale every Christmas Eve. Grandpa George had done his best to help you in the years after she died…but you just didn’t have it in you this year.

You considered it an accomplishment that you pulled down some of the decorations from the attic, putting them up around your house, and buying a little four-foot tree (also hauling it into the house yourself). However, you knew that you wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Day, at least.

Sam and Dean had already invited you over to spend it with them. You would have the chance to get to know Eileen better, and you would even get to meet the famous John Winchester…

But you still had one reason to dread the end of the month.

Nick Savage threw a Christmas party every year. It was equal parts celebration and networking, and as a top performer of the sales division, you were expected to come.

The problem was, this time the party was going to be held at his house.

“You can’t just not go?” Andréa asked, shortly before taking a massive bite of her burrito. The two of you were grabbing dinner together after another long day at the office, followed by a movie later.

You’d realized just how much you had missed your best friend.

“Yeah, that’ll be great for me. Josh will get to chat up the whole team and get them clamoring to kiss his dick. Nick will give him the Sales Manager position just to spite me,” you said, while picking at your taco salad. “He keeps pitting us against each other for his own enjoyment, but I swear to God he harps on me the most.”

Andréa frowned. “Are you sure Nick just doesn’t have a thing for you? It sounds like he’s a little boy, picking on a girl he likes.”

You pursed your lips. She still didn’t know the full extent on your boss’s thing with you. You hadn’t told her about the last time Nick cornered you in his office, dangled a promotion in front of you, and basically gave you an ultimatum: sleep with him, or don’t move up in the company.

You hadn’t told anyone, for that matter.

You were just trying to figure out how to not get fired, while still getting compensated for your hard work. Was that too much to ask? 

Apparently, it was.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks about me,” you said vehemently.

It earned your friend’s gaze, and her raised eyebrows. 

“Whoa,” she chuckled. “Easy there, Miss Congeniality. That’ll be sure to earn you the promotion.”

“No, really,” you said. You stabbed into your salad with a fork. “I’m so fucking sick and tired of having to tap dance my entire work life around him. He’s a goddamn child who thinks he can have whatever he wants just because Daddy gave him his own little kingdom!”

Andréa eyed you more with concern. Her hand reached for your arm. Meanwhile, you were forcing slower breaths through your nose.

“You okay?” she asked. “I don’t like the ‘crazy town’ look in your eyes right now.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled. “Just hangry, I guess.”

You took another bite of your food. Andréa gave you a skeptical look, but she let it go for now, with a smirk.

“Yeah, well. Eat a Snickers, bitch. I don’t need you snapping on me again,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but you had to laugh a little. You shoved at her shoulder.

She gripped her own arm in fake panic. “Someone call the cops! This crazy woman just punched me out over a salad!”

You tried to shush her, even though you were giggling. Your head swiveled around in the restaurant, giving apologetic eyes to the people around you.

“Although, $20 for a few sprigs of romaine lettuce and a sliver of chicken? That’s worth punching somebody the fuck out,” she said, throwing down her napkin. “Let’s never come here again.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “I don’t think they’ll let us back here anyway.”

A few days later, you didn’t want to admit you were stressing out over this night.

“Have I said thank you? Because I mean it. Thank you for taking time off for this,” you said, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in Dean’s blazer.

He looked good in black. It was classic, and the new suit was smart without being “too much” for him. (Sam had taken him to his “suit guy,” as Dean called it.)

Dean grabbed your arms to stop your slightly flustered hands. He smirked down at you as his eyes once again took in your dark red dress. It was simple and sleeveless, but elegant, falling just above the knee. Of course, you had to be wearing the tallest pair of black heels he’d ever seen.

“It’s no sacrifice, believe me,” he replied.

You smiled, but he noticed something behind your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. “Seems like you don’t really want to go to this thing.”

“I don’t,” you admitted on a sigh. “But my boss will know if I’m not there…I told you about the open Sales Manager position, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded. His smile slid into a frown as he watched you bustle around your room, looking for your purse while you smoothed out the soft waves you’d managed to style your hair in, checking your eyeliner and lipstick too in the mirror.

“As usual, it’s down to me and Josh,” you said. “If I keep my numbers up and use tonight to network with my own team, get the rest of the guys on my side, maybe Nick will see that I’m the right choice.”

Dean came up behind you, resting a hand on your lower back.

“And this manager job…that’s what you want?” he asked.

You turned to him with a questioning look. “Well, yeah. I’ve been working here for five years, busting my ass.”

“And I got no doubt that you’re good at what you do,” Dean said. “But you do know, there hasn’t been a day since I met you that you didn’t have something crap to say about that job, and those people you work with.”

You frowned, and you thought about what he was saying. Sure, you complained about Nick, but did you really talk that much shit about your job?

“Everyone has things they don’t like about their work,” you reasoned. “Even you have your bad days.”

Though he tended to keep those days to himself, you knew when he’d had a tough call at the firehouse. You’d been trying your best to be a listening ear if he needed it, or if not, at least a soothing presence. It was more often the latter with Dean.

He acknowledged your point with a nod. “Okay, fair enough. I don’t know…I just think you’re wasting your talent.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, you’re like…an artist. It’s nothing me, or Sam, or Andréa, or anybody in your life hasn’t told you before,” said Dean. “You went to school to do your dream. And I know life happened. But I also know that when I walk into the firehouse, it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. Can you say that when you walk into the Savage building?”

You took in a breath. You understood what he was saying, but as much as you wanted to indulge the fantasy of owning your own business, being your own boss, creating your own menu, and giving people quality baked goods…you had to live in reality here.

Opening a brick-and-mortar business was expensive. And most restaurants, even bakeries, weren’t profitable for at least one to three years. You still had plenty of bills, and not even a car since the accident.

“I’ve invested too much time here to quit, Dean,” you said.

The conversation died there, but it left something new and awkward between you two. You tried to put it out of your mind while he drove you both over to the “filthy fucking rich” side of town, through a massive gate, and into a wide parking lot that had a valet driver waiting. Nick’s ridiculous house was a monument to trust fund kids everywhere. 

Dean reluctantly handed over the keys to the Impala.

“No donuts in the parking lot.” He eyed the 20-something-year-old valet with all due scrutiny. “Trust me, I’ll know.”

You smirked and slipped your arm around his to tug him up the steps, toward the large double doors of the house.

“Come on, Rambo. Baby’ll be fine without you.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean quipped back. Still, he moved his arm out of yours, just to wrap it around your waist and pull you against his side. His lips pressed against your cheek.

“You look sexy as hell,” he said lowly near your ear. “Did I forget to mention that?”

“No.” Your smile deepened. “But doesn’t hurt to mention again. I might just have to reward my boyfriend for humoring me tonight, getting all dapper himself.”

You and Dean made it up to the porch and you knocked on the door. He shot you a raised brow as his lips tugged upwards.

“Oh, yeah? We talkin’ lace or satin?” he asked. His lips brushed your temple.

You pretended to think. “Little of both, actually. It’s new. And it’s red…and I might just be wearing it right now.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. His gaze subtly dragged over your every curve, as if he had x-ray vision to spy through your dress. You maintained an enigmatic smile.

“Oh, you’re diabolical,” he muttered. His hand moved down to playfully squeeze your ass. You had to bite your lip to stifle the sound you made, as that’s when the doors finally began to swing open.

Dean’s hand moved up a respectable few inches, resting on your waist.

You both smiled and greeted the attendant who let you into the house.

A quick text let you know that Benny and Andréa were already here, each holding a flute of champagne. You and Dean met up with them in the huge living room space (which might has well have been a grand hall, for how large it was).

It held 50 people easily, but the party was already spanning the entire house, of at least two stories. It made your house look like a modest Barbie Dream home, without the pool attachment.

And Nick Savage was at the center of it all, greeting each guest and their “plus ones.”

When he spotted your group, he smoothly excused himself from the conversation with Josh and his wife, and headed over to you.

“Incomiiing,” Andréa quietly sing-songed. She sipped her champagne.

You steeled yourself, and you did your best to give a polite smile when Nick arrived with a pleasant “Merry Christmas.” You forced yourself to remain still when his hand fell on your arm, and he reached out to shake Dean’s hand in greeting, followed by Andréa and Benny. 

“Welcome, you guys,” he said, giving you a smile that hid just a hint of a smirk. “Justin let you know where everything is, right? Lotsa drinks, the good stuff, I promise. Plenty of food, hot chocolate and eggnog fountains, if that’s your thing. And a hell of a lot more out back by the pool.”  

“Great, thank you,” you nodded politely.

“All right! Let’s party,” Nick fist-pumped in the air. He pointed towards you and Dean. “You need a drink in your hand, stat.”

“I’m fine for now. Going to wait until I have something to eat first,” you replied. If you were going to get a glass of wine, it wouldn’t be one that Nick handed to you.

He pouted a little, but he looked at Dean next. “How about you, big guy? What you drinkin’?”

Dean shot you a glance, but before he could respond, Nick interrupted.

“You look like a whiskey guy. Am I right?” he asked.

Dean inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“Perfect. See? I’ve got an instinct for people,” Nick said, tossing you a wink as he headed for the nearby bar. “I’ll be back. You crazy kids relax and have fun.”

You had to admit, he knew how to turn on the charm when he had to. But who the hell said crazy kids under the age of 45?  

“He’s uh…got pep,” Benny remarked.

Andréa snorted and tapped her glass. “He’s a few shots in already.”

“You think?” Dean asked.

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes. If there was one thing you could count on, it was for Nick Savage to be drinking.

“He knows how to act when everyone’s watching,” you said. 

You looked up at the high-vaulted ceilings and expensive artwork on the walls, not noticing how Dean glanced at you with the edge of a frown.

At the very least, the food was excellent. It was served in a large back room that served as a banquet hall, meant for entertaining.

There you and Dean actually had a good time, with you sipping on red wine and Dean on a glass of the “good stuff,” all while playing cards with Andréa and Benny and a few of your coworkers on the sales team.

“I just can’t believe Adam quit, to join our main competitor, no less,” said Marv. “I had absolutely no idea he was thinking of leaving.”

He was the team gossip. He prided himself on knowing every coming and going on the sales floor, which confounded you, since Marv was also a bit of a hermit. He either kept to his office like it was a bomb shelter, or you could catch him in the break lounge grabbing yet another coffee, all the while keeping his ear perked up for scraps of conversation.

“Yeah, you did, Marv,” you replied with a smirk. “You’re the one who saw Adam’s resignation letter on his own desk.”

He hadn’t even handed said letter to Nick yet.

“Well, I knew it then, obviously,” Marv said, with his hands open wide. “It leaves us without a manager…which I think, not for long.”

His eyes met yours knowingly.

You smiled. “We’ll see. I think Josh is playing kiss-ass tonight.”

You turned your head and spotted Nick and Josh taking shots of tequila together at the bar, with the latter wincing at the burn with a lime peel in his mouth. Josh’s wife was sitting off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Your gaze focused on your boss for a moment. You shook your head at the state of him, with a loose tie and the top buttons undone on his shirt, laughing boisterously and egging Josh on.

Fucking frat bros.

“That’s your boss, huh?” Benny remarked.

“In all his Cuervo-stained glory,” Marv replied. He shook his head as well.    

It made you realize something.

As nice a time as you’d been having, for about an hour at most, your good mood soured the moment you were reminded of the office politics. Of Josh and Nick and everything in between. Was this really what you wanted for the rest of your career?

The rest of your life?

Maybe Dean was right, you thought. You knew you were good at your job. You knew you were fortunate to even have a job that paid your bills…but maybe “being good” wasn’t enough for you.

If there was one thing you’d learned from your grandfather’s death, it was that peace was precarious. And sacrificing too many parts of yourself, for money, wasn’t a fulfilling life or even a happy one.

You wanted to be happy. You also wanted peace.

So you leaned over and laid a hand on Dean’s, which rested on the round table.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His head bowed near yours. “Hmm?”

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked. He raised his brows at you.

“Really? I thought you needed to stay and schmooze with your people,” he replied.

You smiled and drew your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I think I’m done.”

Dean looked a bit confused. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. And you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth. “You were right. It’s not worth it.”

A flicker of a smile began to tug at his lips, but his brows drew together.

“Hey. Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t bow out just because of me—”

Your hand tightened on his wrist.

“No, baby. It’s me. My choice,” you said. “Let me just use the restroom real quick, and we can go.”

Dean nodded, and you stood.  

“What, are you leaving?” Andréa asked. She was tucked into Benny’s side with a piece of red velvet cake poised on her fork. “You didn’t even finish your cake!”

You laughed. Turning down dessert was a big deal for you, but you’d live.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I just need to call it a night, but I’ll be back in a sec to say goodbye. Hold on.”

Andréa blew out a breath as you walked away from the table.

“She’s gonna miss the White Elephant gift exchange. Last year, someone got a 60” smart TV,” she said.

Benny whistled.

“I wouldn’t mind an upgrade,” he said. He shot Dean a glance. “What do you think the guys would do if we showed up with something like that to the station?”

Dean scoffed. “I think the Chief would have a damn conniption.”

Bobby was old-school. He thought they had enough distractions from the job as it was.

“Probably right,” Benny chuckled.

Andréa smiled in amusement. But her eyes clocked the way Nick glanced your way as you walked by, down the hall and to the right. She sipped at her glass of pinot grigio to wash down the rich cake.

Still, she discreetly watched the man down another shot before he took his leave of the bar. He laughed at something Josh said and waved him off.

She gave Nick credit for not stumbling on his feet, and only swaying slightly on the same path you took down the hall. It didn’t mean he was following you, necessarily. This house was like a small Smithsonian. And yet, something niggled in the back of her mind. 

Andréa remembered how you’d acted at dinner the other day when talking about Nick. And how drained you’d seemed lately when she saw you after work. She’d thought that was just about finding your way after George’s death…

Marv distracted her with a question as Dean and Benny continued to talk, and she answered him with her usual charm. But she kept one eye on the hallway, waiting for you to come back.

She made it about another minute before she turned to Benny and Dean, leaning in close.

“Hey, Dean,” she said. “Maybe you want to check on her? She’s taking a while.”

Dean didn’t look concerned as he checked his watch. It hadn’t been all that long, but he still pulled out his phone to text you.

“She left her purse here,” Andréa said. She started to get up out of her seat. “I’m just gonna go see if she’s okay.”

Benny grabbed her hand before she left the table.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked. 

“I’m not sure,” she said, but she met Dean’s confused gaze. “Okay, look. I’ve been noticing some things with her recently. I have no evidence except for how well I know that woman, but something’s off with her. It happens every time she talks about that asshole Nick.”

Dean’s brows furrowed as he tried to read between the lines.

“What’re you saying exactly?” he asked.

Andréa let out a breath. “I’m saying, I’ve got a bad feeling.”

You hummed as you washed your hands in the bathroom. Wine runs right through me. I should know better.

You’d also been trying to quell your anxieties and just get through the night. But you realized now that there was no kind of calm like the peace you had, now that you knew what you needed to do. Starting tomorrow, you were going to start looking for a new job.

A knock at the door made you jolt slightly.

“Someone’s in here!” you called without looking over your shoulder. You finished washing your hands and dried them on the hand towel hanging on a silver wall rack.

The door cracked open, but before you could protest, a man stumbled in.

Of fucking course it was Nick Savage.

“Excuse me?!” you breathed in shock. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed the door closed and seemed to take notice of you for the first time. He smirked.

“Oh, hey,” he said. Somehow, he was only slurring a little. He straightened his white blazer. The black satin shirt he wore was wrinkled and he smelled heavily of tequila, and that was with a couple of feet of distance between you two.

Your shock finally melted into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gotta take a leak. It’s my house after all,” he shrugged, leaning a hand on the wall closest to the door for balance.

You shook your head, and with a huff, you tried to get by him.

His hand wrapped around your arm. “Hey, we didn’t get a chance to catch up tonight.”

You shoved his hand off of you.

“Don’t you ever in your life touch me again,” you warned him. Your eyes were as hard as your voice. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet—no. In the whole damn universe who sickens me more than you, Nick Savage.”

Nick straightened a little, frowning at you. Whatever he saw in your gaze, he didn’t seem to like the challenge. When you reached for the doorknob again, he grabbed your arm and shoved you hard into the nearest wall.

You gasped as the air rushed out of your lungs. Before you even realized what was happening, you felt his clammy hands on your bare shoulders, his hot alcoholic breath on your face. You raised your hands in defense, pushing against his chest.

He was taller and stronger and pinned you harder against the wall, with his knee shoving its way between your legs. You stared up with wide eyes of fear, and his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

Your nails bit into his arm and wrist, trying to peel back his sweaty hand, just an inch to free your voice and let you breathe. To your left you heard the door bang open.

Please—

And the hand was peeled away entirely.

You could only blink and watch as Dean barreled through, grabbing Nick and bodily hurling him away. Nick opened his mouth to spout something angrily, but Dean continued to stalk forward and grab the man again.

Nick attempted a lazy swing at Dean’s head, but he bat it away. His fist connected roughly with Nick’s face, snapping his head back with a cry.

It was almost too fast for you to track what was happening right in front of you, but Dean dragged the drunkard the rest of the way across the bathroom, even over the tub, and slammed him against the beige tile so hard that it knocked a few of them loose. Nick’s head smacked audibly against them and he groaned at the impact.

The men were around the same height, but Dean was honed by years of firefighting and fueled by rage. One hand gripped high on Nick’s collar, while his arm pressed against the man’s chest. Then into his throat.

“Give me a reason,” Dean said, in a voice much calmer than he felt. Behind his eyes was wildfire.

“What?” Nick choked.

You finally broke through enough of your shock to know you had to do something.

“Dean!” you uttered. You cautiously went to him, but he glanced at you over his shoulder in warning.

“Stay there,” he told you firmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, even though your voice shook. “Let’s just go.”

Despite the blood dripping down from his likely bruised nose, Nick chortled a laugh. It earned Dean’s slow head turn, returning his attention to the decision at hand. His fist tightened in Nick’s shirt.

“You heard me,” Dean said. His voice was laced with steel. “I said give me a reason not to break your miserable fucking neck.”

“Dean,” you gasped.

“Not sure that’s a good idea, fireman,” Nick slurred. “I clearly don’t have all my wits about me right now. Can’t be held lia…li-ble for my actions, now can I? I’ll have your badge by end of the week.”

You let out a harsh breath and finally went to Dean. You laid a hand on his back. Every muscle was tense and straining under his white dress shirt.

“Dean,” you pressed. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

Nick smirked lazily in Dean’s face. It was the look of a man who was used to getting his way.

“I’d listen to her,” he said, with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Or I could just fire her on Monday. Make it easy on myself.”

Dean seethed. His forearm slowly rolled harder into the man’s neck, pressing on his windpipe. The sounds of choked air were satisfying.

“Yeah, or I’ll have the police down here in ten minutes or less,” said Dean. “I’ll clue you in on a little something. My dad’s a cop. I’ll reckon he’ll be happy to put a fucking douchebag like you in the can with the real charmers.”

Dean gave a mocking glance to Nick’s silk shirt, his gold pinky ring and loafers.

“How long do you think it’ll take for one of ‘em to make you their little bitch?” Dean said.

Nick glared back at him, with a frisson of intimidation behind his eyes. He glanced at you over his shoulder. Dean noticed and tightened his hold.

“Don’t you look at her, you piece of shit!” he warned. His voice was low and dangerous. “Make your choice. You gonna come down to the station easy, or difficult? Please say difficult.”

Nick held up placating hands. He shifted uncomfortably against the wall; one foot was planted on the ground while the other was in the tub. The shower curtain was half off its hooks.

Dean eased up enough for Nick to take a breath.

“Okay, let’s say we do that,” he said, with a cough. “I’ll get bail. Then I’ll fucking walk, ‘cause I own this town.” 

“You mean your dad does,” you snapped.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Same name, same shit, sweetheart.”

Dean grit his teeth and tightened his grip again in warning. You wrapped your hand around his arm, but he didn’t budge.

Nick met his eyes.

“How about this. Get your greasy fucking hands off me, and we’ll call tonight a wash,” he proposed. “No foul, we all take our balls and go home.”

He then snorted at his own joke. “Balls…”

Dean tilted his head, but didn’t move a muscle. “Or?”

Once again, Nick smirked.

“I’ll report you to your boss for assaulting me in my own house. And uh, she’ll be fired, obviously.” He shrugged. “By the time my lawyers get done with her, she won’t be able to sling lattes at Starbucks.”

Dean’s face was stony, tight with outrage. His whole body was coiled like a spring as every cell in his body fought against ripping this man apart.

But he still felt your hands around his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Dean, don’t. He’s not worth your career. Please,” you begged.

The bathroom door pushed open again, and he heard Benny’s voice.

“Hey, brother.” He dropped a careful hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Come on, now. You got him. Ease up now.”

Dean’s teeth ground together. He looked down, and his stare bored into Nick’s. Dean pressed his forearm into the other man’s throat again, enough to almost feel the give as the man struggled for breath.

“Remember how that feels,” Dean said icily. “20579, Dean Winchester. The next time you want to threaten my badge, that’s my number.”

Nick’s eyes widened slightly. At the time, Dean took it as fear. But really, it was recognition.

Winchester, Nick thought.

Dean then leaned in closer, so only Nick would hear his next lowered words.

“First and last warning,” Dean said. “If you touch her again. If I hear anything more about you giving her a hard time, not a dime in the world is gonna save you from me.”

When Dean finally pulled his arm away and let go, Nick’s face was red and spluttering as he coughed and slumped into the bathtub.

Dean turned on his heel in anger and disgust. Andréa was supporting you with her arm around yours, but she released you to let Dean take over. You stared up at him with tearful eyes, and you reached for his hand.

He took it with his left, holding you steady. He then wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the bathroom.

The air was tense and silent inside the Impala. It was a long drive back to your house, and Dean hadn’t looked at you once in 20 minutes. His gaze was firmly on the road. He hadn’t even turned on the radio.

You had his suit jacket draped around your frame, but your insides still felt cold. You glanced over at him and stared at his profile for a moment, wishing you knew what to say to break the silence. To reassure him that you were fine. (Even though it would've been a lie.)

He felt your stare and turned his head towards you.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked. His voice was gruff. “Andréa said she’s been noticing something off about you for a while.”

Your lips pressed together. “Can this part wait until we get home…please?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, but he turned back to the road ahead.

The car was silent for the rest of the hour.

It was a relief to turn the key into the door lock and step through the threshold of your house. Dean followed you inside and tossed his wallet and car keys on the side table by the door.

Somehow he always managed to miss the little basket you put there for exactly those things, but you weren’t about to remind him.

You slipped off your heels and went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, to steady yourself. Dean leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He didn’t say anything, but you still felt his eyes on you.

With a sigh, you turned and met his gaze.

“Just tell me,” he said. “How long?”

You took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“It started before I even met you, Dean.” 

His brows raised high. He tilted his head at you as incredulous anger tightened his face.

“What?” he said. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. “Okay, come here.”

You led him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. You explained that it started small, with compliments on your clothes, your hair. Then it was lingering looks, “innocent” brushes of his hand, touching your arm, your shoulder.

When you’d tried to put distance between you and Nick, the drunken shenanigans began. The comments grew heinous and sickening, and so did his threats.

And nothing you did worked. Not distance and professionalism. Not refusing his advances outright. Not threatening to go to HR.

All while you spoke, Dean was quiet, but on edge. You saw it in how he gripped his knee, with his other hand fisted against his mouth, elbow resting on his thigh.

But the hardest part of the conversation came when you told Dean about the day of the car accident—how Nick had demanded you come to his office and gave you a sickening ultimatum.

At that, Dean could no longer remain still. He got up and started to pace across the living room. He was a man of action, you knew, and his reaction was almost everything you’d feared.

I should've told him, you thought. You knew.

Although you now felt relieved, even in your guilt, you also knew this next part wasn’t going to be fun either. Because Dean finally erupted.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked.

Briefly, you closed your eyes. “No.”

“Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His hand buried itself in his hair as his jaw clenched. Even if your friend Andréa hadn’t known, she’d still seen enough to suspect something. It completely blew his mind, in the worst of ways.

“Jesus Christ!” he shook his head. “Why am I always the last one to know when something’s going on with you?”

Tears watered in your eyes as you looked up at him. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I mean, really. What are we doing here, huh?” he exclaimed, his hands open wide. “Honestly, tell me. Because if you can’t trust me, then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Your eyes widened, a trill of panic lacing down your spine. You stood up and went to him. 

“Dean, please, it wasn’t about that,” you said. You implored him with your eyes to understand. “I wanted to tell someone…God, you don’t know how bad I wanted to tell you. But I knew how you’d react. Just like this. I didn’t want to make the situation worse!”

He frowned deeply. “You didn’t want help? You didn’t want me to protect you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you snapped. But then, you sucked in a shaking breath, trying to calm yourself. You got closer and rested a hand against his chest.

“Of course I’m grateful that you protected me. Dean, I love you for it.”

You grasped the ends of his jacket with both hands. All you really wanted to do was bury yourself in his warmth and sleep for the next ten years. You were still raw and frayed inside.

Dean looked down at you, and his heart clenched. He couldn’t help but hold you back. His arms wound around your lower back as he pulled you against him. His chin rested above your head, and you sighed in relief.

“I thought I could handle it,” you confessed, in a smaller voice. “I worked so damn hard…I wanted to fight for my job. But Nick knew I didn’t have the money or the resources to fight back for real if I reported him, or even if I sued him. And before tonight, I didn’t have enough to take to the police.”

Dean pulled away just enough to see your face. He grasped your arms, gentle but firm.

“I’ll take you to the station right now,” he said. “My dad can help you. Hell, Sam can help you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head.   

“You heard him, Dean. With his money and connections, he’ll get off. And then he’ll make both of our lives hell,” you said. “He’ll go after your badge—”

“He can fucking try,” he snapped.

“Stop, okay? I don’t want that,” you pleaded.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, and he let you go.

“You’re fucking impossible, you know that?” he said. “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”

He was beside himself with frustration, and even hurt. You knew it in the way he tried to walk away from you, but you reached for his arm to stop him, with tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t want his support. That you didn’t trust him.

Because that couldn’t have been any farther from the truth.

“I’m sorry!” Your tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You tugged him back towards you, earning his furrowed glance. “I was…scared. I…I didn’t know what to do. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it at all.”

The longer Dean looked at your face, the more he crumbled.

Once again, he turned to gather you back into his arms. And there your tears fell in earnest. Your body trembled with quiet sobs, and he held you tighter. His heart broke a little more as his hand soothed over your hair. He shushed you more gently, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. You shouldn’t have had to deal with this, let alone for this damn long,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward for a moment as he mentally kicked himself. You didn’t deserve this, or his anger either. 

He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed any signs, like Andréa had. All these months… It threatened to drive him up a fucking wall.

“You’re safe, and I’ve got you,” he said, continuing to hold you securely against him. “We’ll handle this, like everything else.”

After a moment, you nodded, letting out another shaky breath. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into his chest.

You already knew you must’ve looked a state, after the night you’d had, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Mascara and lipstick smudged, hair disheveled, tears staining your cheeks.

Ugh. You hastily scrubbed your face clean with makeup wipes. Then you tamed your hair, brushing through the frizz and calming it back into relative normalcy.

You went for the zipper of your dress next, but you couldn’t get it down all the way. You turned to look over your shoulder.

“Dean,” you called. 

He was in your room, rifling through his bag to grab the clothes he’d brought to sleep in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Come ‘ere a sec?”

He obliged you, drawing into the bathroom. His white dress shirt was only half unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up. You met his eyes in the mirror.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked.

Dean looked down where your hands were holding both sides of the zipper on your dress. He took one side from you and unzipped it the rest of the way, stopping at the small of your back. He caught sight of the red, sheer lingerie underneath.

Noticing the way he paused, you smiled slightly. You turned toward him and tugged the dress down the rest of the way, so he could see the rest of the ensemble. It was a simple corset-style nightie, but true to your word, the lace was paired with satin trim lines.

Your hands ran up his sternum and undid the last buttons on his shirt. You grasped near his collar and leaned up on your toes for a slow kiss. Dean unconsciously held you to him by your shoulders, his eyes closing at the feel of you.

But when they next opened, he caught sight of the bruise on your shoulder. It was about the size of a thumbprint.

His throat tightened. After a moment, he parted from you, but he didn’t continue where you left off. You looked up at him in confusion.

“Baby?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t answer you; couldn’t even articulate what the hell was in his head. So he just turned and went back into the room for his change of clothes. It left you frowning, bereft, and worried.

You changed into an old shirt and some shorts before you got into bed. You slipped under the covers and watched Dean. He sat with his back to you as he unclipped his watch and set it down on the nightstand. By now he’d changed into his faded, gray Lawrence Fire Department shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Your throat constricted with emotion, namely with anxiety.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Dean paused. He glanced back at you, saw you laying there with a hand gripped into the covers. His brows furrowed when he saw your shining tears.

He turned and got into bed with you. He slid his arm under your head and wordlessly encouraged you to come closer. His free hand soothed across your arm.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said at last. But he was still upset, and deeply unsettled. As the night replayed in his mind, he knew that at the root of his fury, there was fear. 

“I just keep thinking,” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t called out of work tonight.”

You looked down at that. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I wouldn’t have gone to the party,” you said. Though if you were honest with yourself, you probably would’ve thought yourself safe with Benny and Andréa. “I just…I really didn’t think he would try to—”

You tried to take a breath to steady yourself, but it was a tremulous release. The memory flashed behind your eyes, the remnants of panic and fear under your skin.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Dean’s hand was caressing your cheek, brushing away your tears.

“All right, shhh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s over,” he said. Once again, he pulled you into his arms and held you close. Guilt hit him between the ribs for upsetting you all over again. “I promise you’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

You did your best to take in deep breaths, letting them out more steadily. Dean wanted to put the matter to bed for tonight. He really did…but he couldn’t help pressing one last thing.

“Just tell me you’re not going back there on Monday, unless it’s to HR,” he said. 

You paused, shook your head a little. You didn’t want to rev him up again, but you knew Nick. 

“He doesn’t make idle threats, Dean,” you reminded him. “But there’s a reason why he waited until tonight, at his house. He’s not going to try his luck at the office, where everyone’s watching.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean retorted.

You saw his point, but you almost didn’t want to acknowledge it. You couldn’t afford to quit.

“I still need my job, for now,” you said. “But I will start looking for something else, so I can get out as soon as possible. I promise.”

Dean wasn’t happy. Both of you knew it. You also sensed that he wanted to argue more, but was holding back for now. You appreciated that.

You truly didn’t want to get into it anymore with him. You just wanted to close your eyes and try to forget about tonight, knowing that you’d fail. 

Dean still held you, with his hands rubbing up and down your back. His touch and his heartbeat soothed you until you managed to fall asleep. 

AN: Dean knows, and it ain't pretty. What did you think of the confrontation? Unfortunately, I'm drawing from real events here (not myself).

Next Time:

The mystery of "Azazel" thickens, Dean deals with another tricky fire, and the reader has a realization of her own...

“Yeah, well. This one’s a rat bastard in human clothing,” you replied.

“Ooh, sounds like my old biology professor,” Jo chimed in. She was drying out some newly clean glasses behind the counter along with Ellen. “He had a reputation for scoping out freshman girls.”

You made a gagging sound as you reached for the delectable martini glass Ellen slid your way.

“Men are disgusting,” you said. Jo snorted.

“99.8% of them, yeah,” she said. But her gaze drew towards the door when Dean Winchester came in. And she added, “A few of ‘em are all right.”

Was it just you, or was there a softer look in her blue eyes when she noticed Dean?

Keep Reading: PART 14

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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[ambiguouslady42]

Pairing: Hajime Umemiya x Fem! Reader

CW: Oral (f/m receiving), food play, vaginal sex, creampie, mention of a scar.

Summary: You go on a strawberry-picking date with Umemiya. Later, you decide to make chocolate strawberries and the rest is history.

WC: ~2K

Tags: @pixelcafe-network, @awkwardchick87, @jellyfishsart,

@missvulpix212, @hayatoseyepatch, @peachsukii

@entirelysein-e

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Strawberry season is coming to a close. You dislike the summer sun, but your Ume loves seeing plants be happy and blooming. He surprised you today by picking strawberries at a local farm. The batch he grew for you disappeared quickly into whatever sweet delights you created. He loves that you’re able to find every possible way to use what he grows. With the varieties of strawberries (about 9, to be exact), you knew this was the perfect date for today. He could help you choose the best ones to use for today or for tomorrow. As you’re picking your strawberries, your hands are slowly grazing his as you’re choosing which strawberries you’re going to take home tonight. 

Both of you are reaching for the same strawberry and your hands just bump into each other in this instance. There is no need for an apology because you’re both giggling because you think so alike. You take this opportunity to kiss his cheek. He loves the small affections that you give him. A kiss on the cheek, a soft kiss on his hand whenever he holds it, and the gentle embrace you give him when he’s not expecting it. 

With your strawberry basket in hand, you are satisfied with the bundles of strawberries you picked out. Red and luscious, you’re thinking about what you can make tonight. As you’re both getting home, you decide to slip into something more comfortable. You decide to go for the button-up night dress, it’s freeing to wear after being outside in the fields. Your handsome man is wearing a white T-shirt and pyjama trousers. Anytime that he could wear that white t-shirt, you catch yourself gazing at his strong arms. Whenever he stretches, you like that you could see his exposed torso. He’s looking at you with those crystal eyes; you could gaze into them and get lost in them forever.

Despite the heat, you are feeling decadent. Thinking about what’s in your pantry, you remember you have baker’s chocolate that would go perfectly with these sweet strawberries. You’re heating the chocolate and making sure you’re not burning it. As you're using the spatula to stir carefully, your Ume decides to sneak up on you and wrap his arms around your waist as you're working on your decadent treat.

“You can’t have any right now until I'm done with ALL of them”, you say in a teasing tone.  

“I’m not here for the strawberries, I just wanted to feel you close to me right now,” he says softly as he’s holding you tighter. 

“Isn’t this what someone says if they want something?”, you ask him coyly. 

“Maybe, perhaps.” He begins to gently tug on the night dress to expose your left shoulder. He’s slowly peppering you with soft kisses on your shoulder, trailing towards the nape of your neck. You know that he’s touching one of your weak points, but you will not relent.

“You… have…. to wait. I’m nearly done here.”  Your response tells him that you’re going to relent to him. 

“How much longer?” He begins to work his way to the right side of your neck and peppering kisses on your right shoulder. You feel that you are melting to his touch. His nose begins to nuzzle on the back of your neck. He can smell the faint hint of sun lotion and your sweet scent. It’s even sweeter than the strawberries you picked. 

“There, last one!” You quickly turn around and kiss him. He holds you just a little tighter. You run your fingers through his white, soft hair. You love the way that it curls outward. You permit yourself to show him hungry he makes you for his touch. As your hands are rummaging through his perfect hair, his hands begin to explore your body. His hands gently lift your night dress, and he places his fingers on your hips. He begins to twirl his fingers on the elastic of your underwear. You begin to laugh in between the kisses and try to grab his hands from further touching you, but he uses this as an opportunity to hold your hands. He pauses kissing you to pepper your hands with the affection you desire. 

The softer kisses are always preferable at times. So tender and sweet to the touch, you feel the electricity coursing through your body. There’s still a small ache in your sex that desires to feel him everywhere. He takes this moment to return to holding you and he lifts you on the kitchen counter. He has you cornered and he embraces you as he now wants to explore your body through those soft kisses. 

“Ume…I…need you,” you whisper to him.

“I know, my beautiful sunflower,” he tells you in between his kisses.

He decides to undress you right in this space. Every button that he unbuttons, he rewards you with another kiss. You know that you’re his, but each time feels more special than the last. As he reaches the last button, he feels hungrier for you than he was earlier. Your nearly exposed body and underwear are right in front of him. At times you feel self-conscious because of the stretchmarks and the scar on your right rib. He doesn’t mind; he’ll always find you beautiful.

This time, he chooses not to tease you and begins to fully expose you on this kitchen counter. You begin to feel shy and wrap your arms to hide your breasts. He slowly walks towards your decadent dessert and picks two of them up; He takes a bite and knows that this sweet strawberry was prepared perfectly. However, he knows that he is eager to taste you instead. He walks towards you and feeds you your creation. As he does, he grabs your hand, so you can hold the strawberry. As he hands it over to you, it exposes your breast to him. He begins to gently suck on your nipple. You can’t decide which feels better, the taste of your decadent dessert or the sensation that your Ume is making you feel. You become distracted and are moaning rather than eating. 

He stops to look up at you. As gentle as his gaze is, he leans closer to whisper, “I want you to finish eating your strawberry before I make you cum.” The whisper alone makes you moan, but within seconds, he’s trailing his way to get in between your legs. You feel his hot tongue playing with your clit. You proceed to continue eating your strawberry. The taste of the chocolate and the juicy sweetness of the strawberry combined with this sensation make it much more euphoric than you can imagine. As you finish the entire strawberry, you feel the urge to come building up. He proceeds to place one finger in between as he’s playing with your clit with his warm tongue. You’re leaning further back into the counter space. 

“Ume…my love…right there…” You feel like you want him even more. You long to feel his girthy cock inside of you. “My…love…I’m going to need more of you. This…isn’t going…to…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence as you’re coming. He proceeds to kiss you between your thighs and kisses his way back up your torso, trailing his tongue around breasts, and choosing to give you kisses on your neck. 

“Mmm, I think my sunflower needs just a little more…would you agree?” as he looks at you with dishevelled hair. 

You feel speechless as he walks to grab a plate of your strawberries. He hands them off to you before he proceeds to carry you to your bedroom like a bride. He gently places you on the edge of the bed. You proceed to eat a strawberry as you’re watching him turn around and take off his shirt. You see the muscles on his back and the slight scratches that you left from the last time. 

You get up and feed him a strawberry this time. You proceed to hand it off to him this time as you get on your knees to take off his pants. Ume is trying to concentrate on the sweetness of the fruit as you’re licking his exposed cock. You lick it and you slowly begin to kiss the tip of his cock before taking it in. The sweet taste of the fruit lingers as you are sucking his cock. You love that his cock at this point tastes like the fruit that you prepared earlier. You feel hungrier as you place your hands on his hips. His hands are rummaging through your hair and he is slowly beginning to thrust himself further into your mouth. He wants to save his cum for somewhere else. He makes you stop and lifts you to kiss you. You love how you can taste him and he can taste you with each kiss exchanged. The plate of strawberries is in the centre of your bed.

“I have an idea, how about I feed you some strawberries…as I’m making love to you?” He asks as he’s kissing your shoulders once again. 

You know that he will take care of your needs in the bed. You long to feel him inside of you. You nod and agree with his proposal. He gently places you on your side of the bed. The plate of strawberries is next to you now. He proceeds to position himself to enter you from the side. He gently begins to thrust into you. His arm reaches out to the strawberry as he proceeds to feed you. You begin to giggle because you can’t decide again which is more pleasurable, him or the taste of the strawberry. For each thrust, you’re able to bite into the fruit and finish it quickly. He kisses your back as you proceed to reach for another piece. The sensation of his cock inside of you as you’re eating is delightful. He begins to hold your leg up as you feel his pace quickening. 

“Mmmm…darling! Right there. Please…don’t stop.” as you’re grasping your hands into the sheets. 

“Do you… want to feel… me deeper inside of you?” he asks you in his softest voice. 

“Ye…s…Ume, I…want… all of you inside of me.” It’s becoming more challenging to concentrate on making coherent sentences. Your Ume knows that you’re nearly at the finish line. He decides to lay you flat on your stomach. 

“Please…I need all you.” You beg him. 

“Don’t worry, sunflower…you’ll be able to feel all of me.” He tells you. He covers your back with kisses as he places his cock back inside of you. You feel his cock going deeper and you feel yourself wanting to scream. He sweeps your hair to the side to make sure he can see the right side of the neck and shoulder. He is gently placing kisses as he is going deeper and slower than he previously was. 

“When…you’re ready…please finish inside of me. I need to feel all of you tonight.” You command him as you’re releasing another moan. 

“As you…wish.” He responds to you by picking up his pace. He pins your hands to the bed as he fully claps them. His cock went deeper and faster. His balls are now slapping against you. 

“Umi…I love…you so…much. I want to be…yours…” you say so quietly.

With this, he begins to cum inside of you. You feel the warmth of his cum between your legs and he continues to keep his cock inside of you. He showers you with kisses and draws hearts on your bare back with his fingers. He slowly pulls out.

“My sunflower, you were magnificent tonight. As sweet as these strawberries, if not sweeter,” he whispers to you before giving you one more kiss. 

He proceeds to grab the plate that is still next to you. He can fully savour the labour of your love.