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andvys · 3 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

The Epilogue ⭐︎ We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made

Warnings: none really, fluff, lots and lots of fluff, pregnancy, a little (or not so little) time jump, dad!Steve, pregnant!reader, the 'teens' are in their early twenties, proofread but... poorly, please ignore any mistakes

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.1k+

Author's note: This is it, friends. The story is done (sob), I'm so grateful for everyone who supported this story, who commented and filled my inbox with sweet asks, I appreciate every single one of you ♡ and @hellfire--cult my love, thank you for working on this story with me, I had the best time working on all these chapters with you, I love u

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

“Lego Head!”

Steve comes scrambling down the stairs, panic in his eyes at the sound of your cry, his heart pounding with worry but also with fear at the frustration in your voice.

He nearly slips on the hardwood floor as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower he just took after he hurried home from work. He wanted to clean the kitchen and get started on dinner before you got home but time wasn’t on his side today.

Steve doesn’t know whether he should smile out of adoration or tremble in fear at the sight of his pregnant wife, fuming at the unwashed dishes in the sink.

You look so cute, no matter the mood you are in, you are just so goddamn cute, standing in your sundress, hand over your belly, wedding ring shining under the golden light of the evening sun. The frown on your face is adorable as you stare at him with furrowed brows and downturned lips. His heart flutters so wildly in his chest, after years of marriage and kids, his feelings only intensified, they kept growing, his love deepening more and more, each passing day with you. He is so damn lucky.

He approaches you, glancing at the dishes he couldn’t get his hands on yet, he grabs your waist and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry, baby, I was gonna do them after the shower, I just got home from work–”

Your sniffle cuts him off and he instantly stops talking when he sees the tears in your eyes, your lips moving into a pout, guilt crossing your face as you stare at your loving husband.

“I’m sorry! – I know you’re tired–”

“No, no, don’t cry sweetheart, I know you had a hard day too.”

“No, I snapped at you, I’m–”

Steve can’t help but smile softly as he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks softly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly, taking your mind off the dishes that drove your hormones insane.

A sigh of contentment falls from your lips, your eyes flutter shut and you melt so softly into him, placing one hand on his cheek, his stubble scratching against your palm. His scent, his body wash filling your senses and making your stomach flutter, making you feel at peace.

Steve smiles into the kiss as he feels himself calming down after the stressful day at work, your touch always brings him down, no matter how hectic and how bad a day has been, he always looks forward to coming home.

When you part from the kiss, your husband nuzzles your nose, making you giggle through the tears that sparked in your eyes. He tucks your hair behind your ears and places his large hand on your belly, his eyes glowing with nothing but love and happiness.

“Hi darling,” he whispers, greeting you properly now, he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more.

“Hi Stevie, I missed you,” you whisper, pouting at him in a way that nearly brings him to his knees.

The smile never leaves his lips, his heart never stops to flutter. He kneels down and kisses your belly, whispering sweet nothings to his little princess.

You run your fingers through his wet hair, gazing down at him, your heart swells in your chest.

After running errands all morning and noon, you stopped by his workplace and he took you out for lunch at your favorite diner, he got you dessert too, even though it wasn’t for you as you had claimed but for the growing princess in your belly – he watched with adoration how you devoured that ice cream with such pleasure, just the way you do every night, when you’re both already in bed and a sudden craving of yours, has him jumping out of bed and tiptoeing down the stairs to get you whatever you or your little princess are asking for.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, when you announced your first pregnancy, he was so clueless and confused when you kissed him goodnight and turned your back to him, when usually, you would snuggle against him, nuzzle your nose into his neck and hold onto him tightly. He was a little hurt, even, thinking he had done something wrong to have you facing away from him but when he slid his hand under his pillow while he was staring at the back of your head and he felt something lying beneath, he furrowed his brows for a different reason as he felt the plastic touching his fingers, when he pulled it out and held it before his face, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened and a gasp threatened to fall from his lips as his heart started pounding wildly, excitement and giddiness settling in his stomach.

He needed to be one hundred percent sure that he was seeing correctly, so he turned on the light again, reached for the glasses he hated wearing so much, he didn’t even notice how you looked back at him with a soft smile on your face, he was too in shock about the two lines staring back at him. He knew what it was, he knew what it meant but he still needed the confirmation.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice shaky from the uncontainable excitement. He slowly turned towards you after he ripped the covers off himself, he placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you around, “darling, light of my life, my gorgeous wife, Blondie– please tell me that this is what I think it is,” he begged, eyes pleading as they stare at you with such love.

The smile on your face, the tears in your eyes that were matching his own were enough of an answer but you nodded and whispered a soft ‘yes’, nonetheless.

“You’re– You’re pregnant?” He whispered, eyes glossy and filled with a softness that had you trembling with emotions. “We’re having a baby?” He asked as his eyes flickered to your stomach that was covered by his shirt on your body, he slowly placed his hand on your belly, while still holding the pregnancy test with shaky hands.

You answered by placing your hand on top of his, nodding again with a happy tear running down your cheek, one that he kissed away in an instant before he wrapped you in his arms, hugging you tighter than he ever has before as tears of happiness cascaded down his own cheeks while you both giggled.

“Yes, Stevie, we’re having a baby,” you said softly, kissing his neck as he buried his face in yours, hand still lingering over your belly, protectively.

He cried, he cried from joy and from love, he could not contain the excitement he was feeling. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wanted it from the moment you became his girl. But you both waited, waited for the perfect moment – you enjoyed your time alone with each other, you traveled around the country, stayed in your favorite cities, you spent a summer in Italy, just the two of you.

You got married pretty early on in your relationship, you both knew what you wanted, there was no point in waiting to put rings on each other’s fingers but you decided to wait with kids, well, Steve was open to having them from the start, but you weren’t ready until about three months ago – the moment you have told him that you were off birth control, he pounced on you, ready to take you in every way possible, and he did, he did it a lot, not only that night, but all the following days and weeks, he took you absolutely everywhere, at any time. You thought that he was intense before but what followed after you told him that you were ready, topped everything that you had done in the past.

He kissed your neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, he covered your whole face in kisses before his lips touched your own, he made you both giggle. “I love you, baby, I love you so fucking much,” he mumbled against your lips as his tears fell down on you, his soft eyes gazed into your own as his hand cradled your belly.

“I love you, Stevie,” you whispered and brushed your fingers through his messy hair, adoring the way the glasses adorned his pretty face.

More giggles fell from your lips when he started kissing down your body before he settled between your legs, lifting your shirt, he smiled before he pressed his lips to your belly, kissing it softly as he reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, he looked up into your eyes, showing nothing but love for you.

“Hey,” he whispered into your belly, “you’re probably the size of a pea right now and don’t understand a thing I’m saying.”

His lips twitched at the sound of your sweet laughter, he squeezed your hand and held on tighter.

“But hi, I’m your dad,” he whispered as another tear fell from his eye, nothing short of adoration for you and your baby, pride swelling in his chest the more reality was sinking in, “I can’t wait to meet you,” his voice getting higher, his heart beating faster, “and I love you and your mommy so much, sweetpea.” He spoke as he pressed another kiss upon your warm skin.

There was no bump yet, but he already treated your belly like there was one, so much giddiness lingered in him at the thought of your future, of your growing family.

The family that he has now.

“I missed you more, my love,” he smiles softly, feeling the urge to just lift you up into his arms and carry you up into your bedroom, get in bed with you and hold you in his arms.

“Go lay down, I’m gonna get started on dinner.”

You place your hand over his, toying with his wedding ring. You shake your head, “I can help–”

“No, baby, my two girls need to rest,” he says, smiling as he rubs your belly. “Besides, Eddie is gonna be here soon with the–”

The door is banged open before he can even finish his sentence, startling you both before Eddie’s voice sounds through the hallway.

“Children delivery!”

Eddie steps into the kitchen, like he knew you’d both be here, carrying the two boys effortlessly, the older one of them on his shoulders and the other under his arms, already grinning at the sight of you.

“Daddy, Uncle Eddie taught me how to sword fight!” William exclaims, grinning proudly at his father while his little brother babbles away.

“Uncwe Ewwie wade gookies!” Elliot smiles excitedly.

Steve grins, eyes lighting up just the way yours do, you beam at your boys, smiling brightly as Eddie sets them down and they rush over to you, hugging your legs. You lean down and kiss their foreheads, brushing back William’s wild hair that resembles Steve’s so strongly, just like the hazel in his eyes.

“Hi mommy,” he smiles at you before he kisses your belly, whispering a soft ‘hello’ to his sister as his brother imitates him, making you chuckle while your husband watches with adoring eyes.

Steve crouches down to his boys and pulls them into his arms, making both of them giggle as he smacks his lips against their cheeks, greeting them cutely.

Your best friend chuckles as he watches your youngest, how he wraps his arms back around your leg the moment Steve lets them both go, while William makes his way out of the room and brushes past Eddie, no doubt making his way upstairs into his room.

“Did you bring us some of the cookies Uncle Eddie made?” You ask, smiling at your boy.

He shakes his head, pouting cutely as he looks between you and Steve, “I ate all gookies!”

Chuckles fall from your and your husbands lips, sharing amused glances with one another before he leans down and picks up Elliot into his arms, tickling his belly, the little boy giggles loudly.

“You ate all the cookies?” Steve gasps, beaming at his kid, “you’re the cookie monster, aren’t you?”

Elliot giggles and shakes his head at his dad.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie nods with raised eyebrows, stepping closer to the three of you, “he is a little cookie monster.”

“No, Ewwie!” The little boy exclaims, hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, yawning as he snuggles against his dad.

Eddie laughs as he throws his arm around your shoulder, patting your belly softly, “alright alright, you’re not the cookie monster, buddy. But your sister is, your mom can eat a whole batch of cookies nowadays.”

Steve and Elliot giggle at Eddie’s words, while you glare at your best friend who grins at you, shrugging, “what? She has a sweet tooth, just like her mom.”

Eddie winks at you, the youthfulness still so deeply in his features, the playfulness in him still there, never leaving. His hair is just as long as it was years ago, if not longer, his band t-shirts still taking up most of the space in his closet, a few more rings adorn his fingers now, more tattoos on his arm and his chest, peeking out from beneath his shirt.

“Mhmm,” your husband nods, smiling softly at you as he lets Elliot down when he starts wiggling with his feet, he runs out of the kitchen the moment his dad puts him down, following his brother upstairs.

“Robin made you carrot cake, by the way, it’s in the fridge.”

Your eyes widen, lighting up at his words. Your mouth waters instantly, stomach grumbling at the mention of your newest craving.

Eddie chuckles at the expression on your face, the wide and excited eyes resembling the ones of a kid on christmas morning.

“I’m gonna kiss Robin.”

“Uh oh,” Eddie laughs, staring at Steve who frowns at you playfully, “be careful, Harrington, Robin knows how to steal girls.”

“Nobody is stealing my girl,” Steve shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist, he brings you closer and kisses your temple, “she’s mine.”

You place your hand on your husband’s chest, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“All yours, Lego Head.”

Eddie snorts at the nickname you have been using again lately, teasing Steve with it, every chance you get, but your husband only shakes his head with a smile on his face as his soft eyes gaze down into yours just as lovingly as they did back then, if not more.

It’s been seven years, almost eight, that you and Steve had found your way to each other after denying the bond that had always been there, seven years of this, of lovesick smiles and a bond that is unexplainable to anyone who never experienced a love like yours. You and Steve share something otherworldly, almost like you were made for each other, like you were made with each other, you got something that nothing could ever come between, absolutely nothing, not even death – Eddie is convinced.

Wherever one goes, the other will follow.

He sees the love you share, he sees the way your eyes speak to one another, how sometimes, neither of you has to use words to know what the other wants or needs, there is an understanding between you, no matter what happens, no matter what is going on, no matter the peace or the distress in your lives, you got each other and as long as you do, you both will be okay.

The vows you shared on your wedding day were nothing but truthful and honest words spoken from your hearts, your souls. No emptiness behind them, no promises to ever be broken but ones to keep not in force but in nature, nothing but love and adoration in your hearts for the other – maybe a slight possessiveness but only a healthy amount, a good kind.

Yours and Steve’s wedding will always be something that Eddie looks back at with joy and humor because you weren’t freaking out, neither was Steve, you were both calm, both at peace, both giddy and excited for the day you had been waiting for.

But Eddie, he was freaking out and so was Robin, both excited for their best friends but emotional at best.

Eddie cried when he saw you in your dress, he walked you down the aisle with a blurry vision, tears he tried to blink away were falling. You and Steve giggled through your own tears at your best friend who placed your hand into your fiance’s palm like an emotional father, not ready to see his little girl on the altar.

Eddie is so deeply lost in his thoughts as he stares at you both with a smile on his face, he doesn’t even hear the doorbell, only when you leave the kitchen, and Steve nudges his shoulder, does he snap out of it.

“You tired from babysitting all day, Munson?”

Eddie snorts, grumbling under his breath as he cracks his back.

“You better not make me babysit six kids in the future, or I swear on my uncle–”

“You love my kids, Munson, stop whining.”

“That’s right, I bet my favorite one is gonna be the girl, I just know she’s gonna be a little rockstar, a metalhead like her favorite uncle,” Eddie grins proudly.

Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be her favorite?” He asks as he gestures to his boys running down the stairs when they both step into the hallway to see who rang the doorbell.

“Max!” William smiles excitedly, running up to her to greet her, ready to talk her ear off about his day with Uncle Eddie. His brother giggles, throwing himself into Lucas’s arms who picks him up with a smile on his face.

“Hey little Steve,” Lucas jokes as he ruffles Elliot’s hair, “how are you buddy?”

Eddie sighs, placing his hand over his heart, a dramatic yet playful look residing on his face.

“I thought I was the favorite.”

Steve pats Eddie’s shoulder, “you’ll live.”

“Hey red,” Eddie calls out to his ‘step’ sister who nods along to William’s words, a smile upon her face. “How’s little red holding up in there?”

She scrunches her nose up, placing her hand on her small bump, “she’s making me nauseous.”

Lucas nods with wide eyes, “mhm and very hangry.”

Steve and Eddie chuckle while she glares at the three of them.

“Don’t worry, the nausea will pass,” you assure her, knowing just how awful the nausea can be in the first few months, how the morning sickness can drive you up the wall. Steve knows it too, he found you crouched over the toilet one too many times but he had always done such a good job at taking care of you, always there to pull your hair out of your face and rub your back, even when you told him to get out of the room and save himself from seeing you that way, like he would ever leave you to deal with anything by yourself. – He cooked for you, even took it upon himself to learn how to bake to satisfy your cravings, he never came home empty handed, he still doesn’t, he does everything to sweeten your day, absolutely everything. Not because you’re asking for it, you never would, not because he feels like he has to, no, he wants to, he wants to see the smile on your face, he wants to love on you, he loves to spoil you.

“Yeah, Blondie is the expert, she knows all about it, she’s only got like what? Three more pregnancies to go?” Your best friend cackles, making Steve’s cheek go red as the metalhead reminds him of the drunken night he told him that he would put six babies into you.

Max and Lucas both chuckle while Steve groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re doing good with it so far, you’re already halfway through!” Lucas grins, wiggling his eyebrows between you and your husband, gesturing to your bump, while Elliot’s big eyes flicker back and forth curiously.

“Daddy bought me a new skateboard!” William exclaims, tugging at Max’s hand as he completely ignores the conversation happening in the room.

“He did?” Max smiles down at him.

“Yeah! Let’s go!” He drags her away, excitedly, beckoning Lucas to come with him as well, to which he chuckles, still holding Elliot in his arms as he follows the little boy and his girlfriend, their voices echoing in the living room.

Steve wears a smile on his lips, his eyes following them until they step out into the backyard. Tilting his head back to you, his eyes soften only further, he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way towards you, reaching his hand out to yours, he takes it softly and pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple, his chest flutters when he breathes in your sweet scent.

A content sigh falls from your lips as you lean into your husband, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Are you feeling alright, honey?” He murmurs, looking down at you with gentle eyes as his palm rubs your belly.

“Yeah,” you smile, nuzzling further into him.

“Right,” Eddie clears his throat, pretending to be annoyed by the affection you’re both displaying (constantly), “I’m gonna get going, I’m taking my honey out on a date.”

“Ooh, where are you taking her?” You ask.

“Nothing special, we’re going to the movies and then we’ll get some dinner at Enzo’s.”

“That’s nice, Eddie,” Steve shakes his head at him, any date, any moment is special when it’s spent with the right person, he knows it.

“Yeah, I love a movie date and dinner!”

Eddie chuckles at your enthusiasm, “yeah, you only do it like every week,” he huffs in amusement.

“We love it,” Steve shrugs, looking down at you with loving eyes.

“I know you do and well, I do too so I’m gonna go now,” Eddie says, patting Steve on his shoulder before he ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek, “take care of yourself, mama and listen to your hubby when he tells you to rest.”

Steve chuckles at the way you slap your best friend’s hand away, glaring at him.

“I get enough of rest–”

“No, you don’t, honey,” Steve shakes his head, “can’t rest for a single second, you always gotta do something.”

You pout at him, making his eyes soften only further. He leans down and presses his lips to yours before you can protest.

“That’s my cue,” Eddie mumbles, he opens the front door, shouting a goodbye to the boys and to Max and Lucas. He winks at the both of you, grinning when you pull away from one another, “bye lovebirds, enjoy your free time while your two babysitters are keeping your nuggets busy.” He wiggles his brows and cackles, walking out of the door with an amused look on his face, he looks back one more time before he shuts the door, leaving you both to yourselves.

Giggles and voices come from the garden, the sun is still high up in the sky, warmth seeping into the house through the open doors and windows. One peek out in the backyard, you can see William showing his newest tricks to Max while Elliot plays basketball with Lucas, squealing and giggling every time Lucas picks him up so he can shoot the ball into the net.

“Hmm,” Steve hums with a smile on his face, positioning himself behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist, placing one hand under your belly and the other on top of yours, he leans down and props his chin up on your shoulder after kissing it, “let’s order dinner tonight and just relax.”

You lean your head back against his chest, tilting your head to the side, you look up at him, eyes big and soft – something that still drives him crazy.

“Relax?” You giggle when you see the smirk on his lips.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing you softly, “I just want you all to myself for a moment, I missed you all day, darling.”

Your eyelashes flutter, a sweet sigh falls from your lips when he continues to pepper your neck in kisses, you wrap your hand around his wrist, giving it a squeeze, “I missed you too, Stevie,” you whisper.

“Ten minutes, baby, I want ten minutes with my beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your neck, sucking teasingly, making you melt into his arms further.

Your heart flutters in your chest, a small but needy whine escapes you, “ten minutes,” you whimper.

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, he smacks his lips against your skin once more before he turns you around and he cups your cheeks, leaning down, his nose touches yours, his lips brush against your own, “I love you so much, Blondie,” he teases you with the nickname before he kisses you softly, making you smile against him.

You place your palm above his fluttering heart, resting your other on the back of his neck, “I love you so much, Lego Head,” you tease him back.

He chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours, his soft eyes stare into yours lovingly. He reaches his hand up to your necklace, the one you haven’t taken off since he got it for you all these years ago.

“Where are your glasses, honey?” You ask, sliding your hand from his neck to cup his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

Steve scrunches his nose up, “I don’t like them.”

He didn’t even like the reading glasses he needed at first, he refused to wear them, claiming that he didn’t even need them. He was squinting his eyes like crazy, it was clear that he struggled to make out the words in the books he was reading, eventually he caved and started wearing them.

But now he needs them for more than just reading and he hates it, he only puts them on when he’s driving and takes them off for everything else, throws them into the drawer in the nightstand and lets them sit there until he has to drive somewhere again.

“Well, I think that you look very handsome wearing them,” you smile, licking your lips as your eyes flicker between his soft eyes and his very kissable mouth. “Very, very handsome,” you whisper and blink at him, innocently.

Your husband smirks at the suggestive tone in your voice, his cheeks heat up, warmth surging through his body.

“Oh, yeah? Well then, I gotta put them on for you… right now.”

A squeal almost falls from your lips when he picks you up suddenly, carrying you up the stairs, bridal style, just like on the day you got married and just like on many occasions after.

Steve kisses your cheek on the way up, grinning at you excitedly, lovingly. His heart swells when you hold onto him tighter, laying your head on his shoulder and nuzzling your nose into his neck.

He adores you, he adores you so much, if his heart could explode from all the love he holds for you, then it would’ve burst by now. He always knew that he loved hard, before you got together, months and months after dating, but even now after so many years together, after creating this beautiful family, he keeps on falling, loving you harder, each day.

It’s all he ever wanted.

And you both had to go through such darkness to get here, he spent so many nights wondering if you’d both be here if things never happened the way they did, back then. – He hates to think of a life without you in it, he despises the thought with all his being.

“Blondie?” He whispers after sitting down on your king sized bed, with you on his lap.

“Yes?” Your voice is only above a whisper, soft and gentle.

Steve grabs your chin tenderly, he looks into your loving eyes and smiles.

“I would go through it all again if it meant I’d get to be where I am, right now. I would go through the darkness, through Vecna, through the upside down… I would do it all over again if I’d get all this, you, in the end.”

There are tears in his eyes and in yours, not of sadness, only of love.

“I would do it all over again too, Stevie,” you whisper with no hesitation.

“Yeah?” He asks softly, gazing at you with teary eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod and lean your forehead against his, “anything for my love.”

His cheeks grow pink every time you call him that, heart beating wildly in his chest, he places his hand on your belly, stroking it softly.

“Anything?”

“Mhmm, anything.”

“Be my forever,” he whispers softly, lips ghosting over yours in a smile, eyes big and sparkly – like you aren’t his forever already.

“You already are, silly,” you peck his lips, making him grin against you, “you’re my forever.”

He cups your cheeks fully now, kissing you stronger and deeper, holding you like he will never let you go – and he won’t, he won’t ever let go.

“And you are mine, Blondie.” Steve kisses you again and again. “My forever.”

It’s hard to believe you were once behind one of the mall’s pillars, hiding from his view, watching him serve ice cream in that stupid sailor outfit while you tried to earn up the courage to talk to him, to really talk to him for once in your life.

It’s hard to believe that he was once looking at you from afar, watching you walk through the hallways without glancing twice towards the same person, wishing you would look at him at least once.

Hard to believe that you two never realized you were performing a stupid dance, be it around each other or with each other for years and years, and now that dance is over. Is it? No. You are still dancing, but now, it’s synchronized, magnetized, and a dance that cannot be broken.

A dance that now is shared with multiple people, with family you thought you would never have again, with family he thought he never deserved, with friends that stuck to you both like glue, and with your children that giggle every time you twirl around one another.

But just because it is hard to believe, doesn’t mean that it would’ve never happened, that it shouldn’t have happened, that it wasn’t supposed to happen. You would have found your way to each other, even without the darkness that pushed you into each other’s arms, the darkness that allowed you to find the happiness and love that you share with each other now.

Forever. And ever… And ever. In this universe, in the next, and the rest to come.

The End.

♡

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @taintedcigs @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @thecreelhouse @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn0628 @corrodedcorpses @munson-mjstan @moon-flowerrs @munsonlore @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- epilogue #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things angst

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months ago

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what u need || emily engstler x reader ||

You have Emily over while your roommate is out of town.

Emily was a bit of a cliche. You wondered if she had been this way in college. You couldn't help but imagine Emily toting around that stupid black backpack as she made personal visits to whatever girl she was hooking up with that week's dorm. Emily assured you that she wasn't like that, that she never had been and still wasn't, but you knew the truth.

You could see the way that Emily held herself. She knew her way around a bedroom in the way that only came with experience. You were far from the first girl that she had fucked around with, and you weren't going to judge her for it. You liked the swagger and confidence that came with Emily knowing that every single time she came over, you'd cum harder than anybody else could make you.

"What does your roommate do again?" Emily asked as she followed you back to your bedroom. The apartment was always empty whenever you invited her over. She teased you sometimes about pushing your roommate away, but you were just fortunate to live with someone who was away on business trips so often.

"She works for a design company, and while I think you're very sweet for asking, do you really care?" You turned on your heels and shot Emily a skeptical look. The blonde seemed unbothered, just rubbing the back of her neck. You bit your lip as your eyes trailed along the length of her neck. In just a few short seconds, you'd be in your bedroom and able to kiss all over Emily's neck.

Emily was as close to a stone top as you had ever been with. It wasn't that Emily was uncomfortable being naked around you, far from it actually. Emily loved the way you'd appreciate her body, but she just preferred to spend her time focusing on your pleasure. Occasionally, Emily would joke with you whenever you started to pout about not getting to fuck her that she didn't want you to get better than her. In your mind, the notion that you could come close to Emily's skill level was laughable, but she was far too competitive for that to be just a joke.

"Hey now, don't get an attitude with me so early. I want us to have a good night babygirl," Emily warned. You looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes and a slight pout. Emily stepped towards you and cupped your cheeks. You tried to move forward for a kiss, but she stopped you. "Are you going to behave for me?"

"On my best behavior, scout's honor," you promised. Emily let out a small chuckle as she leaned down to kiss you. You kept yourself reserved, even if you wanted to see how much Emily would let you deepen the kiss. You loved kissing Emily, to the point where the very thought of it distracted you constantly.

Emily's lips were always so soft, just barely sweetened from her chapstick. The slight vanilla taste blended well with the sweetness from her coffee creamer that always lingered on her tongue. That was nothing compared to how quickly she could make you weak in the knees with just a couple flicks of her tongue inside of your mouth.

"Goddamn you look good," Emily muttered under her breath as she pulled your shirt over your head. Her backpack laid next to your bed, close by for whenever Emily was ready for its contents. For now, you were content to stand in her arms as she let her hands roam shamelessly all over your body.

Eventually, her hands settled on your breasts. You ran a hand through her hair as she leaned down to kiss across your chest. Emily's fingers teased your nipples, pinching just hard enough to make you squirm in her arms. Emily knew exactly what she was doing to you, and she'd teasing you until she could literally see the wet spot in your underwear.

"Em, please," you whined and whimpered. It was little to no use, the woman not giving you anything more than a knee to grind against. You felt pathetic squeezing your thighs together as Emily put all of her attention and focus on your breasts. "Em, please, I'll do anything."

"Anything?" Emily briefly backed away to gauge your reaction. Your skin was flushed, chest covered in hickeys. Emily had scratch marks on her shoulders, but she didn't seem to pay it any mind. She knew that you'd claw at her back even worse whenever she fucked you with her strap. Emily knew to expect that she'd come out of your bedroom looking like she got in a fight with a feral cat.

"Anything," you confirmed. At this, Emily scooped you up and practically threw you onto the bed. Your head was hanging off of the edge, nearly level with Emily's crotch. She hadn't worn the strap over, never assuming that you wanted it even though you always did.

"Give me a minute babygirl, and I'll be all yours," Emily said. You tried your best to seem polite and patient as Emily undressed herself. She left herself almost completely bare, putting the strap on over her underwear. She started to make a move for her sports bra before she looked down at you. "Do you want this on or off me?"

"Off," you told her. Emily nodded as she pulled it over her head. The movement was smooth, and you bit your lip as Emily made her way closer to you. She cradled your face in her hands as she guided your mouth to the tip of her strap.

Emily slowly thrusted her hips in and out, watching carefully as you started to breathe through your nose. Your hands came up to grip at Emily's hips, pulling her in closer when you were ready for it. Emily watched you for only a few seconds before she leaned over and placed her hand against your cunt.

"Keep breathing, you're okay. You can handle this baby," Emily cooed. You thought sucking Emily off like this was pretty hot, but her touching you was distracting to say the least. Your breath stuttered a few times, but Emily was always quick to guide you through it. She could see you absolutely glistening as she pulled your underwear off, and without hesitation moved to eat you out instead.

You tried to move to keep her in your mouth, but Emily changed the angle so that the best you could do was bury your face against her hip. Your hands grabbed at her thighs, squeezing and digging your nails in as Emily's mouth worked you into a frenzy. There wasn't a single coherent thought in your head as your pleasure took over completely.

"Shh baby, you have neighbors," Emily teased. She didn't make it easy for you to keep quiet at all. Emily didn't even wait for you to come down from your first orgasm before she was sliding the length of her strap inside of you. You felt her bottom out, sliding in effortlessly and like she was made to fuck you and only you.

"Em, oh my god!" you exclaimed loudly. Emily didn't say anything else about you staying quiet as your moans were just barely muffled by her body. Your teeth sunk into her shoulder and the side of her neck as she pounded into you. Emily hissed occasionally as your nails cut into her skin, but the pain only made her thrust even harder.

You glanced at Emily's hand by your head on the mattress and pulled it up to wrap around your throat. Emily's eyes widened, but she squeezed at the sides, not completely unaware of you liking this. Emily could tell that you were close, her eyes intently watching your face as every expression that came across it showed your complete pleasure.

"Fuck, I swear I can feel it," Emily whispered in your ear. Your body kept a tight hold, making her thrusts a little more shallow. You clenched around the dildo, holding it in place as you came once again. Emily stayed inside of you as she let herself fall onto your body. You felt comfortable like that, even as your body started to realize how stretched thin it felt.

"One more," you told her. Emily looked a bit surprised by your words. She didn't argue against what you wanted, always more than happy to spend more time in bed with you. What did surprise her was the way that you pushed her onto your back. Emily bit her lip as you straddled her. You didn't immediately sink down onto her strap, instead letting it rub through your folds and against your clit. "I want you to fuck me like I'm your personal fleshlight."

"Jesus Christ," Emily groaned. You placed her hands on your hips and let her move you how she wanted you. Once Emily was inside of you again, you leaned down and pressed your face into her chest. Emily let you kiss and suck at her breasts as she started to move your hips up and down. Her own thrusts matched the movements of her arms, and you were being fucked absolutely breathless faster than you could comprehend.

"Harder," you gasped. Emily's face scrunched up a little with concentration as she tried to do what you asked. You kept begging for more and more until both you and Emily were absolutely spent. Your arousal coated her thighs from where you had dripped onto her. Emily glanced over at you as you laid on your stomach against the comforter, still trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck, after that I kind of want more," Emily said as she smacked your ass. She grabbed a handful as she sat up. You flipped your head to look at her, a slightly exasperated look on your face. "Don't worry, I was just thinking out loud. I know that you're done for tonight."

"Well, I could alway-," Emily put her hand up to cut you off.

"Not tonight, if I'm being honest, I've already cum," Emily admitted. She rubbed the back of her neck, always acting ashamed when she'd cum while fucking you as if you didn't think that was the hottest thing in the world. "Just relax for me, I gotta clean you up before I go."

"Stay, you know damn well I'm not letting you run off after that. You already said you're still horny, I can't have you finding another cute girl," you said. Emily let out a little puff of air as she got wipes out of her backpack. You could tell that she wanted to tell you that there were no other girls as she cleaned you up, but instead, she kept quiet. The fact that you always clung to her after made her feel good about herself, and she just wanted to find a way to make you feel that secure with her too.

#wbb fanfics #wbb imagine #wbb x reader #wnba imagine #wnba fanfics #wnba x reader #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler smut #minors do not interact #minors dni #wbb smut #wnba smut

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coryndoll · 2 months ago

Text

lies for lunch

rafe cameron x reader

— in which y/n returns to her hometown, the outer banks, to work as ward cameron’s assistant at cameron development, but living under his roof for the summer leads to unexpected tension with his son, rafe.

warnings: animosity, rafes daddy issues, safe !!

authors note: for the sake of the story i need y/n or you or whatever to have a person of familiarity whos hung back in obx to act like you’ve known each other for years, SO U HAVE A FICTIONAL BROTHER 😭

for the past ten months, you’ve been working at cameron development, helping ward negotiate deals and obtain permits. it’s been almost like being his assistant through everything. what started as an internship turned into a full-time job with actual pay after all this time.

they were right—hard work and determination can really pay off. you just didn’t expect to get so lucky with how quickly things moved. after a series of private meetings where ward discussed traveling back to north carolina to work in his hometown, he suggested you come along.

the relationship isn’t weird or inappropriate. you’re one of the few employees ward genuinely appreciates, which is more than he can say about the burnouts that float through the company. since you’re from the outer banks yourself, ward thinks it makes sense to bring you along to continue working for him and the company for as long as possible.

but anyway, you’re absolutely thrilled to be back in the outer banks. it’s more than just a job opportunity—it’s a chance to reconnect with everything familiar, everything that’s been tugging at your heart since you left.

the occasional visits have been fine, enough to keep the homesickness at bay for a while, but that constant, quiet longing for the place you grew up never really goes away. but now? now you’re staying in obx for the summer. no more fleeting weekends, no more rushed goodbyes. you’ll have time to breathe, to soak it all in. to be home.

the airport air is still fresh in your lungs when you slide into the backseat of the car, your bags dumped beside you. before the door even clicks shut, your fingers are already scrolling through your contacts. there’s only one person you want to talk to right now—your brother.

“hey,” you say, stretching out the word, a grin tugging at your lips as you hear the familiar click of him picking up.

“hey,” comes his easy, laid-back reply, his voice filling the small space around you like it always does. like home. “did you land?”

you bounce slightly in your seat as the car hits a bump, your grip tightening on your phone for a second. “yeah,” you confirm, digging through your bag absentmindedly. “i’m about twenty minutes from figure 8, so i’ll be there around noon. are mom and dad home?”

there’s a slight pause on his end, the sound of him shifting around, probably sprawling lazily on the couch back home. “nah, they’re not,” he finally says. “i swung by to check, but i guess mom’s out at lunch with her friends, and dad’s working today.”

you let out an involuntary groan, the disappointment settling in your chest. of course, it would work out like this. “this is what i get for trying to surprise them.”

his voice comes back, laced with mild amusement. “it’s your fault for not announcing you’re coming a day earlier.”

he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. instead, you plow forward. “look, can you at least call mom and ask if she can be home soon? ward wants me to head straight to him as soon as i land, but i really wanna stop by as soon as i can. i can’t be there later than two.”

on the other end, you can almost hear the exaggerated sigh that you know is coming. the kind that’s loaded with all the typical dramatics. he’s probably rolling his eyes too, even though you can’t see him. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” he mutters, clearly unable to resist playing up his irritation. “i’ll take care of it. just text me when you’re on your way. still can’t believe you’re working for wc.”

with that, the call ends abruptly, and you pull the phone away from your ear, blinking down at the screen in mild confusion. wc? who calls him wc? you furrow your brow, lips tugging into a slight frown as you shoot off a quick text to your brother.

‘ 1st, nobody calls him wc. and 2nd, what??? ’

your phone buzzes again. his reply is as cryptic as ever.

‘ just a coincidence that in ny u ended up working for someone from obx still. don’t u remember him growing up? ’

you stare at the message, trying to piece together what he’s talking about, until another text follows almost immediately.

‘ he has like 3 kids. rafe, sarah, wheezie. i saw rafe down at the pier a few weeks ago. we used to see them at parties when we were younger. ’

rafe? sarah? wheezie? none of those names ring a bell. you rack your brain, searching for some kind of recognition, but you come up empty. a soft laugh escapes you as you quickly type back, ‘idk who that is lmao sorry’ and lock your phone, leaning back in the seat with a sigh.

ward cameron has three kids. it’s a strange thing to realize, that the man you’ve been working for these past couple of years has an entire family you’ve never heard of. but then again, work was always work. personal details were rarely exchanged unless necessary. and now, you can’t help but think—would you meet them? would they be anything like ward?

your brother mentioned seeing one of them recently, so you can assume at least one of ward’s children still live here. you wonder if the rest do too.

your thoughts wander as the car turns down another road, bringing you closer to the heart of figure 8. it’s been a long time since you’ve been back here, long enough for some of the details to feel fuzzy, but the feeling of the place—that never changes. the salty air, the warmth of the sun filtering through the car windows, the sense of familiarity that sits low in your chest, almost like relief.

you try to imagine what the next few months will be like. working for ward in the outer banks is worlds apart from working for him in new york. for one, the pace is different—slower, more laid-back. and for another, you won’t be disappearing into a faceless crowd when the workday ends. you’ll be here, surrounded by people who might actually know your name. or at least remember your face.

the car slows down, the gravel beneath the tires crunching softly as you near the cameron estate.

“thank you!” you call out, waving as the driver pulls away, leaving you standing on the driveway with your bags at your feet. for a moment, you just stand there, taking it all in. the cameron house looms in front of you.

you bend down, grabbing the straps of your bags and hauling them up, careful not to drag them across the grass. even though this isn’t your home, there’s an odd comfort in the way it feels.

you’ve been here before—well, not here exactly, but close enough. working summer jobs in figure 8 as a teenager had given you a glimpse of this world. a world where you were always on the outside, always temporary. back then, you were just a girl from the cut, doing what you had to do to get by.

no one looked at you twice. but now? now you’re here for something more. wanted, even.

the thought of it makes your stomach twist with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. you adjust the weight of your bags on your shoulder and step up to the door, knocking firmly before dropping your things to the floor with a soft thud.

a small sigh of relief escapes your lips as you straighten up, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness from the journey. you’ve been lugging these bags around for hours, and your arms are starting to feel like lead.

as you wait, you take a moment to fix your hair, fingers smoothing back stray strands that have fallen into your face. it’s only then that you hear a rustle in the bushes to your left. your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, mid-motion, your eyes flicking toward the sound. you stretch your neck slightly, peering over your shoulder, but there’s nothing. just silence. your pulse settles again, and you let out a quiet laugh at yourself.

the door suddenly swings open, and you drop your hands to your sides, your face breaking into a smile. standing in the doorway is a girl, and instantly, you’re struck by how put together she looks.

her long blonde hair cascades down her back, and she’s dressed in a cozy white knit sweater paired with shorts. it’s casual, effortless, but there’s something about it that screams figure 8 wealth. but what really catches your attention are her socks—brightly colored, with little monster faces peeking out from the tops.

you smile a little wider at the sight. you’re starting to like her already.

“hey, i’m y/n,” you introduce yourself, stepping forward and extending your hand.

“it’s so nice to meet you! i’m sarah,” she replies, her smile just as warm as she reaches out to shake your hand. her grip is firm but friendly, and before you know it, she’s ushering you inside with a wave of her hand. “come on in! my dad isn’t here right now, but i can actually show you to our guest room. it’s, like, right next to mine. it’s so homey. you’ll love it.”

her energy is almost overwhelming, but in a good way. she’s excited, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved.

“i mean, yeah, sure,” you say, bending down to grab your bags again. but before you can get a good grip, sarah is already stepping in to help, lifting one of the bags with ease. you follow her inside, the door clicking shut behind you as you enter the home.

it’s everything you expected and more—bright, airy, with high ceilings and tasteful decor. it’s the kind of place that feels almost untouchable, like something out of a magazine.

as you make your way toward the stairs, you can’t help but glance around, taking it all in. the house smells faintly of lemon and clean linens, and the soft hum of the air conditioner is the only sound that breaks the quiet. it’s beautiful, but it’s also a little intimidating.

“so, is there anyone else home that i should worry about if i, like, wanted to shower?” you ask as you follow sarah up the steps.

sarah shoots you a smile over her shoulder as she leads the way. “i think you’re good. my brother and sister are here, but they won’t bother you. wheezie’s doing her homework, and rafe . . . well, he’s probably not even home.”

her tone is casual, like she’s talking about the weather, but you can’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity. you remember your brother mentioning a rafe in his text earlier, but the name still doesn’t mean much to you. maybe you’ll meet him later, maybe not. either way, it’s not something you’re too concerned about right now.

you reach the guest room door, and sarah twists the knob, pushing it open with a flourish. “here! this is your room for the summer.”

you step inside, and your breath catches in your throat. it’s . . . gorgeous. simple, but elegant, with soft cream-colored walls and wide windows that let in streams of natural light. the bed is large, with crisp white sheets that look impossibly inviting, and there’s a small sitting area in the corner with a plush chair and a side table. it’s more than you ever expected.

“wow,” you breathe, your eyes sweeping over the room. “this is . . . really nice.”

sarah grins, setting your bag down on the chair. “told you! if you’re gonna shower, i’ll leave you to it. but if you need anything, my room’s right next to yours.” she gestures vaguely toward the door. “the bathroom’s across the hall from mine. my dad will probably be home in, like, half an hour? him and rose just ran out to do something before you got here.”

you nod, but your mind snags on the name—rose. ward’s wife. it’s funny, now that you think about it, how little you actually know about ward’s personal life. you’ve worked with him for years, but he’s always kept things strictly professional. it’s only now, standing in his home, that you’re realizing just how much of his life is a mystery to you.

sarah gives you one last smile before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her. and just like that, you’re alone. you let out a long, slow breath, your fingers absentmindedly twisting the rings on your fingers as you take a moment to center yourself. it feels surreal, being here. like stepping into someone else’s life for a while.

you cross the room and pull back the curtains, revealing a stunning view of the island and for a moment, all your worries melt away. it’s beautiful here. peaceful. maybe this summer won’t be so bad after all.

you grab your bathroom bag and a fresh set of clothes, the weight of the morning starting to press on your shoulders as you make your way to the bathroom. you pause outside the door, hearing the muffled laughter of sarah and wheezie from across the hall.

their lighthearted chatter pulls a soft smile onto your lips, a sense of warmth in this house. it's comforting, in a strange way, to be surrounded by family—even if it's not your own.

the bathroom is sleek, modern, almost too luxurious compared to what you're used to. you lock the door behind you and let out a long, relieved breath. the hot water feels like an escape, like it's rinsing away the tension of the trip, the awkwardness of being in someone else’s home, and the nerves tangled in your chest about what comes next.

as the minutes pass, you try to calm the buzz in your mind. you know you need to hurry—the last thing you want is to be caught mid-shower when ward and rose return. you quickly towel off, pulling on your new clothes with an urgency that betrays your attempt to stay calm.

you grab your bag off the counter, unlock the bathroom door, and step back into the hallway. as you cross toward your room, you stop abruptly. there, by the door, are three guys, clearly in the middle of something. confusion furrows your brow—who are they? why are they here?

one of them has his back to you, looking into the room, while the others glance in your direction, the closest one nudging the other to signal your arrival. great. more people.

the one in the doorway catches your eye. his hand is rubbing his jaw, his stance casual, like he owns the place. for all you know, he does. his other hand is stuffed in his pocket, his expression unreadable as he turns toward you.

you can feel the weight of their stares, but you offer a polite smile, trying to act unbothered even though you feel a little out of place. honestly, the house is big enough for all of them, and you're too new to figure out who’s who just yet. you’re not even sure who lives here or if they’re just guests like you.

before any introductions can be made, ward’s voice booms from the front of the house, pulling you from the awkwardness of the moment. “is she here?”

you move past the tall boy, dropping your bag off in the guest room, and make your way downstairs. your heart leaps when you spot ward and rose. the grin that stretches across your face feels genuine, a relief after navigating the uncertainty of the last few hours.

“hey,” you say, stepping off the last stair to shake their hands. “thank you for letting me stay in your home, by the way. i met sarah. she’s great.”

ward gives you a friendly nod, his demeanor warm but business-like—he's already familiar with your work ethic and you know that he expects the same here.

“yeah, wait ‘til you meet rafe and wheezie, though,” he says, glancing at rose, who’s already inching away, clearly not interested in small talk, and it stings more than you’d care to admit. but you brush it off, focusing on the fact that you’re here for work, not approval.

“did sarah show you your room?” ward asks, guiding you toward the kitchen.

“yeah, she did!” you nod, falling into step beside him. “it’s really nice. i also used the shower, honestly. also super nice.”

he chuckles lightly, gesturing to the open space around you. “help yourself to anything while you're here. bathrooms, the kitchen, the living room—whatever you need as long as you're working with me here.”

when you reach the kitchen, ward turns to face you, and you're about to answer his question when the boys from earlier walk in, their presence shifting the energy in the room.

the tall one—who you now realize must be rafe—moves with an air of familiarity, heading straight for the fridge without so much as a glance your way, though his friends have sprawled out on the couch nearby, keeping half an eye on the situation.

“you grew up here?” rafe asks, pulling something from the fridge with a nonchalance that borders on arrogance. his tone isn’t rude, exactly, but there’s a challenge in his words, like he’s testing you.

you shift your weight slightly, feeling his attention on you now. “yeah, i did.”

“humor me,” he says before his father can talk, smirking as he continues, “figure 8 or the cut?"

there it is—the divide. figure 8, the land of privilege and wealth, versus the cut, where people like you are from. it's a question loaded with judgment, but you stand your ground.

you hesitate, unsure whether to entertain your boss’s son. “that’s . . .” you begin saying, noticing the small hint of a smile on his lips as he twists the bottle cap off. “i lived in the cut.”

ward quickly steps in, raising a hand to ease the tension. “y/n,” he says, using your name in a way that reminds you you’re under his wing here. “you don’t have to answer his questions.”

there’s a quiet pause before he officially introduces rafe, confirming what you already suspected. “this is rafe,” he says, nodding toward his son, who watches you intently. ward pauses as he brushed over it quickly, “and his friends,” like he doesn’t want to say it.

you give a small wave in return, feeling the awkwardness creep back in. you’re not sure what to make of the boys yet, but the dynamic between them feels . . . off. guarded. like there’s more going on than meets the eye.

ward claps his hands together, breaking the silence. “time for lunch. rafe, can you please tell sarah and wheezie to come down?” he asks, already heading toward the patio doors. “y/n, feel free to find a seat at the table.”

you murmur an ‘okay’ and follow ward outside, the breeze hitting your face as you step onto the patio. you take a moment to scan the setup, unsure where to sit, but ward motions for you to pick any spot. the table looks inviting, the outdoor space just as luxurious as the inside. it’s surreal, really, being here—like stepping into a different world entirely.

the table outside is a lavish spread, every dish meticulously placed as though the meal is a display of the cameron family's status. some of the food is freshly prepared, you can tell by the steam rising from the platters, while other dishes have clearly been delivered, probably from some upscale restaurant.

everything is pristine, almost too perfect for a casual lunch, but you remind yourself this isn’t just any ordinary lunch. this is a welcome—to ward’s world, to his home, and into the lives of the camerons.

this lunch wasn't really about you, though. it’s more of a formality for ward’s return to north carolina.

as you sit at the table, alone for now, your gaze drifts to the patio, the large windows giving you a glimpse into the house. your thoughts wander to art, and you can almost hear his voice in your head—his dry humor, his sarcastic quips. he’d love this, probably have a million things to say about the whole setup.

the camerons, so far, seem nice. well, most of them. sarah is definitely the easiest to get along with, the type of person you instantly feel comfortable around. but rose? you're not even sure she’ll show up for lunch. and rafe . . . you’re still figuring him out. there’s something about him, something unreadable that leaves you on edge.

as your eyes sweep around the room inside, they land on rafe. he's with his friends, the same group from earlier, laughing and talking like they don’t have a care in the world. there’s an ease about him when he’s with them, like he’s more at home in their company than anywhere else.

you can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him feels . . . dangerous? no, maybe not dangerous, but unpredictable. like he could switch from charming to something much darker in the blink of an eye.

and then it happens—he looks at you. directly at you, like he knows you’ve been watching him. the way he smiles is almost smug, as if he’s aware of the effect he has on people, on you. your heart does a small flip, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze.

then, just as quickly, he says something to his friends, who erupt into laughter, and you feel the uncomfortable prick of self-consciousness. are they laughing at you? god, you hope not. the last thing you need is to be the butt of some joke you don’t understand.

you pull your focus away, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks, and you shift in your chair, suddenly too aware of how out of place you feel. this isn’t your world, not yet at least. you’re still figuring out the rules, where you stand, who you can trust. it's like being in a play without knowing your lines.

“i know my kids are going to be a handful when they’re all together, so . . . be prepared for that,” ward’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you turn slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. there’s a warmth to his tone, something almost paternal. “but they’re good.”

you force a small smile and nod, though you’re not sure how much you believe him. you have a feeling ‘good’ might mean different things in the cameron household.

“you’re a year or two older than sarah,” he continues, and you turn back to face the table, focusing on the clean lines of the polished wood, the way the sunlight catches on the glassware. “you’re not that far off in age with rafe, either. sarah’s probably going to be your best friend. she can’t help it.”

there’s a lightness in his voice, and you get the sense that sarah is the glue that holds this family together, the one everyone relies on to keep things civil. “but rafe . . . he’ll warm up to you.”

will he? you can’t help the slight lift of your brows, amusement flickering in your expression as you consider his words. you don’t agree, but you can’t say that. something about rafe feels like he’s not the type to easily ‘warm up’ to anyone, especially someone like you—an outsider stepping into his territory.

“yeah,” you murmur, your tone filled with doubt, “i’m sure of it.”

the cameron family finally gathers at the long, polished table outside, sunlight filtering through the trees and casting dappled patterns across the plates. you take in the scene quietly as everyone finds their places, the quiet shuffle of chairs pulling out, scraping slightly against the patio stones.

it’s a family affair, but rafe’s friends have tagged along—an addition that seems unsanctioned by ward but tolerated nonetheless. ward positions himself at one head of the table, with you and sarah flanking either side of him like you’re all part of some carefully orchestrated tableau.

rafe is at the opposite end, far enough that the distance feels intentional, deliberate. you can’t help but notice how he’s checked out, his gaze drifting, uninterested. to your right, one of his friends, the blond one, settles beside you, and his presence feels awkward, like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible, aware of the invisible tension in the air.

on the other side of him, the other friend sits, both of them quiet for now. down sarah’s side, wheezie sits next to her sister, then rafe at the very end. the empty chair beside wheezie feels like a gap. technically it’s rose’s chair if she were to have changed her mind.

“so what are you?” wheezie asks, breaking the initial silence, and you can see sarah’s immediate reaction, the quick glance she shoots her sister, a mild scolding in her eyes.

the phrasing is blunt, too blunt, but then again, wheezie is a kid—still learning the art of conversation, still figuring out the way words land.

before you can answer, ward steps in, his voice calm but authoritative. “y/n is my assistant,” he says, filling in the blank you hadn’t yet decided how to describe. you pause mid-chew, a small bite of food lingering on your tongue as you listen to him explain. “she’ll be working with me here in north carolina for cameron development over the next few months.”

you nod slightly, not sure how to react to being discussed like you’re not there. you’ve been in situations like this before, professionally at least, but it feels different now, being talked about in front of his family. a piece of you wants to assert yourself, to explain your role in your own words, but it feels like there’s no room for that right now. so, you stay quiet.

“that’s cool,” sarah says, her voice warm and genuine as she glances over at you, a small, encouraging smile on her face. she seems like the type who would get along with almost anyone, a natural mediator. “what do you do? as his assistant and all.”

from the corner of your eye, you catch rafe’s subtle shift, his gaze flicking toward sarah, his expression sharp for a moment, like he’s not interested in this conversation but is still somehow annoyed by it. you wonder what’s behind that look, what tension simmers under the surface.

you swallow and clear your throat, aware that everyone’s waiting for your answer now. “uh, yeah,” you start, your voice sounding more casual than you intend, like you’re trying to downplay your actual responsibilities.

“your dad has his job—he oversees the projects, handles the big picture stuff. i come along when he needs help with negotiating contracts and leases, hiring architects, engineers, contractors, all that. i also scout available land for potential developments.” you pause, glancing around the table. “just stuff like that.”

there’s a moment of silence, and for a second, you think maybe your explanation was enough. but then, like a crack in the veneer, rafe speaks, almost mockingly, “do you also get him coffee whenever he asks? do you fuck him, too?”

his words hit like a punch, unexpected and crude, cutting through the air with a kind of reckless confidence that leaves you momentarily stunned. for a second, the table feels frozen, like no one’s quite sure how to react.

the blond boy next to you nearly chokes on his food, a strangled half-laugh escaping before he catches himself, suddenly aware that rafe’s comment shouldn’t be funny.

your stomach twists, a flush of heat creeping up your neck as you force yourself to stay composed, staring straight at rafe from across the table. his gaze is fixed on you, unflinching, like he’s testing you, waiting to see how you’ll respond.

it’s infuriating—the audacity of it, the way he tosses out the insult so casually, like it’s no big deal.

ward sets his fork down with a soft clink against the plate, his fingers intertwining as he leans forward slightly. the tension shifts, thickening around the table, and you can feel every set of eyes on you, but your focus remains on rafe.

“rafe,” ward’s voice is calm, measured, but there’s a warning in it. and yet, rafe doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. he stays locked onto you, like you’re locked in some kind of silent standoff, and part of you wonders what he’s trying to prove.

after a beat of silence, ward adds, “can i talk to you inside the house?” it’s not really a question, more of a command, and finally, rafe moves. slowly, he pulls the napkin from his lap, tossing it onto the table before rising from his seat.

ward turns to you, his expression softening into something apologetic, and you nod slightly, acknowledging his silent apology even though you’re not sure what to do with it. as they disappear inside, the tension lingers, heavy and uncomfortable.

you force yourself to take another bite of food, though it feels like chewing cardboard. the uneasy feeling coils tighter in your chest. this is off to a rocky start, to say the least. sarah and wheezie seem fine, but rafe . . . rafe’s going to be a problem.

sarah reaches across the table, her hand brushing lightly against yours, and you glance up to meet her eyes. there’s sincerity in her expression, a quiet kind of empathy. “i’m so sorry for him,” she says softly. “rafe has a tendency to act like an idiot on a daily basis. don’t let anything he says get to you.”

before you can respond, the blond boy—topper, you think—finally speaks, his voice quiet but carrying a hint of amusement. “he doesn’t have a tendency to act like an idiot every day,” he says, shaking his head slightly as he takes another bite of food, a small smile playing on his lips. it’s the first thing he’s said to you directly, and the casualness of it surprises you.

“oh, he absolutely does,” sarah retorts with a light laugh. “and i’m sure you get yours from him.” she turns to you, smiling again. “y/n, this is topper and kelce, if you hadn’t already been introduced.”

before you can say anything, wheezie pipes up quickly, almost as if she’s sharing a secret, “sarah and topper used to date.” her voice is soft, but the reaction from sarah and topper is immediate—they both look over at her, like this was something she wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

“what?” wheezie says, glancing around the table innocently.

you can’t help but smile at the sibling dynamics playing out in front of you. it reminds you of your own relationship with your brother, the way siblings know each other’s secrets, their histories, the things that outsiders wouldn’t catch unless they were paying attention. in this brief moment, amidst the tension, you find a sliver of familiarity, of something you recognize.

you pull your napkin off your lap, rising from your seat, feeling the tension still clinging to your skin like humidity. you adjust your clothes, smoothing down fabric that doesn’t need smoothing, but it gives your hands something to do.

“where’s the nearest bathroom inside?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but you can feel the strain in your voice, the way your words almost trip over themselves.

“once you’re in the kitchen, it should be the door in the hallway if you just keep walking straight,” sarah tells you, offering a small smile. you nod in response, forcing yourself to return the gesture, though it feels hollow.

you step away from the table, and sarah seizes the moment to nudge wheezie, probably to scold her for spilling her relationship drama with topper.

as you make your way toward the bathroom, your steps slow. it’s not like you really need to go. you glance behind, making sure no one’s paying attention, before diverting your path to the front door instead. the knot in your stomach tightens with every step.

the front door is slightly ajar, and through the opening, you spot rafe. he’s leaning back in a chair on the porch, his head tilted toward the sky as if it’s the only thing he can stand to look at.

ward’s standing near him, mid-conversation, and their voices pull you in, despite knowing you shouldn’t eavesdrop. you lean against the doorframe, just out of sight, your heartbeat quickening.

“you didn't have to fly out some girl that works at the company just because she’s doing good,” rafe says, lifting his head from the chair, his voice tinged with frustration, like he’s been holding it in for too long. “i could've taken the job, especially because i’m already here.”

there’s bitterness in his words, but beneath that, you catch something else—something raw. rafe’s trying to understand why he’s being left out, why he’s not the one ward trusts.

“exactly, rafe,” ward replies, his tone firmer than before. “you're twenty-one and you’re still here. she’s twenty and she's been working with me for nearly two years. don’t you think that says something?”

his words land heavily, and for a moment, there’s silence. you feel the weight of the comparison ward’s making, and it sinks into you too, even though it shouldn’t. rafe chuckles, standing up, but it’s not out of amusement. it’s a defense mechanism, a way to shield himself from whatever hurt ward’s words are causing.

“y/n is here because she’s good at what she does,” ward continues, his voice steadier now, trying to end the conversation.

“alright, dad,” rafe says, nodding, but his expression betrays his words. “let's say i believe that—because i don’t—why am i not in her place?”

ward sighs, shaking his head like he doesn’t understand how rafe isn’t getting it. “rafe, think about what kind of job she has. how could i trust you with that?”

the words sting, and even though they aren’t directed at you, you feel a strange sense of guilt crawling under your skin. you know you’ve earned your place, worked hard for it. but hearing it spelled out like this, in such a stark contrast to rafe, it makes you feel . . . uncomfortable.

rafe rubs his chin, his fingers brushing against the stubble there. he doesn’t say anything, just nods like he’s processing it all, or maybe pretending to. he turns to head back inside.

and that’s when he sees you, standing there, caught in the act of listening.

his eyes lock onto yours, and for a second, you don’t know what to do. your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep your head high. you can’t apologize. you don’t need to. this is your job, after all, the one you’ve worked damn hard for.

still, the silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable. rafe doesn’t say anything, just turns away, walking back out toward the patio. you exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath. the knot in your stomach only tightens as you push yourself off the doorframe and head toward the bathroom, your footsteps almost echoing in the stillness of the hallway.

you stop in front of the bathroom door, staring at it like it might hold some answers you don’t have. your hand reaches for the knob, your fingers curling around it, but you don’t turn it. instead, you stand there, replaying the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of what you’ve just heard. rafe’s resentment, ward’s trust in you—it’s a lot to take in, and you wonder if you’re supposed to feel . . . what? proud? guilty? it’s hard to pin down.

before you can figure it out, you hear footsteps approaching. your hand drops from the doorknob just as ward’s voice reaches you.

“hey,” he says, his tone softer now, though there’s still an edge of frustration lingering there, probably from his conversation with rafe. “you and the girls getting along good?”

you plaster on a smile, nodding even though your thoughts are still tangled from the scene outside. “yeah, we’re good.”

ward mutters a small ‘good, good’ as he walks past you, heading back to the patio. you watch him go, your arms crossing over your chest as if that’ll hold you together. you follow behind him slowly, a quiet unease settling in your chest. this family, with all its complications, feels like a storm you’ve just walked into.

and then there’s rafe. if he already resents you, you can only imagine how his friends—topper and kelce—will react. boys like them, they stick together, and you know that dynamic all too well. the chances of them giving you a fair shot seem slim.

you brace yourself as you step back outside, a small sigh slipping past your lips. this job, this place—it’s not going to be easy. but nothing worth it ever is, right?

“so you're from the outer banks?” sarah asks as soon as you sit back down. there’s an edge to her voice, like she’s making an effort to seem casual but is still trying to figure you out. you can’t blame her. she’s probably just trying to get a feel for who you are, maybe ease the tension that’s been hanging in the air since you got here.

“where from?” she adds, glancing at you over the rim of her glass.

you pause, fork hovering just above your plate, feeling a flicker of unease. it’s a simple enough question, but you can already feel the weight of your answer.

“near quinton,” you say, cutting into your food with deliberate care, keeping your tone light. “a little south.”

you don’t look up as you speak, focusing on the neat little slices you’re making in your lunch, as if perfecting that action could keep the conversation from slipping into uncomfortable territory.

“i’m surprised we haven’t met before today,” you continue, the lie slipping out so smoothly you almost believe it yourself. “my friends and i knew just about everyone before i left the island.”

but the truth sits heavily in your stomach. you don’t know them. sure, your brother mentioned that your families had crossed paths when you were younger, but the memories never stuck. whatever brief moments there were, they’ve faded into the backdrop of your childhood.

rafe, however, doesn’t let your words slide by as easily. he latches onto them like a dog with a bone, straightening in his seat, eyes gleaming with interest.

“your friends?” his voice cuts through the air, almost too eager, too sharp. it’s like he’s waiting for you to say something wrong, give him an opening to tear into you. sarah watches him warily, her eyes flicking between you and her brother. she’s looking for help—maybe from her dad—but the tension is palpable, thickening by the second.

your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and the vibration pulls you from the uncomfortable scrutiny rafe’s casting in your direction.

“who do you know here?” he presses, and his tone is challenging now, like he’s daring you to prove something to him. to justify your place here, in this house, at this table.

you lift your gaze then, meeting his eyes with a steady look, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. but there’s something in the way he’s staring at you that makes your skin crawl, like he’s already made up his mind about you, about what kind of person you are.

it’s fucking exhausting.

“hate to interrupt you, ray,” you say, letting a mocking lilt creep into your voice as you rise from your seat. you keep your movements controlled, measured, not too rushed. “but i have a phone call.”

you pull your phone from your pocket, waving it slightly, feeling a small rush of satisfaction when rafe’s jaw clenches ever so slightly. “let me just take that really quick so we can continue our conversation.”

you don’t wait for his response, because you know whatever he says will just add to the irritation simmering beneath your skin. as you step out of the way, you hear him mutter, “it’s rafe,” under his breath, like correcting you is somehow important to him.

“it’s actually my brother!” you whisper-yell back, flashing the screen of your phone in his direction, making sure he sees the call.

as you walk away, you feel the tension ease just slightly, but it’s still there, humming beneath the surface. this place—figure eight, tannyhill—it’s like a tangled web, and you’ve just stepped into it, with people like rafe already ready to watch you stumble.

you press your phone to your ear as you step out of the patio and into the cool air of the home, and you try to calm yourself, leaning against the wall as your brother’s voice greets you on the other end.

you know you’ll have to go back in there, face rafe again, but for now, you allow yourself a brief moment to breathe.

considering making this a few-part series (maybe) !! let me know if you’d be interested thru replies, anons, or dms <3

@tiaamberxx

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violettwrites · 2 months ago

Text

company of misfits — tp!daryl

a/n: thank u nonnie for sending this request in !! i absolutely love writing the tp!trio honestly, their banter is some of the best. even when reader is in a bad mood 🥺

i hope you enjoyed, and i hope i did your request justice ! if you guys did enjoy, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment, and give me a follow if you want to see more of my work ! i always appreciate the support ! and as always, my ask box is open ! i will link it below

summary: reader has a bad day, and the dixon brothers know just how to make it more bearable.

requested: anon requested; hii dear!! could you write some fluff in the tp!daryl au, where reader has a bad day and is in a very bad mood, and the brothers notice that and try to cheer them up? (they have no idea what to do but they are trying their best)

word count: 1,011

warnings: swearing, alcohol

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

you trudged up the dirt path through the trailer park, the weight on your shoulders from the day hanging heavy as you made your way towards your trailer. the sun was high in the afternoon sky— and having just worked a ridiculously long shift at the local diner, you were just done with the day; even though it wasn’t over yet.

as you neared your trailer, you noticed the dixon brothers outside theirs, beers in hand as they chatted lazily. daryl was the first to notice you, his blue eyes immediately trained on your figure. he noticed how your shoulders were slumped, your face showed no emotion, and he could just tell you had a shit day. he had seen that look on you before. merle, oblivious as ever, was busy recounting some story from his time in lockup. but daryl nudged him with his foot, nodding his head towards your figure as you made your way into your trailer— praying your dad wasn’t home, because that would just add to the mountain of shit on your shoulders.

both daryl and merle stood up and made their way towards your trailer, letting themselves in. they knew your dad wasn’t home, because they had seen him leave earlier in his old pickup. where he had gone? they didn’t bother to ask, because why would they speak to a piece of shit like him. your head turned when you heard the door open, spotting the two dixon brothers, and the corner of your lips quirked ever so slightly. you enjoyed their company, but you didn’t really want to be around anyone right now.

“hey, sunshine, what’s eatin’ at ya?” merle was the first to speak— like always —his usual grin plastered across his lips. you didn’t respond, just shrugged your shoulders a little as you plopped onto the couch, head tilting back as you looked at the ceiling. the two brothers followed your lead, sitting down on either side of you, and you internally groaned. they wouldn’t give up until you told them what was wrong.

daryl looked to his brother for guidance, a pointed look on his face as his eyes flickered from merle, to you. “you think i know how to deal with shit like this?” he mouthed back to daryl, and the younger dixon rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to you. he didn’t know how to handle situations like this either. feelings weren’t his strong point.

sighing in annoyance, merle spoke up. “what’s the problem? yer face looks like ya lost a fight with a wasp next.” the analogy made your brows furrow as you looked at merle. he always said some odd shit that you never understood.

“just had a bad day, alright?” you muttered, crossing your arms across your chest as you stared forward, eyes trained on the blank screen of the television in front of you. merle rubbed the back of his neck, looking to daryl for backup this time.

daryl sighed softly, and tried a softer approach. “anything we can do to help?” his voice was quieter, less teasing than his older brother’s.

you shook your head, but the gesture was half-hearted. you didn’t want to burden them with your problems that seemed so large, yet so minuscule at the same time. “not unless you can fix the world in the next five minutes,” you scoffed a little, chewing on your bottom lip.

merle, always the smart ass, grinned widely. “well, darlin’, i ain’t no miracle worker but i could try.”

before you could retort, he disappeared from the living room of your trailer, straight out the door, leaving you and daryl in confused yet curious silence. he watched you figdet with your hands, sensing you were on edge— but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“you don’t gotta talk about it,” he said finally, his voice low, “but you don’t gotta deal with it alone either.”

you looked over at him, wondering when he had become so wise. but there was something earnest in his expression that made your heart soften— just a little. merle returned before you could say anything back though, a bottle of whiskey and a few cups in his hands. “aight, so maybe i can’t fix the world, but i sure as hell can make it go down a bit smoother.”

you watched as he messily poured the liquid into the cups, handing the first one to you as he gave you a wink. “it’s like medicine, but the fun kind.”

you couldn’t help the small smile on your lips, despite yourself. “you think whiskey is gonna solve my problems?” you asked, looking up at him with an amused look.

merle clinked his cup against yours, an eager grin on his lips. “no, but it’ll make ‘em real fuzzy for a bit, an’ sometines that’s all ya need.”

daryl rolled his eyes, but spoke up anyway. “he’s right, y’know? ‘bout makin’ thinks fuzzy.” and you wondered when both of those boys had become so wise in their odd little ways. maybe it was because they knew how to handle bad days without having to confront their issues. they just forgot, in a sense.

for the first time that day, the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter. it wasn’t the whiskey or the dumb jokes merle kept making, and it wasn’t daryl’s quiet, steady presence at your side. it was all of it together— their clumsy, awkward attempts at cheering you up that actually worked. you took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol chase away that lingering frustration.

“thanks,” you spoke, glancing at the two ot them. “i needed this.”

merle clapped you on the back, grinning like a fool. “that’s what we’re here for, sweetheart! doin the lord’s work, one drink at a time.”

daryl shook his head, but you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he didn’t need to say anything more. just being there, sitting with you in the fading light, was enough.

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sexydreamgirl · 1 year ago

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hey heraa, i would REALLYYY appreciate if you helped me out on this one question that has been killing me rn (it’s in bold on the bottom just incase u want to skip the tangent)

honestly, if i succeed in fulfilling myself that you replied, it'll raise my faith a little bit when/if I see that you replied.

I've been on this journey for the longest time I'm talking divineangelbee, planet, cine, bibi, dreamgrlsworld, daphne, the void obsession, the alpha waves, the mindless or just feeling while affirming, the self and void concept challenges for 2 weeks, and now applying states after edward art and neville and having things click with aphroditeapprentice and blushydior etc ; applying for months. But guess what idk what is happening and what's holding me back!

i know that if i was in the state, I obviously wouldn't be sending this message but since it doesn't matter what I do in the 3D and my human self wants to ask for help, I will ask for guidance.

I've even fulfilling myself, returning to the wish fulfilled whenever I think of my desire, I prioritize the inner man over getting physical results but you know, if someone was doing it right, it would reflected by now right? of course it would because it's the law.

I don't why it hasn't done so yet and l'm slowly and at the same time very quickly losing my faith because it's been like what, 2/3 years since I found out about the law from tumblr? I KNOW I'm meant to be living my dream life in a little cottage in Europe or big mansion in LA, I KNOW I was meant to succeed and live a life of my dreams because I deal with hard things in my life, I AM! MEANT TO SUCCEED. but what am I doing wrong if it's been months of fulfilling myself that it should've been my dominant state already? I feel good and every time I doubt, I know and tell myself that I ALREADY experience my desire in imagination and it HAS to reflect?

thank you, if you answer this I really would appreciate it :)

I'm going to try my best to answer this without further confusing you so sit tight and in the case that I do bring forward any confusion, do let me know.

In a nutshell, the point of manifesting (or moreso the purpose of life itself) is to appease hunger. That is, to free yourself from the feeling of desire (wanting something) by giving it to yourself whether it's money, the mansion, the dream life, appearance, I could go on and on because whatever you want to acquire is possible of being acquired (because imagination is limitless). If you know the law, you know imagination creates reality so imagination will always be your workshop and that is essentially how you change self (I AM).

Imagination isn't separate from reality because imagination is reality itself. Man's greatest downfall has been to separate the two as completely independent when that could not be further from the truth. When you turn to imagination and you use it to think about what it would feel like to have the face card and the mansion and the dream life, you are present in that moment to the point where it feels like a real experience. If you allow yourself to bask in the feeling of the wish fulfilled, it's as real of an experience as you reading this very post. Neville has previously discussed procuring the wish fulfilled in a way as if you are traveling through time to the end and witnessing the outcome firsthand, then you make your way back to the present and trust that it will unfold as you experienced. It's like when you watch a film you've previously watched and you already know what the ending is, you don't stop to think what could happen, you already know what will because you saw it yourself.

If time is a relevant concern for you and you're looking around to see if it's there, I'm afraid to say you haven't fully yielded to it. You simply thought of it and not from it. If you experienced it and knew that it was done, you would be appeased from hunger and you wouldn't desire it anymore. How could you want something you already have? Time is an obstacle that is standing in between you and the state of consciousness that asserts you as being someone who has the desire in question already in their possession. When you nail yourself to that state and I mean you fully yield yourself to it to the point where you don't feel separate from it anymore, the feeling of desire will vanish. You don't care about time, you don't care about the senses, nothing moves you. Why would it if you know it's yours? (Hint: this is the Sabbath)

I constantly receive so, so many "I did all of this, why hasn't it happened?" questions and I believe you when you say you really gave it your entire heart, but you should sit and ask yourself genuinely if you actually focused more on the thing itself versus quenching the desire you have for it.

I'm here once again to swear by the State Akin To Sleep and why I love it so much. I won't repeat the process since I went into it quite extensively so I highly suggest you read the post.

“Whatsoever you desire, when you pray, believe that you have received it, and you will.”

When I started understanding the SATS through the idea of it as "praying", it made so much more sense to me. You're not visualizing to get, you're visualizing to feel its reality so desire vanishes. If you use imagination to feel its reality (believe that you have received it), the 3D will follow and it shall materialize. This is one of the reasons why I love the state akin to sleep so much. It's such a simple and easy way to define the end and identify yourself with it.

When I use the SATS, I let myself sit with the wish fulfilled by thinking of what the end would look like, what would I hear, who would I be with, what would I see, etc. and I focus on it until I'm consumed by the feeling and acceptance of it and then bring myself back. I trust that my prayer has been answered because I felt the reality of it, so that must mean it's already mine. If for some reason I would feel doubtful or separate from that state of consciousness, I would simply induce the state again and focus on its reality. Do this as many times as you need to until you no longer feel compelled to because you're certain that your prayer has been heard (See: the Sabbath).

I highly encourage you to assess how you're going about manifesting and to use the State Akin To Sleep to catch the mood so you can nail yourself to it. You said it best yourself, you were meant to succeed and live the life of your dreams. Remember that failure is only an option if you let it be one. Don't give up, my love <3

#hera's greatest hits

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redhead-batgal · 10 months ago

Note

Hey , I recently read your Damian Wayne one shot called she's so gone and I was wondering if you were going to make a part 2 . I absolutely loved it and would love to read a part 2 and I look forward to seeing more of your stories and if you don't write a part please tag me in a post that u are not gonna write part 2 I would really appreciate it. And awesome stories btw .☺️❤️

Type: Two-Shot (Part One: Here)

Pairing: Fem! and Best Friend! Reader x Damian Wayne/ Robin

Word Count: 7,462

Content: angsty, angsty times, arguing, confrontation babes, the sis is back, maybe some PDA, amazing friend! Jon Kent, fluffies????, language, violence, self-deprecating reader thoughts, batfam supporting reader, and aged up reader/Damian to 18 yrs

(P.S: Sooooo, yeah, I hope y'all enjoy this chaos cuz it may or may not get intense at some point but like.... you did ask for this, however y'all will like the ending I promise)

(P.P.S: Forgive me I'm really really bad at writing PDA)

Y/N: your name, S/n: Sister's name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is something hollow and empty in heartbreak. Some emptiness that consumes everything in a twirling barreling black hole that destroyed anything that entered its orbit. Transforming the raw and fierce emotions into a numb and darkness that overtook and elapsed time and almost even life itself. It was almost like a never-ending wave, water pounding in ears and honing the sound of a beating heart. Something about that feeling that was almost...addictive.

Though this feeling- this destruction was oh so painful. Part of you- part of you clung to it. Maybe it was because these horrible and draining emotions helped you focus on something other-other than the betrayal and other then... other than your inadequacies. After all, Damian wouldn't have chosen S/N right? if you have been better if you had been greater, if you had just been more, maybe- just maybe he wouldn't have left- he wouldn't have abandoned you.

These thoughts had you up at night despite the heartbreak roaring through your mind. It made adjusting to your new life in Metropolis so much harder. And even though you had developed a poker face of sorts, your new roommate Jon Kent always seemed to know when you were struggling.

It wasn't as though he could read your mind or that he had any feelings for you, but more as that he knew you so well. He was, in a sense, the sibling- the brother you had needed. A person to rely on and to confide in. It was surprising how willing Jon was to listen to your woes despite the fact that he was close friends with Damian. Despite the fact that he knew your sister, he knew her well, he still listened to everything that had happened and your point of view of it all.

It was even more surprising that he comforted you. Not in a soft way, but in the ruffling of hair and saying that your family, your sister and even Damian didn't deserve you. Before continuing with even if you really are annoying. You had laughed, tears spilling from your eyes before nodding.

Regardless of Jon's comments and the quiet messages of encouragement from Oracle saying she won't tell Damian where you were at and that you were in the right, your mind still scrambled and screamed.

It's all your fault

he left because you aren't good enough

you should have died that night

These swirls of terror overtook you at the worst of times. In the dead of night when you were all alone; in crowded rooms at parties Jon had convinced you to go to; even in your sleep. Yanking you from the one peace and bliss you had to the roaring of self-hatred and scorn. And today was no different.

Just as the soft hues of light brushed the horizon, your mind bellowed and twisted, pulling you from sweet dreams of the past you longed to return to.

Partially panting you sat up, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you intertwined a hand into your hair. Squeezing your eyes shut you focused on your racing heart instead of the thoughts that fought to be known.

Moments later there was a knock on your door. Sighing heavily, you slipped from bed and walked over to the door. Opening it with a weak wave you turned back towards your bed. In the doorway Jon stood a worried look on his face.

"Are you okay?" He whispered, having clearly been awoken by your frantic episode.

"I guess, I mean nothing out of the ordinary is happening." You grumbled in reply, rubbing your brow.

There was silence between the two of you and Jon walked into your room flopping onto your bed with a slight grunt, "So all the fun times?"

"Of course, what else would you expect from me?"

Jon laughed slightly and you sank onto the ground leaning your head half against the bed, half against Jon's leg. Something stirred and shifted in you and closing your eyes you muttered a question,

"Do-do you hear it too?"

"Your voices? no, I think those are your special friends."

Shooting him a glare of sorts you swatted at his leg, and he chuckled before letting out a soft yawn. There was more silence before he sighed.

"Okay, okay you're serious... yeah. I do. I mean it's not like what you're going through but I hear the doubts and negative thoughts too."

Something about his words made you want to protest, to say it wasn't that bad, or really untrue. Something also struck a match in your chest, alighting warmth and comfort and something almost burst.

Swallowing back your tears you leaned back a bit to see his face before you continued.

"So... I'm not crazy or awful for having voices tell me all the bad things I've done?'

Jon snorted and you had to resist the urge to punch him. He sits up glancing down at you before sighing dramatically.

"No, that doesn't make you crazy. You are perfectly crazy all on your own."

With that a wave of relief came over you as you jumped to your feet. Jon rose and you pushed at him a smile of sorts on your face. He gasped dramatically before reaching out to push you back. You dodged his hands as laughter began to build in your chest.

"oh, it is so on." Jon muttered and a laugh escaped you.

Turning you skidded out of your room, avoiding Jon's attempts to push you as you hurried down the hall into the kitchen. Your feet slid across hardwood floors almost gliding when your foot caught on a chair leg, and you practically flew forwards, your face slamming straight onto the ground.

A bit of pain raced over you, but it was familiar enough for you to know that the most you would have is a bruise.

There was silence, then roaring laughter and you hazily pushed yourself up to see Jon cackling. His hand pressed to his stomach as he laughed at your fall.

"You are such a dick." You mumbled as you pushed yourself up.

Jon did not seem to care and continued to laugh. You rolled your eyes before pushing yourself to your feet. His laughter seemed to halt as you turned towards him. He paused, weakly smiling, "Is this the part where I run?"

Smiling slowly, you tilted your head and shrugged.

"It can be; however I am willing to negotiate."

He hesitated, eyes going wide as he looked around the room clearly noticing the hardwood floors and his feet in socks.

"Ah okay, uhm how does hot chocolate sound?"

You narrowed your eyes taking a step forwards, Jon's hands went out and he blinked a few times taking a step back.

"And a donut or pastry or whatever you like."

You took another step forwards and Jon flinched raising his hands to cover himself as he squeaked out,

"From Nonna's!"

You hesitated, recalling the Italian woman's small cafe and all the baked goods inside. Including her delightful assortment of drinks.

"I want extra whipped cream on my drink and a bag of stuff."

Jon paused, looking up at you slowly, his eyes narrowed, "Is that all?"

You thought for a moment and nodded, "Yes."

He held out a hand slightly shaking, and you grinned, "Deal."

After a somewhat civil handshake, you took a step back feeling something warm in your chest.

"I'll get my shoes and coat!"

Bounding back to your room you grabbed a pair of shoes and a coat before practically skipping back into the kitchen. Jon had his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, a strange look on his face. As you pulled your coat and shoes on you approached him.

"Ready?"

He hesitated, making eye contact with you and blanching. He cleared his throat, eyes darting towards the front door.

"I- i I uh... I don't think going now is a good idea-"

You rolled your eyes, "You promised, we are going no backing out, we shook on it!"

But something about his hesitance made your stomach churn, pins and needles beginning to bounce on your chest.

Jon opened his mouth to say something else and you walked over to the door, your hand resting on the handle when something escapes him.

"Wait!" He almost squeaks.

You hesitated for a moment before looking back to the door and slowly opening it. An empty hallway stood before you and you tilted to show Jon. Snorting a laugh at his surprise you scrunched up your nose giving him a teasing look, hoping to make him roll his eyes- or at the very least stop his nervous behavior.

"Does the big bad empty space scare you Little Johnny?" You asked in a voice you'd use on a child.

Jon seemed to relax, his shoulders dropping and air leaving him as he stared at the doorway; clearly not registering your taunt. A second passed before his head snapped in your direction and he narrowed his eyes.

"Seriously? Little Johnny?"

You shrugged, "What else am I supposed to call you? Your name???"

This made him laugh, which calmed the buzzing on your chest and churning in your stomach. Yet, something about the look in his eyes made the pins and needles dig deeper, moving to the back of your neck and shoulders.

Jon moved towards you and the door, seeming more relaxed than before but... something seemed off. However, you didn't know Jon well enough to know what exactly that meant.

He gestured out the doorway smiling slightly, "Shall we?"

Pausing you nodded, a slur of worries being pushed back in your mind as you smiled, "Of course!"

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

Surprisingly, despite the early hour, Nonna's was in fact open. You were not in fact Nonna's first customers; however, you were able to get your order in. You had to wait but waiting for Nonna's goodies was worth it.

Though, Jon was acting a bit odd. Looking at his phone frequently as he shifted from one foot to the other, eyes darting to the door every once in a while. After nearly ten minutes of this behavior, you were suspicious. Elbowing his side, you tilted your head and opened your mouth to ask him what was going on when Nonna called out your name. You moved to get your order, smiling at Nonna from behind the counter.

"Here's what you asked for piccolina, I added some extra's since you and that patatino," She gestured to Jon who was staring at the door frozen, "over there are looking a little thin."

You nodded smiling, as you took your bag and hot chocolate from her, happy for the food but worried as the pins and needles stabbed into your neck and shoulders, dancing around your heart.

"Buongiorno Nonna."

"Torna Presto, Piccolina!"

Nonna beamed as she moved on to her next customer. Turning back towards Jon you moved towards him, brow furrowed as you stopped at his side.

"What the heck, are you okay Jon?"

He didn't reply, instead he stiffed as the bell to Nonna's rang. His eyes locked on who just entered as he took a breath in slowly. Confused, you looked to see what was making him so still.

Standing in the doorway, disheveled and sweating was none other than Damian Wayne. The two of you made eye contact and you felt the air and color leave you. Heart hammering, you froze for a singular moment, long enough to see the recognition and relief in his eyes.

Something warm blossomed in your chest, a wave of joy that wrapped around your throat. It squeezed at your heart as a bitter taste coated your tongue and you weakly took a breath in. He was here, he was here. It was almost instinctual to lean in and hug him. To start some sort of physical contact as if you make sure he was here-truly here. Then the tight pulsing of your veins and breathing of your lungs yanked you back into reality. He- he had betrayed you, he- he had abandoned you. Pulling back, you squeezed your hand into a fist, eyes raking over him before noticing the movement just beyond his shoulder. No, the person behind him. She looked a little frazzled, but still as perfect as ever. Looking back to Damian the sluggish feeling of betrayal up your spine.

A wave of emotions fierce and roaring climbed up your throat as you backed away from the door. For a moment you couldn't breathe, and the world was spinning as a realization crashed down around you.

He was here.

Why was he here? Why did he have to come just as you were starting to get numb to all those emotions? Why did he have to come after you just made it past an episode? Why did he come? Why? Why?!

Swallowing you pushed back your worries and fears, back the questions and pain. Gripping your hot chocolate tighter as you let out a slow breath, then you began walking towards the door. Hoping your nonchalant attitude would make them ignore you or so baffled you could slip past. As you made it to the doorway, you began to slide towards the street, outside of the store-the place with no escape, to the open and free air that allowed you the opportunity to turn and leave.

Unfortunately, your hopes were in vain. A hand clamped down on your arm, pulling you in. And you blinked, looking to find Damian Wayne practically towering next to you. Eyes frantically racing over your face and body, worry covering every feature as you felt his heavy breaths on your skin. Hell, his heaving chest nearly touched your arms as you felt his heat.

"Y/N."

Taking another breath you gave him a blank look, your eyes instantly drawn to your sister loitering behind him. A muddled mixture of emotions on her face.

"If," You began calmly, your eyes locking on his nose, so you don't have to look into his eyes, "you're here because you think I'm trying to steal Jon or poison him against you, you should know I'm not. And there's no reason to worry."

You saw his jaw twitch and his grip tightened on your arm as he pulled you in even closer. Faintly, you could feel Jon lingering behind you. Clearly watching and waiting for a moment that deemed too much for you or a spot to intervene.

"I am not here because of that."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked away from Damian's face. Eyes once again drawing to your sister, whose brow was furrowed, a scowl of sorts on her face.

"Then why are you here?" You softly asked nails digging into your palm as you looked towards the floor.

"I'm here for you."

Snapping up, you raised your head and made the unfortunate mistake of meeting Damian's gaze. There was some kind of pain you noticed in his eyes. Pain, worry and something you refused to believe was real.

Longing

Looking away you tried to focus to stay calm, but your heart refused to listen.

Liar one side of it hissed

For me? the other side sobbed

Pushing down your feuding heart, you tried to think, think of the real reason he could be here. It took just a moment for you to come to what you thought was a viable conclusion.

He was here to show you how awful you really were.

He was here to prove he was in the right, and you were wrong.

To show that you weren't good enough.

That your sister was and that's the whole reason he chose her was because you weren't good enough.

Because you weren't enough.

The air stopped in your chest, and it was then you noticed your sister's gaze locked on Damian's hand gripping your arm. Forcing a breath you swallowed, your free hand to touch the one holding you there.

Almost instantly, Damian let go of your arm, his brows creased as his gaze flicked, just for a moment to Jon. Quickly looking back at you, almost as if he was scared, you'd disappear or be gone since he took his eyes off of you, Damian let out a long breath. Then, he stepped back until he was on the sidewalk, out of the doorway but blocking any escape onto the street.

Part of you hated that he knew you well enough to know you'd try to escape. Knew you well enough to know cornering you in a public place would not only make you even more hostile but frustrated people knew your personal business. Damian knew you well enough to know that even though you wanted to run, you did not want to impede on others.

Grinding your teeth, you exited Nonna's. You didn't have much of a choice other than moving out of the doorway fully and standing so close to Damian you were practically pressed into his side.

His hand was brushing your cheek, and you found a frown searing itself into his face.

"There is a bruise forming... what happened? How did this occur? Did someone harm you? Who hurt you?"

It took everything in you not to shove him away screaming,

YOU

YOU HURT ME

YOU CONTINUE TO HURT ME, OVER AND OVER AGAIN!

when will you stop hurting me?

Instead, you gently moved his hand from your face and tightly smiled your eyes drifting to Jon, confused why he hadn't stepped in or tried to help you escape yet.

"I'm fine, I just fell earlier. It was an accident, don't-" You stopped.

Don't worry.

Why did you need to say that? Why did you need to reassure him you were okay?

Why why why?

"You fell?" Damian murmurs, eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced.

"Yes," You retorted, taking in a breath, "I was running around the apartment and my foot caught a chair leg. Ask Jon, he was there."

"I know."

Stepping closer to you, your sister cleared her throat, smiling tightly, fully capturing your attention, "Y/N how are you liking Metropolis?"

"It's fine," You began narrowing your eyes as you looked her over, "why-"

Before you could even finish your question, she interrupted gesturing to Jon with a smug look on her face.

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"Who, Jon? No, no. He's my friend, a good friend, but just a friend."

Part of you wanted to look at Damian as you said this, but you kept your composure enough to keep your gaze on S/N. However, she rolled her eyes at your comment almost as if she didn't believe you. And there was a look on her face that made something in you snap. Taking a step closer to her you scowled, crossing your arms.

"What the hell are you doing here anyways? I thought you were happily living in Gotham now," You hesitantly shot Damian a look before turning back to her, "I thought you both were."

Your sister weakly laughed, "Well, things have been... interesting. Adjusting to living in a new city is difficult, you should know that."

"I'm doing perfectly fine here; in fact, I was doing great until you- until the two of you showed up."

S/N blinked in surprise almost recoiling from your words. She opened her mouth, clearly prepared to spin a sob story to make you feel bad when Damian pulled you away from her.

"Be quiet, S/N."

"But Da-"

"I said quiet. It is atrocious enough that you followed me here. I do not need you aggregating things with Y/N by lying again."

"It's not lying exactly-"

There was a loud crash that rocketed you all straight into silence. You paused, looking around before taking a step forwards, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

At first you couldn't even see past the roof of the stores just beyond Nonna's. But as you slid into the empty street, you noticed a blur of colors. A familiar blur of colors.

Red and Blue.

"Oh shit," You whispered as an alarm of sorts began to blare.

You turned to shout to the others what was going on when a blast of sorts had you stumbling backwards. Looking up you saw a building tumbling towards you.

Blinking, everything seemed to go deathly still as a low whirling began in your ears. You turned, your eyes slowly blinking again as the building got closer to you and figures- blurred figures raced towards you as the whirling rose to a rumble then a voice, shout- no screaming your name. Before dust and rubble covered your eyes and something heavy struck your head sending you into pitch black darkness.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Dust and what must have been ash floated in the air. Catching on your eyelashes and blurring your vision as you stirred. Blinking to find heavy rock and metal-rubble surrounding you. Wincing, you shifted in an attempt to get on your feet when you heard a groan.

Turning, you found just a few feet behind you a dusty and twitching person. Rubbing the dust away before you got closer you noticed a slab of concrete, a crimson splotch barely visible just on the area it made contact with the person's leg.

Moving closer, you noticed the familiar figure- the face and eyes. Moving closer you realized it was Damian. Going still you bit your lip as he grunted, clearly waking up.

Part of you wanted to just stare, to wait for him to notice you. But you also- the pain in your chest grew at the sight of him. Fallen and pinned, injured-bleeding; he was hurt. And-and in front of you. How could you just stand by and watch?

How was he even here? He was far away when the building fell and yet-here he was.

Moving closer you began to focus on his pinned leg, he blinked clearly trying to sit up.

"What are you doing here?" You muttered as you crouched near the slab.

"Pardon?"

"What are you doing over here! You should be by Nonna's safe from falling rubble and being trapped in a growing hellhole!" Peering around the slab, you noticed it wasn't too large. And there was definitely enough room for you to lift it up.

"You-"

"I what?" You snapped, shooting him a glare.

He hesitated, seeming to realize what you were doing as you took in a deep breath and slid your fingers under the concrete.

"I was attempting to reach you. To-to- remove you from danger."

You froze, air stopping in your lungs as sweat coated your hands. Gripping the slap harder you yanked upwards, heart racing. The slab rose just enough for his leg to slip free. Rolling, he cursed and scrambled away from the slab as the sweat weakened your grip and the slab fell back in place.

Silence overcame the two of you and you sighed deeply before remarking, "... you pushed me out of the way of falling rubble?"

"It is possible that situation occurred."

"Damian-"

"It is my belief that in consideration of our current... situation, we would be at a loss in continuing to bicker on what exactly occurred so that I would result in being confined here with you."

"Then what exactly should we be doing?"

"Perhaps we can discuss what truly occurred in reference to when your sister came to Gotham."

Your teeth sank onto the inner part of your cheek as you let out a hissing breath. Nails digging into the palm of your hands as you turned to him.

Frustrated, sad and-and angry.

Angry that this whole situation came about and that you were being pushed once again to listen. To understand. That what happened was always going to happen.

But part of you... part of you wanted to listen. To hear his explanation and get rid of the ever-growing pit of abyss in your chest. To listen and understand what he did. That it never really was between you and her. That you were enough and that, that.... he would choose you.

However, you knew it was too late for something like that to occur. He had chosen her. Just as everyone else did, just as everyone always will.

You were never and will never be anyone's first choice. Especially when your sister was an option. Especially when you were just simply you. Not something greater or grander like she was, like others will be.

So, you need to make a choice. Hear him out, listen to the same story you've heard hundreds of times before or sit in the unknowing. Questioning whether or not it actually was the same, whether or not you weren't enough. Questioning if he really did choose her over you.

And you weren't exactly good with questions, with curiosities and wonderings. But you were tired of hearing all the reasons your sister was better...

Maybe this time will make you realize the truth. Maybe this time, hearing the words of devotion to your sister from someone who you so deeply loved and trusted would make you realize it will always be her. Maybe it will make you realize you need to stop hoping and wishing and wanting it to be you. Because in the end it never will be.

Swallowing, you relaxed your hand and jaw. Sinking onto the dusty ground with a sigh you shrugged.

"Fine, fine. Why the hell not, tell me your little sob story. I'll listen. I won't cry or shout or say you're lying. Tell me the truth and it will all be over."

He began pulling himself across the ground closer to you. You locked your jaw, wincing before going still.

"It- There- A misunderstanding occurred. I wish to rectify this, because... for a lack of superior terminology, it is not what you think."

You raised an eyebrow as he slid even closer to you, sweat beading on his brow. Mixing with the dust and dirt that clung to his face, sliding down his face drawing your eye to his face- his jaw and- no.

"Really now?" You sneered.

"Y/N-" He began and you rolled your eyes.

"Damian stop with the antics, call me as you usually do."

"... I regularly address you in this manner."

"Wha- no- wait..." You paused blinking a few times as faint memories raced across your mind, with his voice always calling you by your first name, "when did you stop calling me by my last name?"

"Is that what you truly wish to know?"

You took a risk and met his gaze, seeing the unwavering determination in his eyes. Almost as if he'd tell you anything you wanted to know.

"Y- no. No, just continue, continue please."

He paused for just a moment before nodding weakly and continuing, "When your sister first arrived in Gotham, I was... concerned. You had previously stated that your accounts could be biased. Therefore, I desired to comprehend the truth in your... contemptuous relationship. Thus, I enacted a strategy to ascertain your sister's true intentions."

Strategy... a plan-he- he wait

"You-you... you wanted to know what my sister wanted with me?"

Eyes still locked onto each other you watched him sigh heavily, his jaw locking as he readjusted himself.

"In essence, I yearned to distinguish if your belief is correct or if your judgment was clouded due to... past grievances."

He...wa-he wanted to know the truth. Was there really anything wrong with that? After all he wouldn't have come all this way if he... if he truly chose your sister.

Speaking of your sister... what- what did he find that made him- made him decide to lie to you??

"... And what exactly did you discover?"

At this he broke eye contact and your stomach dropped. You were wrong, you were wrong she wasn't trying to hurt you. She wasn't being cruel. oh lord what had you done-

"You- you... your perspective on the matter is accurate. Extensively accurate. In fact, according to my comprehension, your sister not only dislikes you- but she wishes to have you... under her control."

wait, you were right? You were right? Then- then what exactly was she trying to do? Why was she so cruel? Why did he use those methods to discover this?

"So, you're telling me that you flirted with and went on a date with my sister because you wanted to know what her intentions with me were?"

"That is correct."

"And... she hates me."

Damian winced as he attempted to slide even closer to you. It was then you realized how you were leaning back, shoulders straight, arms crossed and nails in palm. Tense you were so tense.

"Hardly, rather she- well rather it appears to me she is... envious of you."

This startled you. What, what on earth could he mean by envious?

"Envious?”

"Ugh, perhaps the word jealous provides more clarity."

"She's-... she's jealous of me?" You were barely able to get the words out as your shoulders sank and Damian's hand brushed against your leg.

He shifted once again, pulling himself so he was seated at your side. He was panting and his brow was soaked in sweat.

"That is how I have come to understand it."

It- none of this made any sense.

"Why?"

"As far as I was able to discern, she envy's your strength against society and peer's ideals on who you are and how you should behave."

He reached out, gently grabbing your hand and holding it in his own as you stared at the rubble surrounding the two of you. There was more silence when he squeezed your hand. You turned to him and he half heartedly gestured to his leg before remarking,

"Is this not when you scold me for causing further injury to myself? Better yet, why have you not voiced any complaints or objections to my actions?"

"Because you did it to yourself, who am I to tell you what to do?" You snorted rolling your eyes as you took his hand in return, "besides would you have actually listened to me?"

"I do not believe I would."

"Exactly."

For a moment or two, it almost felt as though everything was going back to the way it was supposed to be. In fact, you were just about to lean into him when a thought crossed your mind.

why did he hide it? Why did he not include you? Why keep it from you?

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He was quiet and you swallowed, waiting for the weak explanation of how he realized he didn't like you all that much. Instead, you got,

"I- wished to inform you of my discoveries... but only after I obtained a method to prevent her from ever... from allowing her envy to create contention between the two of you."

Contention... wait-wait was- was he trying to protect you?

"You- you were trying to figure out how to prevent her from being mean to me?"

"I was attempting to, but... you ran away."

A heat of sorts rose up in your chest and burned away the fleeting sensation of relief and regret.

"I did not run away," You snapped, pulling your hand from his as you glared, "I left."

"I apologize," He said, his face pale as he reached out for you once again, "It seemed, at the time, that you were running."

It wasn't a wrong assumption exactly but... how- how did he-

"How did you find me?" You whispered.

"I- I will give you this information under an immovable condition."

You raised your head brow furrowed with suspicion rising in your throat, "And what is that?"

"You- you cannot act and must think through all I will tell. You must listen because there is much I will say."

Someone- someone had given you up. Someone had betrayed you...again.

"Fine."

"My... family, those who knew, would not even acknowledge your absence. So do not worry, they still hold your confidence in high regard."

You relaxed slightly, swallowing as a weight on your shoulders lifted. Making eye contact you raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"I searched for any trace and found none. It is my belief that Gordon erased your tracks... regardless I- i had begun to lose hope when... when Kent reached out to me."

You froze, your chest tightening as your nail instinctively stabbed into your palm. Biting your lip, you looked away as a heavy darkness clouded your mind. Clutching onto your shoulders and sinking into your skin as a pain of sorts danced across your veins.

"He was... concerned about my wellbeing. And soon, yours. He informed me he knew of your location, but it wasn't until he said you were looking gaunt- that it was evident not only with your action but with your appearance. You- he said-" Damian paused, swallowing as it seemed almost as if he was in pain as he continued, "you were suffering. And that though he did not wish to betray you, your welfare was far more important."

This was, this was odd. You had never experienced someone- someone doing something for your own good even though you were against it.

"Jon- Jon told you where I was because he was worried?"

"Yes, he- he ordered me to come to your side," Damian chuckled, "To explain and clarify what occurred. That he could not bear to see you in such a state for any longer."

"Ah... and you didn't originally tell me because-because you were trying to protect me?"

Damian blinked a few times, turning to you, confusion clinging to his features as you noted his flushed cheeks, more than likely due to his strenuous efforts to reach your side, "Pardon?"

"You approached my sister, trying to figure out what she wanted because you didn't want me to get hurt. You even wanted to come up with a plan to stop her from hurting me. So, you wanted to protect me."

He tilted his head and shrugged, eyes raking over your face as if he was taking it in for the first time.

"With it phrased in that manner, yes. It appears that way."

"why."

"What?'

"Why did you-" You hesitated faintly recalling Damian calling you friend and you stopped.

You knew why he did it. At least most of it. A better question to ask- a question ringing in your mind over and over again was,

"Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?"

"I- I am afraid I do not understand."

"Why didn't you tell me you were planning on figuring out what my sister wanted? Why did you lie to me? Why did you hide this from me?"

"I feared it would harm you."

"How?"

"You- you tend to be... excessively sensitive with matters involving your sister. I did not want you to... worry whether or not your intentions or beliefs about what happened with your sister were incorrect."

You paused, something sparking in your chest. A light of hope or joy. Something warm and happy that began to spread, the fact he knew you well enough to know you'd think that way-

But it didn't entirely make sense.

Damian would usually be there with you shaking his arms crossed as he sighed at your thoughts. Saying something along the lines of "you need not think that way. While I loathe to admit it, I made mistakes as well. And as Father has said, to make mistakes is human.... though I doubt he himself follows this proverb."

Looking him over you raised your head, eyes once again narrowed. Suspicion-a light more curious suspicion- rose up on your skin. Itching and crawling as confusion clouded your mind.

"What doesn't make sense."

He blinked, looking to you his brow furrowed pain etched into his face as he let out a ragged breath.

"I would appreciate some elaboration."

"That reason doesn't make sense."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You-... just as well as you know me Damian, I know you. And I know that me being worried I was wrong about my sister is not a good enough reason you'd keep that plan from me."

He faltered, wincing as he avoided your eyes, "It- at the time it appeared to me that you were... compromised emotionally due to your sister's unexpected arrival. I did not want to-to pressure you more with this... scheme of mine."

You snorted, crossing your arms as you gave him an irritated and amused look.

"Damian, even after my grandma died, who I was really close with. After I got back from her funeral, you still felt the need to tell me I was lacking when on patrol."

He shifted, eyes drifting away from you, his jaw locked.

"I do not understand how that circumstance and the present conversation connect."

"You are lying to me right now. I don't know why, and I honestly don't really care. I just want the truth."

He breathed out a heavy sigh before meeting your gaze, "I have grown a great deal since then. I now better understand what is appropriate and what is not."

"Damian."

Something stirred in you, it ached that he was still lying and-and you couldn't understand why. You didn't care about why truthfully. As long as you knew the truth, he could keep all the secrets about why he had lied that he wanted.

"I am telling you the truth." He seethed.

"I don't believe you; it doesn't make sense."

"Y/N-"

"Why would you do that?" You threw your hands up, shaking your head in confusion, that ache turning into a burning flame" Why would you care all of the sudden-"

"BECAUSE I HAVE AMOROUS FEELINGS FOR YOU!"

The flame went out and all of the anger and frustration disappeared in the blink of an eye. You tilted your head, confusion overtaking everything, "...what?"

"I have amorous feelings... for you."

Confusion grew and grew buzzing in your chest and throat. None of this made sense what- amorous, what in the hell did that mean?

"I- I don't understand, Damian what are you saying-"

He pressed on, "Just as you told me when saying goodbye, it hurts to see you in such a state-it burns me alive to harm you in any way because- because."

Your throat went dry the confusion beginning to fade, "Damian-"

"Because I am in love with you."

The world went still and you couldn't breathe. His words ringing over and over again in your mind.

Because I am in love with you

I am in love with you

love

A faint shifting sound caused you to let out a breath, air flushing in and out of your lungs.

"You-you... what?"

"I, myself, do not fully comprehend the scope of these... emotions. However, I am not going to deny them any longer."

His voice dropped, and he reached out, taking your hands in his, pulling you in closer.

"I am in love with you, when I heard you say that you felt the same and-and that I had hurt you. It nearly destroyed me. Especially since I could not fix my mistake. Especially because I could not comfort you. I could not even see your face. But your voice- I heard all the pain and sorrow I had caused." He released your hands and cupped your face pressing his forehead against yours, "Knowing I had done that in an attempt to keep you safe- that it was all my fault... I have not slept since you left. I have not ate- I have not lived since you left me."

You swallowed heat racing across your cheeks as you met his gaze. That longing you saw earlier burning so much brighter. The regret and sorrow swirling in between his eyes as you felt the tremble in his grip.

"I regret every action of mine that led me here- that hurt you. And I ask you to forgive me for my lunacy-for my arrogance and stupidity."

Head spinning you breathed slowly, confused and-and happy. He- he hadn't betrayed you.

"Seeing you once again-I... " He paused, shifting his grip, "I could not breathe for a moment. You- you were so stunning standing before me.... I understand if you-you feel different, but I beg of you. Please let me stay by your side. I care not if it is in Gotham or here. I- I am certain that without you- without your mere presence I will not survive."

In fact, he was always on your side. Always. He never chose he- it was- it was always you.

He chose you

You

You squeezed your eyes shut, heart hammering in your chest as your eyes burned and something warm slipped down your cheek.

"Oh-ah I- I apologize. I did- I did not intend-"

Something bubbled in your stomach almost making you laugh at his worry and frantic words that happened merely because of a few tears.

"Damian I'm okay," You whispered, opening your eyes seeing the panic on his face as you sniffed, "Happy- these are happy tears."

"oh- I... so you are not angry with me?"

"No- no I'm happy," You replied wiping away your tears, "happy I was wrong, happy you feel the same and-and..."

Damian went still and you pressed your head fully against his closing your eyes.

"I love you Damian, I still do. And- I-i... I accept your apology. It will take time for me to-to be comfortable once again but... I am willing to try-try at something more."

Opening your eyes, you felt your face flush even darker as you could see the pure and utter joy on his face. He leaned in and you did as well, eyes beginning to flutter when there was a crash of sorts.

Your eyes flew open, and you found just a few feet away from where you and Damian sat was now a hole. A gaping hole that led outside-into the clear open air and warmth. Just outside of the hole a figure floated faint streams of light catching to reveal colors to you.

Red and Blue.

Weakly laughing you raised a hand, "uh, ha, Hey Supes."

There was silence for a moment and Superman floated into the small alcove of rubble and dust. He looked at the two of you and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you both alright?"

You nodded slowly before hesitating, "Uh no- no."

You turned to Damian who was very pale and clinging to you. Swallowing you gestured to his leg turning back to Superman.

"His leg- it got caught under some stuff when we got stuck here. I think it might be broken or something."

There was a moment of silence before Superman flew closer to the two of you and in a second, he had pulled the two of you into his arms.

It was a matter of moments before you were outside, the sun bright as he set the two of you down. Pointing towards the paramedics nearby.

"You can get help there."

"Thank you!" You said with a smile as you grabbed onto Damian's arm.

Superman nodded with a smile before taking off, probably to help others. Damian half shuffled towards you wincing slightly and you began to reach for him when he said under his breath,

"And here I was desiring the opportunity to rescue you."

A heat rushed over you, and it almost seemed as if your body moved on its own. Your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt as you pulled him to you, pressing your lips against his.

There were a few moments, with your lips pressed against his, where nothing happened. Then, in an instant, with a wince of pain and body shaking, he grabbed onto your arm and kissed you back.

Heart, hammering you pulled away, almost panting as a slight feeling of regret coating your throat. Looking at his face you found a dazed look and released his shirt. Almost instantly he began tumbling towards the ground. Arms shooting out you captured him, pulling him close.

He winced muttering curses as he used your shoulder to pull himself up. Looking around you found people staring phones up and lights flashing.

"Oh shit," you whispered.

Damian shifted and you realized he wanted to move. Slowly walking half carrying him you began your trek towards the paramedics. Leaning against you he began muttering things,

"They will be relentless in their mockings for months."

Rolling your eyes, you steadied him, his head resting on your shoulder as you moved closer to the paramedics.

"Is it, all of this, the teasing and pain... is it all worth it?"

Shifting so he could look at your you he smiled, eyes locked on your face a soft and warm gaze- so heartfelt and yearning as he replied,

"If I am with you? Always."

Tag List:

@legendarylearner18 @hermiona18 @sylum @kalulakunundrum @ginger24880 @blu3cheesecheesecak3 @alishii @duckyyy70 @rossy1080 @nyxiesstuff @rukia-uchiha-98 @cyb3rg0th666 @jade-digital @damianwayne0 @pansyitcanton @greenbench @andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @neon-scenery @ssak-i @achromaticerebus @1lellykins @hyperfixiation-station @ashlynnmalfoy @gabriiiiiiii @sparklz02 @kumori-suwan

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dovesdreaming · 3 months ago

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Hi dove! Recently followed u so hihi. I saw u wanted more Deadpool requests so here is one: enemies to lovers with Deadpool. Maybe like they bicker a lot but actually care for one another. 🖤♥️

Love and bullets

Hi!! Welcome to my blog- I loved this request!!! It was so fun to write I hope you enjoy it <3

Warnings: mentions of guns/bullets

You always knew when Deadpool was about to make an entrance. It wasn’t just the sound of gunfire or the occasional explosion- it was the running commentary that accompanied it, full of sarcasm and innuendo, loud enough to hear over anything. That, and the trail of destruction he usually left in his wake. “Hey, sweetheart! Miss me?” His voice rang out, filled with that trademark mix of cockiness and glee that never failed to get under your skin. You rolled your eyes, barely pausing as you took down another thug in the dark, grimy alley. “Not even a little, wade”. Deadpool landed beside you with a flourish, his red and black suit practically gleaming despite the darkness. “Ouch, right in the heart. Lucky for me, I have regeneration powers”. “Yeah, lucky you” you muttered, sheathing your weapon and surveying the area. The mission was almost done, all that was left was cleaning up the stragglers.

“You know” he continued, leaning casually against a dumpster, “you really need to work on your gratitude. I just saved your pretty little butt back there”. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You mean the guy I was about to take down before you swooped in and stole my kill?”. “Tomato, tomahto” He waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, we make a good team. You with your ‘I’m so serious and focused’ routine, and me with my devilish charm and razor-sharp wit. We’re like peanut butter and jam”. “I hate peanut butter” you deadpanned.

“Lies!” he gasped, clutching his chest in mock horror. “How could you say such a thing? Peanut butter is a gift from the snack gods!”. You couldn’t help but crack a smile, even though you tried to hide it. Being around Wade was like this—infuriating, exhausting, and yet somehow, undeniably entertaining. As much as he drove you crazy, you couldn’t deny that you looked forward to these moments, the banter, the back-and-forth that seemed to come so naturally between you.

“Come on” you said, trying to get back on track. “We’ve got one more target to take out before we can call it a night”. Deadpool’s eyes sparkled mischievously behind his mask. “Is it a makeout session? Because I’ve been dying to know what you look like under that stoic exterior. I bet you’re a real softie deep down”. You shot him a withering glare. “In your dreams, Wilson”. “Every single night, babe” he quipped with a wink.

Shaking your head, you turned to leave, but Wade fell into step beside you. The night was quiet now, the earlier chaos fading into the background as you moved through the city, side by side. Despite the constant bickering, there was a strange sort of comfort in Wade’s presence. As much as you hated to admit it, he had saved your life more times than you could count, and you’d done the same for him. There was an unspoken trust between you, forged in the heat of battle, even if you didn’t always see eye to eye.

“So, where’s this last target of ours?” Wade asked, twirling a knife between his fingers as if it were a toy. “Up ahead” you replied, nodding toward an abandoned warehouse at the end of the street. “Intel says he’s holed up inside. Shouldn’t be too hard to take him out”. Wade grinned. “Sounds like my kind of party”. As you approached the warehouse, the tension between you shifted. The banter fell away, replaced by a shared focus on the task at hand. This was another thing you appreciated about Wade, when it came down to it, he knew how to get the job done, and he was damn good at it.

You moved through the building like shadows, your movements silent and precise. The target was exactly where you expected him to be, surrounded by a few lackeys who were no match for the two of you. Within minutes, the job was done, the target neutralized. As the last body hit the floor, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “That’s it. Mission accomplished”. “Piece of cake” Wade said, wiping the blood from his blade before sheathing it. “You know, we really should do this more often. It’s like couple’s therapy, but with more explosions”.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible”. “And you love it” he shot back, that playful grin never leaving his face. You were about to respond when you felt a sharp sting in your side. Looking down, you saw blood beginning to soak through your suit. One of the lackeys must have gotten a lucky shot in before going down. “Shit” you muttered, pressing a hand to the wound. Wade’s demeanor changed in an instant. He was at your side before you could blink, his usual flippant attitude replaced with something much more serious. “Hey, hey, hold on there. Let me see”. “It’s just a scratch” you tried to say, but the pain was real, and you were starting to feel lightheaded. “Just a scratch, my ass” Wade grumbled, carefully inspecting the wound. “You need to patch this up, now”.

He helped you over to a relatively clean spot on the floor, his touch surprisingly gentle as he supported you. For all his jokes and bravado, there was a tenderness in his actions that took you by surprise. “You’re going to be fine” he said, more to himself than to you as he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a first-aid kit. “You’re not dying on me, not today”. You watched him work, his focus entirely on you as he cleaned and dressed the wound with practiced efficiency. It wasn’t the first time he’d patched you up, but there was something different about this moment. The way he was so quiet, so careful it made your heart do an unexpected flip. “Wade…” you began, not really sure what you wanted to say.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and for once, there was no trace of humor in them. “Yeah?”. “Why do you always act like you don’t care?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, surprising even yourself. Wade paused, his hands stilling as he considered your question. For a moment, you thought he might deflect, make a joke to avoid answering, but then he sighed, his shoulders slumping just a bit. “Because it’s easier” he admitted quietly. “It’s easier to be the funny guy, the one who doesn’t take anything seriously. That way, no one expects anything from me. No one gets too close”. You frowned, trying to understand. “But… I thought you liked it when people got close”. He gave a small, almost sad smile. “Depends on the person”.

There was a beat of silence, and in that moment, everything seemed to shift between you. The constant bickering, the teasing, the way you always seemed to get under each other’s skin, it was all starting to make sense now. There was something deeper there, something you had both been avoiding for a long time. “You’re not going to lose me wade” you said softly, reaching out to touch his hand. “I’m not going anywhere”.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, and for once, you saw the vulnerability that he usually kept hidden behind his mask of humor and bravado. “You say that now, but… I don’t know if I can trust it. Trust us”.“You can” you insisted, squeezing his hand. “We’ve been through too much together for this to be nothing”.

Wade’s eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the walls he’d built around himself start to crumble. “I care about you, Y/N. More than I probably should”. The admission hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. You felt your heart skip a beat, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the blood loss. “I care about you too” you whispered, barely able to believe you were saying the words out loud. Wade’s expression softened further, and he leaned in closer, his hand cupping your cheek as he searched your eyes for any hint of doubt. Finding none, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender for someone as chaotic as Deadpool.

The kiss was slow, sweet, and when you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you caught your breath. “So” Wade said after a moment, his voice a little shaky but still holding that familiar teasing edge, “does this mean we’re officially a thing? Because I’ve got a lot of bad habits you’re going to have to put up with”. You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Yeah, I think we are. And trust me, I’m more than up for the challenge”. He grinned, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “Good, because I’m a lot of work, babe. But I think you might be worth it”.

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klaissance · 9 months ago

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Do you have any dad klance headcannons?

Thank you so much for asking dear sweet asker I appreciate you so much. I actually,,, lowkey don't? Dad!Klance is not something I think about that much, I think bc as a teenage girl in my 20s I am not in a parent/family space that often BUT FOR YOU IMMA TRY HERE WE GO:

for starters I think they're really good at it let's get that straight from the jump

Lance always wanted to be a parent I think--comes from a big family, has watched his siblings become parents, is obsessed with his cool uncle status, has always seen parenthood ahead as something to look forward to

Keith is the opposite, never in a million bazillion years thought that was in the cards for him

he's gay so that came with its own list of things to be worried about that would be difficult in terms of, like, acquiring a child, plus he just sort of had a shitty time as a kid, has a funny relationship with the words "parent" and "dad" and hasn't had the time to hash that out with a therapist because he's been in space

really truly Keith is a feral desert child and when presented with the thought of turning a small being into an adult suitable for society his brain shorts out

...until they get together

actually, both of them flip on this while they're in space OKAY NOW WE'RE COOKING

Lance, my poor sweet darling prince, is a little less sold on children. He grows up hard and fast and violent in the intergalactic war they're thrust into, sees terrible things happen to good people all over the place, sees kids left parentless and parents lose a child, sees himself nearly die more times than he can count (oop that one time he did die lol), and suddenly the idea of kids in the future isn't tinted golden and sparkling with the memories of his childhood. He's an adult and anything could happen and it's terrifying and hard and he knows he loves what he does--loves helping people, loves interacting with children, wants to teach or something later for sure maybe--but the actual parenting is soured by the thought of his mom back home thinking her son is dead and not even having the closure of a burial or anything. He learns that nothing is certain in the way he used to think it was, and stops expecting specific things for his future

Klance gets together [how?? girls idk any infinite number of ways that is every post I'll ever make until the end of time but not this one--trust though it was juicy] and they stay together while they're fighting the space war, and slowly and then all at once Keith "Lone Wolf" "Not A Family Man" "Feral Desert Orphan" "Kids What Are Those" Kogane is, like,,,, thinking about his life and his future beyond like,,, the next hour,,, and is imagining kids in the picture??? trust it shocks him too

This actually is a version of their relationship that I really like thinking about! Lance pivots on all of his hopes and dreams that he'd had all his life about certain milestones for things--marriage, kids, the white picket fence and all that jazz--and throws it all out the window. Because piloting magical sentient lions in a space war is fucking crazy and life is nothing like what he thought and what is important to him reshapes; it isn't the milestones it is the feelings they represent, the security and companionship he is seeking, the fulfillment he can find from interacting with others in different ways. Keith is the opposite; he never thought any of the milestones were important because he assumed they were for other, non-broken people. People--not him--who could have nice things like spouses and houses and children to raise in their image or whatever. And to make a long and introspective story short he gets to hold Lance's hand and suddenly all of those nice things are back on the table and he gets to want them and finds out that he does

I guess this is where it gets fuzzy for me I've seen some things where they space adopt and that's really fun and fresh

Or they wait until they get back to Earth after having the Cool Uncle Era with Lance's nieces and nephews which is my shit i love cool uncle klance

I do think I subscribe to them adopting older children out of the foster system as opposed to however infant adoption works

but any way you slice it Keith is So Pressed About Getting It Right he's reading books he's asking Shiro and then wanting to die because Shiro is So Cringe about his caretaking advice UGH

and Lance is back in a comfy phase about it now that they've decided to do it, regaling Keith when he freaks out with tales of times he and his siblings totally almost died or that crazy shit happened or that his parents did x y z totally sideways--his point being: and look how well it turned out anyway

the important thing is that when they do have children they love them more than anything and demonstrate a positive healthy relationship for them and they try to meet them where they are and also give them opportunities to grow and be happy and therefore it all works out perfect :)

Also as an added bonus here are some of my favorite depictions of dad!Klance for your perusal:

deerstalkerdeathfrisbee's True Love or Something ok these were like my earliest favorite fics ever when I tell you this raised me and reset my brain chemistry I am being so serious. They aren't dadding until later in the series [THIS ONE] but actually the whole thing is so excellent

that,,, actually is the only one coming to mind right now but people SOUND OFF IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE PLS <3 i will return to this post with more if i find any

I hope this was good for you obviously I just stream-of-conscious dumped into the text box but it was super fun to do, if anybody has any other prompting thoughts I would love to ideate more I just,,,, love thinking about them so much,,,, ok everybody have a great day!!

#ask and you shall receive #klance headcanons #dad!klance #klance #vld headcanons #my writing #nobody ever asked me for my thoughts before this is crazy #please somebody ask me something again this was so fun #ok anon ily hope this scratched your itch a little #long post

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sharkiethrts · 7 months ago

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ofc an appreciative comment!! i loved ur works and am looking forward to more awkward sunday!!

i think in the end the road to hell is paved with good intentions. sunday IS controlling, but he does have good intentions. i feel like people forget that he is ultimately trying to do (his version) of what’s best. which is why it’s so funny seeing an s/o actually making him loosen up (which is what i think he needs!!)

either way, great fic!!! RAHHH u have satiated the sunday need

WHAT THE HELL THIS IS THE BEST MUAH!! 😭😭😭

if i do release new sunday content im pretty sure itll centre around the modern au. Especially withhow unpredictable things are right now, I think i’d like to wait until 2.3 comes in June 18th (by then, my exams would have ended completely!!).

Do tell me any simple ideas you have modern au sunday, though I may not be able to give any promises since some ideas just don’t strike me as much- I am always open to chat about sunday 🫶🫶

modern! sunday would probably still be under the grasp of the dream master. But this time, he is alive and is just this really overbearing stepfather,, maybe??

do help me add on to that idea 🙂‍↕️

#sunday hsr #sunday x reader #hsr

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soshiharin · 1 year ago

Text

forever and then some

summary: in which harin and dongwook get married

set: 18 november 2023

word count: 7.3k

warnings: swearing, mention of food

an: literally who allowed this to get so long??? this exhausted me, so enjoy! words in bold are english. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

Harin woke up to the sounds of Dongwook’s muttered speech. She pushed the blankets off her shoulders, seeing him sitting on one of the chairs in front of the mounted TV and fireplace.

“Lee Dongwook,” she called out, drawing his attention as she pushed herself up against the headboard, “don’t tell me you’re just now writing your vows,” she teased, hoping to ease the tension in her husband-to-be’s shoulders. Something she was successful in, watching as his shoulders shook with laughter.

“Yah, I’m not writing my vows,” he told her, waving the piece of paper in his hand. Harin cocked her eyebrow at him in response. “I’m going over it, making sure it’s perfect.”

“Baby, whatever you say, I will want to listen.” Getting out of bed, she padded over to her fiancé, sitting in his lap. “We’re getting married today,” she voiced, framing his face with her hands. “That in and of itself is exciting. You don’t have to write some complicated vow, I already told you this.”

“I want to, though,” he said. “I only get one chance to marry you, I want my vows to be…”

“Perfect?” She guessed, chuckling. “What do you have so far?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not showing you my vows. You’ll just have to wait until later, Mrs Jang.”

“Miss Jang,” she corrected, removing her hands from his face. “You don’t get to call me Mrs until later.”

“And before I can call you Mrs, I need to make sure my vows are amazing.”

Rolling her eyes endearingly, she chuckled. “Baby. We are getting married today. If you stress yourself out about these vows, you’re not going to enjoy the wedding. Besides we’re only getting at, like, two pm. You have time to fix it,” she pointed out.

Dongwook looked at her. “How are you so calm right now?”

She shrugged. “I’m oddly calm when I need to be anxious and oddly anxious when I need to be calm.”

“I also want to be calm right now,” he complained. “I’m panicking so much. It’s worse than when I did my first acting job.”

“Aigo, Dongwook.” She pouted at her fiancé. “Eotteohge? Are you even going to make it down the aisle?”

He chuckled. “You’re not really helping.”

“How should I help?” She asked, settling against his chest.

He smiled as he thought of something. “You can sing for me,” he said, smiling bigger when Harin groaned. “What? You don’t want to?”

“You know my voice sucks in the morning. I just woke up.”

“I like your voice. All the time. And it would really help me calm down,” he bargained.

She sighed. “What song?”

“You’re really going to sing? You never agree to it.”

“Say the song before I change my mind.”

Dongwook chuckled. “Okay, okay. Um…” He looked around the room as he thought. “Ah! That one.” He started humming A Sunday Kind of Love. “The one you always sing.”

Harin smiled softly before she started singing for Dongwook. He brushed her hair out of her face as he listened, admiring her voice.

“And you say your voice sounds bad in the morning,” he said with a scoff when she finished singing a verse of the song.

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She stood up, stretching her body out. “I have to go wash,” she said, “and you need to make breakfast for the dogs.”

Dongwook sighed, also standing up. “Right.” He gathered all of his papers and went to put them on his bedside table. He walked to where Harin was standing in front of the TV. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied. She leaned forward to kiss him, but was deterred by him taking a step back. “What is going on?”

“Our mothers have asked that we don’t kiss until the ceremony,” he told her, making sure to maintain distance between them.

Harin gaped at her fiance. “Why?”

“They read an article–”

“Fucking hell.”

“–and couples said that when they didn’t kiss until their ceremony, it felt more special.”

She sighed. “Okay,” she said, turning around to go to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

Harin looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m going to wash.”

Dongwook’s mouth floundered open and shut a few times. “Just like that? You’re not going to fight me on it?”

“No.” She walked around the bed, going behind the wall facing the bed. The wall facing the bed allowed the bathroom to be hidden with single access from the right, serving as support for the long, stone trough sink and the mirror, located at the back.

“The one time she chooses to listen to her mom,” he mumbled as he left the room to give their dogs breakfast.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Harin asked, taking a bite of the breakfast Dongwook made for the two of them.

They had both washed and were downstairs eating in their informal dining area in their kitchen, their dogs resting on the bumped-out window seat to the right of them.

Dongwook hummed as he took a sip of his coffee. “I’m going to take the dogs to a care centre, get my hair trimmed, go with our dads to pick up the rings and finish working on my vows,” he said, Harin nodding as she listened. “Then I’m going to the venue and getting my hair styled there after I put on my suit. What are you doing?”

“Going to a spa with our mothers, doing my nails, going on a forced walk, going to the venue, changing into my dress, getting my hair and makeup done and then waiting for everyone to arrive,” she listed off, finishing with a sigh.

“We’re both busy,” he commented.

Within ten minutes of them finishing their food and moving to the family room off the side of the kitchen to wait for their parents, they heard a knock on the door. Their dogs — Cucumber and Poppins — rushed to the door alongside the couple.

“Hi,” Harin greeted when Dongwook had opened the double door, watching as Poppins attempted to jump on her mom. She bent down to pick up the dog, stepping to the side to let everyone in.

“Your house is so beautiful!” Dongwook’s mom, Doosoon, complimented as her son closed the door. They were the first guests Harin and Dongwook had after moving into their house.

The couple led their parents out of their parents, past the first floor landing and into the formal living room. Harin went to pour everyone a glass of water, giving Poppins to her mom before she left, as Dongwook made small talk with everyone. When she returned, she put the tray with the glasses on the coffee table, sitting down next to her fiancé.

“How are you feeling? Are you nervous?” Harin’s dad, Siwoo, asked.

“I’m more excited than nervous,” Harin answered, “but oppa’s nervous.”

Dongwook, who had just picked up Cucumber to place her on his lap, looked up at Harin. “I’m not nervous.”

“Yah, it’s okay if you’re nervous,” his dad, comforted, waving his hand dismissively. “I was also nervous on my wedding day — we both were. Just have fun.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Your house is so beautiful!” Doosoon complimented again, looking at the building they were sitting in. “Who built it?”

“I’m not sure who exactly built it,” Harin began to answer, “but it was designed by a Spanish architect, that’s why it has a Mediterranean feel to it. He designed three houses like this in Korea — we happened to get the one in Seoul — and he apparently spent a long time looking for plots of land to build the houses because he wanted to have space for the backyard.”

“Is the backyard big?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Wow,” she softly exclaimed.

“Eomeoni, do you want a tour of the house?” Dongwook asked.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to offer,” she joked, causing everyone to chuckle.

The couple proceeded to give their parents a tour of the house. When they got to the backyard, they all exclaimed at just how big it was, Dooson in particular — “I never knew there was a place in Seoul with this much space,” she had said. The exclamations continued when they went upstairs to see all four of the bedrooms. After talking about the future, possible children to fill out all of the rooms — and causing Dongwook and Harin to get shy — they all returned to the family room.

“Should we get off now?” Siwoo asked.

Dongwook’s dad nodded. “Yes, we should.”

The group of people broke into two groups — women and men — so that they could each embark on their different errands. The men took the dogs with them to leave a care centre for the day. The wedding venue, unfortunately, had a strict ‘no pets’ policy.

“It’s very warm today,” Eunkyung, Harin’s mom, commented as she got into the passenger seat of Harin’s car.

Doosoon nodded, entering the backseat. “They chose a good day to get married.” She watched as their children locked the door to the front door. Dongwook stood to the right of Harin, using his hand to block the sun for her. They laughed about something before Dongwook kissed Harin’s cheek, the two of them going to their respective cars.

“Okay, we can go now,” Dongwook said as he started his car.

The couple embarked on their separate errands to prepare for their big day. By half-past eleven, they were both at the wedding venue, changing into their outfits and getting their hair and makeup done. Harin finished first and walked from the dressing room to the bridal waiting room.

When she walked in, Eunkyung gasped in awe as she looked at her daughter. Her hair and makeup had been finished and she was wearing her dress. “Is this why they call you the Nation’s Goddess?”

Harin shook her head endearingly. “I’m going to assume you like it?”

“So much.” Her mother stepped towards her, cupping her cheeks. “You look stunning, darling.”

“Thank you.”

Doosoon entered the room after being in the main hall to check on the decorations. “Almost everything is set up and re– Omo!” She exclaimed, noticing Harin in her dress as Eunkyung stepped back from her daughter. “You’re so pretty!”

Harin smiled in response. “Thank you.”

“Dongwook is a lucky man,” she complimented. “Tell me if he ever does anything to annoy you, okay?”

“Okay, I will.” She promised. Brushing her hands down her dress, she sighed in awe. “I love this dress.”

“You made a really good choice,” Eunkyung said.

Meanwhile, in Dongwook’s dressing room, he had finished putting on his suit.

“Adeul, are you ready?” His dad asked.

Dongwook opened the door, exiting the changing booth in his room. “I’m done.”

Siwoo groaned in approval, “That’s a very nice suit!”

“Thank you, jangeuneoreun,” he said, using the formal honorific for father-in-law.

“Ay, that’s too formal–” Siwoo waved his hand dismissively– “just call me jangin,” he suggested.

Dongwook nodded. “Okay.” He toyed with the lapels on his suit. “I’m so nervous,” he breathed out.

His dad stepped forward, patting his shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous. It’s good to be nervous.

“I’m a wreck. And I have to go over my vows.”

“No, you don’t,” Siwoo disagreed. “What you showed us earlier is more than fine.”

“But you know Harin,” he argued softly, reaching for his vows that were on one of the coffee tables. “She’s going to write something so exceptional. I should at least make mine half as good.”

“She’s a songwriter, you’re not,” his dad deadpanned, Dongwook flashing him an unimpressed look.

Siwoo nodded in agreement. “Harin’s been writing poetically for most of her life. She’s practised and honed her craft. It’s obvious that this will come naturally to her. Don’t stress about it too much,” he told Dongwook.

Dongwook nodded, looking down at the vows in his hand. “Okay… Okay. I’m good. I–I’m good.” He placed the vows back on the table.

“Your shoulders look awfully tense, though,” Harin commented, standing in the doorway. She watched as the three men turned to face her, shocked to hear her voice.

Siwoo gasped softly. “You look beautiful, Harper.”

“Thanks, dad.” She walked to her father, giving him a hug. “Do you like the dress?”

“It’s totally your style. It’s stunning.”

She smiled at him before turning to her fiancé. “You look great,” she complimented him.

Dongwook, who was staring at Harin, struggled to respond, coughing up a response when his dad hit his back, “T– Uh, thank you.”

She winked at him, looking over his shoulder at his dad. “I was thinking of going with oppa to look at the hall, if that’s okay? I heard the setup was almost done.”

Dongwook’s dad nodded. “You guys can go ahead.

Harin turned to walk out of the room, not checking to see if Dongwook was following her. As she walked out of the room and into the hallway, she could hear his footsteps behind her, a smirk appearing on her face. They walked in silence to the hall, both gasping at the decor. Everything had been set up and all of the staff had already left the room.

“I told you not to doubt the potential of me and Pinterest,” she bragged softly. Most of the wedding decor had been decided by Harin — with input from Dongwook, of course — and she had created a Pinterest board to organise all of their ideas.

Dongwook walked onto the aisle, holding out a hand to Harin, who looked at him confusedly. He led her to the middle of the aisle, wrapping his arms around her. He started swaying, singing Love you thousand times softly in her ear. Harin smiled, placing her head in the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

They stayed like that, swaying softly, as Dongwook kept singing. When he had finished singing the chorus for the eighth time, he pulled back to look at Harin.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she replied. He leaned in to kiss her, but was stopped by Harin holding his face in her hand. “Not until the ceremony,” she reminded him, her right eyebrow quirking up.

He groaned behind her hand. “We need to limit their internet access,” he muttered in mock anger.

Harin laughed, stepping out of his hold and releasing his face. “You can’t stop them. Even if you take their phones, they’ll find a way.”

“That’s true… There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing we can do about it, and we just have to accept it.”

Harin nodded before quickly pecking his cheek and turning around, walking away. “I’m going to my waiting room. I’ll see you later.”

Dongwook jogged to catch up with her, holding her elbow. “I didn’t tell you this yet, but you look gorgeous.”

“I could tell that’s what you thought.”

The first guests — Seungheon and Yeonseok — arrived at 13:24. They were greeted by Dongwook and both sets of parents at the entrance to the floor. Their wedding was taking place on the top floor — the one that offered the most privacy.

“Ah, Dongwook-ah!” Yeonseok exclaimed upon seeing his labelmate.

“I thought this was all a prank,” Seungheon said. “I thought it was a lie.”

“As we arrived, hyung turned to me and asked, ‘Dongwook wouldn’t go to such lengths just to trick us, right?’” Yeonseok added, making everyone laugh.

“I wouldn’t go through all of this trouble just to prank you,” Dongwook assured them, waving them off.

“You mean it?” Seungheon asked, pretending to still be sceptical. “I can’t hear any voices from inside. Why are we the only ones here?”

“Because you arrived first!” He softly exclaimed, laughing.

”So this isn’t fake?”

“It’s not, it’s not. Harinnie will tell you.”

“If Harin’s here, then it’s not fake,” Yeonseok said. “She wouldn’t spend this much money on a prank.”

“That’s true,” Seungheon agreed. “Okay, I believe you.”

The two men walked off, following the hallway, until they reached Harin’s bridal room. They found the actress sitting on the couch, doing something on her phone.

“If you could just confirm for us,” Seungheon began as he and Yeonseok walked in — startling Harin, who looked up from her phone, “that this isn’t a prank, we’d appreciate it.”

Harin stood up to greet them. “Why would I spend this much money on a prank?”

Yeonseok snapped his fingers. “That’s what I said!”

The three continued to talk for a short while before having the photographer take their photo. The two actors walked into the wedding hall shortly after, and Harin went back to being busy on her phone.

A few minutes had passed before Harin heard footsteps coming in her direction.

“Harin!” Taeyeon squealed. She entered the waiting room, holding flowers in her hands. Behind her were Sunny and Seohyun.

“My sweeties!” She responded, putting her phone down and standing up.

Seohyun rushed to Harin’s side, giving her a tight hug. “Unnie, you look so pretty!” She complimented.

“Really? That’s a relief, I spent a lot of money on my look,” she joked.

Taeyeon gave her member the flowers she brought. “Our Visual Goddess always looks good,” she said.

“Are we at the age to be getting married already?” Sunny wondered aloud after hugging Harin. “Didn’t we debut yesterday?”

“Unnie, time flies when you have fun,” Seohyun pointed out.

Taeyeon nodded. “That’s right.”

“Where are the other unnies?” Seohyun asked, taking her phone out of her bag.

At that moment, Sooyoung peeked her head around the curtain of the waiting room. “I’m here,” she announced, holding a gift bag in her hand.

Tiffany pushed past her member. “Get out of the way, oh my god.” She squealed when she saw Harin. “Yoona, hurry up!” She called over her shoulder.

Yoona appeared a few seconds later. “You guys left me in the car,” she complained. “I hadn’t even stopped the car before you left.”

“We were in a rush,” Sooyoung told her. “It’s not everyday one of us gets married.”

“It’s the first time one of us got married,” Seohyun pointed out.

“That makes it even more special,” Tiffany added. She squealed once more, taking hold of Harin’s hands. “I love your dress!”

“And the gloves.” Taeyeon pointed at the lace garment.

“Yeoksi, our fashionista is gorgeous.”

“You know you wouldn’t have met him without me?” Sunny asked her member as she sat down on the couch.

“I know, I know,” Harin said to humour her member. To say Sunny was the only reason she met Dongwook was an exaggeration, but she knew her member was only teasing.

“I’m like Cupid,” she bragged.

“Find me someone,” Taeyeon jokingly whined. “I also want someone, cupid-nim.”

“Who wants what?” Yuri asked, walking in with Hyoyeon. She gasped when she saw her member in her wedding dress. “Gorgeous, gorgeous!” She complimented, snapping her fingers.

“Are you a goddess?” Hyoyeon asked Harin. “Why do you look so good?”

As the members talked amongst themselves, they didn’t notice the photographer taking candid pictures of them.

“Who do you think is going to cry first?” Yoona asked.

Sunny thought for a second. “Hyoyeon, Yuri, Yoona or Seohyun,” she answered.

Yoona looked at her older member in shock. “Why me?”

“Yah, you’re basically Harin’s child,” Sooyoung said.

“Your mom’s getting married,” Tiffany added, causing Yoona to roll her eyes.

Harin laughed. “If you guys don’t cry now or when I walk down the aisle, you’re most definitely going to cry when you sing,” she told them.

“I can’t argue with that,” Hyoyeon agreed. “We’re going to be like, ‘Geudaewa bareul matchumyeo geotgo,’” she sang the chorus, pretending to sniffle and cry.

“That’s right.”

“Are you ready to take your picture?” The photographer asked.

“Ah, yes,” Taeyeon answered.

The members sorted their poses for the photo out: Harin in the middle on the couch, Sunny, and Tiffany on her right and Taeyeon, and Hyoyeon on her left. Sooyoung, Yoona, Yuri and Seohyun were standing behind the couch. They all smiled for the pictures.

“And before we forget, we got you a gift,” Sooyoung told Harin. She passed Harin the gift bag she was holding as Harin sighed.

“If I open it, I’m really going to cry,” she complained, staring at the bag.

“It’s a good thing you’re a pretty crier,” Hyoyeon commented, making everyone laugh.

Harin opened the bag, seeing a book inside. She took the book outside of the bag as Taeyeon took the bag from her. The cover of the book read To Our Harin. When Harin opened the book, she was met with a picture of her and Taeyeon from their debut days. The next page had a more recent photo, and the page next to that one had a letter that Taeyeon had written to her. Harin skimmed over the book — not wanting to read it all now — and saw that that was the case for each of her members. The last three pages had an old group photo of them, a recent photo of them and a letter all of the members had written together.

“You guys…” Harin trailed off, closing the book as she teared up. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” Tiffany said, also tearing up.

A bunch of the members started sniffling as they got emotional. Seohyun pulled out tissues for each of them from her purse so they could dab the corners of their eyes.

“Unnie, you can’t cry now,” Yoona warned, “your makeup is too pretty.

“Then you shouldn’t have given me this present!” Harin complained, trying to fight her tears. “It’s your fault!”

The members pulled themselves together and finished taking their photos before entering the hall. After that, there was an influx of all the other guests. Dongwook and Harin had both agreed on not having a big wedding, wanting to keep it small and intimate, so they agreed on inviting twenty people each — twenty of their closest friends and family. Dongwook greeted the guests when they arrived and Harin greeted them before they entered the hall.

By the time there was five minutes until the wedding was scheduled to start, all of the guests had arrived and were seated. Soft piano music played as everyone talked amongst themselves. When the time for the wedding to start arrived, the music quieted down and Jaesuk went to the podium.

“Hello, everyone. I’m today’s MC, Yoo Jaesuk,” he greeted from a pulpit to the side of the altar. “We’re about to start the ceremony. On behalf of the couple and their parents, I would like to thank each and every one of you for being here today.” He moved from the podium, bowed to the guests, then moved back. “Now, the mothers of the couple will light the candles,” he announced.

Both Dongwook and Harin’s mothers entered the hall, walking down the aisle until they reached the altar. They then separated, Dongwook’s mom going left and Harin’s going right until they reached their candle lighting stations. They both picked up the lighters that were provided and lit up the candles before walking to the front of the aisle, bowing and separating to their respective sides of the hall.

“I request everyone to turn their attention to the parade of the wedding entourage. Let’s please welcome the luckiest man!”

Everyone’s heads turned as Dongwook stood at the foot of the aisle. He walked down the aisle as My only love started playing through the speakers, waving at everyone as he walked. Once he reached the altar, he bowed to Jaesuk before turning around and bowing to the guests. He then moved to stand where he was motioned to by a staff member, fidgeting with his suit as he waited for Harin.

“We just welcomed the tall and good looking groom here. Now, let’s welcome the most beautiful bride,” Jaesuk announced.

Everyone turned once more as Harin and her dad stood at the foot of the aisle. They walked down the aisle as You make me happy started playing through the speakers, Siwoo glancing at his daughter every so often. Once they reached Dongwook, who had finally stopped fidgeting, Siwoo let go of Harin’s hand and hugged his almost son-in-law. Breaking apart, he moved to sit next to his wife.

“You look pretty,” Dongwook whispered, taking Harin’s hand.

“You’ve already seen me today,” Harin whispered back as he led her to the top of the altar.

“And you continue to look pretty,” he said, gently letting go of her hand once they were in position.

“Welcome family and friends,” Jaesuk. “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Lee Dongwook and Jang Harin. This is not the beginning of a new relationship but an acknowledgment of the next chapter in their lives together. Lee Dongwook and Jang Harin have spent years getting to know each other, and we now bear witness to what their relationship has become. Today, they will affirm this bond formally and publicly.”

“Lee Dongwook and Jang Harin will mark their transition as a couple not only by celebrating the love between themselves, but by also celebrating the love between all of us — including the love of their parents, siblings, extended family, and best friends. Without that love, today would be far less joyous. The bride and groom have each prepared vows that they will read now.”

Harin cleared her throat, accepting the microphone and velvet vow book that was handed to her. “The first time I said ‘I love you’, your eyes sparkled as your face broke into one of the sweetest smiles I’ve ever seen. It was in that moment that I finally understood what my dad meant when he said that true magic lives in those three words.”

Dongwook exhaled, feeling his eyes grow wet as Harin continued speaking. “My love, what I have found with you is the great love I always hoped existed. I have adored every single version of you that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and I promise I will continue to love every single future version of you that you choose to become.”

At that point, Harin was no longer reading from the book, but instead reciting as she stared at Dongwook. “I will love you my whole life. You and no other. I will give you strength when you are weak, and give you comfort when you are sad. I will be with you until the end of time. Let’s live a happy life together, and grow old together,” she finished, handing the microphone and vow book to Dongwook.

“I should’ve gone first,” Dongwook complained, causing everyone to laugh. “If I could give you some things, it would be the ability to see yourself through my eyes. Only then will you realise just how special you are to me. I would give you my heart so that you know how much I love you, from every heartbeat there will be a melody calling your name. I would give you my ears so that you could hear your voice every morning. Even though you say that you sound the worst after just waking up, it’s when your voice is at its most gentle and soft.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re not a one-in-a-million woman, you’re a once-in-my-lifetime type of woman,” he said, causing everyone to gasp at his smooth words. “That was good, right?” He asked, everyone laughing at how cocky he sounded. “I will cherish and adore you for years and years, until you are a constant in my memory. You give being in love a whole new meaning, my heart is in your hands. I love you,” he finished, quoting lyrics from Right here forever.

The guests clapped as Dongwook handed off the vow book and the microphone.

Jaesuk exclaimed into the microphone. “Such sweet words from the couple. I didn’t know Dongwook could be that poetic, but he surprised me,” he joked. “And now, “Lee Dongwook, do you take Jang Harin as your wife? Do you promise to honour, love, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding onto her forever more?”

“I do,” Dongwook said, not breaking his eye contact with Harin.

“And do you, Jang Harin, take Lee Dongwook as your husband? Do you promise to honour, love, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding onto her forever more?”

“I do,” Harin answered.

“Lee Dongwook and Jang Harin will now exchange rings as a symbol of love and commitment to each other. Your wedding ring is a circle — a symbol of love never ending,” the officiant said as Dongwook’s father brought them their rings. “Lee Dongwook, please place the ring on Jang Harin’s left hand and repeat after me.” He said the vow, pausing every so often to let Dongwook repeat after him, repeating the process with Harin.

“To make your relationship work,” Jaesuk began, “will take love. Continue to date each other. Take time to show each other that your love and marriage grows stronger with time. It will take trust to know that in your hearts, you truly want what is best for each other. It will take dedication to stay open to one another — and to learn and grow together.”

He exhaled, looking at the couple, who only had eyes for each other. “And now by the power vested in me, it’s my honour and delight to declare you married. Go forth and live each day to the fullest. Please bow to each other.”

The couple smiled at each other before bowing. Once they had stood upright, Harin waggled her eyebrow at Dongwook.

“Now, we will have two congratulatory songs,” Jaesuk announced. “I know many people are expecting it to be Nam Changhee-ssi,” he joked, making everyone laugh, “but it is actually K.Will-ssi.”

Hyungsoo walked up onto the side of the podium from Dongwook’s side of the hall, accepting a microphone that was handed to him. “Honestly, I forgot that Dongwook and Harin were dating,” he admitted, everyone laughing at his confession, “so when I received my invitation, I was a bit confused. I immediately called Sangbum–” he pointed into the crowd at the actor– “and asked him what was going on, and he reminded me that they were in a relationship. Yeah, that’s my story. Um, I was asked by Dongwook to sing a song, so I decided to sing Love Blossom. It’s a very good song that I think fits this couple.”

He cleared his throat, waiting for the instrumental for Love Blossom to play. He started singing the song as Dongwook put his arm around Harin — who had begun to feel emotional —, the couple swaying along to the music. As Hyungsoo sang, he would occasionally point at the couple or signal to the crowd to cheer. When the song finished, he bowed to the couple.

“Have a prosperous marriage,” he said.

“Thank you,” Dongwook said as he and Harin walked to hug Hyungsoo. They returned back to their position as Jaesuk started speaking again.

“Now, there will be another congratulatory song,” he announced. “Contrary to popular belief, it is not IU who will be singing, but instead Girls’ Generation.”

Harin’s members walked onto the podium from her side of the hall, accepting the microphones that were handed to them.

“Just as I predicted, Harinnie is the first member to get married,” Yuri joked. Harin wetly chuckled along with everyone in the hall. “Now, we’re going to sing a song. Um, it may sound weird without our harmony leader–” she gestured at Harin– “but we’ll try to sound good. Um, we all wish you happiness.”

She toyed with her hair, trying to stop herself from crying. “Can we start now?” She asked her members.

“Yes!” Seohyun responded.

They started dancing as the instrumental to Kissing You played. Harin clapped her hands softly as she listened to her members sing. By the time they got to her part at the end of the bridge, most of the members were in tears.

“Live a happy life!” They shouted when they were done.

Harin and Dongwook went to the members to thank them. Tiffany hugged Harin tightly, the other members joining in before remembering that Dongwook was also there.

Jaesuk started talking again as the members went back to their seats, “Now, we’ll have a short break for lunch. Your food will be brought to you, so you don’t need to stand up and go anywhere,” he told them before walking away from the podium.

Dongwook led Harin to their table just in front of the podium on her side of the hall as there was no space on his side. They sat down as staff members entered the hall with trays of food for the guests.

Usually, in Korean weddings, the guests go to a buffet and dish up their food, but when Harin and Dongwook sent out their wedding invitations, there was a section for everybody that was RSVPing to select which foods they would like to eat, so the staff already knew what everyone wanted to eat.

“I’m so hungry,” Harin commented after her food was placed on her table. Besides her breakfast, she had been snacking on dried fruits all day so as not to get full before the ceremony. “Also, I liked your vows.”

“I worked very hard on it,” he bragged nonchalantly, eating his food. “I had a thousand first drafts.”

“You chose a good final version,” she complimented. Looking around the room, she smiled. “We just got married.”

Dongwook reached across the table for her hand. “Yes, we did.”

They continued to eat until everybody had mostly finished, then Dongwook signalled to Jaesuk to continue on with the program. After mock complaining, Jaesuk stood up to resume his MC duties.

“Okay, everyone,” he started, “now we will enter the second last section of today’s program: speeches. We’ll first hear a speech from Harin’s namdongsaeng, Hajoon!”

Hajoon walked onto the podium, touching his sister’s shoulder as he passed her. He accepted the microphone that was handed to him, pulling out his phone so he could read his speech. “Hello, everyone. I’m the brother of the bride. Um, noona… For most, if not all, of my childhood, noona was a role model to me. But since I’m a boy, I always felt this… innate protectiveness when it came to her. She proved time and time again that she didn’t need me over her shoulder doing my best to intimidate people that were twice my size,” he joked, making everyone laugh. “But, yeah, noona was a role model to me. She still is. She’s someone that continuously drops everything for me when I ask her to, even though she might have been in the middle of something important.”

He cleared his throat, feeling himself get emotional. “One of my earliest memories is when I had lost my teddy bear — I had had it since I was born — and I was crying, I was screaming… I was letting the whole neighbourhood know that I had lost my teddy bear. And noona was going over maths with appa, but she suddenly stood up from the table, walked to me, held my hand and told me to breathe deeply. She then proceeded to walk me around the house so we could search for the teddy bear together. We ended up finding it under my bed and I was immediately happy, and noona played with me for a while before going back to studying with appa. Four months ago, I found out that noona had picked out that teddy bear for me when she came to visit me in the hospital after I was born,” he revealed, causing everyone to gasp.

“Noona is someone who… I don’t know, she acts like she doesn’t care, but she actually does. When I was in culinary school and was really stressed about an essay I had to do, I would call noona and she’d answer, even if she had to be on stage in a few minutes. And I still call her all the time. I call her when I’m sick, I call her when I’m happy… Hell, I call her to find out how long chicken is good in the freezer, which is ironic because she doesn’t know how to cook and I’m a chef.” He paused as everyone laughed. “Um, noona has been there for me whenever I needed her and I’m glad she’s found someone to be there for her whenever she needs it. She doesn’t like it when people hover over her and observe her every move, but she’s going to have to get used to it because Dongwook mehhyung watches her like a hawk. I don’t really have much else to say other than I love you, noona, and I’m always wishing you the best, and I hope you stay this happy forever,” he finished, passing the microphone off to Jaesuk before walking back to his seat as everyone applauded.

On his way back, Harin stopped him, hugging him tightly as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “I love you, Hajoon,” she told him before pulling apart and letting him go to his seat.

Jaesuk groaned, impressed at Hajoon’s speech. “That was very sweet, wasn’t it? I just found out that all of the food here was prepared by Hajoon-ssi, which adds to the sweetness, doesn’t it? Now, we’re going to have a speech by Dongwoo’s yeodongsaeng, Seonghee!”

Seonghee walked onto the podium, accepting the microphone that was handed to her. “Hello, I’m Seonghee. Most people aren’t able to say that they have the smartest, most amazing and caring sibling in the world, but oppa… I am so glad that you can say that,” she joked, pausing so everyone could laugh. “You’re really lucky,” she added. “I’m so glad that you decided to give him a second chance and proceeded to make him earn his way into deserving you. Years later, I’m making a speech at your wedding, so… I would like to apologise to oppa for telling unnie that she should make him beg for her to even look in his direction.”

Dongwook looked at Harin in shock, his wife laughing with everyone else. “Did she really say that?”

“She did, she did,” Harin confirmed through her laughter.

“Oppa, I’m truly grateful that you met and chose to spend the rest of your life with someone as incredible as Harin,” Seonghee said, looking at her brother. “I think she makes you the happiest you’ve ever been and I think she pushes you to be a better person.” She shifted her gaze to Harin. “Unnie, I didn’t know you before oppa, so I’m honestly not really sure what he does for you,” she joked, laughing along with everyone. “He could make you worse and I honestly wouldn’t know, but you seem very happy with him. I wish you well, and hope that your married life is good,” she concluded, walking off the podium and giving her microphone to Jaesuk, who was still laughing.

“Yes, that was Seonghee,” he said, trying to calm himself down. “She gave a very comedic speech that made everyone laugh. Now, we’ll take a group photo and after that, you can hang around and talk with the couple or you can go home and enjoy the rest of your day. I would like to call everyone onto the podium.”

Everyone stood up and walked to the podium. Harin and Dongwook were made to stand in the middle, the formation of everyone else was decided by having the shortest people in the front and the taller people in the back. After taking photos, Harin and Dongwook were led to the front of the aisle so they could take a kissing photo.

“Are you excited for this one?” She asked him as they were positioned for the photo.

Dongwook squeezed her hip. “I’m the most excited for this one.”

The photographer gave them the okay to kiss, so they did, the room erupting in cheers. Harin had to put her hand on Dongwook’s chest to softly push him away. He poked at her side, knowing that she was very ticklish. They joined their guests once more to thank them for coming.

“You’re really the prettiest bride,” Seoyeon complimented, hugging Harin.

Harin thanked her. “But with how pretty I am, it’s not hard to be the prettiest.”

“Ah, there you go again,” she groaned. “I have to go now, but congratulations, okay?”

Harin nodded as she watched Seoyeon walk away. A hand was placed on her shoulder and she turned around to see Minho. “Since I’m married now, does that mean we’re not dating anymore?” She asked, joking about their long-time rumoured relationship.

“It’s about time we break up,” he joked. “The relationship has been dying out.”

“Right, right. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, noona. Kibum said to tell you that he loves your dress.”

“As he should.”

They continued to talk before he had to go to a schedule, not before taking a selfie together. Harin spent another twenty minutes talking to guests — her EDAM labelmates, Eunjung, her managers, Kwangsoo, Doyeon, Goeun and more. The last guests that hung back were her members.

“Thank you for coming, my loves,” Harin thanked them. “Especially you, Tiffany, because you’re supposed to be on hiatus at your house.”

“A little health concern could never stop me from missing your wedding!” Tiffany waved her off. “Besides you had me seated near the heater, so I was fine.”

“This was seriously the best wedding I’ve ever been to,” Yoona said.

“We’re very happy for you,” Taeyeon.

Harin smiled. “Thank you. Now I get to fetch my dogs and go home.”

Yuri groaned. “You’re such a homebody.”

“I love that place.”

“Invite me over.”

They all laughed at how eager Sooyoung sounded. They talked some more before the members left — not before taking a few selfies, dried tear streaks visible on their cheeks —, leaving Harin and Dongwook with their families. Dongwook was in a conversation with Dooson and Eunkyung, talking about the ceremony, so Harin went to Hajoon.

“I liked your speech,” she told her brother.

“Thank you, noona. I meant everything I said, you know. About you being my role model and all.”

She groaned. “Don’t get all sappy on me now that I’m married. And remember to take breaks and come visit me once in a while.”

“Of course.” He smiled at his sister. “Right now, though, I need to sleep. For a week.”

“You made everyone’s food by yourself, it’s understandable that you’re tired. Go home. It looks like appa is also tired.” She pointed at their dad, who was walking towards her with an envelope his hands.

“Did you already register your marriage?” He asked, still holding onto the envelope.

“Yes, we did it yesterday,” she told him, eyeing the envelope in his hands. “So, what’s that?”

He looked down at it as if he had forgotten he was holding it. “This is... a little something from your mother, brother and I,” he said, hading it over to Harin. “And before you protest, we wanted to give this to you. It’s your wedding day and this is the least you deserve.”

Harin smiled at her dad and brother. “Thank you.”

The newly formed family then took a few more photos with the photographer before everyone decided to go home. Harin and Dongwook changed out of their dress and suit and into the clothes they were wearing earlier, making sure to take all of the gifts they received. They then took their separate cars home — Dongwook’s parents went home with Seonghee, and Harin’s parents went home with Hajoon —, Harin went to fetch Poppins and Cucumber as Dongwook went to pick up some takeout for them.

By the time the couple had both returned home, put their things away, and plopped down on their couch, they were exhausted. It had been a busy day for the both of them and they just needed to rest. They watched their dogs run around the family room, playing together.

“How are you Mrs. Jang?” Dongwook asked.

Harin sighed contently. “I feel great, darling.”

an: their slow dance moment was inspired by this. also idk much about dongwook’s family so i just kinda went based off of different articles. you can send an ask or dm to be added to the taglist 💐

tagging: @moongrlz

©️ jang harin

#ficnetfairy #snsd 9th member #snsd ninth member #snsd addition #snsd added member #snsd extra member #snsd member au #snsd imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines #harin #jang harin #harin :: dongrin #harin :: scenarios

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thecozykirin · 7 days ago

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Daily Writing Challenge November: Day 2

Deceit

( Light Trigger-Warning for themes of grooming ) @daily-writing-challenge

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Soo-ha did not have many friends back at the monastery. It wasn’t for lack of trying, rather, she never really seemed to click with the others within her age group, and whenever she found the courage to pry herself from her baba’s hip she was included with the same courtesy that one would extend to a younger and persistent sibling. A part of her did not mind, finding solace instead in her origami and helping her baba in his work, but a bigger part of her yearned for a connection that her paper animals could not provide.

“Did you make this?” Huili Silvershadow had served with her father before he had retired to tend the archives of the White Tiger Monastery, being several years his junior and still within service, he had been sent to the monastery after the war to recuperate, as her baba told her the war had been hard on him, but up until now she hardly saw him leave his room. In his claws, he held a little origami rabbit she had made earlier.

Soo-ha stared at the male owlishly, blinking as though he had spoken to her in a different language until she remembered her manners and she nodded, signing: ‘Yes, it’s a rabbit.’ Huili’s brow quirked and Soo-ha felt her face burn briefly with shame. Of course he could see it was a rabbit, anyone could see it was a rabbit why would she say something so stupi– “It’s very good.” Huili held Soo-ha within his studying gaze, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his muzzle. “Did U-Jinn teach you?” ‘Ah, he did yes!’ Soo-ha nodded quickly. ‘Baba is teaching me how to make them move next although, I’m not too good at it.’

“You’ll learn.” Huili nodded. “You know, he struggled with that part too a bit back when we were training.”

‘He did?’ Soo-ha blinked, leaning forward a bit.

Huili smirked. “He did, yes. You seem like a sharp girl though, I know you’ll get it.” as he moved to put the rabbit back down, Soo-ha chuffed to get his attention.

‘Ah, you can…keep that one if you want.’ Soo-ha offered the male a weak smile.

Huili paused, holding the rabbit above the spot he had plucked it from before he drew it away and regarded Soo-ha with a bit of warmth in cold blue eyes. “Thank you.” he tucked it away within a pouch on his belt, before he asked. “If you’re not too busy, do you think you could help me find your father?”

Soo-ha’s ears perked and she smiled, rising from her chair with a chuff, and grasping Huili’s wrist gently to pull him along, not unlike how a sibling would grab the arm of an older brother. All the while she could feel his gaze on her, and his claws gradually return the embrace.

“I appreciate this, I won’t try to keep you long.” Soo-ha looked back over her shoulder and smiled, signing. ‘It is no trouble, I’ve nothing but time on my paws when baba is busy.’ “Really now?” Huili’s gaze swept her briefly. “Why’s that?”

Soo-ha had pursed her bottom lip out slightly at the question, and she signed: ‘I…don’t really have any friends.’

“Hm, that’s a shame.” the male mused. “In that case then, perhaps we can be friends?” Soo-ha had paused at the offer, turning around fully and blinking. ‘Really? You’d like to be friends with me?’

Huili smiled. “Well, why not? You’re good company.”

Soo-ha let out a delighted squeak at the prospect. It just made so much sense to her at the time, surely a friend of her father would naturally make a great friend to her. ‘You really mean that?’ “Of course I do.”

Looking back, Soo-ha had been so sure that the lingering dark in his eyes had been from the war, that he had been a lonely and wounded spirit that could, perhaps, be mended with a bit of kindness, a bit of friendship. Now though, she wasn’t sure if there had ever been any genuine warmth in his eyes, or if he always held the gaze of a fox.

#world of warcraft #warcraft oc #short story #pandaren #thecozykirin #daily writing challenge

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

Text

Fireleaf (Part Thirteen)

Hi! Hope you’re all well 🥰 just wanted to say thank you, as always, for the lovely support on this series; @greeneyedivy and I really do read all your comments and appreciate them 🥹

Warnings: Some smut. Depictions of violence.

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Oh, you were so very, incredibly fucked.

If such a revelation hadn’t struck you like a ton of bricks already, well — it certainly had now.

There was no getting away from the fact as you stood across the room from Lucien and watched. Watched him flicking through a book with a child on each knee.

This was the third village you’d stopped at, now, and yet he didn’t seem to tire one bit. He’d showed the same keen enthusiasm with every family he spoke to, every child he took the time to chat and play with. Eyes alert and glistening. Cheeks slightly flushed.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen him smile so much.

And it was for that reason that your eyes repeatedly strayed to him as you saw to the little girl in front of you, who, when Lucien had asked what toy she’d like to play with, had said she wanted you to put a braid in her hair like you had in yours.

Poppy, her name was. Poppy, who just so happened to also have bright, Vanserra-red hair.

It didn’t exactly help to still the rapid melting of your heart.

“Why is it called a fishtail?” Poppy asked you — full of questions, now that her initial shyness had dissipated.

You smiled fondly, recalling that you’d once asked the same of Linden. “Because,” you leaned around her, showing her the strands of hair that you’d braided, “see how the hair is weaved together? It looks like a fish’s scales. Cool, huh? I wear a braid in my hair every day.”

You didn’t know why your eyes crept to Lucien again right in that moment. Or perhaps, deep down, you did. Your braid, that had once solely reminded you of Linden, had other thoughts attached to it, now. Thoughts of his firm, intricate fingers pinching the hair. Russet eyes catching it when you moved.

Those russet eyes stared back at you from across the room.

Lucien’s gaze met yours, and you found your cheeks heating. You shifted, refocusing your gaze on Poppy.

But children, of course, did not miss a trick.

“Are you and Lucien married?” She asked, tipping her head back to look at you.

You suppressed the urge to choke, fastening her little braid with a band. “Me and Lucien? No. We’re…friends.”

It still felt weird saying that. Even though there’d been nothing but warm, good feeling between you the entire day, you felt like you were waiting for old habits to seep back in. For him to change his mind about wanting to be your friend.

“My papa smiles at my mama like that.” Poppy continued — and you knew. Knew that Lucien was still looking your way, even though you avoided his gaze.

“Finished.” You knelt in front of her, brushing her gorgeous, vibrant hair forward. “We match now, see?”

“Pretty.”

Well. That deep voice certainly hadn’t come from the little girl in front of you. You stiffened slightly, glancing over your shoulder to find that Lucien had approached.

He was smiling. Utterly in his element. And he kneeled beside you, also studying Poppy’s hair.

“It suits you, Pops.” He grinned brilliantly. “Y/N did a good job, huh?”

Pops. He visited these villages so often, made such an effort with the less fortunate families, that he had nicknames for the children.

An urge arose in you to hug him. You quickly shoved it away.

Poppy was beaming, utterly delighted, but her brow furrowed as Lucien turned to you and said, “We should probably get going before it gets late.”

The disappointment in the little girl’s face had you almost tempted to pitch up in that room and stay the night. But you knew you’d taken enough of a risk, today, by just coming here. By disappearing from the estate with Lucien, before everyone else had even woken up. You’d left a note for Dion, informed him that you were helping Lucien run some errands, but…best not to push it.

“Can’t you stay longer?” Poppy frowned up at Lucien.

Lucien smiled gently at her. “Wish we could, sweetheart, but we need to get home. But I’ll come see you all again real soon, okay?”

The little girl’s green eyes slid to you. “You, too, Y/N?”

You hadn’t thought your heart could possibly swell any more, and yet there you were, wanting to snatch the child up into your arms and squeeze her tight. So little, these families had. So much they wanted for and lacked – and yet what she’d enjoyed the most from the day wasn’t the toys, but the company. The ability to forget and be a normal child for a little while.

“I’ll come back, too.” You smiled, tucking her braid behind her ear. “Promise.”

As you readied yourselves to leave, you were met with similar protests from the other children – and from some of the adults, too, who offered you dinner; offered to share the food they had so little of. And it was mighty tempting, to stay in the company of people who were real, genuine. Who cared about things other than social standing and wealth. Who smiled, despite their many reasons not to. Being around them for the day had been…refreshing, in its own roundabout way.

But there was no use putting off the inevitable. Pretending that you didn’t have your own reality to get back to.

With the evenings being lighter, now, the sun was a dusky hue of pinks and oranges as the two of you set off on your horses. You rode side-by-side in a comfortable silence, nothing but utter peace between the two of you. Even as little as a week earlier, you wouldn’t have imagined you and Lucien being so at ease with one another. And yet it just felt…natural.

Like you should have been friends this whole time.

You’d enjoyed the steady quiet for a while, just the sounds of your horses’ hooves clopping against the path, before you became aware of Lucien’s gaze set firmly on you. It was ridiculous — the reactions a mere glance of his drew from your body. The way it thrilled you all over to know that he was just…looking at you. For what reason, and for how long, you didn’t know.

You turned your head, meeting his stare with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”

His head tilted, hair rippling beautifully in the evening light. “You’re good with children.”

That drew a short laugh from you. “You didn’t think I would be? Am I not soft enough? Too much of a dragon, perhaps?”

“No—I mean…I didn’t mean…I figured you hadn’t had many dealings with them—”

“Lucien.” You cracked a wicked grin. “I’m teasing you.”

He stared at you — and then snorted, shaking his head. Amusement danced in his eyes as he focused forward once more, and you…you wanted to laugh. To continue to grin. To enjoy this. It felt good. Better than good.

It felt right.

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Pausing your journey home to watch the sun set had seemed like a good idea at the time, when the mellow hues of the skies had shifted and bled into a vast expanse of deep blues and blacks pockmarked with stars.

It hadn’t seemed like such a good idea when you’d finally ascended the long, winding path up to the Vanserra Estate, and the very late hour had become all too apparent to you. The manor was cloaked in darkness, the entire place just as still and slumbering as it had been when you’d set off in the morning.

You and Lucien had been gone together the entire day, and that…that was sure to raise a few eyebrows.

But you decided that was a problem to be faced after some sleep — not now, when you were still so blissfully warm inside from spending the day how you had. Doing something good and constructive and necessary, instead of just walking prettily around the grounds of the estate.

You and Lucien returned your horses to the stables, a strange energy zipping between you. Because you knew it was time to call it a day, to say goodnight, and yet you didn’t want the day to end just yet.

You’d enjoyed yourself. When was the last time you could honestly say that?

It was what had you turning to Lucien, who was gathering up the empty sacks that had held the supplies and toys, and asking him, “Want some help with those?”

And gods, it was so pathetic — because those firm, golden arms, corded with muscle, could quite easily manage a pile of empty hessian sacks. Lucien met your gaze, like he knew the true reason behind your offer, and your cheeks flushed. You waited for teasing or rejection—

But then he straightened himself out, handing you a handful of the sacks. His tone was hushed. “They’re kept in one of the outbuildings at the back.”

Which meant crossing the vast green of the estate, over to the cluster of older buildings that housed a whole array of random items. Lucien held the stable door open for you, and you slipped back out into the night, the two of you seeming to silently pretend that the pile of coarse sacks you each carried held the weight of the world.

Anything to make your best day yet stretch just a little bit longer.

Lucien led you into the crumbling outbuilding, allowing just a single, dim faelight to light the area. It was strangely…cosy in there. You looked around at the few shelves stacked against the wall, the old, worn chair in the corner. Even a throw was draped over the back of it.

He took the sacks from your hands, reading the look on your face. “If the weather’s bad,” he said, “I come in here to read instead. Just like the barn you hole yourself up in — nobody bothers to find me here.”

You studied him, feeling strangely…touched, that he’d shared it with you. He could have just explained the space away as a disused building that old tat was kept in, but lo and behold, as you peered closer, you glimpsed the few books scattered about. A couple of daggers and some wooden carvings. Some leather-bound journals. It seemed incredibly personal—

“I have the only key.” He explained, as if he’d read your thoughts. Again. “I snagged it ages ago and nobody noticed. Nobody comes in here anyway.”

You couldn’t help smiling. So this was one of the places he might be when he appeared to have wandered off. Wrapped up in a blanket, reading and writing…

Gods, this day had utterly destroyed your misconceptions about him. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but…dangerous. Risky.

You cleared your throat, figuring you should probably get out of there. “Thank you for letting me come with you today. Really — I enjoyed it.”

Lucien turned, staring at you. There was a strange quality to his features. Something pensive and brooding, and yet…soft. Accepting.

“I enjoyed it, too.” He said quietly.

You nodded once. And made no effort to move. He watched you.

“You’re a good person, Lucien.”

You could have sworn a light pink pinched at his cheeks. He dipped his chin, allowing his hair to shield him for a moment, as though your words had touched some unseen, unreachable part of him. He was…still. Thinking. Until he glanced up again.

“It was nice…” He took a slow step towards you. “You know — not fighting.”

Right. Yes. The peace had been nice, had been good. You were friends. now, and it was—

Lucien stopped a hair’s-breadth away from you. Close enough for your bodies to brush. Every single one of your senses was on high alert as he stared down at you.

“Yeah—yes.” You forced yourself to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “It’s way better…being friends.”

“Yep.” He dipped his chin. “Friends.”

You swallowed. Nodded. “Friends.”

Being friends was appropriate. Sensible. Responsible.

What was none of those things was the way Lucien closed that tiny, minuscule gap between you. The way his hand went down to your waist, and he began walking you backwards, backing you up until you were boxed in against the wall.

He was so, so close to you, now, his hair brushing your face. And he just…stared. Stared down at you.

He stood like that for so long, unmoving, that you forced your eyes up to his. And the intensity in his gaze almost had you looking away again.

Those dark eyes were like pure, scorching fire. His mouth was slightly parted, and his tongue ran over his bottom lip, his throat bobbing on a hard swallow. His other hand — the one not occupied by your waist — moved to your face.

And the touch was feather-light. So soft, so gentle, as he cupped your face in his large hand. His eyes didn’t move from yours, not once, as the rough pad of his thumb brushed over your cheekbone, down and along your jaw, across to your lips, where it lingered.

“Friends.” He repeated the word — like he was trying to remind himself of it.

And you…you nodded.

It seemed like an eternity passed of him just staring. Gazing down at you. You couldn’t understand what he might be seeing or thinking or feeling. What might be going through that mind of his. Your friend.

“…what is it?” You asked quietly, surprisingly wary of the answer.

But the answer that came wasn’t a verbal one. Not as Lucien’s eyes gripped yours.

And then he was dipping his head just a little, his breath fanning your face. He swallowed again—

And then his lips were sliding over yours. Soft. Gentle. Slow. Not a bruising, needy kiss, but a kiss that was for…for feeling. For experiencing.

It reminded you of the kiss Linden had given you when you’d asked him to show you passion and intimacy. One that was light and exploring, barely-there and yet entirely consuming all at once.

And you were powerless to it.

You’d just threaded your fingers through Lucien’s hair when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“You are so not what I expected.” He murmured, and then he kissed you again.

There was more fervour in it this time. More need. His hands fell to your waist, tugging you up and against him, and his tongue brushed the seam of your mouth and slipped in the second you granted him entrance. You couldn’t help moaning against him as your hands explored him — the broad expanse of his shoulders, his back, his sides. This was absolutely not what friends did, and yet neither of you had the power to stop as your fingers inched around, grasping at the buttons on his breeches.

Lucien groaned as your hands brushed the hard evidence of his arousal through the fabric. He pulled away just slightly, pressing his forehead against yours, the words breathless as he bit out, “I want you.”

And you wanted — needed — him. On you and in you, touching you. You wanted the hair-raising pleasure that you knew damn well he delivered.

You wrapped your leg around his, pressing him against you, and another groan whooshed out of him that he smothered with a kiss.

There was nothing quick about what followed. It wasn’t like the burst of anger and passion that had existed in that little room at the inn. Neither of you sunk to your knees to prolong what happened.

But it was different. And it was evident to you almost as soon as both of you had shoved your breeches down, and Lucien was hiking your leg up and lining the head of his cock up with your entrance.

Different — in the way that his eyes stayed locked on yours as he pushed into you, your mouth falling open on a gasp. Different in the way that he cupped your jaw with his hand, and he leaned down to kiss you, just as he began to roll his hips.

His other hand secured on your waist, and every one of his thrusts was languid, indolent, unhurried. You’d learned from your previous escapades that the two of you were very vocal lovers, but each of your gasps and moans and groans were hushed, shared just between the two of you — and not consciously so. Not because you were aware of being so close to the manor, but because around your kisses and quickening breaths, the noises he usually would have drawn from deep within you took a backseat.

That familiar, pleasant warmth coiled tightly inside you, reacting to every touch. Every thrust. Every kiss. Because Lucien kept kissing you, over and over, huffing his breaths into your mouth.

His pace picked up, his hand sliding down to grab at your breast and then down further, further, until he was holding both of your hips and encouraging them to roll with his. The angle had him pressing into you deeper, and Lucien bit out a groan, rocking you on him and causing a delicious friction that licked through you like spreading flames.

“Y/N.” He ground out, gasping. “Holy gods—”

Your arms came up, hands splaying on his back and pressing him against you, and the intimacy was almost too much, almost had you looking away, but Lucien’s eyes commanded you to hold his as you gasped and writhed, the crescendo of sensations building and curling—

And then the flames snapped out, claiming you and Lucien both at the same time. Those last few thrusts of his hips were harder, faster, and he was staggering, pressing his hand to the wall to hold himself up as he slid his lips over yours once more, swallowing every one of your breathless moans and emptying his own into your mouth as he spilled inside you.

His body went still, and his mouth parted from yours — just for a split second. Just to take a breath. And then he was kissing you again. A trembling hand rested on the back of your neck, kneading the muscles there.

It seemed like ages before he was pulling out of you, the sensation in itself causing you to nip at his lip. He stepped back, pulling his breeches up — and pulling yours up, also. Refastening the buttons.

And then he just stared at you.

You waited — waited for him to say something quipping and brash. Friends you may now be, but you’d overstepped the mark again. Already. And he…he was bound to regret it. Bound to take it out on you.

But then he was reaching out. Brushing hair out your face. He leant down and pecked your lips once, quick, and pulled away. And it was…tender. Not like him.

You didn’t get it. And after such a positive day…you weren’t sure you wanted to wait around for his regret to eventually seep in, like it undoubtedly would.

You cleared your throat, pressing your hand against his chest. “I should…get to bed.”

Lucien studied you. Seemed to think, for a moment, before he nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank you for today.”

“Thank you.”

You lingered a moment longer. And then you were stepping past him, trying to ignore the unsteadiness of your legs as you headed towards the door.

“…Sleep well.” Lucien said behind you.

You stopped in the doorway, glancing over your shoulder. Dipped your chin. “You, too.”

You weren’t entirely sure what had just transpired, in between you stepping into that crumbling building and now. But something had. Something was different. And it made you…panicked. Anxious.

One day — you’d been friends for one day, and you’d already fucked it up. And you didn’t regret it, but…

But as you headed into the manor and up to your room, you weren’t stupid enough to believe that Lucien wouldn’t, either. Like he had before.

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Lucien stayed standing a while after she’d walked out, a heaviness in her shoulders that had been absent all day.

And then he’d collapsed into the chair in the corner, scrubbing a hand over his face. His lips still tingled from her touch, her taste. He wanted all of it back. All over him.

And he knew — fucking knew what she’d been thinking when she’d hurried out of here. And he couldn’t blame her for thinking it, either.

Because Lucien had been awful to her, hadn’t he? He’d made her feel like a fleeting moment, a regret, all the previous times he’d been inside her. Especially the last time, at the inn. Why would she assume tonight to be any different?

It wasn’t just enough for him to say they were friends, now — not enough for him, and not enough for her. He needed to…to start treating her how he wanted to. How he’d wanted to for a while, now. How she deserved to be treated.

In a way that wasn’t appropriate for friends, but…friends be fucking damned.

He couldn’t allow her to feel like a mistake when she was the furthest thing from it.

And as he sat there, alone with his thoughts once more, her scent clinging to him, he knew there was no undoing what had changed.

He was on a path, now. And he needed — wanted — to follow it.

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You were trying your hardest, two days later, to will enthusiasm into your features as you followed Dion to the receiving room, your arm linked through his.

The fact that he kept shooting you concerned glances told you that he was dreading this meeting just as much as you were.

“You know,” you said. “You don’t need to keep looking at me like that.”

Dion turned his wary eyes onto you. “Like what?”

“Like you’re worried I’m going to get into a verbal sparring match with your father.”

“…Well — are you?”

“I told you, I’ll be on my best behaviour.” You paused, shooting him a wicked grin. “Just so long as he is.”

If you were speaking honestly, you’d have rather spent the morning boiling your own head than discussing the details and arrangements of your wedding with Beron, of all people. He never usually deigned to involve himself in such discussions, but as Dion had told you—

“My father’s trying to make an effort to show interest.” He said — not for the first time that hour. “We should do the same. And…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

“Well, he wasn’t best pleased when you disappeared for an entire day to aid Lucien in his errands.” He opened the patio door for you, stepping aside. “And without asking first.”

Your body went taut. “I was under the impression that I’m free to come and go from the estate as I please.”

The two of you were in the corridor, now, your voices seeming far louder. You took a step forward, but Dion pulled you to a stop.

“You are, Y/N, it’s just…” he sighed, pursing his lips. “It’s about perception. Reputation. Everything we do is. And for you to go running off with my brother for the day without informing anyone, when you’re marrying me—”

“I did inform you. I left a note.”

The way he stared at you was…exasperated. Like he was begging you not to be difficult, confrontational, when it came to this. Because there was so much pressure on him already, and you being brash and contrary didn’t make it any easier.

“Sorry.” You sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. In the future, I’ll…ask first.”

Even if it utterly pained you to consider doing so. To leave your independence in someone else’s hands.

You stepped forward once more, but Dion was stopping you again. You frowned over your shoulder at him.

“You and Lucien…” He said, and your entire body stiffened. “You’re getting along much better now.”

It wasn’t a question. A statement. One you weren’t sure why he was making.

“…We are…” you replied, pleading that your face revealed nothing. “Turns out he’s pretty alright when he’s not brooding.”

Dion continued to stare at you. Study you. Like…like he was searching for something in your expression. What, you weren’t sure.

But then he smiled. Relaxed his shoulders.

“Good.” He said. “That’s good.”

He brushed past you, pulling you with him, and you were left with no choice but to follow as the door at the end of the hall opened, and Barric beckoned you in.

But as you stared at the back of Dion’s head, you couldn’t help wonder what the fuck he was thinking.

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Two hours.

Two godsdamned hours of poring over wedding details you didn’t give a single glimmering fuck about.

Your head pounded. So did Dion’s, beside you, going by the drawn look on his face. Barric looked just as bored at the table, and the Lady of Autumn was on what seemed to be her eighth or ninth cup of tea.

Not to mention the various reputable business owners that had been invited to showcase their products. Food and decorations and floral displays you might use at the wedding. Not that they’d had much success pitching what they offered. Every one of you would rather be anywhere else in that moment.

But Beron Vanserra fucking loved this. Listening to himself talk. Feeling in charge. He’d barely let anyone else get a word in edgeways.

Your patience was wearing thin. That softly-dangerous way that he spoke was beginning to grate on you.

You slumped back in your chair in a most unladylike way, exhaling a deep breath. His eyes flicked to yours, a cold scrape of claws on your skin. If nothing else, it kept you alert enough not to doze off in your seat.

“So anyway,” he leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table. “What I’m saying is that this wedding is more than a mere joining of two families. It has to be a ceremony fit for a potential High Lord. Dion is my spare, after all. If something were to happen to myself and Eris, he’d assume the role.”

Spare. The word had your lip curling, no matter how much Dion had probably been beaten over the head with it. If nobody else saw the slight tensing of his shoulders, you certainly did. You pushed your leg against his beneath the table; as close to a subtle comforting gesture as you could get.

Beron’s eyes turned onto you. “It’s not going to be some quick, fleeting nuptials in a temple with no audience. It’s a wedding, yes, but it doubles as a statement. That Dion can deliver to the people. That he can put on a wedding fit for a High Lord. People like to feel important, to feel involved in all the pomp and circumstance.” His lip, also, looked like it wanted to curl, but he kept a mild expression on his face as he said, with false humour, “No matter how much you may wish for a backstreet ceremony in a tatty pair of breeches, Y/N.”

The dig had various titters and chortles breaking out around the table. And you knew — knew that to anyone else, it would appear as your future father-in-law fondly poking fun at you. But it wasn’t. It was a jab dripping with distaste. Disapproval.

And you were fully aware of all the information he thought he was bestowing upon you. You were no fool. To be treated as such didn’t exactly ease your tension.

“So.” The High Lord continued. “I’ve gathered here the absolute best people for the job. Bakers and caterers and florists and musicians who have done countless Vanserra weddings—”

“Actually.”

Every head in the room turned to you as you spoke. There was no mistaking the way Dion stiffened beside you. The way Beron’s eyes flashed with ire at the mere sound of your voice. And that you’d had the audacity to speak.

“With the greatest of respect,” you plastered a smile onto your face. “I was thinking we might use smaller businesses for the wedding.”

The expression on Dion’s face would have been comical if not for the thick tension that clouded the air. His eyes were wide, lips slightly parted, and the words he didn’t speak were abundantly clear: what the fuck are you doing?

Beron pursed his lips, clearly trying to rein in his tempter. “What.”

And gods, you knew you were playing a dangerous game, fucking poking an already extremely grizzly bear. But you couldn’t help yourself. Couldn’t stop yourself from putting on as much of a show as the High Lord himself had, as you clasped your hand over Dion’s on the table. Smiled at him like any adoring bride would.

“It’s just…” Your voice was sickeningly sweet. “When I aided Lucien with his errands the other day, I saw so many brilliant, growing businesses in the little villages we passed through. There are excellent merchants all across this court that we aren’t even aware of because they hail from the less wealthy villages. But they work hard and have just as much potential. What better way to showcase their work and bring them new custom than at our wedding?”

Silence snaked around the table. And you smiled in the face of it, even as you noticed Beron’s jaw tighten. Even as Dion shifted in his seat. You squeezed his hand.

“Uh…” was all he said.

“Out of the question.” Beron stared at you. “We have traditions. Businesses we remain loyal to—”

“And I have the utmost respect for you all.” You turned your gaze on the merchants sitting around the table. “But once upon a time, your businesses would have needed the leg-up that we could offer to these smaller ones. Businesses that would be overlooked, simply because of where they are. Isn’t it right to give them the chance—”

“It’s a wedding. Not a charity case.” The High Lord’s tone tightened, and you knew — he was seconds from exploding, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “And considering it is my coin that is paying for the whole affair, I will choose who supplies for the event. You just need to focus on being the beautiful, blushing bride.”

You stared at him. He stared back.

There was no room for argument — not then, anyway. And Dion made that clear by the way he tightly gripped your hand.

The Lady of Autumn looked like she was going to faint beside Beron as he inclined his head at his guests.

“I do apologise for the bride’s insolence.” He quirked a distasteful smile. “We are…steadily righting some of the wrongs impressed upon her from her upbringing. Too much freedom is bad for a female, no?”

Another chorus of titters broke out. Dion’s hand clamped down on yours — a warning. To sit back. To keep your mouth shut.

“I doubt we’ll be needing you for any more of the discussions.” Beron waved a hand at the two of you. “You’re both dismissed.”

You wanted to stay rooted to the spot; just to be defiant. But Dion stood up without hesitation, yanking you to your feet with him.

“Thank you for your time.” He said, bowing his head. “It’s greatly appreciated.”

You didn’t acknowledge the sentiment. Didn’t even nod. Your eyes merely locked with Beron’s, so many unspoken words lingering in the air.

And then Dion was pulling you towards the door. Out of the room.

Only when you were in the hall did he let go of your hand and release a breath that he seemed to have been holding for the past two hours. And then he stalked towards the doors without sparing you a glance.

“Dion.” You sighed, following.

But he merely held a hand up.

He didn’t look back as he bit out, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

And then he was storming away from you.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Maybe you’d pushed it a tad too far.

You hadn’t meant to. And you weren’t sorry for challenging Beron, High Lord or no. You didn’t regret speaking your mind.

You did regret how much it had obviously bothered Dion, though. Going by the way he’d avoided you for the rest of the day.

The last thing you wanted was to cause him any grief. And you weren’t too proud to apologise for doing so. Especially with how much of a support he’d been for you since you’d arrived here.

So after taking your supper alone late that night, you went in search of him. It turned out he could be as elusive as Lucien when he didn’t want to be found.

You looked all over the manor, in the places he could usually be found — the games room or the tea room, the library and the general study. You’d even knocked on his bedroom door…and received no response.

So perhaps he was favouring the fresh air for a change. You were just heading back downstairs, intending to check the gardens, when a strange awareness settled over you.

The wing you wandered through was empty — as it normally was this time of night. And yet it was like walking with a hand poised on your shoulder, a figure at your back. You turned into the dim-lit corridor that had one door that opened out into library, another that led outside—

It was so suddenly that clipped footsteps rushed you from behind, there was barely a chance to glance over you shoulder as a hand snaked over your mouth, and you were yanked backwards against a hard body.

Your attempt to scream got caught in your throat as you were dragged back, back through a door, your feet barely keeping you upright. Linden would tell you not to panic, that panicking would mean it was over for you before you had a chance to fight. You clawed at the hand covering your mouth, your nose.

You hoped it was Eris playing a prank, or even Lucien dragging you in here for some fleeting passion, but the scent that filled your nose was one of musk and too-strong aftershave—

Beron.

The High Lord kicked the library door shut behind him. Locked it. All while he still held you in an ironclad grip. And then his hand was moving from your mouth.

You sucked in a deep breath, but it was short-lived as his fingers grabbed the back of your neck, pressing against your skin. And then he was marching you backwards…slamming you so hard against a bookcase, it winded you and unsettled the large, heavy tomes it housed.

You coughed, gasping and clawing for the breath that had been stolen from you. Beron slammed you back a second time, and then his hands were pressed either side of your face, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he glared down at you.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing at.” He snarled, his voice pure ice. “But it stops. Now.”

You couldn’t respond. Couldn’t even think over the desperate need to suck in air. You clutched your abdomen, trying to straighten yourself out. Pain splintered through you.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Beron’s hand moved to your throat, his fingers lightly brushing the delicate, soft skin there. He watched his own movements like a predator sizing up its prey. “You think you’re so much more than a spoiled little girl.”

“And what are you?” You managed to choke. “You can parade your title all you like. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a vicious, violent—”

The fierce flash in his eyes completely solidified your point. His fingers coasted the area, gentle enough to leave no physical indication that they were ever there, and he stared down at you, his eyes whirring with a million cunning thoughts.

And then he smiled. Or smirked. Or…something. You didn’t think Beron Vanserra was capable of smiling, but…the corners of his mouth twitched up, and his fingers began to crawl downwards.

“Did I not tell you,” he hummed, toying with the top button at the bust of your dress, “that you were already on thin ice?”

“Something like that.” Your eyes tracked his hand, your body tensing as he twisted the button absentmindedly. “I fail to see what I’ve done that would further weaken said thin ice. I merely voiced a suggestion—”

“You undermined me in front of my subjects. I will not be undermined. Even if it means I have to use my own time to teach bratty little whores a lesson.”

You swallowed, still watching as his hand lingered at your cleavage. Just a shudder of relief seeped through you as it moved back upwards.

But then he was grabbing you by the hair, yanking your head back so it hit the bookcase with a resounding smack.

“Perhaps I should write to your father and inform him of your endeavours. I’m sure he’d be mighty interested to learn what his daughter gets up to. He is my friend, after all. Seems only right that I should share my concerns.” He pulled harder, and tears burned the backs of your eyes. “He should know his daughter is disappointing him. Perhaps he’ll advise me on an appropriate punishment to dole out.”

Your lip curled, and you tried to move away, to get him to release his hold. But it only made him close in further against you, his body brushing yours.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do that, Y/N.” He cocked his head. “Why shouldn’t I tell your parents what a fucking embarrassment you are to them?.”

You knew what you should do. That you should apologise, beg for his forgiveness. Promise to be on your best behaviour. And your brain urged your mouth to say that, pleaded with it to.

But you opened your mouth, your lip inching up. And that was not what came out.

“Because if you do such a thing,” you sneered, “I may have to let slip about your own poor behaviours. So unbecoming, High Lord, to pervertedly ogle your future daughter-in-law’s tits from across the room, is it not? And how do you know I won’t accidentally slip up to somebody about that Faebane-imbued fire at the hamlet? I hear you have an arrogantly big cache of the stuff—”

You heard the slap before you felt it. The sound echoed through the room. A smack so hard, your neck clicked, and you bit into your cheek. The metallic taste of blood bloomed in your mouth.

“I’m warning you, girl.” Beron growled, his voice deeper, more guttural. “Do not cross me.”

And then he was shoving you back against the bookcase one last time. And letting go. Your legs gave out beneath you as he turned and strode to the door, as casually as though you’d been talking about the weather in here.

He didn’t say another word. Didn’t look back. He was nothing but a mere shadow as he slipped out of the room, his footsteps fading as he disappeared.

And you…you trembled all over. Felt like your heart was going to trip over itself.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you wiped them away furiously, flinching at the stinging of your cheek.

“Don’t cry.” You hissed at yourself furiously. “Do not cry.”

It took a few moments to compose yourself — but you did. You caught your breath, easing yourself back to your feet. The soreness of your back was no doubt indication of a bruise forming there.

On weak legs, you tread towards the door, steadying yourself on various pieces of furniture as you went.

Once again, your godsdamned mouth had landed you in hot water.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

The responsible thing would have been to retire to bed and keep your head down until the tension blew over. Until the High Lord found something else to grouse about.

But you opted for walking — or, rather, limping — and trying to leach the tension from yourself with the help of fresh air.

And with the help of the whiskey you’d snagged from the games room.

The latter certainly did the trick. After a while, you barely noticed the pain in your body or the cold bite of the air. You wandered the grounds, drinking straight from the bottle, not caring who you came across and what they may have thought.

Perhaps your behaviour was deliberate. Maybe…maybe you were still looking for an out, still hoping for Beron to send you home.

But he wouldn’t. You knew he wouldn’t. Not after that little hint of a threat you’d dropped tonight. You knew he’d been behind that fire, and now, he knew that you knew. He’d want to keep you where he could see you.

He wouldn’t act — at least not until he came up with a solid plan that would work in his favour.

As you walked and drank, the moon bearing down on you, you couldn’t help wondering why you were like this. Why you’d always been like this. Why you had to be so…outspoken and confrontational and brash. You were here with a duty, with people counting on you, and yet you still couldn’t stop yourself from being so…you.

It was no wonder, really, that Dion would rather have Willow than you.

That Lucien would rather fuck you than know you.

Lucien. His name was a constant claxon in your head. Everything you thought and felt seemed to end up right back at him.

You’d even crossed the grounds without realising it, stopping just outside the little stone building you’d taken each other in two nights earlier.

He might not even be in there, but it didn’t stop you slumping drunkenly against the door, the wood creaking beneath you.

“Lucien.” You called, a giggle bubbling up your throat. You tapped a nail against the wood. “Loo-shun.”

A vague noise came from inside, the sound of a key being turned, and then the door was wrenched open.

You immediately went toppling down to his feet. His hands caught you before your body could slam against the ground, and he blinked.

“Whoopsy.” You laughed harder. “Looks like I just fell for you.”

“…Are you drunk?” He studied you as you turned in his arms — glimpsed the bottle that was grasped loosely in your hand. “Fuck.”

Suddenly, you were being gently dragged inside. Lucien held you upright with ease as he shut and locked the door behind you. None of it was at all like the threatening, malicious encounter with Beron.

His hold on you was both soft and firm as he turned to face you. And then he studied you, frowning.

“Do you like my dress?” You tried to twirl on the spot, stumbling into a small table. “Dion made me wear it to the meeting.”

Lucien just…watched you. There was no ire or distaste on his face or in his eyes. And even through your inebriation, you thought…thought it looked like something akin to concern.

“Y/N.” He took a step towards you. “What…why are you drunk?”

“Because I drank alcohol.” You thrust the bottle towards him. “Want some? We can make it a party.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Still, he prised the bottle out of your hand. And then turned, placing it atop of a cabinet — far out of your reach.

You pouted up at him. “Bor-ing.”

“Y/N.” His voice was firmer, now — commanding. “What the hell has happened to get you in this state?”

You stopped, staring up at him. You didn’t want to be asked questions like that, didn’t want him to…to get to you. To try to reach you.

You stepped towards him to do…something. Kiss him, maybe. But both his hands clasped your arms in the most heartbreakingly gentle way, stopping you. Russet eyes stared down at you intensely.

“Tell me.” He murmured, his thumbs beginning to make gentle sweeps across your skin.

You held his gaze. And you…you thought you may just cry. You begged yourself not to as you shrugged, attempting to seem indifferent.

“I figured I’m gonna disappoint everybody anyway.” You croaked. “Might as well have fun doing it.”

His brow furrowed, and you loathed the pity in his eyes. You didn’t want to face it — couldn’t. You turned away.

But his hand slid down to yours, gripping it. “What’re you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters, Y/N.” He snapped. “You matter.”

Your entire body went still, your mind emptying out. You didn’t want to think, to talk. Didn’t want to matter. Not right then.

A sudden, heavy tiredness weighed on you, and you frowned, easing your hand out of his. He let you go, watching you carefully as you dragged your feet over to the chair and slumped down. Even the alcohol couldn’t mask the ache in your lower back as you did.

Lucien immediately caught the way you flinched. He frowned. “Are you in pain?”

“No.” You lied. “Just tired.”

He stared. And it was so, so clear that he didn’t believe you. But he didn’t push. “You should probably sleep this off.”

You lifted your head. “In here?”

“…do you want to stay in here?”

It wasn’t much of a place to sleep — just a ratty old armchair for you to curl up in and a blanket that probably wouldn’t keep you all that warm. But none of those things seemed to matter, because…

Because Lucien was here. And that was what you’d come looking for. For him to just…be there.

Why you’d so naturally sought him out, above everyone else, wasn’t something to think about right then.

You buried your head against your forearm, merely peeking up at him as you murmured. “I wanna stay with you.”

He was still for a moment, staring at you. And you could have sworn his cheeks slightly pinkened.

And he nodded. “Then we’ll stay.”

You felt…safe, in there. In that tiny little outbuilding. Safe, despite the monster that was across the green. Warm, despite the cold.

And you felt even warmer, inside, as Lucien approached you. As he pulled a blanket from the back of the chair and draped it over you. There was a pause, and then he…then he leaned down, kissing the top of your head.

“You should sleep.” He said again, brushing your hair back.

“You won’t leave, right?”

“I won’t leave.” He perched himself down beside the chair. “I’m right here. You can close your eyes.”

You did. But a moment later, they were opening again. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you like my dress?”

Lucien studied your face.. “I do.” He said. “Very much.”

You smiled. Closed your eyes once more.

And opened them again. “Will you read to me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“There are some books in here.” You pointed. “You like to read. Will you read to me?”

“…do you promise to go to sleep if I do?”

You released a comically dramatic sigh. “Yes, Lucien, I promise.”

He didn’t laugh or roll his eyes or smirk. He simply stared at you. And his voice was quiet, gentle, as he said, “I love it when you say my name.”

You were too drunk to know what that meant. It was all you could do to grin, tipping your head back and telling him, “I like your name.”

Which you absolutely did, intoxicated or not.

He gazed at you a moment longer. And then he was pushing to his feet, striding over to the sparsely-stocked bookshelf against the wall. You watched from the chair, your eyes tracking his firm, muscled legs through his breeches, his hips—

He turned, a book in his hands, his eyes finding yours. And he cocked an eyebrow. “What’re you staring at?”

“Nothing.” You beckoned him. “Come on. Read to me.”

“So bossy, lady.”

But he strode back over. Reclaimed the space he’d been in moments before. You rested your head on the arm of the chair, gazing at him. And with the stunning flash of his hair, the serene sight of him tucking his legs beneath him and cracking open the book, your eyes were already growing heavy.

And that was how you drifted asleep to the lilting caress of his voice.

And as exhaustion dragged you under, the last thing you glimpsed was the book’s cover.

Poems and Sonnets Volume II.

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