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ourfatherwhoartinhell · 3 days ago

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Silent Hearts // [Part VI]

Pairing | Cowbell x reader

Word count | 4.2k

⚠️ Warnings | Canon divergence, f!reader, Y/N is used. Brief mention of blood/wound, nothing descriptive.

Chapter Summary: After Felix saves you from meeting your end, he brings you back to his den and you learn a thing or two about the strange ghoul you are now unknowingly connected to.

A/N: Between Ghostober and just mental health being utter shit, I'm so sorry this part is so late. Things will start heating up again in future chapters, so enjoy the little break with this one!

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There were so many thoughts running through your head. Almost too many. At some point you didn’t even remember how you got into the woods. You just kept walking aimlessly with no real direction as your imagination ran rampant.

The only reason your face hadn’t repeatedly kissed the forest floor by now was because of Felix. Even in his conflicted state, he had always been one step ahead. He caught you with ease each time you neglected to step over the branches beneath your feet. It wasn’t until the third instance where he caught your stumbling form that finally brought you back to your senses.

Looking around, once again able to see through your real eyes instead of wherever your mind had been the last few minutes, you saw almost nothing. Not because your eyes didn’t work, but for the lack of light within the forest Felix was leading you through.

For the most part, the canopy of leaves that sat high above hid the already faint light from the moon, leaving the two of you to walk in almost complete darkness. Realizing you could hardly see, and had no idea where you were going, you made a point to start paying more attention to your steps and hold onto Felix’s arm just a little bit tighter.

Since it was nearing winter, the leaves had started to change, painting the ground with the colours of autumn. Some of the trees had already begun to show signs of the upcoming dormant months with branches almost completely barren. The few remaining leaves they did have were sparse, casting web-like shadows onto the ground like a living mosaic of moonlight and darkness.

Fitting, you thought.

“What’s fitting?” Felix piped up, looking down as he towered over you much like the trees he was effortlessly maneuvering around.

“Hm?” You questioned. “I didn’t say anything?”

His attention turned back to the makeshift path he was carefully walking along, helping you over a decent sized log before replying.

“You said ‘fitting’. I wanted to know what you were thinking about.”

“Oh... I was just looking at how the light on the ground looks like it’s dancing with the shadows.” You looked down, studying the image on the forest floor. “Kind of like what’s going on in my head right now.”

Felix slowed his walk to imagine it for himself, trying to visualize what you were describing since he couldn’t see it the same way you could. He imagined the scene; the moon illuminating the night sky, casting rays of light through the trees onto the dirt below. Leaves crunching beneath his feet after being discarded from the trees, watching them fall from high above like autumnal snow. He could feel the wind flowing through the shedding branches, causing them to sway and shift the casted shadows below, merging them with the bright silvery glow like a silent, earthly dance.

However, there was still the evilness in his head that imagined a version of himself. Standing there under the soft light with his own shadow staring back at him like its own sentient entity, looming and engulfing everything he found beautiful like a living disease.

Pulling his mind back to the present, he shook his head violently in an attempt to free him of his own thoughts. There was no way he would let his demons anywhere near you. He made that vow the moment he found out how important you were. A vow you would hopefully never have to know about.

You stopped abruptly in your tracks, in turn also bringing Felix to a halt a step ahead of you, feeling the resistance through your grasp on his arm.

“Wait a second, how did you know what I said? I didn’t say that out loud.”

“No, but you thought it.” He said with a slight shrug, acting like it was common knowledge. “Remember earlier, when I told you to crouch and run? I didn’t say that out loud, did I? But you still heard it all the same.”

You thought back to earlier that night. You supposed it was being in the heat of the moment that didn’t make you think twice about it. Your inevitable impending doom was clearly more important.

At the time, it wasn’t important how or why you heard him whispering, but now that you had time to consider, it was completely impossible. He had been standing much too far away for it to ever have been audible. And yet, in spite of that, you had still heard him clear as day. The words rang in your ears like he had been right beside you, as if he was as close as he is now.

“Can all ghouls do that?!” You asked curiously, not bothering to hide the accompanying faint hint of fear that went along with it.

Felix chuckled and shook his head, ultimately knocking a leaf free that had landed in his hair moments before. “No, that’s… something special.”

“So, it’s just a you thing.” You stated.

“Yes and no. All ghouls are capable of it, but certain things have to happen first.” He huffs and takes your hand, once again leading you further into the forest. “It’s complicated.”

You decide to just leave it and follow behind him, making sure to pay extra attention to your feet this time. Maybe you’ll find out later.

After what felt like forever, you reached his… house? Home? Burrow?

“It’s called a den,” he said without a single invitation. It was like he could read your mind now! Or maybe your facial expression was just that obvious. “Ghouls have dens. I know it’s not much… Not really my style either. But it’s the best I could do out here.”

His den was actually quite nice, all things considered. He had hidden it well so it wasn’t super obvious to anyone who might be passing by, unless you were specifically looking for it. Maybe some of the Earth ghouls would’ve noticed, since they’ve got a keen eye for this type of thing, but they never usually venture out this far past the perimeter.

The exterior of the den was mainly covered with branches and leaves. The longer you looked, the more you realized it was almost like an earthly igloo. It had a rounded shape with an entrance at the front. He had even made little open spaces where branches wrapped around to imitate windows. The doorway was more than big enough to accomodate the average person, but you already knew Felix would have to crouch down to get in without bumping his head.

You wondered if he ever thought about fixing it? Though, if it truly bothered him, you’re sure he would’ve done it by now.

Looking down at your expression of admiration as you took in his living arrangements, he gave your hand a quick squeeze and walked you inside.

“Once I was strong enough, I was able to use a little bit of my element to tidy it up and make it a bit nicer to look at. You should’ve seen it before, you’d think I stole it from the beavers.” He chuckled, letting you enter first.

If you thought the outside was impressive, what he had managed to scrape together on the inside was beyond anything you could have even imagined. The atmosphere was so peaceful, you almost forgot you were still out in the woods and not in some fancy hobbit hole.

He had some fireflies in jars hanging from the roof, which were softly illuminating the surprisingly spacious interior with a warm glow. You were about to say how cruel it was for him to keep them in there, before realizing that none of the jars had any lids. It was just the glass.

Noticing you looking up and assessing his makeshift lighting situation, Felix’s lip pulled into a small smile. “They’re free to go whenever they like. We’ve gotten to know each other over the years. They seem to come back at night to help me out, even though I don’t really need them. They’ll leave once we fall asleep.”

The rest of his den was neat and tidy. He had a small raised area in the back corner which he must've been using as a bed. He had everything you would expect from a small living space; a desk, a chair, a couch. He even had some blankets and actual pillows sprawled out over his bed.

You had half a thought to wonder where he had gotten those. Last time you checked, blankets and pillows weren’t naturally occurring forest items. Did he go back and steal them? Did someone bring them for him?

“I don’t know what to say…”

“I know it’s not much, but trust me. It’s a lot safer, and easier for me to look out for you if you stay here.”

“Don’t apologize. I kind of love it actually.” You gave him a smile before shivering. A crisp breeze made its way through the open door, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. However, the chill doesn’t last long before it’s replaced by a warmer breeze, which was definitely out of place for this time of year?

“The spirits are back.” You giggle softly as you feel the air change.

It was Felix’s turn to look at you with a confused glance. “What spirits?”

“You know… the spirits. The ones that always come out during the month of October?”

He just shakes his head and shrugs. Clearly not following, but intrigued nonetheless.

A playful grin works its way along your lips as you roll your eyes, amused at his blatant look of confusion. Taking a few steps further into the den, you sit on the chair in front of his desk before beginning to explain.

“Every year around this time, I always feel the spirits in the graveyard poking through from the other side. I heard some Sisters around the Abbey say that apparently the veil is thinner around October, so that's how they were able to get through. They always stop by to help me out, I think it’s their way of saying thank you?”

“Spirits… coming to say thank you? But they’re dead?” Felix was not buying it in the slightest. “Once you’re dead, your soul either gets set to us, or to the idiots upstairs.”

“Hush. Just let me imagine it, okay?” You chuckled, sending him a playful glare.

While you spoke, Felix had quietly taken a seat on the couch opposite from where you were sitting. The more he listened to you passionately ramble, the more things started to make sense. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his face as he lounged back, tapping his fingers over the arm of the couch in amusement.

“If it wasn’t the spirits, then how come sometimes the flowers I left never wilted? That would be impossible after 2 weeks of being cut! Or… or how they stayed exactly where I left them after that bad storm last year?!”

You just sat with your arms crossed, waiting for your explanation. Unconsciously mirroring the ghoul in front of you, tapping your own fingers in the same pattern against your bicep.

“That's easily explained.”

“Oh, really?” You raised a brow.

“Yeah.” He flashed his signature grin, the one that entranced you from the first night you met. “It was me.”

“I know I haven’t known you for that long, but taking credit for others' work seems a bit too shallow for you. I’m not buying it.”

Knowing there really were no words to explain, he simply decided to show you.

Holding out his palm, he skillfully grew a perfectly healthy, peach tulip. Exactly like the ones in the last batch you left. He made a point of making it wilt and bringing life back into it once again right in front of your eyes.

While you were focused on the flower, a gust of air came out of nowhere, surrounding the both of you inside the den. Your hair went wild as it got picked up in winds so strong you could’ve swore you were in the middle of a tornado. Quickly you shifted your gaze from the flower to look at Felix in a panic, thinking you were in actual danger.

Without thinking, you were immediately brought back to your childhood. You knew how the story went, and right now you definitely were not the lucky little piggy in the house made of bricks.

However, when you met his gaze, his expression was eerily calm. Even the cloud that sat around his eyes was steady and unbothered by the sudden gusts of wind. Felix simply held out the blush coloured flower that rested in the palm of his hand.

You must've looked at him like he was crazy because he simply chuckled and gestured for you to pay attention.

When you finally brought yourself to look, you immediately expected the flower to be blown away given the situation.

Yet it stayed.

Not even a petal, or a leaf on the stem moved an inch in the whirlwind that had taken over the space between the two of you.

After he was satisfied, the wind died down as quickly as it appeared. Instead it was now making the flower float in mid-air like it was being dangled on a string. The entire thing appeared to be as light as a falling feather, dancing in front of your eyes before eventually landing on your lap with a graceful softness.

“I hope the wind didn’t bring you a chill.” Felix said, his voice soft as to not startle you, clearly lost in a place of unimaginable wonder.

You didn’t know what to think. You sat there completely speechless after witnessing whatever act of god was just blessed upon you. You knew ghouls had powers of sorts, but this was something else. Something magical.

When you finally met Felix’s gaze, you gave him a smile. “No. That was amazing! H-How did you-”

“All those times you thought it was the spirits messing with you out there? That was me. While my element is mostly Air, I do have some Earth tricks up my sleeve. Though Mountain would beat me on every front in that regard.”

Felix looked to his feet as he remembered the last few years. When he saw you shiver as the nights grew colder, he would silently scold you for not bringing a coat before warming the breeze. When he sensed a storm coming, he would run out and protect the flowers you had just left, returning them to their original state before you even knew they were missing. All to avoid hearing your sighs of disappointment.

Yet, his fondest memory was when he got brave last year and arranged the stems to spell out, ‘Hi’. He would remember your little gasp and the way your face lit up for the rest of time. It was his way of looking out for you without having to meet face to face. Once he realized he could use your imagination to cover up the suspiciousness of it all, under the guise of Halloween, the ideas were endless.

“So, you’re a multi?” You asked in disbelief. You had heard about Copia summoning multi’s, apparently they were a lot of work and quite a handful.

“Of sorts.” Felix gave a genuine smile. “My Earth element isn’t really strong enough to be what the Ministry considers to be a true multi. Simply being an Air ghoul suits me just fine.”

As you sat there processing, he spoke up once more.

“I tried to warn you, didn’t you realize? When you came to check on me.” He spoke softly, not wanting you to think he was upset. He was just curious.

You tried to think back to what he meant. A lot had happened between then and now but you didn’t recall anything out of the ordinary. “No?”

“The wind was cold and sharp, wasn’t it? It mustn’t have been pleasant to walk through.” He explained, trying to jog your memory.

Actually, now that you thought about it. When you went to see Felix after your meeting with Mountain, you remembered noting the weather was rather unpleasant.

“That was because of you?”

He nodded. “I was hoping you would turn back, so you didn’t end up literally walking into this mess.”

“Was that why you were so angry too?” You asked softly. “You were trying to protect me?”

He sighed in defeat. “I did a pretty bang-up job of that, didn’t I? It ended up happening anyway.” Felix stood and ran a hand anxiously through his dark locks before his ears twitched, clearly hearing something outside.

“What is it?”

His pointed ear twitched once more but he didn’t seem overly concerned about what he heard this time. “No one to be afraid of.” He grinned as he walked over and held out his hand, offering to help you stand.

Once you had taken up the space at his side, you subconsciously positioned yourself to be able to easily slip behind him. You didn’t know who he was expecting, and you weren’t about to take any chances after you had already had a run in with death today. Leaving Felix as your best chance of survival if that situation arose again.

You nervously awaited whoever, or whatever, was supposed to be coming through the door. Though, neither one of you had to wait too long before you could hear the rustling of leaves as the sound of bootsteps approached.

Moments later, a familiar face walked into the den. You weren’t sure who was more shocked to see the other, you or him.

“Y/N?”

“Mr. Miller?”

“I just came to check in on Bell to see if everything went alright.” The Ministry’s groundskeeper looked at you in shock. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“You know Felix?”

“Who’s Felix?” The older gentleman looked at you clearly confused.

I guess Felix hadn’t told him yet. Oops.

You looked at Felix with an apologetic smile but his expression didn’t look overly bothered in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. Would’ve happened eventually.” Felix turned his gaze from you to give Mr. Miller a quick smile. “Felix is just my real name, Thomas.”

“Ah, I see.” The groundskeeper nodded in acknowledgement.

There was a short silence while the three of you stood in what was considered to be Felix’s living room, before the older man spoke up to break the silence.

“Y/N, did you get hurt?” He questioned, pointing at the side of my jeans which was sporting a rather large bloodstain.

You had forgotten about the little slip you had earlier when Felix had ran you off. In the midst of the adrenaline, your talk with the chained ghoul in the catacombs, and eventually being kidnapped– could you even call it kidnapping if you went semi-voluntarily? You had completely ignored the minor scrape on the side of your thigh in lieu of more important things.

If you could’ve seen Felix’s full expression, you were sure he looked utterly horrified. He was mentally beating himself up for not smelling the dried blood or noticing you favouring your right leg before now.

Mr. Miller slowly approached and took in what he could, assessing the damage.

“I slipped when I was running down the hill earlier, I must've scraped it on something.” You explained. With the adrenaline quickly wearing off, and your attention brought back to the injury, you were starting to feel the sting.

“I should be able to fix this up the human way, since your boyfriend here is far from being a quintessence ghoul.” Thomas chuckled, already starting to look around for what he was going to need.

“Oh! No, he’s not my-”

“She’s not my-”

The groundskeeper halted his search and turned to the pair of you with the most amused expression, much like a proud father witnessing his son bringing home a girl for the first time.

Before you could let the awkwardness get any worse, you quickly interjected. “I didn’t know you knew about ghouls, sir. I’ve never heard you speak of them.”

“I didn’t, not at first.” Mr. Miller replied, continuing his search for medicinal ingredients. “Not until I caught this one stealing my chickens.” He jokingly scolded, giving Felix a look over his shoulder.

The ghoul couldn’t even bring himself to argue, knowing it was completely true. It wasn’t one of his proudest moments. But at the very least, it led to his first healthy human friendship.

The Ministry’s groundskeeper had helped Felix more than the ghoul cared to admit. Especially while he was recovering and getting used to his new life outside the Abbey. And in return, Felix provided protection for both Mr. Miller and his small batch of crops. Even helping his harvest endure an unexpected early frost, making sure the human could have food for the upcoming winter months.

Thomas would have survived that year just fine with what he had left over from the previous lot, but he would never stop Felix from lending a hand. He had taught him better than that, after all.

The two had created a unique, yet mutually beneficial arrangement.

After Mr. Miller had gathered all the ingredients he had needed from around the den, he laid them out on the table beside a wooden bowl, combining who knows what together to make a paste. Felix tried to look disinterested, standing with his arms crossed. But you could see how he looked over the human’s shoulder every five seconds, silently judging what he was putting together.

“Are you sure you want to add that? I don’t think those go together-”

“Son, why don’t you go for a walk while I finish this?” Thomas offered with a forced smile, ceasing his stirring and glancing at the very large, anxious ghoul lurking over his shoulder. “She’s in good hands. It's the same mixture I used on you a couple years ago, I promise.”

Felix looked a little offended at first to be honest, but looked over to get your opinion on the gentlemans suggestion. If you didn’t want him to leave, then even the devil himself couldn’t force him to go.

However he just found you nodding in agreement, followed by a soft, tired smile. “It’s been a stressful day already, Felix. Why don’t you get some air? I’m sure once you’re back, Mr. Miller will be all finished patching me up and you can finally get some sleep.”

It wasn’t his favourite plan, but he reluctantly accepted and sauntered through the entrance of his den into the forest waiting outside.

As soon as you thought Felix was out of earshot, you finally let your exhaustion show. Letting out a breath and slumping further into the chair. It had been a long day for both of you. But unlike Felix, who was a ghoul, humans could only take so much.

The groundskeeper was working on finishing up adding the last ingredients to the healing paste, catching you folding in on yourself out of the corner of his eye but saying nothing. There really wasn’t anything he could say about the matter, since he still didn’t know why you were here.

As he turned to face you, he dipped his finger into the pale green concoction to test the consistency, wiping a small amount on his forearm before giving a satisfied nod.

“He’s talked about you for years, you know.” He spoke, trying to lighten the mood and get your mind off whatever was bothering you.

“He has?”

“Sweetheart, you’ve had him wrapped around your finger long before you even knew he existed. And naturally, I had to hear all about it.” Thomas chuckled lightly.

The two of you fell into a comfortable and quiet conversation as he carefully looked after your wound, somehow finding a moment of peace inside the surprisingly warm den.

Outside, Felix was about to have a conversation of his own. Although he didn’t expect this one to be quite so amiable.

Moments after he had left the den, there was an unmistakable rustling of leaves and crackling branches that filled his sensitive ears. With his senses on high alert to make sure they weren’t trying to come for you again, he could smell the intruder from miles away.

Realizing who it was, he made a plan and walked with a false sense of obliviousness to a clearing nearby. He didn’t want to wander too far and leave you unprotected, but he couldn’t lead the ghoul to you.

Thomas was with you, sure, but how well could he protect you against someone like him? Those were odds he would never even consider gambling with. And if anyone on this godforsaken Earth was likely to bet on improbable odds, it was Felix.

Once the ground became more plush under his boots, he knew he had made it where he needed to go. If anything was to happen, he was going to make damn sure it happened right here. On his terms.

Leaning with his back against one of the forest's robust trees, he listened carefully to make sure that his tail had followed like he had planned.

Felix smirked contently as he heard those familiar clumsy footsteps drawing closer. Aside from his scent, he was completely hidden from the approaching creature. Waiting for just the right moment to reveal himself.

“Well, well, well.” Felix eventually spoke up. “Long time no see… cousin.”

[Next]

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Taglist: @cyra-aa@plethora-of-imagines@pandasleepy07

#the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghouls #ghost ghouls #cowbell ghoul #cowbell x reader #ghost band fic #nameless ghoul fic #ghost band x reader #nameless ghouls x reader

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icewindandboringhorror · 8 months ago

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misc photo diary stuff.. also this unintentionally all matches sort of lol.. warm toned photos?

#image commentary in tags once again since they don't allow captions anymore and I feel weird using the alt text for that --#1 & 2. A very pale dusty warm sort of sky. Love the tone of it. All shades of gray skies are amazing.#3. Some flowers outside of a building I walked by. I like the chunky petals and interesting muted color #4. bapy son enjoying the sunlight #5. Picture of a moon and I think two stars or maybe planets or something near it? :0 #6. little lines drawn onto the carpet with sunlight from the window blinds #7. The moon illuminating the clouds to an unuusally bright degree. Very inchresting.. It isn't even captured well in photos but in real lif #it kind of looked like everything in the sky was glowing #8. They had heart shaped strawberry biscuits at popeyes this February (I think for valentines day month?)#9. All of the various rocks I've picked up on the ground outside over the past few months. Now that I have a rock tumbler I'm always on the #lookout for interesting ones. Though I'm not sure what all of them are or how well they'd actually polish. I know there are rules about tha #and stuff lol. I do think it's neat how when they're all next to each other there's so many different patterns #and colors and stuff even though they were all taken from basically the same small span of just sidewalks and places along the city #I never travel to different states or anything or even go hours away within my own state.#photo diary

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in-class-daydreams · 3 months ago

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Imagine ex-husband Gojo and your son, Sen, getting into the nastiest fight to date.

"Doman expansion: Infinity Castle!"

You feel yourself floating right side up, then everything shifts and you're suddenly falling upside down. You hit the tatami mats with an "oof!"

Sen's domain is a Japanese-style castle with infinite rooms he can manipulate at will. The domain is infinite and some rooms can lead to nowhere, reminiscent of Satoru's domain. When he and his best friend Naoki overlap their domains, one could find themselves isolated, battling shikigami in various parts of the castle.

Sen and Satoru land on their feet not far from you.

"Yikes," Satoru says. "Pretty crude, if you ask me."

"Good thing I'm not asking!" Sen would say, powering up his next attack. Satoru would move to counter and by now you have a headache and a bruise, and you've had it with the bickering.

"Domain--"

"Enough!" You put your hands together. "Domain expansion: Thousand Heavenly Gates"

The scene shifts and you find yourselves standing on water with a clear sky above you. One thousand torii gates stand tall all around you. Your ex and son feel the rage inside them start to fade away.

Pointing an accusing finger, you scold them, "You two are two of the strongest sorcerers who ever lived. Using your gifts to bicker with each other is some of the most blatant disregard for your stations I've ever seen! I don't want to see another domain used for this kind of stupidity again. Am I clear?"

"Yup."

"Yes, mama."

"Now," you say slowly. "When I drop this domain, you two are going to spend some civil father-son time together. Go get lunch. I don't care where, but on the way back, pick me up an ice cream. Double scoop. Satoru?"

You ex-husband grimaces and has the decency to look chastised. "Yeah, I know what flavor. That swirly one you like."

"Good. Don't come back until you've learned to play nice."

Imagine ex-husband Gojo picking you up from girls' night.

Sen goes back to the school dorms at night, so you figured you go out for a few drinks with your friends to catch up. Satoru heard about the event from Shoko and offered to take you home. You agreed and on the way took a detour to your favorite arcade from when you and Satoru were teens.

"Ugh! I swear these things are rigged!" you groan in frustration when the claw game drops the plushie you were aiming for.

"My turn," Satoru says. He scoots you out of the way and focuses hard on the white one-eyed cat you've been trying to get.

In the reflection of the plastic, you notice a slight glow behind Satoru's blindfold.

"No way you're using the six-eyes for this!" You whack his arm playfully, trying to stifle your laughter.

"Don't hate the player, babe, hate the game," he replies. With that, he presses the button and the claw drops. It hits the toy dead center. Closes. Lifts. The two of you hold your breaths.

And drops right into the chute.

"Yes!" you squeal while Satoru retrieves it. His face screws up in a look of contempt.

"Ew, it's even uglier up close."

You snatch it from him and hug it close to your chest. "Don't say that! He didn't mean it, Gege, don't worry."

"You named it already?"

"I named him."

"His face makes me mad for some reason."

"Your face makes me mad for many reasons."

Satoru lightly punches Gege in the face, which leads to you chasing him all the way back to the car, brandishing your new friend like a weapon.

Imagine ex-husband Gojo walking you to your front door.

You thank him for the ride and for taking you to that arcade. He doesn't need to know this, but being there with him made you feel like you were seventeen again.

Many things about Satoru remind you of how happy he made you. Even now.

"I'm sorry I acted like that," he says. Your reminiscing means you didn't catch the first part of his apology but you nod like you've been paying attention the whole time. "We're not together any more and I haven't been good about respecting boundaries and I'm sorry."

He blabbers on some more but all you can think about is how this whole apology is exactly the kind of communication you'd been wishing for throughout your marriage.

"So if you're seeing someone now, I get it. I mean, it doesn't matter if I get it or not because it's none of my business but--"

"Oh, shut up, Toru!" Fisting a hand in his shirt, you drag him to your level and kiss him like you’d never get to again.

Thanks for reading!

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

#again a little less sen in this one #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo sentaro #jjk imagines

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 22 days ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 31

tags : pwp (without plot), porn with feelings (kind of), cum play, creampie, cum eating, really really MESSY sex (like seriously. im WARNING you), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight marking, possessiveness (the needy kind), handjob, slight oral (f), praise, dirty talk, use of pet name "angel". this is generally soft but its uhhh… QUITE filthy whoopsie…, lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 🥰 i know i haven't been keeping to the masterlist entirely, but i did 100% want to be sure to finish this one req before xavier's birth month ends (and then save the others for my november backlog) 🤍 since the first two fics i wrote for him this month focused on his past selves, i figured it would be apt to end the month with this hehe 🥰🥰 enjooyy~

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

A night under the stars does nothing but solidify his love for you.

It was like stardust.

Speckles of light gathered around his figure, illuminated in such a glow that wouldn't dare allow you to look away. If a few moments ago he'd brought you out for a walk under the stars, that view of the sky was nothing compared to the view in front of you now.

His hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat visible on his skin. The pace he took was nearly relentless—exertion was clear on his features, yet he was beautiful, nonetheless. You felt your breath catch in your throat when he leaned down. Within seconds, your body was littered with kisses, and marks, and everything possible to convey that you were his.

Like a little bunny marking his territory, you thought to yourself with a smile.

And you didn't mind, truly.

You didn't mind that he'd barely kept his hands off of you the moment you'd gotten back to his apartment, practically dragging you with him across the living room, stumbling throught he bedroom door. His hands were all over you—clothes discarded quickly in a trail, and he was desperate. For your touch, your kisses, your—anything. Everything.

It hadn't taken long for you to be pinned against the bed, his hips rolling sinfully against yours—

And he was beautiful.

You didn't mind at all.

"One more, angel… Can you take another one?"

His breath was ragged. There was a low tone to his voice when he spoke, and it brought a zing of pleasure up your body.

So polite.

Despite the way his tip plunged into your walls with wet, sloppy noises… Despite the way you could feel that sting of sensitivity, and despite the sticky mess that had leaked out of you from previous rounds.

If you looked down, you could see a milky white ring coating the length of his cock. The wet sheen was clearly visible as he disappeared again, and again, and again, and again, right into your cunt—it made you dizzy. The sheets of his bed had been absolutely ruined.

He'd filled you up so much, and he hadn't wanted to stop since he'd started—

Yet he was so polite.

And how could you dare to complain when he felt so good?

Lips parting with shallow breaths, you reached out to cradle his face.

Soft, gentle touches.

Soft, gentle… just like the way he looked at you.

You watched his hazy eyes lock with yours, and it was shocking. Even through all that lust, all that want, all that desire—his gaze held so much love for you, never absent in the way he looked at you, never failing to convey… you.

You, you, you.

"Mine."

A whisper croaked into a moan.

"Mine… mine…"

Every thrust drove your hips deeper into his mattress, punctuated by a quiet whisper of the same words.

A chant, almost.

And he nuzzled against your palm, puffs of breath spreading into your hand as he kissed your skin—almost urging you to allow him to take your fingers past his lips.

His.

You watched him do it.

With bated breath, your eyes latched onto the way his tongue ran over your digits, slowly but surely taking them into his mouth. He closed his eyes when he sucked, fucking you to the very same rhythm that his tongue enjoyed the taste of your skin.

His.

"More…" It was your turn to speak, this time.

Wonder laced with your voice as he smiled, pulling away from your fingers.

It was easy, how he directed your gaze downwards, trailing a hand over your skin and pressing over your stomach.

A groan fell from your lips, and he sighed.

"More? When you're so full of me..."

He pulled out so you could see him pulsing, the redness of his tip causing you to clench around physically nothing. It made your heart jump—but that wasn't just it. Your eyes trailed back up to meet his, and the mischief in them had you swallowing thickly.

Watch, came a silent command, giving your thigh a little squeeze.

And you felt it.

Your eyes widened as you watched him cum all over your entrance, the warm liquid pooling over your mound. He fell forward with a moan, pumping his hand, hips bucking forward to brush himself against your sex but never quite doing more than that—

It didn't stay that way for long.

He pushed it right back in with a lewd squelch, barely giving you space to react, and it was enough to pull another orgasm out of you, body arching off the bed with ecstasy.

He didn't stop.

He hadn't stopped, not since all of this had even began.

He'd gather as much of his cum as he could just to stuff it back in; "Mine," he whispered, another quiet chant with every shallow thrust that he could muster, words barely heard over the wet sounds that continued to resound in your head.

He nestled himself back deeply into your sensitive walls before he kissed you.

Lazy thrusts continued to his cum inside you, and he was so—so lost in the pleasure, so much that you could feel it. And the mere thought that he could do that—drown in how much you made him feel—it sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

He was being so dirty.

And yet, despite that, the way that he kissed you felt so tender.

Chants of "mine" turned to "i love you".

I love you because you're mine; you're mine because I love you.

You are mine to love.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him deep, his hips still moving languidly against you. "I love you more," you half-joked, a soft laugh falling from your lips.

He shook his head. "I love you most."

He would leave no room for argument.

His lips ghosted yours, teasing a kiss, before he rest his head beside you, panting against your cheek. "M'lucky to have you. Don't want anything else… Just want you… Just want to stay with you, just… just want us…"

"Mhm, and you have me."

Your hands reached up to run through the soft strands of his hair.

"I have you?"

"You have me," you nodded. And you smiled. "I'm lucky to have you, Xavie. I wouldn't trade this moment for anything else in the world, and who cares anymore about the stars in the sky when I have you, just as you have me…"

Softly, he laughed, nuzzling against you—

"The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side."

You felt him twitch at your words, and you could have laughed—would have—if he hadn't pulled out of you then.

Anything you had to say for yourself quickly melted into a whine as he started dragging his cock up your body, curling himself into you as he rubbed it against your stomach. You could feel the stickiness of his cum follow through, and with slow, careful breaths, you moved a hand downwards to cage around his length, keeping him between your palm and your stomach, forming a sort of opening for him to rut into.

It didn't take long for his movements to become desperate.

His whole body shuddered on top of you, arms struggling to hold his weight so as not to crush you. His breath stuttered; barely-coherent babbling fell quietly from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head—

He looked so beautiful.

He groaned into the space above your head, fisting the sheets to stay steady, bips moving quicker and quicker and—

Part of you wondered how on earth he could take it—so insatiable. So much desire for you that he couldn't help himself in your presence; he'd let you jerk him off like this and have you bask in the low grunts and whimpers he would let out at the stimulation…

It wasn't long before he was releasing.

You tilted your head to avoid it hitting your face, but truly, you didn't mind—not even as the thick ropes of his cum coated your body, spilling over your breasts, your neck, your chin…

He had so much.

And everytime, you would think to yourself that this was really how far he wanted you.

"Xavier…" you whisper.

And when he collapsed down against you, he slid back down to kiss you sloppily.

Your eyes closed.

Despite the sticky feeling so blatntly obvious between your bodies, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

"Mmh… love you so much, angel…" he groaned into your mouth, kisses open, and messy, and raw.

I love you, too.

You said it in the way your hands tangled into his hair, even as he slid further down, tongue tracing nearly every inch of your body. "S'dirty, Xav…" your eyes rolled back as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sickling at it before pulling at it with his teeth.

"Mmh. Cleaning."

He tilted his head to meet yours, darkened eyes holding a serious expression—

Your body jolted.

His fingers joined the exploration of your skin, tracing your curves and scooping up his cum only to reach back down and stuff it right into you.

"M-mmph—?!"

Shh— Despite your shock, the look in his eyes spoke volumes. He would have said; It's okay, angel, just let me take care of you.

And slowly, slowly, he traced his tongue down over your stomach, before he sighed.

His head rest against your thigh.

His expression looked light; blissful. He breathed against you, eyes drawn right towards your cunt, watching the cream that oozed out of you with some sense of admiration... He wasn't doing anything, not really—and perhaps to anyone else, he'd simply seem tired.

But you knew that wasn't the case.

You were proven right when, every so often, he would break the spell by shoving his fingers right back into you as if determined to keep you full of him. Each thrust of his fingers was more surprisingly timed than the last, and he was successfully in pulling a gasp from you each time he did so.

"X-Xavierrr…" you whined this time.

"…My pretty angel."

The only reply you'd get was another sigh of seeming satisfaction.

This time, he raised his eyes to look at you, trailing up over your body to your face, and the lovedrunk little smille he have you made you melt.

"Beautiful. The most magnificent, most ethereal star in the sky… Here, with me, mine."

…The stars must be jealous knowing you're by my side.

He said it with his eyes. Your own words, right back to you.

But his gaze carried within it a certain mischief—he nuzzled your thigh, and before you could think, he leaned over to place a quick kiss right at your clit. The sudden stimulation where you were so sensitive had you jumping, and his tongue had the audacity to dart out and lap lazily around your folds.

"Hnnh—w-wait! Wait, Xavier, too much, too much—!"

His eyes sparkled.

Oh, he wasn't done with you yet.

"One more round?"

an : stays you know where the title is from right 😉

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luvsupa · 3 months ago

Text

003 | JEALOUSY?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, angst, tension, smut, ōral sex + fingering (f!recieving), petnames, revenge sex. don’t know what to add </3, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SOSO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS <33

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

you lie in bed, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, sleep evading you entirely. he floods your mind—lewd images, the sounds, the intoxicating scent that clings to your senses, refusing to leave.

his voice.

sukuna, the king of curses, always knew exactly how to get into your head, how to twist your thoughts until he owned every part of you. you scrunch your face in frustration, knowing he sees you as a plaything—something weak, something to be toyed with.

you glance around the room at the other servants, sleeping peacefully in their single beds, until your gaze lands on yorozu’s bed, neatly made and empty.

a bitter feeling stirs inside you—she had spent the night in sukuna’s bed. yet, even as he fucked her senseless, his attention was entirely on you. his eyes, those cursed, cruel eyes, never left you.

quietly, you rise, slipping on a thin cotton robe. with careful steps, you tiptoe out of the room, the wooden door creaking slightly as it opens. you nearly scream as uraume appears before you, arms crossed, their expression as neutral as ever.

“g-good morning, uraume,” you stammer, bowing slightly in respect.

“the king has requested you clean his chambers,” uraume states, and just hearing his name sends a shiver down your spine. that twisted bastard—he’s trying to get inside your head again.

“tell sukuna i do not wish to see him,” you reply coldly. for the first time, you see a flicker of shock on uraume’s face, their eyebrows raising at your blatant disrespect toward the king of curses.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be starting my duties early.” you walk past them without another word, leaving uraume speechless at your audacity as you head toward the garden doors.

the sun peeks over the tall mountains, casting a warm glow over the vibrant garden. you stand for a moment, looking up at the orangey-blue sky, before walking deeper into the garden.

you begin your work alone, plucking ripe fruits and vegetables, making sure everything looks perfect. but then, you freeze.

you can feel his presence, dark and oppressive, lingering somewhere nearby.

your heart races. he’s angry—you know it. you must have upset him by refusing his orders. you keep plucking the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as his aura thickens, almost suffocating you.

and then, suddenly, his presence vanishes.

you furrow your brow in confusion, turning to scan your surroundings. nothing. he’s gone just like that?

you try to convince yourself that he’s gone, but before you can fully relax, a rough hand grips your face, yanking you around. your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself face to face with sukuna. he looms over you, taller and more terrifying than you remember, his four eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that makes your blood run cold.

“you thought you could ignore me?” he growls, his voice low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat is unmistakable. his grip tightens, forcing you back against the rough bark of a towering oak tree. he’s so close, his body heat searing into you, his scent, a heady mix of blood and something darkly sweet—overwhelming your senses.

“you think you can defy me, woman?” his voice is deceptively soft, but it only makes the fear coil tighter in your chest. his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he inhales deeply, savouring your scent. “you’ve been blocking me out, haven’t you? my clever little girl.”

his words are laced with a twisted kind of praise, but there’s nothing comforting in it. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of your ear, making you squirm involuntarily. his grip on your face is firm, almost possessive, as he presses himself against you, his presence overpowering.

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the defiance in your words only makes him chuckle darkly.

“such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. his other hand trails up your neck, his fingers elongating into sharp, black claws that press dangerously against the pulsing vein in your throat. he’s toying with you, every touch calculated to draw out your fear, your arousal.

“so brave, yet you tremble under my touch,” sukuna’s voice is a husky whisper, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he watches your reaction. you hate the way your body responds to him, how the proximity makes your heart race, your thighs press together in a vain attempt to quell the heat building inside you.

his bottom eyes catch the movement, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “how delightful,” he sneers, releasing your neck and stepping back, leaving you breathless and trembling against the tree.

sukuna hums, turning to leave without a word, no goodbye, nothing. you’re left standing there, breathless and shaking, knowing you’ll never truly escape his grasp.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the evening buzzes with activity as servants and guards rush to prepare the dining hall for the zenin clan’s arrival. you overhear whispers about toji, the head of the clan, who commands both fear and respect. a secluded home within the estate has been prepared for their stay, a gesture of hospitality from sukuna himself.

you slip into more formal attire, the fabric soft against your skin, when a soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. uraume steps in, their expression unreadable.

“the king—”

“i’ve already spoken to him, uraume,” you interject, catching a flicker of irritation in their eyes.

“the king has requested that you serve the food at dinner for the zenin clan,” uraume continues, their tone firm. your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can protest, they add, “i will not tolerate any disrespect towards sukuna-sama, so i suggest you comply.” with that, they leave, offering no room for argument. you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sukuna is up to something.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the estate is a flurry of movement as everyone gathers outside to greet the zenin clan. the grand entrance is framed by koi ponds and cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting in the breeze. the noise of the crowd quiets as everyone falls into place, a wide path left clear for sukuna and uraume.

the chatter dies as word spreads that sukuna is approaching. everyone bows as the double doors swing open, revealing sukuna in a black kimono with gold accents, his hair slicked back with a few strands falling against his face.

fuck. he looks so good, you think, your heart skipping a beat.

uraume follows behind him as they move toward their spot at the front. just as sukuna passes by you, your heart clenches. you barely manage to lower your head in respect as you notice his hand intertwined with yorozu’s. she throws a smirk your way, and your eyes flicker between them. a gasp escapes your lips as you catch sukuna’s lower eye locked on you, a smirk playing on his lips as well.

the gates swing open, and the zenin clan’s carriages roll in, the horses' hooves echoing against the stone. the zenin’s guards step out first, followed by a tall, broad man in a black haori. he moves with an air of authority, his eyes locking onto sukuna’s with a tension so thick it feels like the air might crack.

“zenin,” sukuna calls out, their gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance. toji strides forward, his hands casually behind his back, his presence as commanding as sukuna’s.

“ryomen,” toji responds, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. you study him more closely, noting the scar on his lip, the sharpness of his gaze. he catches you staring, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. sukuna’s gaze follows toji’s, his jaw tightening, a vein pulsing at his temple as he harshly releases yorozu’s hand.

“uraume, show our guests to the dining hall,” sukuna orders, his voice low, his breath quickening with barely restrained anger. toji’s eyes flick between you and sukuna, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he catches onto the tension.

as uraume leads toji and the rest of the zenin clan inside, toji deliberately brushes past sukuna, the slight contact sparking a flash of rage in sukuna’s eyes. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to unleash his wrath, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

sukuna, toji, and the rest of the zenin clan settle into the dining room, the air thick with chatter and underlying tension. you stand quietly in the corner behind toji, your gaze drifting to sukuna seated at the other end of the table. yorozu is by his side, her smile wide as she leans into him, desperate for his attention while he pets her head, his eyes never leaving you.

the chefs signal that the food is ready, and you step forward, carrying the largest, heaviest plate. as you approach sukuna, yorozu stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. you carefully place the dish in front of sukuna, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, making your heart race with nervous energy.

you retreat back to your spot behind toji, aware that he’s been watching your every interaction with sukuna. he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips as he senses the tension.

“is the food to your liking, lord zenin?” you ask softly, leaning down so only he can hear. but sukuna’s piercing red eyes catch every movement, his stare burning into you. toji turns to you, his gaze appreciative as he sets his utensils down.

“y’er a cute one, hmm? call me toji, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with charm. you smile, flustered by the attention, while across the table, yorozu desperately tries to capture sukuna’s interest, even going so far as to eat from his plate in an attempt to please him.

suddenly, sukuna’s voice booms out, calling your name with a force that silences the entire room. all conversation stops as you freeze, your exchange with toji abruptly cut short. you take a hesitant step toward sukuna’s side of the table, but before you can move any further, toji grabs your arm. you gasp, turning to find him grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

in one swift motion, toji pulls you into his lap, your squeal echoing in the now-silent dining room. “ryo’, let the girl rest, yeah? workin’ too much, baby, isn’t that right?” he coos, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. sukuna’s expression darkens, his anger barely contained, only held in check by uraume’s firm grip on his shoulder, reminding him of the guests in the room.

the dinner continues, but the atmosphere is charged. sukuna’s eyes never leave you and toji, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. toji, sensing sukuna’s barely restrained anger, keeps pushing, his hands wandering over your thighs, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers sweet, seductive words.

toji takes your hand, kissing it softly, his eyes locked on sukuna’s with a smug, taunting look. sukuna’s fists clench, his entire body tense as he fights the urge to tear toji apart.

“meet me in my chambers,” toji murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. you giggle, caught up in the flirtation, but the sound barely leaves your lips before sukuna abruptly stands, the ancient chair crashing to the floor.

“dinner is over,” sukuna announces, his voice cold and final. confusion ripples through the room as he storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. yorozu calls after him, but he doesn’t even glance back, his rage blazing as he disappears from sight.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as nighttime falls, you find yourself at the guest estate just a few minutes from the main one. with a nervous knock, toji answers the door, his grin widening before he pulls you into a deep, feverish kiss. your tongues intertwine, frantic and messy, at the entrance where anyone might witness the two of you.

toji pulls away, his large hand cupping your face. “who is sukuna to you?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that makes you choke on your saliva, caught off guard.

“h-he’s my king, toji,” you stammer, leaning into his touch, your breath coming fast. he chuckles, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“i see how he looks at you—he’s always been possessive with… women,” he says, his gaze wandering as a wicked thought forms.

“are you up for something adventurous?” he whispers, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck. you tilt your head, desperate for more.

“I want you, toji,” you whimper, and he chuckles, pulling out a black blindfold from his pocket.

was he prepared for this all along?

“may I put this on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with anticipation. you nod eagerly, unable to contain your desire. toji smirks, guiding you to turn around as he binds the fabric over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

you ache to see him, to watch the way he moves, but the blindfold denies you that pleasure. “we just need to walk a bit, and I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises, his arms lifting you in a bridal style.

the journey feels endless until he finally lays you down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt. he undresses you slowly, making you shiver with anticipation.

toji’s mouth descends on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples- alternating from each breast.

“n-need you inside me,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. he kisses his way down your body, his lips blazing a trail to your aching cunt.

“such a needy one,” he teases, his voice rough as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. he circles your entrance, collecting your essence before pushing his fingers inside. your gasp is loud, your body arching as he thrusts deep, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot. the room fills with the wet, lewd sounds of your pleasure.

“you’re drenched,” he growls, sliding his fingers out to deliver a stinging slap to your cunt, making you hiss. he licks his fingers clean, savouring your taste before diving into your pussy with feral intensity. his tongue explores every inch of your velvety walls, making you clench around him.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he groans into your core, the vibrations sending electric jolts through your body. your legs try to close around his head, but he forces them open, his face and the sheets below soaked with your arousal.

“toji, I need you inside me,” you moan, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“are you out of your fucking mind?”

you freeze.

your heartbeat halts as his voice cuts through the haze. confusion and fear grip you as you realize who’s in the room.

toji doesn’t stop; if anything, he devours you with even more intensity. loud slurping heard from below as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries.

shakily, you pull off the blindfold, blinking against the bright light. below you, toji’s face is a mask of wicked satisfaction, strands of saliva and cum connecting him to your swollen cunt.

your gaze travels to the end of the bed, and your blood runs cold. sukuna stands there, his four arms bulging with veins, his nails longer and sharper than before.

this is sukuna’s room—the very place where he was with yorozu the night before.

your eyes dart between toji and sukuna, realizing you’re in deep trouble. toji orchestrated this, deliberately placing you in sukuna’s room to fuel the tension between them. “m-my lord—” you begin, but toji spits flat on your cunt, slapping it loudly as you moan uncontrollably.

“c’mon, baby—tell ‘kuna how I’m making you feel.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryoumen sukuna smut #sukuna angst #toji x you #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 20 days ago

Text

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun.

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights.

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it to his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers; your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you.

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs.

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto fluff #suguru geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff

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rottenfyre · 8 days ago

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⸻ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴛ ʏ ʀ ᴀ ɴ ᴛ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere HOTD x Targaryen Reader Part 2

Summary: After your mother's death, your life wasn't the same anymore. Everything was changing so fast and you were just watching.

Warning: Y/n herself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Gifs don't belong to me, credit to the owner. Hope you enjoy!

The air felt cool against her damp skin as she stood in front of the window, watching the distant glow of King's Landing beneath the night sky. Her body was still warm from the bath, the steam lingering in the room as it slowly dissipated, leaving behind the soft scent of lavender and rosewater.

She let her fingers trace the edges of the windowpane, feeling the cold, hard glass beneath her fingertips. It was quiet tonight—eerily so. The usual sounds of the city seemed muted, as if the world outside had gone still, holding its breath.

Her handmaid, Elira, stood behind her, gently brushing through her wet hair. The familiar rhythm of the bristles moving through her locks was soothing, almost meditative. Elira had always been there. Since the very beginning. They were the same age, but Elira had always known her place—quiet, loyal, obedient. Always there, always in the background, never faltering.

"It still hurts, you know... losing her." She spoke softly, her voice almost a whisper, more to herself than to Elira. She stared out into the dark horizon, her eyes distant. "Mother was... everything. The only person who truly knew me."

Elira didn't respond—she never did when it came to such things. She just kept brushing her hair, silent, attentive, like the shadow she had always been.

The ache in her chest intensified, a dull, ever-present throb that threatened to consume her. Who’s going to love me now? Her mother had been everything. The one person who had always been kind, always been gentle. And now, she was gone. The gods, if they even existed, had taken her away. Not just her mother, but her newborn brother as well.

Y/n blinked slowly, her eyes burning. Why did they take them? What kind of gods would do this? Why leave me behind with nothing? She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t process the emptiness that had swallowed her whole since that day. The pain was constant, gnawing at her insides like a beast that wouldn’t stop.

She hadn’t left this room since they told her. She hadn’t gone to the funeral. What would be the point? Rhaenyra had been the one to carry their mother’s body. She could have done that too. She could have honored her mother, but what was the point when she wasn’t even here? She was dead. Dead.

Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into the sensation of the brush moving through her hair. "I loved her. I always did... I was kind to her, wasn't I?" The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if she were asking herself more than Elira. She knew the answer already. She had been kind. She had been gentle.

She sighed softly, her breath fogging the glass in front of her as her thoughts drifted. It was supposed to be a boy. A brother. I would’ve been kind to him too. She had already chosen the Dreamfyre egg for him, already imagined what he would look like with his silver hair and violet eyes.

But now... there was no brother. No mother. Just silence.

Suddenly, a sharp tug at her scalp broke through her thoughts, jolting her back to the present. She flinched slightly, her eyes narrowing as she turned her head just enough to glance at Elira.

"I'm so sorry, princess! Please forgive me!" Elira’s voice trembled, her hands shaking as she quickly let go of the brush, dropping it to the floor. She fell to her knees, her head bowed low, not daring to look up at Y/n. "Please, forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t... please, please, forgive me..."

Y/n stared down at her, unblinking, her mind oddly blank. Elira had always been loyal. She had always done what she was told. And now here she was, groveling on the floor, begging for forgiveness over a simple tug of hair. It was... pathetic.

But she didn’t feel angry. She didn’t feel anything.

"It's alright," she said calmly, her voice soft but devoid of emotion. "You can continue."

Elira hesitated for a moment, her hands still trembling as she slowly picked up the brush again, standing on shaky legs. She resumed her task, this time more careful, her movements slower, more deliberate.

Y/n turned back to the window, her gaze distant once more, her mind drifting in and out of the haze that had settled over her ever since her mother’s death. She could still hear Elira sniffling softly behind her, no doubt still terrified of making another mistake.

It’s fine, she told herself. She’s always been like this. Always afraid. Always apologizing. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

She closed her eyes again, her fingers tracing the cool glass once more, feeling the chill seep into her skin.

“I made a decision,” Viserys looked between his daughters. “I have chosen to name Rhaenyra as my heir.”

The words hit her like a wave of ice-cold water, freezing her smile in place. Wait… what? Her mind stumbled, struggling to make sense of the words. Rhaenyra? She blinked, willing herself to understand, to hear something else, but the reality pressed on her, unyielding.

“That’s… great, Father!” she managed, her voice tight and bright. Her lips twitched, and somehow, she forced them into a smile. She clasped her hands in front of her, feeling them shake, the tremors threatening to give her away. Hold it together, she thought desperately, teeth gritted behind her smile. Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see.

A cacophony of voices began to rise within her, whispering, hissing, each word cutting into her like a thousand small blades. Weak… pathetic… that’s what you are.

Her nails dug into her palms as she continued to hold her smile. No, I’m not weak… he just doesn’t see my worth yet. He doesn’t understand. But he will, he will…

That’s why Father chose her, isn’t it? Because you’re useless. Because you’re nothing.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and glanced sideways at Rhaenyra, who was watching her with a mixture of pride and hesitance. Rhaenyra, the golden girl. Rhaenyra, the heir. Rhaenyra… the one Father loves. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she forced herself to keep smiling, her jaw aching from the strain.

Of course he doesn’t love you, they continued. Why would he? You’re not what he wanted. You’re just a mistake, a failure, a useless little girl who couldn’t be more than a shadow.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat like a drum in her ears. She felt hollow, as if she were disappearing from within, crumbling like ash. I’m not useless, I’m not… But they laughed, drowning her, making it impossible to think.

Look at him. Look at how he looks at her. Do you see that warmth in his eyes? He has never looked at you like that. He never will.

Her hands were trembling openly now, and she clasped them tighter, willing herself to stop, to silence the whirlwind inside her. I am more than this, she thought, but the words felt empty, like something fragile that could shatter with a single breath. She lifted her gaze to her father, but his expression was unchanged, his eyes full of pride—for Rhaenyra.

That’s all you are, isn’t it? A disappointment. A shadow, unwanted and unloved.

Her head swam, and she could barely hear anything beyond the mocking laughter echoing in her mind. But she kept smiling, the mask she wore cracking at the edges, her heart sinking with each passing second. You're wrong. You're wrong about me. Father does love me… he has to…

“Are you all right?” Viserys asked, frowning slightly.

The words jolted her back to the room, and she forced herself to nod, ignoring the way her throat tightened. “Yes, Father,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She wanted to scream, to cry, to tear down everything around her, but instead, she turned to leave, her face carefully blank.

As she walked away, the voices clawed at her, unrelenting, ruthless.

Useless. Unwanted. Weak. That’s why he chose her. That’s why he’ll always choose her. Because you will never be enough.

It's finally over. It had been a long day, a day that had dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. Today Rhaenyra had been named heir to the Iron Throne and she had to bow before her.

As she walked, Elira, kept a respectful distance behind her, her soft footsteps barely audible. The quiet murmur of the castle, usually so comforting to Y/n, only seemed to intensify the ache in her chest. She quickened her pace, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor as the thoughts spiraled deeper. Why her? Why not me?

"Thanks the gods it's Princess Rhaenyra,"

Y/n froze, her entire body stiffening as she heard the words. Her mind raced, and her steps slowed, her breath catching. She looked around the corner, and saw a small group of servants standing near a doorway, talking among themselves. Her gaze narrowed as she caught the full statement.

"Ah, yes, I'm really thankful the King didn’t choose that mad cunt," one of them laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that made her skin crawl.

"What did you say?"

They immediately froze when they heard her, their faces draining of color. She could hear their frantic whispers, the way their voices faltered in fear. One of them, took a hesitant step backward.

The servants' eyes widened, and they all started stammering apologies, their words tangled together in a rush of panic.

"Please, my lady, we meant no harm, we were just—"

"We were just talking, milady. Please forgive us—"

"Please don’t—"

Her eyes locked onto the boy who had spoken the words. He looked terrified now, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear. She took a step forward, the rage bubbling over, her movements fluid and quick as she closed the distance between them. The boy shrank back, but it was too late.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Y/n half-yelled, her voice a venomous hiss. Everything that had been building inside her—the anger, the hurt, the rejection—came flooding out in a violent, unstoppable wave.

The servants froze, some of them taking instinctive steps back, but they couldn’t escape.

Before the boy could even react, Y/n was on him, her hands grabbing his hair. With a sickening crack, she slammed his skull against the stone wall. She didn’t even register the impact at first, her vision turning red as the anger clouded her thoughts. She did it again. And again. And again.

The sound of his skull crashing against the stone echoed in her ears, drowning out everything else. She didn’t hear the cries, the pleading, the desperate sobs. She didn’t hear Elira begging her to stop, her voice barely cutting through the haze of fury.

"Stop! Please! Stop!" Elira cried, her voice high with fear, but Y/n was beyond reason now. She could feel the boy’s head break beneath her hands, could feel the blood running down her fingers. The sound of his sobs, his frantic begging, only drove her further into madness.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, it was over. She stood there, panting, her breath ragged as she stared down at the boy’s lifeless body. His head was a mangled mess, blood seeping out from the cracks in his skull. Her hands were slick with it, the red staining her fingers, her palms.

She blinked, coming back to herself slowly. The haze began to clear. She looked down at the body, her heart still racing, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Her chest heaved, and for a moment, she could barely comprehend what had just happened. She didn’t even remember how she’d gotten here, or how many times she’d struck him.

He’s dead.

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut. Her heart sank, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface, still clawing at her insides. She turned to look around at the others—the servants were trembling, staring at her in horror, their faces pale and filled with fear.

Why... Why they are looking at me like this?

Y/n glanced down at her dress, now soaked in blood. It was one of her favorites. She frowned as she looked at the deep red stains, the fabric ruined. What a pity.

With a deep sigh, she straightened up, her anger beginning to ebb, leaving a hollow emptiness behind. Her voice was calm, too calm, as she turned to the servants. “Clean this mess up,” she ordered, her voice flat. “And make sure no one finds out about it.”

She didn’t care how they did it, just as long as it was done. She turned to Elira, her voice still controlled, though her emotions were a mess inside her. “Prepare the bath for me,” she said softly, almost pitiful. “I need to wash.”

As she walked away, Elira hesitated for a moment before following her. The others remained rooted to the spot, too afraid to move. Y/n walked through the hallways, the blood drying on her hands, her mind drifting in a haze of confusion and sadness.

I’m so tired. The thought came suddenly, washing over her like a wave. She let out a breath, shaking her head slightly.

But as she entered her chambers, she start thinking about the scene she left behind. The servants would clean it. They always did. But they would never forget. And neither would she.

With that, she closed the door behind her, her thoughts already shifting again, the sadness creeping back in.

"The realm will never accept a woman as their ruler," Rhaenys muttered, her voice laced with the bitterness that always seemed to cloud her words when the topic of succession arose.

Y/n tilted her head and nodded, the movement slow, almost sympathetic. Oh, how tragic, she thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk. All this whining and hand-wringing. Pathetic.

She softened her features, arranging her face into what she imagined looked like mild concern. "Tragic, isn’t it?" she said, her voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed sarcasm that neither of them seemed to catch.

"When I am queen I will create a new order," Rhaenyra said, her tone defiant, her chin lifted as though challenging the world to disagree.

Yes, yes, Rhaenyra, I’m sure you would be a shining example of wisdom and honor, Y/n thought, fighting back a laugh. Keep dreaming.

"Of course you would, dear sister," Y/n replied smoothly, giving a slight, dismissive nod. "The realm would be lucky to have you."

Rhaenys glanced at her, as if sizing her up, before letting out a low, sardonic chuckle. "Men would sooner burn the kingdom than let a woman sit on the throne," she said, a bitter truth in her words that, for some reason, still failed to resonate with Y/n. Power wasn’t something one was given—it was taken. And anyone too weak to seize it had no right to it in the first place.

She hid her thoughts behind a sip of wine, watching them both with a half-lidded gaze, letting their words drift over her like idle gossip. What a pair they are—one too proud to realize her limitations, the other too bitter to let go of her grievances.

"Oh, yes, a kingdom ablaze," Y/n murmured, feigning a wistful tone. "How poetic. Such a tragic tale, isn’t it?" She held out her glass, staring into the dark red liquid as if pondering something deeply moving, though in truth, she was only admiring the way the light caught the wine.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily. "They underestimate us. They see us as delicate things, fit only to be wives and mothers."

"Do they?" Y/n’s smile widened, an amused glint in her eyes. Oh, the endless suffering. Boo-hoo.

Rhaenys was watching her with an arched brow, clearly picking up on the subtle mockery in her tone. "You don’t seem very troubled by any of this, Y/n," she observed, almost as if accusing her.

Y/n shrugged, a slow, lazy movement that exuded indifference. "Oh, I am devastated, truly," she replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from her words. "What a tragic world we live in, where women like us must endure such indignities. Really, it’s heartbreaking."

Rhaenyra shot her a sharp look. "This isn’t a joke, Y/n."

"Of course not," Y/n replied, her voice smooth as silk, unfazed by her sister’s disapproval. "Nothing about any of this is funny." She took another sip, savoring the wine and the absurdity of it all. I should be the one that wear the crown, not you.

Then, as though the thought had only just occurred to her, she sighed and placed her empty goblet aside. "Ah, but I must take my leave, unfortunately." She glanced over at them, feigning a regretful expression. "I’ve a fitting to attend for my dress, you know, for Father’s wedding. It simply wouldn’t do to be unprepared for such an occasion."

The slight in her tone was subtle, but it was there, veiled in a pleasant smile. The wedding going to happen sooner or later. What a spectacle it would be. Their dear father, so desperate to secure his legacy that he’d wed a mere girl, and all to produce another heir—a boy, if the gods were willing, and if not… well, it hardly mattered to her.

"How dutiful of you," Rhaenys remarked, a hint of mockery in her voice. It was clear she saw through Y/n’s thin veneer of civility.

"Indeed." Y/n inclined her head, lips quirking in a smug smile. "After all, it’s so important to play our parts well, isn’t it?"

She glanced back at them one last time, giving them both a pointed look, her smile widening as she took in their earnest, troubled faces. "Farewell, then. Do enjoy your discussion. Such deep, meaningful words, truly," she said, voice dripping with false admiration as she turned on her heel, sauntering away without a second glance.

Y/n strode toward her father’s chambers, Ser Criston trailing like a shadow at her side. She had a perfectly charming smile painted on her lips until she came up short, blocked by two guards standing in front of the doors. Their hands gripped their spears, glancing at each other nervously before looking back at her.

“Step aside,” she said, voice a silky command.

The guards didn’t budge.

One of them, foolishly brave or utterly clueless, raised a hand. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the King has asked to not be disturbed.”

Her smile faltered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You’re saying I can’t see my father?” Her voice was calm, almost amused. She tilted her head, letting her gaze drift over their faces with cold scrutiny. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

The guard stiffened, clearly feeling her gaze like a blade. “We have orders.”

She chuckled, the sound smooth as honey but laced with venom. “And do you have any idea what I could do to you for disobeying me?” She leaned in, voice dropping low. “I could have your tongues ripped out, have you hanging from the city walls by your intestines, all while you beg for mercy.” She smiled, sickly sweet. “Or I could just tell my father you disrespected his daughter.”

The guards flinched, glancing at each other but standing firm.

She clicked her tongue, gaze sharpening. “Perhaps I should have Ser Criston here peel the skin from your faces, inch by inch? How does that sound?”

Criston’s hand drifted to his sword, his eyes darkening in anger at their defiance. Before he could make a move, Otto appeared around the corner, striding toward them with his usual calm authority.

“Ah, my lord Hand,” Y/n said, smile widening as she turned toward Otto. She cast the guards one last look before redirecting her attention.

Otto looked at her and then at the guards, clearly sensing the tension in the air. “Is there a problem here, princess?” His voice was calm, as if he hadn’t just walked into a potential bloodbath.

She tilted her head, letting out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Oh, nothing major, Lord Hand,” she purred. “Just a minor misunderstanding. These men seem to think they have the right to keep me from my father’s chambers. Quite peculiar, don’t you think?” She cast a smug glance at the guards, watching as they shifted uncomfortably.

The guards started to speak up, but Y/n shot them a warning glare, silencing them immediately. “In fact, I’d say it was downright insulting.”

Otto nodded thoughtfully, his expression neutral. “Well, princess, your father is about to attend the small council meeting. I’ve come to fetch him myself.”

She clenched her jaw, an annoyed sigh slipping from her lips as she finally gave a small nod. Fucking cock suckers. But she kept her expression calm, respectful even. Otto had always been fond of her—treated her like one of his own, in a way. No need to break that little bond just yet.

“Very well,” she murmured, stepping back as she allowed Otto to enter. She watched him disappear into the chamber, then turned her gaze back toward the guards, her expression a warning that needed no words. They quickly looked away, pretending to be more interested in the floor.

Moments later, Otto returned with her father. Viserys offered her a faint, apologetic smile, but his focus seemed elsewhere, a bit distracted. Odd. Otto, too, seemed unusually composed, almost as if there was something else on his mind.

As they walked away, Y/n glanced toward the chamber doors, half-distracted, until she caught a flash of red hair in the corner of her vision. A woman’s figure seated on the edge of the bed—her father’s bed.

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes widening. She had to suppress a sudden laugh, biting her nails as her excitement bubbled up. Oh, now that’s just… delicious.

There’s no way… Is that…? Did Otto really…? Oh, you sly, clever old fox. So that’s why Father’s been so preoccupied. And here I thought he was just mourning my poor Mother.

“Are you all right, my lady?” Criston’s voice brought her back to the present. He glanced at her with concern.

She smiled at him, a flash of brightness that was all teeth. “I’m perfectly fine, Ser Criston,” she murmured, her gaze still lingering on that red hair. Alicent. The Hand’s sweet little daughter, warming dear Father’s bed where Mother once lay. Oh, it was almost poetic.

Without another word, she wrapped her arm around Criston’s, a little too tight, leading him away, her smile widening as her mind danced with happiness. The thrill of it all simmered under her skin, making her eyes glint with a mad sort of glee.

Oh, Rhaenyra… if only you knew. Your dear friend is right here, warming our father’s bed. Such a pity you don’t see it yet. Poor, poor little sister.

Criston glanced at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is something the matter, my lady?”

“Nothing at all,” she purred, letting out a small laugh. “I’m just… happy, that’s all.”

As the small council convened, Viserys rose to his feet, his expression serious yet strained. She cast a brief glance at Rhaenyra beside her, who watched their father with rapt attention, completely unaware.

Don’t tell me Father’s actually going to—

“I have decided… I am to marry Lady Alicent Hightower.”

The silence that followed was exquisite. Y/n’s smirk widened as she glanced sideways at Rhaenyra, whose face had turned from shock to disbelief. Rhaenyra’s eyes met Y/n’s, wide and wounded, and in that brief exchange, Y/n’s smirk told her everything. Yes, dear sister, I knew. I knew before you did. And now… so do you.

Y/n’s gaze turned cold as she looked across the room at Corlys. He sat motionless for a moment, disbelief and anger barely concealed in his face as he processed what the King had just announced. She barely held back her sneer of disgust.

This pathetic man… offering up his child to this decrepit old fool just to worm his way closer to the throne. What a spineless little weasel. Tried to sell sweet Leana to Father… You’re nothing but a cock-sucking snake, Corlys.

Corlys’ face hardened. Offended, he shot Viserys a withering look before standing abruptly and leaving the room in silence. Y/n’s eyes followed him, the smirk still tugging at her lips. Good riddance, you worm.

Next to her, Rhaenyra had gone pale. She shot a look of absolute betrayal at Alicent, whose face was touched with guilt, as if she’d known this moment was coming yet hadn’t prepared for the sight of her friend’s hurt. Then turning on her heel and storming out.

Poor, naive Rhaenyra… How perfect, to have this all crumble around you while you stood unaware.

But Y/n stayed, savoring the stunned silence that filled the room, and then, without missing a beat, she plastered on her most sincere smile.

“Congratulations, Father!” she chimed, her voice warm as she moved toward Viserys.

Viserys let out a sigh, though a relieved one, as she embraced him, patting her arm gently. “Thank you, my dear,” he replied, clearly grateful for her support.

She released him, turning to Alicent, who was still wide-eyed, not quite sure what to make of the sudden affection Y/n was showing. She shifted uncomfortably as Y/n opened her arms to her.

“Alicent,” Y/n murmured, drawing her in with a tight embrace, voice sweet as honey. She leaned close to her ear, her words just barely audible to anyone but Alicent.

“Oh, Alicent,” she murmured into her ear, “I always knew you were a little whore.” She felt Alicent’s body stiffen, but she continued, undeterred. “You shouldn’t be so pleased with yourself—you’ve married my rotting father, after all.” She let out a mocking laugh, barely a whisper. “I can only imagine… his ‘crown jewels’ are as decrepit as the rest of him. But lucky you, you’re the perfect breeding mare, aren’t you? A nice, wet hole to keep his cock warm,” she added, voice dripping with contempt, “Every night you’ll lay with him, his decaying hands on you, his disgusting, rotting body. I’ll bet even his—” she sneered, “—cock is rotting.”

Alicent’s face flushed, her breath catching as she stood, stunned and trembling in Y/n’s arms. Y/n only smiled, tilting her head to kiss her on the cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, Mother,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Alicent, visibly shaken, managed a faltering smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Thank you… daughter.”

Part 1 Part 3

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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seospicybin · 2 months ago

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NATIONAL ANTHEM.

Seungmin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: At first, you knew Seungmin as the guy you made out with on a flight home but once the plane landed, you discovered that he's the son of your father's rival candidate for the upcoming election, causing you to be caught between love and loyalty. (13,6k words)

Author's note: Happy birthday to the agent of chaos, Seungmin ☆

Some people might call it fate, serendipity, or kismet, but you're not the type to believe in romantic clichés like that, so let's just call it a coincidence.

It's merely a coincidence that the car got a flat tire on the way to the airport, causing you to miss the flight you were supposed to be on. Otherwise, you would have been sitting in seat 4B on a completely different plane next to a completely different passenger in seat 4A.

As you make your way to your seat, you notice him immediately. A young man sitting in the window seat next to yours, he possesses a rare, gentlemanly beauty. With refined features, a charming smile, and tousled dark hair, he exudes a sophisticated appeal. In other words, he’s the kind of guy who instantly catches your eye.

He glances up as you stow your bag in the overhead compartment, offering a polite nod. You take your seat next to him, trying to keep your cool even though your heart skips a beat.

There’s something about him that draws you in, something magnetic—a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to be loud or showy to be felt.

After you settle in and the plane takes off, you feel the urge to talk to him. You're usually not the type to strike up conversations with strangers, but for some reason, with him, you can't help it. Also, you realize that if you want something to happen, you have to start somewhere.

“Is this your first time flying out of here?” you ask, turning to him with a smile.

He looks at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “No, I’ve been here before, but it’s been a while," he answers, his voice smooth and calm, making something flutter in your chest.

You introduce yourself to break the ice and make interacting easier.

"Seungmin," he says, taking your hand and holding it for a moment as he introduces himself. "Traveling alone?"

"Yes," you answer innocently.

"Business or pleasure?" he asks, a playful glint in his warm brown eyes.

You stare into his eyes and faintly bite your lower lip before answering, "Hopefully, pleasure."

From there, the conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything—from favorite travel destinations to the books you're reading. Something about Seungmin makes it feel so natural, and before you know it, two hours have passed in the blink of an eye.

“I can’t believe we’ve been talking for hours,” you say with a low laugh, glancing out the window at the darkened sky.

The Atlantic stretches endlessly below, and the flight attendants have dimmed the cabin lights, casting a soft, intimate glow over the rows of seats.

“Time flies when the company’s good,” he says, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your heart race.

The space between you feels charged now, the conversation slowing as the connection deepens into something more. You can feel the pull—the undeniable attraction that’s been simmering since you sat down. Then you catch him glancing at your lips, and you know he feels it too.

Daringly, you lean in slightly, testing the waters, and he responds by shifting closer. The air between you is electric, and when his hand brushes yours, a spark shoots through you.

Both of you hesitate for a moment, caught in that intoxicating space where everything hangs in the balance until neither of you can resist any longer.

Your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, and the world outside the window seems to fall away. His kiss is gentle at first, cautious, testing, but when you respond, he takes it as permission to deepen it. He rests his hand on your cheek, and warmth spreads through you as his lips move against yours in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, making you forget you’re on a plane surrounded by strangers.

For those few moments, it's just you and him, lost in each other, the quiet hum of the plane fading into the background.

When you finally pull apart, breathless and dazed, you exchange a look that says everything. This isn't just some fleeting attraction. There’s something real here, something undeniable.

However, once the plane touches down and the cabin lights flicker back to life, reality begins to creep in. It's the altitude, the change in air, and the fact that you now have both feet on the ground. The intimacy of your shared moments with Seungmin starts to fade as you both prepare to disembark.

Everyone stands from their seats to gather their things, and you can feel Seungmin watching as you reach for your bag in the overhead compartment.

"So…" Seungmin begins as you both shuffle out of the row and into the aisle. "Can I get your number? Or at least, a last name?"

Your heart is still fluttering from the kiss you shared just hours ago, but you hesitate. There’s an inexplicable tug in your gut telling you not to give in so easily, to be cautious. You like him—really like him—but you're not going to make it that easy.

You flash him a playful smile. “Hmm... I’m not sure I should make it that easy for you,” you tease, shifting your bag onto your shoulder.

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. “You’re going to make me work for it?”

You nonchalantly shrug, trying to keep things light despite your racing heart. “Let’s just say I like a challenge.”

As you walk together through the terminal, the chemistry between you still crackling, you step outside and notice a car waiting at the curb. The driver, standing beside it, is holding a sign with Seungmin’s name. At first, nothing seems out of the ordinary, until you notice his jacket. The driver is wearing a dark blazer, but pinned to it is a familiar emblem—the logo of a political campaign.

Not just any campaign. It's your father’s rival’s campaign.

Your smile falters as you look more closely, and your heart drops when something clicks. You turn to Seungmin, your mind racing.

“Is that your driver?” your voice comes out sharper than you intended.

Seungmin follows your gaze, looking a bit confused. “Yeah. Why?”

Your throat suddenly feels dry. You clear it before asking the big question. “Are you from the Kim family? The same Kim family running for governor?”

"Yes," Seungmin answers, clearly puzzled.

The Kim family. The Kim family. Your father’s bitter rival in the upcoming election. This isn’t just some random guy you met on a plane—he's the son of the man your father has been railing against for weeks. You feel the blood drain from your face as the realization crashes down.

Seungmin’s expression shifts from confusion to concern. “What’s wrong?”

You unconsciously take a step back. "You’re... you’re a Kim," you say, still in disbelief.

Seungmin opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. "Your father and mine—they’re both running for governor."

For a moment, Seungmin seems to be processing what you’ve said. Then his face hardens slightly in understanding. You take another step back, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

“This changes everything,” you whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes searching. “No, it doesn’t have to," he says.

If only he knew how badly you wanted to believe him. But you can’t ignore the reality of the situation. Both of your families are in a brutal political war, and no matter how much you like him, getting involved with Seungmin could blow everything up—for both of you.

"How is it not? Your father accused mine of siphoning money from the city’s budget for his campaign."

"Because he did!" Seungmin says boldly.

"There’s no concrete proof!" you counter.

"Of course, because they know how to make things disappear. Your family is known for their generosity with hush money," he remarks bluntly.

You’ve never been one to argue about things that aren’t your business, but when it comes to your family, you naturally defend them.

"As opposed to your father’s blatant hypocrisy," you calmly reply. "He’s fighting the climate crisis, but his wife keeps taking private jets for her shopping trips."

You come up with a concrete data point. "According to the data, those trips contributed 58 metric tons of carbon—the same amount emitted by 4,625 cars in a day."

That seems to shut him up. His jaw clenches, and it's unfair how good he looks when he's mad.

The driver awkwardly clears his throat, glancing between you both. “Sir, we should get going. Your father’s waiting.”

"It was good to see you," Seungmin says before storming off, childishly bumping your shoulder as he passes.

"Goodbye, I guess," you mutter, scoffing in disbelief as you watch him walk away.

That concludes everything, officially making it an unpleasant coincidence.

It was just a coincidence!

That's what Seungmin has been telling himself after spending days wrestling with his feelings, convincing himself that it doesn’t matter, that you are just a fleeting moment, a passing fancy. But the truth is undeniable: no matter how much he tries to push you out of his mind, he just can’t stop thinking about you.

When his friend mentioned that you’re living separately from your family, something shifted inside him. The tension between your families has always been an obstacle, a reason to stay away, but now it seems more like an excuse. If anything, the fact that you aren’t on good terms with your family only deepens his curiosity—and somehow, his feelings.

Seungmin hadn’t planned to find your hotel room, but once he knew where you were staying, he couldn’t help himself. And now, as he stands there, waiting for you to open the door, his heart races in anticipation despite the cool facade he tries to maintain.

After a moment, the door creaks open, and there you are—your hair slightly tousled, your expression showing slight shock to see him there. His heart leaps at the sight of you, but instead of the warmth or excitement he hoped to see, your face remains cold, indifferent.

“Are you stalking me?” your voice is cool, a little too casual, as if you haven’t been thinking about him at all.

There's no going back now, so Seungmin pushes forward. "Well, you're not that hard to track."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms in front of you defensively. “You shouldn’t be here,” you say flatly.

Seungmin notices the flicker in your eyes, something you’re trying to hide. He takes a small step closer, his gaze softening, and playfully says, “Maybe."

You stare at him for a moment, your expression hard, but he sees the hesitation in the way your fingers grip the edge of the door. You’re fighting something, trying to keep a wall between the two of you. He understands why you keep your guard up so high—you’re trying to protect yourself, your heart, and maybe even protect him from the mess that is your life right now.

“You shouldn’t be... with me,” you make it even clearer, but even as you say the words, your voice wavers.

Seungmin takes another step forward, placing his hand near where yours rests. “Let me in, and we'll find out."

Your eyes soften for a brief moment before you quickly look away, the conflict clear in your expression. It’s obvious that you want to shut the door, to push him away, but something is holding you back. Maybe it's the same thing that brought him here in the first place—the connection, the spark between you that refuses to be ignored.

The conflict in your eyes only encourages Seungmin. He leans against the doorframe, his eyes never leaving yours. "Why are you staying in a hotel anyway?" he asks, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity.

You remain aloof, folding your arms across your chest as you raise an eyebrow. “Why should I let my enemy know?"

The coldness in your tone is deliberate, a shield to guard against him, against what you’re really feeling. But he doesn’t back down; his smirk only grows wider.

His hand inches closer to yours as he leans in just a bit closer, making his presence suddenly more overwhelming.

“See, that’s the thing..." his voice drops lower, with a teasing edge.

“What?” you ask, trying to keep your cool even though the proximity makes your heart race.

“We’re enemies,” he states the obvious, his gaze locking onto yours with such intensity that it sends a shiver down your spine.

You let out a sigh, already prepared for whatever line he’s about to throw at you. “And what’s your point?”

Seungmin’s smirk deepens as he leans in even closer, his face now mere inches away from yours. His voice is low and soft, almost a whisper, but filled with mischief.

“Sleeping with the enemy is hot.”

Your breath hitches slightly, but you keep your expression in check, refusing to let him see just how much his words affect you. You tilt your head a little to the side, raising an eyebrow, but the corner of your mouth betrays you with the slightest hint of a smile.

“Is that so?” you respond with a daring smirk.

Seungmin lets out a low chuckle, his eyes flickering with something dangerous and alluring, like he knows exactly how this game is going to end.

As you stand there weighing your options, the tension between you and him becomes unbearable. You can feel the electricity crackling in the air, and despite everything, you find yourself taking a step back, opening the door wider without saying a word.

Seungmin’s triumphant smile tells you that he understands your silent invitation. Without wasting another second, he steps inside, the door closing softly behind him as the world outside fades away.

Before you can even catch your breath, he’s on you—his lips crash against yours with a force that makes you dizzy. The kiss is urgent, an explosion of passion and frustration that has been building between you and him for so long.

His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer as if the mere touch of your skin isn’t enough to satisfy the hunger between you.

All the walls you’ve built, all the reasons you shouldn’t be doing this, crumble in an instant. It doesn’t matter that he’s your enemy. Right now, all that matters is the way his lips brush against yours, the way his breath mingles with yours, the way your hearts seem to beat in sync.

In that moment, nothing else exists but the two of you.

Doing it on the bed is overrated to Seungmin, so he grabs you by the waist and swiftly hoists you up, setting you on the nearest table. Fortunately, it's sturdy and at the perfect height for whatever he's planning next.

He plants his hands on the table behind you and aligns his body with yours, fitting just right—hardness to softness, curves to hollows. Oh, he has so many ideas of what to do with you. On second thought, he's fine with paying the fine for property damage if it comes to that.

He leans in slowly, teasing your lips for a kiss, but just a millimeter away from contact, he moves to the side and whispers softly into your ear, "Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this moment?"

You look up at him, eyes wide and seductive, a grin peeking at the corner of your mouth. "I don’t want to know. I want you to show me."

Something flickers in his eyes—something that both scares and thrills you. He places a hand on your waist and glides it up your side, stopping at your ribcage.

"What is it about you..." His words trail off as he places a deep, slow kiss on your lips.

As he keeps your mouth busy, his hand palms your breast through your nightdress. When he pinches your hardening nipple, you gasp at the jolt of sensation.

To return the favor, you slide your fingers beneath his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his stomach. He's soft yet firm, and if it weren't for the warmth under your fingertips, you’d think he was carved from marble.

"I just can’t stop thinking about you and our kiss," he says, a mix of wonder and disbelief in his voice, before capturing your lips again in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth.

Seungmin’s thumb rubs your nipple just right, making your insides melt.

"Look at you, getting weak in the knees for me," he says with a triumphant grin.

He pulls his hand from the table and gives it a new task, sliding under your dress to grip your inner thigh, pulling your hips against his arousal, letting you feel the heat of his desire.

"And what we could have done after that kiss..." he continues, your lips meeting again in a breathless kiss.

Seungmin breaks the kiss to move his lips elsewhere—your neck, your chest. His hand roughly pulls down the front of your nightdress, sending your breasts spilling out. He wastes no time, his lips closing over your skin.

Your hand flies to his hair, tugging as he sucks hard on your breast. You watch as his tongue swirls around your nipple before he fills his mouth with your flesh.

"Seungmin..." you call breathlessly, unsure whether you want him to stop or keep going.

Hearing his name roll off your lips soothes something deep inside him, and he wants to hear it again and again. He pushes the hem of your nightdress up around your waist, and in return, you rip open the fly of his jeans, freeing his swollen member.

"Mmh..." you hum with delight, wrapping your hand around his length, hot and pulsing with desire.

Seungmin mirrors your action, palming your clothed core, his thumb tracing your engorged bundle of nerves. Soon, your underwear is damp with arousal.

"What is it about you, mmh?" he asks, eyes locked on yours.

He pulls your panties aside and runs his long fingers down your folds, drenching them in your essence. As his fingers drag down, he pushes them inside you, earning a broken moan from your lips.

"What is it about you that makes me want more..." He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, savoring the way your face contorts in pleasure. "And more, and more..."

As he continues, you fist the front of his shirt, pulling him close, your legs opening wider, bringing his cock even closer to where you want him.

He withdraws his fingers, replacing them with his cock. Your legs are raised slightly higher than the table’s surface, aching for more than just the feeling of his tip rubbing between your folds.

"Stop teasing me," you mutter.

His lopsided grin returns, and before you can react, he thrusts into you hard and fast, burying himself completely inside you.

Your breath hitches, and you moan his name, which he finds incredibly hot. He strokes his tongue over every inch of your mouth, claiming it as he angles his hips to hit your clit.

The tight grip of your body, your sweet mouth, your legs wrapped around him—perfection. He indulges in every part of you. His heart races, his need grows desperate, but he holds back, determined to wait for your high to come first.

When you finally shatter and convulse around him uncontrollably, he allows himself to thrust harder. He grasps your hips, your thighs, pressing your foreheads together so he can look into your beautiful, dazed eyes as he thrusts one last time, losing himself completely as he pours everything into you. As his breath saws in and out, he holds you tight, with no intention of letting go.

The theory is proven: sleeping with the enemy is hot.

It’s Seungmin’s third time staying over in your hotel room this week alone, and no, you're not complaining at all. You've already grown accustomed to him—Seungmin is part of your routine now, part of your life, and his absence leaves you feeling restless.

When you're not with him, you recall what he’s done to you: the way he kissed you, caressed you, all the things he's said. Your hand unconsciously flies down to your thigh, wishing he was touching you right now.

But don’t get it wrong—the non-bedroom side of Seungmin appeals to you just as much as the lover side, if not more. He makes you laugh, and he listens to you, even when what you talk about isn’t particularly interesting. He’s comfortable around you, and that makes you comfortable around him. You like how he fills the empty space in the bed, and you also like just lying with him in a comfortable silence that doesn’t beg for questions.

However, tonight is an exception.

As you lie on the bed with Seungmin, still recovering from the passionate lovemaking you shared earlier, you feel the weight of reality slowly creeping back in. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it feels heavy, as if there are things that need to be said.

You roll over slightly to face him and place your hand on his arm, fingers gently tracing the veins coiling down his inner arm. “I need to tell you something,” you murmur.

Seungmin turns his head to look at you, his gaze soft but curious. “What is it?”

You inhale deeply as you gather your thoughts, looking into his eyes as you begin with the one thing you're sure of.

“I really like you, Seungmin.”

“I know,” he says confidently, one corner of his mouth curling into a half-smirk.

You bring your hand up to cup his chin, gently scratching his jaw with your fingertips as you flash him a soft smile and continue speaking.

“What you don’t know is that my family isn’t speaking to me right now, and that’s something I’d like to change.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” he says earnestly, softly caressing your cheek.

“My family used to control me—I’m sure you know what that’s like. I rebelled, took off, and a year into it, I found out my younger sister was going through something, and I wasn’t there for her because I was trying to prove some... stupid point,” you explain with a dry chuckle.

His gaze remains steady as he listens to you without interrupting.

“I’m just trying to find my way back in, and I happened to bump into you along the way.”

“And I’m glad you did,” he says, catching your other hand in his and resting it on his chest.

You hold his chin, wanting all of his attention focused on you, because what you're about to say is the most important part of this conversation.

“Being seen with you would send the wrong message, and I really can’t risk making my family more upset right now.”

Seungmin’s eyes soften, and without the slightest hesitation, he nods in agreement. “I understand,” he says calmly.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty good at secret relationships,” he adds with a playful smirk. “And all the sneaking around... it’s kind of thrilling. I find it really hot.”

You let out a soft laugh, suddenly feeling at ease. “Of course you do.”

Seungmin pulls you closer, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face before placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“We’ll keep it a secret, but I want you to know that it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

As Seungmin presses a tender kiss to your forehead, you feel the warmth and reassurance sinking in. For now, the secret doesn’t feel like a burden—it feels like a shared world that belongs only to the two of you.

In under a month, Seungmin has learned a lot about you.

In bed, you respond best when he goes slowly, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. But if he wants something more intense—or anything, for that matter—you’re game and eager to please. He couldn’t ask for a better partner.

Out of bed, you live by routine. You get up at the same time every day, then shower away the evidence of morning sex (because Seungmin loves starting the day off right). Your breakfast usually consists of a cup of black coffee and French toast. You share a kiss before parting ways; you get picked up at the hotel entrance while Seungmin makes his exit through the hotel kitchen.

During the day, you help your father with his campaign at the headquarters, returning to your hotel room around 8 or 9 when you have dinner with your family.

As for your evenings, they belong to Seungmin. When you’re not fooling around like hormonal teenagers, you spend time having late-night snacks, talking about random things, or just cuddling in bed—things Seungmin has never experienced with anyone before.

Day by day, he wants more of you, not less.

Tonight, you both decide to watch something on pay-per-view. You rest your head on his shoulder while your eyes are fixed on the large screen mounted on the wall. From time to time, Seungmin kisses you, and it feels so good having you near, as if he were made to be your lover.

Occasionally, you react to certain scenes in the film, your bare legs shifting beneath the hem of your nightdress.

“Are you wearing underwear?” he jokes into your ear.

You part your legs, giving him the opportunity to find out for himself. It’s funny that he only realizes now—you’ve never turned him down; you’re just as starved for him as he is for you.

Seungmin pouts when his fingers meet silky fabric instead of your tender flesh, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing to touch you. You gasp as he massages your clothed clit, and your head lolls on his shoulder.

It doesn’t take long before you’re wet, your essence coating his fingertips as he traces your folds. His cock aches inside the confines of his jeans, as if it’s been weeks since he last had sex, not just hours. He wants you again—craves that closeness, that connection, that unbelievable, mind-blowing pleasure. No amount of you is ever enough for him.

Before long, you give in and pull him down for a hungry kiss, which leads to another, and another, and another...

The next thing he knows, the credits are rolling on the TV screen—the whole film played while the two of you were busy with other things. At the end of the night, you climb into bed and nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, wrapping your warmth around his body.

Seungmin brushes a stray hair from your face, his fingertips trailing over the smooth curve of your lips before placing a gentle kiss, tender and possessive.

“Goodnight,” he mutters when he breaks the kiss.

The next morning, he finds you wearing his shirt—the one from the very first night you spent together. He doesn’t know how to describe how he feels seeing you in his clothes, knowing you kept his shirt and have been wearing it; all he knows is it’s a good feeling.

Truthfully, he’s been feeling like this a lot lately—whenever you smile, ask for a kiss, or cross the room just to be near him. But also when the two of you aren’t together. He has spent the past few weeks in a euphoric high, grinning for no other reason than thinking of you.

There’s no doubt about it—Seungmin is stupid in love.

The fundraiser party is in full swing, the lights casting a warm, polished glow over the room as it's buzzing with conversations and the clinking of glasses. You stand beside your father, perfectly poised, playing the part of the dutiful daughter.

This night isn’t about you—it’s about him. Every charming smile, every polite nod you give is an extension of the image he wants to project: a perfect family, a perfect father. But you know the truth.

As you watch your father work the room, shaking hands and making connections, you know your role is to boost his image—not because he cares about you, but because you are part of his political strategy. Still, this is your chance to prove yourself, to show him you can be the daughter he wants, even if the real connection is long gone.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin and his brother-in-law approaching. Your heart skips a beat, but you hurriedly calm yourself down, knowing this isn’t the time for emotions—it’s the time for control.

Seungmin and his brother-in-law stop in front of you and your father. Seungmin’s gaze briefly meets yours for a second, and despite the public setting, the intensity of that look sends a small thrill through you.

“Good evening,” Seungmin’s brother-in-law says politely and formally. “We’re here representing our father tonight, and he sends his regards.”

Your father, ever the politician, gives a thin, practiced smile. “Ah, yes, it’s unfortunate he couldn’t attend himself. I suppose running a campaign must keep him quite busy.”

There’s a subtle edge to his words, a slight sneer that isn’t lost on you or anyone, but fortunately, Seungmin and his brother-in-law remain composed, not rising to the bait.

“Of course,” Seungmin replies calmly. “He’s doing everything he can for the campaign.”

Your father’s gaze shifts to Seungmin, sizing him up before his eyes narrow in curiosity. "Seungmin, isn’t it? I’ve heard good things about you. You’ve been quite the asset to your father’s campaign, haven’t you?”

“Oh, please. I’m just doing the best I can to help,” Seungmin humbly replies, perfectly nailing the model son role.

“It’s refreshing to see someone so dedicated to their family’s success. We could all learn from that, couldn’t we?” your father says, glancing at you, making it clear that his praise for Seungmin is a thinly veiled comparison.

You keep your composure, your smile unwavering, even as a knot of discomfort forms in your stomach. You entertain yourself with the thought that your father has no idea what is really going on—that the very man he is praising is the one you are secretly seeing. The joke is on him.

“Have you met my daughter?" your father asks, gesturing toward you as if you haven’t been standing there the whole time.

Seungmin turns to you, his expression steady, but his eyes flicker with something only you can recognize. He holds out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, keeping your smile polite. You have to continue acting as if nothing has ever happened between you and him.

Hours pass as you mingle with other guests, but the pressure of keeping up appearances starts to weigh on you. Toward the end of the party, when most of the guests are distracted, you slip away, catching Seungmin’s eye as you do. He follows discreetly, and soon you find yourselves in an isolated part of the building, the muffled sounds of the party still audible.

The moment he comes into sight, you let out a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to drop the mask you’ve worn all night.

"I missed you," he whispers as he steps closer. Before you can respond, he presses his lips to yours, the kiss filled with longing and the tension that has been building up since your last secret meeting.

"I missed you too," you murmur between kisses.

In the dimly lit, secluded hallway, you and Seungmin find a rare moment of peace. His hands cup your face, his lips moving urgently against yours, pouring all the longing and frustration of the past few days into every kiss.

It is reckless, but being with him feels too good to resist. In fact, it feels so good that you almost forget the dark shadow that has been hanging over your mind. Almost.

"My mom found out about us," you blurt out after breaking the kiss.

Seungmin freezes, his lips barely an inch from yours, his brows furrowing as he processes what you’ve just said. "Wait... what?"

“I guess we didn’t fool the doorman,” you say with a heavy sigh as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

For a moment, Seungmin just stands there, panic rising in his chest. If your mom knows, it won’t be long before both of your families find out, and he knows exactly what that would mean for both of you—and for his father’s campaign.

“So... you told her the truth?” he asks, focusing on the possibility that your mom might indirectly support this relationship.

“Obviously, I didn’t want to risk everything with my family for some fling that wasn’t going to last,” you reply meekly.

Seungmin blinks, then his lips curl into a teasing smile. "Oh, so it isn’t just some fling?”

“Seungmin, I’m serious!" you whine in frustration, giving him a playful slap on the chest.

"You can’t keep sneaking into the hotel anymore. It’s too risky, and if my father finds out...” You can’t even finish your sentence without feeling sick to your stomach.

Seungmin’s smile fades as he realizes the danger you are both in. It feels as if the walls are closing in on both sides, and it won’t be long before someone else notices the two of you together. His mind races, trying to think of a solution, somewhere you can be together without the prying eyes of your families.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something, a voice interrupts, and both of you stiffen.

“Seungmin?”

His brother-in-law is standing a few feet away, his eyes narrowing as he glances between the two of you, catching sight of Seungmin’s hand still holding yours.

None of you speak, and in that moment, it feels like the quiet before a storm about to break.

Seungmin’s brother-in-law has always been sharp, and tonight is no exception. As you and Seungmin slipped out of the party, thinking you were being discreet, he spotted the two of you. From the moment you met, he sensed something was already there. He observed further, noticing the sneaky glances, the looks that said more than words, and the way you interacted with each other. He must admit, both of you are poor actors.

When his brother-in-law corners the two of you in the hallway, Seungmin braces himself, expecting him to spill everything to his father immediately, knowing what he could gain from it.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Seungmin asks, suspicion creeping in. He knows his brother-in-law has always been loyal to the family, especially to his father, so this calm, nonchalant reaction doesn’t add up.

Instead, his brother-in-law glances between you both with a knowing smile and says, "You two are playing a dangerous game, but you know what? I won’t stand in your way."

That doesn't make Seungmin relax. If anything, the words make him more cautious. "And why’s that? Why are you suddenly on my side?”

“Seungmin, I already think of you like my own brother,” his brother-in-law replies simply, with enough sincerity to convince anyone who hears him. “I want you to be happy."

Seungmin remains quiet for a moment, still wary, but realizing he has little choice. Whatever his brother-in-law’s motives are, this is the only lifeline he has right now.

“So, what’s the plan?” Seungmin finally asks, keeping his voice steady.

“I have a boat. It’s docked not far from here. No one checks it, no one comes by." His brother-in-law reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a small set of keys, handing them to Seungmin. "You two can stay there, alone, as long as you need."

Seungmin’s gaze flicks from the keys to his brother-in-law’s face, still unsure if he can fully trust him. But this is the best option you both have right now. He decides to take a leap of faith and takes the keys from him.

"It's docked on the west side, slip twenty-three," his brother-in-law informs him. Before Seungmin can say anything else, he adds, “Oh, you may want to check the first aid kit on the boat.”

Seungmin’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “What for?”

His brother-in-law puts on a mischievous grin. “Let’s just say you’ll find some essentials in there."

Seungmin’s suspicion deepens, but he doesn’t question it further. Maybe his brother-in-law is being sincere, so Seungmin stops overthinking it. On a more important note, you both need a place to hide, and this is as good as it’s going to get. He glances over at you, and with a silent agreement, you both know you have to take this opportunity, no matter the risks.

“Thanks,” Seungmin mutters, cautious but grateful. “I appreciate it.”

His brother-in-law pats him on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod. “Just be careful,” he says.

With that, you and Seungmin slip away into the night, heading toward the boat where, for at least one night, you can finally be alone.

The boat is bigger than you thought it would be, bobbing gently in the moonlit water. As you step onto the deck, you feel a sense of freedom, as if, for once, the outside world can’t reach you. You settle into the small but comfortable space, the tension between you fading into something softer, more tender.

When it’s just the two of you, you can finally let your guard down and be your authentic self. You walk up to him and slip into his arms for a warm embrace.

"It's just you and me now," you say, resting your forehead against him.

"Just you and me," he repeats, gently tilting your head with his hand on your chin, and places the gentlest kiss, treating you like a fragile piece of art.

Seungmin leads you through the cabin, the scent of saltwater and wood lingering in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the sea breeze drifting in from the open hatch.

“This is nice,” you comment, running your fingers along the edge of a worn leather couch. “But do you think your brother-in-law keeps any food around? I’m starving.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and makes his way to the small kitchenette, opening the fridge with a creak. “Looks like frozen pizza is on the menu,” he says, pulling out the pack and showing it to you.

As Seungmin prepares the frozen pizza and tosses it into the microwave, you head to the bedroom to find something comfortable to wear. In the bathroom, you find a soft bathrobe neatly folded on the top shelf. Without a second thought, you change out of your dress and into the robe. As you tie the belt around your waist, you sigh in relief, feeling a great sense of comfort.

By the time you return, Seungmin is plating the pizza, the smell filling the small cabin. He has also found a bottle of champagne in the cabinet, the label a little worn and the drink lukewarm. Both of you eat in comfortable silence, exchanging small smiles between bites, enjoying this rare moment of normalcy.

When the food is all gone, you lean back in your seat with a contented sigh. The dinner is simple, yet it feels more special than any you’ve had before.

Being the neat person he is, Seungmin wastes no time cleaning up after dinner.

“You can clean up later,” you tell him, sipping your warm champagne.

“There’s not much to clean anyway,” he replies, taking the dirty plates back into the cabin.

Remembering what Seungmin’s brother-in-law said before you left, you decide to go on a little hunt for the first-aid kit he mentioned and see what’s inside. It doesn’t take long to find it tucked away in one of the cabinets in the control room. As you open it, you blink in surprise.

“Well, well…” you murmur, pulling out a small Ziploc bag among the usual bandages and ointments.

Seungmin raises an eyebrow when you bring it over and show him. He shakes his head, already deciding it’s a bad idea.

You shrug, holding the pack out to him with a playful smile. “Why not? Let’s live a little.”

“We shouldn’t even be touching his things,” he says, leaning back on the sun lounger.

“What are you talking about? We’ve just eaten his frozen pizza and drunk his champagne,” you remind him, settling onto his lap.

“I can buy those things back for him,” he replies, folding his hands behind his head.

“But he mentioned it, so that means he’s fine with it, right?”

He shakes his head, eyes closed, unwilling to hear more persuasion.

“Come on,” you urge, taking a rolled blunt out of the bag and rolling it between your fingers. “Just one. It’s a special night, isn’t it?”

He opens his eyes and finds himself unable to resist you when you smile so sweetly. He reaches for the blunt.

“Alright, fine," he gives in, "but just one.”

You light it and take a slow drag, letting the smoke curl lazily into the air before handing it over to him. His fingers brush against yours as he inhales, and you watch as his shoulders visibly relax.

The two of you take turns smoking, the night enveloping you in a peaceful cocoon. The quiet of the water, the gentle sway of the boat, and the faint glow of stars above make everything feel far away, as if the world and its complications couldn’t touch you here.

“I could get used to this,” you softly mutter, your voice barely louder than a whisper as you nuzzle into Seungmin’s side, sharing the sun lounger with him, the blunt hanging loosely between your fingers.

Seungmin exhales long and slow, his arm coming around your shoulders to pull you close. “Yeah, me too.”

The smoke, the sea, and the quiet lull you into a different kind of peace—an escape from everything, if only for tonight.

With one last drag, you finish the rest of the blunt yourself. You rest your head on Seungmin’s shoulder, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath. For once, you don’t feel like you’re running away from something.

“I wish it could always be like this,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I feel happiest when it’s just us, alone like this.”

Seungmin shifts slightly, his arm tightening around you as if he wants to hold onto this moment forever. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, and your heart flutters in response. He doesn’t say anything at first, just holds you closer, and you wonder if he feels the same way—that the world outside seems so distant when it’s just the two of you.

“I feel it too,” he finally says. “When it’s just us… it feels like everything makes sense. Like we’re the only two people in the world that matter.”

His words make your heart ache with a bittersweet warmth. In a moment like this, it’s easy to forget about the chaos waiting for you back home.

Here, it’s just you and him.

You stare at him, your faces merely inches apart. The moonlight casts a soft glow across his features, and God, he’s just so beautiful. His eyes meet yours, and the longer you look into them, the more you see the depth of his feelings. There’s something tender, something vulnerable—you’ve never seen him look at you like this before.

Seungmin swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he’s gathering courage. Then, in a soft yet steady voice, he says, “I love you.”

The words hang in the air, suspended between you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. He’s never said it before, and hearing those words now, spoken under the starry sky with the waves lapping gently against the boat, it feels… magical.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice more certain this time, his eyes steady on yours. “I don’t care about the rest of it—our families, the politics, all of it. I love you."

Tears well up in your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming joy of hearing him say those words. You feel the sincerity in them, the weight of what it means for him to admit it, to declare it, despite everything.

You reach for him, cupping his face in your hands. Using your thumb, you softly rub his cheek. “I love you too, Seungmin, and I think I’ve loved you for longer than I can admit," your voice breaking as you try to hold back your emotions.

Seungmin leans in, closing the small distance between you, and kisses you softly, slowly, as if savoring the moment. His lips are warm against yours, and in that kiss, you feel everything: his love, his promise, his fear, and his hope.

It's the wine, the blunt, the sense of freedom you're feeling at the moment, and the way you keep replaying the moment Seungmin said those three words in the back of your mind—all of those things make you high, so high that you believe you're on the way to cloud nine.

As you sit straddling him, looking down at him, you feel more attracted to him than ever. It's his beautiful face, his short dark hair that complements his features well, how the white shirt he's wearing accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, and the rolled sleeves exposing the evident veins on his arms. Oh, he's just so fucking hot.

You prop your hands on each side of his head and look into the two orbs of his eyes. He remains unfazed by the intensity of your stare, but he would be stupid not to see the want in your eyes.

Unable to help yourself anymore, you lean in and kiss him, and it feels so good when he kisses you back, responding to your desires. But the kiss is just one of many; you want more, you need more.

As your lips are locked in a rapturous kiss, you take his hand and put it around your neck; his touch feels hot against your skin. To allow him more access, you untie your bathrobe and let it fall, pooling around your waist, exposing your bare chest to him.

Seungmin slowly rises from his seat, wrapping his arms around you without breaking the kiss. You whine when he finally detaches his lips and moan when he places them on your neck next.

"Seungmin," you seductively mewl his name as he nibbles on your ear, your head spinning when he sucks on the sensitive skin.

Your heart is pounding in anticipation of what he's going to do next. You look down and find him gazing at you through his lashes as he drags his lips down your chest. His hands are also making their way to the front when, all of a sudden, he does the unexpected.

Seungmin pulls your bathrobe back on you, tying the belt around your waist with his hand. You look at him in slight shock and disbelief; it's a moment later that you're finally able to speak again.

"Why not?" you ask, blinking at him.

"Not here," he simply says, endearingly tucking your hair behind your ear and then kissing your cheek.

What he does would usually make your heart flutter, but you feel bitter from his indirect rejection of your want. "Yeah but why not?"

"Because it's indecent," he innocently answers.

You scoff because back in the hotel room, Seungmin wasn’t shy about doing indecent things—some of which are far more than just indecent.

"Why? We're on a boat, we're alone, we're under a starry sky... it's romantic," you point out why doing it here would make for a special occasion.

He takes your hands and looks at you. "Then let's get inside."

"No," you flatly refuse with a pout.

"Come on," he says, shaking your hands to get your attention. Unsuccessful, he leans in and kisses your jaw before bringing his mouth close to your ear.

"I know another way to make you see stars," he whispers in a low, sultry voice.

Ugh! You hate how easily he cracks through your defenses. You smile at him and nod, allowing him to lead the way to the cabin, through the small living room, and finally into the cramped bedroom.

He grabs you by the waist and steers you to the bed, laying you down gently. He doesn’t hesitate to come on top of you, hovering above you as he captures your lips in a hard, deep kiss that consumes you whole.

Your hands refuse to remain idle; you pop every button on his shirt without looking, and when you’re done, you part it open, impatiently placing your hands on his body, trailing the outline of his abs with your fingertips.

Seungmin lets go of the kiss to take a breather, helping you with the shirt, shaking it off his shoulders, and tossing it aside. But the task is not done there; you loop your finger around the belt loop on his slacks and pull him close.

The head of his belt clinks as you take it off and hastily tear open the zipper. Without wasting a second, you pull his slacks down until they pool around his ankles.

"Oh, la la," you exclaim delightedly, biting your lips at the sight of him standing gloriously naked before you.

"Are you going to do something about it?" he asks, his voice heavy with assertiveness, hinting that he demands you to.

"Uhm... not sure," you coyly say, slowly wrapping your hand around his length and stroking it as it gradually hardens in your palm.

You land a few licks under the tip and around the length, and when you’re ready, you take him into your mouth, compensating the rest with your hand. He feels hot, hard, and veiny, slipping in and out of your mouth while you maintain eye contact with him.

Seungmin grips your shoulder, his nails faintly digging into your flesh, but he’s aware that it might hurt you, so he tangles his fingers in your hair, tugging at it when pleasure overwhelms him.

"Stop!" he gently says, though his voice remains assertive.

You slowly pull away with a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. He runs his thumb over your lips, separating them before shoving it into your mouth, and you gladly suck on it.

There's a loud pop when Seungmin takes his thumb out, and with his hand on your chest, he pushes you onto the bed, sending you lying back down. He parts your legs and kneels on the floor, wanting to return the favor to you.

All the times he has pleased you with his mouth, he’s done a wonderful job, so you lay on your back and close your eyes, knowing you’re in for a treat.

The kisses he places on your inner thighs are electrifying; his lips are soft as they land on your clit, and his tongue feels hot as he licks a long stripe down your folds. He uses two fingers on each side to pull your folds apart, diving in and drowning himself in you.

"Oh..." you moan as his tongue teases your entrance.

Every kiss, every lick, every place his tongue explores, and every gentle pressure he applies to your clit—Seungmin calculates everything to give you the utmost pleasure. But tonight, he isn’t being generous; he stops just when it starts to feel so good.

You almost groan in frustration, but before it can escape your mouth, he catches your lips in a hungry kiss, making you forget your complaints, your ability to speak, and your whereabouts, but not your wants.

You part your legs wider to welcome him, seeking that closeness, wanting his delicious cock as close as possible to where you want him the most.

"If you don’t put it in, I think I’ll die," you dramatically mutter against his lips.

Seungmin lets out a chuckle and kisses you again. "I want that embroidered on a pillow."

The feeling of your needs finally met—oh, there’s nothing like it. When it comes to Seungmin, though, you’re not sure you’ll ever be satisfied; you keep wanting more.

More of those hard kisses on your lips, more of those hands kneading your breasts and gripping your legs, more of those moans slipping from his mouth into yours, more of his cock slipping in and out of you, more of those hard, shallow thrusts making your eyes roll back—more and more and more...

He isn’t lying when he says he knows another way to make you see stars. As you hit your high and your eyes screw shut, you see nothing but stars.

Seungmin comes not long after, collapsing on top of you. His lips immediately search for yours, kissing you with such haste when they find you.

When you finally pull apart, you both lay there in the silence of the night, wrapped in each other and the warmth of this tender moment. The world outside feels far away, and for now, this is enough—just the two of you, tangled in each other, both of your heads full of stars.

Things are going well. Your relationship with Seungmin remains a secret, and the results of the pre-vote are out, revealing that your father is leading the race by an 8% margin. Everyone is happy, all is well—but you have this nagging feeling in your chest that things won’t stay like this for long. You hope it's for the better, and God, you hope that's true.

To celebrate your father leading in the pre-vote, your family holds a brunch this afternoon. Being invited to this is a significant step toward winning your way back into the family. Your little sister has taken your hand under the table, squeezing it as a sign of solidarity. She hasn’t said it out loud, but you can feel that she’s happy to have you here, part of the family again, even if only for a moment.

However, as the minutes tick by and your father doesn’t appear, a gnawing feeling settles in your chest. You try to brush it off, focusing on how far you’ve come. After all, you’re here, included, proving that you can still be the daughter your family wants you to be.

Then your mother calls you and asks you to follow her to your father’s study. She makes you sit on the leather sofa in anticipation. Her expression is soft, but there’s something behind her eyes that makes your stomach churn, and you know something is wrong before she even speaks.

“When was the last time you saw him?” she asks, her voice quiet but direct.

Your mind flashes back to that night with Seungmin on the boat. You haven’t told anyone, and as far as you know, no one has seen you. But your mother’s gaze is sharp, and she’ll know if you lie.

“I… I went on a boat with Seungmin,” you admit meekly, your voice small and low. “But we were discreet. I swear, no one saw us.”

Your mother lets out a heavy sigh, her hand going to the nape of her neck as she massages it lightly. She doesn’t say anything but takes out her phone from her tweed jacket, tapping the screen a few times before handing it to you. Your eyes widen as you look at the screen, the shock hitting you like a punch to the gut.

There on the screen are photos—compromising photos. Some show you smoking; others are more intimate, even naked. You feel the blood drain from your face. These are pictures from that night on Seungmin’s brother-in-law’s boat, now plastered across the internet.

“Mom…” you stammer, trying to make sense of it. “There was no one there except us. This can’t be happening. It wasn’t Seungmin… it couldn’t be.”

“I’m afraid you weren’t as discreet as you thought,” your mother says, her expression composed but with a grave undertone. “Your father found out about the relationship. He’s furious, and this… this could ruin everything for him.”

You feel faint and hurriedly lean against the table to steady yourself. “No… no, it can’t be. Seungmin would never—”

The idea of Seungmin betraying you is unthinkable, but the pictures don’t lie. Someone had been there, someone had taken them, and now your life is spiraling out of control.

“I don’t believe it’s him,” you insist, shaking your head in denial. “Seungmin wouldn’t do this to me. He cares about me.”

“Think about what’s best for you,” your mother says, her voice rising slightly as she struggles to keep her composure. “Whether it’s Seungmin or his family behind this, we can’t take any more risks. You need to stay away from him, at least until I can figure out what’s really going on.”

Your heart aches, torn between your love for Seungmin and the loyalty you’re still trying to prove to your family.

“I’m sending you back to your hotel,” she says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “And you’re not to leave until I say it’s safe. Your father is already angry enough, and we can’t afford any more mistakes.”

Before you can protest, she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving you standing in the middle of the room. You want to believe in Seungmin, but now doubts plague your mind. A question gnaws at you: Is your love for Seungmin worth risking everything you have left?

The car ride back to the hotel is a blur of tears and shattered trust. Your chest feels heavy, the weight of betrayal pressing down on you, suffocating you.

The man you trusted, the one who held you close, is part of the very family responsible for leaking those photos. Whether Seungmin is directly involved or not doesn’t matter anymore—his family is, and that’s enough for you to push him away.

The car pulls up to the curb, and the doorman is there instantly, opening the door and offering his hand to help you out. You feel faint, your legs trembling from the emotions raging inside, but you force yourself to stand, to walk, and to keep your head up if you can.

Just as you step onto the pavement, a familiar hand grabs your arm. You stop in your tracks, your heart aching in your chest.

Seungmin. He’s there, his eyes wide with worry, as if he hadn’t expected to see you like this. And oh, the sight of him, the man you thought you could trust, brings everything crashing down.

Without thinking, you rush at him, your fists pounding against his chest in a fit of anger and betrayal.

“How could you?!” you scream through your tears, each punch that lands fueled by the pain inside. “How could you let them do this to me?!”

Seungmin doesn’t fight back. He just stands there, letting you hit him, his face filled with shock and pain as he tries to reach for you, to explain.

“It wasn’t me,” he tries to say, but the words are lost in the chaos of your emotions. “You know I’d never—”

“Stop lying!” you shout, cutting him off.

Your emotions hit their boiling point, the pain overwhelming you. “You expect me to believe you didn’t know? That this wasn’t some way to tear me apart?”

His eyes widen in disbelief, his hands reaching for you, but you slap them away. “I don’t know who’s doing this, but I would never let anyone hurt you like this. You have to believe me!”

“Believe you? After everything that’s happened? I’ve been humiliated, and you come here pretending like you had nothing to do with it?” Your voice rises with every word, and you’re too far gone, too hurt.

He tries again, stepping closer, but you shove him hard enough that he staggers backward. “I can’t even look at you right now. Get out! Get the fuck out of my face!” you scream, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Seeing you like this is painful for him, but not as painful as knowing he caused this. His hands tremble as he tries one last time to reach for you. “Please, don’t do this—let’s talk—”

Drawn by the commotion, hotel security steps in between you and him, blocking him from approaching you.

“Sir, you need to leave,” one of them says, placing a firm hand on Seungmin’s shoulder.

“Wait! Just let me talk to her!” He tries to push past them, but they hold him back, stronger.

It’s too late. You’ve already turned away, not even sparing him a last glance. He can’t bear the thought of being the cause of all this.

As the door of your hotel room clicks shut behind you, the silence fills the room, and everything comes crashing down again. This time, you don’t have anything left to fight with, so you let the pain and heartbreak consume you, sinking to the floor as tears flood your eyes.

It hits you now—you’ve pushed away the one person you thought you could trust, but everything feels broken beyond repair. It feels like you’re losing everything: your family, your trust, and the man you thought was different.

Leaning against the closed door that seals you off from the outside world, you wonder if there’s anything left to hold on to.

The more Seungmin thinks about it, the more certain he becomes that there is only one person who could have leaked the photos—someone who knew about the boat, someone involved. His brother-in-law.

He doesn’t waste any more time. He grabs his car keys and drives straight to his brother-in-law’s place. A storm rages in his chest, anger mixed with dread, his head full of accusations and possible answers.

When he arrives, he skips the courtesies and storms inside. He finds his brother-in-law leaning against the kitchen counter, looking surprised but not startled to see him.

“Seungmin? What’s going on?” he casually asks.

Seungmin doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of him, glaring into his eyes, refusing to be fooled again.

“You know damn well what’s going on. You’re the only one who knew about the boat, the only one who could’ve tipped off the paparazzi. Tell me the truth!" He slams his hand on the counter, causing a spoon resting on the edge of a bowl to clatter. "Did you leak those photos?”

His brother-in-law’s face tenses, the calm façade slipping, replaced by panic. “Look, Seungmin, before you go off—”

“Just answer me!” Seungmin urges, his voice cracking with anger. He can’t bear the thought that someone so close to him—someone he thought of as a brother—has betrayed him like this.

After an intense silence, his brother-in-law sighs and rubs his forehead. “Fine. Yes, I hired the paparazzi.”

Deep down, Seungmin knew this would be the answer, but it doesn’t stop the anger and betrayal surging through him. His hands ball into fists at his sides, his body shaking from holding back violence.

“You set us up? Why?”

His brother-in-law looks at him and licks his lips before answering, “It wasn’t just me, alright? I had permission—permission from your father.”

Seungmin could understand his brother-in-law’s motive: he wants to get on his father’s good side, to be acknowledged and approved. But his father? His own father, whom Seungmin respects and admires, someone he has helped campaign for because he believes in him?

“My father? He knew? He approved this?” Seungmin stammers, struggling to comprehend it.

“Your father’s been watching you, Seungmin. He knows about your little affair with her, and he’s not happy. So yeah, he gave the go-ahead. The idea was to expose her, make her the problem,” his brother-in-law explains, and as if he couldn’t say anything more stupid, he adds, “It’s nothing personal, just politics.”

Seungmin knocks everything off the table—plates, glass, spoon—all clattering to the floor. “You ruined her life for politics!" he shouts, hoping it’ll knock some sense into his brother-in-law’s crooked mind.

“You know how this works, Seungmin,” his brother-in-law says calmly, still leaning against the counter. “Your father is just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me? By destroying her? By ruining her reputation?” Seungmin’s jaw clenches as he fists his hands so hard his knuckles turn white.

“She’s not innocent in all of this, and you know you shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place,” his brother-in-law says, his gaze piercing.

It’s betrayal upon betrayal. Seungmin’s mind is still struggling to process the fact that his father orchestrated the entire thing, using his brother-in-law to tear them apart.

Without another word, Seungmin storms out, but his brother-in-law daringly runs his mouth once more, “You’ll thank me later, Seungmin. Trust me.”

But Seungmin isn’t listening. His mind is busy planning what to do next—how to fix this, how to make things right. His number one priority is not letting his family ruin your life any further.

Seungmin storms into his father’s office, despite his father clearly being in the middle of an interview. His father hurriedly signals his secretary to escort the interviewer out of the room, knowing Seungmin is barely containing his anger.

The man behind the desk doesn’t flinch, already knowing why his son is there. He’s always composed and in control, but today, Seungmin isn’t going to let him keep that control.

“You set me up,” Seungmin spits, his voice sharp with betrayal. His father looks up, surprised but not shaken. “You used your own son to destroy her, to ruin her life, just because of some political rivalry?”

His father leans back in his chair, calmly putting his hands together in front of him. “It’s not about you, Seungmin. It’s about our family’s legacy. You were distracted, involved with the wrong person. I had to make sure you stayed focused on what really matters.”

“What really matters?” Seungmin’s voice shakes with disbelief and anger. “What really matters is that you took someone I care about and humiliated her! For what? Your campaign?”

“That girl was trouble,” his father remarks coldly. “She’s from a family that stands against everything we’re trying to build. You should have known better.”

“I don’t care about the politics!” Seungmin shouts, stepping closer to his father’s desk, unafraid for the first time of going against his father’s principles. “I care about her, and you—you ruined her for your own gain.”

His father stands, towering over the desk and staring intensely into his eyes. “You think you can just walk away from this? From your family? We’ve sacrificed everything for you, Seungmin. You’re going to be a part of this, whether you like it or not.”

“No, I’m not. I’m done with all of this. I’ll never be a part of this family again,” Seungmin says, shaking his head, done being a pawn in his father’s political games.

His father’s eyes darken, and a cold smirk rises at the corner of his lips. “You think this is all about one girl?” he scoffs.

“You’re naïve, Seungmin. You haven’t been in this world long enough to understand how power works. Sacrifices have to be made. And if you walk away from this family, from me, there’s more where that came from.”

Seungmin’s chest tightens with disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”

His father leans forward, his voice low and dangerous. “You think those were the only photos? There’s more from her past. I have them, and if you walk away now—if you so much as think about turning your back on this family—I will release every last one. She won’t have a life left to salvage.”

His father pulls open a drawer and takes out a file, showing Seungmin the photos he’s been keeping as a weapon. “But if you stay—if you fall in line and keep your head down until the election is over—I’ll make sure they disappear.”

Seungmin is hit with another wave of betrayal. His father had planned this all along, dangling her reputation as leverage over him. He expected manipulation, but this? This was beyond anything he could have imagined.

“You’re willing to destroy everything just for power?”

His father doesn’t flinch. “It’s not about power, Seungmin. It’s about winning. And I have won.”

TEN DAYS LATER.

The election is over, and his father has indeed won, but to Seungmin, it means he has nothing left to lose.

The man in front of him has torn apart the one thing that means the most to him, and for what? A title? A seat in the governor’s office?

As everyone gathers around his father, congratulating him and celebrating his victory, Seungmin can't help but wonder: does his father feel the slightest bit of disgust for what he did to achieve this win? Seungmin certainly does. He can't look at his father the same way anymore and he refuses being related to him apart from sharing the same DNA.

Seungmin makes his way toward his father, and when he's close enough, he extends his hand. His father doesn't hesitate and grips it, shaking it with a triumphant smile plastered across his face.

"Are you happy now?" Seungmin asks calmly.

"Well, I've won," his father replies with a sickening smirk.

There’s not a hint of remorse on his face for what he did to his own son, which only convinces Seungmin further that he wants no part of this anymore.

"But you've lost your son," Seungmin boldly remarks, each word carrying a finality his father can’t ignore.

Without waiting for his father’s reply, Seungmin turns on his heel and walks away—from his father, his family, everything. He leaves the office behind, as if it’s already become a distant memory.

There's only one thing left to do now.

He drives straight to your father’s campaign headquarters because he doesn't know where else to start. Your family is the only one who knows where you are, and although he doubts any of them would tell him, he can’t—he mustn't—give up.

When he arrives, the place is busy with activity, but it offers a different kind of atmosphere compared to his father’s headquarters. He balls his hands into fists in determination and enters the building without hesitation.

"Apologies, sir, but the headquarters is strictly for staff only tonight," a security guard blocks him from stepping inside.

"I need to talk to someone in there," Seungmin says, hoping the guard will understand and let him through.

"Unless you’ve already made an appointment, we can't let you in, sir," the guard says firmly, crossing his arms and standing in front of the doorway.

Reluctantly, Seungmin steps back, trying to come up with a new plan. He considers waiting outside until one of your family members leaves. It’s a flawed idea, but it’s the best one he has.

Then, as if by divine intervention, your younger sister appears at the reception desk. Seungmin takes a step closer to the entrance, ignoring the guard, and does everything he can to catch her attention, even calling her by her full name.

She looks over her shoulder and, upon seeing him, her expression turns cold and defensive. She never trusted him, and Seungmin doesn’t blame her. Still, he’s desperate, and this might be his only chance to find you.

“I need to know where she is,” Seungmin says, his voice steady but pleading. “I need to see her before it’s too late.”

Your sister crosses her arms, scrutinizing him. "Why should I help you? After everything that’s happened, why should I trust you?"

His throat tightens, but he meets her gaze with unwavering sincerity. “Because I love her. I had no part in what my father did. I’d give up everything to be with her. I already have.”

There’s a long pause as your sister’s expression shifts, her defenses slowly lowering. Perhaps she sees the earnestness in his eyes, the depth of his regret, and his determination.

She turns to the receptionist, writes something down on a piece of paper, and hands it to him. “If you break her heart again, I swear to God...” she mutters, leaving the threat unfinished.

Seungmin’s heart leaps. He’s just met her, but she already feels more like family than his own ever has. “Thank you," he says, his voice full of gratitude.

“She’s leaving the country tomorrow, so you’d better hurry,” she adds, turning away before he can say anything more.

Every second becomes precious as his heart pounds with a new sense of urgency. This is it. He won’t lose you—not to his father, not to the mess his family has created. This time, nothing will stop him.

The country house is quiet, almost too quiet. The only sounds are the soft rustling of the trees outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath your feet. The room is stifling, but it’s your thoughts that press down on you the most. You fold another shirt and tuck it into your suitcase, packing for tomorrow, planning to leave nothing behind.

It was a mistake to come back here, and you know it now. This city was once a refuge; now, it feels like a prison, a place to hide. You’ve become a liability to your family, and your father made that painfully clear when he sent you here. You were told to stay quiet, remain hidden, and leave without a trace in the morning.

There’s no future for you here anyway.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you zip up the suitcase. You can’t take any more of this—feeling like a pawn in a game that was never yours to play. Leaving is the only choice left. It’s for the best, even if it means abandoning everything you’ve ever known. It’s not an easy decision, but you force yourself to push through it.

Then, suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, breaking the stillness of the night.

Your heart leaps, and for a moment, you freeze. You remember your father’s warnings: Never open the door. No one is to know you’re here. Stay hidden. You take a step back, away from the door.

Another knock comes, this time more urgent.

You remain still, holding your breath, praying that whoever it is will go away. But then you hear a voice—his voice.

“Please... it’s me, Seungmin.”

Your heart races at the sound of his voice, familiar and full of emotion. You badly want to rush to the door, to throw it open and fall into his arms, but the alarm bells in your head ring louder. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

“I know you’re in there,” Seungmin says, his voice breaking between words. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Please... just let me in.”

You clench your fists, torn between what you know is right and the ache in your chest. You stay quiet, pressing your back against the door, fighting the overwhelming urge to respond.

"I had to find you," Seungmin continues, his voice softer now, almost desperate. “I couldn’t let you leave without seeing you. I can’t lose you—not after everything we’ve been through.”

Tears well in your eyes as you lean your forehead against the door, trying to keep your emotions in check. You *shouldn’t* let him in. This is a mistake—all of it—but hearing him on the other side, so close yet out of reach, is tearing you apart.

“I just want to be with you," Seungmin whispers. "I love you.”

The words break something inside you, and before you realize what you’re doing, your hand is on the doorknob. Torn between fear and love, you know you shouldn’t open the door, but your heart is aching for him. No matter how hard you try, you can’t ignore the pull you feel toward him.

“Please, don’t shut me out," he mutters, his voice thick with hopelessness.

Your walls crumble almost immediately and with shaking hands, you unlock the door and pull it open, revealing Seungmin standing there, his face full of worry and relief. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours. Without a word, he steps forward and takes you into his arms.

He holds you tightly, his warmth familiar and comforting. He feels like home. Finally, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Seungmin buries his face in your hair, whispering, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his. In that moment, without thinking, you lean in and press your lips to his—a kiss full of longing and everything you’ve been holding back for so long.

In the quiet of that night, with the stars shining through the open window and the future uncertain, you know that, despite everything, being with him is the only thing that makes sense.

The soft glow of moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a delicate sheen across the room. Your naked bodies are entwined beneath the sheets, the warmth of the moment lingering between you.

Seungmin hovers above you, his chest rising and falling as he gently caresses your face, his fingertips tracing the outline of your cheek like you are something sacred. His gaze is intense but tender, as if memorizing every part of you, still unable to believe you are really here in his arms.

His touch is soft, but the weight of the emotions between you is palpable. You can feel it in the way his fingers brush over your skin. He hasn’t said much, but his eyes tell everything—relief, love, fear of what could have been if he had lost you for good.

“I almost lost you,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring the feeling of being so close, so connected. “I don’t ever want to feel that again.”

You gaze up at him, your heart aching with affection. Here, in this moment, it is just you and him, and nothing else matters.

Seungmin lowers his head to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then your lips, as if sealing some unspoken promise between the two of you.

“Let’s go somewhere,” his lips brush against yours with every word. “Let's start over, somewhere far away from all of this.”

The invitation comes so suddenly that you don’t know how to react. You blink up at him, feeling a mix of emotions—hope, love, but also fear. You love him deeply, more than you thought was possible, but you don’t want him to lose everything for you the way you have for him.

“Seungmin…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as your hand comes up to cup his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose your family, not like I did.”

“I’m sure,” he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “This, us, it’s what I want. I want to leave all of this behind and just be with you.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as you stare into his eyes, seeing the truth in his words, the earnestness of his intentions. While it makes you indescribably happy, it also breaks your heart a little. He is giving up everything—his family, his place in their world—just to be with you. You love him more for it, but it's also a heavy burden to bear.

“You really mean that?” you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.

Seungmin nods, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “Yes. This is what I want.”

It feels like the world has finally shifted, like things are starting to fall into place. Even though the future is still uncertain, you believe in him, in the two of you together, and that's enough.

“I love you,” you whisper, pulling him down into a soft, lingering kiss. “As long as we’re together, everything’s going to be okay.”

He kisses you back, holding you tightly against him, and in that moment, everything becomes clear. This is not just a mere coincidence. This is fate. You and Seungmin, together, is fate.

The hum of the plane's engines is comforting, familiar, as you both settle into your seats, side by side.

The memory of that first flight together—the stolen glances, the whispered conversations—comes rushing back, but this time it feels different. This is a new beginning, a chance to start over.

Seungmin glances over at you, a playful glint filling his warm brown eyes. He shifts in his seat, turning toward you just like he had the first time.

"Hi, I’m Seungmin,” he softly says, offering his hand in mock formality, his smile full of warmth. “Traveling alone?”

You can’t help but smile back, slipping your hand into his. “Nice to meet you. And I’m traveling with someone very special, actually.”

You both chuckle, the familiarity of the moment easing the tension of everything that came before. It's like stepping into a memory but with the promise of something better ahead.

Seungmin’s eyes soften as he looks at you, and he leans in closer, his voice lowering.

“Business or pleasure?” you ask playfully, replaying the conversation that had sparked your connection all those months ago.

“Neither,” he answers, his voice gentle but certain. “I’m traveling for a happy ending.”

His words send a flutter through your chest, and you feel the warmth spread all the way to your fingertips. You look at him, your heart overflowing with emotion, knowing that this isn’t just a flight—it is a leap into the unknown, into something new and full of possibility.

You squeeze his hand, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin against yours. “A happy ending,” you repeat with a smile.

As the plane begins to taxi down the runway, he intertwines his fingers with yours, holding on tightly, unwilling to let go. You both stare out the window, watching the world fall away beneath you, your hearts beating in sync.

And as the plane lifts off, climbing higher into the sky, you know that whatever the future holds, as long as you are together, everything will be okay.

The past is behind you now, and in this moment, with Seungmin by your side, the world feels wide open, full of hope and promise. Into a happy ending, you go.

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chaptersleftunwritten · 4 months ago

Text

Led by candlelight

Blurb: You and Eddie are close- closer than what most people call ‘friends’ and there’s no hiding the affection for you have for one another… despite what your peers say about you.

Pairing: Best friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Book a dental appointment because your teeth are about to rot from how sweet this shit is.

divider by @cafekitsune

You and Eddie grew up together, your parents regularly said hello to one another and engaged in riveting conversation from time to time and you would always seek Eddie out on the playground. Even back then you two were inseparable. You would always long to hold his hand, just because you could and he would let you. He would always let you.

High school hasn’t been kind to Eddie, the long hair adoring his handsome face wasn’t for everyone’s taste. No one cared that tattoos are only a form of self expression and that they don’t automatically make you a ‘devil worshipper’. Jean jackets were considered ‘poor taste’ and overall your peers treated him like trash- he was the freak of Hawkin’s High… and it shattered your heart to see him commit to the role, because you knew him. You knew how hard he had it, his home life and everything in between and you saw right through his act. You saw his pain.

Eddie never let the tormenting affect his mood when he was around you. You were his sweetheart and he would be willing to bow down to death himself if it meant he could see a smile grace your face. He opens doors for you, he’ll pry your dented locker open for you whenever you need your books for your next class, he’ll walk you home- right to your front door! And he won’t leave until you get inside safely. Sometimes, he’ll even surprise you with underground concert tickets, even when he can’t afford them, just because he knows how much you love music and how you are always longing for a little bit of trouble and rebellion. He looks after you when you guys watch horror movies together, holding your hand and passing you pillows to use to block your vision from the screen when things get a little too frightening- And yeah, he laughs at you and he teases you about it but he treats you with such kindness that it makes your heart swell to even think of it. Kindness that he deserves to feel, too.

So, tonight, you decide that you want to show him how thankful you are for him. For everything that he is, and that he represents and everything that he does for you. You have Robin and Steve arrange a get together with Eddie, but in reality it’ll be you there instead at the location- ready to surprise him. Eddie thinks that they are going to explore a creepy abandoned house just out of Hawkins but when he gets there he’ll be met with a home cooked meal, lit by candlelight. In the past months, and in your years of knowing one another, you’ve come to notice that Eddie doesn’t cook. Not for himself, not at all, really and you can’t help the tears that prick your eyes when you think of your best friend, who you love so much, living and eating from cold tinned food every night. He deserves more. He deserves the world and you wish you could give it to him.

You are serving him ‘the world’ in the form of some red wine that you stole from your dad and some spaghetti bolognese. You chose spaghetti for 1 of 2 reasons. Number 1 being that everyone loves spaghetti, and number 2 being that it’s a pretty hard dish to fuck up- so it was the safest option. Plus, you paired it with garlic bread which you know Eddie is an absolute sucker for. He loves it when you bake some for your regular movie nights together so it would be borderline criminal to not supply some.

The clock is ticking and you are starting to get nervous. Darkness has clouded the sky as it succumbs to the night and you’re beginning to wish you brought more than three candles. Nonetheless, they do provide a gorgeous warm glow within the house which you still can’t wrap your head around why no one is living here. It is quite remarkable on the inside.

You take a few deep breaths, your mind clearing as you wait to see Eddie’s vans headlights glare through the foggy windows, which they do, sooner than you had expected and now you are contemplating on bolting out of the back door and sprinting away. You pace back and forth, the worn out floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you fight to regain composure. This is just Eddie, your Eddie- the Eddie you adore. He won’t hurt your feelings.. he won’t laugh in your face. It’s Eddie…

The front door whines on its hinges as Eddie enters inside, causing you to stop in your tracks like a deer in headlights. Dried rose petals decorate the floor leading to the small table you had acquired especially for this occasion and Eddie’s jaw hangs loose at the sight, his voice clearly having abandoned him.

“S.. surprise!!” It’s hard for you to smile with how nervous you are, your face keeps on twitching and Eddie can sense your discomfort, however, he can gauge that this is a different type of discomfort. You’re really anxious, “I cooked.. for us! It’s nothing fancy but I thought hey! Maybe Eddie will really like this and.. and so I just threw this together because well.. because uh.. I..” in your panic you hadn’t even noticed Eddie secure the front door and walk towards you, but he had, and now he is standing with his arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against his chest.

You sigh softly, the smell of his cologne immediately acts as a relaxant and you feel like you can finally breathe in his embrace, “I want you to know how much I care about you.” You admit, your soft voice muffled by your busy buried in his t-shirt. Eddie holds you there for a moment, stroking your hair before he pulls away to see your face, his eyes searching yours.

“I already know, Sweetheart.” His ring clad thumb swipes across your cheek, “I have always known. You’re my person, remember? And I’m your Eddie. Always.” Your eyes flutter closed as you lean more into his touch, nodding meekly in agreement with him. Your heart has calmed in your chest and you suddenly get a whiff of the hot food waiting for you both on the table.

“You brought garlic bread, right?” Eddie quips, a grin forming on his face, “Cause’ if not then I’ll have to draw the line in this friendship.” You nudge his shoulder lightly, giggling at his remark as you pull a tinfoiled plate from your picnic basket.

“Do I look like a sadist to you? I would never see my Eddie go without his beloved garlic bread. Never!” Your hand finds your chest as you mime defensiveness and Eddie’s head falls back as he laughs, taking a seat at the tiny table across from you.

“Y’know, if I had know that you would be here waiting on me.. I would have dressed up a bit more.” He plucks at the Hellfire t-shirt that he is wearing and you look at him, doe eyed and oblivious.

“But you look great.” Your smile is so sincere and warm that it makes Eddie’s knees weak and he has never been more happy to be sitting down than he is right now. He wish you knew the affects you had on him.

“And you look stunning, Dove.” He glances at your outfit, “As always.” He quips with his classic Eddie charm and you begin to peel the tinfoil from the plate in your hands, trying to hide the growing heat on your face.

“Stop it.” You don’t mean it- you never do. You place the plate on the table, perfectly situated between the both of you and you hope that the garlic bread is enough to distract him from your love-sick grin, but it isn’t, “The food might be a little cold, I do apologise.”

“This is fine dining compared to what I usually have,” He twirls his plastic fork in the dish, “You don’t have to worry about me all the time.” He takes a gracious fork full of the spaghetti, a string of pasta slapping his face on the way in which causes your mouth to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“Holy shit-“

“What? What is it?” Your smile fades.

“This is fucking delicious!” Eddie rolls off of his chair, parading around the room before he suddenly comes to cup your face in his hands, “You are a miracle worker!” His lips press against your forehead and a confusion stricken look possesses your face as Eddie bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

“What? What did you-“ Your fingertips swipe at your forehead and when you glance at them you see the red sauce staining your skin, “Eddie!” You pout at your best friend who is laying on the floor, his arm shielding his face as he chuckles relentlessly. You can’t take it, you have to retaliate and the only thing nearby? A piece of the garlic bread. You launch the delicacy at him and an eerie silence fills the room as the bread thuds onto the floor, but you don’t get scared, you get excited. You get so pumped with butterflies that you are already on your feet and ready to run away from him if need be.

“Was that- the garlic bread?!” Eddie bounces up to his feet, his eyes wide with shock as he looks at you, “Ohhh, ohhh- Now you’ve done it. Wrong move, princess.” He glances at the spaghetti and your heart drops. Your fight or flight kicks in and you are running away from him before he has the chance to cover you in spaghetti and meat sauce. You are in a fit of giggles as you fight to climb the raggedy old staircase, your feet nearly betraying you as you reach the top. Looking down to see Eddie closing in behind you laughing as he does.

“I’m sorry, Ed’s! I’m sorry!” You’re squealing as he corners you in one of the empty rooms, your hands outstretched in front of you to try and keep him at arms length.

“You insult the bread… you insult me.” He shakes his head, his curly brown hair bouncing as he does, “How could you do this?” His eyebrows scrunch and his lips downturn into a frown as he attempts to trick you into feeling bad, “I thought we were friends-“ He sniffles before he makes a sudden movement toward you, ready to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, however…

“Wait! Wait!-“ you scream, stopping him in his tracks. He quirks an eyebrow and his hands land on his hips ,”I brought dessert.”

He takes a step away from you, “I’m listening.”

You’re choking on your own laughter as you try to think of an escape plan, however in moments like these, when you are faced with Eddie Munson- you just have to go with the flow, “It’s called, ‘eat my dust’.”

You sprint past him and you hear him groan behind you as you leave him standing in the room but it doesn’t take long to hear his footsteps thumping toward you. Eddie is faster than you, but you got a head-start.

This time, when Eddie catches up to you, he avoids negotiation all together. Grasping your waist he flips you up and over his shoulder, carrying you back to the main room where your dinner has definitely gotten cold. You thrash in his arms, swaying back and forth with every step that he takes and eventually you give in. You accept the fate of the sauce.

Eddie plonks you down on your seat and you squeeze eyes shut, bracing for impact… but the impact never comes. You reopen your eyes to see Eddie looking at you, his brown eyes are rounded and they reflect the love you carry for him. He is kneeling on both of his knees in front of you, his hands in his lap.

“I wanna tell you something…” He trails off and your heart sinks to your stomach, this sounds serious, “Gorgeous.. I have loved you since we were 9 years old. Hell! I probably loved you before then, too. And.. and you don’t got to say anything but you should know. You deserve to know that I, Eddie Munson, am in love you with. Hopelessly in love with you. I’d do anything for you- but I just couldn’t keep this from you. Not anymore…”

Silence wrapped around you like a thick blanket, caging any words deep within your chest- but you were going to tell him, even if it choked you to death, even if it fucking killed you- you weren’t going to let him walk away.

“I love you.” Your voice is a wheeze as you fight to let the words free, “God, I have loved you for so long, Ed’s.” Tears glisten in your eyes at the intense wave of emotion that consumes your entire body, “You are the only person I ever want to be around. The only person who knows me- truly knows me and.. and I want this. I want us. Forever.” Your vision is blurred but you smile at him, hoping that he is smiling too, and once the tears fall from your eyes you realise that he is. He is beaming.

“Us? Forever?” He edges closer to you, coming to rest between your legs, “I’ve never wanted anything more, baby.” And just like that, the kiss you have dreamt about, wrote about, fantasised about- is happening. It’s happening and you could float with total happiness.

You and Eddie. Forever.

It has a nice ring to it…

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas (lmk if you want added!)

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solxamber · 21 days ago

Text

Summer Nights with: Housewardens + Jamil

Riddle Rosehearts: Sunset Picnic

The beach is glowing in the soft, honeyed light of the setting sun as you and Riddle set up your little picnic. The spread he prepared is impressive—tiny sandwiches cut to geometrically perfect triangles, fresh fruit neatly sliced, and, of course, a beautiful tea set because Riddle wouldn’t dare let you drink from anything less.

He’s organized every detail down to the napkins, each one folded with the kind of precision only Riddle could manage on a sandy beach.

“Everything looks amazing, Riddle,” you say, grinning as he finishes laying out the plates. You reach for one of the sandwiches, hesitating, and he gives you a small nod of approval, that familiar little quirk of his lips barely there but unmistakably proud. It’s a face he probably doesn’t realize he’s making, and it fills you with a warm, giddy feeling.

“I wanted to ensure everything was perfect,” he says, a little stiff but earnest. “Picnics require planning and, naturally, precise arrangements.” He starts to explain why certain foods pair better with the salty sea air, but you can’t stop watching the light catch in his red hair, the way it glows warm and bright as the sun dips lower. You try not to laugh too loudly when he catches you staring, stumbling over his words as his face flushes a deeper red than you thought possible.

It’s when you’re halfway through a pastry that a gull decides to make a surprise swoop in for an attempt at dessert. Riddle bats it away with the napkin he’d just set perfectly, muttering something about “unacceptable behavior from public wildlife” before composing himself and offering you his arm for a stroll along the beach. It’s such a typical Riddle response that you have to bite back a laugh, feeling a strange, happy ache in your chest.

You link arms with him, and the two of you start walking along the shoreline as the sun continues to melt into the horizon. He’s close, close enough that his shoulder bumps yours with each step, and you feel the warmth radiate from him even as a cool evening breeze begins to settle in. Riddle is quiet for a few moments, looking out toward the waves, his face soft and thoughtful.

“This evening is…” he begins, and you can tell he’s searching for the right words. “It’s quite…pleasant, isn’t it?”

You smile at his careful choice of words, a classic understatement. “Riddle, you’ve outdone yourself. It’s perfect,” you say, squeezing his arm.

He relaxes a bit, giving you that tiny, almost shy smile he only shares when you’re alone like this. “I’m…glad you’re enjoying yourself. It isn’t often that I get to do something so…free,” he admits, glancing away as his ears pinken.

You walk on in comfortable silence, letting your feet sink into the cool sand. The only sounds are the gentle crash of waves and the soft squish of your steps. And then, impulsively, you let go of his arm, running forward to splash through the shallow waves. He stares, caught off guard, before breaking into a smile that’s full and bright, his laugh surprising and infectious as he watches you dodge the incoming surf.

“Come on, Riddle!” you call, extending a hand toward him. “No rules, remember?”

He hesitates only a second before slipping off his shoes and stepping in, a bit awkward but determined as he lets you pull him along. He doesn’t protest as the water laps around his ankles, nor does he scold you when you pull him right into a particularly big wave. His only response is a rare, playful smile as he lifts an arm to shield himself from the splash, then softly grips your hand, steadying you both as you stumble from laughing.

The stars begin to dot the sky, and the last traces of sunlight fade to a gentle indigo. Riddle’s voice is soft when he speaks next. “I never would have done something like this,” he admits, his eyes on the distant waves. “Not until you… You’ve changed my life in more ways than I thought possible.”

Your heart flutters, and the sincerity in his gaze makes it impossible to joke, even though your instinct is to lighten the moment. “You mean everything to me, Riddle. Really.”

His hand tightens in yours, his expression shifting to something so tender it makes your breath catch. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper. “I never thought I’d feel so…so at ease. Especially not here with—well, anyone.” He clears his throat, looking away briefly before meeting your gaze again, his eyes soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heart race.

You stand there in silence, lost in each other’s eyes, the cool waves washing over your feet. Eventually, Riddle leans forward, brushing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead. It’s delicate, hesitant, as if he’s savoring each second.

When he pulls back, he lets out a tiny breath, then nods, his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “Shall we continue?” he asks, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle, almost bashful smile.

You nod, linking arms once more as you walk back, each step filled with an unspoken promise, the kind of love that feels more boundless than the sea itself.

Leona: Stargazing

The night’s air was soft and warm, perfect for lying under the stars. Leona and you had managed to find a quiet spot, away from the crowds and even farther from prying eyes, just outside the city’s lights. Blankets spread across the grass, you leaned back, letting the cool, green scent of the earth mix with the distant murmur of the breeze.

Leona, as usual, looked like he belonged in this setting. Reclining with his arm lazily behind his head, green eyes half-lidded as he looked up at the stars, he didn’t seem even remotely distracted. Which was rare. You couldn’t help but grin at how relaxed he was, how right he looked there next to you, his expression unusually soft.

“Didn’t think stargazing was your thing,” you said, letting your hand find his.

A low chuckle rumbled from him, almost like he was barely holding it back. “You’re right. It’s not. Only reason I’m here is ‘cause you are.”

His words should’ve sounded casual, but there was something in his tone that made you want to melt. With Leona, compliments were rare but always real, always hitting a little deeper than you expected.

You turned your face to the stars for a moment, letting his words settle like an extra layer of warmth. The sky was thick with them tonight, a kind of quiet show for the two of you. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious, though? You know, about what’s out there?”

“Not really. Stars are just lights, herbivore. I don’t see the big deal,” he replied, then, after a pause, added with a smirk, “But… I’m more interested in what’s right here.”

Of course. Right on cue. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?” you teased, poking him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Watch it,” he muttered, his fingers lacing with yours and holding you in place. His grip was firm but warm, and there was something so steady, so grounding about the way he held your hand, his fingers curling protectively around yours.

You leaned into his side, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest, the steadiness of his presence right next to you. For a guy who claimed he didn’t care much about stargazing, he was certainly taking his time.

The night deepened, and you felt yourself slipping into a comfortable haze. The silence was sweet, each passing minute less about the stars and more about just being near each other. And then, you caught him looking at you, his usual smirk replaced by a softer gaze. His expression was one you rarely saw, one that felt completely genuine, like he didn’t even realize you’d caught him.

“What are you staring at?” you whispered, a little more breathlessly than you intended.

His smirk returned, but his tone was quieter, less playful, as he murmured, “Nothing that isn’t mine already.”

It was impossible not to smile, to feel the warmth blooming across your face. But before you could come up with a reply, he’d tugged you down into his arms, wrapping himself around you in a way that left absolutely no space between the two of you. The stars felt almost irrelevant now, each one fading in comparison to the feeling of him beside you.

And as the night stretched on, you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, surrounded by stars and held by a silence that felt like home.

Azul Ashengrotto: Moonlit Dance

The beach is bathed in moonlight, and you’re wrapped in a soft, intimate silence with Azul, the night stretching around you like it’s been painted just for this moment. The waves lap gently against the shore, the cool sea breeze tugging at your clothes, and in the quiet, Azul extends his hand, his gaze soft and almost shy.

“Would you… dance with me?” he asks, his voice as soft as the night.

You slide your hand into his, feeling his fingers tighten slightly as he leads you into a slow, graceful rhythm under the stars. There’s a tenderness in his every movement, a carefulness, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he doesn’t hold you close enough. He glances down, just barely meeting your eyes, and the slightest blush colors his cheeks, bringing a sweet warmth to his normally composed features.

As the two of you sway, he lets out a quiet laugh, his gaze turning to the horizon. "I must admit, dancing here... under the stars... feels like something out of a dream."

"Then let’s make it one we won’t wake up from," you whisper, leaning in just a bit closer.

For a while, you dance in silence, and then—seemingly gathering his courage—Azul spins you and, with a soft breath, dips you low, his eyes wide as he holds you steady. His face is so close to yours, every detail softened by the moonlight, and he swallows, clearly flustered yet smiling. You can’t help but laugh, and he joins you, his voice a low, warm hum that fills the air between you.

Before you know it, you’re pulling him into a dip of his own, and he lets out a surprised, quiet laugh, gripping your arms as you bring him back up. You’re both laughing softly now, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek as his smile softens.

Without another word, he leans in, closing the distance between you with a kiss, gentle and warm, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, quiet promise. It’s a kiss that says everything he sometimes struggles to put into words, a sweetness that speaks of his care, his love, his wonder at being here with you.

When you part, his gaze remains locked on yours, his thumb brushing softly over your hand. "I never thought… I would ever share a moment like this with someone,” he murmurs, his voice so sincere it makes your heart ache a little.

You smile, bringing your forehead to his, feeling the warmth of his breath, the softness of his hands holding you close. "Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me for a few more dances."

His lips curve in a gentle, almost shy smile, but his eyes are shining as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sway under the stars, feeling like you’re the only two people in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim: Nighttime Drive-In

Kalim’s eyes are practically sparkling as he takes in the sight of the massive outdoor screen and rows of cars, all parked under the blanket of night. “This is amazing!” he exclaims, his voice brimming with excitement as he hops out of the car. “A whole movie in a car? And we don’t even have to wear tuxedos or sit in a velvet chair?”

You laugh, grabbing his hand as he leans back into the car with a bright smile. “Not exactly the red carpet, huh?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear. “Way better. It’s like our own secret world here!” He gestures to the backseat, which, thanks to him, is overflowing with an assortment of treats—popcorn, candy, nachos, sodas, even a small box of cupcakes. "I didn't know what snacks people usually get, so I just brought everything!"

“Of course you did,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand. “You know, they usually sell snacks here.”

“Oh!” His face lights up. “Then we should buy some more! I can hand them out to people—it’ll be fun!” And with that, he’s already leaning out the window, cheerfully offering snacks to anyone in earshot. A few nearby people laugh, some take him up on the offer, and soon, Kalim’s practically holding court from the car, as if the drive-in is the most thrilling event of the year.

Eventually, though, the movie starts, and Kalim settles in beside you, practically bouncing in his seat as he tries to watch the screen and point out funny moments. Every few minutes, he turns to you with wide eyes, laughing softly. “Did you see that?” he whispers, as if you weren’t sitting right there. “This is great, we need to come to these all the time!”

“You know you’re supposed to actually watch the movie, right?” you tease, bumping his shoulder.

Kalim chuckles, nudging you back. “But I don’t want to miss a second of seeing this with you. Besides,” he says with a mischievous smile, “I think this part’s way more exciting.” He takes your hand, drawing you a little closer as he intertwines your fingers. The movie fades into the background as he leans over, his laughter softening into a gentle smile that makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst.

As the night settles, the energy around you shifts, and the once-lively atmosphere turns tender and quiet. Kalim drapes a blanket over your shoulders, pulling you close so your head rests against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you protectively.

“This is kind of perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a subtle blush lighting up his cheeks as he gazes down at you with warm, adoring eyes. “Thanks for bringing me here. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun just… being.”

You smile, lifting your head to catch his lips in a soft kiss, one that lingers longer than either of you expected. When you pull back, he’s grinning, a little dazed but more than happy. “Can we do this every night?” he whispers, fingers tracing little patterns on your arm.

“Maybe not every night,” you laugh, resting your hand against his cheek, “but definitely any time you want.”

He beams, pressing his forehead against yours. “Deal. Now, let’s make sure we finish every last snack we brought,” he says, grinning as he pops a piece of popcorn in your mouth before stealing a kiss—sweeter than any of the candy piled up around you.

Jamil Viper: Midnight Swim

The night air is cool, and the water looks almost magical under the moonlight, its surface shimmering with soft ripples. You’re already up to your waist, playfully splashing around, but Jamil is still standing at the edge, arms crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that half-smile you know too well. “You know, it’s not really my thing to… jump into random bodies of water at night.”

“Come on,” you laugh, waving him over. “It’s just us, the moon, and the water. Think of it as a mini adventure—no schedules, no duties.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes a little, but you can see the fondness in them. “Fine, but only because you’re stubborn.” He wades in slowly, the water barely making a ripple as he slips in beside you, his usually precise movements softened in the calm, quiet setting.

You drift closer, feeling the water carry you both into an easy rhythm. The night is silent, save for the gentle lapping of the water, and for once, Jamil looks entirely relaxed. No carefully crafted expression, no alert gaze scanning for potential chaos—just Jamil, as he is, quietly peaceful in the moonlight.

After a moment, he lets out a soft sigh, almost as if he’s finally allowing himself to enjoy it. “You know, I have to admit… I can see the appeal,” he murmurs, glancing over at you with a rare, unguarded smile. “Feels like everything just… stops.”

The two of you float side by side, comfortable in the quiet, and bit by bit, he starts talking. About little moments from his day, funny memories he normally wouldn’t share, dreams he usually keeps close to his chest. It’s as if the night, the water, and your presence have created a place where he feels safe enough to let go.

When you reach out to brush a wet strand of hair from his face, he doesn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he leans into your touch, his gaze softening as he catches your hand, holding it against his cheek.

“Thank you,” he says softly, a hint of emotion in his voice. “For convincing me to try something new.” His fingers trace a light pattern along your wrist, and there’s something almost reverent in his expression as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a warmth that makes you feel like you’re floating.

As you part, he chuckles, sounding almost shy. “I’ll admit… it was worth getting a little out of my comfort zone.”

You grin, leaning into his side as the two of you drift together, his arm wrapping around you to hold you close. In the moonlit water, his usual guardedness has slipped away, leaving just the two of you sharing a rare, quiet peace. As he presses another gentle kiss to your temple, you feel your heart swell, more than a little in love with the rare, beautiful serenity of the moment—and the way he’s finally, finally letting you see his softer side.

Vil Schoenheit: Bonfire Night

The scene is perfect from the start. Vil has every detail arranged with flawless precision: the bonfire flickers elegantly, framed by a semi-circle of blankets, and an artful spread of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows gleams in the firelight. He turns to you with a graceful smile, gesturing for you to sit, and you can’t help but think that if anyone can make s’mores look like a scene out of a classic romance, it’s Vil.

The night air is warm, and as Vil carefully toasts a marshmallow, he holds it over the fire with a practiced elegance. The marshmallow never catches flame, never bubbles too much—it’s a perfect golden brown. Watching him concentrate on such a simple act, his face softened by the glow, feels almost like an intimate privilege, as if he’s revealing something vulnerable just by indulging in this little tradition.

But the fun really begins when he offers you his masterpiece. “Now, this is how a marshmallow should look,” he murmurs, extending it with all the poise of someone handing over a rare delicacy. You take a bite, nodding seriously, though the gooey marshmallow nearly sticks to your lips. Vil looks on with amusement, laughing softly at the sight. “I suppose there’s charm in the chaos of s’mores after all,” he muses.

After a few rounds of attempting his perfection, he starts loosening up, even experimenting by making one for himself that’s just a little… charred. “Careful,” you tease him, nudging his shoulder, “you’re about to get soot on that spotless track record of yours.”

He laughs, a rare, unguarded laugh that sparkles in the quiet night. “Tonight, I think I’ll allow it,” he says, before diving into his treat, unbothered by the crumbs or the faint stickiness left on his fingers. The firelight dances across his face, catching every angle with a golden glow, and you’re struck by the warmth in his smile, a stark contrast to his usual poise.

At some point, as you’re leaning back against the blanket, he pulls you closer, arms wrapped loosely around you, and you feel his cheek brush against your hair. “It’s strange,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “to think that I’d find this much contentment out here—no scripts, no cameras, just you and a fire.” There’s a note in his voice that makes your heart squeeze, a raw sincerity that cuts through the night.

With Vil’s hand resting on yours, and the stars stretching endlessly above, you’re content to sit in the comfortable quiet. You trade stories back and forth, and for once, Vil lets himself be a little dramatic—tales of travels and encounters, where he plays up the details just to make you laugh.

By the time you’re on your last s’more, Vil’s once-pristine fingertips are as sticky as yours, and he’s practically laughing at himself for it. “A worthy sacrifice,” he says, smiling at the mess, then glances up at you, eyes alight with something warm, tender, and unguarded.

Before you know it, he’s leaned in, lips meeting yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss. The fire crackles softly, framing you both in a bubble of warmth, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

Idia Shroud: Late night ice cream date

The sky is velvet dark, pinpricked with stars, as you and Idia share a late-night ice cream outing. After the shops have closed, you end up at a deserted park, with only the soft hum of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a firefly. It's quiet and perfect for sneaking glances at each other without anyone else around to notice.

Idia looks adorably awkward, like he’s calculating every step to make sure it goes exactly right, but the way he holds your hand gives him away. His fingers fit between yours, warm and a little shaky, and each time you look over, he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed. "I—I didn't think anyone else would actually enjoy this level of, uh... casual," he murmurs, glancing at the night around you like it’s a new phenomenon.

You laugh, squeezing his hand. "Idia, it’s perfect. And the ice cream is a solid bonus."

He relaxes a bit, venturing a small smile, even though he’s keeping his eyes carefully on his mint-chocolate chip. "I kinda thought I'd be the only one cool with midnight ice cream runs in a creepy empty park." His awkward chuckle is laced with hope, like he’s waiting for a hint that this really is something special for you.

"It’s exactly my vibe," you say earnestly, leaning just a little closer. "Besides, getting ice cream with you feels... well, like magic."

He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes lighting up at that. "Magic, huh? Guess I’ll take that as an S-rank compliment." He steals a quick glance your way, and for a second, his face softens, like he’s letting himself believe this perfect moment is real. He’s a mix of nerves and quiet confidence, daring himself to be this close to someone who, for some reason he’s still baffled by, loves him.

Finally, as you both settle down on a bench under a streetlamp that flickers like it’s unsure of itself, he clears his throat, still holding your hand. "I never thought...well, I didn’t think I’d get to do this kinda stuff," he says, the words a bit shy. "It’s like... in my head, this was always just some 'maybe someday' scenario."

With a gentle smile, you tilt his chin up just slightly, so his eyes meet yours. "Idia," you whisper, "you’re more than ‘maybe someday’ to me. You’re here now."

There’s a spark of bravery in his eyes as he closes the last inch between you, leaning in for a soft, tentative kiss. The taste of mint chocolate lingers, and his hand in yours trembles, but he doesn’t pull away. When you both break apart, he’s blushing, but his smile’s one of quiet wonder.

"Okay, okay," he mutters, laughing nervously, "I think I could get used to this..."

Malleus Draconia: Firefly Hunting

The air is thick with summer warmth, and a soft, whispering breeze trails through the trees as you and Malleus stroll into the clearing. Fireflies dot the shadows, little beacons of light sparking up and winking out, and Malleus’s eyes light up with unmistakable delight. He stands there for a moment, captivated, before glancing down at you with an almost childlike wonder in his gaze.

“These tiny lights,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “They remind me of stars that dared to fall closer to earth.”

You laugh softly. "I’m not sure they’d like being compared to stars, but I see it."

Malleus grins, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and with a subtle flick of his fingers, a soft, verdant glow ripples from his hand. Suddenly, the fireflies seem to double, then triple, in number, painting the entire clearing in an ethereal light. A thousand tiny stars dance around you, and you can’t help but let out a gasp, the world feeling like a fairytale brought to life.

“Now they’re stars,” he whispers, pulling you close as you gaze up in awe at the enchanting scene he’s created. “Just for you, and just for tonight.”

Your fingers intertwine as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close in the flickering, gentle light. You both watch the fireflies in companionable silence, each moment feeling as if it’s stretching out forever. Occasionally, he brushes his fingers over your arm, his touch as soft as the summer night itself.

“Malleus,” you say softly, feeling a grin start to play on your lips, “you’ve got to tell me, have you done this whole ‘summon the stars’ thing for other people?”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I assure you, I have not.” He dips his head, his eyes meeting yours with that unwavering intensity that always makes you feel like he sees right through to your soul. “No one else has ever made me feel as you do. With you, magic feels… natural.”

Your heart skips a beat, and before you know it, he’s pulled you even closer, leaning in until his forehead is resting gently against yours. There’s an honesty in his gaze that feels as warm as the summer night, as everlasting as the stars. Without a word, you close the space between you, meeting his lips in a kiss as soft as a breath.

The world around you fades—the fireflies, the trees, even the quiet hum of nature itself. All that remains is the warmth of his embrace and the gentle press of his lips against yours, tender and heartfelt, and the promise of endless moments like this.

When you pull back, you see him looking down at you with a soft, almost incredulous smile. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “For this night. For…” He trails off, as though searching for words big enough, magical enough, to describe the happiness you’ve given him.

“Anytime,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper as you smile back. “But I’m holding you to that firefly magic for next time too.”

With a low laugh, he gives a small nod. “Then I shall make it a thousand more.”

Masterlist

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muletia · 29 days ago

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[tfp] optimus prime x reader

summary: optimus handles the "would you still love me if i was a worm?" question a little too well

cw: fem!human!reader, fluff, optimus is fucking obsessed with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 545

"Optimus?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Behemoth stopped working on his datapad, giving you his full attention. His private quarters were dimly lit, except for the soft blue glow of his patient optics, illuminating your figure, comfortably seated on his desk. Wrapped in a blanket and lying on the cozy couch that Optimus had personally brought in for you, you felt safe.

"Yes, my dearest?"

You couldn't quite explain what compelled you to speak the words that began to slip from your lips. Perhaps you just needed some validation in that moment, or maybe you were feeling a little down and wanted a mood boost. Whatever it was, it took over.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"What is a 'worm'?"

Embarrassment washed over you. You shouldn't have said anything (even if part of you was curious to see how he would respond).

It didn’t help that he was staring at you with those big, puppy-like optics, patiently waiting for an explanation. Oh God, he took it completely seriously. It shouldn’t have surprised you, knowing who you were dealing with, but this wasn’t the kind of question to take seriously. You would've been thrilled if he just said a simple "yes."

You cleared your throat.

"Ermm, well, you know..."

He absorbed every word like a sponge, analyzing, debating within himself to find the right response, unaware of your sudden awkwardness. He didn’t consider your question childish; he wanted to give you an honest answer that reflected his feelings.

After several seconds of silence (though to you it felt like hours), his mouth moved, and the reply that came out was one you never expected.

"I would build you a large garden with the richest soil in the universe, decorate it with your favorite flowers and plants, so you could enjoy the view before you when you decide to leave your shelter. I would visit you at every free moment, sharing updates about life, discussing human craft that recently captivated me. At night, I would carefully lift you onto my servo, so we could gaze at the radiance of the night sky together. I would treat you as my equal, with unchanged gentleness, affection, and devotion, admiring your beauty beyond your physical form, speaking to your soul. And just as I do now, I would be devoted to you, ready to answer your every cry, gesture, and request, overjoyed simply by being able to help. I would love you as a worm, a plant, a stick, or a stone, nurturing my love for you until my final days, faithful only to you."

The look of astonishment on your face made him a little concerned.

"[Your name], is everything alright? Did I say something inappropriate?"

"Wow..." not the most eloquent response, but your brain was too fried to come up with anything better. You blinked a few times to regain your composure, but it didn’t stop the blush from spreading across your face. "That was... beautiful. No, really, I didn’t expect such a powerful answer."

Optimus surprised you again by sending a gentle smile your way, softening the metal contours of his face. And then, whether consciously or not, he fired a return shot.

"And would you still love me if I was a worm?"

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader

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divasae · 17 days ago

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yandere capitano x reader

desc: yandere capitano, forced marriage, imprisonment, stockholm syndrome, slight angst, slight nsfw, etc.

word count: 1.6k ♡

The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated the insides of the spacious manor, and as you placed your palm against the nearest window, you looked up to the sky to admire the beauty of the night. The only sound that could be heard from the distance was the ticking of a clock placed from within the manor. As the hand struck midnight, you tore your eyes from the sky to survey the surroundings of the manor, as you waited patiently for your husband to arrive from work.

Your husband, the captain, was a formidable and intimidating man. Even you, his wife, had looked at him with a face of apprehension when you had first seen him. Even so, he was a kind man at heart, even if it didn't appear to be so at times. You knew deep down that he held a lot of affection for you, even if he barely expressed it.

You found it difficult to believe that he harbored such feelings towards you at times, especially when you looked back at the circumstances of your marriage.

Although it was a distant memory, there was a much simpler time for you, back when you had little to worry about. There was a time where you had an endless amount of freedom, free to do whatever you wished to.

The night you had first met your husband, was a night that was quite similar to one you found yourself in currently. Your husband, the captain, who was patrolling the area for possible threats, had suddenly stumbled upon your figure sitting near the edge of a vast lake. You were dressed in only a thin nightgown, your figure accentuated by the soft glow of the moonlight. In his eyes, you looked ever so beautiful, as if you had descended from the moon itself.

As he slowly approached you, he admired you from afar for what felt like ages, until you had finally taken notice of his large stature in the distance. You suddenly let out a small yelp, quickly standing upwards, your body tensing as you took in his menacing figure with your eyes.

Even in the darkness, his uniform was distinct, it was clear to you he was apart of the fatui. Your face paled, as you apologized profusely for being outside at such an odd hour, stating that you only wished to admire the moon. As you scurried off, he took in the sight of you for one last time, admiring you as you had admired the moon.

From then on, it was as if you had cast a spell on him. No matter where he had went, all that plagued his head was the vision of you from that one night. The sight of you from that night replayed in his head constantly, as well as that sweet voice of yours. To the average person, you would appear as a drab commoner girl, but to him, there was something else. There was something about you that was addicting, as if there was an invisible force drawing him towards you.

From that vision alone, he had begun to fall in love with you. For such a brute man who looked to be incapable of love, you had achieved what appeared to be the impossible. You were just so perfect in every aspect. You were a kind girl, that loved the people in your village deeply, which made him feel even more sorry for what he was about to do.

The day you found out about your marriage, was the day before you were to be wedded to Capitano, the 1st harbinger. To others, it would have been considered an honor to be married to someone of such a high rank, but you dreaded it. There was little you could do, you weren't foolish to not realize that refusal was not an option. With that, your village had practically handed you over to the harbinger, the same village who you had held so dear to your heart. Before you knew it, you were already in a carriage with the same man who you had met so briefly that fateful night.

To say you were devastated was an understatement. Everything about the captain terrified you. While he did nothing but display kindness and affection towards you, you despised him. Every time he would call you by your name, your ears rung with contempt, and as he touched you ever so slightly, you shuddered as if bugs were crawling all over your skin.

The only thing he had yet to take from you was your innocence, however, you knew that like every man, he was eventually going to take that from you too. When you would go to your separate room, you would cry silently out of despair, as the gravity of your situation weighed down on you.

Unbeknownst to you at the time, Capitano would listen to your cries every night, his heart slowly shattering each time. He would never say it, but he knew how selfish he was, to take you away from your home so rapidly.

You were so resentful of him, resentful that he had plucked away your freedom so quickly to the point where it gave you whiplash. You detested the fact that you had to smell blood on him as he came home every night, to the point where you had slowly became desensitized.

You had never been able to imagine yourself as someone's wife so soon, but suddenly having to face that reality, with a harbinger no less, made your head spin uncontrollably.

You were so lonely all of a sudden, and your heart ached as it slowly sunk into you that no one in the village truly cared for you. The only person you were able to have any interaction with now was your husband. Perhaps that was the reason you had begun to warm up to him, despite him being a causation for your loneliness. Although he had cruelly taken you away from everything you knew, he also gave you comfort and solace in an unfamiliar environment.

Slowly, you began to understand him more. Capitano was never a man of many words, but the very few words he spoke made you see the humanity from within him, allowing you to sympathize with him. Even the way he would touch you ever so softly, as if you were a porcelain doll, was full of emotion. He was the direct contrast of you. While you openly expressed your emotions towards him, he never did the same to you. It had taken you so long to realize just how much he was suffering from the inside.

Eventually, you began to see yourself in him. You saw how lonely he was, just as you were after the village you had loved you so much was so quick to abandon you. The only person you were able to depend on from there on out was the captain, so you slowly came to accept your fate. You had even begun to accept his role in the fatui, even if you found it hard to imagine how a man that was so gentle to you was capable of being a harbinger.

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door, bringing you out of your deep trance. You got up and briskly walked towards the door, to greet your husband.

"Welcome home" you said in a soft voice after opening the door, extending an arm to take his heavy coat off. "You're late again" you said absentmindedly, as you hung his coat up.

He remained silent, looking into your eyes as if he were frozen in place. He felt a sudden wave of nostalgia, as he admired your face illuminated by the moonlight once more. That's right, it felt as if it was the first time he had seen you. Except this time, instead of looking at him with fear, you looked at him with a genuine smile on your face.

"Dear?" you asked, placing your hand on his shoulder. At that moment, he suddenly took both of your wrists in one hand with a sudden force, pinning you down to a wall. You let out a gasp, as he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"What are you-" you attempted to ask before he stopped you again with another searing kiss, as he placed his other free hand on your hip. When he had finally pulled apart from what seemed to be forever, a thin string of saliva connected the both of your lips.

You tried to catch your breath as his hands roamed all over your body, his knee pressed in between your legs. You let out small moans and whimpers, as he kissed your collarbone with such passion. You began to feel a hot sensation pool between your legs, and tried to push him out of embarrassment.

"Let me have this, darling" he whispered with a hint of desperation. You truly had no idea how badly he wanted you, ever since he had laid his eyes on you. The mere reason why he had held back for so long was simply out of consideration for you, but now that he had seen you with such a smile on your face, he didn't think he could take it anymore.

You had begun to open your mouth in protest, but when you heard him whisper such words in your ear with that level of desperation, you felt yourself coming undone. Your hands clutched to the fabric of his clothing near his chest, as you caught your breath, your wide eyes staring at right at him.

He had stopped his motion all of a sudden, and placed a hand to your cheek. He held your chin up for you to keep looking at him, as if to silently ask if you wanted him to continue. You cursed yourself internally, wondering how you had allowed yourself to get so close to the man in front of you. You were scared, but seeing him with such tenderness, you looked at him with tears pricking your eyes, nodding with a slight smile tugging at your lips.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere scenarios #capitano x reader #tw forced marriage #tw imprisonment #yandere capitano #yandere capitano x reader #yandere drabble #yandere x you #genshin x reader #capitano x you #yan capitano #losing it #stockholm syndrome #yan.txt

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

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INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (two)

pairing:: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

part one

Rafe didn’t know how to describe it, but it was like… he was breathing easier. Like he wasn’t always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He couldn’t believe you’d chosen him, a stray. He’d been taking it slow with you.

It was mid-afternoon, and you were by the lake this time, sitting on the weathered dock, feet dangling off the edge, again. He had his fishing rod in hand, showing you how to cast it properly. The sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in this soft, golden light that made your hair glow like some kind of halo. He had to keep glancing away because it messed with his head. A literal angel.

“You gotta flick your wrist, not your whole arm,” he explained, demonstrating it for you. “Like this.” He flicked the rod smoothly, sending the line out into the water with barely a ripple.

You gave him a look, like you were tired of his shit but then copied his motion. Your line barely made it halfway to where his was, and you huffed, frustrated. He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“You’re tryin’ too hard,” he said, standing up to move behind you. “Here, lemme help.”

He hesitated for a second, then stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your from behind, guiding your hands to hold the rod correctly. He could feel your body tense for a second before you relaxed into him, your back against his chest. His breath hitched, but he focused on showing you what to do, trying to ignore the way his heart raced from being this close to you. He was whipped.

“Now, just flick it—gentle, like you’re barely trying” He guided your hands again, and this time, the line shot out farther into the water, just like his.

You grinned, looking over your shoulder at him, and he realized how close your faces were. Too close. His breath caught, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull away. He never did.

“See?” he muttered, “Told ya, you got it.”

“Only ‘cause you helped,” you said, voice was all soft and sweet, like honey.

Your eyes didn’t leave his, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. He could feel the warmth of you, smell the faint scent of your shampoo mixed with the lake air. He should’ve moved. He should’ve stepped back, given you space.

But he didn’t.

“Is this why you wanted to teach me how to fish? So you could feel me up?”

Rafe’s face flushed red, heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

“N-no,” he stammered, but it sounded lame even to him. He stepped back, giving you space like he was supposed to, scratching the back of his neck, trying to play it off like he wasn’t burning up inside. “I was just… y’know, teaching’ you how to cast. Not my fault if you can’t get it right on your own.”

You laughed, that soft, carefree sound that always messed him up, like you didn’t know you were punching way out of his league. You turned back to face the water, flicking the rod out again, and this time, it went far—farther than you expected, your excitement obvious as you glanced back at him.

“Look at that!” you said, grinning like you’d just won something. “I’m getting better.”

He laughed, “Told ya you could do it.”

He shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be that close to you, shouldn’t want you the way he did. But there you were, fishing with him like it was normal. He sat back down beside you on the dock, pulling his cap lower over his eyes, trying to cool down and act like his heart wasn’t still racing.

Rafe was feeling like his stomach was doing flips, and not the good kind. He wasn’t the type to get all worked up over stuff like this, but here he was, his hands sweaty, his heart racing like he just ran five miles.

You were sitting across from him now, looking all laid back and pretty, messing with that dumb bracelet he’d seen you wear a hundred times before, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what he was about to ask you.

You two had been sort of together, what, two months now? He didn’t know how to explain it, but every time he saw you, it was like a part of him just... calmed down. Like all the chaos in his head got a little quieter when you were around. And that scared the hell out of him.

He wasn’t the kinda guy to catch feelings. Hell, he’d spent most of his life trying to not feel stuff. It was easier that way. Safer. But there he was, that night, two months ago, sitting’ next to you on that fancy couch in your parents' house, kissing the living hell out of you. He couldn’t get you out of his system even if he tried.

And then he kissed you again, every day for that matter, for the next couple of months. Because, how could he not? You were perfect. His absolute dream girl.

He shouldn’t want this so bad. Shouldn’t be sitting there trying to memorize the way you looked in that moment. And yet, here he was, listing off your favorite things in his head like it was his new obsession.

He thought about the way you’d light up when you’d talk about books. Not just any books, though. You had this thing for old, worn-out paperbacks, the ones that looked like they’d been through it. You said they felt like they had history, like every dog-eared page told its own story.

Then there were your playlists. He still couldn’t figure them out. You’d go from old-school classics like Fleetwood Mac or The Rolling Stones, then switch it up with some indie band no one had ever heard of. But it all fit you somehow—just a little bit all over the place, in the best way possible.

And sunsets. God, you could never resist a good sunset. Every time the sky turned even a hint of pink or gold, you were there, snapping pictures on your phone like it was your personal little piece of magic.

Rafe couldn’t explain it, but every time you were around, everything just felt easier. Like the mess in his head quieted down. And that scared him because it wasn’t supposed to be like that. Not for him.

It was like his brain had its own playlist, except instead of music, it was a loop of all the things you liked. It kinda freaked him out, how much space you were taking up in there. You didn’t even know, did you? How you had him twisted up like this. How you made the world around him feel like it wasn’t gonna fall apart any second. He wasn’t used to that.

He watched you flick the rod out again, more confident this time, and he couldn’t help but admire how determined you were. That’s another thing he loved—how you never gave up on stuff. You’d try something a hundred times until you got it right. Like the way you insisted on learning how to skate last month, even though you kept falling. You’d get back up every time, laughing like it didn’t even faze you. He liked that about you—how nothing seemed to scare you.

And then there was your laugh. That one killed him every time. It wasn’t just the sound of it; it was the way your whole face lit up when you laughed, like the world didn’t have a single problem. Like, for those few seconds, nothing could touch you.

He realized he’d been staring at you for way too long when you looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” you asked, the corner of your mouth twitching into a little smirk.

Rafe blinked, shaking his head like he could shake the thoughts loose. “Nothin’”, he mumbled, feeling his face heat up again.

Smooth, real smooth, he thought.

And then there was the way you loved the water.

Always dragging him down to the lake or the beach, talking about how the sound of waves crashing made everything else seem far away.

He never told you this, but he thought it was funny how you loved the water so much but were terrified of deep water.

You’d cling to him when you were in over your head, and yeah, he liked that way more than he probably should’ve.

He kept running through all the little things, trying to figure out when it happened—when he started catching feelings for you. When you shoved the food in his face? Offered him a warm shower and a bed? Was it when you forced him to watch that old movie, the one where you kept quoting all the lines before they happened?

“Stop ogling me.”

Rafe's heart did that weird thing again, that stuttering, fluttering mess in his chest as you grinned at him, tossing that line out like you weren’t absolutely wrecking him from the inside.

He tried to act like he hadn’t been caught staring.

Again.

"Wasn't ogling," he muttered, feeling his face heat up. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking out over the water like he wasn’t completely whipped. "Just thinkin’."

You shot him a side-eye, clearly not buying it. “Yeah? About what?”

You, he thought. Always you.

“Just... life," he mumbled.

What was he supposed to say? That he’d been sitting here mentally cataloging all your favorite things like some lovesick idiot? That every time you smiled at him, it felt like the ground wasn’t so shaky anymore? He couldn’t just say that.

But he was starting to feel like he had to. Like it was gonna burst out of him if he didn’t tell you soon. You’d been messing with his head for months now—it was driving him insane.

"Y’know," he started, swallowing hard, not even sure how to say it, "I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? And what’s that?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling way too hot under that cool evening air. His voice came out rougher than he meant. "You. Us."

You froze for a second, that playful smile slipping just a little, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited. Always so patient just for him.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck like it could distract him from the fact that his heart was about to pound out of his chest.

"I—I like you, okay? I like you a lot." He looked down at his boots, then back at you, eyes searching your face for any sign of what you were thinking. "I know I’m not the best with... y’know, words and feelings and all that, but you—you’re different."

He stepped closer, the dock creaking under his boots, and he reached out, gently taking your hand. "You make all the noise in my head stop. I don’t know how to explain it, but when I’m with you... it’s just easier. Everything’s easier."

You blinked, your eyes wide, like you weren’t expecting that.

"M’ not good at this stuff," Rafe continued, his voice soft now, almost nervous. "But I wanna be better. For you. I wanna be the guy who makes you feel good, who makes you happy."

He hesitated, feeling like he was about to jump off a cliff. But he had to ask. He had to know.

"Will you—" he cleared his throat, his grip tightening just slightly on your hand. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable like this, like he was putting his heart out there and hoping you wouldn’t crush it. But for once, he didn’t care. He needed you to know how he felt, even if he was rough around the edges and still figuring it all out.

You looked at him for what felt like forever, and then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

You threw yourself at him, jumping into his arms with this burst of energy that caught him completely off guard. He stumbled back a step, barely catching you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you clung to him. Your face was buried in his neck, and that’s when he felt it—the dampness.

Hold on. Were you crying?

“Woah, baby,” he stammered, holding you tighter, but his heart started racing for a whole different reason now. “Did I—did I make you cry? Shit, did I mess this up already? I swear, I didn’t mean to freak you out or nothin’. I just—” He cut himself off, his words coming out fast and panicked. “I fuck up everything, don’t I?”

You pulled back just enough for him to see your face, and there were tears streaming down your cheeks, but you were smiling. Laughing, even, like he was being ridiculous, which only confused him more.

“No, no, oh my god,” you said, wiping at your cheeks, sniffling through your smile. “It’s—it’s happy tears, you dumbass.”

Rafe blinked, his brain not quite catching up with what you said. “Happy tears?” He looked at you like you’d just told him the sky was purple. “You’re cryin’ ‘cause you’re happy?”

You nodded, laughing as you brushed the tears away. “Yes, Rafe. I’m crying ‘cause I’m happy.”

Relief washed over him like a wave, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Oh.” He paused, then broke into this shy, crooked grin. “Okay. Good. ‘Cause for a second, I thought I messed up.”

You laughed again, your arms still around his neck as you leaned in closer.

“You didn’t mess up, not even a little.” Your voice was softer now, and you looked at him like he hung the moon or something. “You made me really, really happy.”

He never thought he’d be the guy to make someone happy, let alone you. He lifted his hand, gently brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Didn’t know I had it in me,” he muttered, his voice low, almost shy.

“Well, you do,” you whispered, and before he could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him—soft and sweet.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he couldn’t help but smile. “I guess I’ll just have to make you cry like this more often, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the way you looked at him, like he was more than just some rough-around-the-edges Pogue. His grin didn’t leave his face as he watched you wipe at the last of your happy tears, still a little stunned that he of all people had managed to make you feel like that.

You were looking at him, a teasing glint in your eyes, but before you could even start talking again, he pulled you in closer, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Rafe,” you giggled, your voice muffled against his mouth. “Let me—”

“Nope,” he mumbled, cutting you off with another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you felt his smile against your lips. “Not done kissin’ you yet.”

You let out a breathy laugh, trying to speak between the kisses. “Rafe, seriously—”

But he wasn’t having it. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his lips soft but insistent, and you practically melted into him.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy against your mouth. “Got a lot of kissin’ to make up for.”

You tried to playfully shove him, but he just grinned and kissed you harder, not giving you a chance to get another word in. Every time you tried to pull back to say something, he’d tilt his head, his lips capturing yours before you could even think.

“You,” you tried again, your voice breathless between the stolen kisses, but he just chuckled, his hand slipping into your hair, tilting your head back slightly so he could kiss you deeper, “Kiss me every day.”

“Uh-uh,” he muttered, his lips trailing down to your jaw, making your head spin. “I don’t care.”

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, your breath hitching as he kissed along your neck.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, but your voice was softer now, less of a protest and more like you were completely caught up in the moment.

He pulled back just an inch, looking down at you with that lazy, crooked grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, his forehead resting against yours.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

“Maybe,” you said, pretending to play it cool. “But you still won’t let me talk.”

Rafe brushed his thumb along your jaw, his eyes tracing over your face like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“Sorry, baby,” he drawled, clearly not sorry at all. “But I’m tryin’ to make up for lost time here.”

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you again, his eyes were softer, more serious this time. “I mean it though,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m real glad you’re mine.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling. “I’m glad too, Rafe,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck.

He grinned, leaning down to kiss you again, but this time, you were ready. You pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before his lips could reach yours. “Ah-ah,” you teased, a smirk on your face. “Not done talking yet.”

Rafe groaned, but the smile never left his face. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, his hands still resting on your waist. “Get your words out. I’ll give you, like, ten seconds.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes again. “You’re such a dumbass,” you said fondly, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning down just enough so his lips brushed against yours again, barely a whisper. “But I’m your dumbass now.”

“Hold on,” he nearly whined, pushing his forehead against yours with exaggerated impatience. “Does that mean you’ll accept the phone now? Actually, I was gonna say—since you’re so insistent on this whole ‘no phone’ thing—you should just take it.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, you want me to take it? For real?”

You crossed your arms, giving him a look that said, "don’t push it." “Yeah, obviously.”

“But—"

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the truth was written all over your face. “Please? It would make me worry less.”

He stood there for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was still mulling it over, but then he let out a breath, stepping closer to you.

“Fine,” he said, his voice softer this time. “I’ll take it. But only ‘cause you asked so damn sweet.”

Taking the stupid phone meant accepting that you cared, that you wanted him in your life in more ways than just this. And while it scared him, it also made something bloom in his chest, something unfamiliar but good.

He found himself staring at the screen like it was some kind of foreign object.

“Now you have no excuse not to text me back,” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

His face softened as he glanced at you. “Guess I don’t.”

You gave him a playful shove, and he caught your wrist, pulling you close again before you could get too far. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he rested his chin on the top of your head, breathing you in.

For a moment, the world felt still. Peaceful.

But then, like a cruel twist of fate, he heard a voice—one that made his blood run cold and his heart sink. He turned his head, and there she was. His mom, if he could call her that. Her face was gaunt, lined with the weariness of someone who’d been through too much, but that didn’t make it any easier to see her.

“What the hell?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He felt the protective instinct flare up, not just for himself but for you, too. He didn’t want her anywhere near you. Not now. Not ever.

She ruined everything she touched.

“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you,” she said, her voice cracking with a mix of desperation and anger. “I need to talk to you.”

His jaw tightened. “What do you want, mom?”

Her eyes softened for a split second before that familiar hardness came back. “Come back, okay? I didn’t mean to—”

“Come back?” he let out a breathy sarcastic laugh, “You serious?’ Nah, not after you kicked me out, not after all the shit I had to deal with. You got no right to come here and act like you care now.”

Her face twisted in pain, and for a moment, he saw the woman he used to know when he was a kid. But it was quickly gone. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You think you’ve got it all figured out?”

He didn’t want to scare you off.

“Aww hell,” Rafe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to keep the anger from takin' over. His hand tightened on your waist, like he needed to feel you there, grounding him. “I’m not doin' this with you. Not here. Not now.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers lightly brushing his arm, feeling the tension building' in him. He glanced at you, and for a second, you could see the rage contained in him, he was trying' to hold it back for your sake.

“Rafe, I didn’t have a choice. You don’t understand what it’s like—”

“I don’t understand?” he barked, his voice rough, like he was barely holding’ it together. “Nah, you don’t get it. You never did.” He took a step back, almost like he needed to put space between himself and her poison. “M’ gonna stand here and let you guilt-trip me. You threw me out like I was trash.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could get another word in. “I got someone now. Someone who gives a damn 'bout me. And I’m not lettin’ you mess that up.”

His mom’s eyes flicked to you, and there was this flash of something’—jealousy, regret, maybe both.

She huffed, her shoulders dropping’. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Rafe. I just... I need help. I don’t got nobody left.” Her voice cracked, and for a second, it almost sounded real.

But Rafe wasn’t buying it. He was done being manipulated. He was tired of her games, she was sick and she needed help, and if she didn’t want to be helped, there was nothing he could do for her.

“Yeah, well, I’m fresh outta help,” he said coldly, then turned back to you, his hand reaching for yours, like he was trying' to remind himself that he was better off now.

A familiar figure stepped out from behind her beated up car—her boyfriend, fucking Tony. His gut twisted the second he saw him with same smug look plastered across his face, strutted toward them like he owned the place.

"Well, ain't this a cute little reunion," Tony sneered, his eyes lingering on you for just a second too long. Rafe's grip on your hand tightened painfully, and you felt the muscles in his arm tense like he was ready to snap.

Tony’s attention slid back to him, but not before taking another slow look at you. “You picked yourself up a pretty little thing, huh?” He licked his lips, and Rafe's vision tunneled.

In that instant, everything around him went quiet.

The world could have been on fire, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. The red-hot rage that he'd been holding in for so long, the anger he tried to keep locked down, was hanging on the edge. Every part of him screamed to beat the living shit out of him, to make him regret every second he spent breathing the same air as you.

“Watch your goddamn mouth,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth, like he was seconds away from losing control. “Look at her like that again, and I swear to fucking God, I’ll make sure you can’t look at anything ever again.”

You squeezed his hand, letting him know you were there, that he didn’t have to do this alone. His mom stood there, not standing up for either of them as usual, like she was waiting for him to change his mind, but when he didn’t, she shook her head and walked away, mumbling’ something' under her breath. She didn’t even put up a fight for him, how typical.

They’d probably run out of money to feed off.

Tony raised his hands, feigning innocence, but the smirk never left his face. “Easy there, kid. I’m just sayin’. No need to get all riled up.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You could feel his emotions radiating off him in waves, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he fought to keep himself in check. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath your fingers.

"Rafe, let it go," you whispered, trying to pull him back before things went too far. But it was like he couldn’t hear you anymore.

Tony chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the way he was getting under his skin. “Guess the apple don’t fall too far from the tree, huh? Just like your momma—quick to anger, quick to screw things up. Look at you, following in her footsteps.”

“You have five seconds to walk away before I call the police,” You all but announced.

“You think you’re some big man now, huh?” Tony still taunted, ignoring you, his voice dripping with condescension. “Got a pretty girl on your arm, a fresh start, but you’re still the same angry little boy. You ain't gonna change—”

You didn’t even let him finish. Your hand was already in your pocket, pulling out your phone.

You weren’t going to let this escalate.

"Enough," you snapped firmly, holding up your phone so both Tony and Rafe could see it. You turned your back slightly to Rafe, giving him a moment to breathe and calm down as you dialed the number.

Tony’s cocky smirk dropped for a split second when he realized what you were doing. “Oh, what, calling for backup?” he sneered, but you could tell he wasn’t as confident as he had been.

“No, I’m calling the police. My dad’s a well-known attorney. He knows exactly how to deal with people like you.”

Rafe hadn't even realized what you were doing at first.

You didn’t take your eyes off Tony as you raised the phone to your ear. “Hi, yes, I’d like to report an incident,” you began, your tone professional, all business. “There’s a man harassing us, and he’s trespassing on private property. We’re at the docks, near the edge of Seabrook Avenue.”

Tony’s face turned a shade paler, his eyes darting between you and Rafe. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute—let’s not do anything rash here,” he stammered, clearly realizing that the game had changed. The cocky attitude evaporated in the face of actual consequences, “I’ll leave.”

“Then start walking,” You threatened, phone still in your ear.

“All right, all right,” Tony muttered, “No need to get the cops involved. I’m leavin’.”

He cast one last glare at Rafe, then turned on his heel, stalking back toward the car.

You kept the phone to your ear, your voice low and professional as you continued speaking to the operator, making sure Tony didn’t have any second thoughts. His mom gave Rafe one last, but still said nothing. She followed Tony back to the car, and within moments, they were driving off, disappearing down the road.

As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. You hung up the phone, turning back to Rafe, who was still standing there, staring at the empty spot where the car had been. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, but there was this brokenness in his eyes that made you want to bawl your eyes out.

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice soft now, “They’re gone.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, like he was trying' to shake off the whole encounter.

“Sorry 'bout that,” he muttered, his voice a little hoarse. “I didn’t mean for all that to happen. Not in front of you.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to apologize. I’m here for you, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms again, holding' you like you were the only good thing in his world. “Thanks for not running,” he muttered into your hair, “Most people would’ve bailed by now.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. “I’m not most people, Rafe.”

“Clearly. You’re better.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and even with all the crap that had just gone down, you could see he was startin’ to relax a little. “You’re stuck with me now,” you teased lightly, tryin' to lift the mood. “No more excuses, remember?”

How did you have him under your spell in such a short amount of time? He felt delirious.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling his heartbeat still thudding hard beneath your fingers.

“Are you really okay?”

For a second, he didn’t answer, just stared down at you, like he was trying’ to figure out how much to let you in. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair again, like he was still trying’ to shake off the whole encounter with his mom.

“I-I don’t know,” he muttered finally, his voice low, rough. “I mean… I’m used to her being’ like this, y’know? It isn’t nothing new.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “But it still messes me up every time.”

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, your fingers lingering on his cheek. “You don’t have to act like it’s not a big deal. It’s okay to not be okay.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the walls he kept up so tight seemed to crack a little. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbin’, like he was trying to push down all the emotions that were building up.

“I just… I hate that she still gets to me,” he admitted quietly, “After everything, I should be able to just… forget about her. But I can’t.”

You tightened your grip on his hand, letting him know you weren’t goin’ anywhere.

“You’re not weak for feelin’ like that,” you said gently. “She’s your mom, Rafe. It’s natural to want her to care, even after all she’s done.”

He closed his eyes for a second, takin' in your words, like he was tryin’ to let them sink in. When he opened them again, they were softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said, his voice low, almost like he was talking’ more to himself than to you.

You felt him tense up under your touch, and it hit you—he was scared. He’d already cried once, already let you see that part of him that he usually kept locked up tight. Now, he was trying to pull it together, to show you he was strong, that he wasn’t some broken kid. But deep down, you knew he was still hurting, still carrying’ all that pain his mom dumped on him.

“Because I see you. Not the mess, not the baggage. Just you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes flicking’ away again, like he couldn’t handle looking at you right now. “I don’t want you feeling’ like you gotta fix me or something’. I’m not a charity case.”

“You already know how I feel about you saying that.”

For a second, it looked like he might shut down again, like he was going to retreat behind that hard shell of his. But then, he sighed, shoulders sagging a little as he let some of that defensiveness go.

“I just don’t wanna be that guy,” he muttered, almost to himself. “The one who’s always leanin' on someone, cryin' about his problems. I already did that once, and…”

“And what?” you asked, “You think it made me see you any different?”

“You didn’t see me like some... weak-ass loser? Bein’ all emotional and shit?”

You shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. “No, Rafe. I saw someone who’s been through hell and still manages to keep going. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong.”

He was quiet for a moment, takin’ in your words, his brow furrowing’ like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. Then, finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing' just a little. “You make it so hard for me to push you away.”

You raised an unimpressed brow, “Would you like to push your girlfriend away? Because I can walk—"

“Kidding,” He protested, pulling you back the moment you attempt to move, “Jesus Christ. Can’t even make a joke. You’re not going anywhere,” he muttered, like a prayer “Not now. Not ever.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his words made you smile against his chest. “Oh yeah?” you teased. “That a promise?”

He chuckled, his hand stroking your back in slow, calming circles. “Damn right it is,” he whispered, his voice low, almost like a vow. “I don’t care what happens, I’m not letting you go. You’re stuck with me now.”

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