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florencemtrash · 8 months

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In a year's time - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, jealous Azriel, fluff

Masterlist of Masterlists

"But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him."

Mor narrowed her eyes at the Shadowsinger, watching as he adjusted the collar of his newly tailored suit jacket and then combined his hair back with scarred fingers.

Azriel had always been annoyingly beautiful - even during their middling years when their voices cracked and they hadn’t yet grown into their long, slender limbs - and so he’d never needed to take special care of his appearance. His hair dried in perfect waves, his skin was smooth and clean despite the scars, and his training had carved out a silhouette as strong and capable as it was alluring. So why did he keep smoothing down his waistcoat like he was nervous?

Mor darted out a tongue, cleaning up the drop of wine that threatened to fall from her ruby red lips, “Azriel? What in the Mother’s name are you doing?”

His eyes barely flicked over to where she lay sprawled out on his bed. She had no intention of attending this ball sober, and if the near empty bottle of wine balanced precariously against her knee was any indication, she would exceed her goal before they even stepped outside his bedroom.

He picked up the tie - midnight blue and hand-embroidered with silver thread - and flung it around his neck.

“Getting ready for the ball.” He answered blandly.

She rolled her eyes, “Obviously,” then continued to stare at him expectantly as he finished knotting the tie, folded his pocket square, and then slid his weapons into place as a last measure, cobalt blue siphons flashing from the backs of his hands.

It clicked all at once as he strolled for the door, forcing Mor to abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

“Oh my gods.” She said, mouth agape. Her shoes clicked along the marble floors of the River House like the beating of drums.

Azriel groaned internally. Even tipsy and wearing seven-inch heels, Mor kept up with his long strides easily, prodding his side accusingly with her wine bottle. It magically refilled itself with every jab.

“You’re trying to impress Y/n!”

Suddenly it was as obvious as the sun rising in the east. He’d chosen the tie you complimented him on last Starfall, despite his hatred of its fanciful nature. He was wearing the silver moonstone cufflinks you’d bought him for his birthday. He’d even combed his hair because he knew you’d notice and muss it up for him.

“Mor-” He warned, color beginning to dust his cheeks. His shadows darted around the hallway, climbing the velvet curtains and peering around the corners to watch for any potential eavesdropping.

“I knew it! I knew it!” She said, swatting him with a frustrated hand. Her red silk dress clung to her waist and thighs before fluttering out in a halo around her knees as she chased after him, aiming to slap him across the head.

Azriel stopped in his tracks and grabbed at her wrists, desperately hoping no one else in the house had left their rooms yet. If he was really lucky, the two mated couples would be making enough noise of their own to drown out Mor’s excitement.

“Mor, stop it. And be quiet.”

“You loooove her.” She crowed, dragging out the sound. Suddenly she straightened up, hands on her hips and frowning, “Is that why you’ve been so irritable lately? Because you miss her?”

Azriel said nothing, gave away nothing, even though Mor had hit the nail on the head in her drunken stupor.

It had been a great honor when Thesan offered to take you under his wing and train you personally. More than a favor to Rhysand, he’d seen your healing talent and wanted your expertise to be well represented in the Dawn Court. So a year ago you’d packed up your things and said your goodbyes.

“It’s only temporary.” You’d promised him, “I’ll be back before you know it. In a year’s time.”

But a lot could change in a year. You’d sent plenty of letters back and forth to each other, and Azriel would be loath to admit that he slept with them clutched against his chest every night so whispers of your scent would chase the nightmares away.

But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him.

He was happy for you and had been the one to encourage you to move to Dawn. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss you terribly. You’d been missing from his side like a torn limb, and Azriel had been walking through life at a crooked angle ever since.

“I don’t-” He sighed, he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love you. He just couldn’t, “It’s none of your business, Mor.” He amended.

He released her wrists breezed past her, but she sprinted ahead of him, splaying her limbs out on the staircase to block his path.

“You need to tell her you love her. Tonight.” She commanded. Her words slurred out gently, the faerie wine finally kicking in when she’d wanted it to. “I mean it, Az.”

He shook his head, “I can’t tell her tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t seen her in a year! I can’t drop that kind of truth on her.”

“Yes you can!” She fought back. There was some muddled piece of information hanging at the edges of her mind, something important she needed to tell Az. But the wine held it back. Fuck. She cursed inwardly.

“No. I. Can’t.”

“Yes. You. Can.” She was practically seething, pearly brown eyes unfocused but unrelenting. She knows something I don’t, Azriel realized in a burst of shock.

“What is it, Mor? What did she tell you?”

She blinked, dropping her arms from the burnt umber railings. His heart quickened. Had his worst fears come true? Had you found someone else in Dawn worth staying for?

“I-” Damn it. She shouldn’t have finished the second bottle. She cradled it protectively against her chest, feeling the glass cool her hot skin, “I don’t fucking remember.”

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”

“I mean, I’m drunk, Az. And drunk Mor doesn’t remember shit.”

His heart quickened further, a crushing sense of guilt and loss wrapping around his chest like a corset and tightening. Mor at least was saved from further useless interrogation when Rhysand and Feyre bounded out from down the hallway, tastefully disheveled and looking sinful in Night Court black.

Rhysand cleared his throat, straightening his dinner jacket and absent-mindedly straightening Feyre’s crown for her, “Everyone ready to leave?” His eyes glazed over, calling out to the last missing members of their party.

Cassian and Nesta spilled out of their room next, the braids of her coronet slipping out and spilling over her heaving chest. Azriel tipped his head to the ceiling and cursed silently. Mother have mercy…

Nesta pulled up on the strap of her lace dress, only to find that it had been torn to ribbons.

Cassian was in no better shape - the collar of his white shirt was smeared with lipstick, although he didn’t have the same sense as Nesta to look annoyed at the interruption to their… activities. A toothy grin bloomed on his face, shoulder-length hair tangled like someone had been yanking it for hours.

“Can’t make it tonight, Rhys.” He said. He glanced down at Nes, “I’m not feeling well.”

“Me neither.” Nesta said hastily, slipping back behind the door and hauling Cassian inside with her like he weighed as light as a feather. Four months after their mating ceremony and they were as insatiable as ever.

“You’re full of shit, Cass!” Rhys called out just before the door slammed shut. A muffled Fuck you! Came from within, followed by a, Tell Y/n we’ll see her at home! From Nesta.

They winnowed to the outskirts of Daybreak Hill, landing in a field of cushiony moss dotted with pink and violet heather that stirred in the breeze like the dusk-painted clouds above.

Feyre sighed deeply, breathing in the scent of lavender and rosewater. She loved Velaris and no one could hold a candle to the beauty of the Night Court… except perhaps Dawn.

It was like someone had laid a mirror flat on the earth. Periwinkle skies kissed rolling sage green hills dotted with red-roofed villages and sank into lakes of pearl and lavender until it was impossible to tell where the sky started or ended.

The Dawn Court Palace’s twisting spires of honey marble glowed brighter than the setting sun. So brightly in fact that Mor had to help shield Azriel’s eyes with her soft hands as he carried them up through low-hanging satin clouds. Dots of scarlet and midnight black soaring through cotton skies.

His hands turned clammy and the tightness in his chest felt like a giant’s fist squeezing his heart, but he convinced himself it was the thin air that was responsible, and not the raging longing in his heart for you. Still, he had to appreciate the beauty of the red-roofed villages below, tinkering hands hard at work inside chestnut workshops filled with glistening bronze and copper.

They dove through the columns into the open-air hall, any dampness from the mist magicked away by Thesan’s careful hands as he stepped down from the golden dias to greet his honored guests. His rich, copper-colored skin radiated light, melting with the darkness that rippled off Rhysand and Feyre’s shoulders as they shook hands and exchanged the usual pleasantries.

Mor stretched her silky arms above her hands, catching the eyes of a cherub-faced female reaching to grab a flute from the champagne tower. Normally, Mor would have been flattered, but with Emerie at home and a wine-drunk haze over her mind, she was feeling more anxious than anything else. What the fuck was it that she was trying to remember?

Faelights bloomed above him, tinkered in the shapes of roses that gently pulsed, fluttering petals propelling them across the room in a sway of light.

But Azriel was barely paying attention. His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for a silhouette he knew as intimately as the ridges of his hands.

There.

You stood across the room, half-hidden in the stone archway beside Thesan’s lover, Herades. You bowed your head towards him in silent conversation, nursing a glass of champagne in your hand to try and cool your nerves. Azriel would be arriving soon, if he wasn’t already here, cradling the walls in search of dark corners like he was bound to do. You’d been imagining all the ways you’d greet him - with a joke, with a meaningful embrace, with a kiss. You shook her head, pushing the last thought out of your mind and focusing on Herades’s story again.

Your laugh was a flare of light blooming at the end of a match. Azriel stared utterly captivated. Time moved slower than syrup when you finally met his eyes and smiled with an affection more precious than gold.

“Az!” You squeezed Herades’s arm, politely excusing yourself, and then you were off. You sprang across the room in a billow of cream fabric, like milk poured into coffee. The tips of your pleated skirts were touched with blue like you’d waded out into the night sky. The color matched the ribbon in your hair, and the siphons of a certain lovestruck Shadowsinger.

“Y/n,” He breathed out. You flowed into his arms and he gathered you into them like a bouquet of wildflowers, breathing in your familiar scent of rosemary and peppermint. Gods I missed you. He whispered in his mind, hoping that somehow you’d hear it at the end of that glowing thread.

But the hug was short-lived. Too short-lived.

“Mor!” You sang in that melodic voice he loved so much, grasping for her next, then Rhys, then Feyre.

Thesan looked on humbly, sighing faintly when Herades caught up to you and immediately slid to Thesan’s side.

“Oh I’ve missed you all so much.” You said, rocking back and forth.

“We missed you,” Feyre said into your hair. She was the one to pull away, smoothing out ribbon and giving you a once-over look.

Your time had been well-spent at the Dawn Court. Extra color bronzed your cheeks and tinted your lips a pale berry shade. You stood up straighter, smiled a little wider, and walked with an extra height to your step. You’d always been beautiful and graceful, but it was like you were aware of it now - like you’d grown the last few inches into your body.

“You look lovely, Y/n.” Feyre said and Mor agreed enthusiastically, commenting on your dress and your hair and your… well everything.

“Thank you,” You said, blushing, “Thesan’s treated me very well.”

That was an understatement. He’d set you up in his personal household, paid you handsomely (even more than Rhysand paid you if that were possible), and had had the royal seamstress sew ten dresses for you to pick from for tonight’s ball alone. It was your party after all in commemoration of the advancements you’d made in child birthing practices. You’d handled twelve pregnancies alone in the past year across Dawn and Winter, all of the children delivered safely and as plump and rosy as summer cherries.

“And you’ve repaid it to my court ten-fold.” Thesan said and held up his drink. Even Herades smiled, tawny feathers flaring out with pride. You were responsible for the safety of his sister-in-law and the birth of his nephew - hawk wings and all.

It was a flurry of activity following the Night Court’s fashionably late arrival. You dragged Azriel and Mor up to the dais after Rhys and Feyre. Traditionally the table was only meant for High Lords and their partners, but Thesan was a unique and progressive leader in more ways than one.

Herades and Thesan sat in the middle with Feyre and Rhysand, leaving you, Azriel, and Mor at one end and Thesan’s sister and her husband at the other.

Azriel was eternally grateful when Mor lunged for the center-most seat, forcing you to sit between her and Azriel. You bumped knees with him, leaning close as you whispered about the Court gossip you’d managed to overhear from the cooks or discussing the progress you’d made in the Winter Court.

Course after course appeared in front of him and disappeared, hardly touched. He wasn’t hungry for anything other than you, focusing on the crease within your brows as you tried to remember all the news you couldn’t write to him about or the twist of your perfect, flushed lips as you displayed your displeasure and your joy.

If he believed himself to be worthy of your affection he would have whisked you away hours ago, disappearing into whichever room in the palace was yours and pressing you against the wall, lip-locked until the need for air forced him to stop.

“How are Kallias and Viviane doing?” Mor asked, perking up at the mention of the Winter Court.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with color, “I’m not supposed to say, Mor, so you must promise not to tell anyone. Anyone.” Mor locked her mouth and threw away the key. Your lips brushed against the sharp curve of her ear, “She’s pregnant.”

Mor clapped a hand over her mouth, nearly upsetting the glass of wine balanced precariously on the edge of the table. One of Azriel’s shadows darted out, pushing it safely out of the way of her swaying arms.

“Stop.” She hissed in disbelief. Her golden hair seemed to brighten with her cheeks.

You nodded, “With twins.”

Tears flooded her eyes, “That wench didn’t tell me.”

“She’s been busy, if you can imagine.”

“Still!” Mor muttered under her breath, eating her food slowly and sipping on her wine quickly. She gave up on being sober the more males approached her from the base of the dais, bowing deeply with proud, puffed up chests and asking for a dance. Word had gone around about her… preferences, and far from dissuading suitors, it seemed to have been offered up as a challenge as to who could change her mind. Thank the gods Emerie had declined the invitation to join them. She would have castrated half these males in an instant, if Mor didn’t beat her to it.

Thesan, gratefully, put an end to it once he caught onto the pattern. One sharp look from him sent them scampering back, coattails between their legs.

There was one final male though who ignored the previous warnings, humbly bleeding out of the crowd as remnants of rose cake disappeared from the tables and the quartet swelled to include twelve musicians plus a singer. Full, cream-colored wings hovered above the ground, tawny-tipped and lush. Even Mor had to admit, with his olive skin, amber eyes, and warm honey curls he was stunning. Like liquid gold poured out of the setting sun.

He bowed deeply, a subtle smile on his face. Azriel went rigid, seeing you lean forward out of the corner of his eye with a blush coating your cheeks.

Mor closed her eyes and groaned. Fuuuuuuuck. That’s what she’d forgotten about. Or rather whom she’d forgotten about.

Naemon - the golden boy who’d begun to court you seven months back. You’d dropped his name only a handful of times in your letters to Mor. Not enough times to convince Mor you were actually taken with him, but enough times for her to remember the bastard’s name.

“Y/n,” His voice was silky smooth and kind, “May I have the first dance with you?” He asked politely.

Your breath caught in your throat and you risked a glance over at Azriel. He looked… bored and unaffected. He reached for his glass, looking more interested in the faerie wine than the male who’d just asked for your hand. It was stupid of you to think he would care for you as anything more than a friend, and even more foolish of you to think he might be jealous.

You pushed away from the table and floated down the dais, taking the strong and sturdy hand Naemon offered you. The first song was too spirited and quick to reveal any true feelings. It was a blur of silks and lean arms as you wove through the sea of dancers and were gently tossed from partner to partner. But the second song was slower, more intimate. Naemon flashed a look of gratitude to the singer, who winked in return, before scooping one arm around your waist, hand flat on the small of your back. You rested one hand on his shoulder, feeling the rolling of muscle beneath his crisp linen tunic, and held his free hand.

Naemon was a kind and gentle male. After the death of his parents, he’d all but raised his younger sister Namia on his own, relying on the money he earned in the Peregryn legion to make ends meet. It was his care for his sister that had first drawn him to you - any misgivings he’d had melting away as you grew close to Namia from among the other healers. You’d supported her throughout her pregnancy, become her friend, and served as a balm to his anxieties whenever his duties took him away for long stretches of time.

You looked down bashfully, apologizing for missing one of the dance steps and crushing his toe, “I’m better at the quicksteps.” You explained.

Naemon smiled brilliantly, and you couldn’t stop the faint flutter in your chest, “I can’t blame you. The slow ones can get boring. Leaves too much time for overthinking.”

“Exactly.” Too much time for overthinking about a certain Shadowsinger.

You’d never given Naemon any false pretenses about your feelings, always reminding him and Namia that your position in Dawn was temporary. But still… It felt nice to be courted by someone as open as him. With Naemon you never had to guess whether he wanted you or not - you knew he did. The flowers he often left in the healer’s temple, or the offers to take you out to dinner or to dances like this one proved it.

A curl of guilt coiled in your stomach. Maybe now was a good time to bow out and return to your seat. Surely the slow waltz would be finishing soon. The-

“You’re overthinking again.” Naemon said, his full lips brushing against the sharp curve of your ear and heating the gold cuffs you wore. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Y/n. If you’re enjoying yourself - if you like dancing with me - keep doing it.”

“Naemon-” You began apologetically.

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” He said honestly, “I just want to dance with you tonight. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You stared into his eyes, finding nothing but truth in them. A portion of your nerves melted away and you found that when the cello began to hum out a simple tune, you were still holding onto him and letting him move you through the next movements.

Azriel was barely holding on by a thread. Wine glass now empty and clenched dangerously between shadow covered hands. Rhys shot him a look, and when his attempts to breach his brother’s mental shields were met with resistance, he turned to Mor.

What’s wrong with him? His eyes flashed the question.

He’s being an ass who can’t come to terms with his emotions. Mor grumbled back, sinking into her seat with a fling of yellow-gold waves.

Rhys’s eyes went from confused to wide open as he shot a look to you across the dance floor. Fuck.

Feyre followed her mate’s attention with a look of concern, and then traced Azriel’s steely gaze to the dance floor where you were smiling reservedly up at Naemon. You two made a handsome couple, weaving a clear path through the other dancers as they parted for his magnificent feathered wings.

Azriel stiffened. He’d never been particularly proud of his Illyrian heritage, but his wings… his wings were one of the few true beauties he possessed. But in comparison to the golden-boy warrior that smiled at you and brushed back a loose strand of hair with his soft hands, Azriel found himself lacking… once again.

Naemon was a gentle breeze where Azriel was blistering wind. He was a wide open door, every look he gave you filled with clear affection. Azriel was a dozen locked boxes, each one nestled within the other with all the keys rusted and thrown away. Naemon looked reserved and in control. Azriel felt completely out of it, and it took every inch of willpower to keep the mating bond from driving him mad enough to launch across the dancefloor and bruise Naemon’s high, perfect cheekbones.

But then the dance ended and Naemon parted from you long enough to reach behind his back and pluck a feather from his wing. A few shocked gasps scattered throughout the room. Even Thesan and Herades looked on with raised eyebrows, leaning close enough to touch.

The feather was a beauty - the length of Naemon’s forearm and such a pure white it glimmered like moonlight. You froze, staring down at the treasure he offered you with bated breath.

Peregryns were fiercely protective of their wings and rightfully so. To be allowed near them alone was a great honor. To touch them was an intimate act reserved for family members and lovers. To be offered a feather?! In some circles it was akin to being gifted a thousand roses. In other circles it was tantamount to a marriage proposal.

Both offers were completely overwhelming to you.

“Naemon-” You began carefully, backing away, “I-I can’t.”

He smiled softly, eyes flashing briefly up to the dias where the Shadowsinger had gotten up to his feet, something like desperation and longing buried deep beneath the layers of his hazel eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” Naemon said resignedly, “But please, take this,” He begged, spreading open your fingers before curling them again around the feather, “For everything you’ve done for my family.”

And because I love you, even if you don’t love me back - were the words he didn’t say aloud.

“Naemon-” A shadow fell over your feet, curling around your ankles and skirts and tugging you away like a child seeking attention.

Naemon, for all his relative youth and gentle disposition, didn’t seem surprised or affected by the Shadowsinger’s presence. Azriel hovered close behind you, eyes blown open and desperate.

Please don’t. He silently begged. Please don’t say yes to him.

He almost melted with relief when Naemon only dipped his head in acknowledgement and kissed the palm of your hands. Even that innocent touch made Azriel’s stomach turn.

You turned when Naemon finally disappeared into the crowd. “Azriel, I-”

You had half a mind to hide the feather behind your back, but you couldn’t do such a cruel thing to Naemon. And it wasn’t like Azriel hadn’t watched the whole thing unfold in front of him. You clasped the feather in your hands, careful not to ruffle the delicate barbs.

Azriel was no longer bored and unaffected. In fact he seemed unnaturally flustered and nervous.

He swallowed thickly, mindful of the curious stares you were attracting. Not only had you just been proposed to, but now you were being approached by a male from your past after an ambiguous response - you’d accepted the feather, but Naemon had left alone. The court gossips would have a field day, if they weren’t already.

“Y/n,” He said, his voice thin and quiet. A mere whisper among the riff raff that was steadily building up again in a crescendo, “Can we please talk?” His wings fluttered nervously, and he shot a dangerous look at a male who came too close to you, “In private? Please?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You’d barely recovered from Naemon’s dramatic display and you were scared about what Azriel might offer next.

Still you mumbled, “Oh-um… yes.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Azriel’s hand was on your wrist, delicately leading you through the crowd towards the archway and into the hallway beyond. Fae mingled about in their finery, happy to escape the music and the sweep of dancers.

Azriel scowled. This was hardly any more private.

“My quarters are further down this hall,” You offered, pointing down a sky bridge that connected the public wings of the palace to the private ones. Azriel exhaled in relief, nodding and following you as you cut through unfamiliar halls draped in rich reds, golds, and turquoises.

You stopped at a door of solid oak, hand painted to look like it had been lifted from the pages of a storybook. Resplendent gold filigree traced the footsteps of maidens running along hills dense with colorful flora. Water trickled down from the mountain tops, so realistic that Azriel was amazed to find the handwoven carpets in your room were dry.

You peered down the hall before closing the door with a gentle whisper. Only the songbirds nesting in the high crevices bore witness to your activities.

You hesitated and then tucked the feather into one of the empty jewelry boxes on the vanity. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

Azriel stood motionless by the door, watching as you closed the box and slid it back against the mirror.

“Did you say yes?” He whispered, hating the way his voice caught in his throat, “Do you love him?”

You turned around quickly, the length of ribbon in your hair rippling through the air to land on your collarbone. Azriel was upon you in an instant close enough for you to feel his shallow breathing, but all he did was trace the blue ribbon with his fingers and then push it back over your shoulder.

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stuttered and your face burned with feeling. Azriel had asked you for privacy so he could ask you about Naemon?

Azriel clenched his fists once. Twice. “The male you were dancing with. The feather-”

You blushed deeply, turning your face away to hide your embarrassment. You had hoped he didn’t know about that Peregryn custom.

He gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling your gaze back to him. You blinked in surprise. For once Azriel looked… scared.

“Did you say yes to him? Please. Tell me.”

If you had said yes he might just shrivel up into nothing on the spot. Why had he waited so long to tell you his feelings? Why had he waited so long to tell you about the bond? But if he did it now it would just be terrible timing all around. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You shook your head and Azriel’s wings dropped in relief, eyes closing as he murmured a quiet thanks to the Mother beneath his breath.

“He-it wasn’t even a real proposal. He gave it to me as thanks for helping his sister. That’s all.”

He gave you a pointed look like he knew you were lying. There was no questioning Naemon’s feelings for you. No questioning at all.

“You never answered my second question.”

You crumpled under his gaze. Gods, he looked beautiful tonight. Torturously so. It wasn’t fair. Naemon had loved you openly, never given you cause to doubt his intentions nor made you feel guilty for not returning his feelings. And yet here you were, still pining after the male who’d never seen you as more than a friend. A male whose intentions were never clear. A male who always made you question how well you knew him, and whether those small touches and reserved smiles and affectionate letters were just a polite kindness or something more.

“No.” It felt wrong of you to admit it so callously, even if it was the truth, “No I don’t love him.”

Azriel looked ready to kiss the ground and something about that set a fire within you. Leave it to Azriel to ignore any romantic advances from you, to chase after other females left and right for literal centuries, and then get upset the moment another male found you appealing.

You huffed, pushing him away harshly and crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s none of your business anyhow. I’m allowed to have my lovers and my almost lovers. And if you truly thought Naemon was proposing to me, I don’t know why you’d want to fucking interrupt it!”

Azriel flinched at the coldness in your voice, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Az?” You exclaimed, clearly irritated now, “Gods, you never just say what you mean.”

Azriel tried again, grasping at straws. “I would never judge you for your choices, even if you said yes to him or-I just-fuck.”

On any other day you’d be laughing. Azriel was a male of few words, but the words he did say were always perfect and calculated. Nothing about this was calculated or thought out.

“I… you’re my best friend, Y/n. And I haven’t seen you in over a year. I just…” He cringed. Hard. Cauldron boil him. He was doing this terribly, “I was scared.” He finally admitted, and rather pathetically.

“Scared?” You dropped your arms. That wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, “Scared of what? You’re hardly ever afraid of anything.”

He shrank away, hands clasped tightly behind his back, “That you’d leave me-us. That you’d find a reason to stay here instead of returning to Velaris. And when I saw you dancing with him tonight - the way he was looking at you and the way you were looking at him - I thought… I thought Naemon would be that reason.”

Now you were confused and even more irate than before.

You stalked up to him, jabbing his chest with an accusatory finger, “You were the one who encouraged me to do this. You were the one constantly writing to me about the importance of making friends and “putting myself out there.” You were the one who practically shoved me out the door when I left-”

“Because I thought you wanted this!”

“I did! I-I do!”

“Then what was I supposed to do, Y/n?!” He cried out. His shadows, which had been held back so tightly on a leash throughout the night, exploded outward, coating the bright colors of your bedspread and the rugs and the curtains in inky black. They swirled there, as agitated and timid as their master.

“What was I supposed to do?” He whispered again. He sounded tired. Defeated. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold you back from what you wanted. From the happiness and opportunities you deserve.”

“You could’ve at least said something! You could’ve at least told me that you were upset with me leaving. That you were going to miss me and that you-you-”

That you love me and that you wanted me to stay. You shoved the thought out of your mind, slamming the door and turning the lock. Useless, lovestruck pipedreams would do you no good now.

“Instead you just pushed me out the door and it’s been nothing but empty letters from you since.”

“They weren’t empty.” Azriel said weakly. He’d never been a man of words or poetry, but in that moment he desperately wished he was. “And I did miss you. Y/n, I missed you so much some days it felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

You deflated, your anger slowly ebbing away like the ocean during low tide. Sometimes you forgot that beneath all those hard-won layers of shadow and muscle, Azriel was still that little boy that had been abandoned in a cellar and taught to believe he was worthless. A waste of time and a waste of space. Nothing more than an inconvenient bastard.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were all doing fine. That I’d come back and it would be like nothing had ever changed. I would’ve-I would’ve made time to visit. Or-or come back sooner.”

Azriel chuckled without humour. He had not been “doing fine” without you. He hadn’t been “doing fine” since the moment you’d stepped across the doorway and winnowed out of Velaris.

“You make it sound like I was going away forever.” You added softly.

“It felt like it.” Azriel admitted quietly, “I always worried there was a chance you’d decide you liked things better in Dawn. That you liked the people better. So when I saw you with Naemon I just…” His voice trailed off and he slowly backed up to your bed, sinking down into the pillowy comforter. Even the beds seemed softer and kinder here. Softer and kinder than him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

He felt the bed dip beside him, your knee pressing against his in a burst of warmth. The blue tipped pleats of your dress slowly waved with his shadows as they once again curled around your feet, inching up your dress and closer and closer to your hands. Now that he was looking down he noticed the shoes you were wearing - cobalt blue with matching velvet ribbons tied up your calf. Same as your dress. Same as the ribbon in your hair.

“I wanted to believe you wore those colors for me tonight.” He said quietly, aching for your touch. Your hands were so close to his he could almost imagine that-

You covered his hands with your own, smoothing the rough skin with gentle caresses, “I did.”

It had seemed like such a stupidly hopeful choice at the time - some not-so-subtle declaration of love for all the months you’d spent apart - but when the seamstress had laid out all the dresses, you’d taken one look at the cobalt blue accents and the shoes and snatched them up in a heartbeat.

Azriel’s eyes were wider, more open, than the moon, shimmering with disbelief and hope, “You did?” He whispered.

“I did. They reminded me of you.” You stopped looking him in the eyes. It felt like too much. Too much emotion. Too much feeling. “I missed you too, you know.”

Azriel stayed quiet for a long while, sorting out the myriad of feelings roiling in his chest and trying to latch onto a single coherent thought. Finally he murmured, “I guess we could both work on saying things outright.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and wiping at the corners of your eyes, “Yes. I guess we could.”

“We could start now.” Azriel offered hesitantly. His heart hammered away in his chest like a blacksmith at his anvil until he was sure his sternum would crack.

You raised your eyebrows. Curious.

“The next five minutes. We say everything honestly. No holding back.”

“I don’t know, Az. I-”

“Please.” He begged, holding onto your hands a little tighter. His shadows had traveled all the way up to your waist now, ghosting over flesh that he didn’t dare touch. He didn’t want to lose you. He’d thought he could handle being apart from you physically - that it would be no different from the decades he’d spent quietly loving you from right by your side - but he’d been horribly wrong. And he didn’t want to risk another, better male than Naemon coming to whisk you away before he had the chance to do things properly. To do things honestly.

His hands were shaking now, gripping your hands like you were the anchor to his ship trapped in raging waters, “I’ll start.”

“Ok.” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

Azriel swallowed and tried to stop the trembling in his hands and in his voice. In this he managed quite well, falling into a rigid, flat silence.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years now, actually.” He dared to look at you. Your lips were parted in shock and he wished he could taste them, “Is that…is that ok?”

“Is that ok?” You repeated dumbly. “Is that ok?” You repeated a little louder, “Are you serious, Azriel?”

“Y-Yes?” He was trembling again, face open and terrified. He was offering you up his heart on a platter and praying to the Mother you wouldn’t crush it beneath those velvet blue shoes. Even if you did, he would find some solace in knowing you were the one to destroy him. He loved you so dearly that it was only within your right to do so.

Your lips broke in a stuttered smile, opening and closing like you didn’t quite know what to do. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. I’d hoped you might feel that way but I… I was never sure. I…” You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones with your fingertips, “I love you too, Azriel. I love you so much.” Your voice cracked, silver gathering in your eyes no matter how fiercely you tried to blink them away, “Gods, Az, you don’t even know.”

He gripped you close enough enough to bruise, arms locked around your waist and hands laid flat on your back. It was a sweet pain that grew even sweeter when you kissed him, searching for breath like you’d find it in his lungs. Azriel was just as desperate, ravenous even as he tugged at your clothes and flipped you flat on the bed. He wanted your lips again. You tasted like strawberries and cream, and he was starving.

He climbed on top, slotting himself between your legs as you yanked him close.

“Your hair,” You muttered, “It’s too neat.” The next minute was all teeth from Azriel as you mussed up his hair and he grinned wildly against your lips.

“Five-” He groaned, sinking further into you when you wrapped your legs around his waist, “Five minutes aren’t-” He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at your flushed face as you gasped for breath and finally untangled your hands from his hair, “Five minutes aren’t up yet.”

“You’ve been keeping track?” You dropped your head back on the bed with a disgruntled hmph. Had he been counting the whole time he’d been kissing you?

He kissed your chest, then the sensitive skin of your neck. But there wasn’t any expectation in the brush of his lips, just quiet, honest love.

You raised your head, finding that Azriel once again looked scared. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” He said seriously. “Before… before anything else.”

You drew yourself onto your elbows, craning your neck for one more kiss, “You can tell me, Az. You can tell me anything.”

The bond sang in his chest like a songbird in a cage. It wanted to be released. To be acknowledged in words if it couldn’t be acknowledged through feeling at this moment. Because Azriel knew you didn’t feel it yet. You didn’t feel the burning he felt in his chest that made it hard to breathe when you weren’t around.

What if she doesn’t want this? What if she doesn’t want me? Azriel swallowed thickly, tears springing into his eyes. He wanted so desperately to be worthy of you - to be the kind and gentle lover and mate that you deserved. He’d been born crooked even before he’d been tossed into that cellar, before his half-brothers had set his hands on fire. But… but he was yours completely. He’d offer whatever meager, broken shards of himself that he could in hopes it might be enough.

“Az,” You whispered his name lovingly and slid a wayward curl behind his ear so gently he thought he might break apart into a million pieces, “Tell me. Please. Tell me.”

“You’re my mate.” He confessed.

The words hung in the air, unaccepted, unrejected, and you went preternaturally still.

He had no feathers to pluck out and present to you. But he had his shadows. You tipped your head curiously to the side when Azriel knelt on the ground, holding your hand in his.

“I don’t have any pure white feathers. I don’t even have a ring on me right now-”

“Az, you don’t need to-” You stilled when a shadow flickered down Azriel’s wrist onto yours. It was a small, delicate thing. Willful too. You could tell by the way it traveled confidently down your ring finger, curling there tastefully like a castle spire reaching towards the sky.

It hovered over your skin like mist hanging over wetlands. A proposal in and of itself.

“Yes.” You said before Azriel could open his mouth again. He hesitated, afraid to believe he’d heard you correctly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” He teased weakly.

But this time you knew exactly what he meant, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

The bond burst to life in your chest as the shadow sank into your skin, settling there like a tattoo. Like a promise.

Azriel stumbled, actually stumbled, clenching at his chest at the wildness growing within him. He chased after you, hurtling down the bond and finding you wide open on the other side. You were anxious and surprised and so so so happy. So happy you felt like you might just die from it, and Azriel felt it all.

Hello, Y/n. He called out.

Hello, Azriel. You responded. My mate.

Azriel groaned, slamming his lips and his body against yours. You held steady as you always did, letting him press against you as if you could keep him there forever.

I am yours and you are mine. You gripped his hair again, feeling the silky strands caress your skin. With one smooth motion he pulled out the ribbon and started to undo the buttons of your dress.

Promise?

You grinned. Promise.

___________

Author's note:

Nothing like a declaration of love after a year spent apart to make my heart swoon.

But honestly I would have fallen in love with Naemon... sorry Az...

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fic #jealous azriel #fluff #angst #azriel x reader angst #acotar #acotar oneshot #acotar fanfic

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thedensworld · 5 months

Text

I Can Fight | J.Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Since you married Jeon Wonwoo, you always considered to not wear revealing clothes. Honestly, Wonwoo doesn't care.

Maestro is definitely Wonwoo's era. My love from him escalates from hundred to limited🤍 god, i need him in my life. However, enjoy this fluffy fluffy wonuuuu🥰

It hasn't even been a year since you tied the knot with Jeon Wonwoo, the heir to a vast conglomerate. He possesses everything one could desire: a top-tier education, a lucrative career, and a prominent place in society. Yet, despite his wealth and status, he insists that you are the center of his universe. You, a mere lecturer at a university owned by his father, never imagined you'd capture the heart of someone like Wonwoo.

Your paths crossed at an event where you represented the university as its youngest dean. Wonwoo's attention was drawn to you instantly, captivated by the calm grace you exuded. The following morning, you were taken aback to find him at the university, seeking you out.

"I have something to discuss with you," he said, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and something else, something softer.

As he proposed an internship program to benefit the students, the conversation effortlessly shifted from professional to personal. It became evident that his true motive was to get closer to you, to unravel the layers of your being.

You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your heart as Wonwoo confessed his ulterior motive. How could you resist someone who pursued you with such sincerity and charm?

Wonwoo's pride in you knew no bounds. He loved to showcase you to his friends and colleagues, boasting about your intelligence and beauty at every opportunity. Being by his side at elite events was both an honor and a responsibility, one that required the perfect attire to match his prestigious status.

As you surveyed the two gowns laid out before you in the bedroom, the weight of the upcoming event pressed upon you. Your current formal attire had already made its rounds, and you couldn't bear the thought of causing Wonwoo any embarrassment by appearing in the same outfit again.

With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, dialing Seungkwan's number without hesitation. He was your trusted friend, the one whose fashion sense you relied on for such occasions. But as you questioned his choices, your finger instinctively pointed towards the more daring of the two gowns—a black off-shoulder number with a thigh-high slit.

"What were you thinking with these options?" you inquired, your voice laced with a mix of frustration and concern. The other gown, a deep red wine hue, was equally alluring, with its backless design and knee-high slit, presenting a different kind of challenge.

"I thought that's what rich people wear to events like that! It's straight out of the pages of those fancy books!" Seungkwan's voice came through the phone, his defense ringing with a hint of sheepishness.

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling deeply before responding. "Do you honestly think I usually wear something like these?" You couldn't help but chuckle, the absurdity of the situation washing over you.

Seungkwan's laughter echoed through the phone. "Of course not. Last time you wore something revealing was when you danced to '10 Minute' at Jeonghan's birthday party in college."

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you recalled the carefree days of youth. "And I was so drunk that I slit my skirt and cut my sleeves," you added, shaking your head at the memory.

Seungkwan's tone turned more serious. "Just wear it. You won't embarrass your husband by wearing it. Trust me."

You nervously bit your lip, the weight of Seungkwan's words sinking in. "He's a respected person, Seungkwan. And I'm an academic. Last time I wore something tight, someone actually talked about him."

"No way! What did they say?" Seungkwan's curiosity piqued through the phone.

You let out a weary sigh, memories of the unpleasant encounter resurfacing. "Just that I looked too hot for a professor, and my look didn't match Wonwoo. It was awful, really. I wish I could have stood up to them at the time."

Seungkwan's voice came through with conviction, urging you not to let others dictate your choices. "Darling! Don't let them stop you. What if you are actually too hot? It's their fault they couldn't handle your fire! Stand up to them if someone talks to you like that."

A soft laugh escaped your lips at Seungkwan's fierce encouragement. "You know I can't fight," you admitted, resigned to your non-confrontational nature.

Before you could dwell further on the conversation, the sound of the bedroom door being pushed open interrupted your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to see your husband standing there, his presence filling the room with warmth and reassurance.

"Wonwoo just got back from work, I'll let you know my choice. Thanks for getting me these dresses, though," you informed Seungkwan.

Seungkwan hummed in acknowledgment. "Say hi to Wonwoo. I believe he'll choose the black one."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his teasing remark. "Shut up," you retorted playfully before ending the call.

As Wonwoo entered the room, his presence instantly filled the space with comfort and affection. His tie was discarded, and he loosened his blazer before casting a glance at the dresses laid out on the bed.

"Seungkwan got me these for tonight," you explained, gesturing towards the gowns. Wonwoo nodded in understanding as he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"He has great taste," he murmured softly, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

A tender smile graced your lips as he pulled you closer, his embrace providing solace and reassurance. "You'll look good in everything," he added, his words washing over you like a comforting embrace.

You gently touched his arms, leaning into his embrace. "But don't you think they'll be too revealing? I could just wear the one I've already used."

Wonwoo shook his head, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "If you want to wear these, then wear them. I think you'll look absolutely gorgeous, whether in revealing clothes or not."

A surge of warmth flooded your chest at his words, his unwavering support comforting you. "However, I would love to see you in them," he added, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, turning your head to meet his gaze. "Really?"

Wonwoo nodded, his expression earnest. "Let's show them that you're hot, just like what Seungkwan said."

Your astonishment grew as you realized he had overheard your conversation with Seungkwan. "From which part did you hear us?" you asked curiously.

"From the start. I actually wanted to surprise you, but you were talking to him," Wonwoo confessed with a sheepish smile.

A moment of silence passed between you before he spoke again. "Actually, I want to thank him for getting you these dresses. I can't wait to see you wear it," he added, his excitement evident in his voice.

He gently withdrew his arms from your waist, turning your body to face him. His hands tenderly moved from your hair to your face, cupping your cheeks and stroking them softly. "I'd love to see you in the black one tonight," he murmured, his voice filled with affection as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

A warmth spread through you at his touch and words, reassurance flooding your senses. "Your friend knows me so well," he remarked, planting another kiss on your forehead before trailing down to your shoulder.

His gestures of love and appreciation enveloped you, melting away any lingering doubts or insecurities.

***

You approached Wonwoo where he sat on the couch in the living room, a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. "Isn't it too revealing?" you asked, your voice tinged with self-doubt.

His breath caught in his throat as he took in your breathtaking appearance. The black dress hugged your curves in all the right places, accentuating your beauty in a way that left him speechless. The subtle yet alluring makeup only enhanced your features, drawing his eyes irresistibly to you. And the scent of your perfume, a familiar fragrance that never failed to captivate him, enveloped him in a heady mix of calm and desire.

As your hand moved to cover the revealed thigh, a part of you that he found utterly captivating, Wonwoo couldn't tear his gaze away from you. His heart raced with a jealous fervor, envying his own eyes for having the privilege of beholding your radiance.

"Is it not working?" you questioned, disappointment evident in your tone as he remained silent.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Wonwoo reached out to gently grasp your hand, pulling it away from your thigh. "No, it's not that," he finally managed to say, his voice filled with reverence and admiration. "You look absolutely stunning, beyond words."

Wonwoo sensed your apprehension and immediately shook his head, stepping forward to take your hand and press a tender kiss to it. "I can't believe I'm married to you. You look amazing, love," he murmured, lifting your hand and encouraging you to spin to showcase your dress.

As you twirled, a hint of uncertainty lingered in your mind, but Wonwoo's gasp of awe and promise to buy you countless dresses like the one you wore washed away your worries.

"You can wear anything you want, love. I can fight.," he declared, his words echoing your own inner resolve.

A smile graced your lips as you leaned in to peck his cheek, feeling reassured by his unwavering support. "I'll fight them with my whole life. But kiss me again, here and now," he requested, tapping his lips playfully.

You obliged, landing another gentle kiss, but before you could pull away, Wonwoo's grip on your head tightened, deepening the kiss into a passionate embrace. Lost in the moment, your hands instinctively found their way to his neck, reveling in the intimacy of the kiss that ignited a fiery passion between you.

"Should we skip the event?" he suggested with a mischievous smirk, tempting you with the idea of spending the evening wrapped up in each other's arms.

You playfully slapped his chest, chuckling at his suggestion. "Let's wipe your lips and let me fix my makeup. Seungcheol is going to kill you if we skip his birthday party," you reminded him, handing him a wet wipe.

Wonwoo chuckled as he wiped his mouth clean of your lipstick. "He loves me, he won't kill me," he mumbled before turning his gaze back to you. "So, what do you think?" he asked, anticipation dancing in his eyes as he awaited your response.

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iamred-iamyellow · 4 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ je t'aime

♥ masterlist

♥ pairing: charles leclerc x fem!singer!reader

♥ smau - fluff

♥ a/n: here's some more smau while I work on the last part of the folklore series lol (none of the pictures are mine, all were found on pinterest)

liked by oliviarodrigo, taylorswift, jackantonoff and 658,892 more

yourusername I feel incredibly honored to be featured on the tortured poets department. thank you @/taylorswift <3

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taylorswift <3

*liked by original poster*

user6 A FEATURE???

user7 ~you look like Taylor Swift~

jackantonoff come sing with bleachers now

yourusername JUST SAY WHEN

user5 💗

user8 Y/N AND TAYLOR COLLAB THIS IS NOT A DRILL

user1 now we just need her and liv

user8 and gracie

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, and 349,673 more

yourusername @/charlesleclerc wanna write a piano piece for my next album?

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charlesleclerc lets make it happen

oliviarodrigo goals

user12 how does he have time to write songs, own an ice cream business, AND be a professional athlete?

user8 ?!?!?!?

user7 taylor and now CHARLES??

user14 I'd literally pay to see this

user9 this is straight out of a fanfic

user2 right??!!

user1 unrelated but you're stunning

user3 THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT-

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

liked by charlesleclerc, tatemcrae, gracieabrams and 1,340,875 more

yourusername sixteen days is out now! special thank you to @/jackantonoff my amazing producer and @/charlesleclerc for writing je t'aime with me

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tatemcrae ITS SO GOOD

yourusername THANK YOU TATE ILY

charlesleclerc how about a full album next? 😉

yourusername 👀

user6 THE WINK-

user12 oh they're so in love

user9 don't tease us

user8 when are we going to talk about the lyrics in je t'aime???

user7 sixteen days... isn't charles' number 16?

user2 they're leaving crumbs

user4 I'm going full inspector gadget, national treasure, sherlock holmes right now

user3 this album is amazing

user18 JE T'AIME IS SO GOOD

user17 traffic and we couldn't stop are my favorite

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

time skip - one year later

liked by yourusername, arthurleclerc, and 506,723 more

charles_leclerc happy one year mon cheri ❤️

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yourusername I love you <3

charlesleclerc je t'aime

user6 WAIT ONE YEAR?

user4 wait that means they've been dating since their first song together

user7 they've been dating this whole time???

user8 they're so cute

arthurleclerc does this mean I get free tickets to your concert

yourusername no

arthurleclerc I'm literally the one who got you two together

yourusername my extra ticket goes to leo

arthurleclerc fair enough.

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

When I Say Forever ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Today’s your wedding day and the slightly shy yet handsome, doe-eyed stranger who chased after you when you dropped your wallet on the street three years ago just happens to be the man standing before you today.

Original request: can you please write something about oc's and Jungkook's wedding? Your readers just need to witness it. We would highly appreciate it. Thank you!

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/AU: fluff, smut, wedding au

word count: 4,696

warnings: a cute wedding where jungkook gets emotional and is very eager to be married, they get a little scolded during the ceremony ahaha, jk is romantic and prepares something very special for his lovely bride, mentions of absence of parents on oc's side (nothing gets too deep but I chose to go this route due to the very real factor that parents aren't always around), and finally sexual content bc come on it their wedding night 🥺

sexual warnings: soft dom!jk, sub!reader, swearing, explicit s*x, jk asks for consent bc yeah i don't even need to justify it, f*ngering, oral (both m. and f., multiple orgasms, dry humping, t*tty suck, heavy making out, overstimulation, possessive!kook, m*ssionary, c*wgirl, oc claws at his back which jk seems to have a kink for, a little bit of steamy rivalry at the end (just a hint), our kook is attentive even though it gets kinda rough

now playing: My You by jjk

a/n: my you has been one of my on repeat songs and im not sorry. Also, thank you for the request, i hope this is alright! Anyway pls enjoy! ❤

Dozens of cherry blossom trees are sky-high in the air, covering you as you walk down the aisle in the grass. Some of the blush pink and white blossoms shake from branches every few steps to shower over you in a cascading effect. The temperature is also perfect, a steady 68 degrees.

This is why you and Jungkook chose to marry in the spring–it was beautiful.

You look to your left, then to your right. Rows of seats filled with family, friends, and co-workers stare at you in awe. The only two people missing, however, are your parents.

With the passing of your father years ago and your mother's absence in your life since then, your half of the guest list isn’t extensive by any means. It's for those reasons that you both agreed a small wedding would be ideal.

Still, even with the minimized guest list, you find it difficult to hold eye contact with any of them. It's not because you're nervous exactly–you simply don’t believe your reality is real.

Was this another one of your silly dreams?

Are you going to wake up just as you reach the front?

You keep your eyes straight ahead and towards the man who's waiting for you with tightly clasped hands. He makes all your worries melt away in that instant.

No, you remind yourself. This isn't a dream.

The veil you’re wearing drags on the ground behind you and flows over the small train of your delicate, white gown. You chose a form-fitting sheath dress that’s made from the softest satin fabric. Its clean, sharp lines allow the semi-deep-v neckline to appear more elegant than revealing.

The closer you get the more Jungkook’s cheeks wet with his tears. He knew he was going to cry today. But he was hoping it’d happen towards the end so he could see you walking down the aisle to him without his vision blurring.

“Hi,” he whispers to you once you’re fully in front of him. He wipes his face with his thumbs as subtly as he can.

You bow to each other in greeting and, with the request to join hands from your officiant, you hand your bouquet of fresh-cut flowers to your maid of honor and place your hands in his gentler ones.

“Hi,” you reply, equally quiet and with a small smile.

Jungkook’s dark, raven hair parts in the middle with a few strands tastefully out of place. He’s wearing a black, pin-stripped suit with a matching vest and plain black tie. The white dress shirt underneath is buttoned all the way up to the top too and he’s kept all his piercings in, including his lip ring. He’s unbelievably handsome–and he’s yours.

When your officiant begins making the welcome speech, the guests settle down in their seats all at once. Yet you and Jungkook keep whispering to each other as softly as you can.

“You look amazing.” His thumbs rub soothing circles over the top of your knuckles.

“So do you.” Your gaze holds his reddened ones. The fact that he’s still on the verge of tears causes you to form watery eyes as well. But you blink them back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” He pauses and grins at you. “Did you see who came with whom?” He gives a side-eye, gesturing at Jimin, one of his best men.

“I saw.” You and Jungkook start giggling at once because the person who Jimin brought as his plus one is perhaps the most annoying person in the world to him–your co-worker who’s had an insane crush on him for the last year. They insisted that Jimin be a “gentleman” and show them a good time while at your wedding.

“Do you think they’ll…you know,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively to finish the sentence.

Jungkook shakes his head lightly. “I don’t know, maybe. I can’t really bother to think about who’ll sleep with who when you’re gonna be the one under me tonight.”

Though he says it with the most sincere tone, more endearing than flirty, you swallow hard. It’s not your first time with Jungkook but you’re unsure what to expect tonight. You’ll be his wife after this.

“Why do you get to top?” you mouth.

Jungkook gives a half-smirk.“Why do you pretend to hate it?”

You open your mouth to form a response but the harsh clearing of a throat behind Jungkook orders you to stop.

“Everyone-ahem-can hear you,” Taehyung coughs. “Stop it for god sake.”

“Yes, if the bride and groom could please save the after-wedding affairs for later, we can move forward with the ceremony. Thankfully I don't see many children in the crowd today,” the officiant adds as humorously as she can and the crowd chuckles.

Oh god. You bite down on your tongue to keep from embarrassing the two of you further.

Once your officiant is able to finish her welcome speech she turns her attention to you. "__ do you want to marry Jungkook, to be your husband, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always?

"I do. Yes."

She looks at Jungkook afterward. "Jungkook do you want to marry __, to be your wife, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always?

He stares at you, wordless for a moment as every memory between the two of you hits him like a tidal wave. His hand starts shaking in yours, and tears start spilling from his eyes again.

"You okay?" You whisper and this time it's your turn to rub soothing circles on his hands, calming him down.

"Yeah," he sniffs. "I just never imagined myself to be standing here today. I love you so much."

Your officiant decides it's best to wait for the right time to speak but Jungkook smiles at her softly. "That means yes by the way," he jokes and the guests laugh in unison.

She turns to the ring bearer, aka Namjoon's eight-year-old son who stands on Jungkook's left by his father. "May we have the rings please?"

The boy walks over to her, hands over the small gold bands, then returns to his previous position.

"The couple will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and devotion. I understand they have prepared their own vows thus binding promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. __, please place this ring on Jungkook’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

You take the ring and begin slipping it on Jungkook's finger. "They say when you marry someone you become one. You consider each other in every decision, make compromises for the other, and be the strength when the other cannot. We've been together for three years now Jungkook, doing those exact things and I couldn't fathom stopping now. I love you and I promise I'll always be here next to you, however and whenever you need."

"Jungkook," your officiant hands him your ring. "Please place this ring on __’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

"When I saw you years ago, waiting at the crosswalk, I thought you were the most beautiful and intriguing person I'd ever seen in my life." He puts the ring on your fourth finger. "And then you dropped your wallet and it gave me the best opportunity to approach you. Little did I know, the sight of a man running after would make you run too. But you took my number in the end and three years later, the love of my life is standing before me. Everything I am and have belongs to you __, always and forever."

Your officiant smiles at you both as Jungkook struggles to keep his distance from you a few seconds longer. He's been waiting for this very moment since the day you agreed to be his boyfriend. He just can't take it any longer!

"In the presence of...oh for the love of might," your officiant stops mid-sentence when she sees Jungkook shuffling his feet closer and closer towards you. "Never in my twenty years of performing marriages have I seen a groom this eager to get married. Go ahead and kiss your wife hun! Mr. and Mrs. Jeon Jungkook everyone!"

Massive grin on his face, Jungkook grabs your waist and dips you low into a romantic kiss. The crowd goes wild at the dramatic gesture, whistling and clapping behind you.

After about a million more tears, speeches, first dances, a surprise song preformed by the wedding party, and Jungkook practically ripping off the lace garter around your thigh with his teeth, the wedding festivities come to an end. But not before you both find yourself being guided to a secret place led by Taehyung.

The wedding party insisted you be blindfolded beforehand. So here you are, almost pitch black out and clinging to Jungkook's arm.

"I don't understand why I need to be blindfolded and you don't," you say.

"I'm not sure," he replies. "Maybe they got you a gift or something."

"We're here! Stop!" You hear Taehyung shout from a few feet ahead and Jungkook freezes in place. You're body jolts forward a little with the sudden pause.

"__." Jungkook calls your name softly. "Open your eyes."

You flutter your lids open and at first, the sight before you is hazy as you adjust to the night sky. But then, your jaw drops to the ground.

In front of you is a charming river surrounded by perfectly arched cherry blossoms with lanterns hanging from the branches. All the lanterns illuminate the entire length of the stream, including around the bends and curves. At the edge of the stream is a small dock where a wooden row boat floats with a set of oars inside.

"Oh my god." Your eyes trail as far down the river as you can. You've only ever seen this in movies, so you're incredibly overwhelmed by the sight. "Jungkook, are we-are we going in there?"

He watches as you openly gape at the scene in front of you. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

You whip your head in his direction. "Are you kidding? It's amazing! Did you know about this?"

His big grin tells you everything you need to know.

"He planned everything himself," Namjoon speaks up. "Come on, your boat's waiting. It'll take you all the way to one of the best hotels in Seoul. I know you're going on your honeymoon tomorrow but we thought a night up in a five-star hotel might be nice. Unless you want to go back to Jungkook's house of course but...we kinda already grabbed your suitcases for the trip and had them put in your room."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious __."

You snake your arms out Jungkook's arm and swing them around him. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Joon."

He places a gentle hand on your upper back. "Of course, but like I said. Jungkook planned everything so you should thank him more than me." He laughs and breaks away from you when he sees the younger man eyeing the two of you excruciatingly close. "I think your husband would like you back now."

Jungkook comes up behind you and sneakily slips your hand in his tatted one. "Are you ready?" He gestures towards the boat.

You nod and he pulls you towards the dock, helping you into the boat first when you approach it. He sits across from you after and grabs the oars of the boats, lowering them into the water one at a time.

"Wait!" Taehyung lunges over the edge of the boat with something small and black in his palm. "Don't forget this." He clips a tiny microphone to his shirt and you scrunch your eyebrows.

"What's this about?" You ask.

Taehyung only half-smirks at you and backs away from the boat. "We'll see you when you come back from the honeymoon okay? Have fun! But please, for the sanity of us all, don't text us any details. In the words of the wise, keep the private things private!"

Jungkook laughs and starts rowing the boat forward and down the stream. You, on the other hand, wave goodbye to everyone as you drift further and further away from the dock.

"So, husband," you sit with your elbows on your knees. "What's the mic for?"

Jungkook doesn't reply but shushes you instead. He tests the mic a couple of times before soft music comes from either side of you. Apparently, there are stereos lined down the banks of the river.

When he starts singing, you cover your mouth in overwhelming joy.

"Summer has already spread in the air

Breeze is already blowing.

The last cold snap is going out

The days were getting longer and longer

But my days were still going on and on and on

I got wet in the sunshower, I looked up at the night sky..."

At this moment the lanterns start twinkling, reflecting like raindrops in the water. You look all around you, taking in the change of atmosphere. Jungkook's cool eyes focus on you intently as he continues serenading you.

"It was quite a lonely night

In the blink of an eye, the dark faded out

Blooming under the sunlight

Memories with me and you..."

The boat rows left and you peer over your shoulder. Taehyung and the rest of the wedding party are barely visible by now. When you look ahead again, you see that you're about to go under a stone bridge. On the other side are more cherry blossom trees and a glimpse of downtown Seoul.

"All these lights are colored in by you

All these times are precious due to you

Four seasons have passed with you

Four scents were left 'cause of you

All the reasons why I can laugh out

All the reasons why I sing this song

Thankful to be by your side now

I'll try to shine brighter than now..."

Jungkook rows the two of you closer to the city as he finishes his song, passing a number of other couples taking night strolls together. The wind blows a little but it doesn't make you shiver at all—his voice warms your soul.

And when you lean in to kiss him once the boat reaches the dock near the hotel, fingers grazing his cheeks, your body yearns to be near his.

It takes little to no time for the two of you to find your hotel room. Jungkook swipes your keycard in the door and in you both go, your hand shamelessly yanks at his tie.

He presses you up the back of the door once it's locked shut and kisses you with a fiery passion. It's different from all the other times; neither rough nor soft, as he sucks on your bottom lip, eagerly begging to deepen the kiss.

"Kook," you let out a muffled moan when his tongue finds its way into your mouth. It's a wrestle at first, your tongues toying with each other. And once you get the hint that he's not about to back down you start threading your fingers through his hair.

"I love it when you do that," he groans and pushes himself against your body, grinding his growing bulge against your center.

You whine against his lips and grind your hips back into his. "I know you do," you tease and a strong pair of hands wander your waist before traveling behind to grip your ass.

You yelp when he squeezes your cheeks and starts rutting himself into you faster. He moves his pillowy lips to the side of your neck too, peppering you with kisses from the the sensitive area right below your earlobe and all the way down to your collarbone.

"Fuck," he grunts, nothing short of frustrated, when your dress stops him from kissing down any further. The hands gripping your ass move up to find the zipper of your gown. "Please, baby, can I remove it?"

"Yes, go ahead," you nod and retract your hands from his hair to let the gown fall off your shoulders. Jungkook watches lustfully as your bare breasts are revealed to him little by little. He's seen them a million times but each time is always like his first, his eyes never fail to dilate.

"Perfect," you hear him whisper under his breath. And when the gown pools to the ground around your feet with a heavy thump, he can't hold himself back any longer.

He needs you.

One by one he starts tearing off his suit jacket, then his vest and leather belt until he's left standing in nothing else left except his black underwear. His muscles bulge without even having to flex and his pecs are more than solid.

If he weren't the love of your life, you'd say he was damn intimidating. Yet the pleasure you get from simply viewing his perfectly toned body is ridiculous and what pushes you further is the gold band wrapped around his fourth finger.

Jungkook must be feeling the same as his hands are back on your hips in the seconds following, pushing you to the wall adjacent to the door and attacking the area near your collarbone again with his plushy lips. You whine when his large pecs rub against your pebbled nipples.

"God what have you been lifting these day Jeon? Half of Seoul?" You rest your hands on his biceps which tense at the touch.

"Uh uh," he tsks in response. "Can't call me that anymore. We share the same name now." He kisses your shoulder then moves his mouth over to a nipple. He licks one first, teasing it with the tip of his tongue until you moan for him to keep going.

"You have such soft boobies," he comments before finally sucking on one. Your head falls back from the pleasure it sends up your spine.

"Do you have to say it like that?"

He switches to the other breast, licking and sucking it firmly like the he'd done previously. "What's wrong with boobies? I like the word."

You chuckle and decide to let him have his fun. Pick you battles __, you hum to yourself.

Jungkook tugs at the string of your underwear after placing one last kiss atop each boob. He slowly pulls the thin material down your legs at your consent and you step out from them.

"Lean against the wall and throw your leg over my shoulder," he tells you on bended knees.

You do as he says, swinging a leg over his shoulder. The movement has his head face to face with your cunt which is not in the least bit dry from all the teasing and grinding earlier.

Jungkook sticks a finger in his mouth, wetting it with his spit and then rubs it back and forth between your folds. The lubrication mixes with your own arousal.

"Jungkook," you whine when he doesn't sink his finger in right away, despite the fact that you're well prepared for it.

He blinks at you through his lashes with a devious smirk. "What?" He asks. "You don't like this?"

"I do but I need more. Please," you beg. "Fingers. In me. Please."

He groans at the way your voice seems to crack the more you beg. Well, he's made you wait long enough. Jungkook pushes his finger into your velvet walls all at once, dragging it back and forth in search of your sweet spot.

He knows he's found it when you instantly buck your hips and the leg that's over his shoulder reflexively clamps down on him.

"Right here?" He curls his finger inside you and it has your pussy already throbbing for him. You don't even have to ask for a second finger before he does the honors himself, sliding another into you then proceeding to make a scissoring motion with both digits. "Or here?" He asks again.

"Anywhere," you barely make out through your gasps. "Just don't stop what you're doing."

"What if I wanna lick your pussy?" He pumps his fingers faster all while maintaining focus on your face. "Make you come all over my tongue."

"God Kook, do whatever you want," you reply and it's all the push he needs to remove his fingers from out of you to replace it with his mouth. "Fuck!" You cry as he desperately licks long stripes up your slippery folds, tongue dipping inside for additional pleasure.

He repeats the motion several times until he decides its not enough and sucks on your clit.

"Oh, that feels so good, fuck, fuck Jungkook," you moan with eyes closed and a shaky breath.

Your legs start trembling as your first orgasm of the night builds inside. It gets closer and closer as Jungkook works faster and faster before finally, the cord inside you breaks free.

Jungkook happily swallows as much of your cum as he can. He uses his wrist to wipes his mouth after, cleaning up any leftover.

"First time eating my wife out," he starts, guiding your leg over his shoulder back on the ground. "What a fucking turn on."

Jungkook stands up and pulls you into an embrace with both hands, your bare bodies press tight against each other. Then, without any warning, he swoops up your legs with one hand supporting your lower back and lifts your into his arms.

"Kook!" You call his name in suddeness of the action.

"Yes? What is it wife?" He carries you to the large, king size bed that's covered in rose petals and lays you on top. His handsome face leans over you with careful, attentive eyes while a hand reaches for one of the soft pillows nearby to slip under your head.

It's now that the weight of the moment hits you, as if you've just doven off a steep cliff and head first into the rushing rapids of the ocean.

"I love you," you say.

Jungkook sticks his thumbs in the band of his underwear and pushes it down until he can easily remove them. He's fully hard when he crawls over top of you after, and places his hands on either side of your head.

"I love you too." He lowers his head to capture your lips into a deep kiss. "Now," he continues, sitting up on his knees and shimmying his thighs up your frame. "I think I might need some help here."

He grips his pulsating length, tan tip leaking with pre-cum. You widen your mouth gladly and he shoves his length to the back of your throat.

"Mm!" You gag but to say you hate it would be a lie.

Jungkook doesn't move at first, letting you get used to the weight of his cock on your tongue first. He bites his lip as you hallow your cheeks the best you can.

"I don't want to come, I just want it wet okay?" He tells you and you nod in understanding. "Fuck, so good," he lets out a throaty growl after the first thrust.

You suck him as hard as you can as he fucks your mouth at a steady pace, making sure his cock will be nice and well-lubricated with your spit this time.

"Can't believe we're married," he thrusts faster, teeth clenching together. "My wife, mine forever. No one else can have you. I won't let them."

You blink your glassy eyes at him, thighs struggling to rub together due to the arousal pooling between your legs for the tenth time tonight.

You love him so fucking much.

Jungkook pulls himself out of your mouth while you're in thought, a string of spit following. He backs himself down your body until he can properly hover over you in a straddling position.

"Legs up," he commands and you wrap them around his waist in a criss-cross position. His wetted length finds your entrance with little guidance and pushes forward, stretching your walls so deliciously well.

"Oh my god," you shudder as his cock sinks all the way in thanks to both of you being incredibly worked up and lubricated. Your hands fly under his arms after two thrusts, to grip his back. "Fuck, you're so deep Kook."

"I know, holy shit," he grunts and beats himself into you. He likes the feeling of your body bouncing up and down underneath him so leans down on his elbows to fuck you faster and harder. "I think this might be the deepest I've been in you baby, so wet for me—fuck!"

He moans loudly when your nails claw his back. "Shit I'm sorry!" You relax your fingers immediately when he winces at the slight pain.

"No," he nips at your jaw. "I like it, keep doing it. Mark me up." He snaps his hips into yours and you claw at his back again, harsher than the last time; not enough to hurt him but enough to make him moan in your ear over and over again.

"Jungkook! Too much," you pant as he burries his head in your neck, trailing hot open mouth kisses to the area. "It's too much, I'm gonna come!"

"Fuck, that's the goal baby!"

"Yeah but, don't wanna come so soo—"

He shuts you up with his tongue shoving between you lips, kissing you with a purpose. You's body squirms at the pleasure and you find yourself clenching around his thick length that yes, twitches in response.

"Three years together and you still think I'll give you one round and call it quits. Since when baby?" He groans as he feels himself achingly close to his high (you too). "Tell me, since fucking when?" He emphasizes once more.

You're too lost in how close you are to your second orgasm to give him an answer.

"That's right, never."

One hard thrust later and you come on his length. It takes little time before he releases in you as well, yet he continues his pace.

"That's one down," Jungkook says, riding out both your orgasms which slowly works you up to another. "Not including any eating out. And if my memory serves our record is five. Don't you think we should surpass that now that we're legally bonded to each other Mrs. Jeon? In sickness and in health was it?"

"I'm still trying to recover from the first two orgasms I had tonight, including the fingering and you relentless dry humping."

"Baby," he coos. "My sweet baby, come here." With both arms Jungkook lifts your body with his until you're both in an upright, seated position. Your legs that were once wrapped around his waist rest on the mattress as he thrust up into your cunt. "Don't you know I just want to make you feel good? Why recover when you can be wrecked so heavenly over and over again?"

You moan and squeeze your hands on his shoulder. Jungkook studies your face, maintaining slow, calculated thrusts into you.

"Come for me again," he says.

And you do, sticky white liquid dripping down to the base of his cock and onto the sheets under you.

"You enjoyed that didn't you?" He smirks. "Let's see you get on all fours now. I'd love to see how well my wife takes it from behind."

You catch him off guard by pushing on his chest and guiding him flat on his back. "Mm no," you refuse him. "I think I'd like to get a taste of my husband as a bottom instead."

Jungkook's cock hardens inside you and his fingers settle around your hips as he smirks up at you. "Go ahead then," he tests. "Try getting yourself off."

"You think I can't do it?" You narrow your eyes and grind forward on his cock, earning you a deep growl from your new husband.

"We'll see how long you'll last before I have to flip you on your back and take over," he spats. "But good luck beautiful."

With a huff and determination in your eyes, you start a strong pace. Jungkook watches you with lustful eyes as you bounce on him– enjoying the show a little too much.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts au #fic:whenIsayforever #requests #kookslastbutton

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zepskies · 8 months

Text

As You Wish

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

AN: Here’s a little something in honor of Dean’s birthday! If you haven’t seen The Princess Bride, do yourself a favor. 🥰

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, and nothing but the fluff. (Established relationship.)

“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” Dean says, right in time with the iconic swashbuckler on the screen, complete with his best approximation at a Spanish accent.

You giggle against his side, hard enough to rock both of you on the bed. When he agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

“Are you gonna quote the whole damn movie?” you ask.

Dean brandishes an imaginary sword with his fist held out.

“HELLO! My name is—”

Biting your lip, you cut him off short by playing dirty. You wrap your arm around his middle and dance your fingers across his ribs. He’d never admit it, but he’s got sensitive sides.

He flinches and laughs on reflex. “Hey, hey! That’s a foul move!”

His arm tightens around your waist while his other hand closes around your wrist. You try to grapple with him, your bare legs tangling with his pajama-clad ones, but you both know it’s a losing battle.

Dean gathers you tighter against his chest and traps your wandering hand.

Huffing another laugh, you relax again. His heart clips at a faster pace under your ear. Your hand smooths up his chest and finds its way up the back of his neck.

Dean can't help it. He lets out a contented hum when your nails give his scalp a little scratch.

For a moment, his attention drifts away from the movie and down to you. He spies the soft edge of your smile, feels your hair starting to itch against his arm, your soft curves under his hand, pressing against him.

You two don’t get these quiet days often, but he wants to make sure you get some rest. You, Sam, and Dean spent about three straight weeks in a row with back-to-back hunts, and the last one had really taken it out of you. So now, Dean’s satisfied to see you so relaxed. Happy, even.

Yeah. You really do seem to be as happy as he (secretly) feels.

Sometimes, he finds that part hard to believe. If you could want this with someone like him, then maybe…maybe he doesn’t screw up all the time.

Dean tunes back into the movie just in time for Buttercup to jump out of the window in her pretty white dress. She and Westley join Fezzik and Inigo on white horses, and the couple shares the kiss that left all the others behind.

Dean glances down at your face. He’s amused by the way you’re eating up all this sappy rom-com crap. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears. He ducks down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You just spring a leak over anything, don’t you?” he teases. You shove at his chest with a halfhearted hand.

“Only over the good stuff,” you retort.

He accepts that with a chuckle. When the credits start to roll down the screen, he reaches for the remote and searches for the episode you guys left off in Game of Thrones. You tap his chest.

“Hey, wanna go out to dinner tonight?” you ask. A warm smile plays on your lips. “Just you and me?”

Dean blinks. He doesn’t remember the last time you two went on an honest-to-God date. No time, no privacy, always something evil on your asses…

A decision made in his mind, Dean gives you a smile back. He brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“As you wish,” he says.

AN: 😘 Hope you liked this one!

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

#As You Wish #Happy Birthday Dean Winchester!#dean winchester #the princess bride #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #zepskies writes

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creativewritersposts · 4 months

Text

a damn poet - Connor Bedard

requested; @chericherilvr 💓

summary; Connor Bedard x reader

Connor is so busy trying to have his best season that he forgets about things that really matter. He needs to learn how to be a poet to save your relationship.

warning(s); angst! fluff, argument, maybe grammar errors

author's note; it took me hours to finish this one. It was an honor for me to write this request. ♡

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

Deep in your heart you know how Connor feels for you. He wouldn't invite you over another continent, joining his world championship, if he wouldn't love you. But something inside you breaks. Seeing all these hockey couples with cute pictures, sending their girlfriend flowers and the players screaming from the rooftop how much they love their girlfriends.

Connor is not like this. He loves you, he cooks your favorite food and watches all movies you want to watch. He's so focused to play the best rookie year he could do and lost the focus on his private life. He doesn't want to post your relationship official, because of his fan base.

You're self-evident for him.

"Hey love", you smile with big eyebags, touching his shoulder as he walks in the hotel room. It's your first time after three days having a real conversation with him.

"Hi", his mouth is straight, kissing your temple and waking in the bathroom. You're exhausted from love-bombing him. You're so tired of being so upset.

"How was your day?", you ask him, hearing the shower. "I can do better", his voice echos back. "You're already enough, my love", you shout back and throw your body into the bed. You spread your arms apart, your legs are on the ground.

Connor comes out after a few minutes ago in a towel, his hair is still wet and he's looking fine.

"What is that?", he grabs a paper from the desk.

"So I hold onto your shirt, as I stain it with blood

Will I finally find my own peace?

Clear my mind out of my thoughts, then state that I'm in love

Tempted with the idea of dying in these sheets"

"I'm writing songs ", your voice shakes. Connor never noticed this because he's always busy and you're asleep when he comes home. You're working full-time in a job you don't like and at night you're writing songs. Hopefully to live from that one day.

Connor looks up from these lines, "since when?", he breathes in. Hid eyes get red. Red like crying. "over a year", you sit up on the bed, your arms are supporting your back.

"Why didn't you tell me, babe?", he sniffles.

Babe. How long didn't you hear this nickname?

"You were busy", you tell him the truth. Maybe he'll break up with you. Connor sobbs, "are you really feeling this way? Finally finding your own peace?", his blue eyes searching yours, you can see how much it burdens him.

"your lyrics are professional, they're so good", he cries and tries to hide it. Whipping his tears with his wrist, face to his bag with all clothes.

He's putting a shirt on, turning around. "I just need time to realize this, babe", he kisses your lips, you taste the salt from his tears.

"You have an important game tomorrow, I'm ok with that ", you response. He nods and lays down. Without a kiss, hug or this comfortable feeling.

He lays down and let you alone with all these thoughts in your head. He doesn't seem to care much about you. Maybe it's time to leave.

Next day Connor feels like shit, even in his hockey clothes, nice fans around his team. He slept surprisingly well, but feels like the night after silvester.

It burns in his chest, you don't feel happy. But why? Since when you're writing songs? as a good boyfriend he should know. What is he missing in this relationship.

He's not shitty boyfriend, he didn't know it's hurting you. He thought its okay that he's having a strict time schedule.

"Concentration, Bedsy!", his teammate hits his shoulder to wake him up from daydreaming. Like a robot Connor played his best game but the celebration feels like a crime.

"Yo Connor are you going out with us?", some boys asking him in the cabin to celebrate their win. "No", he wants to see you. He forgot how stunning you are. How hard working you are. You're a poet and he had no clue!

He walks in your hotel room, lights are out. Just some papers all over the bed. He grabs one paper, reading the lines.

'He grabs me by my neck

Puts a dagger to my heart

Tells me I'm a mess

That I'll never be enough'

Gosh, it hits him. You are more than enough. You're his safe place. He reads every paper, focused about what you feel. It's time to hear out what you need.

He grabs his phone, calling you.

"Hello?", your voice sounds happy. "Where are you, babe?", he asks interested. "I'm at the whirlpool inside the hotel, I'll come over in 5 minutes, okay?", you're scared he's mad when you're late. You thought he's celebrating with his team and won't come to bed until midnight.

You pack the stuff and walk back to your shared room.

The opened door shows you the sort out papers with your lyrics on your bed shelf.

Connor lays in bed, smiling softly. It's typical Connor, he's a clean guy.

He smiles. He smiles at you without talking about hockey. "Congratulations for winning, I'm proud of you", you stutter.

This view feels so surreal, having a relationship after months. Having a boyfriend waiting for you.

"You look beautiful", he grins angelic.

You stopped the last step, "what did you say?". Maybe you have issues with your ears.

"You look beautiful and I love you", he talks loud.

"Love you too?", your honest reaction. The last time he said it, he broke is jaw and was out of his mind because painkillers. Months ago.

"Uhm can we talk, please?", he pets your hand, when you lay down with him. It feels like home. Smelling his perfume, hearing his breath and touching you.

"Sure", you get insecure what's coming next.

"Ok it's not easy for me", one tear runs down his cheek. You're frightened, just able to nod.

"Why do you write songs with me as enemy?", his voice is distanced and cold.

"Oh I'm sorry I don't write lies!", you defense yourself.

"I'm a good boyfriend!", he argues, "you treat me like I'm self-evident!", you yell your frustration out of your lungs. So much pain inside your chest wants to come out of your mouth. So much unsayed words.

"No-", he argues back, more tears are coming out his blue eyes.

"Yes Connor! Yes, it's true! I love writing songs and I hate my job so much! I am crying every night because my boyfriend doesn't care about me and I'm all alone and you're hiding me from fans because you could have a ruined career, I get it!", you sob under choking your salty tears. You're outraged.

You take your pillow and lay down on the floor, Connor looks down, "come over".

"No", "god damn come over!", he huffs.

"You have practice tomorrow, good night!".

That's the last time you saw him for the next two days. He's busy. Semifinals are tonight and Connor posted something on Instagram, you're too upset to check.

One WAG comes to you at the game, giggles and tells you, "never thought Bedsy is a poet!". The game is already on fire but your fingers are like a magnet, they want to switch what he posted - even if he's an idiot.

He posted a picture of you reading a book in the garden, laughing at you without pressure, without hockey and in his caption;

"You can feel, when someone traces your skin

You can kneel, run, jump and also can spin

And when I close my eyes I wish I was just like you"

#connor bedard #connor Bedard x reader #connor Bedard imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #nhl hockey #Connor Bedard x you

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heartdoomed · 26 days

Note

heyyy I was wondering if you’d do a lil one shot with Mother Miranda where the reader is her maidservant and they’ve gotten pretty close and Miranda is working herself to death and the maid gently (and eventually a little more forcefully) encourages her to take a break. Lots of fluff ensues 😁 thank you for feeding the fandom you’re my hero 😂

First ask for our fav bird mom! Also thanks i’m a bit late for the party but I will try my best ✨

| Stubborn

Pairing: Mother Miranda x Maid! Reader

Genre: One-Shot, Fluff

Warnings: None

Masterlist

From a villager, to a follower, to a personal maid.

Your journey with Mother Miranda was something you never truly expected, something suddenly but that you held little resentment about nonetheless. Miranda was, and is, a figure you can’t fully grasp yourself into — like a seductive voice in the back of your mind that has no set tune, something that comes wickedly in a natural manner and you just can’t help but to accept as it is. When she first laid her eyes on you, something changed in your life and all of it’s aspects, that woman had cursed you, had you wrapped around her finger the moment she ordered you to serve under her. A high priestess — no, a goddess, and her little helpful subject.

It was a matter of mixed feelings between fear and respect. Sometimes you thought of her with fear, fear for your life and how you have been dragged into this snowscape of a village and into somehow managing to match the high hopes she held for someone so close to her. On the other hand, she emanated glory, a superiority everyone including yourself could see — you found yourself looking up to her, quite literally like she was your only savior, the effect she had on people, and on you, was unmatchable. Soon the duty to serve somehow turned into a feeling of honor, you’ve never felt this fulfilled to have this role.

//////

Your shoes quietly clicked as you made your way across yet another hallway, you always thought of Miranda’s manor as a labyrinth that you’ve grown fairly accustomed to. Dark walls that always seemed to close in with each curve and whispers that coincidentally also sounded like the blowing cold wind from the outer woods. It was cold, tainted by a heavy atmosphere, either your own mind playing tricks or something else rooted between those walls, at some point you felt embraced by the shadows somehow — sickly comforting.

Your hands held a square silver platter, carefully adorned with hand-made details and curls on its sides, so clean and shiny it almost seemed made of crystal glass. On top of it rested a a teapot with warm fresh tea you brewed yourself, herbs that were delivered weekly just as all the food you had access to cook — a tea cup and a plate with a generous piece of layered cake rested side by side. It was her usual snack for the afternoon, just another daily ritual you found somewhat soothing. You enjoyed cooking for her and unlike her past servants you gave her food a touch of familiarity she had missed — suddenly the food wasn’t just delicious but served with a touch of care that she managed to notice, it was rare the occasion she wouldn’t compliment your skills.

Your head became flooded with thoughts of past situations were she did took notice of your hard work; From carefully organizing mail into alphabetical order to amusingly adorning her freshly washed towels into the shape of flowers and bunnies, oh Miranda thought it was quite silly of you but nonetheless this only managed to make you two closer. You smiled to yourself, thinking of how you went from a scared new maid to someone you knew she started to trust, maybe to care? You weren’t sure but you surely knew you ended up caring.

But apparently not caring enough to pay attention to where you where going as you almost bumped straight up against her office doors. Your heart skipped a beat as you halted on your tracks, you held the silver platter closely to your chest and thanked your lucky stars to not have spilled anything out of place, how clumsy. Taking a big silent breath, you raised your hand towards her door to knock before stopping as the familiar voice of Miranda, muffled, but yet clear and sharp enough, came from inside.

“You should stop daydreaming while scattering around, you will end up hurting yourself. Come in.”

She pointed out. You cursed in your thoughts, rolling your eyes at being called out — she always managed to know of your shenanigans even when you tried to hide them, ridiculous. Shaking the embarrassing event away, you quietly opened the door to reveal a much less intimidating Miranda, one you had grown used to. Without her ceremonial robes and her imposing wings she felt much less like something to fear and more like something to respect — a woman with a commanding posture no matter the situation. You remember how strange it felt to see her this way for the first time, it was hard to change your half shocked expression though luckily she found it more amusing than anything else.

“I made cinnamon cake with whipped pumpkin cream and some honey tea… I thought it would be a good match for the entering of this fall season.” You announced before closing closing the door behind you, Miranda hummed at the description but her eyes were still set on the paperwork onto her desk — gosh, how you hated when she fell into her working streaks. Nights awake in her laboratory, continuous days locked into there office. “I… think it’s a good time for a break, no?” You gently offered, resting the platter in a less busy spot of her desk. Still, her eyes kept themselves focused on the countless words in each of the papers she held. It made you irritated how much of a workaholic this woman was sometimes.

“Hmmm, yes, yes, thank you honey—“ She finally murmured.

“Honey?” You asked, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Honey… tea— Oh, you made honey tea?” She asked, finally taking her eyes off her work to look at you. Her eyes were striking and you certainly would be flustered if you didn’t spluttered out a chuckle to which she replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, look who is daydreaming into her work now!” You kept chuckling with a hand attempting to cease yourself. Miranda squinted her eyes at your audacity.

“It is not a simple day dream, it’s my work.” She retorted, her slender fingers precisely organized the papers into a growing pile. “I will eat after I’m done.”

“But!” You attempted to protest.

“I’m almost done.” She justified.

“You said it hours ago when I brought your lunch, to which you refused.” You pointed out, your tone growing more preoccupied, which she caught up to. “Please… You can’t keep working like this.”

Miranda stopped, her fingers resting against her temples as she shook her head with a sigh. That woman was incredibly stubborn, you knew that but so was you when it came to taking care of her well being. Your eyebrows furrowed as you gently took the pile of papers away, resting them into a nearby empty desk to which Miranda stared in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but respectfully — you need rest!” Seething the trail in front of her, your eyes pleaded for her to at least take some time to eat. She could see how worried you were and as much as she wished to keep on with her work, she gave in with a nod.

You almost chirped with happiness upon finally seeing her giving a go at not working herself to near starvation again, gosh this woman was a challenge to aid sometimes but you cared enough to try and you knew that she noticed the effort you put into it.

“Well, honey?” You asked, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Excuse me?” She almost choked on her words, uncharacteristically enough to your amusement.

“Honey tea.” You smugly announced, pouring her some of the delicious golden liquid as she shook her head in disbelief — taking a satisfying bite off the soft cake you baked.

“I don’t know why I still keep you around, you will drive me crazy eventually.” She replied with a grumpy tone, to which waved off a hearted laugh. It was hard for her to hide a smile while also maintaining a decent eating etiquette but at the end of the day she was content to have someone cheer her up like you did.

//////

AN: This was so funny to make! I feel like Miranda is a great softie when you push her buttons in the right way. Anyhow, hope ya enjoy it!

#resident evil village #resident evil #re 8 village #re 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #<3asks

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musaslullaby · 26 days

Text

Enemies on road

Carlos Sainz x fem reader

Summary: A fierce rivalry on the Formula 1 track turns into a moment of forgiveness and unexpected romance between two drivers.

Warning: fluff

Masterlist

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪

The tension was at its peak. My foot pressed down on the accelerator as if it were the only purpose in my life. Driving made me feel alive; I didn't care about the risk I was taking. I was ready to accept death in a Formula 1 car, convinced that it was the most dignified way to honor the sport I had devoted myself to with passion.

"Can I fight?" I asked, focused. Even if the engineers had said no, I would have done it anyway. I would have worn those tires down to the last shred.

"It's all yours." The affirmative response hit my ears, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline. My mind was focused, my hands trembling slightly from the strength with which I gripped the steering wheel.

I swerved left, trying to slip into the space Carlos Sainz had left unguarded. In a matter of moments, we were wheel to wheel, our cars sparking as we raced down the straight. I increased speed, approaching 350 km/h, but he wouldn't back down. The more I pushed, the more he pushed; he either mimicked me or tried to defend himself with all his might.

"What the hell!" I shouted, slamming my hands violently against the steering wheel. That tiny bit of distraction was enough for the car to veer in the opposite direction, completely stopping its response to my commands. A sudden wave of fear swept over me as I slammed on the brakes with all the strength I had, but it was all in vain—the car kept gaining speed.

A large cloud of dust rose, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself against the barrier. From what I could see in the cockpit, the car had sustained severe damage.

"Are you okay?" my engineer asked, genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm fine, but they should teach that idiot Sainz how to drive, because apparently, he's seriously lacking," I replied, fully unleashing my anger. At that moment, all I could see was red, fiercer than the flames of hell.

I unbuckled the steering wheel with superhuman strength and climbed out of the cockpit. Like an idiot, I waited by my car, which was completely wrecked from the violent impact, for the safety car. But what bothered me the most was that this two-bit driver was still racing and had taken my damn third place.

When I returned to the pits after the medical check, I felt all the cameras on me, but I had no desire to talk to the press.

"Get them out of here before I scream at them," I said, agitated, as I headed towards my cabin without looking anyone in the face.

I collapsed onto the blue leather couch and let out a scream of frustration, which did nothing to improve my state of mind.

I was covered in bruises, in pain, and felt like a ticking time bomb ready to explode. I wanted to be alone, but I didn't even have that luck, because the race was over and my duties with the media awaited me. How I hated press conferences, and even more, those stupid journalists who ask malicious questions just to get a scoop, or whatever the hell they call it.

A very kind girl, with a welcoming smile, showed me where to sit. Of course, these press people had organized everything to perfection. When I sat down on that uncomfortable little couch, I found myself facing Carlos's playful grin, invading my personal space.

"Wipe that horrible grin off your face and move away. Isn't it enough that you invaded my personal space with that damn car?" I whispered nervously, so only he could hear, and I wouldn’t get scolded by my team for my foul and impolite language.

"Admit it, you didn't mind," he responded, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

I wanted to tear him apart, make him take back everything he had said, but they handed us microphones and started the usual round of stupid questions.

As soon as the last question was answered, I was the first to jump up and walk as fast as possible away from that room full of people; I almost felt like I was suffocating. Someone called my name from afar, but I ignored it.

I returned to my small, cozy room. In my head, I had planned everything: I would stay there for the next two hours, so no one could interrogate me or even speak to me.

But after just a few seconds, someone knocked on the door. At first, I didn't want to waste my breath, but then the voice that spoke to me was so sweet, sincere, and regretful that my heart involuntarily softened.

Slowly, I opened the door and found the Spaniard standing there, his eyes red and his spirits low.

"Can I come in, please?" he asked in a barely audible whisper. With a nod, I stepped aside, letting him in.

"Did you come to make fun of me?" I asked with a defeated sigh, collapsing onto the couch.

"I'm sorry, I went too far. I didn't mean to push you off the track; I took a risk and was stupid. I'm sorry," his voice was calm, shaken by some tremors of sadness and genuine regret, in stark contrast to the tone he had used during the conference.

"You know I would never intentionally hurt you?" he added, with an obvious note of hesitation in his voice.

I lowered my gaze. It was too much to process; too many emotions were swirling around, creating a tsunami inside me. I had been furious with him, but now I just wanted to drown in one of his bear hugs and sink into his soft lips.

A gentle and delicate touch snapped me out of my thoughts. He was there, in front of me, looking at me with those brown eyes full of love and guilt. I couldn't stand it; I couldn't see him like that. I pulled him towards me, slowly. We looked at each other for a few seconds, our gazes traveling from our lips to our eyes, and then I felt the warmth of his breath brushing my face.

We gave in. I held him tightly as his lips met mine in a kiss full of apologies and a need for love. He wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me in a tender embrace. Finally, we pulled away, not because we wanted to end the kiss, but because of the lack of air.

Carlos pressed his lips to my forehead. "You forgave me?"

"Just this once," I said, breathless. I saw a happy and calm smile spread across his face, and I would have given anything to see it more often and protect him from the entire world that didn't believe in us.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #fanfiiction #carlos sainz #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz 55 #carlos x reader #carlos sainz junior #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #cs55 fic

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vampiretendencies · 2 years

Text

request; hii ! i absolutely adore your writing and was wondering if you could possibly do “move your blanket, i wanna lay down on your lap.” + lying on the couch on top of eachother, one combing their fingers through the other’s hair as they watch a movie with jj maybank please?

pairing; jj x fem!reader

warnings; fluff

authors note; ofc i can, thank you for requesting, happy valentine’s day !!! requests are open

list of prompts in honor of valentine’s day

JJ was enticed by what was in front of him.

Hot Summer Nights— a movie based primarily on drug deals and romance, both topics that intrigued JJ. All while muggy air, trapped its way into chateau, John B holed up in his room and JJ couldn’t stop peering into the TV screen.

You watched him aimlessly, from the island in the kitchen. Throwing away the remainder of what was left of the Pogues half eaten pizza.

Chin perched on your hand, you were fascinated by the satisfaction on JJ’s face.

Pacing over, you stand directly in front of the TV earning a huff from JJ. He’s cozily entrapped in a wool blanket, legs criss-crossed— his shirtless figure pausing the movie whilst smirking mischievously at you.

“Want some lovin’ don’t you, baby?”

“Mhm. Move your blanket, I wanna lay down on your lap.”

JJ, without hesitation, threw the blanket over his shoulder. Reading you like a book, his lap spreads wider in preparation for you.

“Wanted me this long, you should’ve just asked.”

“Didn’t wanna interrupt your movie, J.”

Your body inclines, crawling into the couch, doing so lowly— as he’d pressed play again. Helping you lie your head pleasingly in his lap. Hand on your shoulder, roaming where it desired but not where it could reach.

And suddenly JJ was disappointed.

He’d found himself trapped, due to the fact that he no longer gave a fuck about the movie. His only care is the passion and devotion he longed to give the lady in his lap.

“Not close enough.”

JJ complained, skin crawling to prod and knead your flesh how he’d yearned. You hummed in response, awaiting JJ actions.

Few pillows fell to the floor, whilst he swiveled his body straight to lay narrowly onto the couch— pulling you upward to perfectly align with him.

Against eachother, bodies squished lovingly against each others. Not an inch had been moved and the rest of the movie went unwatched. The tresses in front of him abandoned and he was tranced to come into contact with them.

“My pretty girl.”

A reminder to himself that he had all he wanted right at his fingertips.

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viaoverthemoon · 1 year

Note

I have a small request here too✋ I was thinking about Leon (damnation maybe) x fem!reader with reader being his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and the little one falls in love with her and wants to spend more time with reader, and Leon he finds himself forced to accept this, so he falls in love with the reader. It can be with smut at the end or just something romantic, it doesn't matter.

I hope I explained it ok, I've had this idea in my head for some time but I don't know how to express it 😂❤️❤️

Oooo this sounds so cute stawpppp.

Since I have another fic in the works that's drenched in smut, I'll keep this one fluffy. ;)

Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a kindergarten teacher for Leon Kennedy's daughter and she wants to keep you forever!

Tw: Fluff, Mention of deceased relative, Mention of past miscarriage

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Enjoy! <3

To Belong

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

"Congratulations, Arabella! It looks like you're our student of the week!"

You gently place the pin on Arabella's shirt, smiling widely at her proud expression.

Being a kindergarten teacher definitely has its downs. But also has its ups as well. One of those ups being the honor of teaching these innocent children. Every day is something new, a new experience that makes you realize the importance of raising the next generation.

Arabella turns towards you, smiling so wide her cheeks must hurt. She grabs onto your leg. "Thank you, Miss (L/N)! This means so much to me!"

You smile down at her, proud of her for using the feelings lesson you'd taught her, and crouch to her level to give her a hug. "You're welcome, Arabella! I'm so proud of you. Thank you for being such a kind student!"

She seems to take your praise very seriously, being super kind to her classmates and staying by you side, asking if you need help or service in any kind of way.

❁

At the end of the day when everyone has left, you sit alone at your desk.

Whilst flipping from one graded paper to another, the door to your classroom creaks open.

You raise your head just in time to see Arabella run into the room, screaming with her arms in the air. "MISS (L/N)!!!!"

You laugh as she runs around your desk and hugs you, babbling nonsense excitedly. "Oh my goodness! Back so soon, Arabella?"

She gives a hyper nod. "Yes!"

"'Yes ma'am', Bella."

Your eyes snap up, locking with a pair of bright blues.

You look at him, surprised.

The man held a strong resemblance to Arabella, minus the straight blonde hair Arabella carried. They shared blue eyes and a soft face. If anything, his rough exterior yet light features suited him. Gave him a mysterious and alluring air that draws people to him, searching to learn more about him.

"Oh- yes ma'am- Daddy look, look! This is the nice teacher I was telling you about!"

You rise from your chair and hold out a hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kennedy."

He shakes your hand and offers a nod. "Pleasure to meet you too, Miss (L/N). As you can see, I've heard quite a lot about you."

He gives his daughter a pointed look that makes you laugh. You gesture to the seat across from your desk, offering him a seat as you settle back into your chair. "I assume there's a reason you're here that I could help you with?"

Mr. Kennedy sits in the chair, seemingly tired as he falls into the seat and instinctively spreads his legs.

You try your hardest not to acknowledge the action, but your eyes fail you, flickering down his frame for half a second before returning to his face.

You instantly regret your mistake when he smirks at you, straightening up just a bit and resting his arms on his legs. "Actually, I was hoping to discuss what Arabella's behaviors are like while she's at school, as well as how she's learning." He pauses. "I mean, obviously if she's getting student of the month for the 2nd time, she's doing pretty good."

He smiles and playfully ruffles Arabella's hair, earning a laugh from the 5-year-old. "But still. It would be nice to hear from her teacher, not her."

You clear your throat and nod, turning away to escape the burn of his gaze and pulling out a folder labeled A.K., Arabella Kennedy's character chart.

"Of course, I understand. Let's start with how she handles assignments."

❁

After about 45 minutes of talking, Leon seems satisfied with his daughter's school life and begins to pack up his things to leave. But Arabella becomes upset, running to you and refusing to let go of your leg.

"No! I'm not ready to say bye to Miss (L/N) yet!"

She throws the standard child tantrum, small tears streaming down her reddened puffed out cheeks as you gently try to coax her into letting go.

"Arabella... Don't be upset. You'll see me again on Monday-"

But she's relentless, shaking her head and kicking away Mr. Kennedy's hands as he tries to reach for her.

Eventually, he sighs and looks at you embarrassingly. "I'm so sorry Miss (L/N). She's hardly ever like this."

Seeing as this is something you deal with all the time, you just shake your head, offering a small smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to this behavior... I'm about to leave for the day. If you guys want, we could go out for a quick dinner? This way, we won't have to part so soon."

This gets the crying 5-year-old to quiet down almost immediately. She looks up from your leg, tears and snot smeared all over your pant leg. "Really? Can we?"

You look up at Mr. Kennedy, raising a brow for conformation. And, seeing as there was no way around it, he gives in.

❁

And from that moment forward, you and the Kennedy family became quite close.

You shared a few dinners and spent time together at amusement parks and entertainment events, eventually becoming so close that you'd even watch Arabella when Leon had to leave for reasons of his job.

You listen to his stories, and he listens to yours.

He shares how he and Arabella have no one else to depend on. Her mother, although she and Leon didn't have a good relationship, had died during childbirth. And how he'd lost his own parents long ago, growing up an orphan and not having much.

And you share only having your parents. You could have had a little one yourself, but unfortunately grieved a harsh miscarriage and the father of the child leaving soon after didn't help.

You both end up having more in common than you'd originally thought.

And now, you share more than just experiences and memories. Now, you share shy looks and ghostly touches.

Somedays his hand will graze yours and you both will avoid each other's gaze, ignoring the sudden spark that comes when you make contact.

That is until, one night Leon returns from a particularly long job to find you curled up on his living room couch with a book in hand, reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose.

"Hey, sorry for the long night. Never meant to be gone that long." He shrugs off his leather jacket and throws it over the arm of his second couch.

You eye his fatigued figure for a moment before removing your glasses and putting down your book. "No, it's alright. You know I don't mind, Leon."

Sitting up, you pat the spot next to you on the couch, offering him a seat. "Arabella's upstairs asleep in her room..." He gives a soft grunt and falls on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck while nodding and muttering a 'Good. Thank you.'

Eyes skillfully assessing his behavior, you decide to ask him the question that's been on your mind. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

He glances at you through his peripheral but instantly looks away. "Yes. I'm fine. You can go now."

In all honesty, the way he suggested you leaving hurt your feelings. But you didn't relent. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to stay..."

Reaching a hand out, you place it on top of his on his lap. He flinches slightly, but doesn't push you away. He pauses for a second...

And then he relaxes, flipping his hand over to wrap it around yours.

Your heart is in your throat and the palms of your hands begin to sweat. But you don't show it, smiling shyly at Leon and holding his hand.

He doesn't look at you. Doesn't show any signs that he acknowledges you besides the fact that he isn't letting go of your hand. "Why do you stay? Why do you want to stay?"

The monotone question catches you off guard. You momentarily freeze as his eyes find you.

Blue frozen glaciers filled with oceans and rivers of pure sadness and regret. The emotion in his eyes makes you briefly wonder where he finds the space for the happiness he feels with Arabella.

Or if he'll have the space for happiness with you.

You take a moment to think, looking down at your linked hands and gliding a thumb over the warmth of his skin. "I feel happiest when I'm here with the two of you. As you know, I don't have much. All I've had to look forward to has been my students... but now... I have the both of you."

You look him in the eyes, trying to convey your emotions through the look in yours. "These past few weeks have been the best I've lived through in years... I'm tired of living alone, Leon. Life is worth so much more when you spend it with somebody else."

He looks at you in shock, not sure what to say about your sudden confession. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to choose the right words to say.

You look away bashfully. "Er- What I'm trying to say is... I'd like it if we could spend... more time together. And see each other more often. But-! It's completely up to you, of course."

For a moment, the silence is nerve wracking. You try not to fidget too much or show that you're anxious in awaiting his answer.

You're beginning to lose hope when Leon's hands are suddenly on your hips.

You're so surprised by his actions that you hardly notice him gently coaxing you into sitting on his lap.

Your legs straddle his thighs, backside rested on his knees when you suddenly notice your position. Your face burns hot, and you rest your hands on his shoulders.

His hands find purchase on your waist. "If I'm being honest, I expected you to leave us a long time ago... I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't think you'd stay."

He caresses your sides, warm hands heating through the fabric of your clothes. "And... I would like it- a lot if you stayed with us. Not only would you make me happy, but you'd make Arabella happy too. And that matters more than anything."

You pretend to ponder on your decision, looking away with a small smile on your face before turning back to Leon. "Well... I guess I can stick around-"

The sentence barely leaves your lips before Leon pulls you in, kissing you with so much relieved passion that you momentarily feel dizzy.

And for once, you feel like you truly belong somewhere.

Yes. This feeling is definitely one you can get used to.

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

Nobody: My inbox screaming and crying for help: 😓😭😭☠️ Me with 0 internet or data: 🧍🏾‍♀️💃📖

Hope you enjoyed!

More requests coming soon!

Requests are open!! <3

#viaoverthemoon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #re4 leon #re4 #smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil leon #leon re4 #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n

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anniebeemine · 3 months

Text

Blue Velvet- s.r.

bluer than velvet was the night

summary: Spencer had no idea he could fall for a coworker, nor could he think straight at seeing her in that dress. Pure fluff and self indulgence. Inspired by the Lana Del Rey cover and I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore by REO Speedwagon.

Word Count: ~4,802

Spencer weaved through the crowd gathered in the main ballroom. The annual FBI gala was the talk of the year. He never cared for it before, making excuses to avoid going, but he made a promise this year. It’s his tenth year anniversary since joining and he was going to be honored with a gift.

“Pretty boy, you clean up nice,” Derek chuckled as he caught Reid’s sleeve.

“Hardy, har, har,” he replied. “Where’s everyone else?”

David raised an eyebrow. “Looking for someone specific?”

“Someone named Y/N?”

“No!” Spencer said, a little too quickly. “Maybe. She said she was running late and I want to make sure she made it.”

There was no way in hell Spencer would stay for long if it wasn’t for you. During your time on the team, you’d grown close. It was on one of those rare quiet afternoons that you discovered your shared interest in the genre.

"Do you like science fiction movies?" you had asked one day, scrolling through the TV guide during a rare moment of downtime during a case.

Spencer had looked up from his research, his eyes lighting up with a hint of excitement. "Actually, yes. I find them fascinating—exploring hypothetical futures, advanced technology, and ethical dilemmas."

And so began your tradition of movie nights, where you'd take turns picking films from the vast world of science fiction. From classics like "Blade Runner" to newer releases exploring the complexities of artificial intelligence and space exploration, each movie sparked lively discussions that ranged from scientific theories to philosophical debates. On weekends when the BAU was quiet, you and Spencer ventured out beyond the confines of the office and his book-lined apartment. Running errands became a joint endeavor, transforming mundane tasks into opportunities for laughter and camaraderie. Grocery shopping turned into a quest to find the most obscure ingredients for Spencer's latest culinary experiment—often inspired by a scientific study or a quirky fact he'd read.

"I read that turmeric has potential neuroprotective properties," Spencer had mused one day in the spice aisle, carefully examining the labels on various jars.

"Does that mean you're going to start making brain-boosting curry?" you teased, looking at the options.

"Maybe I'll give it a try," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Switching up the recipe?"

You nodded. "Since we have dinner all the time, I thought I'd use you as a guinea pig for new recipes."

Spencer grimaced. "Anything for research, I guess."

You also discovered a shared love for exploring quirky bookstores tucked away in hidden corners of the city. Each visit was a treasure hunt for obscure novels, scientific journals, and occasionally, a rare first edition that would send Spencer into a state of quiet excitement. You'd spend hours browsing together, exchanging recommendations and discussing everything from literature to astrophysics. One particularly memorable afternoon, you stumbled upon a small independent bookstore that seemed frozen in time, its shelves packed with a dizzying array of books. Spencer had eagerly led the way to the science fiction section, his eyes alight with curiosity as he scanned the titles.

"This place is amazing," you murmured, running your fingers along the worn spines of old paperbacks.

"It really is," Spencer agreed, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "I could spend hours here."

And spend hours you did, lost in the world of words and ideas, until the setting sun cast long shadows through the dusty windows, signaling it was time to reluctantly leave the sanctuary of books.

As the weeks turned into months, your friendship with Spencer unexpectedly deepened. Beyond the crime scenes and the high-stress situations, you found solace in each other's company, whether it was watching a thought-provoking sci-fi movie, embarking on an impromptu culinary experiment, or simply sharing a quiet moment of reflection in the presence of books. Spencer had spent the last few months avoiding questions about your friendship. The two of you would often text casually, making plans with each other more often than with the rest of the team. Prying eyes and curiosity had won over a team member or two. Your friendship had evolved into something deeper. You shared jokes and swapped books every few days. He’d spent hours thinking about his feelings. He dissected every time you’d touched.

The first time he felt a pang of the feeling he couldn’t describe was in Missouri.

The two of you were trying to navigate alongside a creek. Two campers had seen a canoe floating down the creek. The color matched a photo of the missing victim. Your boots crunched softly over the rotting leaves. The recent rainy weather made the ground unstable. According to park rangers, there’s usually an uptick in people slipping into the water. Spencer’s eye caught a flash of red amongst the brown and gray environment. You had gotten so caught up in the excitement for a clue that your foot teetered over a root. You began falling forward but Spencer was able to grab your arm. He attempted to brace himself, taking a step back. Instead, he took his own tumble, steadying himself against a tree. Your eyes had met for a moment. He could see the gratitude in your eyes.

“Thanks, Reid,” you murmured, brushing your hands off. You patted his arm in appreciation, turning back to the task at hand.

Spencer let you go slowly, the pat you’d given his arm still feeling heavy against his skin. You reached the canoe before he could properly think about it.

The second time he felt that dip was in New York City. A case had dragged them out to the city and the weather kept them there for an extra day. The BAU found a small restaurant around the corner from the hotel. You’d sat at other ends of the table, chattering with the team. At the end of the night, you’d psst at him to stay back.

“What?” He asked once the team had walked away.

“I got these tickets for you.” You held up two tickets to a theater in Lower Manhattan. There was a screening of a foreign film Spencer had spent weeks begging you to watch. You just couldn’t shell out the $14.99 to watch it at home.

“How did you get these? I checked earlier and they were sold out!”

You smiled. “I’m not going to lie, I had to beg for these from some lady on Craigslist.”

“Thank you!” He gushed. “Care to join me?”

“Me?”

His smile faltered for a second. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t think anyone else would like it.”

After the film, hours slipped by as you talked about the film. The conversation flowed effortlessly, passionate about the film and it’s camerawork. Morning dawned and you’d woken up on the bed, facing the window. Spencer laid beside you, facing the opposite wary. You had plans to sightsee with Emily and JJ while Spencer wanted to visit a library or two.

A tap on the microphone on the small stage brought Spencer back to the gala. Derek chuckled, apparently having tried to pull him into the conversation with Rossi. The music resumed after the introductions. Spencer moved around the room, mingling with a few departments from the FBI. He caught sight of you through a few people. He began making his way towards you, stopping as he finally caught a full view of you.

He found himself speechless as the way the blue dress fell over your body. The thin straps and cowl neckline framed your face. Your hair fell elegantly, loose waves traveling down your shoulders. The deep blue fabric shimmered under the dim lighting. Spencer took note of how the dress complimented your figure, showing off every curve and bump. You were talking to a man, older. Spencer was completely mesmerized by how you listened so intently, brows furrow and making direct eye contact. So relaxed, yet so professional. The burning sensation in his stomach returned. Only now, he could pinpoint his feelings.

I’m in love with my best friend

Spencer took a deep breath, turning away. He found himself at the bar, a voice ordering for him. “Ice water!" Morgan clapped Spencer on the back. “Everyone saw that, lover boy.”

Spencer could feel his cheeks burning. Perhaps water would be better than alcohol. Taking the glass of ice water offered by the bartender, Spencer took a slow sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat and calming his nerves. He appreciated Derek's attempt to inject humor into the moment, yet beneath the surface, a storm of emotions churned—a turmoil he couldn't easily articulate.

Derek, sensing the shift in Spencer's demeanor, paused for a moment, his playful expression fading into one of concern. He studied Spencer intently, noting the furrow of his brow and the uncharacteristic quietness that had settled over him.

"Hey, man," Derek said softly, his tone gentle now, devoid of its earlier jest. "You okay?"

Spencer hesitated, the weight of his confession still heavy upon him. He glanced at Derek, grateful for the genuine concern mirrored in his friend's eyes. "I… I don't know," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Derek nodded understandingly, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Talk to me, Reid," he encouraged, his voice low and supportive. "What's going on?"

Spencer took a deep breath, his thoughts racing as he struggled to articulate the tumultuous feelings swirling within him. "It's just… I've realized something," he began slowly, his words carefully chosen. "About Y/N." Derek waited patiently, sensing that this was more than just another case of Spencer overthinking. He knew that when Spencer spoke with this level of introspection, it meant something profound was at play. "I think… I think I'm in love with her," Spencer admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he traced the rim of his glass. The admission hung between them, vulnerable and raw.

Derek's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Yeah, we know, kid.”

“Then why didn’t I?”

Morgan shrugged. “You like her, and you’re scared.” Derek leaned forward slightly, his voice low and earnest. "Listen, man," he began, his gaze unwavering. "You're a great guy. Smart, kind, thoughtful—you've got so much to offer. Y/N is lucky to have you in her life."

Spencer swallowed hard, the weight of Derek's encouragement settling warmly in his chest. He had always valued his friend's opinion and respected his insights. Hearing Derek affirm his worth, especially in the context of his feelings for you, gave him a newfound sense of courage.

"You've gotta man up, Spence," Derek continued his tone firm yet supportive. "Life's too short to hold back. You know what you want—now go out there and get your girl."

Spencer nodded, a determined spark igniting in his eyes. He knew Derek was right. It was time to confront his feelings head-on, to take the leap of faith he had been avoiding for too long. You deserved to know how he felt, and he deserved the chance to see where their relationship could go.

"Thanks, Derek," Spencer said sincerely, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Derek clapped him on the shoulder, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. "Anytime, kid. Now go make a move before someone else beats you to it," he teased lightly, the familiar twinkle of mischief returning to his eyes.

Spencer waded through the crowd. He reached you almost immediately. You smiled, quietly stepping away from the conversation to talk with him. “I made it! Sorry for not telling you earlier that I was late. Time just got away from me.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled, looking around. You swayed along to the music.

“Hey, Y/N.” He blinked momentarily, lost in your eyes. “I… I just wanted to-” he huffed. “I’m sorry I’m not making any sense.”

You shook your head. “Take your time,” you said softly. “We have all the time in the world.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I wanted to say that… um, you know, I really enjoy working with you. And… and I value our friendship a lot." His words stumbled over each other, forming a disjointed confession that fell short of what he truly wanted to say.

Your expression softened, a gentle warmth in your eyes as you nodded. "I feel the same way, Spencer. You're a great colleague and friend."

Relief washed over him, mingled with a pang of regret at his inability to articulate his deeper feelings. "Thanks," he managed, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I… I should go."

He was gone before you could respond. He sat down at the BAU table, trying to forget what just happened by half listening to a discussion over the appropriate level of drunk for a work function. As the evening progressed, Spencer found himself increasingly restless. The encounter with you replayed in his mind, each word scrutinized and analyzed. He was on the verge of getting up and leaving when the awards ceremony began. The room quieted as the host took the stage, announcing the start of the awards. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the idea of being celebrated the furthest thing from his mind. He scanned the crowd, his eyes seeking you out, but you were nowhere to be seen.

"And now, for the recognition of ten years of service at the BAU, we honor Dr. Spencer Reid."

The applause was thunderous as Spencer's name was called. He stood, a mixture of surprise and pride swelling in his chest. His colleagues clapped enthusiastically, their faces beaming with admiration and support. He made his way to the stage, accepting the plaque with a humble smile.

As he stood there, the applause continued to fill the room, a tangible expression of the respect and camaraderie he had earned over the years. Looking out at the sea of familiar faces, he saw Derek, Hotch, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and even Garcia, all cheering him on. The moment was bittersweet, filling his heart with warmth and gratitude, yet tinged with the absence of the one person he longed to see.

He stepped down from the stage, the applause still echoing in his ears. As he returned to the BAU table, the sense of accomplishment was overshadowed by the lingering ache in his heart. He scanned the room once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were still missing.

Derek leaned over, his voice low. "You did great up there, man."

"Thanks," Spencer replied, his voice distracted. "But I didn't see Y/N."

Derek's expression softened. "She's around here somewhere. Don't worry, man. You'll get your chance."

As he pressed the button and waited for the elevator, his mind was a chaotic blend of thoughts and feelings. He clutched the plaque, a tangible symbol of his dedication and hard work over the past decade. But his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one person he hadn't seen since his awkward confession. The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and Spencer stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Just as the doors began to close, a familiar voice called out. "Hold the elevator!"

Spencer's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively reached out to press the 'Open' button. The doors parted again, and there you were, stepping inside with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Spencer," you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I was starting to think I'd be stuck here all night."

Spencer's heart raced as he tried to compose himself. "No problem," he managed to say, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him.

The doors closed, and the elevator began its descent. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery.

"So, how did the rest of the night go for you?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"It was… nice," Spencer replied, his mind still processing the evening's events. "But I needed a break. It was a lot to take in."

You nodded in understanding. "Yeah, these events can be overwhelming. I get it." You fiddled with your dress. "Thank you for coming."

Spencer glanced at you, noticing the way the dim light of the elevator highlighted your features. He felt a surge of affection and determination. This was his chance to tell you how he felt, to finally be honest with himself and with you. Before he could gather the courage to speak, you looked at him with a hopeful expression. "Hey, do you think you could give me a ride home? I wasn't really in the mood to stay any longer, and I could use the company."

Spencer's heart swelled with relief and excitement. "Of course," he said, his voice warm. "I'd be happy to."

The elevator reached the ground floor, and the doors opened to the quiet lobby. The two of you stepped out together, walking side by side toward the exit. The cool night air greeted you as you left the building, a refreshing change from the warmth of the gala. Spencer led you to his car, unlocking it with a click of the remote. You both settled into the seats, the familiar scent of the car bringing a sense of comfort. As he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Spencer stole a glance at you, his resolve strengthening.

The drive was mostly quiet, the city lights casting a gentle glow on the streets. Spencer's mind raced with thoughts of how to start the conversation, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to vanish.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Spencer, I just wanted to say thank you for being such a good friend. You've been there for me in ways I can't even begin to describe."

Spencer's grip tightened on the steering wheel. This was his moment. He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he could muster. “I really appreciate you too, Y/N.”

You grinned at him. “Take a left on Wilcox Ave.”

“Your apartment is a right turn?”

“Just do what I say,” you smiled.

Spencer followed your directions, curiosity piqued as he navigated the quiet streets. The city lights gradually faded, replaced by the serene darkness of a park. He parked the car, glancing over at you with a mixture of confusion and anticipation.

You stepped out of the car, taking off your shoes and feeling the cool grass beneath your feet. Spencer hesitated for a moment before following your lead. You wandered toward a pond, the full moon reflecting off the still water like a mirror. The air was crisp and refreshing, filled with the subtle sounds of nature.

"This is beautiful," Spencer murmured, taking in the tranquil scene. You smiled, looking around. "I come here when I need to think. It helps clear my mind."

Spencer watched as you walked closer to the pond, your silhouette framed by the moonlight. He felt a rush of affection, the moment surreal and perfect. You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the same light as the water.

"Do you remember that episode of Star Trek we watched last week?" you asked, your voice breaking the silence.

Spencer nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah, 'The City on the Edge of Forever.' One of my favorites."

You sighed, a small frown forming on your face. "I didn't really get the part where they had to let Edith die to restore the timeline. It seemed so cruel."

Spencer's heart ached at your words, understanding your confusion. "It's a pivotal moment in the series. It shows the complexity of time travel and the moral dilemmas that come with it. Sometimes, to preserve the greater good, difficult choices have to be made."

You nodded slowly, processing his explanation. "But still, it just felt so unfair. She was such a good person."

"She was," Spencer agreed. "And that's what makes it so impactful. The sacrifice was necessary, but it wasn't easy. It makes you question the cost of doing the right thing."

You sat down on the grass, looking out at the water. Spencer joined you, feeling the cool earth beneath him. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from Star Trek to other shared interests. You laughed and debated, your voices mingling with the sounds of the night. As the time passed, Spencer felt a deep sense of contentment. This was what he cherished most about your friendship—the ability to connect on such a profound level. He glanced at you, your face illuminated by the moonlight, and felt a surge of emotion.

"Y/N," he began softly, his heart pounding. "I need to tell you something."

You looked at him, curiosity and warmth in your eyes. "What is it, Spencer?"

He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he had. "I value our friendship more than anything, but I also have deeper feelings for you. I've been trying to sort through them, and I realized that I'm in love with you."

You paused, your eyes widening in surprise. Spencer's heart sank, misinterpreting your silence. "I-I'm sorry if I crossed a line," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I didn't mean to make things awkward. Forget I said anything."

Before he could turn away, you reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him softly. The world seemed to stop for Spencer, his mind reeling as he processed what was happening.

When you pulled back, your eyes were warm and tender. "I knew," you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Spencer blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. "You… you knew?" You nodded, your smile growing. "Yeah, I did. And I feel the same way."

A wave of relief and joy washed over Spencer. "But how did you know? And how did everyone else know before me?"

You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "You're not exactly subtle, Spencer. The way you look at me, the little things you do… it was pretty clear."

Spencer felt his cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "I thought I was being discreet."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Not at all. But it's okay. I like that about you."

Spencer's heart soared, the weight of his unspoken feelings finally lifting. He pulled you into a hug, holding you close as the moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow. As the first light of dawn began to break, you stood up, brushing the grass from your clothes. "We should probably head back."

Spencer nodded, standing up and following you back to the car. The drive back was quiet, but this time the silence was filled with unspoken promises and a newfound understanding.

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to him, your expression sincere. "Thank you for tonight, Spencer. And for being honest with me."

Spencer teetered on his toes. “Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around his neck. His hands landed on your hips, lips catching yours. He pulled back. “That dress looks amazing on you.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “Goodnight.”

Spencer let you go, taking a few steps backwards. “Goodnight.” You unlocked your apartment door, stepping in. You peeked through the door, watching Spencer push the elevator button. “Though,” you said, “I do need someone to help me take it off. Or else I might have to wear it to work on Monday.”

Spencer turned around, his eyes widening slightly. “It’d be a shame. You look amazing.”

You gave him a playful smile, opening the door a little wider. “Then come on in, Doctor.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. But the invitation in your eyes was clear, and the warmth in your smile reassured him. He stepped forward, crossing the threshold into your apartment.

The door closed behind him, shutting out the world and leaving just the two of you in the cozy, dimly lit space. The air was thick with anticipation, but also a comforting familiarity. You turned your back to him, sweeping your hair to one side. "The zipper's a bit tricky," you said softly.

Spencer approached slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the zipper. He carefully pulled it down, the sound loud in the quiet room. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down both your spines.

"There," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, the dress slipping slightly off your shoulders. "Thank you," you murmured, your eyes meeting his.

Spencer felt his breath catch in his throat, the moment charged with unspoken emotion. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice husky.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "Spencer," you began, your tone serious now. "I meant what I said earlier. I do feel the same way about you. I just didn't know how to tell you."

He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'm glad you did. And I'm glad I finally found the courage to tell you."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "So what now?"

Spencer's heart raced, but he felt a newfound confidence. "Now, we see where this takes us. One step at a time."

You nodded, your smile widening. "I like that plan."

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but filled with a sense of rightness.

"Stay?" you asked softly, your eyes searching his.

Spencer nodded, his heart swelling with affection. "I'd love to."

You led him further into the apartment, the future uncertain but promising, filled with the possibilities of love and discovery. As the night wore on, you both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful and real.

Bonus: “She left without her purse?” Emily asked, slightly hungover from the night before. She squinted, holding a hand up to shield her from the sun.

Derek shrugged. “Reid didn’t answer this morning when I stopped by. He was a mess about Y/N and he just disappeared.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Let’s find out.” Derek knocked firmly, but there was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time, but the silence from the other side of the door persisted.

Emily exchanged a worried glance with Derek. “Maybe she’s just asleep?” she suggested, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Derek sighed. “Or maybe she’s avoiding us. Either way, we need to make sure she’s okay.”

Just as they were about to knock again, Spencer swung the door open. hand. Before he could greet them, you came around the corner, your hair tousled and wearing one of Spencer’s oversized shirts.

“Is it the pancakes we ordered?” You asked cheerfully, but paused when you saw your guests.

Derek smirked, holding up the purse. “Nope, just your friendly neighborhood FBI agents, returning a forgotten item.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I completely forgot about it.”

You must have left it at the table when you spotted Spencer by the elevator.

Emily grinned, stepping forward. “Mind if we come in?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. “Sure, come on in.”

They entered the cozy apartment, taking in the relaxed atmosphere and the aroma of fresh coffee. Derek and Emily exchanged amused glances at the sight of Y/N and Spencer clearly having spent the night together.

Emily nudged Derek with a knowing smile. “Well, this is cozy.”

You blushed but didn’t seem embarrassed. “We were just about to have breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

Derek shook his head, still smirking. “Thanks, but we’ve already eaten. Just wanted to make sure you got your purse back.”

Emily’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Spencer. “We also wanted to check on Reid. He kind of vanished last night.”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Yeah, sorry about that. It was a… complicated night.”

Derek chuckled. “No kidding. But it looks like it all worked out.”

You smiled, slipping your hand into Spencer’s. “It did. Thanks for bringing my purse, though. I would’ve been lost without it.”

Derek and Emily shared another glance, then Emily pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Derek with a smirk. She muttered something quietly.

Derek’s grin widened as he took the bill. “Make it ten.”

“Deal,” Emily replied, shaking his hand.

Spencer and you exchanged confused looks.

“What’s that about?” Spencer asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Derek said, still smirking. “Just make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

#spencer reid #spencer reidx reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

Text

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: just the ol' cliche courting method— wooing your girl with the pretty flowers plucked straight from the garden.

warnings: nothing, just fluff and love and dad!aemond.

notes: i've been gone for over a week, so pls enjoy this small drabble i wrote while watching my poor mother burn her sweet potato fries.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Tangled in Aemond’s hand are six flowers— three red garden roses, two pale-pink peonies, and an anemone that was barely beginning to blossom when he plucked them all from the garden an hour before. Its petals are white like snow and large, and a bit nice smelling too, at least to him.

And thankfully none have fallen droopy already.

He carries them to his room, where he knows his pretty handmaid is. She’s fluffing the pillows, smoothing out any noticeable wrinkles. Her hair is pulled back into a long, thick braid that floods down her back to her waist, and Aemond feels his heart suddenly leaping up to his mouth, striking him utterly dumb in the moment.

Aemond just stands there, appreciating the sight.

A minute later maybe, she glances up, and her eyes meet his, causing a small blush to color both his cheeks.

“Prince Aemond,” his handmaid then curtsies in a manner that reminds him of a highborn riverlands lady. Aemond takes a step forward, clearing his throat. His hands feel clammy now, and he wills himself not to stutter over his words like some stupid and drunken fool.

“Sweet lady of mine,” he says, “though these flowers are only half as beautiful as yourself, it is in my greatest hope that you do me the honor in accepting them.” Her eyebrow lifts and he then feels a little shy. “I-uh, thought you would like them.” Much to his delight, she takes the flowers with a giggle, biting her bottom lip as she raises them for a sniff, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the three red roses.

“Thank you, my prince.”

Smiling, Aemond takes her hand, lifting it up to his lips for a kiss. He kisses her knuckles before dragging his mouth down to her wrist.

“Although, my prince, you shouldn’t have,” she adds.

He tilts his head at that, two fingers brushing against her cheek before stroking a strand of escaped hair. “And why is that, my love?” Aemond asks her. She looks absolutely radiant, he thinks quite happily, with a new glow that glimmers along her cheekbones and plump lips and twinkles within her pretty doe-eyes. Although she always gets like this after every new courting gift he gives, such as newly tailored gowns in rich Myrish clothes and a silver necklace lined in glittering sapphires, as blue and pure as the sea.

“Because I have nothing to gift you in return!”

Aemond laughs.

At that, his handmaid pouts and pulls back from his arms, turning and walking to his desk where a glass vase sits on his desk. It is already filled with fresh water for the flowers. “You think I’m simply jesting but ‘tis the truth, Aemond!” She looks back at him again, falling silent. He can already hear her scolding herself for saying his name aloud like that. “Prince Aemond, I meant…”

“Aemond.”

“You’re my prince,” she demurs.

“Mmm, and the father to those two babies sleeping in your belly.”

Her lips press together in a thin line, in an attempt to remain calm and modest, she knows. She looks so pretty when she does so. He loves her so much it makes his heart sing inside his chest.

My princess. My lady. My wife.

Aemond soon crosses the room to where she stands, wrapping his arms around her waist and shoulders. “You have nothing to gift me? Oh, you are such a silly, silly girl,” he teases, kissing the tip of her nose. “Flowers are nothing compared to the gift you have given me.”

He flattens his palm between the hollow of her swelling belly and tender breasts, hidden beneath her plain servant dress.

“Don’t you remember? Or should I perhaps remind you?”

He leans to kiss her, only stopping when his lips brush softly against hers, and he overhears her breath hitching in her throat. His eye flickers over her face, committing every feature to memory. “You have given me—,” and he drops a quick kiss on her lips. “The gift of—“ and another kiss, “—fatherhood,” and the final kiss is filled with all the burning passion and love and affection and adoration he harbors for her— his maiden far more beautiful than any damn garden.

Aemond hugs his handmaid close, sliding a hand beneath her chin to keep her face upwards to his, and maybe it is just his imagination, but he swears he feels his babes kicking. Perhaps they liked the flowers as well.

After all, peonies tend to be associated with new motherhood and babies and all the happiness he is nowadays experiencing.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67 @iiamthehybrid @bellstwd

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #handmaid!reader #his handmaid’s tales #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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1117feverlessdreams · 10 months

Text

Drivin’ Me Crazy

🚦⚠️ PAIRING: Yunho x GNreader!

🚦⚠️ SUMMARY: As you begin to break away from the bonds of your billionaire father that has always held you back, you found a newfound respect for Jeong Yunho, his personal driver, who had unknowingly changed your life for the better.

🚦⚠️ WORD COUNT: 12.3k

🚦⚠️ TAGS/WARNINGS: Daddy issues x9999746564545664, passing of mother, angst, name calling, spanking, fingering, choking, spitting, & creampie. Uses of darling, slut, and baby. Cutesy parts with fluff, exploration of kinks.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

While, unlike the dramatic tale of Rapunzel, you are permitted to leave the home you were raised in to venture freedom. However, the means by which you can obtain that freedom is limited and overruled by your father.

It’s always been about him, the billionaire made from profitable expenditures that drags you along on his several business trips.

It is you, ‘the child’, who has not been taught to fend for themselves, compelled with the only choice to follow his suit.

Even as his one and only child, people weren’t interested in who you were, a fact alleviated by your father’s intervention to appease everyone you befriended by showering them with gifts…or screwing their mothers.

To your knowledge, your mother passed away when she gave birth to you. In that regard, it is not ironic that your father cannot even look you in the eye, or manage to speak to you in a “domestic” manner.

In the past, you’ve had one too many step-parents to count beyond two pairs of hands. But not even one real parent you felt loved from ever, on a single digit.

From the day you are born, up until your non-thrilling adulthood, a flat rectangular sheet of paper with a printed value and a dead man's face continues to place before you, money.

You hated that it held so much power. That it’s truthfully so ordinary, but people feel that they need it because of its abusive rewards of control and greed.

‘People’ like your father.

It is only with money that a person can ride so braggingly across many cities in a sleek black Rolls Royce Phantom Sedan, concealing its interior with tinted windows that hide the drowsiness of your father by your side.

Meanwhile on your other side, sits his stiff tuxedo-draped bodyguard, focused with their gaze straight forward through designer black shades.

His employees are the ones you’re quite familiar with to be very serious in most aspects of your life. Not a funny bone in their body, specially built by the demands of your father’s purpose; to be the centerpiece of everything.

Thus, as you grow older, so does the despise you have for him. Evil thoughts conjure in your sensitive mind, some of which you have to control against the strengths of your wish to remain sane.

But even so, as you ride to the next big city for yet another business trip, you make it all about you this time, crossing the line of professionalism by provoking the only unguarded person inside the luxurious vehicle.

Presumably, you do not intend to inflict any harm, but rather a pleasurable honor to yourself which is fatefully ignored whenever you're in the presence of said billionaire of profitable expenditures.

Your father’s new hire, Jeong Yunho, controls the wheel of the Rolls Royce with precise concentration and smoothness.

Perhaps along with the great deal of attention provided to his black mullet-styled hair, or the dry cleaning of his uniformed vest, and the ironing of the underlying tight white button-up, black tie, and smooth trousers without a wrinkle in sight. In addition to cleanliness adds his accessory of a one-handed leather black glove steering next to his bare, veiny, decorative hand with ring bands, and best of all, the pretty jewels in the inner corners of his eyes as a feminine accent.

With the exclusion of Jeong Yunho, everything else was too short of being perfect. To you, he was exceptionally perfect.

You came so far as to remove every obstacle that could prevent your father's tyranny from spoiling him. Yunho was knowledgeable, kind, generous, and sweet. However, all your father could see, was a driving tool.

Thus, it was the ideal time to establish a relationship in the quiet atmosphere of the vehicle, which is the only place at which you can meet…and reclaim the freedom your father had claimed for you, and indefinitely… for him.

…

“Mr. Chauffeur, or, Yunho was it?” Your speech sounds above the AC blowing in the vehicle. In effect, there is a slight shift in your father's slumber, your bodyguard still remains seated stiffly, but the man to whom you were speaking to glances at you quickly through the rearview mirror, nodding in acknowledgment as the front pieces of his hair softly sways, and then he ever so professionally resumes eye contact onto the busy road ahead.

“This may sound forward…” you continue, reviewing his beautiful physique once more as your gaze locks at his ring, specially wrapped around his ring finger. “But I was wondering, Yunho, if you were married by any chance?”

Your father snorts loudly and slowly awakens from his nodding off, yet the stagnant bodyguard's expression remains the same. Yunho, the chauffeur, proceeds to be unfazed, smirking even. Despite this, it was a minor tactic to ensure your father was alert to your next set of words.

“As you may know…dear father is recently divorced, and I was just wondering if you could maybe just provide him some stable relationship advice, you know, man-to-man.”

Your lips bunch in prevention from grinning as the bodyguard moves for the first time since you’ve sat in the backseat. In the brief moment of attempted adjustment for comfortability, they then adjust their shades upward with the tip of a pointer finger, sniffing loudly through their nostrils.

At the same time, your father has sat up and is taking a quick scan of all areas of the vehicle. He is observing the shift change in the enclosed space before glaring at you harshly.

“Y/n, what’s gotten into you?” In response, you shrug carelessly and he averts his gaze to the charmingly focused expression of his newly hired chauffeur. “You’re not obligated to answer that sir…”

Your father then hardens his apologetic gaze into a dark one, directly toward you as he turns in his seat. “Also, it’s Mr.Jeong. I thought I taught you when you were small that you always call our associates by their last names. Have some respect, child.”

With his one handed glove, the tan and handsome driver turns the wheel toone-handed make a right, looking both ways to ensure that he or anyone else does not risk your safety, a basic responsibility of his duties.

“That’s quite alright sir, I understand.” Your attention is drawn to the cherry lips that move with the suddenness of Mr.Jeong’s honey-drizzled voice. In the short time, it takes after completing the turn, he glances quickly at you in the mirror, his smirk never leaving, and the reflections of his eye jewelry gleam from the sun like a frame-by-frame animated effect. “The answer is no, I am not married your legacy.”

If it weren’t for his amusing response- or good looks, the name your father had assigned him to give you in the boast of his ego would have triggered you greatly. Yet you smile in glee as you observe your father exhaustingly adjusting his suit blazer.

His heart sings with relief that your preposterous question didn’t blow things out of proportion, and he exhales a deep breath before settling back in for his nap.

Your mischievous outlook on his actions leads you to see the situation as an opportunity to disturb the peace once more. You actively gain closer to the Chauffeur in front by moving your ass to the edge of the seat, gripping the passenger headrest, and arching your back extensively for a lengthier reach. “So a partner then…or maybe a fiancé perhaps?”

“Y/N.” You hear harshly whispered on your left side. Then looking back a quarter over your shoulder to shrug at your father as if you didn't see the problem in asking.

“Neither your legacy. I am not seeing anyone as of current.” It’s inescapable to not stare into the rearview mirror when the authoritative and single man states his response rather bluntly. He flickers his eyes to meet yours in the mirror again for seconds longer, allowing you to catch a small smile that dents into his defined apple-like cheekbones.

It intrigues you to think that maybe he finds this as amusing as you do, because working with your father certainly doesn’t come with this much excitement.

“What about kids?” An upcoming red light makes him slow to a stop, allowing him to directly response to your question. “I have not bred any children yet your legacy.”

You remove your hand from the passenger seat's headrest and fully lean forward, nearly folding your body in half with your arms crossed against your chest, and onto the middle counsel to further enclose the space in between you two.

A tap on your lower back pokes onto your spine from your father but you ignore it while a sly smirk masks onto the lower half of your face. “Really? So a guy like you, is living a life like this…all alone?”

“Well yes…It’s been like that for quite some time now your legacy. In any case, I believe independence should not always be perceived so negatively. I’m free enough to create the life I want to have for myself.”

In the blink of an eye, his head turns so quickly that you do not notice the sudden movement of direct eye contact. Without warning, you are compelled to lose yourself within those brown orbs without knowing what you are searching for.

It was as if he was trying to communicate something with you that weighed heavy on the brain. You were thrown so high for a loop that you had almost slipped up and forgotten the hidden objective you were trying to accomplish here.

In another blink his eye gems encapsulate a green hue in his interest corners, then snapping you out of a trance. “Green light.”

The charming male regains feel of the wheel and rolls his eyes forward with the never leaving smirk as he hits the gas with a heavy foot. If you hadn’t leaned forward already, you would’ve flown to the front with him.

But in either case, it would’ve been a win-win.

…

It is easy to identify the destination from about two blocks away due to the valet parking belt that secures the building in front. It is for this reason that your father must ride in his Rolls Royce.

Like it’s his own red carpet, he arrives fashionably on decent timing so streetwalkers, service workers, and even business partners can rightfully adapt to his presence.

A speedy Jeong Yunho unbuckles his seatbelt, steps out of the car, and runs around the front of the vehicle to move onto the sidewalk to reach in front of your father's door. He opens it entirely with a leather glove hand, allowing your father, you, and his muted bodyguard to get out to showcase your status.

“Thank you, Mr.Jeong, We will see you later tonight at 9 o'clock sharp.”

“Of course, as previously requested sir.” After your father makes his way out, it takes you a bit longer to come out than usual…almost like you're purposely taking your sweet time. The bodyguard behind you tries to give physical assistance but you insist on handling it yourself.

“Child, it’s important that we make a great first impression by having fine time management.”

“Why yes, my dearest apologies father.” You make yourself ‘unstuck’ from the invisible force that held you bound in the backseat, finally making your way out the door and turning alongside the tall dark, and handsome Yunho, who remains holding the door until…oh no, you accidentally trip and collide into his broad arms.

“Careful! I mean-excuse me your legacy…are you alright?” As you look up at him with what you perceive to be pouty eyes, an old trick that has grown out of whack long ago with your father, Yunho nearly apologizes again, but you cut him off as you stare into his bedazzled eyes whispering, “Drive safely, it’d be a waste if I couldn’t talk you again."

As perplexed as his fluttering eyelashes read him to be, the big friendly giant manages to respond effectively. “I always do”, are the words in which you hear under his breath that only waves in sound inside your close distance. “Hopes for a great evening your legacy.”

Standing beside the hypervigilant bodyguard that guards him, your father nods to Yunho behind you before walking forward to enter the building and unforgettably leaves you behind.

Perhaps your attempts at ‘savoring’ Yunho and simultaneously inducing your father’s frustration were a little extreme…

But to you, it seems like everything was going according to plan.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

A FEW DAYS LATER

“Mr.Jeong.” Your father nods in greeting to Yunho who holds open the car door as usual. “A pleasure to assist you again sir.” Your father smiles at the driver's greeting while subtly fixing his tie, then joining the inside of his fully owned luxurious car with another one of his bodyguards.

You’re trailing a few steps behind him while stumbling to catch up. It seemed he had a tendency of leaving you behind more often lately, not that you are bothered by it anyhow. Especially when you can talk to Yunho even more so as you reach to stand in the way of the opened car door.

“So you’re still alive huh?” The statured man switches his extensive legs and looks toward the ground, scooping his neck to look right into your eyes, displaying his pretty white-toothed smile, and those cheekbones that hold the greatest balls of light. "That I am. I hope that doesn’t cause any inconvenience to the legacy.”

“Not at all…” You take the last digestions in seeing all of him in his well-fitted black waistcoat, trousers, and shiny leather boots until you arrive at tonight’s occasion. “It’s actually quite a pleasant surprise.”

For a brief moment, your breaths mix as you stick one leg in the backseat, coming into the car sideways and meeting Yunho face to face. Not even a minute after you get comfortable seated, he closes the door and does his little jog around the car. Never did you take your eyes off of him even through the window shield.

When the towering and ethereal man enters into the drivers seat buckled and secure, he starts the vehicle immediately and steers onto the road.

Unconsciously you draw closer to the middle to see him, or rather, to make sure he could see you. It wasn’t long until you were talking again shortly, ignoring the groans your father made at your side.

“So, how’s your day been…Mr. Jeong?”

“Just fine your legacy, and yours?

“So good, so far.”

“I’m glad to hear it, your legacy.”

“Oh…are you?”

There was a slight increase in your father's groans, as he began to massage his temples tentatively in frustration.

“Of course. As a person of service-you and your father’s service, it pleases me to know you’re doing well your legacy.”

You’re moving more toward the middle, to make yourself aligned in the mirror for Yunho to view. “It makes me glad to know you’re doing just fine too. However, it’s just this one thing that’s been bothering me…Mr.Jeong.”

Much to your wanted expectations he glances carefully through the mirror attentively with brows furrowing in concern. To enhance your bothered attitude you cross your arms with a slight pout. “Could you not say your legacy after every sentence? I mean it can be annoyingly tedious right?”

While merging to another lane, he has time to respond to your question thoughtfully. Especially with your father wavering by your side. “I don’t mind it all, you’ve rightfully earned the title. But if you so claim that it bothers you, what would you prefer me to call you then your-”

“Y/n works just fine.”

“Does it?” Your father seconds.

“Yes…it does.”

“Child?”

“Father?”

He gives you a ridiculed stare that makes you sit back and stay quiet for the rest of the ride much to your father’s satisfaction, but for you to possession of the last word was enough in regards to satisfactory to yourself.

…

Even though you are the first to get out of the vehicle when you arrive at another business convention, you’re the last to go into the facility as you attempt to bid goodbye to Yunho.

“Drive safe Yunho, I’ll see you later tonight!”

Instead of a verbal response, Yunho bows deeply, and almost apologetically rather than the happy-go-lucky smile he generously gives after picking you up and dropping you off.

You notice his eyes are not meeting yours but rather right behind you. In following his sight, you spot your father next to his bodyguard through the building's stained blue glass. His hands are overlapped behind his back, appearing very unamused as if Yunho and you are being judged for pulling each other back from doing the things you should be doing.

You roll your eyes and turn to meet Yunho again, even with evil eyes hawking you two. It was only then you see Yunho opening the drivers door, stiffly putting a hand up in goodbye when your eyes briefly meet. He then moves into the vehicle, buckling up immediately, and starts the engine, pulling off in a matter of seconds.

Needless to say, he left you behind in dust with the only matter to attend to your obligated duties… ‘your father’s legacy’.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

ONE WEEK LATER

The chauffeur sits still buckled in the seat, holding the shifting gear with his bare leather-clad hand steadily, ready to pull off to attend your father's grand event tonight, a celebration at the Five Star Michelin restaurant he purchased downtown.

Whenever your father invests so much in something so special, it would be unbearable for him not to blow more money on a celebration. Just for the hell of it.

As his child, you should be happy for him. But you’re everything but, rather annoyed, pressed, disgusted. There was a feeling inside your gut that he had everything to do with Yunho's change of attitude from last week.

He wasn’t as cheerful as he once was, his responses to your flirtations were dry and brief, and he would barely look at you in the rearview as you attempted to talk to him.

But the difference with you today is that you decided enough is enough. Your father has brought you down in your most joyous moments, and it was long overdue for you to return the favor.

This time you’re sat right behind Yunho, while next to your father, who’s sat with another one of his bodyguards next to him. The particular arrangement was decided upon by your father for some odd reason. But you’re thinking, with your position being behind Yunho, he would not be able to see you in the car at all.

But he can still hear you of course…and that’s where your diabolical plan comes into play.

Through the space between the window and the headrest, you lean forward and hold onto each cushioned side on the back of Yunho's seat with both hands. His hands then grip harshly onto the steering wheel, turning his knuckles into the brightest tint of white.

“Nice to see you again Yunnie…can I call you that?”

Your father who sits in the middle stares directly into the rear view mirror, burning his laser-like vision through the glass, and reflecting its power back into Yunho's eyes, blinding him with fear.

“If it pleases you, you can call me whatever you wish. But-erm, however, it is still my honorable service to be the legacy’s dutiful Chauffeur.”

Yunho looks briefly through the rearview mirror, and your father gives him an appreciative nod. It was then that you had a favorable idea of exactly what was being done.

How cruel for your father to think he could maintain control of everyone else’s conversations with undercover telepathic signals, or more so, control of Yunho.

In fact, what he didn’t know, is that it couldn’t weaken your determination in the slightest, yet it does the complete opposite. One thing you’re good at is games, and so you play into his little diversion.

“Ughhh you are so unbelievably proper today Yunnie, it’s just Y/n remember?” From your perspective, between the small crack of his headrest and window, you can see that his grip on the wheel grows even tighter. It was then shortly afterward that his head began bobbling from the road, and then to the rearview mirror as he struggled to interpret all the mixed signs and signals. “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, a hand grabs onto your shoulder and pulls you from Yunho's seat to your rightful one. “Don’t criticize him. The question you should be asking my child is; What’s right?” As if those tacky words of wisdom haven’t given you the ick, the second your father throws his arm around your shoulder does.

“Properness is something you should adapt to. The people would beg to converse with you more, and you’d actually have friends. Who then could potentially be fantastic business partners by the way.”

It couldn’t be anymore oblivious that he was trying everything to pin you down to a stump. To keep you from embarrassing him tonight, and acting out ‘unprofessionally and unethically’. Even though it hurts to admit it, your heart pounds vigorously from the slick venom he curated in his artificial advisory. But you’re not a ‘child’ anymore, you can’t be fooled, or kept silent with a jumbo lollipop.

You throw his arm from your shoulder in the nicest yet slickest manner possible, while simultaneously putting your arm around his shoulders. “I’m so thrilled to hear you say that father, which gives me this brilliant idea! Yunho here”, you gesture towards said man with your free hand, “…should come to the event with us. He can be my friend, and teach me how to speak with this ‘properness’ you want me to adapt to.”

The look of shock on your father's face as a result of something you wittily said is something you would die for, but it’s here, on earth, and oh if you had a camera on hand to picture this moment, you’d take it to the grave.

In the absence of an answer, he glances at his bodyguard, nudging the stiff arm with his elbow, and then unexpectedly bursts into a loud laugh, making you jump in your seat. “Absolutely NOT. it’s not a part of his assigned duties to be your ‘friend’. You can make those yourself easy once you learn how to clean up that act.”

Embarrassingly, almost like the child he called you to be, you uplift yourself from your seat backrest to meet his evil eyes with your timid ones. “But father-”

“No buts.” He places the back of his hand in front of your face like a flag of victory that makes you retreat back into the seat.

Even though you tried to refrain from being childish before, but you feel no choice to submit to it now. You grab onto his costly tuxedo blazer, throwing yourself and him side to side against the leather cushions.

“Ohhhh Pleaseeee. Please Please please please please please please please please-”

That's enough, child. I cannot believe you are acting in such a foolish manner." Having been yelled at directly in the face by a provoked outburst, you unhand him with a disoriented look on your face. You began to consider a different course of action while looking out of the tinted window. “Mr.Jeong?”

Yunho looks into the mirror, once, twice, and then thrice as he hears the authoritative voice address him. He has a fair idea of what your father is bound to ask. Unbeknownst to all of you, he’s internally contemplating how he should answer accordingly.

“Would you care to accompany us this evening, as my child-the legacy’s, plus one?”

The gears stop its scornful grinding in your head in the making of the underdeveloped plans to change your father's mind. Rather his question implicates a chance to control, yet you avoid showing the excitement from the thought as you hide your grin in the palm of your hand.

In the time it takes Yunho to respond, the nerve-wrecked chauffeur slows at a stop sign. In terms of location, you are all now across the street from an upcoming town featuring plazas and restaurants with an emphasis on quantity over quality. A reasonable assumption you all are close to where you need to be.

In the meantime, Mr.Jeong drives on the road steadily. Suspiciously though, he increasingly watches in the rearview mirror more than needed.

The gloss coating in his brown eyes becomes more apparent as they shift from person to person each time, unsure of the proper landing spot. “If it’s not a bother sir… I’d be honored.”

“Hmm.” That is all that can be heard when immediately following the drivers statement.

“Well then…you’re welcome to join us. Just make sure you park the vehicle in a safe space, and then you can meet us in the food court inside.”

For Yunho it was a difficult time deciding whether to smile or not, so instead he bows lightly with his head and tucks his lips in for a few seconds seconds. “Everything will be done just as you ask sir, and I will join the both of you shortly.”

“Thank you father.” You add while tucking in a bright smile of your own.

He waves you off, sitting back to relax the very last few minutes of travel with a few peeks of any sneaky interaction.

…

As your father was the personnel behind the main event, there was a stroll of people outside waiting for him. Photographers, business partners in other industries, and lower-class civilians who fantasize about your billionaire lives.

This made it difficult for you to maneuver inside at a reasonable time, but your father didn’t mind the extra attention of course.

As a result, Yunho's best interest lies in waiting for a clearing and using that time to find a safe place to park the luxurious Rolls Royce.

Meanwhile, after a good many minutes of the bodyguard growing extremely anxious about the commotion in you and your father’s space, you’ve finally all made your way into the food court. One would have expected another to just sit and eat, and there was that occurring as you came in of course…and a shitload of a billion questions about your father's next business endeavor, as if the current moment wasn’t celebratory enough.

A guest who is currently speaking to your father cut themselves off in something you believe to be rather uninteresting. “Did your legacy finally get married?!” The guestpointst in the adjacent direction, and thus you see your plus one.

Every time a boot hits the ground he leaves a mark in the room with a beautiful smile, the one that makes his cheeks mold into the roundness of an apple, the inside holding balls of light. In a moment you could’ve sworn a twinkle had shined over his eye jewelry. His mullet tail brushes over the soft tan skin of his neck with every step, oh how’d you love to run your hands over it all.

His strides come to a halt as he arrives by your side. However, that is changed when father moves him in between you two, patting him a bit roughly on the back. “Not quite yet, we have a lot to work to do before we get to that point.” He then looks specifically to Yunho laughing in his face. In return, the taller man shares a polite smile with the group, essentially keeping his cool. “Oh, but this is our wonderful Chauffeur, Mr. Jeong Yunho.”

Like clockwork, a shake of hands is conjoined right after another, and in courtesy, Mr.Jeong Yunho even bows afterward. “What a grand pleasure it is to meet you all.” A, “Likewise.” is said among the group…how humbling.

In just a few seconds you were forgotten because your father moved the focus elsewhere. To be specific, Yunho, a someone who has ‘less work to be done’. “Well then”, you awkwardly intercept, “Me and Mr. Jeong Yunho here are going to be conversing with our other guest. Please excuse us.”

Without thinking, you take him by the hand, wandering off into another group to join some other pesky conversation.

As a waiter passes by with a plate of champagne, you grab a glass for yourself and Yunho, chugging your own in seconds with a lack of grace. “Just nod and smile. This is how people usually conversate with my father since he obviously loves boasting about himself. I bet he’ll be so caught up in it that he probably won’t even bother to spare a glance.”

Contrary to thought, one of the most compliant and respectable soldiers to your father’s commands nods swiftly and begins to follow your instructions. In turn, you are so caught off guard by his loyalty that you nearly forget to follow your own instructions.

Yunho enacts his assigned roleplay with a swig of champagne. The bubbles cascade down his throat as he sticks out a pinky decorated in his embellished ring for class.

The arm in which he uses to raise the glass causes his waist-coated vest to crease, then revealing his bare chest underneath. It is growing to be a little sweaty, presumably from nervousness. His chest sinks and rises, causing patches of wetness to form on the white button-up that a nipple begins to peak-

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” In response, Yunho ceases to sip from his glass and inspects the inside with the tips of his large fingers, gravely observing the absence of any carbonated liquid present.

“I believe I’m feeling a little nervous, but the champagne is a great cause for distraction.”

You take in the view of how adorable he was being, observing the glass like it was a golden antique as if he was hoping for more champagne to magically liquify out of thin air.

Yet the lingering in your admiration doesn’t last as a waiter with a charcuterie board and olives in hand breaks your line of vision, offering the samples to the whimsical tall fellow, which he gladly accepts, and wastes no time shoving it full into his mouth.

As they smile wide and depart with a pleased look, your eyes follow them in disgust as you watch them walk into a different room with its entrance engraved into an archway. Behind it are swaying couples and even more champagne glasses in their hands. It encourages you to offer your hand to Yunho, consecutively wiggling it for emphasis. “I think I know where I can get you some more of that champagne big guy.”

“Really?” He speaks with a mouth full of food, in realization, he covers it quickly to keep in any more flying particles. You nod and tilt your head toward the archway. “And maybe we could dance a little, just to fit in?” Perhaps this idea could have sprung from your jealousy…but at least you’ll appear ‘normal’ and preoccupied.

An instant slap sound is made when his much larger hand intertwines your fingers together. The feeling is so soft, warm, and delicate. It’s not a touch you expected a chauffeur to have. He swallows the last bits of food in his mouth and removes his overly attractive hand. “That sounds delightful your legacy, I think that will work perfectly.”

You look down to see the link that has bonded you together in ways you never have before. Even more so you tighten it as you pull him toward the adjacent area where the classical music overrides your eardrums, you both look to your left to see that it is actually a live orchestra. To you though, it wasn’t all too surprising to see the extremities your father had organized.

As you pass by you move toward the champagne that is now stacked in a pyramid on a dress-skirted table, just outside of the dance floor. For a moment it’s a cleared space away from the other couples to give you privacy and peace. Which is perfect for what you want to confess.

“I would really appreciate it if you could just call me Y/n…please. The moment Yunho hears your plea, he pauses his small sippings, swallowing the remaining sweet bubbly liquid.

“A legacy doesn’t have thoughts of moving out of the country to start a new life. It is particularly difficult to do given that everything has been plated on the table for me since birth, including the future generations to take up the family business. As far as I am concerned though, I never had a seat...and I do not intend to stay for the entree…if that makes any sense at all."

You bow your head in awkwardness, but out of your peripheral vision you see Yunho looking deeply at you and then back in the other room in search of your father who's nowhere to be seen. In truth, he is a bit hesitant to speak, but he knows your father is too far out of reach to hear his words.

“My apologies…y/n it is then.”

…

In short, dancing with Yunho felt lively. His large hands encapsulated your waist perfectly with a champagne glass in hand, and yours were on his shoulders before they slowly crept up to the back of his neck. The tips of your fingers ghostly brush against the ends of the strands. Not to mention the eye contact you were now maintaining was severely intimate. The only subsiding factor was the respectable space between your bodies.

“Yunho?”

“Yes? What can I do for you Y/n?”

His adaption to uphold your governor's name was relatively swift; perhaps he was aware that it was making you uncomfortable all along. Plus, just sounds better.

“Don’t tell my father this but, I really hate how he belittles me sometimes, and so… I’ve been sort of using you as a taunt to get back at him. I just wanted to say, I’m truly sorry for causing any trouble.”

The look in his eyes are unreadable, but his hands being still on your waist shows a good sign.

“Not to worry, y/n. ‘twas fairly obvious anyhow. That is, you taunting him but, also him belittling you. I both hear it and see it without uttering a word. So, If anything, I am the one who is due for an apology .”

In denial, you shake your head. Denying that he shouldn’t be sorry, and/or denying the fact that someone had finally acknowledged what you have as a ‘father’.

“It just feels like he’s not even my father sometimes you know…well hell, most of the time.”

“Hmm. Despite shrugging his shoulders, he appears contemplative of letting go of a running thought. “Don’t tell your father I said this either but…it’s probably because he doesn’t want others to perceive you as his child, Y/n. With the presumption you don’t fit the standards…his words.”

Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek as you scoff and move your eyes to be entertained by the instrumentals of the classical orchestra. Down deep inside you were cowering in fear, hoping that he wouldn’t detect the hurt you’ve been burying for so long. “Well, of course, I’ve already come to that conclusion. But I don’t wanna suck up to him and become like one of these snobs. Like him…”

“Well, lucky for you that has a very simple solution. Just don’t, y/n.” In that same moment, Yunho uses his overpowering strength to cease the swaying you both used to blend in. You became timid, looking deeply into his eyes for the need for separation, yet his hands never slip away, and neither do yours.

“Even if it means losing all your inherited wealth, or being banished from his riches completely, at least you’ll be happy, free of anyone's approval.”

It was the same non-telling expression that displayed on his soft features nearly two weeks ago after he said ‘independence should not always be perceived so negatively.’ It wasn’t until this moment that you realized he had a feeling of how you truly felt. Then, and now.

“Excuse me? Is everything I need to hear and more coming from my father’s honorable and dutiful Chauffeur?”

At this, he scoffs with a dark chuckle and throws his head forward with a sinister grin that is contrary to his usual smile. “I just take the people that pay me where they need to go y/n. Pretty much everything else outside of that has no limits.”

‘I want to explore those limits. What does his life look like outside of driving us everyday, all day?’

“Why’d you do it?”

“Could you specify that question for me please Y/n?”

“You know…just agreeing to be here with me right now, you could’ve respectfully declined. Everyone else does…”

His eyebrows furrow from the process of newly open emotions, but the meaning of what you intended registers nonetheless. “Don’t you wanna learn how to speak properly y/n? Or was that just another taunt for your father in the usage of myself?”

“Oh no! Your hands begin to wander aimlessly from the back of his neck with no control as you frantically speak. “It’s not like that anymore I promise. I-It’s just easier talking to you, and I think that’s what's making my father upset because this isn’t how we typically speak to our…associates.”

Without your acknowledgment, your fabric hands have vile to a still in front of you. From a bystander's perspective, it looked like you were declining a request to dance. However, the sudden contact of a rock-hard chest pressed against your palm read differently. “Oh shit! Erm, I mean-sorry...”

When you attempt to bring your hands down, they are brought back up again on his hard chest. This time, with his hands over yours, he slowly drags them back onto his neck, regaining their placement from before. “So…what’s next dear y/n? You have me here, dancing with you in the open for your father to see…what’s your end goal here?”

The ability for common sense is overridden by touch in the effects of what happened, and what you think to say next shows the side effects. “You said pretty much everything else outside of paid driving has no limits right?”

“As I have previously stated that is correct, yes.”

“In that case then, I want you to be honest with me. Do you… want to have me?”

His hands lose balance at your waist, blinking rapidly as he takes a few steps backwards.

“M’sorry y/n?”

“What do you think about having me without my father speculating on every little thing we do? To talk, joke, and touch as we are now. Maybe..in other ways of dancing?”

The eyes of the young man avert downward, his expression concerned, and there can be no doubt that he is seriously considering your 'subtle' suggestions. His face softens once more, and a grin appears as his eyes return back into yours. The sense of urgency has dissipated from the beating of your head and chest, as you grin along with him.

“I think…we’re gonna have to find a way to make that happen, but when has your father ever left you unattended?”

Your relief leads you to take a few tiny steps forward in a bid to bridge the gap between the two of you. In the spirit of boldness, you drag your hand down to fiddle with a button on his waistcoat. As for a doubled intention, it soothes you to determine a plausible course of action.

“Don’t worry too much. He won’t have anything to worry about if I have you with me. At least, for you anyway.”

A resuming of eye contact follows, and a shaking emotion of sympathy, lust, and infatuation. As a result, you were concerned that the guest might discover the connection that took place, possibly reporting the events to your father out of interest or judgment.

You part from him, trailing behind his body that turns to follow yours as you face back to the central area where your father can be found. In the moment of staying still with dancing bodies, catering, and live music, you managed to make a way out of no way.

You turn back to make eye contact with a stunned six-foot friendly giant who appears to be wanting more. “Follow me cutie, I have an idea.”

In immediate action, your cute little companion follows behind you as if he were a deeply attached puppy eager to perform any instruction you command.

…

In brief, this is how your idea played out:

By using your own initiative, you were able to guide yourself and Yunho to return to the central food court area so that you would be more openly aligned in your father's sight.

Upon seeing you two, he calls you over to have dinner, which initially kickstarts the exact plan you have in mind.

As disgusting as it was, over an accumulated amount of time, in every bite of food you ate, you left some chewed residue in your mouth, plus a wash of champagne created a perfect combination of barf served right onto your plate.

When you abruptly stand from your seat, the splattered mess grabs the attention of those around you. In effect, it ceased all conversation, then followed up by a unified loud gasp with the adlibs of ‘oh dears’ as the table guest watches you with worried eyes.

You have been seated by Yunho who has quickly risen with you to clean any residue on your body that unfortunately hadn’t made it onto the plate.

With his back toward the table and his gorgeous face planted directly in front of yours, you smirk then wink quickly, causing him to cease both his actions and the internal panic when he realizes this was the commotion you purposefully triggered.

Your father who’s sat across from you both isn’t too worried. Rather he appears more upset about the intimate contact you’re both showcasing to his guests.

“Child! Go to the wash rooms, at once!” Both you and Yunho react to the direction of loud sound and respectfully adjusted your bodies with hands by your sides.

“I apologize father. I think I ate too quickly…and perhaps, maybe I drank more than I could handle. My only desire was to honor you and celebrate you, but I do not feel well at the moment."

In frustration he breathes deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head, then flicking you away with the bending of his wrist.

“Mr.Jeong, would you care to give the legacy some assistance? Afterwards, just drop them off at the most high-quality hotel, and come back to join us shortly please.”

“Of course sir. I will make it a priority to be of assistance, and come back quickly for return.”

In embarrassment, your father continues to conceal his sight of you until you leave. A waiter comes in immediately to clean the mess, and it makes you feel terrible in the slightest.

Although you’re sure the ‘messiness’ your were going to venture, would even things out for you surely.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Upon walking towards the safe spot Yunho secreted your father’s black Rolls Royce, he opens the back door for you in a procedure to which you however slam shut to show your unappreciation.

“There are things that we do with my father, that should not be done without my father. One of the most notable differences is that I will not be seated in the back seat." As you approach the passenger side, he follows your gaze as you open the door. "I call Shotgun!”

Yunho chuckles, then disguises quickly in search of any persons, as he has hidden the car in a secure location in which no one should see you two. He unbuttons his vest which had gotten a little too tight with all the food, drinks, and nervousness he consumed. After further inspecting for a clearing he walks speedily around the car with the uniformed coat in hand to settle awkwardly in the front seat.

Even as he made his way into the car to be seated, the seatbelt strap repetitively formed into a tangle when he tried to secure himself. It was even more awkward when all you could do was stare as his chest squeezed with every pull.

His face read every aspect of embarrassment, yet he persistently tries to fix the belt with endless results of failure. In the coming realization of the uselessness of his efforts, he decides to relieve what’s on his mind as he exhales a deep sigh. “Your legacy- or, my apologies…Y/n?”

You channel out of watching the show of his squeezing the broad breast to acknowledge that his hands are now placed unto his thick thighs, rubbing up and down rapidly onto the top base with accumulating sweat. Your eyes then wander to his puppy dog face which has unexpectedly melted into a childish pout, and that’s when the realization strikes you.

“Let me guess. You’re chickening out of this, aren’t you? I mean- it took me a while to collect that food in my mouth and then ‘fake’ throw it up you know...”

In hearing this he acted as though he was controlled by a switch, exhibiting a variety of expressions, unsure of which to choose. “No! I mean- you just said ‘we’ and ‘without your father’, as if this is going to happen between us often, and I didn’t know if that was your intention or if you just-”

“Only if you want it to Yunho.” Tentatively, you place a hand over his shaky, large, bejeweled one to soothe his nerves. In response, a cute and sad little pout turns into one big goofy smile.

“Listen…soon enough, I plan on getting the fuck out of town to be free of this stupid lifestyle, and without the need for anyone’s approval thanks to you wise sir.” The said wiseman’s smile shrinks in length, he faces you completely, showcasing his full attention and unwavering seriousness as you speak from the heart. “With that being said, I would love to have you to myself even after the time when it is appropriate for me to leave this life behind.”

As you keep your hands over him, Yunho continues to face you. However, you notice that his eyes struggle to maintain eye contact. Your lips, however, did not seem to be too hard of a catch. “That sounds…really nice y/n.”

You take in your bottom lip as if it got shy in hiding from the most angelic gaze. “Cool.” To relieve the initiated awkward intensity, you swiftly remove your hand from his and turn forward to the enclosed scenery, his eyes never moving from you. “I know a detour from that overpriced ass hotel. It’ll make the trip a whole lot longer.”

As a helpful indication as to what you were implying, you turn your head to look at him once more, hoping the knowing expression you were putting on was easy to convey. It didn’t take long for him to notice, and the thought of it made him bat his eyelashes from the explicit mental images.

Shyly, he averts his gaze downward on his lap where his hands are now resting; his ears become the brightest shade of red. ‘How cute’ you thought. “So… you want to take a detour to give us more time to-

“Exactly.”

Simultaneously, upon your immediate response, you both conquer the fear of looking at one another as you match a wide smile. It ‘twas funny how looks could kill the both of you…but a yearning for each others touch excites you both all the more.

…

The tension that was in the air had dropped into your laps, rubbing still between both of your legs. A driving Yunho somehow maintains steady alignment in the lane, and the only giveaway that he feels the way you do is the continuous stares at every slow of traffic, stop sign, or red light.

“If it means anything…unlike your father…I really like the way you think.” You turn to him, unashamed to glance over his towering muscular stature as he focuses on the busy road. “It can be a bit troublesome at times, but, for some peculiar reasoning, it excites me beyond what I should feel.”

You look at him tenderly, heart thumping at a compliment you’ve never heard in your entire life. Heart thumping at the fact you make him feel excited in ways your father prohibits. “Thanks Yunnie, I appreciate that more than you know.”

As you’ve directed him for most of the trip, you have no choice but to turn your highly focused concentration back on as the vehicle makes its way into an intersection. “When this light turns green, you need to make a right here.” You find yourself, for no apparent reason, outrageously grabbing on his biceps with your closest hand while pointing in the said direction.

The contact remains until the light turns green, and you’re forced to let go to enable him to drive properly. The next street approaches as well as your next direction. “Okay, now left.”

Unexpectedly, the black-haired man takes a sharp turn, causing your body to move forward as your hand instinctively grips his thigh for stability.

“My sincerest apologies, I suppose my foot weighed on the gas too hard.”

It’s never happened before…if it did you worst be in the car with this man right now, your father would’ve fired him long ago for a ‘silly mistake’. However, with your level of intuition, you feel as if mistakes happen for a reason.

“No worries, just keep going straight down here…” You rise your upper body back up slowly pulling your hand upward with it to the meatiest part of his thigh with an abrupt stop before his intimate parts. “Now pull into this lakehouse restaurant's parking lot.”

He does so with an anxious demeanor shivering over his body, contrary to the calm ripples of the lake pond with ropes on its borders, in every angle it designs a perfect view. You watch it with grace, symbolically embodying the calmness of the water and the creatures in it living their simplistic lives.

You became so lost in your thoughts that you forgot that your hand was so close to where this man needed you, and to make matters worse, he was so reluctant to speak up for his own benefit. “I don’t recall ever seeing this place before. It’s peaceful, and right now it’s possibly awkward to say… romantic?”It was then you caught onto his hint of neediness, and removed your hand from his lap clumsily in embarrassment.

“Yeah…you got the right idea. I figured it’d be perfect for our special occasion and all.” You laugh off your nervousness as it is now a little too quiet, which also makes Yunho a little wary about his next move.

“Father rarely ever visits this place if that’s what you’re thinking about…” You knew that wasn’t what he was primarily thinking about, but it was a recurring thought in the back of his mind. “As you should know, he’s deadly allergic to shellfish. Plus the restaurant is a little more hidden on the outskirts of town, so it isn't so popular with the common people. Nevertheless, it’s always worth a visit to the lake view."

He nods quietly, a grin slightly uplifting the prints of his cheekbones as a thought walks across his mind. You observe him attentively to gain a better understanding of what he is going to say next. “I think I’m starting to love the way you think. Truly, I’m impressed. You really thought this all out in that ballroom?”

You match his grin, leaning forward as you gain the boldness to grab onto the collar of his white button-up. “That’s right soldier, don’t ever doubt me. Plus, I guarantee you’re gonna love the ways I please you so much better.”

You slowly let go of his collar and make hold your own with one hand. You use your other one to dig behind the material of your tailored satin blazer jumpsuit on your chest.

He gulps as he watches your strip tease act. His bulge behind the curtains becomes evident as it grows in size. You bite your bottom lip as you pull out your hand, revealing a thick wad of cash. “Here. It’s a tip for your courtesy, Mr. Jeong.”

He stares at the stack of cash, shaking his head no like he was in disbelief from what he really wanted to see from you. When you see he isn’t going to take it, you tenaciously bring down the bills between his thighs, stimulating the tip of his erect member and making his hips jerk as his mouth drops further with every movement.

“Dear Jeong Yunho…you truly don’t know how much you’ve changed the entire course of my lonely, miserable, sad life. Please, take this as a thank you.”

His head shakes as he struggles to look down at the action of your stimulation. Yet an evil smile that you don’t recognize awakens his soft features. “Y-you think I want your fucking money darling?” You sense a trembling in your chest as you watch the monster you have awakened swallow thickly, then roll his eyes forward into the depth of your soul.

In response to your slow movements, he roughly grips your hand and places small kisses on the back of it, never leaving eye contact with you. “You shouldn’t cheat yourself, your hole is priceless to me baby.”

Your focus becomes so disoriented from his sudden change of character, that even you nearly forget to play your role, as you are the one that initiated the whole ordeal. “Oh? You submissively pull your hand from his lightly controlled grip, then reach down again unto his lap to take back the bills. Yet as you go for the stack, which there lies still on his erection, he watches you like a cheetah on the prowl, and as his prey, you never stop looking so he doesn’t rip you to shreds. “Who knew you had such a dirty mouth with all that shined and polished vocabulary you speak?”

He smirks, adding to the deviousness of his glare. “Just imagine all the more physical things I can do with it, you would love it, so much better.” He quotes your taunting from earlier, using your own playing card for your little game. “But, perhaps we can save that for another time right?”

You shake your head as you witness your cute little puppy dog transform into a wolf, and you are confused in whether to be frightened, or proud.

“It’s always the quiet ones. Who would’ve thought? I bet this isn’t the only time you’ve fucked your bosses kid outside of driving, Mr. No limit.”

“Actually my darling, you’re the first. Daddy’s little brat who needs to escape bondage from the rich world.” He tongues his cheek in amusement, letting it a huff from your harsh assumption. “But, now that we’re away from all that, with me, you can forget everything but my name.”

With the rushing thoughts of screaming his name while he’s inside you, many words are con-jumbled on the top of your tongue. He smiles devilishly, seeing as to how you’re quickly consumed by the thought. “To the back darling.”

To your surprise, you find yourself obeying as you kick off your shoes, then climbing carefully onto the middle counselor as a bridge way to settle into the back seat. “You really think you’re going to tame me huh? You obviously haven’t paid attention in the last couple of weeks.”

“Y/n my dear, you obviously haven’t had my dick in you yet sweetheart.” Your eyes become blown as you grip the cushions of the seat, and your heart rate begins to accumulate as it beats rhythmically towards your eardrums. Yunho chuckles at your reaction and finishes with an expression of a satisfied smile. “How about you take off that jumpsuit and your underwear to make things easier, if you’re wearing any that is…and make room for me yeah?“

Without any disregard, you follow his commands. It was an odd feeling to be the subordinate here as his duty was to commend service unto you. After he sees you fully undressed, he wastes no time getting rid of his button-up, knee-high boots, and black slacks.

“Hurry and get back here soldier”, you tease. “We’re on limited timing. I don’t want father to create more suspicions than he already annoyingly has.”

“You worry too much rookie, I’m coming.” In immediate action, he climbs toward the back in his black underwear, his dick poking and jumping through the seam.

He hovers over you and takes in the imagery of your naked body, and you rub your fingers over the abs and chest that have grown hard in reaction to your warm and gentle touches.

The sound of a growl can be heard as he squeezes your jaw and collides your lips with his in a heated make-out session mixed with peach-flavored champagne. A final kiss is shared as he bites your bottom lip, gently letting free from his grasp that disconnects a string of saliva. “Bend over, please.”

With the desperation laced in his voice which has gradually become a lot deeper, you assume the position as he makes room for you to do so. He comes from behind you with your back arch like a cat in heat, and you evilly came up with the idea to push up against him to tease his hard-on. He groans and grips both of your hips leaving indents of nail marks, even through the glove.

You found pleasure in it, biting your lips in ecstasy until you felt a hand being removed, followed up by Yunho grabbing the stack of bills in the council. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps this could come in handy.” The wad of cash is tossed into the air and into his hands behind you, where he is possibly weighing it to determine its value.

“What the hell? What’re you talking-“

A loud smack is heard throughout the vehicle as his nail in your asscheek grips into your skin deeper. A duality of pleasure and pain overwhelmed your senses, causing you to moan loudly in the quiet space.

“Where’d you get this from anyway, huh darling?”Your eyes sting and with the current burning of your asscheeks. You try to find time to come up with words that would make sense to effectively reply with. Yet another smack from the bills is what gets the gears operating again. “I asked you a question, darling.”

“I-i-I um deposited it from my bank this morning. It’s my share from the new restaurant and literally all the money my father’s ever given me”, you rush out.

“Oh darling, you poor thing. He rubs onto your sore red flesh to soothe the surface, but the freshness of the burn only makes it hurt worse. “This is only 10% of what me and your father make combined, and that’s saying a lot.” He throws it back in the front as if it were worthless, which to him it probably might’ve been.

You remain silent. But of course down inside you’re pissed at your father, and yet what’s new?

You just wanted to feel loved. It was as if the universe sent Yunho the supersonic signal as he began kissing up your neck, stopping at your earlobes to give them small nibbles. “Oh, what should I do with you, honey. What do you really need huh?”

“Yunnie, please. You waddle your knees backward into the leather seats, finding a way to press into his hard-on that he dodges from your hole. “I just- I need you inside me now, please.”

“Okay, darling. No more teasing okay?” He leans backward, using the hands he once had on you back in their place into your cheeks to spread them apart. “Can you open your legs a bit more father for me?” In eagerness, you obey. “Gorgeous baby, good job. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m gonna stretch you out a bit with my fingers, Just by the looks of it you’ll have me coming in seconds, but Yunnie wants you for just a bit longer than that.”

You’re wanted.

So, are you ready darling?”

You’re going to feel loved.

“Just fucking do it already, please.”

He spits onto your opening, followed by the sleek material of his gloved finger entering your hole with smooth sailing thanks to the lubricant he provided. Unbelievably so, his finger grows deeper which feels to have no end. In a few more seconds after that, he reached a certain spot that made your body jerk uncontrollably and he halted his intrusion. “F-fuckkk. Right there baby.” you roll your hips, “that feels so fucking amazing.”

His concern is replaced by pride to hear he could make you feel good doing barely anything at all. “Oh, I see. That explains why you’re squeezing around it so tightly baby, but maybe we should add another to get you where I need you.”

“Yes, please do.”

He wiggles about finger inside you making you feel like you have unlimited proximity in the tight space. Just like the first, he glazes upon that sweet spot, making you whine aloud in pure pleasure. “Just one more baby, you can do one more right?”

You blink rapidly in a daze, slightly rolling your hips to gain more of the addictive feeling. “Yes Yunnie, give it to me. Give me more please.”

“Of course my dear. You asked so kindly after all.” Just as requested, another smooth gloved finger dived into your hole, opening you with a wide stretch. He memorizes the exact area that makes you squeal. Massaging it, pinching it, and puncturing stimulation with fingered thrust.

Needless to say, you were feeling very pleased and wanting more as you move your hips further backward where your ass cheek meets his palm. penetrating his fingers in and out as you please. “Must be the desperation kicking in huh baby? You need something bigger and deeper don’t you?”

You look back at him and the way his fingers disappear into your opening. “How many times do you want me to tell you that I want you to fuck me?”

He bites his lip, using the non gloved hand to grip an asscheek and inject his fingers into it at a fast pace like he’s preparing a Thanksgiving turkey. After a few minutes, the rush slows down and stops, leaving you breathless and sobbing with your back arched extensively.

“That will be the last time. There’s just one thing I have to do so I can give you what you want.” Just like with the stack of cash earlier, you hear a rumbling in the front seat as Yunho reaches to grab yet another item. It gave you a lot of food for thought about how creatively he’d used it in your sex craze.

The new uprising of growing need between your legs in excitement causes you to feel impatient. You look over your shoulder to tell him you cannot wait any longer, but a firm hand turns your head back forward. “Keep your head right there baby, Yunnie will give you what you want real soon okay?” You tongue your cheek, letting go out the most tiresome groan, that was, until you choked up on something enclosed on your neck.

You dig your nails into the backseat for stability while you bring up your other hand to get a feel of what was holding you from breathing. You feel that it’s a cloth material, then a knot with two long pieces attached, oh you know it’s a…

“Oh, you kinky mother-“ you say in a hoarse breath, but your speech is cut off when your yank upward, and simultaneously, all of Yunho's girthy cock split you wide open. “…fucker!”

“I am going to fuck you, but I just want to let you know that this is how I planned on taming you. Yes, it’s kinky, but I’m sure you’ll take pleasure in it because contrary to life, I think you liked being controlled, but only during sex, hm?”

Correct.

It was the only time you’ve felt wanted and cared for, and given that’s Yunho knows your background, it wasn’t that shocking for him to connect the dots. You probably have your moments of dominance at times just to feel powerful right?

You pointed to the tie around your neck, as it was getting a little too hard to breathe, limiting your communication. Yunho being attentive as he is, takes notice and loosens it up.

A few coughs are released from your throat, as your chest heaves with large intakes of breath. You turn your head to look into Yunho’s eyes, reaching back to touch his muscular thighs, and underneath his cheeks. “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

He grins in amusement, moving to just a few pecks into your lips. “Hmmm. Who knew daddy’s only child could be such a slut huh? Getting railed in the back seat of his Rolls Royce? You are really naughty.”

You pull your chin back, grinning mischievously as you shrug your shoulders, rubbing your ass in the base of his cock. “What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

Yunho grabs onto the tie once more, letting out quiet ‘tsks’ as his tongue clicks in his mouth. “Oh, darling.” An expected tightening of his tie tightens around your neck once more, but what you didn’t expect is for him to hammer into you, his hips meeting your ass in head-on collisions with no end. The indents from his nail piercing were still bruised, but the pleasure overtook all feeling.

You’re whining sounds hoarse, as overstimulation started to creep in, but your words are incoherent to all ears. “What was that baby? I couldn’t hear the shit talking over your choking. He leans forward with his cherry lips on the shell of your ear. “Or had my cock reached so far to your brain that you can’t even speak?”

He kisses your cheeks and loosens the tie. You nearly fall forward as he never stops pounding into you, but he upholds you by the strength of his large hand on your upper arms. “Fuck me harder, please. Fuck me stupid Yunnie, I don’t care!”

Just as your yelling is ceased he pulls out of your enlarged hole, pulling you down to be seated on his lap facing forward. Once seated your eyes make a connection with his through the rearview mirror as it usually does on any drive. The both of you watch each others jaw-dropping expressions as his cock enters you once more scrumptiously piercing through you with an addicting burn.

“One of the world’s national treasures, this tight fucking hole.” After that was said, he waste no time digging for gold, hammering every ounce of cum he had in him.

“Yes just like that Yunnie! I'm so fucking close" You speak through the mirror, your body bouncing, making it hard to concentrate, but more importantly, it draws his attention even more for you. “Give me all your cum, make me your slut.”

He groans into your ear, ejaculating his semen deep into the darkest depths of you body, that awakens it to the light.

“That might’ve been the hardest I’ve ever came in my life.”

He pulls out from your opening, giving you the chance to slide into the other seat. “No fucking kidding. Lesson learned: Never judge your father’s chauffeur by his professional cover, because he might have good dick.” You both laugh exhaustedly through heaving breaths, watching each other's naked bodies shake like the effect of another orgasm.

After it dies down, silence creeps in once again as it did before this all started. The sounds of ruffled clothes provide a few timeskips until it’s back to reality. “So-”, Yunho begins, “with this whole plan you’ve been test driving…was this supposed to be a part of it?”

You frown, recognizing the puppy dog face under the disheveled black strands before his sex drive took control. “Oh Yunnie, of course not.” You place a hand on his bare thigh, this time for the solution of comfort. “I’ve always wanted you taking me like this, and as for my plans for today… I wouldn’t have imagined to have come to this point.�� You lean close to his side and whisper, “Literally.”

Yunho breathes out a light chuckle, and stares at your hand at your thigh intensely, causing you to want to remove it as a result. “Besides the sex jokes. Got any regrets?”

With an immediate shake of ‘no’ on your head you say, “Hell no.” However, when you see Yunho's bland reaction to your response, you become compelled to ask him the same question. “Are you regretting it? There must be something since you asked.”

“No.” He says matter-of-factly. “I’m just… conflicted is all. I’ve always taken a liking to you, and I grew more fond of the personality that grew behind the legacy thing. You’ve always had goals of your own.” As you prepare to thank him for his praise, you notice that he opens his mouth once more. “But then again, my support for you risk the possibility of me losing my job, and then I’d have to choose.”

As your interest peaks in his last choice words in his confession, you turn to him in your seat. “Choose? What choice would you even have to make?”

“Don’t you know? It’s either you…or your father.”

“Yunho… you should never be given that ultimatum, or use it against yourself. If pleasing my father is your priority, then you should pursue that, but I’ll never be the second choice. I’ve lived through that already.”

He's slow to respond when he mends through contemplation, absorbing all of the information that contradicts what he has been manipulated with by your father. You pick up his habit of rubbing his hands over his clothed thighs when he has something to work through in his mind.

Having grown uncomfortable with the sudden change of mood sitting next to him, you grab the door handle to go back and sit in front.”Let’s just get to that hotel and forget all of it, fathers still expecting you…”

Just as you were leaving, you feel a warm chest make contact with your back, and a large ring-dressed hand makes its way in front of you, touching your hand on the door handle.“I know what I want more, but I’m afraid to make the choice.” His deep voice rings in your ear, echoing sound waves down each vertebra of your spine.

In response, you turn with your head down, afraid to look into his eyes as he rejects you. “Then you don’t really want it Yunho, because if you did, you’d do anything in your power to get it, no matter the cost.”

He removed his hand from the door handle, pulling it back in what you did not expect to occur- Yunho grasping the left side of your chin to confront you face to face. “I want you…can I have you, please? In the long run, just like you said?”

Your heart squeezes harder in your chest, fueling more ounces of blood by the second from his sweet confession. The imagery of his messy black mullet, his sparkling eye jewelry, and his wrinkled white shirt contrast with his despair. “So…your choosing me? Just like that?”

He shrugs, looking over the details of your face, smiling as he memorizes every square inch. “I’d say that I need longer to think about it, but my mind is already made up.” His thumb pressed against your chin, uplifting your head to look deport into his eyes. “So yes, I’m choosing you, darling. Can I have you?”

You take advantage of closed distance to exchange peach-flavored lips, sloppily trading tongues and groaning each other's names in between.

It was the best decision you’ve ever made, a chance for freedom, to forge your own path, and to be someone outside of your father's shadow. Jeong Yunho was your window to the world, giving you the courage to take on a journey of your own and find what you truly wanted in life.

“Fuck.” You mutter pressing into Yunho's chest as he makes the kiss deeper with a “Mhmmm.”

But it’s not what you said in means to spoken pleasure, but there was something you both kept forgetting. “No wait-, you push away from his lips with the palm of your hand on his chest, “How am I supposed to explain this? I don’t want you to get fired so soon.”

He chuckles, reaching up to fix the collar of your jumpsuit, grinning at your uneasy expression. “You’re just now thinking about that huh? Don’t worry baby, I’ll do the fancy talking.”

Smiling in relief, you took hold of his collar and pushed him against the seat, crawling into his lap as before, yet facing him with the front of your body. “I would be more than happy to do the dirty talking for you, Mr. Jeong. Would you like to take another 'spin around the block'?”

“You’re gonna give me a ride now baby? Take control?” He bites his lip in anticipation, playing with his tie that was loosely wrapped around your neck, squeezing the bouncy flesh on your thighs.

“That’s right, you say smoothing your hand up his damp white button-up shirt and over his abs, unbuttoning the clasps to undress him yourself this time. “I am my father’s child, control runs naturally in my blood.”

“Well then...” He grins, I’ll be sure to buckle in tight darling.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

END

Much love,

Xoxo

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#ateez au #kpop smut #yunho smut #delulu #1117feverlessdreams #100 notes #200 notes #m: yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #spotify

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