#so dumb. i think I just want to try on a wedding dress and have a nice ring but even then | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foreveia · 12 days ago

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take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you.

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no.

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world.

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end.

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head.

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him.

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

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cecilysobsessions · 2 years ago

Text

PURPLE HYACINTH (m.) | zuko

↬ word count: 12k

↬ fem!reader, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, “where is my wife?” line, zuko falls first and falls harder, reader & zuko are adults, some parts are from zuko’s pov

↬ summary: being the daughter of a powerful governor in the fire nation, you are married off to the new fire lord zuko. to the public, the two of you are madly in love. behind closed doors, you and zuko can’t stand each other. but you can fuck each other

↬ genre: fluff / smut smut smutty smut smut

↬ warnings: reader & zuko hate each other in the beginning, reader gets poisoned, assassination attempt, zuko likes being choked, oral sex (m.receiving & f.receiving), zuko is a slut in the bedroom, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, swearing, typos

↬ a/n: waiting on season 3 live action zuko glow up 🤞

m.list

•••

“Tell me again,” Zuko breathes into the kiss.

“What?”

“Tell me you hate me.” he pulls away for a moment and waits for you.

“I hate you.”

“I love you.” he responds breathlessly, smashing his lips against yours. This time he’s impatient, kissing you like he’s running out of time or like you’re going to be taken away and this is his last moment with you.

•••

You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. Was Zuko always this loud of a chewer? Seriously, in this entire large dining room, where he is sitting several feet away from you across the table, you can still hear him chewing on his stupid steak. Zuko was a loud chewer, a lousy cook, and an even lousier husband.

It has been nearly a year since the two of you wed in an arranged marriage and you’ve hated every second of it since those stupid wedding bells went off. Your father was a governor in the Fire Nation, and often helped out Zuko with his royal duties. Him and Zuko’s uncle Iroh were good friends, and when it came time for Zuko to find a wife, you just so happen to be at the right age of marrying and available. Although you had fought and protested the marriage, once your father made a decision, he would never go back on it. Even if the decision was to marry off his daughter to the new Fire Lord.

You hated everything about being royalty. From the fancy parties and charities to all the socializing you were required to engage in with old conservative firebending weirdos, to the stupid sham wedding and fake kisses with Zuko. Sure, it was nice living in the palace and having people cook for you and dress you up in pretty clothes, but you hated everything else. You hated socializing and partying, you hated being the Fire Lord’s wife, and you hated all the dumb royal duties you were required to do. It would be a lot easier to do all these things if you actually liked Zuko, but everything about him irked you.

He may have found himself during his teenage years, but he was still easily angered and hard headed. Not to mention he was still moping around and crying about his ex, Mai. She had already moved on and found someone new, but you knew Zuko was still upset he had messed up their relationship. Even though every time you confronted him about it he denied it, you were so sure he was still hurting from it and thinking about it. The blank stares and passing looks he gave to her with a softness in his eyes he had never given you made it so obvious he was lying. And even though you didn’t harbor any sort of romantic feelings for him, it still hurt that he was looking at Mai like that and thinking of her.

From the start of his reign, Zuko wanted Mai to be his wife, and not you, for very obvious reasons. It helped that he liked her and had already had history with her, so when you showed up and people were telling him that he was marrying you and not Mai, he had blamed it on you. He knew it would be better for his duty to put his feelings aside and marry you out of convenience, but he hated the idea of marrying someone he didn’t love. Being with someone he didn’t love.

“Zuko,” you started, trying hard to keep yourself from slamming your silverware on the dining table. “Will you please stop chewing so loudly?” you ask politely.

“I’m not chewing loudly.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You can��t even hear me! You’re sitting so far away from me!” his voice echoed through the large room.

“Exactly. I’m sitting so far away from you, but I can still fucking hear you.” you emphasized, rolling your eyes.

“Well, if it bothers you that much, feel free to eat somewhere else.”

You could practically feel your blood pressure rising. “Oh please, you think I haven’t tried doing that before? Your stupid advisors won’t let me eat anywhere else because we’re married, so we should be eating together.”

“Then stop complaining.”

“Maybe stop chewing so damn loudly and I won't complain.” you sigh, angrily blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face. You were beginning to feel heated and upset. All you wanted to do was eat your dinner in peace and go back to your bedroom, but his stupid loud chewing and stupid stubbornness just had to get in the way.

A familiar silence entered the room and you took in another breath, deciding to try and quickly finish your food so that you could just leave. There was no point in trying to fight with Zuko; you wouldn’t get what you want anyway.

“Do you ever stop sighing?” Zuko asked, and you felt something snap inside of you. You stood up abruptly, the steak knife you were using to cut your food flying towards his face. You had thrown the knife at him in anger, and hoped that it would hit him. Unfortunately, his fast reaction helped him and he moved to the side, swiftly avoiding your fast knife.

“What a shame,” you pushed out your chair and it squeaked against the polished floors. “I could’ve given you another scar on your stupid face.” you began making your way towards the door.

“Maybe if you had better aim you could’ve,” he replied, calmly going back to munching on his food as your eye twitched in annoyance.

•••

You couldn’t sleep. You had spent the last half hour tossing and turning and you still couldn’t fall asleep. Irritated, you decided that you were going to take a walk around the palace gardens to help calm you. In the time you’ve spent at the palace gardens so far, you began to make an effort to learn more about the plants and flowers and their meanings. You began to find it interesting the many messages you could send to someone through flowers, and hoped that someday you’d get a meaningful message through flowers from someone.

You had thrown a robe over your light and sheer nightgown, and headed to the gardens. Since coming to the place, the gardens have been the only place of peace for you. This was the only space that didn’t have guards wandering around its perimeter 24/7 so that you could have a little privacy. You breathed in the crisp midnight air as you opened the gate at the entrance. You had been walking around and smelling the flowers when you heard a faint voice.

Zuko.

“Please,” you heard him plead to someone, and you hid behind a small bush nearby in hopes to hear more of the conversation. If there was one thing you were going to do, it was snoop. The palace had so much drama going on between the staff and royal members of the family, it was impossible to keep your nose out of it.

“Don’t leave,” he continued and you knew exactly who he was talking to. Mai.

You had never heard Zuko speak so softly and gently to someone it was almost as if it was out of character for him. Or maybe he just always spoke to you with such hatred and annoyance.

“No,” you heard her reply. “Is this seriously what you called me out here for? Get a life, Zuko. I’m leaving.”

Wait, that was it? That was everything she was going to say to him? You quietly chuckled to yourself; Mai sounded so over it and annoyed you were almost embarrassed for Zuko. When you saw her leave the gardens, you noticed Zuko sit on a nearby bench. Smiling to yourself, you took the opportunity to poke fun at him and make him feel bad. Who cares if it’s mean? It made you happy, and that’s all that matters really.

“What a pathetic loser,” you stepped out from your hiding bush and he turned to face you, his face furrowed in anger and annoyance.

“What are you doing here?! Did you overhear all that?!” his voice was back to his normal angry tone.

“Not all of it, just the end.” you sat down next to him. “What, were you begging for her to come back to you? Begging for her to love you again? Oh you poor thing, maybe if you weren’t such a horrible boyfriend, she wouldn’t have left you.” you teased arrogantly, looking up to watch the moon.

“You don’t know anything about love.” he grumbled. “You threw a knife at me during dinner. And that’s not what I was doing. I wasn’t asking her to come back to me.”

“Uh huh. I wouldn’t have thrown a knife at you if I loved you. I did it because you deserve it. And anyway, what would people think if they saw you and her together?”

“Nobody saw.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“You’re a nobody.”

“I’m a nobody?” you laughed sarcastically. “As far as everyone knows, I’m the Fire Lord’s wife. What would people think of you if word got out that you were meeting your ex-lover in the middle of the night even though your first year marriage anniversary is coming up? Imagine what people would think and say about you…” you trailed off, you were sure he got the message.

You weren’t warning him of his careless actions because you cared about him, but because you cared about yourself and yourself only. If this did come out and people would start gossiping, the people would start pitying you and feeling bad. You already didn’t like that you were only known as the Fire Lord’s wife, so you’d feel even more annoyed if you were known as the Fire Lord’s poor wife who got cheated on.

He was quiet, which meant he knew you were right. Although you and Zuko never got along, he knew when to admit defeat. And he did so with silence. After taking a moment to think to himself, he finally broke the silence.

“Why are you even here anyways? Stalker much?” he eyed your pajamas. “And you’re out here in your nightgown? Go back inside!”

“What? I’m wearing a robe, you can’t even see anything!”

“You idiot, if someone sees us, they might think we’re fucking in the gardens.”

“HA! Please, I’d rather jump off a cliff than fuck you. And if you’re so aware that anybody can see us, you should’ve taken that into consideration before you brought your ex here. Dumbass.” you stood up, quickly turning away from him and walking away before he could say anything.

Zuko’s eyes followed you as he watched you step away, his eyes dropping down to the slight sway of your hips as you walked. “Pfft,” he said to himself as he rolled his eyes. “She walks so arrogantly.” he whispered before forcing his eyes to look somewhere else.

•••

It was that time of the year again. A stupid Fire Nation festival called Sparring Day, or whatever. Essentially, it was just a festival where the best firebenders of the nation put on a show and play with fire and pretend to fight each other for charity. The proceeds for the tickets went to charity and although that was the only part you liked about it, you dreaded going. Sure, this was the first time you were attending as a member of the royal family, but you still hated when your parents dragged you to the festival every previous year. Aside from the charity part (the only good part), it was mostly just a bunch of old lame shirtless dudes throwing fire at each other.

This year though, was different. It was Zuko’s first year where he participated in the festival himself. You thought the festival was supposed to be for the best of the best, so why the hell was Zuko going to be in it? Sure, the original benders of Fire, the dragons, passed down the way of firebending to him and Aang, but that didn’t mean he was good, or whatever. He still sucked ass, in your opinion. Maybe you’re not one to be saying this since you’re not a bender, but you were Zuko’s number one hater.

You were sitting on the stands in the audience with the Avatar and his friends, frantically fanning yourself. The sun was practically cooking everyone alive, but they still went on with the stupid festival.

“LOOK!” Sokka exclaimed excitedly, frantically pointing at the stage below. “They’re setting up dummies for Zuko to burn!”

“I hope he misses.” you roll your eyes, fanning yourself as you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Aww, don’t say that! That would hurt his honor.” Toph jokes, earning a laugh from everybody. You quietly smirk to yourself in response; people’s eyes were on you, so you had to act elegant and proper, like the palace ladies always tell you to do.

The blow of a horn signifies that the show is starting, and you see a lineup of several fire benders enter the stage.

Shirtless.

Including Zuko.

Your seat is high up above the stage, so you can’t see many details, but your eyes unconsciously check his body out. You knew Zuko was fit and lean, but you had never seen him shirtless. Aside from dinner or public events, you and Zuko almost were never in each other’s presence. You don’t even sleep in the same room, so you had never seen him shirtless.

You force yourself to look away from him; he wasn’t the only shirtless fire bender on stage after all. As the event begins, you watch the men perform a form of fire bending—what you assume to be the Dancing Dragon, and people begin to holler and cheer. You look away and doze off; you’ve seen this a million times in previous years. When they finish, an announcer starts speaking, and almost immediately brings everyone’s attention to you up in the stands.

“Where is she?! There she is!” he points upwards at you, and your heart stops for a second.

“Doesn’t everyone want to see Fire Lord Zuko perform up close and personal for his beautiful wife?!” he asks the crowd, and everyone cheers.

“HELL YEAHHHH!!!” Sokka screams, and you smack his arm.

“OW! Come on, don’t you want to see him up close in all his fire glory?!” he asks you, his eyes lit up with excitement.

“Not really.”

“BRING HER DOWN!” Sokka yells back at the announcer and the crowd hollers again in amusement.

You purse your lips together in irritation. You know Sokka wants to see you in misery, so you make sure to step on his foot on your way down from the stands, smiling to yourself as he yells in pain.

It’s a lot hotter once you get down to the stage. There’s no cool shade you can sit under and the flames from the torches and other benders make it even hotter. The announcer drags a chair for you to sit on center stage, and Zuko comes up to stand beside you.

You try not to look too much or make it obvious, but out of the corner of your eye you watch him struggle to catch his breath as he stands there—shirtless and sweaty. His abs are so beautifully defined and it’s obvious the work he’s put in to achieve that. His pecs are glistening in sweat and the sun rays are shining so brightly on him like he’s some God. He runs his hands through his long locks of hair, messing it up so easily but he still looks so effortlessly handsome.

You’re staring—stop staring. Zuko is going to notice. The announcer is going to notice when he stops talking about whatever it is he’s talking about. Look away. You can’t look away. If you stare more, Zuko will notice and it will be weird.

Stop staring.

It’s too late; he's taken notice of your gaze. He looks down, his sharp eyes bore into yours as he stares back down at you. You don’t know what he is thinking, or maybe you just don’t see it because the sun is in your eye. But he’s looking back at you almost seductively, but maybe you’re just imagining that and it’s probably just the sun. But he’s never looked at you before like this; usually he can’t hide his feelings of hatred and dislike in his eyes, but this time none of that is there. Your best guess is because the two of you are in public and he’s actively trying not to look at you that way.

“—will perform a fire bending performance he prepared in advance for his beautiful wife!” you snap back to reality, breaking eye contact with Zuko and looking back at the announcer.

A performance he prepared in advance for you? Please, what a load of bullshit that was. You knew that was just something the palace told him to say to continue to sell your cheap fake love story with Zuko.

The performance begins, and other fire benders join the stage again to show off their moves with fire alongside Zuko. Fire is dancing in the air and all around you and it feels a million times hotter and a million times more miserable because of the stupid heat. You’re not enjoying it at all, but you keep a smile on your face to fool the people. Your eyes found a way to follow Zuko’s movements: he is smooth, athletic and agile, and elegant. You had to admit he looked good fire bending, but you’d never say that. It had to be because he’s probably been practicing. It feels like a million more years until the stupid dance finally ends and Zuko holds his hand out to you to escort you back to the stands, but not before the announcer disrupts you two.

“Woah woah woah, where are you going so early?!” he stops the two of you from stepping off the stage.

“Tell me dear,” he looks at you then gestures to the audience. “What did you think of Fire Lord Zuko and his amazing performance?”

You barely paid any attention to it. “It was amazing! I always love watching him firebend.” your response is automatic, and so is the exciting smile you put up for everyone to holler and cheer at.

“She loved it, folks! Zuko, how are you feeling right now?”

“I’m happy she liked it, I worked hard to impress her.” His response and smile is just as automatic and fake as yours was.

“Wonderful, wonderful! Well, folks, what’re we thinking! A little kiss of appreciation between our lovely couple?”

Your heart practically drops to your stomach, and you feel Zuko’s hand tighten around yours. It’s not like you’ve never kissed him in public before, you have multiple times. But all those times were calculated and carefully planned out. This is a spontaneous kiss in front of thousands of people. Your hand feels a little sweaty, so you let go, but you quickly turn to Zuko and face him. You react quicker than him, standing on your tippy toes and tilting your chin up to give him easier access.

“Well?” you feel like throwing up. “Aren’t you going to kiss me, Zuko?” you feel yourself cringe.

The crowd is loud, but Zuko quickly adjusts. “So eager to kiss me now, are we?” he automatically leans down and presses his lips against yours.

Soft. Supple. Zuko didn’t think he would really feel the kiss out, and usually he didn’t, but this was the first time he noticed how good it felt to kiss you. Or maybe it was the rush of adrenaline he got from moving around. Yeah, probably that.

It’s almost as if his lips have a mind of his own and refuse to listen to him, because he’s tilting his head to kiss you more deeply and one of his hands are entangling themselves in your hair and the other is moving down to the small of your back as he holds you closer to himself. He can feel the erratic thumping of his heartbeat, fast and panicked.

People in the crowd are yelling louder now, hyping up the two of you as you kiss and you pull away. You look at him, cheeks colored with pink and droopy eyes. He’s never had any sort of reaction to kissing you before, so why now? You figured he was blushing because of the heat; after all it was really hot.

•••

“You looked like you hated the performance,” Zuko observes out loud as he leads you back to the stands. The two of you mutually decided to go back to the stands through the palace halls instead of outside to get some cool air as a break.

“What do you think? You were front and center of the whole thing, of course I hated it.” you reply.

“Why were ogling at me then?” he looks down at you and smirks.

Did he notice you staring at him earlier? Jesus, of course he did, you were so obvious! You do a mental facepalm, embarrassed he noticed.

“I wasn’t ogling; you just smelled gross, you were all sweaty. That’s all.”

“That’s not what I saw.”

“You saw wrong. Humble yourself for once.”

It’s quiet for a beat, then you decide to poke fun at his reaction to kissing you.

“You liked the kiss that much, huh?”

He stops in his tracks. “What? That was just for show.”

“Really? Then why were you all blushy and red?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sounds serious. “It’s hot as hell outside, so don’t get your hopes up just because I can give the people a good kiss. It was all an act.”

You don’t know why, but you felt a little disappointed at what he said. Sure, it was true, but it still tugged at your heart a bit.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He’s walking again, but you have the absurd idea to test if what he said is true. Grabbing him by his arm, you tug him towards you with force, and when he leans down to you the slightest, you lean up to kiss him.

Zuko freezes in place. He panics, unsure of what to do or how to feel in the moment. It all happened too fast—the grabbing, the kissing, the—why is his heart beating fast? He’s unable to think, mind and heart cloudy with confusion. Why were you kissing him? And why was he kissing you back? He normally doesn’t find himself lost in kissing you, but that’s exactly how he was feeling right now. It’s like his head was empty and the only thing he could focus on was the sweet taste of your lips.

Oh, God.

Oh no.

No.

Zuko was leaning into you again, but this time with more passion. It felt rushed, like he was in some sort of hurry to get as close to you as he physically could. His hands couldn’t help but hold your face, gently grabbing your chin to tilt your head into the kiss. God, your skin was so soft and felt so nice to rub. He softly moves his lips against yours, his nose brushing against yours as he continues to kiss you. It’s like his body has a mind of its own, acting on its own desires and refusing to listen to his head. He feels your hands grab at his neck, wrapping around his throat as you forcefully push him away from you.

Zuko coughs for a second, stepping back in surprise, his hand coming up to rub his neck.

“Did you just choke me?” he accuses you.

“You did like the kiss!” you point a finger at him, a victorious smile planted on your lips. You wanted to test out and see if it was because of your kiss that he was all red and blushy, and you were right.

“What?” He feels his cheeks heat up. “No, no I did not. Why did you kiss me? Then choke me?”

And why did he kind of like it?

“To prove my point.”

“What point?” he was still thinking about your hands on his throat.

“You liked the kiss! That’s why you were all red in the face like you are right now,” you told him arrogantly. “And I didn’t choke you, I just grabbed you by the neck to push you away. Why, you got a thing for being choked?”

“No!” Maybe. “That’s absurd.” I wouldn’t mind trying it out. “Let’s just go.”

You watch him walk ahead of you, your eyes shifting from his back to the tip of his red ears.

•••

There was going to be a ball. Another stupid ball where you would have to dress up (the only fun part) and socialize with nobles and other random rich people. Sometimes, you’d fake being sick in order to skip out on these balls, but tonight was a celebratory ball for your first year of marriage with Zuko. A miserable first year. You roll your eyes, cringing at the thought that it would be like this for the rest of your life. Although you had accepted it long before the wedding, every time you thought about it, it still managed to upset you.

“Are you comfortable?” one of your maids asked you as she adjusted your dress.

“Not really,” you had a sudden thought. “Actually, I’m feeling a bit ill…”

“You cannot skip your anniversary ball, your majesty.” she spoke. She knew exactly what kind of excuse you were trying to pull.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. “Fine.”

As your maids finished dressing you up, you were instructed to meet Zuko before the ball so that the two of you could arrive together. Your maids walked you to the entrance before the ball, where you saw Zuko standing there alone waiting for you.

“Took you long enough,” he complained.

You looked towards the door, the loud music making its way through the closed doors. “Well at least I look good. You, however, look like you just rolled out of bed. As usual.”

He ignored your sarcastic comment. “Look, tonight we need to act in love, so none of that attitude you always give me.”

“We’ve been doing this for a year now; I think I know how it works. And anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to act in love with me.” you lectured him.

“A part of my soul dies every time I have to kiss you or even look at you lovingly.”

“Please, what soul?”

As Zuko looked down at you to respond, one of his advisors stopped him. The two of you looked behind you to see Jia, a frail elderly woman Zuko often sought out for advice.

“Ahem, um, maybe it would be better to separate the two of you for now. Fire Lord Zuko can enter first,” she then turned to you with a sweet smile. “We’ll just have you enter from the top of the staircase into the ballroom when it begins. Everyone’s eyes will be on your beautiful gown then.”

•••

Zuko was chatting with a couple nobles about the cabbage market, pretending to be engrossed in their conversation to kill time, but he was really just dozing off and staring into space. If there was one thing he had in common with you, it was that the two of you disliked ballroom parties. When a musical horn went off to call the attention of all guests, he looked towards the top of the staircase where he knew you’d be entering.

“Everyone, please welcome Fire Lord Zuko’s wife!” someone chanted, and people began to clap and cheer.

He watched you emerge from a door, only to notice that you had changed your appearance. Your dress was more casual, you were wearing shoes that looked more comfortable, and you had left your hair down.

Perhaps it was the alcohol he had been sipping on, or the loud music, or everyone cheering and clapping at the same time, but for once since meeting you, he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of you. Your skin was glowing and your hair was so perfectly bouncy and lucious it was difficult for him to look anywhere else. It was as if there was nothing and no one else to look at but you. He felt the thump in his chest and was unable to focus on anything else until he had been staring for too long and you were already in front of him.

She looks beautiful… for once. That’s new.

He was admiring your beauty again, sharp eyes focused on your face, noticing all the details on your face, details he had never noticed before. He was sure you probably thought he was glaring at you, but really—he was in awe. He had never seen you look so comfortable in something the palace ladies dressed you in.

His eyes were practically glued to your figure and he was having trouble snapping himself out of the sort of trance you put him under. He was feeling weak in the knees and could feel himself unsteady, you looked beautiful. Too beautiful.

Beautiful wasn’t even a good enough word to describe how stunning you looked. Ethereal, ravishing, alluring, bewitching—none of these words were enough to describe your beauty. None of them did you justice. To him, your beauty was thousands of times more beguiling than the flowers in the palace gardens you spent all your free time looking at. If he were to choose to either look at you or the flowers for an eternity, he would choose you.

And God, did he hate that. He hated the way he was looking at you right now. He hated the way that he knew he couldn’t even hide how attracted he was to you. He hated the way he couldn’t even find the right words to describe how beautiful you looked, he hated how he couldn’t pull his eyes from you no matter how hard he tried, and he hated the way that you didn’t even know how beautiful you are.

“Zuko,” you bowed politely, and his eyes couldn’t help but follow you as you moved.

He snapped back out of your trance and shook his head. It had to be the alcohol. He probably had too much and that’s why he was feeling shaky and nervous, not because his jaw almost dropped seeing how breathtakingly beautiful you looked. He blamed the alcohol. There was no way he would feel this way if he were sober. He was tipsy. He had to be.

“You look nice,” he began, knowing everyone’s eyes and ears were on the two of you. I can’t take my eyes off of her.

��That’s it?” he watched you fake a chuckle. “I’m not beautiful?” If he didn’t know your real personality, he would’ve believed your fake laugh and fake smile you had plastered on your face right now.

“You look beautiful as always,” he replied. Has she always been so pretty? Normally he would’ve felt himself cringe and had the urge to vomit calling you attractive, but this time he said it as if he actually meant it. He did mean it.

Had to be the alcohol.

He felt you grab hold of his arm as he led you to the center of the ballroom and prepared to dance. As the guests formed a circle to watch the two of you dance, suddenly he felt a rise of panic in his chest. Normally he was used to people’s eyes on him and normally he was used to dancing with you and not making a big deal of it, but something about tonight was different.

It was the fact that you looked more like yourself when you had chosen to wear something that you felt more comfortable in and the fact that you wore your hair down which you almost never did in a ball for reasons he didn’t know and the fact that because you were so comfortable, your confidence was through the roof and he found himself drawn to that.

You feel Zuko’s hand snake around your waist as he pulls you in closer to him, your face dangerously close to his as you look into his amber eyes. It was like his eyes were drilling holes into yours: he was looking at you so intensely and with so much conflict swimming in his pupils if confused you. Was he mad at you or something? If he wasn’t, why was he looking at you as if he was and why was he gripping your waist so firmly like you were going to run away or something?

Your hand came up to rest on his shoulders, and on cue, the two of you began a waltz to the instrumental music. The two of you flowed so easily to the music, swaying with passion and chemistry. You lean in closer to him, knowing the guests would think you both are close and in love. You watched everyone’s eyes on you, admiring and watching as you know people thought you and Zuko were head over heels in love with each other.

Unlike how the two of you usually dance, Zuko began to feel stiff and tense, and you wondered why that was. This dance was no different than any other dance, so why was he acting like this?

You tilted your chin upwards to get closer to his ear so that only he would hear what you’re saying. “What’s wrong with you?” you whisper. “Why do you feel so stiff?”

“I’m not stiff,” he muttered passive-aggressively. He shuddered at the feeling of your hoarse whisper against his ear.

“Relax a little, Zuko, everyone’s watching.” you warned him and assumed he forced himself to relax because he loosened his grip on you and was able to finish the dance with no more issues.

After your dance with him, you speed off to the refreshments in need of a drink and left him in the dust. As you pop some chocolates in your mouth, your eyes watch the crowd. You’re scanning faces when your eyes meet a familiar pair of golden eyes.

Zuko.

His eyes bore into yours from across the ballroom. Though people walk across your line of vision and break your staring contest with Zuko, his eyes stay on yours, watching you.

No. Admiring you. Almost longing for you. Zuko’s gaze softens, eyes filled with tender love, and for a mere second you think he might actually be in love with you.

You can’t help but stare back. Why was he looking at you like that? Did he hate dancing with you so much that he had to throw you a death stare?

Although you question why he’s looking at you with so much passion, your heart can’t help but skip a beat. It feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest. It’s making you nervous. He’s making you nervous.

Zuko is making you nervous.

His eyes are still on you, watching your every move and even though people are trying to talk to him, he’s ignoring them. It was as if you were the only person in the room and he was begging for your attention with his eyes.

You are the first to break eye contact.

Displeased with the bland tastes of everything, you looked around and noticed a waiter walking around with a tray of drinks. Waving him over, you grabbed a glass from him and downed it. It was sweet and carbonated, something you’ve never tasted before. As you turned to him to grab one more, you noticed the waiter was already gone. Shrugging it off, you turned to the desserts to eat. You were in the middle of tasting a chocolate when Mai came up to you.

“What’s up with Zuko?” she asked, popping a cookie into her mouth and leaning against the table of food.

“Did you see how stiff he was?” you asked her, sneaking a look back at him, but he’s nowhere to be found. You and Mai had become friends sometime after they had broken up and she was one of the few people who gave you comfort after you were put into this arranged marriage with Zuko. It was something small, but something you thought about often and were extremely grateful for.

“Yeah, it was painful to watch. These people are stupid to not realize that.” she watched you, eyes darting around your face to read your expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

Her eyes started to grow in worry as she looked closer at your face. “You look, I don’t know. Hot and red. Not the good hot. The ‘you’re heating up’ hot. Are you sick?” she held the back of her hand to your forehead. “Oh my God, you’re heating up! It feels like you have a fever!”

“What?” you questioned, patting your cheeks and neck. You were burning up. “Oh shit,” as you were heating up, your eyesight began to blur and your head was getting dizzy.

“Hey!” you heard her start to yell, but her voice sounded faint. You struggled to stay on your feet, wobbling as Mai grabbed your shoulders to stabilize you. You looked around the room and Zuko was nowhere to be found. Everyone began to stare at you and ask if you’re okay, but everyone’s voices including Mai’s were becoming more and more faint and harder to hear. You tried to stay on your feet and she tried to keep you upright, but you couldn’t help yourself and it was like your body was beginning to shut down. Your vision was almost completely blurred and so was your hearing, and very soon your body shut down and you felt yourself fainting as you fell to the ground.

•••

Zuko was out of breath as he rushed through the ballroom, grabbing random people’s shoulders and asking where you were. Some people had explained in a panic that you fainted suddenly while he was in the bathroom, and that you were taken by some maids somewhere else. After he had found out you were in the private clinic in the palace, he exited the party in a rush, practically sprinting down the hallways of the palace. He felt himself functioning off his adrenaline as he ran to you in a panicked worry. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, and in those couple of minutes you had fainted? What the hell did you even do to get yourself in a situation like that? Reaching the clinic quickly, he slammed the doors open and saw his friends sitting in the lobby.

“Where is my wife?!” Zuko asked hurriedly in a state of panic and anger. How could this happen to you? Who could have caused something like this? Were you even okay?

“Zuko, you need to calm down first.” Aang said in an attempt to pacify him. Aang swore he saw fire burning in Zuko’s eyes and steam blowing out of his nose.

“Where is she?” he brushed the Avatar off, pushing him to the side as he opened one of the doors. He burst through and saw Katara healing you as you laid unconscious on the bed. Beside you was Mai, and as soon as he saw her, he couldn’t help but shift the blame to her and glare.

“What did you do?!” he turned his anger on Mai, stepping closer to her in annoyance.

Zuko wasn’t thinking straight (obviously) and was letting his emotions dictate his words and actions. Not knowing who the cause of your condition was pissing him off and hurting him more than he wanted it to.

“What? Are you stupid? I didn’t do anything! You should be thankful! She was poisoned and fainted, and I brought her here for some privacy!”

“Zuko, Mai only helped,” Katara calmly chimed in. “If you would please stop yelling, I could heal her faster.”

“Well, hurry it up!” he snapped as his eyes looked over your unconscious body. On any other normal day, Zuko wouldn’t have cared too much about you being poisoned, but tonight was different and he couldn’t figure out why.

The fact that someone—another human being—went out of their way to poison you didn’t sit right with him. Why would someone want to poison you and not him? He was unable to come up with a reason as to why someone would want to kill you, so he had to find out. He had to find who wanted you gone and had to figure out why. Because even though you both didn’t get along, it’s not like he wanted you dead. Even if he were the one poisoned and you’d be happy, he would never wish for something like this to happen to you; he was well aware you already hated the royal life.

Zuko felt his jaw clench in anger as he left the room, heading straight to a close advisor of his: Jia.

•••

“Jia,” he knew she was always in the kitchens around this time at night, drinking tea. Oftentimes his uncle joined her, but not tonight.

“Hm?” she barely looked up from her tea as she stirred it calmly.

He stood there in front of her, hands in fists as he waited for some sort of reaction. You had just been poisoned in front of everyone, and this was how she was reacting?

“Hello?! My wife’s just been poisoned, and this is how you react?! Jia, my wife—”

“I already sent out a couple soldiers to search for the culprit, and they already have a lead on him. Apparently he was disguised as a waiter when she was poisoned.” she explained, and finally decided to look up at the distressed Fire Lord.

“I got on it as soon as it happened. Don’t worry, at this rate, we’ll have him in cuffs by the morning.” Jia’s quick action calmed Zuko’s nerves a bit, and he found himself wanting to sit with her to get himself together.

“She changed her clothes for the ball tonight,” he told Jia after pouring himself a cup of tea. “She looked different.”

“How so? All she did was ask to change her dress and leave her hair down.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Just less annoying, I guess.”

The elderly woman chuckled, warming her hands with her tea.

“She threw a knife at me the other night,” Zuko said to fill the silence when Jia didn’t reply. “A steak knife.”

“You two are a match made in heaven.”

He nearly choked on his tea and almost spat it out. As he coughed into his elbow, he could barely get a response out. “Match made in heaven? Jia, are you blind or something? I just said she threw a knife at me the other night! Were you not listening?!”

“You should go see her.” she spoke, ignoring his complaints.

“I already did.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow in response, surprised he even went to visit you in the first place. “I didn’t think you would.”

“I’m not heartless.”

“I never said you were.”

“She doesn’t want to see me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I know for a fact she will not want my presence there when she wakes up.”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t want you there physically. But, you could send a message to her another way.”

•••

Your massive headache was the only thing you could focus on as your eyes struggled to open. The pounding had you feeling cranky and groggy. You just wanted to go back to bed, but Katara insisted you sit up in bed and drink some water. Your lips feel dry and you feel shaky and weak as you force yourself to drink something.

“How long was I out?” you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Couple days. Mai brought you here. And she brought you flowers.” Katara gestured to the vase of flowers on your bedside table. Purple hyacinths.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why was Mai apologizing with flowers? She didn’t even like flowers, and even if she did get them for you, her choice of purple hyacinths were bizarre. Purple hyacinths symbolize sadness, and asking for forgiveness.

“That’s nice,” you brushed it off; Mai probably didn’t even know the meaning of purple hyacinths. There was no need to overthink it. “Thanks for taking care of me.” you told Katara, looking up at her and seeing her eye bags. How long has she been there with you?

“No problem, get some rest.”

“You should too. You look like you haven’t been sleeping well. I’ll be fine on my own. If I need anything, I’ll call a nurse.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying with you.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured her.

When she nodded and stood up, she made sure to tell you she’ll visit once a day until you get better. You smiled at her; Katara was such a kind soul and friend.

•••

A couple more days passed and you were no longer bedridden after those days. You could finally muster up enough strength to get out of bed and walk around. In those couple of days, you were informed that the man who poisoned you was the waiter that served you a drink at the ballroom party. Thankfully, he was easily caught by soldiers who were sent out to search for him, and he was sitting in jail now as you recovered. You were told it was some scheme to try and hurt Zuko, but jokes on them because you and Zuko didn’t love each other. He didn’t even bother to come visit you or send someone to check on you. Not that it bothered you… it didn’t. You knew that you and Zuko didn’t get along, but you still felt your heart drop a little when Katara told you that he never stopped by, and that Mai was swinging by your room more to check on you.

You already knew Mai had been stopping by, because every day since you’ve woken up you noticed that there was a new vase of purple hyacinths sitting by you. You never saw Mai drop them off herself, so you assumed she did it in the early morning while you were still sleeping.

Even your husband’s ex-girlfriend cared more about your well-being than he did. Even though it was an arranged marriage and you and Zuko never wanted to be near each other, you probably still would have gone to see him if he was poisoned, so knowing he wasn’t doing the same for you tugged at your heartstrings a bit, but you didn’t want to admit it.

You shook your head in a physical attempt to shake Zuko from your thoughts. Standing up, you decided that you’d take a walk around the gardens for some fresh air. As you threw on a jacket, you stepped into your shoes and opened the door to leave. Stepping out from your room, you turn and see a disheveled Zuko sitting on a chair against the wall next to your door. When he notices you, he opens his mouth to say something, but he’s quiet. You look down at him, partly shocked but mostly annoyed. His hair looked messy and all over the place, he was dressed down, and he was holding a small blanket in his lap.

“What are you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept.” you tell him.

“Not much,” he weakly said, a clear tiredness laced in his voice. “I’ve been sleeping out here and waiting for you to come out.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you retorted, walking away and not letting him respond.

Did he really expect you to believe that he had been sleeping out in the hallway these past couple days waiting for you? Did he think you were stupid? Sure, it looked like he was telling the truth, but you doubt he actually did it. Why would he anyway? The two of you didn’t like each other and never wanted to be around each other.

“Wait for me,” he pleaded, and started following your footsteps like a dog. “And no, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“How about running your country? Did you forget you’re the Fire Lord?” you rolled your eyes and made your way to the gardens as he followed after you.

Why was he still following you? Why was he acting like he actually loved and cared for you? It confused you and made your heart ache and you didn’t want to be around him. It was just too confusing and too much for you right now.

The gardens were empty like usual, so the only noise was your footsteps against the gravel and the chirping of the birds in the early morning. But of course, Zuko’s stupid loud footsteps just have to follow in your direction and ruin the entire mood.

“I couldn’t focus on anything else.”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to walk faster in an attempt to shake him off. It was so obvious you didn’t want to be near him, so why wouldn’t he just take the hint and leave? You weren’t fully healed, so you were growing tired as you began walking in the garden’s maze in hopes to lose him.

“Fuck off.”

You felt your heart beating faster because you were feeling weak and tired again, but you ignored it and kept going. You didn’t want Zuko to bother you anymore. He calls your name once more, and his voice sounds faint so you know you’ve already begun to lose him in the maze.

Turning a corner to catch your breath, you grab your chest. Your vision was becoming hazy and it was hard staying on two feet. It was like you were poisoned again once more and you felt yourself wobbling and struggling to even stand. When Zuko calls your name again, it’s because he’s catching you as you fall to the ground.

He’s yelling your name again, but this time you can barely hear him and his face is becoming more blurry as the time passes. He’s shaking you and yelling your name, but your hearing is clouded and you feel yourself fainting in his arms, your eyes closing shut against your own will.

•••

When you awaken, the only sound in the room is the cackling fire by the bed you’re lying in. Except it’s not your bed. Sitting in a chair and half lying on the side of the bed is Zuko, sleeping soundly. You sit up and look around, the curtains are drawn so it’s almost completely dark in the room except for the fire going on the other side of the room.

It’s Zuko’s room.

You had never been in his room, but you could tell it was his from the portraits of his uncle and mother and a nearby wall and his dual swords sitting above the bed on the wall. Looking at his bedside table, you eye a book sitting on it.

Flowers & Their Meanings

Zuko reads?

You grab the book, noting a corner of a page folded in, and you flip to it. The page is titled ‘Purple Hyacinth’ and below was some written information on it. Your thoughts run back to when you had first awakened after being poisoned, back to your conversation with Katara.

“How long was I out?” you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Couple days. Mai brought you here. And she brought you flowers.” Katara gestured to the vase of flowers on your bedside table. Purple hyacinths.

No.

There was absolutely no way it was Zuko that brought those flowers to you. Katara said it herself that Mai brought those flowers. You did think that it was weird for Mai to bring you flowers since she hated them, but Zuko? He hates you, and you hate him. So why on Earth would he bring you apology flowers? It didn’t make any sense.

“You saw the flowers?”

You flinch in surprise, shutting the book and setting it down on the nightstand. Zuko is awake now, and sits back up in his chair. Crossing his arms against his chest, he silently and awkwardly avoids your eyes.

“That was you?” you stare at him in disbelief.

“You think Mai would give you flowers?” he stares deeply into your eyes, and you have the urge to look away.

“That’s what Katara said.”

He sighs. “I told her not to tell you about them.”

“Why?”

“I thought you’d hate it if I visited, so I sent flowers instead. I told Katara to say it was someone else.”

Actually, you thought the flowers were sweet, but that was because you thought they were from Mai and not Zuko. You and Zuko never got along well, so why would he give you flowers? It didn’t make sense at all and was confusing you. Why was he so worried when you got poisoned and why has he been following you around like a lost puppy since you woke up?

“What is wrong with you?” you said without thinking.

“Huh?”

“You wait for me to awaken after being poisoned, you read a book about flowers to pick the right ones to send to me, then you won’t stop following me after I wake up? What the hell’s going on with you, Zuko? What happened to trying to get Mai to love you again, huh? What, now that you know you can’t have her, you’re paying attention to me now, is that it?” you were starting to feel furious, mostly out of confusion, but sadness as well.

The sudden shift in Zuko’s attitude had you feeling lost and had you questioning how you felt about him. Since you had gotten married, you didn’t enjoy being his wife, so now that things were changing, you were questioning why that was.

“No, stop. That’s not the truth at all. That’s far from the truth.”

“You’re a liar.” you stand up, stepping from his

warm bed sheets as you walk towards the door. He quickly catches up to you, closing the door with his hand from behind you. He’s standing close to you, too close you can feel his breath tickle the back of your neck.

“Let me explain.”

You take a deep breath, debating if you wanted to hear him out.

“Please,” he begs you, his voice small and careful. It was as if he was walking on eggshells around you. When you react with nothing but silence, he takes it as a cue to continue.

“Things have changed, okay?” he tells you, and you turn around to look up at him and face him.

You’ve never been so up close and personal with Zuko, not like this anyways. He smells clean, and you eye his loosely tightened robe—it’s not covering his body entirely. His chest is slightly exposed, heaving up and down as he nervously tries to control his breathing around you.

“Oh yeah? How so?” you keep your eyes trained on his chest, because if you look into his eyes, you might just give in to him.

“I know we’ve had our differences—” he begins.

“I never wanted to marry you.”

“I know, I felt the same way. Well, I did. I feel… differently now.”

“Different?” you look up at him with a glare, a hidden anger suddenly starting to rise to the surface the more you stare into his dumb pretty eyes.

“Listen, I never wanted to marry you either. And when we did get married, I hated it. I know you did, too. But I don’t know, recently—recently things have changed. In a good way. I don’t know if I’ve always felt this way, maybe I have, but I can’t help but be drawn to you. And it’s driving me absolutely insane. I thought I was insane. Because it’s like, every time I see you, I can’t help but fall for you. I can’t help but stare at you and I can’t help but want you.”

Zuko speaks with such honesty and passion there is no doubting his words, and that’s what pisses you off. It takes getting poisoned for him to realize he’s in love with you? Where the hell did that even come from?

“I hate you.” is all you can say, because you don’t know how to feel. You’re lost and confused and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I know you don’t,” he speaks softly, his hand coming up to tilt your chin upwards.

His eyes look like a brighter shade of his stupid golden eyes, and he’s staring into your soul so intensely it makes you shudder.

“I do. I do hate you.” you whisper, your voice shaking and unsure. God, you probably sounded like an idiot.

“Oh yeah?” his tone is mischievous as he leans in closer, his eyes lowering to your lips.

“Yes. I hate everything about you.”

“Say it again. Tell me you hate me.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you.”

Zuko leans in quickly, his lips meeting yours in an instant. You hesitate for a moment, relishing in his soft kiss. It’s like time froze all around you and all you could think of was Zuko’s lips on yours and his large and soft hands coming up to gently stroke your cheeks.

His kiss is so innocent and sweet it pisses you off knowing how good he is at kissing. He leans into you, just barely pressing his chest to yours, and you can feel his heartbeat quicken. One hand is in your hair, combing through the soft strands as his other hand holds your waist, directing your body to press back into his. His thumb is rubbing at your hip, trying to feel you through the fabric of your clothes and suddenly you have the thought and urge to rip it all off so he can feel you up as much as he wants.

“Tell me again,” Zuko breathes into the kiss.

“What?”

“Tell me you hate me.” he pulls away for a moment and waits for you.

“I hate you.”

His head tilts to the side, the hand that was in your hair moving to grab you by your chin, easily directing you to open your mouth into the kiss. He licks into you, desperate for more as he kisses you harder, like some starved man that hasn’t had a meal in forever. His chest is heaving and you feel the hand on your waist wandering the curves of your body, desperate to feel your bare skin.

You push him away from you slightly, but only because you’re out of breath and need a moment to process what just happened.

Zuko kissed you. And you kissed him back.

But he did more than just kiss you. He made you feel something. He made you want him back. Something you never thought he was capable of.

“What about…” you start, unsure if you should say what you’re about to say.

You either have no talent for hiding your thoughts, or Zuko knows you well, because it’s as if he’s reading your mind because he finishes your sentence for you.

“Mai?”

You nod silently. You always thought she was the one for him, after all up until a while ago he was trying to get back with her.

“Things have changed,” he starts. “Actually, they’ve been changing for awhile. And it’s not what you think.”

Please, did he really think you would believe that? “Okay, then explain calling Mai to confess your love to her again in the gardens.”

“That day in the gardens,” he explains as he leads you to sit on his bed with him. “I didn’t call her out to confess to her. I wanted to see her to ask about you.”

Your eyes narrowed at him; you didn’t believe anything that was coming out of his mouth.

“I know you two are close, so I wanted to ask her for advice because I was already falling for you. But she was calling me a dick for bothering her so she left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks stunned. “You wouldn’t have believed me even if I explained it to you, so it didn’t matter.”

He’s right, you would’ve thought he was a liar and you probably would’ve called him a liar like you did five minutes ago.

“So… you’re not still in love with her?”

“No.”

“You’re telling me you’re not hopelessly, desperately, absolutely blind in love with her that you can’t do anything else or think about anyone else?” you tease in one breath, your heart feeling lighter.

“No, but do you want to know who I’m actually hopelessly, desperately, absolutely blind in love with that I can’t do anything else or think about anyone else?”

“I wonder who it could be.”

“Why don’t you take a guess.” he teases, leaning over you, sharp eyes watching your every move.

“I don’t know.” you do know.

“You don’t?” he chuckles, leaning into your neck, his breath lightly tickling your skin.

“Nope.”

“Would you like a hint?” His voice is so deep and sultry you’re practically trembling at how sexy he sounds.

“That’d be nice.”

“Well, the woman I’m in love with is fucking crazy,” Zuko begins, his hand coming up to stroke your thigh. Your eyes move down to watch his muscular hands massage your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your pussy with each firm stroke. It’s faint, but you feel yourself clench around nothing.

The veins on his hand are distracting.

“She tried to kill me with a steak knife recently,” he laughs as he recalls the memory, pulling away slightly to look at you.

He is watching your face, trying to read and memorize your features as his eyes gaze into yours. There is a new softness in his eyes when he looks at you, unlike the usual sharp glare he shoots you when you both make eye contact.

“You’re in love with a woman who tried to kill you?” you laugh quietly, going along with whatever joke he’s making.

“Surprisingly, yes. I’m even looking at her right now. Do you know who I’m in love with now?” he smiles, his eyes curving into a smile as well.

“I might need another hint.” you answer, your eyes flickering down to his lips. You hope he will kiss you again.

He picks up on your hint, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve kissed her a couple times now. But the last couple times,” he kisses you again. “It’s like she’s laced her lips with drugs or something. I’ve become addicted to her lips in just a couple kisses.” he glances down for a second, grabbing your hand and leading it to where he wants it.

He’s hard.

He directs you to stroke him through the thin material of his loosely tied robe, his lips coming down to suck on the soft skin of your neck.

“And in just a couple kisses,” he says again. “She’s managed to make me so hard.” he breathes against your neck.

“You make me so hard.” Zuko whispers faintly.

His voice sounds so sweet and sexy it almost pisses you off how much his tone is turning you on. You stroke him through his robe, feeling his hard cock underneath. You have the urge to suddenly rip off his robe, wanting to feel him. His abs, his smooth skin, his strong thighs, and his hardened dick. He lets out a soft moan against your neck, his hips unexpectedly bucking upwards for more friction.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” he whispers in your ear, his voice a slight whine.

“I think I have an idea.” you laugh, slightly tugging at the strings that tie his robe together. It’s so loosely wrapped around him that if you just tugged on it slightly, you would finally get to see him naked. He watches your fingers play with his robe, sensing your impatience.

“Take it off.” he tells you, and you act automatically, undoing the knot. He stands briefly, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground. You stay seated on the bed, your eyes practically groping his entire body. He’s so sculpted and muscular and perfect in every way it almost pisses you off.

His hardened cock springs to life, red and angry at the tip, he looks like he could cum from just a couple strokes. Your eyes make their way back to his, and he’s watching you with such an intensity in his eyes it makes you shudder in pleasure. You stare at him in awe, almost lost in his eyes you don’t notice him stroking your cheek, his voice a small whisper.

“I love seeing you look up at me like that,” he grins, grabbing his dick as he continues to caress your cheek. “It makes me want to ruin you.” You watch him stroke himself, his pre-cum leaking at the tip.

“Then ruin me.”

He smiles a sweet smile in response, before he sticks his fingers in your mouth, forcing your lips apart before he shoves his dick into your mouth.

He’s big, way too big and the biggest you’ve ever had, but you love it. You love how it fills your mouth and you feel like you’re going to choke and it makes you think about just how good it will feel when he finally fucks you. You’re taking him all in your mouth, desperate to hear something from him, to see some sort of reaction that you’re making him feel good. Your hands grab onto both of his thighs, feeling him tense beneath your fingertips.

Strands of your hair fall in front of your face, blocking your view of him, so he grabs it, combing it behind your ears to clear your face. His hands grab at your head, shoving it further down his cock, and when you gag that’s when you hear it.

A low, desperate, sweet sounding moan that makes you clench around nothing again. He bites down hard on his bottom lip in an attempt to quiet himself, but your mouth keeps sucking him in he can’t help but let out a moan of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting deeper into your mouth. Your eyes water and you rub your thighs together, anxious and impatient and wanting him to hurry and fuck you. “I love your mouth.”

He pulls out, a string of saliva connecting from your lips to his tip as he pulls his cock out. He’s visibly more turned on now; pupils dilated and cheeks red and heated.

“Your mouth feels good,” he easily grabs you by the hips to move you further up the bed. “But I bet this feels even better.” he forcefully spreads your legs with his knees and presses a hand to your clothed pussy. “For both of us.”

“It’d feel even better if you undressed me first.” you command him.

“Yes, ma’am.” he obeys, practically ripping your clothes off and throwing them behind him.

Your underwear is completely soaked, you look away and blush in embarrassment. God, did you look that desperate for some dick? Zuko seems to be infatuated with how wet you’ve become, because he leans down in front of you, his mouth hovering over your heat.

“You don’t have to.” you tell him, grabbing his hair to stop him.

“You’re right. I don’t have to,” he agrees, spreading your legs further so that you’re completely spread out for him, your entire body exposed for him and only him. “But all I can think about right now is tasting you.” he says before he places a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so wet,” he observes aloud. “I love it.”

He leans in, his tongue sticking out to lick a strip up your wetness. He’s lapping at your pussy, licking and sucking and kissing everything it makes you dizzy. He sucks on your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance. You’re so turned on by the sound of him eating you out, you grab his hair by instinct to pull him closer to you. When he groans, you mistake it for a groan of annoyance or pain, so you let go. His lips leave your wetness for a moment, his eyes looking up to meet yours.

“Grab my hair again,” he takes your hand and entangles it into his hair again. “I love when you pull on it. I fucking love it.”

You can’t help but whimper, pulling on his roots as he moans in pleasure and you don’t know if it’s because you’re tugging on his hair or because he loves eating you out or both. Your hips are moving on their own, bucking upwards into his face as his fingers easily make their way inside you, fucking you slowly to loosen you up.

“Ahh,” you cringe at yourself, almost ashamed and embarrassed you can’t hold yourself back. Your hands leave his hair to cover your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. Zuko pulls away from you, wiping his mouth before tugging at your hands.

“Why are you covering your face?” he asks, his hands gently wrapping at your wrists and rubbing your skin soothingly.

“No reason,” you shake your head, mortified.

“Come on now, let me see your face.” he grabs your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head as he holds you down, his face inches away from yours.

You’re even more embarrassed and red now. You’re both completely naked and he’s situated between your legs, his cock rubbing against your entrance teasingly. Your hands are pinned above you, and the weight of his hand is holding you down, you’re unable to move. He’s watching you, basking in your embarrassment.

“I love your voice,” he assures you.

“When you’re yelling at me,” he kisses your cheek.

“Insulting me,” he kisses your other cheek.

“And especially when you’re moaning for me.” he leaves small kisses on your jawline as his hips move against yours, his hard cock rubbing against your wetness. You’re so desperate to have him fuck you it’s almost impossible not to whine in annoyance.

“I love when you moan. I want to hear more of it.” he says before he pushes himself into you.

“Oh,” you gasp, struggling to take him in.

“Fuck,” he lets go of your pinned hands and grabs your hips.

“You son of a bitch,” you curse, your walls clenching down and welcoming him. You feel yourself throb around him, sucking him in as your hands wrap around his back. “You’re too big.”

“You like it though,” he mumbles, pleasure taking over his body it’s becoming harder for him to speak clearly. He thrusts slowly, swearing to himself under his breath again. You moan as he fucks you more, your hands holding the back of his neck as he buries himself into you.

“I love it, it feels so good.” you moan, stroking his hair as his hips roll against you.

“I love you.” he tells you.

“I love you.” he repeats, practically chanting it like it’s some sort of prayer.

He keeps whispering it into your ear, and you lift your hips, wrapping your legs around him as he continues to thrust into you. He glides in and out of you so easily it turns you on even more that he gets you so wet and ready so easily.

Your hands are busy exploring his smooth skin, feeling his neck and collarbone when he moans in your ear, his voice almost silent and pleading.

“Choke me,” he begs. “L-Like you did the other day. Do it again.”

“What?”

“Please,” he breathes out, his eyes looking into yours, desperate and aroused. “I want your hands wrapped around my throat.”

You steadily place your hands on the side of his neck, careful not to block his airway. You squeeze the sides of his neck slightly, and as soon as you do, his eyes roll back in pleasure and his thrusts are harder.

“Mmm,” he moans, biting down on his lips as he fucks into you. “Harder,” he demands.

The harder you choke him, the harder he fucks you. His moans grow louder and he’s practically chanting your name, begging you to destroy him as his thrusts grow haphazard the closer he gets to orgasming.

He explodes, filling you up with so much cum it starts leaking out. But Zuko keeps going, desperate to make you finish as well. You’re no longer choking him, but your hands are instead messing up his hair and his lips are on your breasts, biting and sucking and kissing, you feel dizzy.

His lips feel so good on your body. He leaves kisses and marks and words of his love and devotion for you it’s all so overwhelming. When he starts whispering to you how good your pussy feels and how much he loves you, it pushes you over the edge and you feel yourself clenching down on him hard as you reach your high.

When there’s nothing but the sound of your heavy breaths, all of a sudden you feel awkward. You hadn’t realized it until now, but you had been slowly falling for his stupid face and you were in denial about it this whole time.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Zuko hovers over your face, looking deeply into your eyes as if he’s trying to read you.

“Your stupid face.”

He chuckles, leaning down to brush his nose against yours before he leaves a small kiss on your cheek.

“I’m in love with you.” he tells you.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Thank you.” you say awkwardly, because you’re not good with words and you’re too embarrassed to tell him that you’re also in love with him because you would probably cringe and feel even more awkward than you do right now.

“So… you do have a thing for being choked!” you tease when you suddenly remember him asking you to choke him.

He tenses, his eyes widening as he suddenly pulls out of you and sits up. “No I don’t!”

“If I remember correctly, you asked me to choke you! Remember? You were practically begging—”

He leans down, quickly kissing you to shut up. “I don’t remember that. And tell me you love me back.” he demands.

“Admit you like being choked first.”

“No.”

“Fine, then I don’t love you. I still hate you.”

“Tell me you love me.” he demands again, unwilling to give up.

“Tell me you like being choked.” you fire back.

He’s quiet for a moment, and that’s when you know you’ve won.

“Fine. I do like it, but don’t tell anyone!” he glares at you. “Now you say you love me.”

“I hate you.” you tease.

“Whatever, I still love you.” Zuko rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss you once more.

•••

a/n: i literally added in the part of zuko getting choked after seeing a tiktok on how to properly choke someone during sex 😂

m.list

#zuko #zuko x you #zuko x reader #atla zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko smut #zuko fic #atla fic #atla fanfic #zuko fanfic #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #fem reader #zuko x y/n #zuko fluff

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bluem1lls · 6 days ago

Note

i need part 2 of se-mi with comphet reader 😭

✧₊⁺ speak now (or don't, and love forever in silence)

groom bff! se-mi x comphet! reader

synopsis: after years of waiting, he finally propose. wasn't this everything you wished for?

but you couldn't bring yourself to be happy.

was it maybe because when you thought about it, all you could picture was her face?

content: some angst, but finally fluff!!!!

authors note: im so sorry for the looooong ass late updates, im so so busy but im ab to go on break so everyone cheered!!! im back i promise:( im so excited for this part 2 i actually love it and i hope u do too!!!!

part one. part two (you're here!)

famous actress finally engaged with the famous choi su-bong, more known as 'thanos', old rapper surging back!

we all saw on Instagram the romantic proposal he prepped for her, and of course like every girl would, she said yes!

we are so happy for the married couple!

"fucking bullshit" se-mi threw her phone away with rage after reading the most liked post from the magazine's instagram.

her hands went to her face as she groaned, biting back her lip to keep the tears away.

poor dumb girl. she actually thought you were coming back to her...

"the way he proposed was so romantic, i'm glad he did it that way, it was what you always wanted ever since you were a kid" my best friend jun-hee took my hands between hers with a comforting smile. i smiled softly as i sighed.

"y-yeah. it was.." i whispered. she stares into my eyes, squeezing my hands. her expression fell, now filled with pity. she knew me more than anyone.

"you do know that you're supposed to be happy about getting married right?" she says with a lifted eyebrow as i pressed my lips.

"i am." i said, trying to convince myself.

"honey-" she murmurs as i cut her.

"i have to be." i said, turning to face myself in the mirror. streightening my skirt as i faked my best smile.

and it was true. everything was exactly how i always wanted it.

so.. why didn't it felt like it?

i heard a knock that snapped me out of my thoughts. we both turned as the door opened. "excuse me, just wanted to let you know the invitations have been sent" a girl said with a smile as i nodded, thanking her.

once she left, jun-hee stared at me. "did you sent one for.." my best friend said, stopping herself as i shuddered.

"yeah. of course. they're best friends." refering to my husband and se-mi. i put a smile to pretend i didn't cared. or at least i tried, although it didn't even reached my eyes.

if your own best friend stares at you with pity, you start to consider maybe you're not doing as well as you thought.

but i couldn't back up. not now. not ever.

"this belongs in the trash" se-mi says with a sarcastic smirk, grabbing the invitation only to crumble it with anger as min-su stops her.

"we can't just.. not go" he says to her as she stares at him, incredulous.

"do you want me to go to that fucking wedding? for what?" she spits with anger and disbelief, her voice getting louder as he sighs. he got used to seeing his best friend angered ever since the news came out.

"listen, i get it, okay? but it's our best friend's wedding. we can't just miss it" min-su says in a soft tone, trying to make her understand.

"i refuse to watch her get married." her cold voice snaps. "fuck this." she says with a groan, frustration all over her face.

"you need to move on! you know those two! yeah they hate eachother, but they're not breaking up sem. they're getting married, and probably everything that goes after that. are you just gonna avoid thanos until you die?" he says snapping as she furrows her brow, a small pout on her pierced lips without her even noticing it.

"there's nothing to move on, there was never anything between me and her right?" she says with a sigh. "i'm still not going. i fucking hate weddings" she says under her breath, going to her room to avoid the conversation. and something about that doesn't feel true, because she loves to think about you on a wedding dress. but not if it's not with.. she shakes her head to remove the thought, slamming the door. min-su sighs, his hands on his face, exhausted.

"oh god" jun-hee says with tears on her face, her eyes twinkle in awe as i laugh, a little teary.

the dress looks.. perfect. just like in my childhood dream. my perfect dream wedding.

"it was made for you" she says as i chuckle, giving a little spin for her.

i should be so happy...

"yeah.. i think we're done" i say to the girl from the store, who's standing on my side, staring at me with a soft smile. "this is it. this is the one."

i slowly head back to the changing room to remove the dress. i place back my clothes while my assistant goes to pay. i stare at myself in the mirror.

why am i not happy? why doesn't it feel like i'm getting married?

i sigh as i leave the store with my two companions.

"let's grab some coffee, it's right around the corner and im dying for some caffeine." jun-hee says as i nod.

i feel my phone buzzing on my pockets.

oh god, of course. he's always fucking forgetting about the wedding or where i am. god why am i marrying this-

my breath hitches as i grab my phone, reading the text.

this can't be happening.

not now.

oh god.

sem: a wedding?

sem: really?

of course it's her.

of course she texts me out of nowhere a fucking random tuesday at 3 pm.

of course she makes my heart beat on my chest like no one ever did. just for a fucking text.

i scoff in disbelief as my manicured nails type with anger.

me: for real?

me: this is what you're texting me?

me: after not hearing about you for fucking YEARS??????

i see the little bubble that indicates she's typing back. the fact that she hasn't left the chat since she texted me makes me bite my lip.

sem: i've seen the photos

sem: you know

sem: you dont look like someone whos excited to get married

i roll my eyes as i let out a shaky breath, she hit a nerve.

me: what do you know? you havent talked to me in years, maybe things changed.

sem: everything did.

sem: except this.

sem: why do you keep lying to yourself?

i place my phone back in my pocket with shaky hands, leaving her on seen. i place my head on my hands as i groan.

why did she had appear out of nowhere?

i was fine without.. knowing about her.

without thinking about her. without her smile. without knowing if she's seeing someone..

i was okay without her. yeah. i was perfect.

god i really need that coffee.

as i get home i watch my... fiance laying on the couch.

"did you even tried the cake samples i left?" i said with frustration as i leave my purse.

"uh, nam-gyu did, he said the black tea one was really good" he said without too much care as i stared at him disbelief.

"am i getting married to nam-gyu? because i needed MY husband to try them!" i say, standing in front of him, my hands on my hips as he rolled his eyes.

"who the fuck cares about the cake baby? no one does" he says, his arms sneaking around my waist to bring me closer to him.

"i care! i am going to be the wife in this fucking wedding and i care about the cake!" i shout angry. "and don't touch me" i let myself loose of his grip as he groans in built frustration.

"seriously? this again?" he says with a sigh, letting go.

"after the wedding" i say to him as my heart sinks. liar.

"about time" he rolls his eyes, his focus on the phone once again.

i stare at him blinking in disbelief.

this is my life?

am i gonna marry.. this idiot?

i go upstairs as i remove my outside clothes, placing on my pjs. i slowly let myself sink in bed as i grab my phone, my hands trembling as i bite my lip.

was this a good idea? no.

clearly not.

but god, i couldn't stop thinking about her.

me: are you coming?

me: to the wedding

me: i sent you an invitation

it takes her two minutes to reply.

sem: no.

oh. i chew on my bottom lip thinking about what to reply, until she texts back a few minutes later.

sem: why?

do i? do i wanna get marry, knowing she's there, staring at me?

the question is.. will i get married, knowing she's there, sitting on the crowd, watching me?

me: i want you there

the texting bubbles appear and disappear for over 10 minutes, making me extremely anxious as i wait for her reply.

sem: okay

okay what? okay that i want her there although i shouldn't? okay that-

sem: i'll see you there.

sem: consider this as my confirmation to the wedding.

i throw my phone away with shaky hands. my head sinks on my pillow, muffling my scream.

god, what have i done?

finally, today is the day.

today, i'm getting married.

the happiest day in my life. that's what everyone is saying.

so why i've been crying non stop until falling asleep?

i stared at myself, sat in front of my mirror. my makeup perfectly done, my hair loose in soft waves, the dress made just for me. it had to be like this, because this was what everyone expected from me.

i sighed as i stood up, leaving the room to go wait on the door for my entrance. i could hear the bells ringing, the wedding music. my dad appears, walking slowly until he was standing besides with a smile.

"i'm proud of you" he said, staring at front as i did too, my eyes teary. but it wasn't happiness, it was...

"everything is like it's supposed to be" i said, streightening myself. my head turned to stare at him. "am i finally the perfect daughter?" i asked my dad, my voice trembling with emotion.

he gave me a confused stare, a hint of what it looked like sadness, creeping into his stare. "it's not the wedding, it's clearly not the husband" he said as we both softly chuckled. "it's you.. you're my daughter. and i don't need you to be perfect, you being you it's all i want. your happiness. honey, nothing else matters after that." he said as i holded my tears. i bit the inside of my cheek, my heart pounding on my chest.

it's too late now, isn't it?

i could feel him interlock our arms as the doors opened. we moved one step at a time as we slowly entered the ceremony. to my wedding.

i shudder at the sight of everyone in the room, but i knew my eyes were only scanning to look for one person.

and when i found her, and my heart stopped.

she was watching me with a soft gaze, eyes almost twinkling as she roamed through my form, slowly taking my face, my body in the dress, and lastly, going up to meet my eyes. all i needed to make my heart flutter. i felt frozen in place, i could see everyone staring at me, wondering why i wasn't moving. my dad pulled my arm to get me out of my trance, but nothing worked.

i was there, stucked right where she left me.

on the last time i saw her. the last time my heart beated for her.

"if we get out of here and.. you decide that you're done being his perfect wife, and maybe you want to be happy.. with me.. i'll be waiting. i promise"

she was just as beautiful as i remembered her. of course i've seen pictures of her, but nothing like seeing her in person again.

our stare never breaking.

her eyes screamed 'please, love me'

and mine replied 'i do. but i shouldn't'

"are you okay?" my dad said, breaking the staring contest as i took reality of my surroundings. i shakily let out a small breath as i nodded with a fake smile. i kept walking to the altar, where i saw my... future husband.

right.

as i took my place, he took my hands in between his.

i trembled, and i swear i wanted to hear whatever the priest was saying. i really did.

but all my focus was on her.

was everyone blind for not noticing? or was everyone trying to pretend they couldn't tell how i stared at my husband's best friend?

when our eyes met again, i averted my gaze, trying really hard to pay attention to the priest talking on the altar to me and my future husband.

but god, i could not focus when she was here.

until i heard the priest coming to the end of his speech.

"if anyone has just cause to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace"

silence spreaded on the ceremony.

the quietness in the room making me shiver.

until it wasn't quiet anymore.

because everyone gasped.

and my eyes shut close.

and the quietness was replaced with whispers, with judging stares.

it wasn't quiet anymore, because she stood up.

my heart felt like it stopped in place. i could see my fiance's eyes widen, staring at se-mi like she was mad, insane.

but i knew she wasn't.

she was just in love, like i was.

and god, not from my husband.

her tall figure stood in the public, standing up as her mouth agaped like a fish. she tried to find any words to say, but she couldn't.

min-su and nam-gyu besides her, staring like if she grew a second head, completely shocked.

my eyes widen as i saw her take a sit again.

her mind was conflicted. i could tell. does she oppose? does she love quietly? what was more important? her best friend or her feelings? she shifted uncomfortably on her chair.

what was done was done, right?

fuck it. she thought, standing up once again.

everyone stared, their eyes open like never before.

"i-i oppose" she says in a weak, trembling voice. her eyes find mine, her stare pleads me to not let this keep going.

it begs me to go with her.

her hand moves to try and reach me as i watch her trembling hand and her pleading expression.

"i love you." she says with tears on her eyes.

and of course i knew this couldn't happen. of course i knew this was madness. i was about to get married. my life was buildt for this specific moment.

but my heart responded first with a sigh. not tears, not a scream, not a mad reply.

a sigh of relief.

i stare at the people sitting shocked in their seats. their gazes gravitating from her, to me and choi su-bong.

and suddenly, it's not like before. i'm not frozen in place, i'm not scared. i don't feel ashamed, i don't feel a thing.

except relief and love.

my last sign? when i stare at my parents, and they dont look at me ashamed. they're not embarrassed. they nod at me with tears in their eyes, intertwining their hands.

i get off the altar as i laugh.

a laugh of happiness. i chuckle loud and the feeling takes my entire body as i walk to her slowly. our stare never breaking as i stand in front of her, in my beautiful white dress. i reach to take her hand, the contact leaves a warm feeling on my heart.

"can we go?" are the only words that leave my lips with a shaky breath.

she stares at me, letting out an airy soft chuckle in disbelief, not believing this is happening.

"fuck, yes." is all she mutters as she moves in between the people, intertwining our hands like she never plans to release me as we run to the exit, our hearts jump in our chest.

and this is insane. i know it when we get into her rusty old car while the people gather outside to stare at us. but it doesn't matter.

it doesn't matter when my dress ruffles through the window, it doesn't matter when i buckle my seat belt with a happy smile and it certainly doesn't matter when she actually starts driving and we laugh, like a whole hearted laugh.

"you left your husband. in the altar. you left him" she says chuckling, filled with emotions. shock, disbelief, happiness.

"i- i did. and i don't regret it. god i don't regret leaving him for his.. best friend" i laugh as i stare at her. i take a deep breath as i speak "stop the car" she stops so abruptly, the car brakes.

"are you regr-" i unbuckle my seat belt as i turn aside. i cup her face in between my hands, my eyes roaming across her entire features.

this is the woman i love. it feels so good to finally say it out loud.

and i kiss her.

and is everything i always wanted to feel. it's what i expected from every single one of my ex-boyfriends. is filled with hunger, desire, passion and love.

and my heart feels warm and i know now exactly what love was supposed to feel like.

the kiss lowers to something softer, one of her hands goes to my cheek, caressing it with her thumb as my hand moves to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. her other hand roams through my body to grip my waist.

"this feels like a dream" she mumbles in between kisses.

"i know, i know" i replied as i kissed her again and again, love-drunk. "but it's not. i'm yours se-mi. i'm completely yours" i whispered against her lips as she nodded excited. her nose softly caressing mine, an intimate gesture.

"can i start the car and get the fuck out of here, please? because i never want to look back" she says breaking the kiss. i nod happily.

"please, start the fucking car" i chuckle as i go back to my seat, connecting to the bluetooth of her car, i look at the playlist on my phone until i find the one.

"i am not the kind of girl

who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion

but you are not the kind of boy

who should be marrying the wrong girl"

she smacks me softly as she listens to the lyrics, rolling her eyes as i snort.

and as my eyes find hers, i know i finally am where i belong.

known actress leaves husband on the altar!

we saw our famous girl, that we all know and love, leaving rapper ''thanos' on the altar.

the last thing we heard from him to the press was: i hope she's happy now.

and she looks like it! because she's been sharing photos on social media with her new girl non stop!

let's wish a happy relationship to the recently out of the closet actress!

#se mi x reader #player 380 x reader #se-mi x reader #player 380 #se mi #se-mi #squid game #squid game 2 #lesbian #se mi squid game #wlw #squid games #squid games fluff #won ji an #won ji an x reader #angst with a happy ending

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Omg ok Jade my love can I request a princess soulmate au with Steve? Where reader is Prince Steve’s soulmate but maybe she’s not royal herself and is struggling a bit with being the future princess?

Almost like similar vibes to some of the loser gf with rockstar Sirius things you’ve done

thank you sm for your request! (sci-fi fairytale au) prince!steve

cw talk of losing weight to fit into a dress

Prince Steven sits across from you with a bowl of grapes and a pair of embroidery scissors. He's going to stab me, you think morosely. I'm wretched and boring and he's going to stab me and then the stars will give him another soulmate and he'll forget this whole misfortune.

He seems lost for words as you are, or uninterested. You think he's going to talk and he eats another grape instead, hair fluttering in the breeze that filters in from the balcony, his eyes trained on the holoscreen. He's pretty —soft face, softer hair, almond shaped eyes that seem perpetually amused— but more alarmingly, he's fit. Physically fit from years of sports. Royals do all manner of olympiad competition, evident in his toned shoulders and his sun-kissed skin.

"How's your embroidery?" he asks suddenly.

You startle, pretending you'd been attending to that rather than staring at him uselessly. "It's going well, Prince Steven," you lie. You've never embroidered before —you have practical sewing skills for darning scuffed trousers and patching elbows, but embroidery is a labour of time. Time is a luxury you haven't had.

"Steve," he corrects.

"Do I… Is it really okay for me to call you that? Won't people think I'm presumptuous?"

"Ten dollar word." He slides the bowl toward you, a beautifully glazed ceramic piece that likely cost more than your month's rent. "Well, they usually let me have whatever I want, and I want you to call me Steve. And to relax. And eat more."

"I can't. They said I need to fit into my wedding dress."

"The wedding dress needs to fit you," Steve says, the simple cut of his button down pulled snug to his chest as he leans back in his chair. "Not the other way around. Is that why you didn't eat much at breakfast? Or was it just gross?"

"It wasn't gross," you say softly.

"You don't have to do any of that stuff, either, if it's boring."

You run your finger down the creamy linen stretched between your bamboo hoops. "I don't know if it's boring. I can barely do it."

"You're too mean to yourself," he says.

Steve stands and puts his arm behind his head, pushing his elbow until something clicks. Embarrassed by his dismissal, you stare at your hands and fume at yourself when they begin to tremble.

It's too much. All of it. The cruel Palace attendants who know you're not good enough. Steve and his good nature. The wedding dress, the fine China, your wonky stitches.

Steve steps to your side. He holds out his hand, and you pass him your embroidery without meeting his eyes. Your mood worsens at the sharp slink of snipping, sure that Steve will cut your pattern from the sketch and tell you to start again.

"Sorry, your white knot at the back was bothering me. Pass me a slimmer needle? I'll tuck it behind your stitches."

Astonished, you pass Steve a smaller needle from the pin cushion. His brows creases gently as he works, rewiring the white thread with patience and efficiency.

"There. It looks really nice, honey. You're a fast learner." He passes you the hoop. You take it a beat too slow and he either doesn't notice or doesn't make a fuss, chucking you under the chin softly. "Don't worry so much. I'll talk to Cordelia about your wedding dress, the idea that you need to fit into it like it's one size fits all is dumb. It's made for you. Like, what are they expecting?"

"They're probably hoping this is all a big mistake."

"Did someone say that to you?"

"Nobody had to say it to me, I can tell from the way they look at…" Steve takes your face into his hand, effectively killing anything you'd been trying to say.

He seems royal, then. Used to getting his way, maybe, the disapproving lining of his otherwise sweet eyes. You get a flash of a memory, the morning you'd been presented, Steve in his finery with his platinum crown like a beacon in brown hair, you in your best dress, embarrassingly drab in comparison, your hand offered. He'd been meeting with eligible women all week.

You were there as a formality. Never for a second did you think your soul mark would react to his, lines of light around your opposite wrists.

To think you'd worried about touching him. You could never imagine how beautifully careful he is, how tender. You didn't know men were like this until Steve showed you, his niceness apparently bone deep and in everything he does.

"If people are being jerks, you have to tell me." You never imagined how casual and vulgar he'd be either. "What's the point in being a princess if people don't respect you?"

"I'm not a princess," you say. Your heart is a hummingbird as he turns his hand and strokes your cheeks with the backs of his fingers.

"You will be. Nothing can change that. You're going to be a princess, and you can do as much or as little as you want, because those dorks left me in charge and I say so. I can decree it, if that makes you feel better," he says, dropping his hand, the phantom of it lingering like static shock.

"What if I'm not meant for this?" you ask quietly, shy but terrified enough to ask.

"I was meant for you," he says, tone matching yours in timidity. His sleeves rolled up as they are, you can see the soft light of his soul mark taking a pink hue. "Right?"

Your soul mark glows a gentle pink to match his. Because you and Steve don't know one another well, not yet, but the feeling is there, thrumming under the skin like a pulse. Not love, not not love, a glowing desire. A want to know him.

There have been moments where you wished he wasn't a Prince, but then there's no guarantee you ever would have met.

"Right," you mouth, offering him a small smile.

"We were meant to be together…" Steve bends at the waist, meeting your eyes. He's yet to kiss you in the week since you met, but his touches come braver everyday, the unfamiliarity between you melding into butterflies. His smirk shakes them awake. "So let's be together the way we want to. Think of princess-ing as optional."

"And you as mandatory?"

"I'm also optional," he says with a warm laugh. "But dinner is not. I need to know what you like, if we're going to get married."

You practically gulp. Right. You're going to be his soulmate, his princess, and his wife.

"Don't be scared. I'm not cooking it, chef Joyce is." Steve brushes hair from his eyes like a model from the giant holo screens, unaware of his own attractiveness. "I'm a shitty cook. My talents lie in other things," he drawls grandly, "like lacrosse, and neck massages."

He winks. You laugh genuinely for the first time since you met him, and his face splits with glee.

—

if you want to request anything for this AU please do! steampunk princess soulmate and her smitten prince is my new fave thing

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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eyecan02 · 5 months ago

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WARNING: MAJOR BEETLEBABES SPOILERS

I had fun watching this film. It was great seeing the OGs again, it was funny and it had a good script BUT I have to give this movie 7/10 because the pacing was off for the first half of the film and because of the two unnecessary Babyjuice scenes (We'll get to more of that in a bit.)

It just felt rushed and Beetlejuice and Lydia's scenes were limited. Yes, we knew from the get go that Keaton's scenes would be confined because that's how he wanted it but I just like complaining. lol

Before Lydia and Beetlejuice officially reunite, he starts spamming her phone with the Day O song playing with Beetlejuice's name in bold pops ups coming up nonstop. This happens when Rory is trying to talk about their wedding and Lydia just isn't in the mood to talk about it.

The first Beetlebabes scene is the "therapy scene" and its also the first Babyjuice scene. Lydia's belly grows quickly, her water breaks and out pops out Babyjuice. It starts crawling around and soon starts biting on Lydia's ankle. You do actually see bloody teethmarks on Lydia's ankle to which Beetlejuice says, "Takes after his dad." and he starts drooling exaggeratingly.

I don't remember the exact wording but Lydia called Beetlejuice "Demented." To which Beetlejuice replies with something like "Well, if me wanting to be with the love of my life is demented then fine I'm demented. Come here, honey." Yes, he actually calls her the love of his life!

He tries to do the gliding thing he did with Lydia during the first movie when he says this. Before Lydia is pulled to his side, she yells, "Home! Home! Home!"

That's when Lydia tries to hurry to get everyone out of the house and out of Winter River but Astrid tells her she has a date and somehow convinces Lydia to drive her to the boy's house. So Delia and Lydia board up the attic door and decide no one goes in and that they'll leave that same night right after Lydia gets married at midnight.

Now as most of us have heard- Astrid's crush has a secret. That secret is...that he's a ghost. Which, I feel so dumb about not guessing it. I should've figured it out when they showed "The Recently Deceased" book thar he claimed he bought at a "yard sale". The boy (can't remember his name) says Lydia can help him come back to life (not through marriage) and says if she travels with him to the Neitherworld, she'll help her see her dad again.

Lydia soon finds out that the boy (I think his name was Jeremy) was not only someone who killed his parents but is also a ghost (through info from Jane the realtor) so she rushes to rescue Astrid but gets there seconds too late. With no other choice she goes back to the Maitlands home and summons Beetlejuice.

The minute Beetlejuice gets Lydia into the afterlife...they're immediately separated right after the "Bonnie and Clyde line. The excuse? Beetlejuice had to "visit the little boy's room" as a plot device so that Lydia and Astrid could reunite with Astrid's deceased father. He's the one that saves them from the sandworm and helps them make up.

It turns out that Jeremy was gonna swap places with Astrid. She would've gone on the Soul Train that takes you to the "Great Beyond" and he would've resurrected as a living person. This takes place at an immigration office. Beetlejuice has kind of a heroic moment where he switched places with the person behind the glass that gives the "stamp of living approval."

When Jeremy looks at the paper that Beetlejuice gives him, it reads "Shit Out of Luck Fucker". XD This part had everyone howling with laughter. Beetlejuice stamps on the paper and that instantly opens the floor beneath Jeremy and sends him to hell.

Astrid's father helped Lydia and Astrid leave the Neitherworld through a portal in a mausoleum that is conveniantlly across from the church that Lydia is supposed to getting married at. Even though she doesn't really want to marry Rory, she decides to do it anyway. Tells Rory she won't change into her wedding dress- that they should just proceed as they are.

That's when Beetlejuice arrives with Delia, pushes her aside and tells her to "Scram!" lol (Earlier in the film, Delia tried to perform a strange love ritual with a pair of snakes that she was told were defanged. Spoiler: they weren't defanged so she died and got sent to the Waiting Room so since she doesn't want to wait there for ages, she summons Beetlejuice who agrees to help her if he can help her find his "runaway bride".)

Beetlejuice proceeds to drug Rory by stabbing his neck with a syringe and this somehow makes Rory confess whata scumbag he is and how he was just using Lydia for money. Another interesting moment where Beetlejuice is being "helpful" in his own way."

So the next five minutes are just as chaotic as Jenna Ortega described. And remember how we all had speculated that Beetlejuice wouldn't waste time with a song and dance and would try to get through the vows as fast as he could? We were wrong. Beetlejuice apparently thought he had all the time in the world as he starts to lip sync "MacArthur Park" and even had Lydia lip syncing the song to him. His make up got all runny as he wept at his own wedding.

They dance and then Wolf and his SWAT team crash the wedding followed by Delores storming in and Beetlejuice tells her, "It's not you. It's me. I'm just looking for a more soul mate type. You should be with a guy that is more into you."

He magically rips off Rory's shirt to reveal a shirt underneath that says "I Love Delores". Delores is not impressed. And I honestly forgot what happens to Delores but then the Sandworm scene happens and then everything calms down. Lydia, Astrid and Delia try to leave the church but Beetlejuice stops them, reminding Lydia that they have a contract. He pulls out the contract.

But then Astrid remembers something Wolf had mentioned earlier about Beetlejuice violating "Code 669" by bringing a living person to the Neitherword so she states that that means his contract with Lydia is null and void. Beetlejuice's contract proceeds to burst into flame.

Lydia steps forward and says "I'm sorry it didn't work out between us." She says something else that I forgot and proceeds to say his name three times and with each call of his name, Beetlejuice's body inflates more and more until he pops.

Delia promises she'll haunt Lydia and Astrid until they're sick of her. Wolf takes her back to the Neitherworld where Delia reunites with Charles's mangled corpse. It then skips to Lydia announcing the last episode of her show so that she can "start living".

Then it shows Lydia and Astrid traveling together. It looks like they're in Romania/Transylvania where Astrid locks eyes with a cute guy. Then a time skip where Astrid is marrying the guy. Another time skip where Astrid is giving birth. This is where it gets weird. She gives birth to Babyjuice that proceeds to start crawling on the walls. That's when Lydia wakes up, relieved that that was a nightmare when suddenly Beetlejuice leans over her in bed and says, "I just had the strangest dream." Lydia gasps and she wakes up again and slowly looks over to her left to see an empty space and no Beetlejuice.

So I'm guessing that's what that one interviewer guy meant when he told Winona "You sorta got your wish at the end." I guess it means Beetlejuice will always be haunting her and playing the long game of waiting for her. I need to discuss this with someone! What do you think of the spoilers? The ending in particular?

#beetlebabes #beetlebabe #beetlelyds #beetlejuice x lydia #huge beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers #beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers

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waitimcomingtoo · 2 years ago

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And I Wouldn’t Marry Me Either

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Synopsis: you release some songs about Tom after a disagreement ends in a breakup

Masterlist

“Marry me.”

“Right now? But I just got comfortable.” Tom mumbled into his pillow with a sleepy smile.

“I’m serious.” You whispered through a laugh and shook his shoulder. Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he could see the blurry outline of you lying next to him in your bed.

“What?”

“I’m just thinking.” You began. “We’ve been together five years.”

“I’m aware.” Tom laughed and snuggled back into his pillow.

“So we should do it. We should get married.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him.

“We are married. Everyone knows you’re my girl.” Tom said without opening his eyes and pulled you into his arms. He tried to go back to sleep but you still wanted to talk.

“I know.” You laughed. “But I want to make it official.”

“What, in Gods eyes and all that? I didn’t think you cared about that.” He laughed dismissively and rolled over. You sat up fully in the bed and looked down at him.

“It’s not about that. I want the flowers and the dress and the rings. Don’t you want that?” You asked and shook him a little to clue him in that you were trying to have a serious conversation. You watched Tom shrug and roll onto his back to look up at you.

“I don’t know. I always found weddings kinda dumb.”

“What? What do you mean dumb?” You forced a laugh and tried to hide the disappointment in your tone.

“I mean, like, they’re not even legally binding. It’s this whole big celebration that people spend their life savings on just to get drunk and slid rings on each other fingers. You still have to go to the courthouse to get married and even that’s just a piece of paper.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” You laughed shortly and picked at your nail polish to look busy.

“I didn’t realize you felt a different way.” He said and rolled back onto his stomach. Tom closed his eyes to go back to sleep and you felt your heart sink in your chest. You got out of the bed and opened the curtains a little to distract yourself with the view. You touched the silky white curtains and smiled to yourself as you thought of all the pictures of white dresses you had saved on your Pinterest throughout the years.

“I’ve always dreamed of my wedding.” You said over your shoulder. “I think every little girl does at some point. Every rom com I grew up on ends with the perfect fairy tale wedding. I always wanted that. I wanted my happy ending.”

“But those are just movies. I bet half those couples wouldn’t last in real life.”

“But it’s sweet that they plan that special day together and then get to celebrate their love in front of all their family and friends.”

“Yeah, all that planning just so they can get divorced before the first year is up.” Tom snorted. “I think the whole idea of weddings are stupid. I mean, you spend all that time and money planning for a one day event that people will just attend for the free booze. Plus, women starve themselves for months and spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Tom.” You laughed shortly and folded your arms to glare at him. Tom sensed your tone and sat up in bed to pay better attention.

“I just think it’s all so ancient.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t agree. Weddings cannot exist without all the bullshit sexist traditions. I mean, the white dress to symbolize the brides supposed purity, the father of the bride literally “giving her away” to another man after being asked permission to get engaged in the first place, and then to top it off with her taking his last name because she’s now his property or something. It’s all so trivial and perverse.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. Those traditions may be rooted in old fashioned thinking but I think it’s sweet to ask for my fathers permission. And yeah, I do want my dad holding my hand and walking me down the aisle. He’s not giving me away to be another man’s property, he’s standing by my side as I enter a new chapter of my life. Which is why I want my mama right there on my other side. Plus, lots of people hyphenate their last names nowadays. It doesn’t have to be this monstrous sexism fest you’re making it out to be.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Tom frowned when you shut the door. You usually left it open a crack when you did your morning skincare routine, but today, you were shutting him out. Tom got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see you. You didn’t look up at him as you washed your face.

“Come on. Are you seriously mad because I dissed your rom coms?” Tom said as he put his hands on your hips and kissed your shoulder.

“I’m not mad about that.” You mumbled and brushed him off.

“Then what are you mad about, sour patch?” He teased and kissed your shoulder again.

“I’m mad because I’ve been getting my nails done weekly leading up to our five year anniversary just in case you proposed and you just told me that’s never even crossed your mind!” You exclaimed as hot tears of embarrassment brimmed your eyes. You stormed out of the bathroom and when Tom processed what you had said, he followed after you.

“I don’t believe in marriage, okay? I think it’s unnecessary. Why can’t we just live like this forever? What’s the difference?”

“The difference is pretty big. But I guess you don’t see it like that.” You shrugged and kept walking away from him.

“Can you honestly tell me what would be different between us if we signed a stupid piece of paper at the courthouse or didn’t?” Tom said as he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place for a second.

“The difference is I’d be your wife and not just the pathetic girlfriend who stayed even though you didn’t lock it down.” You raised your voice at him and pushed his hands off of you.

“So you only want to get married because you care what people think? How romantic.” Tom rolled his eyes at you.

“That’s not the only reason. I want to get married because it’s important to me. It’s a public commitment where we promise to love and protect each other forever. I want that.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t need a ceremony to do that. I can promise you that right here.” Tom calmed down and took your hands.

“But that’s not special.” You sighed and withdrew your hands.

“If you don’t find that special then maybe you don’t love me as much as you think you do.” Tom said, immediately regretting it.

“What?” You whispered and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.

“Look, darling, I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just don’t see the point in marriage. I don’t need to prove I love you with a ring and wedding. I chose to love you every day. That’s enough for me.”

“What if it’s not enough for me?” You genuinely asked him as you wondered it for yourself.

“Then maybe you need to stop being so shallow and materialistic and ask yourself if you’re with me because you love me or because you want to play out some childhood fantasy that you saw in a stupid movie.” He shouted.

You both instantly got quiet. You were quiet for a very long time.

“I didn’t even mean that.”

“I don’t even care.” Your voice cracked as you grabbed your purse and slammed the front door behind you when you left.

“Is this one okay?” Harrison asked, pulling Tom out of his daydream. He replayed that fight over in his head about a dozen times a day. If his mind wasn’t occupied by something at all times, he’d perform an autopsy on that last conversation with you to try and understand what he should’ve done differently.

“What?” Tom asked without looking at his friend. He was too busy staring at the seat you always used to sit in at the kitchen counter.

“Can I use this one?” Harrison repeated and held up a muted purple mug as the tea kettle went off in the background. Tom tore his eyes away from your chair and when he saw the mug, all he could picture was your lipstick stain that used to stain it.

“That’s Y/n’s mug.” Tom said, descending a chill over the room. Harry and Sam’s attention was caught and they looked at Tom to see where this conversation was going.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll put it back.” Harry said and quickly went to put it back in the cabinet.

“It’s fine. She’s not using it.” Tom shrugged. Everyone looked at each other as the awkwardness became palpable.

“How’s she’s doing?” Sam asked and sipped his tea to seem less interested than he really was.

“She’s good. Shes been recording some stuff at her New York studio. New music and whatnot.” Tom replied. He didn’t know this because you told him. He knew this because he’d been stalking your fanpages for every possible sighting of you.

“Have you guys talked lately?” Harry asked.

“Not really. Not since she left.” Tom admitted without looking up at his friends.

“You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Harrison asked, worsening the icy tension. Tom froze at the question for a minute and then shrugged. He didn’t really know what the answer was. In the weeks you’d been gone, you’d make small talk sometimes about work and the weather, but it never went beyond that. It was more to be polite. You kept in touch enough to know what the other was up to on a weekly basis, but you both knew you were dragging out something that had died. You wanted Tom to just say it was over already instead of pretending everything was normal, but he was never going to do that.

“I don’t know. We left things kinda up in the air.” Tom replied. The boys exchanged glances and Harrison nodded to let them know he was gonna take charge.

“Up in the air?” He questioned.

“Yep. Up in the air. Ambiguous. Vague. Open to interpretation. Call it what you want.” Tom shrugged again like it didn’t matter, but it did.

“Well what was the last thing you said to each other?” Harry wondered.

“She said she needed some space and was going to New York. And I said okay.” Tom recalled.

“What about before that?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the days leading up to her leaving.” Tom replied and took a long sip of his tea.

“She didn’t speak to you?” Sam asked.

“She did.” Tom nodded. “Sometimes.”

“You didn’t speak to her?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer.

“I didn’t have anything to say.” Tom shrugged. Nobody spoke a word, but all the boys were thinking the same thing. They knew how bad this was, and that it signaled the end of your relationship.

“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the shift in vibe.

“I’m just surprised.” Harrison shrugged. “You guys were never like this. I can’t even remember your last fight.”

“We didn’t fight. You can’t fight when you don’t speak.” Tom said with a sarcastic smile.

“You should call her.” Harry suggested. “It’s gonna be at least a week since she’s been there, right?”

“Four weeks.” Tom corrected without meeting anyone’s else.

“Mate, you gotta call her.” Harry said quietly and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“I can’t.” Tom shook his head.

“Why not?”

“She can’t break up with me if I don’t talk to her. As long as we don’t have that conversation, we’ll still be together.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Buddy.” Harrison said apologetically. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked at his friend with tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He said with a crack in his voice.

“Oh shit.” Sam said suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.

“What?” Tom asked.

“She’s dropping a song tonight. She just announced it.” Sam said and showed Tom your Twitter. Tom took Sam’s phone to read your announcement better. Sure enough, you had posted a picture of you dramatically lying across a piano bench with your left hand covering half of your face. You had a ring on every finger except for your ring finger, a detail that wasn’t lost on Tom. He handed Sam’s phone back and look at the floor.

“You didn’t know about this?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head. He’d gone from being the first person you played every song for to finding out on Twitter that you had a song coming out.

“What’s it called?” Harrison wondered. Sam looked down at his phone to read the title and gulped.

“Who cares?” Sam forced a laugh and put his phone away.

“What’s it called?” Tom asked again.

“You Don’t Know Me Anymore.” Sam mumbled. Tom shut his eyes and hung his head in shame. He hadn’t even heard the song yet but knew it was going to be bad news.

“When does that come out?” He asked Sam.

“Midnight. Tonight.”

Tom’s friends stayed with him all day until midnight rolled around. At 11:58, Tom placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened YouTube. He knew you always released lyric videos when you dropped a new song and he needed to reach every single world you said. When midnight came, he refreshed his screen and clicked on your video. The background image was a picture of you looking in a mirror with messy hair. You had digitally added sparkly, purple tears to run down the still image of your face. You played a couple notes on the piano before the lyrics appeared beside your face in your handwriting.

“I wish you’d just put me out of my misery

You already know I’m at your mercy

I don’t know why you’re dragging this out

You have all the power, if that’s what this is about

I’m not gonna be the one who walks away

So I need you to say what you want to say

I already know it’s over so just let it end

Please don’t give me the pity of asking to stay friends.”

“I don’t think we should be listening to this.” Sam said as he paused the video.

“Play it.” Tom demanded. Sam sighed and pressed play while the other exchanged looks.

“I’ve been feeling you leaving

I hate this part more than the ending

The moments leading up when I know your heart has changed

I don’t know why we keep pretending

If it’s done just say it’s done

Don’t just change your mind and not tell me

I already know so just let me go

Don’t just watch as I sit and bleed.”

“I don’t think-“ Sam began as he paused it again.

“Stop pausing it.” Tom cut him off. “Play it. I need to hear it.”

Sam pressed play again and Tom pulled the laptop over to himself so he could control it.

“Cause I cut my hand on that first crack in the glass

I feel the icy air between us when you pass me

So I took your chain off from around my neck

I’ll think of something else your initial can stand for

You don’t deserve to see me wearing it anyway

You don’t know me anymore.”

Tom didn’t realize he had started to cry until his tears his his keyboard. He couldn’t see the video anymore from his blurry his eyes had gotten. He wiped his face and leaned on his hands to give the song better attention.

“You know I would die for you in secret

Like that song I showed you in my car

I don’t think you even listened to it

You didn’t draw stars around my scars

You drew your arrow and let it fly

Right into my heart and let me die

Actually, I wish that was the curtesy you provided

Instead, you let this love become one sided

And now we’re shattered like a glass that was dropped

You broke my heart until the day that it stopped

You never got down on knee

Even when I crumbled onto both of mine

I wonder if you ever really wanted me

How did you think we were fine?

And at what part did you realize you liked the idea of me?

But who I actually am isn’t someone you wanted

I miss who I was before we met

Now I can’t go back, I’m haunted

And you were right not to marry me

If I could walk away from me too, I would

You were right to leave when you did

I know I would too if I could

But I’m stuck here with myself

Forever scratching and clawing at your door

Keep it all, even my memories

You’re lucky you don’t know me anymore.”

Everyone sat in silence once the song ended. Tom wiped his eyes again but tears just kept falling down his face.

“That probably wasn’t even about you.” Harrison said after a long beat of silence. Tom gave him a look before turning to his brothers.

“What do you think?” He asked Harry.

“It sounds like she’s hurting too.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’re both waiting for the other to say you’re broken up.”

“Well I’m not saying it.” Tom stated. “She has to.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Sam asked kindly.

“Then we don’t break up.”

“Again, I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”

“Well it’s what I’m going with. Because I can’t break up with her.” Tom sniffled and shut the laptop.

“But you can’t go on like this either.” Sam pointed out.

“She’ll come home when she’s ready.” Tom said, but no one in the room believed him.

And didn’t come home for a while.

After another week of silence, Tom flew to New York to see you. He got to your apartment and knocked on your door without any particular plan in mind. You opened it with a smile but when you saw who it was, you tensed up.

“Hi.” He said with a sad smile.

“If you came to to propose to me as some kind of grand gesture-“

“Please, let me talk.” He cut you off. You sighed and nodded as you leaned against your doorway.

“We have different opinions. But I don’t love or respect anyone more than you. So I am willing to hear your side, which is not something I did last time we spoke about this. I was just listening for what I could rebuttal against. I wasn’t actually listening to understand your thoughts and feelings. But I’m ready now.” He said. You nodded again and seemed to drop the wall that you had put up.

“It matters to me that we get married.” You told him. “I know you think it’s pointless and doesn’t change anything, but it changes things for me. If you picked out a ring, asked my parents permission, and got down on one knee, that would all make me feel special and loved. Those things matter to me in a relationship.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“But now you do know so if you propose, I know you’re just gonna do it to appease me. I’ll always know that you think it’s stupid when I look at the ring.”

“I admit that it found it a little dumb in the past. But it matters to you. And nothing that matters to you can be stupid.”

“I can’t get married to you knowing you don’t really want it. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” You said and went to close the door.

“But I can’t lose you. My thoughts on marriage literally do not matter to me in the slightest. If it’s important to you and if it is what it takes to make you feel special and loved, then I want it too.” Tom pleaded as he pushed your door back open.

“But you don’t want it. You just don’t want to break up.”

“I can put on a tux for a night and suffer through if it means that much to you.” He said with a slight laugh to lighten the mood. Your face changed and he had somehow made the situation worse.

“Suffer?” You asked quietly with a told of your head.

“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. But darling, I’m saying we can get married. I’ll do whatever it is you want. Why do you still look so upset?”

“Because you don’t get it.” You shook your head. “And I’m afraid you never will.”

“What don’t I get? I don’t understand. I’m telling you I’ll give you what you want.”

“But you don’t want it too. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s the principle, Tom. Remember how disappointed I was that one time when I said I wanted ice cream so we went to the shop but you didn’t get anything? I didn’t mean I wanted ice cream. I meant I wanted us to get ice cream together so we could eat it and spend time together. This is like that but times a million. You can’t compromise on marriage. You either believe in it or you don’t. So even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean to you what it means to me. I would always think back to that conversation we had and remember how you really feel about marriage. I keep replaying all the things you said that day in my head. We both know how you feel about marriage and we both know it’s not something you want.”

“So that one conversation ruined it for you? Completely?” He asked.

“Yes, it did.” You answered truthfully. You stared at each other for a minute as both your eyes welled with tears. You both knew you’d reached a stalemate and there was nothing more to be done.

“So what do we do now?” Tom asked without looking at you.

“I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You told him, making him perk up.

“So do I.” He smiled as tears rolled down his face.

“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked him. Tom froze and felt the situation escaping from him fast.

“We’ve been together almost 5 years, darling. That’s five birthdays, Christmas’s, anniversaries. You make up so much of my life. We’re exactly right for each other. It’s supposed to be you and me in the end. I can’t do this with anyone else.”

“And I can’t do this with you.” You laughed sadly and gestured to him. Tom’s heart dropped in his chest when it became apparent that this was more than just a fight.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I think I am.” You nodded. Neither of you could believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but it was too late to take them back.

“Does marriage really mean that much to you that you’d rather break up instead of just living a long, happy life together?” Tom asked you.

“I guess it does.” You realized. He stood there in shock as you put a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to kiss his cheek.

“Goodbye, Tom.” You smiled sadly at him and shut your door.

Another month went by and you did not come home. You busied yourself with your music and dove into your next album, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about him on midnights when you were left alone with your thoughts. Tom thought about you a lot more often, like every time he saw your face on his TV. He tuned in one night to watch you debut your latest music video of your newest song. His eyes were glued to the TV as the video opened with your back to some brown eyed actor.

“You say “I don’t understand” and “I say I know you don’t.” We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.” You sang with your eyes glued to the floor. The setting changed and you were walking through an apartment that Tom recognized.

“She filmed this on Cornelia Street?” Tom whispered to himself and sat back on his couch.

“Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light.” A smiling version of you sang as she walked though the apartment holding the hand of the actor playing Tom. The setting changed again and you were still in the room, but the lights were off and you were sitting alone in the floor.

“Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.” You sang while not looking in the camera. The rest of the video followed in suit. You flashed between happy, golden hued memories with the actor to grey toned solo shots of you sitting alone at your piano or on the floor. The difference in the moods made Tom reminisce on the old times and he wondered how long it has been since he had made you smile the way you were doing in the video.

“Stop, you’re losing me. Stop, stop, stop. You’re losing me.” You sang while looking directly into the camera as a purple heart monitor line ran through the background behind you and eventually flatlined. Tom felt like you were staring right into his soul and realized this was the closest he’d gotten to making eye contact with you in a while. He watched the sad, grey version of yourself split from the happy version and suddenly, there were two of you on the screen while the actor playing Tom ignored them both.

“How long can we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?” The both of you sang while Tom’s counterpart read the newspaper and didn’t look at either. He thought of the days leading up to you leaving for New York where he’d be doing exactly that, reading the newspaper to pretend to look busy when he felt you glaring at him. He wiped his face and watched as the scene changed to the three of you at a party. The sad version of you was clinging to Tom’s counterpart defensively while the other version of you yelled at him with a drink in your hand.

“Fighting in only your army. Front lines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing as this party.” You yelled and drunkenly stumbled around while the rest of the party watched.

“You’re losing me.” The grey version whispered into Tom’s ear. He assumed that version represented the part of you that missed him while the other version represented the you that knew it was over. The scene changed again and this time, you were back in the Cornelia Street apartment with an open ring box in the center of the table. There was no ring inside, just a burning flame.

“And I wouldn’t marry me either. A pathological people pleaser.Who only wanted you to see her.” You said into the camera while Tom’s character threw things into a bag behind you and went to leave.

“And I’m fading thinking do something babe! Say something! Lose something, babe. Risk something. You’re losing me! Chose something, babe. I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” The grey version of you desperately said to Tom’s counterpart as she pulled on his arm to beg him to stay. It was like he couldn’t see her at all and just kept walking towards the door. The golden version of yourself opened the door and pointed for him to get out while the other version of you jumped in front of him and dropped to her knees to get him to stay. Tom’s character walked right through her and she faded to dust, leaving just the one version of yourself to watch him go. The music stopped and you ended up running after him, but he was already gone. You turned and ran down Cornelia Street but didn’t go back into your apartment. You just kept running down the street and turned the block so that the camera couldn’t see you anymore. The camera panned out to show the Cornelia Street sign and a violin version of your song by the same name played in the background as the street sign turned grey and faded into dust. The screen turned black and Tom was left alone in the silence.

After another month, he found himself outside your door again. He knocked on it and felt his heart pound until you opened it up.

“Tom? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you. I came to fix this.” He said simply.

“Tom, I don’t know that we can fix this.” You said apologetically. It felt amazing to see him, but it didn’t change the fact that you ultimately wanted different things in life.

“You were right. You can’t compromise on marriage. And you either believe in it or you don’t.” He began before getting down on one knee.

“Tom?” You asked skeptically as your eyes went wide. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it up for you.

“It’s your moms ring. Your dad gave it to her for the third Valentine’s Day they celebrated together in college. She doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s one size too small, so she gave it to me when I asked them for permission to marry you.”

“You asked them?” You smiled in surprise that he had done one of the things you said mattered to you.

“I did. It was a little awkward to find out your mother already knew all about our previous conversations about marriage so you can probably guess how confused I was.” He said with an embarrassed laugh.

“What did my dad say?”

“He said as long as I make you happy, he’s proud to have me join the family.”

“See? No one’s giving me away to anyone. We’re just creating a bigger family for the two of us.”

“I see that now. I see a lot of the points you made. And what your dad said got me thinking.”

“About?”

“All I want is to make you happy. Which is different from agreeing to things I don’t want to do to appease you. I do want to watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been in your Pinterest board since you were 13. I do want to plan the seating arrangement and introduce my weird friends from college to your weird friends from college. I want to plan the entire thing because that’s something we can do together, and those are my favorite things to do.”

“What about the ceremony? And the marriage license? You don’t want those things.”

“I didn’t at first.” He admitted. “But after actually thinking about it and reevaluating the opinion I formed before I ever even had a serious relationship, I realized I feel differently. You make me feel differently. I would proudly sign my name next to yours on a marriage license. Because I happen to think our names look pretty good together. And as for the ceremony, I know we can’t compromise, but we can collaborate. It doesn’t have to be a huge blowout party. It can be the best elements of the both of us. And we can plan it together.”

“That all sounds very lovely, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t believe in marriage just a few months ago. Am I really supposed to believe you’ve truly changed your mind? What if this is just some grand gesture to win me back that you end up regretting?” You asked him.

“I will never end up regretting promising my love for you in front of our family and friends. I’ll never regret hyphenating our names so that everyone knows I’m a part of a duo. I’ll never regret choosing to legally attach myself to my vets friend and spend the rest of my life with her. But I can tell you with the utmost assurance that I would regret letting you walk away and become a name I wince at for the rest of my life.”

“You felt differently not too long ago.” You quietly reminded him. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you couldn’t fully trust it.

“I changed my mind. I realized somethings are more important than other things. And that you’re more important than anything.”

Your skeptical expression turned into a coy smile as you slid your hand into the one that wasn’t holding the open ring box.

“You never actually said the words.” You told him, making Tom break into a relieved smile.

“Darling, would you make me the happiest man-“

“Eh. Try again. Too cliche.” You cut him off. Tom smiled and shook his head, knowing you weren’t gonna make it easy.

“My love, I don’t want to spend another minute as just your boyfriend.” He tried again.

“Lame. Thumbs down.” You shook your head and pointed your thumb down.

“Would you do me the honor-“

“Yawn.” You interrupted.

“Will you just marry me, you annoying brat?” Tom groaned.

“Tom! I thought you’d never ask!” You gushed over dramatically and put your hand over your heart.

“Is that a yes?” Tom asked as he stood up.

“I have to think about it. I don’t know if marriage is for me.” You shrugged as he slid the ring onto your finger. You looked down at the ring and remembered the time you tried it on as a little girl and how it didn’t fit your finger until now.

“Yes. I will marry you.” You smiled as you looked back up at Tom. Tom broke into a grin and scooped you up to spin you around.

“Sorry I wrote all those emo songs about you.” You said into his ear, making him laugh.

“It’s okay. It’s what you do.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he set you down. He then pulled you in for a long kiss to make up for all the time you were apart. When you pulled away, he pulled your face back towards him with his hands to kiss your left cheek.

“I see you.” He said, then kissed you right cheek.

“I choose you.” He continued, then kissed your forehead.

“I love you.” He said, the kissed your nose before looking into your eyes.

“And I know you.” He told you. You smiled softly and nodded your head.

“You do?” You asked him. “You really know me?”

“I do.”

Tag List 🏷️

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@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison

@andreasworlsboring101 @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill

@every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @fiantomartell

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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dontbesoweirdkira · 6 months ago

Note

If you don't mind can I request any yandere you want and see reader in a wedding dress they thought reader was planning a marriage turn out she just like the dress

A/N: BAHAHAHAA this is so funny. Yes of course, im *assuming* you are referring to the MK guys? Just send in another request if not😭😭

Characters: MK1 Johnny Cage, MK11 Kung Lao and MK11 Erron Black as a wild card lol.

Warnings: buffoonery and Johnny Carlton 😖

Requests: always open 24/7

Masterlist

Johnny ca(needs to be arrested asap)ge

Oh boy…why did you have to get this man started?? I'm going to assume you just thrifted a pretty white dress, not realizing it was a wedding dress in the impulsivity of the buy.

When you got back home to try it on, it unexpectedly fit like a glove. Accentuating every nice thing about your body. The lace and embroidered rhinestones made everything just 100 times better. A gorgeous glam dress that you’re sure Johnny would love just as much as you do.

Excited, you waited by the front door for his arrival to show off your new purchase.

Immediately he froze at the doorstep, the sight of you in this little git up took him aback.

You stuck a cute pose and did a full body spin to show him every detail, egarly asking him what he thought.

“Ta-Daaaaa! So, what do ya think? I picked it out at the charity shop down the street. I figured it’d be perfect for a special occasion..”

Girl you are so damn foolish😩 that man is going feral now

Johnny had been playing his obsession very cool this entire time. Only maybe slipping up once but now…???

That “special occasion” is obviously the day you’ll become his wife. What day is more special than that?! He’s so happy that you initiated this first. He’s been wanting to make you his forever since he’s met you and obviously you feel the same way too.

See, you’re perfect for each other! He knew you were the one. Only a bit sad he didn’t realize your feelings sooner or else he would’ve taken you to Vegas months ago.

“When I gave you my credit card to get something nice I didn’t expect for you to buy a wedding dress. I’m not complaining tho~ it was only a matter of time until it happened.”

….what?

You had looked back down at your dress and realized that it did look oddly similar to one…but that was just a coincidence.

You explained to him that no, it wasn’t supposed to be a wedding dress. You had picked it up because of the detailing, you figured it’d be perfect for the next red carpet.

Ohhhhh he sees what you’re doing here. You’re playing dumb, this was only a hint that you wanted him to claim you. He’ll promptly propose. It’s the traditional way of doing things. ;)

You reiterated again, more seriously this time that this was only a dress for his red carpet. Honestly more of an impulse buy if anything. You hadn’t realized what the dress actually was. It was far too soon to get married and you wasn’t even certain if Johnny was who you wanted to be with in the long run.

His vision of you walking down the isle in that snatched, sexy little dress was shattered… for a mere moment he became overwhelmed with sadness. Wha— what do you mean that you’re not sure you want to marry him? Who else would you marry in place of him? You’ve been planning to leave him, haven’t you?..

Quickly that sorrow turned to anger and a side of Johnny you’ve never seen came out to bite.

His eyes were narrow and sinister as he peered down at you, over his expensive sunglasses. His voice was low yet venomously brash.

“Sweetheart—“

“You don’t get to play silly little games like this and get my hopes up for nothing. We’re getting married, there’s no other option better than me. And if you think for a second that you’re going to leave me—heh—-I’ll make your life agonizing.”

Oh..

It wasn’t long after, that he held you down and shoved a ring on your finger…ahem romantically proposed and you were eloped with an insane contractual agreement.

Poor thing…use critical judgment next time you’re out shopping.

Kung lao

You were out at the markets getting some groceries and household items. Normally Kung Lao would accompany you, but after much negotiation, he decided to let you go out alone. He was well familiar with the shopkeepers and locals so there wasn’t much to worry about. And he didn’t fear you being hit on there as everyone in the town knew who you belonged to. Any man who was stupid enough to talk to you was a man who was certainly going to die.

Of course like any woman, after your necessities were brought, you decided to do a bit of window shopping of vendors that were in the area.

Nothing new or interesting caught your attention until an older woman pulled you into her store to show you her selection of dresses. They were all so gorgeously designed and hand crafted, they must’ve taken ages to make.

“I have something very special for you. I think this will make that man of yours very pleased.”

After searching through a few boxes, she found the one she was looking for and displayed it for you. The dress was a striking red with gold embellishments and pleats that were colorfully embroidered.

It was so well done that it almost appeared painted on. It’d kill you to have that dress, even trying it on would be a dream in itself. But sadly, you knew that anything at this level had to be exorbitant in price. There’s no way that you could afford, let alone justify paying for it.

Thanking the shop keeper and complimenting the dress, you shook your head and declined. Explaining to her that this purchase would make you struggle for a couple of months.

The old lady wouldn’t take no for an answer and pushed the box towards you.

“My dear, this one was made for you. I must let you have it, don’t worry about payment. Just make sure I get to see you in it.”

Shocked, you asked a couple of times if she was serious and she was very adamant about you taking it home with you. She winked at you and sent you on your way.

Excited, you rushed home and into your room. Entirely running past your boyfriend in the process to hurried try the dress on.

It was exactly your size. It was almost as if if was made exactly to your measurements. You spun around in the mirror a million times so happy to be able to own something so luxurious.

“Y/N? What’s going on in there?? Are you okay? You didn’t even greet me when you came in.”

Opening the bedroom door you surprised him with the dress.

“Can you believe it, Kung Lao? Some lady at the market gifted this to me. She said it was made for me and insisted that I take it home.”

Yeah…ummm

That “random” lady wasn’t so random. He’d been planning this moment for over a year. He took out half of his savings to purchase it and have it custom built for you. All of your favorite colors and style preferences were put into this. He told the lady that whenever she was finished with it, to give it to you the next time that she sees you.

It was a surprise seeing you in the dress though. He knew you’d look beautiful but not this damn good. All of the details brought out the best in yourself. It wasn’t form fitting as it was a traditional xiuhuefu but it still such a perfect fit on you. He was proud that did exceptionally well in designing this for you.

Acting dumb, he asked many questions like who the lady was and was you sure it was truly for free. So manipulative…

“I guess this is a sign of fate…that we are destined to be married soon.”

Ummmm….what?

You laughed and explained how it was just a traditional dress that you plan to wear at a festival or something. What was he talking about marriage? It’s just a pretty dress right??….right?

Girl—-

He explained that no, it was actually a traditional dress only worn by brides. —And that since you was not only “gifted” it, but that it fit you well must mean that you’re ready to be his bride.

“Oh…no…I had no idea, Lao. I just like the dress, I don’t wanna be married to you.”

Let me take a sip of my drink😪

Immediately his face scrunched up in anger and he backed you into the wall.

“You don’t wanna be married to me?! Don’t you know how much money I spent on this dress? Do you know how many hours that poor old lady spent on this, customizing everything for you? I even tried to make the experience receiving the dress special. And you don’t want to marry me?”

He harshly grabbed your chin and pulled your face closer to his

“You don’t get a choice in this, my precious flower. Any other girl would kill to even be noticed by the great Kung Lao..don’t be such a fool and make this difficult.”

Yeah..we’ll at least your wedding was absolutely massive and filled with tons of yummy foods.

Erron Black

(Yes I know Erron’s mom was crappy but for plot purposes please let’s pretend he lovvveeeed her okay.)

Erron had left you back at home while he took care of some business and agreed to let you go through the attic. It was very very old and cluttered and he couldn’t care less about what you did with most of the stuff. He hasn’t seen most of it since he was a much younger fella anyways.

He told you there might be a few old clothes that were his mothers and sisters and you were free to take anything you’d like. You're about their size anyhow and he’d rather them on you than to be rotting in a box any longer.

You made your way through tons of old nicnacks and relics, it took a few hours of searching to find any of his old childhood things since they were in the faaaar back.

Eventually you found a hefty box that read women’s name on it and brought it back downstairs.

Hats, blouses, skirts and accessories were all in there. Not much that you’d wear since they were all a little dated and too mature for you—but there was one thing that caught your eyes. Something wrapped in dainty floral wrapping paper and tied with a pretty bow.

……Erron did give you permission to open whatever you’d like so I’m sure this wouldn’t hurt him.

Upon carefully unwrapping the delicately wrapped piece, the most gorgeous vintage wedding dress was revealed. Yes it was rather dated like most of the clothes with big puffy sleeves and a high neckline for modesty. Kind of gaudy as well but still an eye catching design nonetheless.

You held it up to your body and it looked like it'd be a perfect fit. This isn’t too surprising, but it fit you rather well. You looked straight out of the 19th century but it was cute, you put your hair up really nice and added some of the accessories from the box to complete the look.

You strutted around the house and pretended to be some snobby rich woman on her wedding day.

“Why yes. The orderves were made by Frederic, the renowned chef and the silk table cloths were imported from across the seas….hohoho.”

In the middle of your play time, Erron walked in and saw you in the dress. He paused and observed you up and down. It seemed as though he was a bit upset by the sight of you.

Maybe it was the wrong choice to put on this dress of all things. This was probably the one thing that was unspokenly off limits.

You quickly try to deescalate the situation and explain yourself. That you just thought the dress was pretty and you wanted to fool around in it. That you didn’t think much of it or that he’d be home so soon.

“I’m not mad, y/n. For a second I got a glimpse of my ma again. This dress is perfect on you.”

You twirled around in place and asked him if he truly thought so.

“I’m as honest as I’d ever be right now. What do you say we go down to the chapel right now?”

Thinking he wasn’t being serious, you laughed and began to take the dress off

“You’re not the marrying type, Erron.”

His demeanor turned from a sentimental bliss to a pissed off cowboy in seconds.

What did you mean he’s not the marrying type? He ain’t no saint but he’s been good to you and planned on being so for a long while.

“What did you mean by that, darlin?”

He stared straight and menacingly at you with his drawing hand on his holster. Your next words better be catious.

“N-nothing. Just figured you weren’t into the marriage thing because neither am I. That’s all.”

That’s all? You think you can just wear his deceased mothers wedding gown without any plans of commitment.

He suddenly pulled out his pistol out of his holster causing you to flinch. He didn’t point it at you but he inspected it before putting in a cartridge that was stored on his other hip.

“Dear, I know I ain’t no romantic but if you think for a second I’d let you walk out of this relationship alive…you must be one dumb broad.”

A chilling smile plastered his face as he pointed it towards you

“So what do ya say? You going to come down to the chapel with me or go have tea with the queen in purgatory? …your choice.”

Of course you had to say yes. That proposal was so…romantic? Hey, at least the priest down at the old chapel prayed over your soul and gave you a cross if you so ever shall need it dealing with a devil like him.

#headcanon #imagines #oneshot #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #mortal kombat 1 #yandere mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #yandere johnny cage #johnny cage headcanons #johnny cage x reader #yandere kung lao #kung lao x reader #kung lao imagine #erron black mk 11 #erron black x reader #yandere erron black #mk fandom #mk 11

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jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year ago

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 5)

cregan x reader

word count: 1,606 words

series masterlist

A private carriage. You thank the gods for small victories. Being locked in a small box for a month with nobody but Cregan Stark for company would’ve been the thing that pushed you over the edge of insanity. Or, you likely would have killed him.

Perhaps it was more his safety they are concerned over rather than my comfort. You think to yourself.

The preparations for your departure have been immensely extravagant and your mother has already commissioned ten new dresses and five nightgowns just to tie you over until the royal family flies in for the wedding. You’ll spend another whole month courting Cregan (in Winterfell this time) before the ceremony and you don’t know if you want the spectacle to be drawn out more to prolong your unmarried freedom or if you just want it to be over with.

You ignore the thoughts as you make your way down to the courtyard with Baela and Rhaena on each arm and Ser Robert trailing after you.

“I’m going to miss you awfully.” Rhaena says sentimentally.

“You’ll have to write to me with every bit of court gossip. Gods know that the boys won’t do a very good job at keeping me filled in.” You roll your eyes dramatically, trying to keep it all lighthearted.

“You’ll write to us plenty as well, tell us all about the joys of marriage.” Baela says with a little smirk.

“I hardly believe there’ll be many joys to rave about.” You say with a scoff.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. From what i’ve heard, northern men are very good with… their tongues.” The elder twin says scandalously. You think you hear Ser Robert choke on water from behind you.

“Baela!” Rhaena scolds but she giggles too.

“I don’t want his tongue anywhere near me.” You say as you shoot her a glare.

“Then you are as dumb as you are pretty.” You roll your eyes at this.

“His assumed skills don’t matter if I do not like him.” You say primly.

“You don’t have to like him to appreciate the look of him.” Baela says as she lifts a hand to inspect her nails.

“I agree. You know what they say about men with large hands…” Rhaena trails off and you glare at her as well.

“Do not team up against me.” You say.

“We are only trying to help you to look on the bright side. You’ll be with him for the rest of your lives.” Rhaena says softly. It’s a thought that you don’t really want to think about.

“Perhaps after I give him a son, we will become estranged and he will allow me to retire to Dragonstone.” You reply wistfully. The twins exchange a look.

“And what of your son?”

You sigh and say, “Any child I have will be his, not mine.”

“But they will also be Valyrians. They could be dragonriders. They will need a Valyrian to teach them.” Baela says. The idea of a child with a dragon, not knowing its history, not knowing how to care for it, is a sad thought.

“Motherhood is as noble a path as any.” Rhaena says, in an attempt to make you feel better.

“Not if it’s forced.”

There is an awkward silence after that and you feel bad, being the one who caused it. Your closest friends, your sisters, they only wanted to comfort you, to make you excited about the journey and you’ve made them feel bad for trying.

“I do quite like some of the dresses her Grace commissioned for me, though.” You say with a little grin and both of the girls light up.

“Oh yes, they’re all so beautiful. I don't know if I could even pick a favourite.” Rhaena gushes.

“I can.” Baela says. “The deep maroon velvet one. Ugh, the sleeves on it are to die for. It’s far too hot to be wearing such fashion in King’s Landing. We’d be sweltering.” Baela pouts a little at that but then grins. “You’ll be the icon of the North when it comes to gowns.”

“I intend to be the icon of the North when it comes to everything.” You say with a faux level of superiority as you come around to the stairs that go down to the courtyard.

There are many nobles waiting to see you off and Cregan Stark stands right at the front, waiting for you and looking as disgustingly handsome as ever. You ignore him and make your way to the ladies who won’t be accompanying you first, hugging them and trying not to tear up. You hope Cregan is offended by how you brush by him. Then, you reach your siblings. Your goodbyes to your family are short and proper, you’ll see them at the wedding anyhow. Your goodbye with your mother is… tense if nothing else.

You turn to Cregan at this point, knowing that you need to have a public interaction before you get into your carriage. Even if you enjoy being the centre of attention, you don’t want to waste the creation of gossip if you’re not there to see how it all goes down.

Lord Stark bows deeply. “Princess, I am glad to be accompanying you to your new home.”

“I thank you for your protection on the long trip that lies ahead of us.” You say in response, your voice cordial and dripping with charisma.

“It is my honour.” He holds out a hand and you take it, allowing him to help you up the steps, into the carriage. Your two handmaidens follow after you. When the door shuts, you sigh, ready for the long trip to be over already.

~~~

As the trip properly starts, you begin to remember how much you hate carriage rides. Short ones are usually fine but you’ve been sitting in the wheeled contraption for hours now and it's making you awfully dizzy.

“Your Grace? Are you well?” Rose, your handmaiden, speaks up. She looks concerned for your state.

“I am fine. I perhaps just need to rest for a moment.” You say, a bit breathlessly, as you shift to lay down, resting your head in your other handmaiden’s lap.

“Are you sure, princess? You look a little green.” Safia speaks up as she begins to stroke your hair.

“It’s this stupid carriage. And the road for seven hells. How can it be so uneven?” You groan and Safia starts to rub your temples.

“It is awful, I know.” She soothes but her kind words don’t help. You just feel more and more nauseous.

“Oh gods.” You groan.

“Princess, are you going to be sick?” Rose asks, and to your dismay, you believe you are about to be sick.

You nod a little and she stands, banging on the roof. “Stop the carriage!” She calls out to the driver.

Before you’re even fully stopped, Rose pushes open the door and Safia helps you to your feet. You stumble out of the carriage and unceremoniously, onto the grass. You fall to your hands and knees, breathing heavily. You thank the gods when you don’t actually throw up and the churning of your stomach begins to slow with the help of a stationary position and fresh air.

“What is happening? Is the princess alright?”

Oh gods why does he have to see this? You think to yourself as the young Lord Stark’s voice rings through the air.

“The movement of the carriage makes her unwell, my lord.” Safia says.

“Oh of course.” He murmurs and wanders off for a moment. You feel hopeful that he just decided to leave you but he’s back before you know it and kneeling by your side. “Here, eat this.” He says and gives you a gentle smile as he holds out ginger for you.

“Why would I eat tha-” He seems to know that you were going to kick up a fuss so as you are mid-sentence, he puts the piece of ginger in your mouth.

“Chew.” He says simply. Your eyes are wide and you want to refuse but you also don’t necessarily want to spit it out like a spoiled child. So, you apprehensively begin to chew the root, trying not to make a face at the peppery flavour. “Good.” He speaks again. “You’ll feel better now.” You think he looks far too pleased as he stands up in front of you and offers you his hand. You begrudgingly take it and he pulls you up with so much ease that you hardly even had to try and stand.

You brush your skirts off, feeling spiteful even if Cregan just helped you.

He just looked far too smug about it. You assure yourself as you make your way back into your carriage.

Before the door is closed, your betrothed speaks up, “Perhaps I could join you, princess. Just to make sure you’re feeling better.�� The smile he gives you is almost sneaky, as if there is some sort of hidden innuendo in there. You feel that he enjoys toying with you.

“That would be terribly improper.” You speak only loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes, of course.” He says but the cheeky grin never fades, even as he walks to his horse.

“Strange.” Rose says. “Most lords would enjoy the comforts of a carriage themselves.”

“Perhaps it would be an excuse to sneak into here.” Safia says scandalously.

“Then he shall be perpetually disappointed.” You say as you settle into your seat.

The procession begins to move again and through all the bumps and uneven roads, and as more time passes, the nausea that plagued you never returns.

taglist(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

Lord husband: @feyres-fireheart @possiblyafangirl @hb8301 @marihoneywk @youn-jo @velvet-spider @janelongxox @ninastyless @nyctophilic0vitnir @m-a-s-h-k-a @delicious-xx @weepingfashionwritingplaid @happinessinthebeing @betelrus @joliettes @black-swan-blog27 @mxtokko @valeridarkness @karolalolla @satan-s-ass @synindoodles

#cregan stark #cregan #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark fic #hotd #lord husband #hotd fic

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livwritesstuff · 7 months ago

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inspired by an absolutely insufferable boy-mom skit on tiktok

“I was wrong,” Steve announces as he enters the kitchen, “It would have been better to just go by myself.”

Eddie looks up, eyebrows furrowed, because – A) it's not exactly what he’d expected his husband to say first thing after arriving home from a day spent in the Berkshires at his coworker’s wedding, and B) Steve can be stubborn as a mule when he wants to be, and almost never admits defeat – not for dumb, petty shit, anyways, like how Steve almost didn’t go to the wedding at all because Eddie couldn't go with him until their oldest daughter Moe gallantly volunteered to attend in his wake.

(Which Steve had been goddamn thrilled about too, mostly because he’s hoping if Moe sees enough wedding propaganda, she’ll start thinking about popping the big question to her partner, Gray).

“Not a fun party, I take it?” Eddie asks.

“I had a great time,” Moe shrugs.

“Oh, I know,” Steve replies, “I know you had a damn fantastic afternoon.”

Steve has a tone, and it's the same tone he used when he found out Moe helped her friends password-protect all the Fox News Channels on their WASP-y mom's TVs, the same tone he used when Moe got kicked off the basketball team the same day she received an academic award from the school for having a 5.0 GPA (which, for the record, Eddie didn't even think was possible), the same tone he always uses when Moe stirs up her very specific flavor of trouble. Thing is though – Moe is twenty-three, and while she’s been a menace since day-one, she’s got a more than decent head on her shoulders and a fine-tuned sense of place and time. It’s not exactly like her to cause problems at something as important as a wedding – not without cause anyway.

“I think I’m, like, best friends with the bride now or something,” Moe is saying, and again, Eddie’s brow furrows as he looks back at Steve.

“Wasn’t your coworker the groom?” he asks.

“Yep,” Steve sighs, “Moe got into it with his mother.”

“Oh, god.”

“It had to be done,” Moe nods, “She wore a veil. She was openly complaining about how he danced with his wife – the bride – before he danced with her. She kept getting all worked up because her baby boy was leaving her. She needed to be stopped.”

Eddie had to keep a look of understanding off his face (in solidarity with Steve, obviously), because he’s been a certified girl-dad for over two decades now and he’s had his fair share of encounters with the dreaded boy-mom (a girl-dad’s natural enemy, he’s pretty sure).

“Hon, it was not your job to get involved,” Steve tiredly insists.

“I totally disagree,” Moe replies with another casual shrug, “The maid of honor was trying her best but she clearly needed help. And – I maintain that I pulled my punches. I could’ve spilled wine on her dress, but I didn’t. There’s only one rule at weddings and it’s don’t piss off the bride. The bride thanked me afterwards, so…it was fine.”

"You've got an interesting definition of fine," Steve tells her, "I really think there's an unspoken preserve the peace rule or something that wedding guests shouldn't start shit in the middle of the reception – especially not with anyone in the wedding party."

“Oh, what would you know?” Moe fires back, “You didn’t even have a wedding!”

“And even if we had,” Eddie comments idly, “there wouldn’t have been a mother-of-the-groom present to screw shit up. Hey – people get all up in arms over the bride’s mom and the groom’s mom. What about the dads?”

Moe shrugs.

“I think the bride’s dad was just happy they didn’t do the stupid garter thing,” she says, and she misses the way Eddie’s face falls, his eyes meeting Steve’s over Moe’s head to see he’s got a matching grimace on his face.

#steve is still traumatized from robin and nancy's wedding lol #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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btswithluv13 · 2 months ago

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Two Friends

bestfriend!Jungkook x fem!Reader

[fluff, angst, ongoing series]

teaser: Friends, just for now?

warnings: alcohol, language, infidelity (kinda?)

recommended songs: Sparks - Coldplay // Night Bus - Gabrielle Alpin // Clementine - Wet

Note: I have been sitting on this for a while and originally wanted this to be a one-shot. It’s heavily heavily inspired by Love, Rosie so please be warned, it’s going to be angsty. Not sure how many chapters this will be but I have Chapter 2 ready to go after some editing and Chapter 3 in the works soooo, please look forward to it :D

Chapter 1 - A Toast to the Bride and Groom

wc: 920

You've dreamt about this day, fantasized about it even. The wedding hall was beautifully decorated with carefully curated and meticulously placed flowers and soft warm lights illuminating the space. You take a minute to look around taking everything in and thinking how surreal this all feels. The pianist starts to play a melodious song making the atmosphere even more romantic. In just a few moments, everything's going to be different. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to control your nerves.

Jungkook stood by the altar waiting. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with his hair slicked back. It’s so different from his usual casual attire but still he is as handsome as ever. He looked nervous as he started scanning through the crowd. His eyes land on you and his expression eases as you offer him a gentle smile. You’ve always been each other’s safe place.

You can't help but think about how much you and him have grown. It feels like yesterday when you and him met in middle school. You remember how he looked with his bangs covering his doe like eyes and how much he hated it when people would take notice.

You both kept to yourselves and so you hadn’t really talked to him before until some dumb kids started messing with you causing you to trip and drop the things you were carrying. Of course, Jungkook happened to be there at the right time. You thought he’d join in on teasing but instead, he silently helped you pick up your things and from then on you decided he was someone who had to be in your life.

You were happy… at least that’s what you tell yourself as The Wedding March starts to play and the bride makes her way to the altar to join Jungkook. There's a pang in your heart as you think about how things could've been.

In another life it would've been you standing beside him. It would've been you he was looking at with stars in his eyes, saying his vows and declaring his love to. Except it isn't and you thought you made peace with it. You told yourself It would be alright, at least Jungkook would still be in your life. At least, his soon-to-be-wife was nice... You tell yourself you'd be fine, you’d repeat it to yourself again and again until it would be true.

The ceremony goes by in a blur and it was finally time for the speeches. Of course you were going to speak, it’s your best friend’s wedding. Just get through it, it'll all be over soon. Your grip on the mic tightens as you prepare. There's a lump in your throat now and you try your best to swallow it down along with all the brimming emotions.

“Good evening everyone… first of all congratulations to both of you!” You tried your best to sound cheerful, your smile not quite meeting your eyes. “For those who don’t know me, I’m ___ and I’ve known Jungkook all my life and because I’ve known him all my life I feel compelled to warn you all. Please don't let Jungkook grab a hold of the mic! He will not stop singing, trust me I learned this the hard way.” Earning a light laugh from the audience and a playful glare from Jungkook, you continue.

“I am so lucky to get to know someone who shines as bright as Jungkook and everyone who has had the chance to bask in his light would know just how special he is. I’ve always thought that Jungkook’s bowl grew to hold more capacity throughout the years but it turns out, I underestimated just how much it would take to fill it…”

You look at him fully now, both your gazes unwavering. “and so as I have come to learn just how much kindness and love his heart has to give, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to give it back. I will always support you and your decisions. I love you, Jungkook.” There’s an expression on his face now that you can’t quite read. You wonder if you’re overdoing it, if the audience can sense the storm of emotions brewing inside you and the true intentions of your words… your feelings. You clear your throat.

“...like a sister loves a brother and so I'm glad he has you now,” Glancing at his wife. “To fill in his bowl.” Your voice falters a bit and not trusting your composure you end the speech by giving a toast to the bride and the groom. The crowd gives an applause and you see Jungkook mouth you a thank you as he wipes a lone tear from his face. You nod at him, tears also threatening to spill but you hold it in. It's done. The hardest part of this night was over and you feel the tension in your body ease up a bit.

The night continues on with festivities and you decide to step outside for some fresh air. The moon's glow accompanies you as you reflect on what you were feeling. You've dreamt about this day, fantasized about it even… but that's the problem about dreaming, it's never going to be your reality if you don't act upon it. You love Jungkook and if you were brave enough maybe things would’ve been different. You come to the conclusion that sometimes loving someone means loving them enough to let them go. You'll be alright, you think this time, it's true.

#jeon jeongguk #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook

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twopoppies · 28 days ago

Note

This is a response to your question from my ask. Honestly the fact that he doesn't have anything for Freddie no I don't believe he is his son I wanted to get your thoughts on it though. I think anyone with tattoos would get something for their child and he hasn't. Which brings up another thing that bugs me about people that don't they Harry and or Louis are gay. Louis was supposedly with Eleanor from 2011-2015 breaks up and starts partying and gets a girl pregnant out of nowhere with in 2 months then gets back with Eleanor from 2017-2023 and yet they have no kids together but you have one from your so called bad boy time. Now I know people have ways to not get pregnant I just find it weird he went so long with someone who is supposed to be his true love and hasn't had a kid planned or unplanned. Which this also goes for Harry who in a concert made the comment they are all trying to have kids, well then why haven't you. So back to Louis and Eleanor no kid or wedding but instead you get an E tattoo. Which lets be real that tattoo is not for her if it was he would have put it on the same finger she did hers and I don't care if people say that's where he has the 2 he could have put it on the other side of the finger in stead he puts it in the same place where Harry has his cross that some fans think are actually a L & T. Now on to Harry this quote right here should tell every right away that he is not straight other than the way he acts and dresses. Harry has said "I've been really open with it with my friends, but that's my personal experience; it's mine". who straight has ever had to have a conversation and explain to friends what their sexuality is. My thoughts I honestly don't see them coming out for a long time if they even do. Both Harry and Louis has fans that did not from from 1D days and those fans are usually the ones that want to say he/they aren't gay. While the world is not as bad as it was there are still people that do not agree with people being gay and I sadly think people would turn against them.

I think he doesn't have a tattoo for Freddie because he's not his kid, and he's already done enough to make people in this fandom believe he is (not to mention this new crop of fans who think he's actually straight). There's no need for a tattoo.

Everything about his relationship with Eleanor – especially the second time around – was weird and fake (IMO). If they'd dated for that long and she was "the one" (as he said multiple times in interviews about Walls), he'd likely have proposed or had a baby with her already. Not only did he do neither, but she also never met his supposed son. Nor did she go to almost any of his concerts. Everything about those years was awkward. On top of this, if my boyfriend was covered in tattoos and fans believed the largest of them were ones that he got along with his "bro pal" who everyone thinks he's actually in a relationship with, and my boyfriend then got that chicken scratch "E" tattoo for me, I'd be pissed. Wherever he put it.

Harry has made it clear that he's not straight 834768239 times, but most people won't buy it until he actually says the words, "I am gay." I've discussed this a million times. If they buy it, they'll accept that he's bi, so they can continue with their fantasies that he sleeps with women (and lots of them). If they accept he's gay, he's absolutely not with Louis. Whatever. People are dumb.

And I've discussed my thoughts on them coming out a million times, as well. I don't see them making a big statement about their relationship or sexuality for a long time. I think it's less about people turning against them and more about wanting privacy. Time will tell.

#harry's sexuality #babygate #elounope #coming out

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sxcret-garden · 9 months ago

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5th Desire ღ Dress [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~7.2k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, smut (dom!Jongho (soft dom to glimpses of hard dom… he’s going thru it ok kasjdflka), sub!reader, clothed sex, dry humping, body worship, a bit of breast play, he gets a little possessive, praise, pain kink, hair pulling, biting, spanking, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, reader going into subspace, dacryphilia) ღ warnings: heavy dom-sub dynamics (him pulling reader’s hair), reader’s mother has very traditional values and a toxic view on beauty standards, reader’s body is commented on once

Desc.: Your mother is trying to get you to wear a dress she picked out for you for your cousin’s upcoming wedding. At times like these you are especially thankful to have your boyfriend Jongho right by your side to help convince her to let you wear clothes you’re actually comfortable in. However, little do you know that despite having your back, he’s secretly smitten with the image of you in that dress.

← prev chapter ღ next chapter →

As soon as you get home that day, you make your way straight to the sofa, and without even saying a word you plop down on it. You letting out a huge sigh as you allow your frame to crash into your boyfriend’s side while he’s focusing on a video game makes him chuckle, and when you rest your head against his shoulder and you close your eyes, you can feel the onset of a headache.

“Your shopping date with your mom was a success I assume?” he asks, sarcastically, yet the smile on his face stays visible. A glance at the tv in front of you tells you he’s playing with friends, their in-game nicknames displayed in the corner of the screen.

“For who?” you retort.

“For her,” he laughs, and you say nothing until he finishes the current round. Picking up his phone, he types up a quick message in their group chat, telling them to go on without him, and after closing the game, he turns his attention to you fully. “You look really tired. Was it that bad?” he asks, now putting an arm around your shoulders and leaning against the backrest of the sofa, so you could snuggle up to him more comfortably.

“It was… exhausting,” you mumble, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Upon hearing his question, you bury your face in his chest and you let out the most pained groan you can muster, followed by Jongho letting out yet another soft laugh, “So no.”

“Just…” You sit up eventually, now resting your elbows on top of your legs and massaging the bridge of your nose with your thumb and index finger in hopes the pending headache would go away. “Why does she want me to wear a dress so badly? It’s fine if I go in pants, isn’t it?”

“I mean, you should wear something fitting for the occasion. It’s your cousin’s wedding after all,” he says. “Whether that’s a dress or a suit doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“My mom keeps saying it’ll look dumb if we’re both in a suit,” you mumble, and your boyfriend lets out a noise of disapproval.

“Should I wear a dress instead, then?” he jokes and manages to make you laugh with the mental image.

“Backless please,” you chime in. “And with lots of frill.” A huff of disbelief escapes him as he looks away, and you find yourself grinning. “No, but seriously,” you then say. “I don’t know how many times I told her that I don’t like wearing dresses in public. I just don’t like how they feel, but she keeps insisting…” You sigh, pulling out your phone and opening your camera roll. “See? I don’t even think they suit me that much,” you continue, while you show a picture of you in one of the dresses your mother had made you try on to your boyfriend.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows at the rare sight. “I think it suits you though?”

“Whatever…” you sigh. “I mean… thanks I guess? But…”

“Yeah, I know,” he reassures you before you even have to say anything. “If you don’t like wearing them, you really shouldn’t have to.”

“Yeah…” you agree, before lying down and curling up on the sofa, putting your feet up on his lap. Another sigh follows as the headache is still present, and to be perfectly honest all you want to do is forget about that stupid wedding. Well, not entirely. It’s not like you don’t want to go. You’ve been fairly close with your cousin when you were children, and even though you’ve been out of touch for a few years now, you still really want to be there for when she gets to marry the man she loves.

Just not in a goddamn dress.

“Should we… maybe try talking to your parents together, then?” Jongho’s suggestion tears you out of your thoughts.

“We?” you repeat.

“I mean…” he clears his throat, “They like me, right? Maybe they’ll listen to me…” You give him a long and thorough look. “Maybe not…?” he adds, but you shake your head, sitting back up.

“No, that might actually not be such a bad idea. I mean… it’s true that my mom really likes you… and you know how to get people to do what you want…” He can only let out a sheepish chuckle at your last words. “Yeah, let’s do that. My mom asked me if I want to come over for coffee next Wednesday anyway. I’m sure she won’t mind if I bring you along… if you’re free then?”

“Sure,” he says, once again putting his arm around you as he notices you slouching over. “Don’t worry too much about it, okay?”

The excitement radiating off of your mother’s face is apparent as always when she welcomes you and your boyfriend at the doorstep. She greets your boyfriend first, commenting on his nice outfit, and her expression changes ever so slightly when she gets to saying hi to you.

“Such a handsome boyfriend you have…” she mutters at a volume where he would still hear, and with a flustered smile he turns around and bows in thanks.

“He is,” you agree, not knowing what to make of her words, and you feel yourself tensing up a bit. Is this already the thing she’ll use as a transition to the wedding outfit talk that you dread so much? Jongho notices your anxiety and he reaches out to take a hold of your hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“It’ll be fine, just trust me,” he whispers when your mother disappears in the next room, leaving you by yourselves as you’re taking off your shoes and you each grab a pair of slippers to wear inside the house instead. Your mother offers the two of you some coffee, calling you into the kitchen to help her prepare it - like a good wife, as she always makes sure to tell you - and Jongho doesn’t let the chance slip away to make himself useful too. Your mother seems overjoyed as she watches him snatching the cups away from you and carrying them out into the living room himself while shooting you a knowing look and you silently thank him for it. You reach for some milk instead and carry it to the table, and when all three of you have made yourselves more or less comfortable, with your beverages in front of you, she doesn’t leave you on edge too long.

“So, Y/N,” you suppress a shudder when she calls out to you, “have you decided which dress you want to wear yet?”

“Uhm… not yet,” you say, lowering your head.

“You know we have to order it a bit in advance,” your mother explains without hesitating. “You should make a decision by the end of the week.” You sigh, and as you’re about to say something, your boyfriend speaks up instead, pulling out his phone. On the screen you can see pictures of pantsuits just like the one you have in your closet.

“If I’m allowed to interrupt - wouldn’t this suit Y/N much better?” Your mother seems about as dumbfounded by his bold move as you are, but you decide to do as he told you for now - to trust him. “A good friend of mine is a tailor, actually.” He clears his throat and then continues, “And that friend told me that a suit would look a lot better on someone with a figure like Y/N.”

“Oh… really?” your mother is hesitant to buy into what your partner is telling her, but she gives him the benefit of a doubt and keeps listening.

“Yes. Pants suit her shape a lot better than a skirt, and a well tailored suit will also make her look taller and give a more elegant expression.”

“Oh…” your mother gasps again, and then she takes another close look at the picture on your boyfriend’s phone. “You’re right.” Though the conversation you’re witnessing feels just a little bit uncomfortable to you, you’re definitely glad she seems to finally be convinced, and so you dare to speak up.

“Yes, that’s why it would make a much better image if I wore a suit, mom,” you add, finding her nodding at you.

“Right, I didn’t see it that way,” she says, seemingly fascinated by the image of the model in the suit. Directed at you, she asks, “Is that why you don’t want to wear a dress to the wedding? Because you’re worried about what others might say about how you look in it?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

“Hmm… well, I suppose this is probably the better choice then…” You gulp at her words, and as you remind yourself that this is all for the greater good, you swallow the bitter taste in your mouth that the conversation is leaving you with. You grew up always having her tell you about what your body is supposed to look like as a girl, and what it isn’t supposed to look like, and though as an adult you’ve mostly moved on from such comments affecting you too much, being confronted with her views that are so different from yours again now is still not easy to deal with.

Still, you walk out of your parents’ house a couple of hours later, knowing that your mother won’t disapprove of or pester you about your outfit choice anymore, and so what remains is your gratitude towards your boyfriend for making it that way.

“I’m so sorry I had to say all that…” He speaks up the second the door to his flat falls into its lock, and you feel his arms wrapping around you from behind.

“It’s okay, I know why you did it,” you assure him as you feel him putting his chin on top of your shoulder.

“You sure? You seemed very hurt by it…” he says, and you spin around in his hold, taking his hands into yours.

“Yes,” you say, giving him a confident look now. “I’m sure. My mother wouldn’t have been convinced otherwise, this is all she cares about. My image.” Before all the anger and sadness that your words and the conversation with your mother evoked can bubble up fully and take over you, Jongho takes a step forward, having you lean your head against his chest as he wraps you into a warm embrace.

“You know that’s not true,” he says, and he’s probably right, but you don’t want to think about it right now.

“Thank you anyway,” you mutter into the tight hug, snaking your arms around his waist to return it. “Really, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Of course…” he mumbles a response, one hand coming to rest atop your head. He supports your weight as you let the exhaustion of the past days take over you and you lean against his frame. That’s when a thought hits you, and you stand up straight.

“Am I… being dramatic about this?”

“Huh?” Jongho raises his eyebrows at you.

“I mean… it’s not that big of a deal, right? …the dress.” You avoid looking at him, and after a few seconds of silence, he places his hands on your shoulders to make you look at him.

“Hey. It’s very much a big deal for you, or you wouldn’t have tried so long to convince your mom to let you go in pants,” he reminds you, and you find yourself nodding.

“You’re right…” you say eventually. “You’re right, I don’t have to do something I’m uncomfortable with, even if it’s what my mom wants.”

“Exactly.” He gives you a smile, and you think you can see a hint of pride behind his expression. Kicking off your shoes, you walk into his flat, and once you’re both standing in the living room, you spin around on your heels.

“How much of what you said was a lie though?” you question, and your boyfriend shoots you a bright smile as he follows right behind you.

“I made up like 80% of it,” he admits, coming to a halt right in front of you.

“The tailor friend?”

“A lie.”

“Whoa… and you told that whole story with a straight face, huh? Scary…” you say, and Jongho laughs, well aware that you’re joking. Then you become serious, and you mumble, “Thank you again… how can I repay you for this?” You close the distance between you and him, and when you throw your arms around his shoulders, he’s quick to take a hold of your waist. Gaze wandering to your lips as he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, he hesitates.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“I do… have an idea. Even though it’s probably a little… no, it’s very unreasonable…” He looks away, an awkward expression appearing on his face that tells you he isn’t sure whether he should really let you know about this idea of his.

“Why?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Because… actually, remember that picture you showed me in that dress?”

“Yeah…?” You have a hunch about where this is going, but you let him finish anyway.

“It’s just… I kinda… haven’t been able to get that out of my mind…” You take a step back, and you catch a glimpse of the way his ears are taking on a shade of red.

“You want to… see me in a dress?” you take a guess, making him admit to it.

“Yeah… only if you want to, of course! I don’t want to make you do anything you feel uncomfortable with! You really don’t have to-”

“Hey,” you interrupt his rambles, answering his hesitant gaze with a certain one. “I think… it’s okay… if it’s just you seeing me. I mean… I feel uncomfortable wearing dresses when I go out… but if it’s in the comfort of my own place or yours… it’s fine I think?”

“Oh…” he lets out a small gasp, and then again he adds, “But you really don’t have to.”

“I know that, dumbass,” you joke. “You’re not my mom.” The comment makes him smile as he lets go of the tension in his shoulders, and you continue. “But now… no more talk about dresses for today, okay?” You close the distance between you and him, until you’re in your earlier position - your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and him supporting you by the waist.

“Okay.” He smiles, before you lean in to press a short kiss to his lips.

Lifting the skirt of the flowy summer dress up a bit and then letting go to see how the fabric softly sways back into place, you look at your frame in the mirror, and for the first time in a while you’re not super uncomfortable with what you see. It’s a white dress, decorations stitched onto the very top of the chest part with a fine orange yarn, and you can’t recall when you wore it the last time. You spin on your tiptoes to look at how it fits you from the back, and the skirt moves along with your half turn prettily. The thin fabric is wrapping itself around your waist a little tightly, but you don’t mind it this time - you know it’s only your boyfriend who will see you like this, so you don’t need to worry about how the piece of clothing fits you, if the skirt would ever ride up too far, or what kind of strangers would feel like they have permission to stare at you for a little too long in public. You turn back around, and your features shine through the white fabric - you decided not to wear underwear on purpose, wondering if your boyfriend would like the surprise. In this case, you want him to stare.

You walk out into the living room on quiet footsteps, and you grin to yourself as you find him disappearing towards the kitchen area, from where he can’t see you approaching the dinner table. Leaning against the edge of it, you call out to him.

“Baby, I have a surprise for you!”

“What is-” As soon as Jongho catches sight of you, the words get stuck in his throat. Instead, he’s now taking in your figure, the lower part of your body still hidden behind the table, but from the way the look on his face immediately changes, you can tell he likes what he sees. “Ah…” His lips part to make way for a sound of pure admiration, and he approaches you, until he’s standing right in front of you, being able to take you in whole now.

“You wanted to see me like this, right?” you mutter, a bit amused by the image in front of you, because it’s rare to see your boyfriend this stunned.

“I did,” he mutters lowly, taking another step towards you and putting one hand on your waist, while he uses the other to tilt your chin up. You gulp at the need reflecting in his eyes, and as he leans in, your eyelids flutter shut. But instead of kissing you on the lips like you expected, he buries his face in your neck instead, now wrapping both arms around you, and you gasp when you feel his teeth grazing your skin. He works his way up until his lips hover beside your ear, and you can feel his hot breath against it as he speaks, “You look beautiful.” You catch a glimpse of his expression as he moves to brush his lips against yours, finding both a certain softness to his gaze, and a deep desire behind his eyes.

You let him kiss you, melting against his touch as he keeps withdrawing in between in order to tease you, and when he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, nibbling on it for a while, you mewl at the sensation, your hands reaching out and finding his clothes to hold onto.

“So pretty…” he mutters in between kisses, until he eventually takes a step back to let himself take in the sight in front of him once again. “And mine.” His palms find your chest, and you don’t miss the sharp breath your boyfriend sucks in as his fingertips wander past your nipples shining through the thin fabric, continuing their journey south, until they find purchase on your hips and he leans in again. “So fucking beautiful,” Jongho mutters, before he closes the distance between his mouth and the exposed part of your chest. You lean back, your hands placed behind you, supporting yourself on the surface of the table, and you give him full access to your neck. He takes his time worshipping every inch of you that he can reach, nips and kisses placed all over your collarbones and your throat, up to your jaw, and when he calls out to you, you look back at him, finding yourself melting against yet another kiss to your lips. You only break apart when you gasp upon feeling his bulge pressed against your stomach, and you moan when he rolls his hips against yours once and you find the need in his eyes. One hand finds its way up your torso, and he watches as he slowly lets it brush against your tummy, your breasts, and eventually he wraps it loosely around your throat, causing you to throw your head back.

“I’m glad, though…” your partner mutters, withdrawing his fingers from your pulse to find your chest instead, and you mewl when he starts massaging your boobs. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like this anyway.” You gulp at his words - you’ve never seen him getting this possessive. And at the same time it excites you. You rub your thighs together instinctively, but he’s quick to reach down with his other hand, having you spread them apart with a simple gesture, before he reaches for your core, dragging his fingers down between your folds with only the white fabric in between.

“No underwear, hm?” he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck to make you gasp as he sinks his teeth into your flesh and he continues teasing your pussy, staining the inside of the skirt with your juices. “That’s dirty,” he comments, before you can feel his warm tongue pressing against the spot where he just bit you, and you buck your hips into his touch involuntarily, resulting in him taking a step back and removing his hands from you. “Fuck, I want to keep teasing you so bad,” your boyfriend says, his eyes glued to your body, “but you’re so fucking beautiful…” You don’t see where those two things would contradict each other, but he doesn’t leave you much time to think about it anyway as he takes you by the hands and leads you over to the sofa. He sits down and pulls you into his lap, having you straddle him.

“Ride me, my love,” he mutters, his palms rubbing against the skin on your thighs underneath the dress. The way he’s gazing up at you now he looks completely drunk on you, and it makes your stomach flip.

“Okay,” you mouth, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and you start at a slow pace. And even though he drags his palms up just a little further so they would rest on your hips, he lets you decide on the pace yourself. Grinding down onto this clothed cock, pussy rubbing against the strained fabric of Jongho’s pants, you let out little whines with every repetition of your movements. Leaning your head back, he gladly accepts the invitation to attach his lips to your neck again, kissing and nibbling at the skin, and you wonder if he’s being careful enough not to leave any bruises by the end of this. But it’s not like you care at this very moment, where you have more pressing things on your mind.

“F-feels good…” you mewl, running your fingers through his hair, and you shiver when you can hear your boyfriend moaning against your nape.

“Shit, are you gonna cum just like that?” he asks, and you bite your lip.

“C-can I?” you ask, crying out when you can feel him thrusting up, wordlessly. By the way his breathing is getting heavier and occasional groans escape him, you can tell that he’s coming close too - until suddenly he stops you, his hands still resting on your hips. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand that you’re supposed to wait, though seeing how close you were to tumbling over the edge, you’re not entirely happy about it. Your partner reaches for the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear just enough to expose his length, and when he puts his hands onto your thighs again, he pulls you closer. He hisses another curse as you roll your hips against him, having his tip merely grazing your folds, and the sharp pain of him digging his fingernails into your flesh in response has you letting out a whine.

“Fuck…” you breathe out, as an entirely different desire creeps up to you now, and while you wonder if you should tell him about it you feel yourself almost cumming from the thought alone as you sink down on him. “B-baby…” you whimper as you take him in with only a few smooth movements of your hips, and when you’re settled comfortably on top of him, he runs his hands up your sides.

“Go slow,” he orders, and though it’s hard for you to hold back, you do as told. Soon, you find yourself beginning to shake uncontrollably as you fuck yourself on his cock, while your boyfriend lets his palms wander your body. And even when eventually he finds your breasts, teasing your nipples through the white fabric, it’s just not enough to give you that sweet release.

“H-how much longer…” you ask, eyes squeezed shut. “W-wanna cum…”

“Not yet, dear,” he whispers, torturing you just a little more. “Slow down,” he reminds you as your pace gets messed up, and when you don’t manage to fall back into your earlier rhythm, he slowly lets one hand wander south on your backside. You whimper when you feel his palm against your ass, arching your back for him, and again, you feel tempted to ask for him to spank you. But he speaks up before the right words can form on your tongue.

“But…” There’s a strain in his voice, telling you that he’s holding back too, and instead of the pain you were hoping for, he’s now pinching your nipple between his fingers, making you let out a broken moan. He then guides both of his hands back to your hips, steadying your rhythm, and as he does he hisses at the pleasure. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to plan surprises like this,” he comments, and then finally you can feel him pressing his thumb against your clit. You whine when he begins drawing circles onto the sensitive bud through the fabric of your dress, and once again your hips begin to stutter - just that this time he doesn’t correct your pace, but instead you can feel him thrusting up to meet you halfways.

“Ahh…” An uncontrolled sound falls from your lips, before you answer, already feeling your high building up inside your stomach. “M-me neither… I don’t think… I would’ve… d-done this before…” You somehow manage to get out what you’re trying to say, and in your own chase for your high you don’t immediately notice how your words seem to affect your partner.

“Really…?” he mutters through gritted teeth and his free hand finds its way up your back and into your hair. Tugging on the strands, he makes you lean your head back, and the moment you can feel him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, your orgasm overwhelms you. You cry out, feeling your whole body shaking as you cum around his cock, pleasure mixing in with the pain from him biting down even harder as he too comes undone underneath you.

He lets you catch your breath for a while, brushing his lips against the bite mark and then his fingertips too.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and you shake your head, leaning in to gently bump your forehead against his.

“It’s fine…” you assure him. “I think… I like the pain.” You feel him slipping out of you as you move back, and Jongho has his hands back on your sides when you try to get up. With a dangerous look in his eyes, he keeps you from moving too far away, muttering,

“I’m not done with you yet, dear.” He makes you sit back down in his lap, and once your hands are holding onto his shoulders, his palms start roaming your body again. “You look way too beautiful like this… it’d be a waste to stop already.” You furrow your eyebrows as he pulls on the dress, and you watch as the fabric exposes more of your chest. Pulling it down enough until both your breasts are uncovered, you mewl at the way he wraps his lips around your left nipple, while he takes your right side into his hand. Deep moans escape him, mixing in with your more high-pitched ones, and soon enough you melt against his touch and you begin rolling your hips on top of him again.

“F-feels good…” you mutter and when he releases you for a moment, you draw a long sigh from his lips when you comb your fingers through his short hair and his eyelids flutter shut.

“This won’t do,” he says when his gaze finds your face. Using his strength, he flips you onto your back, making you lie down flat on the sofa, and when he hovers above you, he goes right back to scattering little bites all over your chest. “You’re so fucking perfect…” he mutters, and the praise makes your heart skip a beat. You can tell he’s getting impatient by the way he’s working his way down your body restlessly, and you hold your breath when he finally has his head between your legs, reaching for your thighs to throw them over his shoulders, all while never breaking eye contact with you.

“Need more of you…” Jongho mutters, kissing a trail down the inside of your thigh. “Need to ruin you.” A shaky moan leaves you when you feel his tongue pressing against your folds, and he licks up a stripe. Having its tip circling your clit skillfully, he brings a finger up to your entrance, and using your slick as well as his own cum leaking out of you as lube, he pushes up inside of you effortlessly. You clench around him immediately, your toes curling at the sensation of him slowly thrusting that one digit in and out of you.

“M-more…” you beg, and you can see him smirk in between your legs. Contrary to what you’re asking for, he pulls out his finger and instead slides in his tongue, moaning as his and your taste mix in his mouth, and the vibrations of his voice make you shudder. You reach down to bury your fingers in his hair and he lets you, closing his eyes as he savours your taste before pulling out and moving back to your clit. He wraps his lips around the small bud, and with your last orgasm not having been so long ago, even him gently sucking on it is turning you into a whining mess in no time. And then he moans at your taste again, because he knows hearing him enjoying this drives you crazy, and you know that at this rate there’s a possibility he’ll make you cum again just from this.

“J-jongho…” you manage to whimper his name, and as he hums against your cunt in response, you clench around nothing. He places one of his palms onto the underside of your thigh, and as if that was the sign you needed to get the gears up in your head moving, you blurt out, “Spank me…” He looks up, a cocky smirk on his face as he rubs his hand against your thigh now.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about the entire time?” he asks, his demeanor changing ever so slightly and his now piercing stare makes you gulp. You’re not sure if he really knew what was going on all along, or if it only just clicked now that you said it, but either way you nod. “You really meant it when you said you like the pain, hm?” He comes back up to attach his lips to your neck, and when he rolls his hips against yours once, you can feel that he got hard again. The second his teeth graze your skin, you throw your head back instinctively, and you let out a shaky moan, only fuelling his need to tease. He lets his palm draw circles on the underside of your thigh, until eventually his fingers wander to your aching cunt and he slips inside two of them.

“Fuck…” you mewl at the feeling of his digits filling you up, and you immediately buck your hips into his hand.

“So needy…” he comments, curling his fingers inside of you and having them graze your g-spot with every repetition. You keep meeting him halfway, unable to stop the motion of your hips, like your body is taking over control and its only purpose is to chase your next high. “And you’re gonna cum again just from the thought, huh?” You whine at his words, and even more so when he angles his hand so that your clit grazes his palm with every time he repeats his motions. “Did you want it that badly? Me spanking you?”

“D-didn’t know how to bring it up…” you whine in between, and he leans in to press a kiss onto your exposed chest.

“You did well telling me,” he praises you, fingering you right towards your next high.

“‘M gonna cum… I’m gonna-” You clench around his fingers as a string of moans and curses falls from your lips and your high shakes you and Jongho quickly presses his thumb against your clit, continuing to tend to the bundle of nerves even as you’re coming down from your high. Writhing underneath him as the overstimulation builds up, you can see him watching intently as you manage to escape his touch, and when his fingers slip out of you, his lips part slightly. There’s a new expression on his face, one that you’ve never seen before, but only a moment later the tension breaks when he sits up, rubbing his palms along your thighs that are still shaking in soothing motions.

“Can you take one more?” he asks as he looks down at you, and you nod. “Then come here.” He gets up and he supports your weight as you do the same. Never taking his eyes off of you as if he was closely monitoring your condition, he leads you over to the dinner table, and when you’re standing right in front of it, he says, “Take off your dress, love.” He helps you out of it, and as you’re trying to turn around to look at him, he keeps you from it. “That’s not what we’re doing now.” He runs his fingertips up your back, and when his hand is placed between your shoulder blades, you can hear his voice again.

“Bend over.” He speaks the words slowly, his tone low, and it makes you suck in a sharp breath. You do as told, and when the hand on your back travels to your behind, it sparks excitement deep inside you. One soothing circle against your ass, he takes his hand away, and then he orders, “Count down from three.” You hesitate, but he grants you those few seconds to think about it, not wanting to push you, and so eventually you speak,

“Three… two… o-one-!” The last number turning into a broken moan when his hand flies to the spot he has caressed just a few moments ago, you feel pain and pleasure surging through your veins at once.

“How was that?” your partner asks, dominance radiating off his voice.

“G-green…” you answer.

“That’s my good girl…” he praises you, and you feel your stomach doing a flip at his words.

“W-wanna be your good girl…” you sputter as you feel your mind going empty, and you arch your back for him prettily. He hums at your reply, or maybe at the state you can feel yourself slipping into, and he says,

“One more?”

“Y-yeah…” you say, and you can hear him letting out a short laugh behind you.

“Then count down.” This time you don’t waste a single second.

“Three… two-” His palm meets your ass with a smacking sound too early this time, and it makes you mewl pathetically once again. As if to apologize, he immediately rubs a few more soothing circles onto the spot, and you can hear him mutter,

“You’re so fucking cute.” And then, when he places both hands on your hips, you can feel the tip of his cock grazing your folds, and the realization that he too got rock hard from this only makes your sanity slip yet a little further away from you.

“Hmmm f-fuck me…” you babble, and once again you can hear him letting out an amused sound.

“You’re so far gone from just this, huh…? And I was gonna fuck you stupid over this table, but you are already stupid.” You whine at his words, nodding, and when you feel him sliding inside of you with ease, there’s nothing you can do but mewl at the feeling.

“Give me a color, dear,” he says, holding still for a moment.

“G-green…” you manage to say. “V-very… fucking… gr-” Hearing it once is all the confirmation he needed, because before you can say it a second time, he’s already starting to thrust. He starts slow, but powerful, and all you can do is let him fuck you as you feel yourself going limp under the impact. Skin slapping against skin, he picks up in pace gradually - maybe faster than he wants to, because the grunts coming from behind you make it apparent that neither of you are going to last long this time.

“Fuck… fuck…” He spits out one curse after the other, his voice strained, and when he can feel you clenching around him as you keep whining at his relentless pace, he reaches down to tend to your clit. Contrary to most times when he pleases you, his motions are anything but precise now, and yet it’s more than enough to get you to cum again. Tears well up in your eyes as you feel your high building up deep inside, and when only seconds later you come undone with him still fucking you hard, you find yourself clawing at the tabletop from the overwhelming pleasure. The blissful afterglow of the orgasm mixes in with the building overstimulation as his hips keep slamming into you, but you do your best to hold still for him through desperate whines and unintelligible cries.

“Shit, Y/N…” he groans your name as you can feel him releasing inside of you, and when he finally comes to a halt you shudder. Pulling out of you carefully, he supports himself on the table with his hands on either side of you for a while, allowing himself to recover, before you feel one of his palms gently meeting the small of your back, and he starts moving it up and down all across your back in soothing motions.

“You did so well, baby…” he breathes, and when he notices you attempting to stand up straight, he’s right there to hold you up. With your legs shaking, he lets you rest against his chest for a short while, but eventually figures it’d be better for you to sit down, so he leads you over to the couch where you can let your exhausted body rest. He disappears in the kitchen for a short while, and sure enough he returns with some water and a few paper towels to clean yourselves up. Making sure you drink a good amount of fluid, he sits down next to you, putting his arm around your frame and letting you snuggle up to him closely.

“That was amazing,” you mutter as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, and you leave a few kisses all around the mole on his throat, before also brushing your lips against his cheek. Though your limbs ache from the overexertion on your body, you lift your arm to run your fingers through his hair, and while you’re massaging his scalp you can feel him relaxing against your figure too. He looks at your face, and he lets himself trace your features with his gaze for a short while, before he wraps his other arm around you too, and he pulls you in for a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“You were amazing too,” he mutters as his lips move against your skin while he talks, before he allows you to rest like this for just a while longer.

You finish the last bite of the takeout meal you brought home for the both of you when you lean back in your seat and throw your hands up in the air to stretch thoroughly.

“Nothing like a good meal after a long day,” you groan, and your boyfriend agrees.

“Right,” he mutters, watching you with a smile before he gets up, starting to stack the dishes on the table so he could carry them to the kitchen all at once. You thank him as you watch him walk off with his hands full, and when he comes back you call out to him.

“Actually…” you start, and you see him raising his eyebrows at you. “Can we talk about something?”

“Sure,” Jongho replies, getting back into his seat across the table. You look around his apartment that you’ve gotten so used to over time, and after hesitating for a bit because of the uneasy feeling building in your stomach, you speak up.

“So… what if we moved in together?”

“Huh?” your partner lets out a surprised noise before he bursts out laughing. Meanwhile you’re beyond confused, to say the least.

“Is it funny…?” you ask, and as he reaches for your hands resting on the table, he answers, the amused expression still on his face.

“No, I mean-... you’ve been practically living here for the past months,” he explains, and as you understand what he’s trying to say, the tension leaves your shoulders at once.

“Ahh… you’re right,” you let out a short laugh too now, before pulling one of your hands out of his hold to grasp at your chest instead. “I thought you’d say no.”

“No, no!” Jongho refutes immediately and he gets up, walking around the table to come to a halt right beside you, wrapping his arms around your figure. He looks down, combing his fingers through your hair as he becomes serious, and when you return his gaze he says, “I’d like it if we moved in together. Officially, that is.” You smile, and then you wrap your arms around his waist and you bury your face in his stomach.

“That’s nice,” you mutter, and you stay like this for a while, having him gently stroking your hair, and once he peels himself away from you, you feel like the hug along with the food you just had made you feel a lot sleepier than you were just before. Your boyfriend cups your face with his hand, thumb brushing against your cheek as he looks at you with both adoration and a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Finally I can make you pay rent,” he adds, and you jump up immediately to complain. You form your hands into fists and playfully hit his arm, making him laugh once again as he turns away to shield his upper body, as if he needed to protect himself from your attack. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” he says, and now you’re the one grinning.

“Oh, you’re letting me live here for free?” you reckon, and his amused expression makes way for a slightly offended one.

“I’ve been letting you live here for free for weeks!” he retorts, and this time you’re the one laughing as you throw yourself at him, engulfing him in a tight hug.

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