#thanks for sticking around if you have chosen to

[bludhavenbirder]

Dick waves Bruce's offer of the medical attention away with a hand and an appreciative huff. They both know he's dealt with worse injuries, they both have, but still, seeing Bruce concerned and acting on it felt good. "Thanks, though," Dick adds suddenly, wanting to make it clear that he's not trying to rebuff Bruce's care.

Dick is looking at the batsuit again, recalling the news stories he's read to see if any of them match the changes Bruce has made, when the older man invites him to stay. He knows the media doesn't cover half of the things Batman does, if that, but it's something to do in the silence.

He stiffens when Bruce speaks. Dick grinds his teeth to stop himself from a knee jerk reaction. He doesn't have a brother, doesn't want to accept a stranger into what he calls his family. Father was a word he had chosen to give Bruce. Dick didn't even know the name of this new Robin. As he forces the rage to calm, it does occur to him that people who get brothers in the normal way also don't have a choice in the manner, although it was probably less rife with a sense of betrayal.

"I'd like to meet him, yeah…" Dick trails off, straightening his arms and locking his elbows for a moment as he shoves his fists into his jacket pockets. Robin had left for school not long ago. It would be a while before he got home— which meant a couple of hours unable to escape the pressure of Bruce, of Batman and Robin. He could— the Titans knew where he had gone. He called out of work, citing a terrible case of the flu, so he could get away with missing another day of work. Dick isn't ready to spend that much time with Bruce, but if he didn't accepted this offer, there's a good chance there won't be another one. "I could stick around," He says, relaxing his arms. "Do you have any meetings or anything?"

Dick nods like they've settled a deal. He's going to have to take Bruce's word on it. He bites his tongue, more gently this time, and holds back from asking what made Bruce think he could handle the responsibility of having a Robin again. He wasn't going to get an answer that satisfies him— all he could do was tell himself that Bruce had learned from last time and be there for the new Robin.

Dick wouldn't admit it, but he knows could've been gentler with him. More candid, at least. Sure, Dick had gotten him out of a sticky situation, but Bruce could have done that, too. So could Clark and Diana and the others, if Robin had met them yet. Really, the best thing Dick could do was just offer to listen. He knows how lonely that position can be.

There's not much that Dick can do about it in the moment, and feeling of Bruce watching him pulls Dick from his thoughts. He swallows again, as if it's going to help the scent of blood, and gestures to his mouth. "Bit my tongue is all," He explains. He scratches the bridge of his nose, suddenly aware that he looks different than he did two years ago. His hair is longer, the curl in it clearly visible now that it's to his shoulders, the studs in his ears, a smattering of new scars, some of which were visible now along his forearms.

Dick looks back at Bruce, studying him for the first time as a person instead of just a potential threat. He watches Bruce for a long moment, curious about any changes to him over the past two years, but he can't stare for too long. The silence is still electric with tension, eyes still feel painful to meet. Dick jogs backwards to retrieve the stool, although he does fully turn his back to Bruce when he picks it up— Dick isn't sure how else to prove to the man that he trusts him. He turns on his heel, carries it back to the work bench and sets it down. He stays there, one hand on the stool, unsure of what to do from there.

[waraningyo]

god i know i haven’t been on here like that and guys i’m so sorry, life has been LIFING. i’m not intentionally ignoring anyone, activity will really pick up here heavily soon on like thursday at the latest.

[undercityrezident]

I just went through my whole follower list and... dang... it’s like seeing the rings of a tree.

I’ve been on this site so damn long XD

[seung-mong]

everyone adores you (i hate that i do too) - kim seungmin

includes: seungmin x reader, friends to enemies to strangers to friends to lovers?? (kinda academic rivals vibe) college au, soft dom! seungie, everyone knows they r in love except them, kinda slow burn? idk, fluff, angst, quick vanilla smut scene at the end, unprotected sex, possessive seungmin, creampie oopsie woopsie, felix is lowk seungmin's downfall lmao

a/n: the people have chosen, thank u for those who voted on the poll!! i know this is so ridiculously late but ive been in a writer's funk lately and ive just been so unmotivated #rant anyway i hope you guys like this one:') chan x hybrid felix x reader up next?? :00

wc: 12k YAPPING ofc my longest fic is of my husband #seungminlover #myMan

"there's nothing i can do for you, mr. kim. you failed to submit the third reflection essay. i have been considerate with your other late submissions..." the middle aged professor sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead and massaging his temples in frustration.

seungmin's hands wrap tighter around the strap of his bag, nylon almost burning against his palm due to the friction. "mr. park," he almost whines, leaning forward in his chair.

seungmin's desperate. he needs to pass this class, a prerequisite to all of his majors. he'll be damned if he takes his classes later than everyone else. "please, there must be something i can do. anything for extra credit. i really really need to pass this class." his voice slightly breaks, so close to tears. he can feel the red hot embarrassment that washes over him at the thought of having to explain why he cant enlist in the same classes as his friends.

he's never gonna hear the end of it when he tells his parents, always hard on his ass about biting off more than he can chew and he's always shrugged them off. how is everything so different now? in highschool he was juggling acads, being president of the student council, being in choir, dance, band, and the debate team. and now? four classes and a stupid glee club and hes falling behind.

his worst fear.

the older man swallows thickly, obviously uncomfortable at his student's sudden show of vulnerability. "mr. kim, i really want to help you. but im afraid there's no extra work i can give you to help you raise your grade.

seungmin shakes his head, slumping deep in his seat.

"normally i'd offer that you could check some papers and-"

"i'll do it!" seungmin yells, almost jumping out of his seat.

"but another student has already offered to be my teaching assistant for this term for extra credit as well.... unless you could convince them to split the workload... id consider raising your grade."

"sir, anything! who do i have to convince?" seungmin lets out a sigh of relief. and he thought all hope was lost.

"miss y/l/n. do you know her?"

fuck. all hope is lost.

you huff as you push open the heavy metal doors to your apartment building, canvas bag filled to the brim with papers you're supposed to check. the weight is heavy on your shoulder, strap digging uncomfortably into your skin. the sting lingers as you waddle over to your apartment locker, dropping the bag as you dig into your coat pocket for your keys.

"oh, y/n! im glad i caught you." you turn around to see a kind face smiling at you from the foot of the stairs, long blonde hair tied somewhat neatly to keep strands away from his neck. stubborn clumps of hair fall over his forehead, sticking to the skin in a thin sheen of sweat.

"hyunjin?" you squeal, leaving all your bags right there on the floor as you run towards your childhood friend. your arms wrap around his neck as he laughs, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. you nearly knock him off his feet from the force that you throw yourself at him, but he cant blame you. it has been way too long.

"but... what are you doing here? i thought you were still in paris?" you chuckle, breathless as you pull apart from him.

"non!," he teases, but his smile quickly shifts. "due to some, ah- unfortunate circumstances, i had to return home a little earlier than i had planned," he shrugs, grabbing your arm and hooking it with his.

"oh cut the bullshit, hwang." you laugh, pulling him towards your locker. "tell me what happened," you groan, bending down to pick up your bag. hyunjin, ever the gentleman, quickly reacts from beside you, taking it away from you before slinging it over his own shoulder. "tell me what really happened, hm? it's me." you huff, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

he smiles sadly at you, shaking his head. he knows he cant lie to you. "how about we catch up over a cup of coffee, huh? my, ive been looking all over campus for you and when we finally meet after three years you dont even invite me in?" he pouts at you.

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. nice to know he hasnt changed that about himself. dare you say paris has only fed his dramatic flare? "let's go have some coffee somewhere else then, my apartment's kinda messy right now. oh! have you told felix you're back? you guys are... okay now, right?" you're careful to watch his expression at the mention of his past lover.

"no, he doesnt know im home. it kinda defeats the whole purpose of the surprise, you know?" he retorts, watching you with a fond smile as you shove your phone and keys back into your pockets. "and yes. felix and i are alright, thank you for asking."

"well, i'm sure he'd love to see you again. i know where he's working. maybe we could drop by for some drinks?"

hyunjin hums thoughtfully at that, chuckling a bit once you push open the damned metal door. "i guess it wouldnt hurt to say hello? besides. we have been... talking again."

"oh is that so?" you feign disinterest, eyes trained on the leaves that crunch under your feet.

he hums once more, squinting when he looks up, the sun beaming against his face. how he's missed its' warmth. paris was often gloomy. "we discussed possibly trying again." he says calmly, sighing with content.

you falter, "that might be good. ive always known you guys still loved each other! besides, you guys were young and stupid."

"that we were." hyunjin laughs. "well how about you and... ah- he who must not be named?"

you tense a little at that, opting to play it off with a shrug. "havent seen him around much, actually."

"well that's odd. you three were the only ones from our highschool to pass SNU and you guys dont keep in touch?"

"well i dont keep in touch with people from highschool much." you bite back.

"well how about me and felix?" he challenges.

"yea. just you two."

"arent you two in the same major?"

"we have different schedules. never aligns."

"but yuna and lia said-"

"i just dont see seungmin much, alright? that's that!" you groan, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"oh my dear y/n, nothing has changed! have you tried to patch things up with him? after all we were, hm what did you say, ah- young and stupid?"

"well he certainly was." you mumble, and hyunjin bursts out laughing. he throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer against his side. "god, i've missed you."

felix absolutely adores his job. he gets to help bake in the kitchens in the morning, and then he gets to make such fun little drinks while listening to music he chooses. he loves his coworkers, and his schedule is flexible, what with the manager knowing how most of his staff are all college students. the one thing he hates though? dealing with rude customers.

"i apologize, sir. our drinks are served in plastic cups as most of our customers dont finish their drink here, it's easier to take out in case you need to leave in a hurry." felix can feel the sweat start to form at his hairline, trickling slowly down his forehead as his cheeks twitch in a forced smile.

"well if i knew you served it in plastic cups, i never would have ordered!" the middle-aged man in front of him yells, eyebrows raised. students in the cafe have started to look over, trying hard to be discreet. some look annoyed, others clearly show how they feel sorry for felix.

felix tries his best to keep his smile, but he can feel anger and annoyance rise in him like hot water boiling deep in his gut.

"what the fuck is the difference??" he wants to scream, grab the stupid plastic cup from his stupid chubby fingers and throw it right in his stupid ugly face.

"im sorry sir, is there some kind of problem here?" a calm voice calls from behind the man, who turns around in surprise.

seungmin stands with his hands in his pockets, a small smile on his lips. he's dressed in nothing fancy, a university hoodie and some sweatpants. he's only supposed to catch up with felix as he busies himself around the cafe after all. his hair is tucked neatly in his cap, the perfect image of your average college student.

felix swears he's an angel sent from the heavens.

"this is none of your business, kid." the man snorts disgustingly, waving a chubby finger in seungmin's face.

"well, actually this is a public space and you're holding up the line. so yea, it kinda is my business. besides, you're on university grounds, i have every right to be here as a student." seungmin says coolly, taking a step towards the counter so he's able to somewhat position himself in between felix and this gross ugly man.

"listen, i'm a paying customer, so-"

"and the staff has the right to refuse service to anyone unless on the basis of race, religion, or ethnicity- isn't that right, felix?"

and its like suddenly felix has found his voice. he stands a little taller, leaning forward to get closer to the man's face. "that's right."

"and you're not refusing to serve this man because hes white or anything, right?" seungmin eggs him on, throwing the man a somewhat bored look.

"no. its because hes an asshole."

"hey-" the man steps forward, hands raised.

"well you heard him!" seungmin cuts the man off before he can continue, fully stepping in front of felix now. "if you dont leave within the next ten seconds, i'm calling security. they take peace and order on school grounds very seriously, you know?"

the man huffs, turning around and slamming the door behind him so hard that the little bell that jingles near the doorframe rattles wildly seconds after he's left.

"i dont know how you deal with assholes like that, felix. id probably lose my mind." seungmin sighs, throwing his friend a tight lipped smile.

"you kinda get used to it. but i've just been so tired this finals week that i dont even have the energy to stand up for myself anymore." felix shakes his head while he wipes the counter down.

seungmin nods understandingly, lunging for the man's untouched drink before felix can throw it. "this is paid, isn't it?"

"well, yes but-"

"alright, felix look. i have a problem." seungmin slides easily into one of the stools by the counter, taking a deep sip of the man's mystery drink.

felix nods in understanding, rearranging trays and cleaning up as much as he can.

"well actually, it's more of a favor? i dont know."

felix only hums, used to seungmin's rambling by now. seungmin's just like that, needs to talk to himself aloud a little before getting straight to the point.

"im actually screwed and there's no one else i can talk to because well, there's no more shame between us, yea? we've seen each other naked and ive seen you at your lowest low and youve been there for me and-"

"wow, this is pretty serious, huh?" felix jokes, pulling up a stool so he can sit in front of his friend.

"i think i'm gonna fail a class." seungmin spits out, holding his breath immediately after as he gauges his friend's reaction.

felix's smile slowly disappears. his mouth opens and closes like a fish as he tries to figure out what to say, in a state of total shock. this goes on for about five minutes before seungmin finally whines, head dropping to his hands.

"will you say something i can actually understand, felix?"

"i'm sorry i just- i dont understand. you're.... failing? you? kim seungmin? the kim seungmin?"

"wow you really know how to comfort a guy, huh?"

"i'm sorry!" felix jumps up to pull seungmin in for a half-hug, awkwardly wrapping his arms around seungmin's chest over the counter. "i just... how? why? what subject? are you sure?"

"yes, im sure. i missed a stupid submission. a major subject. look, thats not the worst part-"

"omigod you're dying. thats the only explanation-"

"no!" seungmin whines, pushing his friend off him. "the professor said he could give me extra credit-"

"but thats good news!"

"-if im able to convince... someone.... to split the task given to them with me."

"o...kay? just turn on your puppydog charm and you're good to go."

seungmin shakes his head, as if he's about to deliver such solemn news to felix that he has to pause for dramatic effect. felix rolls his eyes.

"it's... well the person is y/n."

felix stares at his friend with wide eyes, unblinking. then he tilts his head back and lets out the most obnoxious laugh, losing his breath as his neck turns a deep shade of red, the tint spreading across his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

"you're joking! oh this is just too- oh, i cant breathe, ITS KARMA!" he suddenly yells, fighting for his life to breathe in as much air as possible, wiping the tears from his eyes.

seungmin winces, but deep down he knows this reaction is deserved.

his relationship with you is... a little complicated.

you met seungmin in your freshman year of highschool. you'd just moved to seoul, the New Girl. as batch rep, he was tasked with showing you around on your first day, teaching you the ropes and making you feel welcomed.

"well yea, thats basically it!" seungmin finishes, pace slowing down as he directs you to the bench just opposite the school clinic. "do you have any questions for me?" he asks with a slight tilt of his head.

your eyes stay trained on the floor, as they have been the past 30 minutes that this strange boy has toured you around the school. you shake your head. seungmin doesnt fully understand it yet, but somewhere deep down, he feels bad for you. you seem like the shy type, and he knows how hard it is to adjust and make new friends. god knows how he would have survived middle school if it weren't for his friends.

"hey, what do you say you come meet my friends tomorrow during lunch break?" he suddenly asks. for the first time since his homeroom teacher introduced you, you look up at him.

he's taken aback by how pretty your eyes are.

"oh, really?" you ask timidly, voice small.

"i- i mean yea! we're in the same homeroom anyway, right? plus i think it'll help you adjust a little better if you had people you could talk to and hang out with." seungmin shrugs.

"yea. i'd really like that. thank you, seungmin." your voice is so low its almost like you're mumbling.

before you know it, you're spending your lunch breaks laughing along with felix as he embarrasses all of seungmin's friends one by one, wincing away from changbin as he threatens to lunge across the table to shut the younger boy up, hyunjin clinging dramatically onto his boyfriend's side instead of defending him.

you're spending your weekends at seungmin's house as chan makes you all listen to his new demo, han turning red in the face when his verse comes on. you're walking to school with jeongin- arms full of convenience store goodies as you make fun of your grumpy old maths teacher, leeknow following quietly behind you both, scolding you when you get too close to the road.

before you know it, you've found yourself a group of friends who makes highschool just that much bearable.

seungmin's completely enamored by you, coming to learn that you're at the top of every class that you have (except the ones you have with him, of course). you're just as ambitious as he is, joining the debate team and the mock un club, quickly joining the officers despite being a new student.

he's somewhat threatened by you, though he'd never admit it to himself, or to anyone else for that matter. you score higher than him in statistics, and he cant help the ugly feeling that settles in his chest when you show your paper to him, a bright blue 100 circled at the top.

he tries not to let it get to him, changing his mindset into seeing it as a healthy competition, a way for him to challenge himself even more in to doing better than you. it feeds his competitive side, staying longer than you in the library, sleeping later than you, reading more books.

this one sided competition makes him feel conflicted. he's out for your blood, and yet you're the same sweet, shy girl he's always been close to. you spend most of your time with seungmin, studying with him at his house, sleeping over when you've realized its way past ten in the evening, sneaking out of his house for a quick convenience store run.

"min, i'm hungry! lets go down to the store." you'd whine, voice slightly muffled against his soft sheets, tucked nice and warm under his blankets.

"go home, you've finished all the food here." he'd tease, not even bothering to look away from his homework.

"cant. you'd miss me after an hour." you'd retort, reaching blindly behind you for a plushie to throw at the back of his head.

"suppose that's true. can't help but be used to your presence when you're here nearly every day," he'd feign annoyance, exhaling loudly through his nose.

you'd pout at him when he'd finally turn in his chair to look over at you, already so at home, snuggling even deeper into his bed.

you really do have such pretty eyes.

"fine. grab your coat." and he'd try hard to fight his smile at the sound of your delighted squeals.

you found a way to break through his walls, chip away at the cement and reduce it to a fine dust which you've blown away. but he stands unguarded all the same, not even bothering to put up a fight when you wrestle your way into his heart.

he'd like to keep you there, he thinks.

sometimes he'd lie to himself and say that he tried. by your senior year, he managed to ruin the one good thing in his life.

how stupid was he?

amazing, really. how he was able to throw away three years of friendship for fifteen minutes of fame.

"how could you do this to me?" you hiss, dropping your backpack onto the floor of seungmin's bedroom. his back is faced towards you, gently shutting his door before he leans his forehead on it. he takes a deep breath, gathering enough courage to face you.

"y/n, i-"

"you embarrassed me in front of everyone. you told them everything, things i told you in confidence because i fucking trusted you. how could you do this to me, seungmin? how could you fucking do this to me?" your tears are hot, angry against your cheeks as you pace around his room. your voice grows louder with every word, reaching a scream when you stand in front of him.

"i wasn't thinking, y/n. i-"

"and for what? to make me look bad?" you laugh hollowly, hands flying to your hair in disbelief. "to make me look like some poor, fucking loser who's so mentally unstable she can't possibly become president of student council? was that your angle?"

there's a lump in seungmin's throat and no matter how hard he swallows, it just wont go down. he opens his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but his mouth has gone dry and his tongue tastes like sand.

"what the fuck is wrong with you? i thought we were friends? i thought we were best friends, seungmin? how could you air out all my shit like that? for a couple of votes? do you know how pathetic you are? is that how bad you want to be president? you're willing to throw me under the bus to make yourself look good?" you can taste the salty tears pooling in your mouth, snot slowly dripping down and creating a sticky mess on your face.

but you're too angry to care.

your chest hurts, like someone's kicked you to the ground and continuously stomped right in between your ribcage in an attempt to squash your heart. your head hurts from dehydration, and your neck is starting to feel sticky from the sweat that's pooled at the collar of your uniform.

"was this your master plan? you found out i was running against you so you sucked up to me, kept me close so you could get all the dirt? you fucking traitor, i cant believe i actually trusted you." your throat has gone raw from all the yelling, can feel the way your voice starts to come out hoarse.

"y/n, please. i'm so sorry i dont know what i was thinking. i just... when they asked me why they should vote for me my mind blanked and i-" he tries to get everything out as fast as he can, terrified you'll cut him off and start yelling again. but he can't continue because, holy shit, even he doesn't know why the fuck he did what he did.

"and you what? made me look fucking stupid so you rambled on for fifteen minutes about how much of a horrible person i am. god, if thats what you thought of me you shouldve let me know, seungmin! i couldve walked out of your life if i made you that miserable." you're starting to heave, all the air in the room suddenly disappearing.

"no, dont say that y/n. you're the best thing about me, you're my best fr-"

seungmin feels dizzy when your palm lands on his right cheek.

you cant stop sobbing, hands clutching at your chest as you shake your head. "fuck you," you whisper.

seungmin is stunned, frozen in the middle of his room with his mouth slightly open. he says nothing, does nothing as he watches you bend down weakly to grab your bag, sobbing through the motions of slinging it over your shoulders.

but then the panic starts to kick in when you push past him, your fingers reaching for his doorknob. his instincts kick in and hes wrapping his hand around your wrist.

"please don't go, please let's talk about this." his voice cracks. when did he start crying?"

you pause, and for a moment seungmin can feel the weight on his shoulder lift, all hope is not lost.

"its good to know where your priorities lie, seungmin. now i know you'll do anything to get ahead. even if that means hurting me." you tried to sound strong, but your voice comes out broken, a whimper.

"dont speak to me ever again."

you pull your hand away from him.

the weight on his shoulders is suddenly crushing.

and when he gave his acceptance speech in front of the entire student body, he frantically searched for your face. his heart dropped when his eyes locked with yours. eyes that once looked at him with so much warmth, care, and love- stared soullessly back at him.

he knew he fucked up the best thing in his life.

by the time you reach felix's cafe, hyunjin's whining had started to get on your nerves.

"i didn't ask you to carry it," you remind him, reaching for the strap.

he turns his body away from you, clutching your tote tighter against his side. "as if i'd let you carry this!"

yes, he was a gentleman. but a dramatic ass one.

"id honestly rather carry my bag than have to listen to you whine about how heavy it is."

"but it is so heavy! what the fuck did you put in here, rocks?"

you only roll your eyes, pushing open the glass door to the establishment. the tiny bell above the doorframe rings, announcing your arrival to the blonde boy behind the counter.

"oh my god, its soobin." you whisper under your breath, elbowing hyunjin in the ribs. he only looks at you puzzled, an eyebrow raised.

"he's so cute, ohmygod." you roll your eyes, quickly checking your blurry reflection on the glass door.

"not my type," hyunjin shrugs. you ignore him, walking straight to the counter.

"oh, hey soob!" you greet him, quickly shushing hyunjin when he starts to mock your airy tone. "is felix here?" you smile sweetly, trying to tame your hair from the mess caused by the strong winds outside.

"oh yea, he's over there in the booth by the window. he's not alone though," he says, wiping down the counter after spilling a few shaves of ice.

"oh, who's he with?" you ask, already making your way down the counter.

"dunno, the dude looks kinda stressed, to be honest." he shrugs, turning away from you when the bell lets him know he's got another customer to serve.

he's with a guy? he's not on a date is he? no- he wouldve told you. besides, he wouldnt have led hyunjin on either.

hyunjin follows behind you as you make your way towards the booth, heaving dramatically as he swings your tote bag off his shoulders. he crouches behind you, snickering to himself as you both slowly walk to the table, strands of felix's hair peeking out from the opposite bench.

"surprise!" hyunjin jumps from behind you, smile swiftly morphing into a face of shock, his mouth forming a small 'o'.

"holy shit, hyune! what are you doing here?"

your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. that voice-

"s-seungmin, i didnt know you were with felix."

you freeze, jaw dropped as seungmin stands. he clearly hasn't seen you yet, back facing you as he pulls hyunjin in for a hug, squeezing him tightly.

"i thought you were in paris?" felix squeals, sliding out of the booth and joining the three for a big bear hug. he's the one who finally notices you a few feet away, his smile dropping.

"y/n." he breathes, eyes wide.

when seungmin turns around, its almost as if in its slow motion.

he looks almost exactly the same, his hair a little longer, shaggier. his eyes look more tired, little bags under his eyes give away the sleepless nights he's become familiar with. his cheeks slowly turn a light pink, dusting across his nose all the way to the tip of his ears. he's dressed the way you remember him, loose comfy clothes.

he looks good, you think. you shake the thought away.

"oh, y/n." seungmin's voice is small as he locks eyes with you.

fuck, your eyes.

his first time seeing you in three years and he hates how you manage to steal his breath away. you've changed your hair, cut it a little shorter and dyed it lighter. you've pierced your ears, little sunflower earrings peaking from beneath your hair. you look so much more mature, your style has definitely changed.

but your eyes, they shine just as bright as he remembers. good to know his memory hasnt failed him yet.

"i didn't know you were coming, y/n." felix shoots you an apologetic glance, lips pursed and eyes wide.

"but i always come visit you on thursdays." you say flatly.

"yea but-"

"awh look! it's been a while since we've all seen each other, huh?" hyunjin cuts in, trying desperately to ease the tension. seungmin stays standing still, gawking stupidly at you. you try your best to pretend like you cant feel his gaze.

"yea, some of us made that decision on purpose." you mutter under your breath, but you don't miss the way seungmin's eye twitch.

felix smiles, lacing his hand with hyunjin's. "it's really been too long," he whispers, as if only meant for his lover.

"i'd really love if we could all spend some time together." hyunjin's eyes find yours, wide and pleading. "please?"

you offer him a tight lipped smile.

its already so awkward, the way felix and hyunjin slide naturally into the booth, beginning to chatter away. it leaves you and seungmin standing, stubbornly avoiding eye contact.

"do you- do you want to sit near the window, or?" seungmin's voice is small, eyes glued to the floor.

you shrug.

he nods, climbing in anyway. you take a deep breath before you move, reluctantly climbing onto the booth after him. you leave a considerable amount of space between the two of you, and seungmin can't help but roll his eyes.

it's been nearly three years, he thinks. how are you still holding a grudge against him? he clears his throat, about to start some small talk, but something stops him. maybe its the way you deliberately angle your body away from him, or the way you pull your phone out to scroll aimlessly, almost as if you were anticipating his move.

"so, how was paris?" seungmin asks hyunjin instead, shifting his body away from you. fine, be like that. at least hes not immature enough to make things awkward on purpose.

"oh, it was so romantic!" hyunjin exclaims, throwing his arm over felix's shoulder and resting it on the back of their booth. "it was a little depressing, actually. being in such a beautiful place all alone."

"well yea, but it was worth it right? who wouldve thought your one true love was right here all along." you tease, wiggling your eyebrows up and down.

"yea so is yours!" hyunjin teases you back. you only stick your tongue out.

beside you, seungmin tenses. surely, hyunjin isnt implying that he could be your true love, could he? the thought makes chest ache, an odd yearning to move closer to you, to let his fingers "accidentally" brush against yours-

"oh, soobin!" felix giggles, catching on.

seungmin's always hated that guy. from the moment he met soobin thirty minutes ago, he knew something was off. you can't date soobin, he wouldnt know how to take care of you. with his stupid blonde hair, his stupid bunny smile, his stupidly large eyes.

he bets soobin doesnt even know what your favorite type of ramen is, what your go-to snacks are, what your favorite flavor of ice cream is. important things that a lover should know.

things he knows.

oh, where'd that thought come from?

"shut up, you guys!" you hiss, checking to see if soobin is within earshot. you frown at felix, swatting across the table at his chest.

"what do you mean? you guys would look so cute together." hyunjin argues, quickly turning to catch a glimpse of soobin. you hide your face in your hands, profusely shaking your head as you sink deeper into the booth.

seungmin cant help the feeling of jealousy that bubbles deep in his gut. hes half scared hes going to projectile vomit all over the table when you straighten yourself out, sneaking a peek at the blonde boy who busies himself with creating a customer's drink.

"im probably not his type." you mumble.

"you're not." seungmin's shocked at the word that's slipped, hand quickly coming up to cover his mouth in shock.

all eyes are on him, and he can see the way you look at him, with your empty eyes staring right at his face. he hates it when you look at him like that, misses the way your eyes used to shine just for him.

"actually you know what, im getting kinda tired, i think im gonna go home instead." you blurt out, already reaching for your bag.

hyunjin's hand finds yours on the table, and he squeezes gently. "really?"

you swiftly pull your hand away. "yes. really."

"you know what, it doesnt matter. i actually made a reservation for us lixie. wasn't planning on staying long anyways. just wanted to surprise you." hyunjin sings sweetly, brushing away a stand of hair that had fallen on felix's cheek.

"yea, i think i'm gonna head home too." seungmin clears his throat.

just then, the sound of thunder roars outside, clouds a dark grey as they hang low.

fuck. just when you decided not to bring an umbrella.

"yea, i think we better get going. dont wanna get caught in the rain." felix sighs, gathering his stuff and offering hyunjin his hand.

"dont you have spare umbrellas here, lix? maybe we could borrow them. you know, just in case." as if on cue, the rain starts to come down heavily, droplets splattering against the window.

"yea, but there's only two." felix mutters, quickly slipping behind the counter to grab two black umbrellas leaning against the wall. "hyunjin and i can share, and maybe you and y/n-"

"i'm fine." you say stubbornly, arms crossed in front of your chest.

you'd rather die than spend two seconds alone with kim seungmin.

"oh dont say that, you'll get drenched and catch a cold." hyunjin sighs, grabbing one of the umbrellas from felix's hand and offering it to you.

"i'd actually prefer that, thanks." you snap, swatting his hand away.

hyunjin opens his mouth to berate you, but seungmin quickly steps in, reaching for the umbrella. "i'll handle this guys, you go enjoy your dinner."

you fume at that. 'oh he'll handle it? who the fuck does this guy think he is?'

you roll your eyes, pushing past your friends and heading for the door. you stand under the roof, crossing your arms in front of your chest as a cold chill blows past you. hyunjin and felix soon exit as well, wrapped tightly in their coats, hands entwined.

hyunjin steps towards you, pulling you in for a hug despite your protests. "be nice," he whispers, before planting a kiss on your cheek. you make a move to wipe it away, but hesitate when you see hyunjin pout.

"have a nice date." you mumble, watching as the pair huddles close under the umbrella, making their way to felix's car.

you hear the door open, and you hold your breath.

"let me walk you home." seungmin offers, his tone stern. this only ticks you off, wanting nothing more than to defy him despite his offer being in your best interest. your apartment is a good walk away, and the papers in your tote bag risk the chance of getting wet.

"i mean you- you live near my building, right?" he pleads, clicking his umbrella open. he waits patiently for you to respond, standing awkwardly by the sidewalk as you fight with your pride.

you nod, and thats all seungmin needs. he's by your side in an instant, holding the umbrella nearer to your side to ensure that not even an inch of you gets wet from the rain. his left side is already completely soaked, cringing at the feel of his cold hoodie sticking to his skin, but he ignores it. you set a fast pace, and his heart hurts at the though that it's probably because you can't stand to spend more time with him than you need to.

he notices you wince from the weight of your bag, taking a deep breath as you readjust the strap from falling off your shoulder.

"let me carry it," he's being bold, already reaching for the damn thing before you can say anything.

"i dont need any more favors." you snap, the first words you've directly said to him in nearly three years. he's glad you've at least acknowledged his existence now, but your words are sharp.

he lets it go, humming to let you know that he heard you. your pace quickens just a bit, eager to get home, out of the rain, and away from seungmin. your tote swings from the movement, getting caught on a nearby bush and very nearly pulling you back.

you lose your balance and slip, falling flat on your butt on the wet pavement. you try to brake your fall, scratching your palms in the process.

"oh my god, are you okay?" seungmin rushes down, still holding the umbrella over your head. he offers his hand to help you up, but you swat it away.

"i'm fine, alright? god, stop hovering!" you yell, pushing down on your scratched palms to help yourself up. you wince at the pain, brushing off tiny pebbles and bits of gravel from your open wound.

"y/n, you're bleeding." seungmin gawks, hand reaching out to touch yours. you quickly yank it out of his reach, almost as if you were hiding your palm from him.

"yea, thanks for the info." you mumble, trying your best to wipe away the mud that's splattered all over your jeans. seungmin moves quickly while you're preoccupied, crouching down to grab at your tote bag. he ignores your whines of protest, slinging it over his shoulder.

you let out a groan when he refuses to hand it back to you. "fine, whatever. suffer." you grumble, crossing your arms before walking away. seungmin quickly catches up to you, shielding you from the rain.

the walk home is painfully quiet. you're hyperaware of every movement he makes, every time he inhales, the way he clears his throat, as if he's about to say something before he changes his mind. all these emotions swirl angirly inside of you, most of them you cant even begin to comprehend.

because for some reason, you miss him. and it hits you like a truck when the sleeve of his hoodie grazes your elbow, the soft cloth reaching for you. it takes everything in you not to break down and grab for him, to hold him close and strangle him, to wrap your arms around him and hug him so tight he loses breath and dies of suffocation.

he smells the same, like the seungmin you remember who used to walk you home after band practice. the seungmin who held your hand in secret as you walked through the haunted house that one halloween. the seungmin who'd sing to you, alone in his room with his guitar on his lap.

your seungmin.

how could this stranger beside you be your seungmin?

how is it possible that the very same person who knows your deepest darkest secrets, your most embarrassing moments, your dreams and fears- is someone who doesn't know you at all?

seungmin stands stiff beside you as you reach the lobby of your apartment, shaking the little droplets of rain off the umbrella. he opens the door for you, urging you to enter before him.

"i'll have my bag back now, thanks." you say in monotone, eyes not even meeting his.

"let me carry it up." a bold request.

"i'm fine now, you know? im not some damsel in distress in need of saving." you mumble, standing your ground.

seungmin ignores you, already walking towards the elevator. he leaves it on hold, waiting a few seconds before you enter as well, grumbling under your breath.

once you reach your floor, you lead the way to your room, with seungmin trailing slowly behind you. he's shivering a little from the cold, the wet of his jacket only making the draft on the floor feel like ice against his skin. you notice, the little devil on your shoulder pleased at his suffering.

but there's another side of you that softens when you notice the way his teeth chatter, a shudder going down his whole body. god, you're gonna regret even opening your mouth-

"you can come in to warm up a little." you mumble, reaching into your coat pocket to fetch your keys.

seungmin merely blinks at you, unsure if he heard you correctly, or if his imagination was so strong that he managed to picture you saying the thing he so desperately wanted to hear.

but then you walk in, and you leave your door open. for him.

"oh, thanks." seungmin mutters awkwardly, reaching for the cup of tea you offer him. the warmth spreads from his fingertips to his palms, and he's genuinely grateful for the heat it provides. you only hum, grabbing your tote bag from the floor and setting it on the couch.

you pour yourself a cup, sitting directly opposite of the strange boy in your apartment. you blow away some of the steam that rises from the cup, eyes trained on the way the liquid ripples from the force of your breath.

seungmin opens his mouth to speak, but he cant seem to find the words to say what he wants to say. i'm sorry? no thats too lame. i miss you? fuck no, way too forward. how about-

"you're shivering." you point out, staring directly into seungmin's eyes.

his breath hitches. you're looking at him.

actually looking at him.

"oh, i- i didn't even notice." he lies. despite the fact that you turned your heater on, he's fucking freezing. his hoodie is heavy with rain and damp against his skin, sending shivers all the way up his arm and down his spine.

suddenly you stand, retreating into your room without a word. seungmin's confused, unsure if that's his cue that he's overstayed his welcome. but then you come back into the kitchen after a few seconds, holding a large blue hoodie in your arms.

his heart clenches when you unfurl it, revealing the old hoodie he'd given you a month before your graduation. he didnt even know you got it in the mail when he sent it. you werent even talking to him at that point. does that mean you'd gotten his letter too?

"well, i didnt wanna get rid of it, you know? would be a waste." you mumble. you toss it over to him, the cloth landing on his lap with a soft thud. he looks stupidly down at it, brain malfunctioning.

"you should change out of your sweater. you're wet. dripping all over my floor." you grumble, snatching seungmin's empty cup and setting it down on the counter behind him.

"you kept it?" seungmin whispers.

"like i said. didnt want it-"

"you kept it." seungmin turns to look at you.

his deep brown eyes are hopeful, crease in his brows giving away the myriad of emotions swirling deep in his stomach.

you stay silent, back turned towards him. you can feel the tears that pool behind your eyelids, threatening to fall as you hold yourself over the sink, turning your head completely away from seungmin. you hear the sound of fabric rustling, and your cheeks warm at the thought of him undressing in the middle of your kitchen.

the sound of wood scratching against your kitchen tiles is loud, the abruptness of seungmin standing up nearly sending the chair backwards.

"smells like you." he whispers. he cant trust his voice.

he takes a step towards you, your back still towards him.

"i think its time for you to go." you hiccup, a steady stream of tears flowing down your cheeks.

"look at me." seungmin begs, taking another step.

"you should go now, seungmin."

"look me in the eye when you tell me. then i will."

he's getting bold, standing right behind you, his chest pressing the back of your head. you whirl around, ready to yell at him, to scream at him, to slap him, to furl your hands into fists and beat against his chest.

but he's quicker, wrapping both his arms around your shoulders and pressing you close to him, tucking your head under his chin. he holds you like this for so long you figure its been hours. you stain the front of his chest with your tears, hands weakly wrapping around him, fingers curling into the fabric.

he still feels like seungmin.

your seungmin.

"you kept it. you got my letter too, didn't you sweetheart?" he whispers, as if afraid raising his voice would ruin the spell.

you sob violently against his chest, holding him tighter against you.

"i meant every single word," he squeezes you tightly, "i'm so sorry."

"you're an asshole, kim seungmin." you sob, shaking your head.

"i know, i know. i'm so sorry." he shushes you, smoothing down your hair, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

"do you know how much it hurts?" you sob, pulling away from him. "i see you almost everyday. you have the face of someone who knows every single thing about me, but you're a complete stranger to me." you sob into your hands, pouring your heart out to him.

"i know," he sniffles, wiping away the snot under your nose with his free hand.

"no, you dont. stop fucking saying that." you pull your face away from him, pushing his hand down. "you were my best friend and you- now its like i dont know you and-" you're hiccuping, heaving, out of breath as you break down.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart, okay? i'm so so sorry. i was so stupid,"

"well yea!" you yell, falling into him when he opens his arms up to you.

he chuckles dryly at that, holding you tightly against him, as if terrified you'd change your mind and kick him out of your home. and he cant bear to see it, the way you look up at him with tears in your eyes, bloodshot red and full of resentment. he wants to fix it so bad, misses the way you'd hold softness in your eyes reserved especially for him.

"i'll make it right," he promises, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. "i'll prove it to you, okay? i promise."

you sniffle, shaking your head. "i- i dont know,"

"hey, look at me." seungmin pulls you away from him, bending slightly so you're eye to eye. "i promise, i'll do everything i can to gain back your trust. i just miss you so much, y/n. i- i really fucked up and to this day it remains my greatest regret."

you stay quiet, eyes flickering between either of his. "even more than when you shaved your head that one summer?" you joke weakly.

seungmin can feel his heart pounding at the sight of your small smile. he thinks he sees your eyes twinkle. "yes, sweetheart. even more than that. i just... please. give me another chance. give me a chance to make it right with you, y/n."

you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. seungmin's steadily crying, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand as he looks at you, expectantly. you stay quiet for so long seungmin can hear the blood rushing all the way to his head, going dizzy with anticipation and fear.

"you'll have to buy me lots of gummies, you know?" you mumble, looking up at him.

fuck. he'd buy you all the gummies in the world if it meant you'd keep looking at him with those eyes.

the words on your screen have started to blur altogether, vision hazy as you mindlessly scroll through the hundreds of pages of readings and notes youve been reviewing for the past...... god, was there even a time you weren't studying? even the music playing through your headphones have lost its appeal, sounding more and more like radio static.

you jolt out of your trance at the sound of books slamming against the surface of your table, which shakes under the weight. you quickly pull your headphones off and look up at the intruder, who smiles sheepishly at you.

"sorry, did i wake you?" seungmin asks, pulling up a chair beside you.

"no, you saved me." you groan, stretching your whole body until your limbs start to vibrate.

seungmin only laughs, sinking deep into his chair. he takes his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair. he scoots a little closer to you, then bends the other way to retrieve a little brown paper bag.

"i brought you breakfast." he says, rolling his eyes at the way you pout at him.

"seungmin, you didnt!" you gasp, receiving the tall cup of iced coffee with eager hands.

"i did this for myself, actually." he claims, pulling out some warm bread to share with you. "dont want you grumpy all morning. what time did you come in? you look like shit. no offense."

you shrug, taking a long sip of the cold drink.

"wait, weren't you wearing that last night when i left? y/n.. dont- oh my god, dont tell me you spent the whole night here?"

you stare blankly back at him. "our final exam is in three days."

"do you plan on staying awake until then?" seungmin bites sarcastically, and you kick his chair.

"i have to atleast get a 97 on his exam or else i wont finish his class with high honors." you whine, running your fingers through your hair in frustration.

you're so much like him, seungmin thinks. he, too, is familiar with sacrificing his happiness for a perfect grade. except now he has to work just as hard as you just to pass. the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

"you have to get some sleep or you wont finish his class at all." he threatens, staring down at you.

you only frown, but you dont need that much convincing, as you're already closing your laptop shut, scooting your chair just that much closer to seungmin's so your arm grazes his.

"wake me up in thirty minutes." you grumble, linking your arm with his and resting your head on his shoulder. he raises it a little to grant you comfort, unbothered by the fact that his arm will inevitably start to tense and ache.

"sweet dreams," he hums, discreetly kissing the top of your head as he pretends to look at the empty chair next to you.

ten minutes pass, and you're already snoring. your fair falls in a mess in front of your face, and seungmin has to hold back from sweeping your hair away in fear that he'd accidentally wake you up. he cant help but feel his chest swell at the feeling of you leaning on him, he feels like a highschooler high with giddiness, trying hard not to vibrate in his seat.

screw the readings, he can barely keep you out of his head. this past month has been an absolute dream to him, spending every waking moment by your side. treating you to almost every single meal, keeping you company as you run your errands, crashing at yours to study and just goof around.

this is how he remembers you- full of life, playful, just a little mischievous. so positively alluring that seungmin feels himself falling in love with you. it hit him like a brick that night you passed out with papers strewn across your bed, your limbs tangling with his. he didnt sleep a wink that night, too busy studying your face. you looked so peaceful, he remembers, burying your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly in your sleep.

he looks down at you now, cant stop the smile from spreading across his face. he'll let you sleep for a little longer, he decides. he doesnt care if you get upset with him (you will), you deserve the rest. seungmin's about to finally clear his head of you and actually get some studying done when he locks eyes with a tall blonde from across the room.

god, of all the people.

"oh, hey! seungmin, right? felix's friend?" soobin says in a low voice as he approaches the table.

"yea, soobin right?" stupid fucking name.

"yea. hey- is that y/n?" he nods towards your sleeping figure.

ew. stop looking at her. "oh, yea. she passed out."

"damn, she's really studious, huh? ran into her late last night when she was here all alone." soobin sighs, frowning at you.

seungmin wants to puke at the thought of you spending time alone with soobin. he wants to ask him so many questions like- how long did you talk to her for? what did you guys talk about? how much can i pay you to leave her alone?

"yea, shes hardworking. i admire her for that." seungmin smiles fondly.

"oh... wait- are.. are you guys, like, a thing? or something?" soobin takes a step back and seungmin's breath hitches in his throat.

"cuz if you guys are, i can totally back off, you know?"

seungmin stays silent, weighing his options. he could lie and say you guys were dating, but if you found out, you'd probably hate him and ignore him for the rest of his life and he'd rather die than let that happen. on the other hand, if he tells the truth, soobin would obviously try to pursure you. and he knows you have a little crush on him too.

seungmin bites his lower lip, then shakes his head. "nah, we're just friends." seungmin can feel some bile rise in his throat. not for long, he thinks cockily.

"oh, cool cool. uhm, if you could do me a favor, man? just... i dunno ask her to go to the cafe again this week? maybe i'll work up the courage to ask her out or something." soobin chuckles, cheeks turning a deep red.

seungmin can only nod. finally soobin offers him a small smile and leaves. there's a heavy feeling in seungmin's stomach, almost as if he'd been punched in the gut. he cant even begin to imagine you dating someone else, in fear that he'd just break down right then and there.

its kinda pathetic, really. you're not even his yet and he's already thinking of all the ways he can get soobin to leave you alone. he wants to print a large sign that says "do not approach, angry guard dog will bite" over your head, just to keep everyone else away from you.

god, since when was he this possessive?

he spends the next forty minutes thinking of ways to get you to be his. and when you finally stir awake, the first thing that seungmin says is-

"we should stop going to felix's cafe."

obviously, you dont listen.

you go to felix's cafe anyways, except you're always alone. seungmin doesn't need to know where you go every thursday afternoon while he's in class, anyways. he never told you why he wanted you to stop coming here, but you have a hunch. a tall, blonde, stupidly handsome hunch.

"y/n!" soobin greets you warmly, leaning over the counter to get a better look at your face.

"hey, soob." your cheeks warm.

you know that nothing is going on between you and seungmin, but you can't help but feel guilty doing exactly the opposite of what he asked of you. but something's shifted the past few days you've been spending with seungmin, almost as if you're seeing each other in this new light. you push this thought to the back of your head like you always do, telling soobin your order and waiting for felix at your booth.

by the time soobin brings the food to you, your phone rings.

fuck. its seungmin.

"hello?"

"hey, my classes ended a little early today. where are you?"

"oh, uhm im-"

oh my god lie faster.

"yea?" you can hear him huffing, obviously walking around campus, probably looking for you.

"at the library." you spit, looking outside the window, frozen with paranoia. lying to him feels so so wrong.

"its wednesday, y/n. library's closed."

oh my fucking god, lie better.

"i went to meet felix." you finally admit, shrinking into your seat.

you hear seungmin sigh. "is he out already?"

"no," you mumble.

"so you're alone?"

you hum.

"im on my way."

he hangs up, and you let out a sigh.

finally, felix barges out from the kitchens and quickly clocks out, throwing his apron over his head and hanging it on the hook by the door. he smiles when he sees you, nearly leaping over the counter to get to you.

"hello, my dear y/n." felix hums, kissing you quickly on the cheek and settling on the booth opposite from you.

"hello, my dear lixie." you hum, pushing a plate of waffles in front of him. "for you, your usual."

felix groans with hunger, fixing his plate with a heavy load of syrup and a huge dollop of butter. "so, how are things? any important new updates this week?"

you shrug, taking a sip of your iced coffee. "nothing new, really..... except, i guess...."

felix hums, urging you to continue.

you let out a deep breath, shaking your head. "i think... i think something's going on between seungmin and i."

you bite the inside of your cheek at felix's reaction, mouth agape as he stares blankly at you. it takes him a moment to process before he finally swallows the food in his mouth and he lets out an evil giggle. "oh, this is... oh, hyunjin owes me so much money!"

"you prick!" you gasp, swatting at felix's arm. "you guys bet on us?"

"well, i mean, come on! it was sooo obvious, i mean, it was only a matter of time, you know?" felix shrugs, cutting up another piece of his waffle.

"no, i do not know!" you squeal, piercing the piece with your fork and stuffing it into your mouth, ignoring your friend's whines of protest. "you guys thought seungmin and i would end up together?"

"well yea, everyone with eyes thought so! come on, y/n. he's looked at you like a lovesick puppy since highschool." felix rolls his eyes. "you guys were always together, and he knew you better than all of us combined. not to mention how lifeless you both were the two years you werent talking. i mean seriously, it was like hanging out with a couple of zombies."

your cheeks warm. "but- im still not even sure of how he feels about me."

"wow. love does make you oblivious as fuck, or whatever they say." felix shakes his head, chugging down his vanilla milkshake before he suddenly remembers something.

"does that mean you're gonna let him help you grade the papers for extra credit?"

you freeze. "what?"

"yea, seungmin said he needs to convince you or else he'd fail, or something. you guys talked about it already, or?"

your breath falters, and your brows furrow. "seungmin's failing a class?"

felix swallows. he cant shake off the feeling that he said something he shouldnt have. but he could never keep a secret from you.

"well- yes. his prof said he needed to convince you to help him get extra credit."

"wait, when was this?" you ask, voice stern.

oh, felix is soooo in deep shit. "uhm, like the day you guys started talking again."

your heart drops to your ass. surely, thats not the whole reason why he was so desperate to talk to you again, right? but you cant shake away the feeling, remembering back to highschool when he'd done almost the exact same thing.

but he promised. he promised it'd be different this time, right?

"seungmin told you that he needed to convince me to let him grade some papers?" you clarify.

"yea."

"and what did you say?"

"i uhm- i told him to like, turn on his charm or something along those lines."

you scoff in disbelief.

felix is going to hell. "but, that was my advice before i knew it was you! i just... i know seungmin needed some help and he'd do anything to get a good grade so i figured he was extra desperate because he was borderline failing and i was just so shocked and-"

"felix, just stop talking." you mumble, leaning back against the booth.

felix only nods, wringing his hands in nervousness. he opens his mouth to speak, but you shoot him a glare. he falls silent again, nervously gnawing on his bottom lip.

your mind's racing, going 100 miles an hour as you go through every moment youve had with seungmin this past month. obviously, this favor is not the only reason he tried hard to convince you to talk to him again, right?

but theres a small voice inside of you, the one who remembers the harsh pain seungmin caused that's screaming, telling you to cut him off, shut him out before he can hurt you all over again.

by the time seungmin pulls open the glass door, you've made up your mind.

"he-"

"this is the last time i let you break my heart, kim seungmin." you say firmly, brushing past him.

seungmin can only stand, frozen. his heart drops to his stomach, head going fuzzy as his gaze lands on felix. he opens his mouth to say something, but he cant find the words.

"what did you say?" seungmin asks.

"im sorry, i didnt know, i thought-"

seungmin's rushing out, throwing the door wide open as he runs out into the street. he can feel his heart pumping as he pushes through crowds of people, racing towards you. he can hear his blood rushing, catching sight of your yellow sundress as you're pushing open your apartment building. seungmin's never been a runner, hell, he nearly failed PE in highschool when he was forced to run laps a whole semester. but right now? he feels like the fucking flash.

he yells for you, ignoring the stitch in his side as he manages to somewhat catch up to you. by the time he throws open the heavy metal door to your apartment complex, the elevator doors are closing, your eyes locking with his.

"fuck." seungmin heaves, bending down to rest his hands on his knees. he needs to reach you before you lock him out of your room. he knows how stubborn you can be, you could probably ignore his pleas and incessant knocking for days if you had to.

seungmin gags, shaking his limbs before he bolts up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, pushing his legs to work faster. the backpack on his shoulders is heavy but he could care less. he cant risk losing you again.

sweat flows freely from his forehead by the time he reaches your floor, and by some miracle, he catches you walking down the hall.

"y/n!" he heaves, sliding his bag off his shoulders and leaving it right there in the hall. "please-"

"go away, seungmin." your voice cracks, digging for your keys in your bag.

he shakes his head, jogging up to you before you can close the door in his face. he sticks his shoe in the closing gap, groaning when it gets stuck between your door and the frame.

"what the fuck?" you yell, backing up as seungmin forces his way into your apartment, closing the door behind him.

"no you- you have to hear me out." he's panting, vision going blurry. jesus christ, he was out of shape.

"you want to talk about it?" you challenge, shrugging your coat off and throwing it on the floor.

"yes." he heaves, leaning against the wall.

"okay, lets talk about it. is it true that you wanted to convince me to help you get extra credit?" your hands are crossed in front of you. seungmin's admittedly a little scared.

"yes, but-"

"but what? i wasnt supposed to find out?"

"no! that was before-"

"before what?" you take a step closer, crowding him in.

"before i realized i was in love with you!" seungmin yells, hiding his face in his hands.

you're silent, expression stoic. "you're sick." you whisper, unsure of yourself. your heart is racing, and you take a step back. "dont... dont say that."

"but its the truth!" seungmin's desperate know, tears welling in his eyes. it wasnt supposed to happen like this. he was supposed to take you out, confess his feelings for you properly, but now its all ruined and rushed and- oh, when he gets his hands on lee felix-

"the truth?" you scoff, shaking your head at him. "how am i supposed to believe you? with everything that... that's happened?"

"you're going to have to trust me." seungmin steps forward, hesitant. he can see the doubt in your eyes and it makes him sick. he'd run up 10 flights of stairs if it meant you'd never look at him like that again.

"trust me when i say that i was a fucking fool in highschool for hurting you, and i spend every day thinking about how if i could, i would go back in time to change everything." he takes another step forward, backing you against the door to your bedroom.

"that i wasted two and a half years of my life by not spending them with you, knowing that you were so near me, that i could easily walk up to you but i was too embarrassed, too scared you'd shut me out." seungmin's baring his soul out, but its too late to stop.

"that i thought about you every single day, thought about what could have been if i wasnt so stupid. that ive spent the last few months doing everything i can to prove to you that i would never ever hurt you like that ever again. but with you im just so stupid, i feel like im always doing the wrong things because youre all up in my head taking up all the space and i fucking love that i cant think about anything but you."

you can only stare up at him. you can see the way his gaze flickers away from you, too nervous to maintain eye contact. he reaches out to you, fingers hesitantly brushing against the back of your hand. testing. you pull away from his touch to wipe away the tear that's managed to slip away, clearing your throat. he tilts his head, hands settling firmly on your waist.

"i love you, y/n. please, you have to believe me."

he's waiting for you to say something, anything. he's never poured his heart out like that before, the silence eating away at him as he slowly spirals, overthinking every word he's said.

but then you relax in his hold, pressing your chest subtly against his. and he knows there's hope.

"are you really failing a class?" you whisper, and seungmin can only laugh.

"that's your concern?" he leans down, dragging the tip of his nose against your cheek. he inhales deeply, nuzzling against you.

"well, yes." you gently push him away by the shoulder, looking up at him. "i cant have my boyfriend failing any of his classes."

seungmin smiles, absolutely melting when you wrap your arms around his neck. "oh yea? does that mean you'll let me in on the extra credit?"

"you are on thin, thin ice, seungmin." you warn, reaching up to finally press your lips against his. seungmin absolutely melts, letting out a low groan at your taste. one hand on your waist, seungmin leans into you, reaching behind you to open your bedroom door. you gasp when you lose balance, recovering quickly when seungmin walks you backwards, never once pulling away from you until the back of your knees hit your bed.

you let out a squeal when you fall back, seungmin expertly finding his way in between your legs. "tell me you want me," seungmin commands in between kisses, hands roaming up and down your sides.

"i do. i want you." you breathe, pushing off seungmin's jacket.

"yea?" seungmin hums, pulling back to bunch up your dress until it sits just below your ribcage. he leans back, simply staring down at you with stars in his eyes.

"stop staring at me." you mumble shyly, turning your head to the side.

"dont want to," seungmin hums, quickly throwing his shirt off into a random corner of your room. "ill look at my girl as long as i like." he leans down, capturing your lips with his.

"your girl, hmm?" you hum, smiling as he kisses his way up your stomach, fingers gripping onto the hem of your dress. your breath hitches when his fingers brush against your under boob. he smiles against your skin, looking up at you.

"aren't- arent you going to take my dress off?" you whisper into the air, and seungmin stops his teasing kisses against your hip.

"well, i was going to but then.." he kisses over the fabric, planting a wet kiss in between your breasts before latching onto your neck for a playful bite. "then i thought about how i want to fuck you in it and then take you out to dinner after."

your cheeks grow red, lightly slapping his arm at his vulgarity. "doesnt that sound better, baby?" seungmin hums, playing with the hem of your underwear.

your breath goes shaky as seungmin continues to toy with you, pads of his fingers lightly pressing against your clit from over your underwear, providing the littlest bit of friction, but enough to drive you crazy.

"seungmin, please-"

"please, what?" he teases, hips pressing into your thigh. you can feel him through his sweats, hard and aching against you. he begins to grind against you, gentle enough to tease you and get him off at the same time.

"need you to touch me." you huff, frustrated.

"i am, baby." seungmin chuckles, pads of his fingers pressing against you firmly, trailing down until he teases your entrance, soiling the fabric of your underwear with how wet you are.

"you know what i mean," you whine.

seungmin only hums, lowering his sweats just enough to free his cock. he pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold air of the room, making you shiver.

"you're so wet, baby. bet i could slide right in, huh?" seungmin teases you with his tip, tapping it firmly against your clit and trailing down to coat himself in you.

"god, just put it in, minnie." you sigh, grabbing at his shoulders.

"minnie?" seungmin smirks, nosing against your jaw. "i like that."

he finally presses in, slowly making sure you feel every inch of him. you wince a bit at the pain, and seungmin notices with a coo. he pulls your hands away from his shoulders to hold against your bed, fingers intertwining with yours.

"i'm sorry, does it hurt?" he coos, slowly pulling out to thrust back in.

"a little, its okay. kiss me."

seungmin obeys, leaning down to kiss you sweetly as he starts at an even pace. he's slow with it, stroking so deep you can feel him in your throat. it feels intimate this way, with his hands in yours, his chest pressed firmly against you. he pants into your mouth, kissing you when you start to moan too loudly.

"tell me you love me." seungmin sighs, resting his forehead against yours.

you nod, "i love you. love you minnie."

seungmin lets out a groan at that, pulling one hand away to sneak in between your bodies, tips of his fingers finding your clit. he starts to move them in circles, your high fast approaching.

"i'm gonna cum," you whine, squeezing his hand.

"cum with me, baby. please," he begs, holding you so tight against him you feel the air knocked out of you with every thrust. you cum with a whine of his name, fingers digging into the back of his hand. his hips stutter before he presses as deep as he can into you, groaning loudly as he mouths at your neck.

you're both sweaty and sticky, but seungmin pays no mind as he collapses completely on top of you, wrapping his limbs around you. he looks up at you when his breathing starts to even, a cheeky grin on his face.

"what," you laugh, pushing him away by the shoulder when he leans in to kiss you.

he loves the sound of your happiness, basking in it as he shifts closer to pull you into his side. you happily comply, ignoring the mess in between your legs in favor of cuddling up to your lover.

"i really do love you." seungmin reassures, and you roll your eyes.

"i love you too. really." you hum, kissing his shoulder. "now clean me up, and dont even think about falling asleep."

seungmin groans, rolling off your bed to reach for a towel to wet. "but we have plenty of time before dinner. we can nap!"

"no, i will nap." seungmin frowns, walking into your bathroom and turning the faucet on.

"and what do you expect me to do?" seungmin says once he returns to the room, eyebrows raised.

"you, will check all the papers left in my bag." seungmin only laughs, leaning down to wipe in between your thighs, careful to get every drop.

"then can we get dinner?" he asks, pout on his lips.

"yes. your treat."

"well, duh."

as you close your eyes and start to drift off to sleep, seungmin only watches, hunched over on your bedroom floor, hundreds of papers scattered in front of him. he prays he'll be able to get it together and pry his eyes away from you to actually get some work done.

he seriously doubts it.

taglist: comment if you want to be added or removed!

@pochamin22 @bee123sthings @ohnocent @hyunchannie017 @r1n4 @heluvschibi @kpop-obsessed-all-the-time @elizalabs3 @uknowme-not @bee123sthings @n034sy

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

ahhhh hi!! If your requests are still open, could I please have Yandere hcs of transformers prime Optimus and Megatron(separate) with a gn reader? If you want you can also add in a random character for Yandere hcs as well! Thank you for your time have a good one!

(Turns around the with the most evil smile of them all) Now we getting freaky!! (•ˋ w ˊ•) Hue-hue-hue !

Yandere!Optimus Prime & Yandere!Megatron (TFP) Headcanons!

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, stalking, typical violence from the series and a little bit more, kidnapping, a lil mention of body horror (not sure if it counts). Reader is Gender Neutral.

OPTIMUS PRIME

I will classify Optimus as a Protective, soft worshipper yandere that has a little hint of uncanny valley (I'll talk about this in a moment).

Optimus' life is sadly surrounded with tragedy as he tries to keep a hopeful light on top of his helm for the sake of not giving up and letting down the Autobots.

We now how Optimus is always mourning and yet keeping his helm up, being strong for the others, being idolized by others and having the fate of "the chosen one" written all over him when... he never asked for it.

And he is tired. It's like he is always walking in the middle of the darkness with not a single path to take - lost, feeling like he is losing himself piece by piece... until You arrived.

As a beacon of light.

He has lost too many loved ones - friends, teammates... but deep down, silently, always thanked Primus to have taken anyone else and not You.

I think Optimus' yandere personality would be like Akemi Homura's love for Kaname Madoka - everytime he sees you, he sees nothing but light. Hope. Perfection. Your existence brings nothing but pure happiness and warmth.

The yandere to always kneel in front of you and hold your hands, thanking you for existing and deem him worthy enough of having your presence near him.

If you are a cybertronian, he would pray to Primus for the day to come he finally confesses his love for you, and you share said feelings too and become his Conjux Endura, in this life and the next one.

If you are a human, he would feel this burning need to become your guardian, your protector. His little safe space from the war and battles, always asking you things about your world and about you, promising you with every breath he takes he is going to keep you safe.

Either as a cybertronian or human, he is not letting you anywhere close to battles. He can't lose you. He won't lose you.

Remember the Uncanny valley thing I said? I see Optimus as this kind of yandere that forgets that he is existing in the same place as you - and stares. Just... stares.

The only thing that is giving out he is still living is how his optics move little by little, remembering everything about you again and again, his systems replaying his promises to you and why he keeps fighting, why he is willing to sacrifice the others and himself - to protect you.

Imagine the Yuri stare moment from Doki Doki Literature Club. Yeah, that is the Uncanny Valley I'm talking about.

Following you, stalking you - and you don't actually see him at first (How when he is just the size of a giant?). You move, you go from place to place, room to room. Until you finally find him, peaking from somewhere. Staring at you as you are swallowed by the shadow he casts upon you.

"My spark... my deity. My one and only." He whispers as he gently snuzzles his helm against your helm/torso as he holds you closely to him.

MEGATRON

Megatron gives me the vibes to be a yandere that changes from a type to another.

Definitely an aggressive yandere, but transitions from sadistic-possessive to delusional-paranoiac with the past of times and the events you live with him.

Megatron can see as much as he wants that he only wants a 'strong significant other' by his side and that he 'will not stick to a weak individual' - if he falls and falls hard it is done for him.

You are going to be in this situation of being seen as an equal but also as a pet or possession he owns in his optics.

Definitely kidnaps you - no matter if you are a human or cybertronian, either part of the Autobots, neutral or a Decepticon.

Is not afraid to threaten you or even hurt you (but not that much, he wants you still alive, after all - he can't love you if you are no longer breathing).

Actively reminds you he owns you.

"You are MINE. I will tear any bot's throat if they ever think they can take you from me - so you better think carefuly the moment you open your mouth, dear. Unless you want to see energon or blood all over the place."

The transition I told you about would happen only if your life is put in danger and actually get too close to die.

Imagine if you are hurt, bleeding and bruised but still breathing, totally gonna survive and live another day. Megatron is not a mech to feel fear. But Primus - he felt a dread and despair as he kept processing what happened, hugging you against his chestplate as his system spirals deeper and deeper, his need to possess you becoming paranoia.

If you are a cybertronian, Megatron is going to start having ideas about... merging his spark with yours - but in a sense fusing, becoming literally one - you'll be his spark as he becomes your body.

"You'll become the energon running inside of my system, my software and system, the spark - that way, no one will take you away from me."

If you are a human, will get Soundwave, Knockout and Shockwave to work on a project - to build you a cybertronian body and fuse you with it, defying the laws of your lifespan and finally making you one of his kind.

"There you are... stop crying, my dear. You are perfect now - and as long as I live, you will live. My conjux endura."

My baby brain hurts, had a headache for like 3 hours. (っ´Ι`)っ Vhaos out!

[elronds-meleth-nin]

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

--

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering her answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me, at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet, trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

--

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my throat staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

--

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly, her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

--

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his own beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from now until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his gaze strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

--

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard him approach the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

--

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough for him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she carefully wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any, save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy...Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as he lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that, she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn whimpers and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embrace they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[thatfandomslut]

Hands Off

Regina George x Reader

Trigger Warnings: insecurity, underage drinking, jealousy, threatening language

Word Count: 1.8k

Request:

I saw the movie a day after it came out and I have been desperate for jealous Regina x reader. Like Cady tried at the party and BOOM Regina like smothers reader with kisses. Btw thoughts on the movie?

My thoughts on Mean Girls: Initially, going into it, I was nervous due to being such a big fan of the musical and move. I loved the movie, and I think the cast is amazing. I have seen it two times in theaters, and I will be going for two more times, at least.

(Y/n) adjusted herself in the mirror, determining whether she felt confident enough for the outfit she had chosen. However, Regina's words rang through her mind: "Honestly, babe, this costume would look so hot on you." Regina didn't know that she had chosen to go as a devil, decked in red with a horn placed on her head. She went all out, even adding a touch of red, glittery eye shadow. The outfit hugged her curves in ways that she wasn't sure about yet. (Y/n) sighed before checking the time. She couldn't back out of it now. It was officially too late, and after looking at Regina's current location, she saw that the girl was three minutes from her house.

Grabbing the purse and pitchfork she bought to accompany her outfit, she made her way downstairs in order to meet Regina at the door. It also gave her an extra minute to adjust herself in a different lighting. Hearing a honk from outside, she walked outside, spotting Regina's orange jeep, the chill in the air making her wish that Regina chose a vehicle with doors. She shot a quick 'goodbye' to her parents as she made her way over to Regina's Jeep.

"Hey, baby," Regina greeted, pulling her into the passenger seat with a smirk. (Y/n) grinned as Regina kissed her deeply, and (Y/n) got so drunk on the kiss that she almost forgot about Karen and Gretchen in the back. "You took my advice on the costume. You look hot, (Y/n)."

Due to the way that Regina's eyes raked over her body as she got situated beside her girlfriend, (Y/n) began to feel hot, too. Pushing her hair behind her shoulders as the wind whipped it around, she smirked. "Thank you, angel. You look very hot yourself. I'm glad I took your advice. It seems to match your costume very well, huh?" (Y/n) traced her eyes over Regina's angel costume. There was no question when determining how amazing Regina looked. She was the hottest girl in school, and (Y/n) often wondered what she saw in her. To others, Regina might come off as abrasive or angry, but she was never that way with (Y/n). She was soft and flirty, and she was whipped. (Y/n) was, too, though. Not only was she whipped, but she was absolutely in love with Regina.

As they got to the party, the bass could already be heard from the outside, and a girl in a corn outfit had just puked off the side of the porch. The action made (Y/n) curl her nose before following Regina in, hands latched together. They tended to stick together at events like these. Not just because they were in a relationship, but because of the boys around them. "I'm going to go find Jason," Gretchen called out, separating as Karen followed her as she often did. (Y/n) didn't mind them going off together, leaving her and Regina alone as they made their way to the kitchen.

Regina began pouring drinks for her and (Y/n), passing the red solo cup to her girlfriend. "You really do look hot, baby. You should wear red more often." Regina complimented as she set her drink beside them, keeping an eye on it. Her hands fell onto (Y/n)'s hips and she leaned in to kiss her. (Y/n) wasn't one to object to a kiss from her girlfriend, allowing Regina's lips to dance on hers with ease. The base kept them at a pace as they kissed, not caring about the people around them. They were almost secluded in the little kitchen area they were in. The two would've continued to make out if it wasn't for the screams that caused them to jump apart, some of (Y/n)'s drink splashing onto the floor.

(Y/n) quickly went to clean it as Regina narrowed her eyes to see what everyone was screaming at. "Oh my God, Cady looks horrendous," Regina commented, her eyes widening as (Y/n) stood up to see what was going on. She was someone who often defended Cady due to being so new to everything in America. After all, it was evident that she was very sheltered growing up. Regina texted Gretchen, who said Aaron had invited her to the party. "Interesting… Did you know that Cady likes Aaron?" Regina personally felt that Cady was out of her league, but it was whatever Cady wanted, not her obviously.

"Really." (Y/n) said, drinking the contents in her cup before getting a refill. "I wouldn't really have expected it. I think Cady might be too pretty for Aaron of all people. I kind of thought she might like Janis since I've seen them talking a bit. Or, maybe she and Gretchen?"

Regina and (Y/n) tended to try to pair people up with each other for fun. Cady wasn't the exception to that. "Speaking of Gretchen, she's going to be upset if she sees Jason making out with that girl over there. I'm going to go break it up, but I'll be right back," Regina kissed (Y/n) before going to tell off Jason before Gretchen noticed. (Y/n) smiled at her as she walked off, grabbing her drink to keep it safe as she approached Gretchen and Cady.

"Hey, ladies," she greeted with a soft smile. Gretchen was about to respond until she watched Karen from a distance do something she wasn't supposed to. Quickly excusing herself, she ran over to the other girl leaving just Cady and (Y/n). "So, Cady, how are you enjoying North Shore so far? Find anyone you might be interested in yet?" (Y/n) just knew that there was no way that Cady had a crush on Aaron. He wasn't unattractive, Cady just was more attractive. Leaning in slightly, (Y/n) smiled widely. "You can tell me, I promise not to tell anyone. I am like a vault, you know?"

Cady blushed at her question, thankful for the abundance of makeup her mother helped her apply. However, even if (Y/n) couldn't see the blush, she saw the shy fidget. "Yes, actually, but Gretchen and Karen told me not to do anything about it. But… She is pretty cool." Cady answered, taking a small step forward. (Y/n) almost jumped up excitedly at the fact that Cady just confirmed her crush wasn't on Aaron. Now, she was thinking she was right. Cady had to like Janis if not Aaron or Gretchen. She only took Gretchen out of the equation because Cady confirmed she had told her who it was. Cady might be a brainiac when it came to math, but (Y/n) was the best matchmaker on campus.

Too bad she didn't realize that Cady was insinuating her. Sipping the alcohol in her cup, she leaned back a bit to examine Cady, trying to figure out who it was. "Oh, come on, Cady. You can't always listen to Gretchen and Karen, no matter how amazing they are. I say if you like them, you should go for it. Is this person here at the party? Do I know them?" (Y/n) glanced around, seeing Regina return from pairing Jason back up with Gretchen. This was a task she hated doing, but she knew Gretchen was head over heels for Jason for some reason.

"Yeah, she is actually, and you know her very well," Cady answered, placing a hand on (Y/n)'s wrist since her hand was full. (Y/n) was now suddenly very aware of who she was hinting at. Unfortunately for Cady, Regina was now right next to (Y/n) and kissing her deeply before sending a death glare to the girl in a black wig. (Y/n) shook off Cady's hand gently, taking a step closer to Regina who wrapped a hand around (Y/n)'s waist. Cady looked shocked, dejected, and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I should go."

Regina provided a sickly sweet smile at this. "Yeah, Cady, there's no hard feeling or whatever, either. Just next time, hands off my girlfriend. I hope your night gets better." Regina said, taking one of the drinks from (Y/n), waiting for Cady to make her way away from them or out of the house. As Cady practically rushed out the door, Regina felt herself crushing the red solo cup before releasing it and replacing it.

(Y/n) didn't feel bad in the sense of Cady's feelings towards her, but seeing Cady sad made her feel bad. But it was awkward now that she had practically admitted that she had feelings for her without saying it. "Regina, I'm sorry. I didn't realize until she took my wrist that she was coming on to me." (Y/n) apologized, hoping Regina wasn't mad at her. She had never made Regina mad before, and she didn't want to.

"It's not your fault that Cady can't keep her hands to herself. What were you two talking about anyways?" Regina questioned, drinking a sip of the alcohol in her hands. She knew her mother would come to pick them up and have someone grab her vehicle in the morning, so she wasn't worried about drinking. Plus, now she needed the drink having witnessed the girl she was trying to help fit in touch with her girlfriend. She was jealous, and she didn't want anyone touching (Y/n) that way ever. "It must've been pretty good seeing as Cady felt the need to grab your wrist. It looked like she was about to kiss you."

(Y/n) finished her second drink as she ran a hand through her hair. "We were talking about how she had a crush on someone, and I was trying to get it out of her. I didn't know it was me so I said go for it, and then when she grabbed my wrist, I was like 'oh, shit.'" (Y/n) explained, hoping Regina believed her. She was telling the truth after all, and Regina was really good at reading the truth about people. Especially (Y/n), not that (Y/n) really ever lied. It was more so little white lies like 'Oh yeah, I totally didn't just take a three-hour nap, I lost my phone.'

"Okay, baby, I believe you. But if Cady ever tries that again, she won't get another chance to be a part of our group, and she will be a social outcast. I will not let her think that she can touch my girlfriend and get away with it." Regina glared at the exit as if Cady might re-enter. Regina then took (Y/n)'s hand. "But let's forget about that and her. Let's just go to my house. We can watch Halloween movies and make out if you want?"

(Y/n) smirked at the offer, nodding slightly. "You know what, you got a deal, angel. Let's do it."

[moonstruckme]

hope ur having a delightful break bb, lord knows you deserve it!!! <3 i've got a little request for you whenever you're back, if you're interested in writing it - i would love to see poly!marauders with a reader who's high and giggly and they're lightly teasing/they think it's cute!! either way, i'm sending my love and hugs and kisses to u!!! <33

Combined this with: hi lovely !! i hope you’ve had an amazing day/night <33 if you haven’t already (i’m sorry if you did, ignore this if you have !), can you write a poly!marauders x fem reader who loves sea animals and the boys decide to take her to an aquarium? Thank you both for requesting, hope this is alright <33

cw: weed

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 770 words

Sirius is fairly sure this is the best idea he’s ever had. And he will be expecting full credit. 

Your eyes are giant and filled to the brim with wonder as you stare into the tank, your face awash in a blue glow that shifts with the water. 

“A flamboyant cuttlefish,” you murmur, seemingly to yourself. 

Behind you, James squeezes Remus’ hand playfully. “You’re my cuttlefish,” he whispers. Remus groans. 

Sirius follows your gaze. “Oh, that thing is ugly.” 

“Don’t say that!” You reach back without turning around, smacking his chest lightly with the back of your hand. Your face is split into the same grin that has hardly wavered since the gummy you’d taken first kicked in. “They can change colors whenever they want. You’re totally jealous.” 

“And yet it’s chosen shit brown.” 

James releases Remus’ hand to come and crouch beside you, tracking the fish’s movements with dilated pupils. “Is that why it’s flamboyant?” he asks you.

You hum happily. “When they’re threatened, they shift colors and move their fins. They’re also highly toxic. So,” you shoot your boyfriend an impish look, “just like Sirius.” 

James’ laughter is booming. He takes on the role of your protector, sticking out an arm to ward Sirius off when the other boy grabs for you. Remus shushes them both, shooting apologetic looks towards irritated-looking aquarium patrons. 

“Where do you learn all this stuff, dove?” he asks you at a more polite volume. “TV?” 

Your grin turns sheepish. James makes heart eyes at you, thumbing at the dimple in your cheek. “Would it make you feel better if I said I read it in a study?” 

“A bit, yeah.” 

“Too bad.” 

You erupt in giggles at your own joke. James tries to catch you when you tip backwards, but instead the both of you go down, your laughter worsening. 

“Jesus,” Remus murmurs, shaking his head. He’s doing a poor job hiding his own amusement, though, the scar across his lip stretching as he suppresses a smile. 

Sirius snickers as he crouches in front of the two of you. “Having fun?” 

“Yeah.” Your grin is lopsided. Dopey. “Thanks for sharing with me. I feel nice.” 

“Anytime, gorgeous.” 

“I really like weed.” 

“Alright,” Remus steps in, hooking his arms under your and James’ armpits to haul you both up, “let’s quiet down about that, love. Go back to looking at the fish.” 

“Oh!” you gasp and point. “That one looks just like you, Siri!” 

Sirius is about done with this game, he thinks as he stands to peer into the glass. His mouth puckers in distaste. “Thanks,” he stretches out the vowels, making his insincerity heard. 

“No, no.” You throw yourself into his side cajolingly. He pretends to ignore you, and you hang off his arm, laughing. “Baby, it’s because it has fine features and it’s, like, glowy. See?” 

 “It’s a fish,” Remus points out. 

James squints, nose nearly touching the glass. “I think I kind of see it,” he says. You nod eagerly. “Why does this fish have cheekbones? Do they usually?” 

You shake your head, looking somewhat flummoxed. There’s a cute crinkle between your brows. Remus looks at you curiously. 

“Do you know what kind that is?” he asks you. 

You frown. “I don’t.” 

“Okay,” he says, taking your hand to go to the signs bordering the tank, “let’s find out.” 

Sirius is a tad jealous as you lean into Remus’ front, playing with his fingers, but Remus won't be diverted. He scans the placards until he finds it. 

“Here, it’s a flashlightfish,” he says quietly. You make a satisfied humming sound, leaning forward to scan the information with eager eyes. “Flashlightfish prefer to stay out of the sun,” Remus reads, “hiding in deeper reef waters during the day. They have small bean-shaped pockets under either eye which are filled with billions of symbiotic bacteria that emit a biochemical light.” Sirius lets the words filter in one ear and out the other, but you’re rapt. Your wide eyes shift from the placard to the fish itself, watching as its light winks in and out. “This light is used to evade predators as well as for a visual Morse code to attract mates and communicate within schools of fish.” 

Sirius watches as the two of you stand there for a minute, Remus’ arms slung loosely over your front as blue light from the tank dances over you both. 

“You could do audiobooks,” you tell Remus. Your voice is chock full of sincerity. “You’ve got the voice for it.”

He chuckles, setting his chin on your head fondly. “You think so?”

“Mhm.” 

“Thanks, dove.” 

[fiendishfables]

[ Lucifer Morningstar x Reader! ]

based on this post

"Please, please, oh fuck-"

The pitiful pleads and moans of your boyfriend were the only sounds filling the room as you rode him. He may have been a King, but right now he sounded more like a bitch than anything else.

His beautiful, pale blonde hair was disheveled, sticking up in various places. His violet colored eyelids were drooped so low on his eyes you'd think he was asleep. The small expanse that was his chest rose and fell in erratic patterns, heartbeat hammering behind his ribs. A light sheen of sweat covered his naked, pale body. He was completely and utterly fucked out at this point.

The sight made you smirk proudly, sticking true to your agonizingly slow pace in a means to torture him.

Lucifer had been talking big all evening; going on and on about he was the best you'd ever have when it came to your sex life; how he could make you cum in just a couple minutes without breaking a sweat; the ways he could get you flustered just from cracking a few charming jokes.

He had been entirely too cocky, which is how the both of you ended up in your current position; you seated on his cock, riding him, with him beneath you, whining like a loyal subordinate rather than a King.

"Okay- okay, I'm sorry! Please-" His desperate whine of a voice came through your thoughts, dispersing them as he had started to squirm underneath you. The slow pace you had chosen to ride him at was not at all ideal, nor was it something he was used to.

You regained focus, peering down at your wreck of a boyfriend and smiled, filled with both traces of affection and triumph.

"Please what, Luci?" You cooed softly, hands planted firmly on his chest, making sure to keep that slow rise and fall of your hips steady. You swore he almost pouted at that.

"Please, just- please! I-I'll be good, I promise!" He panted, sharp teeth glistening with the amount of saliva he had been able to produce within the past half-hour. When you did nothing but raise a skeptical eyebrow at him, he practically exploded.

"Fuck! Just l-let me cum, please! I-I can't take this! I need it, I-" He cried out, his whole heart seemingly going into this confession of need and desire.

His pleas were coming out in ragged breaths now, giving way to the true desperation surging through his mind and body. Visible traces of previous and newly shed tears adorned his cheeks, making him all the more pretty in your eyes.

In response to his small outburst of sexual frustration, you just smiled softly down at him, allowing yourself to finally deflate your ego and up your movements, giving him what he so desperately craved. His loud, pornographic moan as a result of the sudden change was enough to have you clenching around him. It was worth it every time.

"Ohh, fuck- oh, honey, thank you. Fuck, fuck. Damn it, you feel fucking amazing; so perfectly made for this cock. T-too good f'me. Fuck, I-Im gonna cum, you're gonna make me cum, oh fuck, yes, yes, yes-!"

[bnpd]

❝ LONG SHOT ! ❞ ; 001

❝ PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!GOJO SATORU X PHYSICAL THERAPIST!READER. ❞

SYNOPSIS: After an unexpected encounter with the infamous Gojo Satoru at a local convenience store at 3 A.M. You're given the opportunity to worm your way into his life, but not without a personal invitation from Gojo himself. One thing leads to another, and you're the first person they call when he gets a career-threatening injury, forcing both of you to spend day and night together, but not without some obstacles of course: your cousin.

WORD COUNT : 8K SERIES MASTERLIST : ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . NAVIGATION : ꩜

PT. 1 : PT. 2

Your days start off simple. Wake up at 5 am. Shower at 5:05. Get ready at 5:30. Breakfast at 6:30am. Leave your cozy city apartment at 7:00 am –sharp– to make it to work. 

“Good morning Miwa,” you greet politely, walking past her desk and she scrambles to gather her clipboard. Hot on your tail, she frantically looks over her notes. “What do you have for me today?” You ask.

“Doctor, your first consultation of the day is waiting for you in your office! And your regular patient called to let you know that those exercises you suggested are working wonders!” You nod and hum occasionally to inform her that you’re listening as you maneuver through the rest of the doctors, stopping momentarily to encourage a patient lifting weights. She speaks quickly. “And Doctor Shoko called to ask if you’ll be going to…” she pauses and you figure she’s looking at her notes again. “The basketball game,” and she's quick to add “ —the Jujutsu Sorcerers are playing tomorrow night.” 

You stop abruptly outside of your office door, feeling Miwa lightly bump into your back before she mutters a swift apology. You turn around, raising a questioning eyebrow. “She called about that? Tell her I’m bus-”. Miwa’s quick to intercept. “She insists! Plus, I thought you loved the Jujutsu Sorcerers?”

You think it over.

You did like them. No. They were your absolute favorite basketball team. Besides, you could never turn down a basketball game. 

“Fine. I’ll see her tomorrow night. Thank you Miwa.”

“We have just minutes to go here in the fourth quarter of the season opener at the Sorcerer Stadium. The Jujutsu Sorcerers are up by ten over the Special Grades, thanks much to the tremendous effort of the star point guard, Gojo Satoru.” 

Inside the stadium is loud, as fans cheer on their favorite teams. It’s a full game tonight. A completely sold out stadium with all the people that showed up to praise their favorite players. The energy is loud, and fun. As people stand, and others sit in their seats in a stressful manner—mostly the losing team. 

The two kids behind you wear matching Jujutsu Sorcerers jerseys. One boy is sporting a 01 while the other sports a 02. One for the infamous Gojo Satoru and the other for Geto Suguru. You’re happy to admit that you too are sporting a number 01 jersey.

“Gojo Satoru, one of the best point guards in the league. Living up to his reputation and title of the ‘Chosen One’, tonight.” You listen, and watch intently as the announcers speak of Gojo. As he dribbles left, dodging every player in his way, bypassing their attempts to stop him. He’s unstoppable. 

“He looks inside. And he’s got nothing there.” The announcer anticipates. The crowd stands up from their seats eager to watch his next move. Their anticipation is intense as everyone in the stadium witnesses the Gojo Satoru work up close.

“He’s gonna take it himself!” The announcer exclaimed in disbelief, he himself could not believe this. “Behind the back! He puts it up, and it's good” The entire stadium puts their hands up to cheer, and scream. You see a mix of colors in the crowd, mostly a light blue in support of the Jujutsu Sorcerers. 

You tune out the announcers as Gojo Satoru is celebrating his team's score. He’s sweating so much his jersey sticks to his chest and stomach. You can faintly make out the outline of his abs. His muscles flex as he lifts his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his abs on full display. You grin at how hot he is. Anyone with eyes can see it. You swear you hear the girls cheer louder at the display of skin. Even if you were still here for the game, you were still a woman after all. 

“You’re drooling.” Shoko points out beside you, and you almost reach your hand towards your mouth to check before you playfully narrow your eyes at her. “Please,” you say dismissively, “What’s the correct way to react to a court full of sweaty hot guys? Watch the game?”. 

Her eyes roll dramatically before sporting a playful grin, and you bump your shoulder against hers to bring out a full smile from her. You succeed. 

Shoko continues to cheer on the team. This is the most excited you’ve seen her since she found a remaining cigarette in her car after she’d just ran out. You were so distracted by the cigarette addict beside you that you almost missed the foul they gave the other team as Gojo Satoru stands on the free throw line. 

“Gojo Satoru shot 95% from the freethrow line last season, but he’s been 100% tonight.” The announcers go back to bickering about the game, praising Gojo’s in-game scores. “Let’s see if he stays on his hot streak tonight, and for the rest of the season–”. 

Gojo dribbles the ball, and the stadium remains silent. The tension thick in the air as they hold their breath–even you, who leans forward in anticipation. He locks his knees, and shoots straight into the basketball hoop. The ball never even touches the rim. He makes both shots. Gojo smirks cockily as he slaps Geto’s hand twice in celebration. 

“-And he’s done it! It’s 12 in a row, for Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru–number two–has 10 tonight. Quite a duo on the court. I would say.” 

Shoko and you cheer on the team as they celebrate the win themselves. The kids behind you scream so loud your eardrums almost pop, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind.

The energy in the stadium tonight reminds you of why you loved going to basketball games in the first place. The excitement in the court, and in the entire stadium is something no one can miss. 

The kids behind you are so excited that it spreads to you, and you jump up to celebrate with them. Their toothy smiles are so big and bright. They warm your heart. The moment is quickly ruined by the woman sitting on the other side of you, opposite Shoko. 

“Look at that!” Your cousin harshly tugs your arm, pulling you down to reach her seat. “The player’s wives section. Full of snobby bitches.” Her fingers frantically shake to dramatize how much she wants you to see. “I’m looking.” You reply exasperated before rolling your eyes. “She has a custom Birkin! Do you have any idea how expensive that is?” She asks, and you reply with a muttered response “A house mortgage loan, I assume.”

Your cousin was—to put it shortly–spoiled, but you respected her views on someday marrying a rich man. The only problem with that is that she even uses the good ones.

She was a model. Not a well known one, but a model nonetheless. She was gorgeous, and everyone knew it. Even the men you dated. Most of them had gone as far to tell you. But you never let it deter your self-esteem. Men are a defective species and that has nothing to do with you. You choose to push that thought aside before it can develop into a mental breakdown in the middle of a basketball game. 

The children screaming behind you interrupt it before it can. “Look, look!” The kids behind you frantically poke at you to look. 

“He just made a three-pointer,” the boy lisps a little, and you swear you feel the saliva hit your face.

More than half of the game is just Gojo Satoru stealing the ball, and making countless scores. 

You look up at the clock and see the time as it read ten seconds on the board. 

“Gojo Satoru again with the ball!” You watch as he steals the ball and dribbles all the way across the court. Five seconds on the clock. He jumps up, and slams the ball directly into the basketball net with both hands still hanging onto the rim. “Anddd Number 1… brings the game home!” And the final buzzer rings across the court, calling the game. Zero seconds on the board. 

The announcer makes one last comment, “Unbelievable performance by Gojo Satoru.” 

Gojo is instantly swarmed with reporters in hopes of getting a word with him. But he’s fine with this. He loves the attention. He loves it when all eyes are on him. He thinks it’s how it should always be. A cocky man at heart. 

“Tremendous game tonight Gojo Satoru.” The reporter speaks, and she’s too close for any regular reporter, and Gojo catches onto it quickly. “Thank you, thank you.” He responds in an airy flirty tone. 

He scans the stands, and his eyes catch onto a woman helping two kids from their seats—they wear the number of his jersey, and Getos. His eyebrows furrow, and he tunes out the reporter subconsciously. The mysterious woman laughs at something her friend says—and his eyebrows lift up in surprise at the recognition of his friend, Shoko.

“Almost a decade with the Jujutsu Sorcerers, the only franchise you’ve ever played for…” a male reporter takes a lead on his attention as Gojo turns his head over to talk to the male reporter. He smiles into the camera, a radiant smile. 

A player from the opposing team passes Gojo before patting his back, and cheers at him for the good game. 

“...But you’re a free agent at the end of the season. The question everyone wants to know… will Gojo Satoru re-sign with the Jujutsu Sorcerers?” he asks as he shifts the microphone from side to side at the question, urging Gojo to answer. The reporters surrounding him, too, lean closer into him. 

Gojo licks his lips before responding. His chest breathing erratically from the previous game, “I prove myself night in and night out on that court. I’m the best in the league right now. Of course they’ll sign me. I’m the best.”

He winks at the female reporter after his proud admission as her face turns bright red at the display of flirtation. She lowers the microphone to say something to him personally before his manager comes disrupting the flirty exchange and drags him away from the reporters as their distant shouts begin to fade, entering the locker room.  

You’re exiting the stadium before one of your cousin’s friends invites herself into the conversations. Completely interrupting your rant about how horrible the injury a recent basketball player received. 

“Girl, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You turn around at the sound of the high-pitched voice, and see a woman dressed in all black, some large classy sunglasses, and a dark cherry red lipstick. Her aura emitted elegance, and high-class. 

“Hey,” she greets you in a monotone voice before turning over to your cousin again and her excitement seems to be shot back into her system as she begins to ramble to your cousin. Your head tilts at her attitude. Disbelief is clear on your face.“It is so packed in here, it is so gross.” She comments with an undeniable hint of disgust in her voice as she clutches her mini purse closer to her. 

“But anyway!” she dismisses, “Gojo Satoru… is having a birthday party Saturday night at his house, but we don’t have the tickets yet, sooooo we’re going to an after party tonight, and see if we can worm ourselves into getting some tickets.” She picks at her nails before grabbing your cousin's hands to shake them in an urging manner. She takes her glasses off to show her a pleading look. 

Your cousin lifts her eyebrow in question, “Where’s the after party?”

“The Shibuya Hotel.” Your cousin thinks it over before nodding, turning over to you. “You don’t mind do you?” 

You smile at her, “No, not at all. Do your thing.” 

“K-K, bye!” Her long slender fingers moving back and forth in a quick and dismissive goodbye. 

The bells above the door jingle to announce the presence of someone entering the convenience store. The sudden sound of them has you looking up. 

After the game ended you went home and locked yourself up to finish some remaining paperwork, before checking the time and deciding to grab a snack at your favorite corner store. 

You glance up at the clock in wonder. It’s currently 3 a.m, and the convenience store tucked into the sketchy corner of the city is always empty. It’s quite a walk from here to your apartment, but a welcomed one. Especially at this time. You always found yourself making late night trips to the store for a midnight snack. They were just something you found quite peaceful. A walk in the dark as you play your favorite playlist, finding a chance to lose yourself in your own head. 

You were close to the owner, an old sweet man that conjured a liking to you because of how much you resembled his daughter that was currently deployed overseas. 

You spare a glance at the hooded figure that steps into the store, their back turned to you, but you note how tall they are. A shiver runs down your spine as the opened door allows cold air to rush into the tight space.

You’re not sure if the shiver was a cause of the gust of wind that slithered its way inside or the new presence of the looming figure. You don't like to ponder on the possibility that it might be the latter.

You continue to browse through the mochi flavors, looking for your beloved one. It’s unusual for them to be unstocked around this time, considering how cold the weather is. And how empty this side of town finds itself to be. You sigh as you bend down to get a better look. 

You feel a presence behind you, and you stiffen at their closeness. A masculine, slender hand, comes into view, as it reaches for the exact flavor of mochi you so happened to be reaching for as well. You both freeze at the sudden, and unexpected contact before both releasing a nervous laugh. 

But neither of you find it in yourselves to retract your hands. You clear your throat before speaking. 

“Listen…It’s been a rough night,” You start, and turn to face him, but pause mid sentence at the look of what he’s wearing. A black face mask, a black hoodie with the hood of it over his head, and some sunglasses?…At night…and indoors? Not only that, but the man in question was insanely tall. Taller than any regular man you’ve encountered. He had the height of a basketball player. 

“Never mind,” You suddenly find yourself not in the mood to argue with a suspicious stranger at 3 a.m. in a sketchy part of town.

Your mother always taught you that as a woman being careful with who you piss off, especially a man that could bring you harm, was important. You wish you had the confidence to defend yourself physically, but you’d rather never have to take those chances. That was the reality of it. 

“You can keep it.” You mutter before gathering your things, and speeding over to the cash register. You watch him scan your items, but you can’t shake off the feeling of two eyes burning holes in your back throughout the whole ordeal.

You pull your scarf tighter against your neck as you speed walk in the direction of your apartment. The cold of the fall and lack of sun always make your entire body quiver. You thank your past self for wearing thick layers of clothing, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle the freezing weather. 

You never could handle the cold.

Your senses heightened when you heard steps approaching behind you, quickly at that. 

You clench your first in your coat jacket, readying yourself for anything. The steps get closer, and you wait until you feel their presence closely behind you before swinging around, surprising him with a amateaur punch. “Ow!” the stranger winces. “What the fuck!” He chokes out in surprise, holding his face in shock.

You bring your hands up to your mouth in a gasp. “Oh- My-God!” A frantic apology is quick to escape your lips. “Why would you do that?!” You question the stranger exasperatedly. “Don’t–sneak up on a woman like that!” Your hands move around to signal the obvious, it’s dark. 

“Well, fuck!” He responds, “I was just trying to give you the mochi,” His hand extends to reveal the truth. A mochi sits in his grasp—not just any mochi—the one you abandoned back in the store for the sake of it. He chased after you to give it to you. 

Your body deflates at the realization, and it makes you feel a tiny bit sorry. Not for long when you realize he's most certainly at fault. He should’ve known not to approach a girl in the dead of night.

A few feet of distance separates you both, but you can’t help but release a tiny embarrassed laugh at the comedic situation. Your contagious laugh seems to transfer to him because he releases a small huff of amusement under his breath.

You’re both standing under a streetlamp a few feet away from the convenience store, in a defense mode. The stranger in front of you still holds onto his face in an attempt to relieve the pain. 

The physical therapist in you kicks in, and you step closer towards him to inspect the damage. He’s reluctant to let you approach him, tensing is evident in the way his shoulders square up. But you reassure him. “It’s okay,” you softly comfort, “I’m a physical therapist, I just want to see that it won’t bruise or anything.” 

Your words seem to help because his guarded shoulders deflate a little.

“Let me see,” you murmur into the dark, reaching over to remove his hand. He watches you intently through his glasses, and you realize he’s wearing a lot to protect his face. You take the time to study his remote way of dressing. His attempt to hide himself, you reason within yourself. His hair is covered by a black hood, paired with a black beanie, a black face mask that covers his lips and nose, a light blue sweatshirt that brings some color, some gray sweats that cover the entirety of his long legs, and a black puffer jacket to help keep the cold out. He looks warm, yet cold at the same time. 

You wonder why he’s deliberately trying to hide who–or what—he is. 

You find out soon enough because when you peel off his hand, and later his face mask to get a better look at his cheek you blurt out the first thing that crosses your mouth. 

“You’re Gojo Satoru.” It’s spoken in a whisper, he almost doesn’t hear the acknowledgement with how soft your voice travels. Your eyes are wide with surprise, and a bit of elation. It felt like a caress, he notes.

A choked gasp almost leaves your lips when you take off his sunglasses and find the most unreal set of blue eyes stare back at you.

“The one, and only.” His response doesn’t come out as confident as he planned. Instead it came off shaky, and unsure. Breathless even. He blames it on the look on your face, and the way you stare intently into his eyes, seeing straight through him. His lips crack into a smile, and the amused look in your eye caused by his cheesy line.

“You sound more confident on TV.” You retaliate. He’s quick with a witty response, “Maybe you just make me nervous.” He wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue, taking you in. You’re illuminated by the streetlamp.

You laugh at his stupid attempt to flirt with you, playfully dismissing his advances. 

Bringing your focus back to his cheek you inspect it before speaking, “It won’t bruise,” He looks like he’s ready to speak up but you interrupt him by finishing your sentence, “But—you’ll still need to ice it. At least for tonight.”

Of course it wouldn’t bruise, you’ve never taken any lessons on how to properly hit—let alone land a punch. You punched him in hopes of catching him off guard before he could surprise you, giving you the chance to run for the hills, not because you knew you’d be able to take a stranger in a fight. 

When your fight or flight response kicked in, you didn’t even ponder the possibility of punching a professional athlete, let alone a professional basketball player. One that played for your favorite team. Quite frankly you were starstruck, and the fangirl in you was having an entire party. The Gojo Satoru was here. Right in front of you. He was even more gorgeous up close—taller too.

The cameras did indeed do him justice, but nothing ever compares to the real thing. His bright blue eyes, and snow-white lashes were straight out of a magical fairytale. As much as you’d like to jump up and down, and then hug him, you knew you had to contain yourself. Otherwise you would scare him away. Or he would feel too uncomfortable to engage in casual conversation with a crazy fan.

But you were more of a basketball fan than solely a Gojo Satoru fan, and that fact alone was keeping you at bay. Your early childhood years of having a basketball coach father always kept you engaged in basketball in general. 

After going back inside the convenience store to grab some ice from the ice machine—with Gojo trailing closely behind you—you both now sat on the edge of the sidewalk right in front of the convenience store, talking amongst one another about nothing in particular. The only source of lighting being the lit up convenience store, and the streetlamp hovering over your seater figures. 

Gojo sits beside you with a hand holding the ice pack to his face, while another is used to reach into the bag of mochi to grab some more. But your mind can’t seem to ignore how close you two sit against one another, your thighs are almost touching from your close proximity. 

“Thank you.” Gojo’s hushed voice cuts through the silly conversational atmosphere, and turns into a semi-serious one.

A tiny toothless smile spreads across your face, “You can thank me, by winning the championships.” Your knee knocks into his in an attempt to bring back the playful mood, and he takes it gratefully. He responds eagerly by knocking his knee against yours in response. His touch shoots a tingle up your spine.

Your smile must be contagious because the cutest lopsided smile makes an appearance on Gojo’s face, “Oh, so you’re really a die-hard fan?” He teases.

“Ever since I was a little girl.”

“How so?” He asks, his eyes never leaving your face as his hands reach into the bag of mochi to munch on.

“Well,” You think about your next words as you gesture for Gojo to move the bag of mochi closer so that you can grab a piece, “My dad was a college basketball coach—still is—and all through elementary to middle school I would often sit on the side of practices and watch them play. So I kind of developed an interest in watching the sport. I find it nostalgic—in a way. My dad and I just bond over it.”

You mention how you were looking to become a professional NBA physical therapist. It had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. And it still is. Though you’re a current sports physical therapist— the best in your field—you want more.

He’s silent as he reflects on your response. You take this as your chance to bite into your mochi, humming contently at the yummy taste. The chewy texture is satisfying against your tongue, its sweetness seeping into your mood. 

“That’s cool,” he replies after a moment of silence. “I grew up watching—and playing—basketball too.” He pauses, and you patiently wait as he collects his thoughts.

“But mostly because our family has been professional basketball players for generations, and I just kind of fell into that.” 

You nod your head in understanding. You wonder if he’s playing because he genuinely likes the game or because it’s expected of him to continue the tradition. The legacy.

You knew about the Gojo family being generational professional basketball players. Every single one of them have played for the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and because of them they’ve always been an outstanding basketball team. Some consider them to be reincarnations of each other, but that’s just silly internet theories. 

There’s numerous articles about the Gojo family, a lot of them highlighting the way they dominate almost every industry. Their wealth, and worldwide superiority is insanely known. It went beyond just Gojo’s direct family playing professional basketball, their entire family tree is gifted with various qualities. 

You can’t imagine the burden he must carry. 

One thing is certain and it’s that you’re genuinely delighted in his presence. You realize he’s silent before looking over at him, and you frown at the unreadable look on his face. “What’s wrong?” You probe.

His gorgeous bright blue eyes look all over your face in an analytical kind of way, before a ghost smile grazes his features. “Nothing,” he says softly, his eyes staring softly at you, “Nothing at all.” He turns back to bite into his mochi, chewing on it before contently humming to himself. 

A familiar tune, you realize, and you gasp before hitting his arm, “Is that the Digimon tune?” His eyes twinkle in surprise, and something like eagerness—before he takes off into another excited rant. Telling you about his favorite digital pet model toy he used to own as a kid, and how he still has a collection of them at home. He tells you about how he wishes to find a rare one. His descriptions are so animated, and you can’t help but stare fondly at his features. 

Though you weren’t a huge digimon fan, you don’t bother telling him in fear of breaking through his elation.

How the corner of his lips turns up in excitement or how his hands are used to animatedly demonstrate what he is trying to portray. Often used to wave them around. Your favorite feature would have to be his eyes, and the way they sparkle when he talks about something he's passionate about. Even in the darkness his ice cold blue eyes find a way to look so warm.

You like the bubble you’ve both created for yourselves. Time feels unimportant, and worries feel so far away. 

After his rant you fall back into a comfortable silence. The ambience around you does a good job at filling the silence. The crickets hidden in the grass sing as the wind blows, swaying the trees. The moon lightens up the world to the best of her ability. But the city is alive, it always is. New York never sleeps, even at night. It’s probably the time it’s most awake.

Gojo breaks the comfortable silence,“What are you doing Saturday night?” 

You make it back at 7 a.m., (with the help of Gojo driving you home), and thank the gods that you didn’t have work today. Shoko would’ve pestered you about your late-night whereabouts. 

You’re welcomed by the sight of your cousin sitting on the floor by the coffee table surrounded by numerous magazines scattered around the living room. Her concentration prompts you to raise a skeptical eyebrow. 

Cautiously walking into her space to not cause a disturbance, you ask her why she has a mess in your living room. 

“I’m researching.” What could she possibly be researching in a magazine?

She notices your confused silence, and heavily sighs before putting her pen down. “I’m trying to figure out how to marry a professional athlete so that I can leech off him, and live a happy–rich–life. A girl doesn’t just become the wife of a NBA franchise player by accident.” She takes a moment to apply lip gloss before continuing. 

“It takes strategy, good intel, and vision.” She finishes off before grabbing the poster board sitting next to her, showing you a pin board with various different basketball players. Thankfully, a certain bright blue eyed player is absent. 

Next to each of their pictures is their name, age, birthday, interests, basketball team, and other miscellaneous facts. Her entire pin-board looks like an FBI investigation wall.

“Modeling only pays so much. Especially as a model who isn’t a Super-model.” An exasperated breath leaves her lips as if she was exhausted from just explaining the obvious to you.

“I mean look at this!” She says, frantically showing you the magazine. You lean over to get a better look as you read the title. 

‘PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE, NANAMI KENTO’S WIFE STARTS BRAND NEW BAKING TELEVISION SHOW.’

 “These women get fragrance deals, shoe lines, clothing lines, like; Oh.My.God! Even shows!” Each admission becomes more passionate than the last. As she continues to rant to you. “I’m almost 30. I need to start thinking for myself, and my future. Like, now. I’ll find a man, and use him.” 

You laugh at her crazy talk, you start putting fingers down as you list her current struggles, “You’re crashing in my guestroom.” One finger down. “Your BMW got repossessed because you stopped making payments.” Two fingers down. “You haven’t been able to hold a steady job.” Three fingers down. “And you don’t even help clean the house.” Four fingers down.

You wave them in front of her face to try and get your point across. “Look, I’m all for you finding a rich man in the future, and living off of him—that’s fine. But for now, at least help around the house when you can. I work lots of shifts at the clinic, the least you could do is help at home—” 

“Especially since you don’t help me pay any bills.” She’s ready to protest, and cut you off. You make sure you get the last word in. “I don’t care because I get paid enough to cover this nice apartment in the middle of the city. Just, take some stress off my shoulders.” You smile kindly at her.

She lets out a huff of annoyance before turning back to her magazines, and ignoring you. A tired sigh escapes your lips. Her gloomy mood makes you feel pitiful, but thankfully you remember what Gojo said to you that night. 

“Besides, how are you gonna get an NBA husband, if you…” You grab your phone, and tap on the screen before showing her the details for Gojo Satoru’s Saturday birthday party, “Don’t go to the gatherings?” 

Her eyes grow wide with excitement, and she jumps up to hug you. “How did you do that?” She questions in disbelief, as she grabs your phone to see the tickets. “Well, I bumped into him in the street, and one thing led to another so he invited me.” 

She squeals before hugging you again. “I need to figure out what I need to wear. No—I need to figure out what I need to buy to wear.” She runs to your guest room in excitement, muttering to herself as she begins to move further and further away from you. The door slammed shut as an indication that you’re now alone in the living room.

You choose to keep the details hidden of how exactly you met Gojo because of how personal they felt. It felt like something sacred that should be kept between Gojo and you. You didn’t want to let anyone inside your little bubble. As selfish as that sounded. 

What happened earlier this morning felt so refreshing. You softly smile to yourself before walking to your room to rest your eyes before the party. 

Your mom has always believed in destiny. That the universe worked in mysterious ways. She liked the idea that everything was meant to be. People were at a certain place, and time for a reason. Even if you lose something—whatever it may be— the first time, it’ll always come back someway, somehow. 

You believe it now as she enters your old adolescent room before you, holding a box in her hands. You had decided to get ready at your parents house because of how convenient it would be, considering how Gojo’s house is closer to your parent’s house compared to yours. 

“You are going to find a husband tonight.” Your mother laughs. You playfully roll your eyes at her admission. “Mom… don’t start.” You half-heartedly warn before she goes off her lovesick rant, placing the box on the table next to you. 

“Honey, I married your father, and he still can’t believe his luck. I mean I understand, I am beautiful, and so is my gorgeous daughter—”

“—and niece!” Your cousin adds before going back to the mirror, touching up her eyelashes. 

Your mother and you sweetly laugh before continuing, “I mean, when I first met him, it was like love at first sight.” You can’t help the frown that overtakes your features at her admission, a certain white-haired blue eyed man coming to mind.

“Anyway,” Your mother says before waving dismissively, “I have a surprise.” She smiles, before opening the box she had brought with her. You gasp as she pulls out the most gorgeous set of earrings you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Are those…?” You trail off in question. 

“Your grandmother’s diamond earrings.” Your mother confirms before gazing softly at them. “She wore them the night she met your grandfather, and I wore them the night I met your father. And now I want you to wear them.” She tells you. 

“They’re beautiful!” Your cousin compliments, quickly picking herself up from her seat and making her way over. “They are more than beautiful,” Your mother responds in agreement.

“I don’t think those will suit her Auntie, but they will suit me!” You glare at your cousin. Your mom smiles at your cousin before handing them to her. A look of betrayal paints your face. “Then I think you should wear them.” 

Your heart drops at the admission, and before you could protest. The earrings are already on her before you could blink. “What do you think?” She asks you. Ugly. You think. 

“I think I need a shot.” You mutter. 

“Oh my god.” Your cousin says in amazement. “This is beautiful.”

You can’t help but silently agree with her. Gojo’s house was beyond gorgeous. The house was elegant, simplistic, yet lived in. It was decorated enough to uplift the house, rather than outshine it. 

You walk through the main entrance, and see a lot of faces you’d usually see on TV, magazines, and billboard signs. Lots of Gojo’s teammates scatter among the crowd. They’re easy to spot considering their height. 

The music is played to a low volume. The atmosphere emits one of class, tranquility yet fun, and livelihood. People chatter away, immersed in their own worlds, without a care in the world. You suppose that people who have the privilege to attend a Gojo gathering can afford to live without a care in the world. 

As you enter the main living room, you hear a voice command the room. Perfecting timing. 

“I’d like to make a special toast, for a special birthday boy.” Geto grins, lifting his drink to cheer, before grabbing Gojo by the neck and continuing with what you suspect is a birthday speech. As if on queue the people begin to gather around Geto and Gojo.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard this before,” Geto pauses before continuing, “that when some people become rich and famous they turn into pricks…” He looks back at Gojo, “But Satoru’s always been a rich and famous asshole, so it doesn’t apply to him.” He laughs before receiving a shove from Gojo as they share a hearty laugh together. 

“Point is, he’s still the same guy from high school…minus the stickman legs, and high-pitched voice.” The crowd joins in on Geto’s laughter, “To my one and only best friend, happy birthday.” The crowd cheers, and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday!' ring throughout the room. “Thank you Suguru.” You watch as Gojo and Geto prepare themselves to do a load of shots. As the music begins to pick up again, and the crowd disperses. 

Your cousin taps your shoulder, and you look over at her, “I’m gonna go explore okay?” 

“Oh! O–” You turn around to find her already gone, “--Kay.”

You find your way to the bar, as you sweetly greet the bartender. “Can I have a glass of champagne?”

You’re waiting patiently against the bar when you feel a tap on your shoulder, and a look of surprise crosses your features at the sight of Gojo’s beaming smile. “You made it.” He says happily, eyeing you with a dopey smile. 

“Happy birthday!” You tell him, and his hand rests beside your waist against the bar, slightly caging you in. “I got you a card!” You say, reaching into your handbag for the Digimon themed birthday card, and a breathy chuckle leaves Gojo’s lips at the sight of it. 

His eyes twinkle when he looks back up at you, “Aw, come on,” He says before continuing with a fake pout, “No surprise punch?” 

You laugh at his lame teasing, but play along with him anyway. “Maybe next time, if you decide to run up behind me in the middle of the night, I’ll give you two.” His lips set on a teasing yet flirty smile, raising a questioning eyebrow, “Next time? With the way you look tonight, there will definitely be a next time—”

“Oh god!” A frantic voice interrupts you both, and you’re not surprised to find out the culprit is your cousin. Although you’re happy that she found you again, currently her presence is an unwelcome one. Her hand rests on your shoulder as she looks into your eyes. Your annoyance is quickly replaced with worry as it immediately overtakes your features. “There you are! I am so sorry, but I need to leave.” Your cousin says. 

“What? Why? Is everything okay?” You ask, quickly scanning her for any physical injuries. “Everything is okay! It’s just that I got a call from the non-profit I was working with, and they need me to come in immediately.”

Non-profit? Working with?

“What? You don’t–”, She gives you a look that causes a realization to wash over you. She’s lying to make a good impression. With a roll of your eyes, you clear your throat to look back at Gojo but find that he is already fixated on something. Or more like someone. 

Your cousin. The look on his face causes a sinking feeling to settle in your stomach. “Hey.” He says. 

“Gojo, this is my cousin.” You tell him her name before continuing, “We grew up together.” 

Your cousin barely glances at Gojo before realization dawns on her about who he is, and a flirty smile graces her features. “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you.” She says, before slipping back into a false indifference. Gojo’s eyes never leave her figure, but your cousin has a game to play, and it’s her favorite one. Unfortunately for Gojo, he’s playing right into it. 

“One of the volunteers at the homeless shelter I help out at, just called in sick. So I need to go.” She begins to walk away, but Gojo stops her before she can. “You know, I volunteer too.”

“That’s cool," she says before turning to you and perking up again, “I have to stop by the store to buy some games for the kids, okay?” You couldn’t believe her. Her head tilted to one side while listening to him, a hidden sheen of interest coated her eyes. 

You think you might have to kill yourself after this.

Gojo’s eyebrows raise once again in a curious manner, “You two…live together?” 

“If by living together, you mean she free-loads, then yeah! We live together.” That earns you a gentle elbow in the stomach. “How can I get in touch with you?” He persists with an unrelenting stare.

“Oh…Gojo…It’s Gojo, right?” You feel your eyes roll involuntarily,” I’m sorry I’ve tried the whole ‘dating an athlete thing, and…it’s not my thing. But it was really nice talking to you.” She turns to you once again, and you swear you see a menacing glint in her eye. “Are you ready?”

To jump off a cliff? Absolutely. 

Your cousin walks away, and anger overtakes your entire body. You turn to look at Gojo, and deflate at how his attention is solely on her, and the way she confidently walks away, catching the eyes of many men. Unaware of the attention you hinder as well.

You feel sick to your stomach. You should’ve asked the bartender for a round of shots.

Gojo’s friends watch as you walk away with interest in their eyes. “You know, the objective is not to make them leave.” Geto speaks up. Entranced by you. 

But Gojo’s eyes stay focused elsewhere, before looking at Geto, “I think this worked out just great.” He trails off.

“What the hell was that back there?” You interrogate in a tight voice as soon as you shut the car door. “Oh. Come on.” The tone of her voice has you reeling back. You watch in disbelief as your cousin reapplies her lipstick through your car vanity mirror. She pops her lips before continuing, “Was he looking at me when I walked away?” Her eyes shine with a gleam of deviltry.

A scoff leaves your lips, and you look away from her. “Yes, he was.” Sadly. “You do realize, you don’t work—let alone volunteer—for a homeless shelter, right?” 

“Obviously,” she counters, “But he seemed like the kind to fall for that kind of stuff. So I gave it to him, and it worked. I won’t even need to work a job anymore when I get to live in this big house.” Her hands gesture back to the direction of Gojo’s house before continuing to fix her makeup. 

“You don’t even work a job now.” You emphasize with raised eyebrows, and a tilt in your head. “Besides, you rejected him.”

“Yeah,” your cousin responds in a ‘duh’ tone, “That’s probably the first time that’s ever happened since…forever. Trust me…” She trails off while fixing her hair, “I’ll be hearing from him.”

And she did. 

The next morning you’re almost leaving your apartment for work when you hear a knock, and find a well dressed Gojo before your eyes. You raise a questioning eyebrow at the sight of his presence. 

He eyes you for a little before clearing his throat. “Is your cousin here?” A hesitant tone overtakes his features, studying you for a reaction. 

Your heart threatens to drop, but you clear your head before it can. “Yeah.” You respond somberly before continuing, “She’s in her room. I’ll go get her.” You turn around to fetch your cousin but pause mid-turn as a sudden question sweeps into your head. You turn to face him once again in clear confusion.

“How did you know I lived here?” You ask skeptically. Gojo grins confidently, a lazy smile gracing his features, “I know people.” 

“That’s reassuring.” You drift away from him after curtly inviting him inside your home, and you watch as he studies your cozy apartment. Zero-ing in on the personal pictures of you you’ve hung up on your bookshelf. A faint hum comes out of him as he studies your pictures intently, memorizing them. 

“Aren’t you nosy.” You quip at him teasingly. He turns to look at you with a playful expression. “Well, I find you interesting.”

“Well not interesting enough,” you say, muttering to yourself. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” You say walking away from him to get your cousin. 

Everything took off from there. One dinner turned into two, then three, and then more than you could count on two hands. It’s like their love came easy for them, and you could tell by the countless tabloids covering their every move. 

From Gojo’s ravenous yacht dates with your cousin, to endless shopping sprees. Everyday a new magazine feature was released to keep the public updated on their love story. But you didn’t need to read them to know how good they were to one another. You could tell by the way they’d gaze at each other, more on Gojo’s part. 

She’d come home countless times, with something new to share. Whether it was a new expensive necklace Gojo had bought her, or he took her overseas on a spontaneous trip. You sat there and took it. You were helpless, and all you could do was blindly support her. Encourage their relationship. 

And Gojo? He became unstoppable. It was impossible to believe how much better his life got—considering how great it already was. He was amazing on the court, and off the court (so you’ve heard). Your cousin got her wish granted. She could finally sit in the basketball wives section, sporting a new exclusive purse every game. She got the brand deals she always wanted, and a feature on a well known magazine. The paparazzi were so obsessed with them. Oftentimes photographing them on outings, whether it was an exclusive club, or a sweet night out together. 

Headlines often portrayed their relationship as anything short of wonderful. 

“PACKING IT IN: Gojo Satoru ushers his precious girlfriend into his Mercedes after spending an exhaustive day buying up boutique Manhattan.”

“LOOK OUT!: Gojo Satoru and girlfriend share a sweet kiss at a beach in Bora Bora.”

She got everything she ever wanted, and Gojo wasn’t an exception.

At first it felt like you were drowning. Like you couldn’t escape them, but then acceptance began to settle in.

You were aware of your brief interaction with Gojo. Though it felt like more than that, you realize maybe you’d jump the gun too fast. The way you both clicked that night, maybe you’d imagined his interest in you. Maybe you’d wish so badly for it that it twisted your reality of things. You’d wished to have swept him away the way your cousin did. It hurt to see the man you’d ever truly had a faint interest in slowly fall in love with your cousin. They were just so in love. At least, he thought he was.

But it didn’t matter anyway, it’s not like you knew the guy–beyond just a conversation that lasted hours. Vulnerability leaving you both bare to one another. Gojo wasn’t yours. And now he’ll never be. 

You weren’t bitter. No. On the contrary, at first you were upset—granted—, but then you were happy for her. How could you be bitter? You had your own thing going on. It was going to take far more than this to hurt you. Besides, you could just avoid Gojo Satoru, right?

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[emithecharmer]

Husband!SKZ Reacting to you telling them you're pregnant

Severe baby fever while watching them with babies- so here's for all of the stays that want to be moms one day :)

Tw: Sex talk (duh, she's pregnant), Changbin wants to have sex with his wife (but they don't), fluff, some hurt/comfort

Christopher Bang

Chris and you had always talked about having a family, he made it perfectly clear when you two started dating that he wanted to be a father. You had always wanted to be a mom, learning empathy and compassion from your own mother, you'd always had a very strong motherly instinct, which is how you just knew. You had always heard of women who just knew they were pregnant but you'd always just thought that it was a myth, until you felt it. You were walking down the feminine hygiene isle, about to pick up a box of tampons when your mind immediately just said 'you don't need them.' It was like a switch had flipped and your brain chemistry was altered. So instead you walked a bit more and grabbed a pregnancy test.

Now, you and Chris had also talked about how if you suspected a pregnancy, that you would tell him, and he would stay with you and watch the test together. But that was easier said than done, as you as you got home..you choked up.

"Hey baby," He leaned forward and kissed your lips sweetly, "how was the store? Thank you for going by the way, I'm sorry I got held back at the studio later than expected." He explained, going and unloading some of the groceries.

"It's okay, it was um..interesting."

"What do you-" He stopped his sentence and that was when you noticed what bag he was going through. He turned toward you, eyes wide and in disbelief.

"Are you-? When did you.. When did we-?"

"I don't know, but I- Today in the store, I had the strongest feeling about it! And I remember you told me your mom just knew and I just- I feel like I am Chris." He practically tore open the box with excitement.

"Can you take it, please baby, take it!" You nodded and you two walked to the bathroom together.

"How long does it take to pee on a stick?" You heard Chris whine from outside.

"I have performance anxiety!" You whined back, getting frustrated.

Finally you finished the test and washed your hands before letting your, impatient, husband in.

"Hey.." He sounded serious now, making you look at him. He grabbed your hands before deciding to bring you in for a tight hug instead.

"No matter what the test says, we have to agree to take time for the two of us, I don't want us growing apart at all, okay? If we have a baby..it's going to make us stronger okay? And if we don't just yet, we'll try whenever we're ready okay?" You smiled, pulling away and nodding, brushing a small hair that had fallen into his face and glancing at the test.

"Chris.." He looked at the test and you felt you heart clench at the way his eyes sparkled when he turned back to you.

"Thank you.." He whispered, bringing you in for a passionate kiss.

Lee Minho || Lee Know

"Min, what do you think of having kids soon?" You asked, making your husband turn around and raise a brow.

"Why would we have a baby when we already have three?" He asked, smiling when Soonie walked by and brushed against his leg.

"Ah, yeah." You said half-heartedly.

"..I'm also super busy, you know with our new come back and everything that we have planned- I wouldn't get to be there." He explained, trying to give you a better reason.

"Mm, no that makes sense." He smiled at your answer and turned back to cooking, missing the way you brought your hand to your stomach and the way that tears gathered in your eyes.

Three months flew by without suspicion, you never drank or smoked to begin with, so Minho thought nothing of it, that was, until you started to experience the horrible morning sickness.

You first woke up at 3 am, rushing to the bathroom and heaving into the toilet, you were trying to be quiet before remembering that your husband has chosen to stay at the dorms that night. After you were finished you shakily stood up and brushed your teeth. When you stood up from bending over, you noticed it, Minho's t-shirt tried its best, but there was no doubt, you had a bump. You had a baby bump and when you saw it you collapsed on the floor at the realization that you were hiding your child from your husband. You sobbed on the floor, not hearing the door open and Minho call out your name. You only noticed when he entered the bathroom with his jaw slack and a look of confusion on his face.

"W-What happened? What's wrong baby?" He asked, immediately going to bring you into his arms, lifting you up and taking you to your shared bed. You didn't know if it was from pure exhaustion of the hormones, or if you were just tired of keeping it a secret, but you just blurted it out to him.

"I'm- I'm pregnant Minho. I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!" His heart broke as you wailed your apologies, he hadn't realized that he'd come across not wanting children.

"Y/n- you- Oh God, please don't be sorry, precious." He whispered, pulling you in for a hug and rubbing your back.

"I hid it from you though.." You whimpered as he shook his head.

"No, no, that was my fault, you should have never felt that you couldn't tell me anything, especially this..You're- We're going to have a baby." His smile was even wider than it was on your wedding day as he brought you in for a kiss and then peppered kisses all of your face before he tilted your head up so he could kiss behind your ear.

"Thank you, so much, honey" He whispered as he squeezed your hands.

Seo Changbin

"Changbin!" You screamed, running to your husband whom you hadn't seen for almost 3 months.

"Y/n." He said, closing his eyes as you two hugged, he wanted to breathe you in for this moment. They were on tour and you'd decided to come and join them.

"I missed you." You said, smiling as he pulled away and grabbed you two suitcases, showing you where the elevator was.

"I missed you too, baby. I can't wait to show you the hotel room, it's insane!" You chuckled at his excitement.

"And we can go see the boys in a little bit too, if you're not too tired." He offered as the door opened and you two stepped out.

"Mm, I'm not tired, I actually slept for most of the flight, so I think I'll be okay." He smirked as he entered the key into the door and opened it.

"Not tired?" He asked, making you shake your head as you looked around the room.

"It is pretty here, I like the-" You we're cut off by your husband, who brought you in for a long-overdue kiss. You felt his arm wrap around you back, caressing your spine before reaching for your shirt.

"Mm, I should warn you, the doctor said that intercourse while pregnant is okay, as long as it's vanilla." You informed him.

"Huh?" You giggled at his reaction, staying quiet as he wracked his brain for a few seconds before his eyes widened.

"But that would mean-"

"Right before you left, yeah." He frowned.

"I left you.." He said.

"Neither of us knew, and I only found out when I saw..this." You lifted your shirt to show him your stomach, which now sported a small bump.

Your husband dropped to his knees and cradled your bump so soft that it almost tickled before he looked back up at you, tears in his eyes. He stood back up, bringing you in for a deep kiss, never once letting his hand fall from your stomach.

Hwang Hyunjin

"Jinnie." You smiled at your husband as he sketched the landscape in front of you. He hummed, looking down at you as you laid on the blanket you two had laid out.

"You'll never guess who's pregnant." You said.

"..You?" He asked warily, making you sputter a laugh.

"No, my sister in law." You said, giggling at Hyunjin's sigh of relief.

"What, you don't want to have a baby with me?" You pouted in a joking manner.

"What- No! No, I do! I do, I want to have like 10 babies with you-"

"Woah bro, slow your roll." He cackled at the hand you held out to him as a sign to stop and the look of utter horror on your face.

"Just not right now, I'd want to be there, not caught up in schedules." You nodded and hummed.

'Pregnant' You had to have read it wrong.

'Pregnant'

'Pregnant'

'Pregnant' Okay one faulty test, but four? You sighed and held your head in your palms as you tried to figure out how to tell your husband.

"No time like the present." You told yourself, grabbing the four tests and unlocking the door and walking into your guest room, which was more of an art room now.

"Hey, love, you okay? You were in there for a while." Hyunjin asked as he put down his brush and turning to you.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing to your hand.

"They're-.." You took a shaky breath before continuing, "They're pregnancy tests..and they're positive." You tried to decipher the look on his face as he stood up and came to you, holding out his hand, which you put a test into. He looked at the screen, 'pregnant,' for a few seconds before he looked back to you, that's when you noticed he was about to cry.

"Aw, Jinnie." You cooed, opening your arms to comfort him.

"You're pregnant.." He said.

"Mhm."

"You- You're going to have a baby. And we'll be parents." You nodded again, chuckling at your husband.

"You're going to be the best mom." He said, eyes watering a bit.

"And you're going to be an amazing dad, Jinnie."

"Power couple." He winked, a tear falling as he did, making you two giggle.

Han Jisung

You'd gone shopping right away after you read the positive result on the small screen. Jisung had always told you that he wanted kids, and being his wife, you knew he'd make a great dad. After finding out that you were expecting, you knew you had to make telling him special. You went to the store and bought a, blank white, newborn onesie and some fabric paint, painting in small words 'STAY' on the front and 'HAN' on the back. You put the onesie and the test at the bottom of a small box before filling it with other mementos you'd collected since the two of you had started dating.

"Jagi! I'm home, and I got us some sushi!" You heard your husband announce his arrival and quickly shut the box, making sure it was ready.

"In the kitchen!" You said, smiling when your husband's face popped out from behind the wall.

"You somehow get prettier every time I see you." He said, setting down the food and kissing the tip of your nose and nuzzling into your neck, hugging you close.

"Mm, missed you." He cooed at you, pulling away to kiss you properly, cupping your cheek softly.

"I have something for you." You said giggling as you pulled away, snickering at the slight pout he momentarily had.

"Ooh!" He accepted the box from your hands, setting it down to open it.

"Woww, this is from our first date! And is this in Japan?" You nodded as he increasingly got more excited.

"That's me at your first Stray Kids concert,- wow am I hot or what?" You giggled as he kept digging. You held your breath as he picked up a set of keys that you two had kept after locking your locks on the bridge, and then picked up your wedding photo.

"You look stunning in this photo. What was this all for, baby?" He asked, kissing you again.

"There's more, babe." You smiled, pointing down at the box.

"Oh, oops!" He looked back into the box, freezing when he saw what was inside. He picked up the onesie, setting it on the counter, before picking up the test. He turned back to you, taking one look at your face, making sure it wasn't a joke, before hugging you.

"I love you," kiss, "I love you," kiss, "and I love you." He said, poking your belly softly.

"I love you." Jisung said, kissing your forehead.

"I love you more, Ji."

Lee Felix

"Practice is kicking my butt." Felix groaned, flopping onto your bed and sighing as he felt the plushness under him.

"New comeback?" You asked softly and he nodded.

"Yeah, just- need something good you know? Not that you aren't good, baby." You smiled, setting your book down and leaning down to brush his hair with your fingers. He sighed at the feeling, he'd missed your presence for a few weeks, being so held up in schedules, he'd decided he'd go back to his old dorm for the time being, just so he wouldn't disrupt your sleep schedule, you being a nurse and all.

"Can you kiss me?" He asked.

"Course, bub." You said, choosing to move up, letting him scoot up as well and sit between your legs. He leaned forward, kissing your lips and the down your neck, and then back to your lips. A few minutes later he noticed that you weren't as into it as you usually were, so he stopped.

"You okay, pretty girl?" He asked, rubbing your hip.

"I'm a little tired.." He pouted, kissing your cheek before leaning over and turning off the lamp. The moonlight outside still illuminated the room, coming through the curtains and giving the room a soft glow.

"You should've said something, baby, we can sleep."

"It's okay, really, I think it's just the pregnancy hormones, my sex drive will fluctuate a lot through pregnancy."

"Ahh, yeah that makes sense." He said, laying down with you and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him.

"Wait what." He said a few minutes later, making you burst into laughter.

"It took you that long?" You asked, watching him reach over and turn the lamp back on.

"You're pregnant? Like with a baby? Our baby, like one that we made?" You blinked at him.

"..I'm going to say yes?" He started to cry as he pulled you up to hug you, muttering thank you's and I love you's as he rubbed your back softly.

Kim Seungmin

Right when he gets home, you were going to tell him, right when he walks in, there was no stopping you.

"I just want today to be over, can no one do anything right?" Nevermind. You said to yourself as you heard the door slam and your husband walked in, slinging his coat onto the back of a chair before he took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry..I shouldn't bring work in with me, I'm sorry baby." He apologized, walking up to hug you in greeting.

"Hi Minnie." You said, nuzzling into his chest.

"You should just come in with me, just hearing your voice makes everything better." He said as he ran his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head every few seconds.

"Happy to be of service." You giggled, looking up at your husband, all of whose tension was released upon seeing you.

"I have to use the bathroom." He said, pulling away, making you chuckle.

"Okay, I'll start on dinner."

"Thank you, baby, I'll help you when I'm out." He promised.

"..Babe?" You turned around to see your husband holding something.

"Is this- Are you pregnant?" He asked, looking up at you, seeing your reaction, he knew you were.

"Ah- I was supposed to tell you when you came home- I kinda chickened out.." You looking down at the floor.

"Oh my gosh..Baby- Babe- Y/n- We're going to be parents." He smiled, walking over to you.

"Yeah, we are." He lifted you onto the counter, making sure you didn't hit anything before he kissed your softly, lifting his hands to your stomach and rubbing it softly.

Yang Jeongin (I.N)

"Innieeee!" You called as you knocked on Chan's studio door. Jeongin was with Chan and Jisung today going over some lyrics, but he'd texted you to come over for lunch so he could see you.

"Come in, it's only me." He said but opening the door anyway.

"Ooh, what'd you bring?" He asked.

"Cookies, but we have to eat lunch first, I brought subway." He gasped, holding out his hands as you handed him the bag.

"Thank you, love." He said coyly, kissing your cheek quickly.

"I got you two since you started working out again." You said, making him flush.

"Ah, you didn't have to." He said.

"But you wouldn't have been full if I hadn't, hm?" He nodded shyly. Despite you two being together for around two years, you still had your shy moments.

"Mkay, cookie time, gimme gimme." He said, throwing his trash into the empty bag. Chan and Jisung were back and their eyes lit up.

"Cookies?" Jisung asked with wide eyes.

"Jisung." Chan shoved his arm, making Jisung sit up straight.

"Sorry." You laughed.

"You can have some too, I got a batch."

Jeongin opened the box and shut it immediately, not even letting the boys see the cookies. As fate would have it, the rest of the boys arrived at the door, wanting to say bye before heading home, but now they were confused in the scene.

"You're a liar. You're literally lying." Jeongin accused, tears in his eyes.

"Innie, what happened?" Chan asked, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Uh-uh, I went to the doctor today to confirm." You said. Jeongin sniffled loudly as he stood up and walked to you, quite literally falling to his knees to hug you.

"So..Is everything good?" Hyunjin asked as he stood awkwardly outside the door. Jisung, the impatient man he was, had opened the cookie box and gasped, pointing at you.

"She's pregnant!" Chaos followed after the revelation that their youngest member was on the road to fatherhood.

[girlleon]

SPACE BETWEEN

uncle!leon kennedy x fem!reader

warnings: uncle-niece incest, 18+. content below the cut, vomit (non-sexual capacity), age gap (early-mid 30s to late teens-early 20s). fingering, oral (f! receiving, piv, creampie… Leon’s kind of a simp and lame tbh. ddlg undertones, just a little. heaps of praise :3

i got inspired by uncle from nicole dollanganger tbh.

“I want to marry my Uncle Leon!” you said when you were seven, smiling up at him with two front teeth missing, chubby baby arms wrapped around his thigh.

Half-uncle, really, but that’s semantics. It’s like someone saying the sky is blue and another person saying it’s turquoise. They’re both right, one’s just really fucking annoying about it.

He also thought you’d say you wanted to marry your dad, because that’s pretty common with kids. Most girl’s dads or brothers are their first loves, so he was pleasantly surprised at the honor of being your chosen husband.

Unfortunately, you’re also seven, and that’s very illegal.

Your dad chuckles and doesn’t bother to try and peel you off. He tried that once and you went back to sticking to him like sweat, so he didn’t bother after that.

“Do you have a wife, Uncle Leon?” You ask him, smiling up at him so sweetly. You got those dimples from your mom, and he’ll never admit it, but they melt his heart just a little.

“No, sweetheart.” He reaches down and ruffles your hair. “I’m all yours for the taking.”

You beam up at him, even as he messes up your hair. “Good! ‘Cause you’re all mine!”

Your dad snorts, promptly looking innocent when Leon glares at him halfheartedly.

“That’s right.” Leon lugs you up into his arms, kissing your temple and giving you the faintest smile. “I’m all yours.”

He sees you a little less and less as the years wear on. He’s busy and you’re busy and grow from a sweet kid to a petulant preteen to an awkward teenager.

He’s still the first one you call, though, when you’re sixteen and drunk at a house party you shouldn’t be at. You’re swaying a little as he pulls up to the curb.

Leon leans over and opens the door for you—you toddle over and slam his door shut with a soft apology. “I didn’t wanna be there anymore.” You say, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, sweetheart.” He reaches over and rubs your shoulder. “I’m glad that you called me instead of your dad.”

“Thanks.” You’re a little tacky with sweat and smell like a brewery and some sickly sweet floral perfume when you lean over to put your head on his shoulder. Baby’s first grown-up perfume instead of the body spray they sell at bath and body works. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m still glad it was me.” Leon reiterates, kissing the top of your head. “C’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you home. Seatbelt on.”

You pull away reluctantly, buckling in your seatbelt with clumsy hands. “I know, I know. I got the riot act from my doctor when I got the physical done for the permit. Seatbelts yes, swerving no.” You grumble, pushing a sparkly hand through your hair.

He snorts, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. “Is that everything?”

“She said she’d pull my license if she caught me.” You reply, propping a temple on your fist. “‘Cause she’s a doctor and a mandatory performer—reporter. Mandatory reporter.”

Leon can’t help a quiet chuckle, even when you swat at him. “You got there in the end.”

The quiet roll of the car rocks you right to sleep, and he sneaks glances at you as he moves around pot holes and takes speed bumps slowly to avoid jostling you awake and fucking up his suspension. Cute, your nose still twitches like a bunny’s when you sleep. He thinks you got that from your mom too.

He gently wakes you up when he’s stopped in front of your house, reaching over and unbuckling your seatbelt before petting your head. “Gotta wake up, sweetheart, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

You groan behind a closed mouth, face scrunching up. “No…”

He almost laughs. “Come on, I’ll help you up and out.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and jogs over to your side when he’s out of the car, opening the door and bodily carrying you out of the car.

The movement’s a little much and you gag, sweat breaking out on your skin.

Leon aims you away from himself just in time, rubbing your back as you puke loudly in your yard. He reaches over and holds your hair back with a grimace. “You’re alright. You’re okay. Just get it out.” He murmurs, rubbing your back once you stop retching.

When you straighten up, he wipes your mouth and his hand on his jeans. “You’ll feel a bit better in the morning.” Leon tells you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you to the front door. You fumble a little for your house keys, but get inside after he kisses your temple and wishes you a goodnight. “‘Night, Leon.”

“Night.” He repeats, gently shutting the door behind you. He goes back to his car and drives home, that sickly perfume smell lingering on the seats like you personally cropdusted them.

Vanilla, white florals, he thinks he smells coffee before it lapses into a sort of acrid smell. Otherwise, perfectly inoffensive on you, perfectly inoffensive to anyone with a working nose, to be honest.

He wishes you’d wear something a little more offensive, strong, something definitively you. Florals tend to be powdery and come off as something an old lady would wear, and that’s not very sexy at all, is it?

Cherry, he thinks would fit you perfectly well. Strawberries. Maybe they make apple perfumes.

When Christmas rolls around, he does exactly that, after skulking around Ulta and eventually asking for perfume recommendations from an associate.

Leon comes back with something strawberry, something jasmine and red berries. He splurged a little bit on a gingerbread perfume, but he doesn’t mind, might as well have something festive to give you.

When it comes time to get the gang together, he tosses it all in a pretty, sparkly bag with blue tissue paper and a tag with your name on it because he’s shit at wrapping gifts.

You cling to him a little tighter with the greeting hug he gives you. Maybe you’re still grateful he didn’t snitch about the party.

Either way, Leon returns the tight hug and gives you a pointed smile as he asks, “How’ve you been?”

You, to your credit, barely flinch, though he can see in your eyes you know exactly what he’s talking about. “Been good, glad to be out of school for the next two weeks. Merry Christmas.”

He clicks his tongue, then disengages and steers you over to the living room and sits right next to you after depositing his gift for you under the Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas. Yeah, I bet. No more waking up at six in the morning for the bus at six-forty. Been staying out of trouble?” He gives you a sly look, head cocking just to the side.

Your eyes narrow at him playfully as you smile back despite yourself. “Yeah. I’ve been too busy with work to really get up to something bad.”

“Ah, that’s the way to keep it.” He slings an arm over the back of the couch, getting up after a moment to get himself a bit of eggnog, your mom’s recipe. “How much do you get?” He asks when he’s sitting down again, arm back over the couch.

And so it goes from there. You get the most of the spread of presents, being the kid and all.

Your mom and dad each got one another something and him some comfy clothes, he sorely needs them.

Whilst he was shopping for you, he ducked into some department store and got your parents some simple stuff. Soap, pajama sets and the like.

You look extremely surprised—and pleased? Leon’s heart might not take it if you hate the gifts—when you pull the perfumes out of the bag. “Whoa. How much did you spend?” You ask him immediately.

Leon scoffs, taking a sip of eggnog to hide a nervous shift. “It wasn’t much, they’re all samples.” The strawberries and cream one was like thirty-five bucks, so was the jasmine and red fruits one; he spent about fifty on the gingerbread one because he couldn’t find a smaller size than just an ounce. “Besides, I make the big bucks.”

Your mom sneaks a glance at Leon, then stealthily looks up the prices of the perfumes she can see, eyes going comically wide before she gives him a disapproving look. “Leon!”

“Yes?” He asks innocently, plastering on the most charming smile he has. Before she can start, Leon shakes his head, giving her a ‘don’t worry’ wave of his hand. “Come on, I make a hundred and twenty in a day.” More, actually, but still.

Your mom looks like she’s going to argue before your dad lays a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head with an amused look. “I’m putting a budget cap on the presents next time.” She decides after a moment.

Leon smirks, shooting you a wink. “Duly noted.” Then, he nods at you, manspreading because you’re on the floor. “What do you think?”

You pull off the caps of the perfumes and sniff them without spraying them, making faces with each sniff test. “Whoa.”

“Good?” God, he’s hoping you like them.

You nod, smelling the gingerbread one again. “Yeah. These are so cool.” Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “Thanks, I love them.”

Relief loosens his chest a little. Leon gives you a smile. “I was hoping so.”

He stays over for dinner and maybe a little afterward, just catching up with the rest of you guys.

All too soon, it comes time to say goodbye, they hope he comes again soon to terrorize everyone with his extravagant presents.

He spends the most time hugging you goodbye.

You graduate in the spring and he makes sure to actually dress up for this occasion. Someone only ever graduates five times in their life—kindergarten, fifth grade, eighth grade, high school, college.

Leon’s wearing a suit that had a little dust on it when he dug it out of the back of his closet, the collar and tie is a little tight around his neck and he keeps fidgeting until nudged by your dad because you’re walking across that stage.

God, it’s so weird to see you all grown up.

He was one of the few to hold you after you were born before you started fussing for your mom. He babysat you a few times so your parents could go have a date night. He was over at your fucking house almost every other day because your dad wanted to hang with his half-brother.

He’s getting really old. He’s starting to reminisce the way their dad did about high school friends and the like. For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty-five, not sixty-five.

You get a picture from the photographer, grinning from ear to ear. It’s well deserved, you fucking hated high school, he remembers the complaints. Then you go sit back in your spot and wait to flip your tassel.

Finally, all the fucking pomp and circumstance is over with. Here endeth the high school.

He and your parents find you a bit afterward, all of them drag you into giant hugs before they go to the car and treat you to dinner before you get all your graduation cash with a side of birthday treats.

He got you another perfume, a sultry cherry scent.

Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ in the manger in the fucking Inn. Mary and Joseph above him. Leon might as well just go caving if he’s going to hell, getting trapped underground would be so much easier.

Leon has to put on sunglasses when he sees you in that American flag bikini the summer after you graduate, flapping his blanket out on the sand and posting his flip flops on opposite corners.

It’s a little on the nose for the holiday, but he’s more than willing to stand for the flag. He’s much more partial to kneeling, but standing works too.

He strips off his shirt and begins slathering himself in sunscreen because he’s gonna turn into a lobster in less than fifteen minutes, he’s calling it.

Your dad bets ten. Your mom bets five.

Lucky you, you got the tanning without burning genes, also from your mom. You go right in without worrying about sunscreen.

He sits there after taking off his sunglasses and spending an extraordinary amount of time trying to reach his back. Like he wants to be peeling the next time he has to go fight some BOWs.

At some point, you resurface from the water after he resigns himself to a burned back, picking up your towel and laying it around your shoulders to cushion your wet hair. “Need some help? You’re cooking.” You point vaguely at his semi-red back.

Leon stares for a second before wordlessly handing you his sunscreen and shifting so his back is to you. This is a sure fire way to avoid tempting himself.

He hears you snort when the bottle makes a funny noise, then the weird sound of your wet hands rubbing together as you warm up the sunscreen before applying it in broad sweeps around his back.

“You and dad burn so easily.” You mutter, still rubbing in the sunscreen. Your long nails graze his skin on occasion and he fights the urge to stiffen up.

“You’re lucky,” Leon says after swallowing quietly, “you got the tanning from your mom. Certainly didn’t get it from your dad.” His hands bunch up his trunks.

You snort again, rubbing away the last of the white streaks across his back before leaning back on your hands. “Or you.”

Well, he only shares about twenty-five percent of your DNA, that’s why. He learned that after an alcohol-fueled dive—and no less than five orgasms—in the incognito tab. In some places, if both parties are over the age of consent, incest is totally legal. Some can even get married.

He shifts so he’s laying down on his blanket, a soft and amused snort catching your attention. “True.” He crosses his arms behind his head, soaking up the sun now that he’s in danger of not burning to a crisp and missing the way your eyes linger just a little too long.

Turning twenty-one is a big occasion. You can get scratch offs, buy your own drinks, smoke if you damn well want to.

You, lucky girl, get two parties. One with family, one with your friends who can also drink.

Leon comes for the former that takes place the day afterward. Your parents and him didn’t wanna cramp your hot, early twenties style.

You guys go out to your choice of restaurant, then come back and have some celebratory drinks as you open your presents. Some cash, shirts, a new backpack, and some perfume, courtesy of Leon.

He went digging for the really niche ones and came back with one that smells like cat fur, cake, a bit of florals because female perfumes can never fucking escape florals. It was named for the ballet step, pas de chat. Step of the cat. He thought he’d try something out of the box.

You seem to like it, the way your face breaks into a smile. “Thanks. This is nice.” You spritz a little on your wrist and smell it, lighting up just a little bit.

Leon smiles back too, a tad softer than his usual sly smile he wears. He’s been told he has a bit of a smug face. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He nods, raising his glass to you briefly.

He’s invited to stay over as long as he likes, or even stay in the guest bedroom if he wanted to, he’s informed by your parents as they go upstairs to bed.

Which is why he’s ruminating as he stares a hole through his glass, pondering the beer and the bubbles in it.

Leaving him defenseless to you slipping into his lap.

It takes him a second, but he gets there, eyes wide as he looks up at you.

Your perfume floats over once you sling an arm around the back of his neck, something sweet and warm that makes him want to tuck his face into your neck, your eyes remarkably clear despite the three margaritas you had. “What are you doing?” He asks after a second of just staring at you.

You give him a sly look, head cocking to the side. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Getting into trouble.” Leon’s empty hand lands on your lower back as he leans forward, setting his glass of beer on the side table, his once occupied hand landing on your thigh where your shorts rode up.

That feline smile remains on your face. “I’m rather good at that.”

He snorts, slowly rubbing your thigh. “I noticed. You’re welcome for not snitching to your parents that one time.”

You snort too, bringing him closer with the arm around his neck. “Yeah, I owe you my life.”

Leon nudges your nose with his, starting to smile slightly too. “You joke, but your mother would’ve killed you.”

“I think she knew.” You admit, shifting a little closer on his lap.

Leon’s hand slowly travels up your inner thigh, your legs parting for him just a little. He pauses, eyes flicking back up to you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, swallowing nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

That’s that, then. He unbuttons your jean shorts one-handed, tugging down the zip gently, his grin widening when he sees the bit of lace visible on your waistband. “Planned this, did you?”

His eyes flick up to yours as he gently slides his hand between your underwear and shorts, gently cupping you through it, gratified when he sees you inhale sharply.

“Hoped, actually.” You admit near shamelessly, thighs spreading a little more.

“Well,” Leon can’t help feeling a little smug, slowly grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, “I hope you can be quiet.”

He dips his head down, nosing at your neck, down your collarbone and to your chest as his hand keeps slowly moving. He won’t be satisfied until there’s a wet spot.

The scent of your perfume grows a little stronger and his eyes flutter shut, his not busy hand pushing up your shirt at the back so he can rest his palm on your back.

He increases the pressure and you twitch a little, stiffening just a little. “Take this off.” Leon mumbles without lifting his head.

You tug off your shirt and he groans lowly, hiding his face back in your tits as he sucks and licks at the skin. He shifts his hand, gently dragging his fingers up before gently tapping your clit, then tucking his hand into your underwear, grinning fiendishly when there’s a puddle slicking you all the way up.

“Messy girl…” he can’t help taunting, biting down over your heart.

You whine just a little and he can literally feel all his blood rush south. It’s a surprise he didn’t faint, to be honest.

Gently, he pushes a finger in, cooing with a soft click of his tongue when you whimper. “Shh, shh, it’s ok.” He murmurs, pushing in all the way and waiting a little for you to get used to it as he messes with your clit so you stop clenching, chest heaving just a little. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl.”

Slowly, he begins pumping, making sure to graze your clit with his palm, getting himself all sticky. Maybe he’ll shake your dad’s hand with this one.

When you’re fucking yourself back, hips moving of their own accord, pretty mouth open, he adds another, curling them just until he feels that spongy spot and hitting it with precision. “There we go… that’s my girl.” Leon grins up at you, kissing your jaw as he fingers you open.

His hand is cramping just a little, but he’ll push through it for his girl.

“You’re doing so well.” He murmurs as he lays you on the couch, dragging down your bottoms as one hand slows down just a little. You whine and he clicks his tongue, pouting at you just a little before he kisses it off.

Once you’re naked, save for the bra—Leon likes the way tits look when they’re pushed out of the bra by a vigorous fucking—Leon whistles quietly, planting a kiss above your bellybutton piercing as he lays down between your open thighs. “So pretty, baby. So, so pretty.”

You have to slam a palm over your mouth when his own seals across your clit as his fingers keep moving inside you, speeding up just a little. He laughs, more vibration than sound, at least the way you feel it.

Watching you come for the first time will be seared into his mind forever. It started with the little things. Your chest was heaving, your thighs were starting to try and close around his head, your pussy starting to spasm.

Then, it happens. Your upper half snaps up, your eyes scrunching shut as you muffle what could’ve been a very incriminating noise if your hand wasn’t covering your mouth.

You sag back against the couch, chest heaving as Leon pumps his fingers and sucks you through it, leaning away and gently pulling his fingers from you when you start twitching.

“My poor baby.” He breathes, sucking his fingers clean before leaning up, hands bracketing the side of your head. “Good?”

You nod after a second. “Good.”

He gives you a soft smile, pushing some hair behind your ear. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m your girl?” You open your eyes, a little dopey smile across your face.

“‘Course, you’re my girl.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Always have been.”

Leon lives in fear of your parents finding out for at least a couple months. That’s what wakes him up in the night, not just memories from Raccoon City, Spain, Tall Oaks, et cetera.

God, he’d be hung by his toenails and skinned alive. Like when Willow killed Warren on Buffy, but a lot more drawn out because your dad would be in on it too.

You guys are at a vacation house the night you two first have sex.

It starts the same way him fingering you on the couch did. You slide into his lap long after everyone’s gone to sleep, he gets his fingers wet when you guys are in his room.

His room is a little further from your parents room than yours, hence the choice.

He lays you down and gets you off another time to hopefully make this painless, tangling a hand with yours. Only when you push at his head does he stop, grinning like a fat cat.

Leon doesn’t smile when he pushes in, watching you carefully for when he needs to stop and let you breathe.

Slowly, he’s seated balls deep inside you, hands on either side of your head. “Good, baby? Are you okay?” He pushes some of your hair back, relieved when you turn your head and kiss his palm.

“Good.” You reach a hand down and feel around, smiling slightly when he winces.

“Jesus, give me a moment. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Leon mutters, shifting a little so he can spread your legs a little more, hands dimpling the fat of your thigh.

You gasp quietly at the shift and nod, one hand over your tit, the same one he marked when he fingered you on the couch. “Leon…” you breathe, moving your legs to wrap around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers, gently shifting before drawing back and thrusting in.

Your eyes scrunch shut as you let out a soft yelp. Quickly, Leon settles his palm over your mouth, shifting so his weight is on his opposite elbow. “Hush, sweetheart. Don’t want your parents busting in, huh?”

You shake your head, face settling into a blissful expression as he starts moving, little sounds punched from you from each firm roll of his hips.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles down at you, leaning down and licking up the sweat from your neck all the way up to your earlobe, kissing it and hiding his face in your neck. “My pretty baby girl.”

Leon lifts his head up, his face hovering by the side of yours as he grins. “I got you. I got my girl.”

Ah, the praise gets to you, just a little bit. He can tell because you get a little tighter and he has to fight so this doesn’t end too early.

He’s a gentleman, he refuses to come before you.

“Can you be quiet, baby? Wanna play the quiet game?” He chuckles when you nod, removing his hand so he can play with your clit and get you just that extra bit closer.

This close, he gets to watch you pause before your upper half snaps up again, your arms wrapping around Leon as you gasp into his shoulder.

It’s your orgasm that undoes him, his hips stuttering before he fills you up, collapsing on top of you as he gasps, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as his body to yours.

To mom and dad:

I’m really sorry if I worry you both. Leon and I know you wouldn’t approve, which, for obvious reasons, makes sense.

Trust me when I say we love each other. I’ll still be studying, it’s not like he wants me to drop out.

I love you guys so much. Please don’t be mad.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Charity

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You and Talia discuss your teams

You had always been smart.

You don't think either of your mothers had predicted just how smart you would become but it was a welcome surprise for all three of you.

You knew more languages than some people could dream off. You thrived at school. You had a degree from Cambridge. You'd just completed your coaching license.

Which is how you ended up in this situation.

You flick your pencil over at Talia. "Fuck you!" You laugh," I wanted her!"

You had no idea who had cooked up such a strange idea but they did.

A charity match.

Two teams of twenty-two players.

Eleven active players.

Eleven retired players.

With the list of people signed up in your hands, you don't know why you and Talia were chosen as the coaches but you were, so the two of you were trying to decide which players you wanted and which players you didn't.

Talia sticks her tongue out at you. "Isabella would prefer to be on my team."

"Fine," You declare, eyes skimming down your list of current players. If Talia could choose her national teammate then you would too. "I want Marika."

Talia's face goes cloudy and you know you've just pinched a player that she wanted.

"We could swap," You tease and she rolls her eyes, throwing back your pencil.

"No chance!"

It's easy enough to secure your eleven active players. Most of them you know personally, some national teammates, some club teammates and a few of the girls you used to play with on the Denmark youth team.

You're happy with your choices. You can make it work.

The harder part was choosing your eleven retired players.

One name sticks out to you.

"You can have her," You say, reaching onto the table to grab a strawberry lace from the pile.

You're both on opposite ends of the sofa, legs stretched out as you go through the lists.

Talia knows exactly who you're talking about.

"No," She says with a sweet smile that's incredibly fake," You can have her, really."

You click your tongue. "No, I insist. It's a bonding opportunity. Take her."

"No, really. I can't take this opportunity away from you. I-"

"It's fine. I'm taking Momma."

"We didn't discuss that!"

"I get Momma. You get Morsa. There. Discussion done."

Maybe it's a little bit of sabotage on your part, saddling Morsa and Talia on the same team but you never said you would go easy on her.

"She was a world class centreback," You tease and Talia sighs.

"You're right," She says," I'm sure she'll have no problems keeping Pernille quiet." Her finger goes down the list. "I want Aitana."

You grin. "You just don't want Alexia. What? Think you can't boss her around like she does you?"

"That woman is scary," Talia says," I can admit that. I don't need her judging my tactics."

You shiver a little. You hadn't thought of that.

"Do you want Zećira?"

You freeze. You hadn't realised Zećira was on the list until you'd gotten to the very bottom.

Zećira had been your idol for years. You'd just adored her. She was the reason you were a keeper in the first place.

When you were younger, all you wanted to do was grow up quick enough so you could play with her.

"No," You say," You can have her."

Talia frowns. "Are you sure?"

You nod. "Yes. You can have her."

Zećira is your idol and always will be.

When you were younger, you wanted to be just like her. Now, you want to be better than her.

You'll never play against Zećira yourself but this is the closest you'll ever get to going against her.

"Thanks," Talia says," You can have Patri, if you want."

"I'll take her."

The keys jingle as they're pressed into your front door and Prins comes barrelling in, leaping up onto the sofa to give you kisses.

Pernille and Magda slip in after him.

"Everything sorted out?" Pernille asks as she takes in the papers scattered around.

"Done," Talia confirms," Squads are announced in a few days and then a one week training camp before the match."

Pernille smiles. "I look forward to seeing who's coaching me."

"Us," Magda cuts in," Coaching us."

You and Talia exchange looks.

"You separated us?"

You shrug. "It's football, Morsa," You tease," I'm sure you understand."

Magda's mouth hangs open for a moment and Kung gets annoyed when he notices she's stopped stroking his ears.

He thumps his foot angrily on the floor, the only noise over Magda's obvious shock.

Her eyes dart between you and Talia.

"No," She says as you both laugh," You're kidding."

"It's a good bonding opportunity." You blow her a kiss. "Didn't you tell me you wanted to see what Talia's like as a coach?"

"I...She...You..."

"Close your mouth, Magda," Pernille laughs," You'll catch flies."

[star2fishmeg]

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE MILESTONE!!!

can i get a fluff # 38 with Quinn please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy Halloween🎃

FLUFF #38 "This isn't what it looks like!"

📞 dialling…

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. Halloween night was supposed to be some kick-ass night of partying and making memories to look back on, dressed up in embarrassing, funny or even incredible costumes but it just couldn’t turn out that way this year. It was just embarrassing, especially since it was an NHL Halloween party and she was spending a large portion of it draped over a toilet bowl in her bandit costume, retching up all the vodka cranberries Brock had somehow convinced her were a good idea. 

Leant against the sink cabinet in his sheriff’s get-up, Quinn stroked her back soothingly, doing his best every now and then to brush any loose hairs away from her mouth, worry written all over his face. It wounded him, seeing her like that, but as she once said, ‘what goes down, sometimes must come back up.’ It wasn’t how he expected his Halloween to go, especially not his early years of being the captain. 

When y/n took his hands with half-lidded eyes under the low colourful lights and started leading him out of the living room and towards the bathroom, he thought of the best, not-so-romantic but certainly enjoyable scenario a young couple could have at a party. Instead, she’d B-lined for the toilet, and he’d dropped to his knees and hands straight to her hair to keep it out of the way. 

“‘Atta girl, I got you,” he softly reassured, tearing off pieces of toilet paper and handing it to her, “we’re not leaving until you’re empty, even if I have to stick my fingers down your throat.”

She groaned, wiping her mouth and discarding the tissue in the toilet, sitting back on her heels, ripping off another piece of toilet paper, and dabbing it under her eyes to catch the welled tears. Thank God for waterproof mascara. “That was one- maybe two times and it’s not like you haven’t chosen to put your fingers in my mouth before.” 

“Different context though, very different context, pretty girl. Are you feeling better?” He chuckled, moving from his sitting position to a crouch, hands on his knees. 

“Yeah, thank you, again. Please don’t let me out of your sight now, Brock can be a terrible influence when he’s had vodka.” Y/n nodded, standing up and straightening out her outfit, Quinn running his hand through his hair, his shirt slightly untucking itself from constant position changing every five minutes. 

She took a glance in the mirror, screwing her face up at her smeared lipstick and used her finger to make herself look presentable at least. A fond smile spread across his lips, chest meeting her back as his thick arms wound around her waist firmly, nose burying itself into the crook of her neck and his eyelashes fluttered closed, relishing in the peace and quiet he had with her before venturing back out into the wild. Cherishing her floral perfume, the minutes when he could float on cloud nine without someone hooting and hollering in the back at him. Y/n leaned her head against his, letting his body melt like wax into hers and she smiled.

“Love you s’much, you know that, right?” he asked with a deep voice, muffled by her skin and clothes slightly. 

Thumbs rubbing gently over his arms, the hairs and warm skin, she hummed, “I love you too, more than words can describe.” 

For a minute the only sounds were the subdued music from the communal space and the buzz of the light, controlled breathing hot on her neck until he pulled away, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. She fussed around with her hair, attempting to make it less of a mess but messy enough to match her costume, Quinn’s love-sick puppy gaze watching her with adoration in his eyes, chest swelling with warmth. 

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way, and they’d never live it down. Quinn let y/n slip past before closing the door behind him innocently, only to look up to make direct eye contact with bright blue ones and Prince Charming from Shrek smirking directly at him, eyes occasionally jumping to y/n. They both froze, hearts suddenly hammering in their chests for no reason. At all. But Brock was ruthless when it came to teasing Quinn, watching the sweat shimmer on the captain’s neck and the words slipped out too fast before Quinn could think of a way to play it off honestly.

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

It looked exactly what Brock thought it was; sweating, dishevelled hair, y/n’s missing lipstick, still slightly smeared under her lip, lovestruck eyes, untucked shirt. It was exactly how Quinn imagined his Halloween would go.

Brock’s smirk quirked into a grin like he’d struck gold, and he rubbed his beard, nodding cockily, like he was proud, “Huggy, you dog.”

[unabashegirl]

my best friend's dad | part 1

Y/N and Scarlett Styles are best friends in college. They share everything even their plans for Spring Break. They have a trip to Bahamas planned. Everything takes a turn when Scarlett is unable to fly, and Y/N is forced to coexist and interact with Scarlett's dad.

Author's note: hello everyone, i hope you are all having a lovely night. As promised, here is a two-part one shot. I tried to make it one part, but as I wrote I realized I needed to give more context and build up the tension between Harry and Y/N.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the second part (+4K words) and much more :) thank you beforehand!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: talk about smut

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From the very first day, Y/N had doubts about the career she had chosen to study in college. To be truthful, she had picked journalism because she admired how polished the reporters looked on the news. Her uncertainty vanished the moment she met Scarlett Styles at the end of her freshman year. Meeting Scarlett made it all worthwhile. They met in one of those classes that was just a filler for the syllabus, where no one ever attended and the professor didn’t seem to care, giving everyone the same grade.

Since freshman year, they had been inseparable. Y/N admired Scarlett in many ways. She loved how Scarlett stood up for what she believed was right, fighting with grace and facts. Scarlett influenced Y/N and helped her gain the confidence she lacked. She was much different from her freshman self.

"Alright, what do you think?" Y/N asked as she finished tying the side strings of her bikini bottoms. "Be honest." Y/N had Facetimed Scarlett for the approval of her outfits for their upcoming trip.

"Love it. That's definitely your color. How many are you taking?" Scarlett was in England, having flown back home to see her grandma and meet her youngest cousin before flying to the Caribbean to meet Y/N.

"Ten?" Y/N asked as she wrapped her bathrobe around herself and slipped off the red bikini she had just tried on. "Is that too much?"

"I think that's too little," Scarlett giggled. "I think that's all we’re going to wear for those two weeks."

"Crap," Y/N said, pursing her lips as she looked for more options. "The rest of my bikinis are too skimpy. I might have to buy more."

"Just take those," Scarlett rolled her eyes, looking at her best friend through her phone. "Stop spending money. Your mom is going to have a heart attack when she sees the credit card bill."

"I can't! They're too tiny! Your dad is going to be there," Y/N complained as she held up one of the smallest bikinis. "I want to make a good impression. He’s going to think I’m a whore."

"Please! My dad is probably going to be locked up in the house, designing and drawing. We’re barely going to see him."

"Fine, but you have to stick up for me when he kicks me out of the rental for nudity," Y/N said, laughing along with Scarlett, who knew her father was likely too busy to pay attention to their outfits, even on vacation.

Y/N continued her packing, occasionally glancing at the screen to see Scarlett’s reactions. After sorting through a few more outfits, she plopped down on her bed with a sigh.

"I'm so excited," Y/N said, smiling at Scarlett. "A much-needed break."

"From all the partying," Scarlett laughed. "I'm actually looking forward to some quiet time away from all the nonsense."

"Have you talked to him? Has he texted you?" Y/N asked, referring to Scarlett's boyfriend, Henry. They had a fallout two days before the break when Scarlett told him he couldn’t go to the Bahamas with them.

"He's still giving me the cold shoulder," Scarlett shrugged, trying to act like she wasn't hurt, but Y/N could read her too easily. She could tell Scarlett was hurt and disappointed. "I’m just not ready for him to meet my dad. Why is it so hard for him to understand? He means everything to me. I don't bring every guy I date to meet my dad. It's disrespectful."

Henry and Scarlett had started going out four months ago after meeting at a dorm party.

"His reaction is very childish if you ask me," Y/N said. She could tell that they weren't going to last. Scarlett hated being restrained or forced to do something she didn’t agree with. "He’s your dad. You choose when is the right time to meet him."

"I feel like he's just using the excuse of meeting my dad to tag along on the trip," Scarlett revealed. "Why would he want to meet him when we’ve only just met?" Y/N nodded; she had thought about it too but had refrained from saying it.

"Time will only tell, Scar." Her best friend only nodded. After they hung up, Y/N felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. She finished packing and went straight to bed.

The day of the trip finally arrived. Y/N was getting some much-needed coffee and a snack when she was interrupted by a call from Scarlett.

"I'll never understand why people can be so slow through the TSA—"

"Y/N, please don’t kill me," she interrupted, her voice filled with urgency. Scarlett had a knot in her throat.

"What? What happened?"

"They aren't letting me board the plane. My passport expires in less than six months." She was embarrassed; nothing like this had ever happened to her. Scarlett usually checked everything multiple times. However, the one time she hadn’t was last night. "I've talked with my dad, and he's calling some people, but I'm going to miss my flight and probably the first week of the trip until I can renew it."

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on her. She was disappointed and felt like crying.

"Y/N? Are you still there?"

"Y-yeah," she cleared her throat, noticing that the barista was calling out to her. It was her turn to order. Y/N stepped aside and allowed the next person to go before her. She was no longer thirsty or hungry. "So, I’m just going to find someone to get my luggage back and go home."

"What? You aren’t going to get on the plane? Why not?"

"What am I going to do without you?"

"Relax, read a book, listen to music, get a tan and a massage, and wait until next week for me to get there. Don’t be silly," Scarlett stated the obvious. She was just calling to let Y/N know the reason for her absence, but that didn’t mean the entire trip was canceled. She was just going to be late.

"I don’t know, Scar…"

"I am not taking no for an answer, Y/N. You spent way too much money on your seat on that plane. You opted out of eating quite a few times just to be able to afford it. My dad is already there, so you won’t be completely alone."

Y/N sighed, feeling torn between her disappointment and Scarlett's insistence. "Okay, you’re right," she finally conceded. “but please hurry up”

“I will. I’ll miss you,” Scarlett replied. “I promise I’ll get on the flight first out as soon as I get my passport sorted. In the meantime, just try to enjoy yourself. It’s the Caribbean, after all.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to normalize her pulse after the panic attack that she had started having.

“I’ll try my best.”

“That's the spirit. Give my dad a hug for me and have a safe flight. Text me when you land”

“Love you. Bye”

After hanging up, Y/N forced herself to focus on the positive. The trip was a chance to unwind, and she needed to make the best out of it. She ordered her coffee, though her appetite hadn’t quite returned and headed towards her gate.

Y/N boarded the plane and found her seat and after stowing her carry- on, she settled into the window seat, gazing out at the bustling airport below.

Just as she was about to pull out her book, a tall, handsome man appeared beside her. "Looks like I'm your seatmate," he said with a friendly smile, gesturing to the seat next to her.

Y/N smiled back, noticing his warm hazel eyes and easygoing demeanor. "Great, nice to meet you," she replied.

"I'm Anthony," he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Y/N," she said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you too."

As the plane took off, they struck up a conversation. Anthony was friendly and easy to talk to, and Y/N found herself enjoying his company. They talked about their reasons for going to the Bahamas, shared travel stories, and laughed about the little quirks of airplane travel.

"So, what's bringing you to the Bahamas?" Anthony asked after the plane reached cruising altitude.

"I'm meeting a best friend for spring break," Y/N explained. "She got held up with a passport issue, so I’m flying solo for now."

"That’s a bummer," Anthony said sympathetically, “I am also heading there for spring break with some friends. Maybe we’ll run into each other again. What are your plans for the trip?”

“A bit of everything, I guess. Relaxing, exploring and trying out some local food. You?”

“Pretty much the same. We’re staying at a resort, but I’m hoping to see more than just the touristy spots. I’ve heard the local culture is amazing.”

They continued chatting, sharing their interests and dreams. Anthony told her about his job in marketing, his love for surfing, and his plans to travel more. Y/N opened up about her studies, her passion for writing, and her excitement for the upcoming trip.

As the plane began its descent, Anthony turned to her with a smile. “Let me give you my number. In case you ever want to join us”.

"Sure," Y/N said, smiling back. She handed him her phone, and he quickly entered his contact information.

“Feel free to text me if you want to hang out” Anthony said, hanging her phone back. “And if you ever want to try surging. I am your guy”

"I might take you up on that," Y/N said, slipping her phone into her bag.

Once the plane landed, they gathered their belongings and headed towards baggage claim together. "It was really nice meeting you," Y/N said as they reached the terminal.

"You too, Y/N. Have a great time, and hopefully, I’ll see you around."

"Definitely," Y/N replied, giving him a wave as they went their separate ways.

Scarlett had arranged for a driver to pick them up, so after she collected her luggage, she met with him by the exit doors of the airport.

As Y/N exited the bustling airport, she was greeted by a warm, tropical breeze and the vibrant colors of the Bahamas. Her driver, a cheerful man named Marcus, welcomed her with a friendly smile and helped load her luggage into a sleek black SUV. Once she was settled in the backseat, they set off toward the villa where she would be staying with Scarlett’s dad.

The drive began with a stretch through Nassau’s lively streets, brimming with a mix of local culture and tourist attractions. Y/N watched as vendors sold fresh fruits and handmade crafts from colorful stalls, and locals mingled with visitors in an atmosphere buzzing with energy. The smell of jerk chicken and conch fritters wafted through the air, making her stomach rumble in anticipation.

As they left the city behind, the scenery shifted to a more serene landscape. Palm trees lined the roads, their fronds swaying gently in the breeze. The vibrant turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea came into view, sparkling under the bright midday sun. Y/N marveled at the clarity of the water, so inviting that she could hardly wait to dive in.

They passed through quaint villages with charming pastel-colored houses, each with its own unique character. Children played in the yards, and neighbors chatted over fences, giving the area a warm, community feel. Y/N felt a sense of calm wash over her as they continued along the coastal road.

Y/N nodded, taking mental notes of places to explore once Scarlett arrived. The drive continued, and the road wound through lush tropical forests, alive with the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, adding to the sensory delight.

As they neared the villa, the landscape became even more picturesque. The road led them up a gentle hill, providing breathtaking views of the ocean and the surrounding islands. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything.

Finally, they arrived at the villa. It was a stunning, two-story retreat perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. The architecture blended modern elegance with tropical charm, featuring large windows, spacious balconies, and a thatched roof. The garden was a paradise of vibrant flowers, exotic plants, and a sparkling infinity pool that seemed to merge with the ocean beyond.

Marcus helped Y/N with her bags and guided her inside. The interior of the villa was just as impressive as the exterior. The open-plan living area was filled with natural light, and decorated in soothing, coastal hues of blue and white. Comfortable, stylish furniture invited relaxation, and the large glass doors opened onto a terrace with panoramic ocean views.

That’s when she heard a heavy British accent say, “she is here. I’ll call you later. Let me know what they say. I love you”

Harry, Scarlett’s dad appeared from upstairs. “You must be Y/N” he said, walking over to her. “I am Harry. Welcome to our little paradise”. To say that Y/N’ was beyond surprised was an understatement. Slightly sunburned from a day in the Caribbean sun, his skin had taken on a warm, reddish hue that only accentuated his natural good looks. He was shirtless, revealing a toned, athletic build, with tattoos peeking from various places on his chest and arms. His swim trunks hung low on his hips, showcasing a casual, relaxed style. Harry’s tousled hair, still damp from a recent swim, fell in soft curls around his face, and he wore a pair of sunglasses that added a touch of mystery to his striking appearance. His easy smile and confident demeanor made him all the more attractive, embodying the perfect blend of laid-back island vibes

She had expected someone older and more conventional, not the youthful, charismatic man before her. He looked far too young to have a college-aged daughter.

“Hi,” Y/N replied, feeling a bit fluster. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Styles. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Call me Harry” He laughed softly, a sound as charming as his smile. “I hope you’ll feel at home”.

As he spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy confidence with which he carried himself was undeniably attractive.

She suddenly felt self-conscious, acutely aware of her travel-worn clothes and the fact that she probably smelled like the airplane. She smoothed her hair, hoping she didn't look as tired as she felt.

Harry seemed to sense her unease. "Long flight?" he asked kindly.

"Yeah, a bit," Y/N admitted, feeling a little dirty and disheveled beside him.

"Well, I can imagine you might want to freshen up. Your room has a great view and a nice big bathroom. Why don't you get settled in, and we'll have some lunch out here later?"

"That sounds perfect," Y/N said, grateful for his understanding.

Harry gave her a reassuring nod. "If you need anything, just let me know. Scarlett speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you," Y/N said, touched by his kindness. "I really appreciate it."

As she turned to head to her room, she caught herself glancing back at Harry, who had returned to lounging by the pool. His relaxed posture and the way he effortlessly fit into the tropical surroundings only added to his allure. Y/N shook her head, trying to focus. She was here to enjoy a vacation with her best friend, not get distracted by her best friend's dad, no matter how attractive and intriguing he was.

Once in her room, Y/N took a deep breath and started unpacking. The luxurious surroundings helped her relax, and as she stepped into the shower, she let the cold water wash away the travel grime and her lingering nerves. She knew this trip was going to be full of surprises, and meeting Harry was just the first of many.

After a refreshing shower, Y/N felt revitalized and ready to embrace the beauty of the Bahamas. She rummaged through her suitcase, deciding on an outfit for the evening. With a bit of confidence restored, she picked out a vibrant bikini that Scarlett had convinced her to buy. It was a flattering shade of coral that accentuated her curves and complemented her complexion. The bikini top offered just the right amount of support, enhancing her figure without being too revealing.

She took her time getting ready, applying a light layer of sunscreen and letting her hair dry naturally into soft waves. Y/N gave herself one last approving look in the mirror, feeling much better than she had after the flight. She slipped into a flowy cover-up and grabbed her favorite book before heading downstairs.

As she walked through the villa, she could hear the faint sound of music and the gentle hum of conversation from the terrace. Stepping outside, she saw Harry lounging by the pool, sipping a drink and reading something on his tablet. He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening slightly as he took in her appearance.

“Better?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of warmth feeling embarrassed by her appearance earlier.

“I though I’d take your advice and relax by the pool for a bit.” As she placed her book on the sunbed, just so she could let her cover-up slip off, revealing her bikini. Harry’s appreciative gaze didn’t go unnoticed and she felt a surge of confidence.

“Good” he replied, gesturing to the sunbed next to his. “I hope you applied some sunscreen. The sun here is ruthless”

“I did” She smiled and settled onto the sunbed, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin. She opened her book, trying to focus on the words, but she couldn't help but steal glances at Harry. He was even more attractive up close, with his sun-kissed skin and the tattoos that peeked out from his swim trunks. The way he effortlessly exuded confidence and charm was captivating.

"Good book?" Harry asked, breaking her reverie.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N said, trying to sound casual. "I’ve been meaning to finish it for a while.”

"What's it about?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"It’s a mystery novel," she explained, holding up the cover for him to see. "Keeps me on my toes.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves and the tropical breeze creating a soothing backdrop. Y/N felt a sense of contentment she hadn't expected. The rest of their first day was spent by the pool. Harry excused himself after dinner to work. On the other hand Y/N stayed outside to watch the sunset on her own.

“What are you working on?” Y/N asked the next day as she noticed Harry picking up his tablet and stylus.

“Designing a new building” Harry was the owner of an architectural firm. He spent most of his days, leaned over his design table, drawing.

“What kind of building is it?” Y/N said, genuinely impressed.

"It’s a mixed-use development," Harry replied, turning the tablet so she could see the screen. "It’s going to have retail spaces on the lower levels and residential units above. The idea is to create a community where people can live, work, and play all in one place."

Y/N leaned in closer, sliding her sunglasses down, admiring the detailed sketches and blueprints. “What’s your vision for it?”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he began to explain. “The design focuses on sustainability and integrating green spaces. There will be rooftop gardens, lots of natural light, and energy-efficient systems. I’m trying to create something that not only looks good but also feels good to live in.”

Y/N could hear the passion in his voice as he spoke, and she was fascinated by his creativity. “It sounds truly special”

“I hope it is” Harry said, smiling appreciatively.

Y/N watched as Harry continued to draw, the lines and shapes forming into intricate designs under his skilled hand. "How did you get into architecture?"

“I’ve always loved drawing and building things," Harry said, leaning back and gazing at the horizon. “When I was a kid, I’d spend hours with sketchbooks. It just felt natural to pursue architecture. I studied it in college and worked my way up through different firms before starting my own. How about you? What are you majoring in?" Harry asked, his tone genuinely curious.

Y/N frowned slightly, feeling a twinge of disappointment that she didn't share the same passion for her career choice as he did. "Journalism," she replied with a hint of hesitation, her gaze momentarily drifting away. She took a deep breath, feeling a pang of uncertainty as she compared her own career path to Harry's evident passion for architecture.

"It's... it's something I chose because I thought it would be interesting," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of honesty and self-reflection. "But lately, I've been feeling like maybe it's not what I'm truly passionate about."

Harry listened attentively, his expression thoughtful. "I understand," he said gently. “It’s okay. You are still young and it takes time to find that passion. Have you though about what inspires you?”

Y/N nodded, grateful for his understanding. "I've always enjoyed writing and telling stories," she admitted. "But I haven't found that one thing that really lights a fire in me, like architecture does for you."

Harry smiled warmly. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. You still got a long way ahead of you and sometimes that passion reveals itself unexpectedly” he said.

Y/N felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she listened to Harry's encouraging words. She realized that she didn't have to have everything figured out right away. This trip, with its new experiences and conversations like this one, was already helping her see things from a different perspective.

After a while, Harry put down his tablet and stretched. "I think it’s time for a swim down at the beach. Care to join me?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

They made their way through a winding path bordered by lush foliage, leading to a secluded stretch of beach that seemed untouched by the usual tourist crowds. The soft sand greeted their feet as they approached the water's edge, the gentle lapping of the waves creating a soothing soundtrack. Harry glanced around with a smile.

“Breathtaking as always” he remarked, gesturing to the pristine beach.

Y/N nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over her. The beach was indeed stunning, with its turquoise waters and powdery white sand stretching into the distance. It felt like a hidden paradise, far removed from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

"I can see why Scarlett loves it here," Y/N said, taking in the beauty of the surroundings.

The next day dawned with a soft, rosy glow creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Harry woke before the sun, as was his routine, slipping on his running gear quietly so as not to disturb the peacefulness of the villa. He tiptoed downstairs, the floor cool under his feet, and headed for the front door. As he passed through the living room, he glanced out onto the terrace.

There, on one of the sunbeds, Y/N lay curled up under a blanket, her silhouette softened by the early morning light. She had fallen asleep waiting for the sunrise, her peaceful expression making her look even more serene. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. He found it endearing

Resisting the urge to wake her, Harry quietly slipped outside and started his jog along the quiet streets. The rhythmic pounding of his footsteps helped clear his mind, but try as he might, thoughts of Y/N kept intruding. He couldn't shake the image of her in that attractive bikini, her laughter echoing in his mind from the day before. It wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him; it was her warmth, her intelligence, and the easy way they connected.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Harry quickened his pace, pushing himself harder. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Y/N's presence, and he chastised himself for dwelling on thoughts that felt inappropriate given their relationship. He had spent the previous day enjoying her company, sharing stories, and learning about her dreams and ambitions. Yet, now he found himself unable to shake the attraction he felt towards her.

By the time he returned to the villa, the sun was fully risen, casting a bright light over the tropical landscape. Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts as he cooled down. He decided to take a cold shower, hoping the shock of cold water would help clear his mind. As he stood under the refreshing spray, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of his inner turmoil. He didn't want to complicate things or make Y/N uncomfortable during their time together.

He just couldn’t get that damn bikini off his mind. The one she had wore the day before. The red color complemented her sun-kissed skin beautifully, accentuating her curves in all the right places. His hand creeped down and grabbed throbbing cock, trying get some release from the torture that he was experiencing. Her confidence and natural grace shone through, making her even more captivating. He admired the way she moved with a relaxed elegance, her laughter and smiles lighting up the surroundings. Every detail, from the way her hair fell in gentle waves to the sparkle in her eyes as she talked animatedly, only added to her allure.

He couldn’t help imagining her naked, under him, moaning, begging for him. Harry though about how deliciously tight and warm she could feel around him. He thought about how she would taste and his mouth water. He didn’t last long. As he allowed the water to wash him off, he couldn’t help feeling ashamed. Ashamed that he was acting like a schoolboy. He was forty-four years old and fantasizing about his daughter's best friend while she slept downstairs.

part 2

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

white wine | f. odair

(part two of red wine)

part one

summary: another celebration in the capitol leaves you and finnick in an argument that threatens to strain your friendship.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: reader’s pov, flirting, angst, argument, struggling finnick :(

notes: i don’t know if i like this, let me know what y’all think! final part will be out in a few days.

word count: 1.6k

A Sphynx cat dressed in a white suit scurried beneath your feet, disappearing around a vine-covered pillar in the courtyard of the Presidential Palace. Fairy lights were hung on every tree, bush, and pillar, providing light in the growing darkness of the evening. Orchestral strings played in a small band off to the side, so beautiful that it sent goosebumps prickling across your entire body. People were dressed to impress, though to you, they looked more ridiculous than impressive.

The 72nd annual Hunger Games had come and gone, and a tour was held for the victor whose name you had not bothered to learn. At last, the infamous grand celebration in the Capitol had arrived.

Months had gone by since your night of red wine and white cats. Parties had not been in short supply since then, meaning your meetings with Finnick remained regular. But something was off about him. Something you couldn’t place no matter how hard you tried.

Winter snow was beginning to stick to the ground, blending with the pure white gown you were wearing, gifted by the generous president. If purity and innocence were what he was going for, he probably should’ve chosen a dress without a plunging neckline. The proof was in the pudding. Or rather, the voice of the heartthrob from District Four.

“That dress is quite distracting.”

Sauntering toward you came Finnick Odair, a playful grin plastered on his face. Just like you, his outfit only consisted of white. A billowy V-neck that dipped down to his navel, paired with white dress pants and a golden netted belt.

“Finnick.” You smiled, your dull mood lifting from his presence. “So, he got you too, huh?”

“What? You don’t think I look dashing in white?” he teased.

“I think you look dashing in anything.”

The words just slipped out, supposed to only remain a thought. Finnick was a flirt, through and through. You hardly ever entertained his flirtatious manner; rebutting with either attitude or timid silence was more your style. So, the last thing you needed was for him to take your words to heart, however genuine they might be.

He blinked in surprise, only to quickly laugh it off. “Thank you, but I don’t think the spotlight will be on me tonight,” he said, his eyes scanning your dress from head to toe, then settling back on your face. “I hate to admit it, but Snow knows beauty when he sees it.”

“Snow knows everything,” you replied sarcastically.

And there it was again. That out-of-character shift in his demeanour. Like a storm cloud had suddenly rolled over head, dampening the mood with its gloomy presence. This was becoming a more frequent occurrence each time you saw Finnick and you were desperate to know why. What had changed?

Sunshine broke through the clouds again in the form of a splitting grin. “Unfortunately, so,” he said, brushing the topic aside as though it were nothing. “Would you like to dance? Give them a taste of real beauty?”

You couldn’t say no.

The instrumentals had slowed to the tempo of an assumed waltz. Although you had been trained in social etiquette, dancing was not your strong suit—unless you counted drunk dancing. With this knowledge, Finnick took the lead, his hand gently cupping your waist, another interlocking your own, and you followed his simple steps until you found a comfortable rhythm.

“I have got to know who your dancing instructor is,” Finnick quipped, his tone full of jest. “He’s got to be pretty talented to be able to teach you how to dance. Undeniably attractive too, considering your incredibly vain nature.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “I can’t seem to recall his name. Not very remarkable. Phineas was it? Or maybe it was Finnley.”

“That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Truth hurts, Odair,” you said, sending him a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dance continuing smoothly. “You’re getting better,” he said, his voice now sounding sincere.

Before you met Finnick, fitting in with higher society was a struggle. All of their customs and etiquette seemed so foreign to you, especially since you came from a lower-ranking district. But as he meticulously wound himself into your web, he brought with him an abundance of knowledge which he happily shared with you.

You had spent countless hours together, learning different subjects such as how to keep conversations going, the art of seduction, and even dancing, even though you never quite got it down.

Times came when dangerous situations arose—conferences with President Snow, meeting obsessiveCapitol citizens, and being given unreasonable demands. More than once, Finnick saved your life through his guidance. You owed him everything and more.

Heat spread in the places his hands touched you, subduing the slight chill of the winter air. You would expect someone from District 4 to be cold, as the ocean was like a second home to them, with their days spent fishing, swimming, and collecting underwater vegetation in the cold depths. Despite this, everything about Finnick radiated warmth. His bronze hair was like the embers of a dying fire; his skin was fiery upon touch. Even his smile was sunny, always beaming like a golden ray of light.

Slowly, the fairy lights transformed in colour, highlighting the luxurious scenery and both yours and Finnick’s clothing. White turned to green, accentuating the striking colour of Finnick’s eyes which gazed down upon you as your bodies swayed together. After green came a colour that turned your dress a deep crimson.

“This one’s my favourite,” Finnick said, his voice so melodious it sounded like a part of the orchestra.

“Why is that?”

You felt his hand glide to your lower back and your knees almost buckled.

“Because—” The music swelled before its end and he gracefully dipped you as if to emphasise his answer— “you always look stunning in red.”

Everything went quiet. The music had ended and all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Beautiful sea green washed over your body, enveloping you in complete serenity that resembled the feeling of floating beneath the ocean’s surface. Finnick was there with you, holding you in his arms, his eyes penetrating deep into your own—sea-green serenity.

You lowered your gaze to his lips, admiring the pink colour and velvetiness. It was a dilemma you constantly struggled with—having a crush on the Finnick Odair. The Capitol’s Darling. Everybody wanted him; some actually got him. You heard whispers of his little adventures in the Capitol, how a select few would get to spend the night with him whenever he visited.

There was no judgement on your part; Finnick was your closest friend. And that was all he would ever be, making you the most envious of them all. Condemned to forever wishing to be something more than platonic. Always being the one watching from the sidelines. That was the singular thing you had in common with the people of the Capitol.

But in that fleeting moment, you were undeniably certain no one had ever yearned to kiss anyone more than you yearned to kiss Finnick. Your heart lurched when his eyes flickered to your lips and suddenly, you were questioning whether or not he felt the same. When he started to lean in closer, your heart just about exploded.

But before anything could happen, you realised that the waters were infested with gossip-hungry sharks, waiting for their moment to strike.

Soft murmurs were echoing around you, reeling your harsh reality back into existence. Finnick too noticed and pulled you back into a standing position. His hands dropped from your body and without a second glance, he took off in the opposite direction, leaving you momentarily in shock.

“Wha—Finnick!” you exclaimed, trailing after him.

You weaved through the crowd of engrossed bystanders, ignoring their hushed whispers and unwavering stares. Finnick had climbed two of the marble steps leading up to the mansion before you reached out and grabbed his white sleeve, forcing him to face you.

“What, Y/N?” he snapped, wearing an expression that was a mixture of frustration and hurt. The usage of your real name took you aback. He would always call you ‘sweetheart’ or some other term of endearment. Hardly ever your name. “What do you want?”

You shook your head, confused as to where his sudden hostility had come from. “What’s going on with you?” you asked, searching his eyes for anything that would help you understand, but there were too many emotions for you to decipher. “Whenever we see each other it’s like something is weighing you down. Sometimes you can’t even look me in the eyes and then other times you’re asking me to dance with you and flirting with me. I don’t understand, is it me? Have I done something?”

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he averted his gaze. You let out an exasperated breath, lowering your gaze to his chest in frustration. The brilliance of his white shirt caught your attention and a troubling thought popped into your mind. “Has Snow done something?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a silent command to lower your voice. Descending one step, Finnick leaned down, towering over your body. His voice was low, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

In one last attempt to break through his barrier, you slid your hand into his. “Then explain it to me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

The inner turmoil was evident on Finnick’s face. His gaze softened but the deep worry lines were still etched into his skin. For a moment, you believed he was finally going to lower his walls. However, your hope was diminished as he exhaled a long, weary breath and said, “I wish I could.”

And then his hand slipped out of yours, disappearing entirely as he ascended the stairs and left you at the bottom, defeated.

tags: @bellamybellamyblake @teigo-the-explorer

part three