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honeesucker · 4 years ago

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Ushijima Wakatoshi as part of my Haikyuu boys after you text them *~spicy photos~* and then fall asleep...

Word Count: 3,338

Content Warnings: D/s dynamic aspects, some babying reader, size kink coming in HOT, overstimulation, crying during sex, hair pulling / light smacking.

Ushijima had heard the tell-tale ping of your special text tone from the gym as the team was taking a break after a particularly grueling practice set. He was definitely curious why you were texting him so late as you normally didn’t bother beyond

which you had already sent him that night closer to when practice had begun. His leg was bouncing as he bit unconsciously into the calloused skin of the pad of his thumb wondering if something was wrong, something that veered you off of your normal routine of the night. While the others were still hydrating, stretching and taking a break winding down from the harsh practice Ushijima walked hastily back into the locker rooms and opened his where the phone was in the pocket of his hoodie hanging inside. He gripped the electronic, dwarfed by the size of his hand, and thumbed open his lock-screen to see a series of messages from you.

Ushijima let out a contented hum as he read that you missed him, encouraging him to eat something good for his body after practice. He was planning on grabbing a couple of bentos from your guys’ favorite convenience market that were remarkably fresh, and had some that had higher protein content for Ushijima’s needs. His eyebrows raised at the last remark you made about indulging in dessert, though, and when he opened the two image attachments that followed air caught in his throat as he sputtered and coughed while nearly dropping the thin, expensive phone from his hand. In the first photo you were just standing in front of the large full-body mirror, drowning in one of Ushijima’s jerseys which the sight alone sent a jolt to the prideful side of his heart as well as rush blood to his cock, especially after the second photo where you lifted up his jersey to reveal the delicate baby blue lingerie beneath – wrapping you up like one of the delicious pastries' you guys would share on special occasions. He nearly dropped the phone again when some of his teammates began to enter the lock rooms, gathering their stuff to finally head home after a long night. Ushijima bid them goodnight and grabbed his stuff with a haste they had never seen, before he was already speed-walking out of the gym and into the cool dark of the waiting night.

You were curled up in you guys’ shared bed still snuggled in Ushijima’s jersey that smelled so wonderfully like him as it comforted you in his absence. You were in a fitful sleep, thighs still glistening with your earlier escapades of trying to get off while your need to Ushijima heightened the longer he was gone. You didn’t awaken as he came in and locked the door, set his gym back down on the bench in the hallway and made his way slowly to your guys’ room, slowly opening the door as he was met with such a pathetically beautiful sight. Your panties were only looped around on ankle, legs spread just enough that he could see your pussy, wet and puffy from stimulation but the furrowed pull to your brows that creased in between them told him you fell asleep in frustration. He couldn’t help the smirk from his satisfaction of knowing you couldn’t satisfy yourself without his help.

Ushijima walked forward with slow, deliberate steps while ripping his hoodie and shirt over his head in a one-handed grip. He reached down and traced gentle fingertips along your slick-coated thighs as he undid the tie to his joggers with the other, slipping them down his muscled thighs and kicking them off.

“Y/N-” Ushijima purred your name, a deep rumble like thunder that even in your sleepy state shook something inside of you to the core, “come on pretty girl... wake up for me.” He coaxed you with more pressure on his fingertips as they danced up to your exposed sex and traced a long line up your wet slit. You jumped awake, a sleepy half-yelp half-whimper escaping your lips as you blinked your eyes up at Ushijima.

“Mm, ‘Toshi?” You sleepily murmured, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand while Ushijima lazily played with your wet core. Slipping the tip of one large finger into you had you falling back onto the pillows with a lip-biting moan.

“I was worried you know,” Ushijima murmured lowly, “thought it was weird you texted outside of what your normal routine with me is” he had started pumping his finger in and out of you at a brutal pace, the large appendage definitely more satisfying than a toy, especially the moment he added a second and curled them just right to hit that spongy spot along your upper wall that had your back arching off the bed. Not ashamed at all that he could bring you to the edge of orgasm within minutes, not ashamed you thirst texted him earlier tonight knowing it would frustrate him enough to lose a bit of control and end up where you are now.

“’Toshi, mmphf-fuck-m'so close already-ah, f-fuck!” You were whimpering and squirming from the constant stimulation of your g-spot, the pressure had you seeing stars while the tight coil of pleasure built, close to snapping. Your eminent release yanked away from you as Ushijima stopped his assault and removed his fingers from your dripping hole. He took his slick-coated fingers and brought them up to your mouth without having to give the command you opened as he pressed them down on your tongue, a small gag leaving your throat as you worked on cleaning his digits teasing him with your tongue a bit more than normal, even biting the pad of his fingers which earned you a slap on your cheek as he narrowed his eyes down at you in displeasure.

“Y/N,” Ushijima warned reaching around to grip the back of your head and tangle his fingers in your hair, “you should know better than to be such a greedy girl. Do needy, disobedient little sluts get what they want?” Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout but you shook your head slowly, shoulders deflating as a show of submission to Ushijima’s whims. He released his grip on your hair and smoothed it down, moving to give you a gentle pat on the head. “My good girl,” and with that you were ready to do anything he wanted, eyes glazed over as he smiled down at you. “Is my good girl ready to behave for me?” You were too far gone to be embarrassed by how quickly you nodded your head, scooting up to sit on the bed with your legs folded beneath you and your hands resting in your lap. Ushijima reached forward to grab each of your nipples between his forefinger and thumb, twisting, pulling and pinching at the tender buds until you were squirming, face flushed from the sensitive stimulation.

“What does my girl want?” Ushijima’s deep baritone reverberated through your whole body as you simply gave a glazed-over stare at the way he was stroking his huge cock, the head a blushed angry shade of red, his thumb running over the slit where a pearly bead of precum was leaking out, using the fluid to coat his cock, eliciting delicious wet noises from the contact that has your thighs pressing together tightly for some amount of friction.

“Wanna taste you,” your body slid off the edge of the bed as you landed on your knees in a smooth, practiced motion that made Ushijima smile down at you. He placed one large hand on the top of your pretty head as he used the other to guide his cockhead to your waiting mouth, tongue stuck out and opened wide. Your hands were resting on your thighs, clenching and unclenching with anticipation and need to have your hands on Ushijima, but you knew better than to touch him without permission and he loved to watch you struggle to take him with only your mouth to help you. The weight of his cockhead landed on your tongue, pushing just past your lips as you swirled and wriggled the muscle to massage the vein on the underside of his cock just how you know he likes it, causing a deep rumbling groan to vibrate in his chest. He has both of his hands on your head, tangled in your hair and guiding you along his shaft like a living fleshlight – a hole only to be used as he wished. Ushijima looked down on your sweat-slicked form with half-lidded eyes as he pushed his monstrous length deeper into your mouth until he felt his cockhead hit the back of your throat, and then he pushed in more until your nose was snuggly against the small, clean patch of hair above his cock. Your watery eyes looked up at him, trailed up the happy-trail of hair, up his muscular chest to meet his dark, hungry eyes. Drool was slipping out from the side of your mouth and down your chin, droplets hitting your bare chest and Ushijima began to give shallow thrusts into your throat, never letter more than an inch or two leave your warm, wet mouth. You were whimpering and wiggling beneath him, hands having moved from your thighs to his in an attempt to brace yourself against his assault. Your touch was instantly met with a harsh smack to your cheek that had you vibrating a cry around Ushijima’s cock, causing his thrusts to stutter at the added stimulation. Your hands fell back down to clasp at your skin as you felt his thrusts grow faster, less practiced and more erratic as he used you for his own pleasure; the heady taste of his precum making your mouth water an embarrassing amount, but Ushijima loved the sloppy way your mouth took him every time. He finally gave a few final thrusts before he buried his full, thick length back down your throat causing you to gag as he unloaded sticky, hot cum down your throat; your pussy clenched around nothing at the animalistic sounds he was letting out, the musky scent of his skin as your nose was buried in his crotch only served to have your core dripping and aching for more of him.

Ushijima finally pulled out of your mouth slowly, hissing at the way you suckled around his sensitive cock as it left your mouth, cleaning him of any droplets of cum left behind. Ushijima bent down and you reached up, being picked up like a child before he had you thrown down on the bed, his large body overtaking yours. He had you caged, resting on his elbows above you as he searched your face, eyebrows furrowed as he queried, “color?”

“Green,” your voice was hoarse from the earlier abuse of your throat, and you wrapped your hands around to the back of his neck to pull him down for a hungry kiss. He groaned as he tasted himself on your lips, loved the way you shared yourself with him so openly. “Please ‘Toshi,” you whimpered against his lips, moving down to kiss and nip at his jaw, his throat, and soon peppering little bites along his collarbone until you sank your teeth down into the skin of his left pec causing a sharp hiss to leave his mouth. “Need more of you, need to feel you inside of me, p-please,” you babbled out a string of pleading cries that had Ushijima’s cock hardening faster than anything else could.

“My needy girl,” Ushijima’s breath fanned against your face, sweet and inviting as you reached up for another kiss, and he obliged. “I’m going to stretch your little cunt out so good on my cock,” he spoke between your hungry little butterfly kisses.

“Mmphf, yes! Please ‘Toshi, need your cock,” you pleaded, bucking your hips up to meet his, slick lips gliding along his length for a second before he pinned you down, causing you to shriek in frustration at the loss of contact. You had opened your mouth to complain, to beg him to fuck you when he leant down to capture your mouth in a kiss, effectively muting your cry as he sunk his length into your wet folds. The lack of preparation had your walls burning and stretching around him, Ushijima groaning into your mouth as the walls of your little cunt squeezed him desperately, sucking him further in. With a cruel snap of his hips he was buried fully inside of you, cockhead pinned brutally up against your cervix in a way that had your body pulsating in pain, but this kind of pain only had you whining for more – more of him, to move, to touch you, to fuck you – anything!

Ushijima reveled in the way your pussy was clamping down on him, pulsating around his cock as he stilled inside of you.

He loved that he was wrecking you for anyone else (not that he’d ever let you go).

He knew he was frustrating you, making you more delirious on his cock than you normally were, but he wanted to push you further.

Ushijima began by slowly withdrawing his full length from you, over and over at a glacial pace that was driving you absolutely insane as the ridges and veins of his thick cock caught every sensitive ridge inside of you; it wasn’t long before you were whimpering beneath him to ‘go faster’ as your legs hooked around his hips, drawing him closer and in turn getting his cock deeper in your greedy hole. He chuckled at your desperate attempts to cum when he already knew that he’s instilled an important lesson in you that you seem to have momentarily forgotten.

You don’t cum until he lets you.

He was looking down at where you two were connected, watching with rapt admiration at how tiny your body was compared to him, how your walls looked painfully stretched around his length no matter how many times he’s pounded into you. The way your body reacted to only him, the way you fit together so perfectly... it all had Ushijima seconds away from cumming again and then a cruel idea hit him. He grabbed onto your plush sides with a bruising grip as he slammed his cock into you at a brutal pace, without concern for your pleasure at all, as he chased his release.

“Mm-ugh-FUCK!” Ushijima’s thrusts would have your poor abused body moving further up the bed if he wasn’t holding you in place to keep you right where he needed you. With a few final, stuttering thrusts Ushijima was painting your insides with a surprisingly heavy load of hot, white cum. He could feel your walls tensing and pulsing, nearing your own release before he quickly pinned your hands above your head, a stray one having tried to sneak down to touch your clit and finish yourself off as Ushijima pulled himself out of you, watching as your hole clenched around nothing, cum leaking out as you thrashed and whined from your orgasm being stolen away, fizzling out to nothing. Ushijima kept your wrists pinned together in one hand as the other moved down to gather and shove the cum that had leaked from your sloppy hole, pushing his release back into you, keeping his fingers curled inside of you like a plug as he looked up at you. When his eyes met your he was surprised to see a steam of fat tears falling down your face, your bottom lip jutted out in the most pathetically cute pout he had ever seen you wear as your flushed face beaded with sweat, hair sticking against your forehead.

“’Toshi p-please need to c-cummm!” You were sobbing and Ushijima was almost worried when your body went totally limp in his grasp, feeling any and all stubbornness and fight left in you vanish. All that was left was a pleading mess of cum, sweat and tears as you blinked your bleary eyes up at him. “P-please m’gonna be a good girl for you, no more teasing,” you mumbled, almost inaudible as you blinked away more tears over your lashes. Ushijima couldn’t deny such pretty begging from his favorite girl.

His only girl.

The fingers Ushijima kept curled in your overworked cunt began to scissor and scrape against the soft, spongy spot that had you moaning out his name, eyes rolling in the back of your head as his large thumb came down to put the perfect amount of pressure on your swollen clit, using his cum and your own slick to ease the drag of skin against skin as he had you near the edge again in seconds.

“Come on pretty girl,” Ushijima urged, “I know you’re right there, cum for me. Cum for me pretty baby,” his permission was all you needed to scream out his name one final time as your body spasmed and arched off the bed, your skin felt electric and too much. Your release squirting all over Ushijima’s hand, and soaking the bed beneath you. You were so lost in your explosive orgasm you didn’t notice that Ushijima had let go of your wrists and had realigned his cock with your spasming cunt before plunging back in, rock hard, and taking you both to another quick succession of orgasms before collapsing nearly on top of you. He was panting against the soft skin of your neck as he peppered kisses and praise against you.

You curled into the curve of Ushijima’s body, nuzzling into his sweat-slick chest and took a deep breath in, anchoring yourself down to him. He held you tightly against him, stroking your hair down and whispering all the praise of how well you did for him tonight.

“You took me so well baby,” Ushijima cooed, deep voice reverberating through your whole body like sinking into a warm bath. “Did so well - my good girl,” he kept repeating what he knew you needed to hear after a bit of the cruel teasing he did with you tonight. Over and over, he repeated things he knew would bring you back down to him, and slowly your glazed eyes fluttered and looked up at Ushijima as he squeezed you tightly against his chest. “There’s my pretty baby,” Ushijima whispered, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he held your face in his large hand. “Come on, Y/N,” Ushijima urged as you gave a pathetic whine in his arms as he hauled you and him up off the bed. “We need to get to the bathroom and get cleaned up. I’ll draw you a bath while I clean up our bed, yes?” He walked into the bathroom where he set you down on the countertop, watching with hazy, love-filled eyes as the man you adored filled the tub with a special mixture of scented salts and dried flower petals he had picked up for you in a far-away city of one of his traveling games. Your chest bloomed with a warm love that took over your whole body as Ushijima moved to pick you back up and place you down gently into the bath, only leaving your side when you sat up on your own to wash gently at your body. You heard him shuffling in the other room, presumably to clean the bed as he stated earlier. You slid down the side of the tub, your nose barely above the water as your eyes closed, drifting you off into a relaxing state.

“Y/N?” Ushijima shook you gently, your eyes opened slowly as you were pulled from the tub and placed into a large, plush towel. “Let’s get to bed, yeah?” You only nodded, leaning into his chest as he carried you off to bed. He placed you down as he climbed in behind you, draping a heavy, muscled arm over you as he kept you close against him, listening to your breathing slow down as you drifted off to sleep.

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

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The Calm in The Storm | Stephen Strange

Hey lovelies, happy Sunday! I deviated from my requests today as I was feeling kinda down. I'm adding it to the master list because I used the prompt. This is pretty self indulgent-- still a reader insert but just what I was feeling for a good part of the day. I really hope this gives you a sense of peace like it did for me-- All my love!

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff, a smidgen of angst at the beginning

Entres (Pairing): Stephen Strange x F!Reader (Third person)

Sides (Prompts): 8: “Look, it’s me, I’m here, deal with it. Let’s move on.”

Notes: Requested by: me LOL

Word Count: 1.4k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

The water pours over her head, rolling down the curve of her spine and the slope of her chest, completely engulfing her in the warm water. She can’t tell if she’s still crying— or if she ever was to begin with. She feels numb. Overworked and burnt out. That kind of melancholic exhaustion that sets in after a long day of feeling everyone else’s emotions alongside her own. She’s tired.

She lolls her head onto the cool tiles, closing her eyes as the water now streams over her lashes, catching for a moment before dropping to her feet with the rest and swirling down the drain. The stream passes her lips on the way, gliding down her chin, and she wishes she could work up the energy to move away. Sighing she cracks an eye open, glancing at the bottles lining the shelf. The thought of having to wash her hair— of raising her arms from their slumber at her sides— makes her want to scream.

“Need some help, baby?”

She jolts up— something which makes every rusty joint in her body groan in protest— whipping her head to the side where a familiar head pokes past the curtain.

“Stephen, you scared me.” She sighs— again— letting some of the tension melt from her shoulders.

The water is still pouring over her, catching on her limbs and waterfalling off of them, exposing every curve in intricate detail. If it were any other day she would wrap her arms around her chest, her cheeks blooming with heat and embarrassed. Right now, though, she can’t do more than press her lips together, watching as the man watches her, a deep crease forming between his dark brows. His crystal eyes are filled with worry, big and shining. It makes her own chest bubble, her magic drawn to his emotions. She sighs. All she can do is sigh.

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments and soon the sound of the shower running is not enough— not enough to cover the heavy silence— which leads her to murmur through the rushing water. “What are you doing in here?”

He blinks as though finally remembering he has a purpose other than interrupting his girl’s shower, ducking his head back from the curtain. She almost questions him— I’m serious, Steph, what are you doing— until she hears the latch of his buckle and the sound of his jeans pooling with a thud on the ground. Oh. Finally some of the heat pools in her face. He’s joining her. On cue he shuffles the curtain back open, lithe body on display as he steps in next to her.

“Steph—” He pulls her wet body to his chest, leaning down to wrap his corded arms under her own, pressing her against his body until she’s staring at his lean chest.

“Look, it’s me, I’m here, deal with it—” he mumbles softly as his jaw nuzzles against her temple, beard scratching at her skin— “let’s move on. Not leaving you alone, okay?”

Somehow his skin is warmer than the water, his hands splaying against her spine, slightly shaky but entirely him. His skin against hers is blissful— both to her and to him. She can feel his aura settle as his lips press against her temple, the anxiety lacing it dying away. In turn her own, overextended soul takes a breath. The relief makes her head drop against his chest, her forearms settling next to her head. The movement of his shoulders slouching— the final click of his energy settling back into the calm flow that it usually is— is like balm to her stiff body.

“You could have told me.” Her skin pinches at the dull ache in his words and skin.

She runs her nose across his sternum, lips moving against his now dripping skin, catching a few of the droplets. “You have enough on your plate as it is, Mr. Sorcerer Supreme. Didn’t want to add more to that— your job’s more important.”

His protest hums in his chest immediately, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek as she turns her head to meet his blue eyed stare. “Don’t say that. All I do is fight, baby— you keep the team together. You really think I could do the emotions thing all the time like that? I didn’t become a therapist for a reason.”

She pats his chest, her skin prickling with his attempts at humor, clearly meaning to ease her magic with his own emotions— a mixture of concern and love. “Oh I know, honey.”

“Hey—” he chides, his voice and aura remaining light as he chuckles— “rude.”

She giggles, sagging more of her weight against him as his nose shuffles through her sopping hair, his own breathy chuckles joining hers.

“You love me.”

Stephen doesn’t have to answer for her to know it’s true— she can feel it. It exudes from every part of him, strengthening when she suggests it and curling around her body in a fog of warmth and sweetness. Not all emotions have scents— thankfully— but this one does. Stephen Strange loving her smells like picking strawberries in the august heat. Like sun kissed skin and tarte lips. If she weren’t looking at him now, watching the shower stream soak his skin, she would think she’s on a farm— it’s wonderful.

His lips pull up higher, his trembling hands dancing up her back. “More than anything— turn around.”

She scrunches her nose at the tall man. “Why?”

He rolls his eyes in return. “Do you have to question everything?”

“I’m dating you.” She deadpans and he laughs again, chest shaking and aura lighting up at her gentle teasing.

“Rude again—” he leans down further and her fingers search up instinctively, scratching through the hair on his face— “but fair. You were looking at my shampoo a minute ago. I want to wash your hair, sweetheart.”

As soon as he says it she can feel the flick of nervous energy pulling at her magic. She knows why his aura shifts— even without her abilities she would have been thinking about it alongside him. His hands. They’ve had the conversations before— she’d love him without hands, let alone with hands that shake, and she makes sure to tell him that as much as he needs. Still, he’s always been conscious of them. She doesn’t blame him but she hates how uncomfortable he gets, his energy darkening— like there are spiders crawling over his skin and, by default, hers. It’s the worst feeling and she would do anything to take it away for him.

She passes him a soft smile. “You don’t have to, Steph.”

His heart jumps, aura spiking and pink flashing behind her eyes, the sweet strawberry scent magnifying. “I know— I want to. Turn, baby.”

She doesn’t protest any further, spinning in his hold— she doesn’t want to make him feel like he can’t do it. She knows he can. Perhaps with a little less dexterity and a little more focus than her own fingers could do it but that’s part of what makes her so desperately in love with him. She knows at one point those hands were sought after. They were practically life giving. She wants him to know that they still are— that everytime he touches her it feels like her entire being is being lit up. Even when they’re simply shuffling through her hair.

Reaching around her, firm chest pressing into her back, he grabs the bottle. She can hear him squeeze some of the woodsy scented soap into his hands before setting the bottle back down. Her body thrums in anticipation, her skin electrified and scalp prickling. The first touch of his hands smoothing against her hair has her sighing one last time— this time though it’s from delight. From the pleasure that melts across her bones and has her tipping her neck against his collarbone. His fingers— while a tad quivery— are heaven against her. He is heaven.

She has to tell him.

Outstretching her hand behind her, she blindly finds his neck, her fingers curling around his skin and massaging lightly. “Hey, Stephen?”

“Yeah, baby?” She can hear the focus in his voice— feel his determination edging green into her magic— and she pushes her head further into his hold, fingers tightening.

“Thank you for being the calm in my storm.” She pauses, waiting for the jolt of his heart again, her lips pulling into a blissed out grin before adding— “I love you.”

He doesn’t say anything but when she breathes in all she smells is strawberry jam and sunny days— his way of saying I love you too.

#Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #stephen strange fic #stephen strange imagine #stephen strange fluff #dr. strange x reader #dr. strange x y/n #dr strange x reader #dr strange x y/n #dr. strange fic #dr. strange imagine #dr strange fic #dr strange imagine #mcu fic #mcu #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe #Dinner at Dizzy's

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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Love Brings Patience.

A/N: Just an angsty "3am thoughts and listening to hozier while doing" it blurb. Enjoy!! ♡♡

It thunders outside loudly, but she didn’t flinch. The mass of blues and viridescent ivory painting the sky -- a call for rain, as when there’s blessed pour of shower after every winter sick – but it’s monsoon —- there’s none of the sympathy that these boofy clouds could slip into Y/N's pocket as she lays on her bed watching through the glass roof of the home ... they built together.

With so much, love, trust, faith and passion for eachother that anything in the world was unable to come between them – until it did.

Pinning against them and keeping them apart.

Everything will be okay, in the end. It’s not okay. It’s not the end.

It’s just beginning. Beginning to suffer alone and without him, his emotional and physical support, his cheery smile that’d race her heartbeat like chariots of Hades and his gentle need to saturate the distances between them wherever they’re, his loving gleamy eyes never skimming past her and he'd dot soft grateful kisses to her raspberry cheeks and kiss her temple as if she’s the goddess that resides in his home and it’d be a sin not to cherish her.

He loves too much. He did. He does. He loved her beyond everything that it killed him, he was sobbing that night – drenching the lilac carpeted floor with the water droplets dripping down and Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the roar of lightening against the creaky windows of their home or the feebleness of his voice that sobered her into dust.

“Been hurtin' ye'fo’ years .. by being away from you fo' months and coming back to just give y'memories and hopes for me early arrival —-.. what .. -- what kinda lover does that?” He hiccupped. His wet fringes didn’t let Y/N fetch him and dip her hand in his soul to touch it and tell him where he belongs, he always belonged to her – and your path is always destined to ones, who you belong to.

“-- ... makes ye' -m..m—makes you wait and takes the test of yer patience, like you’re not human –...” But, this isn’t what love brings? Wait and patience and sacrifice —- the yearn to have the love of your life in your embrace while you pace through the alleyway of airports.

Love brings patience.

“... darlin’ ye' deserve the same warmth of a body, same attention and love that everyone out there’s getting ..” His sniffles sharp and breathless as he pointed out the window to indicate the world and she doesn’t know how in just one night he became so silly, because her world is him — only him.

Her whisper came out broken, “And what about you?” Her caring question for him made him push the heels of his palms to his sockets and rub the stubborn fat tears away.

“It’s hurtin’ me to. Makes me not breath at nights, stayin' away from you -- ‘m never focusin’ –- ‘s just you, Always you in the pocket of me heart – the back of my mind —-- can’t escape it. My stupid stupid heart tries to see you in strangers faces ‘n —--... my arms pulls at cold sheets to get to your warmth but it never comes, whatever I do.” His chest tightened and it’s repeating the same shortness of breaths he used to get while crying to himself in those hotel rooms, the puffy lips gasping for oxygen and Y/N' was rushing towards him grabbing his jaw to inspect him but he’s slip shutting his eyes and gesturing her he’s okay.

Murmured sadly, “And lovie’ it hurts.” So, loving her hurts him? What kind of love is that? A piece of failure when it should be what they tell in fairy tales.

She failed him.

She was shuddering letting his hand slip from her sweaty palms when he stood up with a worn out sad face, head hung down with the burden of guilt and selfishness.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.” She was on her knees. Lips wobbled glum. She tugged on the bottom of his trousers crying dolefully without any word.

“Not wanting to hurt me by hurtin’ me more?” She cried hugging his leg and not letting it go.

His bestowed assertion made her shudder as he stepped away and to side, “I don’t w'na hurt us anymore.” His heart cracked and promised to him that it'll never heal up how much he'd beg later.

He was crying into his wrist leaving their apartment. Closing his ears with his palms to shut down the loud reckless sobs that echoed till hallway.

That cruel summer night still haunts her every moment and it’s been two weeks, and she wishes that he'll come running towards where she’s shrinking into the bed and jump over her as he used to —-- covering the little distance from the kitchen towards the bed and always made them bounce with the glee of his soft giggles.

How merciless could he be?

Leaving her alone in their home, where every piece of furniture holds his memory; the pink vinyl that’d play their favourite French songs, the squared tiles of their kitchen walls that he wrote different recipes over, the glassed roof through which they'd moon gaze snuggled into eachother and he'd be more happy to stroke her skin and love on the softness of it rather than the twinkle of stars – because he does it when he misses her, not when she’s right in his arms kissing his cheeks to happy affection, his cat who’s homesick because her momma is there or not – it’s not a much difference.

Everything is just ghosts of his memories making the edges of her heart bleed and cracking them dry.

She misses him. She misses him terribly and no day goes by without his thought swimming and tickling her mind.

Telephone rings. It keeps on ringing and she ignores it closing her eyes and tries to surrender herself to darkness of sleep, but then it kept on cutting through the tranquillity of their home and she’s plucking the yellow receiver and speaking something – embarrassed when her voice doesn’t even reach herself.

There’s loud annoyed groaning, vigorous disturbance and a high pitched squeaks before Mitch's monotone voice startles Y/N, “Can you please take him home? He's proper waffled .. broke his —-.. Harry! Can you sit down? Christ. Look you’re looking like a clown in front of all these nurses —-- Y/N?” He sighs and Y/N turns the curly wire around her finger out of anxiousness.

Fidgety on the tips of her toes.

“Where are you? Nurses? Broke? Is Harry okay? Tell me Mitch what’s happening!!?” She’s yelling into the receiver snatching the notepad when Mitch mutters grumpily, “Harry’s in hospital.”

Her heart drops to floor at that and she stares at her feet letting it sink before blinking the tears away and asking him for locations.

The time she reaches it starts raining and she covers herself with the cardigan she sneaked from his wardrobe to feel his presence, his scent and his brush of touch to her skin.

When she’s stumbling inside the rushy lobby filled with people waiting for their turn and her blurry gaze moves in every direction to find Harry sitting on the steel benches, wearing loose tailored curdory trousers and a baby blue sweater she knitted him as a gift for his birthday.

His apple-ish cheeks rosy and his button of nose scrunching up as he sits clumsily on the bench, poking Mitch's bum every other second to laugh at some kid who has his hand struck in a pot.

His own wrist bandaged up and around his neck, his pupils glassy foam and his condition dishevelled and ruffled up. It tears her up and she breathes in a sniffle – wiping her nose and padding towards him.

When his eyes rakes up a huge dimply smile is adorning his weary features and he’s waving her with limpy fingers shyly.

He’s drunk, drunk.

He pouts cherry-ly. Brows flinching together and he position himself straighter with Mitch's help when he takes in the dampness of her cheeks, “Why’re y'cryin' lovie’?” Darn that pet name. He slurs and his words mumbish.

“You’re hurt...” She points at his wrist. He looks down as it isn’t obvious and Mitch rolls his eyes, “Not hurt.” He shakes his head and when looks back up he’s grinning.

“Was just takin' hugeee steps downstairs -- ye'know me clumsiness and it’s kinda Mitchy's fault too ... told him to grab me tightly —-... ‘cos ‘m sensitive lil petal —--...” Y/N's biting down a snort at his squeaky high pitched voice and Mitch’s cutting him with thin smile.

“Been biting my ears off about you. How was I supposed to keep my balance when he clings to me so hard as if I’m summat his lover....” Y/N's eyes widen when Mitch grabs Harry from armpits and slinks his one arm around Y/N's shoulder as if Harry’s some parcel and he didn’t like it.

“Take him, home.” He mumbles and she stutters, “Wait ... hey! How? Mitch come back you mummy head.” She calls for him but he just walks away and Y/N’s left with no option but to take Harry with her.

“Be careful.” She whispers walking down the slope at exit of hospital with Harry clinged to her, “You came here on car?” She nudges his cheek with her shoulder but he just snuggles his face into the nook of her jaw.

“Mitch took it?” She groans. Swiping the rain droplets away from her forehead and steps behind under the shelter, “No ... it’s parked right here.” He mumbles against her sweet spot making her shiver and she makes them do a lil jog to the car and Harry’s giggling squeaking nonsense in her ear.

“Harry if y’refuse to leave me .....” She warns him trying to squirm out of his embrace as he sits in the passenger seat holding her so she sighs and tries to stick to more gentle coaxing way.

Shaky fingers gliding up his cheek to cup it and stroke the blue bags under his eyes, screaming that he having restless night for week now, “Petal if you don’t leave me how ‘m supposed to drive?” He gazes her peculiarly –- caressing her knuckles, stares his own motion and gives her the most puppy eyes that melts her on the spot, “Then hold me hand?” Now, could she say no to him? Never. She hates herself for it.

“’kay you could hold my –-- lemme —--... just --.. good boy.” She takes her hand out of his grip and pats his thigh before rushing to driver’s side.

She knows that how much he needs reassurances when he’s drunk and how much his love language of touching her peaks to sky.

She fulfils her promise and let him hold her hand, enjoying the little happiness because she knows it’s temporary and in the morning she'd be met by empty bed and hollow arms.

“I missed home.” He smiles wetly. Eyes closed as he stays on hugging her walking inside and whines when she squats down to untie his laces.

When she make him sit on the sofa and tries to leave for the kitchen, he’s lurching forward to grab her wrist and plead into her arm with moisture in his eyes, “No.No.No lovie' don’t go. Don’t go, pleaseeeee.......” She pets his sweaty curls kissing his forehead and murmurs against his hair while he loops his elbows lazily around her waist.

“Not going anywhere bub. Bringing you water.”

“No water. Just you. I missed you. Missed you so much. Missed you too much.” He’s rambling knuckling at his eyes and her belly fills with butterflies that flap till her heart and makes her feel woozy.

Though, she overcomes the bitter sweet feeling and brings him water how much he whined.

He has his hand planted softly at her thigh and gasps loudly and dramatically finishing the last droplet, and puckers his lips making funny noises against the rim of glass and she takes it away from him giggling, “’kay it's enough.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment and when opens them back it’s sea of pinks and the tears are shining at his waterline and he croaks out hoarsely, “Y/N ....?” Sobered up. He's feeling awful and in constant need to take her in his arms.

“Hmm?” She hums giving him a nervous smile and he straightens up taking both of her hands in his's, “I don’t want to be away from you anymore, darlin'. It’s worse than being temporarily away from ye'. Terrible. Terrible. I feel sick all the time as if there’s a dagger twisting into my heart ‘cos I know ‘m never fallin' in love with anyone except you ... but I don’t think you deserve me —.. I -- I —... I just think you —--- it’s killing me baby. Take me back please, baby take me back." He sniffs the tears and she’s crying with him; calling out his name and when he doesn’t listen she’s cradling his face delicately in her palms and making him look at her.

“Harry, my sweetheart. I love you. Isn’t that enough to assure you that I deserve you and only you – no one else.” He's blinking furiously and she bobs her head not flickering her loving gaze away from him.

“I love you too, will you take me back now? After what I did?” His insecurity and doubts about himself floating back.

“You left for best. Realised that we couldn’t live without eachother, didn’t you?” She pecks the corner of his lips and he leans in for a chaste kiss, their teeth clanking from smiling wide and happy and he giggles when she pushes herself off from him.

They crawl to their bed together and she flumps on his chest and he moans squeakily, “Ow.”

“Oh my, Har ....” She gasps. Shakes her head and flicks him on forehead when he grins bashfully.

“G'na take care of me?” His chin doubles over adorably as he tries to see her and brush her hair away.

“Gonna take care of you, petal” She patches a soft kiss to his chest and erupts into loud giggles when he teases her nonchalantly, “G'na help me wipe my arse.”

“Harry! Your other hand’s perfectly capable of wiping yourself clean!” He brings her closer with his uninjured hand and kisses her tenderly -- to show her all the love they missed on these few weeks.

“I love being home.” He murmurs into the kiss. Playing with her tresses round his nimble and traces kisses all over her face.

“Promise me you’re never doing silly again.” She pouts and he plucks at it – smooching a kiss to it later.

“Promise.” He tries to hook his bandaged pinky to her's and she laughs into his neck – shakes her head and kisses his cheek hugging him tightly.

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clnriswood · 4 years ago

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DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Two

a/n: Hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let the love triangle commence!

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu

“Can’t get this blooming rubbish to work,” Ernie Macmillan grumbled.

He, along with a select few of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff N.E.W.T. qualifying students, were huddled close in Flitwick’s musty classroom. As their class was drawing to its close it seemed that not many had yet grasped the spell’s complexity. The girl, with her hair in two tight french braids, had her legs folded up in a criss cross shape as she focused all her might into what was growing to be harder and harder spellwork.

“Aguamenti,” she said, forming a sideways S shaped arc.

Sure enough, a stream of water burst forth from her wands tip, only, the liquid lasted a mere second before sputtering out like a broken down vehicle. Beside her, Cedric was having more luck. Effortlessly, he created a perfect arc of crystal clear water, which he, with little effort, aimed backwards so as to shoot into his opened mouth. As the girl watched him, mouth agape, he gave her an infuriating wink of his ocean blue eyes.

“Show off,” she scowled with defeated pout.

Cedric, though it was by no means intentional, then spat his water on her with a bellowing laugh. Out of sheer disgust and retaliation, the girl raised her wand and spoke the charm once more, but this time it proved to be far more effective. A tidal wave's worth of water hit Cedric’s smug face, making him fly sideways onto the ground for cover as the Hufflepuff side of the class went berserk with laughter. Cedric, though sopping wet, looked happy as ever as he went climbing back into his seat, water droplets dancing off the edges of his eyes, nose, and lips, like diamonds. Professor Flitwick, unsure whether he should be impressed or not, flourished his wand and turned the student’s clothes back to being bone dry in an instant.

Across the room, it seemed the only Gryffindor with the same capabilities as Cedric was Hermione Granger, who was trying with much difficulty to teach her friends the day’s spell.

“Whadda you reckon?”

Ron Weasley sat beside her, his wand spurting a pathetic gurgle of water from its tip. The ginger boy seemed rather impressed with himself, given.

“Ronald,” Hermione snapped.

Beside them, Harry Potter mustered a similarly pathetic ooze of water. He seemed to be amusing himself, watching it spit up all over his desk with an idiotic grin at Ron.

“You’re not saying it with enough energy,” Seamus Finnigan chimed in. “See? Watch.”

Seamus sent his wand aggressively up through the air, his face scrunched as he practically yelled his aguamenti charm into existence. Professor Flitwick had turned abruptly to watch the magic take effect, and was, due to his unfortunate placement, sent toppling off his little stack of books. The water charm slapped him clean onto the floor, making the drenched little man squeak with shock.

“Finnigan,” he spluttered as he stood up, his clothes dripping a halo shaped puddle around his feet, “detention!”

Unsurprisingly, class was cut just a little early that day.

. . .

“What was that about, last night?”

She caught up with her Gryffindor comrades the second she was out of class. Her boots thwacked the stone floors of the halls loudly as she struggled to keep up pace so as to get updated and still make her next class on time.

“What was what about?” Harry replied dumbly.

“Your nose you fool!” she hit him against the back of his head with her notebook.

“Ow,” he snorted, rubbing his neck.

“You’ll have Malfoy to blame for that,” Hermione answered matter of factly while Ron tended jokingly to his friend’s nonexistent neck wound.

“I figured just as much,” the girl said, sliding in beside her friend and keeping up her pace as the idiot boys fell behind.

“You did?” Hermione raised a brow.

“Yeah, he had a spot of blood on his knuckles,” she explained.

“Clever,” Hermione grinned, her brown eyes shining with satisfaction.

“I s’pose,” she shrugged, itching to move the conversation along. “Anyways, what exactly was Harry doing that got him his nose smashed in by Malfoy’s fists?”

“Not just his fists!” Ron called from behind. “The git stomped on him too!”

“Brutal!” Harry chortled.

Hermione, exasperated, turned quickly around so as to procure her wand and send fizzling pink sparks up by the boy’s feet, making them instantly shut up.

“As I was going to say,” Hermione said cooly, as if nothing had just happened, “Harry was spying on Malfoy. He wanted to confirm a suspicion of his.”

“And what might that be?” the girl said, her braids swaying on her chest as they closed in on their destination.

“Harry thinks Malfoy is a death eater,” she said.

Her stomach flipped like a pancake in the fryer that was her stomach, “and?”

“Reckons he is,” Hermione said, her pace slowing, “but I don’t know. I think it’s likely he was just trying to show off to his friends. I mean, he’s sixteen years old! And it’d be very odd to have a sixteen year old boy working for You-Know-Who, don’t you think?!”

“Yeah,” the girl replied flatly, ignoring the continuous churn of her belly, “it would be odd.”

. . .

Herbology was off to a calm start that year. Professor Sprout seemed quite pleased to see the returning faces of Neville, Cedric, Y/N, and a few of her other star students. She’d explained that they were to kick off the school year by repotting the plants from the Hufflepuff Common Room, as they’d gone the summer in their untouched pots and burst forth with so much new life that they now required transplanting. As Cedric had put it, it seemed the plants had “gotten busy that summer.” This had sent the girl roaring. Her, Cedric, and Neville had then stood together, enjoying the hot sun that sizzled their skin to a light fry and making easy conversation. Being Hufflepuffs, Y/N, Cedric, and a few of their fellow housemates agreed to transport the plants back to their Common Room following the end of their lessons. On their way out of the class, now that she’d gotten Cedric alone, the girl updated him on what Hermione had told her. She held a large brown pot in her hands, one dripping with long and lively vines, while Cedric carried a bundle of singing sprouts.

“What, so you reckon he is a death eater then?” Cedric’s brows lifted as they made their way across the sun soaked grounds.

It smelt of dirt and flora, but the girl wasn’t sure if the source was the grounds or just herself and Cedric.

“Dunno,” she shrugged, “but I think… I think there’s something different about him.”

Cedric threw her the side eye, “yeah?”

The girl sighed, blowing a puff of air from her mouth as she attempted to phrase her next words in the least ridiculous way possible.

“Malfoy looked at me.”

Cedric stopped walking, “what?”

“He looked at me,” she said again.

Her friend blinked at her like she’d gone loony, “and then what?”

“And then nothing,” she replied.

“So you- now wait a minute let me get this right,” Cedric said, rubbing his long fingers over his mouth so as to suppress his grin.

“Oh shut up,” she grumbled and began her march away.

Cedric was laughing as he continued, chasing her down.

“So you think it’s possible something is off with Malfoy because he looked at you?”

“You don’t understand,” she explained, sort of folding her arms grumpily over her chest while keeping a grip on the plant, “he never looks at me.”

Cedric had gone silent for a moment, making her feel like an idiot.

“You don’t believe me,” she sighed as they entered the school’s halls.

Cedric stopped her, a firm hand coming to her right arm and making her feet come to a halt. The boy gave a little smile, looking down at her with those ocean eyes and shaking his head. Little dimples arose on the perfect curvatures of his bronzed skin.

“I believe,” he said, “that you see the best in people. Even when they don’t see it themselves.”

She let his words sink in as the chirping of nearby birds filled her silence.

“So... d’you think there is some part of him worth trying to save?” she asked.

Cedric looked just a little frustrated as he replied, “I think that even if there was, it wouldn’t be your job to do.”

He was right, she knew that much. But she couldn’t help but to wonder; if he wasn’t hers to save, who was?

After bringing their first round of plants by the Common Room, the two made a rendez-vous to meet with Julian, Ernie, and fellow housemate Hannah Abbot, who seemed to hang close by Ernie. From there, the group scarfed down a quick meal (Y/N had a particular craving for pasta that night), and headed back off to the greenhouse. It was dark out now, and the girl pondered Draco’s absence from the Great Hall as they padded jovially across the green grass. On her second trip, she handled a particularly sleepy cactus, who snored loudly in its cozy little pot.

“Last one back has to get us all butterbeers from the kitchen?” Hannah had asked her friends with a wink.

They laughed in agreement before all promptly bolting off towards the castle, soaked in the white of the moonlight. Cedric unsurprisingly took the lead, with Y/N following close behind. Her boots slammed against the hard floor, her friends squealing as they weaved in and out of groups of disgruntled students in the hallways. She could’ve sworn she remembered bolting past Cho Chang, who looked gloomily off in Cedric’s direction, but truth be told she wasn’t paying all that much attention. That was, until she caught sight of a ghostly figure sweeping down a nearby corridor void of students. Realizing who it was, she went skidding to a halt, Julian flying past her with a cackle. She glanced once to her friends, mentally coming to a decision, and then back to the figure in the corridor. Silently, she slipped aside and trailed the boy down the hall, following quietly after him for about a minute before he took notice of her presence.

“Why are you following me?” he grumbled lowly without turning.

She planted her feet, pushing a strand of hair from her face as she spoke nervously, “erm-”

Draco Malfoy whipped around, one brow raised high in confusion, “Y/N?”

He looked just as gaunt as the day before, only now he’d peeled off his robes, wearing just the shirt and emerald tie beneath it, the white sleeves of his undershirt rolled to his elbows. His ice colored eyes pierced holes through her inquisitive stare.

“Me,” she affirmed with a crooked half smile.

“I thought you were-” he started with a shake of his head before deciding against it. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Oh,” she replied quite dumbly, “sorry?”

He just blinked at her with an exasperated shake of his head, “nevermind.”

She didn’t exactly know how to respond to that, or what had even brought her down the corridor in the first place, so she just cleared her throat with a kind of half-smile-half-grimace. Draco, realizing she wasn’t going to explain herself, did it for her, his face resuming the usual sneer he reserved for her.

“Well, what do you want?” he said, eyes moving over her shoulders so as to verify no one was coming their way, like he wouldn’t want to be caught dead speaking to her.

“I just,” she stuttered awkwardly, “thought I’d say hello.”

The boy wore an expression of utter bewilderment, “what?”

“Hello,” she repeated with a nervous laugh. “I mean, I saw you in the Great Hall last night and you just looked a bit down so I reckoned I’d see how you were doi-”

“Fine,” he cut her off, the word sour on his tongue as he grew suddenly defensive. “I’m fine. Not that it’s your business anyway. Or that I’d care what you think. Or that I was even looking at you. Or that I ever would.”

She felt her heart go momentarily heavy with upset, but she refused to show it on her face. Where the hostility had come from she didn’t know. Why she’d bothered to think he may have quelled it was even more of a question mark to her. Draco glared her down with those big blue eyes, the strong line of his jaw giving off a frustrated little pulse as he awaited her response. Not wanting to show him her hurt, the girl just smiled and let loose an airy little laugh.

“Of course,” she said. “Because the day Draco Malfoy is vulnerable is the day the sky falls, right?”

As she’d expected he’d had no verbal response to this. Instead, his scowl softened, just for a second, and he blinked through his long lashes with a great and buried sadness.

“Your problem isn’t that you don’t have anyone to save you,” she voiced aloud, more to herself than him as she came to a spoken realization, “it’s that you don’t want to be saved.”

And so she resumed a brisk walk, moving past the boy and giving him a light slam of her shoulder as she pushed him aside and continued down the corridor. The smell of mint and a delicious dark cologne swam through the air around her, but she huffed it grumpily out as she made way in the opposite direction of the boy. She’d almost rounded the corner when he suddenly called her name. She stopped, not turning but simply staring forward in silence as she waited his turn to speak.

“You have dirt on your cheek,” he said quite loudly.

The girl gave a half turn, throwing the snow white boy a glance. His hands were stuffed into his pant’s pockets, his eyes sparkling just a tad brighter than they had a moment ago. While his words were harsh, his voice hadn’t been. Rather, it was pitched more gently and high, like he was -- joking with her? Moreover, if she focused hard enough on the curvature of his round pink lips she could just make out the beginnings of a smile. Likely this was Draco’s way of silently apologizing, she assumed. Lord knew he would never actually apologize, after all.

The boy’s lips twitched, and his eyes extended a gentle and silent plea for her to say something back.

She sighed in defeat, shaking her head and giving him the satisfaction of a sheepish grin, “goodnight, Draco.”

. . .

“The hell happened to you?” Ernie asked.

The girl had come stumbling through the Common Room’s secret entrance. In one hand was her still sleeping cactus, and in the other was her wand, which she currently used to levitate five full mugs of chilled butterbeer.

She loved her Common Room. It was huge and shaped like one big barrel. Within its round shape were dozens of squashy brown and yellow sofas, floral tapestries, thick cream colored rugs, and foliage of all shapes and sizes scattered across the ceiling and walls. The floors were a dark oak wood, the walls were a big light brick, and the windows were tall and thin with mosaic yellow flowers imprinted into them. The ceiling stretched so high she had to crane her neck if she wanted to see the golden chandeliers and hanging green potted plants that huddled neatly around them. Protruding from about halfway up the room, against a wall covered entirely in moss and vines, was a wooden ledge about the third of the size of the space that had been transformed to be a miniature extension of a second floor. Currently, an orange and red fire roared from the stone fireplace her friends were huddled by, and a plate overflowing with hot freshly baked chocolate chip cookies was being devoured by them.

“Here, let me help,” Cedric flew up from the sofa to greet her.

The boy snatched the cactus from her one hand while the girl passed butterbeers around to her friends. They all clinked their glasses and took appreciative swigs from their mugs as Cedric used his magic to latch the little cactus onto a spare patch of wall with his free hand. Afterwards, he joined Y/N by her side, sinking down into the heavenly cushions beside her, his shoulder pressed comfortingly against hers. He too had stripped his robes off, and had one long arm leisurely against the back of the sofa, almost touching the girl but not quite. His white shirt clutched attractively to the obvious curvatures of his chest beneath it… not that she’d been looking, or anything.

“I got distracted,” the girl decided on telling them the half truth as she took a bite out of a gooey cookie.

“By what exactly?” Hannah laughed curiously.

“Uh-” the girl’s brain, scrambled, shot off the first thing that came to mind, “Cho Chang.”

“Cho?” Cedric asked with an arch of his perfect brows.

Her two boy-friends seemed to find this amusing, as they both snorted into their sleeves and suddenly found interest in looking directly at Cedric.

“Yeah,” she continued, taking safety in the clearly effective lie, “she looked really upset.”

“Wonder why that is, huh Cedric?” Julian prodded his friend with his wand.

Cedric had gone suddenly flush with pink, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he gave a flustered and incoherent mutter.

Only Hannah seemed to have some sympathy, saying, “drop it, boys.”

Ernie blinked slowly at her before splitting his lips into a massive grin as a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Dropped,” he announced. Then, “actually, I’m quite tired. I’d better go to bed, right Julian?”

Julian, catching on, mimicked his friend.

“Wait-” Cedric started, his eyes going wide with panic.

He looked to Hannah with desperation, but she reluctantly stood, putting on a lousy act as she yawned unconvincingly. Ernie gave her a thumbs up from the boy’s staircase as she forced out her declaration of sudden sleepiness.

“Me too, uh, yeah. Goodnight you two.”

And so the three friends went their separate ways, leaving just Y/N and one very disgruntled looking Cedric Diggory in the Common Room. For a minute afterwards the two friends just sat in silence, neither wanting to acknowledge whatever strange occurrence had just taken place.

Finally, the girl turned against the sofa, folding her legs up on top of each other as she blinked at Cedric with a chuckle. Cedric mimicked her, the two facing each other.

“Alright, Ced?” she smiled at her friend.

He gave a defeated sigh, his ocean blue eyes meeting her own as he rubbed nervously at his neck. The girl giggled as she leaned forward and pulled a hand from his sun kissed skin, bringing it into her lap so that she could hold his palm against her own. This only seemed to agitate the boy further.

“Y/N-” he started with a stutter. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, releasing his fingers, “yeah?”

Cedric looked down at the girl’s now emptied hands and then back at her face, giving a loud clear of his throat.

“Um,” he started anxiously, his mouth half open as he awaited more unarriving words to come out.

“Yeah?” she said again, a little more worry in her voice this time.

“I-” he tried, shaking his head. “You-”

She gave the boy a nervous and worried smile, “yes, Cedric?”

His breath came fast and broken as he gave a defeated sigh, “you have dirt on your cheek.”

“Oh?” her shoulders relaxed as she released the boy’s hands.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting but it definitely wasn’t that.

Cedric looked like he wanted to slam his skull into a wall, his friend not taking notice as she unsuccessfully attempted to use the back of her hand to rub her cheek clean. The boy grimaced, to himself not to her, and then pushed his friend’s hand gently aside with impatience. Her eyes flickered up to his as he gave his index finger a gentle suck before moving it to the girl’s cheek. His one hand came up to her chin, holding it up against the dying fire’s glow, his other coming to gently sweep at her dirtied skin. She couldn’t help but stare into his massive focused eyes, her body unfamiliar to this sort of touch from him. He looked more at ease staring at her cheek than in her eyes, she noticed. She also noticed just how impossible it was to not notice how attractive he looked with the fire’s shadows flickering across his perfectly defined nose and lips. Her breath seemed to get just a little glued in her throat at the sight. And then, satisfied, Cedric’s eyes moved back to hers. Well, if it wasn’t already before, that had her breath stuck to her throat for sure.

This was the closest their faces had ever come to one another, she realized. Cedric’s eyes were glossed over with some sort of expression she’d never read in them before, and that look alone sent her heart roaring dangerously quickly to life. It also didn’t make it any less tense that it had gone deathly quiet, the only sound in the room being that of their gentle breathing. The boy swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes flickering ever so quickly down to the girl’s mouth and back up to her eyes, where they seemed to undecidedly move back and forth over her. She was still very aware of the feeling of his hand beneath her jaw, forcing her stare to his own.

Seeming to catch on all of a sudden, Cedric released her, blinking quickly and sucking in a deep breath.

“Uh, y- you’re all good,” he stood, backing quickly away and putting distance between himself and his friend.

The girl, still a little in shock, just gave a weak laugh and inaudible thank you.

Cedric ran a hand through his gold-brown locks, his eyes on the floor as he moved backwards further, mumbling a quick goodnight before practically bolting out of her sight. From nearby, she heard a plant on the wall give an encouraging whistle at her. She snapped her head in its direction with a glare, silencing it. Then, it was she who stood.

She gave the boy’s staircase a final thoughtful glance, and let her own weighted footsteps drag her through the Common Room. The ground felt like mud around her ankles as she went, and it was as if a dumbbell had quite suddenly been dropped inside her chest. Silently, the girl climbed the stairs, carrying the weight of not one but two boys in her heavy heart, unaware that she was even doing so.

735 notes · View notes

tuanyiems · 4 years ago

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To Tango

Yugyeom x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst, smut Words: 12k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Take Two (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. You and Yugyeom have decided to take things slow now that you are starting over on the right foot. This proves to be more difficult when your insecurities about your virginity grow larger and Yugyeom’s dance partners get prettier and sexier with each routine. Warning: gyeom and reader need to work on their communication lulz, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, a brief moment of unintentional cockwarming lol

“Oh, and the sex, Y/N!” Anna let out a dreamy sigh, plopping her head against the couch cushion dramatically, her third glass of wine swirling dangerously in her hand. “I thought we were great in bed before, but engagement sex! Y/N, it’s absolutely mind-blowing!”

You giggle in response to your best friend, lips on the edge of your own wine glass as you nursed your first cup.

Anna reaches out her left hand, eyes crinkling at the sparkling ring on her finger. “I can’t wait to get married and have newlywed sex! Is it even better, Y/N?”

You cough in surprise, mouthful of wine spilling back into your glass.

“Oh dear, are you okay?” Anna reaches over, patting you on the back. She glances over cautiously. “You know, I heard most couples need time to learn each other’s bodies. Not all men can be like Jungkook. It gets better, don’t worry!”

“No!” You looked up in surprise, cheeks heating up. “It’s not that it’s bad. Yugyeom isn’t bad…or well, I don’t…he’s probably not.”

“Wait!” She shakes her head in disbelief, slamming down her wine glass on the coffee table. “I thought you and Yugyeom were getting along! It’s been a whole year, Y/N!”

“W-we are,” you stutter, looking away.

“But you’re still a virgin?” Anna asks slowly. You gulp down the rest of your glass, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you reluctantly nod.

“Aww, it’s okay…sex isn’t even that…good.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at the obvious lie. “Stop Anna, you looked like you were in actual pain just saying that.”

She grinned, flashing a row of plum teeth. “Sex is amazing, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders, pouring more wine into your glasses. “I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. Yugyeom and I are just taking things slow.”

“Of course, there’s no rush!” Anna smiles reassuringly.

“Right, no rush.” You agree, nodding your head with conviction. Deep down though, you’re worried. After the two of you finally cleared the air of your misunderstandings last year, you both agreed to take things slow, get to know each other as friends first. Of course, this was more for Yugyeom. You had already been head over heels for him two years prior to him ever knowing your name. As time passed, your feelings for Yugyeom only grew stronger, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

It took months for him to come to terms with you being his wife, you didn’t want to scare him away by asking for anything more. But a whole year has passed since then and the two of you hang out more like roommates than a married couple.

The first time you went on a real date, it got so awkward that Yugyeom literally called up Bambam to break the silence. The last time you tried to hold Yugyeom’s hand he flinched like you were going to chop his fingers off or something. Ever since then, you’ve given up, relishing instead on your casual nights in watching k-dramas and weekly grocery store runs. Those count as dates, right?

“Everyone has their own pace Y/N,” Anna adds, as if she could hear your worried thoughts. “There’s no order to when you’re supposed to get married or have sex. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at her with a pout. “Even if we’ve never kissed?”

“YOU’VE NEVER KISSED?!”

You laugh, half at her reaction and half in agony as you nod.

“What the hell is wrong with Yugyeom?” Anna yelled out indignantly.

You smile sheepishly, brushing your fingers through your hair in defeat. “Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. We hang out like bros. I think I’ve been friendzoned.”

“Nonsense! There’s something wrong with that boy if he doesn’t want to kiss you. Even I want to kiss you sometimes! That’s how hot you are!”

You laugh, collapsing into the couch cushions at your friend’s bug-eyed expression. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a problem. In his defense, he’s only just gotten to know me. I’m not as outgoing as you Anna, my charms are a little harder to see.”

“No way, Yugyeom’s just blind. That, or he’s a coward! You need to grab that boy by the collar and show him exactly what he’s missing out on. Just grab him and plant a wet one on him!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I think that’s called assault, Anna. We’ll get there in due time. No rush.”

“No rush about what?” Yugyeom interrupts, entering through the front door. He had just come back from the dance studio. You avert your eyes. Even after a long day of dancing in track pants and a plain white tee, hair stuffed into a black cap, Yugyeom still looks irresistible.

“Are you two drinking again?” He asks after no answer, approaching the two of you on the couch.

You smile sheepishly, twirling the red wine in your glass.

“Yes we are! Have to get rid of our frustrations somehow!” Anna barks back, pouring more wine into both of your glasses.

“This is my second glass,” You tell him quietly when he glances from Anna back to you, questioningly.

Yugyeom raises his brow skeptically, leaning over the couch to get a closer look. You gulp, eyes trailing the tip of his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s so close; you could smell the lingering scent of the outside air mixed with his faded cologne.

“Your second glass?” he asks, eyes trained on yours like he could read your thoughts if he stares hard enough. You pray that isn’t true.

You nod quietly.

“Then why are your cheeks so pink? I think you’re already drunk!” He declares, standing up straight. Anna laughs, looking at you with a knowing smile.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” You change the subject quickly.

He smiles down at you before stepping away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go shower and then head to bed. Don’t keep her up too late, Anna!”

“That’s your job, Mr. Hubby,” Anna mumbles under her breath, snickering when your eyes widen, and you turn back to check if he heard. Yugyeom is already down the hallway though.

You pout, sinking into your seat. “Don’t say it!”

“You’ve got the hots for your husband!” Anna sings with excitement, nudging you teasingly.

You can only groan into the couch cushions because you know she’s absolutely right.

Of course, by now everyone knows you’ve had the hots for your husband ever since you laid eyes on him as a freshman in college. You were like the Cinderella of arranged marriages on campus. You agreed with it yourself. It wasn’t every day that parents matched their daughters up with their longtime crushes.

But that was a sweet and innocent time in your life, when you’d have daydreams of cooking dinner with him and he’d help tie your apron from behind. Maybe even tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Now your daydreams are far more…mature.

So, when you send Anna on her way and turn around to see Yugyeom stepping out of the shower, striped pajama pants on, and only striped pajama pants on, you are a bit breathless, to say the least.

“Jungkook picked Anna up?” he asks nonchalantly, water droplets dripping off his wet hair and falling down his chest.

You beg your buzzed brain not to follow the wet trail. Your mouth waters anyways.

“Mhm,” you manage out after a pause.

He chuckles, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. “Are you sure you only had two glasses? You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” you laugh nervously, shuffling out of his grasp. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should head to bed.”

“I am,” he smiles. “You too? Do you have a long day tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna be in the kitchen all day. I have to practice a couple recipes.”

“I’ll help!” he grins, shoulders squeezing together happily.

You scrunch your nose, landing a soft punch on his bicep. “I sense ulterior motives. I’ll take it though!”

He laughs, patting your head good naturedly. “Then it’s settled. Just wake me up when you start.”

You smile, watching as Yugyeom turns towards his bedroom, fresh muscle relief patches stamped across his back. He had been in the studio nonstop all week. Ever since changing his major, he’s been overworking himself to make up lost time. And now he’s spending his day off to help you.

You are grateful that he no longer gives you the cold shoulders. In fact, you have a gut feeling he’s been trying to make up for his past behavior by doing favors for you. You keep telling him that everything’s been forgiven, but the boy doesn’t listen.

He’s truly been nothing but sweet.

So, it should be okay that you two sleep in different beds at night. Lots of arranged couples do. You should just be happy you got to marry such a kind man. It’s okay that he doesn’t love you, you’re lucky nonetheless. Eventually, you two will become best friends.

Best friends last longer than lovers, you’ve been told.

But when you tuck yourself into bed that night, you can’t help but feel a little bit colder than usual.

“So, how can I help?” Yugyeom asks, hands on his hips as he sports your far too small, far too pink apron.

You giggle at the sight, sliding the cutting board towards him. “Can you dice the veggies, please?”

“Yes Chef!” he salutes you playfully.

You chuckle, bringing out the other ingredients for your recipe. The sleepyhead woke up at noon and insisted on helping you before even brushing his teeth. Of course, you ushered him into the bathroom soon enough, but it was harder to kick him out of the kitchen.

You glance at the back of his hair, strands curling up in opposite directions like wild flowers. You’d think the image of Yugyeom looking the very opposite of his appearance in the dance studio would damage your infatuation with him, but instead you found his clumsiness endearing.

There are a lot of cool bad boys out there. You’re glad Yugyeom is one of the good ones. Sometimes you fear he’s too good. Like maybe he’s being nice because he feels guilty still or maybe even sorry. You bite your lip. You would hate it if he were only acting this nice because he felt sorry for you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Yugyeom yells, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You’re gonna cut yourself like that!”

You look down at your chopping board, fingers dangerously close to the knife. “Oh.”

“And you tried to kick me out of the kitchen. I should be the one nagging you!” he chides, taking the knife away from you. “I’ll finish up the chopping, you can start cooking.”

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat.

“How are your classes going?” he asks, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth.

“Pretty good. I just can’t wait to graduate.”

Yugyeom lets out a soft chuckle. “Same.”

“Extra year was worth it though, wasn’t it?” You grin, filling a measuring cup with water.

He answers with a wink. It makes your stomach flip.

“I never said thanks,” he starts, going back to chopping vegetables. You look at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. “For convincing me to change my major. And supporting me this whole time. I don’t think I would be here without you.”

You shake your head, busying your hands as your cheeks flush once more. “It was all you. I wouldn’t invest in something I didn’t believe in. You had it in you the whole time.”

“Ah, stop it,” he bumps shoulders with yours gently.

You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face as memories from last year floods you.

Yugyeom looked like a nervous puppy in front of his father. You were sure if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs right now.

You never thought of the Kim family as intimidating. Although the first time you met your in-laws they were angry whispering to each other with Yugyeom over the arranged marriage, they have always been nothing but kind to you. And when you and Yugyeom started getting along, they became even more jovial, showering you with household gifts and random text messages of affection.

However, Yugyeom’s respect for his parents was immeasurable and in front of his father, he became a little boy.

So here he was, face as pale as snow, about to break the news to his father.

You reached out to him, taking hold of his hand quietly. He flinched at the touch before offering you a nervous smile back. You squeezed his clammy hands in yours.

It was the first time you truly felt like Yugyeom’s wife. The two of you were in this together and you were going to support your husband’s happiness even if it meant going against his parents.

As it turned out, Yugyeom’s parents were more than understanding. Disappointed, yes, but after you gave your reassurance that you supported his decision, they were all on board with him pursuing dance.

You chuckled to yourself, remembering how Yugyeom’s frightened face had melted back into his usual boyish excitement. There was something very pure in the way he expressed himself. It was part of the charm that drew you in, in the first place.

You glance his way, catching him bouncing his shoulders up and down to a beat only he could hear. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in that brain of his.

Yugyeom’s knife stops midair. He turns to you abruptly with arched brows. You blink back nervously. But instead of saying anything, he breaks into a big smile before returning to the vegetables, his body grooving back and forth in a little jig. You chuckle softly, shaking your head. Whatever’s in that brain of his, you don’t have to worry about it.

“Wow, this is delicious!” Yugyeom exclaims, taking another big bite of your dish. You smile, placing your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “You deserve an A++!”

“You say that about all my food,”

“I mean it this time! It’s so good.”

“Oh, so you didn’t mean it the other times?” You give a playful pout, pushing the plate closer to your side. “I’m eating this alone!”

“Aww, hey! You know what I meant,” he whines, scooting closer to get another bite.

You laugh, taking the dish into your arms as you swat his hands away. He only pushes closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Just one more bite!” he whines, squeezing you against his chest.

“All mine!” You grin, grabbing another spoonful. You swirl the spoon around teasingly before aiming for your own mouth, but before you could bite down, Yugyeom squeezes you closer, sticking his head cheek-to-cheek against yours and successfully steals the bite.

You gasp, face flushing at his close proximity and then watch as the plate slips from your nervous hand. Almost as if in slow motion, you see the contents of your dish spill onto Yugyeom’s grey sweatpants. Your eyes double in size the liquid sinks into the fabric of his pants and the rest falls to the floor in thunderous claps.

You blink, frozen, until you take in a sudden breath and collapse to your knees.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, wiping at his pants hastily.

“Oh, hey hey hey!” Yugyeom grabs at your hands, flustered. “I-I can wipe myself. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at the red flush across Yugyeom’s face, reaching towards his ears and all the way down his neck. Your palms go clammy in his as you realize your precarious position. You glance at the wet spot near his crotch and then back at his wavering pupils.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize again, for different reasons this time, as you fumble back to your feet.

He only shakes his head vigorously, unable to meet your eyes as he lets go of your hands.

“It’s my fault,” he says, rushing to the kitchen counters to grab a kitchen towel. “I was playing around too much.”

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, taking the towel from him with a sympathetic smile. He looks at you with a pout. “I’ll clean up the mess, you should go change.”

He lets out a sigh before consenting, heading towards his room with his head low. In the privacy of his bedroom, Yugyeom lets out a deep exhale, his heart thrumming in his chest. He hopes you hadn’t noticed.

He looks down, pulling his sweatpants off. Please go down, but instead thoughts of you return to his mind. If he is being honest, it isn’t the first time he’s imagined you in that kind of position, but to have it actually happen—you, on your knees, right below him—and the way you looked up at him with your big, shiny eyes. All you had to do was lick your lips and he would’ve came in his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking back down. “Go down, go down, go down.”

You sit in Jungkook’s apartment, watching beside Anna as the two boys bicker about the latest trendy dance on TikTok. You laugh, watching as your husband grows red in the face from laughing so hard. He didn’t even drink tonight.

“What are you grinning about, huh?” Anna teases, refilling your glass with more sangria.

You point at Jungkook just as he begins rapping nonsense to the cellphone that is leaning dangerously against a half empty water bottle, off the edge of their coffee table.

“That’s the guy you’re about to marry,” you deadpan. “And that’s the man I’m married to.”

You look solemnly at Yugyeom who is now flailing tissues around as he hypes Jungkook up in the background.

Anna chuckles, clinking her glass against yours. “A bunch a fools, we are.”

You gulp down the fresh glass before breaking out into a grimace. Anna definitely put more brandy into the second pitcher of sangria. You look back at your friend with a frown.

She only laughs in response. “What? It’s not like you’re driving yourself home, that’s what the husband is for!”

“True!” You laugh, drinking more.

Yugyeom scowls, giving Anna a reprimanding click with his tongue. “You’re such a bad influence, Anna!”

She feigns offense, turning to him with her mouth wide open. “Excuse me? Who’s the one that brought you guys together, hmm?”

“Our parents,” Yugyeom retorts, a pleased grin on his face. You chuckle, earning yourself a glare from your friend.

“But I was the one that brought Y/N to the dance studio and stopped you two from divorcing each other,” Anna pouts, squeezing your arm for backup. You only giggled more, sipping on your glass of sangria.

“Speaking of the dance studio,” Jungkook starts, breaking the little spat between Anna and Yugyeom. “You’re working on that new routine with Lisa, right?”

You let out a sigh that only Anna notices. She gives your arm another squeeze, well aware of your concerns.

For the past couple of weeks, you had been complaining to Anna about Lisa. In all honesty, there was nothing real to complain about. Lisa was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met, and her dancing was some of the best you had ever seen. But that was exactly what was wrong. Lisa wasn’t just perfect, she also went perfectly with Yugyeom. The two shared an unrivaled chemistry on the dance floor and that did nothing to curb your own insecurities over your relationship.

It doesn’t help that Yugyeom is spending hours of his day to perfect his new dance routine with her.

But how could you even tell Yugyeom this? You were the one that pushed him to pursue dancing!

You stretch out your legs on the couch, wiggling your toes with a frown on your face. You really shot yourself in the foot this time around.

“Bro, don’t remind me,” Yugyeom sighs, much to your own surprise. You perk up, turning your attention to him and ignoring the snort from Anna. “I’m going to kill Bambam.”

“Why, what happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, what happened?” you insist, a little too eagerly.

Yugyeom turns to you with a frown. “Bambam took Lisa ice skating and she sprained her ankle.”

“Oh no,” you mutter, pressing the wine glass back to your lips to hide the smile spreading across your face.

You feel Anna’s elbow dig into your side.

“Aww, go Bambam though,” Anna cheers. “Hasn’t he been in love with her for forever?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes, walking over to plop next to you on the couch. His arm naturally reaches overhead, leaning on the cushion just above your head. You swallow, overly aware of his body next to yours.

“It wasn’t even a date, Anna,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks at you then before adding, “That’s why I’ve been at the studio longer than usual. Learning the routine with a new partner is so stressful.”

“Who’s your new partner?” Jungkook asks, squeezing himself next to Anna.

“She’s an underclassman. I don’t know if you know her. Does Chungha ring a bell?”

You watch Jungkook’s expression remain unimpressed as he shrugs. “Nope.”

Pleased with his response, you relax your shoulders and unintentionally lean into Yugyeom. If it weren’t for the alcohol and your slow reflexes, you would’ve sat back up, but Yugyeom presses back into you before you can move. When you feel his hand slide around you, you tip the rest of your glass into your mouth.

“You guys wanna come watch us practice?” Yugyeom offers, seemingly unaware of your wildly beating heart.

Jungkook and Anna agrees quickly, leaving you with no choice but to watch another woman dance with your husband. The only thing that was making you feel better though is the fact that she isn’t Lisa and of course, the additional helping of sangria from your best friend.

When it is finally time for you and Yugyeom to head home, you are completely drunk. You have no idea how he was able to get you to and from the car but when you are finally sober enough to open your eyes without feeling like the world is spinning, you find yourself sprawled on your living room couch.

“One day I’m gonna get Jungkook shitfaced and toss him to Anna. See how much she likes it,” he grumbles under his breath as he approaches you. “Oh, you’re awake.”

You giggle, still drunk enough to ignore your usual nerves. “They’d probably just have drunk sex, Yugy.”

Yugyeom blushes, sitting next to you on the couch. “Let’s wipe your makeup off Y/N,” he replies, ignoring your comment.

You turn to him with your eyes closed, laughing when the cool towelette touches your skin. He chuckles against you.

“Stop laughing.”

��It tickles!”

“Just a little bit more,”

You sigh in relief, opening your eyes again to see Yugyeom tossing the dirty wipes into the trashcan.

“Come on, let’s go brush our teeth,” he beckons.

Your lips jut out instinctively as you cross your arms defiantly. “Do it for me!”

Yugyeom lets out a sigh but a smile quickly breaks onto his face anyways. He always complained to Anna about getting you drunk, but the truth is that he could never get truly mad. How could he when your drunken self becomes a cute little monster?

You are annoyingly adorable.

Even during the early months of your marriage when Yugyeom was adamant on hating you, he could never get over how cute you became when you were drunk. While he found your normal self already quite endearing, it was a different pleasure to see your guard slip down.

Grabbing your toothbrush and spreading a pinch of toothpaste over the bristles, he smiles as he walks back over to you. Your eyes open again, feeling him approach. You flash him a bright smile, showing off your wine-stained teeth.

Chuckling in defeat, he pushes your toothbrush against your smile and begins brushing. You watch him with lazy eyes, smile still adorn on your lips. It makes his skin flush under your gaze. Maybe you are still very drunk, but time feels like it stops.

It’s not often that Yugyeom gets to see you with your guard down. You are always a little shy and always put together. Whether it is helping him talk to his own parents or waking up early to make him lunch, you are always the one helping him and rarely is it ever the other way around.

It’s why times like these, Yugyeom takes his time memorizing your features.

On normal days, Yugyeom already thinks you are perfect.

On nights like tonight, he thinks you are perfectly imperfect.

And that makes you all the more beautiful.

All too soon, it is time to put you to bed. He is surprised you’re even still awake. It’s way past midnight, which is way past your usual 10PM bedtime.

“It’s time to sleep now, Y/N. Can you walk or should I carry you?”

You glance at him, fiddling with your thumbs. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Yugyeom chokes on his own spit. “Y-you don’t want to sleep in your own bed?”

You shake your head with a pout. “I wanna stay with you.”

He lets out a breath before taking a seat next to you on the couch. It shouldn’t be a surprise that your drunk self is being clingy, but Yugyeom can’t help his thoughts from wandering to the other day when you spilled food all over his pants.

You pat his thigh, leaning closer. He gulps, feeling nervous suddenly.

“Yugy, what’s your ideal type?”

The question catches him off guard. It’s not until you squeeze his thigh again that he remembers to answer.

“I-um...”

He glances down at your wide eyes. The anticipation in your gaze is evident.

“I like someone who makes me want to know more about her,” he finally answers.

His answer is almost sobering enough. You feel your heart dropping.

“What type of wife do you want then?”

Yugyeom wants to laugh at your sudden interrogation but you look so serious. He looks away, pretending to think deeply about your question. The truth is though, he can barely think with you so close to him. The only thing he can think to respond with is you. Of course it’s you. It could only be you.

Before Yugyeom could even accept the idea of marriage, he had already fallen for his wife. Against his will and against his pride, you had snuck into his heart.

When he looks back at you, you feel a flutter in your chest. You wonder if your buzz has gotten to your head. Hope rises in your heart the longer he stares.

“I want a wife who doesn’t like wine so much,” he lets out a small laugh when you immediately frown. If only he could kiss the pout on your lips.

Yugyeom sits up, thinking you’ve finished but you’re quick to keep him seated. With the last bits of alcohol giving you courage, you throw your leg across his lap and straddle him, palms flat against his chest.

“I want a real answer, Yugy,” you pout, too involved in your own questions to see the way Yugyeom’s entire face has gone red. “What’s something I can do that you find really charming?”

He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. The longer it takes for him to answer, the more you begin to question whether you’ve crossed a line. But Yugyeom is just trying to form a coherent sentence in his mind, anything to keep you from pressing further into him and realizing that you’ve given him a semi.

When he doesn’t answer, you bite at your lip, crestfallen.

You know you should have seen this coming, but it still hurts. He couldn’t even think of a lie to tell?

The next question leaves you in a whisper, “Why aren’t you attracted to me?”

Yugyeom’s eyes grow big with alarm. The sadness on your face is so apparent and it makes his stomach ache with guilt. Why would you ever think this? He is literally hard right now because of you!

“I am!” He shouts back immediately.

You look back at him, but your eyes say you don’t believe him.

“I am, I really am! Why would you even ask?”

“Then,” you sink into him, shoulders slouching. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Yugyeom looks at you, then your lips, and feels the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to kiss you right now. He has never wanted to kiss you more than now, but you’re drunk. What if this is just the alcohol talking?

Before he can say anything though, your arms are wrapping around his neck and pushing him against you. Your lips are soft on his and you taste minty from the toothpaste.

You feel a shiver in your spine when he starts to kiss back. Soft at first, and then his arms are squeezing around your waist and you’re running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until it feels impossible to breathe.

It doesn’t matter. You decide kissing Yugyeom takes priority over breathing.

You moan against him when he slides his tongue into your mouth. When you rut against him, you can feel his hardness through his jeans. It sends a thrill through your body. You rub yourself harder against him, savoring the way he muffles a groan against your lips.

But when you slip your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his hot skin, Yugyeom pushes you away.

“Wait,” he mutters, catching his breath. “Y/N, we can’t.”

“What are talking about? Who’s going to stop us?” You chuckle, trying to sneak your hands back onto him, but Yugyeom is quick to grab your wrist.

He inwardly curses himself, cringing at the tightness in his pants, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of you while you were drunk. He is not going to share your first time together when you aren’t fully sober. It is wrong no matter how much you insist on it.

With a sigh, he lifts you off of him and stands up.

“We can’t, Y/N. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

You feel a wave of heat rise to your face as your eyes fill with tears. You stare at Yugyeom’s feet, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

“Come on,” he beckons, reaching for your hand.

Pulling away, you get up on your own. Without a word, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door shut.

And as you lay in bed, hot tears spill out endlessly.

You stand at the entrance of the dance studio, a sick feeling in your stomach. Yugyeom left early this morning so you were never able to talk about what happened last night.

“Are you going to open the door or what?” Anna looks at you sternly. “What happened between you two? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Yeah, did you lose your virginity or something?” Jungkook jokes.

“Anna!” You yell out, appalled.

She looks back at you with wide eyes, putting her hands in the air. “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah, Yugyeom told me months ago,” Jungkook chuckles, a pleased smile on his face.

“Okay, I’m going home.”

Before you could march away and find a cliff to jump off of, Anna and Jungkook are pulling you by the arms and into the studio.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Yugyeom greets you cheerfully. He glances over to you and a pink hue dusts his cheeks. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what to do until a girl approaches him. You blink, breath caught in your throat when you see how beautiful she is. “Oh um, this is my new dance partner, Chungha!”

You bite at your lip, noticing far too quickly how Yugyeom’s mood changes at the sight of her. But could you blame him? In just a basic pair of black leggings and sports bra, you could see how toned her body was. Her big, bright eyes blink back at you, and you could see the fluttering of her long lashes. She looks flawless.

And then she smiles.

To think, you had been relieved Lisa was no longer his dance partner. No wonder he isn’t attracted to you. You wouldn’t be either if you were surrounded by women like Lisa and Chungha all day.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she greets cheerfully. “I can’t wait to get your feedback.”

“Same, Yugyeom said you’re a great dancer,” Jungkook adds.

She smilsd shyly, sharing a look with Yugyeom. “That means a lot. I don’t know if I can meet those expectations though.”

“Nonsense,” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “Stop pretending to be humble.”

As the two laugh in their own world, you finger at the end of your t-shirt uncomfortably. They have only been practicing the dance together not too long ago but they already look so close.

“Oh!” Yugyeom looks back at you, almost like an afterthought. “This is my wife by the way!”

“Oh!” Chungha exclaims, eyes wide as if she were seeing you for the first time. “It’s so great to finally meet you! When Yugyeom said he was married I was so surprised, but you are so cute!”

You force out a smile, accepting the compliment—though, you wonder if it really was. It sure didn’t feel like one.

“Well, we won’t hold you up anymore!” Anna interrupts, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “We’ll go make ourselves comfy while you two get ready.”

“Hey, it’s our sister-in-laws!” Bambam and Taehyung welcome you from their seat by the mirrors.

“Soon,” Anna grins coyly, sharing a look with Jungkook.

Ignoring the two lovebirds, Taehyung grabs your arm, ushering you to take a seat between him and Bambam.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” he pouts before flashing his iconic square smile. You answer with a weak one of your own.

“How long have you two been here?”

“Since the morning. We had to practice our routines too,” Taehyung answers.

“Yeah, and those two have been at it since we got here. I think knowing there’d be a live audience today made her nervous,” Bambam adds, referring to Chungha.

“It’s just us though,”

“Still,” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. “This is her first performance since starting uni.”

You glance at the two who are currently crouched over a tablet and reviewing a video of their practice. She is giggling over something Yugyeom had said and is slapping his shoulder playfully.

You frown. “Doesn’t look nervous to me.”

Taehyung smirks, bending his head to meet your eyes. “Is someone jealous?”

You frown even more, lip jutting out in a pout.

“Aw, poor baby, it’s okay Y/N,” Taehyung chuckle, patting your head. “She’s harmless.”

“Tae!”

You both look over to see Yugyeom staring from across the room. His eyes meet yours briefly before he averts his eyes to Taehyung.

“Can you come over for a second? We need a second opinion,” he says.

“We do?” Chungha asks softly.

You sigh, hugging your knees.

Bambam chuckles beside you. “It’s hard work liking someone, isn’t it?”

You turn your head, giving him an empathetic smile. “You of all people should know.”

You watch Bambam’s shoulders slump, slightly regretting your comment when you see the look on his face. But Bambam is quick to recover.

“Yugyeom cares for you more than you think.”

You have a hard time believing that, memories of last night’s embarrassment resurfacing again. Instead, you cross your arms and turn your whole body away from the three across from you towards Bambam.

“She called me cute,” you pout.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

You sigh. “Not when it’s coming from someone who’s drop dead gorgeous. Cute sounds like an insult.”

Bambam shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t try to change your mind.

“Sounds like insecurity to me.”

You feel a flush across your cheeks. “Yeah well! Maybe I wouldn’t be if…”

“If?”

You bite at your lip. If Yugyeom had continued kissing you last night? If you went all the way with him? If you hadn’t spent an entire year essentially being friendzoned by your own husband?

You sigh. “I don’t know.”

Bambam gives you a pat on the back. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s just another misunderstanding. Just talk it out.”

You nod, not wanting to talk about your relationship problems anymore.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Taehyung announces, jumping to the center of the room like a TV host. “May I introduce to you, for the first time ever! Yugyeom and Chungha!”

You clap along weakly as everyone cheers. But the sick feeling in your gut only grows once the performance starts.

The dance is a passionate one. Their bodies are constantly tangled together, Yugyeom chasing after Chungha. You dig your nails into the flesh of your palm as Yugyeom presses himself into Chungha’s back side.

But more than the touching, what hurts the most is the way he looks at her. He looks like he wants her. You knew what you were signing yourself up for when you pushed Yugyeom to pursue dancing, but when did he become such a good actor too?

He’s never looked at you like that before.

It takes a room full of clapping to get you out of your thoughts. You wish you hadn’t though. Chungha is beaming up at Yugyeom and he is looking back like she is the only girl in the room.

“How were you able to watch Lisa do this dance with Yugyeom?” you mutter to Bambam, looking away from the two on the dance floor.

“Trust,” he answers easily. “Besides, Yugyeom’s too dorky for Lisa. She would never fall for him.”

“Hey,” you scold lightly.

“You can either be mad at him or defend him, Y/N. You can’t choose both!”

You roll your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not mad at him, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why does Yugyeom keep looking at you like he’s sorry?”

You only sigh, too afraid to say out loud the answer you hold in your heart.

That maybe, he is only sorry because he can’t love you back.

You sit on the couch of your living room, absentmindedly spooning your ice cream that is now soup. A couple days have passed and you and Yugyeom are back on good terms. At least on the surface. Silently, the both of you seem to have agreed to pretend what happened the other night on this couch had never happened.

You decided to stop thinking about the way Yugyeom looked at Chungha or how she was so much better than you. Again, you do what you are good at, using your blind optimism to mask the hurt you are feeling inside.

“I’m back!” Yugyeom calls out as he steps through the entrance. He spots the back of your head from the living room and glances at the TV only to find that you are staring at a black screen.

“Hey,” he calls out again more softly, approaching you on the couch.

“Oh, Yugyeom!” You startle, before offering him a smile. “Back from practice?”

“Mhm,” he returns a hesitant smile.

“Aren’t you early? What time is it?” You glance over to the clock on the wall only to find that it is already 9PM. “Oh wow, look at the time! Did you have dinner yet?”

Yugyeom shakes his head, observing how your eyes never quite focus, glancing at his torso briefly before darting back to your bowl of melted ice cream and then the clock on the wall.

“I left some dinner for you in the kitchen, you just have to heat it up.” You place your bowl on the coffee table. “Want me to get it for you?”

He places a hand on your thigh, stopping you from leaving your seat. “I got it.”

He rises to his feet before pausing. Yugyeom looks at you, his eyebrows arching with concern. He stares for a moment. Ever since you guys came back from the dance studio together, you had been quiet. Everything you did and said felt a little too robotic. A little cold even, like you were keeping him at a distance. And then he thought about your lips. The way they felt against his that night—cool from the aftertaste of toothpaste, but hot against his tongue.

“Yugyeom?”

He swallows. “N-Nothing.”

You look at him for a moment longer before forcing out a smile. “Let me just heat up your dinner and then I’ll head to bed!”

Yugyeom watches as you hastily leave him for the kitchen. It is obvious that you are still bothered and this time around, Yugyeom is sure he knows why. But he doesn’t even know how to start talking about it. He can’t even think about the other night without feeling like a flustered mess.

And by the way you are smiling at him, it feels like you don’t want to talk about it either.

Were you embarrassed about it? Was he right and it was just the alcohol talking? Maybe you were regretting it now.

“It’ll only take another minute and you can take it off the stove,” you smile up at him, giving his arm a pat before you walk away.

“T-Thanks,” he mutters. “Good night.”

You smile weakly before closing the door.

Yugyeom sighs, staring at his dinner on the stove. Even when you aren’t feeling your best, you still take care of him. He wonders how he can make you happy.

His thoughts wander to Taehyung. What if it was him you had walked in on at the dance studio during your freshman year? Would you have fallen for Taehyung instead?

He had seen the way Tae looked at you the night of the party. It was the first night since the wedding that you had gotten all dolled up. He saw you as soon as you stepped through the door. He was sure everyone had their eyes on you.

Even with his own stubbornness back then, he couldn’t stand watching everyone eyeing you at the party. Although he had been determined to avoid you that night, it was the look Tae gave you that drew the line for him.

Since then, you and Tae have become close friends. It annoyed the hell out of him especially when Tae was blatantly flirting with you just to get on his nerves, but he couldn’t even complain. It was karma. He deserves it for the months of hell he put you through.

You may have liked him first, but Yugyeom wonders if you’d still like him for long. With the way things are going, it seems like you are going to realize how subpar of a husband he is and leave him for someone better.

The very thought makes Yugyeom want to hurl.

He shuts off the stove with a sigh. Why is he so bad at communicating with you?

Despite being tired from practice, that night, Yugyeom couldn’t sleep. His thoughts keep going back to you and the sad smile on your face tonight. He did that.

And now here he was, hiding in his bed like a coward. Sitting up, Yugyeom turns on his lights with a sigh. This was not okay. He was not going to repeat the same mistake again. He had to talk to you.

With a renewed purpose, Yugyeom marches over to your room, but when he stops at your door, he freezes. What is he doing? You’re probably asleep by now. He glances at the clock down the hall. It’s almost midnight.

Maybe he should wait until the morning instead.

Just as he’s about to turn on his heels though, your door opens. You both jump in surprise.

“You’re awake!”

“Yugyeom?” You rub at the sleep in your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

He shuffles awkwardly. “Oh, I uh…”

You stiffen, anxiety creeping up your spine as you watch him fidget in front of your doorway. For you, there can only be one reason for Yugyeom to be coming to you in the middle of the night.

He must have come to his senses.

Yugyeom takes in a sharp breath, steeling himself. “Can we talk?”

Your stomach sinks. You want to tell him no.

Instead, you quietly step aside and let him through. He sits on the edge of your bed nervously. You stare at him from the doorway still.

“I-” his voice trails off before it can fully start. He bites at his lip, pulling at the chapped skin until it is wet and raw. “I…”

When no other words come, you let out a tired sigh. “Gyeom,”

He looks up at you and you can see the worry digging creases into his forehead. You wish you could push him out of your room. You aren’t ready for this conversation to happen. But Yugyeom looks at you so helplessly, you don’t have the strength to deny him.

So, with a pang in your heart, you speak. “You never answered my question the other night. Not seriously anyways.”

He looks at you curiously and you approach him. “Will you answer me now?”

“I-sure.”

You take a seat next to him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “What kind of girl do you actually like?”

Yugyeom turns his head your way, looking lost. “But I did answer you. Someone who makes me want to get to know her.”

You squeeze your shoulders together, staring down at the floor. “So, someone with stories…someone with experience?”

Yugyeom swallows, feeling himself fall deeper into a hole. “N-no! Not necessarily…”

“What about your exes? What were they like?” you glance at him, wanting to watch his face but scared of the honesty you’ll see.

Yugyeom’s face flushes red. “W-what? Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

Your face falls before you drop your head once more. “Nothing, it’s stupid. I just thought…maybe if I changed? Do you think we could ever be more than friends?”

Yugyeom chuckles softly. It feels unnatural in the tense atmosphere though. You wonder if he’s laughing at you. You wonder if the very idea is that absurd to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife.”

“On paper,” you mutter. You shift on the bed, wringing your hands together. “But you don’t even want to hang out with me much, let alone date.”

“That! That’s because I’m shy!” he blurts. He tugs on your hand to look his way, but you’re too ashamed to look him in the face.

You wonder if you’re being selfish by putting him on the spot like this.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you resign, pulling your hand out of his grasp. “I know this arrangement was never your choice. And well, you can’t control who you’re attracted to.”

“I’m not lying though. I really like you, Y/N, I’m just…I’m just really shy.”

You frown at his insistence. “You aren’t shy around Chungha or Lisa.”

Yugyeom looks at you surprised. “Chungha and Lisa are just friends! I don’t think of them like that!”

“That’s impossible! Chungha and Lisa are both so pretty and charming and sexy! They’re the whole package!” You glare at him angrily.

“Yeah, maybe for Bambam!”

“I bet you’ve talked to Chungha more times than you’ve ever talked to me,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, well, I could say the same for Taehyung,” Yugyeom blurts, mirroring your posture.

You raise your brows in surprise. “Tae?”

“Don’t play dumb, he was obviously flirting with you at the party.”

“What party?” you turn to him confused. “Wait, are you talking about the party where I first met him a year ago?”

“Yeah, and I bet if you met him any earlier, you would’ve liked him instead!”

You frown, sitting cross legged on the bed so you could face him fully now. “I’ve liked you for two years before you even knew I existed. Don’t try to change the subject when you were flirting with Chungha right in front of me just a few days ago!”

“That was not flirting!”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing! You can flirt with whoever you want because you’re allowed to like whoever you want. Clearly, it’s not me!”

Yugyeom guffaws in exasperation, cupping his forehead with one hand. “Goddammit, but it is you. It’s been you this whole time.”

“I’m a big girl, Gyeom, you can give me the hard truth.”

He straightens, glaring back at you. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Yugyeom scoots closer to you. “Remember when you and Anna had that bachelorette party?”

You pause, frown deepening. “It wasn’t really a bachelorette party, it was just the two of us drinking wine.”

“Nope, you insisted it was a bachelorette party,” he argues, chest puffing out. “I know this because when you got wasted over a bottle of wine, it was me you called to come get you. It was me who carried you back to your apartment and tucked you into bed, but not before you tried to strip down to your underwear while announcing your virginity to the entire complex.”

You gape at him, horrified. “I did what?”

“And I have liked you ever since,” a small smile stretches across his face. “I found out the perfect, goody two-shoes girl was masquerading as a terrible lap dancer by night and ever since then, I’ve wanted to get to know even more sides of you.”

You close your eyes, pressing a thumb to your temple. “Wait, back up, Gyeom, I gave you a lap dance?”

“Yeah, and a terrible one at that,” he laughs.

You falter, anger dissipating quickly. “I don’t remember this.”

“That was only the first time, you know,” he looks at you with a small, teasing smile.

You cringe. “How come you never told me?”

He shrugs. “It happened during the time I was trying really hard not to like you. Anyways, I didn’t think it was something you’d be proud to learn.”

“After seeing all of that,” your voice comes out small, like you want to make a joke, but your tone doesn’t quite match, “wouldn’t you rather someone like Chungha?”

Yugyeom sighs loudly. “What’s with you and Chungha?”

“You two have chemistry,” you admit, lips pouting.

“Because we’re friends,” he explains.

“Then what are we?” You look up at him nervously. He meets you with an equally anxious gaze.

Without answering you, he puts his hands out towards you, palms facing up. When you tilt your head curiously, he takes your hand in his.

“You make me nervous,” he mutters, and you can feel the clamminess of his hot palms against yours. Your brows raise in surprise and you watch as a flush of pink rises to his cheeks. “You think I’m flirting with Chungha, but actually I’ve been trying to flirt with you this whole time. I guess I’m just terrible at it.”

You swallow, not sure what to say to this confession. From the way he looks at you, you know he’s being sincere, which only makes you more confused.

“And I’m terrible at it because,” Yugyeom pauses, face tomato red as he tries to compose himself. He looks away and you grip his hand tighter. “I think you have this idea about me, like I’m cool or something. You’re always saying I inspired you to pursue your dreams, but I think it’s the other way around. And it’s…it’s just a lot of pressure.”

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.”

“I know,” Yugyeom looks at you softly, “because you’re you, and you see the good in everything—even me. But if I’m being honest, that cool guy you had a crush on at the dance studio? I’m not sure I’m him. I’m clumsy and childish and always cause accidents when I’m around you. The closer we get, the more I worry you’ll figure this out and regret liking me.”

You thread your fingers through his and pull his hands to your chest, shaking your head adamantly. “That will never happen!”

He chuckles, but the laughter doesn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can,” you tell him stubbornly. “I moment I said, ‘I do’ I promised just that.”

“Can you say that after my next confession?” he scoffs.

Your brows furrow, but you don’t let go of his hands.

“Do you really want to know who my first love was?” he asks quietly.

You nod, heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

“It was dance,” he sighs, looking down. “It’s always been dance.”

You look at him confused, trying to process this information. “You mean…”

“I’m a virgin, too,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears glowing hot red. When you don’t say anything, he looks up with a small frown. “Still think I’m that cool guy?”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. Without thinking, you spring from the bed and pounce onto him. Yugyeom catches you by the waist easily, his eyes wide with shock at your sudden actions, but he holds you tight in his arms anyways. You shake in his arms, giggles erupting from you and tickling the crook of his neck.

“Why would that ever make you uncool?” you laugh, fingers combing through the back of his hair.

Yugyeom relaxes into your touch, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But, what if I’m not good at it?”

You pull away to look at him. He chews on his lips timidly.

“Well, it’s not like I have anything to compare you to,” you chuckle, rubbing gently at the nape of his neck. “We can take our time, learn together.”

Finally, Yugyeom smiles, relief rushing through him. “It’s not that I don’t want to, just so you know. I just want to make sure you have a good first experience too. What if I hurt you?”

“It hurt more thinking you didn’t like me.”

He sighs softly, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the ghost of his breath on your lips. “Trust me, I like you a lot more than you realize.”

“Oh, I’m starting to realize,” you roll your hips tentatively against him and his lashes flutter in surprise as you feel the outline of his semi hard on through his pajama pants. His grip on your waist tightens.

“W-what are you doing?”

You can feel him shiver against you and probably for the first time in this relationship, your chest inflates with confidence.

“Starting lesson one,” you whisper into his ear as you press your core harder against him. The feeling of his hardness blooms excitement throughout your skin. Never has anyone been this close to you in this way. The thought used to scare you, but right now, you’ve never been more thrilled.

“Are you sure?” the words barely make it out of his throat as you press a kiss to his neck. You can feel his breath hitch at the slight graze of your lips, and it urges you on. And despite Yugyeom’s cautious words, his arms pull you closer and he tilts his head, giving you better access.

“The surest I’ve ever been,” you reassure him before sucking on the skin of his jugular. His pulse beats against your lips and you’re happy to know you aren’t the only one whose heart is racing.

“You’re…How’re you so good at this?” Yugyeom mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut in agonized pleasure as you roll your hips against him once more.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” comes your breathy confession. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance at him. “Is that strange?”

He breaks out into smile, shaking his head. “I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

You smile, “Really?”

Yugyeom nods, lips chasing yours. “You don’t know how many boners I’ve had to hide from you.”

His hot breath fans at your lips before he is pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help the moan that muffles against his mouth as his tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, you are gasping to catch your breath.

Contrary to the kiss, Yugyeom looks at you with the softest gaze and wipes at the wetness of your lips with a gentle thumb. He lingers at your bottom lip for a moment longer.

Yugyeom sucks in a breath, eyes dilating when you take his thumb into your mouth. You meet his stare with hooded lids as you suck his entire thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. When you release him with a pop, you can feel him twitch underneath you.

There is a hunger in your core that you’ve never felt before. Your entire body aches for Yugyeom in its most primal form. You want him. The thrumming in your chest only further confirms this.

You clutch at his plain tee, heat rising to your cheeks, “Can I taste you?”

Yugyeom groans, throwing his head back. You can’t help salivating at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing. When Yugyeom looks back at you he almost looks pained.

“I don’t think I’ll last, Y/N,” he mutters, ears reddening.

His confession makes your heart inflate and you press a kiss to his jawline.

“It’s okay, I won’t time you. I don’t know if I’ll be any good anyways,” you smile to lift the mood, but Yugyeom shakes his head.

“No, let me make you feel good first,” He presses a kiss over your smile. “I want to take care of you this time.”

You swallow, heart thrumming in your ear. “Well, what if I don’t last?”

He chuckles, kissing down your throat. You shudder, skin prickling at his breath.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you don’t,” he mumbles, sucking at the sensitive skin. You groan, threading your fingers through the back of his hair. “I’m no quitter, Y/N, and we’ve got all night.”

You shiver, stomach twisting with excitement. Not knowing what else to say, you can only nod when he sinks his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts.

But Yugyeom doesn’t move further. Instead, he looks at you again, eyes serious. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can stop if it gets too much.”

And although your cheeks heat up at just the graze of his fingers at your hips, you nod without hesitation. “I want you, Gyeom. I’m ready.”

He sucks in a quiet breath. “Lay down for me?”

His request is a whisper, barely audible, but you scramble to the pillows. Yugyeom follows right behind and when you sink your head into the pillows, he meets you, right above, lips finding yours once more. As his tongue explores your mouth, his thighs press between yours, spreading your legs apart. You can’t help being hyperaware of the dampness of your underwear as he does this.

But the thought quickly leaves your mind when he places a hesitant palm to your chest. To your embarrassment, your nipples are already hard with arousal when his fingers graze against them. He groans against your mouth, fingers rubbing rough circles around the peaked buds.

You find yourself already breathless at the sensation, the sensitive skin sending tingles straight to your core. You moan when he slips his hand underneath your shirt, the pleasure growing ten folds with his warm hands on your bare skin.

“God, you’re so soft,” Yugyeom groans, squeezing your breasts in his palms. “Can I take this off?”

You nod quickly, hands already coming to the ends of your shirt to help him slip it off. Yugyeom leans back on his heels, eyes eating you up while you laid topless in front of him, chest heaving from just his small touches.

“Gyeom,” you mutter, feeling self-conscious when he doesn’t move.

There’s a glint in his eyes as his fingers meet your waistband again. You suck in a breath, nodding silently for him to continue. He licks at his lips, pulling the flimsy fabric of your shorts off of you.

You cringe at the sight of your yellow cotton underwear, the pink heart patterns looking suddenly very childish with Yugyeom’s eyes on them now.

“I-I have better underwear-” you rush to cover yourself but Yugyeom moves your hand.

His palms squeeze your thighs, and he looks at you with a reassuring smile. “It’s cute. You’re cute, and beautiful and charming and sexy. The whole package.”

You blush, hearing your words said back to you.

“Plus,” he grins, hands sliding up your thighs and you shiver. “These ones are soaked, just for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he runs a finger up the wet cotton. He chuckles darkly at the sound of your whimper when he circles around your clit. It’s just a whisper of a touch and yet you find yourself careening.

Your heart feels like the wings of a hummingbird, flapping against your chest. Never have you laid yourself out, so bare, for someone. It’s scary, being so vulnerable, and yet you find yourself wanting to jump into the darkness of the unknown.

The way Yugyeom looks at you is dark and heavy, like he is trying to swallow you whole, hungry to take in every piece of you. And maybe with anyone else this would frighten you, but it’s Yugyeom, and so you are excited. Excited and eager to give all of yourself to him.

“Can I?” he asks, pulling at the edge of your underwear.

“Please,” you consent, lifting your hips.

Yugyeom groans helplessly at your bare sight, dripping wet just for his eyes to see. He lifts at his t-shirt, skin already hot. You swallow, eyes traveling down his bare torso, to the tattoo stretching across his rib cage and then the growing bulge his thin pajama pants does very little to hide. You clench around nothing, just imagining what’s beneath.

Yugyeom catches the movement and curses. You don’t even know what you do to him.

Your eyes shudder close when you feel his fingers back on you, spreading your slick in circles around your clit.

“Does that feel okay?”

You answer with a whimper, arching into his touch.

He bites at his bottom lip, watching you squirm beneath him. You are so sensitive and so eager. Nothing he could have ever imagined could measure up to this view. He could probably cum to this sight alone. The strain of his pants warns him of the very possibility.

“More,” you barely manage to croak out between a moan but Yugyeom hears you and without hesitation, he dives into your heat, eager for a taste.

Your eyes flutter open at the new feeling, hooded eyes staring down at his head between your thighs. You moan, embarrassment heating your cheeks, but your fingers thread through his hair and push him deeper.

The sting of his scalp only drives him on, lapping at you hungrily. When he moans into your folds, you find yourself vibrating with him. His tongue feels so soft and delicious against you and when he sucks on your clit you tremble at the sensation shooting straight to your core.

Sweat glazes your forehead and you strain to keep your eyes focused on Yugyeom. You can’t even see his face, but you can’t pull your gaze away. The top of his head bobs eagerly and from behind, you can see him thrusting into your sheets.

You whimper, feeling your abdomen tighten when he rolls his hips extra rough.

“Gyeom,” you squeeze around his hair strands.

He looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, tongue still swirling around you at an agonizing pace. Squeezing your thigh, he presses a finger to your entrance. He presses, barely entering but you find yourself clenching already.

“Gyeom,” you whine, head falling into the pillow in frustration.

You feel him chuckle against you. A soft kiss to your clit. And then he slips a finger into you slowly. You’re so wet, he slips right in easily. You close your eyes, savoring the unfamiliar feeling. Unfamiliar, but not unwanted. Your body hums for more.

He dips his finger in and out, enjoying the way your body arches, trying to chase after his finger each time he pulls out.

“More?” he asks, teasing two fingers at your entrance. You nod eagerly, squirming at his touch.

Yugyeom dips two fingers into you, dick twitching at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around his digits. When he curls his fingers, you let out a loud moan, eyes fluttering shut. He reads your body easily, mouth back on your clit as he repeats the motion of his fingers over and over.

Your body tightens, heating up quickly. There’s a burn in your abdomen, a fire that flickers every time he sucks around your clit and curls his fingers against your flesh. You clench your fists around your sheets, feeling your heart pound faster against your chest.

Your whole body trembles, toes curling and abdomen squeezing until it feels like your soul lifts from your body and everything goes white.

When you come to, chest heaving like you just ran a marathon, Yugyeom is back on his knees, looking at you in awe. His lips are red and chin, wet with your arousal.

“Was that okay?” he asks, a boyish smile on his lips.

You chuckle, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “That was amazing.”

“Good.” You feel him lie on the bed beside you, arm coming around your waist.

You turn on your side, meeting his gaze. “Now it’s my turn.”

His eyes widen and the confidence from before quickly fades behind pink flustered cheeks.

“I-Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Your hands travel down and land on the tent in his pants, straining to be released. You lift a brow at him, but he only gets more red.

“I want to,” you tell him. “I want to feel you inside me. I want this.”

He gulps and you feel him twitch against your palm. “I-I might not last long.”

You kiss his worries away. “That’s alright, you said we had all night, didn’t you?”

You pull at his waistband and he sighs at the release of his cock. You sit up and Yugyeom kicks the rest of his clothes off before helping you straddle him.

You look at him with wide eyes, before looking back at his cock. His tip is red and shiny with precum. Your eyes follow the vein that travels down the length of his cock. You can’t even help it, your mouth waters.

Your stomach flips nervously. Yugyeom seems to sense your worries when his hand rests over yours.

“You really don’t have to. We can wait.”

“I do!” you say quickly. “I just-,” you blink, swallowing thickly. “Will you fit?”

Yugyeom groans, hands squeezing around your thighs roughly. “Are you trying to make me cum before we even start?”

“I-no,” you feel your cheeks grow hot. “It’s a legitimate question!”

He chuckles, until your hand comes around his shaft. Yugyeom sighs at your touch, your soft, small hands feel like heaven compared to his own. Though you don’t intend to tease him, your hand rubs him agonizingly slow as you feel the smoothness of his skin and the ridges of his veins pulsing in your palm. You watch in awe as you squeeze up and a small clear bead of precum buds at his slit.

Yugyeom’s breath hitches when you dip your head down and lick at his slit. Your brows shoot up at the taste. He’s salty, but it’s Yugyeom and you find that you don’t mind it. Instead, your mouth waters for more.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom curses, stopping you when you try to dip your tongue down again. You look at him in surprise, but he’s quick to reassure you. “Next time, baby, I really want to last.”

You nod, flushing at the pet name.

You rise onto your knees, hands coming back down his cock to align him to your entrance. You shiver, feeling his tip between your folds. Yugyeom looks just as nervous, the heat of your entrance making his heart race.

It takes a few tries, his cock teasing between your folds, before he enters. Barely there, but you feel the stretch. He’s much bigger than his fingers, but the stretch isn’t the pain you always imagined. Unfamiliar, maybe a little uncomfortable, but nothing scary at all.

This realization fills you with a newfound courage and you sink down onto his cock with an extended sigh.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom whispers a strained curse, a devil’s grip on your hips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and slips down his face as his jaw clenches. You’re so fucking tight and warm around him. When your cunt clenches, he groans, balls tightening. “Fuck, don’t do that.”

You still, falling onto his chest. You can hear his heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

“Sorry,” he heaves, hugging you tightly against him. “Just, I need a minute. You feel like fucking heaven, baby.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. When his cock twitches inside you, you shiver. To be honest, you’re no better either. You feel so full with him inside you. This feeling is so new, but so right. You can feel your walls pulsing around him. Or maybe it’s his cock pulsing against your walls. Probably both.

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling before Yugyeom finally let’s out a soft breath. And then, he is lifting his hips. You moan, the movement pushing him deeper into you. You place your palms on his chest, sitting up.

He looks at you with hazy eyes as you lift off his cock before sliding back down his length. Yugyeom’s moan is load and uninhibited. The sound sends another wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Oh god,” he moans, hips lifting to meet yours every time. “Fuck!”

You strain to keep your pace, his arms helping you out as you gave into the wave of pleasure each time his thick cock slide into you. Already, your whole body was buzzing with pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yugyeom’s desperate moan meets your ears and then you feel his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you to his chest. He groans, teeth digging into your shoulder.

And then you feel it. Hot cum shooting into the deepest part of you, flooding you with warmth. The sting of Yugyeom’s teeth sinking in your skin, the sound of his heaving breath and heart beat against your ear, the pulse of his cock thrusting into you as he rode out his high—you feel like one body against his and the feeling makes your eyes wet.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his jawline as he softened inside of you.

He let out a satisfied sigh as his cock slipped out and you felt his cum slide out of you. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I told you I wouldn’t last long.”

You shush him with a kiss.

“I couldn’t have asked for anything better,” you smile.

His hand on your waist tightens. “You’re really the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You giggle, tension breaking. “I could get used to this Yugyeom.”

He smiles, hand coming to your cheek. “I mean it.”

He looks at you quietly. It’s a fleeting moment, but the feeling lingers. You feel warmth blooming in your chest.

You kiss him again, “I know, Gyeom. This time, I really know now.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #kim yugyeom #arranged marriage au #marriage au #marriage life series #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic

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bloodpacks-archive · 4 years ago

Text

french gardens | jumin han

warnings: sheeesh (horny) again. uhh, yeah. they uh- they do be kissin. do they fuck? no. do they think about it? uhhhh

word count: 2.3k

note: hi guys hannah keeps tempting me to write horny shit and now i’m here and idk what to do. one day i’ll go back to non-horny shit i promise i prooomise

Jumin learns to live in the rain.

It almost never rains during galas. Jumin can’t remember the last time he heard the pounding of water against windows while he spoke in the tongues of negotiations. It’s a distracting noise, but not an unpleasant one, either.

Similarly, she stands next to him, a deep wine silk dripping off of her shoulders, pooling around her waist, and barely brushing the floor. Her back is exposed to him, and he finds his hand resting there as they speak with the other executives.

Well, Jumin’s doing a great majority of the speaking. Although she’s been trying her best to learn French with him as her teacher—spending many a night with only a faint city glow to illuminate her, whispering basic sentences and phrases until her accent is just right—she’s not quite there yet. Though she loves to listen. She had told him that it was better practice anyway, that no matter how many times she wished to hear him say fille intelligente with every correct sentence, it would never be enough for her to truly know it without hearing conversation.

Now, she listens to him speak in easy French, the accent curling around his tongue and fitting easily into his mouth. It’s not the French he speaks with her, not punctuated by his breath against her ear nor is it there to accompany the quiet moonlight. It’s a sharper form of the language, dotted by formalities and practiced smiles.

He notices her gaze in the corner of his eye, the way she looks up at him with delicate eyes and the beginnings of a smile. He glances down to her when he finishes speaking, notices how she gingerly holds the glass of champagne in her fingers.

Perhaps I should buy her some champagne back home, he thinks, watching as she raises the sparkling flute to her lips, a brow raising as his eyes meet hers. He turns back to the men that stand in front of him, but rubs his thumb into the divot of her spine. He feels her relax into his moving touch, glances down again to see her twist her wrist so the champagne flute sits closer to herself and her shoulder.

The conversation lulls for a moment, and Jumin takes the opportunity to excuse both them. He shakes their hands with a grateful smile, and then guides her away. He brings her through the crowd, his hand still steady on her back, and moves them to the top floor—a quieter part, where only a few people gather around paintings and sculptures.

They stand in the corner, a Monet painting only a few feet away from them and next to windows that lead out to a covered balcony. The rain does not coat the windows here, but he can see stairs down to a garden—covered in sculptures and archways—becoming drenched with the light rain of the night.

“Any reason for getting me alone?” She asks, champagne having found home next to her lips. His gaze returns to her, his back almost against the wall and she stands in front of him, chin tilted upwards to meet his eyes.

“No,” He replies, “none at all.” Though one of his fingers dips under the silk of her dress, feeling the bare skin that rests beneath it. Both her brows raise this time, her head twisting quickly behind her to see if anyone’s there, and then returning to him. He drags his fingers back up from under the fabric, and then his eyes flick to the balcony. She follows his gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Awfully large windows,” She states, her voice low.

“I’ll be polite,” He replies. Her eyes flit over his face for a moment, narrowing at him, but then she nods, moving out of the way so he can separate from the wall, and then reaching a hand out for him to take.

“Then lead the way, my dear.” His fingers wrap around her hand, feeling the chill that forever coats her skin, and before he drags her outside, he raises her hand to his lips. There, he presses his lips to her knuckles. She hums at the touch, and he can’t help the way his mouth curves into a smile. Without another word, he moves to bring her out onto the balcony, the windows behind them.

Outside, the air is cold. With the rain and the night have come a gentle breeze, and he immediately looks to her. Bumps raise across her shoulders, and she brings her free hand up to rub the opposite arm, hoping to rid herself of the chills that have risen against her skin.

“Here,” Jumin says, and then begins to take off his suit jacket, leaving himself in only his shirt and his vest. He wraps his arms around her to place the jacket around her shoulders, and she whispers her thanks to him, pulling it tighter across herself.

Then he watches as she leans her elbows onto the railing, reaching a hand out, palm facing towards the moon, to let the rain bounce against her skin. He moves closer to her and brings his hand underneath the jacket that now lays across her shoulders, his warm hand moving to curve around the chilled skin of her back.

She hums at his touch, her eyes fluttering shut and her head leaning towards him until he can feel the soft touch of her hair against his chest.

“It hasn’t rained back home in a while,” She muses. Her palm is covered in droplets now, and she tilts her hand to watch as they slide down her skin.

“No, no it hasn’t,” Jumin replies. He bows his head to her, enough that the scent of her shampoo—chamomile and lavender—flows up and into his nose, sending his head spinning and his hands begging to be closer to her. With the cover of his jacket on her shoulders, he dips his fingers beneath the silk once more, his thumb rubbing over the top of the wine colored dress while while the rest of his fingers curl around her waist, pressing into the skin there.

“What happened to polite?” She asks, but her voice is sweet and she turns her head to gaze at him, looking up at him with a smile painted onto her lips.

“Please, my love,” He begins, “You’re dreadfully intoxicating.” He leans down then, until their noses nearly touch and he can feel the way her breath escapes her.

“You’re too much,” She says, though laughter breaks free of her lungs until the sound meets his chest. But then she shakes her head, looking at the windows once more. “We should stop now, I’d rather not have anyone see us like this.”

Jumin nods at her, and goes to move away, but then his eyes drift to the staircase that lays behind her, spiraling down to the gardens below them.

“Then let’s explore the gardens,” He replies, leaning back in to her until his lips are near her ear before whispering, “You’ve missed the rain, have you not?”

“Dear, you’ll be soaked-“

“Do you fear the rain?” He asks. He pulls far enough away so he can see the way she pulls her lip between her teeth, can see the way she shakes her head at him without ever moving her eyes off of his. “Then neither do I.”

He pauses to allow her choice, to allow her to deny him of his proposal, but rather, she’s the one to grab his hand and pull him down the stairs, both of her hands grabbing one of his. He allows her to take him, allows her to float down the stairs as though gravity means nothing to her, and he’s one to follow. Always one to follow.

Jumin watches as she steps out from the stairs and, within moments, is hit with rain. At first, droplets cascade down her hair and over her clothes, but then they begin to soak in—her hair becoming darker with the weather. She turns around to him, her lips pulled into a grin, water slipping over her skin and reflecting the lights from the gala and the moon. He notices the absence of her champagne and looks back up at the balcony to see it long forgotten on its railing. Yet here she stands before him, nothing but joy evident on her face as water drips over her eyelids and onto her lashes.

So he steps out from the stairs, feeling the rain gather in his hair and on his body. She brings her hands up, then, using one to cup his jaw while the other runs through his hair, letting the rain settle into the strands. Then she brings that hand down until she’s got both thumbs resting on his cheeks. His hands move to rest on her hips, begging to pull her closer, but then she moves away from him.

“Come, my dear,” She says, sliding her hand down to his, “You wished to explore, didn’t you?”

“Only so far,” He replies, and she turns, a knowing smile placed onto her face. So she guides him away from the staircase, allowing both of them to become even more soaked than before, but brings them to an archway tunnel covered in vines, a stone bench laying beneath it.

The leaves offer some shelter from the rain, but even still, he can feel the drops as they slip through and onto the top of his head. But he finds he doesn’t particularly care. She turns back to him, then, closer than before, and pulls him down to her until he’s only inches away from her lips. His eyes fall down to them before trailing back up, noticing the way a droplet slips down the length of her nose, the way her lashes are dotted by bits of water left by passing beads of rainfall.

“Is this what you wished for?” She asks, her voice nothing but a whisper. He leans closer to hear it, the tip of his nose hitting against hers. She laughs bumps their noses together again, and this time he feels just how cold it is.

His hands move to wrap around her before he speaks, finally free to touch every inch of her skin that she allows. While one hand moves up, going beneath the strings that tie the back of her dress to feel between her shoulder blades, dull nails lightly scratching along the skin there, the other hand does as he’s done all night. Finally, he dives beneath the dress, firmly pressing the pads of his fingers into the skin of her hip. Her eyes shut and she breathes in before laughing, oh so breathless against his skin.

“Please,” He breathes against her lips. It’s only a moment more when she closes the gap that lays between them, her skin cold against his, but a welcome chill. Her hands crawl up into his hair, messing with the strands that lay at the base of his neck. He feels as water drips down his spine, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he surely looks like a mess right now, certainly no longer presentable for a gala.

For once, he finds he doesn’t care. He would be enveloped by rain or fire, heat or chill, if it meant he could feel the press of her lips against his. He would storm into any event, drenched in rain, shirt clinging to his skin, if it meant he could kiss her under nature’s tears.

He pulls his lips from hers to bring them to her jaw. He trails kissing from there down her neck, careful not to bite at the skin despite the dying urge to. He feels her tilt her head back, feels unsteady breaths leave her throat. Her hair falls down her shoulder, and he’s hit with chamomile and lavender again.

With the scent wandering about his nose, her hands pulling at his hair, the sound of her breathing quiet in his ears, the sight of rain upon her flesh so near to him, and the taste of her skin against his lips—he wishes for nothing more than to allow her to become the entirety of his senses. He would live and breath her if he could. He would do nothing but listen to every moment of her and live as nothing but something to perceive her.

His lips reach her collarbone, and he can’t help but run his teeth along the skin there. She intakes a sharp breath and he laughs, low, into her shoulder. There, he moves a hand away from her back to slip the strap of her dress down her arm. He kisses her shoulder now, moving across to the top of her breast.

“Jumin-“ She breathes, and he stops, moving back up to kiss her jaw.

“Let me do nothing but worship you, my love,” He whispers, and then kisses the corner of her mouth before pulling away. “Please.” She breathes in, her eyes slipping closed at his voice, but shakes her head, moving her hands away from his hair to settle onto his cheeks once more.

“Another time,” She begins, “But not here.” Jumin nods, and she leans in to press her lips to his. He grips at her waist once more and she laughs into him, burying her face into the crook of her neck.

As the rain continues to fall upon them, Jumin glances back to the gala building. He doesn’t dare unwrap his arms from her, letting her head continue to rest on his shoulder.

“I think it would be a poor decision for us to return the way we came,” He says, and he feels as she nods into him. He turns so he can kiss the top of her head, and then grabs his phone, already sending a message to Driver Kim.

#jumin han #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fanfic

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years ago

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter XVIII]

Word count: 4,365

Warnings: reader is still at Dracula’s *shrug*

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

A/N: 1. I'm not posting the chapters as consistently as I'd like to because work has been really time consuming lately and when I do get time to write I'm too exhausted to think up of anything coherent. Holidays are approacing and my workload has only increased so I don't know if I'll be able to post chpt 19 in December. I'll try but I can't guarantee anything. If that doesn't happen, then I wish all of you happy holidays. [edit: I slipped, and accidentally uploaded a version where the reader has a name (she does in my doc). Apologies, everybody. It’s fixed now.]

__________________________________________

Dracula carried me to the bathroom. I stifled a giggle as soon as we crossed the threshold. It was either the biggest bathroom I had ever seen or I was shrinking. The walls were black marble with white and grey veins. Heavy curtains like the ones in the dining room covered a wall. Light peeked from under it. I supposed there was a big window there so that one could admire London’s skyline from inside the oval bathtub placed near it. Across from the sink countertop and a large mirror, stood the shower separated from the rest of the room by blurred glass.

He lowered me near the bathtub, murmuring for me to open the faucets. Keeping one arm around his neck, I reached and opened them. As the bathtub filled, Dracula held me under his shower to let the water wash off the blood. He stripped me of the rest of my clothes. When I swayed on my feet, he enveloped me in a hug to keep me steady. Drowsy, I buried my head on his chest and closed my eyes.

Hot water embraced my whole body and I opened my eyes with a start as I was carefully lowered into the bathtub with him. His fingers kneaded my scalp and tugged softly on my hair as he washed it. The contours of my body were touched with the sole intent of cleaning it. After so much of moving me around, of raising my limbs and tender touches, I fell still, lying on him with my cheek on the crook of his neck.

Submerged in water and in deep silence, I was suspended in a veil of sleep and wakefulness, threading between the two. For a moment I wondered if I was not dreaming. If perhaps I fell asleep at some point on the tube from Covent Garden to Knightsbridge and dreaming of peace in the arms of Count Dracula was the illusory result. As a test, I squeezed him lightly. He squeezed back.

Not a dream.

This was real. Everything that had just happened was real. There was no bond. My will was my own. I had a bite on my neck. Mallory had one and so did Diana. I was his. He said he was mine.

Was this peace?

I shivered.

“Are you cold?” I heard his voice deep inside his chest, the rumble it made inside his ribcage. It was quiet in there, except when he spoke.

“No.”

“You’re shivering.”

“Maybe the water is getting cold,” I mumbled, pressing my eyes closed. This was peace. Peace, I insisted.

“The water is still hot,” he said. He pushed the hair that clung to my neck and I flinched at the slight soreness there but relaxed as he stroked the skin gently. “I may have taken too much.”

He moved beneath me. I opened my eyes with a sigh as he sat up and leaned his back against the tub. His legs parted my own and he pulled me up to straddle him. I felt his length grazing my inner thigh. I was briefly distracted as I remembered his size stretching me but Dracula made a brusque movement with his hand that pulled my mind away from that. A dark carmine line appeared above his collarbone.

“Drink,” he beckoned.

I spared the blood a glance before fixing my eyes on his face.

“You’ve already given it to me.”

“You need more.” He held my cheek, drawing me closer. “You’re weak. It’ll help.”

I shook my head. Blood started sliding down the hairs on his chest. It glimmered. My mouth watered.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted, forcing myself to look up.

“Y/N,” he hissed my name, and like some sort of spell it wrapped around me and tightened, “you’re pale and shivering.” Dracula knitted his eyebrows as he evaluated me. The hand he had on my cheek coiled behind my head. “Drink it.”

My stomach fluttered. I gazed at the carmine sliver. Watched as it reached the bathwater and blossomed like red tendrils until it faded into pink hue.

“Later, perhaps,” I said. I covered the cut on his neck with my hand. He frowned. “I haven’t eaten anything in hours. Food will make me feel better.” He continued staring at me, as if he was waiting for me to give in under the weight of his gaze. I dipped my hand underwater and pulled the drain stopper. The water gurgled as it started draining. “Help me out of the tub? I don’t think I can stand up on my own just yet.”

He nodded, the crease between his brows deepening. He pulled my arms around him and tied my legs around his waist before standing up. Water sloshed in the bathtub and dripped from our bodies in a sudden cascade of sound. I shivered again and held him tighter, seeking some warmth from the stark change of temperature. I flinched instinctively when he went to sit me down on the sink countertop, expecting the marble to feel cold but it was the furthest thing from it, and I relaxed.

“There's a heating system in the entire bathroom,” he explained as he reached beneath the countertop and retrieved a pile of white towels. “The floors are heated, too.”

Sitting atop the block of solid marble, I matched his height and had no need to bend my head to look into his eyes, which was a relief with my sore neck. The cut he had opened above his collarbone was gone.

I took two towels from him; one for my hair and another to dry myself off. He smiled faintly as he tied a towel around his waist. Carefully so as to not pull at the wound on my neck, I wrapped a towel around my body as if it was a cape. I eyed the second towel next to the copper sink. Dracula took it and started drying off my hair. “Thank you,” I said in a relieved smile that he seemed to understand without my needing to ask for help.

Taking strands of my hair with the towel, he pressed them to soak up the water. At times he rubbed the towel on my scalp. His own hair looked black instead of dark brown as droplets of water dripped down to his nose. One drop landed on his lip. It hung from his cupid bow, undisturbed. The drop grew fat as tiny particles of water coalesced around it. Even so, it sat still on the curve of his mouth. I glanced up at his eyes. He was too absorbed in drying my hair to pay it any mind. I leaned closer, intent on catching the drop before it fell, but strands of my hair fell like a curtain in front of my eyes when he used the towel to rub my head again and I huffed inwardly.

I blew the hair away from my face. It fell over my eyes again.

“No fussing,” he said, as he swiped the hair away with a flick of his hand in the towel.

As if the drop on the curve of his mouth had grown heavy, he pressed his lips together and licked it. Apparently satisfied, he tossed the towel to the side and picked up a small comb from under the sink.

“That won’t detangle my hair,” I told him. “I have a brush on my purse that I use.”

He nodded and left the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake. I adjusted the towel on my shoulders and turned to have a look in the mirror behind me. I pressed my lips together and bit them lightly to bring some colour back to them. They remained pale. I tipped my chin to try and have a look on my new bite when Dracula returned, my hairbrush in one hand, and a chair from his dining table in the other.

“Sit and I’ll brush your hair for you,” he said as he placed the chair in front of the sink. He extended a hand for me, but I ignored it and set my feet on the ground to make sure my legs could keep me up. They wobbled but did not bend. Dracula watched me with a raised eyebrow, hand still extended in case my knees failed me but made no other movement to help as I took a step towards the chair and sat down.

Hugging the towel close to me, I stared at Dracula through the mirror as he started brushing my hair from the tips. He held a strand close to my roots as he got rid of a knot. He didn’t tug on my hair once.

“You’ve done this before,” I said as he swiped the brush through a detangled strand.

“Brushed a woman’s hair?” He asked, without raising his gaze to our reflection. I nodded. “My late wife enjoyed having her hair brushed, and she enjoyed brushing mine. I wore my hair long back then.”

“And Lucy?” The name left an acid taste on my tongue. Dracula continued brushing, unbothered. “Do you brush her hair, too?”

I held my breath. I’d asked the question on impulse but I was glad I had.

“No. She didn’t like having her hair touched by anyone other than herself.”

“Didn’t? Past tense?”

He regarded me with amused eyes.

“I grew tired of Lucy.” He moved to my right to brush that side. “I won’t be seeing her anymore.”

I tried smiling but it took effort to pull my cheeks up. The smile looked more like a wince. The news that I was the only one now should have made me happy.

He was mine forever, as I was his. He’d said so.

Our deal was over. There was nothing left to wonder about. But wonder I did. Wondered about red silks, sharp teeth and iron in my mouth; about crazed eyes and red becoming pink.

I drank my own blood and delighted in it; drank his blood and salivated at the thought. I lived a world of cravings in that dining room and satiated them all at once. And they were my cravings, all mine, not his, not a bond. Without a bond to shield me, I was peeled.

Was this myself?

“What’s on your mind?,” he questioned, fingers working carefully to untangle a mass of hair that not even the brush managed to work through. The feeling of those same fingers in my mouth invaded my thoughts and my tongue rubbed the roof of my mouth in remembrance. “Are you having regrets?” I stared at his face in the mirror, trying to capture his eyes and read his thoughts on them, but he kept his gaze locked on his task. “About giving in to me? A little horrified at your choices? I did bite your friends, and nearly killed a few of them, perhaps now you’re questioning yourself. How is Mallory, by the way? I trust that she’s making a steady recovery.” I kept silent. “I’ll take that as a confirmation. If you are having regrets, Y/N, and wondering if you can get away, I’ll discourage those thoughts right now. I will hunt you down, especially after we–”

“No.”

He stopped brushing at my answer and met my eyes.

“No?”

“I’m not regretting anything.”

“Really?” His eyebrows went up, as if he didn’t believe me.

“Stop needling me.”

“Then explain why you didn’t drink my blood.”

“I did drink–”

“When I offered you not less than 10 minutes ago,” he interrupted. His lips were thin with impatience. “I would like to understand why.” He swooped my hair to the side, exposing the bite on my neck. “Are you scared?”

I wished that we were on the bathtub again, in silence and in peace. But the peace was a mere illusion. I knew we would come to this. He would question me and test me. He always did.

“Yes, actually,” I said through the knot on my throat. His jaw clenched. “I am scared. But not of you. I fell in love with you, despite–” he opened his mouth to say something “– no, let me speak. Despite what you’ve done and all that you’re capable of, I fell in love with you and I don’t regret it. But I’m scared of myself and what I can become.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m human. A normal one, I always thought. I shouldn’t enjoy the taste of blood. I shouldn’t enjoy being covered in it. But I did, I do.” My lip trembled. “What does that make me?”

He grinned.

“Perfect.”

“I’m serious, Dracula.”

“So am I.”

“Please, make an effort to help. I’m this much away” –I measured with my thumb and forefinger– “from losing it.” He laughed. “I want to be with you but I’m not sure what being a vampire means.”

“You proposed a deal to find out.”

“Yes, but I wasted it, didn’t I? Between being confused about you and then the Foundation… There’s not much I know.”

“Then ask.”

He resumed brushing my hair as he waited for a response.

The face staring back at me in the mirror was my own. Would I have recognised myself covered in blood? Would I think it was a pretty image as Dracula thought?

I imagined fangs in place of my incisors and canines, and screams of horror as I bore down on some pretty girl who begged for her life. My own laughter ringing in my ears. Death on my skin. And hunger, so much hunger.

I blinked several times to clear my head. This is my face now. Clean, human. My teeth blunt, chewing on my cheeks.

“Will I have to kill people?” I asked, unable to take my eyes away from the stranger in the mirror.

“You’ll want to.”

“How do you know?”

“Believe it or not, I am over five hundred years old and have had incredible amounts of practice in this matter,” he said, smiling at every word. “You’ll want to kill, and you’ll dream about it.”

“You were a killer long before you became a vampire. I won’t take your word so quickly when it comes to killing.”

“That is true. I’m very good at killing, always have been. However, I maintain my word. There is an urge for death that comes with the thirst for blood. It’s inevitable. I’ve seen it with all my little experiments.”

“But do I have to?”

“No, darling.” He gave me a reluctant smile. “You don’t have to. You can keep pets, if you like.” The way he raised one eyebrow told me we weren’t talking about the fluffy kind of pets.

“Like you did with Renfield?”

“Renfield wasn’t a pet. Lucy, perhaps,” he shrugged, as he brushed through every strand of my hair to make sure they were completely detangled. “I’ve only drank Renfield once, you see, so he doesn’t qualify. Pets are good for when you need to be discreet–”

“Which you aren’t,” I quipped.

“– but it is fun.” He concluded, chuckling at my cheeky smile. “You can keep them alive for as long as you need them. Keeping more than one at a time is key for variety and to not tire them out, but it gets old fast. Eventually you’ll wonder how it feels to have a pulse slowing down between your teeth, to consume life and watch death take its place.”

“I may wonder, but I won’t act on it,” I muttered. Dracula raised his eyebrows, eyes sparking. “I won’t,” I repeated more strongly this time.

“Of course, darling,” he said, running the brush on my hair a few more times. “Done.” He rounded the chair and placed the hairbrush on the sink countertop. Standing in front of me, I noticed that the tips of his hair, pointing everywhere, were already drying. It was charming seeing him like this. He was always extremely composed every time I saw him. His chest hair was almost completely dry but the trail of dark hair leading to his belly button still had some beads of water. Earlier, he hadn’t allowed me to touch him and between ripping my clothes off and biting me, I hadn’t gotten a good look at him. “I'll order you food and if you still feel weak afterwards, you’ll drink my blood.”

I looked up at that, blinking as my brain worked to process what he said.

“Maybe you should reword that and add a question mark at the end of that sentence.”

“It wasn’t a question.” He grinned. He scooped me up in his arms as if I was child. My protests were choked back in a yelp at the suddenness of the movement. The world glassed over for a second. I laced my hands around his neck, glaring at him. “If I have to hold your mouth open and make you swallow, I will. I can’t have you strutting around weakened.”

“You were asleep for the past century but it’s time you know that we have advanced in many ways and now we have something called iron supplements ,” I told him as we left the bathroom. “You see, it comes in a tiny little pill and I take it 2 or 3 times a day–”

“My blood will have the same effect, if not better.”

“A while back you told me too much of your blood could affect me,” I prodded, gaze locked attentively on his face. I wasn’t taking notice of where he was taking me, so when he suddenly sat down, cradling me in his arms, I found myself grabbing onto his neck in fear of falling off. Turning my head, I saw large, fluffy pillows in a dark grey bedding. His bedroom. Decor kept the same palette as the rest of the penthouse. The only light on came from behind the black headboard. “How?”

He moved me so that I could completely lean my weight on the arm he had on my back and my behind fit nicely on his lap. My towel slipped up near my knee, exposing one of my thighs. I tried crossing my legs to emulate some sense of decency but Dracula’s arm tucked under my knees had me in a steel grip. Again, I tried moving my legs, subtly nudging his arm, but he didn’t let go.

“To be quite honest–” he began slowly, catching me in his gaze “–I’m not entirely sure what the effects can be on someone willing.” He released one of my legs and as I tried adjusting myself on his lap, I felt his hand on my thigh, caressing up and down. A lazy caress, almost absent. “My brides were rather limited on that front.”

“Tell me about them.” I asked. “When we broke into the Painted Hall, you mentioned you weren’t very successful with most of them. That they were nothing but shadows.”

“Must we reminisce?” He squeezed my thigh at the question.

“We must, yes. I need to know, and I need some assurances that I won’t become like them.”

“You won’t.” His lips thinned, and I touched them with the tips of my fingers. They softened.

“You can’t be sure,” I said, tracing his cupid’s bow and glancing up at those black eyes. I felt his lips stretching in a smile and I let my hand drop to his chest.

“I can.” He watched as his hand disappeared under the towel in his incessant caress. For a moment his hand slipped to my inner thigh and my breath hitched. His hand reappeared from underneath the towel and continued caressing me, apparently oblivious to my arousal. “None of them gave me their consent. Or loved me.”

“And those things make a difference?” I asked, a little breathlessly.

He followed the contours of my leg until my knee then again to my inner thigh. Up. Closer to where I was growing wet. His hand lingered between my thighs for a moment. A pulse started down low. He retreated a third time, and I choked back a whine.

“Oh, yes, of course they do,” he said in a solemn tone, brows furrowed. “If you keep a flower caged, but give it water and light, do you think it’ll thrive as a wild flower does?”

“No.” The word was barely audible, and I shook my head to the sides to add to it.

“Correct.” His hand traveled up, and this time nudged my thighs to open. My fingers on the nape of his neck flexed. My heart beat at my center. At my throat it tried to break free, and gush as blood does. “I will not keep you caged, and everything you need I’ll give and you’ll take.” He frowned. “ In love. What a stunning concept.” I felt the warmth of his fingers hovering, a near touch, almost ghostly. I arched my back in invitation and rose my hips to find an ending to this teasing. “Stay still. I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“Are you?” It came out in a smirk.

“Yes. You wanted answers, I’ll give them to you.” Air left my lungs in a shaky breath as his fingers finally touched me. Probing me, as in an examination. Fingertips slid over my entrance, soaked as it was, gathering some of the slickness to continue his exploration. “My last experiments were my better ones,” he continued in a conversational tone. “They weren’t obedient to me. Always ruled by hunger and desire to kill, they lost themselves, but they kept their appearance. Their body didn’t die but their minds did. They never consented or asked for immortality, and they fought me, oh how they fought me at first.” As he talked, his fingers never stopped moving but they were just exploring, seeking to perhaps memorise its details, lingering in a spot he thought interesting as he observed me, serious as ever. “But they soon learned I was their only source of food. I fed them bite sized meals–” he smiled, and dipped a finger in. Fearful that he would stop, I managed to keep my body still. A gasp escaped anyway but it didn’t seem to discourage him as a second finger joined with ease and I closed my eyes at the feeling. His fingers were much thicker than mine, and longer. He hooked his fingers up, and kept them there, simply putting pressure. If I rocked my hips in just the right way they would pump that precious spot. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t bear it if he stopped. “... but the effects faded quickly. Are you listening?”

I nodded, my lip quivering. He started withdrawing his fingers, so I hurried on, “Y-yes.”

“Darling,” he murmured, dipping in again and this time pumping up, “what did I just say?” A moan was my reply. I looked up at him, hoping that he would leave it be, but the twinkle in his eyes told me he wouldn’t. He was having too much fun. “Answer me.” Suddenly, his fingers were gone and he gave me a light slap on my dripping folds. My hips jerked in surprise. The second slap was less delicate than the first, making me yelp, and left a stinging pain. He soothed it by rubbing my clit, which felt all the more sensitive after being mistreated. “Let me know you were paying attention or I’ll stop.”

“Y-your blood, you gave it to them sometimes.” I said through my teeth, shutting my eyes with my all strength to try and concentrate. Another light slap. “They begged for more than scraps, more than–” I couldn’t utter the word ‘babies’. “Your blood made them more coherent and–” two of his fingers entered me again. A reward for speaking, I guessed. I needed more, and I forced myself to continue. “–and stronger. But it didn’t w-work for long.”

“You listened. Good,” he praised. At some point I had put my hands in fists to try and remain unmoving, but as those fingers hooked up and the palm of his hand pressed up against my clit, I grabbed onto his shoulders to keep myself steady. Wetness spread down my thighs and buttocks as obscene sounds filled my ears. Pressure built as he rocked his hand. “It didn’t work because they were failures from the start, but, you are perfect. Look at me.” I opened my eyes, and saw myself reflected in the darkness of his. “You’re mine. My bride, my lover.” His fingers inside me beckoned me to come to him. I resisted, and by doing so I started shaking. “My blood is yours to drink. You will become more of what you already are by drinking it, that’s all. Now, move with me.”

Striving for breath betweens moans, I buried my face in his chest as I arched my back and moved my hips to meet his upward thrusts. His palm pressed harshly as I fought to accompany each rub. My body seized, losing the delightful cadence that Dracula and I were making, but even as my hips bucked and my legs contorted and quaked, he continued moving his hand to press and rub until I felt lightheaded. Pleasure uncoiled, and snapped like a whip, tearing gasps out of me, and then surged in a wave of torpor.

I collapsed in his lap and, withdrawing his fingers, he gathered me up in a near hug. I watched as he raised his hand, embarrassingly soaked, and put two fingers in his mouth. I was still breathless, but I forced my body to straighten up and grabbed his face, burying myself in his lips and tongue to savour my own taste.

“Greedy,” he chuckled when I pulled back with my chest heaving. “I’m well fed, for now. But you’re not.” He rose where we were perched and laid me on the bed. “I’ll order something for you to eat. Sleep in the meanwhile.”

My eyes shut of their own will as the pillow cradled my head. I felt Dracula taking the towel off of my body and covering me with a blanket. As I drifted to sleep, I heard myself saying, “I’ll drink you.”

There was no response.

@festering-queen @crossoverqueen89 @rheabalaur @deborahlazaroff @guiltyfiend @fallen-angel-333 @a-dorky-book-keeper @girlonfireice @thorin-smokin-shield @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @saint-hardy @xoxodrac @illbegoinhome @dreamer2381 @princessayveke @25ocurer @vampirescurse @blue-serendipity @sunscreenfeverdream @iwasjustablur @daydreaming136 @hello-itsbarbie @bittenlove @newyorkrican922 @soph3228 @feralstare @libra-lovecraft

#i'm running out of claes gifs #if anyone wants to flood my dms i'll be grateful #dracula ff #dracula bbc #dracula x reader #claes bang #claes bang ff #claes bang x reader #claes bang fic #dracula fanfic #dracula netflix #vampire fanfic #vampire ff #dracula fic #distorted lullabies

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Text

5. Trigger--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: The final installment is here! I’m so sorry for the delay but I kept bouncing back concepts on how I wanted it to end. This is a rollercoaster. You’re probably going to hate me then love me, then hate me again. Thank you all for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 11.5k

warnings: mentions of drug cartel/lords/paraphernalia, angst, heartbreak, sexual situations

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

Cressida is awoken by two things, a loud peal of thunder and a combination of Ashton’s warm hands and mouth on her skin. For a moment she forgets that this is their last morning together. Ashton’s large hands lift up her nightgown and he curves his body to mold with hers as his lips kiss below her breast. His fingers rub at her skin in a tantalizing way, her body is humming. Then she hears him sniff and her eyes flash open. His cheeks are wet while he continues to kiss along her ribcage.

“Ashton?” she touches his hair and her heart shatters at the look on his face.

He’s pained. His cheeks are covered in tears, his pretty hazel eyes are bloodshot and his lower lip trembles. Cressida gathers his head against her chest, wrapping her arms and legs around his body so he’s crushing her, so that there’s no spaces between them. If she held him tight enough maybe they’d mold together and would never have to be apart.

His body shakes against hers, hot tears sting at her own eyes as he releases what he’s been holding in. The thought of losing her has finally come to life and it’s breaking him from the inside out.

“I’m trying to…get as much of you as I can,” he whines pressing his tear-stained lips to her neck. “I’m not ready to let go.” He chokes on the words as he tries to kiss her again.

She closes her eyes wishing it didn’t have to be this way. His lips on her skin are burned to her memory and after today that’s all it will ever be, a memory. She feeds into his desperation and sadness, their lips finding each other’s and Ashton presses into her.

Her cries turn to moans, her tears fall free, and Ashton’s movements are frenzied yet controlled. He wants this to last for as long as possible. She stabilizes his cheeks until he’s looking at her, his handsome face twisted.

“It’s okay,” she whispers tracing his brows, his nose, his lips. “It’s okay.”

He nods and slows his movements to a more controlled roll. Their kisses are bittersweet each time, a terrible reminder that their time is up. The storm has arrived. The axe has been swung.

“I love you,” he whispers on her neck lacing their fingers beside her head.

“I love you.”

They prolong the moment for as long as they can, one last thing they can do together, one last thing they’re in control of, but all good things must come to an end. And they arrived at that end together, sighing each other’s names. Soft caresses over shoulders and down hips are touches committing to memory.

“How did you find out?” she asks afterwards while petting his hair. Their legs are tangled, every part of him is touching every part of her.

The bad news he’s been dreading ever since Gavin and Cressida have been ‘together’ is coming into the light. Ashton and Cressida’s relationship has always had an expiration date but now that it’s finally here…it’s a lot worse.

“My assistant Phil and your assistant Chloe are yoga buddies and she told him you and Gavin will be announcing the engagement today,” Ashton responds sadly. His voice tickles her collarbone, and he nestles in closer to her, holding her tighter. “Did he actually buy a ring or is it a prop from your parents?”

“He bought it…I um…have it with me because after this I need to meet him at the Italian restaurant where we had our first ‘date.’” Cressida’s voice is oddly calm, but it doesn’t sound like her, it’s more robotic, monotone. “Paparazzi were tipped off we’d be there and that will be the first look.”

“Can I see it?” Ashton asks after a moment of shared sad silence.

“Ash, I don’t think that’s—”

“Please, Cressida,” he lifts his head, hair falling in front of his tired hazel eyes. “I need to see it.”

Cressida searches his face then finally nods and slips out from underneath him. She shifts through her coat that’s been on the floor since she dropped it there and pulls out a red ring box. Her hands are shaking as she hands him the box. They’re both naked, open and vulnerable to each other like they always have been but for the first time in their five-year long relationship, Cressida feels ashamed as he opens the box.

Ashton stares at the gaudiness of it. it’s a cushion cut diamond; the band covered in tiny diamonds. It’s much too large, so large that it looks like costume jewelry and although Cressida is a larger-than-life woman, she loves the softer things. She doesn’t need or want gaudy; this ring isn’t her at all.

“Hideous, isn’t it?” she tries to joke.

“It’s…” Ashton snaps the box shut, lifts his eyes to hers. Her hair is all mussed and her body is covered in love bites from him, his initials are still present on her belly. “We need to shower before you go.”

He leaves the ring on the center of their bed then grabs her hand leading her into the bathroom. Cressida’s arm loops around his naked waist as he turns the shower on, and they hug each other as the water warms up. The hot water stings their skin as they stand underneath it, she loves the steady stream on her head and the way Ashton’s fingers massage the shampoo into her scalp. She can’t keep her eyes off him as he rubs it out of her hair.

The water droplets roll down his cheeks and nose then disappear onto his lips. When her hair is rinsed out, Cressida grips his face and presses her lips to his. Ashton’s hesitant at first.

“We shouldn’t, angel, you might be late…”

“I won’t be,” she whispers dipping one hand in between them. She strokes him gently and he lets out a soft groan. “Please, Ash, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he moans then pushes her against the wall, his tongue stroking over hers.

Ashton lifts her in the air hiking her legs around his waist. She helps him enter her, biting his lip hard in the process by being filled again. He cups the back of her neck with a secure grip so when he starts to thrust her head won’t knock against the wall harshly. Her nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, his strong shoulders that embrace her so well.

Their breath is shared in heavy pants, lips knocking haphazardly as he thrusts, and she welcomes each one. Cressida whimpers as Ashton grunts, her toes curling in pleasure. Ashton’s tired of keeping his hand on the trigger of their love, so after she orgasms, he releases into her once more. When he pulls out and Cressida drops her feet to the shower floor, he can’t help but stare between her legs as his release drips out of her.

He knocks his forehead against hers. “That isn’t the ring I would have chosen for you.”

Her heart clenches at his words and closes her eyes. Does she dare ask what kind of ring he’d buy her? It would only twist the white-hot knife in her heart more.

“What kind would you buy me?” Apparently she wants to feel the pain.

“It’d be rose gold, a thin band with a round diamond. Not too big, not too small, but perfectly perfect, just like you.” He kisses her nose. “And I would have taken you back to that dive bar where we met and asked you to be the love of my life forever.”

Cressida opens her eyes to see Ashton already staring at her.

“You’ll always be the love of my life.”

The real goodbye is even harder as she tries one last attempt to fix the fall of their star-crossed affair. Her clothes are changed and she’s smeared make-up over the markings on her neck.

“What if I tell them I won’t marry Gavin?” she asks standing in the doorway. “He already knows about us and he doesn’t want this any more than we do.”

“If you don’t marry him, what will your parent’s do?” Ashton’s voice sounds tired because this is a conversation they’ve had many times over the last five years.

“I’ll be relinquished of my duties and cut off, but I don’t need the company or the money. I want you, Ashton. The truth is all I really want is somebody who wants me and that’s you. I want you.”

She touches his cheek, but all Ashton feels is the icy weight of her engagement ring on his skin. She put it on for the first time since the news will be broken to the world, but now its curtain call on their own love. The real show is to begin. It brands him in torture.

“I won’t have you throw away your future because of me, Cressida. This is how it’s supposed to be,” he replies sadly. “How it should have been, us making it linger only makes this worse.”

“We can change it! Please, Ashton,” she begs with tears welling in her eyes.

They stare eat each other, eyes having a silent conversation. She is screaming while he is silent in defeat and acceptance of their reality.

“You should go,” he kisses her palm then removes her hand from his face. “You’re the most valuable, the most precious, and the most beautiful gold in the world, Cressida. I’ll never stop loving you.”

Cressida breaks down burying her face in his chest. Her heart is breaking and even with Ashton’s arms around her, she isn’t getting fixed. Nothing can fix her now.

Six Months After Breakup—Cressida

Cressida’s walking along the aisles of flowers in the large nursery where she and Gavin are picking out flowers for their wedding. Their parents decided the wedding would be in the first weekend of May which fatefully falls on the anniversary of her and Ashton’s first meeting. It’s a cruel twist of fortune. She touches the smooth petals of a white calla lily, her engagement ring sparkling in the afternoon sun.

Cressida’s parents and Gavin’s parents are discussing a flower arch with the florist and Cressida decided to wander off. Her mind is on Ashton but when isn’t it? She’s always wondering what he’s doing, how he’s doing. Is she on his mind as well? She read in a fashion magazine that Lucinda broke up with him and is now dating some minor league baseball player claiming, ‘she’s never been happier.’ Cressida wanted to reach out and ask what happened to their planned marriage, but she decided not to.

Why add salt to a still open wound?

“I think these would look lovely in a bouquet,” Gavin says from behind her.

Cressida turns to see him holding up three marigolds, all of them a brilliant golden yellow. The plumes are lush and full, and the smell reminds her of summer. Cressida looks up to Gavin, his dark brown curls and even darker brown eyes. It’s taken them a long time but they’re finally friends. When Ashton told him to get sober, Gavin tried to but his footprint in the drug dealing world was too vast. She flashes back to that time three months ago.

After Cressida left The Golden Lion to meet with Gavin at the restaurant for their engagement appearance, his eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils made his eyes look like black holes. They made the photo opportunity short as possible, Cressida made sure to show off the engagement ring that felt like a weighted brick anytime she waved her hand around.

By the time they made it to her house, they were trending all over the world.

“I thought you were sober?” she asks throwing her bags on the floor.

“I’m trying,” he grumbles opening the fridge to take out a bottle of water. “Next time you see Irwin, I’ll be out of the ring.”

“I won’t be seeing him,” she mumbles pulling out her favorite bottle of wine from her wine cabinet. Her voice was back to the monotone.

“What do you mean?”

“You and I are getting married. It’s done. We’re done,” she pops the cork and walks outside to her deck by the pool.

Gavin disappeared for the next three days and at first Cressida didn’t care because then she could mourn over her and Ashton’s relationship in peace. Well, not really peace because she sobbed so loud in bed, in her pillow, in the shower.

It wasn’t until her mother called asking for her and Gavin to come over for brunch on Sunday to celebrate the joining of their families that Cressida started to worry. Both of his phones went straight to voicemail and it wasn’t until she got in contact with his best friend Jack that she discovered that’s where he was.

Cressida arrives at Jack’s place to find Gavin beaten up horrendously and lying on Jack’s couch. There’s so much dried blood and swelling on his face she barely recognized him. It took a few shakes and shouting his name before he opened his eyes, but even then they were tiny slits.

“What the hell happened?” Cressida asks in shock as her eyes roam over his body. His Armani shirt is torn and bloody, a very large red stain on the side of his stomach that is oozing onto the couch.

“Left the ring and they uh said this…” Gavin winces as he tries to sit up straighter, “was my farewell.”

“You need to go to the hospital, Gavin, you’re bleeding out.”

“No! I can’t let anyone know I was involved in—”

“You have enough money to keep this on the down low. I’m calling an ambulance,” she shakes her head and pulls out her phone.

While Gavin recovered for a week in the hospital, Cressida stayed with him. The cover story was that he got jumped outside of a hotel, nothing was stolen because he didn’t have anything of value, so they beat him up more for it. Everyone believed it.

The doctors wanted to give him morphine to help with the pain, but he refused because it would offset the other drugs that were still in his system. Cressida’s surprised and impressed that he actually means he’s going to be sober now. With the pain and the start of his withdrawals, he didn’t sleep very well through the night.

On the fourth night he woke up gasping for breath, his body covered in sweat.

“Gavin! What is it? What’s wrong?” Cressida asks turning on the light to see his pillow wet from his sweat. His eyes are large as saucers.

“I’m…fine!” he grits through his teeth staring at the ceiling. “With—withdrawals that’s…. all…”

Cressida sat next to him on his bed and held his hand. His eyes shifted to hers and he grimaces.

“I don’t deserve your help…after what I did to you…”

“Shh, let’s not talk about that now,” she shakes her head. “Let’s get you through this.”

After that, she helped him each time he went through a bad spell. It helped distract her from thinking of Ashton, even though he was always on the back of her mind anyway. She went to meetings with him and helped him with other coping skills. After a month most of his wounds and bruises were healing and there was a new light about him.

When she came home from the office, the house smelled amazing, and he was in the kitchen cooking. His red wine sat at the center of the table and Cressida tried to force the memory of Ashton and that exact wine out of her mind.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I am officially sixty days sober today,” Gavin grins, “and I wanted to make you dinner as a thank you for helping me. I made some appetizers, come taste.”

She stands next to him and eats the appetizer he made, some kind of meatball with a sweet sauce. It’s very delicious. While she accompanied him to his meetings they shared a lot of heart to hearts and became closer than before.

“I also wanted to apologize for how I treated you,” he says pouring her a glass of wine. “And for what happened at The Golden Lion. It sounds like a poor excuse, but I never, ever meant to hit you. I’m so sorry that I did, I think about it all the time and hate myself for it.”

“I know you didn’t mean to and if anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I didn’t treat you very fairly either, Gavin. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for…cheating on you.”

“It’s not cheating when our relationship was never legitimate. I wasn’t faithful either,” he gives her an impish smile.

“I still feel bad about it. I was so wrapped up in….it should have stopped when we started this fake relationship anyway,” she shakes her head and takes a drink of his wine. Her mind swirls and her stomach gets butterflies as memories of Ashton invade her.

“I know it hurts you to talk about him,” Gavin says placing his hand on her shoulder. “I knew this would never be real to you. I know it’s arranged and…I wouldn’t be upset if you’d still want to see him.”

“That’s not fair to you, Gavin, and besides, Ashton and I are over, remember?” she swallows a big gulp of the red wine. It tastes different, it’s not as sweet as it was that night with Ashton. “I won’t be unfaithful to you in our marriage.”

“Let’s start as friends then,” he holds out his hand for her to take.

“Friends after three years of dating,” she giggles shaking his hand.

“We never really got to know each other. We were always so busy and when we were together, it was forced and publicized.”

“Very true,” she purses her lips then lifts up her wine glass. “To a new friendship.”

Their glasses clink and they share a wonderful evening over good food and to finally getting to know each other. He didn’t ask about Ashton and she didn’t offer it up. A clean slate is a clean slate, even though she’s still branded.

“Cress?” Gavin asks pulling her from her quick reverie. He’s holding the golden flowers in front of her.

“They are lovely,” she smiles dipping her nose into the multitude of petals. “And wouldn’t look too bad in the lapel of your jacket.”

“I can make any flower pop,” he grins handing her the small bouquet.

“Gavin! Cressida! Over here!” Cressida’s mother, Maria calls from the front of the nursery.

“We’re being summoned,” Gavin reaches for her hand then pauses, his brown eyes looking up at her. “May I?”

Cressida smiles and takes his hand in hers; her ring twists a little on her finger as she squeezes his hand. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

“I know, but every time I do you get a little flustered,” he smiles.

The rest of the afternoon is spent by going over more wedding plans; the guest list that is always being revised, the food menu that is always being altered, but the one thing that remains is Cressida’s stress and worry. When she worries she twists her ring and only stops when Gavin places his hand over hers gently. She looks up at him and he nods as if in understanding.

“I think my bride-to-be is a bit overwhelmed,” he announces to their parents who are bickering about the silverware. “Can we continue this some other time?”

“Oh, yes of course! We can’t have you wrinkling my dear,” Maria, Cressida’s mother smiles.

“Why don’t you two head on over to Rouge and tell them I’ve sent you, so you’ll only get the best of the best,” her father, Mark beams at his daughter.

“Thank you sir,” Gavin rises from his chair and Cressida kisses her father’s cheek.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Enjoy yourself, darling. No need to stress.”

Gavin and Cressida do enjoy themselves as they drink and eat at the jazz restaurant. They even get up and dance when they’re called out by the band leader who spots them. Cressida is impressed by Gavin’s fancy footwork; he even lifts her up and spins her around which has them both laughing.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could dance,” she says breathlessly.

“I didn’t either, you brought it out of me.”

His eyes flicker to her lips and Cressida feels her stomach tighten. His hand on her lower back bunches up the fabric of her dress, his fingers squeezing her closer to his body. They’ve never been this close before and it makes her heart pound harshly against her chest. Gavin’s breath slows as he moves forward, his lips ebbing closer. She’s not sure if it’s butterflies or fear at the thought of possibly kissing someone other than Ashton so she pulls away.

“I need to um, use the ladies’ room,” she excuses herself and runs.

More moments like that have happened as they both become a bit more comfortable being close together. Their acting of intimacy doesn’t feel so forced anymore when they’re with their parents. When Cressida tenses at the mention of the ever-growing guest list (she lost count when it surpassed 1,500) Gavin rubs at her neck in assurance. When they’re overlooking options for dining ware, Cressida doesn’t hesitate to place her fingers on his lower back to peer over his shoulder.

That’s as far as their physical relationship has gone, innocent touches that leave a large impact and her mind swimming in many conflicting thoughts and emotions. It keeps her up at night and when she dreams she sees memories of Ashton morphing into Gavin.

It leaves her in even more confusion.

There’s laughter and chatter from her mother and friends sitting outside the dressing room of the bridal boutique. It’s her last fitting before the big day. The big day that has been looming over her head for years. Cressida hasn’t seen what the dress looks like, she’s only been sized and measured multiple times and asked questions about different designs of dresses that she liked.

“It fits you like a glove, Miss James,” the consultant Wendy gushes and fastens the last button. “Are you excited to see it?”

“Yes,” Cressida smiles at her warmly but inside she’s screaming.

“I’ll go out and make a grand entrance for you, just step onto the platform and you’ll see yourself in your wedding dress!”

Cressida took the split ten seconds to mentally prepare herself for the big reveal, to her entourage and to herself. Wendy opened the door and everyone on the white couch gasp as Cressida steps out. The fabric is cool between her fingers as she lifts it up to step onto the platform, keeping her eyes on the floor and not on the mirror yet. Wendy poofs out the bottom of the dress.

“You look divine, darling!” her mother says dotting at her eyes delicately with her fingers. “Do you love it?”

Cressida takes another deep breath then slowly lifts her gaze and gasps. The dress is absolutely beautiful and fits her figure wonderfully, she’s never felt more beautiful in a dress before. It’s perfect. The design is to her taste and with the veil attached to her head, she’s the perfect bride.

“Gavin is going to lose it when he sees you!”

“He won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

“Or his hands!”

More giggles ensue and they continue with their banter as reality sets in with Cressida the more she stares at herself. The dress is exquisite, a perfect dream, but while her entourage were gushing about Gavin, Cressida was picturing Ashton.

Ashton waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Ashton holding her hand as the pastor spoke. Ashton slipping the wedding band on her finger. Ashton telling her the vows he wrote and spoke with conviction. Ashton kissing her.

Ashton Ashton Ashton Ashton Ashton

!!!!!!

His name repeats like a haunted hymn trying to keep time with her rapid breaths. She feels hot. Too hot. She feels like she’s suffocating, and although the dress doesn’t have a high collar it’s as if she’s being choked. She needs to get out of it.

In a few short months she’ll be standing in front of Gavin. There’s a high-pitched ringing in her ears, the voices of her mother and friends are muffled, the light is too bright.

It isn’t until Chloe, her saving grace, catches her right before she’s about to fall off the platform. The other women are crowding around her, but Cressida can’t breathe, she needs air, she needs to get out of this dress.

“She’s fine, she’s fine, she started this new juice cleanse. I guess celery isn’t the one for her,” Chloe laughs off the quick excuse but helps her stand up. “Plus, with pre-wedding jitters and all. Let’s get you out of this for now, hm?”

Chloe drags her back into the dressing room where Cressida is gasping for air and waving her arms trying to unbutton the dress.

“I got it, I got it, hang on…” Chloe works quickly to undo the back of the dress.

Cressida lets out a loud gasp when she feels the dress pull away from her skin, she pulls off the cold shoulder sleeves quickly and carefully as possible. When she’s finally free she collapses to the floor in the heap of her dress, her vision is splotchy, and she sees stars. Chloe drapes the bridal robe over her shoulders and hugs her tightly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe…easy, easy,” Chloe takes deep inhales and exhales with Cressida.

“I’m sorry, I-I-I…it all came real so fast, and I was picturing—”

“Ashton?” Chloe asks quietly and Cressida nods. Chloe hugs her until her heart has slowed, all the broken pieces of it.

Later that evening, Gavin found out she had a panic attack at the dress fitting. He became worried instantly and held onto her shoulders searching her eyes as if he could see the replay in them.

“How are you now? Do you need anything?” he asks concerned.

“I’m all right, it all hit me so fast when I saw me in the dress, that’s all,” she tries to smile then looks down and away from him.

“Hey,” Gavin ticks his finger under her chin, so she looks up at him, “We’re in this together. I promise I will take care of you and be your friend and confidant throughout all this. We can do this, Cress.” He pulls her into his arms, his embrace is tight, and it makes her feel better, she feels put together for a moment. “Why don’t you go take a bath and go to bed early?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she sighs.

“I’ll get it ready for you,” he kisses the top of her head, gives her one more squeeze, then heads upstairs.

Cressida feels herself walking upstairs into her bathroom but it’s as if she’s on autopilot or watching herself from a distance. Gavin’s reading the back of one of her bath salts when she enters, and she looks at him. Really looks at him. He’s tall and handsome, that’s a fact, but she never noticed before how the symbol tattooed on his back peeks out on his neck under his collar. Or how his hair curls into smooth waves at the back of his head, and how broad his shoulders are.

He’s speaking to her about bubbles or oils, she’s not really listening as she starts to undress in front of him. In her dissociative mind, she wants to experiment with something. The small seed of feelings for him keep nudging at her, if she waters it will it bloom into something greater? When she steps closer that’s when Gavin notices her half nakedness.

“Does the salt stick to—” his eyes take her in slowly, watching her movements carefully as she shimmies out of her pants and then her panties. He swallows audibly, the bottle of bath salts slips from his fingers and falls into the tub with a shallow bump. “What— “he clears his throat when she steps closer, “what are you doing?”

“Can we try something?” she asks reaching for his arms. She grips his forearms, feels the taut muscles underneath his skin.

She knows he can definitely hear how loud her heart is beating. He nods as she lifts to her toes, her hands moving to his neck. Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, she moves closer to him. So close that she can feel his breath on her lips, he smells like a spicy musk, which is very inviting and then her lips are on his. Gavin remains still, letting her go at her own pace.

His lips are soft but are definitely different from the pair she’s used to. His cologne keeps her in check that this is Gavin and not—

“We don’t have to do this,” Gavin pulls back, and she feels a little empty from it. “I know this is so much for you.”

“Can we try?” she whispers, her eyes begging him to say yes.

“Are you sure?” he asks cupping her cheek. His thumb traces her bottom lip, his warm brown eyes meeting hers.

“I’m sure,” she nods.

Gavin crushes his lips to hers and his other hand grips her bare waist, pulling her to him in a tastefully forceful way. He sits on the edge of the tub and she presses herself to him, her hands yanking up his shirt. His hair gets messed up and then she admires the tattoos on his torso, her fingers tracing the designs and lines.

“I didn’t know you had any of these.”

“They’re all a part of my life story.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them sometime,” her gaze is steady on his as she unbuttons his pants. He shuts off the water of the tub standing up.

“I’d be glad to,” he smiles then lifts her into his arms carrying her to her bedroom.

Gavin takes his time kissing her from her lips all the way down to the very epicenter of her. Cressida closes her eyes so she can enjoy the feeling she’s experiencing and not to compare his touch with another’s. Gavin is gentle, touching her like she’s going to disappear into thin air.

She’s exploring him just as much as he is, she likes tracing the large tattoo on his back that goes up both shoulder blades. When they finally connect, she gasps, both in pleasure and at the vast difference. He’s making her feel good, her body is humming and tries to move with his. This is new for the both of them, this is their first time together after all.

At one point, she’s transported to another bed with another man and her nails creating large red arches into his back, they almost look like angel wings. She’s flashing back and forth from memory to present. When her release nears, all she sees is white space behind her eyelids. Then it’s over and they hold each other, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“Is that what you wanted to try?” Gavin lifts his head from her neck, and she nods. “Dare I ask what the…conjecture is?”

“It was…” she searches his eyes trying to find the right words that hold truth in them, “it was really good.”

Gavin smiles slowly and nods. “I’m glad to hear that, I thought so, too. Do you still want your bath?”

“I can go do it,” she nods brushing away a curl from his forehead then presses her palm to his cheek. “How about you go pick us up some ice cream? We can watch a movie before bed.”

“Mint chip, right?” he grins leaning down to give her a kiss.

“Right,” she laughs kissing him again.

Gavin slides off the bed and hops back into his pants.

“I’ll grab your favorite wine, too. Maybe I’ll join you in the bath,” he winks pulling on his shirt then exits the room.

Cressida feels herself moving again, going through the motions of turning on the water and adding the salts and bubbles. She closes the door and dims the lights, making sure her rotary phone is next to the bath. When she climbs in, the hot water burns the soles of her feet and her hands, but it feels good.

She feels different.

It’s been a very long and very emotional day and Ashton invades her mind yet again. Moving on their own discord, her fingers reach for the phone and dials the number she’s had memorized for almost six years. It rings and rings and rings until the automated voicemail lady comes on. Cressida pushes the disconnect tab in the center and dials again. There’s a click.

“Cressida?”

Her breath hitches at the sound of his voice, then she slams the phone back in its cradle. She sinks below the water level, her head submerging into the vapid silence of the water. How did hearing Ashton’s voice hurt worse than the silence of him not picking up? There’s a purpose for all of this pain, but what is it? She’s falling, but she doesn’t know if she’s falling in or out of love.

Ten Months After Breakup—Ashton

Ashton has been a loaded gun ever since he and Cressida ended. He’s quick to anger and frustration, snapping at people over the simplest of questions. A lot has changed since that last weekend with Cressida and yet it feels like everything is the same.

He’s flipping through his calendar on his desk for upcoming appointments he’s jotted down and pauses on the first weekend of May which is two months away.

In the past, he would already be preparing the secret weekend getaway with Cressida. He’d be confirming with The Golden Lion that his room and floor were reserved for him. He’d make sure the room is stocked with their favorite food and drink and that Cressida’s robe was firmly pressed. Now, that weekend is wide open, staring him in the face with its blankness.

For the first time in six years, the white squares are empty. The Golden Lion isn’t scrawled in his gold fountainhead pen, as if it’s been erased completely but the memories are still burned into his mind. She’s left her mark in him so deep.

Ashton had a very slow incline from the very deep valley of his heartache. His phone beeps and he presses the button with the flashing red light.

“Yes?” he asks through the intercom.

“Mr. Hemmings is here to see you, Mr. Irwin,” his assistant Phil announces.

“Send him in.”

“A package was delivered for you as well; shall I send it with Mr. Hemmings?”

“That’s fine, Phil. Thanks,” Ashton sighs. He leans back in his chair, his calendar still opened to his schedule in May.

Luke was the one who helped Ashton out of his deep ravine.

He watches Cressida walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator. She didn’t turn around once. He shuffles back inside and makes his way to the large windows overlooking the street down below. Cressida is easy to spot, she’s using his red umbrella then disappears into the backseat of her car and drives off. Leaving him behind.

The dark cloud has been hovering over them this whole weekend and he used everything in his power to keep it at bay, out of sight, out of mind. But now Cressida is out of his sight and he’s about to lose his mind, so he pours himself a double of his whisky. Before he knew it, the bottle was empty, and he called room service to send up some more.

He thought of the consumption as a form of poetic justice, or something along those lines. He wasn’t sure, Cressida would know. She always knows things like that.

Ashton stayed in the hotel room for a whole week until there was a loud pounding on his door. When he opens it, he sees Luke in his crisp Armani suit, his golden hair slicked back in a suave style. The smell of his aftershave was fresh. Luke wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ashton mumbles using the door handle as a brace to stay standing.

“It smells like your distillery in here and it reeks off you. Have you been here this whole time?”

“Yeah, so what?

Luke glances behind him then asks carefully, “have you been drunk this whole time?”

“Nope. For the first couple of days, I was because I finished my whisky, but now I’m sober and angry.” He turns inside the room and pulls out a bottle of water, Luke follows him carefully by making sure not to step on dirty clothes. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, you. You need to get back to work. I’ve been calling and calling but your phone doesn’t even ring. Did you lose it?”

“It’s been in that drawer since about a week and a half ago,” Ashton nods to the dresser. His phone is right where he left it when he arrived for his weekend with Cressida.

“Fantastic. Pack it up and let’s get you clean shaven.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Luke shoves his hands in his pockets, a golden brow arched upward. “Why not?”

“Because Luke,” Ashton sighs and stares at him with disdain and a far off look in his eyes. “The love of my life is no longer in my life and I’m trying to grab a handle on that.”

“I didn’t know you and Lucinda broke up.”

“Luc--? No! Not Lucinda. Cressida. She’s gone but if I stay in this room… it’s like she’s still here, like she’ll come back.”

“Hold on,” Luke holds up a hand. “Cressida James? How are you in love with her? Aren’t your families cursed or something?”

“No, we aren’t cursed,” Ashton scoffs, “we’re sworn enemies.”

“Ah, because that’s really a big difference,” Luke mutters.

“We’ve been seeing each other in secret for five years, coming to this room every first weekend in May.”

Luke’s eyes widen. “Five years? Okay, I need to be filled in on this but before I am, you need to shower and then we’ll get lunch.”

Ashton explained everything about his and Cressida’s relationship all the way from the beginning. Their first meeting on graduation eve, their months spent in Europe, the highs and lows, their secret discussions of work that made sales skyrocket, secret glances, everything.

“So, let me see if I got this right,” Luke wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin then sets it on the table. He uses his hands as he speaks. “You and Lucinda aren’t really dating, Cressida and Gavin aren’t really dating, but you and Cressida have kind-of-sort-of been ‘dating’ for the last five years.”

“Correct.”

“But now, because somehow an arranged marriage is still a thing, she’s marrying Gavin and you two had to split up.”

“Yes.”

Luke stares at Ashton like he has three heads and Ashton stares right back, his face passive. He takes a drink of his water then raises his eyebrows.

“You look like you have more to say.”

“Ash, this is insane. You and Cressida are clearly meant to be together, for as long as I’ve known you, you have never been in a serious relationship. Hell, I’ve never seen you go out with someone until Lucinda came around.”

“It’s always been Cressida.”

“It can still always be Cressida! Ash,” Luke laughs dryly, “you need to stop this wedding. Confess your love and runaway with her!”

“Luke, this isn’t some romance movie, this is real life.”

“Real life where arranged marriages still exist?” Luke challenges. “This situation is fucked but you can get her back.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’d be disowned and lose the company. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“There’s no way she’d be free of the company. She’s the best CEO James Brandy has had in years, inflation and sales have been astronomical since she took over. Her family and your family are holding an old grudge that could have easily been a big miscommunication.”

Ashton sighs, he really appreciates his friend’s attempt at trying to solve his woes. Woes he’s brought upon himself, but he and Cressida will never be together, that’s just how it goes.

Ashton went back to work after speaking with Luke. He found it helped him not think about Cressida so much while he was in his office or walking among the floors of his distillery. He made sure Phil had him booked from dusk to dawn and when his mind started to wander to Cressida, he’d find another task to occupy himself.

Each day it got better; each week it became slightly easier. Although Ashton shut himself away, he had Gavin under a very confidential and watchful eye. When Ashton heard he still was involved in the drug cartel with a ton of debt, he decided to step in.

He went to Brazil where the drug lord resides; Ashton was welcomed warmly because they know how wealthy he is. Ashton discovered Gavin has been trying to get out of it, but he owes $1.2 billion dollars. He thought back to Cressida’s cheek and his mind is set.

“I’ll pay his debt in full. Expect the money to be wired tomorrow no later than four,” Ashton says then makes his way towards the door. No one questions him on the money because Ashton is known to being true to his word.

“What is he to you that you are willing to pay off his debt?”

“He owes me something as well, something way more valuable than money.”

“Hmm,” Homer strokes his mustache thoughtfully, “I see. We’ll need to kick him out like we would with the rest of them, debt paid and all. It will be painful.”

“I did my part, who am I to tell you how to do yours?” Ashton shrugs and then he’s gone.

While Ashton waits for Luke to come into his office, he peruses through his news app and sees Lucinda and her new boyfriend as they’re walking along the beach with their new puppy. When Ashton returned from Brazil on his little errand, that’s when he learned of his breakup. Lucinda was there at his house waiting for him. She said she couldn’t keep doing this and if it ruins her career then so be it, she didn’t want to lose Stephen.

Ashton was more than understanding and told her he wishes her the best, and he meant it. After she kissed his cheek on her way out, Ashton wondered if his and Cressida’s decision made them weak or strong. He didn’t want to dwell on it for too long and let a second woman walk out of his life.

Luke waltzes in Ashton’s office in a grandeur fashion and waves a rectangular box in the air.

“Delivery for Mr. Ashton Irwin, I accept tips in the form of largely written checks,” he grins tossing the box on Ashton’s desk.

“Watch it, what if that was fragile and you just broke it?” Ashton shakes his head as Luke drops himself on the blue suede chair.

“I didn’t hear anything break. Let’s go on a trip, Canada sounds nice and welcoming, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you want to go on a trip?” Ashton puts the box in his desk drawer and gathers his wallet and two phones.

“Trips are fun, trips have class and culture. Aren’t you going to open that?”

“I will on Monday. I’ve been getting smaller bottle designs from a vendor that won’t take no for an answer. Who would want a small bottle of my whisky?”

They continue their chatter to the elevator in front of Phil’s desk.

“Mr. Irwin, did you receive the package?”

“I did. We’ll have to send something back. Can you do that for me, Phil?”

“Yeah!” Phil’s eyes widen as if in excitement, Luke and Ashton exchange a look. “I can absolutely send something. What would you like me to say?”

“Um, you can come up with the message. I’m sure you’d make it sound better than mine. Have a good weekend.”

Phil scrambles to his phone and quickly dials some number. Ashton thought he heard him faintly say a name that sounded like Chloe. Chloe is Cressida’s assistant. He shakes his head, he definitely heard him wrong and tunes back into Luke who’s talking about Canadian syrup. Ashton feels a picking at his brain, he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It felt like he was forgetting something.

One Month Until Wedding

Cressida and Gavin are driving back from his property on the lake. They spent a long weekend laying in the sun, cruising on the water in the early dawn on his boat, and cooking meals together. On the mornings where they didn’t wake up early to go on the boat, the time was spent getting to know each other.

Cressida always feels like she’s in an odd déjà vu every moment she shares with him because it reminds her of some other time. She’s constantly having to only see Gavin in front of her and not a ghost of her past. They’ve continued to get closer and closer; a close friendship has formed completely.

Gavin knew this was the first weekend she wouldn’t be seeing Ashton, so he wanted to help get her mind off of it. She notices that whenever they’re holding hands, his thumb will be circling around the ring on her finger. She catches him staring at her from time to time and while it gives her butterflies, it’s also warning signs. Warning signs that Ashton is slipping away, and she doesn’t want that to happen.

“Can we get serious for a hot second?” he asks when he parks in her driveway.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she gathers up her purse, phone, water bottle, and sunglasses.

“I’m all in on this with you, Cress.”

Cressida stops her movements; she feels her cheeks warm up then looks at him nervously. He’s getting really good at reading her.

“I’ve…I’ve grown attached to you and those feelings are growing. I know you aren’t there yet, or maybe you never will be, or someday maybe? I don’t know. But I’m in this for you,” he stares her down, his eyes full of nothing but honesty. “And any way you’ll have me, I’ll take it. okay?”

“Okay,” she nods then touches his cheek, rubs at his skin. He places his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing over her engagement ring and he kisses the inside of her palm. “I’m sorry I have all of this…weight on me and it’s dragging you down.”

“You could never drag me down, you lifted me up in the first place,” he smiles.

Her heart tugs at his words. She hates herself for not knowing if it’s from flattery or an ache for another. She hates herself even more for being caught in the middle of her own feelings.

“Okay, serious talk over until some other time. Let’s set the bags in and freshen up before meeting your parents for Sunday dinner.” He gives her fingers one more kiss then exits the car.

“There you are! How was it, how did it go? Did you get the brace—OH!”

“Chloe?” Cressida’s in shock upon seeing her in her house. Not that it’s abnormal for her to be here but she didn’t have anything planned for her until Monday.

“Hi! What uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“We went to Gavin’s lake house for the weekend. I thought I ran that by you…” Cressida shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Umm…I uh, there was a package for you but it…it’s the wrong thing. My mistake. I will return it,” she responds awkwardly and tries to scurry out the door.

“Oh, was it my shampoo? Let me take a look, I can see if I want to try it anyway,” Cressida drops her bags on the counter.

“You know what, I actually left it at the office. I’ll return it for you first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll see you Monday, bye!”

Gavin watches her leave the house in confusion; he turns to Cressida slowly.

“That was strange, wasn’t it?” Gavin points in her direction.

“Yeah… she was acting weird all week,” Cressida frowns. “I wonder if she’s going through a tough time or something…I’ll have to ask her tomorrow.”

“I’ll check on the plants and water them, then we can shower and head out?” he asks kissing her forehead.

“What do you mean by shower?” she cracks a smile, and he laughs.

“I didn’t mean it that way, I swear. But I’m open to it, always am,” he winks then heads out to her patio where her plants are.

Cressida chuckles watching him get the hose. Chloe had been acting giddy everyday last week, asking her indirect questions about her weekend plans, asking if she’s nervous. She made it seem like she knew where Cressida was going, so why was she surprised to see her home now?

The Big Day

Ashton already predicted this day would be horrible, but he didn’t imagine it happening right when he woke up. His coffee machine broke so he couldn’t have his first cup before stopping at his favorite coffee shop. Turns out that was also closed for renovations, so he messaged Phil to please pick up a new coffee machine and bring two coffees with him.

When Ashton arrived at his office building the computer systems were down which was just fantastic considering he’d be doing a video conference call with Japan at ten. He already wanted today to be over before he stepped in the elevator that seemed to take longer than normal to fly up to his office.

He had a migraine, and it was barely nine o’clock in the morning. Normally he’d be calling the hotel confirming everything. He hated today.

Phil comes rushing in with three coffees in a carrying tray and a box containing Ashton’s new coffeemaker.

“You’re a lifesaver, Phil, truly,” Ashton commends taking a drink of the first coffee. He already feels his headache subsiding. “Can we go over my meetings for today?”

“Yes, let me just…pull it up on my tablet here. Okay, so…”

Ashton listens to Phil rattle off times and names of who he will be dealing with today. While Phil talks, Ashton fixes his desk then opens his drawer and sees that rectangular box. The company hasn’t sent anything back so maybe they finally got the message, but now he wants to see what this bottle looks like.

He cuts it open, humming along to Phil, then sees another box. It’s maroon with a gold band running along the sides. It’s thin and that intrigues him, so he lifts the lid. Nestled inside is not a whisky bottle but the bracelet he bought Cressida three Valentine’s Days ago. Beneath it was a folded note that read, ‘meet me at our special place Friday. It’s important. I don’t think I can go through with it.”

“Phil, what the hell is this?” Ashton holds up the bracelet that is now looped around his fingers. Phil’s mouth is open like a fish out of water. “Phil?”

“I—you—didn’t you open that a few months ago?”

“No, I thought this was the whisky bottle from that company who keeps trying to partner with me. I told you to send them a message I wasn’t interested, but this is clearly not a whisky bottle. So…why is this in my possession?”

“You didn’t open it until now? I thought you did! That’s why I sent—oh no,” he groans and slumps into the chair in front of Ashton’s desk.

“Phil, what the hell is going on?” Ashton drops Cressida’s bracelet onto his desk, it clanks on the glass top.

“Chloe sent this from Miss James because she said Miss James was having reservations about the wedding. That she still loves you and…and you were supposed to meet at The Golden Lion, and you told me to send something back, so I sent your gold ring with a note saying you’ll be there. And oh my God, I thought you went last month but it didn’t end well so you were still angry this whole time,” Phil explains.

“But Cressida herself didn’t send this?”

“No, it was Chloe because she knows Miss James keeps the bracelet on all the time,” Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was supposed to bring you back together and by me sending your gold ring…it was a sign you wanted her back, too.”

Ashton stares at Phil in complete surprise. He could have met up with Cressida a month ago and made up and they would probably be together right now.

“Did she go? Was she there? What did Chloe say?”

“I don’t—she didn’t go. Chloe said she went to some lake house with Gavin and now…she probably didn’t even get your ring…”

“What ring are you talking about?”

“Your gold one, with the ruby inside.”

Ashton’s mind is racing. His heart is about to combust. He’s connecting the dots and finding new ones that didn’t add up but make complete sense now. Why Phil seemed so excited that Ashton wanted to send a reply back. How he thought he misplaced his ring at the hotel but never got around to calling about it when really, it was delivered to Cressida but if she didn’t go to the hotel either…

“She never got the ring,” Ashton concludes and Phil wipes at the sweat on his brow.

“What?”

“You’re one hundred percent certain that Cressida received my ring?”

“I wouldn’t say one hundred—”

“Call Chloe now and find out.”

Phil scrambles for his phone, dropping it on the floor twice before pressing it to his ear. Ashton touches the bracelet before him, images of Cressida flashes in his eyes.

“Okay, thank you Chlo, yes I’ll tell him…yes…yes…well, it’s too late now. All right…yep…okay bye,” Phil ends the call then smiles at Ashton in relief. “She never got it. There’s still time to stop this wedding, sir.”

“If she went on a weekend trip with Gavin then she has to be over—”

“No! no, she’s not over you and you’re not over her!” Phil suddenly shouts jumping from his chair. “I’m sorry sir, if this gets me fired then so be it, but Chloe and I hated seeing you two act like you did. Your company will survive if you both were disowned but I highly doubt that would happen. We’ve seen you two together for six years. We couldn’t let you throw this away for some stupid arranged marriage.”

“Phil—”

“You have to stop this wedding. Two people who should be together and aren’t…that’s the worst kind of love story ever. I know your families are arch nemesis but that was how many years ago? And it’s not even your fight to begin with. Chloe and I think you should be together and it’s our faults that our plan failed but you can stop it today. Right now. I can—”

“Phil!” Ashton shouts causing Phil to shut up. “You aren’t fired. And this was very kind of you and Chloe to do but if Cressida didn’t personally—”

“She’s been on the fence about this wedding for the whole year! You have to go to her, sir, you just have to.”

Ashton sighs and plays with the bracelet. He thinks of the past year, how it wasn’t the best by any means because Cressida wasn’t in his life. She’s always said from the beginning that she didn’t care if she was disowned, that she’s only wanted him, and Ashton’s only wanted her. She’s the love of his entire life. Luke has told him to crash the wedding and he might just do that.

“Where is the wedding?”

Cressida is pacing in the bridal suite of the church. Her hair and makeup are finished, her dress is fastened to the very last button, and her heart has been in her stomach since she woke up this morning. Her hands feel clammy and she’s trying to focus on her breathing by taking deep shallow breaths. Her bridesmaids are drinking mimosas and enjoying themselves while the guests arrive in the large church.

The bridesmaids are discussing the honeymoon and placing friendly bets on if she’ll be pregnant upon the return. Cressida mentions she needs some air and moves into the hallway to continue her pacing. The door opens and expecting her mother, she starts defending herself.

“I’m fine, mother, I just need a minute to collect myself.”

“It’s me,” Chloe says, frowning at her boss and close friend. Cressida relaxes and steps in front of her, smoothing the skirt of her dress, her hands are shaking. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, it’s just jitters. But I…I keep thinking of Ashton,” she whispers his name. It’s been so long since she spoke it out loud.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out at The Golden Lion, but you seemed so happy when you came home with Gavin I thought you were actually happy with him now.”

“What do you mean you’re sorry it didn’t work out at The Golden Lion?”

“I…what?” Chloe shakes her head in confusion. “You were supposed to meet Ashton at the hotel last month, he sent his gold ring and a note to go along with the one I sent him…with your bracelet.”

“My bracelet? Chloe, I didn’t get a ring. What is going on?”

“I placed the box on your desk and when you left for the weekend you seemed so happy, so I thought you were going to The Golden Lion to make up or runaway with him. I came by that Sunday to see how it went but you were with Gavin, so I thought you’d made your decision.”

“But I didn’t send him anything,” Cressida shakes her head slowly.

“That’s because I did,” Chloe fixes her fingers together in nerves. “I came up with the idea and Phil agreed to do it as well, we hated seeing you both so upset. We tried to fix it.”

“If I would have gotten his ring I wouldn’t have left with Gavin,” Cressida’s shoulders fall in sadness.

She starts pacing again, thinking of the good thing Chloe and Phil tried to do but fate seemed to have other plans. Did Ashton show up at the hotel? Was his heart broken even more when she didn’t show up even though she never got his ring and note?

“It’s almost time,” the wedding coordinator announces bustling down the hallway. She opens the door to the suite and orders the girls to get out and into line. “Follow me Miss James and I will make you a Missus.”

Cressida gulps but follows her. Chloe reaches out and grabs her hand, gives her a gentle squeeze. Cressida relaxes a little knowing that Chloe is with her through this as well. Gavin is a great guy; he’s been a good and patient friend with her through the wedding planning. She’ll grow to love him as time goes on, right?

Suddenly she’s in front of the doors and it’s almost her turn to walk down the aisle. How did the other girls go so fast? How does she not remember seeing them?

“You can do this,” Chloe assures her, but Cressida is very doubtful.

The music changes and she stops Chloe from walking down. Chloe looks at her in alarm.

“I need to speak with Gavin, please. Can you bring him to me?”

Chloe nods. “Yes, yes of course. I’ll be right back.”

Chloe opens the doors then slips inside running along the sides of the pews. The guests watch her run her way up to the alter where Gavin is waiting in a crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled, and a large marigold fastened to his lapel. When he sees Chloe running, he knows what that means.

“Is she all right?” Gavin asks when Chloe reaches him.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure. She wants to speak with you, I’m sorry but that’s all I know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll speak with her,” he nods then turns to the pastor. “It’ll be just a few more moments. The bride wishes to speak with me, I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

The pastor stares after him in bewilderment as Gavin follows Chloe back down the aisle. He smiles and nods at the guests trying to look reassuring. He knows what this looks like, but his mind is focused on Cressida. When he spots her, she’s grasping onto a table, her knuckles white.

“Cress?” he touches her shoulder carefully so as not to scare her. She flinches anyway then turns to Gavin, her face pale and eyes glossy. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t do this, Gavin, I’m so sorry,” Cressida sniffles. She takes Gavin’s hands, and he feels the ring fall into his palm. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, and you’re a wonderful man but I don’t love you and I don’t think I ever would love you how you properly should be. You deserve more than a woman who’s hung up on another man. You deserve to be loved the right way. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, shh,” he swipes the tears from her face and forces a smile. “I know. It’s all right.”

“It is?”

“I have grown feelings for you, and I know you’ve been trying to find some for me and to be honest, I hate seeing you try so hard. You’re meant to be with Ashton, not me. Go to him.”

“I should tell everyone inside—”

“I’ll worry about them,” he shakes his head, “and I’ll tell our parents. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m a horrible person,” she cries, “this is all because of me.”

“Loving someone doesn’t make you horrible. I’ll be fine Cressida, I’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

“Thank you,” she whispers then flings herself into his arms. He hugs her tightly, breathing in her hair and holds her as tight as he can. She pulls away to look up at him. “I will be a little bit jealous who you end up with. She’ll need my approval.”

“That’s nice to know,” he laughs then kisses her forehead. “Go find Irwin.”

Cressida takes a deep breath, stretches on her toes to kiss his cheek then lifts up her skirt and runs to the main entrance of the church where Chloe is already waiting with her bag and phone.

“How did you--?”

“I had a feeling,” Chloe shrugs. “The car is coming around.”

“Thank you, you’re the best assistant and friend I could have ever asked for.”

Cressida bustles her dress as best she can in the back of her car, her driver is a little bewildered but then slams on the gas to get to The Golden Lion. Her heart is thundering in her chest, her left hand feels weightless without the ring, and she hopes Ashton is there. Should she call him? Just then her phone buzzes and it’s a text from Chloe.

‘He was on his way to the church, but I contacted Phil and diverted his course. You should get there around the same time. Good luck :)’

Cressida lets out a shaky breath and suddenly she’s very nervous again. The hotel is twenty minutes away from the church. What will she say? What will he say? Will he take her back? She’s trying to stay hopeful but what if he sees her and decides it’s better they’re not together?

It’s a very long drive where she has time to recollect their time together. Meeting that night before graduation, the endless mornings and evenings in Europe, secret glances and very well constructed touches at parties they both needed to attend, Bora Bora, each weekend at The Golden Lion. She’s loved him completely forever and she can only hope he’ll want her the same way.

She’s approaching the hotel, the building shines in the golden afternoon, the mane of the lion sparkling. She struggles getting out of the car with her dress and makes her way up the steps and sees the back of Ashton. He’s peering into one of the rooms where they’ve shared many parties together. His hair is longer in the back and he looks broader in the shoulders.

Cressida can’t speak so she walks towards him. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, he turns around and she forgets to breathe. His scruff has turned into a full-grown beard and it’s very well kept, it makes him look even more handsome. Standing in front of him she feels more at peace than she has in months. She feels whole and complete.

“Hi,” he breathes, his hazel eyes scanning over her in her dress. “You’re…you’re an absolute vision, angel.”

“Did you really send me your ring? Because I never got it, but I swear, I would have been here last month. I’ve never stopped loving you and I never will. I called it off. The whole thing. And if I get kicked out of the business then I’ll start my own and we can build our own partnership. It’s always been you—”

Not being able to stand it anymore, Ashton gathers her in is arms and kisses her deeply. His arms wrap around the home he’s been missing for 365 days. His lips are kissing the lips he’ll never get tired of kissing. Cressida’s fingers twist into his hair kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. It’s like she can finally breathe. Their love is bursting at the seams.

“I’ll never stop loving you either, Cressida,” he mumbles rubbing his nose against hers lovingly. He stares into her eyes. “I don’t care about the ring or the bracelet or our bad timing, what matters is that we’re both here now. And I’m never letting you walk out the doors unless I’m right next to you.”

“I love you,” she smiles and strokes his beard, it’s soft under her fingers. “I’ve wanted to call so many times. You look different, I love this beard.”

“Yeah? I was thinking of shaving it,” he grins.

“Don’t,” she shakes her head, “not yet.”

“Although I’m glad to see you, what about your wedding?”

“Gavin’s taking care of it, he’s a really good man, Ashton. And he’s going to tell our parents the wedding is off, but I want to tell them about you and me. I don’t want to love you behind closed doors anymore.”

“And I’ll be right by your side. Luke made a very good point about our ‘disownment’ and we won’t be losing our companies.”

“It’s settled then,” she sighs but pulls away from him. Ashton looks forlorn from the sudden distance. “There’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” he asks trailing his fingers down her arm so he can latch onto her own. He’s not letting her go.

Her eyes dance, the gold in them sparkling. “Help me out of my dress?”

They kiss freely in the elevator as they ascend to their floor, to their room. But it feels different because of their decision to finally come clean about their relationship. Ashton’s hands are frantic as he pulls her from her dress, her lips never leave his skin as they fall onto their bed.

Murmured words of love are pressed to skin, their fingers grasp and lock together as they reconnect. This feels different too, it’s not a secret anymore and they never will be again. Whatever happens after they leave this room, they’ll handle it together.

In a rush they come together but they’re nowhere near done. Ashton kisses all over her chest, her neck, her throat, and her hands roam over the dips and valleys of his body. She finds the maps only she knows; touches the freckles she’s discovered time and time again.

“My love for you is pure gold,” he sighs before slipping his tongue in her mouth. “Beautiful, rare…”

“And precious,” she smiles rolling him over onto his back. “It’s me and you, baby.”

They fall and crash together, the golden sun setting on their love. It’s a promise for a golden morning, a new beginning and the start of their life being shared into the light. No more secrets, just Ashton and Cressida loving each other beautifully, gently, passionately. A golden love for the ages.

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#lias fic #lovers in a song #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin smut #ashton angst #ashton writing #ashton 5sos writing

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