#yet he had already had two kids and was expected to be running an estate

[hello-delicious-tea]

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Marrying Money

So, marrying money is a big theme in this book, like it is in a great many books from this time period. Annabella marries for money (she would have married Huntingdon if he hadn't spent most of his first), Helen is warned not to marry for money (alone, but certainly marrying no money at all would have been equally frowned upon), Eliza Millward tries to marry for what, for her, would be money, Esther Hargrave fights for years against marrying for money, Jane Wilson tries very hard to marry money and fails, much to the delight of our ever-so-delightful narrator.

There's a pretty clear virtue component to marrying/not marrying for money: Annabella, Eliza, and Jane are represented very negatively in the text, and Helen and Esther and, presumably, Rose, are represented positively. I genuinely can't remember how Milicent's husband is positioned - obviously he has some money, and he didn't waste as much as Huntingdon, but he definitely wasted some? Anyway, Milicent is represented positively.

However, marrying money, or marrying up, is not explicitly characterized as sinful/representative of a bad character; it is only when it is the PRIMARY reason for marrying that the text considers it negative. Huntingdon has a higher social class than Helen, it seems, and certainly USED to have more money; she's got a very small portion. Mr. Lawrence seems to have more money than the Hargraves, certainly by the time Mr. Hargrave is done with the family fortune.

Then there's Gilbert. He's a gentleman farmer - a minor landowner who doesn't have to work the fields himself, but not a man of leisure. He has a lot of responsibilities (which he regularly shirks in the first third of the book...), and they include direct supervision of labourers, which would not be what a proper gentleman did. So, marrying an impoverished widow, being more high in the instep than him, is a step up socially, but because she's poor, no one's going to directly accuse him of social climbing.

Then we find out that, since they were chillin' together, she has become very rich indeed! (Rich uncles abound in Brontë stories, I have noticed). He makes sure to learn where she stands before he goes to see her - when he finds out she's inherited, he plans to leave without seeing her. The social consequences of being thought a fortune hunter and marrying out of his class are enough of a negative, combined with the social disadvantage to Helen of marrying down, that he's disinclined to pursue it, even though he's sure they're soulmates.

We don't get a representation of how this actually pans out in the book - presumably people eventually forget about the scandal of it all - but Helen, once she persuades Gilbert that she's actually down to marry him, does insist that they take longer than the social norm to marry to persuade people that he's not a fortune hunter, and tells him that he needs to win over her aunt.

This is really interesting to me because we get so many descriptions of women being warned to watch out for fortune hunters in books from this era, but most of the time, it's the women who are on the make and the men who marry the portionless girls. I'm thinking Lizzy Bennet, Lady Audley, Jane Eyre (before the inheritance...). Wickham tries to marry Georgiana but fails. Socially, it's clearly considered a necessary evil for women to pursue men of higher status and wealth than themselves, but for men, it is an unnecessary evil--as a result of their ability to make a living independently, they have no business marrying heiresses. Heiresses, of course, have a duty to marry heirs or men of higher social class to continue to compound wealth.

I'm not sure I have a conclusion to this, just that it's surprisingly plainly laid out in this book that if you're a woman, you do what you gotta do, and it usually sucks, and if you're a man, you'd better not. I suspect that were Gilbert and Helen less inclined to their solitary walks and reading, and Helen less hardened to the social judgment of her class, they would have had a far harder time than they probably did.

[wonyqt]

LOML

summary forced into an arranged relationship for the sake of your family’s business empire, you’re is forced to break jungkook’s heart, even though he’s the only one you’ve ever loved. at a high-profile gala, you’re forced to play the role of junseo’s perfect partner until you comes face to face with jungkook, who demands the truth. trapped by duty and expectations, you makes the ultimate sacrifice, choosing your family’s legacy over your own heart, even as it shatters you completely.

part two is here ! 2

────୨ৎ────

you’re in love with jungkook.

you have been since you were kids, since the days spent running through the vast gardens of your family’s estate, since the nights of whispered secrets under the glow of chandelier-lit ballrooms. it was always him.

and now, finally, at twenty years old, after years of stolen glances and hesitant touches, you’ve had him. you’ve gone on dates, held his hand, kissed him—your first kiss, his first kiss. all that’s left is for him to ask you to be his girlfriend.

you’re sure it’s coming soon.

but then, your parents drop the bomb.

“you’ll be dating junseo starting tomorrow,” your father announces at dinner, his voice calm, unwavering. “your first appearance as a couple will be at the gala.”

you almost drop your fork.

“what?” your voice is barely above a whisper, your hands trembling against the table.

“the choi family and our family merging in this way will be good for both companies,” your mother adds, as if that’s enough justification for breaking your heart. “it’s what’s best for everyone.”

“not for me,” you snap, standing up so fast your chair scrapes against the marble floor. “i don’t want to date junseo. i’m in love with jungkook.”

“y/n, don’t be difficult,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples like you’re a child throwing a tantrum. “this isn’t about love. this is about business, about family legacy. junseo is a good match for you.”

you stare at them in disbelief, your appetite long gone. your parents aren’t just wealthy. they aren’t just business owners. they are a dynasty. one of the most powerful chaebol families in south korea, with a legacy spanning generations. their empire extends across industries—hotels, real estate, high-end retail. their name is untouchable. their influence, undeniable.

“no, he’s not!” your voice cracks, tears burning your eyes. “jungkook is the one i love! i don’t care about what looks good or what benefits the company, i just want to be with him!”

your mother exhales sharply. “you don’t have a choice.”

and just like that, your whole world comes crashing down.

“you’ll end whatever you have with jungkook,” your father says, finality in his tone. “because starting tomorrow, you’ll belong to junseo.”

────୨ৎ────

later that night, you send jungkook a simple text.

“meet me at our spot?”

it takes him less than a minute to reply.

“of course, baby. be there soon.”

your heart clenches at the word—baby—because after tonight, you won’t be his anymore.

you shouldn’t even be doing this. you should’ve just ignored him, let your parents handle it, let him figure it out through rumors and headlines. but you couldn’t. you owed him at least this much.

so you sit on the old wooden bench under the cherry blossom tree in the quiet park, the one that’s been yours since childhood. where he first told you he liked you. where you shared your first kiss. where you should’ve become his girlfriend.

but instead, you’re about to break his heart.

you hear his footsteps before you see him. when you look up, he’s already smiling at you, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, dimples deep in his cheeks. he looks so happy to see you.

you swallow the lump in your throat. don’t cry. not yet.

“hey,” he breathes, settling beside you. the warmth of his body so close makes you want to lean in, but you force yourself to stay still.

“hey,” you say back, voice barely above a whisper.

he studies your face, concern flickering in his eyes. “what’s wrong?”

you drop your gaze to your lap, twisting your fingers together. you should just say it. fast, like ripping off a bandaid.

“i don’t want to see you anymore.”

silence.

then—

“what?” jungkook lets out a small, breathless laugh, like he didn’t hear you right. “what are you talking about?”

you squeeze your eyes shut. “i lost feelings.”

the words taste like poison on your tongue.

jungkook stiffens beside you. “what?”

“i don’t love you anymore,” you lie.

he turns to fully face you now, brows furrowed, jaw tight. “you’re joking, right?”

you shake your head, keeping your eyes locked on the ground. if you look at him, you’ll break.

“y/n,” his voice cracks, and fuck—he sounds so broken already. “you don’t just lose feelings overnight. what happened?”

“nothing happened,” you whisper. “i just… don’t feel the same way anymore.”

he inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. he’s silent for a long moment before he finally asks, “did i do something wrong?”

your chest tightens.

“no.”

“then why?” his voice is raw, desperate. “why are you doing this?”

you shake your head, blinking back tears. “i’m sorry, jungkook.”

his breathing is uneven now. you can tell he’s fighting every instinct to reach for you, to pull you in and fix whatever’s suddenly broken between you.

“don’t do this,” he pleads, voice barely above a whisper. “y/n, if i did something—”

“you didn’t,” you cut him off, finally looking up at him, and it’s a mistake because the look on his face almost shatters you.

pain. confusion. devastation.

“then don’t leave me,” he says, like he’s begging.

but he doesn’t know—you already have.

your hands are trembling as you force yourself to stand.

“i’m sorry, jungkook.”

his eyes are red, shining under the dim glow of the streetlights, his lips slightly parted like he still can’t believe what’s happening. like he’s waiting for you to take it back.

but you don’t.

you turn on your heel and walk away.

each step feels heavier than the last, like your body knows you’re making a mistake. like it’s trying to stop you. but you keep going.

you don’t look back.

as soon as you slide into the backseat of your family’s car, the tears spill over. silent at first, then uncontrollable. the driver doesn’t say anything, just starts the engine and pulls away, letting you cry in peace.

by the time you arrive home, your chest feels hollow, your eyes sore and puffy. you wipe at your face with shaky hands before stepping inside, hoping—praying—your parents have already gone to bed.

but of course, they’re waiting for you.

your father is standing in the middle of the grand foyer, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “did you do it?”

your throat is too tight to speak. you nod.

his lips curl into a satisfied smile. “good.”

your stomach twists.

then, your mother approaches, her heels clicking softly against the marble floors. she cups your damp cheeks, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“you did the right thing, sweetheart.”

you feel sick.

because if this was the right thing…

why does it feel so wrong?

────୨ৎ────

you’re curled up in bed, wrapped in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling.

you should be sleeping. you should be resting for tomorrow—for the event, for the moment your parents parade you around beside junseo like some perfect little trophy.

but you can’t.

because all you can think about is jungkook.

he’s already called you a dozen times. he’s sent text after text, and each time your phone lights up, your heart clenches.

y/n, please talk to me.

i don’t understand.

whatever’s wrong, we can fix it. please.

i love you.

you turn your phone over, face down on your nightstand, and press your hands against your eyes. you don’t let yourself cry again. you already wasted too many tears tonight.

instead, you force yourself to sleep.

────୨ৎ────

morning comes too soon.

before you know it, you’re sitting in front of your vanity, a makeup artist dusting highlighter across your cheekbones, a hairstylist perfecting the soft waves in your hair. you watch yourself in the mirror, but you feel detached, like you’re staring at a stranger.

once your makeup is done, you move to finish getting dressed.

the white chanel cropped jacket sits snugly on your shoulders, the black trim adding sharp contrast. the matching white dress, adorned with delicate black bows, hugs your figure perfectly—too perfectly, as if it was made just for this occasion. you slip on your silver chanel earrings, the pearls catching the light, then clasp the silver chanel chain necklace around your neck. the white chanel handbag feels heavy in your hands, and when you finally step into your black jimmy choo pumps, their pearl embellishments glistening, you feel like a doll. dressed up. put on display.

just as you fasten the final clasp of your necklace, your mother steps into your room.

“junseo will be here soon to pick you up,” she says, her tone light, like she’s reminding you of some trivial thing.

your stomach twists.

you swallow, turning to face her. “do i really have to do this?”

her expression softens, but only slightly. “yes, y/n. you do.”

your lips part, but no words come out. because it doesn’t matter what you say—your fate was sealed the moment your father made the deal.

your mother steps closer, reaching out to adjust your necklace. “you’ll be fine,” she assures you. “junseo is a nice boy. you’ll learn to like him.”

but you already love someone else.

and now, you have to pretend you don’t.

the doorbell rings, and your stomach drops.

your mother gives you a pointed look before stepping aside, silently telling you to answer it yourself.

you inhale sharply, smoothing your dress down before making your way to the front entrance. when you open the door, junseo stands there, dressed in an expensive black suit, his dark hair neatly styled. he looks… nice. polished. like the perfect heir to his family’s empire.

but he’s not jungkook.

“hi,” he says, offering you a small smile.

“hi.”

for a second, you both just stand there. neither of you know how to act.

then, with a sigh, he steps aside and gestures toward the sleek black car parked in the driveway. “shall we?”

you nod, following him down the steps. ever the gentleman, he walks ahead to open the car door for you. you hesitate for a moment before sliding in, and he closes it gently behind you before circling around to the other side.

the silence is unbearable.

he doesn’t say anything as the driver pulls away from your house, hands resting on his lap, gaze focused ahead. you know you should probably keep up appearances—at least pretend to be okay with this—but you can’t.

you turn to him, voice firm. “i don’t want to do this.”

junseo exhales, finally meeting your gaze.

“i love someone else,” you continue, fingers tightening around your handbag. “this isn’t fair to me. it isn’t fair to you. i don’t care how good this looks for our parents—I don’t want to be here.”

he studies you for a moment before nodding slowly. “i understand.”

you blink. “you do?”

“of course,” he says with a sigh. “you think i want this?” he leans back against the seat, shaking his head. “my parents have been pushing this arrangement for months. i told them i wasn’t interested, but, well… here we are.”

you frown. “so you don’t want this either?”

“no.” his lips quirk into a humorless smile. “but i’ve learned that fighting them is useless.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. you hate that he’s right.

junseo tilts his head, watching you. “listen, i get it. you love someone else. but let’s just… try to get through this for our families. just for tonight.”

his words make your chest tighten.

just for tonight.

except this isn’t just one night. this is your life now.

but still, you nod. because what else can you do?

the car rolls to a smooth stop in front of the grand venue, its entrance lined with red carpet and extravagant floral arrangements. you barely hear the hum of the engine turning off over the noise outside—dozens of voices, camera shutters clicking in rapid succession, the unmistakable buzz of paparazzi waiting for your arrival.

your stomach churns.

the driver steps out first, followed by junseo. the second he’s out, the flashes begin, bright and blinding. you clench your hands into fists on your lap, swallowing the nausea climbing up your throat. this is supposed to be jungkook. he’s supposed to be the one stepping out first, the one reaching for your hand, the one standing beside you as the cameras capture your every move.

but he’s not.

instead, it’s junseo who turns back toward the car, reaching for the door handle. he opens it smoothly, his expression unreadable as he looks at you expectantly.

you hesitate.

for just a second, you think about staying in the car. about refusing to go through with this, about turning around and running straight back home—to jungkook. but then you catch a glimpse of your parents standing at the entrance, their sharp, watchful eyes on you.

you have no choice.

with a shaky breath, you step out.

immediately, the cameras go wild. flashes explode from every direction, voices calling out your name, calling out junseo’s, shouting over each other to get your attention.

you flinch.

junseo notices. his hand brushes against yours—gentle, brief—before he leans in slightly, just enough for only you to hear.

“smile.”

so you do.

you force the corners of your lips to lift, ignoring how wrong it feels, ignoring the burn in your chest. you let junseo guide you forward, let him place a hand lightly on the small of your back as you both make your way toward the entrance.

you feel like you’re suffocating.

but you keep smiling.

because that’s what’s expected of you.

as soon as you step inside, the air feels heavier. the grand ballroom is breathtaking—glittering chandeliers casting a golden glow, perfectly arranged tables adorned with the finest crystal and floral centerpieces. important figures from business, politics, and entertainment are scattered throughout the room, mingling, sipping champagne, flashing perfect smiles.

and, of course, there are still a few paparazzi lingering near the entrance, snapping more pictures as you and junseo walk further in.

you barely hear anything.

junseo keeps a polite hand on your back, leading you through the maze of tables, nodding at familiar faces. you follow in a daze, barely processing the movement—until suddenly, everything stops.

your world stops.

because you see him.

jungkook.

he’s standing near the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. he looks perfect. but he’s not smiling.

he’s staring at you.

his dark eyes are locked onto yours, confusion and hurt written all over his face. his brows knit together, his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something—but he doesn’t. he just watches you, waiting, silently demanding an explanation.

your heart pounds violently in your chest. you feel frozen, trapped under his gaze, your breath catching in your throat.

why didn’t you think of this before? why didn’t you realize he’d be here?

his family is just as powerful as yours, always attending these events, always making an appearance. you should have known.

but now, it’s too late.

junseo hasn’t noticed yet. he keeps walking, gently guiding you toward your assigned table.

but you can’t move.

you’re stuck in place, drowning in the look on jungkook’s face.

and for the first time since this whole nightmare began…

you feel like you might actually break.

junseo’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“are you alright?”

you blink rapidly, snapping out of your daze. you force a smile, ignoring the lump in your throat. “yeah, i’m fine.”

he doesn’t look convinced. his lips press into a thin line, and there’s something in his eyes—pity.

“i know this is hard,” he says quietly, just for you to hear, “but you need to focus. we have to look like an actual couple.”

right.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and he takes that as his cue to start leading you toward your assigned table.

and that’s when you see them.

your parents.

sitting at the table, chatting animatedly with none other than jungkook’s family.

oh, fuck.

you feel lightheaded. this just keeps getting worse.

but you have no choice.

plastering on a polite expression, you let junseo guide you to your seat, offering small smiles as your mother greets you, as mr. and mrs. jeon welcome you warmly. you sit down between junseo and your mother, trying to focus on the conversation, trying to ignore the way your heart is still racing in your chest.

it’s fine. you just have to get through dinner. you just have to—

but then you see him.

jungkook.

walking toward the table.

your stomach drops.

you grip the edge of your seat, suddenly feeling like you might actually be sick. you don’t look at him. you can’t. instead, you focus on the way your mother is speaking to mrs. jeon, nodding at whatever pointless small talk they’re exchanging.

jungkook reaches the table, greeting his parents first, bowing slightly out of respect before exchanging a few words with your father.

his voice.

just hearing it makes your chest ache.

he’s right there.

but still, you don’t look up.

it’s too much.

so you keep your eyes trained on your plate, ignoring the heaviness settling over the table, the thick tension that only you and jungkook seem to be drowning in.

the conversations continue, light and effortless. you nod when expected, smile when necessary, but you don’t actually process anything. because all you can feel is his presence. him. so close, yet so impossibly far away.

then, mrs. jeon suddenly turns to you with a soft smile.

“y/n, dear,” she says sweetly, “are you and junseo dating?”

the question nearly makes you choke.

you freeze.

your lips part, but no words come out. your mind blanks completely.

you feel every pair of eyes on you.

you don’t know what to say.

but before you can even attempt to respond, junseo speaks for you.

“yes,” he says smoothly, a perfect, effortless lie.

your breath catches.

slowly, hesitantly, you finally lift your gaze.

and you see him.

jungkook.

staring at you.

and the look on his face nearly destroys you.

pain. betrayal. heartbreak.

it’s all there.

laid bare in his dark, glassy eyes.

you want to die.

you push back your chair, standing up quickly. your heart feels heavy in your chest, and you don’t even have the appetite to stay any longer. “i’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble, barely glancing at junseo before walking away.

you just need a moment. a moment to breathe, to collect yourself before you break down in the middle of this event.

but before you can take another step, a hand grabs yours. firm, familiar.

jungkook.

you freeze. you don’t need to turn around to know it’s him, but you do anyway—because there’s no use in pretending.

his dark eyes are wild with emotions you don’t want to face. anger. pain. desperation. “what the fuck is going on?” he asks, voice low but sharp, cutting straight through you. “did you break up with me to be with him?”

your throat tightens. you can’t speak. can’t even look at him.

his grip on your hand tightens just slightly, enough to ground you in the moment. “y/n, tell me,” he demands, his voice strained. “just tell me the truth.”

you inhale sharply, blinking back tears as you force the words out.

“yes.”

his hand drops yours immediately.

you don’t dare look up. if you do, you’ll break.

“do you love him?” his voice is quieter now, but it’s not soft. it’s empty. like he’s bracing himself for the worst.

you don’t answer.

he exhales sharply, and then—“y/n, who do you love?”

the question is so simple, but it shatters you.

because you want to tell him. you want to tell him you don’t love junseo, that you never could. that the only person you’ve ever loved is standing right in front of you, looking at you like you’re the one who broke his heart.

but you don’t.

because if you do, you’ll fall apart.

his question lingers in the air, suffocating you.

“y/n, who do you love?”

your heart is screaming his name. but your lips won’t move. your parents’ words ring in your head, their warning, their expectations. you know what they want to hear. you know what you have to say.

so you do the only thing you can to protect yourself.

you force yourself to nod. “junseo,” you whisper, the lie burning your tongue. “i love junseo.”

jungkook doesn’t move at first. doesn’t speak. just stares at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. his hands clench at his sides, like he’s trying to hold himself together.

then, without another word, he turns around and walks away.

you don’t even get a second to breathe before the weight of everything crashes down on you.

your body shakes as the sobs start ripping through your chest, hot tears blurring your vision. you don’t care if anyone is watching. you don’t care if you look pathetic.

because the love of your life just walked away. and you let him.

[lightlycareless]

Not really Naomi's first day of school, but more like your and Naoya's reaction to it. Mostly yours, Naoya tends to be quite... distant because of work ugh I hate it. 😿😭😭😭 I just like writing silly domestic things :)

warnings: fluff. domestic au; you have a beautiful daughter with Naoya named Naomi. He is a good husband!!! as well as an overprotective father, just like you.

Happy reading!

“—but nothing too far, we must be able to answer quickly if something happens!”

“Then why are we even considering beyond the estate? There’s no safer place than here!”

“Well, you are right in some way… but she still deserves to make friends, you know? Hang out with kids her age, make friends… do things of her age! And not limit herself to me or my staff…”

“No one will be good enough for my little mochi. We might as well keep her here, you know? Besides, she actually doesn’t need to go to school. She has her whole life set up already just for being my daughter!”

“Oh, Naoya, just listen to yourself! We can’t deprive Naomi of the world! It’s her right, just as anybody else’s”

“But we can choose what’s right for her, and I think her being homeschooled is the best option.”

“…For us, not for her.”

Naoya sighs.

Seems that at the end of the day, no matter how much the two tried to avoid the subject, they always came back to the same conclusion: Naomi needed to go to school.

No homeschooling, no private tutoring, none of that. She ought to go to an actual building where she’d meet other people, from teachers ready to aid her growth, to kids who wished to befriend and play with her.

It was a day that everybody knew was coming, and yet, you and Naoya couldn’t help but feel highly unprepared; mainly due to both needing to prolong the inevitably.

And neither could be blamed, after all, you and Naoya had grown accustomed to having little Naomi around all day; hearing her cute giggles resounding across the estate, the pitter patter of her feet running from one side of the hallway to the other, her witty chatter that often made little to no sense, yet you loved hearing, for it filled the cold, emptiness of your home with her warm presence, to her adorable snores…

You didn’t want her to go. You wished her to stay…

But as good parents, this needed to be done. And soon, instead of taking Naomi to accompany you to your errands, or your quick runs to satisfy whatever sweet craving you had, you’d be taking her to school; to leave her there for seemingly endless hours, unable to know what she was doing.

If she was happy, if she needed you.

And yet, that was the beauty of watching her grow; another part of you wanting to accompany her through this special moment and all that pertained through it: from buying her first backpack, dressing her up in her first school uniform, to helping her choose what hairstyle she wanted for her first day—

It was all exciting for you and Naoya.

Didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult for overbearing parents like you to drop her off at the gates of whatever prestigious school both decided to enroll her in (only the best, Naoya required, anything less is just a waste of my time).

You naturally preserved the moment through thousands of pictures, a few selections posted on her dedicated Instagram and causing an expected commotion in your family.

naomis_grandpa: Naomi-chan looks adorable as ever!! I can’t believe she’s going to school already—time sure flies by! Why don’t we celebrate her first day of school by having a small gathering? I can arrange something over there!

l/n_hinata: Oh, I wish I could’ve been there but you know how work is 😥😥!! I’ll call you later to ask how her first day went (and if you’re faring well lol) Good luck, Naomi-chan!!

l/n_ren: Haha, she looks just like you on your first day, all the way down to the pout! The resemblance is uncanny, she really is your daughter.

zenin_y/n: I wasn’t like that on my first day..

the_strongest_one: Yes, you were! I remember! You wouldn’t stop crying once your mom and dad left you hahahaha!! I think I have a picture somewhere… anyways, did Naomi cry like you? Or was she strong, like me?

zenin_naoya: leave my wife alone.

the_strongest_one: sure sure, but does your wife know you just dm’d me asking for the picture?

zenin_y/n: Naoya.

But Satoru’s words did highlight an important point, one that you expected to happen yet surprisingly, it didn’t. Naoya was equally amazed when you told him about it…

In other words, contrary to all beliefs… Naomi did not cry. She did not whine, demand to be taken back home, nor did she tightly cling onto you as you guided her onto the entrance.

Nope, nothing at all.

Instead, she was excited to start this new adventure! See what this so-called school had to offer and seize the moment!

You won’t deny that seeing her so happy was both elating and disappointing in some ways, undoubtedly for having your expectations refuted—the two were virtually inseparable, after all, surely… Naomi was just as affected as you were.

But alas, the ones far more emotionally invested were you and Naoya, trying your best to move on with their day as if nothing had changed, behaving like Naomi was still at home, just around the corner…

Kind of dramatic, wasn’t it? She was to return home 4 hours later…

“Oh!” Your thoughts would be interrupted by the loud sound of your cellphone ringing, a call from the only person you expected to do so at this time, pausing your work and rushing to respond, a smile on your lips as your husband’s face appears on the screen. “Hello, my love! How are you? How’s work treating you?”

“Dreadful, princess—as always, every second I go on without you is pure torture.” He confesses, exhaustion evident in his face. Oh, how you wished to kiss his worries away. “Just wanted to check in on you, I didn’t call you on a bad time, did I?”

“No, not at all. I was just tending to the garden; I heard you asked the gardeners to change the flowers to something Naomi liked, That’s very sweet of you.”

“Well, she mentioned liking sunflowers—and you know I had to do it.” He states proudly, your heart flutters at his smirk. “And you? How is my pretty princess?”

“Tired.” You admit. “And a bit hungry too; it’s almost noon.”

“Don’t forget to eat, I don’t want to come home and hear you hadn’t.”

“I know, I know… it’s not like my staff will allow it anyways.”

“Good. It’s what I pay them from.”

“Naoya…”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “No need to scold me.”

“I’m not scolding you…” you pout, Naoya laughs.

“You’re adorable—anyways, do you know how my beloved dumpling is doing? I’ve missed her so much.”

“Ah, right! Wait, I think she should be awake right now so you can see her!”

“Wait,Y/N—" Naoya tried his best to lessen the shock which you would inevitably encounter once acknowledging reality, called out your name a few more times, but it was all for naught for you were determined into getting to Naomi’s room, hoping to find her playing with her toys in the company of either your seamstress Hitomi, or your cook Haruko, the latter being her favorite nee-san at the moment (though you don’t tell Hitomi that).

To see the glow of your face dim upon entering your daughter’s room is a sight that will remain imprinted in the back of Naoya’s mind, filled with an overwhelming need to comfort you, yet impotent to do so while kilometers away.

There’s no doubt now that you remember where Naomi was supposed to be, pushing you into a vivid emptiness her absence placed in your heart: a sentiment you never thought possible until becoming a mother.

“Y/N…” Naoya murmurs, heart-stricken upon seeing the sorrow in your face.

“Oh, Naoya… how could I forget that she was at school?” you lament, defeated.

“She’s always been there, it’s only natural that you’d forget.” Naoya attempts to console you, you sigh. “…What makes you feel this way? Besides missing her, of course.”

“… I don’t know, I guess… I fear that she might not like school at all. That the teachers don’t like her either… that she doesn’t get along with the kids…”

“She’ll be alright, my love. Naomi is a good kid, she’s our daughter after all.”

“I know, I just… wished I could be there for her. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but that’s how it’s always been! I’m there for her when she needs me… and she’s here for me when I need her…

I just… miss her, I guess.”

“I’m sure she misses you too.” Naoya can be nothing but understanding of the solitude you must feel in a place like the Zen’in estate now that he, and your daughter, were away.

Naomi had truly come into your life at the best moment, a blessing of sorts, that is without a doubt. For not only was she remembrance of the ever-growing love you felt for one another, and the achievement of a personal milestone…

But also, the one to fill the void your husband’s absence had unwittingly given you.

Though you knew the type of relationship you’d have once getting together with Naoya and all that his demanding career entailed, it didn’t make it any easier to live out. There were countless nights were your heart ached so much to have him near, and yet, all you could do is anxiously wait for his return—hope there would be one, if fate hadn’t decided to cruelly rip him—

You worry that your attachment to Naomi might come to harm her in the long run, that you’d hinder her growth for your own personal desire…

But you just loved her so much to act otherwise. You just wanted the best for her, and nothing less. Was it all too wrong?

“She’ll be home soon, you’ll see.” Naoya adds, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your gaze returns to him, to his gentle smile, a reminder that he’ll always support you. “And when she is, I will call her, and she’ll tell us all about her first day at school.”

“Do you think she’s having fun? Or do you think she’s afraid? She’s never been that social, you know? At least not when meeting new people. What if she doesn’t get along with anyone? Or what if no one likes her? Oh, she’d be devastated….!” You naturally fret as a concerned mother; there is nothing you’d like more than your daughter to be liked by everyone!

“I wish I could tell you.” Naoya continues, understanding your concerns for he too considered them—experienced them, in fact. He’s known what it felt to be lonely, even when given everything in the world. So, the last thing he desired was for his daughter to go through the same. “But there’s one thing I know for certain.”

“What is it…?”

“That she’s an adorable kid. The type one could only love. And if they don’t, they’re stupid.” He shrugs. “And there’s no cure for stupidity, so don’t worry about anything; She’s perfect just the way she is… and I know that because she’s got you as a mother.”

“Naoya… when did you get all sappy on me?” you murmur, doing your best to hold back your tears.

“I—I’m not sappy, I’m just… saying the truth.” He stammers, and though subtle, you’re still able to see a tint of red in his cheeks. “How about I pick you two up after work and we get something to eat? It’s been a while since we’ve gone down to the city.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! And that way we can also celebrate Naomi’s first day of school! I can’t wait to hear all about it; I’ve always loved how cheerful she spoke, makes everything far more entertaining!”

“We just gotta keep this a secret from your father; he’s been calling me non-stop about a supposed reunion he wants to make for our daughter.” Naoya warns. “Haven’t seen him so enthusiastic since… well, he’s always like this, isn’t he?”

“I kind of feel bad for leaving him out…”

“Well, he is on the other side of the country.”

“If it were up to him, I think he would’ve liked her to be enrolled in a school over there. And as much as I love it when they spend time together…”

“Yes?”

“…We’re a bit too much, aren’t we?” Naoya laughs at your words. “People might think we’re bad parents…”

“No, Y/N. I know for a fact that I have much to improve, but not you. Never.” Naoya smiles, wanting nothing more than to hug and kiss your insecurities away. For he could be nothing but glad that his daughter was unconditionally loved, cherished far more than his family even bothered to care.

Your worries and enthusiasm just proved what he always knew, what he saw the moment his eyes fell on you, what his heart sung when he fell in love:

“You’re absolutely perfect.”

🥺

[endlesscrimson89]

FFXIV Write2023, Prompt 16: Jerk.

"Jerks," Raha hissed under his breath, tossing an offended look after the retreating back of laughing students. He refused to admit that his mismatched red-cyan eyes welled up, burning unpleasantly, as he set to gather the books, one of them made him drop, tripping him over. 

His fault for not expecting it. For letting the high stack in his hands cover his vision or for trying to get back to Baldesion Annex without getting picked on. Far too naïve, all things considered. There wasn't a day - when he left the compound - when someone wouldn't attempt to make themselves feel better or look better at his expanse. Even inside the compound, it was hit-and-miss sometimes, depending on which of the Students were present. 

All because of his stupid, mismatched eyes... And Thaliak, but he hated the unfairness of that. Hated that he was short, skinny, and an easy target to bully. That at seventeen, he was quite the youngest kit in the whole goddamn city without a guardian. Students of Baldesion didn’t really count since they barely bothered with him. 

He hated this whole fucking city, its citizens, and the fact that they rejected him for something he had no control over. He so, so badly wanted someone to come and take him from here... At this point, just about anyone would do. 

Raha sighed miserably, wiped his eyes before anyone could notice - not that any of the passersby had anything but smirks for him - and finished stacking books before heading back to the compound, this time trying to be more aware of his surroundings. 

Still, he missed the way the students who picked on him were stopped by the door of the Studium. Walking off, he didn’t see the tall, black-haired teen who grabbed the blonde who tripped him by the neck and slammed his face against the wall next to the doorframe. Neither did he see the staff of the Studium running in and separating the teenagers, soon dragging off the downright hissing, infuriated Seeker of the Sun, whose pale eyes glared daggers at the bloodied teen as his friends gathered him off the ground. 

Letting the door of the Annex slam shut behind him, Raha had no clue that by that point, two years older Senri - a new arrival in the city - gained a reputation of a violent freak by seemingly randomly attacking the other students... 

...not yet, that is.

*_*_*

With the Students penance to gossip, especially over the shared meals within the compound, he heard the rumors about him before he had to occasion to see the person who got all of them - as it seemed - quite... agitated. 

Busy with his own plate and trying to stay invisible, his ears twitched with the murmur of whispers of two older girls seated nearby, their dark-haired heads nearly pressed together as one of them giggled. 

"...I heard he's gorgeous!" The one giggling gushed, and covertly his eyes shot toward them. 

"He is... but he's freaking feral," the other replied, tossing quite a nervous look about that had him look toward his plate again and attempt to look disinterested as he picked on its content. "I've heard that barely two weeks here, he spent most of it in isolation so far. The professors at the Studium are livid! I heard they're already petitioning the Forum to remove him from the island!"

"Would that work, though?" The other whispered, clearly amused and less careful. "I mean, with Levellieur at the forefront...? I thought he was staying at their estate?"

"Seems so... but I heard that Fourchenault isn't any happier than any of them about his father's delivery," the girl on the right stated, waving her fork between them. "And he has the twins to think about, too. I hardly imagine that kid is a good influence for eleven-year-olds... no matter how intelligent everyone says Alphinaud is, right?"

"Why did his father send this... boy here, though?" The girl on the left asked, frowning. "Especially if he's dangerous?" 

"No one knows," the other shrugged somewhat helplessly. "I mean, perhaps Levellieur does, but even if... he's refusing to spill. Or so I've heard. Just the other day, the kid attacked the son of one of the other members of the Forum, but apparently, Fourchenault picked him up without a word! No explanation or excuses... not even an apology! The city's abuzz with speculation, you can imagine?" 

He could, knowing by now that the citizens lived for gossip! 

"Hm, perhaps this whole Senri would be gone before we know?" The one on the right suggested, and they switched the topic to the fashion, instantly losing his interest. 

He was mulling over it all the way until he was back in his bedroom, involuntarily intrigued by the mystery. 

It was still a week before the first time he actually encountered the object of those rumors.

*_*_*

Sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the bookshelves deep within the Noumenon, Raha leafed through the book spread in his lap when the sound of the footsteps closing in had his ears twitch before they laid flat against his head. He picked this darker part of the library for the solitude it normally offered, with anyone rarely interested in the dusty tomes about the Allagan Empire. Most of them being written in the actual Allagan, those were rarely borrowed, making this section quite a pleasant hiding spot whenever certain less than friendly Students were out on a prowl within the Annex. 

When those steps rounded the bookshelf he was resting his back against, he carefully kept his mismatched eyes on the text in front of him, hoping whomever it was would leave seeing the space occupied. 

...no such luck, however, even if the steps stopped, and in his peripheral vision, he saw a set of heavy-looking boots. For a moment, he thought that he heard this person's breath hitch, but he turned the page, pretending ignorance to the sudden, unwelcome company, in thought wishing they would leave him alone. 

Again... no luck. 

"H-Hey," That sounded hesitant, and perhaps that undertone of uncertainty in an otherwise pleasantly deep voice had him turn his head and look... and Raha froze, staring as his mouth dropped open. A matching uncertain expression on the other teen’s face took away none of its downright unreal beauty, with jet-black lashes surrounding the palest blue eyes he'd ever seen. The eyes that trailed over his face with the strangest expression - if he didn’t know better, he would be tempted to call longing - before that whole face seemed to close off, growing unreadable as the tall figure towering over him leaned one wide shoulder against the shelf, with free hand pointing toward the book in his lap. "You know Allagan?" 

Raha blinked, trying to gather his bearings as he cleared his throat, then took a deep breath and tore his eyes off the vision, forcing them back to the pages. 

"N-No," he hated the stammer in his voice or the way his tail flicked next to him with agitation. Instinctively - considering that the other teen looked fucking massive from this vintage, he curled in, trying to make himself small. Suddenly the seclusion of this dark corner seemed more oppressive than comforting, as his senses prickled with the strangest awareness of the presence of a predator. It was absurd, considering that the ink-haired boy - because he didn’t seem that much older than him, despite his size - didn’t look familiar (he would never forget that face!), but he was far too used to strangers picking on him. But also thinking of his size, if he - for whatever reason - chose to attack him, he doubted he had a chance to get away unscathed. Not to mention that, like this, he was blocking the only way out! "I l-like the silence here."

"Oh..." the tall figure shifted within his peripheral vision, and for a moment, Raha was sure that he - whomever the beautiful teen was - would take a clue and leave him alone... Nothing further from what happened, though, as before he knew what exactly happened, the male sighed, then dropped to the floor next to him, stretching his long legs in front of them. "Do you want to learn? Allagan, I mean?"

"You k-know it?" He stammered, trying not to freak out and forcing himself not to move away when the teen’s shoulder brushed his when the stranger folded his arms over his wide chest. 

"Sort of," he replied with a slight shrug that made their shoulders connect again. "I have the Echo so kind of... I know every language."

That had him gasp and, despite his nervousness, turn his head and look right into the painfully beautiful face... that looked a tad too close for comfort. The Seeker's ink-black ears twitched with amusement even while his pale eyes remained distant, expression neutral. His long tail, as dark as the longish hair surrounding his face, flicked slightly on the other side of him, involuntarily drawing Raha’s gaze to the movement. 

Even sitting, the older boy seemed massive, with obvious penance to wear black, as his pants and leather jacket suggested. The stiff material looked pulled taut over the teen’s muscular arms and wide shoulders, though open, it revealed a dark-red shirt underneath. He gave off an impression of power coiled in his form, barely restrained and waiting to snap... even when he didn't move, other than arching one of the dark eyebrows at the prolonged silence. 

Catching himself, Raha’s face blazed with a blush, realizing he was staring, when a slightly sly smirk curled the corners of the other teen’s almost too-pretty mouth. 

"Like what you see?" A strange glint sparked within the pale ice of those vertically slit eyes, and he found that despite the way his face felt on fire, he couldn’t look away - mesmerized - when his head nodded on its own. 

Moving slow, as if not to spook him, the teen unfolded his arms, then hesitated, his chest moving with a deeper breath. His eyes trailed over Raha’s face with that strangely longing look again, followed by a slightly shaky brush of gentle fingers against the edge of his jaw. He didn’t even register tilting his head into that touch, caught up in how longing seemed to turn into hunger. His hands clenched unconsciously around the edges of the open book in his lap when the tall Seeker shifted sideways, and then that hand lost its shaky uncertainty, instead curling about his cheek with a slightly rough brush of a thumb over his too-heated skin. 

So delicate and with such tantalizing affection - he was so painfully starved for - his eyes drifted shut as his heartbeat seemed to fill his ears when a scalding hot breath fanned his mouth. As shaky and uneven as his own, making him feel dizzy when the other teen’s sweet scent - so uncanny for such a masculine figure - filled his head and lungs until he could taste its apple-like tang on the back of his tongue. 

That thumb, still with its hypnotic tenderness, brushed his lower lip, making him gasp before his ears twitched with the strangled sound reminiscent of a growl - a deep and aggressive sound that should be unnerving, not make him shudder with a choked, embarrassingly submissive whimper. Then that big, hot hand curled around the back of his neck, keeping him in place when something unbearably soft, tempting, brushed the corner of his mouth. 

Unable to think or help himself, he tilted his head, following the sensation, and when another strangled sound teased his ears, making his stuttering heartbeat thump furiously as the blood in his veins turned to lava... next he knew, he was consumed, as the surprisingly soft lips pressured his open. He whimpered at the unbearable sweetness that filled his mouth with a rough push of a tongue that brushed his, seemingly inviting it to play. An invitation it was unable to resist as all of his senses grew sharper, yet narrowed down to the world of push and pull. 

His hands let go of the book that tumbled off his lap when he shifted half-consciously, his shaky fingers curling tightly in the stiff material of the leather jacket, lured by heat and helplessly attempting to tug the bigger frame closer. His face, on fire but his head blissfully empty of any sane thoughts, made it feel natural - necessary even - to purr his delight under the lips that seemed bent on devouring him alive. And when a matching but deeper sound made his whole mouth vibrate with it, he melted into mind-numbing heat. 

He couldn’t help the disappointed whine when these hungry lips pulled back, leaving him panting raggedly as his lungs burned for air. 

"I want you," whispered hoarsely against his cheek, and he swallowed thickly, licking off the lingering flavor from his swollen lips. "Since the moment I saw you... I can’t help but want you so bad it hurts..." 

"I... I..." he stammered, fighting to get his brain to cooperate. Impossible, as the Seeker wrapped both of his hands around his face, their tenderness bellying the rough press of those hungry mouth returning to swallow down his moan, feeding him more of that sweet, addictive taste. His arms on their own coiled around the other teen’s neck, and soon the embarrassing thought that he didn’t even know his name didn't matter in the face of the want with which the ink-haired male pinned him against the wall of books. 

He barely felt the way the teen shifted them before his hand curled around his thigh, on its inner side, and spread his legs roughly before moving to his knees, the male pulled him into his lap. His numbed brain didn't mind as he whimpered at the deliciously rough friction over his painfully aroused flesh, then choked on a groan when that big hand climbed up, unceremoniously curling over his groin. Squeezing it in a way that nearly had him meow, the Seeker purred over his mouth, then did it again until Raha whined softly with every clench of his hand, all his senses zeroing in on the nearly painful pressure building at the base of his spine. 

"Fuck... You're too cute," the male groaned as if in pain, then buried his face against Raha’s shoulder, his panting breaths teasing the redhead’s skin almost as much as the way he - this powerful, massive male - shook in his arms, while his arms coiled about his back almost painfully. Nearly choking on a surprised whimper at how that denied him movement, Raha fought to catch his breath as his chin dropped against the wide shoulder. His lashes parted, staring numbly at the plated floor behind the stranger's back, as his brain seemed to helplessly attempt to connect with the reality of that soothing sound of deep if shaky purrs accompanied by a tender nuzzle against his throat. "Sorry, babe... I got carried away. Don't be scared..." and perhaps only that note of a very real fear served to not make him freak out as he should, blinking rapidly as his arms involuntarily tightened about the Seeker's shoulders. Froze, pretty much, with his next words. "The day I landed here... I saw you and Azeyma... but I never imagined I could want so badly..." hoarse and yet amused, was accompanied by a gentle stroke of a big hand over his back, up and down until he couldn’t help but melt into his bigger frame with blissed-out purrs. 

He was so big and yet... so tender with him that that huge, starved part of him couldn't resist but force him to wrap around him, hiding his flaming face against the crook of his neck in embarrassment at his need. His ankles crossed behind the Seeker's back, and even as his brain insisted that he should have been appalled at himself, pull back and run... his body refused to comply, lulled into the alien sense of safety with the heat and sweetness of the soothing touch. 

He couldn’t remember anyone touching him like this - like he was precious, wanted - and when that hand over his back moved to delicately stroke his tail... He didn’t even recognize the sound it tore from his throat, yet the ink-haired male cooed something nonsensical, tightening his other arm around his back and keeping him skin-tight close to his nearly overwhelming heat. 

"I don't... don't k-know you," he finally managed through his too-tight throat, barely restraining the embarrassingly loud purrs that wanted to slip his mouth. 

"I'm Senri," the grip around him grew tighter when he flinched at the sound of the name, his eyes shooting wide open and gasp leaving his bruised lips. "And I want you to be mine, G'raha."

"How..." he trailed off, swearing in thought at the naivety of the question. Of course, his stupid eyes made him all too recognizable to anyone who spent a few minutes in the city... Then he blinked again, frowning as he gingerly pulled back, and despite his nervousness, his fiery cheeks, his gaze met the darkened pale eyes. Heated as they instantly fell to his mouth when he bit his lower lip with uncertainty. Then he repeated his words at him. "When you saw me...?" He was certain that he wouldn't be able to miss - or forget - this face if he ever saw it before. 

"A few weeks ago..." Senri murmured, his face turning reddish as pale eyes darted between his mouth and eyes and back. "But... Ah, I was too nervous to... I mean..." and he flustered, of all things, his impossibly beautiful face turning redder and redder as he looked away, dark-furred ears flat against his hair as black tail swiveled nervously against Raha’s boots. Pretty much gawking - with open mouth at this point - it was hard not to gush because he looked so painfully adorable... his heart seemed to vault, then clench when those pale blue eyes caught his stare, then darted away again. "You're so... And I... Ah..." 

"You saw me... when?" He hoped that his voice sounded neutral enough because the way he looked like this was doing weird things to his insides. 

"At the harbor..." the male groaned, then dropped his forehead against his shoulder. "You were sitting with a book under this huge statue, looking sooo cute... But then those jerks started name-calling and pointing at you and... I have an awful temper," he murmured, wincing. Raha blinked rapidly, trying to recall the last time he was at the harbor. All he could remember was looking up at the sound of commotion by the registration office, huffing with annoyance, and heading back to the Annex... "Then, every time I saw you... before I could get myself to say something, they pissed me off..." he grumbled, then sighed miserably, leaning away with an amusingly sheepish expression. That grew stormy when he pulled his hand back and brushed his fingers against his cheek with that tantalizing tenderness. "I hate that they pick on you for something like this... Your eyes are gorgeous, G'raha."

His face burned, but he couldn’t look away, caught in the snare of the strange mix of humor and distress filling the pale eyes. 

"I want to protect you so badly," Senri whispered, dragging his fingers along his jaw. "But it's a real possibility Levellieur would have my sorry hide the next time I beat up someone, so... And it's not like I could tell him why, either..." he trailed off and sighed with exaggerated resignation, holding his stare with strange determination hardening his eyes into ice as he shook his head slightly. "So, you have to be mine, G'raha."

"...I do?" He was amazed by his voice, not trembling with how his heart decided to jump in his throat. 

"Mhmm," the ink-haired male nodded seriously, then blinded him with an adorable, slightly goofy grin that lit up his whole face and made it achingly beautiful. "Then I have a good reason to beat up those losers, yeah? And I'll teach you Allagan, so... win-win, right?" 

He couldn’t help it... Raha snorted, chuckling when Senri pouted, shifting his legs under his butt to sit cross-legged before he let him drop between them. Reminded of the situation, he flushed, falling silent as he awkwardly pulled his arms back and let them drop between them, shyly lowering his gaze. 

"Hey..." Senri breathed, closing two of his fingers around his chin, and tilted his head until he had no choice but to look up into the ice-blue eyes. Heated and wanting as they trailed over his face hungrily. "...don't look like that or else... I can’t help myself..." he growled softly, and Raha flushed darker, unconsciously picking on the edges of his jacket as he bit his lower lip with uncertainty. "Azeyma, now you're asking for it," the raspy note was the only warning before those pretty mouth fell on his, claiming them into another scorching, devouring kiss that left him dizzy when Senri raised his head. "You have to know... my self-control is crap," he rumbled on the growly note that sent a nearly violent shiver down Raha’s spine. 

"...oh," he gasped, feeling the corners of his mouth curl upwards as his hands moved up and grabbed at the open edges of Senri’s jacket. "I see..." he pulled simultaneously, surging up and swallowing the other Seeker's throaty groan, shivering at how it seemed to travel down his throat and spine and made his pants feel uncomfortably tight. 

Never before was he interested in the other boys, but that way Senri growled, then wrapped his hand around his neck, attempting to eat him alive... Had him melt, whimpering as he tightened his knees around his sides, so drunk on his taste that world spinning didn’t seem weird. Still, he gasped when he felt the weight of the bigger body pinning him down to the cold floor. Maybe he would mind if Senri didn't brace over him, numbing his brain with the pleasure of how he rubbed against him, just right to tear a moan out of his mouth and swallow it down with a rumbly groan. 

"Be mine, G'raha," it sounded almost like a pained plea as he pulled back just enough to whisper it against his lips, electing another gasp out of him with a slow roll of his hips. The heat in his gaze could melt steel as Raha fought to catch his breath. His hands gave into the temptation of those silky, inky strands, holding him still as he surged up, recapturing his delicious mouth. He swallowed Senri’s whimper, his fingers clenching in the fists and thighs into a vise around him when the ink-haired Seeker pushed harder with the next roll of his body, the hard length of his cock teasing his own. 

Soon nothing mattered but how they rolled together desperately, eating up each other’s sounds. He dug one hand under Senri’s jacket, grasping at the material of his shirt as the pressure grew painful, his breaths ragged and shallow when the ink-haired male pulled back, mouthing at his throat with hoarse growls and groans. Raha barely heard it over the buzz between his ears, nor was he aware of the strained whimpers falling from his lips in a rhythm matching their bodies. His eyes closed, all his senses focused on the inevitably approaching release, he nearly hissed with outrage when Senri froze suddenly. 

Opening his mouth to protest, he found a big hand covering them with a move swift like a viper when Senri raised his head, narrowing his eyes in a warning. He didn’t understand until the sound of footsteps tore through the rush of blood and made his eyes grow enormous as his heart nearly stopped. 

Thankfully, those footsteps - behind the bookshelf he was earlier sitting against - passed then grew distant without turning into this dusty nook. However, the scare was enough to sober him up. Senri, too, seemingly as he scrambled off him, then looked sheepish and flushed as he leaned back against the shelf, looking away from him while Raha awkwardly followed, his hands shaking badly when he picked up the forgotten book off the floor. 

"...so?" He didn’t dare look at his companion, despite the note of amusement ringing in the deep, still hoarse with desire voice. 

"So?" He repeated, proud his voice didn’t shake as much as his hands when he sat next to him, his face on fire while arousal still held a tight grip over his gut. 

"So... will you be mine?" Senri drawled, and he flinched when his muscular arm snuck behind his head, curled about his shoulders, and tugged him into the other Seeker's warm side. 

"So... you can beat up other students?" He deadpanned, hesitating a shy look toward the achingly beautiful, cheery grin that lit up Senri’s face at that, making his heart lose its rhythm completely. 

"Nah, so I can hold you, babe," the ink-haired Seeker pressed a kiss against his temple. Then he chuckled, making Raha shiver with the sound. "A reason to beat up jerks is a bonus, though," he snarked... and he wasn't exactly proud about how warm and fuzzy that made him feel, keeping his gaze down as he opened the book and set it between his and Senri’s thigh. 

"...maybe," he replied, tossing him a careful look from the corner of his eye. 

"Tease," Senri chuckled again, pressed another kiss on his temple, then tightened his arm around him. "I'll wear you down, though..." he purred, and Raha shuddered, lowering his eyes as his face grew only hotter, hyper-aware of the way ink-haired Seeker slowly dragged his thumb over his bare shoulder as he used his free hand to put a finger under Raha’s chin and tilt his face toward him. The heat in his pale eyes was scalding hot even as the kiss he set on his bruised lips was a tender, delicate caress that made his heart flutter. "...you'll see, G'raha," breathed against his cheek, had him speak before he could think of it better.

"Raha?" he offered and cringed internally, blushing furiously. No one - ever - used his given name... 

"Raha," the heat in Senri’s eyes reached a wholly new level, then he brushed his thumb over his too-heated cheek. "I told you to be careful about being cute, Raha," he growled softly, then pulled that hand back with visible effort and cleared his throat, looking toward the book between them. He blinked, seemingly reading the random page the redhead opened it on... then blinked again and snorted, snickering for no reason. 

"...what?" He frowned with confusion, looking between him and the book. 

"Ah..." Senri looked at his face, then toward the page, tightening his arm around Raha’s shoulders and pulling him tight into his side. "Never mind," Raha didn't know him that well - embarrassing as it was to admit, all things considered - but that tone for anyone sounded far, far too innocent. "So, want me to translate it for you word for word?" 

"Mhmm," he couldn’t help the suspicious tone if honesty was curious about what put sparks of amusement in those pale eyes. 

...he understood about bell later, when putting the supplied translation together, he learned that he accidentally picked a very steamy retelling of Allagan royal's exploits with his male lover... Educational as it was, he couldn’t stop blushing for bells afterward!

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1/5

Book Blurb: In this queer gothic romance, a young marquis caught between freedom and passion, honor and love will have to unravel a centuries-old curse to find his own happy ending. Trapped in a world of straight expectations, queer marquis Emile longs for independence. So, when his aunt declares he must marry to produce an heir or be disowned, he runs away disguised as a servant until he can come of age and reclaim his inheritance. All Emile needs to do is keep his head down and bide his time, but he quickly stumbles into a mystery beyond his imagination. While working in the service of the intimidating Count Montoni and his family, Emile learns that they suffer from a strange affliction every full moon, which requires full sedation. And when he discovers a mangled corpse on the estate the same night as suspicious family arguments break out, he reports it. But Emile cannot guess what lengths Count Montoni is willing to go to to keep his family’s secrets safe. As Emile becomes more entangled in the household and its paranormal origins, his inquiries draw the attention of the handsome doctor, Bram, and the count’s charismatic nephew, Henri. But how can Emile earn the esteem of the earnest doctor, while keeping his own identity and desires a secret? And how can he trust—let alone love—Henri, a man as mercurial as the ever-changing moon? To find the love he deserves and survive the Montoni family, Emile will have to risk his title as well as his life.

Review:

Emile is a queer Marquis who is pretending to be a servant in order to escape his aunt who wants him to marry a woman to produce a heir and if not she will send him to an asylum, so he takes on a new identity and now finds himself in a love triangle between a count’s son named Henri and a handsome doctor named Bram. While at his new position as a servant he discovers that the Count Montoni and his family all suffer from a strange affliction every full moon that requires them to be sedated.... (we all know its clearly werewolves) and now Emile finds himself not only trying to sort out his feelings between the two men in his life but also the fact that his secret is close to being revealed and that he might be in danger if the Count think’s he might be onto the family’s secret. Emile is essentially 17 and his character definitely feels young and juvenile, I’m going to be honest, he was absolutely annoying and the story felt like it dragged on and on. For what was suppose to be an interesting queer gothic romance it definitely did not live up to it. Sadly, I found myself just wishing the book was over already. Emile is wishy washy about his feelings and can’t figure out what or who he wants while Henri is aggressive and Bram is overly sweet. In the end it has a happy ending *spoiler, they enter into a poly relationship between the three of them* but truly the entire book was just about Henri and Emile’s relationship, you never really get the relationship building with Bram yet Emile claims his heart always wants Bram while Henri just keeps pushing and pushing. Honestly this felt so juvenile, oddly placed, and just kind of a mess. Sadly this one really didn’t work for me despite how much I wish it did. It had all the elements to be something I would love, from having a queer romance, being a gothic with a dash of werewolves, and a bit of historical, all the elements to be something I would adore, yet it just missed the mark completely. If you are looking for a queer  historical romance with a bit of paranormal and with a more juvenile story definitely give this a go, maybe it’ll be for you.

*Thanks Netgalley and��Page Street Publishing, Page Street Kids for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[helenadurazzo]

Beach Day

While the first wizarding war rages on, Cynthia, Garrett, and Olivia have evacuated the country with the younger children to France. At this point, Garrett’s sister, Marietta, has invited them to stay at her house by the beach. Times seem to be peaceful once again, but a letter from home informs them of the current situation with the war.

Jonathan and Melody Midway belong to @melodymidway

Olivia Tremblay’s POV, July 1981

The waves crashing onto the beach shore were such a comforting sound to Olivia’s ears. The line of the horizon was so alluring and almost made one want to run across the water to touch it. The sun was of course bringing hot rays of light, yet they never felt unbearable. And just for a few seconds, the entire world felt as peace, and perhaps it was here in Marseille. However, Olivia knew all too well that the current war was raging at full force back home.

She looked out near the area where the crashing waves met the wet sand. There, her twins, Miles and Helena, were building sand castles with their cousins Melody, Lottie, and Louis. It was a calming pastime and did seem to allow them to forget all the troubles that were facing their family, especially back home. It was the goal of her, her sister, and husband, their children deserved to live in a kinder world after all. And the fact that the death eaters were targeting children was enough to make Olivia sick. She supposed they were lucky enough to make it to France and be able to spend months there, but she knew not everyone could have the pleasure.

After all, her eldest daughter, Renée, and nephew, Jackie were among those who stayed behind, being students of Hogwarts. Despite her husband always being closer to their elder daughter compared to her, Olivia missed Renée dearly and did not go long without thinking of her. Because of everything going on, she had to miss her daughter’s fourteenth birthday, something she knew she should not have felt guilty about but found herself doing so anyways. Contact by owl was limited to only emergencies though so Olivia comforted herself by the assumption that no news was good.

Her head turned when she noticed her husband leave the house of his sister, Marietta, which they were temporarily staying in during their stay. Luckily, all their familial connections in France happily welcomed them in with open arms regardless of where they were. Her husband’s demeanor was a rather puzzling one and he looked like he had something to say but Olivia could not figure out what that something was.

“Hey my love.” She heard Garrett begin to ask, “Do you mind heading inside to talk with your sister? I can take over watching the kids for you.”

The relatively simple request of her husband immediately concerned Olivia internally, “Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

“Before I inform you, do not worry everyone is safe now.” Garrett eased her in. “But when I was back in the house with your sister, she received a letter from Jonathan. It’s contents contained that the Midway Estate was attacked by eight death eaters. Two of the death eaters were killed and a couple more were injured, while two escaped. Meanwhile the only injury that happened on our side was to Loretta but she is currently on her way to making a full recovery at St Mungos and has already awoken.”

Olivia stayed silent for a few moments, “Well that certainly was not what I expected… I am glad everyone is alright, but knowing Cynthia, she is worrying herself sick as we speak.” Olivia then directed her blue eyes towards her husband, “I will go talk with her now.”

Her mind raced as she stood up from her chair and made it across the sandy pathway back to the house. A death eater attack!? She knew Jonathan had expected one, especially considering what was happening with other prominent auror families, however she hoped with her whole heart that it wouldn’t come upon her family. Sure, she was not a big fan of Jonathan, but she did not wish him ill or to perish in such a manner, especially considering how much her sister cherished him.

When she walked back inside, Olivia watched her sister as she paced back and forth in the opening room. She watched as she tried to settle her breathing and firmly holding the letter from Jonathan in her hand as if it was a treasured position.

“Hey Cynth.” Olivia calmly alerted Cynthia of her presence to which Cynthia stopped her pacing to look at her, “Garrett told me about the letter.”

“I’m worrying to much am I not?” Cynthia replied in a somewhat normal tone and steady breathing, “I shouldn’t be of course, after all Jonathan says everyone is safe and alright. It’s just…”

“You are justified in your concern.” Olivia assured her. “Jonathan feared this would happen and he has turned out to be correct in his predictions.” Olivia admitted, “However, based on his descriptions from what Garrett told me, I do not think they will try attacking again any time soon.”

“You’re right.” Cynthia managed to smile before it did begin to waver again, “I suppose it’s just one thing in particular about the letter that is causing me to overthink everything.”

“And what is that?” Olivia raised an eyebrow with worry given by her sister’s tone that felt the equivalent to a plastic bag being thrown around by wind.

“When he was writing his letter, Jonathan included the names of the death eaters who played a role in the attack and if they were killed, arrested, or fled… and one of those names was Luscinia Snyde.”

“As in your old classmate Luscinia?” Olivia hoped for clarification, “I haven’t heard you mention her in years. Although given your falling out I would never blame you for that.”

She remembered in the one year her and Cynthia overlapped -when Olivia herself was a seventh year and Cynthia a first year- there would rarely be a time when she did not spot Cynthia and Luscinia together. Sometimes they were studying in the library, other times they were having a discussion about dueling techniques over sandwiches in the Great Hall. They had always seemed to be the best of friends, yet competition and jealousy quickly grew and caused them to drift apart. She remembered how hard Cynthia tried to help Luscinia yet she always refused and did end up embracing the disgusting allure of the dark side of the wizarding world.

“I suppose so.” Cynthia uncertainly shrugged.

“So is she dead?” Olivia guessed.

“No.” Cynthia shook her head. “She along with her husband both escaped Jonathan, Joseph, and the other Aurors and Order Members who showed up later. I suppose it’s the uncertainty of her fate is what has me on edge, to know she is still out there and is still supporting such a terrible person…”

“I know it’s a lot to think about.” Olivia tried her best to be comforting, usually she had a talent for it but today it felt strangely difficult. “And I know how close you two were back in the day and how much her leaving for the dark side hurt you.” She stated, remembering how she again provided comforting words in the form of a letter after Cynthia hastily sent one following a rather nasty argument she had with Luscinia, even remembering the nearly dried up teardrops on the letter itself. Her sister was the extremely studious type and didn’t really have many friends, so she knew how hard the blow hit her and even though she couldn’t quickly come to Hogwarts to comfort her at that moment, she did the best with the words her quill could write. “But what has happened has already happened and there is not much we can do about it except look to the future.”

“I suppose you are right.” Her sister sighed before turning to her, their blue eyes meeting and suddenly, Cynthia embraced in a way that made Olivia almost lose her balance, “I have been meaning to thank you.”

“For what?” Olivia raised her eyebrow.

“For accompanying me and my children to France.” Cynthia clarified quietly. “When I told you that Jonathan wanted me and the children to go to France, you almost immediately offered to accompany us, even though that meant leaving your daughter behind at Hogwarts followed by placing her in the care of my husband for the summer.”

Olivia nodded as she accepted her sister’s gratitude, “I knew you needed support and even though I knew that Jonathan’s relatives would suffice, I could not bare the idea of you going through this alone. Even though I know you are fully capable of anything you set your mind to, you are still my little sister.”

“I appreciate all you do.” Cynthia continued before sighing, “Jonathan still believes we need to wait a few more months before we go back home.”

“So what do you want to plan on doing?”

“Well, my husband did mention we could visit his cousin in Boudreaux.” Cynthia proposed gently, “and we could always take the kids to Paris. Anything for them to get a change of scenery. I know it has helped Lottie even though she is still often in hysterics from missing Jonathan, but she is her father’s daughter.”

Olivia nodded to her sister’s suggestions. “I will be by your side throughout this endeavor. We will get through this together.”

[rqnvindr]

of dreams and tea

pairing: kamisato ayato x gn!reader

genre: fluff, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers

warnings: mention of death

w.c: 1.2k

synopsis: growing up came with too many responsibilities. but it could also be beautiful, if shared with the ones you have loved for as long as you remember. 

a/n: based on the “wistful reminiscence” prompt for axia’s @yelans spring serenade event! thank you so much for letting me be apart of this and i’m happy to share my first ayato piece!

--

when you first met ayato, you didn’t know why you had ditched your friends to play with bugs.

just because you where given the rare opportunity to stumble upon the eldest son of the yashiro commission, didn’t mean you had to follow him around for the rest of the festival. he was going to get in trouble for meddling amongst the crowd instead of standing on the sidelines with his parents, and you were guaranteed a hefty scolding from your own family for ‘bothering’ the future of inazuma. yet, here you were, at seven years old, frolicking with someone that many commonfolk didn’t even get to meet as adults.

“this is so much better than that crowded place, isn’t it?” ayato smiles upon watching his onikabuto beat yours. “there’s not even a firework show this year! lame!”

you don’t know how to respond, already embarrassed from watching your pathetic bug representative topple over at the mercy of ayato’s. he cheers victoriously, and you wonder how he could be so content with openly criticizing all of the work his family had put into this year’s festivities. 

“um...won’t your parents be mad at you for saying something like that?” you ask.

“nah. though they do say that i’m a ‘troublemaker’ and are a bit worried about me inheriting all of the clan’s responsibilities,” he was very self-aware for someone his age. mischievous, but thoughtful. this was the kind of kid who’d grow up to be a scheming, albeit considerate leader. 

“but i’m the perfect prince anyway! i’m strong, handsome, funny, smart, and everyone loves me!”

who was everyone, exactly? it was a general, boastful statement, typical of a self-absorbed child. you never expected to be contemplating your feelings about him sooner or later, no matter how many times you ruminated on simpler times, back when the innocence of childhood let you get away with saying anything that came to your mind.

ayato handles everything with grace, even as a teenager who is still grieving from the loss of his parents no matter how much he tries to hide it. his younger sister ayaka also puts up a dignified front, wearing a smile as she blesses the city streets with unmatched elegance. 

you wish to say hi to ayato. it’s been a while since the two of you have talked. he’s busier than ever, with a schedule more hectic than any 16 year-old should have to deal with. if there was anything you could do to check in on him you would step in for sure..

“you should talk to my sister more. she doesn’t say it but she does get lonely.” you were staring into the distance watching ayaka eat alone when a male voice from behind startled you. how did ayato creep up like that without you noticing? the rumors about him running an underground ninjutsu organization were probably true after all.

you laugh at him. “i guess i could get to know her better. she really isn’t little ayaka anymore..”

“just don’t get so close to her that you start forgetting about me.” ayato flings an arm around your shoulder. your face heats up with how laid-back he acts in public with you. 

if you hadn’t been so self-conscious of the jealous and nosy stares from the crowd, you would’ve remembered the first time he held you close more clearly.

--

ayato hasn’t been to your tea house for more than a month. 

when he found out you had opened up your own business, he frequented the place despite having a supply of carefully brewed crafts at his estate. unfortunately, a nice cup of tea was the last thing on his mind when the sakoku decree was in full swing. thoma had also been talking about a certain traveler who was set to arrive, and his hands were full pulling the behind the scenes strings to get them past the border. 

this was his fate. it was decided upon him on the very day he was born. to grow into a well-rounded, responsible, cultured young man capable of holding his birthright position as the next head commissioner. he had to give it to his sister for working harder than she was even required to. he could handle it all, that’s what older brothers do, right? 

but ayato felt more and more alone as time fled without any spurts of change. on the nights when he wasn’t staying up until the sun rose, he dreamt of times of peace with you. where he could wake up next to you and start the day with smiles and warmth that bubbled from the past. did he deserve such a future though? was he selfish for wanting to act on his love in the middle of a political crisis? 

he stared up at the moon from his window. it moved fast along the sky, and sooner or later it’d be daytime again before he could even get a wink of sleep. like the childhood you two shared as clueless, playful souls who thought they could get away with anything, that transitioned all too quickly into adulthood. perhaps the same could apply to the time he had left to tell you his feelings before it was too late.

--

“what’s wrong? is there a hair in your cup or something?” ayato hasn’t touched his tea even though it should be cool enough to drink by now. 

he shakes his head. “there’s nothing wrong with the tea. it smells different, but not in a bad way.”

you make your way to sit across from him; no other customers are present at this hour, so you have time to spare. “in what way then?”

“i can’t really describe it. but it definitely smells....very pink.” you smiled at his response.

“i used the freshest sakura blooms. along with some more...secret ingredients.”

ayato chuckles at the little game you’re starting. he takes a small sip and hums, relishing the new flavor. “you’re always trying out new recipes. so bold, i like it.”

butterflies flutter in your stomach from his words. in a dreamy state, you stare at his profile as he continues to drink the tea that you made, how his long eyelashes flutter shut and compliment his smooth skin. how his cheekbones curve perfectly down to the mole near his lips, making you wonder what it’d be like to kiss it.

“i like being alone with you.”

you don’t know where that came from. something had possessed you as you got too comfortable with being alone in your own tea shop with your long-time, no, lifetime crush. your legs tell you to quickly get up and leave, but you want to see how he reacts, no matter how unsure you are of how this will go. 

your heart skips a beat when ayato smirks at you. it’s impossible to predict what he’s going to say next.

“i would hope so, after all of these years you better be comfortable around me.” you roll your eyes at him, yet are hopeful that his lightheartedness means the feeling is mutual. 

“i’m only joking. in fact, if maturing meant finally getting to hear those words from you, then i’m glad i wished to grow up faster when i was a child.” he laughs under his breath, and all you can do is stare at your hands that are currently resting on your lap. he brushes his knee against yours under the table, and you gently kick him back, giggling when he whines about how much it hurt. 

everything feels so new, yet the same. as you and ayato blossomed into new beginnings, the hidden truths of your hearts were exchanged. it only took a few years down memory lane to find them.

[threepointseven]

hi there i hope your having an awesome day! may i request a gorou x reader angst fic where the reader is kokomi’s sister and gorou and the reader liked each other for the longest time but once he met kokomi he fell in love with her and her the same? i’m kinda going through the situation rn soo yea lol, but if not that’s completely okay too! have a great day and remember to take care of yourself <3

🌺summary!🌺- gorou falls inlove with your sister kokomi, he’s been your crush for how many years now though..?

Type- fanfic 🌻

Flowers included!🌼= gorou x reader, gorou x kokomi

Note🍀= i tried my best! So tired rn but i love doing requests either way, makes me so happy to see people requesting <3

Genshin masterlist

💐Your bouquet has been delivered <3💐

You played with gorou’s bright locs as he laid his head on your shoulder, he was so pretty. His ears twitched turning red along with his cheeks as you both embraced the moment, the air was still yet filled with love.

Its one of those days where there’s no chaos, no vision hunt decree drama, no competitions, just love.

You have always been looked down upon by your family members, as your older sister, kokomi sangonomiya was assigned to become the young divine priestess of watatsumi island.

You've always had to compete with her, it seemed like she always wins no matter how hard you try. No matter how many more tears you have shed than her she has always been 10 steps ahead.

So you cherish the days where you and your lifelong crush gorou, get to sit in silence and bask in one another. It takes your mind off your sister, the people comparing you to her, the work, the stress.

You were initially supposed to take gorou to see your family today but somehow you got stuck cuddling with the adorable fox.

“Gorou, we should go now.”

“Mmhm.. we should”

He chuckles before standing up and walking with you to your estate, a shrine estate located in the most beautiful place in watatsumi island. You stepped onto the estate with gorou next to you, his eyes lit up and his ears straightened at the scenery. Your smiles were interrupted by your older sister, Kokomi sangonomiya walking out of the estate with a soft smile on her face.

“Y/n, and you must be gorou?”

Her beauty blended in with watatsumi’s scenery as her blue eyes put the fox in a trance. You somehow expected this. Who wouldnt get hypnotized by her beauty? Her smile never faltered as she led you two to the inside of the main house.

You followed her respectfully glancing at gorou once in a while, he on the other hand was caught in a haze as his eyes focused on the swing and sway of your sisters hair. He looked like a lost puppy who had finally found his owner, and the face that said “ive fallen in love at first sight” stung you to the core.

As you sat down talking to your family you notices gorou’s eyes glued to Kokomi

“You two seem to be getting along well!”

Your mother mentioned as gorou chuckles, blushing like a little kid.

“Ah, well gorou seems to be a great person after all”

The way that her voice harmonized with the air and her smile lightened the room made you glare down, jealousy overwhelmed you as you saw the two sitting close to each other.

The envy waltzed to and fro around your head,

Why? Why does she have to be so perfect? I've liked him for archons knows how long, why... why can't i just be the one he looks at?!

The anger tasted bitter on your tongue as he followed her like a little puppy on a leash, you held back the anger inside you as your parents showered kokomi in compliments in front of you,

“Ah yes kokomi the soon-to-be divine priestess!”

“Such a beautiful thing isnt she! Wouldnt be surprised if you are already head over heels young man!”

The fox chuckles blushing as he joked with your parents. It felt sickening,

I don't wanna be jealous of her. She’s my sister... Why am i so jealous. She deserves it more than me anyway.

But why cant you help the envy running through your veins?

You were like a silent ghost seated at the corner of the room while Kokomi wrapped gorou around her pretty little finger. It wouldnt go too far right? You’d have gorou back right?

“Well Y/N you have to understand that your sister needs more attention. After all she has all this divine priestess work piled up! Cmon Y/N dont be such an attention seeker.”

The words that came out of your mother's mouth made your heart drop as you joked about being invisible at the dinner table. Would you always have to compete with kokomi? Would it always have to be a competition of affection with her? Not only for gorou but for your own parents?

You hated the feeling, who even has the nerve to dislike kokomi. A fraction of your mind felt ashamed of being jealous and hating the sister that’s been by your side smiling at you since birth.

But it really was no more than crystal clear who was superior between the two, to the entire population of Watatsumi island and to your parents, even to gorou.

Week after week, the attempts at small romantic touches failed as Kokomi put him in a daydream with her blue eyes.

‘Why doesnt he look at me the way he used to?’

Dates skipped, hangouts ditched, all cause he suddenly had a role as the divine priestess’s adorable obedient little assistant

Its always been me and gorou. Why did she have to come into the picture.

“A disgusting feeling”

It kept you up at night as you stared at the ceiling,

youll get him back right? And you two will go back to being the shy sappy couple, right?

You reassured yourself, tears falling down your cheeks as you watch kokomi putting her tongue on gorou’s, the hearts in the fox’s eyes told you exactly what you needed to know.

Gorou is her’s now. He’s no longer yours.

Requests open <3 ily all

[gryffindors-weasley]

Midnight Dances

Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Upon your first week settling into your estate as a newlywed couple, you share a moment alone.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, fluff, kissing

(aesthetic made by the lovely @heloisedaphnebrightmore )

It has been three days since your arrival at your new estate across England, and still, you have yet to see the entirety of its beauty. It was extraordinarily perfect in every way one could imagine, and impossibly grand for two newlyweds who spent most of their time in each other’s presence. In just three days time, you felt as though maybe you’d only seen just half of your newfound home, and you were determined to change that.

You huff out a quiet sigh as you stare up at the ceiling once more, not a single bit of fatigue as you lay awake. The same could not be said about Benedict as he lay tangled with you, soft snores puffing into your skin lightly. Nothing could get you to sleep; not the warmth of his skin on yours, not the late hour of the night, not the breeze seeping in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of flowers and fresh air. Any and all efforts to be swept into a blissful sleep were rapidly proving to be futile as the minutes passed.

With an exasperated sigh, you untangle yourself from him as carefully as you can manage, a smile gracing your lips as you watch his face nuzzle into the pillow. You slip on your night robe with a fond shake of your head, tying it closed before heading towards the door. You offer one last glance at your lover, at the grand details of your bedroom and the way the curtains fluttered under the breeze blowing against them. You slip out of the room and pull the door closed quietly, making your leave down the hall.

Your footsteps go unheard on the navy colored rug, not a single tassel out of place as they lined the entirety of the hall. Warm lighting illuminated the space in a dim glow, just enough to navigate but not enough to wake those trying to sleep. You were quite sure everyone in the vicinity had been asleep, everyone in the town even, everyone except for you.

The windows you pass by overlooked the gardens, perhaps the most brilliant and extravagant you’ve had the pleasure of seeing. It was hard to believe that it was yours. Finely manicured bushes were assembled in a meticulous pattern, almost maze like. And there were as many flowers as one could possibly imagine and then some, each different in color and type, each just as beautiful as the last. The blossoming trees were what had enchanted you the most, with the way their petals rain down in a flurry of pale pinks with just the slightest gust of wind.

You descended the marble staircase, your hand sliding down the smooth and cool stone railing as you made your way down the curving steps. It felt impossible to look at any one thing at a time, for everything was too glamorous and too wondrous to do so. Even down to the candles melted at varying heights as they sit in their rightful candelabras, ready to be lit again.

Shortly you arrive at the first landing, the familiar skylight coming into view as you continue walking down the stairs. The arched glass structure tucked amongst the lavish detailings on the ceiling lit up the first floor with a natural glow, the stars glimmering just beyond it. You found you liked it better at night than in the light of day.

You pass through familiar halls, ones you’ve frequented most often since arriving there but a few days ago. You passed familiar rooms such as the library, too grand and full of books for your own excited good. You passed the kitchen, still smelling of honey and cinnamon from that night’s dessert. It was the kind of scent that carried with it warmth and the feeling of being truly at home, regardless of the fact that this estate was still very new to you and most likely would be for a little while as you adjust.

With what seemed like a daunting amount of wandering through gorgeous hallways, each just as vacant as the last, you finally reach unfamiliar territory. Maybe you’d already been there, things tended to look quite similar when you were lost. The sound of ticking clocks had been apparent just about anywhere you’d been and anywhere you will go, as was the consistent artwork adorning every other wall in small glimpses of other worlds in depictions of nature. The only noticeable difference was the navy rugs had since changed to a soft lilac, fluffy golden tassels lining the perimeter.

With a few more steps, your brow raises at the sight of the unfamiliar double doors standing tall before you, adorned with intricately carved woodwork as gold sparkled on its surface. You have yet to see what was on the other side at all, and now you were taking full advantage of the opportunity to with your newfound time.

Upon pushing open the doors, you’re met with a sight so grand and enthralling you hadn’t quite expected to be presented with such beauty. Perhaps the most wondrous ballroom was contained within your very own home. It’s cream-colored walls were lined with carved framework at every edge and every corner, a metallic bronze detailing every curve and bit of linework lacing along its perimeters. Several paintings lined them, each encased in a carved and complex frame to house each nature scene captured within them. The far end of the large room held rather tall windows, nearly floor to ceiling, the very tops arched with a matching set of mirrors to adorn the walls between the glass structures. Not a single smudge was to be found.

Ruffles of silky cream curtains frame each window, pooling on the polished wood floors. Through those very windows, the moonlight had been streaming in so brightly it illuminated the room much like any candelabra could. It’s moonbeams reflected off the several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the myriad of crystals that dangle from each one casting little flecks of light on the floor and over your skin. The ceilings were made up of several sunken ovals, the same bronze detailing encircling each one. The murals inside had made you feel as though you were standing underneath the sky itself, and it was so meticulously painted you hadn’t known how many hours it must have taken. Surely far too many to wrap your head around. The ceiling in its entirety was so impossibly detailed and intricate you could give yourself a headache thinking of the effort put into creating it. It was delightfully busy.

Your eyes fall on a grand piano sat in the corner next, sleek and pristine with its ivory keys on display and waiting to be played. And the silky upholstered seats spaced out throughout the room. It was spacious, so vast you felt as though it could house all of England if they’d been invited. Though selfishly, a part of you wanted to keep this all to yourself.

“So, this is where you’ve run off to?”

You spin on your heel, a smile pulling at your lips once you see Benedict standing in the doorway. His arms crossed over his chest, the buttons of his shirt only half done and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a haphazard attempt to look decent as he roamed the halls in search of you. His hair was a mess, however, dipping over his forehead as the corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. A grin that never fails to uncage butterflies in your stomach. You were unaware of just how long you’d been gone.

You smile, twirling once in the grand room as your nightdress flutters at the action. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I quite like it,” he says with a shrug, pushing himself off the doorframe to make his way over to you. “Though I do believe that some things in this room are far more beautiful than others.”

You turn to face him fully, a blush staining your cheeks that had fortunately gone unseen in the lighting. His smile widened as he raised a brow at you, a laugh falling past his lips when you rolled your eyes.

“What? I was referring to the chandeliers, of course,” He quips with mischief, his eyes crinkling with his grin as you swat at his arm lightly. Your attempts to evade his grasp were futile as he grabs your hand, turning you to face him again as his lips press to your cheek. “I am only kidding, my love.”

“You really are terrible sometimes, you know that, don’t you?” You ask, a lightness in your tone as he drops a kiss to your neck.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” He says, his hands squeezing your own. “Though I suppose it’s better than being terrible all the time, is it not?”

You roll your eyes once more as you turn away from him in an effort to conceal your smile at his antics, walking over to one of the large windows. Just outside was a different angle of the garden, a view aiming straight down a long pathway of perfectly imperfect trees. Fluffy hydrangeas appeared just under the stone window ledges in varying hues of pinks and purples, vines climbing up the far wall of the building.

It hadn’t been long before you felt his arms snake around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“We must take a walk through the garden tomorrow,” you state, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his lips on the exposed skin of your shoulder. You could barely remember what you had planned to say next, until you’d forgotten altogether. “Are you listening?”

“Certainly, we must,” he responds with a soft laugh, pressing his lips to your cheek again. “And should it rain?”

“Then we shall take an umbrella,” you say as if your answer was entirely obvious as you slip from his arms with a delighted grin and a tap of your finger to his nose. You left him to look after you with parted lips and a shake of his head. He was awestruck to say the very least.

You wander about the room again with a bounce in your step, running the tips of your fingers along the soft curtains. Upon closer inspection, you discover the detailed linework you had seen moments before were in fact sculpted and carved vines and flowers spidering up the walls. Such a beauty nearly made you swoon at the very sight of it. Everything just kept getting better and better the more you gazed at it.

“What could be the need of a ballroom this grand?” You ask with a laugh, your eyes falling on Benedict.

“Perhaps to dance in,” he says with a shrug, an amusement in his features. You huff out a sigh though you can’t seem to fight your smile this time.

“You know what I meant. Of course it is made for dancing. ”

“Would you be so kind as to have this dance with me, then?” He asks, a teasing tone still weaving around his words as he offers you his hand.

“If I must,” you huff lightheartedly.

His nose scrunches at your counter and he promptly pulls you close, eliciting a squeal to echo into the room at the sudden action. His hand envelopes your own and his arm encircles your waist in the rightful position of a slow dance. Though this time, it was much less formal with the absence of watchful eyes and the need to execute every move with a flawless ease. For you were quite sure bare feet and slippers, night robes and half-tucked in, half-unbuttoned dress shirts were not of appropriate attire for such things.

No music was needed to find your own rhythm, no music was ever needed when the two of you were in your own world.

“I apologize…for waking you,” you say after a few moments, meeting his gaze once more.

“I was barely asleep, not with all your tossing and turning,” He says as you sway.

“Your snoring tells me otherwise.”

A look of faux surprise and offense crosses his face as he twirls you, wrapping his arm around you once more, “I do no such thing!”

An incredulous scoff leaves your lips as he tugs you close, your brows knit together and he continues to act as though he had entirely no idea what you had been talking about.

“I suppose I’m just hearing things then,” you state, far from being earnest as he nods along, “Perhaps it may have even been me.”

“Perhaps it might’ve,” he repeats in playful agreement, halting your frown from deepening as his lips press to yours in what surely would not be the last of many kisses that evening.

You sigh softly as your lighthearted bickering falls silent in favor of enjoying each other’s presence, enjoying the very fact that this was your home. This was your life now and you couldn’t think of anything better than that. He was ever so tender when he kissed you, when his fingers grazed up your side each time you fell out of rhythm. He claims it was just to hear you laugh, and rightfully so, but it was also in a playful payback for your sleepy dancing skills or lack thereof.

He was patient regardless, for the technicalities of the dance were not of much importance, they never were. Not even in a formal setting did he care if it was done perfectly. He cared about the fact that the most wonderful person in the world had been in his arms, and he loved you for all that you are and all that you will be. He hadn’t even needed a fancy ballroom to want to dance with you, hadn’t needed a large estate to be happy with you. He was perfectly content dancing with you in the field of flowers he’d spotted just two days before, and he made a mental note to take you there the following day.

For a while it was silent between the two of you, save for the occasional giggle when his fingers brushed over your skin. Or the patter of your slippers on the hardwood floors. Or his boisterous laughter he cannot contain when your lips ghost over that very sensitive spot just under his jaw, the fading scent of his cologne still lingering on his skin.

He twirls you before drawing you back into his arms, not without you stumbling into him, of course. It was as if your own two feet had been out to get you, and the undeniable grin on his face was telling enough that he’d been up to no good. Not after that.

“Remember that one dinner with my family?” You sigh in mild exasperation as you groan and look away from him at his words, fighting your smile nonetheless. “You had been so nervous you’d sent a spoonful of peas all over the floor. And—if I recall correctly, you proceeded to knock your wine onto my lap.”

“Am I to assume that you shall never let me live that down, Benedict?” You ask with a squint, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yes, you would assume correctly, Y/n.”

“It is only your fault, you have a dreadful habit of making me flustered after all,” you defend with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“I very well see that,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

You bite the inside of your cheek to stave off your grin, he did not deserve that satisfaction. Instead, you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, effectively kissing away the teasing smile he once had in favor of basking in the feeling of the warmth of your lips brushing over his own. In the feeling of your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck once more. His arms tighten their hold around you out of instinct, a soft hum escaping him.

“Perhaps I should bring it up more often if this is how you choose to quiet me,” he suggests against you, stealing another kiss.

“Or perhaps you shouldn’t.”

You pull away from him much to his dismay, and he finds himself chasing your lips for more. You laugh softly, your hand settling on his cheek as his once teasing smirk turns to that of a fond smile. The crystal reflections of the chandeliers above glimmer down over you, the moonlight illuminating the loving gaze that had been focused on you and only you. He couldn’t help but to capture your lips once more, for now that he had the opportunity to do so just as much as so he pleases he finds he can’t get enough.

Your hand falls from his face as your giggle brushes against his lips, his embrace sending you stumbling back a step or two.

“We’re supposed to be dancing, are we not?” You ask, breaking from his hold and spinning away from him, leaving him to smile after you in a lovestruck daze as you twirl in the glow moonlight.

He stood back to watch you for a moment, the way you seemed to beam more beautifully than any natural wonder ever could. The way you captured his attention far more than the lavish ballroom you currently resided in. Of all the luxuries he’s seen, of all the dashing estates and elegantly decorated soirée’s he’s been in attendance of in his life, there could be no greater beauty than you. There could be nothing in the world that is more enamoring, more effortlessly alluring.

He never knew the profound effects of love until it came along and grabbed hold of his heart, the feeling lancing through him with a wholehearted certainty that it was real and it was all-consuming. He knew love, of course. The Bridgerton family was large and filled with an unwavering warmth and welcoming one could surely wish for. He knew unconditional familial love amongst numerous siblings no matter the bickering that was bound to take place, serious or not. But this—this was different.

This kind of love was wonderfully and delightfully dizzying as it crashed down upon him in waves, immeasurably intoxicating with every fleeting moment that passed him by.

“Are you going to stare at me for the entirety of the night?”

Your teasing voice had stolen his attention once more, his attention that had been so distracted focused on you. It was then that he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off your feet, suddenly spinning with you in playful retaliation for noting his gawking and telling him all about such a thing. Your laughter rang out into the glorious space while his lips pressed a flurry of kisses up your neck, your hands settling on his shoulders as his breath danced across your flushed skin.

To marry your best friend, whom you truly love endlessly is but a wonder indeed, a fate many dream of but very few experience. It is a feeling most incomparable to all else.

He set you back on your feet but his kisses never cease, his lips brushing along the underside of your jaw with his laughter left to linger against your skin. They travel upwards to press tenderly across your blush stained cheeks, to the very tip of your nose, and perhaps most giddily and passionately to your already kiss swollen lips.

He doesn’t know how he manages to stop; perhaps it’s your constant yet soft laughter breaking the two of you apart, or perhaps it’s his desire to see the way your eyes sparkle in the glowing light. Or the way your face is illuminated so beautifully that it has him fighting the urge to grab his sketchbook, but he does not want to leave you not even for a second. Perhaps it’s both and it’s almost entirely too much for him to handle all in one moment.

“Why ever are you looking at me like that?” You ask, amusement in your tone.

“Because,” He says with a breathless laugh, “because I love you. I burn for you.”

A fond smile pulls at your lips immediately as you look at him, and it is impossible to ignore the warmth blossoming in your chest, lancing through you. It is impossible to ignore the insurmountable love coursing through every part of your being as you gaze into the eyes of your lover.

“I love you, Benedict,” you murmur, “I burn for you.”

He finds his smile unable to be contained as his forehead drops to rest on yours, noses brushing. His hand once again finds yours, his arm encircling your waist, and you sway. In the ridiculously large ballroom, to a melody unheard by anyone else. You sway and twirl and laugh in a slow dance all your own, a midnight dance.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @valwritesx

[hockey-fics]

Should Have Seen it Sooner ~ Vince Dunn 

Summary: You make the decision to go visit your brother, Sammy, after graduating university. But that visit quickly becomes much more than you ever would have anticipated. 

Warnings: verbal arguments, language, smut (nothing overly detailed)

Word Count: `13.5k

A/N: Let’s all pretend that Vince isn’t about to be traded ahahaha...I’m sad. 

Your brother had always been your best friend. Even when you were kids and you refused to do so much as admit you liked him. He was the one who you would run to in the middle of the night when you were six and going through a phase of horrible nightmares. He would walk you back to your room, check under the bed and in the closet and lay with you till you fell asleep again. And when you were a little older and started having bad anxiety at school you would sit in the guidance counsellor’s office and refuse to talk to anyone but Sammy, who they would reluctantly pull out of class to come calm you down. When he had a bad loss in a hockey game he would come home and watch terrible reality tv with you, never wanting to talk about the game. He was the first person to make fun of you when you got a bad haircut but was also the first person to come to your defence when someone else made a comment about it. He picked you up drunk from many highschool parties, promising not to tell mom and dad. You helped him with girl issues, carefully constructing text messages to girls he liked, planning his dates for him and giving him pep talks before those dates. 

So when he moved to St. Louis and seemed to be settling in there for awhile you had to admit you were quite upset. Of course growing up with him in hockey you were used to long periods without him, stretches of time when he was on the road. But him moving so far wasn’t easy for you. Then you moved away for university and while it wasn’t any easier, the distraction of new people, new places, and new experiences was enough to make it more bearable. 

But once you graduated you were back to square one, realizing you were lost without your brother. So you took your degree and ran straight to St. Louis to spend whatever free time you had between graduating university and starting your life and career with Sammy. 

It had been two weeks since you got there, making yourself comfortable in Sammy and Vince’s spare bedroom. You had only briefly met Vince prior to the trip but you were quickly becoming acquainted with him, despite the fact that he spent most of his free time playing video games which you were not about to distract him from. 

“Why are you even going on a date?” Sammy asks, sprawled across the guest room bed with his phone in his hands as you stand on the other side of the room in front of the mirror over the dresser, curling your hair. “You’re don’t even live here.” 

Glancing at him through the mirror you let a strand of still hot hair fall over your shoulder. “Do you only ever go on dates if you’re imagining spending the rest of your life with the person?” 

Sammy looks over at you, his nose crinkling. “Gross.”

“What?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you set your curling iron down, turning around to look at Sammy. 

“You’re just going on a date with this guy to get fuck-.”

“Stop,” you exclaim, eyes widening. The last thing you wanted was your older brother thinking about your sex life. “No, I’m just meeting people, going out, having fun. I’m not just trying to get…fucked,” you tell him, turning around to look back into the mirror and continue on with your hair. “If that was the case I wouldn’t be putting this much effort into my appearance when it’ll just get wrecked in-.”

“No,” Sammy exclaims, pushing himself up off your bed. “I don’t want to hear it.” Laughing you watch him walk out of your room, shaking his head. 

An hour later you’re in Sammy’s car after he convinced you to let him drive you to your date instead of taking an Uber. “Call me when you want me to pick you up,” Sammy tells you as you climb out of your car. 

“Okay, dad,” you joke, rolling your eyes as you say your goodbye to Sammy, closing the door. 

And call Sammy you did, only it was much earlier than you had expected. The date had gone terribly. It was only twenty minutes into the date, the drinks you had ordered not even at your table yet, when he suggested just leaving and going back to his place. And the suggestive comments didn’t stop, till ten minutes later and you were wondering if he was even going to let you leave at the end of the night without putting up a fight. So you excused yourself to the bathroom, pulling your phone out and dialling Sammy’s number. But he didn’t answer. So you called again, and he didn’t answer. Four more times and you were about to hang up and get an Uber when the dial tone cuts out. 

“He didn’t answer the first ten times, why would he answer now?” It’s Vince’s voice, annoyed but also distant and you’re pretty sure that means he’s in the middle of gaming. 

“Where’s Sammy?” 

“The shower,” Vince tells you, too preoccupied with what he was doing to even so much as question the six, back-to-back phone calls. 

“Can you tell him to come pick me up as soon as he’s out of the shower?” You ask, sniffling as you feel an overwhelming wash of panic come over you. This meant you would have to go back and sit with that man for even longer. “Or, could you just go like knock on the door? Tell him to hurry…please?”

“What’s wrong?” Vince asks, his tone shifting slightly. 

“I…he-he’s weird,” you mutter, anxiously running your fingers through your hair. “Creepy,” you add, making him aware that it wasn’t a matter of simply not clicking on a first date. 

“Text me the restaurant you’re at.”

“What? Sammy knows,” you tell him. 

“I’m coming to get you.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to. You hated burdening people, hated asking for help. But that was far outweighed by your anxiety about the man at the table on the other side of the restaurant. “Thank you, I’ll text it to you now,” you tell him, saying a quick goodbye before hanging up and texting the address to Vince. 

’on my way’ Vince sends back immediately. 

You spend another few minutes in the bathroom before heading out to the restaurant, slowly making your way to the table. “Hey, I just got a text from my friend. I have to leave,” you tell him, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table, more than enough to cover the drink you ordered but never even got a sip of. 

Outside you stand near the entrance of the restaurant, not wanting to stray too far from the brightly lit entrance. You’re surprised when you see Vince’s car pull up in front of you. Not because you didn’t think he would show up, but because you weren’t expecting him to be there that quickly. Hurrying to the passenger’s side door you hop into his car, silent as you stare out the front window, pulling your seatbelt across your body. 

“That bad?” Vince asks, putting his car back in drive and pulling away from the restaurant. 

“Yes,” is all you’re able to mutter leaning back in your seat, elbow on the window sill as you rest you head in your hand. 

“Too bad,” Vince comments, glancing over at you, “You look good tonight, sucks it was wasted on an asshole.”

Your cheeks get warm, palms sweaty, and you’re not sure why. All you can manage to do is glance over at Vince and mutter a simple, “thanks, I guess.”

The next thing you know you’re in a Dairy Queen drive through and Vince is looking over at you. “What do you want?”

“I didn’t…wait, what?” But Vince is pulling up to the speaker before you have any longer to question it so you tell him what you want and wait in silence till he pulls ahead. “I didn’t realize we were getting ice cream.”

“And we’re going to watch that shitty tv show you’re always trying to get Sammy to watch,” Vince tells you, clearly having already constructed a plan for how he was going to turn the night around for you. 

“Thank you, Vince,” you whisper and he glances over, eyes meeting yours before shrugging casually, as if it was no big deal. But it was. It was a big deal. He had already gone out of his way to pick you up, something he didn’t need to do. Now he was committing to trying to cheer you up. 

Before you know it you’re back at Sammy and Vince’s apartment and Sammy is lost beyond hope regarding the situation. “It’s okay,” you assured Sammy when he asked you about the six phone calls the second you walked through the front door. “Vince came to get me.”

“Why?” Sammy asks, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Because you have terrible timing to go have a shower.” Tugging your jacket off you hang it up on the hook by the door. “I should have listened to you, dating is just a bad idea.”

“Well I didn’t exactly say that,” Sammy mutters, following after you and Vince as you head towards the living room. “What happened?”

“My date was a creep, I called your phone…a few times, and Vince answered after he got annoyed with listening to it ring.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Vince chimes in, flopping down onto the end of the couch. 

Rolling your eyes you glance over at Vince, shaking your head. “Don’t lie, I heard how annoyed you were.”

“I wasn’t annoyed,” Vince repeats, eyes locked on yours. 

“Fine,” you comment, but you were still convinced it was a lie and he was just trying not to sound like an asshole after finding out about the situation. “We’re going to watch Selling Sunset, want to join?”

Sammy furrows his eyebrows, glancing over at Vince. “You’re going to watch Selling Sunset?” He asks, directing his question at Vince. 

Walking over you sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Vince, pulling your legs and crossing them as you reach for the remote. 

“Yeah,” Vince replies, looking over at Sammy while grabbing the remote for you and handing it to you. 

Sammy stands in a stunned silence for a minute, staring at Vince in disbelief. He could barely ever convince Vince to let him pick a series and now here he was, willing to watch a reality tv show about Los Angeles real estate. “Okay,” Sammy finally mutters, settling into the love seat on the other side of the room, exchanging silent glances with you. Silent glances that asked, ‘what’s going on?’ But you couldn’t answer, verbally or silently, because you weren’t really sure where this behaviour was coming from with Vince. 

A few episodes later and you decide to put Vince and Sammy, who were trying their best to seem like they actually cared about what was on the screen, out of their misery. “I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, handing the remote to Vince as you push yourself off the couch, stretching your arms over your head. “Thanks again, for everything tonight,” you tell Vince. 

“Anytime,” he replies, watching as you walk out of the living room and into the guest room down the hall. 

It’s not long before there’s a knock on your door and you look up from where you were laying on the bed scrolling through your phone. Sammy pushes the door open, taking two bounding steps before throwing himself onto your bed. “What happened tonight?” He asks, his tone a serious shift from his actions of throwing himself around like a ragdoll. 

Shrugging you lock your phone, setting it down and adjusting higher on your pillow so you could see your brother without fully committing to actually sitting up. “My date was just creepy…he kept trying to get me to leave with him like 5 minutes into the date.”

Sammy visibly tenses up when he hears this, shifting to sit up as he looks down at you. “So you called Vince?”

“I called you,” you exclaim, laughing as you reach other, grabbing a pillow and swinging it towards him. “But you seemed to think the date was going to last longer than half an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” Sammy tells you, and you can tell that he really means it. Normally you were sure he wouldn’t care about not being able to pick you up at the exact moment you wanted him to. He was your brother after all, he cared, but he wasn’t sweet about it. This was just a different type of situation, you knew it, he knew it, and thankfully, Vince had figured that out too. 

“It’s fine, I just won’t rely on you…ever again,” you joke. 

“That’ll last like twenty minutes,” Sammy replies, laying back down along the foot of your bed. “Till you find a spider in your room and refuse to come back in till I kill it for you.”

“Don’t put that in the universe, that’s so mean to wish that upon me.” 

You and Sammy continue talking till you’re about to drift off to sleep and he sneaks out of your room, like he did when you were six and had a nightmare. 

A couple days later Sammy and Vince had to go on a five day road trip and you considered going home, brought up the idea to Sammy. He pointed out the fact that you had a key to the apartment, you had gotten comfortable there, and it was only five days. So you agreed to stay, relatively easily at that. Because if you were being honest, you missed being around Sammy, and you were happier there than you had been in awhile. 

The morning they were leaving you were saying your goodbyes, hugging Sammy quickly. “Good luck, I’ll miss you. I promise I won’t throw any parties,” you joked. You were used to sad goodbyes with Sammy, after he would come home during the summer and you would have to say goodbye for months. This one felt so different though, knowing it was only a few days apart. It was comforting. 

When you pulled away you looked over at Vince, hesitating a second before throwing your arms around him too. “Good luck,” you told him, his arms tight around your waist. It was different than your hug with Sammy, of course it would be, but you weren’t prepared for just how different. You weren’t prepared for the the scent of his cologne, the way he held you tight to his body, the warmth radiating from him, would make your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll miss you as well,” you added, playing it off as a joke, but you knew it wasn’t really a joke. 

Vince had chuckled in response, your body absorbing the way his laughter rumbled through his body. “I’ll miss you too,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine with the quiet tone of his voice. He had pulled away, looking at you once more before the two of them headed out. 

You went about your normal routine while they were gone but the quietness of the apartment was starting to get to you around day three, leaving you longing for not just your brother but Vince as well, to be back. So when Sammy told you the time they would be back you went all out, going grocery shopping and picking up all of Sammy’s favourite foods and the few you remember Vince mentioning liking. And you were halfway through cooking dinner for everyone when they got back from their trip. 

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen, sautéing a pan full of vegetables, music playing loudly from the speaker on the counter a few feet away. “I’m making dinner, if you guys already ate I’m going to be sad.”

“We didn’t.” Shockingly it’s Vince who’s greets you first, walking up behind you and leaning over your shoulder to look into the pan. 

“How was the flight home?” You ask, turning your head to glance up at Vince. He’s closer than you expected and you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. You’re convinced it’s because you’re just glad to have people around again, and not because you had really started to like Vince. 

“Pretty good,” Vince tells you, stepping to the side to lean against the counter beside the stove. “How was your week alone in my house?”

Rolling your eyes you set the spatula down beside the stove, looking up at him. “Fantastic, your bed is so much more comfortable than the one in the guest room.”

“Oh, really?” Vince chuckles. “I’m willing to share.”

You’re caught off guard by Vince’s comment, unable to come up with a witty response before Sammy is in the room as well. “What are you making?” Sammy asks, walking over and giving you a quick hug before immediately plugging his phone into the nearest outlet and unlocking his phone, typing quickly. 

“Stir fry…who are you talking to?” You ask Sammy, your tone teasing. 

Sammy shakes his head but his little smile tells you that it’s not nothing. “Ooh,” you laugh, stepping away from the stove to try to look at Sammy’s phone. But he pulls it away quickly and the next thing you know you’re wrestling for Sammy’s phone like you’re both teenagers again. “Just tell me,” you laugh, hand grasping for his phone as he pushes your arm back with his free hand. 

“Her name is Anna,” Vince says. 

Pulling back from Sammy you glance over at Vince, shocked at his willingness to let you in on Sammy’s business. “Oh,” you hum, picking up the spatula again to stir the vegetables in the pan. “So, who’s Anna?” 

“A girl I’ve been talking to for a few weeks,” Sammy tells you easily. There was never really any need to keep it a secret, he was just playing the part of an annoying older brother in trying to keep it a secret. “We went on a date a couple days before we left.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going on a date?” 

“I actually didn’t think it would lead to anything,” Sammy confesses. 

“Like Y/N’s dating life,” Vince quips. 

You whip your head in Vince’s direction, gasping at his comment. “You’re an asshole,” you exclaim, laughing. “I’ll let you know, I could have a boyfriend if I wanted…I’m just not trying right now.”

“Seemed like you were trying,” Vince chuckles. 

“I swear to god, Vince,” you mutter, wielding the spatula you were holding with a joking threat. 

“Can one of you shut up so we don’t burn the house down, please,” Sammy chimes in and draws your attention back to the vegetables that were starting to stick to the pan. As you go back to finishing up dinner the boys continue on with their own conversations, discussing things that happened over the trip and the upcoming schedule for the week. 

After you all finish dinner you’re back in the kitchen to tidy up and do some dishes, but Vince is at your side at the sink quickly after. Nudging you to the side Vince grabs the wash cloth from your hand. “I got it,” he tells you. 

“I don’t mind,” you retort, not moving much further away from the beside the sink. “I’m sure you guys are tired.”

“I slept on the flight,” Vince informs you, running the cloth over a mixing bowl in the sink. 

Huffing you step away from him, “fine.” Walking to the cupboard you grab the box of tea you bought a few days prior, taking a mug down as well as you turn the kettle on. “Want some tea?”

Vince chuckles, an obvious enough answer, but he follows it up with “no, thanks,” anyway. “So did you go on anymore dates while we were gone?”

Rolling your eyes you hop up onto the counter while you wait for your tea to steep, watching Vince do the dishes. “No, nobody here was to rescue me if it went poorly.”

“So what did you actually do the whole time we were gone?”

Shrugging you bring the tea to your lips, taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Hung out with some friends a few times, explored the city, watched all your games.”

“Friends?” 

“Yes, Vince, I’m capable of making friends,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Vince chuckles, glancing over at you. “I just mean, like, you’re just here visiting and you’re still making friends? Where did you meet them anyway?”

“The gym,” you inform him, your voice quiet and deflated. You didn’t really like to think about that fact, about the reality that you would have to make some kind of move soon. You couldn’t live in this vacation-like reality forever. No matter how much you wanted to. 

After the dishes are done Vince heads to his computer to play video games and you head to the living room to watch some TV till Sammy was done unpacking and you could convince him to hang out with you and give you all the details about Anna. 

And two days later Sammy was beyond glad that he had given you all the details about Anna when he sent you a panicky text. The boys had the day off and Sammy had gone out to run a few errands while you were hanging out at the house with Vince. ‘I told Anna I would cook her dinner at my place.’

‘that’s dumb, you can’t cook’ you replied quickly, sitting on the couch and watching Vince play video games. You were trying to be more involved with that after he had started watching the occasional episode of Selling Sunset with you. 

‘that’s not the issue’ ‘I’ll figure that out’ ‘You and Vince can’t be there, it’ll be awkward’ 

Sighing you glance up from your phone screen to Vince. “Vince,” you call, standing up from the couch and making your way across the room. “We gotta go.”

“Where?” Vince mutters, not peeling his eyes off the screen in front of him.

“I don’t know,” you confess while sending Sammy a text to tell him you were on it, to give you twenty minutes and you’d be out. “Sammy is kicking us out.”

“What?” Vince asks, spinning in his chair once his game had ended. 

“He needs the apartment for a date, now hurry up, we’re going out for awhile.”

Vince groans and sets his controller down, reluctantly pulling himself off the chair. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“I agreed on your behalf.” Walking into your room you grab a jacket, your wallet, and keys before hurrying back towards the door where Vince was already pulling on his shoes. “Have anything you needed to get done?” You ask him once you had your shoes on and you were on your way out the door behind Vince. 

“I would have already been doing it.”

Rolling your eyes you reach forward and shove him playfully. “If you don’t stop being an asshole I’ll drop you off at the library for four hours.”

“It’s my car…and I’m driving.”

“No, please, let me drive,” you ask, shuffling quickly in front of him and spinning around so you were facing him. Sammy had given you permission to drive his car while he was out of town and you had loved exploring the city, not really knowing where you were going, just driving. 

“No, I’ve seen you drive.” Vince keeps his hand folded firmly over his car keys, gazing down at you.

“That was one time,” you defend.

“One time we almost died.” 

Rolling your eyes you cross your arms over your chest. “You’re so dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.”

Suddenly Vince has his hands on your arms and he’s spinning you around, pushing you towards the car. “Get in the car,” his voice is filled with urgency and you notice Sammy pulling up towards the apartment parking lot. 

Giggling at the whole situation you hop into his car, watching Sammy pull into his parking stall. Neither you or Vince had to bring up the idea of staying in the car and doing a little light-hearted spying, you were silently on board with the idea. You watch Sammy get out, trying to make it to the passenger’s side of the car to open Anna’s door but she’s already getting out and you watch as the awkwardly fumble around the door for a second. Both you and Vince glance over at each other at the same, bursting into laughter. 

“No, but they are cute together,” you comment through your giggles, watching as they laugh off the exchange, Sammy closing the door behind her. 

“He wouldn’t shut up about her over the trip.”

“That’s cute.” You watch as they head into the apartment building together before turning your attention back to Vince. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Vince turns his car on, putting it into drive and pulling out of the parking lot, no real destination in mind. 

“You must have someone you can’t shut up about…I mean, look at you,” you comment absentmindedly, not really thinking about how it would come across. 

“Are you calling me hot, Y/N?”

“Well,” you hum, laughing as your cheeks redden slightly. “I think it’s like, objective, you know. Anyone would say you’re hot.”

“So you don’t personally find me hot?”

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, shaking your head as Vince simply chuckles. He was really trying his hardest to keep you from getting out of that one easily. “Where are we going?”

“The library, I’m leaving you there,” Vince jokes. 

“Great, books are more entertaining than you anyway,” you quip.

“I was going to take you to get a coffee but maybe not now.”

“No,” you whine, laughing. Vince had clearly noticed when all three of you would get in the car to go anywhere the first time thing out of your mouth was ‘can we get a coffee’? “I take it back then.”

So a few minutes later you’re in the drive through at Starbucks and you don’t even need to tell Vince your order because he has it memorized, which you’re surprised by. He pays for your coffee even though you insist that you can buy it. Then you’re driving again and you end up parked in front of a shoe store. 

“I actually did have something I needed to get done,” Vince tells you, chuckling. 

“Oh, so you were just being rude for no good reason then,” you comment, hoping out of the car after him and walking towards the store with Vince. “Does this mean I get to help you pick shoes?”

“Uh,” Vince mutters, glancing down to your shoes. “No.”

“Take me to the library, you’re so mean,” you whine, playfully pushing his arm. 

Vince laughs, reaching over and grabbing your hand as you push him. “Come on,” he huffs jokingly, pulling you along into the store. And you suddenly can’t focus on anything but his hand, the way it so easily wrapped around yours, warm and secure. But it makes you nervous, the way it causes butterflies to fill your stomach, so you pull it away quickly. 

You’re in the shoe store much longer than you though, Vince taking an excessively long amount of time to make a decision. But you don’t mind because in all honesty, you simply liked being around Vince. Your next stop is for dinner and Vince picks the restaurant, still acting as an unofficial tour guide for you. 

By the time dinner is over you had expected to receive a text from Sammy, letting you know that it was fine to come home. But you get nothing, so you and Vince go get ice cream and drive to a lookout, listening to music and eating your dessert. Your conversation flows easily and you would happily have sat there for hours with Vince, talking and joking. But you get a text message from Sammy shortly after telling you he was taking Anna home. 

“We’re safe to go back,” you tell Vince, pulling your seatbelt back on. 

“Too bad,” Vince mutters. 

“What?”

Vince glances across the interior of the car at you, silent for a second as he tugs his seatbelt on. “It’s just been more fun than I thought this would be.”

“I don’t know how to take that,” you laugh. It was nice to hear he had been having a good time, but you didn’t know if you should be upset that he was anticipating it not being a very good time. 

Vince chuckles, not saying anything else about it as the two of you drive back to the apartment. You’re back before Sammy and you head for the living room, Vince following after you and not putting saying anything as you pick the movie for the night. 

‘going to get an uber now’ 

You had gone out with your new group of friends for the night, one drink turning to two and two turning to a count you had lost long ago. You had been texting Vince all night, though it wasn’t anything new. The two of you had fallen into a routine of texting almost anytime you were apart. He had picked up on your dwindling sobriety throughout the night, as almost anyone reading your messages could have. So when you told him you were getting an Uber he was quick to reply. 

‘I’ll come get you, where are you?’

So you sent him your address, you and your friends paying your bills before heading outside for everyone to wait for their rides. Shockingly it’s Vince who shows up first and your friends are quick to make comments about how none of their real boyfriends were that quick to get there. You brushed it all off, making excuses that he was just a good friend, that he was probably speeding anyway, that you didn’t live that far. Anything to not admit the fact that you and Vince might have a connection that was becoming more than just friendly. 

“Hi,” you greet, cheerful as you climb into Vince’s car. It was so unlike the first time he picked you up and Vince was grateful for that, not just because you were in a better mood but also because it meant you hadn’t been out on a date. 

“How was your night?” Vince laughs.

“Good,” you giggle, looking over at him as he drives back to the apartment. And you can’t help but think about how attractive he truly was, how he made your heart beat just a little faster. He was your brother’s best friend and you knew the feelings you were having towards him were complicated. “Yours?”

“Probably not as good as yours,” he jokes, taking note of the way you couldn’t stop smiling, primarily a result of the alcohol in your system. But there was also a part of you that was just happy to be around him. 

“So anyway, Michael has been staying late at work all the time and Lily is starting to get suspicious about it,” you ramble as you walk through the apartment door with Vince. It’s quiet in the apartment and you realize you hadn’t texted Sammy in awhile, wondering if he was in bed. “Sammy?” You call, stumbling slightly over the edge of the doormat. 

Vince wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you as he laughs. “He’s in bed,” Vince tells you. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” you admit, clutching onto the arm Vince had wrapped around your waist. “Just wanted to say hi to him.”

Vince chuckles and nods. “I think you should go to bed too.” He gently guides you further into the apartment, reaching over to turn the deadbolt on the door while keeping one arm around you, as if you couldn’t stand on your own. 

“Hey, Vince,” you whisper although you didn’t need to get his attention. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He steps closer now, looking down at you in the silent apartment, waiting to hear what your drunk mind was coming up with. 

“Thank you, for everything, for letting me stay here this long. I promise I’ll leave soon. I know you didn’t sign up to have two roommates.”

Vince smiles softly, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it. I like having you here. I don’t, you know, want you to leave if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” you whisper, processing the idea that you weren’t annoying Vince with your extended stay. “I mean it though, thank you.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Vince says, changing the subject as he guides you through the apartment to the guest bedroom. He hovers near the doorway, clearly wanting to make sure you were settled in bed before leaving you.

You knew he was there, you knew you should ask him to look away if he wanted to stay till you were in bed, but you don’t. Instead you simply pull your shirt up over your head, exposing a lacy black bra you had worn for no real reason except that it made you feel confident. Shimmying your jeans down your legs you toss them aside carelessly. You don’t even look over at Vince as you reach behind you to unhook that bra, missing the way he stood there, stunned and frozen with his eyes on you. You let your bra fall to the ground, your body angled away from Vince as you grab a t-shirt from the dresser. 

“Y/N?” Sammy’s voice calls through the apartment. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, clutching the shirt to your bare chest. Your wide eyes look over at Vince who comically steps back and forth between the wide-open bedroom door, clearly not knowing what the correct move was. “Just close it.” And Vince does exactly that, from the inside. “Vince,” you groan.

“You told me to,” he defends, his hand still resting on the doorknob. 

“From outside,” you tell him. “Now this just looks…weird.”

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Sammy calls through the closed bedroom door. 

“Yeah,” you call back, spinning around to leave your back facing Vince as you pull your t-shirt on, grateful for the size and length of it. “Just getting ready for bed.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Home. Your eyes flick over to Vince, trying to see if he caught onto the same, subtle insinuation. But he still just looked panicky as he stands beside the closed door. “Yeah, I’m just going to bed now.”

“Can I come in and say goodnight?”

Your heart begins to race as stare at Vince in silence for a second. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t say no, he would immediately know that something was wrong. Sammy pushes the door open a second later and Vince looks to you in panic. “How was-,” Sammy begins to ask when he spots Vince, looking back and forth between the two of you. “What’s going on?” 

You weren’t sure why you felt so guilty. You hadn’t done anything with Vince, it wasn’t a lie to say that nothing was happening, that he was just making sure you got to bed safely. Maybe the reason you felt so guilty was because that wasn’t all you wanted to happen. “Vince picked me up, was just making sure I got to bed safely.” 

Sammy nods slowly, not seeming convinced. “Well I got it from here,” he mutters to Vince, nodding towards the still open door. Vince glances back at you one more time before leaving, the silence in the room painful. “What’s going on?” Sammy repeats once it’s just you and him.

“Nothing,” you exclaim, flopping down onto your bed and climbing under the covers, hoping to make it obvious that you didn’t have anything else to say. 

“You two are getting really close,” Sammy points out. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”

“Yes,” you huff, dramatically yanking your blankets higher up around your shoulders. “Go back to bed.”

“Don’t have to be so moody,” Sammy grumbles, turning off your light and closing the door behind him as he leaves your room. Once he’s gone you lay awake for most of the night, your mind racing with thoughts of Vince. Thoughts you knew you shouldn’t be feeling towards him but the more you tried to think of anything other than him the more vivid the thoughts became till your mind eventually silenced itself completely and you drifted to sleep.

“I’m spending the night at Anna’s place,” Sammy told you a few days later as he was grabbing his keys off the counter and heading for the door. 

Giggling you glance up from the book you were reading, shooting him a knowing look. 

“Don’t be weird,” he comments, chuckling. 

“What do you mean? I didn’t say anything,” you joke, feigning innocence. 

“I don’t know where Vince is, he left while you were at the gym, don’t know when he’ll be back,” Sammy informs. 

“Have fun tonight,” you call as he walks out the front door. 

A few hours later you’ve migrated to the kitchen, finishing up baking some cookies while you were trying to figure out how you wanted to spend the rest of the evening. 

“Hey.”

Jumping you whirl around to face the direction of that the sudden voice comes from. Bringing your hand to your chest over your racing heart you laugh in relief when you see it’s just Vince. “You scared me, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” Vince chuckles, reaching over and taking one of the cookies off the cooling rack on the counter. “Where’s Sammy?”

“He’s at Anna’s place for the night,” you explain, leaning against the counter. “Are they good? It’s a new recipe.”

“Yeah, really good. So we’re alone tonight?” Vince asks, elbows on the counter as he leans against it, eyes focused on you. 

“Can’t believe he left us without supervision,” you joke, pulling the last tray of cookies out of the oven before turning it off. 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Movie night?”

“Sure,” Vince agrees, shrugging as he pushes himself off the counter. “Let’s go pick up dinner first.”

After a quick trip to the grocery store and your favourite sushi restaurant you’re back at the apartment, pouring yourself a glass of wine while Vince was already opening up the boxes of sushi. “Want some?” You ask Vince, gesturing to the wine. 

“Uh,” he hums before shaking his head. “I’ll pass on that,” he chuckles, walking to the fridge and grabbing a beer for himself. 

“Should have figured,” you giggle, putting the white wine back into the fridge.

In the living room you two settle onto the couch to have dinner and pick the first movie of the night. Halfway through the second movie you’ve lost your focus on the plot, eyes on your phone as you curl into the corner of the couch, scrolling through your instagram feed.

“What is more interesting than this movie?” Vince questions, gesturing to the tv and the movie he had picked that was playing on it. 

Glancing up you roll your eyes playfully. “Almost anything.” Scooting down the couch you settle in beside Vince, letting him see your phone screen. 

And within seconds the movie is long forgotten as he chuckles at a meme you scroll by. The transition from Instagram to TikTok is quick and so is the movement from you sitting beside Vince to you being tucked under his arm and leaning into his side. You’re both giggling at the short videos and the time slips by quickly, the credits on the tv rolling and reminding you of the fact that you had planned a movie night. “Do I get to pick the next one?” 

Vince reluctantly hands you the remote, wrapping his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. His body is warm and his embrace is comforting and you know you shouldn’t want to stay like this with him forever, but you do.

The next movie is more interesting but you find it just as hard to focus on with the way you were wrapped up in Vince’s arms. You’re not even sure what compels you to look up at Vince, he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t moved. But he notices and turns his attention to you a second later. “What?” He asks, voice low and rough in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

“Nothing,” you whisper, barely able to make any sound come from your mouth as your cheeks get hot. And you want to say the flushing is from the wine but it only started when Vince’s eyes landed on your and you know he wouldn’t believe your lie. 

“Are you sure?”

You swallow hard, shifting slightly towards him. “I don’t know.”

Vince’s lips curl into a soft smile, eyes lingering on your lips as he reaches forward to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “Then just show me what you’re thinking.”

It’s an invitation and you know he’s saying it because he already knows exactly what you’re thinking. But it’s risky and you both know that, too scared to make the move when the potential of it ending poorly is so high. But you can’t hold back any longer. So you lean forward, just enough for him to get the message and he takes over, hand around the back of your head as he leans over and kisses you. 

And he kisses you like he’s making every second worth it if things do end poorly. When you pull back your mind is racing a million miles an hour but your body is begging to do it again. You wait a second, hoping Vince would say something. But he doesn’t, and you don’t either, and you can’t think of anything better to do than lean back in and press your lips back against his. This time it’s heated in a way that you had never felt before and you’re climbing into his lap, hips grinding down on him. You weren’t aware of just how badly you needed him to touch you until that very minute when his lips brushed against yours. 

“Are you going to actually share your bed with me tonight?” You whisper against his lips when you finally pull back. 

“I would’ve shared my bed with you any night you wanted.” Vince grasps your hips, gently pushing you away from him and helping you onto your feet before standing up with you. “Are you sure?”

Smiling you lean up, kissing him quickly again. “Yes, of course.”

Vince wraps his large hand around yours, slowly walking you through the apartment. As if he didn’t want to seem too eager, careful and tentative around the whole situation. 

But once you’re in his room, on his bed, Vince is far less careful and tentative. And the night ends with you feeling barely able to move, body having ridden through more highs in one go than you had ever felt. 

As soon as you’re done Vince goes back to being careful, considerate as the two of you shower together and he lets you pick out a t-shirt before curling up under the covers of his bed. 

“Should we have done that?” You finally whisper after laying next to Vince with your head on his chest in silence for what felt like ages. 

“I’m not sure,” Vince admits with an obvious reluctance, running his hand along your bare arm. 

“Sammy was already suspicious of us.”

“I figured,” Vince tells you, sighing. “After the night I picked you up?”

“Yeah…I told him it was nothing…I mean, like, I know it was nothing, but-.”

“It wasn’t,” Vince interrupts, pulling you a little closer and pressing his lips to your forehead. “This isn’t nothing to me, Y/N. If I just wanted a quick fuck I definitely wouldn’t pick my best friend and roommate’s sister, no matter how hot you are.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, caught off guard. “Well then, what does it mean?”

Vince is quiet for too long after you ask, the only way you could tell he was still awake in the dark room was his hand still running up and down your arm. “I have feelings for you, but other than that…I don’t know,” Vince finally mutters. 

“I think we need to give it some time, not tell Sammy this happened yet.”

“Just go back to the way things were?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

Vince moves his hands to your waist, pulling you on top of him. 

“Vince,” you exclaim, hands clambering for support till they find his bare shoulders, holding you up as you look down at his silhouette below you. 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Vince chuckles, his thumbs running along your upper thighs, large hands now wrapped around the backs of them. 

“I think you can,” you assure him, leaning down to press your lips to his. But the fact that you could feel him getting hard again makes you a little wary about whether he really could. “Maybe,” you whisper, moving your hips back as you reach down, wrapping around his length. 

“Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back on the pillow. And the last thing you had expected when you crawled into Vince’s bed after the first few rounds was to be doing it again. But you were making up for lost time. It’s slower this time, both of your tired bodies just searching for another release. And you find it, easier than normal, on top of Vince still in his t-shirt, panties simply pushed to the side. 

When you finish Vince is quick to help you get cleaned up again, letting you remain collapsed on his bed. You can’t stop your heart from fluttering with excitement with him, at how considerate and caring he was. And when he finally settles back down you curl back into his side. “We need to agree on something.”

“Alright,” Vince mutters apprehensively. 

“We can’t hook up when Sammy is here, it’s too risky.”

“Fine,” Vince finally agrees after a couple minutes of contemplation. The two of you drift to sleep very shortly after. 

Your eyes flutter open to a gentle shaking of your shoulder. “Hey, babe, you have to wake up,” Vince says, voice quiet. “Sammy and I have practice in a couple hours, he’s going to be home soon.”

Groaning you roll away from him, head buried in his pillow. “It’s too early.”

“I know,” Vince chuckles sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hand along your arm. “You’re the one who doesn’t want your brother to find out.”

“Don’t act like you want him to know you railed his sister the first time he left us alone,” you mumble, still half asleep. 

“When you put it that way,” Vince chuckles, head whipping towards the bedroom door when he hears the sound of the front door closing. 

“Shit,” you whisper, suddenly fully awake as you sit up completely straight. 

“Just stay here, I’ll tell him you haven’t come out of you room yet this morning,” Vince suggests. 

Nodding you run your hands through your messy hair, anxiety creeping up on you. If you were going to tell Sammy anything at this point you would rather just admit that you and Vince had feelings for each other, not that you spent the night in his bed. 

“Don’t worry, it’s believable. It’s not like you don’t normally sleep in till one in the afternoon.”

Scoffing you roll your eyes, flopping back onto Vince’s bad. “Whatever,” you grumble. “Text me when you two are gone,” you mutter, glad your phone had been in your pocket when you made your way to Vince’s room the night before. 

And when you finally get a text from Vince saying they were gone you pull yourself out of bed, making it behind you before wandering out of the bedroom. The apartment is so quiet and you make yourself some coffee, still just in Vince’s t-shirt. Something about it feels so right, so comfortable. After making a coffee you settle down on one of the barstools at the counter in the kitchen, opening your laptop and navigating to Indeed and before you’re even fully processing what you’re doing you’ve sent out a handful of resumes to jobs in St. Louis. 

After you finish applying to jobs you move on to getting ready for the day. When Sammy and Vince finally get home you feel the weight of so many secrets on your chest. Of not telling Sammy about you and Vince, of not telling Sammy and Vince about applying for jobs in St. Louis. 

“How was your night?” You ask Sammy as he walks into the kitchen, looking up over the top of your laptop. 

“Good,” Sammy replies, grabbing himself a snack from the fridge. “How was yours?”

“Good,” you reply simply, looking back down at your computer.

“Up late?” Looking back up you stare at Sammy for a second, feeling like he was trying to catch you in a lie. “I mean, you were still in bed when I left this morning.”

Nodding you pick up your mug, shrugging. “TikTok is pretty addicting,” you comment, brushing it off as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m going grocery shopping, do you have anything in particular that you need?”

“Just the regular stuff we keep in the house,” Sammy shrugs, not wanting to have to actually think about it. 

Rolling your eyes you close your laptop and slide off the stool you were sitting on. “Really helpful, can I borrow your car?”

Sammy groans loudly. “What if I wanted to go out?”

“Well do you?”

“I’ll just take you,” Vince chimes in, walking into the room. 

Glancing over your eyes linger on Vince’s for a second, wanting so badly to be able to say something or hug him, something…anything. “Thanks,” you finally mutter, realizing you needed to say something and not just stand there and stare at him. 

“Want to go now?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, gathering your things and pulling on a hoodie on your way out the door. Once you’re outside you glance behind you and up at Vince. “So, since when are you so interested in grocery shopping?”

“Since it means being with you…away from your brother,” Vince chuckles, hands on your waist, tugging you to stop and pulling you into him. Leaning down he presses his lips to yours, your head tipped back and to the side, fingers clutching at his arm. 

“You’re not being very secretive,” you giggle, pulling back and looking around the front parking lot of the apartment building. 

“Fine, I’ll wait till we’re in the car.”

Rolling your eyes you get into the passenger’s side of Vince’s car. “We’re going to get groceries…that’s it.”

You drive to the closest grocery story and head inside with Vince, pushing the cart down almost every aisle, the two of you talking and making jokes the whole time. It’s such a mundane task, grocery shopping, but somehow doing it with Vince makes it enjoyable and fun. 

Back at the apartment you lug an armload of groceries inside, seeing Sammy sitting on the couch, xbox controller in this hands. “Thanks for the help,” you call to him sarcastically. 

Sammy chuckles, barely glancing in your direction. “You’ve got Vince.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that comment, dropping the bags onto the counter and looking over at Vince. You know that he didn’t miss the comment either by the smirk on his face, the way he walks over and wraps his arms around your waist. “See, he’s already accepted it,” Vince whispers jokingly. 

“Shut up,” you giggle, rolling your eyes as you playfully push him away and turn around to begin putting groceries away. Vince continues to make subtle moves, sliding his hand along your lower back as he walks by to put a box of crackers into the cupboard, stepping up behind you to take the can of chickpeas that you were struggling to put onto the top shelf out of your hand and doing it for you. It takes you two forever to finally put everything away and once you do it’s time to start making dinner. “Are you going to help me or just be in my way?” You tease. 

“I know you like having me around.”

Shaking your head you look down at the recipe on your phone, unable to argue against that. You really didn’t want Vince to leave, even if he was really just getting in your way. Because you liked Vince, a lot more than you should.

A few days later you received a call from one of the businesses you applied to asking you to come in for an interview, to which you easily agreed. It was during another four day span of Vince and Sammy being gone so you were able to get ready and go for your interview without any questions. There was something about admitting to the fact that you were trying to find a job in St. Louis that scared you. Perhaps it was simply because it was a little crazy. You would need to find a job willing to arrange a visa for you, you would need to find your own apartment, and quite frankly, you probably just hadn’t thought it through enough. But you didn’t want to leave either, you were having a good time here with your brother and Vince, although you were trying to convince yourself that Vince had nothing to do with the decision. 

The interview went well and the next morning you got a call with a job offer. You accepted it quickly, not just because it meant you could stay in St. Louis but because it was also a job you were more than interested in.

Sammy and Vince get home later that afternoon and you pull Sammy into the living room. “I have some news.”

“Okay?” Sammy mutters, eyebrows furrowed, hands folded nervously over his knees as he sits on the edge of the couch. 

“I got a job.”

“Oh, congratulations,” Sammy says, the news processing in his head as you watch his body language sink a little. “Does this mean you’re going back home?”

Shaking your head you fidget with a piece of thread on your hoodie sleeve. You weren’t sure why you were nervous to tell him that you had found a job there. “It’s here.”

Sammy has his arms around you quickly, pulling you to your feet and into a tight hug. “You’re staying here?”

Laughing you pull back from him, staring up at him in shock. You hadn’t expected him to be that excited about it. “Yes…I mean, I’ll obviously get my own place and car and everything but I’m going to be in the city.”

“What’s going on?” Vince asks, walking into the living room. 

“I got a job here,” you tell him, voice quiet and apprehensive. You were a little worried that Vince wouldn’t be happy, that maybe he had only been into you because he figured you would be leaving, that it was a short term thing.

“Here? Like, you’re staying in St. Louis…for good?”

Nodding slowly you glance down at the ground, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Congratulations,” he tells you, walking over and pulling you into a hug.

“Thanks,” you mumble, pulling back to look up at Vince, trying to read his expression. Unfortunately you come up with nothing, sighing as you step away from him. 

It’s not till much later that night when you even get the chance to talk to him more, Sammy barely leaving your side as he excitedly looked through apartment listings with you, even though he assured you that there was no rush for you to move out. 

Once everyone had gone to bed you sneak out of your room and down the hallway to Vince’s bedroom, pushing it open slightly. “Vince?” You whisper, trying your hardest not to wake Sammy up in the process. 

“Hey, babe,” Vince says softly, making your heart flutter so easily. “Are you going to come in?”

Slipping through the door you shut it softly behind you, fumbling through the dark bedroom to Vince’s bed. “Hey,” you mumble, climbing onto the empty side of the bed and sitting with you legs crossed, watching Vince sit up and lean against the headboard. 

“What’s wrong?”

How he knew so quickly that you were worried about something was beyond your comprehension. Normally you weren’t easy to read but Vince saw right through it. “I just…if you thought this was something different because I was going to be leaving, I totally get that. We can go back to just being friends…or not, if you don’t want. We don’t have to tell Sammy, I can move into my own apartment and we can pretend this didn’t happen, it’s fine,” you ramble. 

“Y/N,” Vince says quietly, reaching over and placing his hands around your waist, guiding you closer as you slide onto your knees. “I like you…I have feelings for you. I don’t want to pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I just thought, I don’t know. Your reaction earlier wasn’t what I expected.”

Vince pulls you over his lap, hands running along your thighs. “Because you don’t want Sammy to know about us and I didn’t want him to be suspicious if I seemed too happy about it.”

“Oh,” you whisper, sliding your hands along his bare chest, resting them on his shoulders. 

Vince chuckles, pulling you closer and leaning up. “I didn’t want to be the one to suggest it, but I was hoping you would look for a job here,” Vince admits before pressing his lips to yours. And you kiss him back eagerly, arms around Vince’s shoulders. 

Grinding your hips down into Vince you feel him already getting hard. And you needed him, more than you had ever felt you needed someone in your life. 

“Our agreement,” Vince mutters against your lips. 

You can feel his breath on your lips, can feel how hard he was below you, can feel every little shift of his fingers along your skin. “Vince, please,” you whimper. 

“Fuck, you can’t say it like that and expect me not to cave,” Vince groans, hands on the hem of your t-shirt, yanking it up over your head swiftly. And it comes off easily, your lack of a bra leaving it easy for Vince to immediately bring his lips to your chest. 

Tipping your head back you close your eyes, every single kiss, flick of his tongue over your nipples sends waves of anticipation through your body. “Vince,” you moan, rocking your hips back and forth against him, desperate for some kind of contact. 

Reaching down Vince slides your pyjama shorts down your legs as you move from one leg to the other, helping him take them off. His hand slips between your bodies, fingers up along your folds towards your clit. He eases his way towards it, circling around your clit till your nails are digging into his back and your body is writhing in desperation. When he finally gets to your clit the wash of pleasure is enough to bring a quiet cry of relief from your lips. 

“Fuck, I love hearing you, but I need you to be quiet,” Vince mutters in your ear as he brushes gentle circles over your clit. “Can you do that for me, baby girl?”

All you can manage to do is nod and hum out a muffled “mhm.” 

“Good girl,” Vince mutters, replacing his fingers on your clit with his thumb, fingers travelling down towards your entrance, one finger sliding inside of you. You’re trying your hardest to stay quiet, head dropping down to Vince’s shoulder as you bite down on your bottom lip. “Fuck,” you whisper a few minutes later, a few muffled moans slipping from your lips as you reach your high. 

Coming down from it you stay on Vince’s lap, pulling your head away from his shoulder to look into Vince’s eyes. Remaining where you were you reach down, hand guiding Vince towards your entrance, a heavy breath leaving your lips as you sink down onto him. Vince groans, hands on your hips as he shifts further down the bed. It’s unbelievably quiet in the room as the two of you find a rhythm, both of you fighting with every ounce of your self-control to remain quiet. You stay on top of Vince the entire time, both of you too scared to be too loud to switch positions. But it doesn’t take you long to reach your second wave of pleasure, your body already sensitive from the first. And it’s only a couple seconds after that Vince reaches his, groaning quietly as his grip on your hips tightens. When you climb off of him and collapse on the bed beside him Vince hops up, grabbing a towel for you and returning quickly to start the cleanup process. 

After using the washroom you return to Vince’s bed, curling up at his side, head on his chest. “I shouldn’t sleep in here.”

Vince sighs, running his hand along your back. “We’re going to have to tell him.”

“Do we really, Romeo?” You joke, tugging the blankets up higher on your body despite the fact that you had just told Vince you weren’t spending the night. 

There’s a few minutes of silence, Vince’s hand pausing on your back as if all his energy was being funnelled to his brain. “What?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” you tell him. 

“You think I’m going to get your Shakespeare references?” 

“At least you knew it was Shakespeare.”

Vince chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m not that stupid.”

“Well…,” you giggle, tipping your head back to look at Vince. 

“Oh, really?” He laughs, grabbing your wrist and flipping you around onto your back. He hovers over top of you, pinning your wrists down. “That was kinda rude.”

“Too bad I’m actually into this,” you whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you bite gently on your bottom lip. 

Vince groans quietly, rolling off of you and flopping back onto his back. “Why is everything you do so hot?”

“Kinda glad you think that way, seems like it gives me an upper hand.”

“Looking like that you definitely have the upper hand, for sure,” Vince chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him. And the two of you continue talking, the whole time you were fully intending to make your way back to your own bed. 

But you don’t ever make it out of Vince’s room that night. 

“Get your lazy ass up.” You’re startled away by a voice yelling through Vince’s door, fist knocking a minute later. “We’re going to be late for practice again, enculé.”

“Oh, shit,” you mutter under your breath, grasping at the blankets on Vince’s bed yanking them up over your bare torso as you sit up. “Vince,” you whisper, shaking his somehow still sleeping form. 

“Hmm?” He hums, rolling over to face you. “What’s wrong?” 

But before you have the chance to say anything Vince’s door flies open and your eyes meet with Sammy’s. You watch him visibly try to process what was going on in front of him, eyes wide and fists clenched. 

“Sammy,” you begin, watching him step back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sammy, wait, I…it’s not what it looks like.”

“Really?” Sammy counters, obviously knowing that it was exactly what it looked like. But he’s already on his way back out of the bedroom and you make a move to stand up but Vince grabs your arm before you have the chance. 

“Give him a second to process,” Vince suggests, glancing down at the way you were clutching his blankets to your naked body. “And maybe put some real clothes on.”

Nodding you crawl out of Vince’s bed, pulling on the pyjama’s you were wearing when you showed up in his room the night before. Vince gets up a minute later, pulling on a pair of jeans a hoodie, glancing at his phone. “We are going to be late,” he mutters, his back to you as he gathers his keys and wallet, jamming them into his pockets. 

“Vince, I’m scared.”

Vince turns around quickly, eyes on you. You had your arms wrapped tight around your body, eyes teary. “Hey,” Vince says gently, walking over and pulling you into a gentle hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “It’s okay, everything is going to be fine.”

“Did you see him? He looked so upset…he’s going to be mad, Vince. I can’t, I can’t handle him being mad at me.” 

You didn’t even realize you were crying till Vince pulls back, reaching up and wiping away the tears from your cheeks. “He won’t be mad at you, he’ll be mad at me. I’m the one who started this.”

You’re caught off guard by this, laughing softly. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“I kissed you on the couch,” you remind him, your hands wrapped around his forearms as you stare up into his eyes. 

“I came home early and skipped going for drinks with the guys that night because Sammy told me he was going out for the night. I was hoping for what happened that night.”

You’re caught off guard by his confession, speechless and frozen in place. 

Glancing over you see Sammy step into the doorway, slowly pulling away from Vince “We have to go.” 

“Yeah,” Vince mutters, reaching over and grabbing your hand, squeezing it as he steps out of the bedroom with Sammy. 

You watch them walk away in silence, not leaving Vince’ bedroom till you hear the front door close. Slowly making your way out of the bedroom you try to busy yourself with tidying the apartment to keep yourself thinking too much about the situation. 

“Y/N,” Sammy’s voice calls later in the day, walking into the living room where you were sitting on your laptop, scrolling through apartment listings. 

“Hey,” you say quietly, looking up at him. Reaching forward you slowly close your laptop, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you. “How was practice?” 

“Fine,” he says, sitting down on the love seat beside the couch you were on. Sammy watches you glance in direction of the hallway. “He went to Jordan’s place.”

“Oh,” you whisper, feeling your heart sink a little. 

“It wasn’t his idea,” Sammy tells you, noticing how disappointed you seemed. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Oh,” you repeat, not knowing what to say. Your brother had always known the details of your relationships, telling him all about your crushes, dates, when boyfriends would upset you. This had been the first time you kept something like that a secret from him, and now you were regretting it. Perhaps if you had told him earlier, when you first started to develop feelings for Vince things would have been different. But now it seemed like you two knew there was something wrong with what you were doing, needing to keep it a secret. 

The silence in the room is heavy, and it feels painful as you fidget in your seat. Sammy staring at you for a few minutes before finally saying anything. “Why?”

Staring down at the ground you try to come up with an answer to his question. “I like him,” you whisper, shrugging.

“Why him? Did you not even think about what’ll happen when things end between you two?”

“That’s really optimistic,” you mumble, eyes focused on your fingers as you pick a few pieces of lint off of your jeans. 

“Well what?” Sammy asks, voice raising in frustration. “You going to marry him?”

Finally looking up at Sammy you roll your eyes, sighing loudly. 

“God, now I see why mom got so mad every time you rolled your eyes,” Sammy mutters. “Why the hell are you even rolling your eyes?”

“Because I’m not even thinking about marriage…with Vince or anyone else. That’s crazy,” you reply, your voice getting louder and louder with each word. 

“So you’re going to break up with him, or he’s going to break up with you and then my friendship with him is going to be fucked,” Sammy snaps. “You really didn’t consider that? That you’re ruining my friendship with Vince…and for what?”

“Stop yelling at me,” you yell back, hoping up from the couch and staring down at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I don’t know what to say, I like him.” Sniffling you reach up, wiping away tears from underneath your eyes. 

“I’m not okay with it.”

Wrapping your arms tight around your body you try to compose yourself, try to stop the tears from continuously flooding your eyes. You hated that you cried during conflict, hated that when it was conflict with Sammy that reaction was always heightened. “What do you want me to do then?”

Sammy glares up at you, shaking his head. “You already fucked it up, it’s too late for you to do anything.”

It feels like someone just punched you in the stomach, physical pain radiating through your body in response to his words. But you can’t think of a single defence for yourself. “Fuck you,” is all you manage to croak out before turning around and hurrying in the direction of the front door. 

“Where are you going?” Sammy calls, following after you. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, yanking on a jacket you had hanging up on a hook beside the door. “Does it really matter? I mean, I’m such a fuck up anyway.”

“I didn’t say that,” Sammy exclaims, watching you pull on a pair of shoes. “Can you just stop? We’re not kids anymore, you can’t just fucking run away.”

“No, we’re not,” you snap, standing up straight again. “So why are you treating me like one?”

“Because it’s my goddamn life you’re messing with.”

“You don’t have to be such an asshole,” you whisper, tears now streaming down your face with no chance of you being able to contain them. “I’m sorry I developed feelings for your friend, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about, I’m sorry I acted on it…I’m sorry I came here, I don’t know what you want me to say.” You’re reaching for the doorknob a moment later, yanking the door open. 

“Don’t say that, stop, Y/N, where the fuck are you even going to go?” Sammy asks, reaching for your arm which you pull away from him before he has the chance to grab you. “You can’t just wander around alone crying."

“Well it’s not like this apartment is feeling overly hospitable right now,” you tell him, wiping the tears off  your cheeks. “I never would have thought you would be such an asshole over me falling for a guy. I’m sorry he’s your friend, I wasn’t trying to make that happen. In fact, I was trying not to. But you don’t really care, do you? Because the situation isn’t perfect for you so why should you even try to accept it?”

With that you leave the apartment. You take an Uber to one of your new friend’s houses, thankful that she had replied before your Uber even got there that she was free and wanted to hang out. After a brief explanation of what was going on you settle down on her couch, her puppy curled up in your lap as you two talk, able to get your mind off of the situation with Sammy and Vince, even if only for a short period of time. 

You two order take out and lay on the couch, sending each other dumb tiktoks for the majority of the night. 

‘Are you okay?’ It’s a text from Vince and you switch from the tiktok app to your messages. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’m at my friend’s place. You’re home now?’

“Vince texted, I think he just got home,” you tell your friend, sitting up on her couch with a sigh. 

“Did he say anything about the situation?” She asks, turning her head to look over at you. 

Shaking your head you look down at your screen, watching the three dots inside a text bubble, waiting to get the text he was typing. ‘Yes, when are you coming back?’

‘I don’t know. I guess soon, I just don’t know what to do.’ 

‘About what?’

‘Sammy’ ‘Us’ 

‘Can I come pick you up?’

And twenty minutes later you’re leaving your friend’s house, promising to keep her updated on the situation. 

“Hey,” you greet as you get into Vince’s car, glancing over at him while pulling on your seatbelt. 

“Hey.” Vince reaches over, placing his hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. “How did it go with Sammy?” 

“Not great,” you admit, placing your hand on top of Vince’s, sliding your fingers between his and folding your hand over his. “Did you guys talk?” 

“A bit.” Vince says, pulling out of the parking lot of the apartment. “What did he say to you?”

“That I’m messing up his life,” you mumble, your eyes filling with tears. “Basically I fucked up and whatever the fallout from this is it’s all my fault.” 

Vince’s hand clenches around the steering wheel as he drives with no particular destination in mind. Of course Sammy was one of his best friends and that wasn’t about to change over one fight. But friends didn’t always agree on everything, didn’t always get along. And by the way Vince’s jaw was clenched, eyes glaring through the windshield in front of him, it was clear that was the case. “That’s such bullshit. You know that’s not true...right?” 

“What if it’s not?” you croak. “Are we being selfish? Your friendship with Sammy, jeopardizing that when this ends?”

“It doesn’t have to end poorly and ruin anything,” Vince points out. “It doesn’t have to end,” he adds. 

“Vince,” you whisper, glancing down at your hands folded together. How perfect they fit, how comfortable you were with him. “That’s crazy to say right now.”

“I know,” he admits, squeezing your hand. “So it might not last forever, but no matter what happens we’ve already started...whatever this is, so why does it matter when it ends?”

You can’t really argue with that point. Your options are end it now or give it time, see how things play out. “But…Sammy,” you whisper. 

“Give him time.” 

The two of you drive around aimlessly for a little while longer till he pulls into the parking lot of the apartment building, glancing over at you. “You okay? 

Nodding you pull your hand from his, resting it on the console as you lean across it and Vince is quick to react, bringing his hand to the side of you face to cup your cheek. His lips are gentle but eager, moving with intent but not pushing too far. And for a moment it feels like everything else has faded away, worries and stress blurring till they’re no longer visible anymore. “How do we do this?” You whisper, pulling back from Vince. 

“Do what?” He asks, sitting back in his seat, body angled towards you. 

“Deal with being in there, together, with Sammy.”

Vince is quiet for a moment, tapping at his steering wheel. “We’ll just figure it out when we’re in there, see what he’s like.”

Nodding slowly you open the car door, slipping out and walking towards the apartment with Vince. With every step closer you feel a growing anxiety, each and every possibility running through your mind. Would Sammy still be mad? Would he try to pick up the argument right where it ended? Would it be worse if he just decided to ignore it? Would you all need to sit down and have a conversation like an awkward family meeting nobody wants to be a part of? 

When you step into the apartment after Vince you hear the sound of the TV from the living room. Slowly making your way into the living room you notice Sammy with an Xbox controller in his hand, eyes trained on the TV. “Hey,” you greet, sitting down on the couch and alternating between watching the game he was playing and glancing at Sammy. 

“Hey,” Sammy mutters, finishing up his game before tossing the controller down onto the coffee table and sitting up to turn and face you. “Did running away solve everything?”

Shaking your head you pull your legs up to your chest on the couch. “Should I have stayed here and let you yell at me about fucking up your life instead?”

“I didn’t say you were fucking up my life.”

“Maybe not in those exact words,” you retort. “But you may as well have.”

Sammy sighs and leans forward, his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, looking over at you. “I just…fuck, I hate it so much. Like why him?” His tone is different now, lighter, easier than the last conversation. 

“I mean…look at him,” you say, trying your best to to lighten the mood even more. 

Sammy chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “I guess I really should have seen it sooner,” he comments, staring down at the ground. 

“What do you mean?” 

Sammy looks up from the ground, eyes meeting yours. “You’re exactly his type and he’s been spending way more time just hanging around here since you got here. I’m such an idiot for not thinking this would happen. I pretty much set it up.”

You wait a few seconds in silence, processing that information. You had really just assumed Vince spent that much time at his apartment normally. You figured they were on the road a lot, when they were back in St. Louis he would just want to relax at home playing video games and watching TV. You never would have thought that you played a role In keeping him there. And you definitely wouldn’t have assumed you were exactly his type either. “So you can’t really be mad then…you said it, you set it up.”

Sammy laughs, sitting up straighter and shaking his head. “I didn’t say that either…But I’m not mad, I don’t like it…maybe that’ll change, I don’t know. But I’m not mad at you. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”

You smile softly, standing up and walking over to the couch he was on, dropping down beside him and throwing your arms around him dramatically. “Good, because I can’t handle you being mad at me,” you tell him. Pulling back you let your arms drop from around him. “So, will you come look at apartments with me tomorrow so that Vince and I can-.”

“Stop,” Sammy interrupts, pushing you away playfully. “I don’t want to hear it, you’re so gross,” he says, both of you laughing as you lean back in response to Sammy pushing you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Vince walk into the room hesitantly and you give him a reassuring smile. “Sammy admitted he actually set us up.”

“I did not,” Sammy exclaims, laughing. “I said I pretty much did…not on purpose though.”

“Close enough…I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know how you two are going to survive when I get my own apartment,” you laugh, standing up and walking over towards Vince, grabbing his hand and pulling him with you towards the kitchen. 

“You can come over and cook us dinner,” Sammy calls as you leave the living room. 

Shaking your head you make it to the kitchen, only there for a second before Vince is pulling you into him, leaning down and kissing you gently. “I knew it would be okay,” Vince mumbles against your lips. 

Bringing one hand to the back of his neck you press your body closer to his, confident that Sammy would be avoiding the kitchen now that you and Vince were in there alone. “No you didn’t,” you giggle. “You just said that because I was panicking.”

“Kind of,” Vince admits. 

“Well I’m glad it worked out,” you whisper, sliding your hands to his shoulders. “Because if we never got around to you pinning me down like you did last night I���d be really disappointed,” you joke, looking up at Vince through your eyelashes with a mischievous smile. 

Vince groans, shaking his head. “So that’s all I am to you?” Vince asks, playing along. 

“Of course,” you joke. Pulling out of his grasp you begin to prepare dinner, but the absence of touch doesn’t last long, Vince stepping behind you and placing his hands on your hips. “Someone is a little needy.”

“I’m hurt after your last comment,” he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, watching you chop up some vegetables.

Pausing you turn your head to the side, looking up at Vince. “Fine, I like you for more than just sex,” you tell him.

“So when are you letting me take you on another date…a real one.”

“Anytime,” you tell him, glancing over at him as he stands beside you, leaning against the counter. You can’t help but get caught up in staring at him for a little too long. A few months ago you never would have imagined your trip to St. Louis would even last this long, let alone end with you moving there and falling for a boy. And of course you weren’t sure how it would end, but for the time being you were happy with the new adventure you were embarking on. 

[alfredosauce50]

The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[jiminrings]

why do i feel like even if tae is the one who's injured AND caught between stem koo and senior oc's tension, jungkook would STILL be the one who's crying

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

there's fINALLY some sort of peace and redemption between them

taehyung has never been indirectly involved in a palpable situation like this

the last time he was involved in anything remotely close to this, it had something to do with his field trip in second grade

whew god that was a rEALLY pressuring experience for him

it was a split vote to whether they should go to a strawberry field or a newly-opened futuristic kid-friendly interactive dinosaur museum SLASH theme park!!!!!!!

then taehyung picked the strawberry farm that was about 70% dirt

tae's put into a situation again and he doesn't know how to act lmao

"y'okay sweetheart? what's your relation to them?" the kind nurse that's obviously the maternal figure of the emergency ward asks him as she assesses him, a bit of a queue before he could get his leg patched up

he is beyond glad that she asked :D

tae's here to get his leg casted and entertain himself for the meantime!!! his fun isn't exactly correlated to that brooding fucking stem nerd's definition of it!!!

taehyung points to you directly, a cheeky grin on his face as you tilt your head in alert from your seat beside him

"she's my girlfriend!"

you chuckle at his playfulness and even the nurse does so with how proud he sounded, about to scribble it down on her clipboard when someone clearly sounds panicked about it

"she's not his girlfriend," jungkook rises from his slouched position on his seat, wide eyes fixated on the nurse as he shakes his head, trying to make her believe him

it isn't true!!!! that's misinformation!!! that's a crime!!!!

tae snaps his fingers, solemnly shaking his head

"right, my bad!! the two of us aren't in a relationship. actually, the three-..."

god oW

jungkook can't help but whack the back of taehyung's head, their boundary from being semi-strangers in your year you see like twice a day now crossing into semi-friends who aren't reserved with each other jUST because of kook's smack

that's a silent understanding, basically

tae smacks jungkook right back, only stopping on bickering when you intentionally clang your watch on the bedframe to spook them, exiting from the curtain so you could talk with the nurse

being caught in the middle of things cOULD really be fun!!! tae should get involved more often

"so tHIS is why you were outside y/n's dorm when i gave yoongi the cookies!!"

"... you know?"

kook freezes at the possibility that for some way he can't think of, taehyung somehow knows what happened between the two of you

was that why he just hAPPENED to drop by cookies when he was talking with yoongi??

yeah uhm not really

"no. i just know that yoongi hung you out to dry," he snorts because as he recalls it, jungkook looked as pale as a ghost

he didn't really plan to arrive at that time either!!! taehyung just wanted to knock on your door and hopefully drop you his treats then he'll be off his way

he didn't exactly expect to walk in on yoongi looking like he's gonna deck jungkook if only he hadn't yelled out his senior's name

see? it's like the universe just wants taehyung to be at the right places at the wrong times in order for them to eventually fall into place

okay he kinda did take a major L for having his ankle busted but that only means that you and jungkook (even if he doesn't know anything) better make up!!!

“is it bad that i wanted yoongi to punch me that time?” jungkook wonders out loud and he almost wishes he hadn’t, getting an immediate reaction of agreement

“i’ll fill in for him!!” tae half-jokes, getting yet another smack to his shoulder and at that rate, they’d be brothers by tomorrow lmao

“anyways,” he sighs as he leans back to his pillow, keeping his foot elevated. technically, this isn’t his business at all, but what could he do?? he’s sort-of-involved now and jungkook looks like he’s gonna cry out of all people, “you just want yoongi to deck you because that’d absolve you of your guilt.”

kook sighs at that, gripping his hair to keep himself from crying

“but i already know i’m guilty. not only with yoongi, but y/n especially!!”

he whistles at that, getting a mental image with your fists balled because he’s hung around enough practices to photograph all of you for the school paper, knowing that you dO pack a lot of power

“so them decking you is the only way you would feel guiltless?”

jungkook shifts at that, murmuring his answer to the question he’s got thrown

“w-well getting my apology accepted by them would be much appreciated.”

taehyung practically spoon-feeds the answer jungkook need to hear, shrugging carelessly as he watches the boy’s turmoil

god what does he dO?? this is his first interaction with you ever since the incident and he doesn’t know how to act

of all places and scenarios, it just hAD to be in the hospital because stoopid taehyung here decided to run to you while in the rain

as if on cue do you return to the curtained area with a nurse, forms between your fingers

“time to get your x-ray done, tae,” you almost sing-song to him in cheer, being relieved that things were picking up faster than you intended it to

you pat him on the head in an attempt at affection, oblivious to the curious glances that jungkook gives you while he assists the nurse in transferring taehyung to the wheelchair

it’s not until the curtain closes again and taehyung’s gone that you move, hand outstretched to give something to jungkook

.... which is just his share of taehyung’s forms that he needed to fill out so you could get on faster

the two of you are sitting beside each other, chairs close but not exactly close, clipboard in hand and taehyung’s phone at the middle edge of the hospital bed so you could copy his information

jungkook kNOWS he should be focusing on writing tae’s blood type right now, but the spur of the moment nudges him on entirely

"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry."

he squeaks and he has to breathe out after that

well there it goes :-)

you knew that the day wouldn’t have finished without jungkook’s input, having avoided him long enough that you didn’t know what to feel

were you expecting an apology from him??? uhm not exactly

are you commending him for apologizing??? not at all!! thanking someone for apologizing over what they’ve done to you in the first place is just a new low

“i know i can’t take back what i said now, but i truly didn’t mean it. i-i was just so confused but — b-but i’m not making excuses!! what i did was beyond shitty of me.”

oh hold on a second

that’s the first time you heard jungkook cuss

you wring your hands as you try to absorb his apology as much as possible without feeling awkward

ok you’re not as good for tHIS type of confrontation

it’s not the first time you’ve been wronged but this is perhaps the first time someone owned up to their wrong and apologize for it face-to-face

,,,,,, and not just because yoongi gave them a piece of his mind

yoongi likes fighting battles for you at times, even if you don’t necessarily ask him to

you appreciate it, but you kNOW he did not get jungkook off the hook so easily!!!!

you honestly thought that with his temper, he would’ve punched jungkook even if it was gonna make you mad

“it’s totally up to you if you don’t want to forgive me, b-but i figured i could die trying, y’know? you can reject me a couple hundred times and i’ll retry a couple thousand.”

jungkook adds and it makes the corner of your mouth raise in the tiniest most miniscule way

he knows that not only does he need to apologize with words, he also nEEDS to make it up to you with his actions!!! that’s why he plans on-

you pause your writing on the form, the act of you doing so making him freeze all the same as you try to carry on with speaking as inaudible as possible

"well you know now. i like you, that was my fault," you offer in response to his apology, coughing when you realize your mistake. "i liked you, i mean."

ok he deserved that

jungkook knows you probably figured out the hyeji situation already through yoongi, cutting his explanations down because you don’t even wanna hear her name

was it the truth? do you really not like jungkook anymore?

....

......

.........

you simmer in the own silence you’ve created, only being broken when jungkook shyly murmurs

"can't you like me some more?"

you snort at what seemed to be his playful suggestion, chuckling to yourself

jungkook was only hALF-kidding and he bows his head in embarrassment over your reaction, the pen in his hand feeling extremely light with how his hand’s trembling

you resume your writing wordlessly, not even daring to look at your right because jungkook’s trying to make himself as small as possible too

the words are just dying to fall out from his mouth, an unhinged trap he could no longer regulate when it comes to you

"you're loveable. extremely loveable."

jungkook says out of nowhere and you falter at writing taehyung’s supposed food allergies, a quiet curiosity to your words

"how would you know that?"

there’s no thought process behind it as he speaks surely this time, only taking the slightest bit of courage to look at you from the corner of his eye

"because it's you."

,,,,,

HOW are you supposed to react to that,,,

the curtains peek open and a grinning taehyung on a wheelchair estatically waves his hand

you and jungkook split from each other even if you haven’t been that close enough immediately, thankful for the welcome interruption

tae outstretches his arms for you to hoist him up the bed and you agree instantly, oblivious to the fact that he’s sticking his tongue out to jungkook who’s giving him a mean glare for his playfulness

his x-rays are all finished and he’s just waiting for the doc to come and interpret them (even if it’s beyond obvious that his ankle’s broken!!!!) so he could get on with wrapping his leg with a cast

jungkook takes this as a chance to rise up from his seat, snatching the opportunities he can within the timeframe

"what do you guys want from the cafeteria?"

tae beams at that, grateful because fINALLY someone’s asked him

"ooh!! i want-"

"what would you like, y/n?"

jungkook continues as he effectively interrupts taehyung who’s squinting and looks beyond offended ay the moment

his motive is buying <3 you <3 dinner!! not mr. ankle-breaker over here

you catch on to what he’s trying to do immediately, rolling your eyes with a hint of amusement when you plop back to your chair

“i'll have what taehyung wants.”

huh....

so he has no choice then but to ask,.,.,

jungkook clears his throat, his lips curved to a smile but his eyes looking the furthest thing from friendly

"what would you like,,,, taehyung?"

the boy pretend to be deep in thought just to waste kook’s time even more, even throwing in the humming to sell the idea

he’s been humming for half a minute now

“pasta. i want pasta. like, the most expensive pasta they have,” he nods at the amazement he has for himself, sneaking a look to a narrow-eyed jungkook

“c’mon, kook. think about y/n. she’s getting what i’m getting!!”

jungkook’s eyes instantly become brighter, realization sweeping over his features as he tries to hurry because you might be hungry at this point

“right, of course!! i’ll even get dessert :D”

well wasn’t tHAT easy hee-hee

hey maybe getting your ankle busted does lead to better things!!!

jungkook’s never been more excited to pay for overpriced pasta in cash (!!!) and carry up multiple paper bags of food and drinks on the stairs because the elevator’s taking too long

he’s only slightly confused when he walks to your spot that taehyung wasn’t there, even kinda being relieved actually

tae was whisked away for the second and final time to have his leg wrapped up, leaving you and jungkook alone once again

“that looks expensive.”

you remark the moment you see the fancy paper bags, bringing your wallet out to atleast take out a few bills that you think would cover the cost for this hospital dinner

jungkook incessantly shakes his head no, instead making you sit in place so he could turn the area to be a cozy dinner place as best as he could

"i mean it. i'm gonna make it up to you, i swear."

he speaks sometime in the middle of your silent meal, waiting for the time that it’d feel more sincere and not a little forced

ya know he didn’t want to make it seem that buying overpriced dinners correspond to him making it up to you!!!!

"i know."

you answer truthfully because you might have saw this coming, knowing in the back of your head that you wouldn’t put put it past jungkook to be sincere

you hear a noise of surprise when you reply, jungkook immediately putting his hand inside the pocket of his hoodie to fish out something

“your eyedrops, by the way. i meant to give it back to you earlier.”

your eyes skim on the dainty-looking handmade origami box on jungkook’s palm, a fond look he could atleast distinguish

you take it from him nonetheless, unaware at the multiple layers you have yet to know inside said box

“i can always buy a new one.”

he shakes his head at that, scrunching his nose as he mindlessly pokes at the chicken

he thinks back to what he put inside that might’ve been the reason why he didn’t just buy you a new stock in the first place

“i like giving back.”

giving back as in returing feelings too or whatever maybe!!!!! just maybe

he waves you off when you thank him for giving it back, his next words becoming a little weighted on your mind

"open it up when you feel like it. it's up to you."

that was that then

okay maybe not

you’re almost finished with your dinner and you know that you’re about to come home anyway, getting a text from tae that he’s done being wrapped up and is just waiting for his reminders now

why not say what you want to anyway??

"thank you for the lunchbox yesterday, by the way."

jungkook’s the one who’s caught off-guard this time, choking on his rice briefly before questioning you wITHOUT looking pathetic

"h-how did you know it was me??"

your hand only skims to the right of him, having to slightly lean against him to get what you need

it’s tae's record that jungkook had to fill up

you’ve just realized it a little while ago when jungkook was downstairs buying from the cafeteria, the distinct way of how he writes his A’s and curves his Y’s being embedded into your mind

:)

"because it's you."

[chosonore]

part one | oblivion

oblivion [noun. the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 3.9k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re not strictly following the manga timeline bc while i am reading it, i do have a goldfish brain, lowercase intended

a/n: hello, here’s the first installment of my sanguine series! it’s the prequel of this drabble (nsfw) i wrote the other week while i was working on the outline of the fic. it’s a little slow burn because i wanted to spend some more time exploring their relationship and the groundwork for it, so yeah. i’ll try to update it regularly, but since i’ve only planned five parts for sanguine, it might take a while bc i want to take my time with it. if you want to stay updated with the series, i’ll post the masterlist to it shortly! i do hope you enjoy it though :) and stay safe, everybody! [tagging @sukirichi​ the sukuna to my yuuji, who just gets spammed when i start rambling about my aus but always screams with me (´• ω •`)]

masterlist - next 

"y/n!" you look up to see miwa storming towards you, thrusting a book in your direction. "could you- could you please give this to noritoshi? i borrowed this book from him like a week ago and if i don't return this anytime soon, i think he's gonna kill me." 

scowling at her, you look at the book in disdain. you wanted to avoid crossing paths with noritoshi as much as possible and miwa was well aware that you didn't like hi- 

"please," miwa pleaded again, taking your hands and placing the book in it. "i'm really scared of him. he always looks like he's going to shoot me soon. even todo is pretty nice if you don't interrupt his takada-chan time!" 

you sighed in annoyance, you just couldn't say no. ever since coming to the kyoto metropolitan curse tech, miwa and you had been pretty close because you strongly disliked the other students. most of them were arrogant and stuck-up, thinking they were better than the other; the two that belonged to the three clans were even worse. on your first day here you'd promptly gotten into a fight with mai, disliking how haughty she was and trying to prove everyone that she was better than them. much to your chagrin, the fight ended in a tie.

"fine, but you owe me some mango," miwa's face lit up in relief and she gave you a thumbs up before dashing to her room, most likely to escape noritoshi's wrath. you inspected the book. was it even worth returning it? maybe you could just throw it in the trash. if noritoshi ever found out, he'd kill miwa first and then you. you let out another sigh before making your way towards the training grounds. he most likely was outside to practice, either with one of the guys or alone. as you were nearing the training grounds, you could already hear the sound of arrows whistling and the dull thuds of them hitting the target. it was hard to spot him through all the trees; you weren't entirely sure where he was. your ears perked up when you heard him release another arrow until you realized that it was heading your way. this bastard. fortunately, you were able to slash the arrow clean in the middle, angrily pointing your sword in his direction. you still couldn't see him anywhere.

"you fucking idiot! you could've killed me," you snarled, stomping deeper into the forest. an amused laugh echoed through the trees. 

"you're acting like i can't control my arrows. it's not my fault you let your guard down," noritoshi retorted smugly, lowering his bow as he saw you approaching. you were fuming, hurling the book at him. how dare he? you watched with satisfaction as it hit him square in the chest - who was caught off guard now, huh? he deserved it anyways. 

"miwa asked me to return your book," you curtly explained and turned back around to leave but apparently, noritoshi had other plans. instead of saying anything else, he just followed you which unsettled you even more. 

"stop following me." 

"who said i was following you? i'm just going back to the dorms. i'm sorry you can't handle me being near you."

you whirled around, sword pointing dangerously close to his neck. he smirked at you triumphantly, it was just too easy to get a rouse out of you. "another word and i'll cut you, seriously. you're pissing me off," you gritted your teeth, hating that you always fell for his stupid games. he knew you all to well, what made you angry, what made you happy, what motivated you. once upon a time, you'd thought the same about him; until he changed so rapidly, so unlike your expectations. you were worlds apart and yet you'd reserved an ounce of hope that he wouldn't turn out to be as arrogant as the clan heads. swift as the wind, noritoshi grabbed your wrist, dragging it upwards and towards him until he could lean down to you. your heartbeat sped up - holy shit why was he so close to you - and you froze in shock. 

"i'd like to see you try, princess," he whispered in your ear, the grip on your wrist tightening. "you wouldn't dare to."

the first time you met noritoshi, he was sitting outside in the garden with his mum. both seemed to have a good time. noritoshi's hair was tousled from the soft summer breeze and he had a soft smile on his face, happily munching away on the snacks that were displayed on the table. while he looked friendly enough, you were wary of meeting and talking to him because you felt kind of queasy around the kamo family. you couldn’t quite place a finger on the feeling, the older members of the family intimidating you to no end. much to your dismay, you felt like you had to be watchful - your parents worked for the kamo family, so naturally the apartment you lived in was close to the estate. you avoided any run ins with the adults, they weren’t exactly friendly to you. noritoshi’s mum had befriended your mum and they spent a lot of time together when possible. and yet you’d never met noritoshi before, seeing how busy he was with his various classes.

the fit that you threw, not wanting to tag along with your mum, was long forgotten when you’d spotted the jar of cookies on the table. before your mum could react, you pulled your hand away from hers and quickly ran towards it. “hello miss!” you greeted enthusiastically, your eyes shining at the sight of the sweets. “my name is y/n! i’m here with my mum and i uhm… could i have some of the cookies? please?” when your mum finally caught up to you, she scolded you quietly and greeted the other two, taking a seat beside noritoshi’s mum. you pouted, immediately climbing on her lap as you refused to sit next to the boy. his mum handed you a cookie which you happily took and thanked her politely. noritoshi was curiously eyeing you; it wasn’t often that he saw other children around his age and he didn’t have any friends to play with. his everyday life revolved around reading books, studying, taking archery classes and sometimes spending time with his mum. noritoshi barely even knew what fun was - he’d only ever felt at peace when he was around his mum.

“y/n, sweetie, why don’t you go and play with noritoshi?” your mum prompted but you immediately shook your head, hiding your face in her chest. she simply laughed and shook her head, brushing your hair back softly. “come on, noritoshi is really nice. you can be his friend one day, right? didn’t i tell you that friends are important?” 

you frowned. then huffed. when she worded it like this, there was no way you could refuse. the cartoon that you religiously watched featured a group of friends that went on adventures and helped each other out. you’d told your mum that you wanted to be like that too! begrudgingly, you slid off her lap and trudged towards noritoshi who looked at you with big eyes. you held your hand out, waiting for him to shake it. “my name is y/n. uhm… nice to meet you,” you shyly whispered, eyes darting away from him. 

it took a while until noritoshi reacted, shaking your hand gently and answering: “hello y/n, i’m noritoshi.”

much to your surprise, noritoshi was actually fun to be around with. he showed you his collection of books, the bow that he was practicing with and you often played the card game you’d received for your birthday together. he was smart and witty, often explaining you things that he’d read in a book but he was also attentive when he listened to you ramble about the other kids in school or when you told him about the cartoon that you were watching. for you, noritoshi was becoming your best friend - for noritoshi, you were his first friend. he cherished you and how unabashedly true to yourself you were. spending time with you was something he looked forward to; you always made him laugh and you didn’t care whether he lived up to the kamo family name or not. to you, he was simply noritoshi. you were like a fresh breeze of air in his life.

noritoshi didn't quite understand why the elders were always so hard on him, so strict and unrelenting. they expected only the best results from him and didn't show any understanding when he exhausted. he didn't enjoy practice anymore, the lessons becoming a chore and burden on his mind. but whenever he saw your face light up at his newly acquired skills, he thought it was worth the trouble. you came to visit him everyday after school, never skipping a day. sometimes he questioned why you weren't visiting your friends from school but you shook your head, poking his chest indignantly. "you're my best friend, 'toshi. of course i'd want to spend more time with you." noritoshi was glad you always chose him, without fail.

even though your parents had always warned you to be careful around noritoshi because his family was strict and didn't like outside influences distracting the heir, you never really strayed from his side. noritoshi didn't have any other friends, who would keep him company or listen to his troubles then? you didn't understand why your parents were suddenly going back on their word. they'd always told you that family and friends were important. you couldn't pinpoint your feelings for him - but your parents saw it. it was obvious; the stars in your eyes when you looked at him, the slight blush on your cheeks when he complimented you and how happy you were when you got to spend time with him. the more time you spent with him, the more they were worried for you. 

"'toshi!" you yelled in excitement as you ran towards him, waving wildly. he dropped his bow and turned to you, a soft smile gracing his lips as he opened his arms to hug you. you squeezed him tightly. two weeks you hadn't seen him due to a school trip after which you got sick and weren't able to leave the house. you'd missed him a lot and you were excited to show him the souvenirs you brought him. 

"look, i bought you an omamori!" you handed him the small object, then pointing on your bag to show him the one you'd bought for yourself. "i got myself a matching one too! my teacher said it wards off evil spirits and brings you luck." noritoshi's smile was bright, so bright. he was happy you thought of him and were always kind to him. your eyes widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek before thanking you. the two of you were blushing, neither saying a word but not minding what had just happened.

the day noritoshi's mother left the estate was the day you were slowly starting to lose him. noritoshi grew more forlorn and didn't seem to easily find joy in anything anymore. the departure left a deep, deep gap in his heart. it had shocked him deep to the core when she left him. him. why couldn't she stay? why did she leave him when she was the only person who protected him, loved him? she did say that she was hindering his growth but who was she to decide that? he didn't want to become stronger, didn't want to protect other people like she'd told him to. he wanted to stay with her. "'toshi? 'toshi!" a concerned voice broke through his trance, pulling him back into reality. "i asked you a question! you weren't even listening to me." 

you were pouting at him, tugging at his sleeve impatiently. noritoshi apologized, patting your head to soothe your temper. "what do you want to do in the future? mum said it's important to work towards your dreams!" you asked him curiously, grasping his hand to hold it. the gesture filled him with indescribable warmth, drawing him in like a moth to the flames. "my mum said i have a special power, i can heal people! i want to become a doctor in the future, so i can help everyone that got hurt," you explained to him so earnestly that he felt bad for the lie he was about to tell. noritoshi didn't have big dreams or ambitions just yet. he didn't even know what would be suitable to him - he was strictly following orders, never allowed to think for himself. 

but when he looked at you, he only had one wish. "i think… i think i want to help people, protect them. especially those that i love."

with each year passing, you noticed that noritoshi was putting more and more distance between the two of you. at first you'd brushed it off as the stress of his training and number of classes he was attending. but as you spent less and less time together, the weight of the situation didn’t escape you. he was easily irritable, cold and arrogant, often rude towards employees of the kamo estate. every now and then when you’d scold him for being an asshole, he’d simply scoff at you and haughtily ask you how it was any of your business. you sighed, tossing and turning in your bed as you thought about how much noritoshi had changed. it kept you up at night, just thinking about how he wasn’t your ‘toshi anymore. you didn’t know this person. ‘toshi was always gentle and kind, he tended to overthink many things and sometimes he was a little bit of a crybaby but you still loved him regardless. you sneaked out of your room, finally mustering up enough courage to ask your mother for advice. the thought of her discovering your blooming crush on noritoshi was scaring you. your parents were wary around the kamos despite working from them - even more so ever since noritoshi’s mother left and the elders had free reign over her son.

“noritoshi! noritoshi, stop walking away from me! hey, i’m talking to you!” you yelled frustrated as you were trying to keep up with him. noritoshi was crossing the garden in long strides, it was nearly impossible to stop him as you couldn’t catch up to him. you lunged forward, getting hold of his sleeve and tugged him back harshly. noritoshi yanked his arm out of your grip, glaring at you annoyed. 

“what do you want from me? i have better things to do than to quibble with you,” he hissed irritated. you couldn’t believe him, he had the nerve to dismiss you like this when he was in the wrong? 

“you know exactly what i want from you! you can’t just go around and talk to people like you did before just because they’re not from a reputable family! noritoshi, you’re not any better than them just because your last name is kamo.”

as much as noritoshi scared you, you stood your ground. you knew he didn’t take you serious, not with the amused look he gave you. in the past month or two, noritoshi was suddenly hit by a growth spurt - you barely reached his shoulder now and he took advantage of that to mock you, often treating you like an armrest. he pat your head condescendingly, pouting at you in fake regret. “aw, did i hurt your feelings? did i make itty bitty little y/n sad?” he mocked you, before abruptly grabbing your cheeks to make you look at him. “i don’t care what you think of me, cry all you want. i strongly suggest you hold that sharp tongue of yours if you know what’s good. know your place.” 

tears filled your eyes; noritoshi had never talked to you this way. what has gotten into him? your heart broke in pieces, unable to take the pain any longer. you were no longer his equal but below him, much like everyone else.

“mum?” you cautiously knocked at the door of her study, waiting for her response. your mother was most likely still awake and dealing with paperwork like she usually did. upon hearing the affirmative noise she made, you flitted inside, closing the door behind you so your father didn’t catch any wind of this. it was already embarrassing enough and you were sure your mother could offer you better advice. you gingerly took a seat on the armchair, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to your body. how were you going to approach this? hey mum, i have a crush on noritoshi and he’s weird to me now and i don’t know why? uh yeah mum, i caught feelings for the guy you warned me about and now i look like a fool crawling up to you like this? 

“it’s about noritoshi, isn’t it?” your mother interrupted your stream of thought, spinning her swivel chair towards you. 

“huh? oh no it isn’t, why would it be? i have-” 

“y/n.” 

“ugh okay fine, maybe it is about him,” you sighed defeated, of course she would look right through you. she always seemed to know what you were thinking, even when you hadn’t confided in her before. “but promise me you won’t judge me!” the look in your mother’s eyes told you that she was going to judge you regardless but you knew she meant well - she simply wanted the best for you.

“i- i just don’t understand why he’s been such a pain in the ass lately. and he’s been treating everyone like dirt too, including me! mum, he’s becoming someone else and i… i don’t know what to do,” you sniffled inconsolably, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. she wasn’t supposed to see you getting emotional. “he’s always busy and when we do get to see each other, he doesn’t want to spend time with me. what if he doesn’t like me anymore? and i don’t like how he’s treating you! it’s the same issue with the elders, they don’t know any human decency at all!” 

your mother motioned you to scoot over a little and sat next to you, wrapping her arms around you and patting your back to console you. while she meant well, it accomplished the opposite - you broke down in tears, unable to stop your sobs. “i just want my ‘toshi back,” you whimpered upset, burying your face in the pillow to muffle the sound of you crying. “i know you didn’t like that i became good friends with him but i couldn’t help it and i just really like him and- you weren’t supposed to find that out.”

“sweetheart, i know you love noritoshi,” she handed you a tissue. “you let a lot more on than you were aware of; dad and me always knew you were in love with him.” as if on cue, your sobbing stopped and you just looked at her in disbelief. she knew. she knew. you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. “i think it was always pretty obvious, to be honest. you always looked at him as if he was your entire world and no matter what happened, you were always by his side. i know it’s hard to accept when a dear friend is changing but sometimes you just have to, right? both of you are still growing, there’s no way of telling how your personalities change.”

“but i don’t want him to change like this,” you protested stubbornly, glaring at her. she was talking about it as if it was a matter of simply discarding a bad apple in the trash. it wasn’t easy and it made you anxious. you grew up together, shared secrets and memories. he was the person you’d always looked up to.

“y/n.” your mother sounded stern but you didn’t back down, not yet. “is it really worth it? if a person is changing so rapidly and you’re not getting through to them, you’ll have to let it go. there’s only so much you can do. people grow apart sometimes, it’s only natural. you have to let go of them, temporarily, so you both can heal and grow. y/n, i know you’re being stubborn about this but you’ll have to let him figure things out on his own. fate has curious ways to bring people back together.”

when the time came, noritoshi left to attend the kyoto metropolitan curse tech school without telling you a word. you were disappointed, apparently you weren’t worth saying goodbye to. whatever his reason was, it must’ve been pretty important. important enough to forget the promise that you’d always stay in contact. you wondered whether he'd change again, for the better maybe? maybe you would reconcile when you could finally attend the school as well and train together. you were excited to show him your sword skills, having received your family's heirloom, an elegant steel blue sword. though your skills probably weren’t up to par with the other students, you still wanted to show them off, show him what you’d learned in the year that you spent apart.

noritoshi had changed but not for the better. holy shit, did he get on your nerves. the first time he'd practiced with you, you realized that he had mutated into an insufferable know-it-all. he would give you backhanded compliments or make snide remarks about your posture, how you were supposed to hold your sword, how inefficient your fighting style was. sometimes you wished you could just beat him for once and have him shut up. there was no denying though, noritoshi was way too strong and you had a long way to go. judging from the reactions of the others, barely anyone had beat him either. 

and just like that, your feelings for him were buried. you’d taken your mother’s advice to heart, keeping conversations and interactions with him to a minimum but somehow noritoshi always found his way to you. he was everywhere and a quarrel was inevitable. noritoshi got under your skin and he knew how to push your buttons. why he chose to pick on you was beyond your comprehension; he didn’t pay much attention to the other students nor was he particularly liked by them. just how much was he going to get on everyone else’s nerves? out of all the second years, todo aoi was the most amicable; you had the (dis)pleasure to run into him on your first day and for some reason, he took a liking to you. while he was loud and boisterous, mostly doing whatever he wanted, you couldn’t deny that he was a good friend. even though he didn’t care about anyone as much as he cared about takada-chan. at one point, he’d looked at you in sympathy when he caught you staring at noritoshi, patting your shoulder (too forceful): “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m so sorry.” 

you still didn’t know what he meant by that.

ps.: todo knows and he’s kinda judging you for your taste in men 

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post). 

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use). 

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban. 

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions). 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed. 

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate! 

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore. 

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks. 

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all. 

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…" 

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out. 

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the  strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from  the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

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