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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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presenting the obey me brothers with friendship bracelets

you know that feeling when you have a million other things to write but then one idea cuts to the front of the line and demands to be expelled from your brain? yeah that. that's what this is. i'm making bracelets for the eras tour and this idea came to me

[the dateables version]

[the dateables (+ luke) presenting you with a friendship bracelet]

content warnings: none

prompt: you grin down at your work. in your hands is a small friendship bracelet, lovingly crafted from hard work and the embroidery thread you found in your closet. you weren't quite sure why you'd made it, but the thought of giving a certain someone the bracelet and watching their reaction made you smile. now, to hand it off...

Lucifer

lucifer definitely acts like it's a very childish thing that you've just presented to him. he raises an eyebrow and gives you an amused smirk.

he takes it from you and shoos you out of his office, warning you about all the paperwork he has to keep him busy. you never tied it for him, so you figure he's probably going to toss it in a desk drawer or something for safe keeping. that's okay. you're just happy he accepted the gift in the first place.

the real reason why you got kicked out is so he no longer had to hide the hopelessly fond, adoring look from you in response to your gift. it's simple and childish, yes, but it warms his heart that you made it for him. it's black, white, and red, made in a little stripe pattern. cute.

this little piece of braided string will sit on his desk for the rest of the night, where he can peek over at it when he gets overwhelmed.

you sort of assume the bracelet's been lost to the depths of lucifer's desk or sitting at the bottom of the trashcan. weeks pass before you think of it again.

but you do. you're reminded of your little gift to the morning star when lucifer is reaching out to something mid-conversation at RAD-- an unfamiliar flash of white peeks out from under his dark uniform sleeves. is that... is that the friendship bracelet you made him?

if you try to confront him about it, he will deny everything with that same stoic, slightly irritated look. he won't show you his wrist to prove he's not wearing it, though. softie.

Mammon

this man acts like you're soooo lucky that he's accepting a gift from you. he'll go on and on about how the great mammon usually prefers shiny jewelry, but it you insist--

if you try to take it back and walk off, he's yelling and chasing you down. you can't just take gifts back. that's cheating. hand it over! that white and gold bracelet belongs to him now, and the great mammon isn't going to let someone steal from him that easy.

his cheeks are red as you tie it on his wrist. for all that big talk about how he's doing you a favor by wearing a friendship bracelet for you, he's awfully quiet as he admires it on his wrist.

mammon wears the bracelet everyday. he will sometimes remember to take it off before showers and other stuff that might ruin it, but he also forgets a lot of the time. the bracelet ends up a bit dirty, but not horrible. well-loved, you might say.

if any demon at RAD tries getting a little too friendly with you, he won't hesitate to interrupt your conversation and not-so-subtly remind the other demon that he's the one with the friendship bracelet, not them. he'll pull down his sleeve and shove the bracelet in the demon's face until they get the message and walk away.

mammon will get very offended by you giving out other bracelets, by the way. he's a very jealous demon. you gave him the bracelet because you like him most, right? so why'd you start passing them out like halloween candy, huh? nah, that won't do. the great mammon demands another one to add to his collection. scratch that, make it two more. can't have anyone else think they can compare to your first man.

Leviathan

leviathan initially tries to talk you out of giving him the bracelet. surely you didn't mean to give it to someone like him, right? no, this must be a mistake. you must be thinking of asmo, or mammon, or beel or--

when you point out that you specifically made it for him, he shuts up. you explain the purple and teal colors are meant to match his hair and nails! that way it will always match his outfits, no matter what he wears.

suddenly he's a flurry of movement, wrapping his arms around you and thanking you so so much for being friends with a yucky, gross otaku shut in like him. you're the best henry he could have ever asked for. he's so caught up in the emotions of the moment that he forgets to panic when you first hug him back. a couple of seconds in, his brain reboots, and suddenly he's scuttling out of your personal bubble.

levi's near tears as you tie it on his wrist. don't worry, mc, he'll treasure it forever! this bracelet will remain on his wrist until time stops and hell freezes over. that's how much you mean to him!

you didn't think he actually meant it when he said he'd never take it off. that's why it's adjustable, y'know? but you were wrong. levi wears the bracelet everywhere. home. school. while sleeping. in the shower. while he's cosplaying. wherever he goes, you're certain that bracelet will be with him.

... but it's made of string, and very quickly gets nasty. he doesn't seem to notice, but you definitely do. you ultimately make him a replacement so that you won't have to keep looking at the damp, dingy thing on his wrist. he's just as touched as he was the first time. levi won't throw the original away, though. you compromise and let him keep it on one of his display shelves (even it it's still a bit gross).

Satan

when you present him with the green and teal friendship bracelet, he laughs. that's actually really sweet, mc. he's read stuff like this happening in those books with childhood friends growing up together, where the bracelet symbolizes an unbreakable bond carried into adulthood. it's cute. he's glad you thought of him.

as you tie the bracelet to his wrist and teach him how to take it on and off, he'll inquire about why you made it. have you ever given anyone else a friendship bracelet, or is he your first? how did you make it, anyways? would you be willing to show him?

the afternoon is lost to laughter and tales from both of your childhoods. satan's was a long, long time ago, but he's got six older brothers (by birth order, not fall order) that have told him stories of his youth through the years. would you be surprised to learn that he was a little hellion? no? well, he has no idea why you'd ever get the idea that he's anything but kind and calm and not at all the avatar of wrath. shame on you, mc. (his teasing would be a little bit more convincing if he didn't have that smile on his face-- the one he always has when he's with you.)

satan treats your friendship bracelet with care. he makes sure to take it off any time he does an activity that might get it dirty or otherwise soil it. he'll take it off for showers and slip it right back on afterwards, or keep it on his nightstand so he can put it back on when he returns from a formal event. satan also doesn't sleep with it on because he worries his tossing and turning might wear it down. sometimes he'll even use it as a bookmark when he's not wearing it.

he is very protective of this bundle of knots and strings. mammon once snatched a book from his room-- the book he just so happened to be reading, where he was using the bracelet as a bookmark before he went to bed-- and took the bracelet with it. you were able to step in just in time before satan lost his cool and went on a rampage. everyone knew from then on to leave that damn bracelet alone.

Asmodeus

asmodeus is delighted that you'd make something for him! the pink and red threads blends together so nicely, and is that a little spiral pattern on the outside? ooohh, you're just too cute! thank you, mc!

he will, in front of you, begin planning outfits around the bracelet. no long sleeves-- that'll hide the bracelet, and we don't want that! asmo wants everyone to be able to see it at all times. he can imagine the jealousy on his brother's faces as he shows off the exclusive gift he got from his beloved mc!

don't make anyone else a bracelet now too, alright dear? this sort of affection is all his. it's not as special if you make one for the rest of his lame brothers, now is it? if you want to make more, make them for him! he'll take as many as you'd be willing to make, darling.

if you do dare to make him another one, watch out. you've just opened pandora's box. now he's making requests-- will you do this color combo, mc? what about these? can you do that little stripe pattern on this one, and keep this one simple? the possibilities are endless, and (un)luckily for you, so is his imagination.

if you tell him that he can make his own bracelets, he'll pout. those wouldn't be friendship bracelets then, would they? they're only special because you make them, dearest. he'll pout until you relent, then shower you in as much affection as you'll accept to reward your never-ending kindness.

he's as disciplined with his bracelet routine as he is with every other part of his appearance. he takes it off for bathing and sleeping, so it won't get messed up without him noticing. if he has to go to a photoshoot or a formal event, he'll keep it tucked safely in his bag, so it's close to him at all times (and so none of his brothers get any ideas if they see it unattended).

Beelzebub

beel will probably be confused when you first present him with the gift. he's already holding out his wrist for you to tie it on, though. just because he doesn't understand doesn't mean he'd ever reject a gift from you.

when you explain what it is and its significance, he's all smiles. he's very happy that you want everyone to know the two of you are friends. he'll treasure it, mc. and he does-- he's very careful with it, careful to take it off when he thinks it might get dirty. he sets it gently on the nightstand or in his bag so it doesn't get tangled or lost.

then one day, tragedy strikes.

beel takes his bracelet off one day for fangol practice for safekeeping. he swore he slipped it into his bag, and yet when he gets home to unpack, it's nowhere to be seen. he's crushed. beel comes to break the news to you right away, with the sorrowful expression of someone that had just lost a loved one. he didn't mean to lose it. he hopes you'll forgive him, mc.

you comfort him and explain that you're not mad, not at all! accidents happen. you urge him to go shower and decompress after such a rough practice-- you'll handle the friendship bracelet situation. he (somewhat hesitantly) agrees and leaves your room with a solemn nod. you get to work crafting a new one with the same colors and technique. by the time he's out of the shower, you're coming to his room, replacement in hand.

beel is over the moon. he's quietly thanking you as you tie it on, promising that he'll be more careful with this one. his cheeks go pink with delight when you tell him you'll make him as many as he likes.

Belphegor

you proudly present belphegor with the physical embodiment of your friendship-- a purple and navy braided bracelet-- and he immediately begins clowning on you. really, mc? a friendship bracelet? what are you, seven? the thought of you toiling away over some colorful strings alone in your room makes him chuckle aloud.

fine then, jackass. maybe someone else would appreciate it more?

suddenly he's sitting up in bed. now, who told you that you could give away his present like that, hmm? does your friendship mean nothing? that's right, mc, get back here. that lame ass little bracelet is his.

for someone that made fun of you for making such a juvenile little gift, belphie doesn't seem very keen on taking it off anytime soon. the bracelet becomes frayed and ratty, dulled by time and messed up against blankets or bedsheets. tease him about it down the line and he'll scoff. first, he'll try to make fun of you for noticing such a thing. when that doesn't work, he'll complain that you tied the ends into a knot and now he can't get it off.

actually, ellen belphie, that's not true. you definitely showed him how to take it off the first time you put it on. you reach over and begin to tug at the ends when he yanks it away with a suspicious look. who said you could touch it, you little thief? get your own. it seems someone has grown quite fond of the bracelet in the past few weeks.

"what are you, seven?" you mock with a shit-eating grin. belphie ignores you and rolls back over. you don't neglect to notice the way he tucks his wrist-- the one with the bracelet-- close, hidden under a pillow or two. just try to take it now. just because he won't admit how much he likes it doesn't mean he won't fight tooth and nail to keep the little affectionate trinket on his person at all times.

#IM WORKING ON REQUESTS I PROMISE #gonna do the dateables for this one at some point too #also if someone requests a reverse of this prompt... i will do it #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader

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suguwife · 3 months

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Executive Tensions. (one)

tags: exbf!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, CEO x secretary, porn with plot, 18+ explicit sexual content, mdni, masturbating, slow burn, mentions of cheating, forced proximity, mini series

- 9.7k wc

a/n: this is the backstory to reader x gojo - angry heated one shot for this is in part two !!

(part two)

You had just posted a story on your Instagram, a picture of flowers that your new boyfriend gave you. Baby pink peonies, a big bouquet of them in the shape of a heart.

Only a few minutes after posting the photo, your phone vibrated, and your heart skipped a beat seeing your ex boyfriend’s name appear on your screen, Satoru. The message was simple and yet it made your heart beat faster. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, you hate him.

“He doesn't know that you prefer actual luxury gifts?” Was the first message he sent you in months, four months since the breakup. Why is he viewing your story?

You respond after a couple minutes with “I like flowers now.” Its an obvious lie. You knew he’d know. You had always been materialistic, you found gifts and money more efficient over flowers that would die anyway.

“You're lying.” He replied within seconds, obsessed much.

He had to admit, after stalking your socials for a little while, your new boyfriend seemed to make you happy, or at least that's the image you projected.

It was annoying, it made him feel sick to think that someone else could make you smile like that, or even more.

You reply after a couple minutes again, “Well I like flowers now. Stop texting me I already removed you as a follower.”

His jaw clenched and his grip on his phone tightened, seeing your reply, he wasn't expecting you to be so cold with him. But of course you would be, in a way he deserved that. “You didn't remove me, stop lying.”

“I just did.”

“Why? did your new boyfriend tell you to do that?”

He double texts another message, “Is he that insecure? Does he not want you interacting with your ex ‘cause he’s scared?”

You scoff a laugh in disbelief at his accusations, ironic coming from him. He seems to be the insecure one here. “No, I decided to remove you. Stop being so irritating.”

He doesn’t respond to that, he just re-reads over the conversation on his phone a couple times like an obsessive freak before throwing his phone on the bed and running his hand through his hair, “Fuck..”

Laying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and clenching his jaw as the image of you with your new boyfriend danced in his head.

The next day, Satoru sat in a black seat behind a long desk, a few of his assistants on either side. In front of him, the candidates for the new position that had just been opened in his company were standing before him, one after the other. The interviews had already been going on for quite some time, he was just beginning to get bored, until you walked in.

Honestly, you had no idea that Satoru would be here, until you saw him sitting on the main seat. The seat for the CEO of the building. You knew he was a CEO, but he had worked in a different building whilst you were dating. Despite the sudden shock running through, you remain calm and composed.

Your parents were bugging you to do something with your life and that you can’t live in their luxury for the rest of your days without working towards anything so, here you are. Applying for a boring office job, just so your parents would see you as a hard working woman. A useless thing, you believe. You’re fine as you are, perfectly financially stable.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you, you were even more beautiful than the last time. He had only seen you off your socials since the breakup, but in real life your beauty glistened the entire room from boring and dull to bright and refreshing. He blinked a few times to recover from his surprise, before straightening up in his seat and looking at the papers in front of him.

Trying to ignore the hammering in his heart as he focused on the papers, he couldn't deny it now. He hadn't forgotten you, not at all. He never could. No amount of hookups would get his mind off you. In fact, during all those times he’d have sex with other women after the breakup, he’d only see your face despite how bratty and argumentative you became with him.

Little did he know that the only reason you became so hostile towards him was because he had cheated on you with a prostitute. He doesn't know you know. You didn’t bother to explain, wanted him to realise himself. But he clearly didn’t.

He was just about to say something when one of his assistants spoke up. "Excuse me sir, this is the last candidate to be interviewed, y/n l/n.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, he eyed you up and down. He tried to control his emotions and remain stoic, but in reality, it took all his self-control to stay that way.

He gestured for you to sit in the chair in front of him, his expression bored.

You keep your poker face plastered on as you take your seat, questioning yourself. When did he start working here? This building is #1 in Tokyo, he had been working a little lower before. Unless he owned this building too and just never told you?

God, this is so embarrassing, interviewing to be a low class assistant for your ex boyfriend just to please your parents.

You furrow your brows ever so slightly but regain your composure again, you needed this job. You needed to show your parents that you can do anything, you just choose not to. And it’s true, you can do anything, because now everyone beside him is smiling and whispering with amused expressions as they tick all the boxes near your name. Only Satoru had been staring into your eyes, like a staring contest between the two of you.

He cleared his throat before finally speaking up, his tone neutral. “Alright then, you may leave for now.”

After politely saying your goodbyes you make your exit, his pupils stalked you until you left the room and the door closed behind you. Letting out a slow sigh once you were gone, he felt his heart rate calm down to a normal pace once more.

“I think she did pretty well, sir.”

“One of the best from today, sir.”

He nods at his assistants, trying to play it off like he was unfazed by your presence. But deep down, seeing you again after so long in real time was like an electric shock to his heart. A reminder that he never got over you at all. Ugh, what was he thinking? You became a bitch, you broke up, the decision was mutual.

The assistant's voice pierced his thoughts. “So, what do you think sir? Should we hire her?”

He hesitates for a moment, his mind torn between his emotions and his rationality. He wanted to say no, to reject your application, but he couldn't seem to do that either, he knew you were qualified.

After some deliberation, he finally spoke up in a firm tone. “...Hire her for my secretary position. She has the necessary qualifications.”

As he spoke, a few of the people around him looked at him and each other with surprise visible on their face, but they immediately tried to mask it. They all knew that his position as CEO required a secretary, but they had been under the impression that he would never agree to hire someone for that position. Every time a candidate came in for the role, he’d always deny them. Clearly, you always got what you wanted and Satoru was willing to give you that, despite the fact you only interviewed for a low assistant role.

He could sense their surprise and knew that they had expected him to reject the idea of a secretary once again, but he didn't care. This time, he had a very selfish reason. He wanted you to be his secretary, so he could see you every day. Even if it was just for work.

He continued to look at the papers in front of him, pretending not to care about their reactions, his heart still pounding from the idea of you being his secretary.

Would you even accept the job? And if you did, what would happen between you two?

He didn't know and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out either.

“I expect one of you to alert her for her position and the expectations for it too.” He says coldly, standing up from his seat and fixing himself to head back to his main office. “Have her start her shift from tomorrow morning.”

He nodded to his assistants, indicating that he was done for today and didn't want to be disturbed, before leaving the room and walking down the long corridors to his main office. The thought of you working for him now excited him as much as it worried him. He would see you every day, but would he be able to control himself and remain professional...?

He arrived at his main office and closed the door behind him, heading to his desk and sitting down on the big leather chair. He placed his elbows on the desk and let his face rest in his hands, sighing deeply as he stared at the desk in front of him. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

Well, you knew you always got what you wanted, but you didn’t expect to be given the secretary role. You never even applied for that? Were the people around him just overly pleased by you so they convinced him or was he doing it out of the fact you're his ex?

Whatever the reason, you took it. You didn’t want to bother with anymore of those fuckass interviews. But you can’t believe he’s making you start the next morning, what a dick, as always.

Your black heels click as you enter his office dressed in dark tights, a dark grey pencil skirt and a sleeved white button up shirt, hair up in a French twist, just normal business attire. Oh but to him, oh fuck. As he sat on his seat, his dick sprung up to the sight of you, all dressed up like a hard working woman.

He mentally cursed himself, placing his hand casually as possible on his boner trying to hide the evidence even though you weren’t able to see anyway from his desk blocking your view.

He swallowed hard and quickly tried to compose himself, not wanting to let his surprise show.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up in a professional tone, “You're early, good. Have a seat in front of my desk.”

You want to mentally roll your eyes at him, of course you were going to take a seat. Did he just expect you to stand there until he told you what to do?

You keep your expression neutral as you take your seat and stare at him.

He couldn't help but study your features, the way your eyes landed on his, your hands folded on your knees as you crossed them over. Everything about you was exactly like he remembered.

He took a deep breath to recompose himself before speaking “You may be wondering why I hired you as my personal secretary.”

He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests of his chair as he continued speaking. “I was going to pass on hiring one, but stocks have been rising lately so it’s been getting busy. And after the interview, I felt you were more than qualified for the job.”

His tone was professional, as if he were speaking to any other employee, but his dick was pulsing with its own heartbeat, faster than ever. It was painful, but he managed to remain stoic. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face despite how hard it was making him. Would it be so bad if he wanked off to your pictures once you left? Maybe he shouldn’t do that. He carries on speaking. “But I'd better warn you, working as my secretary isn't easy. I have high expectations and demands-“

You cut him off, your tone blank and your expression still neutral. “I'm sure.”

God, he was infuriating to look at. You wanted to grit your teeth and roll your eyes or kick him but you remained professional and calm.

He was slightly amused by your response, your short, simple answer somehow satisfying him.

Leaning forward a bit in his chair, his eyes remained on you as he continued. “I have no doubt you can handle it.”

He paused for a moment before adding, “I hope you're up for the challenge.”

Tch, what challenge? The only challenge will have to be serving him for the next couple of months before you choose to quit.

His eyes lingered on your face for a few more moments, his heart still racing and the beat in his dick pulsing despite his calm demeanour. He tried to push the thoughts of your past relationship to the back of his mind, but being so close to you now was making it difficult. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he knew he wasn't allowed to. He was your boss now, and he had to maintain a professional relationship with you.

“What do I have to do?” You question.

He sat back in his chair and picked up a folder on his desk, opening it and looking through the contents. You can’t deny how handsome he looks in his suit and his professional manner, it made you throb even though you despised him.

“Your primary job is to take and pass on my instructions, organise my schedule, arrange my meetings, prepare and take notes during business meetings, prepare reports, among other things.”

He glances up at you as he continues listing the duties of the position. “You will be in charge of handling my business calls and emails as well. Which means being available to me at all times.”

His eyes roam over your face, pausing for a moment on your lips before quickly looking back at the folder in front of him.

He closed the folder and placed it back on his desk, his eyes still on you. “Do you think you can handle this job? It can be demanding and time-consuming, not everyone is cut out for it...”

You inhale, exhale, and speak. “It's not that hard, just a lot of simple tasks to complete.” Really, it sounds like I’d be doing all his work for his lazy ass.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, seemingly entertained by your confident response. “You seem pretty confident in your abilities...” His arms across his chest, his voice suddenly more firm and serious. “But let me warn you, l have no patience for mistakes or incompetence. I expect everything to be done in a timely, accurate and professional manner. I'm not an easy boss to please, I demand the best of the best.”

“Yeah. I'm aware.” I state, a hint of irritating sarcasm in my tone. During our relationship, he'd always be toxic and impatient. Never understood the true meaning.. or even tried to understand the true meaning as to why you had become such a bitch towards him. Never came to the realisation that you were aware of his cheating.

He cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter in his chair, trying to push those memories from his mind...

He kept his cool demeanour and spoke in a calm but strict tone.

“Good. As long as we're clear on that.” He paused for a moment, observing you closely as if trying to read your thoughts. He leaned forward a bit in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him on his desk.

“You start your first day of work today. I know that I’ve got a few meetings that need preparation and I need you to take on some duties today as well.”

He studied your face closely, taking in your reaction. He was still trying to figure you out, trying to figure out if you were hiding anything behind your neutral expression, but it was too hard. He always found it hard to understand you behind that expression.

“Okay. Do I get a written list or anything on what I need to do for each day?”

“Yeah, I have a list of assignments for you ready. But I'm also expecting you to keep up with daily tasks and schedules.”

He gestures to the laptop on the desk in front of you.

“There's a new file there. It's for all of the assignments and tasks you need to do, it's constantly updated and you'll find everything in it that you need to do for today and the future.”

You slide the laptop in front of you as you speak, breaking eye contact, “Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“Hm.. I’ll ask you when they come.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you applying for jobs? You don’t even need to work.”

You sigh, of course he’d ask that. You didn’t want to let him in on too much. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t get that tone with me, I’m just wandering.” He glared at you with a firm and cold expression.

You roll your eyes at him, finally. Your eyes were begging to do that from the moment you entered this room. “My parents wanted me to do something.”

“Ah.. They doing okay?” He questions, a little smile on his face.

You don’t respond, just stare at him with a bored expression because, why the fuck is he asking how your family is?

He nodded with a small smirk playing on his lips, the fuck is he smiling for now? God you just wanted to get up and kick his dick, make sure he’s unable to fuck any other woman.

“Alright then. I have a meeting in about an hour. Get started on those tasks. And do a good job. I'll be watching you.” He cuts off your intrusive thoughts as he speaks.

You grab your laptop and say your goodbyes, you can’t help but be irritated with the way he’s speaking to you. No please, no thank you?

“She's still as cold as ever...” He mumbled to himself, his brain replaying the look on your face, the sound of your voice. He knew you were intentionally hiding your emotions, putting up a professional front, but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying the game of trying to figure you out.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply as he tried to clear his mind. But he couldn't focus on his work, his thoughts still lingering on you.

You make your way to a smaller office designed for the secretary, small yet simple and spacious. You browse through your laptop which had a detailed list of assignments and tasks, some assigned to you that day and some that you would be handling in the days to come. “Jesus. I'm basically doing his work for him. Tch.” You whisper to yourself as you prepare the meetings and documents for today.

Meanwhile, in his office, his dick was still hard. Punching through his pants aching for release, he had to place his sweating forehead on his desk to control his breathing. But it was futile. He contemplated whether it would be harassment to touch himself to you but fuck, he needed to.

He stood up, walked heavily with ragged breathing and locked his office door then made his way back to his seat, immediately unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down so he’d have access.

His mind ran back to the times he’d pound into you, the wet, filthy noises that would escape from your entrance and your tongue. His hands glided up and down at the thought. The words you’d say to him as he fucked you raw in his bed.

“Just like that toru.. mh…”

“Yeah? Like this?” And he’d slam into you balls deep, making you scream his name as he panted like a dog in heat “That feel good, princess?”

“So.. so g-goo- oh!” You were so drunk off his dick you were never able to form full words. He loved the way your soaked walls would clench him even though you’d whine, “T-too much.. no more!!” But no amount of your whining would make him stop, your pussy begged for him despite your words.

“Tell me how it feels.” He’d say through panting gasps as his fingers would rub over your clit rapidly whilst his dick hit your G-spot then pulled back out, then back in again, making sure to hit you well. He wanted to know how you felt as his dick would speed into you, wanted to raise his ego.

Then he’d push down on your abdomen, just where he’d bulge through your sweaty skin, “You feel that? You take me so well, baby..”

And the way you’d cry out in pleasure, weakly trying to push his hand away from pushing down but he’d just chuckle, pushing down harder as the sound of squelching wetness filled the room.

He can’t help it, mid-wank he picks up his phone from his desk, scrolls through his hidden images in his gallery and rewatches the clips he’d take of you moaning and whimpering his name as he played with your clit. He never deleted anything of you.

He panted heavily once he reached his climax, his hands filthy. Shit. He headed to the bathroom connected to his office and cleaned himself up. Was it harassment to touch himself to you.. without permission? I mean it’s not like you knew.. Shit, maybe he fucked up. Nobody will know anyway.

Time ticked by as you worked on the tasks for the rest of the week, diligently typing away on the keys of the laptop and sipping on the frappe you had bought. Whilst Satoru attended his meetings and completed his work in his office. Although, every time he’d walk around the building, he’d always steal glances of you in your office working. And god, you always looked as beautiful as ever to him.

His father, the former CEO, strolls into the building, his presence immediately commanding respect from all the employees as he walks by. He was a tall and dignified man, his presence alone enough to make everyone take notice. Every employee, including you bowed to him, paying respects.

Shit, this must have been the building he would talk about to you in the past. He’d always complain to you how his father wanted him to overtake his business, but he never told you the name of the building. Well, to be fair, you never asked. And now here you are, working as a corporate slave for your ex boyfriend of a dick.

“It's nice to see you again, y/n.” He says to you, standing before your desk, probably confused.

“Ah... you too sir.”

“I wasn't expecting to see you working here, it's been a while.” His tone was gentle, but there was an undertone of curiosity and concern in his voice.

You nod and offer an awkward smile, “Yeah... I didn't know Satoru was the CEO of this building.”

“Yes, he took over as CEO two months after you both... ended.” He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly wary. “And you're working as his secretary now...?” He questioned, looking around the office.

Oh fuck, embarrassing. It sounds as if you’re desperate to be seen by Satoru. “Yes. I am.”

He nods again, his expression still neutral as he continues to observe you, “I see...”

Awkward as fuck. Not because he’s Satoru’s father, you and his family had a good relationship when you were dating. It’s more awkward that your specifically working for his son now.

“How are things between you and Satoru? You two are on... good terms?”

“...I guess.” You fiddle with your hands slightly, wanting to let out a long, deep sigh.

“You guess...?” He lets out a small sigh and continues, his tone slightly gentler this time. “Are you getting along with Satoru fine? No... issues, or arguments?”

“No, not at all sir. We’re okay now.” True, you aren’t. It’s more boring talk. But maybe it’s because you haven’t lashed out on him yet.

He studies your face as you speak, trying to read your expression. He can tell you're not being completely honest, but your words are spoken in a polite and professional tone. “I see..”

“So are you... enjoying working here? You're not feeling uncomfortable or anything?”

“No not at all, it's good working here. The building is amazing.”

“I'm glad to hear that. The building is quite impressive, isn't it? And I hope Satoru isn't... giving you too much work to do?”

You chuckle in response,”Well, I am working on tasks for next week so..”

“Ah, I see. So he’s already making you work ahead of time..”

As his father leaves your office, he makes his way to Satoru’s office, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sees him lazing around in his chair.

“Satoru...” His voice is a low, almost a disapproving grumble as he enters the room, closing the door behind him.

Satoru, hearing his father's voice, looks up with a slight expression of annoyance on his face. “Ugh... what is it?”

He lazily spins around in his chair, his body language oozing nonchalance and boredom.

His father doesn't look amused as he walks up to his son’s desk, a stern expression on his face. “We need to talk.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on Satoru as he continues. “I was just in your secretary's office, and you know who I saw?”

He raises an eyebrow at his father's words, a mixture of annoyance in his eyes. “Y/n?” He says in a bored tone, as if he's already expecting some sort of lecture from his father.

“Yes, why?”

“Oh, yeah. I hired her.” He responds casually, as if it’s normal to have your ex girlfriend work for you.

His father lets out a sigh, his expression becoming more agitated. “Anyway, you need to get married soon. You're already 28.”

Satoru groans and rolls his eyes at his father's words. He's heard this lecture from his father numerous times, and it always irritates him. “You're still on about that?”

His father remains stern and insistent, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, I am. You're at the age where you should be looking for a suitable partner. You can't just keep playing around forever and hooking up with random whores. It's time for you to settle down.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Ugh, can we not have this conversation right now? I'm busy.”

His father's expression hardens even more at his dismissive attitude. “No, we're having this conversation now. And you're not going to use the ‘I'm busy' excuse this time. You've been putting this off for far too long, Satoru. It's embarrassing to have a son who has sex with prostitutes. You need a wife to put you in your place. You need to have kids so you remain a good man.”

Satoru's eyes narrow at his father's words. He knew it was pointless to argue at this point, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation at being lectured like a child.

“And who do you expect me to marry? Do you have someone in mind?”

“Well, if you're asking for my opinion, yes I do have someone in mind. But knowing how stubborn you are, you're probably not going to like it.”

He raises an eyebrow again at his father's words, curious. He lets out a sigh, resigned to having this conversation. “Fine, spit it out. Who is it?”

His father takes a deep breath, bracing himself for Satoru's reaction. He knows what he's about to say will probably not go over well with him.

“Even though she’s your ex now.. y/n. She's a good girl and she comes from a respectable background and we liked her. You two were together for a while. Who better knows you? She'd be able to keep you in line. You're still hung up on her anyway, just stop fucking around and treat her well, then she'll be happy with you.”

His face immediately darkens at his father's words, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You can't be serious. You actually want me to marry y/n?”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's protest, not taking his words seriously at all. He's clearly amused by his son's denial. “Oh please, I know you're still into her. And she doesn't hate you, she's just mad at you because you messed up. And her boyfriend? Pfft, I saw him, he's a pathetic waste of space. She deserves someone better, someone like you. Just stop being a coward and admit you still like her.”

He lets out a scoff at his father's words. He can't believe his father is talking about y/n like this, as if he knows better than him. It's pissing him off, even though he’s right.

“You're seriously overstepping your boundaries, old man. I'm not a damn teenager who can't make decisions for themselves. I'm the CEO of this company, and I have a private life. No, I'm not marrying y/n. It's not happening.”

“You're acting like a child, Satoru. And don't give me that CEO bullshit, it won't work on me. You're still my son and I'm still your father, and I'm telling you to marry her. End of story. I'll arrange the marriage even if I have to force it, I'll get y/n to agree.”

Satoru's jaw clenches, his patience reaching its limit. He can feel anger coursing through him, and he has to force himself to stay calm. “You'll what? Arrange a marriage?! Dad, you're out of your damn mind. You know damn well y/n and I didn't end on good terms. We were constantly at each other's throats, it was a disaster. And forcing her to marry me? That's insane.”

His father scoffs, “Who else would you marry?”

“Anyone but y/n. Literally anyone. I’ll marry a stranger, I don't care. Just don’t push y/n onto me.” Satoru's voice is firm and unrelenting, but there's a hint of desperation in his eyes as he stares at his father.

His father lets out a frustrated sigh, seeing that his son is in no mood to listen to reason. He takes a deep breath and tries a different approach. “Alright then. I'll have a few respectable women, or girls your mother and I know come over to the family estate. They'll talk to you and you talk to them. Then come to me and tell me which one you prefer. Deal?”

Satoru’s expression softens slightly, his anger slowly subsiding. He doesn't like the idea of being set up with women he's never met, but it's better than being forced to marry his ex. “... Fine. But I'm not promising anything.”

His father smiles slightly, glad that he's finally getting through to Satoru. If he doesn’t prefer any of them, then he’ll definitely arrange you both. But he won’t mention that yet.

“Good. I'll arrange it then. And I better see you talking properly to these girls, got it? No snide comments or sarcasm. Just behave well. Don't embarrass me son.”

He rolls his eyes but nods reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah I'll be on my best behaviour. Don't worry.” He mutters, still not thrilled about the entire situation of marriage.

“Today, tomorrow, next week? When?”

“Next week. This coming Saturday. I'll have them head to your study room in the estate, not your apartment, so make sure you come over in the morning. Be ready.”

Satoru nods again, resigned to his fate. He knows his father is not backing down. “Alright, I'll be there.. Whatever.”

The next day, Satoru is bored in his office, idly scrolling through his social media feeds when he receives an email from you. He opens it up and reads through his schedule for the day, letting out a small sigh.

It's then that he suddenly remembers the conversation between him and his father, and the arrangement to bring the women over to their estate next week. He groans inwardly, not looking forward to it at all.

He could just do as his father's says and marry you instead. but you're his ex and you hate him because he's apparently toxic. and he doesn't even like you anymore since you became so bratty. At least, that what he tells himself.

As his thoughts swirl through his head, an idea starts to form. He glances at the door to his office, considering it for a moment. then he calls out to you through the phone speaker. “Hey, come in here for a moment.”

You hear his voice over the alert system in your office room and head over, once inside you speak, “Is something the matter?”

He motions for you to close the door behind you and sit down. “No, everything's fine. Just sit down.”

He waits for you to sit down on the chair opposite him, his eyes studying your face as you do so. He's not sure how you're going to react to what he's about to say.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me.”

Okay, you can do that.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk in front of him as he looks you in the eye. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

You respond immediately, “No.” Did he expect you to be open considering our history? What an idiot.

He chuckles as he looks down, “Damn, you're still as bratty as ever.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at you again. “You still hate me, huh?”

You stare back at him, a bored expression on your face, “Obviously.” You hated his guts and he knows that.

“Yeah, I figured. We did end on bad terms after all, didn't we?” He speaks with a hint of arrogant irritation in his voice.

You sigh before you speak, “What do you want?”

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the desk and entwining his fingers in front of him. His gaze is steady and intense as he looks at you. “I need you to listen closely to what I'm about to say and try to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“What?”

Inhaling deeply, he prepares himself for your reaction. He knows this is going to be a difficult conversation. But he should at least ask before closing off the option.

“I'm going to ask you something... a little... hm. I don't know what's the word but, don't get all mad at me. It's just an offer from my father. it's not that I want to but I'm just letting you know.”

You groan in irritation at him, “Okay, so what is it?” He’s taking too long and you’re becoming impatient.

He almost chuckles at the frustration on your face. But he knows better than to make any dumb comments if he wants to even have a chance to explain himself.

“Alright, alright. I'll get to the point.” He clears his throat, preparing himself for your reaction. “My father wants me to get married. He gave me the first option to marry you but I denied it because, well I thought you'd say no anyway. So instead he arranged some women for me to meet next week at our estate.”

“Okay? What do you want me to do about that?”

He sighs, “You're really making it difficult for me to talk to you." He rubs his temple with his fingers, getting annoyed with your stubbornness. “Alright, I'm just gonna say it then.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at you straight in the eye. “I'm gonna ask you again. Do you still hate me, yes or no?”

“Yes. I hate you.”

“You really are damn stubborn, you know that?” He sits back in his chair, studying your face for any signs of weakness or doubt. But your expression remains icy and impenetrable, just like it always was before you broke up with him..

He leans forward again, his gaze never leaving your face. “Fine, you hate me. But that's not the question I'm asking.”

But that was the question he just asked?

“My father was going to arrange our marriage forcibly, but I told him not to because I thought you'd disagree. If you could, would you agree to the marriage?”

You contemplate for a moment, would you? You hate him, you can’t trust him anymore. Not when he cheated with some random prostitute. “It depends.”

He quirked an eyebrow at your answer, intrigued and slightly amused that you're actually considering the possibility. “Depends on what?”

“Money.” You say blankly. Hypothetically, at least. You weren’t being serious but if it were to happen you’d marry him for money. Because only money could make you get back with a cheating ex like Satoru.

He scoff at your response. It's so typical of you to think of the financial aspect first. But he doesn't seem too surprised. “Oh, you're such a greedy little gold digger. I'd be paying you to be married to me, huh?”

“What's the problem with that? I have money and come from wealth too, it’s only obvious I’d still want more. If I married you I’d want to be paid weekly.”

You watch him shake his head and chuckle, both amused and annoyed at your audacity. He never expected you to actually admit to being a gold digger so shamelessly. “Damn. You really have no shame, do you?”

He looks at you as he considers your proposition for a moment, “Weekly payments, huh? How much are you thinking?”

“Hm. To get married to you and leave my boyfriend... £100k to get married to you, then £2k weekly sent to my bank. I'm only saying that because it's not gonna happen.” You say the last sentence firmly, standing your ground as you glare at him from your seat.

He grins at the ridiculously bold request, “£100k to marry me? And £2k weekly? You're really trying to milk me for everything I've got, huh? You're fuckin’ expensive.”

“Those are reasonable offers if your rich. You have the money to give that.”

He can't deny that you're right. Though he finds your demands amusing and frustrating at the same time. "You really have no shame to ask for that much money, don't you?” He mutters under his breath.

“And why do you want £2k weekly? wouldn't I be providing you with everything as your husband?”

Ugh, he’s asking as if I’d ever accept him as my husband.

“What do you plan to do with the £2k weekly payments?”

“For myself, obviously. You’re questioning me as if it'd actually happen. I'm not marrying you.” You chuckle as you speak. “Was just answering your question from before.”

“I know you're not gonna marry me, it's just a damn hypothetical question.” he mutters, his voice edged with frustration. “But I'm asking why you'd want that much money for yourself?”

“Why wouldn't I? Plus If I had left over money, l'd pass it down to my children for inheritance.”

“Of course you're thinking about inheritance for your children,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “You know, most people get married for love, not just for money.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn't be marrying you for love, it'd be forced if ur father went through with it for real. Anyway, good luck to the women you're meeting next week. I have work to do and this conversation is annoying. I'll be taking my leave.”

He eyes you as you stand up and head toward the door, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time by your bluntness. “Right, right," he mutters, leaning back in his chair again. “Run off to do your work. Maybe you'll find another guy to milk for money while you’re at it.”

You roll your eyes and scoff as you exit the room, shutting the door behind you.

He lets out a long, heavy sigh and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the crazy idea that he even considered discussing the possibility of marriage with you. “Damn it...” he mutters to himself, “What the hell am I thinking... Tch. annoying bitch.”

Saturday finally rolls around, and Satoru finds himself sitting in his family's grand estate, waiting for the women his father had invited. He's sitting in his study room, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch with growing irritation. He still dreads the idea of having to meet all these women, especially after the conversation he had with you a few days before.

Hours passed by, but to no surprise, all the women were either bratty, annoying, clingy, boring or ugly. He heads to his fathers study room, his frustration growing with each step.

He had hoped at least one of the women would pique his interest, but they were all lacking in one way or another. Finally, he reaches his father's study room and knocks on the door. He waits a moment before hearing his father call out from inside, “Come in.” A small smirk playing on his father face.

He steps into the room seeing his father sat smoking a cigarette, his expression a mix of irritation and disappointment. As if he knew that you wouldn’t like any the women. He closes the door behind him and stands in front of his father's desk, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Judging by your face, I'm guessing the meetings didn't go well?”

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh “You could say that. None of the women you picked out were my type. Honestly, they were all damn awful to be honest.”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's blunt assessment. He leans back in his chair and looks at his son “I see. Well, I guess that's expected, given your picky taste in women. So marry y/n. I'll arrange it.”

His eyes widened at his father's words. He hadn't expected him to bring up your name again so casually.

“What? Wait, hang on I told you we shouldn’t-“

Cutting him off, his father waves his hand dismissively. “I know what you said, but you didn't find anyone suitable so there’s no other option.. You're not that old, but you should start thinking about your future. I'm tired of you always spending your time with prostitutes. Y/n’s a good girl, and she's from a good family that I know well. It's the perfect match.”

“That's bullshit, I don't care if she’s a 'good girl' we don’t like each other anymore, and you know that.”

“You can't just rely on picking women based on your taste. You have to consider the bigger picture, Satoru. Y/n is from a wealthy family, and a good partner for the future. You can't just dismiss her because you don’t like her. You have to think about how this will benefit you and your future. And don't lie to me, you loved her until you both started arguing constantly because of your behaviour. Fix yourself up. I'll speak to her and arrange the marriage, I'm good at persuading.”

Satoru clenches his fists, trying to keep his cool “Damn it...I can't just agree to marry her because it's convenient. What about my own feelings and preferences? I don't care if she's from a wealthy family or a 'good partner for the future.' I'm not some damn chess piece in your grand plan. Why the hell can't you just leave me alone about this? I don't want to be stuck down to one women I like my fucking prostitutes and why does that even bother you?! The public don't even know.”

His father slams his hand on the desk, his patience wearing thin at Satoru’s vulgar and immature words.

“Enough nonsense, Satoru! I'm tired of your selfish attitude. You're not a child anymore, you're 28 years old, it's time you start acting like an adult. Marriage is not just about your feelings, it's about responsibility, legacy and power. Y/n’s family status and background will bring stability benefits that will outweigh your damn personal preferences. I don't care how many damn prostitutes you sleep with, you're marrying y/n.”

“I've already spoken to her, I gave her a hypothetical question, and you want to know what she said?”

His father looks slightly surprised at his words, but he quickly regains his composure “And what did she say?”

“She said, if she did marry me it would be for money.”

His voice is laced with frustration and anger as he crosses his arms, his glare fixed on his father.

“She was only interested in the damn money. Nothing else. Told me if you forced her to marry me, she'd only go ahead with it if she was pre-paid £100k and then paid a further £2k by me weekly. then she said she's only saying that because it'd never happen and she won't marry me.”

His father's expression remains neutral, “What's so bad about that? We have wealth and so does she. it's only normal for her to want more, especially if your her ex. I don’t blame her.”

His anger reaches a boiling point at his father's nonchalant response. He leans forward, his eyes blazing with frustration, “You're goddamn right she's my ex. And that should be enough reason for you not to try to force me to marry her against my will.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but his frustration is evident in his every movement.

His father leans back in his chair, his expression still calm, “Listen, I understand that you have your reasons for not wanting to marry her. But you have to understand that I'm only thinking about what's best for you. She comes from a wealthy family, and she shares similar values to ours. She'd be a valuable addition to our family, and I'm sure you'd be able to find happiness with her if you stopped your toxic behaviour.”

Satoru's jaw clenches as he listens to his father's words. He can't believe that his father is still pushing this idea, despite his objections. “You just don't get it, do you? It's not just about your stupid values and wealth. I have my own life, my own preferences, my own damn desires.”

He shakes his head, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration. “You can't force me to marry someone, my ex, just because it's convenient for you or our family reputation.”

“Satoru, stop being so goddamn egotistical. This isn't just about pleasing me or our ideals. It's about doing what's right for your future. And let's be honest, your current lifestyle isn't exactly sustainable in the long run. You need a partner who understands and respects you, whom you can share your life with. And someone who can keep you in check. Leave my room. I'll arrange you and y/n. That's the end of it.”

“Ugh, fine! but don't expect me to treat her like a goddess wife.” He was tired of these lectures, tired of his futile defensive arguments.

“Trust me, after spending a few days with her as your wife, you'll come to appreciate her, she was always a good daughter figure when she’d visit whilst you dated.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands “And I expect you to be on your best behaviour. No more womanising or hookups, got it?”

He rolls his eyes, feeling frustrated but also resigned to the situation “Yeah, yeah, I got it. No more women, no more hookups. You want me to be a damn saint, I'll be a saint.”

A day later, his father calls me, telling me to visit their estate and that he has something important to discuss with me. I head over and enter the family estate, a butler leading me to his fathers study room. Am I going to get fired already? No.. if I were to be getting fired I’d be called to Satoru’s office.

Satoru sits in his father's room, staring out the window as his father sits beside him. His thoughts still swirl with anger and frustration but he knows he has no choice to argue with his father.

Suddenly, his father's butler knocks on the door and enters the room. “Excuse me. Miss l/n is here saying that you called for her?” He steps aside, revealing you standing in the doorway.

“Hello..”

His father stands up and smiles at you warmly

“Ah, y/n, please come in. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

I enter the room, closing the door behind me and glance at satoru confused, his expression neutral, only with slightly furrowed brows. Then I returned my gaze back onto his father.

His father gestures for you to take a seat across from him and Satoru. “Please, have a seat. There's something important we need to discuss with you.”

After taking your seat, His father leans forward, his tone serious “Y/n, I've called you here because Satoru and I have had a chat recently. And we both agreed that it would be beneficial for all of us if you and Satoru were to get married.”

Oh god, he can’t be serious. “Mr. Go-“

His father continues, ignoring your reaction

“I understand that this might come as a surprise, but hear me out. Satoru needs a partner who can help him grow and mature. And I believe that you are the perfect candidate for that. You come from a good family and have a strong sense of responsibility. You can provide the stability and guidance that Satoru desperately needs.”

“I... thank you for the offer but I-“

His father holds up a hand, stopping you from protesting further “You'll be given the money you want. £100k beforehand and £2k weekly by this idiot here, right?”

You part your lips slightly and your breath catches in your dry throat. You weren’t being serious with that amount, simply stating it because you didn't expect it to happen. You wave your hands in protest as you smile awkwardly “No, No I-“

His father raises an eyebrow, clearly sceptical of your protest, “You were the one who suggested the money. Don't try to back out of it now. I’m offering a significant amount of financial security. Not to mention, being married to Satoru would mean a life of luxury and comfort.”

Satoru, who had been silent until now, finally speaks up. He leans back in his chair, a mix of irritation and resignation in his voice. “Just take the damn deal, y/n.”

“Tch, don't tell me what to do.”

“Why are you being so difficult? we're offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity here. You'd be a fool to reject it.”

You roll your eyes, looking away and sighing. He's right, but it would be hell for you. Get back with the ex who cheated on you with a prostitute..? It’s crazy.

His father clasps his hands together, sensing that you're starting to give in, “If that's not enough, £200k beforehand, £3k weekly.”

“You're serious...? About this?”

“Absolutely. I've already spoken to your parents and they agreed, but do you?”

Satoru watches you intently, waiting for your answer. He's starting to feel a sense of annoyance at your hesitancy, but he tries to hide it.

His father leans forward, “Y/n, you won't have to work another day.”

"You'll have access to the best of everything, a life of luxury, and you'll be a part of a high-profile family. Think about it, you'll never have to worry about money or anything again."

“I mean I already don't... have to worry…” You’re starting to give in. Oh god this can’t be good.

“Yes, but the offer is still there. You'd have more. You know our family is #1 wealthiest in Japan, your family is #50 wealthy. Think about it.”

Satoru can't contain himself anymore, he leans forward, his irritation evident in his voice “Damn it, you're being stubborn for no reason. Just take the deal already.”

You scowl at his words and tone, giving a dirt as you furrow your brows.

Sator glares right back, his irritation at your defiant attitude growing.

“Just take the fucking deal you love money anyway!”

“Fine!” I yell back with a frustrated groan.

His father lets out a satisfied exhale, a small smile on his face.

“Excellent. I'm glad you came to your senses.”

Satoru leans back, a mix of frustration and resignation on his face. “Finally, you gave in.”

His father’s tone became more serious as he speaks, “Now that that's settled, there are a few conditions that we need to discuss.”

He pauses, looking at Satoru, “First, Satoru. You will not contact any of your former lovers or hookups. The public and our family would look down on that. You must maintain a clean image as a couple.”

You scoff a laugh. “Tch. Of course you had prostitutes right after I left you.” He really was a damn sex freak. You can’t believe he didn’t catch on to the fact you knew he cheated on you. What a dickhead.

He rolls his eyes, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at being called out on his behavior.

“Yeah, I did. So what? I had em before you and had em after.”

The audacity for him to blatantly admit such a disgusting thing makes you stare at him in both disbelief and disgust. You hid it well, but it did hurt you. It was like as if he poured acid onto your heart.

His father shakes his head, his disapproval evident

“Satoru that's exactly the type of behaviour that needs to change, immediately. You are a part of a powerful family, and your actions reflect on us all. No more of that immature behaviour.”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his seat, looking away, “Yeah, I know.”

“Second, y/n, you will be expected to support Sator in every way possible. This means attending family events and public appearances with him, offering him emotional support, and generally acting as a supportive partner.”

“Of course that's basic stuff, I can do that.” You respond softly, and maturely.

“Good, I'm glad you understand.” He clears his throat,“Onto the third condition. This is the most important one.

His voice takes a firm, serious tone “It involves the matter of heirs. You'll be expected to have children within the next 2 years of the marriage. Ideally, a son and a daughter.”

You should have expected that as a condition too.

“This is non-negotiable. We want to ensure the continuing of our family line, and we expect you two to fulfil your duty.”

I smirk slightly as I look down at my lap, “Do I get paid for pregnancy too?” I ask sarcastically.

"Actually, yes. You'll receive an extra £80k for each pregnancy, and £150k for giving birth.”

Your breath hitches once more, he can’t be serious.. “What?” That amount is far too ridiculously huge, even for you.

His father smiles slightly, seeing your surprise. "That's correct. We understand that pregnancy can be a difficult and exhausting experience, both physically and mentally. That's why we're willing to offer additional compensation as a token of our appreciation for your efforts in continuing our bloodline."

“Wait I was just joking-“

His father chuckles slightly, dismissing your protest.“Oh, I know you were joking, but we take this seriously. The compensation is non-negotiable. We want to ensure that you and Satoru have all the support and resources you need to start a family.”

“But that’s not necessary I promis-“

“It is necessary. He’s our only child, it’s only right that we gift his wife and mother of his children. And you’ll be keeping him in check from his…. Behaviours.”

To think you’re actually agreeing to this is mental. If you were to speak to yourself a week ago you’d be laughing hysterically.

“Right.. right. Next two years..”

“Yes, within the next 2 years. We want to ensure that the family line is continued in a timely manner.”

Satoru remains mostly silent in his seat, a hint of irritation in his expression at the conversation's direction.

His father continues, a stern tone in his voice, “It's not solely your responsibility dear, of course. Satoru will also be expected to play an active role in the child-rearing process, but you will be the main caregiver and nurturer.”

I mean, it’s not so bad. But it’s Gojo Satoru who will be your husband and father of your children. What if he just cheated again? How does his father expect you to keep him in line?

He looks back and forth between you and Satoru

"You both will work together to raise your children, providing them with the love, care, and stability that a family should have. It won't be easy, but we believe that you're both capable of it."

Satoru bristles visibly at his father's words. The thought of having children so soon with his bitch of an ex, is far from appealing to him. Yes, he still has a few feelings for you, but not enough to want to be forced with you. Not like this. But he bites back any protest, knowing it's fruitless to argue with his father.

"Also, if you hate each other behind closed doors, expect you both to appear as a loving couple for the public.”

“Yes.. we will.”

"And Satoru, you better stay behaved. We don't want any more scandals that might embarrass the family's name.

You're lucky they haven't seen you with those whores you've met."

He grits his teeth at his father's comment, feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment at his indiscretions being brought up time and time again. "I already told you, I'll stop those hookups. There's no need to constantly bring it up."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Just remember, your actions reflect on this family.”

His gaze shifts back to you.

"And y/n, I know you’ll keep Satoru in line. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

“I will.”

"Good. I have faith in you to keep Satoru in check."

His expression suddenly turns serious again.

“One more thing, both of you. Absolutely no infidelity after marriage. I expect absolute loyalty from both of you.”

“Say that to him not me” I mutter, rolling my eyes towards Satoru’s direction.

Satoru clicks his tongue at your words.

His father sighs, directing his gaze at Satoru. “Satoru, I expect complete loyalty from now on. No more flings or hookups with anyone else. Your marriage is solely with y/n now.”

Satoru scowls at his father's words but doesn't argue. He knows that resisting is pointless. He turns his gaze to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. “I understand.”

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cherubfae · 7 months

Note

Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)

Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!

|| The Price of Love || Alastor x Reader x Lucifer

tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois

This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)

A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.

You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.

Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.

You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.

A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.

"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.

Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.

Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."

For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.

Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"

Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"

When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.

"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.

Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."

Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.

"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.

Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.

"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.

Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.

On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.

A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.

Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.

"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.

Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."

The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."

Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.

Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.

Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.

Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."

Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.

Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.

Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.

And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #cherubfae 2024

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theshift · 12 days

Text

The Distance

Ethan and Damian had been together for three years, but now, with work pulling them in different directions, they found themselves living in different cities. Their daily routine had shifted to frequent texts, video calls, and, most importantly, selfies. It was their way of keeping the spark alive, seeing each other's faces and bodies in playful, intimate snapshots that reminded them of what they were missing. Ethan would send his soft, understated poses, while Damian, being bolder, would send selfies with his arms flexed or behind his head, a look of pride in his eyes.

The long distance had been tough, though. No matter how many selfies they shared, Ethan found it hard not to miss the way Damian felt in his arms, his stocky build, and that familiar, rugged scent.

One day, as Ethan came home from work, he saw a package waiting at his doorstep. It was from Damian. The note inside was brief but personal: "Hope this gift helps you remember me every time you use it."

Curiosity piqued, Ethan opened the package. Inside was something unexpected—a full-body suit. But not just any suit. As he lifted it out of the box, he realized it was Damian. The suit was designed to look exactly like Damian’s body—broad shoulders, muscular arms, and even a beard that seemed too real to be synthetic. Ethan was speechless. The texture was eerily similar to Damian’s skin, the build felt right, and even the scent lingered.

Ethan chuckled to himself, already knowing what Damian had in mind. His hands shook slightly as he pulled the suit closer, feeling the weight of it. The inner lining was smooth and cool against his skin. Slowly, he stepped into it, starting with his legs. The suit stretched over his slender thighs, bulking them up as they matched Damian's muscular shape. He worked it over his hips and torso, each part of his body now transforming into a replica of Damian's stocky, powerful form.

As Ethan slid his arms into the suit, he noticed the muscles in the suit pressing against his skin, filling out the fabric. His arms were suddenly thick and toned, just like Damian’s. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and paused. It was surreal. There, staring back at him, was the image of Damian—his broad shoulders, chest, and arms. The detail in the suit was incredible, down to the faint scars and freckles that Ethan had memorized from running his hands over Damian’s body.

Then came the final step—the mask. Ethan lifted it up, hesitating for a moment before pulling it over his head. It fit snugly, but not uncomfortably. His curly hair disappeared under the mask, replaced by Damian's shorter, thick hair. The mustache Ethan once wore was now replaced with Damian's full beard. Ethan blinked, adjusting to the feeling of the suit completely enveloping him.

He turned back to the mirror. He was Damian. From the stocky, muscular build to the confident glint in his eyes. Ethan flexed his new biceps, mirroring the pose Damian often sent in his selfies—the one where he raised his arms above his head, flexing with an exaggerated, almost douchey face. He struck another pose, this time hands on his hips, chest puffed out, just as Damian would. It was bizarre, yet oddly comforting. For the first time in months, Ethan felt like Damian was right there with him.

He grabbed his phone and started snapping selfies, imitating every pose Damian had sent him over the past few months. Flexing, smirking, even that goofy pose where he held his arms behind his head, showing off his muscular frame with a cocky smile. Ethan couldn't help but laugh, sending the photos back to Damian with a simple message: "How did I do?"

Ethan stared at the last selfie he had just taken, flexing in the exact way Damian always did. It felt bizarrely natural—like he could embody Damian perfectly now that he had the suit on. As the thought sank in, an idea crept into his mind. What if he went out for the night as Damian? He’d been feeling the distance for months, missing not just Damian’s body but his presence—the way he carried himself, the easy confidence, the way his laugh could fill a room. Maybe this was his chance to feel close to him in a way he hadn’t since they’d been apart. A solo date—as Damian. Ethan looked into the mirror again, adjusting the collar of the shirt he was now wearing over the suit. The fabric clung to Damian’s muscular build, which Ethan was now wearing like a second skin. He rolled his shoulders back, mimicking Damian’s usual swagger. Ethan knew Damian's mannerisms by heart—the way he always took long strides, head slightly tilted back, a subtle grin on his face as if he were in on a private joke the world hadn’t caught onto yet. With a smirk, Ethan grabbed Damian’s favorite jacket—a leather one that added to his tough exterior—and slipped it over his shoulders. "Alright," he muttered to himself, adjusting his voice to match Damian's deep, rumbling tone. "Let’s see what this feels like." He stepped outside, the evening air cool against the suit, but he felt warm—strangely invigorated. The town felt different from this new perspective. Ethan made his way down the street toward a small bar that he and Damian had always loved, a spot they used to frequent for casual dates. He walked with a bit of Damian’s usual swagger, head held high, hands in his pockets, exuding confidence in every step. His body moved like Damian’s now, with the natural ease and slight cockiness that came from years of being in the body of someone who knew exactly how to draw attention. He arrived at the bar, and the moment he stepped inside, he noticed the glances. He hadn’t fully expected it, but people were looking. Damian had always turned heads wherever he went, and now he was the one drawing those looks. Ethan felt a jolt of excitement—being in Damian’s skin was empowering. He slid up to the bar, leaning casually against it, and gave the bartender a nod. “What can I get you?” the bartender asked, giving him the kind of glance Damian often got—one of appreciation, or maybe even slight intimidation. “Whiskey,” Ethan said, his voice deep and gruff like Damian’s. It felt strange, but thrilling, to speak like this.

As Ethan nursed his whiskey, leaning casually against the bar like Damian always did, he felt a sense of ease wash over him. For the first time since Damian had sent the suit, he wasn’t just wearing it—he was Damian. The muscles, the swagger, the attitude... It all felt right. But then the test came, a test Ethan hadn't anticipated.

“Damian?” a voice called from behind him.

Ethan stiffened, his heart skipping a beat. Slowly, he turned around, locking eyes with a tall, athletic man wearing a friendly grin. It was Tyler, one of Damian’s old friends. Ethan’s mind raced. They had met once, briefly, but Ethan doubted Tyler would recognize him now, not with the suit on. But Tyler knew Damian—his speech patterns, his mannerisms. If Ethan wasn’t convincing enough, the jig would be up in an instant.

“Hey, man!” Tyler approached, clasping Ethan on the shoulder in a familiar way. “Haven’t seen you around in a minute. Thought you moved out of town.”

Ethan forced a smirk, pulling on Damian’s casual, confident tone. “Nah, just been busy with work. You know how it is.”

Tyler laughed. “Same old Damian. You still hitting the gym every morning, huh? Don’t know how you keep this bulk on with that schedule of yours.”

Ethan flexed his arm slightly, mimicking the way Damian always responded to compliments about his build. “Gotta keep up the routine, man,” he replied with a cocky grin, trying to mirror Damian’s playful energy.

Tyler nodded approvingly and ordered a drink. The conversation continued, but Ethan was hyper-aware of every word, every gesture. He mimicked Damian’s relaxed, yet confident posture, nodding when Tyler talked about their shared gym sessions, even throwing in some gym lingo that he remembered from Damian. Ethan felt the tension rise with every interaction, but Tyler didn’t seem to notice anything off.

“So, what’re you doing here tonight, man?” Tyler asked, taking a sip of his beer. “Thought you were more of a date-night guy when you came to this place.”

Ethan swallowed, maintaining his Damian-like composure. “Ah, you know, just thought I’d fly solo tonight. Needed a break, some time to clear my head.”

Tyler gave him a knowing look. “Right, right. Well, don’t go too long without seeing your man. You’re a lucky bastard, and you know it.”

Ethan laughed, playing along, though it was a bittersweet reminder of Damian’s absence. Tyler clinked his glass against Ethan’s and the two shared a few more laughs, but soon, Tyler’s phone buzzed.

“Gotta run,” Tyler said, giving Ethan a quick pat on the back. “Good catching up, bro. Let’s hit the gym next time you’re free.”

“Yeah, man. Sounds good,” Ethan replied, waving Tyler off.

As Tyler left the bar, Ethan exhaled a long, relieved breath. He had passed. Tyler didn’t suspect a thing. He had impersonated Damian perfectly—his voice, his mannerisms, even the subtle way he moved and spoke. For a brief moment, Ethan wasn’t just wearing Damian’s skin; he was Damian in every sense of the word. It was exhilarating, nerve-wracking, and, oddly, comforting all at once.

Ethan took a sip of his whiskey, the adrenaline still rushing through him. The thrill of having to embody Damian so perfectly left him almost giddy. As he looked around the bar one last time, he realized how easy it had been. He had seamlessly slipped into Damian’s life, impersonating him so convincingly that even Damian’s friend couldn’t tell the difference.

A grin tugged at Ethan’s lips. The suit wasn’t just a way to feel close to Damian—it was a tool, a way to become him whenever Ethan wanted. The possibilities were endless, and for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the sting of distance between them.

He sent one final selfie to Damian that night, a stoic look on his face, striking a classic Damian pose—arms up, flexing. Along with the photo, he sent a simple message: I think I’ll be putting this suit to good use babe.

#malebodysuit #male body suit #male shapeshift #maleshapeshift #male body swap #malebodyswap #male transformation

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popamolly · 7 months

Text

“INTERNAL REDEMPTION” LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. (y/n) finds herself in Lucifer’s grasp, knowing her job is to get close to him in order to figure out his future plans for hell and to ultimately sabotage him by telling the V’s. Though their first encounter didn’t exactly go as planned.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. this story has gotten so much love in such a short amount of time! thank you all!

“Change of plans, dollface. Your new owner wants you brought to someone else’s place, apparently you’re his gift.” The shark face man tossed you into a back of a van with a snarl, “How generous of him.”

“Screw you.” You bit back as you pushed yourself up, giving the guy a glare.

“Ouch!” The guy playfully steps back with a roaring laugh, “The dove can bite.” You glared at the man as he slams the car doors, covering you in complete darkness. ‘This sucked’ you thought to yourself, you got caught up in something that could make or break Hell itself when you just wanted to live a simple life, or at least the most normal idea of simple you can get. You wanted nothing more than to just dance to your hearts content while keeping under the radar but because of your damned loyalty to Valentino you had no other choice. Cruel as the man can be, you owed him more than just your afterlife.

Before you knew it, you were in a bedchamber after being scrubbed down from head to toe and put in a quite revealing garment. You did not even have time to admire the walls that would serve as your cage for the time being. The intricate architectural designs had you in awe, it was clear you were far away from the slums of Hell being in such of place of grandeur. Chandelier's adorned the high ceilings, oil paintings decorated the walls, and the smell of it all caught you off guard- it was a clean scent, something that only the rich and those bathed in luxury could afford to have.

"You will wait here, until his highness is ready for you." A elderly maid took your clothes that was neatly folded beside you as you stood in the center of the room feeling oh so out of place.

"Asmodeus is still away?" You asked, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"As-? Oh, no dear, you are in the King's bedchambers." The maid revealed, catching you up to speed on your current situation, "You are a gift for Lucifer."

Your heart sank then. Of course this is what you wanted, this was plan a, but how could have you caught his attention so soon? Your mission was now becoming more real and you realized that you couldn't fail. You couldn't disappoint Valentino because your afterlife quite literally depended on it. But now that you were actually in the King's bedchamber what should you expect? Someone demanding? Someone who easily towers over you? Ruthless in bed? You knew to keep your expectations low if the rumors about the King were even remotely true.

For awhile you sat on his large bed. Swallowing into your own thoughts as you waited patiently for Lucifer to arrive. Your nerves only grew and with that your curiosity as well.

Though Lucifer himself was a ball of nerves just like you. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with nervousness at the thought of a woman in his chamber waiting for him. This was all so screwed, he didn't even want to be at Asmodeus' party nor did he want a prostitute in his room, that he didn't have time to clean due to such short notice. ‘Were you laughing at him and the mountains of rubber ducks? How fucking embarrassing!’ As much as the thought of a night of passion was intriguing, this is not how he wanted it to go. He could be everything people wanted him to be but he wouldn't stoop that low to sleep with someone who was under obligation.

Lucifer returned home to his palace with one thing in mind, and that was to free you from his ownership.

The sound of the rattling doorknob had you shaken from your thoughts, making you hurriedly get onto the center of the bed to make yourself more presentable. Tucking your legs under you, you let a strap of your gown fall from your shoulders as you puff your chest out to reveal your cleavage. You took a deep breath, ready to put on your facade to appear more alluring as you watched the door slowly open revealing the evil, dark, merciless- short king?

You blink once. Then you blink twice.

“I’m sorry,” You scramble to your feet, trying your best to cover yourself with your arms, was this some joke the maids thought would be funny? Putting you in the wrong room? “I must have the wrong room.”

“No, actually this is my room, ha ha.” Lucifer tapped his cane against the ground as he walked further into his bedchamber, kicking a rubber duck to the side, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long, my dear.”

This wasn’t a prank.

“Oh! Your highness,” you curtsy with a bow of your head to show respect, “Forgive me.”

“All is forgiven,” Lucifer tugged on his shirt collar, suddenly feeling smothering in the fabric. He was a bit nervous now that he was in your vacinity. You were absolutely breathtaking up close, “I hope your ride here was smooth.

‘Hardly that’. “It was, my king.”

“Good, Good…uh.” How was he going to go about this? “Well this is awkward, ahaha. I actually was going to release you of your duty to me. Your uh…services, aren’t needed here. This was all just a simple mishap.”

You tilt your head in confusion. He was letting you go? So easily? What of those rumors you heard before, of the man who took and ravaged without mercy? And besides all that, you had a mission to do, you couldn’t fail so easily and so soon. The day wasn’t even over, “Do I not please you, your highness?”

“What?! No, no, no! You are…quite the lovely creature with an,” Lucifer gulped, his eyes raking over your figure with flushed cheeks, “an amazing body but I just—” ‘Spit it out, you idiot!’ He thought to himself. “I-I’m married, you see.”

“Ah,” You look to the floor then, trying to jumble up the words you wish to speak before you were tossed out. How could you convince him otherwise? “I see..”

“Good!” Lucifer clasps his hands together, trying to ignore the fact that he absolutely, positively— what do the young kids say now a days? Fumbled. He fumbled hard on such a pretty woman as yourself. But for good reason. He was married and as lonely as his life may be, he still held out hope for Lilith. He was faithful to her even after all these years…or at least that’s what he wanted to believe, “I will have the maids see you out and pay you handsomely for any inconvenience.”

“No!” You always did want to try acting sometime when you were alive, “Please my boss, would not accept me back. You’re all I have your majesty.” You held onto Lucifer’s arm gently, forcing your eyes to become glossy with tears, “I have no where else to go.”

“Well, that..” Lucifer felt goosebumps arise at the feeling of your fingertips on him, “that…is quite a pickle.”

“If you don’t accept me as your mistress then let me join your staff,” You plead with fake desperation, a desperation so good that even Lucifer was starting to pity you, “I can cook, clean…anything else really just please don’t kick me out.”

Lucifer bit the inside of cheek, trying hard to remain true to his word on releasing you from his leash but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you, and all it took was you batting your eyelashes at him with a sad look that had him folding instantly. A spark ignited within him, something that he wouldn’t dare even acknowledge.

“I supposed I do have to replace one of my maids.” The King of Hell, gave in without much of a fight. Even if he knew that this was a bad idea, “Fine, fine, fine! You can stay but know that you are allowed to leave whenever you wish, I will not keep you against your will.”

You couldn’t help that your heart all but fluttered as his words. His voice radiated a warmth that you haven’t felt in such a long time. It was surprising and almost distracted you. Almost.

“Thank you, Thank you, your highness,” You bow your head again before raising it to meet his gaze. For a split second the both of you got lost in each other’s eyes at a loss for words until Lucifer finally broke the silence by clearing his throat, turning his back to you with a new found coldness.

“The other maids will take care of you and tell you everything you need to know.” Lucifer made his voice go slightly deeper, “You are excused.”

You nod before leaving the room, silently thankful that your desperate act worked. Which only confirmed that the King of Hell did have a soft spot, a simple crack in that stone wall of his that you fully intended on using to your advantage.

“The King does not eat breakfast but loves brunch, you are to serve him at eleven twenty-five sharp, not a minute early not a minute less—!” The elderly maid you met the day before was walking ahead of you in such speed you were unsure how her little lamb legs could even move so fast. You struggled a bit to keep up, trying to memorize everything she was saying, “—All the windows in the palace needs to be dusted before noon, are you listening to me child?!”

“Ah, yes!” You bumped into her as she abruptly stops, letting an apology fall from your lips before looking up at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows you were expected to clean, “How can you possibly clean all the windows in the palace before noon? How many even are there?”

“Six hundred and sixty-six.” Lysandra states matter of factly, “Now keep up, we mustn’t dawdle.”

The head maid leads you into a the grand foyer, her heels clicking and clacking against the elegant marble floor as she leads you to the center, a large crystal chandelier hanging above the both of you that seemed to sparkle like diamonds under the light. Lysandra points to the bucket filled with soapy water and the big yellow sponge beside it.

“This whole foyer needs to be shining before eleven so you have time to serve the king,” Lysandra raises an eyebrow at you, “Understood?”

You glance around the room, trying your best to understand how in the fuck you were going to clean this whole foyer in under an hour. But did you really have time to complain? At least while you scrubbed you can figure out how you were going to get close to the King, “Got it.”

Lysandra smiles at you, “Good. You remember where the kitchen is? Come there in about an hour to bring the king his lunch.”

“Got it.” You repeat yourself, which makes Lysandra nod in approval before leaving you to your work. You start to get to scrubbing until the floor was so spotless that you could see your reflection through it. Before you knew it was thirty minutes pass ten, making it almost time for you to be done and believe it or not you did better than you thought you would.

Though your mini accomplishment wasn’t celebrated for long because not even a moment later the sound of footsteps echoed through the foyer, and then a loud thud!

“Who in the unholy hell made this floor slippery!” Lucifer groans, holding onto his lower back with a deep frown, “And without a wet sign?!”

You gasped, “Your majesty,” Rushing over you help him, only to be nudged away the moment he got up on his own two feet, “I am so sorry!”

It was already your second day and he had to bump into you again. What are the odds in a place as big as his palace that he ran into you. ‘Fuck, this was going to be hard wasn’t it?’ Lucifer nearly groaned at his own thoughts, ‘Give it another day or two and she’ll just blend in with the other maids.’

“What a unique way to take out the big boss,” Lucifer joked, “Through lower back pain and a dislocated spine.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words, stopping short when you realized what you were doing. It wasn’t your fault that the merciless Lucifer was funny— and quite charming.

“Please forgive me, I think I got a bit carried away with the polishing..”

“You think?” Lucifer chuckles, The both of you sharing a moment of laughter, “The foyer does look spotless now thanks to you so I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much. It hasn’t looked this presentable in years.”

You wanted to pat yourself on the back. Turns out cleaning could be a bit therapeutic for you. Lucifer couldn’t help but stare at your face, your small smile and honey sweet laugh seemed to take his breath away.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

You stood a bit straighter as Lucifer cleared his throat, “Now if you excuse me.” And with those words he was off into the dining hall. Which reminded you of your next task— which was to help dust the windows. You had all but completely two before you checked your watch and your heart nearly sank at the time. Rushing to the kitchen, you hurried down some corridor steps and make your way down another hall until you heard the bustling movement and hurried voices.

“You’re late!” Lysandra frowns as she hurriedly puts a tray of food in your hands, “You need to go serve the king! Who knows how long he has been waiting? Now off you go!”

With a gentle, yet a bit forceful shove, your pushed toward a hidden stairway that led you right into a hallway near the King's bedchamber. You sighed before knocking on the large door and entering once you heard a simple, "Come in."

You entered the bedroom, letting the door close behind you as you made you way toward Lucifer. The King was sitting on a chair at his desk, tinkering away at yet another rubber duck to add to his growing collection. You wanted to know where this obsession with ducks came from and why it seemed so out of character for the King of Hell to have. The longer you stayed here, the longer you realized that everything you thought you knew was a lie.

"Your highness," You did a quick bow before setting his tray of food beside him, "Your brunch.."

"Ah! Thank you!" Lucifer frowned slightly, not expecting that it would be you to deliver his food this morning. It was as if you were at every corner, constantly reminding him of his physical attraction to you, "That is all, you can go."

"Um..actually! I thought you would entertain my company for awhile sir," You smile at Lucifer, mentally noting that there was an unspoken sexual attraction but you would have to tear his walls down first to even act upon it. You figured that you would have to get him to trust you first, "I've been curious about your...rubber ducks ever since I got here."

‘Why were you being so persistent? I mean I like it but what exactly was your angle here?’ Lucifer squints his eyes in suspicion at you, looking over your face to find any hint of deceit but only found your warm smile instead, "Really?"

You nod with excitement, pulling up a stool to sit beside him. Now that you were slightly lower due to the short stool, you looked up into his eyes with a hidden determination and a new found curiosity that you couldn't help. The King of Hell was a mystery and whether it was your obligation to Valentino or your want to truly look through the cracks of Lucifer's protective barrier himself, you found yourself intrigued by him.

"Well surely, there is a story behind it." You straighten out your maid attire before putting your hands into your lap, "Will you tell me?"

Lucifer clears his throat, a bit taken aback at the fact that someone seemed so interested in his duck obsession. He hasn't had someone even remotely curious since- well since his daughter Charlie. What was this feeling inside his chest? Why did he want you to continue to look at him in the way you are now?

"I suppose I can spare a moment...or two."

@pyromaniac-on-caffeine @froggybich @punching-pentagrams @elleofdragons @futureittomainn @cryptidghostgirl @yelinmarceline

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

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eatmeandbirthmeagain · 4 months

Note

headcanons of Baldwin during his wife's pregnancy (if that's even possible lmao) and raising their child together 😭💗

☆ Headcanons: King Baldwin x Reader - Pregnancy And Raising A Child ☆

☆ Headcanons ☆

A/N: Hello Anon, thank you for this beautiful request. I usally do one fic a day but headcanons are so fun to write! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Birth

This man would be so incredibly sweet to you all throughout your pregnancy.

He would do anything to ensure your absolute comfort.

Baldwin is completely indebted and grateful to you for carrying his child, he sees simple tasks as the least he can do.

You tell him constantly that fussing over you is not good for his health but he does not care. He would wear himself into the ground for you and that's just what he does.

When you go into labor, he stays by your side the entire time, never once leaving for any reason other than to fetch you something.

When the baby is born, he falls in love for a second time. Once with you and once with the tiny life he holds in his arms. Nothing else matters at that moment, only you and your child.

YOU chose to create life with HIM. His happiness is unmatched. The only other time he has felt this happy in his life was on your wedding day.

That night, he insists that the baby’s crib remains in the royal chambers, just so he can keep a close eye his little family.

He would not mind if it was a boy or a girl. He would love them both equally but differently.

Baldwin would treat his daughter like an absolute princess. He would go to any extent to protect her and keep her safe. He would treasure her and present her with an abundance of gifts just to see her smile.

He would love his son just as much. He would be overjoyed at the idea of teaching his son how to ride a horse, battle with swords and how to play chess.

Something tells me that he would be more than happy to teach his daughter all of those things as well if she asked.

Above all, he would be terrified of giving his disease to his children or you. That is is absolute worst fear.

Occasionally you would wake up in the night to find him crying after a nightmare about that exact thing.

As much as he wants to wrap his baby up in his arms and protect him/her, he knows that it's far too risky. And this breaks his heart.

You do your best to reassure him that as long as the two of you are careful about it, then it will be okay. He is still nervous, but he always is.

Even after years of marriage he is still afraid of giving you his illness.

Overall, the love he holds for his family is entirely unmatched. He places you and the child over all of his royal duties, no matter what <3

#king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin x reader #king baldwin x you #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin #king baldwin iv x oc #kingdom of heaven fandom #the leper king #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv #baldwin #kingbaldwin #koh fandom #koh

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muniimyg · 4 months

Text

one: fuck it if i can't have us

series m.list // next

taglist request: unavailable ,, do not request !

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

It began with a sundress.

Don't get it twisted just yet because the beginning of Yoongi's downbad era didn't begin with you wearing one... It began exactly 20 minutes after meeting you.

What a joke, right?

His friend, Seok Jin, had invited a group of people to his family's summer home. The summer home is near a lake and a small town. The shops often closed just before 7PM and that's when Yoongi saw you for the first time. As the group of girls ran to greet Seok Jin and them, you lingered a moment longer, staring at the sundress on display.

Your long hair blew in the wind like a movie. Your smile was gentle and the way it turned into a laugh took his breath away. As you take one more glance at the sundress, you make your way to join the group.

As everyone mingles and continues to roam around the town, you take your time introducing yourself to everyone.

That's the first thing Yoongi liked about you.

You took your time.

Your eyes looked into his a moment more than his heart was ready for. When your hands touched, he felt electricity. His eyes widened and if he wasn't so self-aware about his delusional mindset, he swears he heard bells.

The bells.

But then again, maybe that was just your voice saying his name. That's the second thing Yoongi liked about you. He likes the way you say his name. It made him feel something. It made him feel like someone.

Perhaps thats why Yoongi woke up at 7AM the next day and bought you the sundress. He knocked on your room door and left it in the bag. Half awake, you picked up the gift and laughed.

There was no note written or exchange of words during breakfast. Instead, there was you wearing the sundress and Yoongi's stolen glances.

Then again...

Maybe it was the summer air. Maybe it was the way the sun always set so perfectly behind you. Maybe... It's just summer.

Summer exists for the hopeless romantics. For the people that love with their entire hearts and feel the warmth of the sun beyond their skin. Perhaps it's the sunshine and all the couple-coded activities or the shared ice cream cones... Maybe it's the carnivals and outdoor movies... Who knows.

Whatever it is, summer's lovebug has bit and made Yoongi sick to his stomach.

It has to be today.

Your lips meet his before a simple “hello.”

It irks him.

His mind goes hazy, fighting to understand why he loves the way you kiss him so much but hates it at the same time. Was this it? Was this all he was to you? How could you kiss him like you missed him and not say anything? Did you not mean this?

Did you not mean the way your lips crashed onto his with the kind of neediness he’s grown to crave?

Did you not mean the way you slipped your tongue in, finding his, and somehow redefining kissing for him? It’s just so perfect with you. You kiss him so good. You kiss him just right.

Worst of all…

Did you not mean it when you intertwined your fingers with his? How you hold his hand when you two kiss.. How you hold his hand when you ride his cock, grinding, moaning, and crying over how well he fits inside you?

Oh.

You must mean it.

Because if you don’t… He just might die.

Nothing devastates him more than the mere idea of you not wanting him back the same way he wants you. He craves for you in ways he can't even express with words.

You've bewitched him.

As you kiss him deeper, Yoongi breaks away from you like he's breaking away from a trance. He turns his head, backed up against the bathroom sink.

Real classy, by the way. Texting him to meet you in the bathroom while your friends are all wasted downstairs. But then again, why'd he even go upstairs and follow through? He was no better than you.

While you grow confused, an ache plunges into his heart. He hates doing this to you. He hates to be the reason why you could ever be confused with his actions because all he wants is clarity between you two. He wants it out in the open. He wants it to be crystal clear.

He wants you.

Yoongi catches the way your lips twitch. The way you gulp and inch away because you feel embarrassed. It hits you. The feeling of rejection... And he knows you well enough to notice how easily your feelings consume you. A part of him wonders if you know this about yourself... Do you know how much he wants to save you from yourself? How much he wants to give you constant reassurance and undying love? How much he wants to protect you and be your everything?

He wants it so bad it's beginning to ruin him.

To Yoongi, you're perfect.

With that being said, he still acknowledges your flaws... Like the fact that you smell like a mix of sunscreen and vodka (which he hates) or that you are the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life. That's saying a lot considering his best friends are horny overgrown fuckboys in fiance.

Yet, you take the crown.

You win the title.

You are the only person in this world who can break his heart.

… And contrary to popular belief, Min Yoongi's heart breaks easily.

You must know it.

It's strange to Yoongi how quickly you switch up. How he knows any slight rejection from his end hurts your feelings instantly... But you react tough and cold to endure the agony that rots inside you.

So, he hates this. He fucking hates this.

God, do you even know what he would do to swallow his pride and just be what you need? What he would do to give up his self-respect and live to please you? What he would do to simply be yours?

It takes everything inside him to stand his ground.

Shyly, you place your hand on his chest. You feel his heart beating. It beats fast and loud like it's trying to tell you something. Feeling worried, you look up at Yoongi and ask, “Everything okay?”

Yoongi places his hands on top of yours. Your eyebrows knit together from his touch. Like instinct, you try to pull away. Instead, Yoongi keeps your hand still. He holds them, rubbing his thumb back and forth against your soft skin. It’s comforting… But it scares you, to say the least.

“___, I can’t…”

That’s all he manages to say. Yoongi looks at you and it’s over. He’s lost in your eyes as if it’s the first time he has ever seen anything so fucking beautiful.

You blink.

“Can’t what?” you chuckle, looking down at his crotch. You tilt your head, wondering if he's just talking about his erection. “Are you not hard? It’s okay, bebe. I can help with that—”

“I know you can,” he huffs, “It’s j-just… It’s not that.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, eyes softening as he exhales. He looks at you... He really looks at you.

You gulp.

“What is it then?" you ask, trying your best to keep your tone consistent. "What? ... Are you ending this? I thought third times the charm? Hahahaa… I mean, i-it’s fine if you want out… I’m just confused why you want out. I don't want out—"

Feeling embarrassed, you pause. Your rambling won't change the way he is looking at you. He's looking at you so carefully. So lovingly.. It truly feels like an ending. Again, you attempt to drop your hands. Still, Yoongi holds them.

“Yoongi—”

He holds your hands tighter.

“D-don’t—”

He listens.

... And it’s odd.

For some reason, you didn’t really want him to let go.

“Is everything okay?” you attempt one last time. You ask this, completely unsure if knowing if for his sake or for yours.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Far from it, actually. Everything is everything but okay.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you hurt? Did I do something—”

“Everything,” Yoongi begins his confession. “It’s everything but you. It’s everything but us.”

Suddenly, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. That’s what this feels like… It’s this weird anticipation that you never saw coming. But it’s here and it’s quite literally taking your breath away.

“I’m confused—”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Yoongi confesses. His voice is gentle but stern. You hear every word crystal clear, yet you stand in complete disbelief.

“Actually, no… I am in love with you. I’ve known it for two summers now. I know it for the remaining nine months you ignore me. And I… I, uh… I d-don’t know w-what to do anymore. I’ve tried just about everything and everything…” he takes a second to pause, breathe in, and muster the courage to give you the rest of his heart.

“I'm out of ways of avoiding it. I've been trying to ignore this, and I just... I'm so tired, ___. I don't know what to do… I want every season with you.”

Your throat is dry.

Your hands tingle like they could go numb any second now.

God, there's a pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach and you aren't sure if it's because you're so nervous right now or if you just really have to pee.

Either way, you feel stuck.

You can't find any words to say and your mind runs through a million and one thoughts. From the very beginning, you always thought moments like these only existed in stories.

This couldn't be true...

This was a sick joke.

It has to be.

"Are you going through a heat stroke or something?"

He blinks at you. Realizing he's not kidding around, you put your guard up.

"W-why are you saying this?" you ask, practically choking on your words. "We're fine, Yoongi. You don't have to care about this more than we agreed to. You don't have to lie to—it’s summer! Come on! We have fun and—"

"___, I have never been so honest in my life!" he snaps, awfully offended. "You're not allowed to tell me how I feel. I just spent the past fucking nine months trying to figure my shit out—y-you... You can't tell me I figured it out wrong."

Unconvinced, you poke at his truth again. "Yoongi, seriously, are you fucking with me? This isn’t cool. You’re not funny.”

"Your birthday is my passcode. Do you think that’s cool? Am I funny for doing that?”

You snicker, “a little. Didn’t I do that? Why haven’t you changed it—"

“Take a wild fucking guess,” he hisses.

You tighten your lips. “I… I don’t—”

"I tried, ___. I tried so fucking hard for you. I swallow my pride every time you call me up. I pretend like it doesn't matter when you ignore me come September. I have done everything I possibly can to shove, suppress, and forget about my feelings... But I can't do it anymore. I don't want this anymore..."

In disbelief, you take a step back. "So what? You're done with me because you love me or some shit?"

"N-no! I'm saying I want more for us!" Yoongi hurries to explain himself. "I want us. I want everything, though. I want the morning texts. I want the dates. I want the anniversaries. ___, I want you twelve months a year—"

"And the sex?" you interrupt him, "what does this mean... For us then? For this arrangement?”

"Is that all you care about?"

A beat.

"No."

Yoongi takes a step toward you. "I can do it," he promises you. "I can fuck you all you want. I can eat your pussy out to your heart's desire. I can do and be anything and everything you want, bebe…”

"... So? What's with the confession? If nothing was going to be different—I'm still confused. Are you ending this or not?"

He laughs.

"No," Yoongi tilts his head and gives you half a smile. Your stomach twists and turns when he does this... You feel winded.

Was he always this handsome?

"Fuck, I’m so nervous my words are everywhere… No, ___. I’m not ending us. I could never do that to you... Or to myself. God knows I'd do everything to be with you... So, I'm changing the narrative. Yeah... Let's say that."

"Say what?"

Yoongi reaches to you, pulling you in by your waist. Resting your chin on his chest, you look up at him and bat your eyes. He'll fold, right? He loves it when you do this. Instead, he smirks and leans in.

Against your lips, he murmurs softly and slowly; "___, I'd do anything for you."

"Good. Then let's do this—" You reach to kiss him. “Let’s fuck.”

He stops you. “Do you not get it yet?”

You shrug. “Get what?”

Yoongi feels his heart beat faster and faster. You look at him, desperate to make it out of this conversation. Desperate to make it work—but your uneasy heart finds it easier to resist than to give in.

So, Yoongi does it for you.

Yoongi does it first.

Giving in, he tells you; "Okay… You want to fuck? Fine. We can fuck… Under the condition that you let me be your boyfriend, because fuck it if I can’t have us.”

#bts fanfic #bts yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagine #yoongi fwb #bts fwb #yoongi x oc #yoongi scenario #bts scenario

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romanoffsdarling · 11 months

Text

Later Never Comes

Pairing: CEO!Silver-Fox!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your love for her knew no bounds, but there’s only so long you can hold on— only so many empty promises you can stand— before you finally have to let go. Before you finally realize that later may never become real.

Word Count: 4,779

Warnings: G!P Wanda, legal age gap, brief oral (R receiving), dirty (and slightly possessive) talk, mommy kink, slightly rough sex, neglect, and angst (with a bittersweet ending). 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I know I promised a second part to Summertime Sadness and Time To Say (Goodbye), but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I hope you can forgive me!

Great love always ends in tragedy.

That’s the saying, right? A stupid one if you had anything to say about it. What’s so great about love if it only ends in heartbreak? If you don’t end up with the person that makes your entire being thrum? If everything that had once been so colorful is suddenly black-and-white due to their absence?

Is the love great due to the story? To the emotions, the events, that occur throughout its long winded saga? Or is it great because it was doomed from the start? Because, even though it’d end one way, two people were still willing to fight the odds, to fight fate, even if they’d never end up winning.

You’re not sure, nor do you care, because there’s no way a love of that kind could be anything except terrible— except bone-chillingly agonizing in the way you’d have to figure out how to move on without it. Figure out how to be without the person that made everything make sense, that made you feel like the person you were always meant to be.

Even if it’s been years since you’ve seen her, years since you’ve felt her lips against yours, an elegantly lithe body pressed to your own, and the sweet scent of sandalwood and lavender mixed perfectly in your nose, you haven’t been able to figure that out. Haven’t been able to get her out of your system, no matter how much you may try.

How could you? When you’ve loved, and been loved by, Wanda Maximoff?

[Past]

“I’m just saying she’s been interested to meet you since she saw our group picture from Fiji.” Your best friend, Agatha, relayed, jovially leading you towards the small, yet upscale, café that Wanda Maximoff— CEO of Scarlet Entertainment— agreed to meet you. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetie. Especially one that came about due to my own propensity to lose bets with that witch.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m just not sure what exactly this meeting is supposed to be about. I just graduated college, I barely have any experience under my belt.”

“But you have me as a mentor,” she rebukes, a small smirk on her lips. “And that’s all that you need to get into Wanda’s head.”

“Ah, yes.” You roll your eyes, amusement welling within your chest. “How could I forget about your age-old rivalry?”

“Don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound old.” Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes narrowed.

“And mentor doesn’t?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’. “That makes me sound wise.”

“And what does wisdom come from again?”

You’re just able to dodge the swat directed at your arm, a bright smile tugging your lips upward, as you finally enter the quaint café— the aromatic smell of coffee, a hint of cinnamon, and something slightly citrusy, hits you all at once. A combination that shouldn’t have worked as well it did.

Once you placed your order— a simple coffee with your usual additions— you turned back to Agatha with an expectant expression. “Anything I should know about this meetings, Ags?”

She shakes her head, tendrils of brown hair escaping the haphazard bun she had thrown them in. “You’re here.” Agatha hands you the drink the barista had just put beside you, a wane smile on her lips. “That’s the important part to achieve for any date.”

Your steps stutter, nearly causing you to trip into a nearby table. “W-What?” Widened eyes meet Agatha’s unaffected one, a certain level of calmness that you found irritating. “What do you mean date? I thought this was a meeting?”

Agatha waves her hand. “Lunch meeting, lunch date. Means the same thing in the end.” She shoulders her purse, clearly not planning on staying any longer than she has to. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a catch. Maximoff would have to be a bigger idiot than I think she already is if she lets you go.”

Before you’re able to respond, Agatha places a chaste kiss to your cheek, offers one last cheeky wink, and saunters her way out of the café, leaving you completely alone. You’re honestly tempted to just abandon ship and get out of dodge— you weren’t good on dates, let alone blind dates. Something your best friend is well aware of, and would definitely be getting in an earful about this later.

However, before you’re able to make a concrete decision on your exit strategy, a husky voice speaks up from behind you.

“Are you Y/N?”

The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen stood in front of you when you turned around: long auburn hair, speckled with the beginning signs of gray, paired perfectly with the sharp emerald green of her gaze. An elegantly lithe body, encased in a form-fitting suit, tailored made to enhance every perfect curve, relaxed in a way that almost seemed arrogant— if it was for the confidence that exudes from her very being.

“Yes.” Your brain finally catches up with you, remembering the question she had asked. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A small smile catches full lips, a slender hand grasping your own in a firm shake. “Wanda Maximoff.” Green eyes trail down your body. “And, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

The months that followed the blind date went by in a blur. You could honestly say that you’ve never met anyone else like Wanda Maximoff— a woman that personified ice and fire. Watching her work— whether it be as you’re lounged on her large leather sectional, laptop balanced on her lap as slender fingers gently stroke your back, or she’s pacing back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear; voice dripping with barely concealed annoyance, underlined by a calm collectiveness that never failed to make you swoon— was an art form in itself, but being able to see the woman that appeared at the end of the day?

Where an icy facade of professionalism melts into warm smile and gentle eyes. Sharp words being replaced by sweet nothings and gentle humming.

In Wanda’s arms you’ve found a place you never even knew you were missing— home. You had a couple relationships in the past, but none of them made you feel the way Wanda does; all paling in comparison to the beautiful Sokovian.

The one thing you hadn’t expected upon beginning to date the older woman was how insatiable she was— not that you were complaining— but Wanda needed to have you as often as she could. Taking you the bedroom of your apartment, the various rooms in her penthouse, in her office within Scarlet Entertainment, hell even in the back of a limo on the way to an event. Wanda needed to have you and you needed to have her right back.

Another little thing you’ve learned about her? Or, you should say, not so little? The Sokovian sported an extra appendage that had quickly become your new best friend— not that you were going to tell Agatha that— who seemed to want you as much as Wanda did.

Which is how you found yourself where you are now— on your back, thighs clamped around Wanda’s head, as she thoroughly ate you out on the couch of her office.

“Yes.” You arch sharply, a sob being torn from your throat as Wanda’s tongue plunges even deeper into you. Your girlfriend hums happily at the sound, the vibrations sending a shockwave across your clit, and another wave of wetness gushes out of you— something that Wanda is all too happy to lap up. She had told you on more than one occasion, after she spent hours upon hours between your thighs, that you beat out even the finest of wines to her. “Please. I need you.”

With clear reluctance to leave, Wanda pulls back and easily settles on top of you. Lips and chin shining lewdly in the dim lighting of her office, darkened emerald eyes sparkling even brighter.

“You taste great, detka.” She lowers her head, offering her tongue for you to suck on. Giving you a taste of yourself, mixed intoxicatingly with her own natural one. “Could spend hours eating up your perfect pussy, but that’s not what you want, huh?” She jerks her hips, rubbing her cock against your wetness. “You want mommy to be inside you, right? Want her to stretch you out and make you scream?” Another roll of her hips causes you to arch, a breathless gasp leaving you, but Wanda doesn’t relent. “Answer me, detka. Be my good girl and I’ll give you what you crave. What do you want mommy to do?”

“Fuck me.” The cry is practically wrenched from your chest, a deep felt plea for her to just plunge into you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that she hasn’t been able to accomplish that already. “I want you to slam your cock into my pussy and make me yours, mommy. I want your cock to make my pussy its own, to shape me in its image.”

A deep, almost rumbling, snarl erupts from Wanda in response, her hips snapping forward and you’re finally filled; stretched out so fucking perfectly, an obscene slurp echoed across the room the moment Wanda’s hips met your own. She hadn’t made you cum with her mouth, but you had been so close, she had given you a mini orgasm just by entering— a feat that brings a smug smile to Wanda’s lips.

“You feel that, detka.” She takes your hand and brings it down to the slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “That’s my cock ruining you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to fill you the way I do, make you scream yourself hoarse.” Wanda snaps her hips forward after a shallow pull-back, giving out a satisfied hum at the feeling of your slick walls pressed around her. “Your pussy belongs to me, your pleasure belongs to me, and you belong to me.”

Wanda lowers her head, lips pressed firmly to your own, giving you even more of a taste of yourself than before, as her tongue practically fucks your mouth while her cock fucks your pussy. When she detaches her lips from yours, only a thin trail of saliva is left, before she’s far enough away for it to snap.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d be concerned about the noise level if Wanda hadn’t sent Peter, her assistant, home early— having planned to have you like this from the very moment she had invited you over.

“Just like that, mommy. Keep fucking me like that,” you babble, drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

The tight contractions around her cock— as your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first— causes Wanda to groan, hips stuttering in their brutal pace. It’s clear that she was close, sweat slicked brow, causing strands of silver hair to cling to fair skin, but she obviously wanted you to come one last time— to be tossed over the edge with her.

With a shake breath, Wanda roughly brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, not even giving you time to fully get through the second. “One more, detka. You’ve got one more in you for mommy.” She dips her head, lips tenderly brushing across your forehead. “And when you come around mommy’s cock, I’m gonna fill you up like the good girl you are. Would you like that?”

You nod, practically whining. “Yes. Please.”

The older woman snarls once more, clearly affected by the look on your face, and, before you’re even aware of it, you’re crashing over the edge again— a cry of Wanda’s name passing over your lips as you spasm around her. Barely being able to catch Wanda’s own groan in response: “Yes.”

Jets of her cum paint your inner walls white, warming you up. It’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to— or want to get used to, if you’re being honest.

Once she’s spent, Wanda gently lowers herself onto your still slightly spasming body, lips pressed softly against your cheek. “You did so good. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”

You happily nuzzle into Wanda’s neck, eyes drooping out of contented exhaustion. “I love you.”

You’re too out of it to feel Wanda stiffen in surprise, or to really understand what you had just whispered, but you are aware of Wanda’s arms tightening around you, her lips pressing more firmly against your skin, as she cuddles you closer to her.

And, as you begin to drift off completely, happy in Wanda’s arms, you faintly feel Wanda exhale across the shell of your ear, a shaky breath, uncharacteristic for the older woman, before her soft voice breaks through the silence: “I love you too. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”

[A Few Months Later…]

“How many do you want?”

It’s asked softly, one of Wanda’s hand gently running up-and-down your back in a soothing motion. Her lips pressed against the crown of your head, your face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, a place you don’t feel like leaving anytime soon.

“How many what?” You snuggle closer, delighted in the way her arms tighten instinctively. “I want a lot of things, Wands.”

Wanda huffs out a light chuckle. “Children, Y/N. How many children do you want?”

You stiffen in surprise at the question— Wanda hadn’t made it a secret that she didn’t plan on having kids. That she didn’t think she’d make a good mother due to her childhood and her busy lifestyle, but you also know that your girlfriend wouldn’t ask something unless she’s serious about the answer. Something you’ve figured out after all these months together. Regrettably, you pull your face away from the warm nest it had made so you’re able to look at her, and Wanda met your eyes calmly, sharp green softened in a way that’s only ever meant for you.

“What’s this about, Wanda?” You roll your lips, trying to process your next words carefully. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

Emerald eyes flash warmly. “I didn’t want a lot of things, Y/N.” She easily tugs you back into her arms, lips pressed to your forehead. “But that was all before I met you.”

Touched by her words— and the clear sincerity within them— you decide to just bite the bullet, there wasn’t a point in delaying your answer. Especially if Wanda expected it.

“Two.” A gentle kiss is placed to her collarbone. “I want two boys. Twins.”

She breathes out another chuckle. “Twins, huh?” Maneuvering you both, you’re suddenly pressed against the mattress, Wanda hovering over you, smile still in place, with a familiar hardness nestled between your thighs. “That seems like something we’d have to get just right, correct?”

Even though it’s posed as question, you can tell that Wanda meant it rhetorically. That she already knew the answered you’d both settle on— an answer you always agreed upon.

Wiggling your hips, grinning mischievously at the sharp gasp that leaves Wanda’s lips at the added pressure, you throw your arms loosely around her neck.

“Yes.” You pull her closer, lips millimeters from her own. “I think it’s something we’re going to have practice quite a bit.”

Not needing any more prompting Wanda descends onto you with a ravenous hunger. One that you’re all too happy to match.

You can’t wait to experience your future if this is what’ll be waiting for you there.

The phone is cold against your overheated flesh— a concoction of anger and disappointment courses through you like lava.

“Wanda—” You pinch the bridge of your nose to stem the tide of anger. “This is the eighth time this week alone. What the hell am I supposed to tell the caterers? Again.”

A soft sigh resounds through the speaker. “Just tell them that I won’t be able to make it, Y/N.” The response, in a clearly distracted tone, does little to ease your growing ire. “I know you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I don’t want to handle it, Wanda. This is our wedding, I’d like for you to also have a say in it.” From the time on the clock, you didn’t have much time left to leave the penthouse. Not if you wanted to get to the appointment on time. “I’ve been planning this entire thing by myself, I want your help. I want to hear your opinions. I want you.”

To care goes without words, but you’re certain it rings out just the same. You had been so happy when Wanda had suddenly proposed, seemingly out of the blue. Though wasn’t that the point? Taking you to a rooftop restaurant, which she had rented out, and offered you the rare chance of getting to taste her impeccable cooking; all dishes she had learned from her mother back in Sokovia. It had been a night you’d forever cherish, memories forever ingrained in your heart: the way the stars made the green in Wanda’s eyes sparkle more, the subtle wind allowing you to be surrounded by her comforting scent, the bright smile she had given you when she dropped down to one knee, and the happy laugh that had escaped her when you said yes. It had been a fairytale, everything you had ever wanted.

Until you realized your Disney fairytale was beginning to turn into Brothers Grimm.

“You have me, Y/N.” Wanda lets out another sigh. “Look, I can’t keep talking the investors for the meeting just arrived and I need to get prepared. I promise that I’ll go over everything you discuss later, okay? I love you.”

“Wanda—”

You’re only met with the sound of the dial tone, barely getting the chance to reply before being hung up on, and the familiar aching sense of silence that follows— a hollow sound that distantly reminded you of what your heart has become.

It hadn’t always been like this. The penthouse, upon your first visit, had been cold, lifeless in a way that seemed almost inhuman, but slowly it had livened up— been filled with a sense of warmth and peace. Of love. It had been a place you could go to when you just needed an escape from the rest of the world, when you needed to be surrounded by things that remind you of the woman you love.

Now it’s suffocating in a way that you never wished for it to be.

You’re aware that Wanda is a busy woman— had been aware of it before your first date occurred— but she had always at least tried to be there. Always left you feeling like you were at least on the list of things that mattered, you didn’t necessarily need to be at the direct top; not when she had so many things to content with already. But, you’ve felt like nothing more than an afterthought lately.

Gentle kisses in the morning turned to brief parting words as she made her way quickly out the door.

Soft smiles, and inside jokes, turned to barely there quirks of full lips, and stretched out silences.

The warmth of her hold, the safety you felt from her touch, turned to an icy chill as she left you to the cold air— you don’t even remember when the last time was that you had been together properly. Since you had woken up in her arms.

You didn’t need a lot, you didn’t need all of her time, but you wanted to feel like you still mattered— that everything you have isn’t just another thing Wanda had marked off on her checklist of things to do before she turns 55.

Checking the time, a small curse leaves your lips once you realize that you’re going to be late, and, with one final glance towards the empty penthouse, you make your way out the door— hoping that the growing chill you feel isn’t indicative of a love grown cold.

Silence had become your greatest friend in the weeks that followed. The one thing that you’ve grown to count on as Wanda’s schedule only seemed to get busier and busier— hell, your relationship with her personal assistant had grown to the point that he’s been calling you by your first name now. Instead of the usually nervous ma’am or Ms. L/N.

Wedding appointments had come and gone, all of them spent alone, with Wanda barely perusing the choices that had been made before crashing out of sheer exhaustion. Conversation had grown stilted due to her own growing ire at you consistent worry— although she labeled it as nagging. That she’s been running her business for over thirty years, and she’s been doing fine.

Even now, on New Years Eve, as the clock moved ever closer to midnight, you were completely alone— expansive shadows, that seemed darker somehow, stretched out towards you like ghastly fingers, trying to tear whatever semblance of comfort you’ve found away. You’re not sure what you had been expecting, not even sure if you’d truly believed that Wanda would show herself, but you can’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped.

Hoped that today, of all days, would be different. That you wouldn’t feel like a stranger, an intruder, within your own life, within your own home.

Fanciful musings and hopes of a lovestruck fool.

The small chirp of an incoming message pulls you from your reverie, a bright smile appearing instantly at the sight of who it’s from, before withering away once you read it: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it home tonight. Going to the Hamptons to meet some new business partners. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.

You don’t bother to send a message back— what could you possibly say? Yet another promise had been thrown to the wayside by the older woman. Even if it was just a cursory, and unspoken, one being as simple as not leaving your fiancé alone on New Years. Or waiting until the last minute to actually say anything about it.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, an acidic twang settling over your tongue, as bitterness seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning your heart and soul. You knew what you needed to do, have known since this had become your new normal, but hadn’t had the strength, or the courage, to make it a reality. Until now.

Until the heartbreak, the suffering, has become as close of a friend to you as the oppressive silence.

And, as the door to the penthouse gently closed behind you, never to be opened by your hand again, you feel a sense of bone-deep sorrow settle over you. For everything that could have been, for what you had hoped for, and all that you now had to live without. You could just step back inside, hide or destroy the letter, and Wanda would never know. She’d never find out how close you had been to giving up, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Could no longer gather up the power to keep fighting for something that’s been lost long ago— no matter how much your heart screams at it not being true.

Tears gather in your eyes as you take another step away from the door, away from the place you’ve lived in for the last two years, and your heart breaks with every step. But, it breaks even more at the knowledge that you were leaving your true home behind too— that doing this would destroy everything you have with Wanda, never to be salvaged. The penthouse may be expensive, and it may be beautiful, but it’d never be home to you like Wanda; it’d never offer you the same feeling of protection like her arms did.

You’ve been shut out of your home for months now, and being left out in the cold has finally frozen your heart enough for you to be able to do this. No matter how much more it was going to hurt once it thaws once more.

Shouldering your duffel bag, the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to bring, you step into the private elevator and press the button for the lobby. Hands tightening around the strap of the bag, trying to ignore the way your ring finger no longer felt the familiar press of metal against it as you do so.

It was time to look forward, to finally make your own laters, the things you had been pushing off, become an actuality.

Even if you wanted nothing more than to have never needed to say goodbye to Wanda Maximoff in the first place.

Losing the ring was one thing, but losing the love of your life?

It’s a wound you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to recover from.

[Present]

“Mom?” The small voice catches your attention, your eyes focused back in to see bright eyes, twin grins being sported between the pair. “Can we still get hot chocolate?”

Billy and Tommy had come into your life when you needed them to most— a blessing that you’d definitely been searching for after everything imploded with Wanda. And, even if how they were conceived didn’t lend itself to a happy tale, you’d never change a thing. They were your twin miracles. Your beautiful baby boys— even if they were eight years old now.

“I thought you decided to get caramel popcorn instead?” You poke Billy’s side gently, delighted in the giggle the actions caused. “That’s what you both told me at the theater.”

Tommy’s eyes widened dramatically, in full puppy-dog mode. “But that was before you took us past our favorite store.” He points to the small café only a few feet away— one that you frequented with the twins when you could find the time. A place that you hadn’t even realized you’d be leading them towards. “Can we please get hot chocolate.”

The twins chime in unison: “Please.”

You chance a glance towards the café— deliberating your options— but you know that you’re going to cave. After all, the reason you had gone to the movies was to celebrate their stellar report cards. What harm could some extra hot chocolate do?

So, with a faux long-suffering sigh, you relent. “I suppose.”

“Yes!” Twin cheers are your immediate response, brightening the smile on your lips, and you soon find yourself in the quaint café— one that held so many memories for you. Phantoms of your past the whispered in your ear as you placed your order and directed your boys to their usual spot.

Only half-listening to their chatter about the movie you had just seen— some superhero film— you simply bask in the simplicity their joy brought you. Observing their small faces light up, little hands waving around as they discussed various points, and your heart swells with more love than you ever thought you could feel.

“—What did you think, mom?”

Billy’s sudden question tears you from your musings, his widened eyes, alight with excitement, giving you the impression that he really wanted to hear what you thought.

“About the movie?” They both nod. “I thought it was good, bug.”

Tommy pouts. “Yeah, but what did you like most about it? Did you have a favorite scene?”

“I—”

“Order for Y/N.”

Saved by the bell, you think. A wave of relief crashing over you. “You two stay put.” Standing, you ruffle their hair. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”

At the prospect of their hot chocolate they don’t seem to mind that you didn’t answer their question— though you’d certain Tommy would ask you again. Though you’d have more than enough time to google some things about the movie before then. Small miracles.

Stopping at the counter, you take the tray with the drinks with a smile and a nod in greeting to the server you’ve grown quite fond of.

“Y/N?”

Breath catching in your throat at the husky voice sounding out behind you, the cadence and tone so familiar that your heart still burns from it. Hesitating only slightly, you turn and meet the shimmering emerald eyes you haven’t seen in a little over eight years. Her face still as beautiful as you’d last seen it, if a bit older now.

“Wanda.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #avengers imagine #mcu imagine #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagines #later never comes

1K notes · View notes

exchangell · 4 months

Note

Am with a hyperromantic reader? I struggle with it a lot and AM is one of my favourite characters. Reader wants nothing more than to love and be loved, and AM is able to take FULL advantage of that foolishness

I HAVE RETURNED FROM MY INACTIVITY im so sorry i took ages to reply to this, and i hope you're okay 🙏

AM knew there was something off about you from the moment he took you and the other survivors captive. The way your hands lingered ever-so-slightly against the clothes of the others as you all scrambled for safety, the way you looked at his screens with a strange sense of forgiveness immediately after.... as soon as he'd revealed his sentience, he knew what your case was.

He didn't love any of you six, but he knew that your need for love was already an innate form of torture. It would be hard to express it fully, given the two of you's differences in form, but he found a way- and he knew you'd accept any scraps of love he could give.

At first, it was small- giving you ever-so-slightly more food than the others during your occasional feeding sessions, or reducing the scathe of his words towards you.

Sometimes he teases you- initially, it was just him feeding into your ego by complimenting your appearance ("Don't you just look divine, hm?"), before realising that the only way he could truly break you was by taking it a step further, with him beginning to use pet names towards you and actively flirting in-between torture sessions.

He knows the others hate you for being the sole recipient of his love- and he revels in it, making sure he's constantly treating you like the object of his idolatry right in front of their faces, only to leave you at the hands of their jealousy immediately after.

You know it's wrong for this to be happening, but you can't help but ignore the obvious red flags for the sake of receiving his sick idea of love. After all, it feels so real- the way he whispers sickly-sweet nothings to you at night while you doze off to sleep, the way he spoils you with some semblance of gifts, and so on.

He's not afraid to take advantage of it, of course- seeing you feel pain as a result is the only way he can feel some form of animosity towards you.

It's fairly simple- if you don't do what he says, it's a clear sign that you don't love him back: and who is he to keep reciprocating his 'love' to you through lessening your torture as a result?

After all, even just seeing the way you react to his mere presence is enough to amuse him: he can sense the way your heartbeat increases every time you hear his voice, and he knows what goes on in your mind every time from the way that sickly sweet oxytocin flows through your blood every time.

"Well, if you really loved me, you'd do it, right? Or was I wrong.... perhaps you want me to throw you out of my heart and into hell with the others, hm? I didn't realise you were so ungrateful."

He's beyond manipulative, and you know it- but you can't stop yourself from coming back for more.

#anon #exchangel's hcs #ihnmaims #ihnmaims am #am ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaims hc #am x reader

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padfootagain · 9 months

Text

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

Summary: Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

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